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powderblueblood · 4 months

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HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc! as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER EIGHT — SEWN UP

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summary: you'd need a hacksaw to cut the tension between you and eddie, but that's not your weapon of choice this time around. a newspaper pitch, a patchwork girl and a tasteless prank all work together to make things ever more awkward between you and the boy you keep senselessly calling your friend. content warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS IS NOT SAFE FOR YOUR PURITAN EYES - reader is an ex-bitch on a journey of self-discovery through being an even more specific kind of bitch, angst in the form of an elizabeth munson mention, miscommunication, lacy engaging non-platonically with someone other than eddie, mention of lacy's surname and dad's name, REEFER RICK CAMEO, billy hargrove slander as per, violence, a humiliating prank, smut in the form of public hand stuff (f!receiving), me feeling insane about this chapter word count: 14.3k

Dear Mom,

She hasn’t got warm hands. She hasn’t got the kind of smile that draws people to her. She hasn’t got a kind word for everyone, no matter where they come from. She hasn’t got a lot of patience. She hasn’t got a fixed sense of herself–well, she does kinda. But, not totally. Not yet.

She’s not like you.

Other cheerleaders wore ponytails and they’d bounce. But when she wore a ponytail, it swung like a sword. She used to be cruel and exacting, but now she’s just exacting. She’s honest and observant to a degree that’s, like, almost psycho. She’s a cold front, but she laughs like a lightning strike. I feel like thunder, powerless to do anything but roll after her. Can’t help myself.

She knows what she wants, she thinks. Other days she doesn’t. I keep trying to tell her that’s okay, in ways where I don’t actually have to use the words. My words wouldn’t be as good as her words. Her words burn clean through me like a lit tip of a cigarette.

But she does have your book.

Y’know, I always thought it was kind of creepy the way some guys would try and look for their mom in other girls.

So this might be a good thing. Less Oedipus-y, more ea–…

Shit. I was gonna say something I’m so sure you’d smack me around the head for. But you’re not here to do that. I might be in better shape with this girl if you were.

Anyway. I miss you.

Eddie Munson stands in the midst of an incredibly awkward aftermath.

See, for two people so purportedly self-assured, he in his freakshow roguishness and you in your prim-perfect knife-edge sharpness, you’re both entirely dogshit at acknowledging… well… anything.

You both tried to snap back to normal so quickly, with Wheeler and her science experiment pregnancy scare smashing through the ice. But the water underneath that ice is still freezing cold– and you’re both pretending you’re not gasping for air, pretending like you don’t remember gasping for each other’s lips.

This is totally cool. This is totally fine.

And then Eddie comes to see you at The Bookstore, which has become just as routine as nearly never brushing his hair, and sees you fixing your seller’s tag to your pick of the week. Your face in that arresting, self-conscious smile that he wants to melt off with the blowtorch of his mouth.

It’s The Patchwork Girl of Oz by L. Frank Baum.

Now, he noticed that you would habitually drop writers’ names into conversation like they were your lit professors– Didion said this, Bukowski said that, Bronte yadda, Burroughs yadda. Always some genius-adjacent, formative-thinking, socio-politico-boffo brainwad, more often than not with a substance abuse kick that you romanticized from a safe distance.

But then you unearth this book, a green clothback cover yellowing with age and roughness, red and yellow inlaid titling blasting out a name he ought to know. It makes his visual memory brrrrrrring! like a bright red tomato shaped kitchen timer.

The Patchwork Girl of Oz was with Elizabeth Munson wherever she went. Her records were her plane tickets, her escape to another world, but you couldn’t take your records with you to the hospital. Escaping to Oz was a decent substitute. She must have read it a bajillion times; she even took to calling Wayne Unc Nunkie after the elderly munchkin who only ever had one word for anybody. And whenever Eddie would drop an egg when they were baking or come running through the house with his knees all cut up, she’d coo, “Oh, my li’l Ojo the Unlucky!”

The book lingered everywhere– on the kitchen counter of the house on Pennsylvania,on the vinyl seat of the booth at the now-shuttered Benny’s when she could afford to take Eddie for a treat, on her bedside table.

Up until the end.

It knocks the wind out of Eddie when he sees it on the display shelf. He does a bad job of hiding that.

“What, too shocked to make fun of me?” you say, perching yourself on the rickety stool behind the counter, and your voice betrays a little embarrassment. “That’s a first.”

“I–... huh?” He tears his eyes away from the book long enough to catch the specks of blush high on your cheeks.

“It’s not my usual flavor, I know, but I’m capable of whimsy too.”

“Why that one?” His limbs feel stony like Unc Nunkie’s, as much as he wants to languidly lean over the counter and bother you like he always does.

You shrug, but you tilt the opposite shoulder. A reverse, a peek behind the looking glass. He notices that about you, which goddamn shoulder is your shrugging preference.

“I think it was one of the first books I kept checking out of the library when I was little,” you say, glancing back at the display, “It’s about this poor little kid who has to find a way to reverse a spell on his uncle who’s been turned to stone, and the eponymous patchwork girl is–”

“I know the story.” It comes out a little blunter than Eddie was intending it to. So much so that it knocks you back a beat.

“Oh,” you say shortly, eyes flaring down at the counter. “No need to cut me off mid-stream about it.”

Eddie winces, knowing he’s coming across as weird and stilted but with no idea how to safely climb down. “No, just– I know the story, yeah. My mom…” That is not a safe dismount, dummy! “...she… liked it a lot.”

“Yeah?” your tone stays even, yanked back from him a little. He wants to be like, sorrysorrysorry. “She ever read it to you?”

“A bunch, actually.”

“No shit.” The corners of your mouth tick up. “Wanna hear something super dorky?”

Just the mere invitation of your little smile loosens him up a bit. Eddie twists a ring around his finger, head kicking to his shoulder as his foot kicks to the counter. “Always,” he says, squinting.

You straighten your spine up on your stool and clear your throat. Hand goes over your heart, like you’re about to recite the damn declaration. Your eyes shutter closed.

“Here’s a job for a boy of brains– a drop of oil from a live man’s veins; a six-leaved clover; three nice hairs, from a Woozy’s tail, the book declares; are needed for a magic spell, and water from a pitch-dark well– the yellow wing from a butterfly to find must Ojo also try; and if he gets them without harm, Doc Pipt will make the magic charm; but if he doesn’t get ‘em, Unc…” your crack one eye open. “...will always stand a marble chunk.”

Eddie is silent for… for a while. For a good handful of heartbeats, for a beat so long that makes you knit your brow up, your eyes needling into him. Eddie’s looking at you with rose-colored soft focus. His elbows are eagerly pitched on the counter now, chin in his hands. The last person to recite those words to him was his mom, her voice raspy and tired but still willing to read to him. She hadn’t smelled like herself. It was sad.

And now, your voice, with all its snippy chainmail thrown off, gone all soft and lyrical and dedicated.

He thinks about a littler you, one he could vaguely pick out of a lineup if he really, really tried, criss-cross applesauce and pouring over that book so often that that little spell jams itself into your brain.

The mage before she donned the mink coat.

Eddie is looking at you and can’t force his heart out of his throat.

Well, until he can.

“Ew,” he cringes.

“What?!” you exclaim, your eyes getting all incredulous and kind of mad.

“And they call me a fuckin’ nerd, what the hell was that?” Eddie’s laughing, mocking, not with his whole heart. But it’s enough to make you scoff, irritated with him again.

See, you thought you were being cute and he knows you thought you were being cute. He needs to put you back in a place where you’re marginally unlikeable enough to just be a friend.

Restore the natural order. Don’t think about how he wants to recite that same verse back to you in front of an ordained Elvis in Vegas. Because he would, in a heartbeat. If he wasn’t committed to not being stupid.

Christ, you’re pretty. Christ, he’s gonna do something stupid.

“You are… completely undateable, you know that?” he nods ferociously, eyes trailing you as you cross out from behind the counter and head for a box of books that need to be shelved. All uh-huhs and sure, Eddies. The bell on the front door jangles and a customer passes behind him.

He yells after you, voice traveling down whatever winding path you’ve taken through the stacks. “You with your black and white movies and your twat rock and your Wizard of Oz… baby, what crowd are you even playing to?”

“What crowd am I playing to? What crowd are you playing to?!” you seethe, shuffling the ten-tonne box of books down the aisle with your feet. “Fucking baggie-pushing, guitar-brutalizing, board-game-...maker-...upper!”

“Woah. Wit’s unmatched as usual, Lace.”

This fucking guy. This fucking guy. You try and do one darling little thing, you just recite a little piece of a book his dead mom used to read to him or whatever, and you get verbally bashed! God forbid, god forbid you let the fucking drawbridge down for half a second! This blows!

You’re trying to be less of a bitch, in case you idiots didn’t notice!

It’s kind of inexplicable, how sensitive you’re feeling about this. Could be that since you kissed and since you pinkie-swore with Nancy Wheeler in the bombed-out boys bathroom, you kind of felt as if you were standing on a blade’s edge with Eddie. Not knowing where to put your hands, not knowing how much or how little to joke around. Not entirely happy with your moment of madness at the Ecker trailer. Not entirely happy that it hadn’t happened again.

But you’re not about to apologize. Not to him. Don Rickles in a battle vest over there. Must he always just poke you like that?!

“You’re undateable!” You shove a bunch of books aside on the shelf. “Me, I’m cu–...”

Right through the shelf, a customer stares at you. Your voice dies in your throat because, unfortunately, he’s looking right at you in your flurry of annoyance toward Eddie. And unfortunately, this stranger, he’s a little…

“What were you gonna say?” he asks, closing Gravity’s Rainbow.

“Cute.”

Guy smiles, doesn’t break eye contact with you for a second. He’s wearing a sweater. He looks fresh out of somewhere stone walled with crawling ivy. “I’d attest to that.”

You forget about Eddie– just for a second. Gesturing to Gravity’s Rainbow, you say, “Gonna attempt to finish that?”

“What’s that mean?” His grin is infectious, or maybe you’re just starved for this kind of attention.

“Nothing,” you say, with a little more tongue than you need to, “Just, I don’t know of anyone that’s ever finished that behemoth.”

Well, you don’t know of a lot of people that read the way you do either. But, digression. He raps a knuckle against the cover of the book and for some reason, you feel it in your belly.

“I always finish,” he tells you.

“Do you now?”

That’s the longest you’ve been quiet in a hot minute, and that’s the kind of thing that gets under Eddie’s skin. Chain on his jeans jangling, he starts off into the creaking labyrinth of lined-up bookcases.

“What, did you expire back here or something…” he mutters, a little whine in his tone– play with me, play with me, even though I’m being kind of a dick to you–

He sees you, a book lying lax in your arms, your body swaying to and fro and you’re–

“--talkin’ to yourself, Lacy? Great look. Real honeytrap, if you’re lookin’ to catch some imaginary di–”

“Eddie,” you grit at him, and he spots the whole other human male you’re talking to through the stacks. Well, not just talking to. Not with that body language.

This dude tilts his chin to Eddie. “Hey, man. I remember you. Didn’t you used to sell dimebags in the woods outside school?”

Fire flares in Eddie’s gut. He vaguely recognizes this guy– class of ‘83 or ‘82, not remarkable enough to be hateable but now, he’s certainly collegiate looking enough to be… distracting to you. So, annoying to him.

“Why, man? You lookin’ to buy? Or just cruise some high schooler tail?”

“Eddie!” you hiss again and he scoffs like, really?! You turn back to this… whoever the fuck. “C’mon, I’ll check you out.”

“You’ll check him out, huh?” Eddie sneers, bearing over you as you pass him in the aisle. Body heat breezing right by, face a mask of sheer disgust. Impulse talks; it totally wants to just grab you and throw you behind him and– well, he hasn’t thought that far ahead yet. But he’s creative. Who the fuck even is this guy? Where did he come from?

“That you?” this guy says, jerking his head toward the staff display, toward The Patchwork Girl of Oz. “Lacy?”

“To my friends and co-conspirators,” you say, ringing up that godawful Pynchon book.

“Which one was that guy?” he asks, watching you jot out his receipt on the carbon copy pad because for whatever reason, Ivana’s cash register is from the fucking 1800s and she refuses to upgrade to anything with a thermal printer. “Friend? Co-conspirator? … boyfriend?”

You wrinkle your nose. And don’t exactly answer, but it’s enough confirmation for him.

“Good. Say, why don’t you jot down your number on this thing?” He pushes the receipt back to you. “I can keep you updated on my Pynchon progress. You can… see if I’m good enough to co-conspire with.”

You like this approach. In fact, you love this approach, because you hadn’t been earnestly picked up in… forever. And he has this certain je ne sais quoi about him, something that screams moved out of state for college. You stay grinning, biting your lip for a good breath or two after he leaves the store.

Then Eddie appears in your peripheral, like some terrible harbinger of embarrassment.

“Undateable, huh?” you say, fully aware that he was earwigging on that whole exchange because he’s a nosy bitch and he can’t help himself. Glutton for gossip.

“You don’t have to throw yourself at the first person who walks in the store just to prove a point, baby,” Eddie tells you, this big face of condescension. You want to smack it off him so bad your palms are itching.

You huff and backtrack to where that box of unshelved books sits. “Maybe I’m tired of waiting around.”

—

Ronnie Ecker and Robin Buckley are looking each other in the eye, wolf-whistling furtively when you elbow open the door of the gym.

“You’re flat. I’m telling you you’re flat,” Ronnie’s insisting, an adorable three inches away from Robin’s face.

“I can’t be flat! A mouth whistle cannot be flat!”

It��s marching band practice. You don’t know what the hell goes on in here and you know better than to ask.

“Would you two get a room already?” you call, heels clicking across the glossed wood of the gym. These dorks have all got their feathered hats and bibs on, a kind of half-assed dress rehearsal for some pep rally they’re having on Friday. You missed the bulletin– kind of stopped paying attention, actually. Extracurricular distraction is a hell of a drug.

“Excuse me, this is a closed–” that’s the voice of Miss Genovese, the band teacher, stomping down from the bleachers in these tragic little loafers with the pleather peeling off. She makes it about halfway toward you, then this exasperated look washes right over her. The teacher dashes for the double doors and you point after her with a freshly painted red index finger. New lease on looking good.

“And that is?”

“Like, the third time in the last hour,” Ronnie shakes her head, taking her flamboyant little hat off. “Biggest running theory is morning sickness.”

What, is pregnancy like, catching or something? you’re about to muse.

“It’s almost contagious, right?” Robin says, tugging at her clip-on collar, “I mean, first your whole thing and now–”

Ronnie doesn't even have a chance to gesture for her to ixnay! before she slams pause on herself, eyes wide and all shit, did I say that out loud?! Your eyes narrow in return. That’s suspicious.

“What whole thing? My whole what?”

Ever and eternally knowing when to call it, Ronnie holds a hand up before Robin can even start to scramble an apology and serve it to you. Panther versus a precious little puppy dog– the fight ain’t even fair.

“Nothing. Scuttlebutt bullshit, the usual,” she rolls her eyes, throws a sympathetic glance to Robin who winces and retreats. Huh.

“What’s going on with you two?” you ask, crossing your legs over the bottom rung of the bleachers.

This actually makes Ronnie’s expression soften a little– her eyes race back in Robin’s direction and you swear you catch a blush. “Also nothing! Compound nothing. Why, does it look like…”

Lips purse into a little satisfied grin. Knew it. Toldja. Point to Lacy. “Looks like whatever you want it to look like.”

Ronnie reaches forward and waves her feathered hat in your face– stop being so observant! You cough in protest– ew, I don’t know where that thing has been!

“Whatever! What brings you to geek church?”

“That’s what they’re calling it now?”

“Stick around, we’ll start speaking in tongues.”

“Satanic Panic bringing about a fun new turn for the pep rally! Put some God back into that wind instrument,” you croon. “No, I actually wanted your thoughts on something.”

Ronnie raises her eyebrows and you feel like you oughta mirror her. You’re not usually one to seek out a second opinion, but the more you’ve gotten to know Ronnie, the more you see that she’ll tell you how it is. Especially now that you’ve dispersed with the whole intimidating it-girl cloud and she’s stopped pretending to be shy.

“I know. I’m shocked too.”

“I’m honored,” she swings her shoulders in girlish delight, “Dish it up, Doevski.”

“Okay, so,” you clap, hiking forward on your creaking bleacher, “I’ve been seeing this guy–”

“--this is the bookstore guy?”

A blink and a beat. “How’d you know about that?”

A face that has Eddie told me with footnotes of and he was kind of jealous scrawled all over it stares back at you. “I ‘unno, maybe I overheard…”

“Doesn’t matter.” You slice a hand through the air, no time for this right now. “Facts are facts, I’ve been hanging out with this guy,” interesting change of phraseology, considering, “and he’s a college guy–”

“If they could see you now.” The royal court of Hawkins, obviously. Older guys are generally an accomplishment. But Ronnie’s half-jesting.

“--I know, shut up. But, he mentioned something that would absolutely rock my college applications is a really, really great–”

“--feature in the Streak?” you’d gasped out in the back of his Ford Cortina (how very European!). College guy’s mouth was on your neck and his hand was inching into your shirt, playing at a faux placket of pearl buttons. Boys can never tell a real button from a fake one, apparently, even if they go to an East Coast school. I mean, shit! You’d gleaned enough information from him over a shake at the diner; relatively well-to-do family that lived near the Wheelers on Maple and kind of underwhelming taste in lit for an English major.

But he maintained eye contact and listened to your witty little bon mots, even if he didn’t… laugh at them. One thing led to another and thus, the backseat college advisory-slash-makeout session.

“Yeah, yeah, they love that shit…” he’d said, moving to your mouth in order to swallow any forthcoming words. But his words had piqued your interest more than his fingers had.

“What about an underdog story?” you said, eyes kind of hazing over in the middle distance.

“Sure, underdog, great…” college guy grabbed ahold of your leg and tugged you into him, “We can talk more about it later, okay?”

“Okay–”

“–okay?”

Ronnie grimaces. “I didn’t need that much detail.”

“Yes, you did.” You stare at her. “I’m a storyteller.”

Ronnie chews the proposal over a little, cheeks kind of bunched up in confusion. Behind her, band geeks badly hide their hickeys and exhibit too-gangly, too-obvious body language. No inspiration to be tapped from there.

“An underdog story… on the society pages? Like, who could you possibly–”

You smile that awful, conniving smile, because you came in here armed. “Ye of little faith.”

“Oh, no,” Ronnie says, and honestly, you’re a little taken aback by that reaction, “Hellfire?”

A shrug pulls your shoulders right up, rapidly on the defense. “Why not, right?”

“Why not– Lacy, you almost guillotined Jeff that one time he asked you.”

True that you hadn’t had the inches of article to spare for Hellfire Club in not-too-ancient history, but, “That was then, this is now! World’s changing– and it’s topical!”

The whole Satanic panic thing really did tickle your funny bone; and you saw yourself having a little fun with that by turning the focus on Hellfire. Subverting Eddie’s cult-leader mythos to show that he is just a kid who might have a propensity for telling a good story, surrounded by other kids who want to get a word in. You’re not looking to turn the tide on his reputation or anything but maybe… y’know. You could do the admirable journalistic thing and scratch the surface a bit. Show what you’ve learned.

It’s a challenge. You love a challenge.

“And it’s a good excuse to get in Eddie’s face,” Ronnie’s voice breaks through.

There is a lonnng beat, one you hold like the last shoes in your size at a sample sale. Your mouth keeps going to make the words yeah, right or it’s not about him! or y’know, something to exonerate you from the notion.

“I know he isn’t…” Ronnie trails off, coming to sit next to you. “that he’s kind of being weird to you right now.”

Go ahead and feign that ignoramus, girl. Shoulders quirking and all.

“Oh. Is he?”

And then Ronnie says maybe the dumbest thing on the planet, regarding the abominable sitch between you and Eddie Munson.

“You should just talk to him.”

“Ecker, there’s fruitless efforts and then there’s barren wasteland,” you scoff, “Guess which category proposing this to Eddie falls into.”

“That’s not what I–”

J’excuse, Ronnie, but you don’t care! Because this isn’t actually about anything other than getting all of those dice-throwing dorks, including Miss Ecker herself, into your damn paper. Okay?

“We have to ambush him! Element of surprise, that’s it,” you smile primly and hop off the bleachers. “I’m just going to show up at Hellfire, photographer in hand and– he won’t have a choice, will he?”

Ronnie’s expression is a mask of reproachfulness. You don’t let it shake you. You’re a cat playing with a now-endless ball of yarn, and you’re unshakeable.

“He’s such a sucker for attention,” you say, tossing your hair, and it sounds a lot more like you’re convincing yourself than anyone else in this echoey gym, “He won’t be able to resist.”

—

Reefer Rick doesn’t call, unless it’s an emergency. All of his communication is inbound, or passed through a shoulder check and a goofy smile at Melvald’s, or a nod of the head across the pool table at The Hideout. He doesn’t frequent there so much, because Bev knows he’s a pool shark and ever since ‘Nam, his ears are a little too sensitive to all that metal racket, man! By all means, rock on, but by then I gotta go rock-a-bye myself to sleep, alright? Anyway, that’s how Eddie knows to ride over to his place, if it’s not through a call he’s placed himself.

You need me, kid, you come and find me.

So when Eddie gets a call that says, “We gotta pow-wow, ese,” his nerves are set on edge. Not that he wasn’t feeling bad enough, what with the fact that some douchebag in a Cortina had picked you up and dropped you off to school the last couple of days. What with the fact he had actively dogged the car down a little bit of the road from the trailer park with his van, resisting every temptation to just run it all the way off into a ditch. And what with the fact he didn’t know what to say to you about that without it coming out in an anti-missive of jealousy! jealousy! jealousy! so what he did say to you was… nothing.

You two can’t maintain a consistent line of communication to save your lives, he realizes. There’s too much left unsaid, and the both of you are too stubborn or too scared to say any of it. Or even think it, in his case! The amount of times he’d had to slap himself sober, his brain going into overdrive thinking, if I had just told her… It’s a ‘friendship’, if you can even call it that, based on barbs and bad behavior and doing things because you know you shouldn’t. For the thrill. Right?

Like. Whatever. It’s not like he’d made tapes of a half dozen Black Sabbath albums because you mentioned you wanted to ‘study up’ on that ‘monster music’ he’s making. It’s not like you’d given him an annotated copy of Still Life with Woodpecker because he wanted to throw some ‘nonsensical curveball shit’ into a later Hellfire campaign.

It’s not like Eddie missed you– he just… should have seen this coming, is all. He’s used to getting left in the dust while people move onto better things, or whatever.

God, Munson, your voice taunts him from somewhere in his hippocampus, need some help nailing yourself to that crucifix?

Anyway, fuck, Rick called him.

Rick had gotten out of lockup about a month ago– some truncated charge or another that Eddie didn’t bother asking too much about, mostly because… well, Rick hadn’t really been himself. Larger and brighter than the sun itself, the great and powerful lion of a man that oozed life ain’t shit if you ain’t havin’ fun energy, Rick had kind of dimmed. Lost a lot of weight while he was inside. Came back a little bit twitchy and fluent in Spanglish, for some reason.

Eddie was worried, because of all the adult figures in his life, Rick was meant to be the one with levity. He’d lost out on a fun uncle when Wayne stepped into his father-figure role. Al was nothing but a dangerous bit player. Rick, he could rely on.

Thinking back to that infamous day when he had gotten loaded at Lipton Landing, before he picked up you and Ronnie, before he… well, you know the rest but, Eddie had sensed that Rick could use the company. He kind of tried to poke it out of him, whatever was wrong. Didn’t work. They had just watched The Godfather in a tense-ish silence and doofed a lot of joints. Sorta freaked him out.

Eddie’s crushing gravel on the descent to the infamously slanted Lipton Landing for his summons. There’s a hum that seems to traverse the window panes, a fond plucking work that could only belong to Link Wray. He puts the van in park and jogs up the steps to the front door, bracing himself for the pungent plume of skunk smoke that always greets him.

“Eduardo,” Rick’s voice curls around the greeting like smoke curls out of his mouth and he yanks Eddie over the threshold. Door slams, arm tightens around his shoulders. “You’re here.”

Rick’s always a handsy sorta guy–not like that!–but this grab makes him seize a little.

“You rang,” Eddie says, voice lilting, “Everything okay?”

Rick clutches him by the shoulders and looks at him for a long, long time. Uncomfortably long. How has he managed to puff on that joint for this long without choking long.

“No.”

And Rick begins a shuffle toward the kitchen. Eddie follows in an awkward half-step, headache threatening to bloom someplace in the back of his skull because he does not know how much more of this vagueness he can take!

“Does it have anything to do with why you called me down here? Because, shit, I would love to get a straight answer out of someone for once!” A mirthless chuckle follows, trying to soften his desperation.

A flick of the refrigerator door and Rick places two beers on his kitchen counter, hands bracing against the surface. “Then let’s sit crooked and talk straight. It’s about your…”

Hss. Eddie takes a notoriously mis-timed sip.

“...neighbor girl.”

Ffflp– Eddie wishes, just one day of his goddamned life, he could act cool at the mention of you. Even the suggestion of the mention of you. But no, he’s got PBR streaming from his nose like a moron and a look on his face that says uh-oh, spaghettio!

“That’s what I was afraid of,” says Rick, taking a knowingly smooth drink from his beer.

With the heel of his hand, Eddie wipes away his spluttering mess and fumbles around for a crumb of nonchalance.

“I don’t know–”

“Eddie,” Rick levels. God, Eddie hates it when adults are adults, and Rick hates having to act the adult even more.

His shoulders drop. “What about her?”

“Well, when I was in the pen–local, I’ll have you know–I got approached by a very interesting man with a proposition I was powerless to refuse.”

With some trepidation, Eddie mumbles, “Oh, yeah?”

“Someone– well, let’s say me and this someone have a friend in common…”

“Rick–” Eddie’s attempting the leveling thing, but he’s not as good at it as Rick is. Or as you are, for that matter. And you’re who he’s attempting to imitate here, even if he won’t admit it.

“--a certain mutual business partner, if you will–”

“Rick.” Eddie tries to punch through the tension with the big man’s name. “It was Lacy’s dad. Right? You can just say it was her dad.”

Rick’s brow sinks into a wrinkle. “...Lacy? The fuck kind of a dumb name is that?”

“It’s a nickname.” Why does Eddie feel defensive.

“The fuck kind of a dumb nickname is that?”

“They call you Reefer Rick.”

“That is a calculated business decision, a calling card if you w–”

“Rick. Can we close in on the point, here?” Ooh! Seems to actually work this time, much to Eddie’s relief. “I only got so many if you wills left in me.”

“Si, pronto,” Rick nods with apologetic understanding; he’s such an empath, this guy, “Long and short of it is, her pops offered me a little bit of cash and some assistance, iffin’ I promised to keep an eye on her.”

“Assistance…?” Eddie murmured out of the side of his mouth. It’s all in the way Rick says it! “Like…” Hand a loose fist. Jerky-jerk.

“Eddie,” Rick chides, “Assistance gettin’ out. In prison, that is just called bein’ sociable. –anyway, I have this conflict of interest, with the whole surveillance thing.”

“And what is that?”

“You.” The way Rick drops it is obviously meant to cause some kinda ripple effect of realization, but Eddie’s still confused.

“So you… didn’t take the money?”

“Huh?” Now Rick’s all confused. “Of course I took the fuckin’ money! What kind of a chump do I look like, man? What I’m getting at is, I knew that rattin’ on her also meant rattin’ on you.”

“Wh– why would it…”

“I got eyes everywhere, man. Dig? I’ve seen what’s been happening.”

Eddie’s heart leaps into his larynx. Eyes everywhere. And the truth was, you two had been stupid enough to be a lot of everywhere, thinking your respective trailers were the only hot zones. The Bookstore, the Hawk, Main Street Vinyl, Family Video, the diner, you name a Hawkins establishment and it has probably seen Eddie Munson and Lacy Doevski good-naturedly bickering in its aisles.

He wonders if Rick even had eyes in the Ecker trailer. Ronnie could be a Lipton informant. That girl can hold a secret about as well as Wayne Munson can hold his liquor, which is gracefully.

“Nothing’s been happening, we’re just–”

“Eddie.” Like a bulldozer, this guy. “I know Ivana pretty well. You ain’t hangin’ around that bookstore for the good of your health.”

“So what, you’re gonna–,” Eddie can feel himself starting to scramble, starting to sweat, backed into a corner like a hunted animal, “...tell her dad that we went to the movies a couple of times? That I go to her job, that I– that we’re–”

“What are you?” The way Rick puts it to him– rock, meet hard place. Should this really feel like such a tough question to answer?

“Friends.”

Rick draws up to his full height (tall, mountain man) and looks at him like he just shoved a cream pie into his face.

“It doesn’t matter, okay!” Eddie froths over, like a snapping dog, “We’re barely hanging out– anymore– so you can… you’re not gonna tell him anything, are you?”

Rick’s hands slowly, slowly rise, urging him to calm the yapping. No need to get into such a tizzy. Which Eddie wishes he could believe.

“‘course not, man,” he shakes his head, “Ray Doevski only needs to know what Ray Doevski absolutely needs to know.” Eddie can feel a little more weight behind that sentence than he’d like. “No reason you need to figure into this story.”

“That– that’s it? You’re not gonna tell him about u– about me?”

“You’re in enough of a shitheap as it is, is how I see it.” A beat. Rick takes him in; really takes him in. Feels like an embrace, his stare. Concern uncrinkles the ever-present smile in Rick’s eyes.

“Eddie, you care about this girl?”

Eddie’s mouth attempts to form around an answer, but he’s just blinking into nothing. Does he care about you? Does he care about you? He wants, needs to say no, to pfft you off, but every molecule is screaming otherwise. And Rick can sense it, operating on the extraterrestrial level that he does.

“Then I’m real sorry.”

“For what?”

As if on cue, car wheels on gravel shuck Rick’s attention away from him. His eyeballs jitter in his head, heading for the door– Eddie close behind him. “Sorry for what, Rick–?!”

“Little bit for that, little bit for… this.”

Standing in the window of Rick’s living room, these two watch an offensively red muscle car skew into the driveway, making a mockery of Eddie’s beat up van. The driver’s door pops open and the first thing Eddie clocks is a blinding glint off some brand new aviator sunglasses.

The second is that trademark Munson smile.

—

“This is exciting!” Nancy Wheeler says, kind of flatly but with a conviction buried deep under her curled bangs.

On the table sits two piles of playing cards, one steadily growing and one steadily decreasing.

You two had taken to playing gin rummy when staring at paper layouts became a little too much. Technically, she actually had a say in layout and you were just nosy, but it’s a decent excuse to hang out. Though, both you and Nancy had this incredible tendency to hyperfocus on detail so hard that neither of you could pull the other out far enough to look at the big picture, so one day she tossed a deck of cards your way and said, “Deal!”

“I know,” you say, trying to focus on these melds of suits you’re making– that discard pile is looking poor, “Fresh turn for me, y’know? Less fluffy, more Didion.”

Nancy snorts softly, swapping out a card from her hand. “Who does that make Eddie? Charlie? Or Linda Kasabian?”

A smile dances across your lips and you shrug, reaching for a cigarette before you go for another card. Usually, smoking in the newsroom was prohibited, as it was prohibited on most of Hawkins High grounds, but whenever that deck came out, you felt it was appropriate for at least one of you to be smoking. Gave a kind of Torchy Blane feel to the whole scenario which fit you and Wheeler pret-ty keenly, if you did say so yourself.

“That’s not what I was talking about, though,” Nancy says, poking Fred Benson’s empty mug toward you to use as an ashtray.

Your eyes narrow; this could be a play to distract you from a winning hand.

“It’s not?”

“No…” she puffs out another soft scoff, meeting your eyes over her fan of cards, “I mean the college guy.”

“Why is it exciting?” and you do want to know why Nancy thinks so. She’s a mile wiser beyond her years, even precocious enough to keep in step with you most of the time. You’d like her take.

“Well, it’s what you wanted, right?” she tells you, watching you puff your cigarette and dig into the stock pile. “Somebody older, decidedly not a grabby high school boy– but someone with more experience, both with girls and with being outside of Hawkins. And the fact he goes to Vassar means–”

“He probably eats kitty like a maniac.”

Nancy lets out this full-bodied Merlot of a laugh, only a little color dashing over her cheeks. She’s gotten used to you being provocative on purpose because it gets a laugh out of her. So far grown out of the prude shoes you were sure she was still sporting. You’re proud of her.

“Not exactly what I was getting at but– more sensitive to the female perspective, sure.” But then she registers what you forgot you’d even dropped. “Hold on, probably? You mean you haven’t–...”

You shrug. It’s a little withdrawn on your part.

“Oh,” Nancy says, and seems to be leaning a degree or two towards unsurprised. That ruffles your feathers a little bit. Again, with the frigid thing. You couldn’t shake it.

“No,” you emphasize, shucking your pitiful melds back again. “It's not as if we haven't–done things. I've copped a handful. Time is of the essence, and I take, y'know, a little more time to get there.”

“So no return on investment...?”

"Not... yet."

Nancy almost tosses her cards at you, the way she jabs them through the air. “You? You, the one who’s been preaching Betty Friedman to me, you haven't been getting–”

“Yes, me! Did you not hear me about time and the essence?”

“I know, it’s just– a little surprising.”

There have been exactly three instances of almost you tying your panties to the rearview mirror of college boy’s Ford Cortina, so to speak, and you’ve come out of each one with this desperate echo of oh well! Maybe next time! careening around your skull. Like you’re trying to convince yourself that by virtue of him not being in your grade, this has been a worthwhile way to spend your time. And listen, no misunderstandings here, it has! At least, part of it. It usually starts like this– the two of you grab some shitty diner coffee or some shitty diner food and then he takes you around in his car for a turn or two, admiring that famous Hawkins scenery (see: shuttered businesses and if you’re really lucky, that one mangy fox that feasts on the overflowing trash can near the Big Buy). You talk (you mostly talk) books and movies and say something that should be a hook of conversation but usually ends up with him screwing his face up in amusement and saying something along the lines of, “God, you’re so beyond this place.”

Which, duh. You’ve been saying this. This is the raft upon which your whole identity floats.

The exchange dies in the air and he puts his hand on your leg and that is just… wonderful. He’s a solid B on the kissing GPA, and he’s cute and sort of funny, even if he doesn’t rally back jokes the way you’d… sort of gotten used to. Sometimes he makes a halfway-interesting observation about like, Philip Roth or somebody. But when it comes down to the minute of it, it still feels like going through the motions. Fumble bra strap, catch nail on his zipper, crank back passenger seat to climb in the back. Hey presto, you’ve distractedly jerked off a boy once again.

You are not entirely sold on the fit of his hands on your body, even if he doesn’t look at you like he’s just solved a Rubik’s cube.

In fact, he kind of looks at you like you’re precious. Virginal precious. Innocent precious. Which you’re not totally sold on either.

Nothing about him that makes you fantasize about what his mouth might feel like on you. What your fingers might feel like wound around his curls. His hair doesn’t even curl. There’s just nothing about him that calls for your full attention.

“Think there might be a reason for that?” Nancy, your annoyingly perceptive Nancy, presses. Goddamn intrepid girl reporter. She hasn’t stopped staring at you with that smug little look. You haven’t answered the question. “And it might be… living across the way from you?”

“Tch. What?” you snip. “I’m… having fun. What?”

“Nothing,” she smiles. “Just… gin.”

She lays out her dazzling melds, complete with a measly goddamned three in deadwood cards and you toss your own bullshit hand to the side. A dumb amount of spades that add up to nothing scatter across the desk. An accusatory finger jams in her direction.

“You are a fucking card shark.”

“Nope!” Nancy says, popping her ‘p’, “I just know a really great set when I see one.”

Reaching into Fred’s mug, you crush your cigarette with a little too much force. Now, how would Nancy have a read on that? you think, oblivious to your own obviousness. (Like a neon sign. Like a circus tent.)

You hadn’t even reminded her of the catastrophic events of her thirteenth birthday which led to a whole lot of this awkwardness, which, now that you thought about it, actually implicated her in the crime of you kissing Eddie Munson ‘til you were breathless in Granny Ecker’s closet.

If you hadn’t been born and had a birthday, I wouldn’t be in a spiral over some boy with a curl pattern like a fucking backwoods libertine.

“You’re not clever,” you tell her, but she’s looking at you all cleverly, “Like. You’re clever, but I need you to know that you’re not clever.”

With flicking fingernails, Nancy picks up your discarded cards and folds them neatly back in the deck.

“I’m just saying,” and the tone she takes is a little gentler now, “don’t… let yourself miss out on something just because, I don’t know, the thing you’re currently having fun with is what you think you want. What you feel you want and what you think you want are two very different–”

“This isn’t entirely about me, is it?” you realize, defenses peeling down a little bit. The Nancy and Steve of it all had been looming since your (admittedly triumphant!) visit to the war memorial that was the boy’s bathroom. Still no sign of that place getting fixed, by the by. And ever still, Nancy hadn’t told Steve about their little mission. Many a reason for that, you were led to believe. Not a lot she wanted to dissect, though.

Nancy’s face scrunches up and she stops packing the cards.

“No. But let’s pretend like it is.”

A groan escapes you as you sink back into your chair, a twinge of pain running along your shoulders.

“Nance. This is all so much more complicated than you realize.”

“Try me.”

You toss a hand through your hair, slapping your palm down on the desk.

“Fine. But if I tell you this–”

A hand rises out between the two of you– yours, pinkie extended.

“Not a word,” you press.

Nancy clamps her finger around yours in a way that enforces how super-serious she is about this. The reason your usual reserve doesn’t hold up under that x-ray stare of hers is because you can tell she actually gives a shit. She’s not looking for gossip. She cares. Which is still an entirely alien feeling to you.

So the whole thing spills out. Steve’s party, the record store, getting locked up in Eddie’s trailer and getting locked up in feelings, Roane County Quarry’s incredible acoustics, the friendship that made you fold all the neatly arranged origami parts of yourself out toward him only to realize you had no idea how to fold them back. The kiss. The subsequent awkwardness of said kiss. The college guy. The relative radio silence. The fact that…

“...I don’t feel like myself when he’s not around,” you say, lighting a fourth cigarette off your third. “Isn’t that silly? I spent all this time painting this like, fabulous eggshell of myself then this wild-eyed, smart-mouthed, catastrophic ass smashes it clean open and now–”

“All the college boys couldn’t put you together again,” Nancy nods. “You’re a very beautiful Humpty Dumpty.”

“... does Humpty Dumpty die in the end?”

“Maybe we shouldn’t be teaching it to kids.”

“No. They should know. The fall comes for us all.”

There’s a suspended silence. You get this feeling like you’ve emptied your purse on the table and you still can’t find that thing you’re looking for, despite sifting through everything.

“How does that even happen?” you question, biting at the skin on your little finger. Not Humpty Dumpty, the Eddie thing. It comes out idle, but you pray that Nancy, with her feelings scalpel and surgical precision, doesn't decide to answer it.

Instead, she says, “You need a photographer for that piece.”

Thatta girl. Your dimmer switch turns up. “Fred hasn’t even okayed it yet.”

“I’ll deal with William Randolph Hearst, okay?” Nancy says derisively and tosses her eyes to heaven. She pushes her chair back. “Ask Jonathan Byers.”

“He hasn’t taken photos for us in a while,” you remark, eyes searching Nancy. She’s readying herself to leave, so totally dodging this line of questioning before you can even cast it. Clever.

“No, he has not,” she sighs, winding her scarf around her neck, “But he’d be good for this. He knows how to capture action. And his kid brother plays DnD with mine, so this’d be, like… nice for them.”

And this is just as much me making amends with Jonathan Byers as it is you, backwards as it may seem, you nearly hear her say. Or you’re making that up.

Shame Nancy is so dead set on becoming the next Nellie Bly. Under the right circumstances, she’d make a hell of a normal person.

Good thing you prefer freaks.

—

Jonathan Byers is a notoriously hard boy to get a hold of, it turns out. Nancy passed along his number (which, you actually already had but you didn’t bring that little detail up) and when you finally punched it in on the yellowing phone nailed to the wall of your trailer, it rang and rang and rang.

Which, after the fourth time, was just rude. Do the Byers have a thing about not answering the phone, or something?

“Jonathan!” you holler across the parking lot, emerging from the passenger side of Nancy’s car this time.

College guy was decidedly busy and despite the hanging tension, you’d toyed with the idea of asking Eddie for a ride. Alas, the boy in the Dio patched battle vest was nowhere to be seen. His van hadn’t been there since the weekend and he had been MIA from school the last couple of days, actually, which was itching at you.

It also made you miss when you had a goddamn set of wheels at your disposal.

Anyway, Jonathan looks at you with flaring eyes, kind of like you’ve just stuck a shotgun to his snout and there’s no hope of him making a getaway. “Um…”

Now, keep in mind that these are the first words you’ve spoken to him in a measurable high school forever, so his surprise is entirely justified. It’s just not within the beam of your patience right now.

“Hi. Can we chat?” you say, falling in step with him as you head towards the front door. You don’t bother asking for permission, and forgiveness won’t be necessary. “I was hoping you could help me out with a piece for the Streak.”

Blink, blink. Jonathan’s grasping for words– seems to be a lot of that going around lately.

You strike your hand through the air. “Let me put it to you like this– you are going to help me out with a piece for the Streak.”

“Why?” he asks, and it’s prickly.

“Becauuuse,” you draw out, “I need a photographer. And god knows whenever Nicole attempted to work a lens, those snapshots were so out-of-focus they looked like an optical illusion.”

“And, you’re not talking to Nicole right now,” Jonathan nails you, but not totally. In your mind, you revisit flashes of Nicole recounting, in gloriously erroneous detail, those photos Jonathan had taken of Nancy. You had pretended to be scandalized and rolled your eyes, thinking what’s a little peep show among losers.

“Even if I was,” you say, dogging Jonathan all the way to his locker, “I still wouldn’t ask her. This is important to me.”

That avoidant Byers reserve stands strong, with Jonathan grabbing books in hurried succession. He is trying to get away from you, but that’s not happening without an emphatic yes!

“I don’t even really–”

“Take pictures anymore?” you pfft, pointing to his messenger bag, “Twenty bucks says your camera is in there and the film’s half shot.”

“I don’t have twenty bucks.”

“Me neither,” you shrug, “Spent it on that new Echo & the Bunnymen.”

Jonathan hesitates a bit, fingers strumming against his biology textbook. A thread of something long forgotten by the listening booths of Main Street Vinyl tugs between you both, but it’s not weighed down by the prospect of will we kiss about it. He kind of smiles.

“What did you think? I haven’t gotten down to hear it yet.”

You thought it made you want a flowing dress and a place to prance. Like if the more whimsical end of Fleetwood Mac didn’t exhaust you. Those last four tracks snapped your heartstrings like suspenders, with comical aplomb.

“Grandiose! That ‘Killing Moon’ song? It’s got Jonathan Byers written all over it,” you chirp, and mean it. “I’ll make you a copy if you put that camera to work for me.”

He shrugs, but you can see you’re wearing him down. “I’m not much for shooting pep rallies.”

“Liar. Wheeler says you’re top banana in the action shots department,” you counter, “But how about players? I think I want some portraits, too. Non-corny ones.”

“What team?” Jonathan screws up his nose. The distaste for jockery runs deep, and rightfully so.

But you shake your head, face curving into an expression of near excitement.

“No team. Better, and worse, depending on what side of the cafeteria you’re sitting,” your hands splay out, and for god’s sake, you feel like Munson himself, “Hellfire Club.”

Jonathan looks like his record’s skipped. Eyeballs sort of jiggle in his skull and he mouths, oh, like the association of you between Hellfire should mean something. Suspiciously like Nancy, and just suspicious period. Your eyebrows start to inch towards one another.

“What’s that look? Does that mean you’ll do it?”

“Um,” he dillies, then dallies, “Sure. Yeah. You know, my kid brother loves DnD.”

Ah, yes. The other Byers boy, the one who’d gone missing all that time ago. You remembered. Actually, you remembered not being able to figure out how you should feel about it– how you should act, other than falling in line with the majority of people who were giving Jonathan shit at the time. You regret that now, with a chill that runs right down to your toes.

“Could be cool for him to see, no?” you try, corner of your mouth lifting, “A little niche in the midst the high school horrors. To look forward to, y’know.”

The look on Jonathan’s face is more than a little bit screaming, that’s rich, coming from you, you were the high school horror. But he shakes it off, because he’s nicer than you are, even though he doesn’t need to be.

“Yeah… whatever you say, Lacy. When do you need me?”

You tell him Friday and he agrees, much to your satisfaction. You’re just about to punch him on the shoulder like teamwork, buddy! before he saves you such a wildly out-of-character display by dodging toward his homeroom.

You sail toward your locker like the bastard that’s risen alongside the cream, only to be greeted by something… strange. Scratches, all around the maudlin gray paintwork of your combination lock. Like it’d been tampered with, or something. A blaze of paranoia burns at the base of your skull, and you instinctively try to recount where your journal is… in your bag. Phew. Fine. This could be… anything.

Fingers reach forward to twist your lock, and with the slightest touch, the door is forced open by a push from the other side. A flash of bright red, then SPLAT. Yellow, SPLAT, blue, SPLAT, SPLAT, SPLAT! You shriek a real ear-piercing shriek as at least a dozen water balloons spill out of your locker, hitting the floor with an obscene smack. Water dashes everywhere, and you’re barely able to move out of the splash zone in time.

“What the fuck!’

Within seconds, there’s a hubbub and a crowd’s gathering, trading sickening snickers with one another as you peer into the dark of your locker. You gingerly step through the puddle, suede boots irreparably spattered, and yank the door the whole way open. There, sat atop your schoolbooks and a stray water balloon that hadn’t made the fall, is a horribly familiar set of test tubes.

In one of them sits a squirt of blue liquid and that offensive strip of plastic. And scrawled across it in clumsy black marker?

IT’S A FREAK!

Realization hits you like Carol did, making your head swim among all the murmurs of oh my god… and gross! and told you–trailer trash and unconcealed cackles. A voice sparks up like a sizzling ember in a swathe of darkness.

“Where’s your baby daddy at, Lacy? Get tossed in the slammer with your old man?”

The languid tones of none other than Billy All-Balls-No-Brains Hargrove drift by you, sailing right past the back of your head as you stare a hole through the innards of your locker. Then, your stupid hippocampus gears up– Robin, mentioning ‘your whole thing’ while Genovese baby-barfed her guts up, Ronnie urging her to shut the fuck up, even Jonathan Byers was privy to this hot little piece of gossip.

This theory that you were up the spout with Munson Junior Junior.

How many people had seen you, stupid little you, coming out of that drugstore hiking that Advance box over your head like the championship cup? Seen you hopping into Eddie’s van– and out of it, and back in again on what now seemed like countless occasions?

Nobody could have suspected it was Nancy’s test, because nobody saw her. They saw you. That was the whole idea. You just didn’t consider the blowback.

“What’s going on out here?” the softly-coated concern of Ms Kelley rings out in the hallway, doing absolutely nothing to disperse the peanut gallery that’s set up around your locker.

“Lacy?” her voice points to you. Even the goddamn guidance counselor uses your beloved nickname.

You don’t react. You don’t even know what you’re doing until you come to a couple of paces down the hallway, feeling the thin, straining rubber in the palm of your hand. Your footsteps make heavy, wet, slapping noises against the linoleum as you follow the half-slouched shouldered swagger of Billy Hargrove down the hall.

Down, and down, and down towards the boy’s locker room and he doesn’t even register it, and you don’t even register that Ms Kelley is still calling your name–your full name, now–until she’s two dozen paces behind you, losing you in the throng of students making their way to class and you shove past half-dressed seniors in the locker room who guffaw at you in a way that feels like a knife in your gut and you yell, voice shaking–

“Hey Billy!”

And launch the water balloon, making square contact with his smug face.

“Cute fucking prank!”

His reaction, predictably, is way too slowww moooootion for your fucking liking, so you don’t even give him a shot to fully wipe his face off and mumble, “What the fuuuuck is yourrrr probbbblemmm, ssssllluuuutttt…”

You just go for him with the ferocity of a jumping jackal. Hands ball in his stupid sleeveless flannel (it’s winter in Indiana, you West Coast jackass!) and you shove him against the lockers with– well, with the strength only an ex-cheerleader brimming with suffocated rage would have.

Metal clatters and one empty unit even careens over like a big tin domino and you say, “Come up with that idea all by yourself, you fucking nimrod?”

Billy just smirks at you in half-speed, mullet sopping, as if this is a come-on. “I had a little help.”

It occurs to you that right here, right now, you could sell Nancy Wheeler down the river. You could be the you you once were, and you could say, well, primo observation skills, that pregnancy test wasn’t even for me!

But you don’t, because a pinky promise is a fucking pinky promise.

You let go of Billy’s shirt. Step off. “You’re pathetic,” you spit, but it feels more pathetic coming from you. All that molten blood in your veins makes you want to eviscerate him and whoever else was involved in orchestrating this stupid, stupid, stupid prank. But you come up lacking. Fuck!

Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes and you start to rush out of the locker room– but you’ve given Billy a reason now, and he’s gonna follow you.

“Shit, are you crying? Those hormones must have you really messed up, huh?” he faux-croons, the thunk-thunk of his poseur motorcycle boots following you to the back entrance, by the sports equipment. Your eyes are streaming freely now, lashes frantically blinking a path to vision.

But Billy isn’t letting up. And like the Pied Piper of slimeballs, he’s drawing followers– not least of which include Tommy Hagan.

“What about that college dropout you’re banging, Lacy?” his nasally tone slices through Billy’s tarry taunting. “He know you’re knocked up yet?”

“Jesus Christ, Doevski! I’m impressed,” Billy laughs, “Just how many loads are you taking?”

An abandoned baseball bat lies on the ground, having rolled out of the sports closet; instinct behind the wheel of your personal van, you stoop to pick it up and shove through the doors. You can nearly feel the breath of Hargrove and Hagan and all of these horrific, horrific boys with nothing better to do than to torture you hot on the back of your neck.

“Not yours, that’s for fucking sure,” you manage, your voice thick. The bat, at least, feels solid in your hand.

“It’s fun not being frigid, ain’t it, Lacy?” Billy goes on, and you squint against the sunlight as you round the building. “Tell me this, Munson teach you how to suck cock yet? ‘cause if not, I got a little time on my hands.”

Forging ahead, you cross the tarmac of the parking lot. The soft frost hasn’t even totally thawed out yet, sparkling atop the paintwork of Billy’s blue Camaro.

“That a fact, Billy?” you say, tears drying in quick streaks in that brisk morning air, leaving rivets in your made-up face.

You use your momentum to launch one foot onto the hood of Billy’s car, then the other. You nearly slip against the icy exterior, but steady yourself fast. Bat dangling at your side. Stomp. Stomp. You stand on the roof, and turn to face this congregation of assholes. You do not let sense set in, despite it threatening to inch through the white hot flame of your rage.

“What the fuck are you doing,” Billy outright cackles and Hagan and company guffaw along with him.

“Billy,” you sigh, a little breathless from the speed at which you’d booked it from the locker room to the parking lot, and the sheer vigor of your shock, awe and rancor, and everything else, “What the hell am I supposed to do with your limp dick in my mouth? Chew on the fuckin’ thing?”

Billy repeats himself, a touch darker now. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“I’m serious!” you say, a little shrill, a little stomp to punctuate that last word, “One thing you can say for Eddie Munson, is at least the motherfucker can get hard!”

Motorcycle boots advance towards you, and you point the bat at him like a broadsword.

“Do not. Come any closer. Or I’m gonna start doing some serious damage to this ugly piece of overcompensation.”

“She’s bluffing,” Hagan crows, and you turn your flaming glare on him. You wish you had a mirror– you wonder if crazy becomes you. Billy takes a pointed step forward and you raise the bat above your, head bracing for action– that’s enough movement for him.

“Gimme that bat, you stupid fucking cunt–!” But Billy’s cut short by a body barrelling into the side of him, knocking him askew. A jangle of denim and leather. The bat slips a little in your grasp.

“Get the fuck off of me Munson–”

“No way to talk to a lady, Billy!” Eddie gasps, tossing Billy back and letting his limbs hang. “You kiss Karen Wheeler with that mouth?”

Billy rounds on him like a triggered animal, spittle flying.

“Some fucking lady!” he snarls, “Got downgraded to that trailer park and now her snooty ass is spreading it for half of Hawkins! Desperate! Stringin’ you along like the dumb piece of shortbus shit you a–”

Activated, you throw that bat to the fucking wayside and scramble off the fucking car– nobody talks to him like that!

But you’re not fast enough, nobody’s fast enough, nobody can compete with how huge and booming and definite Eddie’s voice sounds when he says, smile glimmering, sun breaking through the bleak midwinter…

“You know what I like about you, Hargrove?”

THKUNCK. Bone to bone, fist meet fucking flesh–

“Nothin’.”

A scuffle goes up, and Eddie can’t even feel the hits of Hargrove’s hands connecting with his face, chest, ribs, wherever– all he can feel are your arms locking in vice around his waist, putting yourself in the eye of the storm in order to yank him back.

—

You got an elbow to the crown of the head, which isn’t too bad, even if you feel like a cartoonish lump should be rising there. But look at these other guys.

Billy with a black eye that’s bulging up rapidly, Eddie with a split lip and more than a couple of scratches on his knuckles. In that fray, he hadn’t exactly considered the implications of punching a guy with all his goddamned rings on. The implications being that shit hurt like hell. There is this radiating pain in his hand, not letting him unfurl his fingers completely.

There’s also this radiating feeling of dread cloaking his entire upper half as you sit three-to-the-wall outside Higgins’ office. You had, in Eddie’s estimation, incredibly bad timing.

See, considering the events of his past week, he was slowly making peace with the fact that he should probably be avoiding you entirely, even if that meant he died a little inside. He should have been doing that from the jump– but you, unbuttoned and reckless now apparently, kept requiring interventions so you didn’t get killed, or worse.

And Eddie couldn’t help himself when it came to you. Especially not when you were standing on top of Billy Hargrove’s sick Camaro, swinging a baseball bat and getting called some shit that no one should ever be calling you.

You’re out of control. Totally unsheathed. End of your rope. Unlaced.

And he’d do just about anything to keep you safe.

Even fuck up his guitar-playing hand. Which is also his…

“I can’t believe you fucking suckerpunched me,” Hargrove mumbles from your left. “With those ugly fucking rings on.”

Eddie can’t help himself, the last shred of propriety knocked out round about the time a knee to the ribs had winded him. “Aw. Billy. Don’t be so hard on yourself–”

“Eddie…,” you start, tone warning in a way that makes him want to pinch you, kind of. He leans towards Hargrove, meaning he’s leaning over you. Hair brushing across your shoulder. You notice that it smells distinctively skunkier than usual. Camping out at Lipton Landing?

“--honestly! You’re no sucker!” he implores, eyes shining in jest, “You totally had that coming!”

You hear Billy seething from his end, Eddie snickering from his and launch a well-timed arm in front of both of them before they can snap at it again.

“Cut it out, assholes! This is becoming increasingly more pigheaded.”

“And you’re the voice of perfect reason now, huh?” Eddie sneers, not giving you much breathing room. “Where’s the bat at, Babe Ruth?”

“In the parking lot, waiting to finish you off,” you grit back, nearly nose-to-nose with him, because you don’t know how to digest the guilt of his aching fingers.

“What are you mad at me for?” Eddie hisses, a smirk threatening to break his scowl, because he doesn’t know how not to provoke you.

“Knocking her up, probably,” Billy mumbles from the side.

“Shut up, Hargrove!” you both snap, eyes never leaving one another.

Higgins’ door creaks open and a quietly livid Ms Kelley says, “Lacy.” She jerks her head, motioning for you to up and at ‘em. You do, but not without one last look at Eddie, cradling his hand. Round, bottomless irises meet yours for a moment, then dart away with an impact that thickens your throat.

His poor hand, you find yourself thinking.

“He needs an ice pack…” you find yourself mumbling, Kelley shuffling you into Higgins’ office. The principal sits behind his beat-up desk, fingers steepled. You absently wonder if he’s been campaigning for a new, shinier, possibly more oaken desk because this doesn’t paint the picture of threatening figurehead that he so clearly wants you to tremble under.

You accidentally kick the thing, crossing your legs as you sit. “Sorry.”

“You should be,” Higgins declares. Here we fucking go.

“Permission to state my case?” you attempt. This hadn’t been your first time in the principal’s office; minor classroom infractions, a saccharine we’ll do everything to help that we can after your dad’s arraignment, but this time was certainly the worst.

“Denied,” he shoots you down.

“Permission to submit a plea of temporary insanity, then,” you try, patting at the sore spot on the crown of your head. “You know this doesn’t bode with my track record. You think I climbed on top of Billy Hargrove’s car completely compos mentis? Please.”

A tense silence from Higgins’ and Kelley’s end.

“You saw what Hargrove did, didn’t you? That disgusting prank?”

Again, nada.

“I’m a honor student, for Chrissake!” you exclaim, and Kelley plucks herself from the windowsill behind Higgins’ desk.

“Were an honor student, Ms Doevski,” she corrects. “Your grades have been slipping since– the events of the last couple of months. You’ve dropped cheerleading, you’ve made really puzzling false claims about peer tutoring, you…”

“Yes! Yes, the events of the last couple of months, if by which you mean familial imprisonment, then yes, I’ve been a little distracted!”

Higgins kicks back in his seat just as you hitch forward in yours, too angry to be pleading but too desperate to defy. His turn to mutter here we fucking go.

“I can turn this around,” redirected to Ms Kelley and her ever-sympathetic expression, “I can turn this around.”

“College applications deadlines are within touching distance, Lacy.” She of little faith.

“I know that!” As if your hands aren’t itching every time college guy mentions Ithaca or… wherever the fuck it is he goes. As if that isn’t a crack in the assuredness that you were going to take flight out of this town in a spectacular fashion.

“Ladies– can we dispense with the hysteria and deal with the here and now?” Higgins insists and you and Kelley, despite your opposition, share a look.

World class, this guy. Top of his field, asshole-wise.

“Two week suspension should do it,” he says, jotting something down.

You open your mouth in protest and Kelley quells you– you’re in no position to start bargaining down.

“Technically, she didn’t do anything,” and for good measure, but pressed, “Sir.”

“She climbed on top of that boy’s car with a baseball bat!” Higgins barks; now who’s hysteric?! “She had intent to do harm!”

“It was justified.” You can’t help yourself.

Kelley stares him down, and that woman’s charm is something that should be studied in a fucking lab, because he relents right away.

“Two weeks of Saturday detention, then. Christ. Am I going soft?”

You shake your head, all the knots in your body releasing just a little bit. You try to dig out what’s left of your once-famously refined charm, while simultaneously dashing towards the door before he can change his mind.

“Au contraire. You’re a paragon of masculinity, sir. Regan could take a hint. Door open or closed?”

Higgins grimaces. “Send in Hargrove. Tell Munson he’s suspended. I don’t have time for both of those pricks today.”

Eddie’s voice travels through the crack in the door. “I heard that, sir.” A beat. “I miss you, sir.”

You bite back a deeply reluctant laugh and jerk your head toward Billy. You’re up, champ.

Then, it’s the two of you. You and Eddie, Eddie and you. Alone, save for the ever watchful jam jar eyes of Janice the secretary. Eddie is still nestling one hand in the other like it’s a baby bird with a broken wing. Shit, you really hope it isn’t broken.

“You’re suspended. They told me to tell you.” It’s a statement made to turkey-stuff the silence more than anything.

The way Eddie lolls his head back makes you want to reach out and push it in the opposite direction. You don’t know why.

“You’re a regular town crier, ain’t ya.”

“Hear ye, hear ye.”

A leaden pause. Your hearts might have thumped both in time just now.

“Wanna get out of here?” he asks.

“No leaving school grounds,” Janice unhelpfully squawks.

Eddie gets up, drawing himself to his full height. Your eyelids flutter. There’s a little purple around that cut on his lip, which you bet is starting to throb something awful. You feel dwarfed beside him, and he uses his good hand to turn you by the shoulder and shuffle you past the nosy secretary’s post.

“I meant the sick bay, Janice,” Eddie pelts, giving each vowel sound a hard flick. “I’m wounded. And she’s apparently pregnant. Or didn’t you hear?”

—

The nurse’s office is tiny and cramped, smelling of bleach with a glaring fluorescent overhead. Eddie has a hard time figuring out why anyone would come here to feel better. Especially given that Nurse Lydia is barely ever present.

Eddie carpes the opportunity to slam himself down on her rolling saddle chair, gliding into your path as you try and snoop around for first aid materials.

“I don’t think you should be driving that thing,” you remark, “You could be concussed. You’re acting concussed.”

“It’s keeping me awake!”

Eddie watches you, digging through drawers and pulling out tongue depressors, your teeth making an indent into your bottom lip. Your eyes are doing that darty thing, quietly frantic in place of an apology. You don’t know how to say sorry you got wailed on by Hargrove for me. Instead, you’re acting like he’s bleeding out.

“Lace, just wait for the professional.”

The clip of your nickname makes you toss your stare over your shoulder, hardness framing your eyes like mascaraed lashes. Eddie stops rolling around at once.

“I am the goddamn professional, as far as you’re concerned.” Your little chin jerks towards the exam table that’s beat into the corner of the room. “Get on the bed.”

Whack-a-mole. Woodpecker. Other euphemisms for his cock developing a pulse. Eddie has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping.

“Yes, Nurse Ratched.”

Scoffing out a little fuck you!, you go about scrambling together supplies and Eddie obediently launches himself onto the bed, the ancient thing creaking beneath him. When you finally approach him, you seem to be holding a lot of alcohol pads.

The look before you admit to a shortcoming is one he wants framed. You always flick your eyes around like a guilty cartoon character, like Betty Boop on her way to gaining a doctorate in the pretentiousness of the English language, and pout. Lean your neck in, like you’re swearing him to secrecy.

��I actually don’t know anything about first aid. Beyond the rudimentaries.”

Eddie chuckles. “You were a cheerleader. You were getting thrown in the air a whole bunch, if I recall. Feels like you should know how to like, resuscitate.”

“Rudimentaries, I said!” and you grab his injured hand a little roughly, alcohol pad torn out and ready, “Like, I obviously know alcohol disinfects a wound, ice for a bruise… I don’t know how to, like, reset a bone. Besides…”

You inch closer to him now, wiping at his torn and tender knuckles a little too carefully. They’re just stupid cuts, Eddie thinks, his breath beginning to shallow.

“...that Cat People remake was premiering at the Hawk the day we had first aid training. Like I was going to miss that.”

He can feel heat radiating off your body, a core change for cold little you. Feel the fabric of your skirt brush the rip in his jeans. A little choked, he mumbles, “Cat People is a remake?”

“Based on the 1942 original,” you nod, flicking the tiny used pad in the nearby trash can. “I like it. But I like that David Bowie song more.”

“That song sucks.”

“You’re injured and wrong. What a shame.” Your fingers close around Eddie’s wrist and slowly, slowly press his forearm to his chest. “Keep that elevated.”

“It’s not broken,” and he’s staring at the quiet tremble in your bottom lip.

“Could be sprained,” head cast down again, tearing open another pad, and he can smell your hair, “Does it hurt?”

Eddie doesn’t answer right away, because he’s waiting for you to look back up. Because he thinks he’s going to carpe something else.

You fall for it, and your eyes sucker him in. He feels weak in the joints. You repeat yourself. “Does it hurt, Eddie?”

He just nods, boyishly. Nearly passes out when your fingertips tilt his face towards the light. Skin buzzing underneath them, you peering at his mouth like you know what you’re doing. The slit in his lip feels raw and strained.

“This’ll hurt, too,” you murmur, and he feels your breath against his jaw. A sharp prick from the alcohol against his cut doesn’t make him wince– worse. As you swipe the cotton against his bottom lip, he whimpers. Unh.

Oxygen stops short in your throat, hearing that. That noise. It sends a wave of motion through your lower body. You’re leaning awfully close to him, closer than you need to be. In fact, his knees are settled either side of your hips. How did that happen. When did that happen. How did you allow this.

How are you allowing your fingertip to trace against his lip, alcohol evaporating without a hope or a prayer. How are you allowing yourself to look at him through the fan of your lashes, his injured hand still obediently propped against his chest. His good hand pressing into your lower back.

You taste the vagueness of the disinfectant on his lips as he presses them into yours.

Jerking back, you’re not far enough away from him to create a distance that matters. All you see are Eddie’s eyes, flickering open, apologetic in themselves. About to tell you he’s sorry.

No.

Hands fly, one woven in the curls at the base of his skull as you kiss up into him, tongue an impolite peak. This is not the closet; this is arguably far more dangerous, with the nurse’s door still open a courteous gap. This is the harsh light of day. This is Eddie’s hand moving your skirt further up the curve of your ass.

He’s grabbing onto you as best a one-armed man can, and your hand travels in turn. A jagged, fevered path drawing up his thigh until, under your palm, is the hard outline of him. The pressure of your hand over the denim-bound curvature of his cock makes him groan sharply, the sound pressed against your cheek.

Face angles back for a look at him. Because this is bad, mindless, reckless, stupid. And he’s always worth a look.

You spot a tiny speck of blood on the pink of his lip from where his cut had split.

And your curious tongue flicks at it.

Eddie’s eyes flare. You, unable to unglue your stare from his, suck his lightly bleeding lip between yours. Fragile. Crushable.

He did this for you.

No one’s ever cared, or known you enough, to do something like that for you.

Desire moves you like a shockwave and your hand leaves his crotch to help you clamber onto the exam table, clamber into Eddie’s lap.

Downright idiotic.

You cast a glance to the door, Eddie’s fraught breath puffing against your neck.

Thought you were a smart girl.

You look right into his face, the poster boy for sheer distraction, pre-occupation, skin-searing annoyance, nervous charm, surprising wit, magnetism, oh my… and feel his fingers edging far past the hem of your skirt, past the binding top of the thigh-highs you’re wearing because it’s fucking laundry day and stopping at the gusset of your panties.

He can feel how wet you are.

Lips a breath away from each other, one set bleeding, one set housing a gasp. Eddie nudges his forehead against yours, the both of you blind to consequence.

“Just friends, right?” His breath is jagged and unconvinced, and your hips kick toward his hand.

You do not answer.

Unbruised fingers push the fabric covering your radiating heat aside and you have to tighten your grip around the back of his neck so as not to tumble over. Eddie is not deft, because this isn’t the moment to be deft. He plunges two fingers into the plush of your pussy and looks to you with pleading eyes. Eyes that say, is this good, eyes that say, don’t make a sound.

You nod in the affirmative to both and he drags his digits out slowly. Rhythm picks up and you’re clenching around Eddie’s hand in a matter of minutes, lower muscles seizing and het-up moans being gratefully swallowed by him. Pad of his thumb moves to create rough, clumsy friction against your clit that elicits a sharp, high, wanton ah! from you, grinding against him in an unquenchable search for more.

“Does he do this? Does anyone do this for you, Lacy?”

Eddie’s eyes keep searching you for approval and you’ve lost the ability to appease or deny him– all you know is the blind, nonsensical want that’s pouring out of you is being lapped up. Lapped up. His tongue, you want his tongue everywhere, but it’s working at your earlobe, your neck, sucking, whispering, “Just friends? Lacy?”

And when you cum, it’s fast and hard and suffocating, an achievement you’re close to angry at him for– because no one has ever been able to break you apart that fast.

Or at all.

He can never know. He’d be so insufferable about it… some bare fragment of a thought passes through your brain, synapses busy firing elsewhere.

You’re rocking against him through the crest, pressing your forehead to his with such a force that you’re frightened it’ll splinter, you’re murmuring, “Eddie… Eddie, d–hmn, fuck…”

And you can tell by the way he’s attempting to press his body against you that he wishes he hadn’t bust that stupid fucking hand of his, so he could hold you properly– and you’re right. You’re right, you’re always fucking right, but you told him to keep it elevated and he’s going to do what you say.

He’s got no choice when it comes to you.

He needs you safe. Needs you happy. No matter what.

Which is why he’s got to pull this bullshit move.

Eddie is patient and watches you regain a little consciousness, faster than he’s sure you’d like. He extracts his hand and, sticky with you still, wipes it on the thigh of his jeans. Heart thundering in his ears, he tugs you into one more breathless kiss and wonders if you can still taste the rust sharpness of his cut in between your lips. He’s strangled himself against cumming up till this point, and this doesn’t help matters. An imperceptible spot of pre-fun lies in his lap but the thing is, the really fucked thing is–

Eddie gently shoves you away, mind silently babbling for the right thing to say. I’m sorry is something you’d see right through, get off is too harsh, oopsie is too fucking whimsical–

But you, ever-perceptive you, you realize your place. Knock yourself back into reality so fiercely that he’s afraid it’ll bruise you, lovely, awe-inspiring you that just softened into his hands like that. You clumsily clamber off the exam table in a hot flash of rejection, which– no, god, no, he doesn’t mean that…

“I–”

“No, I know,” you grit, prickly all over. Thumbing at the edge of your blurred lipstick. “I know. I certainly know.”

Eddie dares to look at you and you dare to look back at him. His lips looking worse off from you, but at the very least kissed. At the very least kissed, but you could cry with the empty feeling inside you. A cavern of a girl. You nod curtly, like this is the conclusion of a particularly charged run-in of acquaintances, not like you wanted him to swallow you whole moments ago.

Slipping out of the nurse’s office, you run right into the myth that is Nurse Lydia.

She looks tan.

“He’s,” you struggle, “He’s waiting for you.”

—

Cheating out sick from school and taking a shift at The Bookstore following the latest in a series of apparently neverending aftershocks was probably not the smartest call– but hell, you’re fresh out of smart calls.

Ivana smells a rat, and she doesn’t take to rats lightly, so she gives you your space.

The morning ticks on at a pace that feels supernatural; like you’re witnessing outside of your body, like you can’t orient yourself in the right direction. You attempt to arrange and rearrange poets from alcoholic to puritan. You sell someone a copy of The Fountainhead without giving them their free blistering evisceration of Ayn Rand.

You’re at a loss. A shameful, dangling loss that almost makes you feel pious. Like you should go to confession.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned… I let my one-time best friend, current-cloudy object of my affection get beat up for me then bring me to climax in the nurses’ office.

You retread the same sentence in your over-thumbed copy of Save Me the Waltz like a table corner you keep stubbing your toe on.

We couldn’t go on indefinitely being swept off our feet.

You said it, Alabama. Something’s got to land.

And, because someone down there wants you dead, land it does.

The bell of the store’s door clashes upon opening, and all of the energy draws toward one magnetic point. A shock of silver hair, standing on end catches the lamplight, glowing almost eerily.

You feel a zzzzip of static. The air feels charged.

He doesn’t face you right away. Kind of slinks into the place, edging along the shelves.

“Say, Lacy. Ballpark me somethin’,” his Southern drawl is barely contained within the Midwestern flatlands of his accent, bursting through the baseline like a corpse that hasn’t been buried deep enough. “How long… do you think…” His fingers tap along the worn spines of the display, creeping closer to the counter, “...it would take… to read all these books?”

The lilt of his voice is so familiar that you recognize it instantly. Even the way your name falls out of his mouth. Like a funhouse mirror, a distortion of a voice you’d come to…

Well. Let’s not get into that. Let’s get into this.

A roguish smile with a couple decades of road wear on it and a tacky Hawkins High class ring on his finger. You could’ve sworn Eddie told you he dropped out.

“How many years in the big house with nothin’ better to do?” He finally stops and pivots on his heel. The way he looks you over makes you nauseous and lightheaded, like he took a long, long sip out of you. Jammed a straw in your jugular and sucked.

Lot of blood play happening ‘round these parts.

“Hello, Al.”

“Hello, sweetheart. You filled out.”

author's notes: christ alive. i mean WELCOME BACK! i really missed you guys. happy new year, thank you for keeping me on the level with writing this chapter, it was so much FUCKING harder than i anticipated! was it too much warped angst? are the feelings complicated? does the pope shit in the woods?!!!!! you betcha. anyway, be seated for today's lesson - "less oedipus-y, more ea--..." there is an ending to that joke that i felt was too crass for the moment but if you can guess it you win a prize - the patchwork girl of oz is the seventh book in the wizard of oz series by l. frank baum! obviously. it's actually a laugh riot, you should check it out. scraps, the eponymous patchwork girl, is a full tilt lunatic who's kind of a bit of me. but theoretically, the patchwork girl made out of a thousand different scraps of everything else... bit of lacy innit - the mage in the mink coat is self referential lmao we've gotten to THAT point in the story - gravity's rainbow is a book that guys i dated used to recommend to me constantly which is like infinite jest for people who are ran through - i'm really fucking with college guy at this point, making him drive a ford cortina. because i think it is ugly - the plot of the annotated book that lacy gives eddie, still life with woodpecker by tom robbins, is... interesting eye emoji eye emoji. tom robbins also wrote even cowgirls get the blues which was adapted into a feature film starring, say it with me, robin's mom - the link wray song that soundtracked the lipton landing visit in question - "charlie? or linda kasabian?" go ahead and read the white album by joan didion for me wouldja buddyroo, just like lacy and nancy already have - fun fact, i played a two person game of gin rummy with myself to get into the mindset for this chapter. i suck at it - torchy blane is another one of my pre-code wonders-- glenda farrell plays an intrepid newspaperwoman, and this character actually went on to inspire lois lane from superman - and I KNOW some of you are going to be mad at lacy for fucking college guy, but... shit happens when you're a booksmart lovedumb eighteen year old that can't face up to her feelings! i don't wanna hear it! - fred benson i love you baby! i'm almost sorry i called you william randolph hearst, newspaper magnate and all around lunatic and the inspo behind the diss track citizen kane, but i'm not! - nancy wheeler has a photo of nellie bly in her locker where a photo of her beau should be - so echo & the bunnymen's 1984 album ocean rain is obviously most famous for the killing moon (jonathan byers you ARE my donnie darko) but may i point your attention to motherfucking seven seas - OH YOU KNOW I (EDDIE) HAD TO DO IT TO 'EM. this was shameless but i've had this in my heart for over ten years babe - for the purposes of this timeline, you know eddie is keeping higgins in pills. which is why he hasn't been kicked out of hawkins high so fast his lunchbox would combust - nurse ratched, obviously from one flew over the cuckoo's nest and that ill-fated ryan murphy series....tf was that...but also from this fucking sick tune! - save me the waltz is by zelda fitzgerald! my loves, thanks for hanging in for this chapter. i know it was a wait, but i hope you enjoyed! i also know it was a little more angsty pants than my usual fare-- but look baby. we need grist for the mill, okay? as always, reblogs, comments and likes are FIERCELY appreciated! love u all so much. my little hellcats. to die by your side etc

#e. munson by powder #published by powder #in progress #hellfire & ice #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x oc #rmr when i used to write 4k chapters.... god be with the days #anyway i love these fuckheads

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thursdaygxrls · 9 months

Text

thin ice — one

part one | part two | part three

summary — she didn’t handle the sports section of the campus newspaper, but apparently, she did this week. interviewing hockey players was easy, though—unless one of those players happened to be peter parker.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — i don’t own peter parker. and pls don't come for me with the accuracy of this situation i'm begging

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, sewer slide jokes (very briefly), possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

“You’re joking. You’re pulling the biggest prank I’ve ever seen, you are the impractical joker,” she huffs out, her eyes wide as furiously clicks her mouse, “I’m gonna die. I’m writing the note tonight—farewell, my lovely!”

“Woah, okay,” MJ, her roommate, had only just entered the room when she was bombarded with a sudden rant. She didn’t even have time to take down her ponytail of thin, red braids before her eardrums were assaulted.

“I mean it.” Spinning her chair, she meets MJ’s eyes.

“I literally just got here,” MJ plops down on the bed in front of the desk, “Care to tell me why you’re writing that note?”

“I’m a dumb, dumb girl, that’s why,” she groans in response.

“We already knew that.” MJ’s words only cause the girl in front of her to shoot daggers with her gaze; “Sorry, sorry. Why are you a dumb, dumb girl?”

“God, okay, so,” she lets out a loud sigh, “Eli is gonna be gone for the rest of the month—Europe or something, good for him. Anyways, they needed someone to cover his assignments for him until he gets back, and I volunteered, but, like, only to be nice, y’know? I did it as an obligation. But…”

“But?” MJ pressed.

“I just got an email, and it’s me,” she grumbled, “They’re putting me on Eli’s assignments.”

“Hm, I see,” MJ’s lips curl into a frown as she gently rubs the girl’s arm, “Too much work?”

“Oh, no, my stuff’s easy,” she waved her off, “Just reading the poetry submissions. I mean, it can be exhausting, but it’s not too bad.”

“Then what is it?” MJ cocks her head.

“Eli…Eli does sports,” she shuddered. MJ couldn’t contain the loud laugh that slipped out, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re worried about sports?” She giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s not funny!” She smacks MJ lightly, “Sports aren’t unbearable or anything, but, like, why me? I don’t know enough! I’ll screw it up, I’ll lose my spot, they’ll stick me back in—”

“Relax,” MJ grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer, “First off, no, you won’t lose your spot, we both know they’d be losing their minds without you. Second, they wouldn’t just throw it on you if they thought you’d give them bad work, right?” She eyes MJ almost suspiciously. There’s a momentary stare-down before she relents.

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighs, spinning her chair around. MJ stops the spin by putting her hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” she giggles, “So, what do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.” Is the mumbled reply.

“You didn’t even look?” MJ laughs again, “You were losing your mind, and you didn’t even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry that I’m sensitive,” she huffs. Her gaze moves back to the laptop before her. The email is open on the screen, so she begins scrolling through it, MJ reading the words over her shoulder. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she gets to the end.

“Fuck this,” she almost slams her laptop shut, but is stopped short by MJ.

“Slow down!” The redhead slaps her hand out of the way to read the rest of the email.

The ESU hockey team had made it to the NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey tournament for the first time in six years—and they were doing damn good. Eli had been tasked with interviewing the team captain as well as a few other star players, but, of course, it was no longer Eli's job.

"Oh, come on,” MJ rolled her eyes, “They gave you a Google Doc with questions, all you have to do is ask them and write down their response."

“That's the problem, I have to ask,” she shivered.

"You've done interviews before!" MJ was ready to smack her.

"With professors! And cool artsy people! Not hockey guys," she cringed, “I bet half of them are in a frat. They're probably gonna be assholes and tell me I have cooties."

“Are you twelve?” MJ groaned, “You sort of lucked out with this—half the work is already done for you! You don’t need to write up any questions!” A sigh left her lips as she took on a more comforting tone: “If it makes you feel any better, Harry is on the team.”

Ah, Harry. MJ had been seeing him for a little over a month by now. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. A little full of himself, but nice enough to talk to. Her eyes roved over the list of players she was set to interview. Sure enough, Harry Osborn was there. So was Miles Morales, who was described as an extremely promising freshman. Zack Coleson, who had the highest number of goals for the season. Last on the list was the team captain: Peter Parker.

“I can talk to Harry,” MJ offered, “I can let him know that it’s you doing the interviews. I’ll make sure he tells them to go easy on you—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “That might make it worse. And they already know that it’s not Eli coming. Or they should, at least”

“You sure?” MJ quirked a brow, her features crinkling in a way that was only intelligible as concern.

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me if they know I’m chickenshit, I won’t get a good interview,” she sighed. Even if the interview wasn’t what she wanted to do, she was going to have to. And she would do a good job—a great job.

“You got this, Kitty,” MJ squeezed her shoulders. The nickname pulled a smile from her, and she gave into MJ’s touch.

“We’ll see about that,” she relented. Her eyes traveled back to the computer screen. The interviews were scheduled two days from now at the Stark Memorial Rink.

“Hey, MJ,” she hummed, “Could you grab me my noose?”

The rink was colder than she expected. The empty stands provided no body heat, not to mention there was a literal sheet of ice on the floor. Tugging at the strap of her messenger bag, she took slow, careful steps to the plexiglass.

Clink.

Her eyes widened. There were around ten to fifteen guys in full gear out on the ice, and another ten to fifteen more on a bench near the glass or flitting around the edge of the rink. She was nervous, so she got there early. Now, she was stuck watching them practice.

Leaving was so tempting. She could go back to her dorm, or better yet, leave college entirely. She could just give up and fall off the grid, cut her credit cards, throw her phone in the ocean, sail off to Greece—

“Hello?”

She cursed the muffled voice that pulled her back into reality. Blinking, she found that standing before her was one of the very hockey players she’d seen skating on the rink before her. He was tall, and gear under his black and purple jersey made him appear far more bulkier than she theorized he was. He slipped his helmet off to reveal brown, curly hair that was drenched in sweat.

“Hi,” she replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he would. He cocked his head at her as he popped out his mouth guard.

“This is a closed practice,” he said, though, he didn’t sound all too upset that she was here.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” she nodded quickly, her fingers toying with the strap of her bag again, “I’m a bit early, I’m supposed to be interviewing some people on the team. I’m—”

“Kitty?” She was interrupted by the sound of a voice as well as skates scraping across the ice. Glancing past the guy in front of her, she saw Harry slide off the ice and clomp to benches where they currently were.

“Hey, Harry.” Her lips were screwed up in a tight grin. He’d heard MJ call her Kitty once, and now it was the only thing he’d refer to her as.

“Kitty?” Mystery guy repeated the name with a hint of intrigue.

“It’s not my real name, my friends just call me that,” she shook her head.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, swinging an arm around the shoulder of the guy in front of her.

“I’m Eli’s replacement,” she explained, trying to plaster a friendly smile to her lips, “I’m doing the interviews.”

“Aw, shit, why didn’t MJ tell me we got the cool Kitty-cat on the case?” Harry grinned.

“Could you try to never say those words again? Really hated it, thanks,” her nose crinkled.

“You got it.” He tried to point finger guns at her, but with the thick gloves on, it just looked like he was pointing his whole hand.

“Hey,” he started up again, “You’re a little early, so practice isn’t over yet, but we’re almost done. It’s just the four of us, right?”

“Right,” she nodded in response. It was a relief that they’d been briefed on the situation.

“Alright, well, I’m Harry, obviously, Miles and Zack are on the ice somewhere, and this right here—” Harry jostled the shoulders of the Mystery guy, “—is Peter. Oh captain, my captain!”

Peter chuckled as Harry clapped him on the back. The noise that emanated from the friendly hit was harsh, but Peter didn’t move a muscle.

“Right,” she nodded, “So, I figured we could do them individually? There’s some sort of specific questions for each of you.”

“Sounds good, Kitty,” Harry replied. She’d smack him if he said that name again.

“Sit tight for a bit,” Peter spoke up. Even with the stubble on his chin, his smile gave him a boyish appearance. He looked her up and down quickly, “We can try to wrap up practice early.”

'A bit' ended up feeling like forever. At first, she tried to distract herself with her phone, but it didn't work: she would open apps, scroll through them, then close them just to reopen them over and over again. So she organized her bag, which took about five minutes. Time seemed to tic by in a tauntingly slow manner. It was only when she saw a few of the players emerge from the locker room did she let out a breath of relief. She immediately sucked that breath back when she realized that she would actually have to talk to some of them.

Harry went first. It was easy enough to go through the questions with him. It was like talking to an over-eager relative at a family reunion, one who was just dying to talk about all the new things they're doing. Miles wasn't all that bad to interview, either. He was a lot more nervous than she was. His awkward pauses and constant strings of 'um' and 'uh' was almost comforting. Then came Peter.

"Kitty," he grinned as soon as he saw her seated on the bench next to the rink. He no longer wore his gear—just a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats. His hair, however, was still wet and tousled. She gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

"That's not my name," she replied. Before she had time to properly introduce herself, his raspy chuckle was already echoing through the open arena.

"You said that's what your friends call you, right?" He cocked his head as he sat down on the other edge of the bench.

"You're not—” If she could just make it through the interview without fuss, she'd be one person away from being free, "—right. That's what my friends call me."

"I'm going to be recording this, just so I can reference it later," she explained almost monotonously.

"This isn't my first time," he responded with another light laugh. She had to physically bite her tongue to fight off any comments. A soft click sounded from her phone as she started a new voice memo. Her eyes scanned the list of questions on the page before her. Some she'd already asked to Harry and Miles: How does it feel to make the tournament? What is the atmosphere of the team right now? She chose a fresh question to start with.

"What's it like to be the captain of this team? Are you proud? Overwhelmed?" She asked, her voice taking on a new tone closer to a news anchor than a regular person. Peter's lips curled up at the change.

"I'm proud, yeah," he nodded, his voice smooth, "This is a great group. But we all work our asses off, so I'm not surprised by how far we've come. Being their captain is really something."

"And—"

"Do you normally do sports? For the paper, I mean." Before she could even get her next sentence out, he interrupted her. Her grip on the papers in her hand tightened.

"No, not normally," she grit out, "And going along with your thoughts on being captain, what about making it to the tournament this year?"

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's something I've been chasing after for years now, finally getting to it is just...sort of indescribable." Even when his tone is nothing but sincere, he can't wipe the cocky grin from his lips.

"I can imagine," she smiled tautly in reply, "What was it like working your way up to captain? Was it a personal journey, or did you get support from the team?"

"I'd say it was an even mix of both," he hummed, "Do you like hockey?"

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"Are you a hockey fan?" He reiterated, "Because our next game is home, and it's sort of packed, but I could get you some tickets assuming you don't have some already—"

"No—Peter," she let out a frustrated huff, tapping on her phone to momentarily pause the recording, "This is an interview, not social hour."

"Aren't interviews inherently social?" His smirk was infuriating.

"I mean that I ask the questions, you answer them," she grumbled, "Do you act like this with Eli? Are you not taking me serious because I'm a woman?"

"What?" His smirk fell immediately, "What? No—no. I'm taking you seriously, I take women very seriously. I'm all for women. They're great."

"Then can we just do this interview and get it over with?" She sighed, her finger hovering over the unpause button. He nodded, but before she could resume the interview, he quickly added: "But do you want tickets?"

Ignoring the question, she carried on. Peter seemed to mellow out after a while and didn't interrupt again. It was almost surprising how well he'd listened: he was giving her real, insightful answers to her questions without a hint of flirtation. The final interview with Zack flowed easily, and she fled Stark Memorial Rink as quick as she could.

Transcribing the interviews was the easiest part. Days later, she would be hunched over her computer in the darkness of her shared dorm, playing and replaying the recordings and typing out the words onto the screen. Her concentration was briefly interrupted, though, when the door opened and a stream of light threaded its way through the room and onto the back of her head.

"Light bad!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, "Light very bad!"

"You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at your computer in the dark," MJ spoke in a warning tone, but ultimately closed the door.

"Then blind I must go," she sighed, swiveling on her chair to look at her roommate, "How was class?"

"Normal," MJ shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulders, "But I have a little something for you."

"Something for little ol' me?" She gasped in dramatized delight.

"Yes," MJ grinned widely as her hand reached for the zipper of her bag, "Close your eyes."

She obliged immediately, her nose scrunched in anticipation, "I hope it's a million dollars. Is it a million dollars? Am I close?"

"Almost," MJ giggled. After a moment of anticipation, MJ gently grabbed her hands and place something into them. It was thin and papery and rectangular. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a white envelope with 'Kitty' written out on the front. Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is there a check for a million dollars inside?" She asked as she cocked her head.

"No clue, it's not from me," MJ shrugged.

"Then who's it from?" Her fingers slid under the lip of the envelope.

"Harry gave it to me to give to you," MJ grinned, "He said it's from Peter."

She should've sailed to Greece when she had the chance. Inside the envelope were two tickets—Empire State University versus Pennbrook University this Saturday at seven. A long groan left her lips before she finally met MJ's eyes.

"You never got me that noose I asked for."

a/n — not sure how i’m feeling abt this one guys. hockey peter has been causing me brain rot tho so i couldn’t help myself.

655 notes · View notes

ghostofscarley · 2 years

Text

Enchanted

Fred Weasley x Reader

Inspired by the movie 'Enchanted'

Taglist: @wolfstardaughter-jj @dayangestre @cobrakaisb @emso12 @wixabear @robincantfunction @lilyswh0re @dracosluvbot

word count: 8.7k

"you're practically gaping at her mate, subtle much," fred muttered as he glanced at harry who was staring at the fifth year ravenclaw, cho chang, mindlessly as she giggled with her friends, "so much for wanting to keep my lunch down. mate, before you lose anymore pumpkin juice, you'd have more luck going over and talking to her-"

"oh, leave him alone fred," rolling her eyes, y/n gave back the rolled up newspaper to a glaring hermione granger after having smacked the ginger boy on the back of his head, "he is however, miraculously, right in a sorts though harry. you really should talk to her."

"ugh! look at this! i don't believe it, she's done it again. miss granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to be developing a taste for famous wizards. her latest prey, sources report, is none other than the bulgarian bon-bon viktor krum. no word yet on how harry potter's taking this latest emotional blow," glaring now at the newspaper article, hermione slams it onto the table, almost knocking over her own goblet of pumpkin juice in the process, "i mean who does she think she is? i can tell you right now, harry seems to be doing just fine."

shaking his head, as if he had been in a trance, harry looked towards his fury-filled friends is confusion

"i wouldn't mind her, mione. you know how that hag of a woman is," shaking her head at the clueless chosen one before turning to in a sympathetic manner to comfort her bushy-haired friend, "the lengths she'd go and the people she'd shine a false light on for the sake of fame and attention. such a bitch."

groaning, fred slid over to his best friend, not so subtly stretching an arm around her shoulder, pulling the girl closer, and unbeknownst to the ginger, causing a certain hue of rosy red to spread across the said girl's cheeks

"such a dirty mouth. to what do i owe the honours of being allowed to be within the presence of that mouth?" winking with a sly grin, blowing a single strand out of his eyes and angling his head to get a better look at the girl, he asks, "is the one and only y/n y/l/n blushing because of little, ol' frederick weasley? you flatter me."

huffing, y/n shrugged off the older twins arm that was draped across her shoulders, sending a scowl his way as she crossed her arms

"you wish freddie, and don't say shit like that. weirdo."

"well maybe if someone stopped swearing then-"

"i'm not wearing that, it's ghastly."

hearing this, both y/n and fred looked over to the two youngest weasleys, one of which were holding what looked like old rags of spare lace sewn together, before hermione laughed

"they're not for ginny. they're for you! dress robes."

upon saying this, the friend group all broke into laughter whilst ron's face fell

"dress robes? for what?"

to this, y/n and fred, having calmed down from the fits of laughter at the situation for the younger weasley male, turned to each other, a look of confusion now adorning their faces

"the yule ball has been a tradition of the triwizard tournament since its inception. on christmas eve night we and our guests gather in the great hall for well mannered frivolity. as representitives of the host school i expect each and every one of you to put your best foot forward, and i mean this literally because the yule ball is first and foremost... a dance." groans emerge from the boys who are listening on. the girls seem a lot more excited, "silence. the house of godric gryffindor has commanded the respect of the wizard world for nearly ten centuries. i will not have you in the course of a single evening besmirching that name by behaving like a babbling, bumbling band of baboons."

y/n sent a quick glance to where harry, fred and george were standing only to see the twins murmuring to themselves and thus she shook her head, knowing that it was nothing serious before focusing back on mcgonagall

"now to dance is to let the body breathe. inside every girl, a secret swan slumbers longing to burst forth and take flight and inside," upon hearing whispers, she turns to glare at ron, "every boy a lordly lion prepared to prance, mr weasley, will you join me? now, place your right hand on my waist."

embarrassed and a little befuddled, ron almost mutters

"where?"

impatient, the woman moves to correct the placement of ron's very much awkward placing of his arm

"my waist," the woman states firmly, before the music starts up and the professors leads them into a waltz, inviting others to join

upon the invitation, the girls rushed to stand, only for the boys to remain seated, awkward, some even scratching at the back of their necks

with a smirk, fred walks over to y/n, who had previously been in a conversation with her friend and fellow quidditch team mate, katie bell, when she saw an approaching body out of the corner of her eye, before turning to see fred offering his hand out to her

"if you will, m'lady."

nudging the girl with a giggle, katie pushed her friend out of her seating position and into the arms of the cheeky ginger, winking at the girl before turning to find her own partner

"real smooth, weasley," she stated, placing one hand into his before raising her other arm to rest it on his, "'m'lady', huh? that's a new one. what book did you stumble upon to get that one? oh who am i kidding, you'd never pick up a book. willingly."

"oh ha ha, you're so funny. much laughter. such a comedian," the hand that rested on her waist began to poke slightly at her after her cheeky comment, twirling her and bringing her back into his chest now, "i'll have you know that i didn't find it. i just heard it was all. in one of those silly muggle movies that you love."

"they are not silly," she scoffed, moving her hand to slap the back of his head only for him to grab it and keep a firm grasp on it instead, the familiar heat spreading across her face, "they are romantic. not that you'd know."

"what's that supposed to mean? i'm so romantic i'd knock your socks off with how chivalrous and charming i am."

the girl couldn't keep a straight face at what the boy had said, immediately breaking out into a boisterous cackle which attracted many fellow gryffindors though the girl didn't care. the boy didn't either, a small smile then growing rather large at the sound

"oh freddie, now who's the comedian?" sighing, she moved, well tried, to rest her right cheek on his shoulder, which was now hunched to aid her due to the distinct height difference, "i can't wait. i mean, an actual ball, are you kidding? hogwarts is already magical on its own. can you imagine how wondrous it'll be?"

"oh, do you already have someone in mind as to who you'll take? my, my. and whom is it that has piqued y/n y/l/n's interest?" he nudged at her, wiggling his eyebrows as chuckled at the rosy red cheeks, "it wouldn't happen to be someone i know, would it?"

"what's it to you?" burying her face deeper into his neck, her voice came out as a murmur, "maybe i have found someone i hope will sweep me off my feet."

though the girl couldn't see it, fred's face dropped, after a wave of shock, not expecting what she said

"oh. well that's good," he shrugged, the movement pulling y/n out of her trance, and out of his neck, "can only imagine how wonderful he is. only the best for you."

"yeah," she said, a look of serenity taking over her face as she thought about the boy that was standing in front of her, "he is pretty wonderful."

"this is mad. at this rate we'll be the only ones in our year without dates. well, us and neville," ron uttered, sharing a chuckle with harry whilst y/n, who was across the table next to fred shared a look of displeasure with hermione, "then again, he can take himself."

before y/n could reply to the younger weasley, hermione had beaten her to it

"how sweet. but it might interest you two to know that neville's already got someone."

a smirk growing, the older gryffindor girl knew that she no longer had to say anything

"well now I'm really depressed."

ron's shoulders drop as his lips form a pout

hearing quick scribbles, y/n turned to read what fred had written before he scrunched it up and threw it at his brother

'get a move on or all the good ones will have gone'

to this, ron looks up from the parchment before turning to his older brother

"who are you going with then?"

fred turned to y/n, who was sat on his right, sharing a smile, as she let out a small giggle, wiggling his eye brows, before turning and throwing a piece of scrunched up parchment at angelina johnson

y/n could only feel her smile drop, her eyes gloss, and the rosy hues fade as she watched the boy next to her whisper at the girl. a girl that wasn't her

"oi! angelina!" acting out dancing movements, he then continued to ask, "do you, want to go, to the ball, with me?"

with a smile growing on her face, angelina turned so her whole body was facing him before resting her head on her hand with a dreamy look

"yeah. yeah, i want to go."

y/n could only see fred wink at ron before she quickly packed all her things and rushed to hand her book to snape, alarming the others as they all watched the girl scamper off, not wanting them to see the tears that had now escaped, her heart broken

"what's wrong with her?" ron could only ask though he got shrugs from both fred and hermione, "well, anyway."

fred could only drown out his brother's words as he watched the girl practically run put of the great hall, before he heard a book slam and turned to witness hermione leaving as well, sending a final glare to his little brother

"girls."

the small sniffles from the gryffindor girl, with the occasional break of an audible sob were all that could be heard that wintry evening as the rebounded off the walls of what she thought was an empty corridor, void of students

"y/n? is that you?" the soft voice came from around the corner from where she was sat, the owner of the voice stepping out into the open corridor to reveal adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and a total heartthrob, his face softening as he looked at the upset girl in front of him, "are you ok? what happened?"

she made quick eye contact with the boy before she hurriedly brushed away her tears, rubbing at her eyes and glancing down as she shrugged her shoulders and shook her head, not wanting to look at him again

not wanting to seem vulnerable or weak in front of him

"come on," nodding his head to the side, he waited with his hand held out, "let's go for a walk. i promise it won't be a bore. i'm a pretty fun person."

looking from his eyes back to his outstretched hand and then his eyes again and seeing nothing but kindness and warmth in his irises, the girl huffed a little before placing her hand in his, allowing him to pull her up from her seated position

not saying anything for a few moments, the pair walked, hands still in each other's, taking in the sights of the school, the blanket of white coating every inch that was exposed, small, icy flakes fluttering and falling, both from the sky and the branches of trees that had collected hefty amounts

"so, mind telling me what's up?" adrian spoke out, filling the otherwise silent air before freezing up a bit, turning to the girl frantically, "not that you should feel obligated to tell me, if it's something you wish to keep to yourself then i won't pester you about it. but. i am here if you do need to talk."

"you make it seem a lot more... serious than it is, i guess," she responded, wanting to reassure the boy whilst feeling idiotic herself, then scoffing and shaking her head, "i mean, who cries because they watched their crush ask out another person to this really extravagant ball that's coming up? stupid, right?"

now frowning, the slytherin boy turns towards her, shaking his head

"y/n. that is a valid reason to be upset. it's not stupid at all. well, i guess it's their loss."

shaking her head as more tears welled up, she stopped their walk, removing her hand from his grasp before facing him and placing both of them on his shoulder

"it's not stupid at all," he all but uttered, not wanting to scare or upset the girl any further by his usually confident and loud voice, "it's rather valid you know. but anyone would be a blind idiot to not take you."

her crying came to a halt as a look of self doubt lingered in her eyes

"no, adrian. you don't understand. the girl is like. stupid gorgeous. like, her eyes are doe like, you could easily get lost in them. her skin is ridiculously smooth and clear, free of blemishes and pimples and blackheads, not to mention the tone of colour. her hair, looks alone, is so silky and it blows freely in the wind, never a single strand out of place. she's a bloody chaser on the quidditch team so that's a factor alone. her laugh is airy and fucking perfect. her smile is so warm and dreamy and captivating. she's not too short but not too tall. angelina johnson," taking a breath, the girl could feel her senses cloud, losing sight and touch, looking aimlessly past the boy, "she's so fucking perfect and. i'm just. me. i don't even know why i thought i had a chance. but the way he looked at me, smiled at me, with that stupid boyish grin he always wears. i was so sure it would happen. and then it didn't. i was stupid to think fred weasley, the class clown, would ask me to the ball when someone like angelina johnson roams the very same halls. it seems so bitchy to say that too because she's so kind. always the sweetest thing to me and here i am being the grouchiest person ever."

"then go with me," he asked, no stated firmly and without a doubt, "i won't let you downplay yourself like that, comparing yourself to someone who is just another girl. who isn't all that. and that's not because i'm biased or partial as your friend. she may be beautiful, but you radiate beauty. and i won't let you continue to bottle up these thoughts that you hold against yourself when they aren't true. so, i am asking you to go to the yule ball with me, as my date."

"oh ade, i, i can't. i just, i don't want a pity date. just because the guy i wanted to go with asked someone else."

instead of arguing, because him asking her wasn't out of pity, adrian held out his hand to her, waiting until she eventually took it, though not without a look of confusion before he cleared his throat, taking her down the corridor

in a horrible, posh british accent, like more posh than his usual accent, he sang out loud, his voice echoing off of the walls for all to hear

"hee hee"

"ade, what are you doing?"

"my baby's always danCInG, and iT WouLdN't be a bAd tHiNG. BUt i doN't geT nO lovInG, aNd thAt'S nO LiE"

quickening her pace to match his, she couldn’t help but smile, forgetting what had happened in the great hall not too long, spinning whenever he motioned for her to, seeing others who were now exiting the great hall watch on, curious

"ade-"

"wE sPenT thE nIGhT in fRisCo, aT evEry kiNdA diScO. fRoM thAt nIghT i kIsSed oUr lOvE gOodByE."

out of the corner of her eye, she could she a flash of ginger hair, though she wasn't given more time to wonder about who it was before she was dipped and she let out the loudest cackle

"ADRIAN-"

"dOn't bLAmE iT on tHe sUNsHinE, DOn'T bLamE It on thE mOoNlIGhT, dON't bLAme It oN ThE gOoD tiMeS. bLAmE iT on thE boOgie."

doing one more spin, the boy left the girl in the middle of the corridor before skipping and spinning and prancing circles around her, her smile growing and lighting up the otherwise darkening hall as the sun set

"i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET. i jUSt cAn't, i JuST caN't, I jUsT cAn'T cOnTrol mY feET."

now out of breath, the boy dropped onto both knees, gesturing for her hands and asking once more

"i hope that wasn't too embarrassing for you," he chuckles, taking in deep breaths, the musical break out doing more numbers on him than his weekly quidditch practices, "so, i'll ask again. will you, y/n y/l/n, chaser of the gryffindor quidditch team and total heartthrob, accompany myself, adrian pucey, chaser of the slytherin quidditch team and also total heartthrob, to the yule ball? i can't promise i'll be as 'extravagant' as i was in this moment, but i'll be the best damn date you could ever wish for."

"well, i mean i don't know, i-" dragging on her words, she looked down at the boy to see his confident grin faltering and she knew she couldn't continue to play along, "of course i will ade. how could i say no after that?"

breathing out a sigh of relief, he went to wrap his arms around her before realising he was still on his knees, getting up and then embracing the girl who was no longer teary eyed and instead glowing, radiating warmth and happiness

whilst most onlookers were applauding the 'proposal' they had witnessed between the two chasers, a certain ginger beater, who was watching from behind pillar, was green with envy, shaking his head before walking off to find george

it was christmas night. the night of the yule ball and y/n finds herself in hermione's dorm room, getting ready with said girl and the youngest weasley

"ok but can we talk about that proposal again and how cute it was," ginny exclaimed, grabbing onto the oldest girl's hand and twirling, though almost falling due to the wedges that adorned her feet, "i mean. i always saw you two together so i knew he was friendly but. the singing, the dancing, the 'falling onto his knees'. it was so romantic."

"ah, gin," the girl, though smiling, shook her head slightly, straightening up her younger friend, "it was cute, but i just don't see adrian like that. he's just a good friend."

"y/n, y/n, y/n. did you not see the way he looked at you? it was practically heart-eyes. he adores you. he had this soft smile on his face and his eyes glowed. it was like you had hung, no, handpicked the moon and the stars for him. he was enamoured."

"adrian is aromantic, gin. i can assure you he doesn't like me like that. besides, though he's my date, i've always had my eye on someone. the feelings just don't seem to be reciprocated."

ginny's smile faltered as she looked at her friend who was gazing down, twiddling her fingers

"if you're talking about my git of a brother," she held up a finger to the girl, whose mouth was slightly ajar, as if she were to ask 'which brother' "and before you get smart, i'm talking about fred. you're clearly not as smart as i thought you were if you think for a second that he doesn't like you. he's constantly talking about you and whatever you've done that was just 'oustanding' or 'astronomical' when you aren't around.. and then where you are around, he needs to be touching you in some way. if i thought adrian was enamoured with you, fred is gobsmacked, drop dead, head over heels, in love with you."

"then why didn't he ask me to the ball, gin? why did he ask angelina? and why did he do it in front of me? no, it doesn't matter. i don't think i have the right to ask that. just... clearly, whatever feelings he did feel.. aren't there," she looked over to the clock in the room before turning to the bed that had her dress hanging just above it, "come on. we've got just under two hours before the ball, and i would like to do your hair. your dress is beautiful by the way."

"well i know, and yes i understood, adrian does not like you and you do not like him and it's all platonic, but i just know he's gonna be blown away with how gorgeous you'll look. i mean the satin and the deepness of the green, which honestly suits you. even if he wore his house tie, it would still match your dress. you'd look hot as a slytherin. too bad you're too much of a lion to be a snake. platonic or not, this is still gonna be as much of a date as any other date you've been on or could go on. and don't look at me like that, enjoy your night with adrian. you deserve it."

before y/n could respond to the girl after having braided and pinned up her ginger hair into a half up/half down style, hermione's voice echoed from the bathroom

"y/n, could you please help me with my hair?"

"don't think for a second that i'm done with you gin, just give me a few minutes. i've got a choice of words with you."

"ah, would you look at the time. i think neville is downstairs waiting for me. see you soon."

"gin- GINERVA," before y/n could say the girl's full name, she had sped out of the dorm room, leaving the older girl to shake her head and huff, "i'm gonna kill her."

quickly slipping in her own dress, she then knocked on the bathroom door before opening it, to see a nervous hermione granger in a beautiful periwinkle dress that complimented the soft brown of her eyes

"and what is it that i will be doing with your hair tonight, miss?" she asked in a horrible mock posh accent, "would you care to flip through our catalogue? i personally love style 3."

"i was actually wondering if you could help me curl it and then pin it back, i don't want to do too much with it," she requests, finally looking over to her friend before gasping slightly, "the dress is absolutely gorgeous on you, y/n. adrian won't know what hit him. if we didn't already have dates, i'd take you myself. save me a dance, perhaps?"

"oh, of course, kind lady. it would be an honour to get the opportunity to dance with you at this regal ball," she continued with her horrible accent, whilst casting a charm to curl hermione's hair, going to speak again but losing the accent, her tone sincere, "you look beautiful, mione. i just know viktor won't be able to keep his eyes off you. and i mean, i wouldn't blame him. i wouldn't want to look away from you either. you really did a wonderful job at picking the dress. should i ever get married, obviously as one of my bridesmaids, or even maid of honour, i'd have you pick out the dresses without a doubt. ok, all done. what do you think?"

"oh, y/n," before y/n could say anything, hermione threw her arms around her, "it's absolutely beautiful, thank you. ok, take a seat and i'll do your hair and your make up if you'd like. not that you'd need any. your natural beauty alone would blow the minds of the whole school, hogwarts, beauxbatons and durmstrang. veela's have nothing on you."

"granger, you flatter me. surprise me will you? i don't really have anything in mind so go at it however you see fit. and maybe just a clear gloss. that way, i can get absolutely hammered and not worry about having to remove a full face of make up."

at the request, hermione spun the girl so that she was no longer facing the mirror, taking the still charmed wand and curling her hair back to resemble that of beach waves, keeping it soft and light, not overdone, before parting her hair, braiding the top half of the two section before tying it off into two separate ponytails that sat on the top of her head, similar to a half up/half down style. she then applied a coat of clear gloss as requested, as well as a light coat of mascara to really accentuate her eyes, before spinning her again, ready for the reveal.

"i'd like to see adrian try and take his eyes away from you. it'd be with great difficulty, i'll tell you that much. you'll easily be the prettiest girl at the ball."

"oh, mione, you can't say that when you'll be there. if i'm gorgeous, you're absolutely stunning. i honestly am envious that viktor is taking you. though i'm sure you'll have a wonderful time. don't hide away too much, yeah? i will be getting that dance," she then hugged the younger girl, careful as to not wrinkle either dress or ruin either hairstyle, "thank you for this. i don't think i've ever felt this pretty. who needs a beauty team? i just need you, my girl. let's go blow everyone away, yeah?"

"let's do it."

walking down to the great hall, the duo heard gasps and saw looks of awe as they turned heads. y/n saw the youngest weasley standing with neville and her own date before looking around, her eyes settling on a cleaned up fred weasley who looked as handsome as ever. he seemed to have found her too, meeting her gaze

she wanted to smile bashfully and wave at the boy she considered her best friend before she saw the girl whose arm was linked with his. the girl that was hanging off of him. and she removed her gaze from him, keeping the small smile as she looked over to adrian, who was returning the smile as he met her gaze, walking over to meet her at the foot of the staircase

"i'll see you around, mione. blow them all away."

the girls hugged a final time before separating to move to their respective dates

"wow, y/l/n. you look incredible. didn't take you to be much of a green girl but it really does suit you. maybe you should've been sorted into slytherin, would've fit right in."

"mm, i don't think so. too many snakes for me to handle. i'm happy with my little pride of lions. must admit, you do look quite incredible yourself. very handsome. i very much like that your tie matches my dress. you wouldn't have asked one of my friends about the colour, would you?"

"whaat? me? never. that does not sound like me at all. but yes. yes i did. reckon we'll make quite the couple. turning heads left, right and centre."

"maybe i should have worn a burgundy. once in a lifetime opportunity to see you in red. reckon you'd look quite ravishing i suppose."

"maybe not so much. wouldn't want to make a fool of myself. at least you can pull off any colour, miss head-turner. shall we make our way inside now?"

"we shall. lead the way, mr head-turner."

from the other side of the hallway

fred was standing just outside the entrance of the great hall, in a group that consisted of himself and his date, angelina, george and his date, alicia spinnet, and lee and his date, patricia stimpson, when the three girls turned to the staircase to see who was making their way down and gasped

"look at our girl, ang. she looks amazing," exclaimed alicia, pulling george with her towards the girl, though george stopped her, "why are we stopping?"

"the girl still needs to find her date, ali. we'll see her inside, alright?"

the girl pouted slightly before nodding and returning her gaze to their third chaser

"did you guys see pucey's proposal to her? it was so romantic and she looked so happy. if i'm being honest though, i thought you'd ask her freddie. especially after that dance practice a few weeks ago. but you have to admit, she and pucey make quite the cute couple. it had to have been the talk of the school. one of our chasers with slytherin's chaser and heartthrob, adrian pucey. i mean she was left smiling hours after. sure, he can't sing to save his life, but it was adorable. the way he got on his knees and grapsed onto her. the way he spun her. her cackle! i don't think i've seen her so hap-" angelina was cut off mid-sentence

"can we stop talking about how cute pucey and y/l/n would be? this isn't about them."

"woah, what's wrong with you? besides it's the truth isn't it? isn't she your best friend? you'd think you'd be happy for her?"

"she can be with pucey for all i care. he's bloody perfect for her, isn't he?" fred sneered, moving his gaze to look at the girl, his glare dropping as he saw that her eyes met his before she turned away, "i just want the best for her. that's all."

george could only smirk, wanting to slap the back of his twin's head but refraining and he rested his arm around alicia

"it seems to me like your jealous, freddie."

fred could only scoff, his glare returning and focusing on his brother

"shove off. whatever, let's just go inside." he suggested as he saw the girl he longed for enter the great hall with her date

looking around the now wintry filled hall, y/n couldn't help but gasp, her grasp around adrian's arm tightening

just when you thought the school couldn't get anymore magical

"oh, ade it's wonderful. it's so magical."

"i'm afraid that's to be expected in a school of witchcraft and wizardry, my dear. thought you knew that. this'll shock you. we also have wands each that produce spells and charms. just as magical."

rolling her eyes but smiling nonetheless, she lightly shoved the boy before looping her arm through his once more

"shut up, smart arse, you know what i mean."

"i do. but i must say, it's got nothing on you and your beauty. really did me dirty because now i have to fend off the whole school. it'd be considered lucky if i'm 436th in the line of 947. you really have charmed the school, y/l/n."

"you flatter me. look, here come the champions? ugh, my mione is so gorgeous. booked myself a dance with her, i did. luckiest girl in the world i consider myself to be."

"well i guess i'm 437th in the line now. i hope you're ready for your feet to be aching."

"oh stop it ade. if anything, you're 537th. no, i probably won't dance with that many people, to be completely honest. you, mione, ginny, luna, maybe george if i can catch a word with alicia. oh my goodness. look at fleur. she's absolutely stunning."

"again. i mean, yeah she's pretty. but looking at the girl on my arm, she's nothing but a caterpillar next to the butterfly that is you. don't tell her that though. she might send the whole of beauxbatons on my ass and i'd like to be around long enough to walk you back to your common room."

"you're such a flirt. might wanna watch out before i start to believe less and less that you're aromantic."

"why? is the infamous y/n y/l/n scared to fall in love with the handsome, dashing, charming, endearing, loving, kind and caring adrian pucey?"

"not to mention cocky and the lack of humbleness. but no. in fact it's quite the opposite. wouldn't want to break your heart when you inevitably fall in love with me, ade."

"oh because it will hurt for sure. thank you for watching out for my heart," he chuckled, grasping his chest, as if to reinforce the protection he holds over his heart, "i just want to give you the full experience as my date. that includes the corny compliments, horrible jokes and puns and of course my amazing dancing skills. so, what do you say? we go spike the punch, have a few glasses and then hit the dance floor and show everyone what we're made of? not enough to be absolutely wasted, but enough to allow you to feel the rush, enough to be tipsy, enough for you to sober up easily after a couple songs."

"let's do it."

5 minutes later

the dances of the champions has concluded and now other couples are invited to occupy the vast dance room

y/n and adrian, three glasses of spiked punch layer, were just a little tipsy, feeling the rush of the alcohol but were stable enough to find each other's touch and guided the other to the dance floor as a familiar song began to play

something told me it was over

when i saw you and her talking

something deep down in my soul said "cry girl"

when i saw you and that girl walking around

swaying together, the pair moved closer, the warmth welcoming both of them, something nice about being able hold each other like this, whilst knowing that the only thing that would come out of tonight would be a closer friendship

"i love this song. the lyrics tell such a sad story but etta james just captures the feelings that should be portrayed so beautifully. the fact that she'd want to lose her sense of sight than to have to watch the man she's in love with push her to the side as he pursues another."

i would rather, i would rather be blind

than to see you walk away

so you see, i love you so much

that i don't wanna watch you leave me

"the song is rather sad. i must say though. i wouldn't want to go blind when i have you in front of me, dazzling the whole school."

"and so the corny puns start, huh? do your worst, pucey."

"oh darling, don't worry. i plan to."

when the reflection in the glass

that i held to my lips now

revealed the tears that are all on my face

baby i'd rather be blind

than to see you walk away from me

the song then ended, though the pair continue to sway, seemingly lost in their own world as another fan favourite began to play, y/n removing her head from adrian's shoulder to better appreciate the abba song, if you will, grasping the hand that rested on her hand to manoeuvre him around, matching the tempo the upbeat song

you can dance

you can jive

having the time of your life

see that girl

watch that scene

digging the dancing queen

"i swear this song is like every teenage girl's 'anthem', i guess you could call it. i heard this song a lot growing up. mum loved it."

the two would spin each other, the previous stance during the slower dance gone as they were laughing loudly together. they were sure to remember this night for the rest of their lives

anybody could be that guy

night is young and the music's high

with a bit of rock music

everything is fine

you're in the mood for a dance

and when you get the chance

"dad always found mum's taste in music a little weird, being a muggle and all, but he loved her and her weird little quirks so much. he loved how happy she got whenever the song would play, so he always played it any chance he got."

"was wondering who you inherited your quirkiness from. figured it was something you picked up on your own. seems that isn't the case."

slapping his chest lightly, she threw her head back, laughing

"oi! how rude. some gentleman you are, ade. feeling real flattered right now. like gosh, i might faint. falling head over heels."

"oh shush."

you are the dancing queen

young and sweet

only seventeen

dancing queen

feel the beat of the tambourine

"i didn't think i'd have this much fun if i'm being honest," y/n laughed as they continued to mindlessly jump and twirl around together, knowing that others were watching, and that they'd probably look at the two weirdly for their assortment of strange dance moves, "but i'm so glad i'm here with you tonight, ade. the evening has been absolutely wonderful."

"your mother was a muggle, right?"

"yes? why?"

"just had to be sure. do you know if she ever went to those muggle balls that they hold in movies? prom was it?"

"i didn't know you watched muggle films," she glanced over to the boy who was now bashful, sporting a small smile, "but uh, no. prom is an american event. mum, however, did go to a formal. who she went with, i wouldn't know. i just know it wasn't dad. she met him a good 5 years after she finished school."

"well, i saw that proms often crown for prom king and queen. if you ask me, who needs a prom queen when i have my dancing queen right in front of me."

she cackled once again, wanting to slap his chest yet again but deciding against it and instead fixing up his tie which had been a little lopsided

"you really are something, you know that."

"i think they have one more upbeat song before they play a final slow song, so what you say we have a few more glasses and sober up before the last dance."

another three glasses later and the second last song began to ring out through the hall

i've got sunshine on a cloudy day

when it's cold outside

i've got the month of may

"this song just makes me so happy. it was my parents wedding song. mum grew up with it and she introduced dad to the song after their second date. dad's loved it ever since. would always sing it to her. it makes me feel warm."

i guess

you'd say

what can make me feel this way

my girl

talking 'bout my girl

"i wish i grew up on songs like these. they just seem so nostalgic even though i'm hearing them for the first time tonight."

"ade, you're joking? you cannot be serious. this is urgent. every time we hang out, no matter what, i will play one song. this just isn't acceptable. i refuse to believe it."

i've got so much honey

the bees envy me

i've got a sweeter song

than the birds in the trees

"what do you say y/l/n? reckon my singing the other week was sweeter than the birds that roam hogwarts?"

"that was singing? well, sweet isn't the first word that comes to mind."

"oi, you should be grateful. i don't give out thise performances for free. only on special occasions. it was a moment to remember forever."

whilst the two swayed and the girl sang to the boy, a ginger haired, sulking, teenage boy was staring off at them from his seated position

"you're staring. the song is about to end freddie, just ask her. i'm sure adrian won't mind. everyone knows you're her best friend."

"why would she want to dance with me, ang? she looks quite content with pucey. what's the point?"

"it's just one dance, fred. besides, you've been frowning all night and that's not like you, it's weird."

"quite the date i am huh? sorry. you would've been better off with harry and he's just as much of a lousy date as i am. at least his date got a dance."

"it's alright. i still got a few dances with alicia and you know i've had my eye on roger davis. got a dance with him so i'd say my night was pretty successful."

"that makes one of us."

suddenly, before the final song was to commence, dumbledore had a final announcement to make

"the yule ball is coming to a close and so i must announce before the final dance that there is to be a change in scene. i ask that you gentlemen or women invite another to the dance floor that he or she did not accompany to the ball."

"see, there's your chance fred. take it."

"if anything, she'd probably want to dance with geor-"

"FRED WEASLEY YOU GO OVER TO THAT GIRL AND YOU ASK HER TO DANCE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I ASK FOR YOU MYSELF! i am sick of your pity party of despair and loneliness. just go for it."

he could only sigh as he stood up from the seat he had been sat in for the last 2 hours, making his way over to the pair, though lord knows his heart was 2 seconds away from pounding violently through his ribcage and out of his chest

whilst fred made his way over, the two were still away in their own world, wanting the moment to last just a little longer

"was hoping i'd get my last dance with you. i've had so much fun tonight and i don't want it to end."

"i've had a lot of fun too. was quite the experience having the prettiest girl in hogwarts wrapped in my arms, swaying to muggle misic. who would have thought. i think i might sit this one out. i don't see myself dancing with anyone else that isn't you."

"are you sure you're aromantic, ade? like, straight up? 100%?"

though he knew she meant nothing by it, he still laughed lightly and hugged her before pulling away so they were both at arms distance

"straight up. if i wasn't, i would have been kissing the hell out of you. i can assure you i feel no romantic feelings. even after having you in my embrace for the last 2 hours, it's nothing but platonic. i just don't see anything happening. that, and i can see a certain ginger making his way over and i don't fancy getting kocked out right now. so, after the dance, i'll meet you and escort you to your common room to see you off."

looking to her right slightly, her heartbeat quickens as she sees a hurried fred weasley making his way over before she turns back to adrian

"are you sure? i could just sit with you?"

"i'm sure. i'll just sit with miles. poor bloke was rejected so he's been sat at the table, drinking. reckon i should go over before he dies of alcohol poisoning because trust me, he will find a way. besides, i think someone wants to dance with you. about time if you ask me."

and with that, adrian placed a final kiss on her forehead before he walked away, sending a last wink towards her before turning and not looking back

she could only watch his retreating back for a moment longer before she felt a tap on her shoulder

feeling like her chest was about to explode, she took a slow, deep breath before turning to see the boy who, after the weeks that went by with distance between them, still had her heart

"hi? um, you look.. good?" his face furrowed, slightly frowning as he shook his head, "i mean, obviously you look better than good. amazing, incredible, gorgeous, spectacular. all eyes were on you tonight and reasonably so. the dark green really stood out against your skin. you and pu- adrian really blew the whole school away. it was really cute. anyway, it was nice talking to yo-"

"fred, do you want to dance with me?"

here she was with her heart on her sleeves as she awaited his answer. fred was flabbergasted

"i- me?"

"i mean, no one else is around," she said as she gestured to the empty space around her, "what do you say, freddie? for old times sake? accompany me for the final dance?"

"how could i say no?"

she let out a breath of relief as she took the hand that was held out to her, a small smile growing on her face as she felt warm

dumbledore moved to the centre of the stage a final time

"now, please join me in welcoming mr jon mclaughlin who has warmly agreed to sing our final song for the evening. mr mclaughlin, the stage is yours."

a light piano echoes through the hall as y/n gazes into fred's eyes, something she hasn't done for a while, something she has missed

she missed her freddie and she finally had him back in her arms and she was reluctant to let go

you're in my arms

and all the world is gone

the music playing on for only two

she wanted to say something, anything. she wanted nothing more than to catch up with the boy in front of her but nothing came to mind

so she just held on tighter, resting her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they swayed in time, the rest of the world beginning to fade out as they lost themselves to the music and the soft voice of mr mclaughlin

so close

together

and when i'm with you

so close to feeling alive

he too had a lot on his mind. like how effortlessly perfect she was. from the way her eyes shone as the fire of the floating candles reflected off of them. how her cheeks now adorned its usual rosy hues. how in love he was with her

"you really are beautiful, love."

a life goes by

romantic dreams must die

so i bid mine goodbye

and never knew

"thank you, freddie. i must say, you look quite swell yourself."

"ah, you know. i just pulled this little getup from out of my trunk. curled my hair a little, though it's nothing compared to you. i never thought i'd love seeing you in green so much."

she couldn't help but lean closer, wanting to be as close to the boy as possible

"so, you and pucey, huh? when did that become a thing?"

"adrian?"

"is there another pucey running around that i don't know about?"

y/n could only scoff, though it was light-hearted

"smart arse. there isn't a thing. we're just friends. freddie, i don't want to talk about adrian. just. dance with me."

so close

was waiting

waiting here for you

and now forever i know

all that i want is

to hold you

so close

she rested her head on his shoulder, with a little struggle but she got there and and shared a look with angelina, who only winked at the girl. similarly, fred, who now turned was facing adrian who could only raise his drink in acknowledgement, smiling, and seeming to have mouthed the words, 'well done weasley', to which fred just shook his head, the smile never leaving his face

so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

and now you're beside me

and look how far we've come

so far

we are

so close

looking back on their years together, the pair couldn't help but wonder why this didn't happen sooner, why they elongated the pain and sat through the hurt when they could've shared this moment of peace and euphoria earlier

they thought about the weeks they had spent apart and in the presence of another when all they needed was each other. what were they thinking, honestly?

"are you singing, frederick gideon weasley?"

"for you, i'd do just about anything, love."

she sighed happily before she thought back to that afternoon in the great hall. the study session

"i really thought you were gonna ask me. i was so sure, especially when you looked at me with those warm eyes of yours and your happy, boyish grin and i was so excited. but then, you turned and asked someone else. and i had to leave. i couldn't be around to hear all the giggles you both shared whilst i was slowly breaking."

oh how could i face the faceless days

if i should lose you now

"y/n, i'm so sorry. believe me when i say that i was planning on asking you. that afternoon, during dance practice. i was set on asking you then. but then you said-"

"that i might have found someone i wanted to sweep me off my feet. did it never occur to you that i was thinking about you? freddie, i had, have literal heart eyes for you. was it not even a little obvious?"

"i guess not, love," he said, shaking his head at his own obliviousness, "i just. wanted the best for you. and if you had already found it in someone else, then i was fine with that. well, i wasn't but i wasn't gonna let it show. when you said that, i thought someone else had asked. and that you had said yes. so i asked angie, and ended up being a shit date, so i owe her big time. but then when i left to chase after you, adrian was there, singing, in a horrible accent i'd like to add, and in the middle of it all, you just looked so happy, despite the tear tracks that stained your face. your smile was so bright. and then he asked you and you said yes and i just felt. defeated. which is unfair, but i didn't know you were dateless. had i known, i would've asked myself. i just should have asked you about it, but instead, i went and asked someone else, i made you cry and then i pushed you into the arms of another in the process. i was just a downright git who doesn't deserve you. i'm lucky you're dancing with me ri-"

we're so close

to reaching that famous happy end

almost believing this one's not pretend

let's go on dreaming though we know we are

rolling her eyes, she pulled him even closer, if it were possible, titling her head ever so slightly to slot her lips onto his, shutting him up

and it was like sparks, no, fireworks went off and they lost themselves to each other. this was where they truly belonged

"do you ever shut up? you ramble a lot, freddie. i'd say it's cute and a little impressive but then it kept going on and on and i didn't know when you'd st-"

fred leans in again, the kiss lasting a little longer than the first, the otherwise chilly night feeling rather warm

"fred, you just kissed someone with a dirty mouth."

fred grinned gingerly, leaning in to whisper into her ear

"yeah. and i'm about to do it again."

so close

and still

so far

adrian and angelina, who was accompanied by roger davis, sat off to the side, grinning at the kissing couple, bumping fists under the table

"i reckon she doesn't need me to escort her to the common room anymore. suppose i should take drunk-off-his face over here back to our dorm," adrian says to angelina, gesturing to the shitfaced miles bletchley, "tell y/n i said goodnight. if you get the chance to."

and with that, adrian left the yule ball with his drunk mate attached to his arm and a smile on his face, happy that his friend finally got the guy she wanted

her freddie

is that a wrap?! i think fucking so. this will forever be my baby because believe me when i say i've never written a fic this long but it was so worth it.. love yall <33

#Spotify #fred weasley #y/n #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley angst #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #adrian pucey #harry potter #goblet of fire au #yule ball #enchanted #so close

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deanoheartspie · 9 months

Text

Sunshine 4

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: None

A/N: Let me know what you think and what your theories are!

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

DEAN'S POV

**BEEP** **BEEP** **BEEEEP**

Groaning I pull the extra pillow over my head as I bury my head in it. My head was pounding, the bright sun shining through the windows making it worse.

“Rise and shineee~” A voice sang out, awfully chirppy this morning. “Y/n. Go away” I grumbled gently pushing the woman who was now climbing up onto the bed shaking me awake.

She giggles. She fuckin giggles. Which if it were any other circumstance I probably would've cracked out a smile. “Y/n I swear to god-” I turn to lay on my back, and rub my eyes seeing her dressed in a nice pair of overalls with her y/h/c perfectly braided.

“Pay backs a bitch isn't it” She grins before walking off, her hips swaying side to side it was a nice view I had to admit. I shake my head getting my head out of the gutter before turning to my side seeing headache medicine and water on my nightstand.

Well thank you y/n...

I take the meds and down the water, checking my watch I already see im late on my routine which never really happens unless it's a bad night. Tossing some old jeans and a t-shirt with my boots and brown cowboy hat, I head downstairs seeing the lights on throughout the house.

“Wow son you look like shit” Clayton says from his arm chair, a news paper in hand.

“Clayton!” Laura shouted smacking the back of her husbands head. I tiredly chuckle “I feel like shit” I rub my temple, pouring some coffee into a mug.

The older man glances over and sets his newspaper down on the coffee table, “Go easy on Y/n please. She might not be good at this but it's because she's never had to do it before.” sure. I know I can be mean at times, but im not an asshole.

“Yes sir, I'll show her what she needs to know” Finshing up my coffee, I look over at her and gesture to the door walking out her following behind as I walk off to the stables.

°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Horses need to eat first, so you'll give them their grains and hay. Then some of these extra carrots.” I spoke as I pull out the bin of food and basket of carrots. Carefully watching over her, not wanting the woman to get her hand bit off.

Lilah the horse who she previously grazed, was giving the woman the biggest side eye i'd ever seen. I whistle at the tall horse, tilting my head “Be nice.” I warn when I notice Y/n stopped and watched me.

“Who would've thought big ole grumpy deano would protect me from a horse” She grins placing her hands on her hips, I roll my eyes “Well if you want your hand to get bit off, be my guest”

A messy long slow, morning goes by Y/n already covered in mud from the countless times she'd fallen and I've got to say it was much nicer to have someone to work with then do it all myself.

“You did pretty good for your first day” I compliment as we sit on one of the hay bales looking over the fields. She nods but stays quiet. I couldn't tell if it was the sun in her eye but her eyes were glossy.

I felt my heart drop, straight worry fills me as I face her seeing a tear stream down her face. Had I said something wrong? What had happened she had just been laughing not even a few minutes ago, hell she even wanted to race out to the field.

“Y/n... What's wrong?” I softly asked, gently wiping her eyes.

She shook her head and faked a smile, “Oh nothing, it's just quite beautiful out here can't help but make a woman cry” I hesitantly nod my head, still unsure but it wasn't my job to take care of her nor care too. Still I found myself worrying, not wanting to push it I leave it and get off the haybale after receiving a call.

“What? Again? I swear to god what is wrong with that man” I grumble, after hearing that Mr Andrews a 60 year old man who kept letting his unfriendly pitbull roam the town without it's owner.

I've always preferred dogs over cats, but after this pickles the dog might ruin it for me.

Sighing I hang out up, glancing at her offering my hand which thankfully you accepted, “Let's get you back...”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Four fucking hours. Four fucking hours it took to chase down Mr pickles.

Which only put me in a deeper hole then I already was in, making me rush over to Lisa's seeing her glare. Thank the lords, Aurora jumped into my arms after noticing me.

“Hey pretty girl how are you?” I ask softly pushing her light brown hair behind her ears, The small girl was quick to ramble talking about preschool, her friends, the yucky lunch she had, pretty much anything a toddler can tell you. I send her to grab her bag leaving me with the darker haired woman, who was occupying herself by cleaning the kitchen.

“Why are you late this time?” She asked not bothering to spare me a glance, while she wiped down the counters.

“Work. I had to chase Mr pickles today” I mutter out, itching the back of my head praying that Aurora would hurry.

“Sure you did. You sure it wasn't a particular woman keeping you busy?”

Who was she talking about? I sure as hell didn't come from the bar with a woman but if I did it wouldn't have been her business. So that leaves y/n.

“Y/n? The girl at the ranch?”

Lisa's silence told me everything I needed to know and I shook my head letting out a huff. She has been on my ass for the past year, about all of this. I can't hang out with who I want to hang out with because she didn't like it, it got exhausting after awhile. Especially when we weren't even together anymore.

Aurora skipped down the stairs with her unicorn backpack, and her arms full with stuffed animals. “is Ben not coming?” I ask with a head tilt as I scoop up the 4-year-old.

“No he's staying at a friends house” Nodding I let the mother and daughter say goodbye before leaving as we head our way to the ranch.

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

“Clay Clay!!” The little girl screached out hugging the older man.

“Ah I see what it is now” I act offended that I didn't get a greeting like that.

What I didn't notice was Y/n walking down the stairs until she came into my eye sight, she looked happier then before so it felt glad and relieved.

“Who's this little one?” She asks smiling down at Aurora.

“My daughter.”

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

----Tag list----

@deans-spinster-witch @leigh70 @mrsjenniferwinchester @ladysparkles78 @hobby27 @khaleesihavilliard @foxyjwls007 @lucidlivi @jc-winchester @globetrotter28 @beskarfilms @the141bandicoot @alysinwonderland-at-tea @randomgurl2326 @ambergoddess444 @westernwinchesters @lemmons1998 @julie040904 @nic-kolas @raisinggray @alternativeprincess

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #supernatural #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester series #dean winchester x female!reader #au! dean winchester #au!cowboy dean #cowboy dean #cowboy! dean #cowboy dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #supernatural dean #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 years

Note

Why do I feel like Alfred and Teddy!verse Irina would be best friends?

Ari Note: If not best friends, more than acquaintances.

You come out of your office and lean against the railing, scrubbing your hand over your face, "Irina?"

"Yes?" she called back, handing Alfred a cup of tea.

"Where the fuck am I supposed to be right now?"

Irina took a deep breath, saying a prayer for patience and leaned back far enough to see the schedule, "Booth Two."

"The fuck-"

"Heroes and Halfwits."

You don't answer but amble to the staircase grumbling, pausing just long enough to take your water bottle from her and wave hello to Alfred.

"Long week?" Alfred chuckled. You look exhausted. And Irina looks like she's about to smack you with a rolled-up newspaper.

"We're three days out from Hiatus. The post-tour brain is real."

He quirked an eyebrow at her in askance and Irina shook her head, "Tour is always hard. She doesn't sleep much and it's a nightmare to get her to eat anything on a plate. With silverware... So after the tour she's just kinda- well I mean I'm pretty sure she's legally asleep. But she'll perk up a little after lunch. Hopefully."

Alfred nodded, watching the concern flit across her face in spite of the irritation and smiled a little. "How on Earth did you wind up working here?"

Irina shrugged, "After- everything, when she had her little breakdown before they let her come back to work, they made her agree to have an assistant. Someone to help mitigate some of the day to day stress. And then they hired me-"

"So she didn't pick you?"

"No," she laughed, "The first time I met her she was half drunk by her pool with a guitar. And oh. My. God. I hated her so much."

Alfred snorted, he could see that. "So what changed?"

"She's just so damn kind," Irina huffed. "I was such an asshole- I kept just doing the bare minimum and just; by rights she should have just fired me. But... I don't think she was in a position to argue, at least not emotionally." She winced, remembering how outright mean she'd been. "And then when my mom died; to this day I don't know what made me go to the house. But she just pulled me inside, no questions asked. She let me cry on her couch and scream at the top of my lungs- and never not once did she try and tell me I couldn't feel that way. Then she made me dinner and brownies and let me sleep in a guest room."

The older man nodded. He could see that too. You were sweet. And you cared. "She is nice," he hummed, sipping his tea.

"Not nice," Irina corrected, smiling, "Kind."

"There's a difference?"

"Nice people say "Wow. That sucks." and move on with their day. Kind people will actually help you, even if they don't say nice words."

He digested that for a moment and looked at Irina consideringly. "And you've been here ever since?"

"Yup," Irina said, picking up a granola bar off her work table and throwing it at you, snorting when it hits you in the chest and you stare at it blankly for a second before scooping it off the floor. "Eat that," she ordered crisply, "And text me what you want for lunch."

"But I don't-"

"Y/N so help me. You will eat a meal today if I have to kill you."

"Can't I just pay for your manicure and call it a day?"

The other woman crossed her arms and scowled at you, "Either you eat or I call Teddy and make him yell at you."

"What the fuck-"

"Your choice," she challenged.

And Alfred suppressed a grin with difficulty. Irina was definitely a kindred spirit.

#Teddy!verse #Jason Todd x reader #Jason Todd #anon ask #ask answered #minors dni

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mrhyde-mrseek · 2 years

Text

SMS as Pushing Daisies quotes:

•Jekyll: "You know what, I'll be in the kitchen rationalizing my panic attack."

•Mina: “A hug can turn your day around. It’s like an emotional Heimlich. Someone puts their arms around you and they give you a squeeze and all your fear and anxiety come shooting out of your mouth in a big wet wad and you can breath again.”

•Gwen: "I spent so much time praying, I've run out of things to say. I'm having awkward silences with God!"

•Harker: “Oh, HELL no!”

•Holmes: “You can’t die of evilness.”

Hyde: “Happens all the time; you do something mean or hurtful to someone like tell a secret . . . Bang! You're dead.”

Victor: “Or bang! You're not really dead, you're just pretending to be dead while other people who think you're dead are heartbroken.”

Holmes: “Or bang! You talk too much and you both go wait in the car.”

•Griffin: ”Oh look: a dumb idea just found a friend!”

•Watson: “The fact that he was a very, very bad man makes you feel better about what you did?”

Jekyll: “Yes. Immensely. I would have felt horrible if it was... you, for example.”

Watson: *smacks Jekyll on the head with rolled up newspaper*

Jekyll: “I’m not proud!”

Watson: “You know, I'm glad you did it. Makes the worst thing I did seem insignificant.”

Jekyll: “Listen to you, all judgey-judge.”

•The Time Traveller: “The truth is that there are a lot of people like you, us, with strange hobbies or talents or gifts and we try to hide it because we’re afraid that it makes us seem weird or it will turn people off, but that’s a mistake. What makes me unique has brought every person I love into my life.”

•Victor: “My name is Ned. I live a simple life. I wake pies and make the dead. That was creepy. I make pies and wake the dead.”

•Van Helsing: “I hate secrets, too.”

Mina: “You love secrets. You wanna marry secrets and have little half-secret, half-human babies.”

•Holmes: “Did you find the keys?”

Watson: “I assure you, if I locate anything key-ish, you are the first person I will tell.”

•Hyde: “People’s nature is like a river. You can only keep it dammed for so long.”

•Gwen, to Holmes, Jekyll, and Griffin: “What was that rhyme? I scream, you scream, we all scream because you faked your death?”

•Watson: “Please put the gun and the bat down.”

Watson: “Or definitely the gun.”

•Van Helsing: “Who shrieked?”

Harker: “I might have shrieked.”

•The Time Traveller: “We are giant, enormous idiots.”

The Time Traveller: “And don’t you say ‘ginormous,’ ‘cause that ain’t a word.”

•Jekyll: “I’m not lying. Please don’t attack the window treatments.”

•Holmes: *bursts into the mortuary* “Who can I touch?”

•Griffin: “Future me is going, ‘I told you so,’ but now me is just gonna sit back and watch.”

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i-cant-sing · 3 years

Text

Promise: Yandere Godfather Hawks x Todoroki reader

This is a side story takes place in the YRHR series, after part 1, when the reader returns home, blind.

Check out my MASTERLIST for more!

"Y/n... Come on, wake up. Its 9 already." You heard him say, feeling the bed dip as he sat on it, gently touching the back of your shoulder. "Aren't you hungry? Mom's making your favourite."

When you gave no response, Shotou pulled the covers away from your face, his brows furrowing at the bandages around your eyes that had loosened up. You had did that, clawing at the meticulously tight knot Natsuo had done; you didn't like how it settled on your eyes.

"You're awake, right?" The only answer he got was you turning your cheek further away from him when he tried to caress it. Shotou didn't like your silence and he missed it when you used to ramble about almost anything to him. He missed when you were happy.

The door bell rang.

Shotou looked at his watch confused. Wasn't Natsuo supposed to come around at 11? He could hear Enji walking to the main door, and after a few seconds of silence, he heard footsteps coming towards your room. But then he heard some scuffling, and people talking- he recognised Enji's and Dabi's voices, his brother's getting louder by the second.

"I'll check who's there. Stay."

Stay? You would've rolled your eyes if, you know, you still had them.

A few more minutes passed and you could hear Dabi arguing with someone, and you think that Shotou is trying to calm him down. Deciding to take advantage of the situation, you got up from the bed. For the past whole month, Shotou would come to wake you up everyday, carrying you in his arms to the bathroom, never letting you walk on your own, claiming "you'll get hurt".

Idiot.

Taking one small step at a time, you stretched your arms out trying to reach the wall. Once you felt the cold, smooth surface, you used it to guide you towards the door.

No matter what you did, or how many times you told them to back off, that you can do this on your own, they wouldn't let you. Hell, you were pretty sure that if they could, they would breathe for you too. As if trying to instil in your mind that you're helpless without them, incapable of making your own decisions.

I'll show them how fucking capable I am.

After stubbing your toe only once, you finally reached the door, your hand gripping the metal knob. You placed your ear on the door, trying to figure out who and where everyone is standing. The corridor seemed empty and you think everyone is downstairs.

Opening the door, you used another wall to guide you towards the stairs. You hoped Shotou doesn't see you; he'd throw a hissy fit at you attempting to walk down the stairs.

As you took one careful step at a time, you heard the commotion grow louder. You could hear Dabi yelling profanities at the other person, certainly not Enji because Rei or Fuyumi would've stepped in by now to stop him. You used to stop him too, but ever since what happened, you don't really care anymore.

"Why the fuck are you even here?! She doesn't fucking want to see you!"

"Dabi-!"

"And who is gonna stop me? You? I'd be happy to knock you down on your ass- its about goddamn time!"

"Hawks!"

Hawks?

Hawks.

Hawks!

You almost stumbled down the last few steps, but you needed to know- was he, was he really here?

"K-Keigo?"

You heard his wings flap before you felt him, the wind gushed at your body strongly, making you lose your balance. But muscular arms wrapped around you before you could fall, and the winged hero lifted you up and spun you around, making you burst into laughter.

Rei was the first one to cry.

You laughed.

Not a bitter, sarcastic one.

A genuinely happy laugh.

And she missed her baby's laugh so much.

Dabi's eyes widened slightly. His heart clenching up a bit as he realised how he missed that beaming look on your face. He realised how fucking naive you were, how you were his little sister that he needed to protect.

Shotou felt envy. Why- why didn't you laugh like that with him? Why didn't you laugh for him? Was he... not a good brother?

Fuyumi actually rushed out of the kitchen when she heard you, her hands coming up to her mouth to suppress the sob that was building up. Too long. It had been too long since you were happy.

Natsuo smiled. He smiled as he saw you chortle when the hero's feathers tickled your cheek. He wished you would smile more often.

Enji's breath hitched as he saw you chuckle into Hawk's shoulder. It was so natural, so lively, so radiant. He had been dying to hear that sweet sound again.

Your heart was beating fast and your stomach was doing somersaults as you felt the air rushing through your hair and cooling on to your neck, the soft feathers brushing across your skin.

He really was here.

But so were they.

And you could feel their eyes on you.

Keigo frowned when he saw you curl yourself into him, as if trying to bury yourself into his chest. When he looked around, he saw them glaring and that's when he puffed out his wings before curling them around you; shielding you.

"I'll be spending time with my goddaughter. Do not disturb us." And with that, Hawks flew you up to your room, locking the door before they could sat anything. He could hear Dabi arguing, but he trusted Enji to handle him.

He set you on your bed, chuckling as you didn't let go of his collar.

"Its okay, dove. I'm here, now- ow!" You cut him off by punching his arm.

"Where were you?!"

"In your heart- ow! Stop hitting me!" He caught your wrists.

"You said you were gonna visit me at home! Its been a whole month-"

"I know, I know. I'm sorry but believe me, I really was busy!" Sighing, he continued. "The hero commission sent me to Europe for a mission and things got a bit messy, so I got caught up."

Yanking your hands out of his grip, you scowled. "Would it have killed you to call?"

"I mean I wouldn't say kill, but I probably could've lost a limb or two-" He started laughing when when you began getting up to walk to the door.

Keigo wrapped his arms around you, smiling cheekily"Y/n- I'm sorry, I'm just kidding. Come back-"

"No, let go! I don't have time for your bullshit" He continued laughing, easily picking you up and dropping you back on your bed.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. Come on, now. Stop being mad." You heard him shuffling. "Besides, I've got something for you!"

He dropped something in your lap. You picked an item, your hands feeling around it, trying to figure out what the rectangular shaped box was.

"Whats this?"

"Oh, here. Let me help you." He lifted the lid of the box and you were immediately hit by a familiar smell.

"Chocolate?"

He hummed in confirmation"Your favourite ones too! They were always sold out! Luckily, I was able to use my charm on the owner."

"Charm? Oh, you mean where you pull that ugly smirk and do that half lidded look with your eyes, and you think that you look hot but you actually just look creepy?"

"Yeah- hey!"

And then the next 3 hours were spent like that, Hawks telling you about Europe and the bad guys he caught, you telling him about the way your family had been treating you.

"They don't let me do anything, they don't give me any privacy! Its like- its like they want me to be a doll!" You gave an exasperated sigh. "They- they act like they are being so generous. Like it was somehow my fault that my eyes got fried!"

"Oh come on. They can't be that bad-"

"They are! So much worse than before. Look, I'm a grown up- I need my space too! You know what Shotou said when I asked him to get me a walking stick? He said I don't need one since he can carry me everywhere. Do you know how embarrassing it is to get carried to the toilet every single day? Do you?!"

"Well, no-"

"And then Fuyumi cuts up my food and spoon feeds me herself! I know I'm blind but its not like I'm gonna stuff the food up my nose or something!"

The hero snickered at that.

"And then Enji reads me these novels or the newspaper and he skips over the parts he thinks I'm too "young" or "immature" to understand! They even monitor what I listen to! Fuyumi or Shotou would be quick to change the channel if something above pg 10 comes on!" You ran a hand through your hair frustratedly. "I asked Enji to get me a Braille and the first few time he pretended like he didn't hear me, before finally saying that I don't need one!"

"Don't worry, I'll sneak in a Braille for dummies the next time I visit."

"Hey-! Wait... what do you mean "next time"?"

"Oh come on! I promise I'll come earlier next time. Maybe in like 2 weeks-"

"No."

"What-"

"No. I want to leave this place today. You promised."

"Y/n-"Keigo reached to place a hand on your shoulder but you pushed him off.

"You. Promised. You said you'll get me out of here when I leave the hospital" You inhaled deeply. "Well, guess what, Hawks? Its been a whole month."

"I know but you're not well enough-"

"I AM! If anything, staying here is harming me more!" Your tone was getting angrier. "You said- you said you would take me away from them."

"I can't do it right now. The hero commission needs me-"

"I need you! Or am I just not worth your time?"

"Please, dove- try to understand. How will I take care of you if I'm out at the agency?"He tried to pet your head but you smacked his hand away, snarling at him.

"You're a liar. A big fucking liar! Was this the plan all along? To give me hope that you'll save me, only to fucking crush it?!" The hero managed to dodge the box of chocolates you threw at him. "I don't need fucking chocolate or your stupid presents. I need to get out of this goddamn house!"

The hero began walking towards the door. "You're not thinking rationally- I'll- I'll leave." But before the hero could manage to take another step, you were leaping towards him, but since you couldn't see, you only managed to fall near his feet. When he grabbed your shoulders to help you up, you were quick to latch onto him, wrapping your arms around his torso tightly.

"No- no! Don't go. Please, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I don't know why I said that. Please, don't be mad. I swear I'll behave, just don't leave me here!" Your hold onto him was becoming painfully tight.

Keigo felt like someone was breaking his heart piece by piece as he looked at you. The way your body shook from your pitiful sobs, the way you held onto his jacket as if your life depended on it- he was forced to remember how vulnerable you looked the night he brought you back to the this house. The same night when you begged and begged him to fly you away, that you'll do anything as long as he didn't dropped you back at the Todoroki estate.

"Y/n- darling, love, listen to me. I promised you that I'll keep you save, didn't I? I promise I'll come back soon-"

"YOU BROKE YOUR PROMISE! CAN'T YOU SEE WHAT SHE'S DONE TO ME! SHE BURNED MY FUCKING EYES HAWKS! I'M FUCKING BLIND! DO I NEED TO LOSE A LIMB FOR YOU TO GET ME OUT OF HERE?! DO I HAVE TO SUFFER FROM ANOTHER "ACCIDENT"?!"

Hawks knew that bitch Rei did this on purpose, he knew and it killed him that he couldn't save you from her. He wanted to tell you that he believed you, and he was preparing a place for you. But the hero knows your siblings were eavesdropping, right on the other side of the door.

He had to be careful and play the fool if he wanted to get you out of this hell hole.

"Y/n please-"

You shook your head repeatedly, pulling him closer to you as you shrieked at him. "No. NO! I wont let you go! I WON'T LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT ME! Keigo, I'm begging you! Take me with you, please! I'll die! I'll die! I'LL FUCKING DIE, KEIGO! PLEASE!"

Your loud screams had your siblings bursting through the door, obviously using a spare key. "Y/n, whats wrong-" You jumped away when they touched your shoulder, giving Hawks chance to slip away.

You instantly reached out for him, flailing your arms around to get a hold of him again. But the hero was already out the door and your siblings quickly pulled you back into their arms, shushing you, trying to calm you down.

But you were inconsolable. Thrashing around in Shotou's arms, you kept begging for Hawks to come back. "HAWKS COME BACK! LET ME GO! HAWKS, PLEASE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE! I'LL DIE!" It pained them to see you like this, so hysterical; Shotou and Fuyumi whispered sweet nothings but you payed them no mind. Natsuo knew you were going to hyperventilate soon, but he was more worried about you bursting a vessel in your head.

Thinking fast, he quickly brought up a tranquilliser- and the moment the sharp smell of the alcohol swab hit your nose, you were wrestling harder to get out Shotou's and Fuyumi's arms.

"Y/n, please calm down-"

"FUCK YOU! LET ME GO! KEIGO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY! COME BACK- STOP! STOP TOUCHING ME! STOP!" You screamed louder than before when you felt her cold hands gripping your arm, holding it still so that your brother could administer the dose.

As the drug began taking effect, your thrashing slowed down before you finally slumped into Shotou's arms. The tranquilliser numbed the headache that was forming, and you felt Fuyumi use a tissue to wipe the snot and the spit off your face.

"I'll die... I'll die... And you won't be there. And I'll die..."

Hawks was in a trance like state as he watched Shotou tuck you under the covers. He wanted to use his sharp feathers to slice off that cold bitch's hand that brushed the hair out of your face, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your daunting screams rang through his ears; his chest felt like some was shoving a knife through it slowly as he played back the image of you trying to wring yourself free from their arms, one hand still reaching out for him. It took everything in him not to grab it and pull you away from those monsters, but he had to remind himself of the bigger picture.

Lost in his thoughts, he didn't even notice the pyromaniac standing next to him until he spoke.

"This is all your fault."

Hawks looked at Dabi. His fault?

"You shouldn't have come here."

"She's my goddaughter-"

"Shut the fuck up." Dabi narrowed his eyes at the hero. "She's like this because you gave her false hope. Hope, that one day she'll get away from us. You and I both know that's not gonna happen." He sighed before continuing. "You call yourself a hero, but in reality, you're no better than us."

As Hawks turned to leave, not willing to let the villian get on his nerves, Dabi spoke again.

"Dont bother coming back. She won't forgive you. She'll never forget this betrayal."

Hurtful as they were, he knew the words he said were true.

Hawks was almost out the gates when he saw Enji sitting in the garden, looking at the koi pond. He should've left, should've flown away but there was something in Enji's eyes that had the winged hero walking towards him. He recognised the emotion as soon as he got close.

Sorrow.

Or was it guilt?

Perhaps a mixture of both.

"Endeavour, are you... alright?"

The number 1 hero looked away from the fish and blinked at him.

"Hawks? What are you still doing here?"

The blonde chuckled nervously. "I was just on my way out." He gazed at him. "Are you okay? You seem to be in deep thought."

Enji only stared at him. Taking his silence as the answer, Hawks turned to leave.

"Why did you come here today, Keigo?"

Keigo.

He suppressed the urge to shudder the way his name rolled off his tongue.

"She's my goddaughter too. Why? Do you think it was a bad decision to come?"

"No." Enji sighed. "I just- she hadn't laughed like that in a long time."

Hawks stood beside him. "She's still traumatised from the kitchen accident. Its understable-"

"No. She hadn't laughed like that for a long time, even before this happened." Enji's eyes moved towards the night sky. The stars were twinkling extra bright tonight. How he wished you could see it. "Before she lost her sight, she used to look out the window, her eyes searching sky." He gulped. "She was looking for you, Keigo. You- you made her happy, you make her laugh. I don't."

Hawks placed his hand on Enji's shoulder. "That's not true, Enji. You do make her happy. She loves you. She feels safe with you. She sees you as her protector."

"She does?"

He nodded. "Of course. If you want things to return to normal, you need to treat her normally too. Just- just talk to her. Sort out the issues and wash away whatever fears she has." Hawks wanted Enji to listen to you, to really listen to you and protect you from Rei. He could only hope that Enji understood what he meant.

Hawks was right, Enji realised. Whatever delusions you have of Rei wanting to hurt you on purpose, of being the "bad person", they can all be cleared up if he just talked to you. Ever since the incident, the family avoided talking to you about Rei or the events that had occurred that day.

If he just talked to you, things will return to normal. You'll become happy again.

"Thank you, Keigo."

Hawks only smiled in return. "I'll be leaving now."

"Okay. When will you visit again?"

"I'll be gone for longer now. The hero commission is sending me on another mission again."

"Oh. Safe travels, then."

As Hawks flew away, he began thinking about the house.

The house where he was going to take you to soon. He just needs to add a few finishing touches before he sets his plan in motion. The plan to rescue you, and eventually Enji, from those sadist that call themselves your family.

He will not let his dove get hurt again.

He'll save you this time.

He promises.

Thoughts?

Idk how this turned out, angst wasn't the plan initially. Guess I'll write godfather Hawks fluff for another day.

Anyways, now that this is done, I'll start working on RE 8 fic now.

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crazycookiecrumbles · 2 years

Text

The Official Relationship

A/N: This is a prequel series to my Stark!Readerverse series. Those are all my stories that start with “A” and have some other shit following it. This is the 3rd installment.

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Stark!Reader,

Warnings: Flirting and Fluff

Summary: You’d been in Washington for a few weeks now, and it seemed like things were taking a turn to change.

Steve watched you over the top of his newspaper. You had just entered the cafeteria and you were sashaying over to look at the offerings for the day before grabbing a cup of coffee for yourself. He watched as Brock Rumlow talked your ear off the entire time, only leaving your side when he was called away. Steve watched as Brock looked up from his phone, glanced at you, squeezed your arm, then walked out of there.

As you were leaving with your drink, you spotted Steve sitting in the corner behind his newspaper. You noticed it was him only because of how he quickly ducked under the paper, and who else would hide in a quiet corner in a cafeteria of a government agency?

“Why are we hiding?” You asked as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him.

Steve lowered the paper and sighed, “They want me to do more of these, these PSA’s for kids and I just — I can’t do another one, doll. I can’t.”

You hummed and squeezed his arm, “I believe in you, Steve. Tell those young kids about their bodies changing.”

He groaned and banged his head on the table. Your loud laugh of surprise made him smile and lift his head to gaze at you. It had been several weeks since your coffee date that one faithful morning before work, and Steve was hooked. You both went to work together every day, if he was in town, and he often found himself knocking on your door and asking you to join him for dinner, whether that meant going out or if he was trying out a new recipe.

“Hi, doll,” Steve smiled softly and squeezed your hand.

“Hi, Steve. Aside from the PSA’s, how are you?”

He shrugged, “I’m fine. I just — “ he stopped himself. “I’m fine.”

You narrowed your eyes, “What’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing —“

“Steve—“

“I’m fine—“

You sighed, “I bet Brock would tell me what was wrong.” Steve groaned, and you laughed. “I fucking knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You don’t like Brock.”

“Brock’s a very capable agent,” Steve said. “He’s a fine guy.”

“But?”

Steve huffed, “I don’t like how he looks at you.”

You raised an eyebrow, “And how’s that?”

Steve shrugged a shoulder. He seemed uncomfortable with this conversation, like someone would be listening in on him to find some dirt, “Like you’re something to eat.”

You smirked and leaned forward, “I seem to think I’m a tasty snack.”

Steve caught on to what you were doing. He scooted the chair in closer and leaned on his forearms on the table as he whispered in your ear, “I bet you taste really sweet.”

The speed at which that man turned your flirting against you had your jaw hitting the table. He pulled away with a satisfied smirk on his face and mischief dancing in his eyes as you felt your cheeks burn under his gaze.

“Fuck you, Rogers,” you mumbled in quiet defeat as you crossed one leg over the other.

He chuckled, “Hey, easy, Stark. I’m not that kind of girl. At least wine and dine me first.”

You groaned at how corny he was, rolling up his newspaper to smack him in the arm. He laughed and grabbed the paper from you to set on the table before pulling your hands over to his side where he gave them a squeezed and curled his hands around them, “But, hey, I’m glad you found me today.”

“Yeah? Felt like making me blush?”

“Always,” He grinned. “But, well, seeing Brock looking at you and touching you…”

“Uh-huh…?”

He cleared his throat, “So, things have been going, at least I think so, really well between us. I love the time that we spend together, and I think you’re amazing.”

“Go on. I’m enjoying this,” you grinned. “Come on, Steve. Out with it!”

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly before he continued, “Well, I just — I uh, I wanted to — I’m thinking — will you…be my …uh. girlfriend?”

It pained him to say it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he had no idea how to say it, or even if he should say it? Modern dating was weird and scary. He didn’t know if he was to ask, or just say it, or just go under the silent assumption that the two of you were actually together. It pained him and he didn’t want to look like a complete and total fool.

But when you smiled brightly at him, his heart felt relieved. You nodded eagerly, and Steve leaned across the table, hand reaching up to cup the back of your head as he leaned down to kiss you. You grinned into the kiss, your own hand rising up to squeeze his wrist as he held your head in place.

When you pulled away, you licked your lip and looked down at your hands excitedly before looking up at him, “I was wondering when you were going to ask.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should. Rules on that are funny,” Steve confessed. “Natasha said to ask you before someone else did.”

“Ah, right, I am a hot commodity,” you joked as you leaned back and fanned yourself. “Kidding, I’d have said no to everyone but you.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me.”

“Is it working?” You grinned. “That’s kind of the goal, you know.”

Steve grinned. His cheeks had a slight touch of pink to them, the tops of his ears gaining the most of that blood rush as they turned red. He bowed his head slightly before nodding and looking back up at you with a grin plastered across his face, “Well, how about I take my girlfriend to get some lunch?”

“We’re in a cafeteria, it’s not a far trip,” you joked.

He shook his head and stood up, hand outstretched for you to take as you stood up, “Nah, not for my gal. How about that nice cafe we saw on the way in this morning? I shouldn’t get in too much trouble for stealing you away for a little while.”

“I don’t know, Steve, Fury’s got me working on something really improtant. I think a ship is involved? I tuned out halfway through his explanation. But I found something weird in the system.”

“Unfortunately, it’s SHIELD, and something tells me you’re always going to find something weird in the system.”

You sighed, “Yeah. Not like Fury would tell me anyway. Eh, I’ll hack him.”

“I thought part of your contract was to make it so your dad couldn’t hack him again?”

“Nothing is totally inhackable,” you laughed. “Besides, Jarvis does it for him, or a program that I wrote for him does it. Maybe it’ll take longer, but it’s still happening.”

“Right, I’ll pretend I understood that,” Steve said making you laugh. “Do you still want to come out?”

“Eh, fuck it, not like SHIELD will collapse if I don’t look at some stupid Star ship or whatever it’s called,” you replied. “Take me away, Steve.”

Steve shook his head at your antics, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. Glancing back at the cafeteria that you were leaving behind, you raised an eyebrow and looked up to Steve, playfully tugging on his hand, “You smell something wrong in that kitchen, don’t you?”

“I am just saving you from what I smelled to be a really, really horrible looking steak salad toady.”

“Oh, god.”

“I warned them there’s something wrong with it, no one listens. Let them get sick, you and me? We’re going to be completely fine.”

You cooed, “Aw, look at my super soldier protecting me from bad meat.”

Steve glanced down at you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you made your way to the garage together. He vowed, “Doll, as long as I’m alive, I will protect you from anything and everything.”

Steve leaned down to kiss the top of your head, then kiss you on the lips before you exited the elevator and went to his motorcycle. You walked behind him with a little skip in your step and a grin that couldn’t leave your face, no matter how pained your cheeks were. This felt like an absolute dream. Steve was charming and sweet and you were long swept off your feet.

Sure, he was stubborn, so stubborn it made you want to punch him in his perfect face, but to you, Steve was the best man you’d been interested in. The only problem was how you were going to tell your dad you were dating part of the source of his daddy issues.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #past!steve x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #marvel oneshot #pre!shangqi x reader #marvel fic #tony stark #captain america #stark!reader #crazycookiecrumbles #one shot #fic #drabble #shang-chi prequel

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superhero--imagines · 3 years

Photo

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here! / Part 7 Here! / Part 8 Here! / Part 9 Here! / Part 10 Here!

A/N: I apologize for all the profanity in this part ahead of time. I think I’m going to do M/W/Sat updates, as long as my writing permits, and then maybe Wed/Sat updates. I got the day off because it snowed so I thought I would post this since it’s ready haha

* Well you’re royally f*cked

* There’s a big stupid smile curled on your face, and every time you try to hide it, it just comes back wider

* You really shouldn’t be happy right now

* “What has you in such a good mood?” Edward’s got a matching smile of his own.

* Oh shit. It’s fine, you’ll just play dumb.

* “How do you know I’m happy?” How about the dumb grin you’ve got on your face you stupid b*tch.

* You would have smacked your own forehead if you weren’t aware Edward was watching your every move

* You’re lucky Edward’s nice and he doesn’t call you out on it

* “Whenever you’re happy it kind of radiates off of you,” his voice lowers “you know because of your powers”

* Ah, you didn’t know you did that

* “So what do you think about the new girl?” You blurt it out like it’s an intrusive thought

* F*ck. Just-okay just play it cool. Play it cool.

* F********ckkkkk what’s wrong with you.

* Is being happy making you act like a moron?

* He shrugs

* “Just another human, I kind of wish everyone would shut up about it though. Having to hear people talk about her and think about her is getting annoying. It’s like being in a tunnel with one too many echoes.”

* Ah, so he hasn’t noticed yet.

* “I wonder what she’s thinking about.”

* Edward just shrugs again.

* What the f*ck Edward take a hint!

* “Edward?”

* “Yes dear?” He has the nerve to grin after using that pet name. The criminal is teasing you. Some best friend.

* And still it makes you outrageously happy

* You have to force your smile into a straight line

* “What’s the new girl thinking?”

* He looks over to her, Tyler and Mike are fighting for her attention, both of them a moment away from tugging on each arm and shouting “mine!”

* You see him search, you’ve heard enough about his powers to know right now it’s like mall food court level of chatter for him, but in a few seconds he’ll focus on her and realize he can’t hear her thoughts.

* Knowing how prideful he is though, he’ll probably deny it.

* “I don’t know I can’t read her mind” he says bluntly. “Do you think the school music teacher would teach me how to play violin if I asked?”

* “What?!?”

* “I know it’s kind of inconsiderate to ask but-“ you click your tongue

* “No not that!” You gesture towards Bella “you can’t read her mind?!? Isn’t that kind of a big deal?”

* His eyebrows thread together

* “I can’t read your mind either”

* Yes but you’re from a completely different world, in a body that radiates despair (and apparently joy now). You’re basically like some type of eldritch being from another dimension.

* Edward doesn’t see it that though

* “Honestly it’s a relief, one less mind I have to tune out.” He walks ahead of you as you stay motionless in the middle of the hallway

* What the f*ck is happening?

* “Are you coming? We’re going to be late for Biology if you keep lagging behind like that.”

* How could you forget? The whole story starts because Edward is super into Bella’s blood! He fantasizes killing her for like- the entire class period.

* You were worried for nothing, just because they didn’t have the cafeteria moment isn’t that big of a deal

* The thought makes you both relieved and a little sad

* Still it’s for the best, this is the way things are supposed to be

* And who knows, if you have to leave maybe you can poach Rosalie and Emmett to leave with you

* And maybe Jasper, he won’t like having a human around the house all the time

* “Mr. Cullen, Ms. Eleazar” Mr. Banner hands you each a worksheet.

* Oh right the onion cell worksheet. Ah right the mitosis crap. Well hopefully Mike remembers enough that you both can hobble through

* “New year means new seating arrangement!” He tells you both excitedly. The seating arrangements on the projector.

* “Why am I next to Edward isn’t the seating arrangement supposed to be alphabetical?”

* “I decided to go by grade this time, you should be happy! Aren’t you two...friends?” You can tell your teacher is confused by the nature of your relationship, almost as much as you are.

* “Super happy Teach.” You mumble taking your seat next to Edward who’s grinning like an idiot

* “You can’t say he’s picking favorites when it’s merit based.” He grins and you roll your eyes

* Angela’s sitting next to Ben Cheney, they seem to be discussing the trigonometry homework, and how it’s basically impossible

* Oh right, he’s supposed to be her boyfriend this year.

* Personally you think Angela could do way better. But love is blind, you’ll ship it if you have to.

* And right on cue Mike walks in, Bella following close behind. He takes his seat on the table behind you while Bella talks to Mr. Barnes

* “Why didn’t you guys sit with us at lunch today?” Mike is practically leaned over the entire width of the table.

* Before you can say anything Edward snorts

* “Because (Y/N) was getting lectured for staying out all night again”

* Mike looks like his eyes might pop out of his head

* “W-what? Out all night?! Without inviting me!” You roll your eyes.

* “He’s making it more dramatic, I went out for a run early in the morning because I couldn’t sleep and everyone was freaking out because they thought I got kidnapped.”

* Like any vampire or human stood a chance against you and your violent mood swings

* Mike’s so caught up in lecturing you about how you need to be more careful

* “There’s a lot of weirdos out there!” Yeah you live with them

* That he doesn’t even notice Bella’s taken a seat next to him

* Now that you get a better look at her, she is kinda pretty. She’s the kind of person who probably always looks good in photographs, no matter what the angle. Nice cheekbones and big brown eyes. Modest on boobs and butt, but she’s skinny so it works for her.

* “Hey, you’re Bella right?” You give her your friendliest smile, and you don’t miss the light blush that blooms on her face.

* You’re not sure whether it’s from your beauty or because she’s just not used to so much attention. She just nods.

* “Have you already seen the three whole things there are to do in Town on a Friday night?”

* Bella actually laughs at that. She’s got dimples, and little wrinkles that show up at the corner of her eyes. It’s cute.

* “One of those things is going to the library, so really it’s only two things.”

* She giggles again.

* “Is the other one going over to your house to play monopoly?” Mike asks, a grin arching onto his face

* “No my house is out of town, the other thing is to go to the school football game”

* “I’m not really a big fan of football” Bella hesitantly says, and Mike and Edward laugh

* “Yeah no one here does, everyone goes for the half time show, or just to hang out.”

* You’re pretty sure your entire friend group only goes to the games to see your cheer routine, especially this year since you’re captain now. The first junior captain in a long time apparently. The news actually made the local newspaper.

* Everything is going good, and you’re starting to think maybe you and Bella might be friends.

* “Why don’t we have a board game night at our house again? Last time was-“

* You stop sentence, you were having so much fun you almost forgot why Edward was so obsessed with Bella.

* The slight breeze from the air conditioning brings her scent to you.

* You cover your mouth and nose with your hand

* Her scent is REVOLTING

* “(Y/N), are you okay?” Mike asks

* You vaguely feel Edward’s hand on your shoulder, has he not caught her scent yet?

* It’s pretty hard to miss

* Like gym socks, with a overly sweet base, it’s like-

* Your head snaps up, and your hand clamps over your mouth and nose even harder, but not because the scent is revolting

* She smells like cheese, perfectly aged Gorgonzola cheese, or maybe Brie?

* You smell the sweeter undercurrent stronger now, it’s like warm juicy peaches

* Roasted peach salad tossed with Gorgonzola and olive oil

* How many times have you dreamed about eating that while basking in the warm sunlight

* “I knew you shouldn’t have eaten those leftovers at lunch,” Edward says, but you know it’s performative, thank god he’s still got some sense after smelling her.

* “Mr.Banner, I think (Y/N) ate something bad, is it alright if I help them to the nurses office?”

* “Yes and hurry!” He’s practically shooing you out as Edward pulls you by the arm

* Nooooo, you wanna smell her moreeee

* You have the sense to not wine and keep your mouth covered.

* Edward doesn’t take you to the nurse, you both don’t stop walking until you’re at the parking lot

* “What the hell was that?” He asks, it’s the first time he’s seemed even remotely angry with you

* He seems more confused then angry though, you’re so shocked you actually sit down on the curb.

* And after a moment of hesitance Edward sits beside you, placing his hand over your own

* “She smells good Edward, like really good.”

* Edward laughs

* “Yeah I gathered that” he shakes his head. “I thought you were supposed to be a picky eater”

* “I aaaaamm” you moan, your head is cradled in your left hand. “She’s like one in a million”

* “You’re one in a million” you lift your head to see Edward looking at you with that stupid sh*t eating grin.

* “Really Edward my life is falling apart because I want to eat someone, and you think the appropriate response is to flirt?”

* To be fair, he’s always flirting, it’s basically apart of his personality at this point

* “You’re being melodramatic.” He chuckles and throws an arm over your shoulder. “Worst case scenario you kill her, Carlisle doles out his funeral punishment-don’t ask, and then we have to start over as freshman again somewhere else.”

* You groan, you finally worked your way up to a junior, you were just starting to get used to this crappy town, you don’t wanna start all over again in a new one

* “What’s the best case scenario?”

* Edward thinks hard for a minute.

* “Best case scenario...the music teacher agrees to teach me how to play the violin and I impress you with my magnificent playing.” You smack him on the arm.

* “Not the best case scenario for you!” You know he’s doing it on purpose. He just wants to make you laugh

* It works, you do laugh. How much more absurd could this situation get?

* “Everything’s going to be fine, if Jasper can handle having to smell 300 students he thinks smell good, you can handle 1.”

* He’s got a point

* “Wait-didn’t she smell good to you?” Wasn’t that like, the whole d*mn point?

* His eyebrows thread together and he shrugs

* “Um, she smelled alright, no better or worse than the others. I’m not sure what you smelled-“

* What you smelled? The rich but refreshing flavor profile is sublime

* The f*cking heathen doesn’t even know what he’s missing

* “But to me she smelled like peaches”

* Well he kinda knows what he’s missing

* “She’s definitely anemic though, there’s a sever lack of iron in her scent” ah that must be that cheesy smell you’re getting

* Well ain’t this ironic. The girl who’s going to steal your best friend is only getting noticed because of you.

* “I don’t know, personally I prefer Henrietta the 3rds blood, but that’s just me” he’s lying, your blood is good and all, but it’s definitely still not on par with a humans blood

* He’s just trying to make you feel better.

* He rubs your shoulder, before patting it and moving to stand up.

* “Now come on, we have to make you eat some human food so you can throw up in front of the nurse and she lets us leave school early”

* You roll your eyes, anything to leave school early huh?

* “Yeah all right, lead the way Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Brooding”

* “Why do you always say that? I don’t brood that much anymore!”

* “You know how some people have resting b*tch face? You have resting brood face.”

* “Says the person who literally radiates despair” you shove him as you both walk towards the vending machine

* You take a deep breath as you watch Edward fumble with the vending machine

* The dork literally sticks a credit card up to the glass and demands the machine give him chips.

* (Y/N/N) why isn’t this working? Am I supposed to insert my card through this slot?”

* You laugh. You’re pretty sure he’s not doing this on purpose.

* “You’re supposed to use cash Edward.”

* You watch as he fumbles with his wallet muttering:

* “Do you think it’ll take a twenty dollar bill?”

* You watch in amusement as Edward tries - and fails- to use a twenty dollar bill, and then proceed to use obscure profanities to curse “this vile wretch of human technological advancement”

* You feel a sigh of relief escape you.

* Yeah, everything is going to be fine.

Tags: @moonlights27 @thebluetint @the100thtwilight @awesomebooklover17 @oneofthepotterheads @smileygirl08 @imdoingathingmom @iconicgguk @yrawn @alyciaswhore @little-horror-show @wicked-watering-can @lazydreamers @xxxmuxxx @puritanicalhypocrite

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #twilight reader insert #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen #emmett cullen x rosalie hale #carlisle cullen #jessica stanley #angela weber #jessica stanley x reader #bella swan #bella swan x reader #superhero--imagines

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luvidzy · 3 years

Text

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: kim seungmin x reader

☆ summary: an anonymous person is writing poetry and you are determined to get to the bottom of it

☆ word count: 3.2k

You honestly hadn’t even noticed at first. You weren’t really into the school paper, so you didn’t read it very often unless Felix decided there was something interesting you just had to know. Which is exactly how you found out about your secret admirer posting about you in the paper.

“Y/N, you have to see this!” Felix’s voice rang out as he slid into the seat next to you. You looked up, less than thrilled to be interrupted in the middle of trying to study for your Greek Classics test tomorrow, but you couldn’t stop yourself from setting your pencil down at Felix’s excited expression.

“Yes, Felix?” You asked, trying to hide the exasperation in your voice. If Felix noticed, he didn’t let him affect his excitement as he pulled the school paper out from under his arm, unrolled it and smacked it down on the table in front of you.

Your eyes scanned the front page, trying to figure out what Felix was so eager to show you, but nothing stood out. There was an article about the softball team, an article about an upcoming concert by 3racha, and a column that was talking about new things to do on campus. Nothing particularly interesting, and also nothing that you hadn’t seen before in the paper.

“So I was looking at the paper, and something caught my eyes. Come on, you have to read it,” Felix urged, his eyes sparkling as his freckles crinkled beside his eyes. You rested your forearms on the table, signalling to him that you were listening. Felix began to flip through the pages, before he landed on one of the latter ones.

His finger pointed out a small section of writing in the upper right hand corner. You squinted slightly, bringing the paper closer so you could look at the words. From what you could tell it, was a small three line poem that anyone would overlook if you weren’t paying attention. Lucky enough for you, Lee Felix always paid attention to the paper.

she sits so sweetly

sweater too big on her back

perfect to me

Eyes wondering over the black lettering, you felt your eyebrows furrow. There was no signature and not even a hint of who the poem might be addressed to. It seemed so out of place, yet your curiosity was growing every second.

“Does anyone know who wrote it?” You asked, turning to Felix. The blonde shook his head, pouting slightly.

“I asked Seungmin, but he said that they had just found it on one of the desks in an envelope with a note asking them to publish it,” Felix explained. You sighed, before sliding the paper away from you in favor of getting back to your studying.

“Well, keep me updated. Maybe next time we’ll know who this mysterious poet is, or maybe who he’s writing to.” Felix nodded eagerly, before pulling the paper back towards him and opening it up to read while you continued to study.

Of course, the poem wasn’t dropped there as Felix brought it up to your friends again that night as you hung out in Chan and Changbin’s apartment.

“It’s romantic, for sure. But I feel like it would be even more romantic if the person who it was for actually KNEW it was for them, ya know?” Jisung said as he threw a cheeto in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth. You stifled a giggle behind your hand as the cheeto flew back down and hit him in the face, causing him to pout.

“Maybe they wanted to test the waters? See if the person responded well before they actually did anything that might give them away?” Jeongin suggested, before stuffing some M&Ms into his mouth. Seungmin shrugged as he leaned back into his chair.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see if we get any more envelopes.” You sighed, smiling slightly as you leaned back into the couch you were sitting on.

“How nice it must be to have someone write poetry about you. I don’t think anyone would ever do that for me,” you exclaimed dramatically, throwing a hand onto your forehead for effect. Minho snorted as he threw a piece of candy at you, causing you to shriek slightly.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a dramatic bitch, people would actually fall for you.” You stuck your tongue out at the older male, crossing your arms with a pout on your face. He was probably right, but there was no need for him to be rude about it.

The next time the mystery poet wrote in the paper, you found out about it way too late at night. Your phone began to buzz incessently as you tried to focus on your paper, to no avail. Finally you gave in and picked up the phone.

“What?”

“Y/N, where are you right now?” Felix’s voice was rushed and enthusastic, and it took all your strength not to groan. How could he be so energetic this late at night, when all you wanted to be doing was sleeping instead of studying for you stupid exam. Seungmin, who had been joining you in your study nights the past few days, looked up with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m at the library with Seungmin. Why?” You replied, rolling your eyes to Seungmin who just snickered. He knew from personal experience that the only person who would give you this reaction so late at night was Felix.

“There was another poem posted in the newspaper! I was gonna tell you earlier but I couldn’t get a hold of you. Stay where you are, I’m on my way.” Felix rushed, before hanging up. You took the phone away from your ear, before looking to Seungmin with an accusing glare.

“There was another poem and you didn’t think to tell me?” You exclaimed, cringing as the librarian shushed you.

“I didn’t think you cared that much. Besides, why would I take away Felix’s gossip? What kind of friend would I be if I did that?” Seungmin chuckled at the pointed glare you sent his way, before you turned back to your paper to try and do some work before Felix got there.

You managed only another 2 paragraphs before Felix came bustling through the doors, trying to be as quiet and fast as possible. He finally crashed into the chair beside you, spreading the paper out before you. You shut your laptop as your eyes scanned the page, trying to find any sight of the poem.

“It’s a good one this time. You’ll have to see it,” Felix said, his grin more of a smirk as he flipped to the next page and pointed his finger at the lines of text that had been imprinted on the page. Your eyes immediately trained on it, scanning over the words in every line like a woman who’s seeing for the first time.

The girl in room 204

with the world on her shoulder

but a smile on her face.

I wish I could be your Atlas

and hold the sky up long enough

for you to take a breath and relax.

But despite the circumstances,

despite her exhaustion from

sleepless nights in the library,

her eyes glow as she talks

even if it is about the most mundane things.

I can’t help but stare and smile,

wondering if she will ever notice

that she means everything to me

and that I would gladly be condemned

to a lifetime of suffering if it meant

taking your pain for just a little while.

Your eyes widened as you looked at the poem, before you noticed the small print that was sitting underneath the beautiful lines.

-to the girl in room 204 of Levantar Hall

Your heart began to pound and you could practically feel the blood rushing to your face as you reread the tiny tag, the realization only setting in after the 5th time looking it over.

“Holy shit! Felix, these poems are addressed to me!” You exclaimed, turning to look at the bright smile of your best friend. He nodded eagerly as you turned back to the poem, rereading it with this newfound knowledge.

“And you said no one would ever write poetry for you,” Felix teased. You hit him lightly, before taking the paper and shoving it into your bag. You grabbed your laptop, slung your bag over your shoulder, before looking at the boys you were sitting with.

“Sorry gentleman, I have some sleuthing to do,” you said, before rushing out of the library, completely ignorant of the adoration in Seungmin’s eyes as he watched you go.

You spent the next few days waking up extra early and camping out outside of the newspaper office to try and catch the mystery person in action of dropping off their envelope, but you were always met with disappointment as Seungmin came in every morning with no sign of the admirer.

You were a bit bummed about it until you decided to read this week's newspaper and came upon a startling revelation.

Another poem.

so close yet so far

she would never know my love

it’s not my nature

You immediately called Felix, who agreed to meet up with you at the nearest cafe to discuss the poem. It wasn’t until you were sitting at a booth, coffees sitting in front of you that a revelation decided to hit you.

“Felix! I’m an idiot!”

“I mean, I know. But how so this time?” Felix said, causing you to throw a playful glare his way. You looked at the poem, before pointing at the poem in the paper and reading the words aloud.

“Okay?” Felix questioned, an eyebrow raised. You rolled your eyes at the thought of having to explain it all to Felix.

“I know whoever this is, Felix! The words insinuate it’s someone that I know, and someone who is not very affectionate with me!” You said proudly, happy that you had managed to narrow the list down. Felix nodded in understanding.

“So, that leaves only a few people, right? Cause all of your friends are pretty affectionate, outside of Minho and Seungmin, right?” Felix said, and you nodded, before freezing. Minho…. or Seungmin. You didn’t want to immediately jump to any conclusions, but you hadn’t seen anyone outside of the newspaper room outside of Seungmin and, being honest, you kind of wanted it to be him. You had had a crush on Kim Seungmin since freshman year of college and it would be like something out of a novel if it turned out to be him.

“Earth to Y/N! What’s the plan now?” Felix brought you from your daydream as you took a sip of the coffee in front of you. You furrowed your brows in thoughts, before her eyes lit up.

“I know! Felix, I just need to mention something incredibly specific to each of them! Any good writer would take advantage of the creative inspiration and incorporate it into their poem!” you announced, quite proud of yourself for coming up with the idea. Felix thought for a moment before he nodded.

“That’s so stupid, it might just work.” You pouted at his comment, before immediately looking at your phone, seeing the time, and stumbling to get up and rush out.

“I completely forgot I need to meet up with Minho for our project! Phase 1 starts right now!” You rushed out of the coffee shop, Felix laughing behind you as you nearly ran into the door due to your excitement.

True to your plan, while with Minho you brought up the extremely intricate topic of Andromeda and Perseus, a tale which you had learned about a month ago in your Greek Mythology class. You loved the story and thought it was incredibly interesting and a great muse if Minho turned out to be the secret admirer in the paper.

You didn’t see Seungmin for a few days, but that gave you time to think of the perfect topic to bring up to him. You wanted him to be your secret poet so badly and you wanted to make sure you gave him something that would definitely end up inspiring the next poem. It finally hit you as you sat with Seungmin and Jeongin in one of your University’s common areas.

“We learned about the story of Icarus in my Greek class the other day,” you started, making sure to look at Seungmin and see if he was listening to you. Sure enough he perked up, looking up to show you that he was taking in the words that were coming from your lips.

“Essentially, Icarus was the son of this great inventor, Daedalus, and they were both imprisoned in a tower. Daedalus made them 2 sets of wings to escape the tower, but they were made out of feathers and wax. When they were flying to escape, Icarus decided to not heed his fathers words and flew too close to the sun. The wax in his wings melted and he drowned. It’s a sad story, but it tells a tale of curiosity and how being too curious can lead to your downfall,” you explained, noticing how Seungmin had stopped writing as you told your story. Jeongin stared at you with a questioning glance.

“Why would Icarus fly so high if he knew he would die?”

“Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it. Some say he was just foolish and brash, but I personally like to think Icarus knew what would happen to him, but decided that the ability to be free and live in the excitement for even a moment was worth the consequences he knew would befall him.” Jeongin nodded, obviously thinking about the story. Satisfied with your work, you looked back down at your work, not noticing how Seungmin had flipped to a blank page in his notebook and was jotting down what seemed to be lines of poetry.

It was a few more weeks until another poem was posted, and you were starting to be concerned that the admirer had given up and decided to stop. That was until Felix, as expected, rushed into your dorm one day, completely scaring you out of your concentrated state.

“The poem was posted! And you’ll never believe it, but your plan actually worked!” Your stomach flip flopped as you realized that the moment of truth was about to be upon you. The minute you read the poem that laid in the ink of the school newspaper, you would know who was your secret admirer. Felix handed it to you and as your eyes went to the words, you silently prayed that it was the man you so desperately wanted it to be.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

I don’t dare get to close,

even if her gleam,

bright against my rickety feathers,

warms me from the inside out.

I can never tell her how I feel,

I can never say a word,

but if I could I’d tell her she is golden to me.

That she is the heavens,

and I am just a mortal man

begging for her to let me in,

begging for her to let me love her,

begging for her to let me praise her,

because God knows that if I could

I would never stop spilling words of devotion to her.

I am Icarus,

and she is the sun.

My faux wings melt like candle wax

as I force myself closer to her,

because I’d rather fall out of her atmosphere,

then never experience her at all.

Your mouth dropped open as you finished reading the carefully crafted poem, your cheeks heating up and your mind running a mile a minute. It was Seungmin. Your secret admirer was Seungmin.

You rushed out of your dorm, the paper abandoned on your bed as Felix called after you, but you didn’t have any time to stop and explain. You glanced at your phone, realizing that if you made haste, you could catch Seungmin alone in the newsroom before he left for the day. You weaved through the halls of the journalism building, the only thing on your mind getting to the boy who had written some of the most beautiful words about you.

Seungmin was standing outside of the door, locking up the room for the day, when you barrelled down the hallways and basically tackled him into a hug. He grunted as your arms wrapped around him and he stood there for a moment, completely unsure of what to do in this situation. You didn’t give him any time to react though, pulling back and staring at him with a smile rivalling the sun.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” Seungmin asked, genuinely confused. He had a long day and you weren’t making any sense right now. You rolled your eyes playfully, before looking at him with a smirk.

“That you were Icarus and I was the sun.” Seungmin’s mouth dropped open as you repeated the words he had written back to you. His usually sharp mind was completely blank as he tried to figure out what to say in response to you, but once again you didn’t give him time to think as you pulled him in for another hug.

This time, Seungmin allowed himself to wrap his arms around you in return and give you a squeeze. Months of pining after you and he was finally doing what he had fantasized about so many times. You nuzzled yourself into his neck, giggling as he let out a soft gasp, completely unused to the physical affection you were showing him.

“So, does this mean the poems worked?” Seungmin joked, his cheeks red as you pulled back again. You let out a laugh, nodding happily as you kept your arms slung around his neck.

“Of course! To be honest, I’ve had a crush on you for a while now. I was really glad when I found out it was you,” you said, staring at him sheepishly. He smiled softly at you, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“What gave it away though?” He asked. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really think I just threw all that philosophical stuff about Icarus out there for nothing? I was hoping you’d pick up the clue and use it for some creative inspiration,” you said. Seungmin nodded, feigning a look of impressiveness.

“That’s pretty smart for you.” You punched him lightly in the arm, eliciting a chuckle from the boy as he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers together, leading you down the hallway.

“So, does this mean your poems are going to stop?” you asked, unable to hide the pout in your voice. Seungmin smiled a little bit, giddy that you liked his poems so much.

“I mean, at least the public poems. But I’ll write you all the poems you want in private. But they will be for your eyes only. Can’t let anyone know that I went soft for you,” he said jokingly. You let out a laugh, squeezing his hand as he laughed along with you.

Honestly, you didn’t mind if the poems were public or private. It was more than enough for you that Seungmin was holding your hand right now, speaking words of love that held more meaning than any poem about Icarus ever could.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids fluff #kim Seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin imagines #kim seungmin fluff #seungmin #seungmin x reader #seungmin imagines #seungmin fluff #stray kids x reader

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avengers-age-of-fanfics · 3 years

Text

just for you, honeybee (1/?)

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader, steve rogers x reader (platonic!)

word count: 3,172

warnings: a few curse words, bucky being cute, steve being awkward but also a great friend

authors note: hello! this is my first ever post on this account and the first chapter to a new series! im not sure how many chapters this is going to be as i got inspiration to write it a few days ago but im hoping to keep up with it. also, once TFATWS ends, i intend to do a series based on that as well! anywho, i hope you enjoy this and please leave feedback/lmk what i can do to improve! thank u :)

summary: dating back to 1943, you, james barnes, and steve rogers were best friends, including bucky being your boyfriend. when you get a notice that bucky died in the war, you make it your mission to find closure for yourself and protect steve as he is the only remaining piece of bucky you have left. once you are offered the super soldier serum, you and steve must make your way through world war 2 - and the unknown future hardships to come.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes laid across from you on your bed, eyes softly glancing over your features as your hand grazed over his cheek and jawline. You chuckled to yourself, “looking a bit scruffy, Buck.”

He hummed, eyes now fluttering closed at your touch, “thought you liked it, doll.”

With a quick kiss to his lips, you nodded, “oh I do, don’t worry – no reason not to, really.”

Bucky let out a soft laugh before he ran a hand over your cheek, “I gotta get goin’ soon, doll. ‘Uniforms at Becca’s.”

With a sigh, you rolled onto your back and stretched, “she’s a saint, you know, washing and steaming your uniform for you.”

Bucky nodded in agreement with you, “that I do know, honeybee. I’ll meet you at Stevie’s, yeah?”

As you got out of your shared bed, you looked back at Bucky, “of course! Gotta see you off before you go put your life on the line, no big deal.” Bucky quickly dropped the conversation immediately after, understanding how you're feeling.

You weren’t mad at Bucky for joining the army – you couldn’t be, it wasn’t his fault. He was drafted and you knew that if he could stay, he would; and you knew you were being slightly immature about him leaving. You just wanted more time with him. So many people you knew had received letters that their loved ones hadn’t come back, that they had died in battle. It wasn’t fair, but when was life perfectly balanced?

By the time you got changed and got yourself cleaned up, Bucky was straightening out his shirt before he turned towards you, eyes hesitant. You walked to him, buttoning up his final buttons before you ran your hands over his shirt, “I’ll see you soon, Buck, okay?”

Bucky ran his tongue over his lips, “I know, honeybee. Try to keep Steve out of trouble for the time being, okay?”

You laughed, “I’ll certainly try my best – now get outta here!” With a smack to his ass, Bucky gave you one last kiss before he headed out the door to see his sister, Rebecca. You had asked her to iron Bucky’s uniform before he got sent off to war, wanting him to look his best – but you were sure he would look handsome in anything.

Looking in the mirror, you straightened out your favorite belted Peter Pan collar dress, fit with a pair of white heels; only the best for your Buck. You had begged him multiple times to let you register to become a nurse, in the slight chance of being close to him, but he always responded with the same answer: “I want to make sure I have someone to come home to, doll.”

You’d never tell him, but your heart warmed every time he said that.

Doing one more look-over, you smiled to yourself, grabbing your purse as you headed out the door. Steve’s apartment was only a few blocks away from your own, and honestly, you wanted to spend more time with him before Bucky left. The two were inseparable, and you knew Steve was going to struggle with Bucky being gone – that, and the unknowing if he’ll come back.

With sharp and prideful steps, you made your way across the street, saying hello to familiar faces and grabbing a newspaper from Grover, a vendor along the streets of Brooklyn. He stopped you before you headed off, “heard your boy’s goin’ off to war, y/n. How ya doin’?”

With a soft chuckle, you glanced down at the newspapers in your hands – one for you, Steve, and Bucky while he was on the train. You looked back at Grover, “I could be better, if I’m being honest. But I know he’s doing a good thing, so my silly feelings shouldn’t hold him back, Grove.”

Grover grumbled with a roll of his eyes, “you and your selflessness, just like ya ma. I’m telling yous, y/n, that boy loves you to the moon and back. Ain’t nothing he wouldn’t do for ya; if you asked him to stay, he’d go and fake his death to make sure you two go runnin’ off into the sunset together.”

With a laugh, you pushed the tears back, “and I love him too, Grove – but I can’t ask him to just not go. That just isn’t how it is, you know?”

Grover nodded, “yeah, kid, I know. . .Now get lost, I got customers to deliver these too.”

You glanced down at the stack of newspapers, “I’m headed over to Steve’s, anyone near his you gotta drop them off to?”

The vendor let out a hum and rested his head in his palm, “hmm, I think just Richie and Betty Davis right next to Rogers’ place. They get two, you good carryin’ an extra bundle?”

You gave Grover a look as he held up his hands, “just as fierce as ya mama, too – and being Barnes’ girl, probably the wrong question to ask.”

With a laugh, you held out your stack of papers, “pile them on, Gro. I’ll see you later, alright?” The vendor nodded and shoo’ed you away as you continued your journey to Steve’s apartment. Once you arrived, you left two newspapers on his neighbor’s doorstep, knocking once as you crossed back over to Steve’s.

As the Davis’ door opened, you knocked on Steve’s, already hearing rustling inside. Betty was at her door, “y/n? That you, sweetheart?”

With a turn, you greeted Mrs. Davis with a smile, “hi Mrs. Davis, how are you? How are the kids?”

The woman smiled back, “’mm, they’re good – always askin’ when the next batch of those delicious brownies are coming!”

You laughed and noticed Steve had opened the door, small statute waiting until you were done talking with Betty, “I’ll drop them by the next time I get to bakin’, Mrs. Davis. I’ll see you!” You waved to her, as did Steve, as he stepped aside to let you in.

Steve looked at the newspapers, then back at you, “you look great, y/n. . . Looks like I’ll be tellin’ Buck to shut his mouth when he sees you.”

You chuckled, “’cus he’ll catch flies or the obscenities he’ll be sayin’?”

Steve let out a laugh, “both, definitely both.”

Now that you both were in the safehouse of his apartment, you finally got a good look at your little army-hopper. He spotted a new black eye and a small cut on his cheek, yet he still looked as if he could go again if he wanted to. You nodded towards him, “where’d you get into a scuffle at this time?”

He shifted his feet until he let out a sigh, “behind a theatre. They were showin’ commercials for the army and some guy just started saying stuff.”

With a bite of your cheek, you sat down on one of his chairs, “so you had to fight him?”

“Just gotta be one of the good guys in the neighborhood, y/n.”

“I know, Stevie.”

An hour had passed and, in the meantime, you and Steve enjoyed some tea and tried to complete your own crossword puzzles. A small conversation had taken place between the two of you, talking about plans once Bucky was off fighting the war. You had talked about Steve moving in with you, but he was always so stubborn, wanting to prove that he could live on his own. You never thought that he couldn’t, but it could be a money saver.

One more glance at the clock, you figured it would be almost time for Bucky to show up. And, just like that, a knock was heard from the door and you smiled, getting up to answer it as Steve stayed back, grumbling at the pieces of paper in his hands. Opening the door, you saw your James Buchanan Barnes standing tall and proud in his new uniform.

Bucky whistled, glancing over your outfit as you did the same to him, “you look gorgeous, honeybee – even though I told you to not dress up.”

He stepped inside the apartment as you crossed your arms, “I mean, Steve agrees that this is kind of a big deal, so I think a nice dress will suffice.”

Steve and Bucky clasped hands and Bucky nudged his shoulder, “thought you were supposed to be a good influence on my girl, Steve.”

The smaller man shrugged, “kind of is a big deal.”

Bucky shuffled his feet, “yeah, well, I don’t want it to be. Let’s just go to the future and then see me off, alright?” The three of you stood in silence, light tension hanging in the air. With a sigh, you grabbed your purse, “well, off we go! C’mon now, boys.”

Bucky, you, and Steve headed to New York World’s Fair, hooked arms leading towards Howard Stark’s Expo. With bright lights, fireworks, and amazing technology surrounding you, your eyes failed to see Bucky staring at you with so much adoration. He never wanted to leave you – he’d stay if he could – but he had been drafted. All he wanted to do was stay in Brooklyn with you and Steve, and just never leave your arms. Hell, really, wherever you went, he went.

But that wasn’t the case in this scenario.

With a hand on your waist, Bucky looked up at Stark’s presentation of his repulsor technology with a flying car, head shaking in disbelief. While his car may have only hovered for a few seconds, the idea of not even needing to touch the ground to drive absolutely boggled your mind. During the presentation, Steve glanced up at you two and silently snuck off, hoping you didn’t notice his absence for too long. But he knew you and how observant and protective you were.

However, once you glanced around after a few minutes and found Steve in front of an army poster within the United States Armed Services Recruitment center. Squeezing Bucky’s hand, you slightly pulled him towards where Steve was, trying his best to fit his head within the frame.

With a slight push of his shoulder, Bucky nodded his head towards the Expo, “come on, we’re goin’ dancing – and hopefully find yourself a girl.”

Steve shook his head, “you – uh – you go ahead, I’ll catch up later.” He looked around, trying to divert the conversation between him and his best friend.

“Steve,” you started, “please? Just this one night?”

Bucky held your hand as he looked back at Steve, “you’re really gonna do this again?”

“I just – guys, it’s a fair, I’ll try my luck,” he started, looking between you both.

Beside you, you felt Bucky grow agitated, “that’s who, Steve from Ohio?”

“Bucky,” you said, squeezing his hand once more, “let him try one more, okay? We can go dancing and Steve will catch up later. If he doesn’t, I’ll hang his head on my wall like a prize.”

The boys let out a chuckle as Steve continued, “one last time, alright? I promise I’ll come later on – Mac’s, right?”

You nodded your head as Bucky sighed beside you, “don’t think you got to prove anything, Steve.” A small pause came over the three of you as Bucky continued, “don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”

You started to walk back with Bucky, letting go of his hand as he continued his conversation with Steve as he let out a small laugh, “how can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you.” You held up a finger at Steve, “you better mean that about himself, Rogers.”

Steve held up his hands, “yes ma’am! And Bucky –“

Bucky turned around once more to his best friend, “don’t win the war until I get there.” With a mock salute, Bucky dragged you back towards the Expo as you waved back at Steve, making sure he’d meet you at the bar before your boyfriend was shipped off.

With a sigh, Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close as he kissed your head, “that punk is gonna get himself in all loads of trouble, honeybee.”

You held his hand that was around your shoulder, “I’ll keep Stevie in his place. Seriously, Buck, try not to worry about him.”

“I just,” Bucky gripped your hand, “I don’t wanna come back to nothing, you know? Steve’s my best friend and if he somehow gets himself killed here or in the war, I don’t know what I’d do.”

You pulled Bucky to a stop, putting your hands on his cheeks, “James, look at me, please.” With soft eyes, Bucky looked into yours, “I promise you, Steve is going to be okay – he won’t do anything stupid, at least without me. We’re going to be okay, and you will, too. . .’cus if you aren’t, I may go and kill Hitler myself.”

Bucky chuckled, “I don’t doubt that for a minute, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”

You leaned up, kissing Bucky softly before pulling back, hands tight on your waist, “I love you too. Now C’mon, I wanna go to Mac’s and celebrate my newfound freedom.”

Bucky groaned and pulled you even closer, “maybe I should tell Steve to keep an eye on you.”

With a mock salute of your own, you giggled at your boyfriend, “aye, sir, my new mission is to protect Steven Grant Rogers from being an idiot!”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh, “toughest job in this whole war, honeybee.”

As the night continued on, Steve actually showed up to Mac’s and had a new look in his eyes.

‘Hmm,’ you thought to yourself, ‘looks like I gotta ask him about something later.’

Steve, you, and Bucky didn’t drink, but instead enjoyed each other’s company before Buck was shipped off; this really only included Bucky and Steve making fun of each other and you keeping the boys in line. Laughs and a few smacks on the head filled the atmosphere, but you knew it wouldn't last long.

By the time it was nearing close to Bucky’s train departure, the three of you took to the streets and headed to the train station, silence enveloping you. Bucky’s hand was wrapped tightly around yours as you dreaded this goodbye, even if you had high hopes he’d return to you and Steve.

At the sight of the train and fellow troops heading into their cabins, Bucky turned to Steve, “you take care of yourself, alright punk? I don’t want any letters from my girl telling me that you’ve been actin’ out.”

Steve shoved his shoulder, “you’re acting like I’m 12 years old again. I’ll be fine, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, but looked to his best friend, “and Steve?”

Steve held his breath but let go, “yeah, Bucky?”

“Please take care of her.”

Steve glanced back at where you stood, picking your nails as your anxiety was pricking at your skin. He nodded, “I will.”

Bucky let out a sigh of relief, “thank you, pal. I love her, so make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid either, okay?” Steve nodded in response.

Bucky then headed over to where you were standing, his eyes raking over your beautiful dress, your heels, and most importantly, your face. He did not want to forget a single thing about you or your features – he wanted them committed to memory. With a gentle hand, Bucky tilted your chin up towards him, “you alright, honeybee?”

You nodded, too afraid to use your voice as tears flooded your eyes. Trying to dry them up anyway, you nodded once more, unable to look at Bucky. He sighed, “c’mere, sweet girl, I got you.”

With no hesitation, you fell into Bucky’s arms, tears threatening to fall as you felt his hands rest upon your back and your head. You sniffled, “I’m going – I’m going to miss you so much, Jamie – so, so much.”

Bucky kissed your head, “I’m gonna miss you too, sweetheart. Don’t you dare think that I won’t for a second. You’ll be the first thing on my mind every second of the day.”

You breathed, “can living through this war be the first thing on your mind? And maybe completing a crossword puzzle?"

Bucky let out a small laugh but held you tighter, “just for you, honeybee.” Pulling back, he wiped away stray tears that threatened to fall from your eyes, a soft smile on his face. “You’re gonna be alright, and I’ll be comin’ home to you in no time.”

You nodded, a few tears slipping free from your eyes as you looked up at Bucky, thumbs rubbing over his cheeks and light stubble. You slowly traced over his lips, his nose, and his eyebrows, committing everything about him to memory. With a small smile, you leaned up, catching him in a kiss once more, “stay safe, you hear me? And take this damn thing with you - maybe you'll complete it." With gentle hands, you handed him the newspaper you had gotten today.

He carefully took the newspaper from you, already hoping the crossword puzzle would be easy this time around. Then, Bucky pecked your lips before he headed towards the train, “gotta come back for my best girl. I love you!”

As he stepped onto the train and hung out the window of a cabin, he continued yelling, “I love you, y/n l/n! I love you!”

You cried, a bright smile on his face, “I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes!” Blowing kisses towards him, both you and Steve watched as the train slowly started to pull away, seeing him mindlessly hand his ticket to the worker, not bothering to tear his eyes away from you or his best friend.

“I love you!” he shouted once more, all before his train sped up, leaving you and Steve behind on the platform.

Wiping your eyes and your nose with a cloth, you cleared your throat and turned to Steve, “gah, sorry. Let’s uhm – do you want to head back to my place?”

Steve nodded towards you, “yeah, yeah that sounds good. You alright?” He hooked your arm with his as you headed out of the station, continuing to wipe your eyes. “Yeah,” you started, “I’m okay. I knew this was coming. . . I guess I just hated the whole ‘saying goodbye,’ you know?”

Your best friend rubbed the back of his neck, “I get it, y/n, but he’ll come back – he has a reason to, and that’s you.”

Your heart fluttered, and tears welled up in your eyes once more. With a quick sniffle, you reached into your purse and grabbed your key, unlocking your door to your apartment. Once inside, you quickly got to making tea for you and Steve, something to get your minds off of your missing puzzle piece.

Once tea was made and you both were sitting in your living room, you turned to him, “tell me, Stevie. Please.”

Steve looked at you, a confused look etched upon his face, “tell you what?”

You leaned back into your chair, picking at your nails once more, “what happened at the recruitment office? I’ve known you long enough to see that there’s something you’re not telling me, there’s something in your eyes, Stevie, so please, just tell me.”

Steve seemed shocked that you were able to read him like that, but was defeated. With a sigh, he turned and reached into his handbag, pulling out a file, “there was this Doctor there, Doctor Erskine, who uh – he approved me for the army, y/n. But it’s for an experiment, something they call a super-soldier experiment, I’m not sure. But, I’m going – I leave in a couple days.”

How is your world falling apart this quickly?

169 notes · View notes

idvlover · 3 years

Note

hi! hope u r doing well <3 may i request hcs for victor, mike, and naib with a s/o who’s absolutely terrified of bugs?? i love ur blog sm btw! :)

I'm doing well and thank you!!

Victor, Mike, and Naib with an s/o who is scared of bugs:

Mike:

He's terrified of bugs as well. So if s/o is looking for someone to save them when a bug gets too close. Mike is either going to never enter that area again, or take someone else's shoe to kill it

His on exception is butterflies. Maybe moths too

Has probably argued with his s/o about whose shoe he's going to use to kill it

"No not my shoe"

"Why"

"I don't want bug guts on the bottom of my shoe"

Is probably the type who thinks 6ft is too close for comfort

When his s/o freaks out. He freaks out. He accidentally left his s/o behind with a beetle, he came back at least

Sometimes he'll try to act brave around bugs, but his s/o can clearly see he's terrified

It makes you wonder who's more scared of bugs? S/o or Mike?

The amount of times s/o has yelled at Mike not to use a spray bottle on a bug and it all ends badly. Mike wanted it dead and instead it flew at him then at s/o

"Mike. No. Do nOT."

"It'll die this time I promise"

"YOU SAID THAT LAST TIME AND IT FLEW AT ME LIKE I WAS THE ONE WHO SPRAYED IT"

They just go get someone else at this point. Most likely Melly if it's a bee

Victor:

Not a fan of bugs, but not really scared of them

He tends to leave bugs alone, as long as they aren't touching him

He'll remove a bug from the room if his s/o wants that, he has no problem

S/o has probably gotten Wick to eat some of the bugs before. But there are some bugs he just won't eat or s/o won't let him eat

Victor will be in the bathroom one day, probably getting ready for the day or night only to hear screaming and cussing

He walks into the living room with his toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and saw his s/o standing on the coffee table because there's a lady bug on the floor

He just picks it up and set it outside the window before giving his s/o a gentle smile

S/o is very thankful that he doesn't judge their fear

Has witnessed them run around like crazy because a bug won't stop flying around their head (I've done that) and yelling at it to go away

Will do anything to divert their attention from a bug

"Can I kiss you? You have such a sweet-"

"There's a bug near by isn't there?"

S/o has gotten used to this tactic, but likes it this way because Victor is just too adorable

Naib:

He is nowhere near being afraid of bugs. Probably because he just doesn't care anymore unless they are harmful

Being a mercenary probably had him coming across big ass spiders and shit, so he's seen it all

He'll probably be holding them in his arms on a summer night with a window open in bed. It was nice and peaceful and he's was actually about to get some sleep for once

And then his s/o suddenly flies out of bed yelling: "SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG, SOMETHING TOUCHED MY LEG"

It was a firefly

Nearly gave Naib a heart attack because he was barely conscious and thought something had grabbed them

Takes the bug and places it outside then shuts the window. He looks extremely tired and unamused (he always looks like that but you know-)

He just grabs their arm and drags them back to bed grumbling. This time he's laying on top of them to keep them from getting up like that

But Naib does take his s/o's fear of bugs into consideration. Meaning if anyone tries to scare them on purpose with a bug. He'd probably grab that person by the shirt and tell them to quit it

He's also the bug killer

His s/o will tell him there's a bug on the wall by the bed. He just sighs, rolls up a newspaper, and smacks it. Then says: "there. It's dead. Now enjoy your nap."

But let's be real if he ever sees a camel spider. He's burning the fucking manor down to the ground. He's dealt with those before and he would rather deal with ANYTHING ELSE but a camel spider because those are literal nightmares

Naib has probably eaten bugs before because you need resources and stuff in war. He told his s/o about it and they just CRINGED

"I ate a beetle one time when this war was going on. I also ate scorpions and spiders"

"Naib. Shut up. Please. I know it's war, but like, no thank you"

"Food is food"

"naIB PLEASE"

He thinks it's funny

#idv x reader #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #naib subedar headcanons #victor grantz x reader #victor grantz #victor grantz headcanons #mike morton headcanons #mike morton x reader #mike morton

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quinncupine · 3 years

Text

Coffee Break

Word Count: 4, 617

Relationship: Izuku Midoriya X Reader

Summary: It was just a once-in-a-lifetime run-in with a hero so you never expected him to show up at your diner in the wee hours of the morning ever again. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but three times is a pattern.

Notes: Just a silly little fluff piece. Also no offense to coffee! Let me know what you think! Thanks Loves (I tried to make the reader gender neutral, but if you see a slip up, let me know :)

Quinns Masterlist!

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The storm only seemed to grow worse as the night went on. Thunder rumbled the windows of the dingy little diner that Deku walked past; cold and miserable as he continued his patrol. Another bolt of lightning struck one of the skyscrapers lining downtown and a faint crash came from inside the diner just as the thunder rolled through his soaked form. He glanced through the watery windows to see you, busy cleaning a broken mug, carefully gathering the shattered pieces in a towel. His feet came to a halt. The rain dripped off the edges of his green locks that stuck to his forehead as he watched you head into the back.

It couldn't hurt to take a little break. Besides, it was two in the morning and the storm seemed to be persuading anyone up at this hour to stay inside. So, he wiped the wet hair out of his face and opened the door. The shrill tinkle of the chime alerted you to the newcomer who sat at the counter, dripping wet.

You stepped through the swinging doors of the kitchen and stopped dead in your tracks. This wasn't just any newcomer. No, this was one you knew, or rather, knew of. You'd seen him on television plenty of times. Deku, a young pro who was quickly climbing the ranks.

When you realized you were staring, you quickly wiped your hands off on your apron and grabbed a fresh dishtowel. "You, uh, you look like you could use some coffee," you said, handing him the towel, "and a mop."

He blinked and looked down at the trail of water he'd left in his wake. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" The hero stood up, but you waved him back down with a laugh.

"Relax, have some coffee. I'll take care of it," you pushed the towel he'd dropped on the counter closer and set a fresh cup of coffee in front of him. "What, they don't let you carry umbrellas?" Grabbing a mop, you wiped up the mini flood in no time.

Deku turned on the stool to watch you while he dried the mess that he called his hair. "I might have to talk to my support designer about it."

"Seems like they can design anything these days," you set the wet floor sign out, even though there was only one other customer in the corner, and went back behind the counter. "So, what else can I getcha?"

"Oh, nothing." His eyes darted up to yours before he looked down at his coffee. "I just wanted a break from the rain."

"Yeah, I didn't expect it to get this bad." The rain-soaked windows blurred the world outside and distant sounds of thunder would occasionally vibrate the panes. "Which begs the question; what brings Deku all the way out here in the wee hours of the morning?"

"You...know who I am?" He started, blinking at you owlishly.

"Well yeah," you smiled, then backtracked, waving your hands. "I mean, it's just that I know you're a hero and I've seen you on T.V. saving people and in interviews. Not that I've watched all your interviews and...uh...I'm sorry, I'm babbling. It's just, we uh, we don't get many heroes in here. We don't get many people in here actually." Stepping back, you bumped into the shelf behind you, "Um you probably just wanna relax. I'll let you do that now."

"No wait," he leaned forward to stop you, "some company would be nice."

Hesitating, you glanced around the near-empty diner before finally turning back to him, trying to cool your cheeks. "Okay then. So what are you doing walking around in the pouring rain at two in the morning?"

"Patrol," he shrugged. "I was put on the late shift this week. I don't mind...usually."

"Usually? You mean when it isn't raining cats and dogs outside?" When he chuckled at you, you leaned your elbow on the counter," I'm glad you stopped in. This place may not be the warmest, but it sure beats the rain."

"Feels plenty warm to me," he handed the towel over, avoiding your gaze. "Thanks."

"No problem," you slung the towel over your shoulder, ignoring the water soaking into your uniform, not quite ready to move yet. Unfortunately, the only other customer waved you down and you scrunched your eyes, "excuse me, duty calls." With a wink, you went over to the old man sitting in the corner booth. "What can I get ya, Mr. Yoshii."

While you were busy with the customer, Deku patted his cheeks with the back of his hand, trying to cool the embarrassing tint that splashed across his face. Then he looked down at the steaming cup of coffee and took an experimental sip. It was terrible, but it wasn't your fault. He couldn't stand the taste of coffee, which was ironic for someone who always worked strange hours and hardly slept anyway. He wasn't even sure why he agreed to a cup...wait, he didn't agree to a cup. You just set one in front of him and never one to be rude, just accepted it. Braving the taste, he swallowed the bitter liquid before you came back, forcing the cringe off his face as you stepped behind the counter.

"Guess late-night patrols are exhausting," you smirked, grabbing the coffee pot. "Need a refill?"

"No!" The word came out just a little too desperately." I mean, I actually need to get back." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the slightly soggy money and laid it on the counter. "Thanks for the coffee," he turned, but hesitated and glanced back at you with a shy smile, "and the conversation."

"Anytime hero," you saluted with a laugh, "see you around."

He turned away so you couldn't catch the rush of heat that spread across his freckled cheeks yet again and nodded. With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped back into the downpour. The darkness almost completely engulfed him and with a final glance back into the soft glow of the diner, he vanished into the night.

When he was finally out of sight, your shoulders slumped and you dropped your head on the counter with a groan. "Anytime hero? You couldn't think of anything else to say?"

The one time a hero comes into your diner and you say that? Not just any hero either, the pro hero Deku. The same Deku whose figurine you'd bought almost as soon as it was released. Oh god, if he ever found out you had that, you might just die on the spot. But that was assuming you'd ever run into him again and that wasn't likely. It was just a once-in-a-lifetime run-in with a hero who didn't even seem all that interested in talking. Just as polite as he always appeared in interviews.

"Get it together," you whispered, lightly smacking your cheeks.

"You're not falling apart over some guy are you Y/N?" Mr. Yoshii yelled from his corner booth.

You whipped your head up to see the devilish grin on the man's face. "Mr. Yoshii!"

It wasn't until four days later when a much lighter rainstorm rolled through the city. The skyscrapers huddled downtown in the cold, layered in a hazy fog that was barely visible in the darkness of the early morning. Soft rain dribbled down the windows, blurring the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. It was yet another slow, boring shift with only Mr. Yoshii to keep you company.

Bored out of your mind, you messed around with a paper straw, trying to make a game out of how far you could blow the wrapper down the counter. On your third attempt, the paper slid off and disappeared under one of the stools. Even the straw didn't want to stick around.

"Another refill please, Y/N," Mr. Yoshii waved.

"Coming up," you sighed and grabbed the coffee pot. "Finished your sudoku already?" You filled his cup, nodding to the newspaper.

"It was too easy today. They really need to step up their game," he tapped his head with his pen. "I need to stimulate the old noggin you know."

"Pretty sure you're the only one stimulating their noggin at this hour Mr. Yoshii."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," he grinned as the bell chimed behind you.

Turning around, you came face to face with curly wet locks and bright viridian eyes. "Deku!" You nearly dropped the pot before rushing back to the counter, trying to maintain your composure. "I didn't expect to see you again. Couldn't stay away from my coffee eh? I'll get ya a cup, just hang on!" Rushing your words, you scrambled around, momentarily forgetting where the mugs were. "Here!" you slammed the cup in front of him before he could even get a hello in.

"Um..." he took a seat and stared at the cup in front of him. "Thanks."

"So uh, what brings you back?" Blowing a loose strand of hair out of your face, you tried to lean casually against the counter, hoping it wasn't obvious how thrown off you were by his sudden and unexpected appearance. "Still on patrol duty?"

"Yeah," he said, gingerly grabbing the cup to take a small sip. "Figured this was a good a place as any to take a break from the rain again."

What he didn't tell you was that as soon as it started to rain, he took a few shortcuts just so he could get here quicker. He was too nervous to come back in without an excuse, praying for another rainy day to save him.

"Ah, the rain, right, yes..." nodding, you looked at the rain slowly tapping against the glass. "Still no umbrella I see."

"You know, I actually talked to my support designer about it. Hatsume is a genius when it comes to her babi- uh her inventions. She's going to make me an item to help with the rain." He seemed to relax a little as he described the plans she had drawn out for him.

"Oh, I see, so the wind pressure coming from the valves here-" you touched the little spot he'd pointed out on his uniform near his neck" -should push away any rain that comes near. Clever."

"Um, yeah." A nervous chuckle escaped his mouth as he glanced at your fingers still prodding the spot. He grabbed the cup to distract himself from your closeness. "I had no idea you were interested in this kind of stuff."

"Are you kidding, I love talking about hero-" with a cough, you took a step back, busying yourself with your apron. "I mean, yeah, it's interesting. You're lucky to have such a great designer. Of course, it's not just the gear that makes a hero." Adding just an ounce of courage, you poked his chest. "It's the heart too."

This time, you did catch the blush that bloomed across his cheeks and you frantically waved your hands. "Oh, wait, I'm sorry! I just meant that you've got the heart, uh, I mean the spirit of a hero! It's what makes you so amazing, er, incredible. I just, ugh, I just mean you're a great hero Deku!" With a huff, you snatched the towel off your shoulder and wiped an invisible stain on the counter, avoiding his wide eyes.

"Thank you," he whispered, trying to hide his smile behind his cup, and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Oh no, I really need to get going. Still need to finish my patrol." He set the money on the counter, taking his time before he finally stood up. "It's been really nice talking to you, uh, hmm you know my name but I don't know yours."

"Y/N." It was hard to get a word out as those giant green eyes seemed to envelop your whole being.

"Y/N," he tested the name with a smile. "Well it's been great Y/N and I'm sorry to rush out so suddenly. I didn't realize how long I'd been sitting here. Maybe next I see you, I'll have my umbrella." A quick wave and he dashed out into the rain.

When he was finally gone, you deflated, blowing out all the breath you'd been holding for what felt like the entire time. The cool surface felt nice on your burning skin. You were at least decently composed the first time, but this time, you were sure you looked like a total buffoon in front of him. What happened? How could he crumble your composure just by showing up?

"Cheer up Y/N," Mr. Yoshii came to the counter and set his newspaper down. "You still got this old man."

"Thanks, Mr. Yoshii," you mumbled into the counter.

You stewed in your embarrassment, listening to some story the old man had told you countless times before until you remembered what Deku had said: Next time.

Maybe he was only being polite when he said that because a week had gone by without a single strand of curly green hair bobbing past the large diner windows. But there was no way you'd admit to waiting for those freckled cheeks to walk through those doors because that would just be ridiculous...right? He was a pro hero and you were just...some server.

"Y/N," Mr. Yoshii had decided to switch from his usual spot in the corner to keeping you company at the counter this week. "Unless you have a quirk that teleports him here, I don't think staring at the door is gonna make him magically appear."

You blinked, taken aback by the bold comment, and turned to the man. "Wha- what are you on about Mr. Yoshii? I'm not trying to make anyone-"

The bell chimed and you both turned to see who it was. It couldn't be. It was way too much of a coincidence that he would walk in of all moments, but your breath still caught in your throat as you whipped your head up to- oh, it was just another customer who slunk into a stool at the end of the counter.

Picking up your pad, you shuffled over, ready to take their order when the bell chimed again. Your heart did a little flip when you looked up to see that green frizzy hair you'd been longing to see all week walk through the door.

"Deku!" A smile a mile wide had taken up residence on your face and refused to leave, so you turned away from him to grab a coffee mug, completely forgetting about the customer right in front of you.

"And I stand corrected," Mr. Yoshii chuckled, folding his newspaper.

The smile Deku returned was enough to cause the mug to slip out of your hands. The only thing that saved it from certain demise was the hero's fast reflexes. He leaned over the counter to catch it, ending up just inches from you. When he looked up, you could clearly make out the cute patch of freckles nestled across his face and then you both came back to your senses, scrambling away from each other.

Deku, mug in hand, sat in his usual place at the counter, clearing his throat. Before he had a chance to say anything, Mr. Yoshii, who was sitting next to him, gathered his things and stood up.

"Well, I should be off," he winked at you as he put his hat on. "Looks like things are...well in hand here." The old man seemed to get a chuckle from his joke and waved as he headed out the door.

"Fast reflexes," you muttered, pouring him a cup of coffee.

He rubbed the back of his head. "Uh, well, it comes with the territory, I guess."

"I suppose it does. You know how many mugs I could've saved if I had reflexes like that?" you said before remembering the other customer. "Oh, excuse me!" Turning to the man you had abandoned mid-order, you quickly rushed over and apologized. It didn't seem to matter much because he was staring at Deku in awe. Guess you weren't the only one to be dumbstruck by the hero before you.

Taking the other customer's order had given you a bit of a chance to calm down. A few deep breaths and you turned back to Deku, determined to keep your cool. "What, no coffee breaks for a week?" you said, giving the order to the kitchen.

"Has it been a week?" he murmured, wrapping his scarred hands around the hot mug. "Sorry."

That cute little pout tried its best to throw you off, but you crossed your arms, focusing on his hands instead. "What are you sorry for? You weren't getting your coffee fixin's somewhere else, were you?" Finally risking a glance up at his face, you gave him a mischievous smirk.

"Oh god no," he laughed, nearly choking on the drink. "I just mean, uh, I've been busy. Went on a mission, but now it's back to early morning patrol."

"Well, I'm glad you're back," you messed with a loose strand of hair by your face, "Uh from the mission. I'm glad you're back from the mission."

Deku stared into the cup with a small smile. There was some silence before the other customer called you back over. While you were busy, he drank as much of the bitter liquid as he could, trying not to gag on the taste. When you came back, he had a half-empty mug and a strained smile.

"You sure you don't want a fill-up? You only ever seem to drink one cup."

"Oh trust me, one is plenty."

With a shrug, you turned back to the kitchen to grab the food and serve it. Deku watched you work, eyes barely leaving you. Even in the bright fluorescent lights of the diner, he thought you looked amazing. He was suddenly very glad he convinced Todoroki to switch shifts with him this week so he could work the early morning patrols again. When you glanced back at him, he looked down at his mug, debating on whether or not he had to finish it.

"I see you got the new upgrades," your voice startled him and he nearly spilled the cup.

"What?" then he followed your gaze to his shoulder pads where Hatsume had installed the new gadget. "Oh yeah. Though it hasn't rained since I got them, but knowing Hatsume, they'll work like a charm...or blow up." You couldn't tell if he was joking or not with the thoughtful expression on his face.

"It's a lot more compact than I would've imagined," you said, touching the small little cylinders poking out from the pads. "This Hatsume must be a crazy good designer."

"Well, she is both of those things," he laughed, keenly aware of how close your hand was to his face.

When you looked up at him, your eyes met and you jerked your hand away. "Uh, so this mission of yours," you grabbed a dish towel to wring between your fingers, "can you tell me about it. Or is it like some confidential top-secret thing?"

"I didn't do anything important. We were just called in for some extra security for a visiting diplomat."

"Sounds important to me."

"It was pretty dull for the most part," he shrugged. "Although there was this one day when we thought the car had been sabotaged, but it turned out the battery just died."

"The exciting chronicles of a hero," you leaned forward. "What else happened?"

Time seemed to blur as the two of you talked about everything and anything under the sun. The few customers who had come in were all gone by the time Deku's cup was empty and he had sipped the last half of the cup very slowly.

"Wait," you straightened, glancing at the clock. "Aren't you still on patrol?"

Deku blinked and looked at the time. "Oh crap, I'm so late!" He knocked over the stool in his haste to stand. "I'm really sorry I have to keep running out on you like this," he said, picking up the metal seat, "but I really did enjoy it. See you later!"

You just stood behind the counter trying your hardest not to laugh at his clumsy display. For a pro hero, he could get so flustered so quickly. When the stool was back in place, he kept spewing out apologies, backing up until he hit the door and spilled outside.

A few seconds later, he stumbled back in and placed the money on the counter. "I almost forgot."

"That's okay, I know you're good for it."

Rubbing the back of his head, he backed out of the diner again. "Bye Y/N."

Hearing your name spill from his lips did something to your heart. Suddenly the world seemed to only focus on the door he disappeared through. You wanted to hear your name come from him and only him for the rest of your days.

Those little coffee breaks soon became a regular thing. He would come in almost every day. Always before the sun rose and could never stay very long, but the two of you would talk the entire time he was there. Mr. Yoshii would sometimes have to remind you that you did, in fact, have other customers that needed attention too. In those moments, you would slink away, embarrassed, and attend to the other patrons before coming right back to continue whatever conversation you were having.

Finally, the day came when another heavy thunderstorm rolled through the city, and lo and behold, Deku came in almost completely dry. You both geeked out on the mechanics of the new support item and just like every time you came close to him, he would stiffen eyes lingering on your hands as they fiddled with the little device embedded in his suit.

He sat at the counter where the coffee mug was placed in front of him. After so many times, he was finally getting used to the taste. Although he still thought it was awful, it was bearable because...well for reasons.

"You know, you're always working the early morning shifts, but I never see you drink anything." Deku mused, tapping his cup. "You brew so much coffee every day...you should have some...with me."

"Oh no way," you shook your head, organizing the condiments. "I don't drink coffee. I don't like it."

He was mid-sip when he nearly choked on the drink. "What?"

"Coffee. It's way too bitter for me."

He stared at you for a second before he burst out laughing, nearly dropping his cup. You cocked your head, abandoning the condiments to give him a curious smile as the laughs echoed around the empty diner.

"What's so funny?"

"I'm sorry," he tried to reign in his spluttering chuckles as he grabbed a napkin and dabbed the spots where he spilled the coffee. "It's just...I don't like it either."

"But that's the only thing you order when you come in here." You blinked. "What- why would you order something you don't even like!"

He focused on wiping up the now non-existent stain on the counter, hints of red blossoming up from under his collar, muttering something unintelligible.

"Deku?" you pushed the cup away and took the napkin from him.

"It's just, well, when I first came in you said I looked like I could use some coffee and when you put one in front of me, I just...well, um...I don't know." A scarred hand ran through his frizzy curls. "Technically I never ordered coffee, but it sorta became our...thing? So I never said anything."

It took a minute for the information to absorb. But after thinking it through, he was right. You'd always just given him a cup that he never even asked for. Even after all that, he still kept coming back. A giggle that quickly turned into a full-on cackle jumped from your mouth and you grabbed the counter to steady yourself. His face only grew more red as he nervously laughed along with you. Luckily, the diner was empty or you would've turned a few heads with that boisterous laughter.

When you finally caught your breath, you looked up at him. "So, you've been coming in here at like 2 in the morning to order something you don't even like? For weeks?" You swiped the cup from him. "Okay, so what do you like?"

Deku reached for the cup, his own hands wrapped over yours. "Wait, I do like it...well not the coffee, but-" he cut himself off and let go. "I mean...well I-" a small groan escaped his lips as he rubbed his face. "What I mean is-"

"Relax Deku," you said, dumping the coffee in the sink. "Let me get you something you actually like."

"But I like y-" he stopped yet again, the words sticking in his throat every time. "Um, well, look at the time, I've got to get back to patrols." In his haste, he nearly knocked the stool over, slapping the money on the counter and rushing for the door.

He'd fought villains that were easier than trying to finish this conversation. The embarrassment had firmly set in his stomach and he needed to get some fresh air and reassess the situation. There was no way he could face you when he was too flustered to even speak.

"Hey, I'm sorry," you scrambled around the counter, "I didn't mean to upset you. If you still want the coffee, I can make you another cup."

Deku paused, fingers on the handle, heart nearly beating out of his chest. It was now or never. "You could never upset me Y/N." Carefully avoiding your eyes, he turned to face you. "It's not the coffee I want." Finally, he glanced up, rubbing his neck. "I don't come in here for the coffee anyways."

"So what do you come-" the answer seemed to slap you in the face. Still feeling the hot sting of your own flustered self at the realization, you looked at your feet with the widest smile. "You're such a dork, you know that?" Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his arm and dragged him back to the stool. "I'm not letting you leave until you tell me what you want." You crossed your arms and stood between him and the door.

"So, this just turned into a hostage situation then?" He mirrored your actions. "I can handle those. Are those your only demands?"

"Oh, don't tempt me, hero," you pulled the dishtowel off your shoulders and waved it at him. "I'm armed and dangerous here. Tell me what I want to know and everyone goes free."

Deku glanced around the empty diner. "And if I don't want to go free?"

"Well then..." you spluttered. "Uh-"

"How about a negotiation?" Deku stole the towel hanging limply in your hands. "I'll tell you on Saturday."

"But I don't work on Saturday."

"I know."

Your stomach practically leaped into your throat. Was he trying to ask you on a date? Mind whirring, you just stared at him dumbstruck and that confidence he'd gained quickly drained.

"I mean, only if you wanted to. But you don't have to, uh,-" he handed you the towel back and stood up. "-here."

You took the towel but squeezed your hands over his before he could let go. "And suppose I agree to these conditions. Where would we go?"

He stared at your hands, a small smirk on his face before he looked up at you. "Anywhere but a coffee shop."

#izuku midoria x reader #pro hero deku #midoryia izuku #deku #reader insert #izuku x y/n #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #i have nothing against coffee #except that i hate it #😌#pure fluff #and a whole lotta awkwardness

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solcheeky · 3 years

Text

our secret

summary: fratboy!donghyuck turns paperboy! when he needs some extra money for college stuff like textbooks. he thinks delivering way outside of campus will save face from being a measly paperboy, but little does he know, the front yard light he hits (and breaks) belongs to his significantly well off classmate... (3k)

warnings: strong language here and there genre: enemies to ..friends? a/n: I’ve merged these two requests together! meaning I have and haven’t included aspects of each, hope that’s okay! (2021 edit: hi I found this in my drafts from last year and idk why I never posted it so yeah, here we go)

“You’re late.” Your professor calls out as Donghyuck fails to sneak into lecture hall unnoticed

You sigh, you’d think he’d at least look ashamed to step foot into class at such a late time

You suppose with Lee Donghyuck, things were always different

The boy winces comically, inhaling between his teeth brazenly, and students stifle their laughter

Then with a simple raise of his hand, he gestures a flimsy ‘my bad’ and a ‘continue, continue’ before charmingly wiping the sweat off his brow and sitting in the empty seat saved by his friends

The professor frowns, “you’re late.” He repeats as if to encourage the young rebel to at least say something

“I’m Haechan,” the rebel says under his breath, flopping his backpack onto the desk, “not ‘late’” a sarcastic smile stretching his lips as his friends snicker at his dumb joke

You roll your eyes, he was unbelievable.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough.” The professor claps his hands. “And Mr. Late,” he emphasizes, “don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

So he drops it on him like a bomb: “For the rest of this week, meet me in the office an hour before classes start.”

The grin on Donghyuck’s face immediately wipes off his face and his heart drops to his stomach

“Prof!” He whines back

Karma, you think. That’s what he gets for being so up his own ass

It wouldn’t kill him to wake up a little bit earlier. He relied so much on his ‘so loveable’ personality and popularity, you couldn’t stand it

If you even attempted to do half the things he got away with, you’d be expelled by now

You drop your pen and lean back into your seat with a sigh, you had no choice but to sit back and watch him waste valuable lesson time over this insolence

“You can’t do that!” Seriously, Donghyuck would do anything else other than doing extra hours in the morning

“And you can’t be late to my lectures all the time. What are you not getting here Mr. Late?”

“But I can’t.” Donghyuck immediately regrets saying that out loud like that; the vulnerability in his voice a little too close to home

“And, why not?” Your professor bounces back thankfully brushing past the genuine desperation in his students voice

The reason why not was something ‘Lee Haechan’ couldn’t say out loud. If he did, he’d lose everything

So instead, he sticks with his usual tongue-in-cheek mannerism, “because I don’t want to.”—A sneaky beat around the bush on his part because, little did everyone know, Lee Haechan, the star player and everyone’s favorite goofball, was a measly paperboy

Why?

Because he was dumb broke.

It was a job that required him waking up extra early to race around neighborhoods on his bike, something he had to do regardless rain or sun just tossing as many papers onto people's front porches,

Something he already was finding so much of a difficulty doing: racing to class and acting as if his muscles weren’t burning or the fabric under is backpack wasn’t drenched in sweat

But now this ‘meet me in the office an hour earlier than classes start’ bullshit

That would mean he’d have to wake up even earlier than he already did!

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t want to, you’re going to.” Is the last thing your professor says on that topic before swiftly moving on.

Oh to be born with a silver spoon in his mouth, is what he always thinks as he cycles his rounds in the wealthy neighborhood

If there was one thing he didn’t have, it was this.

He looks at the blaringly affluent homes that surrounded him and heaves another sigh, the same road he rides every morning (and now this extra early morning) effortlessly reminding him of how absolutely poor his ass was

Grumbling under his breath in a tantrum about his professor in his head, he angrily hurls newspapers onto doorsteps

It was the fact that he had to deal with this at ungodly hours in the morning—as if this job wasn’t already enough

Donghyuck frustratedly hurls another newspaper, but this time around, it shoots straight into someone's front garden post light, knocking it over and completely disrupting the perfect order in which the other trail of foot lights were set in

What the heck?

Immediately, he hits the breaks, his tires screeching loudly in the quietness of the early morning

Profanities frantically leave his lips as he hurriedly drops his bike onto the sidewalk in a clatter, and runs ahead to see the damage he’s made

The lamp was perfectly struck to its side.

Well, that’s just great—he can’t afford college textbooks let alone the broken path lamp on some rich persons lawn

So, his first thoughts are to pull it back into the place, completely irrational, but it’s the only thing that runs through his mind when he’s on a time crunch to get off private property

Except, the damn thing is stuck; literally cemented into this lopsided tilt

Man, Donghyuck swears he could tug all day and it wouldn’t get back into place

It was like the universe was having fun being against him

You, on the other hand, were watching this boy struggle to fix your light back into place from the comfort of your window.

He looked ridiculously cute trying to tug that lamp back into place, curled almost into a ball in the middle of your lawn, his eyebrows sewn into a line of frustration and lips pursed

You knew he was your paperboy from the start of his laborious cycling trips, but did Donghyuck know he was delivering papers to his very own classmate every morning?

You guess not.

...Until now

You knock three times from behind the glass, successfully capturing the boy's attention before mouthing, “what are you doing?”

The agitation on his features drops and immediately his eyes widen at your familiar face

Except, he isn’t given much time to reply before the lamp between his fingers gives in to his weight and recoils back smacking him right in the nose

“Holy shit!” You forget you’re only in socks when you open your front door and race towards him

Donghyuck automatically drops the (now broken) piece of your lawn to cup his bruising face

“Ah- Fucking shit- Ow!” He bends forwards on his knees into the grass, forehead pressing into your lawn before he rocks back up again to scrunch a deep frown up towards the sky. “Jesus-”

“Are you okay?!” Dropping to your knees, you place a cautious hand to his back

“Yes.” He groans into his palms, rocking back down towards the grass again

He definitely wasn’t.

But he needed to get out of there quick; there’s no way he’d let you recognize him

Yeah, you weren’t that stupid.

“Let me see,” you carefully bring him up by his shoulders, your head leaning down towards his to see the damage

“No- Ow! Crap-”

“You’re bleeding!” You try to pry at his wrists but he rips away from your hands

That’s when Donghyuck finally looks up to scowl at you; a frown stitched hard into into his forehead, eyes watering, hair all ruffled, but most alarmingly—a scarlet ribbon of blood running down his wrists

“I’m okay.” He muffles into his hands.

And wow did he look like an idiot.

“Sorry about your-”

“Jesus Hyuck, you’re not fooling anyone.”

The boy visibly stiffens at your choice of his name

“Haechan.” You quickly correct yourself

He gulps

You glance away

“Let’s just put an ice-pack on that.” Then you’re dragging him into your house

“Quit moving!” You dab a wet cloth across the cut above Donghyuck’s lip

“Well, it hurts.” He tries to complain without moving his mouth too much

You purse your lips and Donghyuck attempts to adjust the ice pack on his nose despite your warning

With a sigh, you take his wrist and bring his arm down to his lap, “Hyuck, if you keep-” you feel him stiffen under your touch. “Haechan.” You keep doing that. “Sorry.”

He just diverts his eyes elsewhere and mumbles, “It’s whatever.” under his breath

So, you bring your attention back to cleaning his cut, your cheeks heating up at the thought of how much of a creep you probably were by calling him by his old name

“I’m-”

“Y/n.” His voice was a little clearer this time, a soft frown on his face, “I remember.”

He kind of wished you didn’t though. This was so embarrassing.

You pull the cloth away from his reddening cheeks, that annoyed flustered look on his face pulling at the nostalgia in you

It was only natural to call him ‘Hyuck’ because you had been going to the same school as him for years

Ever since you were kids, through highschool and now somehow, still impossibly in college, you’ve been with him

You almost had every class with the loud idiot back when he was still ‘Donghyuck’

For as long as you could remember, he had always been the center of gravity in every class, his punchy personality and almost too friendly way of speaking easily giving him the ‘popular’ tag

It made you have a bit of a crush on him when you were younger, but who didn’t?

Now, you found him irritating.

The only thought you had about him consisted of wishing he’d stop using his status to his advantage and just come to class right instead of wasting your lesson time

“Can I ask you something?” He dodges your hand for a second, eyes looking down as if to hide away his embarrassment

“Sure,” you naturally reach forward again to dab his cut, but he stops you at the wrist

“Can you,” you lift your focus away from his lip to the slight grimace on his face, “not tell anyone about this?”

You blink at him, and a muscle works in his jaw

“Seriously, people can’t know about this.”

But you simply pull your wrist out of his grip and go back to tending to his wound

You hadn’t told anyone since you’d found he was your paperboy, and that was weeks ago. So why was he so worked up?

Hadn’t the situation already called for it anyway? Who in their right mind would tell anyone after this? For you, it was obviously common courtesy

But before you can reply, he tilts his face into your line of vision. “Are you listening to me?” The frown on his face deepens and he instantly brings the ice pack in this hand over his face at the sudden pain through his nose

That attitude of his easily drove you crazy.

“That was a stupid question.” You give up on cleaning the blood on his lip and push the ice-pack deeper into his face, “if you used that stupid, egotistical brain of yours-”

“Ah! Ow- Ooow-”

“Maybe you’d realize I’ve never told anyone about your paper rounds before.”

“Ow!” He wrenches away from your frustrated grip, the look on his face just as annoyed as you. “You’re going to break my nose!”

“You broke my yard lamp!”

He looks at you with a huff; a slight puff to his reddened cheeks, furrowed brows and tears ever so slightly brimming his eyes

If that lamp didn’t cost about five times the price of his bike he’d say something back.

You easily read that off his expression

“You don’t have to pay for it.” You start to pack up the first-aid kit you’d opened up on your coffee table just to not look at him in the eyes when you say that

As much as he irritated you, you weren’t that petty

“Really?” The genuine doubt in his face relaxing the annoyance in you a little

“Yeah.” Money wasn’t a problem for you, it was his attitude

But the casualness Donghyuck catches in your tone reminds him of the starkly different worlds you live in

So he musters it up within himself to at least show some kind of gratitude, “...Thanks.”

And it’s almost inaudible when he says it under his breath like that

But you catch it as you pull a bandaid out of the box before you close it

“On one condition.” You turn to look at him dead in the eyes.

One of his brows slightly quirk up in interest

“Hand.”

He opens his palm to you and you purposely slap the bandaid into it.

“Stop coming late to class, you’re wasting everyone's time.”

Instantly, his jaw goes slack.

Unable to say anything he stares as you rise from your seat in content, first aid kit in hand, before walking behind the sofa towards the kitchen

You didn’t have to say it like that.

He swings an elbow over the back of the couch, “Sorry for bringing you the paper every morning!” Maybe he was a little offended

You turn on your heels to face him, noticing the bandaid now crushed in the fist of the hand he had over the couch and ice-pack abandoned on the coffee table (the full glory of his bruising nose and cut lip on show)

“I said ‘don’t be late’ not ‘don’t bring me the paper’.” Then you disappear into the kitchen.

Donghyuck has to close his eyes for a second, exhaling a frustrated sigh before standing up in a huff and following your footsteps.

How could you say something so insensitive? Yeah, maybe he broke your lamp or whatever, but he tried to fix it!

And sure, he was sort of bleeding over your couch and used your ice pack, but he totally said thanks

“That’s just- You’re so,” He’s standing at the doorway by the time you’re done, bandaid still stuck in the frustrated grip of his hand

“So what, Hyuck?”

Seeing the all star, team favorite class clown crumble at the simple play of his old nickname made something in your stirr

“Insufferable.”

You? Your lips turn up in amusement. He was the insufferable one, you almost scoff

“You and your big house, fancy first aid kit, stupid lamps on your lawn,” he takes a bold step forward at every reason until he’s one step to being chest to chest, “I’m just trying to do my job, and go to class.”

You look at him straight in the eyes. “Well, you’re hardly succeeding at either of those.”

You...

Donghyuck runs his tongue across his inner cheek before biting down on his bottom lip in a brazen attempt to act unfazed by that fatal side comment

A coppery, metal taste pricks his tongue, and he realizes he’s reopened up the cut on his lip again

But that was the least of his worries. You had no idea what it was like being broke. If there was anything he didn’t have, it was everything you did. You probably couldn’t even fathom the type of shit he’s had to go through and even more so: hide.

The way you acted as if his biggest problem in life was as easy as brushing the dust of his shoulder just pissed him off.

“Have you ever thought of waking up earlier?”

Ah, there it was again, Donghyuck wants to roll his eyes

“I sleep late.” He says dryly.

“Then sleep earlier.”

“I have other shit to do, like study.”

“Then, manage your time better.” If he really wanted to ‘do his job’ and ‘get to class’, he could’ve done it by now.

He was always messing about with friends and organizing parties, stories spread around like wildfire on campus about the things he occupied himself with other than ‘having shit to do like studying’, you weren’t stupid

It was by the end of high school, when you began to see him as a person who valued himself with the amount of friends knew or the amount of partying he did

And at first you were mad that he had the things you never did, but seeing him easily get washed up by it all made you think maybe you didn’t need what he had

Now you figure his ego was so far up his ass he couldn’t even sit right—that’s probably why he couldn’t cycle to class on time

“And don’t use your bike, you’re clearly slow on it.” You tack on.

“I don’t even have a car!” He snaps back

He made you want to pull out your own hair. “Jeez, first this, then that, god Hyuck, you keep-”

“You say that as if it were so easy,” his words overlapping yours as you continue

“-making up so much bullshit because the only thing you really put effort into is your image,” Your words running over his too.

“-if I could get a car, don’t you think I’d have one already?”

“Then I’ll just take you!” That puts both of you to a stop.

“So, quit giving me stupid excuses to ruin my lectures every day.” If the things money could buy were what he needed, you had it

You snatch the bandaid out of his fist, rip it open and harshly stick it across his bottom lip. It was annoying to see him ignore it like that.

“You usually finish an hour before class right?” You frown up at him

Donghyuck opens his mouth then closes it again.

“Because if you reroute and make me the last house, I’ll take you with me by car.”

“What?” He manages to say. What the hell just happened?

a/n: okay so there was a lot more to the story and character development but it ran too long I had to cut it off bc I cba to edit lmao

also I seemed to have gone way out of the request lines near the end my bad my bad, but I at least hope you’ve enjoyed it! thoughts???? a part 2?

#lee donghyuck #lee haechan #lee haechan scenarios #lee donghyuck scenario #haechan imagines #lee haechan x you #lee haechan fic #haechan scenarios #donghyuck scenarios #haechan fluff #donghyuck fluff #haechan x reader #lee haechan fanfic #haechan fic #donghyuck imagines #nct imagines #nct scenarios #lee haechan x reader #why does he have two names I hate this

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