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redflagshipwriter · 3 months

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Hi, it's Tim (just Tim)

CHAPTER TWO

Masterpost

It turned out that Kon was free to meet that day. Tim wasn’t surprised: he’d know about any missions.

'I wonder how often Kon flirts with civilians like this. Does he get dates this way a lot?'

It was a casual curiosity. This wasn't going to go anywhere. Kon was open about how he saw sex and relationships– he'd forget Tim in a couple days and probably not even recognize his face if they met again. He was just one in a string of cute teenagers that caught Superboy's eye for a weekend. And that was fine! Tim was normally the kind of guy who straight-up dated and tried to make a relationship work, but he felt sanguine about Kon. It was kind of nice to be an attractive nobody.

Tim finished his first coffee and washed it down with a grape juice while he considered what he wanted to do with his day. He had planned to either be doing fieldwork or be dead, depending on how things went with Ra's, so his schedule was wide open now.

Honestly? If he was going to go on a date, he didn’t want to do it in yesterday’s clothes.

Going back to the Manor was an absolute non-starter. He was meant to be gone until the evening. Alfred would instantly know something was going on. And god, what if Dick was there?

Tim grimaced at the thought. No… He’d kinda rather die than have to admit to Dick that he was going on a date with Kon. Dick would try to help. They were absolutely going to find out Kon went to a hotel room with him, assuming they didn't already know Superboy had taken him to the hotel. At this point he might as well go have fun before someone could hunt him down and drag him to the cave by an ankle to give him the combined safe sex/secret identity PowerPoint presentation.

Fine then. He needed money. God knows that Kon didn't have a dime to his name, so Tim expected to be paying for what they did. He didn’t have much on him, since he didn’t want to have anything in his pockets that Ra’s would be able to get use out of if things went wrong. He had left his stuff at the safehouse on the way to Blud in some sad little two story apartment complex in an area easily navigable only by car. That one didn’t get much use, but it was furnished pretty well. He was pretty sure it had been one of the ‘independence’ steps Dick took when he was fighting badly with Bruce.

…Oh. Yeah, he could just go over there and change into civvies in the storage there.

‘It’s kind of far,’ he mused. ‘It would take all morning to go there and then come back here.’

Well. It wouldn’t take Kon nearly that long to meet him there. It probably wasn’t too rude to ask. Tim crammed a miniature cake donut into his mouth and typed out, ‘thoughts on picking me up from my brother’s place in Blud in a couple hours? I need to go get a change of clothes.’

He cleared out while he waited for a response, back to the hotel room. He used the complimentary toothbrush and hopped into the shower to scrub down efficiently. Tim grimaced when it came time to put back on yesterday’s clothes, but it was his only option for the moment. He was drying his hair when he realized he had a message waiting.

‘Yeah of course!!! Just let me know where to go.’

Tim sent a thumbs up and finished his hair. He checked out and used the petty cash he’d allotted for this trip to get back to the lot where he'd left his bike. He drove to the safehouse, where he set coffee to brewing while he took a second shower.

He felt a billion times better when he smelled like himself again. He dug through Dick's selection of safehouse clothes to find the least atrocious combination possible. Tim settled on a pair of dark gray skinny jeans that were more of a loose fit on him, a white sleeveless tank top, and a designer sweatshirt in an eye-searing shade of electric blue.

Kon had messaged. Tim checked it, typed out the address of a café a few blocks away, and dropped the phone onto Dick's saddest sofa. He gave himself a quick check in the mirror and decided to do a little damage control with a little bit of hair wax to fight a cowlick and some black eyeliner (so that he looked hot, obviously.) He took a blue sucker out of the blue candy bowl Dick kept by the door for whatever reason compelled Dick to do uh, anything.

He was out the door and punching in the lock codes less than an hour after arriving. Tim shoved about 40% of his hands in Dick's tiny silly jeans pockets and scowled before admitting defeat and taking them out. These were women's jeans, weren't they? That was why the pockets were so small. He pulled the wrapper off his candy and stuffed the crinkling cellophane into his teeny pocket and shoved the candy in his mouth. He sucked on it hard as he walked. Cotton candy. God, that was disgusting. He made a mental note to put a rubber snake in Dick's locker for the next time Nightwing patrolled in Gotham.

The walk to the café felt like it took forever because he didn't have his headphones on. He knew Kon was close because he could hear the excited clamor of fans begging for his attention.

Kon was preening under the attention. He stood head and shoulders above the gaggle of preteens vying for his attention.

Tim rolled his eyes. It took an instant to run through a mental checklist of pros and cons. Was it really worth it? He clacked the hard candy against his teeth as he thought it over. Kon was really hot, for sure. He was hot and Tim wanted to press his whole body against Kon to soak up his heat and maybe feel his arms. But on the other hand, he was an absolute fuckin loser who drank up attention and approval through a mega straw.

Yeah, no. He should salvage his Sunday with something else. Tim shot Kon with an unimpressed look and turned around just as Superboy finally noticed him.

"Oh, hey!"

Tim kept walking. He didn't need this. He'd somehow forgotten how poor Kon's boundaries were with the general public. It had felt so normal last night- no, better than normal, as if they were the only two people who existed- but he'd clearly hit his head at some point in thinking he could hang out with Superboy outside of the Tower.

"Tim!" Kon yelped.

'Don't say my name,' he cursed internally. He wasn't a household name outside of Gotham but still. The odds of someone recognizing him were not zero.

There was an oof and the sound of a scuffle. Tim picked up the pace, hoping to get around the corner before anyone realized who he was.

There was a whoosh of air that pulled on his clothes as Kon came to an abrupt stop at his side. Tim sighed and gave up. "Where can we go so that we won't get mobbed?" He asked shortly. If they didn't get out of sight soon, someone was eventually going to recognize his face.

"Uhh… can I pick you up?"

He made a dismissive "go ahead" gesture with his hand and then huffed when Kon scooped him up in a bridal carry.

"Taking off," Kon said cheerfully.

Tim wound his hand around the lapel of Kon's leather jacket and closed his eyes. His stomach swooped out from under him as Kon took them up high. The chatter on the street flooded away for the whoosh of air.

Ugh. Tim screwed his face up and turned it into Kon's ribcage to hide from the sun. "I'm going to burn," he complained.

"... You're from Gotham, huh," Kon said, as if he'd forgotten. His fingers tightened ever so slightly on Tim's back. "I was going to take us to the beach."

"Only if you want to die," Tim said pleasantly. If Superboy stranded him in the sun, he was going to let Bruce put Kryptonite in his utility belt.

Kon laughed, delighted. Tim chose not to let him know that he should take any threats to his person seriously.

He was gonna add some survival training to the next Titans training session, though. He would make it clear that it was Kon's fault and then let Cassie and Bart socially punish him.

"How about a cave?" Kon proposed. He was probably joking.

"We don't live in caves." He sighed and rolled his eyes. "You're thinking about isopods, not Gothamites. Easy mistake."

"I was thinking more like a bear, actually," Kon cheerfully corrected. He changed course mid air. "You're the one who brought the topic over to damp caves."

"If one of us is a bear it's you." Tim tugged hard on the leather jacket to distract from the fact that he didn't know what that meant, either. "If we zip up your jacket and mess up your hair, do you think we can be in public without getting mobbed?"

"...Secret identities are more work than that," Kon lied badly.

Tim looked at the underside of his jaw and judged him brutally. He lifted an eyebrow in a way that he knew was devastating. But he didn't say anything, because Kon was definitely already thinking about Superman's stupid glasses trick and the fact that it worked (horrifying.) "I should have grabbed one of my brother's sweaters and a hat."

".…Would his stuff fit me?" Kon teased. "Your brother's, I mean."

"You're a little short but it'd be okay," Tim lied easily. "Maybe just a little smaller across the shoulders than he is." Fuck you, Kon. You're barely bigger than Dick.

He was silent in a way that came across as very offended. Tim grinned into the jacket, secure in the knowledge that Kon couldn't see his face at all.

"So you uh… you don't wanna be out with Superboy." Kon's heart rate picked up. "You wanna be out with just Kon, huh? Embarrassed to be seen with me?" He tried to turn it into a joke at the end but there was real vulnerability there.

Yuck, weakness. Tim graciously chose not to take advantage of it. "Mortified," he said flatly. It was kind of true. "That was a whole scene back there. That's what happens when you go to a coffee shop?"

"Yeah, well." Kon cleared his throat. "It happens when you're famous, I guess."

Tim Drake-Wayne, 17 year old member of the rich, famous, and beautiful set who also happened to have an internationally famous alter ego, said nothing. But he very loudly thought, 'No, it happens when you egg it on. Be less approachable.'

Whatever. Superboy wasn't Tim Drake's problem to fix. So he sighed and relaxed in his loser friend's arms. "Let's try the change of clothes thing, alright? Let me dress you."

"...not undress me?" Kon flirted.

"Maybe later," Tim said blandly. But yes, obviously. Bruce was going to kill him for being seen with Superboy in a hotel. He was going to at least shoot his shot. "But first let's see how you look in another color."

"It's not going to work," Kon said sulkily, but he took Tim to a mall. Tim hummed noncommittally and let Kon put him down on the cement parking lot. "I'm guessing I shouldn't come in, since you don't wanna be seen with me."

There was a seed of insecurity under the joke. Tim sighed. The things he did for people. He reached up to wind a hand into the short hair at the back of Kon's neck and pulled down.

Superboy went stock still and didn't bend with the movement. Tim changed tracks and scratched at Kon's hairline like he was a nervous cat. Superboy shivered. He twisted his wrist up so that he could get his fingers around some of Kon's longer curls. "Maybe it's you who doesn't want to be seen with me," he teased. Kon didn't know it but it really was not in his best interest to be too cozy around Tim Drake. Bruce was going to freak. "Now tell me you trust me, kiss me goodbye, and go bask in the sun until I'm done, alright?"

"I trust you," Kon said, and then turned bright red. "Um."

Ha. He was pretty cute like that.

Tim laughed at him and disentangled his hand from Kon's hair. "10 minutes," he promised, starting across the parking lot. "I'll call you if I need you, hero."

#red just tim #timkon

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manari-archives · 9 months

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skinny dipping | DR3

pairing: daniel ricciardo x Reader

warnings: arguments

word count: 1.4k

note: this is one of my favorite songs on the album. again this isn't based on the entire song, just a couple of lines mentioned. also english isn't my first language so any corrections feel free to let me know and any feedback is welcome :)

masterlist

The cosy coffee shop hummed with gentle clicks of porcelain cups and the soft murmur of conversation. You sat at a corner table, engrossed by your phone, completely oblivious to the world around you. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, offering a comforting embrace in the bustling ambience.

Lost in your thought, Amidst the chaos of conversation and coffee machines, a barista’s voice broke through the noise, calling out an order. “oat milk latte for Daniel” he called out, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

instinctively, you glanced up from your phone, your eyes scanning the café in search of the source of your childhood memories. Surely it couldn’t be him. the chances are too slim, too improbable. Yet there he was in all his glory-Daniel Ricciardo, the man who once held your heart.

Your eyes locked, a mixture of surprise, nostalgia and something deeper flickered across his face. He approached you, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “hi” he said, his voice warm and filled with vulnerability.

You returned his greeting, your heart fluttering with a mix of emotions. “hi, how are you?” you replied, your voice wavered with a hint of nerves.

A wave of relief washed over you as Daniel mirrored your smile. “I’m good,” he said. “how’s your family? how’s your sister?” he asked his words carrying the weight of shared memories and genuine care.

His questions caught you off guard, the fact that he still remembered details of your life after all these years sent a jolt through your heart. “ they’re doing well,” you replied. “my sister is married now, she expecting her first child.”

Daniel’s eyes lit up with excitement. “that’s wonderful to hear!” he said. “please send her my regards”

For a few moments, you engaged in nonsensical chatter, catching up on superficial aspects of your lives. But beneath the surface, the unspoken questions lingered. It was as if time had rewound, and you were transported back to the days of your youth when your love bloomed amid the echoes of engines and the scent of gasoline.

As the café grew quieter, Daniel leaned forward, his gaze steady and sincere. “well, this was really nice” he confessed, a spark of vulnerability lighting up his eyes. “maybe we should do this on purpose sometimes”

A mixture of hope and apprehension swirled within you. The mere suggestion of intentionally meeting again ignited a fire within your heart, rekindling memories that once were long buried. Was it possible to reconcile the love you once had with the realities of your lives now?

He noticed your hesitation, a subtle understanding passing between you. with a tender smile, he took a leap of faith. “remember that restaurant we used to go to?” he asked.

A wave of nostalgia crashed over you, threatening to pull you under its bittersweet tide. You look into his eyes, your voice barely above a whisper. “ won’t that be too nostalgic?” you asked with a hint of apprehension.

Daniel’s gaze never wavered, his determination shining through. “maybe,” he conceded, “buts let’s do it anyway. we won’t sit at our old table I promise.”

It was as if the floodgates of emotion you buried years ago had just burst open. A myriad of thoughts surges through you-fear, longing, and a tiny glimmer of hope. You exchanged glances, and in that unspoken understanding, you both knew that revisiting the past was an opportunity to confront the ghosts that still lingered between you.

Days later, you found yourselves outside the familiar restaurant. Its warm glow spilt out the sidewalk. with a deep breath, you stepped inside, the scent of nostalgia hanging in the air.

The ambience has changed, yet traces of your memories still clung to the walls. You were led to a table far removed from the one that had once witnessed your whispers of affection and youthful dreams. It was a symbolic gesture, a promise to forge new memories while acknowledging the ghosts of the past.

As you settled into your seats, a silence settled between you-a poignant reminder of the words left unspoken. Amid the nostalgic atmosphere, conversation flowed freely, carrying us through a labyrinth of emotions. You spoke of your journeys, the triumphs and the hardships that had shaped you into the people you had become.

With each passing moment, it became evident how much the two of you had changed. Daniel had evolved into a renowned f1 driver and you had found your path, carving out a life separate from the racing world that had once consumed the both of you.

Yet beneath the surface, you were still the scared little kids who had arguments in his garage, that stemmed from the demands of Daniel’s growing career, which consumed more and more of his time. arguments became frequent and the once unbreakable bond between you was strained under the weight of unspoken frustrations.

there were nights filled with tear-stained pillows and whispered doubts. you questioned whether you could keep up with the demands of his world, whether you could handle the constant separation and the unrelenting spotlight.

the arguments often revolved around the sacrifices you had made for each other, the compromises that weighed heavily on your hearts. you resented the fact that your dreams had taken a backseat, and you struggled to find your path amidst the shadows cast by Daniel’s success.

the final argument, the one that shattered the fragile threads of your relationship, echoed through the garage. words were exchanged, wounds inflicted and in that moment of frustration, Daniel made a choice-a choice that tore you apart. With a heavy heart and a determination that mirrored the unwavering focus he displayed on the racetrack, he chose his career, leaving behind the shattered remnants of your once unbreakable bond.

Between bites and sips, you danced around the ghosts of your past, tiptoeing on the delicate thread that connected you. Each word carried weight, each silence punctuated by the weight of unspoken truths. And yet, you forged ahead, daring to confront the past head-on, determined to find closure.

Amidst the nostalgic ambience of the restaurant, you spoke of the arguments—the fiery clashes fuelled by our unwavering passion and the fear that had consumed you both. You acknowledged the pain and the hurt, but also the love that had once bound you together.

As the evening progressed, the restaurant's ambience buzzed with the laughter and conversations of other patrons. But in the midst of it all, Daniel and you sat in a bubble of shared history and unspoken truths. you exchanged glances, and in those stolen moments, you saw the reflections of two individuals who had dared to chase their dreams, defying the odds stacked against them.

As the night began to wane, and the dessert arrived at your table, you reached an unspoken conclusion. The restaurant served as a time capsule, transporting you back to a bygone era. It was a poignant reminder of the transformative power of time and the journeys you had embarked upon.

With a final toast, we bid the restaurant farewell, stepping out into the cool night air. We stood on the sidewalk, our gazes fixed on the twinkling stars above, and I knew the time had come to part ways once again.

We embraced, a mixture of sadness, longing, and a touch of resignation. "Until next time," I whispered, my voice filled with a promise to cherish the memories we had created together.

Daniel returned the embrace, his voice filled with warmth. "Until next time," he echoed, a subtle smile played on Daniel's lips. "You know," he said, his voice filled with a mix of nostalgia and hope, "it would be nice to do this again sometime."

You met his gaze, a flicker of anticipation dancing in your eyes. "Yes," you replied, your voice carrying a quiet conviction, "it would be.”

With that simple exchange, we acknowledged the possibility of a future that held the potential for rekindling what was once lost. The unspoken promise hung in the air, a gentle invitation to explore the depths of your connection once more. And just like that, you went your separate ways, carried by the winds of destiny.

But this time, the door remained open, inviting you to explore the potential of what could be a second chance at love, guided by the memories of our past and the hope for a future where your lives might intertwine once again.

#daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #dr3 #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader

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strawbby-shortcake · 3 months

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"Welcome, what would you like?" ✰ X GN READER! ✰

[♡ Marla, Tyler, and Jack order at a cafe you work at. ♡]

✧.* Marla ✧.*

You never expected to receive any customers since it was an awfully slow day. The cafe was dimly lit with a few chairs and a table in one corner, and a broken record player in the other. You stood around fiddling with one of the bleached coffee filters until the door chimed and a sliver of sunlight creeped into the building for a split second.

A skinny, disheveled woman walked up to the counter and glanced at the menu, then you, then the menu again, and then back to you.

"Hello, what would you like?" you asked, giving her a small smile.

She took a long drag of her cigarette while looking around the cafe. You noticed that she had messy, black hair, slept-in makeup, and a silk night gown of sorts on.

"Something dark, like my soul," she said with a scratchy voice. Probably from the smoking, you guessed.

You simply nodded at the woman and grabbed a cup and a marker.

"Your name?"

"Why the hell do you need my name? It's emptier in here than it is on Paper Street at midnight," she croaked.

You stared at her, your eyebags mirroring hers, and didn't respond.

"Marla. Marla Singer."

You wrote her name on the cup in thick, black letters. Getting her order correct wouldn't be a hard task at all. You brewed a fresh cup of the strongest coffee you could find and gave it to her.

She glanced at your handwriting on the cup. "I'm not paying for this, but here," she said as she laid a torn piece of paper and two quarters on the counter. "...thanks," you responded, grabbing the items and pocketing them.

Marla hurried out of the cafe like an alley cat, not glancing back at you even once.

✰ ✰ ✰ Tyler ✰ ✰ ✰

The record player in the cafe was attempting to play a Pixies vinyl, but it was so scratched up that it sounded more like nails on a chalkboard that it did music. A few customers came and went, the usual cappuccino or grande latte.

The bell that was tied loosely onto the door handle chimed and fell with a sad clank as a tall, nicely-tanned man walked in. He didn't even bother picking up the bell. The man strolled and leaned over with one elbow resting on the countertop and the other on his waist.

Upon closer inspection, he had multiple cuts and bruises on his face and mid-section (which was clearly visible since he was wearing a crop top). Was he even wearing underwear? You didn't ask questions, because frankly, you don't get paid enough to.

He slid his red glasses to the tip of his nose and stared into your eyes. He had a faint black eye. Maybe from fighting, or falling down the stairs.

"Hello, what would you like?"

The man gave you a wide grin, but you noticed there was dried blood on his lips.

"Just your heart, gorgeous," he said with a wink.

You looked at him and furrowed your eyebrows. Who even is this guy?

"Yeah, not happening," you said.

He clicked his tongue and placed both hands on the counter, looming over you.

"You sure I can't convince you?" he whispered lowly.

He leaned in and parted his lips, causing you to place a muffin into his mouth. He jolted in surprise and looked bewildered.

The man scoffed and made his way out of the cafe. He took the muffin with him though. He threw a card onto the floor and kicked the door open with his foot.

After he was no longer in sight, you went over and picked the card off the floor. It was a business card that said: "Paper Street Soap Co. All Natural. Handmade. (288) 555-0153. Tyler Durden. 537 Paper Street • Bradford • 19808."

"Tyler Durden." Interesting.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ Jack (The Narrator) ੈ✩‧₊˚

A man dressed in a suit and black shades has been sitting in the cafe for the whole afternoon. Not once has he gotten up to order anything. He just sits there reading his newspaper, sometimes dozing off for a few minutes, or mumbling about some club.

You decide to walk up to him and make small talk, or at least offer him a coffee. There was no one else here, so you didn't see the harm in letting him stay a little longer.

"Hello," you said as you stood in front of the table he was sitting at.

The man looked up at you, acknowledged your presence with a "hmm," and went back to reading his paper.

"Do you want any coffee or anything? What would you like?" you tried again.

The man placed his newspaper on the table firmly and stared at you menacingly. He had dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept for days, some light stubble, and a mole on the bottom of his right cheek.

You stepped back from the table and shrugged.

"Oh well, I tried," you sighed.

The man got up and left his newspaper behind. He left the cafe with a low "see you."

You grabbed the newspaper and noticed a "HELLO my name is: JACK" label that was stuck onto one of the pages. You kept the newspaper in case he ever came back again.

[END]

#fight club #fight club 1999 #narrator fight club #marla singer #tyler durden #fight club fanfic #imagine #drabble #meme #fight club x reader #tyler durden x reader #narrator x reader #marla x reader

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corpsekittin · 10 months

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Something in the Water Part 2

Part 2 of Something in the Water

There's been an unexplained epidemic sweeping across the United States all stemming from few months ago. It seemed like in a single day all of Los Angeles was.... changed somehow. They'd all become homophobic, straight, conservative Christians. Nobody could figure out what or who was the cause. Now, months later a little over half of the United States have been affected. The United States has been completely isolated from the rest of the world due to what's going on in the nation. It's gotten so bad that even the United Kingdom and Canada have shut their borders to all travel from the United States. As far as anywhere is aware the United States is the only country that has been affected by the changes occurring. _________________ Darien left the house after kissing his boyfriend Riley goodbye. He wanted to stay behind to take care of his boyfriend as he had started to feel a bit unwell shortly before Darien had to leave for work but Riley told him to just go and that he will be just fine. He showed up to work his job as an intern for the local water plant and noticed things were a little off. He was let in by a stud of a man with a thick southern accent named Tanner. He thought it odd because it'd always been a skinny little guy named Tommy who'd always let him in. He decided to just ignore it and continue off to work. The whole shift started to be weird to him so many southerners were working today. He figured there must have just been a bunch of new hires and he kept working as usual. After all, he has only been an intern for a couple months now. Who's to say the previous people working those jobs didn't just leave and needed replacing? A few hours into the job he decided to take a break. He brewed himself a cup of coffee using the "Farmer Joe's Instant coffee" and water from the break room. He walked out to a private area and pulled his cell out and decided to call his boyfriend. As it rang he took a large sip of his coffee. "Hello, Riley." he spoke into the phone. He loved that man so much, they had met when they were freshmen in college. It was love at first sight for him, well for Riley it took him a few days but eventually he fell for him. "Riley? Have ya hit yer head or somethin'?" a man with a thick southern accent on the other side line said "The name's Ryan, how in sam hell did ya' forget that? Is your ass drunk again? Ya better not be plannin' to hog all that beer." Darien felt his body start to freeze as he hung up the phone in a daze. He couldn't believe it. He looked at his phone and saw it does say Ryan. He could of sworn he called his boyfriend Riley... Wait, boyfriend? but isn't he single? He felt his body start to get a little hot and the urge to pee so he went to the bathroom. He kept drinking his coffee as he was headed to the bathroom. His body only got hotter and it felt like his shirt was becoming tighter as he was walking. Unknown to him his body had begun changing and started to inflate with muscle and height. He set his coffee down on the counter as went over to a urinal to take a piss. Dartiy's previously mid length blonde hair receded to become short and brown. His body started to strain on him so he took it off. His mind began to flood with conflicting memories. Suddenly he started to remember being raised surrounded by country boy's despite not living in the country, going to church every Sunday even though he had been an atheist and Durty even remembered his first girlfriend, Kimberly. That thought shocked him and had him confused because isn't he gay? Wasn't the first person he dated a boy named Kayden? The shirt in his hand had turned into a camo hat as he was thinking that. He felt an irresistible compulsion to put the hat on his head and when he did the world around him seemed to spin and shook his head and suddenly he was somewhere else entirely. He started calling himself an idiot cuz really? Him, Dusty Adams, being a fag? "A fag could never look this good" he thought as he looked at himself in the the mirror and started to flex in all his shirtless glory. He grabbed the beer he had set on the sink counter and chugged the last of it before letting out a loud belch and walking out of his bathroom. He called his neighbor Ryan up and told him his plans and to get ready. He went to his garage and grabbed a case of beers, texted some hoes where to show up and headed off Ryan's to share some beer and get them some pussy. Farmer Joe's plans are working. Now it's not just the water he is affecting and soon, all of the United States shall be changed for the better.

#gay to straight #homophobic #Atheist to Christian #Liberal to Conservative

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wmarximoff · 2 years

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Prompt: y/n is best friends with Pietro, he knows everything about his ex who cheated on her . (Y/n doesn't know that Wanda is Pietro s sister)

So what will happen when Pietro introduces his sister to Y/n not knowing that they are exes .

just tonight | w. maximoff

summary: it should just be a night out with friends that you weren't even interested in going to. it wasn't in your plans, of course, that your ex-girlfriend who cheated on you would be your best friend's twin sister.

warnings (18+): heavy angst, cheating, hints of internalized homophobia, brief smut, oral sex (Wanda receiving), drinking, smoking.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 7k

A/N: okay, that's sad. i'm sad i wrote this, not gonna lie (but it's not like i don't like angst content lol)

(by the way, if anyone is interested in a closed ending for this fic, I suggest you read this little thread here about the possibilities after the end of the story)

|masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

The aroma that permeated the atmosphere was a distinctive mix of freshly brewed full-bodied coffee and a compact cloud of despondency typical of towering over the heads of tired adults; those who wake up early to go to work only to return to their homes, exhausted and hungry and lacking of doses of patience, when the sun has already said goodbye to the horizon and the white of the streetlamps have already been lit – a wrapper of annoyance, a set of tired faces gathered inside the same room like an adoption fair of dejected people.

It was a rectangular room, spacious and well-ventilated, though sparsely surrounded by second-hand furniture, lit by large glass windows set behind skinny blinds of cheap plastic – a beam of golden morning luminescence penetrated the room through the cracks open there, sunrays that crossed your still warm coffee cup, projected in three specific points through the serene countenance pierced by the placid extension of your face.

You were seated at one of the many small circular tables dotted around the room (in the middle of the open door was a brass plaque that spelled out the words “staff room”). The Staff Room, that place whose lands are outside the students' domains.

From the medium cup you then sipped a long sip of warm coffee, your eyes spilling over a handful of papers chaotically deposited on the face of the table as if you'd accidentally spilled the entire contents of your bag there.

So, in sequence, you picked up the last traces of the drink by sliding the tip of your tongue along the commission of your lips, the bitterness of the coffee courting the harshness of a freshly smoked cigarette on the face of your tongue, to which you added both woody palates in a single homogeneous flavor inside your mouth. The inside of your throat was grateful for the momentary source of heat.

It was cold in Westview. Cold enough that you would have left your house on the lower north side of town, still in the preamble to that very morning, braced by your thick polyester coat and a high-necked shirt made of dark wool, your armor draped over your body for a battle waged against a merciless cold – or, perhaps, a severe hypothermia. A pair of thin-rimmed glasses peeked out from the bridge of your nose.

Wintry coldness took possession of the small town so that the leaves of the trees took on endogenous shades of orange and red, and the sky, in turn, became more gray and opaque each day, instigating mornings covered by clouds so gray and thick as the down of a wild raccoon. But despite the seasonal frosts, it still hadn't snowed.

More swigs of coffee came and went until a male figure passed through the front door (he was wearing a thick beaten leather jacket and a navy blue scarf around his neck), his short hair dyed in a platinum color that reminded you of those wedding cake frostings, drawing the ugly scowls of some of the elderly gazes (thick glasses, bald heads, pompous, incongruously old-fashioned hairstyles) from the little table that held the group of older teachers, the ones who weren't very fond of you or the young lad who was Pietro.

The elders, still drinking from that out-of-date fountain from back when teachers were real devils in the lives of a bunch of lost teenagers, muttering insults among themselves and following Pietro with a contemptuous look, just thought you were a couple of incompetents for being so much younger than them (Miss Harkness, with the profuse dark hair, who always had that brooch pinned in her lapel, was a welcome exception, but perhaps she was only friendly because something in her liked to take drags of your cigarettes in between classes).

But your friend didn't give a damn about such a bad reception, and so you chose to do the same, keeping your eyes down on the line you read in a ninth grader's essay. A student who thought the musical Hamilton was inspired by a Shakespearean play. That piece of paper deserved to be marked with a big, red, round zero.

Pietro, therefore, merely pulled out a chair opposite your own and sat down, placing his leather mailbag there on the table, next to your papers, with a yawn hollowed out in your direction like a newly awakened dog.

He was charismatic and charming, a real hit with impressionable students who always asked you if he was your boyfriend, but to you Pietro was nothing more than a friend figure, even a brother just a few months younger than you – the best of them, perhaps the only and most sincere among the others, but still, just a friend. He had a half-bitten doughnut in his right hand, and sugar porridge pasted at the corner of his lips.

“So,” he had said, who coached the school’s football team (the Avengers), known for being averse to getting out of the sheets on cold mornings, “You’re going tonight, aren’t you?”

“Good morning to you too, Piet,” you teased morosely, still not setting your gaze on the blue of his irises.

“Yes, I'm having a lot of fun checking these hundreds of essays about students' familiarity with Shakespeare's works, thanks for asking me. And how are you on this cold morning?”

Pietro, however, never touched by your condemnations of him, just brandished his bitten doughnut in your direction.

“C’mon, Y/n, I scheduled it like, two weeks ago,” and then, he finally took another bite of the fried dessert, barely bothering to chew and swallow properly before resuming his own speech.

“You need to go, it's important to me that you go. I want you to be there! My sister recently moved to town, you know, and I want you to meet her.”

The enthusiastic fervor in Pietro's voice didn't go unnoticed. Not when you remember him parroting about his twin sister left and right throughout the course of the last week – like an intersection, it was that one project of his, a well-crafted, weird project that he was working too hard on to your liking, like a kid building a volcano for a school science fair.

After all, his beautiful, cool, amazing single (single!) sister was in town after recently asserting her sexuality to the world, and it turns out you were the only queer person he knew who was single too – so it was a match, a perfect couple forming before his eyes, as a screenwriter then makes the two main characters of his play consummate a kiss with a happy ending so longed for by the audience.

For Pietro, it was like a well-accepted convenience – two worlds colliding, two of his favorite people together in one place, two single (single!) and financially stable adults of the same age, in comfortable careers and experienced enough not to be sacals, that he, as a good older brother and a then discovered true matchmaker friend, should bless and sponsor in a relationship that, in fact, was only planned within his utopian daydreams.

“I have to grade the exams from last week,” you replied in a monotone, a little dull in your words.

“Fury will be pissed if I pass the grades to the report card late again, you know how he is. Last time this happened he was talking my ear off for a week.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, I know. But you can do that on Saturday,” reiterated the man with the neatly trimmed beard, always so adamant when he wanted to be convincing.

“C’mon, it's just a Friday night to drink with friends, have a few laughs, relax a little, take your mind off work for a change. Have fun. And you sure need some fun in your life, dude.”

“Please Pietro, don't start it,” you huffed.

“But it's true! You know it's true!” Exclaimed Pietro back, raising both of his thick, dark brows, “Your life is all work and home, Y/n! You need to relax a little! Maybe hang out more with us, or maybe even go back to the dating scene–”

“No way,” your gaze then finally unscrewed from the papers to soar up to your friend's vigorous face. Behind your glasses was only expressive displeasure, translucent in irises sprinkled with disdain.

“You know I have no interest in this at all, man. I don't really need this in my life, not again, not right now. I have better things to do than go on stupid blind dates with people I know will lead me to absolutely nowhere.”

“C’mon, Y/n, everyone likes a little fun now and then,” he whimpered, though he wasn't at all really bothered by his friend's grumpy mutterings.

“And you really need to get laid, you know? You need to relax more, man. Do more with your life besides being a boring high school teacher. Did you download Tinder like I told you to?”

“Christ, no,” the word was unrolled from between your lips, dry as a rag, “And I'm fine just the way I am,” you muttered grudgingly, then groping with your open right hand for your cup of coffee, “I don't need more than that to live well.”

“All you need to do is grade exams on your days off, watch some Netflix late at night, and then gorge yourself on coffee and cigarettes the next day to stay awake and working? Really?” he teased, as if to put it in other words that your lifestyle, in fact, was just boring.

“Yeah,” the lenses of your glasses fogged up, as they came in contact with the puffs of steam emanating from the coffee cup held up to your jaw height.

“And you only think it's different now because Monica started dating you. Until last month everything you said was about how the fun of life is being single and not having to give anyone satisfaction about all the shit you do out there.”

“Yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about! I'm a changed man, Y/n!” He smeared a donut-sugar hand on his chest like a fussy child.

“And I'm much happier now, if you ask me. And that's why I want you to get someone too, because I'm your friend and I want to see you happy.”

“I don't need someone in my life to make me happy,” the bitterness in your mouth hadn't come from the coffee, of course, but maybe it was just always there, little by little growing and branching inside you.

“This is a very problematic thought, you know that? I’m happy alone and I intend to stay that way, thank you.”

“Dude,” he sighed. Blue eyes scanned your face in an unpleasant glow of pity.

“Seriously, you need to give it a chance. Just once. I mean, I bet there are a lot of nice, pretty girls out there who would love to meet you, and why are you going to miss it? Because of an asshole who clearly didn't deserve you and who broke your heart what, ten years ago? You deserve better than that, Y/n. And I mean it.”

The grip of your right fingers screwed into the circumvallation of the styrofoam cup increased the pressure a little, your digits pressed into the fragile material, and for half a split second, shooting daggers with a glare, you just needed yell at your friend to go fuck himself. Fuck you, Pietro. Fuck you.

Your brows creased between your forehead, pressing between them a beam of wrinkled skin. You just frowned, as if Pietro had said the greatest nonsense that a human being could speak.

There was a brief grunt inside your stomach armed with a meager breakfast (half an apple with cereal and milk flanked by a wilted granola bar found in the bottom of your bag on the way to school), and getting angry sounded like a good defensive option, like the quills of a porcupine—after all, there came a quick inhalation into your lungs as your lips curled into a sour line, and into your polyester coat, your shoulders heaved for a moment, mouthful like an angry lion ready to roar.

You held back because you just didn't want to be mad at Pietro so early on such a cold morning. After all, he wasn't there. It would not be fair.

He didn't even know you in college, having graduated in California, on the other side of the country – a promise of the football sports leagues, Pietro found himself obliged to say goodbye definitively to any and all chances of joining a pro team after a calamitous hamstring injury sustained from lack of stretching, which made him come home to lick his wounds like you, in a way; his dream was nothing more than a stillbirth, like every good child's dream when in contact with the hardships of the adult world.

He hadn't been there then, and he just didn't know anything but the story told from your own mouth, like tasteless gossip told from lips soaked in hot beer – the story of how your ex-girlfriend made you an idiot in your senior year of college, when you planned to propose to her. How she slept with a smug philosophy student because she didn't want to like sleeping with you that much. And who respects an idiot? Your side teeth chose to press the flesh on the inside of your cheek together. Idiot. He was an idiot for making you feel like an idiot.

“Six years ago,” you mussed, your eyes darting into your coffee cup as if there, soaked in the dark liquid, there was some answer to your baggage of grievances, “Six years, not ten.”

“Six years, ten years, whatever, it's been a long time anyway,” he waved his right hand dismissively, as if shooing away an imaginary mosquito, “You deserve to give happiness a chance again, Y/n.”

“When did you become a therapist, hm?”

“When I realized that my best friend needs to smile more,” and, in agreement with his own speech, Pietro gave you a gracious sideways smile – the one that several teenagers sighed for when he walked through the halls.

“You really need to go tonight, Y/n. Please, it’ll be fun.”

Between you and him there was a momentary breath of silence. But soon a lame sigh was sucked out of your nostrils in a blatant sign of giving up, not having the patience to impose yourself much longer on your own emotional limitations as you were.

“Two beers and I'm gone,” was your first offer, a generous suggestion to your catatonic state of mind. Pietro's smile spread at the corner of his lips.

“Four beers and you're not leaving until nine o'clock.”

“Two beers until half past nine,” you scored, “And I'll be there at half past seven.”

He looked at you for half a second, indigo blue shimmering in his irises, but before he could work any response out of his lips, there was the continuous high-pitched chirp of the bell that signaled the start of first period in the morning. With a click, then, Pietro scrambled to his feet, and both of your eyebrows shot up at the fact that the chair he was sitting on hadn't hit the floor.

“Shit, I've got practice,” said the platinum-haired man, before practically flying to the door of the room, but not before turning his chin over his left broad-shouldered in your direction just to say an “See you at seven then, Y/n! And if you don't show up I'll pick you up at your house!”, before quickly leaving the room.

An embarrassed sigh escaped your lips.

“What the fuck...”

You rasped, acid in your words, the upper part of your back leaning against the chair and your arms crossed in front of your chest. Your head still didn't hurt, but there were signs of an upcoming migraine pressing into the back muscle of your neck. Maybe not showing up and then blocking Pietro's contact from your phone would be a good idea.

ᗢ

You lifted the glass of beer and brought it to your lips, sipping more of the thick foam than of the golden cold liquid itself (a cordial act and of a performative, mechanical nature, since you were not a true connoisseur of the alcoholic beverage from barley). You licked your lips in displeasure and never touched the glass again, despising it on the round table awash with chatter and remote happiness, but somehow bordering on comfort at its mellow core.

Seated right in front of you were Natasha Romanoff, the red-haired gym teacher, and Bruce Banner, the introverted chemistry teacher, who narrated the facts that made up the account of the day they exchanged the weirdest and frilly kisses at a party in the freshman year of college in which they studied together, for a challenge, with tongues and teeth and tons of saliva, propelling loud laughter from across the table.

There, everyone present had just congratulated each other in a euphoric toast – in all, there were seven glass cups clinking loudly to each other inside the restaurant, extended above their heads.

But there was one person in particular who was nowhere to be found – Pietro's sister hadn't arrived yet, and so you were a little disappointed, although you weren't entirely sure what to do with it. You didn’t understand why you feel that way right away about someone you'd never even seen before, whose name Pietro never even bothered to mention.

You then were casually chatting with Steve Rogers, the kind-eyed history teacher, and you knew that if you continued at this pace you would be quite snuggled between your blankets even before midnight, and nothing about that thought bothered you so much.

“But yeah, now Peter's been suspended,” Rogers informed you, as he sipped (far more willingly to do than you) from his large serving glass of beer.

You, however, frowned at him, “Wait, Peter Parker got suspended?! But he’s such a great student! He never had any problems in my classes.”

“Yes, he’s a great student. He's a great kid, too. But he saw Flash Thompson getting rough with a freshman and things just got out of hand,” Steve breathed a gust of air through his bulging nostrils, shaking his head, “You know how problematic Thompson is.”

“Of course I know,” you claimed, “I've mentioned him to Fury several times, but the boy's parents always manage to get around it. This is so fucked up, man.”

“I know it is,” agreed the blond man, “By the way, do you remember when—"

“Oh, fucking finally!” Pietro's clamor caught the attention of everyone at the table, such pleasure lavished on his astonished words, "Finally, I thought I was going to drag you here by your ankles!”

You've blended your brows into the middle of your forehead, “What's that...? Oh.”

Aiming at the fact that everyone present there seemed to focus their pupils on something behind your head, you, in procession towards the others, tried to turn your neck towards the final purpose of their gazes, and, over your left shoulder it was that you turned around, facing the sudden, fortuitous, incalculable, pleasurable red – unique and so striking, singular and unmistakable, your need taking the form of agony. The air froze inside your lungs.

The scarlet coloring seized your senses, everywhere, a throb in your throat and a gasp in your nostrils, a flare in your lungs. You came back with your face forward before there was eye contact between your irises and that deep, empty pool of ecstatic green.

What else could you do, in front of such a beautiful and magnificent deadly creature, with crimson tones and warm eyes? What else could you do in front of Wanda Maximoff? It was like wanting to throw up and cry after a long night of drinking.

“Are you okay, Y/n…?” Steve's tiny voice came from somewhere your brain couldn't capture. It was her. And she was there.

“I–I... I... I’m fine… I’m fine, Steve.”

Though the once earth-dark locks were now dyed with a copper-red dye, Wanda had matured her features as the years had passed, and, like a rose that blooms, she had aged as well as the most expensive of wines – and, like wine, you could drink it to the last drop, intoxicating in scents of cinnamon roses, your youthful college sweetheart, there, fully blooming before your eyes, even after so many years of speculation and of solitude.

The frigid winter air had driven her into a shelter that was the long coat she wore, and the heels of a pair of high-soled boots made her a little taller than you remember in your memory. But it was still her, no room for error – the scrunching of the nose and the rabbit smile were unmistakable, easily recognizable, still so vivid in your memory. The simple tip of her porcelain nose was flushed like a button in the icy weather outside those walls, and at that, your heart throbbed hard inside your chest, pumping adrenaline through your swollen veins.

Polite and refined, Wanda greeted them all with a smile on her ungodly peach-colored lips, sitting in a chair next to Pietro's (and therefore also next to yours, in which you inspired from her warm aroma, so full-bodied). You stared at her for long seconds, as if she were indeed an apparition or the most beautiful of mirages your sanity-deprived brain could rave about. Wanda. Oh, Wanda. How you hated her.

“Hey, hi,” a small smile reverberated through Pietro before the red-haired woman, who then just looked at him, her older twin brother.

“Sorry for the delay, but I ended up stuck in this meeting with my editor later than I expected, and… shit, what a day.”

“That bald old man?”

“Don't be like that,” Wanda smacked her right palm on Pietro's shoulder in playful rebuke, “But yeah, Xavier, yes. He's a great professional, but he's kinda... too harsh, I think."

You blinked, wordless, gazing at her as if she were an unchanging deity, the red-haired woman as beautiful as you remembered her to be during the college day – though at the time, still dark-haired, Wanda was a young adult rising into the bosom of youth, and now she was a true, complete woman.

You'd heard from her brother that she was now a writer, having in the past dropped the psychology degree she never got after dropping out of college in her senior year. Increasingly attractive, the inimitable Wanda Maximoff.

“It's okay, you're the one driving back home anyway,” Pietro teased, touching her shoulder with his own playfully, a complicity of twins closing them in a private bubble.

Of course, Wanda Maximoff was Pietro Maximoff's twin sister. You could have punched yourself for never putting one and one together inside your head; the sister who was taking a psychology major at NYU, who dropped out of college in her senior year after some vague love affair that he said was similar to what you had. The twin brother who was studying in California, who for inconvenience you had never crossed paths with even in three long years of dating her.

Both of Sokovian descent, children of immigrants born in Novi Grad. The way he reminded you so much of her figure in certain situations, in the same tone jokes and in the similar laugh. Coincidences, just coincidences.

A need (never felt by you before, in the deepest core of your soul) to sip your beer became latent in your throat as suddenly dry, craggy as if you had swallowed a cocktail of broken glass – for that was when that the newcomer raised her left hand towards her white apollonian cheekbones, aiming to tuck her shiny, soft hair behind her ear with her nails varnished in black enamel, that your brief glance towards the red-haired woman ended up tie a knot in the mouth of your esophagus. Through a band of Wanda's auburn hair, Pietro was looking at you with a smile.

“Hey, Y/n! That's my sister I told you about, by the way,” Pietro exclaimed, with the good nature he'd always had, pouring a smile between you and her, “I told you she's pretty, didn’t I?”

Oh, fuck.

“Y/n...?” her face turned toward you, copper-colored hair swishing to her left, and a pair of eyes studied you for half a split second until the healthy smile on Wanda's lips vanished like smoke in the middle of the room.

Her brows made a twitching movement that betrayed amazement, as if you had materialized in your seat like a ghost from her past. She seemed to feel stupid for not having noticed you there sooner. Your lungs felt heavy as two bowling balls. That voice was familiar to your ears.

So familiar to your hearing, that same velvety voice that woke you in the morning with poetic whispers in your ear, reciting a unique romanticism that would make Jane Austen sincerely envy in her grave that she wasn't the first to conjure up such simple words, so beautiful when joined in amorous prose.

That voice that intoxicated you, brought you to your knees and made you for a moment just be yourself, made you be real and see real things. The voice that managed to be clear and pure as snow and after that to be dirty and say impressive obscenities, as was the case of Wanda Maximoff. You knew her better than anyone. You knew who she truly was.

"W-Wanda..." you mussed in a low breath in front of that verdant immensity, because there was nothing else to do.

Not when she looked at you that way. Not when she looked at you like she wanted to cry over what she broke in you.

“Hi, Y/n.”

ᗢ

You notified them, at the latest, that you would go out in the company of the gloomy fog of night, like a stray cat, wandering senselessly through your paved alleys, to smoke a mere comfortable cigarette. The air was an icy, nose-bad amalgamation of beer and frying.

“You know, that shit will kill you soon,” Natasha had vetoed you before you left the table, but you, as relaxed as you could be, placid in front of your coworker, only gave her a thin, cold smile and shook your head in consent with her words. There wasn't much else you could do other than that.

Leaning against the brick wall of the alley beside the restaurant, your cigarette burning on its end like a firefly in the middle of the night, puffing puffs of smoke in the air like slovenly dancers, you stared down at your own feet – your poorly laced Doc Martens boots, as white as the white winter snow.

As absorbed in your own smoky daydreams as you were, however, you didn't even notice the crimson specter that, like a bad memory crawling inside your head, walked towards you, heavy boots crunching on the cement pavement as it walked in search of the scent of smoked cigarettes that only you could squander. A lustrous red darkness came to you to engulf your soul and forsake your senses.

“You're gonna freeze to death out here,” had said the voice that was so familiar to you, though it sounded just as remote as a utopian dream, “It's as cold as the damn Arctic in here, for Christ's sake.”

You, however, as stagnant as a marble statue, remained still, mute, blinking with your eyelids in a lethargic act – it was as if you blinked her name, Wan–da. You looked towards Wanda as if you wanted her to rip your soul out of your mouth, parked in a feeling of bitterness that only seemed to grow and swell inside your ribcage.

“I... can I get a cigarette, Y/n?”

“You don't smoke,” Wanda hadn't said a word to you in response; her actions spoke for themselves, as she raised, towards you, her pale right hand as if in a begging manner.

“Well, I do now.”

You stared at her for half a second, before your gaze strayed to a dark spot on the floor. The ambient sound of the bar was muffled by the brick walls. You finally held out the little cylindrical object, but avoided at all costs your fingers touching as you did (acting as if Wanda was a damn leper, a red plague).

With the usual dexterity and clumsiness of addicts, Wanda wedged one of the nicotine sticks between her parted rosebud lip, feeling your studious gaze burn into the rosy high of her pale cheekbones. The gloss had left traces on the yellow part of the cigarette filter, and she turned to face you with a kind of acted innocence, masking temptation, gently blinking her moss-dark eyes.

“The lighter,” both of your gazes were screwed into one line, “Light it for me, please?”

You stared at her for a few seconds, pupils dilated in a vortex of darkness, before reaching for the lighter in your jacket pocket. The thick smoke left Wanda's lips pink not long after you did, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

For a few minutes, there was the silence between the two of you like a curious third person who wanted to know more than what you had to say. Wanda took a drag on her cigarette, and after that, you mirrored the action.

“I didn't know you'd gone back to smoking,” the red-haired woman had said, dissolving the stillness like the smoke leaving her ivory lips, “You quit in our senior year.”

“And you're a redhead now,” you muttered grudgingly, an unstoppable dryness in your raw facial expressions, “People change. Shit happens. Old habits return.”

The green of her gaze pierced its way into your pupils well-placed behind the stems of your prescription glasses.

“You've stopped wearing your contacts, too” Wanda continued, however, unabated, blowing more wisps of smoke through her parted lips, “I... I've always liked you wearing glasses, Y/n.”

“Fuck, why are you doing this?”

There was silence after your speech, a silence that was cutting like the edge of a sharp blade that was embedded in the middle of your chest. Wanda pressed her lips together, trapping a cloud of cinereous smoke between them. She was speechless for a few seconds, cluttering with the crimped bone of her jaw.

Illuminated by the night-light in artificial and unnatural colors that bloomed from the long lamps of the poles nearby, her long copper hair was like a waterfall of fire that poured down to the middle of her back – it was as if they were one, the blinking ember of the cigarette and a lock of her auburn hair. Wanda discarded her cigarette butt next to a garbage can crammed near the door that led back to the back of the restaurant, shimmering faint streaks of sharp silver, sending a measured sigh out of her nostrils.

“I'm sorry, I just,” her voice trailed off, as her emerald eyes dropped to the frigid cement beneath her feet, “I just wanted to talk to you, Y/n. Really talk to you.”

Wanda pressed both of her eyelids together, lingered in the action, and then opened them, blinking once at the brick wall after doing so. At her speech, however, a tightness was attributed to your esophagus – it was as if the smoke from your smoked cigarette was concentrated hot just behind the flesh of your cheekbones.

“There's nothing left to say, Wanda,” you spat, in pure, articulate fury, a cover for the hurt exploding inside your chest, “There's nothing you can tell me that I haven't already heard or that I want to hear it now.”

The air was made damp by something not well related to the winter weather, oxygen hard to suck up into your nostrils, your lower jaw jutting out, bruised and vengeful, gritting your teeth so hard you were just sure Wanda could hear the enamel of bones rubbing against each other—for that was when strained eyes flickered toward you, amid the dim lighting whose alleyway was engulfed, as if there were an ancient lantern hanging just above you head.

“What you gonna say this time, huh?” your right knee shot up in a hard, yielding stride toward her, like a predator hunting in a dark forest.

“That you didn't want to do that? That it was a drunk mistake? That you weren't sure what you wanted but knew you still cared about me? That you didn't even know his fucking name? That one was certainly comforting to hear, you can be sure of that.”

Your tone was immersed in an acidic deluge of biting, erosive cynicism that welled up in the pit of your stomach. You were then close enough to the auburn-haired woman that the tips of your noses almost brushed against each other in midair.

“And I've heard it all before, Wanda. Again and again and again. That night in your dorm room when you told me you did that shit, in the fucking text messages you sent me three years in a row, and even in that letter you sent me on my birthday two years ago,” you gasped for air was warm against her pretty face, both the collars of your coats covered in an opulent scent of smoked cigarettes.

She could feel the muffled beer on your breath.

“So, what's new this time, huh? That he wasn't even that good? That he didn't even make you feel like I did? Because that doesn't surprise me at all. No one will ever know you like I did. No one will ever touch you like I touched you, Wanda. And you know that.”

But you were close, dangerously close like a moth to a lamp (close to imminent death), and for half a second you found yourself pondering the idea of Wanda's pretty face being frozen by the cold, because her jadish gaze oozed from inside your pupils to pour between the contour of your nose and then, as if in a prize for the race won, waited in a lingering fall down the height of the outline of your upper lip.

“Let me,” Wanda then moved her elbows close to her ribs inside her coat to smooth both of her scrawny open palms across the lapel of your polyester coat, catching a single lock of your hair between two fingers and sliding it down to the tip, “Let me have you tonight, Y/n. Just tonight.”

Her thick dark lashes were on top of that dark moss green that had crept like an infectious disease in her irises, and you leaned in for a while, wiping the pulp of your own lips with the tip of your tongue, so you could feel the ghostly taste that wasn't there yet, that took you back to the distant past.

“I hate you,” you muttered under your breath, “I hate you, Wanda. I hate you. You broke my heart. You betrayed my trust. I fucking hate you.”

“I'm sorry,” she whispered back, in a small voice, “But I really need to have you one more time, Y/n. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. But I need to remember what it's like to have you.”

The tone was needy, limpid and clear, translucent like crystal crossed by a beam of red light. It went beyond the hate, the tendrils of lust that threaded itself between the two of you like a tight noose. The world around you was nothing but a winter's ember, when did Wanda reach for your torso under the protection of her arms, pressing her warm body against you by virtue of her desire.

“I wish you knew how much I miss you.”

And she smelled like cigarettes, but also like flower perfume and fig moisturizer. She smelled like Wanda. Like the Wanda who slept and woke up next to you in your younger days, where life was troublesomely easy and she still hadn't allowed herself to be touched by anyone other than you.

“And I wish you hadn't cheated on me. I wish I had married you.”

“I'm sorry,” her voice was muffled by the fabric on the left shoulder of your coat, “I missed you so, so much...”

“I hate you,” you whispered against the crown of her orange-haired head, in a tone as if you confessed your feelings to her on a summer afternoon, “I really fucking hate you.”

Wanda cupped your face by the sides with both cold hands and merged your lips in a timed kiss in harmonic cadence, which quickly had you whimpering in dizzying helplessness prickling through your veins. Your heart pulsed explosively in the left side of your chest. The taste was still hers, warm crimson pouring into your lungs, your stomach. You could get drunk on the taste of her saliva.

“Please,” she breathed in a short pause to get some oxygen, “Please make me yours again, Y/n.”

“Shut up.”

The kiss deepened when you projected your lips to take hers in a click of tongues, your tongues entwined until you were both softly panting, your foreheads ruffled touching each other. You snorted against the commission from Wanda's swollen lips. Your coat felt too thick against your shoulders.

“Just… just tonight,” you squinted at your eyes, a strand of reddish hair breaking through your gloomy, empty vision, “Lie to me one more time just for tonight, Wanda. I’ll believe anything you say.”

ᗢ

“F-fuck-fuck- ah! ”

The lascivious voice growled, reverberating like an echoing breath through the four pale walls of her room. The red-haired woman trapped her lower lip with her own incisors, confining a moan to the very core of her being. With the void present there, a thin wind howling in hissing outside, only the wood of the floor could hear the whimpers uttered by a Wanda so unsteady, with a tight mouth and a pink face like a peach in her cheeks, feeling empty in the flesh, but so satisfied in essence.

Pale fingers were fondling between the bundles of your hair, her red head bent back, her mouth half open, her mascara smeared, making her into some sort of sound, but nothing was what left her throat.

You, crouching below her level, turned your face away from the gap between Wanda's opalescent thighs, still throbbing on your tongue, between your teeth, the vigorous taste of honey coming from the red-haired woman's fruit—the skin of your chin gleaming in a glow from the overwhelming orgasm of your ex-girlfriend contorted just above your head, chest heavy, breathing unreasonable.

You, equally deprived of any clothing to cover up your natural nudity, stretched your knees on the bed, hoisting yourself out from between Wanda's inner thighs without much to say after completing your mission.

Before you could even entertain the idea of picking up your clothes scattered on the floor like in a war scenario, however, a hand pressed the back of your neck and, in an inordinate way, ripped it off for a harsh kiss, Wanda sipped from her own cum accumulating through the gaping breach in your mouth buffed by the height of her own orgasm. You took the inside of her mouth with your tongue and, fierce, Wanda curled into the muscle of your mouth cavity, drinking in your ecstasy there.

And just as quickly as it started, you ended the act with a deferential bite to her lower lip, pushing her away across her face as if she were nothing, as if you hadn't been between her legs a few seconds ago, the leading into the ether of jouissance in a way that no one had ever done before, and in no way could do afterward. Wanda was your glory, but she was equally your downfall. You wanted her as much as you hated her.

She remained mute when you got out of bed to put the crumpled clothes lying on the floor back on your body, as if to go back in time, hours before, when you were still dressed and none of that happened between your and her. The only sound in the room was that of fabric being stretched, rubbed and smoothed.

“I wish things were different,” Wanda's voice told the night air, into the wee hours of the morning, “That I could go back and do things differently. That I could have been… been different with you, Y/n.”

“You've always hated having things out of your control, I know.”

She then hummed against the pale pillowcase of the pillow, which exuded a wilted scent of post-orgastic sweat. You had your back to her, standing next to the foot of the bed, sticking your outstretched elbow into the hole in the right arm of your coat.

“Y/n,” she then called out, casting her gaze in your direction, “Are you… are you going to come back, someday?”

You just sighed, letting out a bitter murmur in your speech, “Maybe for your bed, but for you... I really don't think I should, Wanda.”

“Never again?” she tried.

Something in you hesitated for a moment. In slow strides, you then walked over to her side, sitting on the edge of the bed as you tucked your knees into your pants. Your right hand, warm, rested on the sharp of Wanda's cheekbone, giving there a charitable squeeze, so at odds with your words.

“Never it’s a very strong word,” you whispered, “And honestly, I'm not a strong person. If I were, I wouldn't even be here. I would’ve told you to fuck off several hours ago.”

The touch known to both of you, which was accompanied by the intoxicating aroma of cigarettes that was so familiar to her – for you were there, sitting right next to her, with your compassionate eyes conveying, through your gaze, a nostalgic sense of affection swallowed by life’s bumps.

“Don't walk away,” she uttered then against the palm of your hand, in a choked tone that denounced an approaching burst of tears, “Don't walk away, Y/n. I'm sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Please, forgive me."

“It's a small town,” you whistled in response, “We're going to meet each other again at some point, Wanda.”

You declared, in a breath of voice – and then, again, you placed a languid kiss on the pale shoulder bone of the naked woman lying on the bed, mouth agape.

“It will be as if nothing ever happened,” you kissed her in a crack of skin down her clenched jaw, “As if you hadn't cheated on me and if I hadn't just let you use me again ‘cause I'm a fucking weakling.”

In an instant you were in front of Wanda's face, whose lips you pressed together in a soft kiss, “We're going to get to know each other again. As if nothing had happened.”

And then, you bent over so you could place a chaste little kiss on the red-haired woman's forehead. And her tears came when you stood up.

“Maybe this time it will be different. Maybe this time you won’t break my heart.”

“Y/n...” she whimpered, her eyes sunk in emerald pools that were dimly lit by a lamp lit on the nightstand beside her bed.

“Good night Wanda,” you mumbled, pausing at the bedroom door just to look at her, “I really wish next time will be different.”

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strangerthings-01 · 5 months

Text

He never deserved you

This is a kind of a long fic but I've been gone so long I wanted to give a long and more detailed story lol. I can either do a part two or if anyone has any suggestions, my inbox is open!

Summary: For a couple of months, you had been dating Jason carver until you realized what a douche he was. You never realized ending things with him would help you fall for another. Someone you didn't expect.

Angst, cussing, mentions of smoking

🖤🖤

The 6 AM alarm that suddenly went off, blaring in your eyes jolted you out of your sleep reminding you that it was time to get ready for yet another day of school. You really needed to find a different alarm. Waking up terrified was not the best way to start your day but on the bright side, at least it woke you up. You groaned slightly and rubbed your eyes trying to get the sleep out of them before you turned on the lamp on your nightstand. You squinted at the bright light that filled the room as your eyes tried to adjust from the pitch black they were just in.

Removing the covers off your body, you stood up and grabbed the clothes that you placed on your desk chair the night before, thankful you didn’t have to dig through your drawers to find something. You yawned as you walked into the bathroom that connected to your bedroom and began to get ready.

The outfit was simple. Skinny jeans and a black sweater that fell off one side of your shoulder because of it being just a size bigger than what you’d normally wear. Or maybe it was just like that. Who knows? After placing your hair into a messy bun, you headed downstairs and was grateful when you saw your mom had already brewed some coffee and made you a cup. “Oh thank you. I’m so exhausted today.” Having enough time before you had to leave, you sat down in the kitchen chair across from your mom who was reading the daily paper.

She looked up and set the paper down, leaning her head on her hand. “You’re welcome. Did you not sleep?” You sipped on it and squinted your eyes in concentration. “No I did. I don’t know. Just one of those days I guess.” She nodded and cleared her throat, leaning back in her chair. “Feel that. Well hopefully that coffee will get you through the day. You’re almost done with junior year. Just a couple of more weeks to go. I want you to focus okay?”

You nodded and gave a quick smile. “I will I promise. Finals are the last week of school. I’ve been studying like crazy trying to prepare. I can’t wait for summer.” You rubbed the side of your head and sighed before standing up and washing the mug out then placing it in the sink. “I know the feeling. Just- please don’t let him distract you. Jason, I mean. Boys are not worth more than your future.”

You turned around and leaned on the counter and gave your mom a far off look. “I know that. And I know how you feel about Jason and before you saying anything-“ her mom had opened her mouth to say object. “I know. I’m going to end it soon with him. He’s being an ass lately and hasn’t been treating me right anyways.” She scrunched her eyes brows. “He isn’t hurting you is he? Cause I will-“

“No no! Of course not. I just- he just says things that make me feel unimportant and distant from everyone. I just don’t wanna deal with it. After him, I’m hoping to stay away from boys for a bit.” Your mom smiled. “Good. You deserve better and thank god you’re getting rid of him. I couldn’t stand him.” You laughed and pushed off the counter. “Oh I’m aware. Alright I gotta go. I don’t want to be late. I love you.” You grabbed your car keys from the bowl in the living room and your backpack from the coat hanger and headed out the door as she was saying it back.

You got into your car and started the engine, shivering at the slight cold that nipped at your body. It had been true though. Jason had been treating you like crap. Telling you to be quiet when you said something or dropping your hand when he was around Chrissy which really pissed you off. You knew it wasn’t Chrissy’s fault but it still got under your skin that he didn’t even try to be subtle that he had feelings for another girl. That was the main reason why you were ending it at school today.

You knew it wasn’t the best thing to do but being in a public space made you more comfortable than if you were alone. It was known he had anger issues and you truly didn’t want to risk it.

As you drove off down the rode to Hawkins high, a million thoughts hit your brain. How would you end it? Where would you do it? Empty classroom? No that’s stupid. Maybe the lunchroom? You didn’t want to embarrass him. That’s not who you were. By the lockers would be good. People were around but no one would be paying attention. Not really. More thoughts invaded your brain pulling you from the Jason subject.

You still needed to study for the history exam and you hadn’t even started the science study guide. There was so much going on and you had no idea how you were managing it all. You took a deep breath to calm down and reminded yourself to take it one day at a time. As soon as Jason was out of your life, it was one less thing to worry about and gave you more of an opportunity to focus on exams. It would be a good thing.

You pulled into the parking lot and parked in a random spot. There weren’t many cars that took up the lot seeing as most people walked from the town being so small. The only cars were a few students and the faculty.

You turned your engine off and grabbed your backpack as you made your way into school, nervous about how the day would go. Walking to your locker, you sighed of relief as you noticed Jason wasn’t there yet giving you time to mentally prepare. You opened your locker and put in what you didn’t need at the moment and then shut it. As soon as the latch connected, your friend Tara came up to you. “Hey do you have the notes for English? I’m way behind.” You chuckled and shook your head not even surprised. Tara wasn’t really one to pay attention so she was always asking for notes but she was your friend and she meant well so you typically didn’t mind. “Yeah I do. Hold on.” You opened the English folder that you had in your hand and pulled out a couple of papers with notes scattered all over. “Don’t lose these please.” Tara took them gently and smiled. “I won’t. I promise. Thank you . I owe you one, see you later.”

A couple minutes after she walked away, you felt hands wrap around your waist. “Hey babe.” Jason. You felt immediate annoyance and anxiousness. “Hey Jason.” You turned around and backed away from his embrace. He smiled and leaned down to kiss you but you turned your head so his lips made contact with your cheek instead. He furrowed his eyebrows and pulled his head away. “What was that?” You shoved your hands into your sweater and cleared your throat. “We need to talk…” He raised his eyebrows and chuckled. “Okay? About what? Should we go somewhere private?” You shook your head trying to prepare how you were going to say this. “This isn’t working out. I think we need to break up.” The words flew out before you lost the nerve to speak them. Your hand almost flew to your mouth as if you couldn’t believed you had said it but you forced them to stay in your pockets.

“Uhh I really hope you’re just fucking with me.” He laughed humorlessly. You cleared your throat and looked around to make sure no one was paying attention. They weren’t. “No I’m being serious. I’m tired of the way you treat me and it’s clear you like Chrissy so consider it an out. It’s over.” You looked up at him to try to grasp what he was feeling. He stood there, mouth slightly open and eyebrows scrunched as if she had just told him the most absurd thing. You thought for a second he might actually be hurt and feeling something but no he burst out laughing and pointed at you. “You’re breaking up with me? No babe I’m breaking up with you.” You rolled your eyes and took your hands out of your pockets to fix the strays of your hair. “Honestly if that’s what you want to tell people, it genuinely doesn’t matter to me. As long as I’m away from you.” You began to walk away when he grabbed your wrist tightly and yanked you back so you were face to face. Did no one see that?

“Ow Jason let go.” He sneered at you keeping the grip on your wrist. “You think you’re cute but honey I could have anyone in this school I wanted. The amount of girls I have lined up…you mean nothing to me. All I wanted was the sex and you couldn’t even give me that you fucking tease. So good I’m glad we’re over. Good look finding anyone to be with you.”Your eyes prickled with tears but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of crying. “Let me go Jason. You’re hurting me.” He pinned you against the locker and gripped your face with his other hand. As soon as he did, he was thrown off by someone and you immediately backed away from Jason.

“I could have sworn she told you to let her go, carver. Laying your hands on women. Not a good thing to do around me.” You looked up at the tall figure and it was none other than Eddie Munson. The one everyone called the freak of Hawkins high. You had only talked to him a couple of times in class but he was a pretty nice guy. Just struggled a bit to keep up like Tara or so people whispered. Rumors over him being held back spread like wildfire.

You were shocked he was defending you considering he really didn’t know you. You instinctively got behind him and he gave you a side glance, not moving. “You can mind your own business freak. We were just having a little moment. No one was hurting anyone so back off.”

Eddie chuckled and shook his head, his curls moving around. “Not what I saw but consider it a warning. For her sake. But next time, I won’t be so nice.” Jason laughed and put his hands up shaking them. “Oh wow I’m so scared. Fuck off Munson. Next time I won’t be so nice. You and that little bitch better watch your backs.” He stormed off, leaving you two in the hallway and a couple of people were staring and murmuring about the commotion. Of course now they notice once Eddie is invovled.

Eddie turned around and looked down at you. Rubbing your wrist, you looked up at him and looked into his eyes. You never noticed how pretty his eyes were. Or just how pretty he was. You and Eddie talked occasinoally in class but you never really became clos mainly because jason forbade it. “Are you okay?” He asked which pulled you from whatever trance you were just in.

You blinked a couple of times and looked around the hallway before meeting his eyes again, the eyes that were still focused on you. “I’m okay. I figured he would have had a reaction like that. Why-why did you help me? We barely know each other." Maybe it was a rude question to ask but really, why would he have all people help you? “I know a lot more about you than you would think. Why are you asking? It can’t be hard to believe that I would help you. Especially from someone like Jason.” He looked a little hurt but the look on his face went away as fast as it had come.

His words struck you in a way you couldn’t comprehend. What did he mean he knew about you? I mean yeah you’ve partnered up to do projects but it never turned into a friendship. Conversations didn’t happen often between you two. What could he possibly know. “No no. I’m sorry. That was rude of me. Forget I asked. Thank you for defending me.” Being flustered around Eddie Munson was definitely not on your list of things to expect for the year. “No problem sweetheart. If he bothers you again, don’t be afraid to tell me. You know where to find me.” He winked and walked off giving you no chance to respond. Did he mean at the hellfire club? Or the lunchroom? Or the several classes you shared? You let out a sharp breath and blinked a couple of times trying to make sense of everything when the loud shrilling bell sounded. “Crap I’m late. Munson.” You muttered and ran off towards your first class of the day.

🖤🖤

After school, you were grabbing your things from your locker when tara came up next to you and shut the locker causing you to jump and let out a gasp. "what the hell tara? I'm glad my hand wasn't still there." She gave a slight eyeroll and then a pointed look. "I made sure you were done. You did not tell me that you were breaking up with Jason. I would have thrown a goddamn party. And what the hell was that with eddie munson today? I have literally never seen you have a full conversation with him outside of a classroom? What's the tea miss girl because you nelgected to fill me in at all and-" You cut her off mid rant and laughed slightly, one at the jab at jason and two at the enthusiasm of wanting to know everything all the time.

"I didn't tell you about Jason because I had literally been trying to work up courage all week to end it and I didn't want to lose the confidence to do it. As for Eddie, Jason was being kind of aggresive and he defended me..." Tara's mouth dropped as she leaned against the lockers. "The freak of hawkins high defened a popular kid? Whaaaa? He must like you." She giggled and rubbed her hands together. You rolled your eyes and started walking down the hallway towards the exit, tara hot on your heels. "First, I am hardly popular. More by assoication and that's gone for sure. Second, don't call him that. He's actually really....sweet and he definitely doesn't like me." You pushed open one side of the double doors and walked out into the parking lot heading to your car. "Sweet? I'm sorry. Where exactly did your sense go? This is the guy who stands on top of tables and yells at people who look at him the wrong way."

You turned to face her as soon as you reached the drivers side of your car. "No he yells at Jason. Big difference. I just think he's misunderstood, that's all. So what? He defened me from my jerk ex boyfriend. I doubt we'll ever talk again. He was just being a decent person." Tara scoffed and crossed her arms. "So he didn't say anything else after he defended you? It just happened and what? He walked away?"

You weren't sure if you should tell her the other part just because you knew how it sounded and Tara would totally take it a whole different way but you did want another opinion. "I thanked him and he told me that I knew where to find him if Jason ever messed with me..." You avoided eye contact after the words came out and she squealed, grabbing your arm. And there it is and here we go. "He is so into you. Look he may not be someone I would date and he may be weird as fuck but he's hot as shit. I would support you. Much better than carver." She made a throw up motion. "Tara, I extremely doubt he is into me. We barely talk outside of class like you said. Where would he have had time to gain a crush on me?" Tara shrugged and went to say something when her attention got diverted to something across the parking lot. "Can we talk later? Josh is here. Love you bye." Before you even had the chance to respond, she was halfway across the parking lot to catch up with her boyfriend. Typical Tara.

As you were unlocking your car, you felt eyes on you and looked around to see if it is maybe just paranoia from the events this morning when you caught Eddie leaning against his own car smoking a ciggirate, glancing at you. You made eye contact with him for a couple of seconds before he slightly smirked, put out his cig on the ground using his boot to snuff it and drive off in his car. Flustered, you got in your own car and drove home trying to process the days events.

Why had he smirked at you? Was he judging or had Tara been right about him having feelings for you? But it didn't make sense because in order to like someone, you would have to know them. You knew nothing about eddie munson and he definitely knew nothing about you, or did he? You let out a heavy sigh and forced yourself to focus on the road.

As soon as you got home, you went straight to your room and started studying. You had already gotten rid of one boy, you certainly didn't need to think about another, especially from one interaction. What is wrong with you? Pulling out all of your notebooks, you were determined to distract your mind when you notcied your english notes weren't returned. Tara. You shook your head and gave a soft chuckle as you opened your history notes and started to go through them. History was your favorite subject so it wasn't difficult for you to remember lessons from it. You went through pretty fast and studied half of your science notes as well before you crashed from exhasution. Thoughts of school, eddie, and jason fled from your brain as sleep took over your body.

Thankfully your alarm was set to wake you up at the same time everyday on weekdays because you slept the rest of the day and through the night until it was time for school again. When you were fully awake, you turned off the alarm and noticed the lights had been turned off and a blanket was pulled over you seeing as you were on top of your comforter. Your mom must have come in late last night to check on you.

Your morning routine stayed the same and soon enough, you were back at school and in your first class. Anxiousness filled your body as you realized you would more than likely have to see Jason today. After his outburtst yesterday, you weren't sure if he would leave you alone or not. You could take Eddie up on his offer but the truth was you didn't need protection or help. You could handle yourself and if anything, it would be tara beating his ass.

Your name being called from the roster pulled you from your thoughts and you muttered a 'here'. First class was homeroom so it was more like a free period. Most teachers let you do whatever you wanted in homeroom as long as you didn't get too loud. But today the teacher wanted you to get in pairs to discuss finals and assignments so you were on the right track.

You suddenly remembered eddie was in this class and subtly turned your head to see if he was there and sure enough he was in the same seat. Before yesterday you typically wouldn't have cared where he was considering he was just like any other student but after what he did for you, it was like you wanted to know more about him. His eyes met yours and raised his eyebrows up. "Wanna be partners?" You flushed and stammered a bit before clearing your throat. "Uh yeah sure." You hadn't expected that, not this early and soon. But you would humor it. What's the worst that could happen? Just as you were about to move, he got up and sat in the chair next to you. He had nothing with him but a notebook and a pencil. You were slightly confsued as to where he kept all of his work but that wasn't really important right now.

Before talk about finals and school, you had something else you wanted to discuss with him. "I wanted to thank you again for yesterday. I don't know if you were the only one to notice but you were the only person who did something." He breathed out heavily but not out of annoyance or stress, it was more like he was thinking about what you said and the events that took place just yesterday morning. "It was really no problem. Just did what I knew was right."

For some reason, that comment upset you in a way. Almost as if what had happened wasn't important or just simply not enough to talk about. But maybe he just didn't know what to say so you changed the subject. "I did have a question though. What did you mean when you said you knew more about me than I thought you did?"m The question had been presenting itself in your brain since yesterday. He half smiled and cleared his throat, tapping his pencil on the desk. ""It means that I watch you or observe, yeah that's less creepy." The admittance shocked you. What was so interesting about you? "Word flies fast in this god forskaen school. Just so happens people talk good about you and we've talked a handful of times. Let's just say Carver never desevred you." You felt unsure on how to take that comment in considering it had been said with such respect and genuineness but also not something you expected from the "bad boy".

"Thank you. That means a lot." You decided to go with the simple but grateful response and tried to move on beofore the awkwardness set in. "Um, so did you want to compare notes ? I'm so stressed for the finals." He gave you a look you couldn't comprhend that laid between awe and humor. "You really are a good girl aren't you?" You blinked a couple of times trying to understand whre he was going with that question. "I'm not sure what you mean. I just want to pass. Don't you?" He sighed and leaned his head onto his hand. "Well of course but I'm too far behind. The finals would let me pass though if I got just a good enough grade but I doubt it." So the rumors were true. He really didn't do school work that often but why? There was another question that had always kept you curious. "Did you get held back?" The words left your lips before you could fully process it. Your hand instinctively went over your abrasive mouth. "I'm so sorry. I have no idea why I just said that." He chuckled and shrugged, leaning forward. "it's not a secret sweetheart. Yes I did. No reason to hide it. Is that a problem?"

You shook your head, mouth parting slightly before speaking. "No no! Of course not. It's honestly none of my business. Look, I have notes for every class to help me study for the finals. Did you maybe want me to help you study for the next couple of weeks so you have a chance to pass?" He stared at you, a puzzled look crossing his face. "you would do that? Won't your reputation be ruined?" The comment felt like a slap to the face and went a whole different direction from the conversation that was just had, the dissappointment flooding your body. "I don't have a reputation and even if I did, that went over a cliff the moment I ended it with my mentally abusive boyfriend, okay? If you don't want my help, you can just say that." The bell rung at that moment which was perfect timing to make an exit. You gathered your things and got up quickly, trying to leave the classroom before anything else could be said. Maybe Eddie Munson was just like people said after all. What had you said or done to provoke a response like that?

As you reached the doorway, you felt a hand wrap around your wrist causing you to look back. "wait. I'm sorry. That was me being a dick. I-" You pulled your wrist away. "You think?" He pulled you off to the side and looked down at you. "It came off the wrong way. I didn't mean it like that. I just mean that you're a nice girl and people like you and well people don't like me" You sighed and looked at the ground for a couple of seconds before looking him in the eye. "I can make my own decisions and hang out with or help whoever I want. If people had a problem with that, not my issue." He pursed his lips and a look between embarrasment and awkwardness covered his features. "You're right. I shouldn't have said it and I'm sorry. If it's any consolation, I would like your help."

He seemed like he was being sincere and giving him a second chance was something a lot of people neglected to do. Being treated the way he is would cause you to build a wall and that was something you could understand. "Okay fine. But say anything like that again, you can forget it." He gave a wry smile and nodded once. "Duly noted. So where should we meet? Your place?" You shook your head quickly. "No. My mom will question the hell out of you and I would rather not have to endure an iterrogation myself. Either a public place or your place?" You questioned, curiousity peeking at the edges indicating you were wanting to know where he lived.

“I live in a trailer park so not sure if you would want to be somewhere like that.” Confusion took over your features as you took in his words. Was he embarrassed about where he lived? “I’m not one to care or judge where people live? I don’t mind coming to yours.” He blinked and pulled his head back, surprised that you had no hesitation about it. “Oh okay. Well I guess you can come around, say 5?” You nodded and smiled with your lips. “Sounds good. I gotta get to class. Bye Eddie.” You left the room before he could respond and walked quickly to your next class trying to understand how everything was changing around you in just a day.

🖤🖤

The rest of the day went by pretty fast and the classrooms you shared with Eddie were spent talking about a bunch of random things. He was really easy to have a conversation with and it kept your attention. Plus he also happened to be funny and quick with his responses. It was a completely different story than the one people had been telling and it was refreshing to have someone listen to you, really listen to you.

After class, Eddie walked you to your car and stood with you for a couple of minutes just talking. Tara came up, eyes slightly widened as if she was trying to comprehend something. Eddie shifted uncomfortably and gave her a tight lipped smile. “I guess I’ll see you later?” You cursed yourself knowing she was going to question everything as soon as he walked away. “Yeah see you later.” No point in trying to hide it.

As soon as he left ear shot, Tara hit your arm. “Not gonna talk again huh? And see you later? What in the hell does that mean?” You deadpanned and crossed your arms. “You never gave my notes back.” She squinted her eyes in annoyance and grab the notes out of her backpack and handed them to you. “Don’t change the subject. Tell me everything.”

So you did. Every detail was shared including the study partner part and the entire time, Tara was squealing and dropping her jaw at the most mundane information. That’s who she was though. Excited about life and you couldn’t help but love her for it. “Okay that’s a lot to take in. I’m not against it though.” You adjusted your backpack on your shoulder and shifted to your other foot. “I’m so glad I have your approval.” She scoffed and waved her hand in the air, a dismissal. “You know what I mean. I’m glad you’re getting back out there though. Just didn’t expect it to be so soon.”

“Wow. Okay yeah no. Definitely not getting back out there. I’m just helping him study. I am not ready for another relationship.” You admitted. "I am literally just trying to help him get through the rest of the year." She groaned very dramatically and pretended to look intersted in her nails. "Yeah okay. We will just pretend that he doesn't have a massive crush on you and that I don't see you making eyes at him." You made strangly hands at her and made a sound through gritted teeth which got you a concerned look from people around you that were also lingering in the parking lot. "He doesn't have a crush on me and I don't make eyes at him. Yes he's attractive but I just got out of a very toxic relationship and I need to focus on school. Hence why I am helping him focus on school. If something happens to come from it, then it happens. Until then, he is my study partner and...a friend." The conversation didn't last much longer as both of you had to get home. It was getting close to 4 and you needed to be over eddie's place at 5.

Once you got home, you changed into some shorts and a V neck and the time flew by and soon enough you were back in your car headining over to the trailer park. You knew where it was considering Hawkins was a small town and you just so happened to pass it every once in a while. It took about 10 minutes to get there and soon enough, you parked and got out of the car looking around. Nervousness hit you as you saw a couple people outside staring at you, some giving you dirty looks. People like you who had it better than most weren't really welcome around this part of town.

You didn't blame them knowing how people treated the lower class but it still didn't settle the anxiousness creeping up. One guy jumped up and walked over to you, footsteps heavy and a beer bottle in his hand. "What's a pretty little thing like you doing around here? Looking for some trouble?" Your eyes widened and you took a small step back. "N-No of course not. My friend Eddie-" His sharp laugh cut you off. "Eddie Munson? Nah you better go on before trouble finds you." He closed in on you again when you saw Eddie running up and grabbing the mans shoulder. "Dan, it's okay. I invited her here. You okay?" He grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him, walking you away from the scene. "Sorry about him. He-he means well. Most people who come here to see me usually start shit."

Although you were still a little shaken up, you nodded and let him lead you into his trailer. "it's okay. I understand. He has a right to be catious." You looked around his place and it was actually really nice in here. Of course it was small but it was cozy and cleaned up well. You noticed the broom and dustpan out and the tied up trash bag and realized he must have been cleaning before you got here. How sweet.

He noticed you looking around and shifted on his feet uncomfortably not knowing what you were thinking. "Well thank you for understanding. It's not...the easiest living around these parts but it does its best. Sorry about the clutter and the smallness of it." He chuckled awkwardly while he fidgeted with one of his rings. "Don't apologize. I like it in here." You shrugged off your backpack and sat down on the couch and took in everything around you. He only had a couple of picutre frames up with him and what looked like his dad or maybe uncle? There were a couple of coasters scattered around and a couple of random objects. A dice, an empty glass, and a notebook. You felt the cushions shift and you looked over to see that he had sat next to you. "Thanks." He smiled softly. You nodded and pulled your backpack into your lap, digging some contents out. "Of course. Um I was thinking we could start with math since it's the hardest." He agreed and the studying started. It was rough at first because he was a lot further behind than you thought but he started to get the hang of it after about an hour of explaining different things. Between snack breaks and time outs, it was going pretty smoothly and he caught on really fast. You had him do a couple of test questions and when he got all but one right, you smiled and high fived him. "I bet that if we do it like this for the other subjects, you'll get a passing grade!"

Eddie's face lit up and he let out a gasp of air that sounded like relief. "I literally cannot thank you enough. I know we still have a ton to do and I know it's taking time away from you but I don't know if i even would have tried if you didn't offer." You gathered all of your things back into your backpack and zipped it up giving a soft smile. "It's really no problem. You helped me so I am returning the favour. I do have to get home though but I'm pretty much free all the time after school so we can do this whenever." He stood up with you and walked you to your car which you appreiacted greatly. "Be safe getting home." He opened your drivers door and shut it after you got in and said, "I will. Thank you." You drove home and thought about how tonight was the first night in a long time that you felt fully free and happy. The smiled that took over your face remained the rest of the car ride home.

🖤🖤

For the next couple of weeks, you helped Eddie study almost everyday after school until you were positive he was confident in all of the subjects. There were bumps in the road and frustrations in the air but you were patient with him and he was respectful towards you. After the first week and a half of doing this, you started feeling nervous around him which wasn’t something you were used to. He was just so nice and funny and definitely wasn’t bad to look at. You were a little scared of catching feelings considering everything that happened with Jason and also because it hadn’t been that long since the relationship was over. You had talked to Tara about it and for the first time, she actually gave advice that made sense.

She had said “how you feel about someone isn’t something you can control. There’s no time limits or expectations on how soon you can fall for someone. It just happens. I wouldn’t stress about it. You guys are becoming really good friends and if something happens, then it happens. Don’t force it but don’t push it away.”

It helped you think a lot on the situation and she was right. How you were starting to feel about Eddie wasn’t something you could control. Spending time with him and having real conversations had been what set the feelings off in the first place. You were skeptical about if he had feelings for you or not. The way he looked at you and the way he brushed you hair behind your ears. The way he defended you against Jason anytime he tried to make a comment.

It was Sunday and finals started tomorrow. You wanted to help Eddie go over everything one more time to make sure he was prepared. And maybe because you just wanted to see him. You had shown up at his trailed, unannounced. You hoped he wouldn’t be busy or upset but when you knocked and the door opened, he stood there with that beautiful smile on his face. “What are you doing here?” He stepped aside as you walked through the door. “I was wondering if you wanted to go over everything really quick one more time. Sorry I showed up with no warning. I guess I could have called your landline.” He shut the door and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh no it's okay. You're welcome here anytime. You know that. And I would actually really appreciate going over it one more time. My nerves are running high for tomorrow but I think I’ll pass.” You smiled and shrugged your jacket off, laying it across the back of his couch. “I know you will. You’re smarter than you give yourself credit for, Eddie Munson.”

He walked over and hovered over you, causing your stomach to flip. “Well you’re more thoughtful than you give yourself credit for. And also smarter.” He chuckled. You grinned and shoved his shoulder. “Oh hush.” Your cheeks turned slightly red and you watched as the smirk grew on his face. He sat down on the couch and his eyes followed you as you took a seat next to him. "I stayed up late the past few nights to make these flashcards so I'm really hoping they work." You chuckled and bit your lip. He smiled and cleared his throat, staring right at you. You tried to focus on the flashcards and the words written on them so you didn't stutter over your words.

You began using the flashcards and you had to admit, they were helping you too. It was actually really fun to go through them and it was def because you were doing it with eddie. It went back and fourth with one person asking the question and the other answering. For some unknown reason, both of you were cracking up at this ridiculousness of it all. You were answering most of them right and when you finally got one wrong, Eddie stood up and pointed. "Ha! You did not get that right!" You gasped and stood up alongside him and grabbed the card from his hand. "What? No way." You looked at the answer and pursed your lips. "I did in fact get that one wrong." He laughed and you flung the card at him. He scoffed and picked it up. "Sore loser."

"mmmm. Pretty sure I got more right than-" Your sentence got cut off as your scream replaced it when eddie suddenly picked you up and flung you over his shoulder. "what was that?" You hit his back and laughed. "Put me down right now!" He walked over to the couch and gently tossed your onto the cushions. You giggled and breathed out, the air blowing some of your hair away from your face. He stood above you, looking down. His smile faded slowly, the look on his face indicating he was deep in thought. "You okay?" You sat up pulling your knees to your chest to give him room to sit which he did. "yeah. I just uh- he never deserved you, you know?" Your lips parted and you shifted on the couch to where you were sitting directly next to him. "Who?" You knew who he was talking about but you wanted to hear him say it. "Jason. He never deserved anything about you and he's an idiot for not seeing the amazing girl that you are."

"That means a lot. Thank you but where is all this coming from?" He looked down at his rings and played with them for a second then let out a small laugh. He looked back up at you and shook his head. "Fuck it." He grabbed your face with both hands and kissed you. You were taken aback for a second but then reality set in and you kissed him back, making a sound of content. He carressed your cheeks with his thumbs and your hands went into his curls. After about a minute, you both pulled back to get some air. "Wow. That was not what I was expecting." Your fingers grazed over your lips still feeling his own against yours. "If you couldn't tell from that, I really like you. Not just because of all the help you've given me but just getting to know you has been incredible."

You raised your eyebrows. "And here I thought you knew so much about me from observations." He rolled his eyes and grinned. "You know what i mean, you little shit." You giggled and leaned into him causing him to lean back into the couch, your head on his chest. "I just mean the real you. Not the one from the narratives from other people. But I've always had a small crush on you so..." You looked up at him and your mouth dropped. "Oh my god. Tara was right. You were into me."

He had his arm draped over your shoulder, fingers barely touching your skin, a tingly feeling going down your arm. "Yeah yeah. Tara is also an observationist." A small smile was on his face. "Well I was stupid for not truly noticing you." He scrunched his eyebrows and licked his lips. "Nah. Jason had you wrapped around his finger. He was a controlling dick." You pulled your face up and kissed him softly. "None of that was real. That's clear to me now. I don't even think I had real feelings for him. I just thought I did because everyone wanted him and he went after me. You, however, I do have real feelings for."

"Well good because he's gonna be so livid." He laughed which caused you to laugh. "Oh fucking well. According to you, he lost a great girl." He played with your hair and made a sound of agreement. "A very great girl."

The rest of the night was spent just talking and laughing until it got dark and you had to head home for dinner. He had just walked you out to your car and you were standing next to the open drivers door. "I had a great time tonight. We got a lot done and killed two birds with one stone." He grinned and grabbed your wrist, this time you didn't pull away, and pulled you close to him before kissing you, even better than the first one. "Goodnight, sweetheart." You bit your lip and slid into the drivers seat. "Goodnight, Eddie." He shut your door and you drove off, seretonin filling your brain. You had fallen for a boy, the 'freak' of hawkins high. Your mom would flip but it was all worth it and you don't regret one single thing.

ahhhhhh. I had so much trouble writing an ending for this story lol. I have so many other ideas for a part two if that's something anyone would want! I am so sorry I have been gone for so long, I am trying to get back into writing and this is a start!

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #hawkins high #hellfire club

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