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glossgojo · 1 year

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hold me across every state line

joel miller x reader | 3.7k words

part 2 here

cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, age gap (obviously let’s be real), AFAB reader, fingering, slight pervy joel, pet names, multiple orgasms, choking, oral fem receiving, lingerie, porn with some plot, non-canon compliant, joel has feelings <3

you had been traveling with joel and ellie ever since philadelphia and as hard as you and joel had tried to ignore whatever was going on between you two, he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you. you all arrive at jackson and feel like you can relax for a bit. it all comes to a head when you were changing and he caught a glimpse of fucking lingerie. joel miller feels like a teenage boy all over again just because of you.

a/n: def gotta a lil carried away, what can i say joel miller makes me FERAL. also beta version sorry i wrote this in a daze

it had been a month since you joined joel and ellie, you had grown fond of them both. your younger sister was ellie’s age before you lost her a couple years after the outbreak, it felt healing talking to her. ellie, in a lot of ways, was similar to you. unfortunately for joel that meant a lot more worrying than he admitted to. although he’d never admit it, he was quite fond of you and you were downright gone for the older man. it wasn’t like you had been single since the outbreak or before, but something about joel made your heart beat faster than ever and brought a smile to your face just from a mere thought about the grumpy man.

but you never labeled your feelings and neither did he, you both operated under a need to keep each other and ellie safe and that was it. ellie wasn’t dumb, she could see what was happening between you two. she also knew it was only a matter of time before you both gave in to whatever you were feeling. for now you three just acted out of survival instinct and that was enough. weeks morphed into months and winter was cruel to you three. you spent nights in joel’s arms, you both attributed it to feeling safer that way and for warmth of course. you never missed how sometimes you could feel his heart against your back, beating just as fast as your own. or when you would wake up before him and the sun shone down on his face, his expression would be relaxed and you could dream for a while about him looking at you like that. you hoped one day joel would let the pain he carried on his shoulders be lifted by ellie or even you.

when you all made it to jackson and joel reunited with his brother you felt like you could finally breathe again. although your body was always primed to fight and run, you couldn’t help but relax as maria treated you like a friend. she was kinder than anyone you had met since the outbreak, it all felt too good to be true. your suspicions were shared with joel and ellie. the three couldn’t relax even in the small condo tommy had given to you. maria had whisked ellie away to socialize with the other kids, saying how it would be good for her and far be it from you and joel to argue with her about it.

that left you and joel in a warm house with power and gas, feeling very out of place. the house had two rooms with two en-suite bathrooms, so naturally you and joel decided to share. joel was lying down on the bed, not fully asleep as he stared up at the ceiling planning the next steps in head. he had showered and changed into the clothes maria had dropped off, feeling like a new man. his mind raced at the possibilities of how to get ellie to the fireflies. you had spoke earlier about staying a little bit longer and collecting more information before setting out. he had disagreed, wanting to leave as soon as possible but you convinced him to stay, it would be better for ellie and especially him to spend more time with his brother and others. you also didn’t mind how relaxed joel looked when he was with his brother.

you were just getting out of the shower as you reached for a towel, drying off as you looked at the underwear maria had given you. you had blushed when you first saw it, clearly she thought you and joel were much more than friends after just a few minutes of interacting with her. you weren’t really sure why you decided to wear the lacy black panties and matching bra instead of the more sensible set, but maybe it was something about how maria had raised her eyebrow when you tried giving back the lingerie. you insisted it was nothing like that, but she had simply said, “are you sure because i think everyone else is?” instead of answering her you just snatched the clothes out of her hands and stalked back to the condo. you thought back about how you and joel interacted in front of her when you met.

“joel, say congrats.” ellie nudged joel in the elbow as you sat on the other side of him, making him move into your side slightly. joel looked to for you some sort of permission, you just nodded with a comforting smile on your face. you wanted him to know it was okay to be happy for his brother, that his brother still loved him and that his new life could have his big brother in it. joel’s hand that had been on your leg the entire dinner, squeezed your thigh in gratitude and as always you tried to swallow down the desire it shot through you. maybe you weren’t as successful as you thought in hiding the blush to you face, maybe maria had caught onto where his hand was and the reason behind your tinted cheeks.

you sighed and tried to shove the thoughts out of your mind, as you slightly opened the bathroom door and peeked through to see joel lying down with his eyes closed, a hand resting on his forehead, further obstructing his view. you took the chance to tiptoe to the closet and pick out some clothes to change into. unbeknownst to you joel had cracked his eyes upon the small creak of the floorboard and felt the air leaving his lungs at the sight of you.

joel had seen your body before, when rain made clothes cling to your skin or when you dipped into a clean river. but nothing compared to seeing your bare skin adorned in lacy black lingerie, a suggestion of fabric covered your ass and your breasts were pushed up as if to further torture him. joel felt all of his blood rush south and his heart beat pick up, he hated himself for silently peaking at you but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. he thought he was going a little bit insane when he watched you pull up a pair of jeans over your curves, jumping a little as they hugged your ass. his pants grew tight, his erection straining against the denim.

joel was on the precipice of losing his mind as you wrapped your arms around your chest and hugged yourself, your boobs pushing up and threatening his mental stability. joel had had enough at this point, his dick hard and heavy in his pants, aching to be touched. he sat up, making you flinch and wrap your arms around yourself tighter, not helping him much as you turned towards.

“how long does it take to choose a shirt sweetheart? do you need my help?” his voice was gruff and deep, you shivered at his tone noticing a clip to his voice. your heartbeat picked up as you raked over his expression, he looked more frustrated than anything else. and you didn’t miss how his eyes flicked between your chest and your eyes. it was now or never. you knew looking into brown eyes they were darkened by something you would see in your own.

“can you help me, please?” joel raised an eyebrow at your tone, like you were sure of yourself but still needed him. if joel were more confident in himself he would know that you were just as desperate for him as he was for you but he knew you could do better. you could definitely find someone younger and more suited for you. despite the rational part of his brain that knew better, he got off the bed and walked towards you. he didn’t stop until his chest was almost brushing against yours and he was towering over you. there was a slight flush to your lips and your breathing was fast enough to draw his attention to the rise and fall of your chest. he still let himself read into it, didn’t let himself dwell on the glossy look in your eyes or the way your lips were parted as if to take him in.

looking away from your gaze for a moment, joel pulled out a plain red t-shirt from the closet, meeting your gaze once again. you didn’t move to take it from his hands, just watched him expectantly and joel almost snapped the hanger in half from the hold he had on it. you wanted him to dress you. joel wasn’t sure if you were doing this to torture him or not but he sure as hell felt more desperate than he ever had. the last time he was this painfully hard from barely any stimulation was probably high school. he took your challenge instead, pulling the shirt off the hanger and flinging it to the side, he gently pulled the opening over your head, motioning for your hands to uncross and you followed quietly. you were practically drowning in the sensuality of being controlled by joel, exactly how you wanted. you had soaked through the thin fabric of your underwear as you gasped at the feeling of joel’s warm calloused hands against the soft skin of your arms. he pulled the shirt over your chest and you watched his darkened eyes travel over your body, his jaw clenching as he took in your curves.

“thank you.” you whispered, not wanting to disturb the air around you both. joel looked you up and down, as if assessing his work. he licked his lips as he remembered the sight from earlier, he felt himself leaking into his boxers, even more turned on from your small gasps and glazed eyes. you looked like a doe awaiting his shot, it drove him a little bit crazier. as much as you wanted to sink to you knees and take him into your mouth you wanted him to make the first move, wanted him to be as sure as you were that this wasn’t just one-sided. joel took one last look at your blown out pupils and glossy lips and decided that enough was enough, he had to make a decision right now.

“not sure about those pants though, doll.” your eyebrows knitted up from confusion, you looked down at them and back up at him. joel was endeared by the naivety in your expression, making good use of your confusion by looping a finger through the belt notch of your jeans and tugging you closer.

“i’d rather they were off.” he could see the words click in your pretty little head as the confusion was replaced by the desire he knew so well. you didn’t look away from his hungry gaze as you fumbled to undo the brass button of your pants. joel’s finger that was still curled into the notch, moved to cover your hand.

“let me, pretty girl.” you had to hold back a whine from his words, his gruff voice coupled with the pet name was grating against your sensibility, your underwear a complete mess from his words and presence alone. you were sure you would unravel if he touched you where you really needed him. joel undid your buckle with two fingers and pulled your pants down in one swift movement, causing you to yelp. he didn’t move as he watched you shiver from desire, he could almost laugh at how desperate you were. had you always been so gone for him? it wasn’t like he was much better though.

“j-joel please.” you choked out, you would do anything for him to touch you. you were on the verge of crying as he grinned at the pout on your lips.

“please what?” he stepped back, making a whine claw up your throat, you stepped towards without thinking.

“i need you.” joel nodded at the words, it wasn’t news to anyone, he needed you just as badly.

“come here.” joel moved to the bed, you followed obediently. when you sat down at the edge of the bed he pulled you by the hips, roughly moving you to lie down with your head on the pillows. he shifted himself to sit in front of your legs and your eyes widened as you realized what was about to happen. his rough large hands kneaded the soft flesh of your thighs, he took in the sight of your bare thighs and pretty cunt covered in lacy black material.

“did you wear these for me?” his hands were traveling up, parting your legs as they moved inwards. you loaned, back arching as you felt callouses rub your sensitive inner thighs. joel moved to sit down more comfortably, letting his thick thighs stretch you even more. he kept his hand on your left thigh, keeping you stretched wide. his other hand moved closer to your core, stopping when you didn’t answer his question.

“yes only for you.” you whined out, you had never sounded more desperate and foreign to yourself but you didn’t care you were completely lost to your desire. joel liked your answer, letting his hand tease the edge of your underwear, you twitched from his touch. he couldn’t help but scoff at how sensitive you were. he ripped a cry of his name from you when he pushed the fabric aside revealing glistening folds and a pool of liquid. he swore under his breath, wondering just how long you had been soaking through your underwear, sure enough he felt the fabric wet from your juices. joel wanted to deal this memory away, he knew he’d remember it any time his cock was in his hand. you squirmed from his gaze, whining for him to touch you, to do anything. joel snapped the band of your underwear against your skin, making you shut up.

“so fucking wet, is that all for me too?” joel didn’t think he could survive much longer without tasting you, moving to lay down between your thighs, you noticed immediately and it made you breath a little more rapidly.

“you drive me crazy joel, it’s always because of you, i’m yours.” you sat up on your elbows, looking at how his face was now hovering your hips. your words itched the part of joel’s brain that wanted you to be all his. he wasn’t proud of it but he wanted you to be his forever. without much warning, joel weaved his arms under your thighs and pulled you forwards, your cunt colliding with his nose. the small friction of his large nose against your clit made you moan out his name again. joel thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard, he loved how his name sounded coming out of your mouth. he wanted you to own it, wanted his name to be yours, he felt more possessive of you than ever. he rubbed his nose against your clit, breathing in the sweet smell of you, his lips and nose getting a bit wet just from your underwear. he kissed your cunt, ripping a strangled noise from your throat and he decided he wanted much more of those sounds as he pulled your underwear down, finally letting himself give in to his need to taste you. you were practically screaming his name as the cool air hit your clit.

joel didn’t waste time in spreading your legs wider and making them ache from the stretch, pulling your ass slightly into the air as he planted his lips right onto your core. his tongue licked one stripe from your clit down to where your arousal pooled. you tasted like peaches and heaven, and joel pulled you impossibly closer, he could barely breathe through his nose but it didn’t matter not when you tasted like everything he’d ever wanted and your ichor was painted on the back of his teeth. as much as he drank you in, the more you bloomed for him. you were squirming and screaming his name, begging for him to stop or keep going you weren’t sure. you could only think of his name, only feel him and only breathe him. his mustache and beard grated against your most sensitive parts, making you clench around him. joel’s tongue was inside you drinking you in like you were water and he was stuck in the desert for days. the sounds his mouth produced were obscene and they did nothing but drive you closer to your orgasm. you were rocking on his tongue, never having felt this good before. as you got closer, joel pulled out, his tongue still on your hole as his nose ground your clit. you cried at the feeling, fingers interweaving with his hair and tugging him against you. joel got the idea and brought his hand up to tease your clit as he went back to feasting on you. you felt yourself grow close, pulling his face against you, as you whined out his name. you came undone on his tongue, twitching into his mouth and joel drank in the wave of arousal it produced, never being satiated enough. finally when you were too sensitive for his tongue you tugged on his hair. joel removed his mouth with a pop and a string of your cum and his saliva connected him to you. his beard and mustache were glistening with your ichor and you felt arousal wash over you all over again, you still wanted to taste him, wanted his lips against yours and so you wove your hands around his neck and sat up to meet him halfway. joel climbed up, you wove your legs around his hips. joel’s lips were rough against you, but they tasted like you and you moaned into his lips. joel kissed you fervently as if he had not just tasted you, like it wasn’t enough and his facial hair rubbed against your skin. your cum was coating both of your faces by the time you pulled back for air. joel put more of his weight against you and you felt his clothed hard on press against your core, making you whine and grab at his shirt to pull him closer. “joel please, want you inside.”

just from what you felt pressed against you, you knew he was big and you salivated at the feeling. you were getting wet just thinking about having him inside you. joel watched your fucked out expression and puffy lips and decided against his urge to fuck you even dumber. he told himself he had time, you weren’t like the others, this was different you wouldn’t just disappear.

“next time, doll, can you come for me again?” you nodded, tears welling in your eyes as desire mixed with your need to be close to him. joel moved off of you, drawing a whimper from you, he interwove his fingers with yours, calming your nerves and you sighed contently. joel didn’t know how you could be so damn endearing and seductive at the same time. with his free hand he pushed you up the bed by your hip, until you were sitting up with your back against the bed-frame. he found his home between your legs, spreading one with his hand the other still holding yours. he used his knee to press against the inner flesh of your thigh, pinning it there and stretching you wide open. you whined at the feeling, although he was the one between your thighs you felt caged in. he was towering over your frame as your back pressed against the cold metal frame. finally when the whine left your mouth, he let go of your hand moving it south as he looked you in the eyes. his hand teased the seam of your cunt, he chuckled at the feeling of you so wet all over again. there was a bead of arousal at your opening, ready for him to please you all over again. he couldn’t get enough of you. without any warning he pressed two fingers into you, plunging them deep and feeling you clench around them. Your breath came out in a huff as you looked up to him with desperation in his eyes. joel curled his fingers facing his palm upwards as he felt for the spot that made you unravel and when he did you struggled against his grasp and pushed against his knee to close on his hands. you gasped out his name and joel laughed at the tears forming in your eyes. he plunged into your soaking cunt again and again. setting a brutal pace and just when you felt close enough he slowed down, he shut up your babbling with a harsh kiss to your mouth. it was teeth and tongues clashing against each other, but the desire and desperation you felt was reciprocated in the way he kissed you. you kissed until your lungs screamed for air and when you were about to pull away, joel plunged three fingers into, you gasped into his mouth. pulling away as your eyes rolled to the back of your head and joel littered your neck with kisses and bites. he marked you as he wanted, made sure everyone knew who you belonged to. you were gushing around his fingers, he added a fourth finger and you screamed his name. if the blooming marks on your neck weren’t enough, the whole community would hear your screams. you started begging when he abused the spot that made your mind go blank, all you could feel was intense burning desire and all you could say was “please joel.” like it was a prayer.

your prayers were answered when his thumb ground against your clit and you came on his hand. you slumped forward, joel catching you as he moved his hand from your thigh and brought his soaked fingers up to his mouth. he wanted to memorize your taste, licking his fingers clean before pressing a kiss to your lips. you let him kiss you, you were spent now and your mind numb from pleasure. joel helped you lay down and cleaned you up as much as he could, he put your underwear in his pocket, he had to deal with his hard-on after you fell asleep. joel combed his fingers through your hair, as you relaxed into the bed. you fell asleep breathing in the scent of his shampoo on the pillow-sheet and the feeling on his fingertips scraping your scalp.

#joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #tlou fanfiction #tlou joel #joel miller fanfiction

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grandlinedreams · 5 months

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Ok I loved the whole reader is Kid’s/Killer’s sister. And I can just imagine her and Kid not getting along, and when the heart pirates and kid pirates run into each other, reader and Kid are like two cats fighting. Then Killer picks reader up under her arms like a kitten, and hands her to Law, all like, “this is yours”.

Could you make this happen please? 😭😭

I told myself I wouldn’t send anymore requests till they went down a bit more, but this scenario wouldn’t leave my head, and I wanted to see it come to life with your words. Asdfghjkl I’m sorry 😅

LMAO YES i loved writing it 🥺 but also don't apologize bb, I got you!!

[Heads up!: semi/non-canon compliant (idk either around Sabaody or in the 2 year ts), established relationship, sibling antics (Reader and Kid), cursing, silliness]

You love your brother, you swear that you do. You've stuck with him through thick and thin and at the end of the day, woe to anyone who tries to hurt him while you're around.

That being said, however, that doesn't necessarily mean that you like your brother or his general attitude towards anyone that isn't part of his crew.

Part of you gets it, truly ㅡ there's been plenty of skepticism and mockery when it comes to Kid and his goal in life. Finding the One Piece is a pretty lofty ambition, but you have no doubts your brother has the determination it takes. He's hostile because of it though, less keen on asking questions and more on the offensive ㅡ and his attitude towards Law's crew is no different.

Perhaps it's made worse, actually, for the fact that you're currently in a relationship with Law. Something your brother knows, and hates. Which is why you've found yourself, predictably, in another argument with him.

Anger boils in your veins as you raise your voice to match Kid's. "Stop treating me like I'm an idiot! I'm a grown adult!"

"Then act like it, damn it!" Your brother snaps back. "I don't have time to babysit you anyways!"

"Nobody asked you to, youㅡ" You yelp as hands hook under yours, your feet leaving the ground as you're lifted up. You know who it is, the only one besides Kid who'd dare to lift you like this in the first place. "Killer, put me down. Now."

The masked pirate ignores your demand, unbothered by the way you squirm in his hold before he sets you down in front of the Law and a handful of his crew, who've been watching this shitshow go down silently.

"This one is all yours," Killer tells Law, hand on your head and ignoring the way you swat at his touch, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted in annoyance. "For now."

"You can't just hand me off like I'm a package," you grumble, "are you that desperate to get rid of me? I didn't even do anything wrong!"

"Not getting rid of you," Killer cuts in, "just giving you some time away from Kid. I think you both need it."

Ever the voice of reason against his captain, Killer has a point ㅡ you could do with a couple weeks (or more) away from your brother and his crew, and who better to hand you off to?

You're sure Kid could think of better (or worse) people to leave you with, but all he does is scowl, silented by the firm steer of Killer back the way they'd come.

You watch your brother and his crew retreat, the scene not unfamiliar even as you sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. "How mad do you think they'd be if I stayed with you permanently?"

You don't raise your voice and it's not quite an intentional needle to Kid, but he still comes to a halt and glares at you over his shoulder. "I heard that," he snaps, "don't even think about it!"

You adopt a face of innocence that lasts just long enough for your brother to turn back around, then glance at Law, who tilts his head. "The offer does stand," he says, even though there's a teasing gleam to his eyes that you grin at.

"I don't think I'll be truly leaving my crew anytime soon," you say as Law's own crew heads back towards the Polar Tang, and you wait until they've gone to snag your fingers in the front of Law's shirt, tugging playfully. "But I could be convinced to stay a little longer."

#ㅡmine.#one piece scenario #one piece x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law x reader #–ml: law.

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eddies-ashtray · 1 year

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When The Rain Starts To Pour ⌂ Chapter 1: The One Where Eddie Hates Paul

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Pairing: Eddie x Fem!Reader

Chapter Preview:

“You smoke?” You ask, pointing at the cigarette held delicately between his index and middle fingers. You’re feeling a little awkward for some reason. Maybe because you’re not used to Eddie being silent.

Eddie sniffs, says, “Yeah. Trying to quit.” Then snuffs out the half-smoked stick by crushing it against the concrete. He knows the habit might bother you. It bothers the others as well; Nancy has called it a ‘cancer stick’, Steve has often taken to flushing his cigs in protest, and Robin simply informs him that it stinks. He also knows that you have your date with Paul tonight, and as much as he dislikes the guy, he doesn’t want you smelling of smoke for your date.

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you.

There’s a lull then, in which Eddie wonders why you might have come out here. From the sounds of your prior conversation with Robin, you need to start getting ready for your date soon. Why come out here just to stand around with him in the cold?

CW: Brief discussion of financial struggles, vague talk of poor parental relationship (not necessarily abusive though), jealousy, loneliness, reader talks of being unhappy in her previous life circumstances, probably lots of bad jokes, poorly concealed Friends references, age gap (between reader and Paul), lots of tropes, non-canon compliant (duh—but also the upside-down does not exist), kinda pervy/douchey behaviour from Paul (nothing crazy though, just generally douchey).

WC: 17.4k

A/N: Ah! It’s finally here! I am so so so excited to share this first chapter with you after so long. I really hope it lives up to expectations. I just wanna note that while writing, I imagined the coffee shop and the apartments from Friends, so the decor and layout of each of those places are pretty much the exact same in my descriptions of them. Here’s a link to the apartments and coffee shop layouts if you’re interested. Also, I am going to do the best I can to make this era- and setting-appropriate, but keep in mind that I was not born in the 90s, nor am I from New York City (or the US in general), so there may be some inaccuracies. Anyway, enough of my rambling, happy reading!!

Series Masterlist

Read it on ao3

Next Chapter [coming soon]

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“I’m so broke it’s not even funny! Like, seriously, look,” Robin exclaims before placing her mug of tea on the coffee table and proceeding to lean back awkwardly on the couch so she can turn her pockets out. They are indeed empty–a metaphorical sign of her poverty.

Nancy clicks her tongue from her spot on a sage green chair next to the couch, reaching over to place a coaster under Robin’s steaming mug.

It’s a relatively quiet Saturday afternoon at The Ugly Mug, only a couple other patrons milling about and occupying the various other seats around the small establishment. There’s a short woman with long, thin braids seated by the large front window and a stout man in a purple beanie sitting on one of the stools near the coffee bar. There’s also been the occasional patron coming in to pick up a to-go order–bringing in with them a rush of chilly November air–before rushing back out the dark wooden doors.

“I’m fucking screwed. I can’t afford that big, stupid place alone,” Robin complains, retrieving her tea from the table after she’s tucked her pockets back into her jeans.

“You could always get a second job,” Eddie offers from the opposite end of the couch, an oversized red mug half-full of very sugary coffee in hand. “Ya know, moonlight as a rockstar like some of the rest of us?”

Robin rolls her eyes at his over-exaggeration and looks over at him as she replies, “Don’t you guys get, like, one gig per month?”

“No…We get two gigs per month,” Eddie corrects like the disparity between her answer and his had been larger than it was.

When he realizes that his correction wasn’t much of a correction, he adds, slightly more helpful this time, “But it’s better than just working in the restaurant. At least I get a little extra every month.”

Robin sighs. “I guess…But it’d suck to double my exhaustion just to take another job I hate. At least your second job is something you love...I wish I could get, like, a raise or something,” She complains, head falling back against the couch in frustration.

From beside her, Steve’s hand lands on her shoulder, placing his own mug of coffee on the table before doing so. “Why don’t you-”

“No,” She replies before he can finish.

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!” Steve defends and Robin lolls her head to the side to shoot him a deadpan stare.

“I am not putting an ad in the newspaper,” She states plainly.

“It’s a strategy! How else would you find a roommate?”

“I agree with Robin,” Nancy pipes up from Robin’s other side. “It’s not safe, Steve. There’s so many freaks out there; you don’t know who you’re inviting into your home.”

“I live with a freak and I’m fine,” Steve jokes.

“Hey!” Eddie exclaims, mildly offended, and slaps Steve on the arm halfheartedly. “It’s been six years, Harrington, when are you gonna stop calling me that?”

“How about never!” Steve bites back childishly. All too quickly their civilized conversation about Robin’s living situation devolves into an immature argument between two grown men. It’s almost surprising how they manage to live together and not tear each other’s heads off. Despite their silly arguments though, they surprisingly get along quite well–most of the time.

“Hey! Can we get back on topic, please?” Nancy interrupts, mildly anxious about the eyes of the other patrons on them. Normally, she wouldn’t let others’ judgment get to her; she’s aware that she hangs around a pretty rowdy group of adults, but it’s so quiet in here today and she’d like to keep it that way.

“Actually, I’m perfectly content right in the middle of this. I could use a distraction,” Robin says, settling into the couch beside the two bickering men.

Sighing contentedly, Robin gets comfortable and shuts her eyes, the soft light of the café causing the back of her eyelids to glow a soft orange. The boys’ bickering continues to her right as Nancy reaches over from her left to squeeze her hand in reassurance. Robin opens her eyes again to turn to her and gives her a tight-lipped smile.

“I need a roommate,” she concludes, tone solemn. Nancy’s lips part, about to impart some advice when-

The small golden bell above the door tinkles its charming chime as it opens, and in rushes the late November bite, and a frazzled-looking young woman. As she enters the space, she makes such a commotion that Robin startles and turns to take a look at who’s causing the ruckus. The others turn to the door as well (including Steve and Eddie whose bickering has now ceased altogether due to the interruption).

In her tow is one large suitcase, in her hand is a large black trash bag (the plastic material stretching into a grey colour in some areas), and on her back is a large backpack (stuffed so full that the biggest pocket isn’t even zipped all the way).

It must have begun to rain at some point during their hours’ long stay at the coffee shop because the woman appears to be quite damp without an umbrella or hood on her jacket.

Finally, Robin's eyes land on the woman’s face. In a shock, she realizes that she recognizes her. However, seeing as none of her friends are acquainted with the woman, they’re rather occupied by the seemingly magical appearance of this person who looks to be in need of a place to stay at the exact moment that Robin expressed her need for a roommate. The four of them gawk at the woman with the luggage for a moment until someone can’t help himself and must break the silence to acknowledge the absurdity of the situation.

“And I want to be rich and famous!” Eddie exclaims, gesturing widely to the door. Unfortunately, his wish does not manifest as Robin’s had.

Robin passes her tea to Steve, who takes it without question as she stands from her spot on the couch, passing Nancy as she rounds it. The woman is at the counter now, though as Robin nears her, the woman is not ordering a coffee or any other warm beverage.

“Excuse me? Do you know-” You begin, but before you can finish asking the café employee about your friend's whereabouts, you feel a soft tap on your shoulder.

“Y/N?”

Immediately, you recognize her voice and turn around. Many summers and phone calls throughout your childhood and teen years had familiarized you with it.

Once you’re face-to-face, relief releases the tension you’d been holding in your shoulders. After over 12 hours of driving across the country (maybe more, you stopped keeping track at some point), countless times getting lost (your sense of direction completely failing you, even with the aid of a map and any living soul you came across), many pit stops at dank, shady rest stops, and a lot of fast food later, you’re just happy to see a familiar face.

“Robin! Thank God! I went to your apartment-” you begin, eager to recount the story of your travels.

“My apartment?” Robin asks, confused that you’d known her address.

“-but you weren’t there! And I almost left to look for you myself, but then your neighbour saw me knocking and told me I could probably find you here-”

“My neighbour?”

“-and I thought, ‘It’s worth a shot,’, so I dragged all my shit back down the stairs and through the stupid rain and you’re here! But, come to think of it, I don’t even know why I brought all this stuff up with me instead of just leaving it in the car. Like, that was sort of presumptuous of me to show up at your door with a bunch of luggage, but I guess it probably wouldn’t have been a great idea to leave it in that parking garage anyway,” You finish your rambling, out of breath now and slightly lightheaded.

That was likely an inappropriate way to greet her after all this time, but you find that you’re exhausted from your travels and electrified with adrenaline from your impulsive decision to come to New York.

At first, it was nice to get out and stretch your legs after spending half a day in your car, and walk around this new city in search of Robin’s apartment, but now you could just collapse right here on this scuffed hardwood floor.

Robin’s brows furrow as she tries to process your word vomit, but still cannot find an answer for her biggest question. Though she’s concerned that one of her neighbour’s so easily gave away her location to a stranger who was banging on her door and curious to know how you’d found her apartment, she’s more interested in your story for now. In learning what got you here after all this time.

“Why are you here? I mean-it-it’s great to see you, but, um-why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?” Robin suggests, leading you gently towards the couch.

“Okay. Yeah, that sounds great,” You agree, navigating carefully around velvet-upholstered stools with your bags in hand.

A man with long hair and tattoos stands from the couch to take a seat on a chair to his right in order to accommodate you as Robin helps you place your bags on the floor next to the woman with the curly hair and high cheekbones.

Finally, you sit down on the plush orange couch next to a happy looking guy with gorgeous, voluminous hair. He smiles at you kindly once you’re settled in and you breathe out, willing yourself to relax so you can attempt to coherently explain your situation to your friend and, apparently, these strangers.

Their eyes on you make you nervous, but once Robin takes her seat next to you, you feel more at ease.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Robin reassures as she tucks her legs underneath herself on the couch. You nod, taking one more deep breath and collecting your thoughts before beginning.

“So-I know this is, like, totally crazy that I just kinda showed up here out of the blue after, what? 5, 6 years?” You begin nervously, looking to Robin for confirmation on how long it’s been since you last saw each other. She nods after turning her body to face you.

“But I just–I don’t know if you’ve ever felt like this but–I felt like I was on autopilot or something, just kind of drifting through my days: going to work at a boring job with boring people, coming home to my shitty apartment, going to sleep, and doing it all over again and again and again.”

In your periphery, you notice a few of them nodding in agreement and feel relieved at their earnest validation. It gives you the strength to continue your story.

“And one day I guess I woke up? I realized that I hated where I was, who I was with, what I was doing, what I wasn’t doing. I just sort of…panicked. I knew I couldn’t stay there–in that life and that apartment cause it was, like, a total shithole-”

“Why was it a shithole?” A voice interrupts from your right; The One With The Tattoos. You’d been so into your story for those 30-some-odd seconds that you nearly forgot that it was more than just Robin you were venting to. He seems genuinely curious and well-meaning, so you’re not perturbed by his interruption, only surprised, which is what causes you to pause before answering his question.

In the moment you take before you respond, you clock the bat tattoo on his forearm (though you’d recognized his inked skin earlier, you hadn’t examined the art close enough to discern what the tattoos were of), among a smattering of many other patchwork tattoos, and hope you remember to ask him about it later (if there is a later with these people–there’s all the chance that Robin could send you packing).

Finally, you shake off your surprise and respond, “Well, aside from the fact that my apartment was definitely mold-infested and my building had a serious rat problem, my landlord was a total creep.”

“Yeah, that’ll do it,” He agrees, brows furrowing.

“Yeah. So, I just couldn’t live there anymore, or go back to work, and I definitely was not about to go back home to live with my mother–phone calls once a week are already more than I can handle, I don’t think I could take her constant scrutiny for more than 30 minute increments,” You explain, scoffing lightly. “But, um-” You stutter, looking down at your lap and pulling at the skin of your hand absentmindedly.

“Anyway…I panicked and I decided that I needed to get out of there as soon as possible, so two weeks ago, I put in my two weeks at work and pretty much packed up my whole life into my car and started driving without a destination…And then I remembered hearing that you’d moved to New York a few years back,” You recall, gesturing to Robin, who smiles warmly back at you.

“So I looked you up in the phone book and when I found your name I just felt like it was the right thing? Which I know sounds kinda kooky, but it was the first good feeling I’d had about something in a long time, so I just decided that I needed to trust it,” You conclude, squeezing your hands in your lap. “And I know it’s a lot to ask of you, especially since it’s been so long, but…is there any chance at all that you might need a roommate?”

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When you step inside the apartment, you immediately love the place. For one, it’s bigger than your old apartment and even has a pretty sizable balcony (that can only be accessed through a window). To your left is the kitchen with exposed brick, a simple small table with four mismatched chairs surrounding it in the middle.

Just past the modest kitchen is the living area, which is just as eclectically decorated as the kitchen with a sofa, a fluffy looking armchair and an armless chair adjacent to each other, a coffee table, and a television set sitting atop a sideboard. Two doors are on either side of the living room. To the left of the living room is a large window (complete with a cozy looking window seat) which looks out onto the balcony.

You marvel at the place as Robin leads through the apartment, the rest of the crew following in behind you two before the door slams shut and you enter what appears to be a bedroom slash storage space. Despite the bed in the middle, there are things strewn about on the floor, seemingly haphazardly tossed in here and forgotten about.

After introductions to the group (you now know their names and the fact that Eddie and Steve live across the hall, while Nancy lives a few blocks away), Robin had informed you the available room at her place might be a bit of a mess since she’s been using it as storage space for a while. The only guests she has live close by enough that sleepovers were a rarity.

“So, this’ll be your room,” Robin explains, rolling your bursting suitcase inside it. Steve enters last, dropping your trash bag full of clothes to the yellow-ish hardwood floor and you do the same with your backpack.

It’s a fairly nice room; a simple square spacious enough to fit the queen size bed and a side table, while also allowing extra room still for a chest of drawers and vanity (which you will eventually add to the room).

Though anything without rats, mold, and a creepy landlord would be an improvement, this place is a definite upgrade from your last and you find yourself containing a joyous squeal as you take it all in. You’ve never been a fan of change–enjoying the comfort of familiarity instead–and have always agonized over every decision you’ve made, but for once, you have no doubts about your decision to come here. This actually feels like the first real decision you have ever made.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

When Steve opens the building's front door, the smell of fresh rain and pavement hangs in the air, an oddly nostalgic scent. It reminds you of childhood, of early mornings at summer camp with Robin.

The sun hangs low and bright orange in the sky–it’s getting late so you’ll probably only be able to make one trip to your car and back before the sun goes down, and then have to collect the rest of your things tomorrow.

Though you grabbed as much as you could carry from your car (which remains parked in a garage about three blocks away) before going in search of Robin’s apartment, you obviously couldn’t take everything with you, so the bags you just dropped off at your new place were only a fraction of the things packed away in your vehicle.

Robin’s friends kindly offered to help you drag the rest of your belongings back to her apartment. Since none of them have a car, and it is apparently nearly impossible to find parking in this city, you have no choice but to carry everything back by hand.

You lead the way to the parking garage, Robin at your side and the rest of the gang following behind you.

As you walk through the city, past storefronts, HELP WANTED signs in windows, and people with briefcases in long coats and giant scarves walking briskly like they have someplace important to be, you’re reminded of an imperative piece of information.

“Robin?” You say as you cross the street.

“Hm?”

“I don’t have a job here.”

The whole reason Robin was looking for a new roommate in the first place was because she can no longer afford her place on her own. And you, as her new roommate, have been recruited to help solve that problem for her. But without a job, and a bank account that is less than impressive, you’re on the clock to find a new job–and fast.

“You can work at Hannigan’s with Eddie and I!” She offers excitedly, her hand smacking your arm in her enthusiasm. Sorry! She apologizes quickly before continuing: “We’ve been working there forever, I can put in a good word for you with the owner.”

“That sounds great…But what’s ‘Hannigan’s’?” You ask, because in her haste to offer a solution to your little problem, she had left out vital information. Eddie pipes up from the rear and steps forward so he can walk in step with you and Robin as he answers your question.

The way the sun hits him from behind outlines his body in a soft orange halo, causing his long hair to shine in the early evening light. This lighting softens his features, making him look angelic and pretty as his pale skin glows. You find yourself content watching him as he speaks.

“It’s one of those fancy upscale restaurants. The tips are usually pretty good, but sometimes you gotta endure some light harassment to get them,” Eddie explains, and when he sees the apprehensive look on your face, he jumps to reassure you: “Sometimes we get to take home leftovers though.”

“By ‘get to take’, he means steal,” Steve corrects and you look to Robin for confirmation.

She just shrugs. “They’d go to waste anyway.”

“I guess I’ll just have to invest in some armour, then,” You say, implying that physical armour could somehow protect you from rude customers. Eddie smiles at that, a dimple carving into his cheek. Briefly, you note how charming his smile is, but before you can stare too long, Robin grabs your attention by lightly elbowing you.

“Don’t worry, snooty rich people can’t be as bad as Harrington's snotty children,” She says.

“Oh! You have kids?” You wonder, turning to Steve as he strides along casually a few steps behind you, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets.

“No, not yet. I work at one of the preschools in the area,” Steve supplies.

“Oh, nice. You like working with kids?” You wonder.

His answer is apparent on his face which lights up instantly at the question. “Love it. The kids are really great, and so much more capable than people give them credit for! People are quick to dismiss kids, especially four and five year olds, but they understand more than you think.” Steve rambles, his passion clear.

“Hey, is this the garage?” Robin asks, bringing your attention back to the task at hand.

It is. The place you left your car a mere two hours ago, nervous and unsure of what came next. But now you have a new place, something akin to a job offer, and three kind strangers and one old friend by your side.

Once you reach your car–which is parked all the way on the top floor–you unlock the back seat doors.

“Okay, so, let’s try to grab all the stuff from the front and maybe a few things from the back?” You suggest, then move to unlock the trunk of your car where the boys stand.

“Jesus. How did you pack all this shit in here?” Eddie asks, marvelling at the trunk of your car which is stuffed full of most of your belongings.

“Are we about to find your kitchen sink packed away in here, or what?” Steve adds.

“Uh, I don’t know, really,” You say, answering Eddie’s question. “I packed it all up so quickly I didn’t really notice how much stuff it actually was, but it’s like my entire apartment is stuffed into this trunk.” You say, and it kind of is. You’re surprised your trunk could even shut with how crowded it is.

Robin and Nancy grab the remaining bags from the back seat, while you and the guys grab a couple boxes from the trunk. Then you lock up and start back to your new apartment.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Your first thought when you gain consciousness in your bed is a thought that no one would ever want to have—especially not before eight in the morning. Someone has broken into my apartment.

Your eyes shoot open, staring up at the ceiling–your new ceiling! In your new apartment! That you’ve lived in now for a solid 48 hours. But your time here may be cut short if the intruder has plans that involve you and a knife.

You know for a fact that it is not Robin because you share a wall with her and can hear her shuffling around her room getting ready for the day, and the person out in your living room right now definitely opened your front door and is now shuffling around out there.

Thud.

What the fuck was that?

Most people in your situation might freeze in fear and simply lie in wait for the intruder to come to them, accepting their fate. Others might run and hide. But you, on this random Tuesday in November at 7:43AM were apparently a force to be reckoned with. The Old You might have chosen one of the two above options, but New York You–the new, and hopefully improved, you–has a job interview today and are not going to let some intruder stop you from making it.

You are not about to have your fresh start end so soon. So, you carefully pull the covers off of your body and as quietly as possible get out of bed.

Inching slowly towards the door, you decide you first need a weapon to defend yourself. There’s no use going out there and meeting the intruder if you can’t protect yourself against them. However, since you’re not in the kitchen, you don’t have access to a knife or any other kitchen utensil that could be wielded as a weapon. And since many of your belongings are still packed away in bags and boxes scattered around the room, you don’t exactly have many options.

Quickly, you grab the first object you see that could potentially be used to incapacitate the intruder. Then, you very slowly reach for the handle of your door.

Twisting the handle as gently as you can manage so as not to draw attention to yourself, you begin to open the door, revealing an inch of the kitchen, then another couple inches which reveals a sliver of the living room. Heart racing wildly in your chest, you decide it’s now or never.

Bursting from your room while brandishing your weapon of choice, you let out what some may describe as a battle cry, startling the intruder in the living room. Startling them so much that they bang their head on the coffee table when they try to get up from where they’re laying on their stomach on the floor between the couch and table.

You don’t have a great view of the intruder from where you stand right outside your door, so you slowly step toward them where they lie.

The intruder groans in pain, forehead falling to rest on the rug below them as they bring a hand to the back of their head. A head with long, messy curls that you vaguely recognize.

Oh. Oh, God.

“Eddie?” You question meekly, lowering your weapon as waves of guilt crash over you.

“Uh-huh,” He replies weakly, voice muffled by the rug he’s practically eating.

“Oh, God,” You moan before placing your weapon on the table and rushing to his side. He lifts his head then, and you help him up onto the couch. He groans again as he sits back into the plush cushions and all you can do is apologize.

Taking a seat on the coffee table, you grimace at his grimace. “I am so sorry, I thought you were an intruder,” You explain, squeezing your fingers in your hand. Your heart still races in your chest.

“It’s-It’s fine, don’t worry about it. Kinda did it to myself,” Eddie jokes, still rubbing the back of his head. You nod once, biting your lip, still feeling guilty because, yeah, he technically did do it himself, but he wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stormed out of your room like a crazy person and screamed bloody murder.

As your heart slows to its normal pace, you begin to wonder what he was doing here in the first place—laying on the living room rug for that matter.

“Um, I don’t mean to be rude, but what exactly were you doing on the floor?” You ask, finally taking in his dress now that the situation has deescalated some. He wears red and black plaid pyjama bottoms and a white tank top so see-through that you catch a glimpse of dark ink beneath the material. The sight steals your breath for a moment.

“I was, uh, looking for my rings. Thought they might have fallen under the table,” Eddie supplies, drawing your eyes back up to his face. His eyes are warm and soft. God, you don’t think you’ve ever seen eyes so large and round. He looks like a baby deer or something. A cute, injured baby deer.

“Oh. Did Robin let you in?” You ask, because it doesn’t matter that he looks like a baby deer, what matters is that it is very possible that he simply let himself into your apartment and you’re not sure you’re comfortable with that just yet. I mean, you’ve only just met him and the others two days ago, and have only seen them one other time since then when they had come by to help clear out your new room.

Eddie looks like the guilty one now as he replies, “Uh, no…?”

“Sorry,” He apologizes quickly. “Let me just…try this again.”

You’re not sure exactly what he means until he stands and begins walking backwards in the direction of the front door, all the while making strange noises with his mouth that somewhat resemble the sound of rewinding a tape. He’s literally starting over, resetting, going back in time to try this again because he saw you weren’t comfortable with his uninvited presence in your apartment.

All you can do is sit and simply stare at the strange, yet comical display as Eddie awkwardly reaches behind him, opens the door, reverses out into the hallway, and shuts the door with a slam.

Too stunned to laugh for a moment, you sit in silence for approximately five seconds, thinking that might be the end of it, before a knock sounds at the front door.

You hesitate, staring at the door strangely. But you’re intrigued now by his strange display, wanting to know how it ends. So you stand and stroll over to the door, opening it to, of course, reveal Eddie, who smiles brightly at you.

“Good morning,” He greets politely. “You mind if I come in?”

Stifling a giggle, you nod. “Of course.” And open the door wider, stepping to the side to allow him space to enter. He enters swiftly and you shut the door.

Eddie saunters over to the living room once again, about to resume the search for his rings when he spots your weapon of choice sitting innocently on the coffee table where you left it. He pauses and stares at it for a moment, tilting his head, and you stare at his back as you remain in the kitchen, watching as his dark curls shift and fall to one side, cascading over his shoulders.

The presence of the weapon is new to him since it obviously was not there when he entered the apartment the first time. He also hadn’t seen it even when he’d gotten up from the floor because you’d sat on the coffee table, and therefore blocked his view of the object.

Now, Eddie wanders over to the coffee table, gingerly picking the weapon up like it’s some sort of precious antique, then spins around smoothly to face you. Holding it loosely at one end, he lets it dangle just above the hardwood floor.

Eddie raises his eyebrows at you. You stare back at him, unsure of what’s happening.

“What?” You wonder.

“What were you gonna use this for?” Eddie asks, tone humorous, and dark eyes sparkling with mirth.

“To-to defend myself against the intruder,” You answer, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious about your choice of weapon.

“With a bathrobe tie?” Eddie exclaims, shaking the flimsy terry cloth material around so the long fabric wiggles in the air.

“Y-yes!” You defend weakly.

“What were you gonna do? Spa-day me to death?”

“No! I-I thought it could be used to, like—choke someone?” You say, cringing as the words come out of your mouth.

Eddie barks a laugh. But you can tell he's not laughing at you. He simply finds the situation and your choice amusing. In the little time you’ve spent around Eddie, you don’t get the impression that he’s mean-spirited or judgmental. The exact opposite actually–to you, he’s only been accepting and kind.

“It’s creative, I’ll give you that. But not very practical,” Eddie critiques.

“My robe was hanging on my door, okay? It’s not like I had a knife in there or something,” You attempt to defend, playing along.

“Still!” He laughs incredulously.

“Let me get this straight: first, you break into my apartment, and then I very kindly invite you back in, and you insult my choice of weapon?”

Eddie seems to mull this over, recalling the events in his mind to confirm that, yes, that is indeed what has happened.

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so…Ya know, you should really talk to Harrington. He’s the king of wielding random objects as weapons. When we first moved here, he thought we were getting broken into all the time, and this one time he grabbed our floor lamp and-”

Before he can finish his story though, Robin comes out from her bedroom, dressed in some jeans and a striped long-sleeve. She makes it a few steps before she notices Eddie and you standing almost ten feet apart in the living room together, both of you still dressed in your pyjamas, and one of you grasping a purple bathrobe tie. Robin stares for a moment like she’s suspicious of something, shifting her eyes from you to Eddie and back again. They land on Eddie when she slowly asks, “What’s going on?”

“I was looking for my rings. You seen ‘em?” He explains, effectively diverting her attention from the strangeness of the situation.

“Yeah,” She nods, walking towards the kitchen again. “In the dish by the door.”

“Cool. Thanks,” Eddie says, walking towards you now. Before he walks past you to retrieve his rings though, he takes hold of the other end of the bathrobe tie, pulling it taught, and presenting it to you with a slight bow. “Your sword, m’lady.”

Grabbing the tie from him, you thank him, and he continues toward the dish by the door. Eddie’s theatrical and kind of strange, but instead of weirding you out, you find that those traits endear you to him. You’re sick of boring people and to finally be around someone who is so unapologetically themselves is refreshing. Especially someone as interesting as Eddie.

Turning around to the kitchen where Eddie is carefully rooting through the dish for his rings and Robin is grabbing a juice from the fridge, you realize something strange about what just happened. Though surprisingly, none of it has to do with Eddie.

“Um-if you were in your room getting ready, how did you not hear my scream?” You ask, because you doubt that she just didn’t hear it. You were pretty loud.

After taking a sip from the small plastic bottle, Robin explains, “Huh. I guess I’ve learned to sort of tune out the noise. Living across the hall from two idiots who barge into my apartment without warning has kind of become my new normal. Loud, sudden noises aren’t really surprising anymore.”

“It’s worrying how desensitized you are,” You reply, mostly joking.

Robin takes another sip of her juice and shrugs. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there someday.”

“Ya know, I really hope I don’t.”

Robins snorts, approaching the counter where Eddie is still picking his rings from the mess of keys and other small trinkets in the dish, and crouches down to retrieve her tote bag from the shelf below the counter. You ball up and toss your robe tie in the general direction of your room before Robin pops back up and turns to grab her juice from the table behind her.

“Okay, so I gotta go run some errands, but I should be back just after your interview,” She informs and you nod. Eddie goes to leave as well, opening the front door as Robin tells you, “Good luck, you’ll be great!” Then heads for the door as well.

Gratitude swells in your chest. Robin has been more than kind to you these past two days. Before Saturday, it had been years since you last spoke.

You and Robin were best friends at the summer camp you attended as children and remained close as you entered your teen years and later became camp counsellors at the same camp. You were the first person she ever came out to and it often felt like you shared a brain; for many years she was your sister.

Despite your living hours and hours away, you and Robin maintained your friendship during the non-summer months; talking on the phone often and mailing letters back and forth.

Eventually, though, your individual lives got busy and neither of you had the time to maintain the long-distance friendship or attend summer camp as counsellors anymore. Phone calls decreased and letters stopped being written and mailed, until eventually, your friendship fizzled out. There was no major falling out of any sort; the end of your friendship was simply the result of poor management on both ends.

You often thought about calling her up to see how she was, but it wasn’t until last week that you made the impulsive decision to contact her again. And you’re glad you did. She’s given you a new home and she even helped you set up your job interview at Hannigan’s. You’re grateful that she’s given you the opportunity to start fresh in this new city with new, interesting people, but much of your gratitude comes from the chance you now both have to breathe life back into your cherished friendship.

“Hey,” You call, causing Robin to pause and turn to you before she exits the apartment, brows expectantly raised. “I know I’ve already said it so many times, but I just want to say thank you one more time for everything you’ve done for me these past two days. And I know it’s been a long time since we’ve been friends…but you’re a really good friend.”

Robin smiles softly at you. “You’re a really good friend too. You always have been.”

It’s then you rush to her at the door where you embrace her in the biggest hug and hope the action translates the magnitude of your thankfulness and love for her.

“I’ll see you later,” She says after you part, walking out into the hallway.

You sigh.

It has been one hectic morning, and your interview starts at 10:30, so you should probably start getting ready now. But Eddie lingers in the hallway, just outside his front door.

Before you can even say anything, he preemptively apologizes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to, like, eavesdrop, but you have your interview at Hannigan’s today?”

You’re not mad though. Nothing you said was a secret. And so far, you trust Eddie. He cares about the way people around him are feeling and takes action to remedy situations where people aren’t happy or comfortable. That much is clear from this morning. It’s why you don’t dismiss him and leave to get ready. He’s a good person.

“Yeah, I do. Why?”

Eddie takes a couple steps forward so he’s standing just inside your apartment once again.

“Would it help if I gave you some tips? I’ve been working there for a while and I kinda know what they’re looking for, so-”

“That would be great!” You exclaim, because you really need this job if you want to continue living here.

Eddie just smiles brightly at your reaction as you say, “Just let me get dressed and then I’ll knock on your door when I’m ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie nods, grabbing the edge of the door on his way out to close it.

“Oh! And Eddie?” You call out just before the door shuts.

“Yeah?” He responds, popping his head back in the apartment.

“I really am so sorry about this morning.”

“It’s alright. I’m sorry for breaking in…Although you seemed pretty unprepared, so, yaknow, this was probably a good learning experience for you,” He teases, that same sparkle in his eyes that had appeared when he was questioning your weapon returning.

You bite your lip over a smile as Eddie winks at you and disappears behind the door, the heavy wood slamming softly shut.

Getting ready in record time, you end up knocking on Eddie’s door across the hall approximately one hour later, leaving more than enough time for Eddie to give you interview tips and for you to walk over to Hannigan’s to arrive early.

As you stand in the hall awaiting his answer, you feel oddly giddy, a swarm of nervous butterflies fluttering rapidly in your belly. Briefly, you think your butterflies can be explained on account of Eddie making you nervous. But you bat that thought away as you hear footsteps approaching and remind yourself that it’s more likely that your upcoming job interview has caused the butterflies.

When Eddie answers his door, you find he’s also gotten dressed in the hour since you’ve seen each other. He wears a simple black t-shirt with a band name and logo you don’t recognize on the front with a long-sleeve underneath, and some light-wash jeans. His hair is noticeably more tame, his curls flowing neatly over his shoulders. Eddie also wears the silver rings he was searching for this morning; three on one hand, and one on the other. The fluttering in your belly intensifies for a moment, but again, you bat them away.

“You wanna come in or are we gonna do this out in the hall?” Eddie jokes when you make no move to enter his apartment, unaware of this strange battle you’re having within yourself at his doorstep.

Shaking yourself free of your thoughts, you mutter a quick apology and take his joke as an invitation to enter. As you do, you realize this is the first time you’ve been inside his apartment. Which isn’t a surprising fact. You’ve only been here for two full days, and haven’t really left your apartment much since then.

His apartment is smaller and you might describe it as drab, but their decor choices are vibrant in their own way.

The kitchen is immediately to your right as you enter, a table to your left, and as you wander further into the room, a counter separates the entrance slash kitchen area from the living room. In the living room sits two black recliners and a large wood entertainment centre with a television set. On either side of this are two closed doors.

The far right side of the apartment has two windows and a red sofa sitting beneath it. Beside that is another door, this one open (revealing tiled floor and a closed shower curtain).

There isn’t much in the way of wall decoration (aside from a lone dart board hanging on the wall and a few posters), but on some of the shelves of the entertainment centre are framed photographs. Some of the photos feature what appears to be two younger versions of Steve and Eddie, presumably taken in high school. In one photo, Eddie has his arm around Steve’s shoulder and they both hold beer cans in their hands. Eddie smiles cheekily for the camera, while Steve puts on a faux grimace at his friends close proximity.

Other photos feature boys who appear to be much younger than Steve and Eddie (possibly siblings?) and there are also photos that include Robin and Nancy, some recent and others clearly taken years ago. Another includes Steve and Eddie carrying a boy with curly hair–who wears a graduation cap and gown–on their shoulders, all of them smiling widely. You can tell it's candid as they all appear to be laughing and unaware of the camera photographing them.

“Who’s this?” You ask curiously, pointing at the photo as you turn around, finding that Eddie hasn’t moved from his spot at the door and has likely been watching you inspect his living area this whole time. Suddenly you feel like you’re intruding. “Sorry, I-”

“No worries. You can look. That’s what they’re there for,” He shrugs, finally joining you in the living room.

At your side now, Eddie inspects the photo you pointed to and a fond smile crosses his face. His side profile is soft, and you spy just a hint of shaven stubble on his cheeks. It distracts you for a moment.

“Dustin,” Eddie says after a beat.

“What?” You ask dumbly, now preoccupied with the freckles you’ve spotted that dot his pale skin lightly.

You’ve never been this close to him before. All you’d have to do to get right into his personal space is take one short step forward. But of course you won’t do that. Why would you?

Eddie looks from the photograph to you. “In the picture,” He explains, nodding to the framed image. “That’s Dustin. It was taken at his high school graduation, like, two years ago? He’s a good kid…Well, he’s not really a kid anymore, but I guess it still feels like that sometimes.”

“How do you know him?” You hear yourself say. The kid looks like he’s about five years younger than Eddie and Steve, so naturally you’re curious about how they know him.

You’re supposed to be here getting pointers for your job interview, but instead, you find that you’re more interested in the details of Eddie’s life.

“Uh, we were in high school together and I had this club that he was a part of,” Eddie explains, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck awkwardly.

“What kind of club?” You wonder, electing to ignore the fact that he somehow attended high school with this kid.

He seems reluctant to provide you with an answer to your question. Up until now, he’s been a pretty open book; someone who doesn’t care what anyone thinks of him. But now all of the sudden, he’s guarded?

“I won’t judge, yaknow,” You reassure, because you won’t, but also because his reluctance to reveal what sort of club he ran makes you all the more curious to find out.

Eddie side eyes you, squinting. He must determine that your remark is genuine because he straightens up from where he’d bent slightly to view the photo and provides you with an answer.

“Ever heard of DnD? Dungeons and Dragons?”

You furrow your brows for a moment, vaguely recognizing the name, but not remembering why.

“Oh!” You exclaim after a beat. “Yes! Was that the one that people were freaking out about years ago cause they thought it caused Satanism?”

Eddie snaps his fingers as he responds, “That’s the one.”

Then, he glances back at the photograph, and you think you can almost make out memories behind his eyes. Fond ones. You lean forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes again.

“You still play?”

Your question shakes him out of his momentary reverie, and he looks to you once again. “Not as much as I used to…But Dustin and the other guys and I try to organize a couple meetings throughout the year. It’s hard though because everyone’s kinda spread out now. And busy.”

His tone is wistful as he continues to glance around at the photos sitting on the shelf. Had you just upset him? First, you assist him in banging his head against your coffee table and now you’re potentially causing him some emotional pain too! Good going.

You’re about to apologize or change the subject, but Eddie speaks before you can. “Anyway! We should probably talk about your interview now. How long do we have?”

Looking around the room to find a clock, you spot one by the door. The little hand points toward the nine and the large hand points toward the six.

“About a half hour before I should get going,” You respond, turning back to Eddie as he takes a seat on one of the recliners behind you. You sit down as well.

“Great. So…do you have any questions first?” Eddie asks, unsure where to start.

“Uh,” You say, trying to remember any questions you had, but you can’t seem to recall any as you roll up the sleeves of your thick sweater, the ink on your wrist and forearms revealed as the fabric is pulled back.

Immediately, Eddie’s eyes shoot down to the action and for the first time, he catches sight of the ink.

“I didn’t know you had tattoos,” He remarks, like it’s something he should have known. As if it’s been more than 48 hours since you met and it’s ridiculous that he didn’t know.

“Oh. Yeah,” You say absentmindedly, glancing down at your arms.

“Tip number one: your tattoos are sick, but at Hannigan’s, they aren’t exactly appreciated, so you should make sure you cover them up.”

“Gotcha,” You say, rolling your sleeves back down the length of your arms.

Suddenly you’re reminded of your first day when you spotted his inked arms. The seven bats decorating his forearm. “Um…Yours are really cool by the way,” You compliment.

Then, “When did you get your first one?” You ask, veering further off topic. You can’t seem to stop yourself and you don’t know why.

“Uh…heh,” Eddie huffs a short laugh, almost as if he’d forgotten until this very second when you’d asked him. “I think I was, like, 16, 17? I did a really shitty stick-and-poke on my leg–the initials of my band name: Corroded Coffin.”

Every new thing you learn about Eddie intrigues you. Of course this long-haired, tattoo-having, ring-wearing, Dungeons and Dragons-playing 20-something would also have been in a band. Your surprise is likely evident on your face.

“You’ll have to come to one of our gigs sometime,” Eddie invites casually, as if it’s not the most cool thing to say in the world. Eddie didn’t used to be in a band, Eddie is in a band!

“You’re still in the band?”

“Yeah, the other guys live out here too, and we do regular gigs a few times a week…but, um, what about you? When did you get your first tattoo?”

Still gaping at him, you must pick your jaw up off the ground before you can respond. Cool and humble. How is he real?

“Oh, um, I was 18…I actually got it cause I knew my mom would hate it and it would probably piss her off,” You say, a little embarrassed by that fact. You don’t know why you reveal the information to him in the first place. Maybe because for some odd reason you know he won’t tell anyone. Even still—his story was way cooler. Especially since it preceded the reveal that he’s in a band. But maybe that’s also part of the reason you share it. You want him to think you’re just as interesting as he is—though you’re not sure who would be impressed by the information you just shared.

“Did it work?” Eddie asks. To your surprise, he seems invested in your answer, leaning over the edge of the recliner's armrest. As if what you’ve said was equally as interesting as his response.

“Did what work?”

“Was she pissed?”

“Oh!” You say, like a total ditz. “Um, yeah. Big time. She hates tattoos.”

“Is that why you have all of them?”

“No, I only got the first one to make her mad. And then when I realized I really loved it, I just kept getting them,” You respond, pushing your sleeve back slightly to brush the one on your wrist with your thumb.

When you look back up at him he’s smiling softly at you, but he quickly averts his gaze and his eyes find the clock on the wall. “Shit,” He says, a little panicked. “We only have 20 minutes.”

Whipping your head around to glance at the clock, the hands confirm that it’s 20 to 10 and you’ve barely discussed what you came here to discuss.

“I guess we’ll just have to lightning round this shit,” Eddie says, determination set in his tone.

And you do lightning round this shit. In just over 20 minutes, Eddie tells you as much as he can about the owner of the restaurant—Cordelia—who is going to be interviewing you. He tells you how to sit, what to say, how to say it, anything and everything he can think of to help you secure a job at this place.

As you two stand and Eddie walks you to the door, he shoots you a few final pointers.

“Obviously it helps that you have experience working at an upscale restaurant, so, um, she’ll probably ask you about that too,” Eddie says, and you nod.

When you reach the door, you turn to him.

“Thank you so much for your help,” You say sincerely. “You really didn’t have to do this, so it means a lot that you did.”

“Of course I did,” Eddie replies, like it's just that simple. Your brows furrow. “You’re a member of this party now, and as a fellow party member, it’s my duty to help other party members out when they’re in need.”

“A ‘party member’?”

You’re sure you catch the faintest blush across his cheeks from your question.

“Sorry, uh, I guess it just means you’re one of us now…A friend,” Eddie explains.

“A friend,” You repeat. And you find the word involuntarily pulls your lips into a soft smile.

“Anyway, you should probably get going,” Eddie reminds with another glance at the clock.

“Yeah, okay,” You agree, turning to open the door. “Oh, um, where did you say the restaurant was again?” You ask when you’re out in the hallway.

“It’s um…You know what? Why don’t I just walk you there?” Eddie offers.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Eddie says with a charming smile.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Cordelia was an intense woman. Eddie had warned you of this, though you had wildly underestimated the level of intensity the woman embodied. She was tall, and wore her long, black hair up in a sleek ponytail, not a flyaway in sight. Her office was large and so neat that you thought it looked like some sort of staged set for a decor magazine.

During your interview, you learned exactly one thing about Cordelia: Cordelia does not fuck around. She did not have time for exchanging pleasantries, and a simple handshake and a “take a seat” was the only introduction she provided you with before she began the interview, which mostly felt more like a police interrogation than a job interview.

By the end, you thought you felt good about how it went, but Cordelia was hard to read. You never once saw her smile or provide you with any kind of verbal or non-verbal communication that would indicate that she was impressed with your resume or any of your answers to her questions.

It was likely one of the most strange job interviews you had ever had. It didn’t necessarily leave you full of hope as you got up from the leather upholstered chair and Cordelia informed you that you would receive a call if she decided to hire you.

Walking through the restaurant–which was void of patrons, but had some staff preparing and setting up for opening in a few hours–, you finally come to the large glass entrance doors, and push one open. The late November chill blasts you in the face immediately and the switch from the warmth of the restaurant to this shiver-worthy weather is jarring. Had it somehow dropped five degrees from when you’d walked here?

Turning right and beginning your trek back home, you hear a voice call out your name from behind you.

You ignore it at first, thinking that the person can’t be calling out to you since you know a grand total of four people so far (five if you count Cordelia—but you don’t) and surely there are other people in this massively diverse city that also have your name.

“Hey!” The voice calls again once you’ve made it no more than fifteen feet from the restaurant.

Finally, you stop walking and spin around to locate the source, and what you find surprises you.

Eddie is currently jogging toward you.

He’d waited this whole time? Out in the freezing cold? With that effortlessly cool leather jacket that is an extremely pathetic excuse for a winter coat and is definitely doing nothing to keep the warmth in?

“Hey,” He says again once he reaches you.

“Hey,” You say. “You didn’t have to wait for me, Eddie.” Because he really didn’t and you don’t want to be a burden or make him think you’re taking advantage of his kindness.

“Seeing as you’re going in the wrong direction, it’s probably a good thing I did,” Eddie tells you, nodding back in the other direction with a gentle, c’mon. You feel your face warm even as the wind whips you.

“Thanks,” You say sheepishly, walking in step with Eddie—in the correct direction now.

“So, how’d it go? Did you crush it?” He asks hopefully, head turned to look at you, and his shoulders pushed up by his red-tipped ears as though he’s trying to conserve heat.

The furrow in your brow and your soft stuttering must be enough for Eddie to understand exactly how it went, as he speaks before you can provide him with your best approximation of how the interview might have gone.

“Yeah, that’s normal with Cordelia. That woman is impossible to read,” He says, shaking his head as you both stop at a crosswalk.

“Right? Oh my God. I’m glad it wasn’t just me,” You say, relieved because that means that the interview wasn’t a total disaster. Is that what that means?

“Yeah, we call her Medusa,” Eddie remarks with a sidelong glance at you.

You snort unattractively at the nickname and just as quickly bring your hand to your face, covering your mouth as if the action could force the sound back in.

“Fitting,” You say, coughing as a cover for the noise when Eddie looks at you, brows raised, supposedly amused by your amusement.

Eddie smirks to himself, barely noticeable, before asking, “Did she say she’d call?” As you look both ways before crossing the street with many other bundled-up New Yorkers.

“Uh, yeah, why?”

“That’s a good sign,” He answers, his shoulders shaking with a sudden shiver. That simple statement allows just a little drop of hope to blossom in your chest.

“Are you cold?” You ask because he can’t not be freezing. He’s not exactly convincing you otherwise.

“Yeah. I can’t feel my fingers,” Eddie states plainly.

“Wanna jog the rest of the way?” You offer, mostly joking.

“Please,” He replies anyway.

Though you don’t exactly jog the last few blocks home, you do pick up the pace, and when you get back you make him some tea to warm him up (and hopefully bring back feeling in his fingers).

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Since your interview every time the phone rings you basically leap over any obstacles in your way to get to the phone, hoping it will be Cordelia calling about your waitressing position as Hannigan’s. But each time the phone rings and it’s a telemarketer, or the bank, or anyone other than Medusa herself, you lose just a little more of that small inkling of hope you allowed yourself to have.

At present, you sit on the couch in the living room beside Robin while you eat noodles; the rest of the Chinese spread sitting on the coffee table in front of you or in the laps of Steve, Eddie, and Robin.

On the plush chair to your left sits Steve who is currently chowing down on some dumplings while staring with rapt attention at the television, and Eddie–who announced his newfound aversion to normative seating options upon his arrival in your home–sits on the floor by your socked feet.

Though the TV is on, you aren’t really paying attention. It’s been just over a week now since you moved in and one week to the day since your interview, and by now you’ve lost all hope.

Privately, you decided that you would call time of death on this potential job by the end of today and start searching for a new one tomorrow. You know there’s plenty of other jobs out there, but the prospect of working with Robin and Eddie had excited you and made you a whole lot less anxious about working in this new city.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Hope surges inside of you despite your intentions of abandoning it. Suddenly, you feel three sets of eyes on you. Even Steve—who had been incredibly invested in the lifeguards running in slow motion on the television screen—looks at you now.

They all knew you’d been waiting for the call. They also knew that you hadn’t received one. Not the one, at least. You wish you had time to get up and answer the phone that sits on the side table in your bedroom because you’d really rather not admit to them that it’s simply another telemarketer.

Since you don’t have the time to reach the phone in your bedroom though, you pull in a deep breath, reach over the sofa arm, and pick up the landline that sits on the glass end table.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Cordelia Hannigan from Hannigan’s-”

And after that you think you black out. Because you don’t hear anything after that. Because this is the happiest you’ve ever been about getting a call about a job. Which sounds ridiculous since it’s just a waitressing job. But it represents so much more. It’s the seal that cements your place in this city with these people. It represents your new beginning.

With that realization you decide that you should probably listen to your new beginning. Trying your best to tune into Cordelia’s words, you hear her throwing words and phrases around like strict dress code and uniform and training and first shift. When she’s done, you tell her thank you, and return the phone to the base, hanging it up with a resolute click.

Three sets of eyes remain on you and your frozen body. When you don’t say anything after one second of hanging up, they get restless.

“So?” Steve prompts, leaning forward in his chair in anticipation.

“Was it Medusa?” Robin asks from your side.

You nod slowly, not believing it yourself. “Uh-huh…I got the job.”

“You got the job!” They all shout in freaky unison. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You think you hear Steve mutter déjà-vu to himself as Robin and Eddie continue their cheering and congratulating.

“I-I start training this week and my first shift next week,” You inform.

And then Eddie’s shouting, “Speech, speech, speech!” with his hands cupped over his mouth as if you’re much further away from him.

“Alright, alright!” You acquiesce as the others join his chant, putting your noodles down on the coffee table and getting up to stand in front of the television.

“Um, I guess I just want to thank all of you,” You begin, feeling suddenly sincere, but still maintaining a note of jest. “I couldn’t have done it without all of you. Steve, you helped me transport and unpack most of my shit. And I have a lot of shit.”

He nods in agreement. “And I couldn’t have focused on prepping for the interview if I was worried about my stuff sitting in my car in that garage, so thank you…Robin, you helped me set up the interview with Cordelia-”

“Medusa,” Robin and Eddie correct simultaneously.

“Medusa,” You correct yourself. “And you also recommended me for the position. So, thank you…And last, but certainly not least, Eddie,” You say, smiling softly when you catch his eye. He smiles right back at you, that charming dimple appearing on his face as he does.

“Without your pointers I probably would not have made it through the interview without being turned to stone.”–Eddie snorts–“And I also probably would have gotten completely lost and wandered into the East River if you hadn’t been there when I left. So, thank you…” You tell him sincerely, the partially joking tone you had maintained throughout your cheesy speech erased completely now since your gaze had fallen on him.

“Good night, New York!” You finish, trying to play up the cheesiness now to divert from the seriousness that had snuck into your tone, and you bow dramatically as Robin and Eddie clap and woop. But Steve, you notice, is glancing oddly as Eddie.

You laugh as you take your seat, plucking your cardboard box of noodles off the table as you go.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“Robin!” You hear Steve call from out in the living room, his voice muffled slightly through your closed bedroom door. “The door!”

Robin’s door creaks open before you hear her exit her bedroom.

“You couldn’t have gotten it?” She complains as she walks through the apartment to answer the door.

“No. Baywatch is on,” Steve replies like his answer needs no further explanation. You snicker to yourself as you button up your pressed, white uniform shirt. You swear you can hear Robin’s eyes rolling.

Baywatch was Steve’s favourite TV show; he never missed an episode—except for last week when a meeting at his school ran longer than expected and he’d called Robin to get her to tape it for him. He decided that now–while you were both getting ready to leave for work–was the perfect time to come over and watch it (instead of taking the tape back to his place since your TV is better anyway).

The apartment's front door–which remains perpetually unlocked when you and Robin are home–opens and you listen closely to hear who it might be while you work on tucking your shirt into your formal black dress pants.

“Oh. Hey, Eddie,” You hear Robin greet, though it sounds more like a question with the confusion lacing her tone.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his footsteps tapping against the faux hardwood as Robin shuts the door with a loud slam.

With a quick glance over at your alarm clock, you find that it’s almost time to leave. The realization sends nervous butterflies to flight in your belly. Tonight is your very first shift at Hannigan’s.

Last week you had your training, which was nerve-wracking, but tonight was the real thing. Tonight you would be earning your first dollar, receiving your first tip, suggesting wine pairings, and probably dealing with rude customers. And all of it makes you nervous.

It’s scary for so many reasons, for more reasons than just the fact that new jobs (no matter what they are) are always scary. It’s scary because it’s the next step in the process of making a new–hopefully better–life for yourself here. For that reason, you want it to go well. But you aren’t sure what ‘well’ really means in this situation.

“Y/N!” Robin calls, shaking you from your thoughts. “Cab’s here!”

Blowing out a quick breath, and trying your best to shake out your nerves, you grab your jacket and bag and exit your bedroom, still feeling those butterflies, but determined not to let them shake you. At least not too much.

Leaning against the now open apartment door is Eddie who’s dressed in the same black dress pants and white button-up as you and Robin. He shoots you an easy smile as you emerge from your room, and you smile back.

His long hair, which he usually lets flow over his shoulders in soft waves, is now tied in a low bun. He’s missing his usual chunky silver rings and all his tattoos are hidden beneath his sleeves and a highly buttoned collar.

Though it’s strange to see him stripped of his unique accessories, you find yourself scrolling your eyes over his body. With his hair away from his face, his features are highlighted, revealing the strong line of his jaw and making his eyes appear somehow larger.

As your eyes move down his body, you note the way his arms look in the button up, how his thighs fill out the dress pants. You find yourself missing his rings though. Something twists in your belly, though this time it’s not nerves.

“Ready?” Robin’s voice asks, once again shaking you from your thoughts. She must notice that you weren’t entirely there, that you were lost in your thoughts because she stops shoving things into her bag to ask: “You okay?”

Ripping your gaze away from Eddie and turning to Robin, you reply, “Yeah!” in a voice much higher than your own. You cough quickly as a cover and repeat your words, sounding much less caught out the second time.

“Okay,” Robin drawls suspiciously. “Well, we should really get down to the cab now cause we probably have about 60 seconds before they decide to leave and force us to brave the windchill ourselves,” She informs, pulling her jacket on and shoving her tote bag over her shoulder. “Alright, you’ll lock up and we’ll see you at the coffee house afterwards?” Robin asks Steve.

“Yeah, sure,” He replies absentmindedly from where he’s glued to the sofa.

“Shit, I should probably get my keys then,” You mutter. If they’re going to the coffee house after your shift, then you can’t rely on Robin unlocking the door for you if you’re not together when you get home.

Before you can walk back to your room to retrieve your keys though, Steve pipes up. You’re pretty sure it’s the first time he’s taken his eyes off the television since he got here.

“Wait, you’re not coming?” He asks, his body twisted to look at you with his arm draped over the back of the couch.

“Oh,” You reply dumbly because ‘we’ apparently included you. You were a part of the ‘we’ Robin meant. ‘We’, as in Robin, Eddie, Steve, and you.

It’s not like they haven’t been welcoming since you got here, but it’s only been a few weeks and they’ve been friends and neighbours for years; you thought it might take them longer to accept you into the group since they’re so solid. A part of you felt like they might still see you as an outsider; someone who doesn’t get invited to their after-work coffee shop hangouts just yet. But they’d expected you to come. Sometime within the last couple weeks you became a part of their definition of ‘we’.

“No, I’ll come,” You confirm with a nod in an attempt to appear casual about the invite.

“Awesome,” Steve says, turning back to the television.

“Guys!” Robin shouts and you realize then that she’s no longer in the apartment. Eddie pokes his head out into the hall as Robin says, “Come on, the cab is waiting!”

“Yep, coming,” Eddie says and you follow right behind him, feeling so many things all at once. Nervous about your shift, excited about being invited to the coffee house, and another thing for Eddie that you can’t quite name just yet.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

The fast-paced environment of Hannigan’s is overwhelming, and while normally it might frazzle you, you find that you don’t mind it nearly as much as you thought you might. It’s definitely a different environment than your last job–a desk job that only promoted boredom within you–, but the new challenge of this place is stimulating.

As the night goes on, the din of the restaurant only intensifies; nearly every table and booth is filled with patrons talking and enjoying their 5-star meals, the sounds of cutlery clashing against fine china, hosts and hostesses greeting people at the entrance and making reservations for customers over the phone for months from now, the sizzling, clinking sounds roaring from the kitchen when the swinging traffic doors open, then shushing when the doors close again.

With just over an hour left of your shift and the clearing of what feels like the thousandth table you’ve waited on tonight, you watch as yet another diner is seated in your section. He’s a tall man, his dark hair styled precisely atop his head, and has a short goatee beard, trimmed to perfection. It reminds you of Kurt Cobain’s facial hair, though nothing else about him resembles the rock icon. The man looks rich–though you suppose most people who dine here are. From what you can tell with the distance between you, he might be about ten years your senior.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you begin to stride over to his table, though you are just as soon intercepted, a large hand gently engulfing your wrist. You turn and find that the hand is attached to Eddie, his deep brown eyes staring back at you, and suddenly the contact brings heat to your face and a zip of something unnamable down your arm. Both of you retract your hands swiftly before Eddie explains his interception: “Why don’t you let me take this table, yeah?”

Confusion muddles your features for a moment. Why on earth would Eddie want to take on another table? It’s busy enough in here as it is. Plus, taking a table that is not in your section is strictly against the rules and as it’s your very first shift here, you’re not quite comfortable enough just yet to bend any rules. Especially not when they were fiercely outlined to you by Cordelia, who you were sure that if she possessed the powers of Medusa like Eddie and Robin say, she would surely turn you to stone if she caught you breaking any of them.

Since you’re not willing to risk getting yourself or Eddie into any sort of trouble, you tell him: “You have your own section to worry about, Eddie. Don’t worry about mine, I got this.” With an easy smile in hopes of further reassuring him, though you’re not sure of what.

You barely make it a few steps in the direction of your table before he’s stopping you again, this time with a gentle hand at your elbow.

“It’s just that…I’ve had that guy in my section before and he’s…difficult,” Eddie explains, struggling to come up with a word to describe him and seemingly being displeased with the one he chose as his brows furrowed together.

Oh.

His explanation causes heat to rise to your face, warming your entire chest with a strange fuzzy feeling. Was Eddie trying to protect you? If he was, that was very sweet of him, but still, you can’t allow him to take this table for you–even though you feel like you could melt to mush in his grasp right now.

“I’ve dealt with difficult people all evening,” You say. “I’ve got this.”

Before he can protest anymore or continue to convince you not to take the table, you’re walking away from him, your soft skin slipping from his gentle grip.

Eddie watches you walk away, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as you greet Paul and hand him the menu. The second Eddie sees that trademark salacious smirk creep across Paul’s face, Eddie’s jaw clenches involuntarily, but it’s not like he can do anything about it now.

Had he had any right to try to do anything about it before? To try to take your table? He hasn’t known you very long, so who is he to step in and attempt to protect you from that creep? He shouldn’t even feel this protective of you, this jealous. What the fuck is going on with him lately?

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Collapsing onto the big fluffy couch at The Ugly Mug, you feel yourself instantly sink into the soft cushions. Have they always felt like literal clouds molding perfectly to your body or does it just seem that way after being on your feet for hours?

Now that your first shift is over you can appreciate how truly tiring it was. Adrenaline must have helped you stay on your feet all night, helped you acclimate to the job, but now that you’re seated in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the coffee shop, all that energy has left you entirely.

“Ugh, is it always this exhausting?” You sigh, slumped between Robin and Eddie. Steve sits on a plush chair next to the couch.

“I-” Robin begins, but Eddie interrupts before she can finish.

“Don’t lie to her, Rob,” Eddie says, sensing that Robin was likely about to lie in order to comfort you.

“Fine,” She replies, sighing, exhaustion weighing heavy in her bones as well. “It is. It’s always this exhausting…”

“But,” Robin drawls teasingly, pushing herself up so she’s no longer slumped down on the couch. “It’s not every shift you get hit on,” She says, wiggling her brows suggestively at you.

“What? Who got hit on?” Steve pipes up curiously, placing his pastry down on the round table beside him.

“Y/N,” Robin confirms teasingly, and you cover your face with your hands.

Eddie huffs from beside you as Steve says, “What? No way! By who?”

“One of the rich guys. I think he’s a new regular–Paul,” Robin answers, a childish tone to her voice when she says his name that makes you think she might start singing Sitting In A Tree with yours and Paul’s names any second now.

Steve’s eyes widen comically and Eddie grumbles something incoherent from your side, but you don’t get the chance to ask him what he said before Steve is hurriedly asking: “So? What happened?”

“Well, he asked me out,” You reply, a little embarrassed from their excitement as you adjust so your legs are crossed under you. Paul was charming from the moment you handed him his menu, all smiles and classic handsomeness.

“And you said?”

“I said yes,” You reply quietly at the same time as Robin exclaims, She said yes! She’d cackled when you’d told her about it at your lockers after your shift ended, joking that you could quit Hannigan’s and Paul could become your sugar daddy instead.

Normally, you might have declined such an offer from someone you’d just met–especially if that someone was 10 years older than you–, but the whole point of this move was change. Change required doing things you might not normally do, it required some spontaneity and courage. Both of which were not necessarily your strong suits, but you were trying. The first step was simply saying yes to things.

Steve smiles, impressed. “Alright, Y/L/N!”

And then, realization dawns over his features and he quickly turns his attention to Robin.

“Speaking of dates…” Steve begins, using the same salacious tone Robin had used earlier. “Robin, how are things going with Alicia?”

Looking at Robin, her eyes widen as she replies, “Oh my God, I totally spaced and forgot to tell you!”

Leaning in closer to Eddie on your other side, you whisper, “Who’s Alicia?”

“This girl Robin’s been seeing for a bit,” He answers easily.

You tune back into the conversation just in time to hear Robin inform, “I asked her to be my girlfriend.” Even if you weren’t looking at her right now you’d be able to hear the smile in her voice.

“That’s great, what’d she say?” Steve asks, jumping in even as Robin opens her mouth to continue, clearly not finished speaking.

“She said yes!” Robin exclaims, not even pausing to tease him about his over-eagerness to hear the rest of the story or give him a playful roll of her eyes like she usually might. This Alicia woman must mean a lot to Robin if she’s obliged to censor her usual sarcastic quips.

“Fuck yeah!” Says Steve as he high fives Robin and you chuckle at their odd celebration.

“Robin, that’s great. I’m so happy for you,” You congratulate, hand on her shoulder, remembering when you were teens and she never thought she’d get to have a girlfriend. Robin smiles sheepishly now.

What a satisfying end to the day. You’re exhausted, but at the same time exhilarated. It feels like things are finally falling into place, like you’d been putting together a puzzle and some of the pieces had gone missing. But you’ve found some of them, and now you’re sliding them into their places. And they fit. For the first time, you feel like you fit, and that makes you believe that everything is going to be okay–that you’re going to be okay.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

“So,” Robin drawls as she places two juices on the kitchen table in front of you, one for her and one for you. “Where’s he taking you?”

“I don’t know yet, actually. All I know is that it’s ‘somewhere nice’ and he’s going to be picking me up at 7:30-ish,” You reply as you twist the cap off your drink.

“Mysterious,” Robin comments after taking a sip of her juice.

“Your date’s tonight?” Steve asks as he wanders into the kitchen and sticks his head into the fridge, likely scouring the shelves for a snack.

“Yeah, why?”

Steve stands from his bent position inside the fridge and turns to you and Robin, a slice of cold pizza in hand. “Mine too! Gonna bring her her favourite flowers, take her to her favourite restaurant, go see the tree at Rockefeller–the whole shebang.”

Steve takes a giant bite out of his pizza slice, then slides over to the table and steals Robin’s drink. She makes a disgusted face at him in protest and pushes the drink away from her when he places it back on the table after taking a healthy swig.

“That’s really sweet, Steve. I’m sure she’ll have a great time,” You tell him genuinely.

“Ugh!” Robin groans, drawing your attention away from Steve as her head falls back on her shoulders dramatically. “Stop talking about dates! I haven’t seen Alicia in three days and I have a shift tonight,” She complains, pouting.

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Steve mutters, taking his slice with him into the living room where he joins Eddie and Nancy–who sit on the armchair and couch, reading and writing, respectively.

“Whatever,” Robin replies, slumping down in her chair with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Aren’t you seeing her tomorrow?” You ask though you know the answer because it’s all that she’s talked about since she last saw Alicia. You’re sure you could pick the girl out of a crowd without ever having seen her just from everything Robin has spewed to you about her. It’s nice to see her happy.

“Yeah,” Robin says, tone solemn.

“Why do you sound disappointed?” You wonder with a chuckle.

“Because tomorrow is not right now,” Robin explains and you snort at her impatience to see her girlfriend again.

God, you don’t remember the last time you felt that way about someone; wanting to be around them all the time, missing them the second they left your side. Maybe it was college the last time you’d felt that way? You haven’t really dated since then. That one disastrous blind date your previous co-workers set you up on does not count. You’d actually prefer to block it out of your memory.

Robin sighs. “Anyway, I should hop in the shower before my shift,” She says as she stands and heads to the bathroom. She’s genuinely bummed that she won’t get to see Alicia until tomorrow

“Have fun,” You joke, head falling back on your shoulders as you watch her walk into the bathroom upside-down. You think you hear a sarcastic ha-ha from her before the door shuts.

Also upside-down from your current perspective is Eddie who you see sliding the window to the balcony open before ducking under it and going out onto the balcony.

He’s been off all night. While usually he would be cracking jokes and being his usual over-dramatic, loud self, tonight he was uncharacteristically quiet, keeping to himself. You’ve spent enough time around him by now to tell when something might be up with him.

Standing and grabbing the large throw blanket tossed over one end of the couch, you wrap it around yourself before going to the window, sliding it open again and carefully ducking under it as you step out into the chilly night.

The remnants of winter's early sunset remains on the horizon, lining the city in a dark blue hue while the sky above and beyond that is blanketed by blackness and a dull smattering of stars. That’s the one thing you miss about living in a small town; the lack of light pollution allowed for the stars in the sky to burn bright. Here, it’s impossible to make out a constellation from the street. You suppose the city lights are as close to stars as you’ll get out here.

Eddie leans against the brick and concrete balcony wall, his forearms perched on the cold surface, watching the city as plumes of cigarette smoke swirl around his head. He turns to look at you when he hears you approaching, tucking his chin to his shoulder.

“Hm,” You hum, coming up beside him and leaning over the wall, a blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You shiver and he has the urge to remove his leather jacket and wrap it around you.

“Um,” Eddie begins, unsure of how to phrase this so it doesn’t sound like he’s shooing you off. Just because he doesn’t understand why you’re out here with him doesn’t mean he wants you to leave. He enjoys your company, wants to be around you more. As much as possible, actually. “Did-did you need something?”

You hesitate for a moment, before saying, “No. No, I just wanted to come check on you.” Though it sounds more like a question. Like you’re prompting him gently.

“Oh. Okay,” Eddie replies, surprised and not sure what else to say to that. You’re so thoughtful and observant it makes his chest hurt.

Eddie can feel you examining his face closely and he lets you, continuing to stare out at the city below.

“I can leave if you-”

“No,” Eddie replies suddenly before you can even finish your sentence, his eyes finding yours as he says it. Your eyes are wide, expectant. “I mean-no. You’re good.”

“Okay,” You say, settling in beside him.

The conversation tapers off again and you’re left with the sounds of honking cars, the muffled racket of people talking in the street below, the robust sound of a public bus stopping down at the corner. A harsh wind kisses your cheeks, likely staining Eddie’s pink.

He feels awkward. He’s never felt awkward around you before. Not even when you almost strangled him that one morning and he smashed his head against the coffee table. Maybe it’s because of everything going on in his head right now.

An odd tension sizzles between you. He can feel its strength, more fierce than the wind. But it’s elusive, an enigma he can’t quite grasp. He wants not to think about it and tries not to since he can’t do anything about it anyway.

“How are you adjusting?”

“Are you okay?”

You both break the silence at the same time. A smile breaks across your face and Eddie blows a harsh breath out through his nose.

“Sorry, you go first,” Eddie offers.

“I just-are you alright?” You rush out after a brief pause, seemingly self-conscious of the question, though Eddie could never imagine why. “I just thought you maybe seemed a bit off in there…And, like, usually when people separate from the pack, it might mean something’s up,” You explain slowly, that almost inquisitive tone appearing in your voice again.

Eddie side eyes you, your perceptiveness surprising.

You must take the glance to mean that he’s annoyed because you say, wanting to lighten the mood, “...Or they just want to be left the hell alone.”

Eddie snorts, turning his body to face yours now, his right hip pressed into the cold concrete wall with his elbow resting atop it. You mirror his stance, adjusting the fluffy blanket around you as you go.

“But I find it usually means the first thing….And-and a lot of the time I don’t think that people really want to be left alone, even if they say they do.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie teases lightly, wanting to shift the focus away from himself. He can’t tell you what’s wrong.

“Mhm,” You nod, playing along with his teasing by holding your head high as if you have all the wisdom in the world to offer. But then your expression changes. Just slightly, but Eddie sees it. What you say next isn’t teasing, what you say next is from your soul.

“I think what they really want—more than anything—is to not have to be alone ever again,” You say, and it’s like a shadow passes over your face. He notes the change in your eyes; like you’re living a past feeling.

“Yeah,” Eddie agrees after a beat, tone the furthest from teasing it’s ever been. Both because he knows the feeling, but also because he doesn’t want you to feel alone in it. Because he can tell you’ve been really lonely before. And he hates that his evasion of your question made you recall that loneliness.

That look in your eyes disappears, and you seem to shake out of it easily as you look him in the face and ask, “What are you thinking?”

It’s a pretty innocuous question. But right now, at this moment, it holds more weight.

“I’m thinking that…you’re right. I guess I’ve just been in my head.”

He wasn’t planning on revealing that. He doesn’t even know why he said anything. It’s like you pulled it out of him. It’s like he can’t resist.

“Yeah? About what?” You ask, eyes searching his.

He can’t tell you. He wishes he could, but he can’t. It would be such a jerk move to tell you before your date. And it’s not like he could have told you earlier either. Not after the promise he’d made. He already feels like he’s said too much.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get it,” You say after he doesn’t reply.

But you don’t sound hurt. Instead, you sound sincere in your acceptance of the fact that he doesn’t want to say anything. It makes him want to tell you even more. Your sincere kindness, your thoughtfulness, it makes him ache. How can he not be honest with you? Especially when you’ve been so honest with him.

In order to honour his previous promise, Eddie layers the truth in a sheer veil of lies, concealing parts of the truth, while revealing others.

“There’s-there’s this girl,” Eddie begins, working out how he’s going to weave lies in with the truth. “But one of the guys from my band–Jeff–asked her out recently…And I-”

“You like her too?” You guess. You’d known from the secret smile that crept onto his face; fond but sad.

Eddie nods slowly, relieved that he didn’t have to say the words aloud himself. Like saying them would make it more real, would confirm what he already knows.

“But Jeff asked her out first. So I don’t have a right to…to feel the way I do about it,” Eddie explains, navigating his way around the truth. He’s lying to you almost as much as he’s lying to himself. “And it would be wrong to tell her now. I’d be betraying Jeff’s trust.” It’s not Jeff’s trust he’d be betraying.

You sigh, stumped. “I’m sorry, that’s hard…tell me about her?” You ask, though your voice sounds strained.

God, you’re so nice. It’s killing him. He feels so guilty. How can he lie to you about you? He can’t. Not when you’re looking at him like you are. Like every word out of his mouth is the most important thing that has ever been said.

“Um…Well. She’s-she’s open-minded and accepting, a little weird,” Eddie describes with a chuckle, remembering the morning you greeted him with your bathrobe tie.

When your eyes connect, he can’t help but soften, impassioned as he looks into them. Wanting so badly to let you know he’s talking about you, he toes the line.

“She’s genuine. Honest. What you see is what you get with her,” Eddie says. The city noise fades away and your breaths become the wind, your eyes the city lights.

“She cares about her friends. It feels like she always knows the right thing to say, even if she feels like she doesn’t…And she’s the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

Something changes in your expression. Your eyes burn, searching his intently, looking back and forth between the left and the right. His eyes can’t lie, he can’t force them to. They reveal everything. They can’t conceal or contain his feelings.

Eddie yearns to hold your face gently in his hands, to feel your lips against his, to feel your smile as he kisses you.

Your chest rises and falls with heavy breaths as if sudden emotion overwhelms you, your eyes aflame. You wait in anticipation for his next words as wind whistles around you, ruffling your blanket.

“Anyway,” Eddie coughs, dispelling the tension, and glances down at his wristwatch. “It’s getting late, you should probably start getting ready for your date.”

Recognition flashes in your eyes, like you’d forgotten entirely about your upcoming commitment.

The spell is broken. He hadn’t even realized there’d been a spell until it was broken.

You take a step back and it’s then Eddie realizes you were so close your toes were nearly touching. Shit. Why had he done that? That was almost worse than telling you everything he’d said was actually about you.

“Yeah. Right,” You agree, walking back towards the window.

Eddie turns and leans against the balcony wall, looks back over the city. The wind is the wind, and the lights are just lights.

“Oh, and Eddie?” You call. Eddie swivels his head to look back at you, one foot inside the apartment and one out on the balcony with him, straddling the window sill. “I hope it works out with her.”

Eddie gives you a good-natured smile. “Yeah. Me too,” He replies as you duck under the window and return to the apartment. You close it shut softly, leaving him with the wind and the lights.

Eventually, Eddie goes back inside too, locking every intense emotion that had built up inside of him out in the cold.

As he wanders back into the apartment, he finds your bedroom door is now closed and Nancy’s spot on the couch is vacant. Robin is rushing out of her room in her work uniform while she roots through her bag, mumbling about her keys. And Steve, who’s snacking on some grapes from the fruit bowl on the counter, has Robin’s keys casually swinging from his index finger. Though Robin doesn’t notice until Steve ahem’s, and she snatches them from his hand before reaching the door.

“Oh!” She says as her hand twists the handle, and spins around on her heel to face Eddie and Steve. “If either one of you is still here before Y/N leaves, tell her to have a good night with Paul. She deserves it.”

And the door slams shut behind her as Eddie takes his seat on the couch.

He has every intention of picking his book back up where he left off. Though it remains open in his hands as he stares at your door. He can’t stop staring at your door. Which should be infinitely less captivating than the words between the pages in his hands. And yet it is not. It is far more captivating than any book he has ever or will ever read. The thought strikes him like a bolt of lightning zapping a tree and setting it on fire.

“Hey, man, are you okay?” Steve asks, noticing Eddie’s prolonged staring at your door.

Pulling his eyes very slowly away from your door, Eddie replies, “Yeah, I…Yeah.”

When his gaze finds Steve’s, he’s looking at Eddie like he’s trying to do long division in his head.

“...Okay,” Steve drawls, retrieving his jacket from the counter in the kitchen. “We’re definitely gonna talk about that later. But for now, I gotta pick up Joselyn. Later, man!” He calls as he exits the apartment, leaving just Eddie and your door, alone.

He’s not necessarily looking forward to whatever conversation Steve wants to have with him later, but he’s hoping this Joselyn woman will keep Steve busy long enough for Eddie to avoid the conversation entirely–at least for the night.

It’s been 23 minutes and your bedroom door still has not opened. Eddie knows the exact amount of time it remains closed because although he had tried to focus on the words in his book after Steve left, he simply could not stop looking at your door. And wondering when it would open. Hoping it would open. Estimating when it would open by calculating how long it might take you to get ready. For a solid three seconds, Eddie debates knocking on it, before deciding that’s crazy because-

The door opens.

“How do I-”

Eddie stares. Suddenly your door becomes the least captivating thing in the room–in the entire universe–and he can’t believe he ever thought it was captivating to begin with.

Your black dress—which reaches your ankles—is simple, though it hugs your body wonderfully. The straps are thin and the neck is square-shaped.

Eddie could equate your beauty to a thousand other beautiful things. He could equate it to paintings and sunsets and flowers. He could equate it to the most beautiful poetry and the most profound stories. But the truth is that none of his comparisons would ever be enough. None of them could express how he feels when he looks at you; like his heart stops and speeds up in his chest at the same time. Like he’s never seen anything beautiful in his life until this moment or even knew what the word beauty meant until he saw you.

“Oh-Everyone left already?” You question when you realize Eddie is alone. You and Eddie are alone.

“Y-yeah,” Eddie stutters, mouth suddenly dry.

“Oh…alright.”

Eddie swallows hard, trying his very best not to watch you like he’d watched your door. But that task proves impossible. And now it’s quiet. And it’s been quiet for far too long as you stand there fidgeting with your shawl looking like that with no one to tell you that you look like that. No one except Eddie.

“Um,” Eddie begins. Great start. He can’t say what he wants to, so instead he explains his presence: “I didn’t wanna leave without letting you know, since everyone else left...But, uh, what-what were you gonna say…before?” God, he was the worst! If he can’t say the word to himself, how is he supposed to repeat it out loud to you?

“Oh,” You say, looking down at yourself bashfully. “I was just gonna ask how I looked,” You explain, waving your hand in dismissal.

Eddie wants to not be the worst. Eddie wants you to think that he’s not the worst. Eddie wants you to know that you look like that.

“You look great,” He says, slightly breathless. ‘Great’ is a safe word, it’s a friendly word. It’s not the word he wanted to use.

You smile softly, averting your eyes from him and to the floor as you say a meek, but sincere, “Thank you.”

Eddie really shouldn’t say anymore. But he loves the way it feels when you get all shy from his compliments. He loves the way you thank him. Like you know his compliment is true, but to hear him say it means something different, something special.

So he can’t keep it in. But he wills himself to reign in his emotions; to freeze the butterflies in his belly before they take flight.

“You-” look really pretty. “Your dress is really pretty.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” You say, swaying nervously on the spot.

Fuck. Shit. Jesus Christ! There wasn’t a net big enough in the world to contain the swarm of butterflies fluttering in his belly right now. It’s downright embarrassing.

You seek out his eyes. And Eddie knows. And you part your lips, about to speak.

“I-”

Knock, knock, knock.

All too soon, your gaze shifts to the front door. But Eddie’s eyes remain on you.

“Oh, that’s Paul,” You inform, pulling your shawl more tightly around your body before you begin walking towards the door. You make it about three paces before you realize, “Shoot, I forgot my purse in my room, would you mind getting the door?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, minding a whole awful lot. But he stands from the couch anyway and makes his way to the door as you head back into your bedroom.

The door swings open, revealing a sharply dressed Paul leaning against the doorframe. His suit is pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. It’s too pristine, like he’s not moved in it, not sat down.

When Paul lifts his head from where it’s bent on his neck, his salacious smirk disappears the moment he sees Eddie. He’s far less handsome with that ugly frown on his face. He looks like a petulant child.

“What are you doing here?”

Eddie bites his tongue. Then forces a fake smile as he greets politely, “Good to see you too, Paul.”

He expected nothing less from the guy, but that didn’t make it any easier to hold back. Sure, he wasn’t serving him in the restaurant–so there weren’t any clearly defined rules here–but you were about to go out on a date with the guy. So he held back.

“Y/N will be right out, she’s-”

The click of your heels against the wood floors sound behind him. Paul’s smirk spreads across his face like molasses as he eyes you. Though Eddie’s sure they don’t roam further than your chest.

A surge of unrightful possessiveness swells within him at Paul’s obvious ogling.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily and Eddie steps aside, fading into the background.

“Hey, babe,” Paul says as you reach him and Eddie cringes at the territorial nickname. It takes everything in him not to shudder like he’s just seen a child pick their nose and wipe it on a pole in the subway.

You hug and Eddie watches as one of Paul's long arms stretches around your waist, though his hand hovers dangerously low before you pull away and Paul remarks, “Ready to go?”

“Yup,” You confirm, with a sweet smile. With that, Paul guides you out of the apartment with a hand on your middle back and just before you exit the apartment, you request: “Lock up on your way out?”

It shouldn’t feel this good to have your attention on him again. Shouldn’t make his heart skip in his chest.

Eddie just nods, sure that if he tried to speak, he would emit some embarrassing sound instead of a casual sure thing.

You smile at him widely, “Bye, Eddie.” Has his name always sounded that lovely?

“Bye, Y/N.” Has your name ever felt that lovely rolling off his tongue?

The door slams shut behind you.

“Shit.”

Eddie’s belly bubbles with a feeling. Jealousy burns in his gut. He has no right to feel this way. The moment he names it, he wants to un-name it. The moment he names it, he wants to ban the word from his mind, shove it inside one of those dark spots up there, and hope it never sees the light of day again.

He made a promise to Robin. He doesn’t get to feel this way.

So he tries his best not to call it what it is and tells himself that it has to be a simple combination of his hatred for Paul and his knowledge that you are a ridiculously wonderful person who deserves so much better than Paul Becker. But this is all he can allow himself to acknowledge.

What he will not acknowledge is the third part to this equation that adds up to this feeling. What he will not acknowledge is the way he feels when you look at him, when you say his name, when you stand in front of him in a black dress and he can’t tell you how pretty you look.

So he focuses on the one thing that is the most natural to him: the fact that Eddie hates Paul.

⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂ ⌂

Next Chapter [coming soon]

A/N: And that is chapter one, folks! I've been working on this for months now, so I really, really hope you enjoyed it. Please consider reblogging and leaving a nice comment or sending me an ask telling me what you thought!

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allidoistrytrytryy · 1 year

Text

don’t want no other shade of blue, but you (part 1 of 2) (neteyam x reader)

AO3 version if you prefer reading over there

part 2 (Neteyam and the sky girl, series)

summary: (the confusing timeline and glimpses of life between Neteyam and a human girl.)

warnings: hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, kinda only angst with bits of fluff for part 1, will get better, no use of y/n, confusing timeline, aged-up characters when it comes to present time, not canon-compliant, will surely be unrealistic when it comes to lore but i write what i want and that IS AN HAPPY ENDING IN PART 2

As you slowly woke up, you peeked over to the edge of the tree to see the sun had begun to set.

You needed to go back, now.

You pulled yourself away from the large blue body. You had fallen asleep on his shoulder, again, while you were talking.

Your very best friend, Neteyam. Your other half in so many ways.

The one that you could never be with, you reminded yourself as you re-positioned your mask again, making sure it was well attached and still working.

Here was the detail, you were fully human. Or sky people, as they all liked to remind you when the others of the clan looked at you and whispered under their breath.

Were you angry at them ? Of course not. Sky people were still your people, as much as you wanted to erase that part of yourself. But that did not change the fact that your people had tried to take everything from the Omaticayas.

They had destroyed Hometree. Killed the Olo’eyktan. Killed so many of them, all for some resources. And you were simply a reminder of that.

Your small stature, your non-blue skin, your hands of five fingers, your mask always on your face. You were one of them, no matter how much you did not want to be.

But the thing was you didn’t know anything but Pandora.

Your mother, a scientist, had been pregnant when the evacuation happened. Barely pregnant, in the early stages, but still enough to not be able to be brought back, the flight too dangerous to take and cryo impossible.

So your father, one of the many military men on base at the time, had fucked off and taken the first flight home back to Earth, not caring about the woman he had fucked or his unborn child.

Obviously, your mother had wanted to go right back to Earth too, so she had hated you for keeping her on Pandora. She gave birth to you and got evacuated as soon as she could be.

You never heard from her after that. You never asked about her either. You didn’t care.

Home had been the remaining humans in the lab who had stayed. Home had been the multiple faces and hands you had been through. Home had been a little blond boy, human too, pulling on your hair and going out every day, when you barely had the courage to go explore.

Home was looking up at a tank with a large blue woman floating in it (“It’s a Na’vi.” Norm had said, while holding you on his hip, explaining to barely 1-year-old little you. “Well, technically, she’s but an avatar, so not truly Na’vi but… yeah. That was Grace. And soon, there will be another baby around, but blue.”).

That Grace had been pregnant, which you later on understood no one could explain. (Lo’ak would whisper his suspicions later on to you, in his own confident joking manner, loud enough for Kiri to hear. She had jumped on him after that. You had looked with a sigh, but a smile anyway.) But a blue baby came out soon after and was taken by two larger than life blue people. (Literally larger than life. You remembered looking up at them from the ground, fascinated and terrified at the same time.)

You had not seen her (Kiri, Norm had told you, back from a run to the Omaticayas in his avatar. Daughter of Grace. Daughter of Jake and Neytiri.) for a few years, until one day Spider dragged 5-year-old you to the forest to show you the clan and make you meet the Sully siblings.

You remembered how Spider had jumped in with them, so naturally, like another brother. You had felt awkward, looking from afar, already so aware of your differences even at such a young age.

Spider was being rowdy with Lo’ak while Neteyam was watching them with a shake of his head. You had gravitated towards Kiri, who was sitting away from them, looking around her. You had sat down beside her.

Kiri hadn’t looked back for a minute or two, too engrossed in the world around her, until she had finally turned to you, surprised to see someone she didn’t know beside her.

“Sorry, I did the thing... You must be the human girl Spider keeps talking about ! It’s nice to finally meet you.” Kiri had exclaimed, with a smile so big you had loved her instantly.

“Must be me... I’m the only one around anyway... I hope he didn’t tell you bad things.” You had grumbled under your breath, sending a death glare to Spider’s back.

Kiri had shaken her head with a laugh. “Brothers, am I right ?” She had sighed, looking at her own brothers.

You had sighed back and smiled. You hadn’t countered the word. Spider was the closest thing you had to a brother. The only one who understood what you were going through.

Spider had gotten close to you two after a while. “I saw you with your look and your sigh. What are you saying about me, dumb ass ?”

“Absolutely nothing, I'm innocent." You had said, lightly kicking him with your foot.

He had narrowed his eyes in suspicion, until Lo’ak and Neteyam had come closer. Lo’ak was the first one to talk, while Neteyam was simply looking at you.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us, monkey boy ?”

“I have the unfortunate pleasure to introduce you to my daily pain in the ass.” Spider had told them your name as you had whined over his words, kicking him harder with your foot this time.

“It’s nice to meet you. He talks about you often. We wondered if you would ever come around.”

Neteyam had looked at you with a smile while saying it. You remembered liking him instantly, with his easy smile.

“I wasn’t going to, until Spider dragged me here.” You had whispered, looking at your hands.

“And we’re glad he did.”

Kiri had rubbed your back, before pulling you to your feet to show you the forest.

The rest is history. You came back, again and again and again. You couldn’t stay away anymore. You loved them. You felt like you belonged beside them.

But you knew you didn’t.

You barely went to the Omaticayas’ home. You always joined them in the forest, but you never crossed the line, as much as Kiri pulled on your hand to come with them.

“Come eat with us ! Come on ! Our parents would love to see you. They always hear about you, but never see you.”

(You knew that was not true. Maybe Jake wanted to see you more, getting it underneath it all, but Neytiri ? Spider had told you so many times how she looked at him with cold unforgiving eyes and whispered under her breath. (That did not stop him from sticking to the Sullys and always crossing that line you had drawn yourself.) (In the few times you had met them, her, she had never looked at you like that though. Maybe the fact that you stayed away made it easier for her to just... forget about you.))

In those moments when you refused and said you were going home with a sad smile, Neteyam would always walk you home, helping you get over any obstacle and helping you climb.

He kept growing taller and taller while you stayed small. Which means he was lifting you more than helping you climb, honestly. And he would make fun of you for it too.

(“Come on, sky girl, keep up !”

He said, laughing as he jumped over trees and vines easily.

“I’m trying, Nete ! You skxawng !”

You yelled and he laughed even harder, looking back at you, his braids swinging with the movement. Your heart skipped a beat.)

One day, when he was twelve and you eleven, he had stopped you before arriving to the small lab you called home.

Neteyam hesitated, your small hand in his. “You should really come around, one day. Just... come see where we live and eat with us. Just one time.”

You had seen the hope in his eyes and you had tried not to cave in. He couldn’t get you. Nope. No.

“Nete, I... You do understand that I don’t belong there, right ?” You had laughed faintly. “Spider doesn’t get that through his thick skull, but I do. No one wants to see me there.”

He had looked at you with sadness, taking your other hand in his free hand. “Other sky people come around all the time. And you do belong.”

You had bitten your lips, looking anywhere and everywhere but his emerald eyes. “Just one time, sky girl. Please.”

“Okay, okay ! Ugh, you’re so annoying, Neteyam.”

He had simply laughed before ruffling your hair, which almost made you fall down. (“Control your own strength, skxawng !”)

That was when you learned you could never say no to him. Anything he asked you would cave for.

(You had come around the next day, grumbling under your breath, as Neteyam pulled on your left hand and Kiri on your other one. Lo’ak was pushing at your back. Spider looked at you and laughed his ass off. You threatened to cut his hair in his sleep.

Jake had actually been happy to see you. Neytiri less, which you weren’t surprised about. You had tried to be as respectful as you could be, making yourself small, even though the others were making it hard for you to be.

Neteyam had sat down beside you, his shoulder and thigh brushing yours, clad in a simple tank top and shorts. You had been glad for the comfort.

When you had left that night, you had been surprised about Neytiri not being hostile to you. Not as Spider had told you.

That had made you come back a few times a week after that, for years. Even though Neytiri did not love you, but she accepted you at least. Even though some Omaticayas would look at you and whisper that you didn’t belong.)

You didn’t understand how you hadn’t realized your feelings for Neteyam back then.

He was your best friend, until he wasn’t just that. Until you looked at him and wanted more.

You didn’t remember exactly how the realization happened. You knew one day you thought he was just your closest friend and confidant, and the next day you wanted to hold his hand and kiss him on his stupid blue lips and fall asleep every night close to him.

Which led you to this exact moment. Sneaking out to go back home, because you couldn’t help but stick close to him. As much as you told yourself every minute of every day that you two could never be. Could never happen. Would never happen.

Sometimes, you even fooled yourself into seeing more in his looks and his touches. Seeing that maybe he saw you the way you saw him. But it could never happen.

As you walked back to the lab, you told yourself that he deserved more. Neteyam was...

You couldn’t even describe it. He was Neteyam. Good and protective and strong and kind and smart and beautiful. Caring. Loving.

He deserved everything. The mate. The family. The future.

You could never give that to him.

So as you said good night to the other humans, giving a small wave back to Norm, as took off the mask, as you laid in bed, you thought and thought and thought and hurt.

You fell asleep hours later, missing his warmth and hating yourself for missing it.

You dreamed of being Na’vi again. You dreamed of him. And it tore you apart.

You kept playing the good best friend, still never crossing lines until he looked at you with those eyes and that smile and you couldn’t help but gravitate to him.

He got even taller, broader, bigger. His voice got deeper. His skills got better.

He was one of the best hunters already at eighteen. He was to be a great future Olo’eyktan, after his father.

You couldn’t understand why he kept seeking you out. You understood when you were younger, but now?

You were simply human. You had barely grown. You had learned basic survival skills from Jake, who had insisted you learn them (“Just in case.” He had told you, a hand on your head.). You were glad he had taken the time.

Neytiri had, somehow, warmed up to you. As much as she could for sky people.

She had taught you how to use a bow, how to make arrows, how to defend yourself with them. You had taken every opportunity, working hard to learn. You wouldn’t speak a lot with each other and you never pushed it.

Mo’at had even given you great opportunities to learn from her, teaching you which plants healed what, talking to you as if you were a part of them.

(When you had asked her why, she had simply looked at you. “The great mother has shown me that you have great strength and a great heart. That does not come around very often in your people.”

You had almost cried in front of her in that very moment, sniffling and keeping them in as best as you could.)

Even through it all, a part of you always screamed that you didn’t deserve any of it. That you didn’t belong and would never. You had learned to not listen, every new acceptance and moment adding to your disillusions, every smile and look from Neteyam making yourself get closer.

The biggest reminder was when the sky people came back.

That had been your wake up call.

When it happened, you had been with all of the Sully siblings. Tuk was in your lap, even though she was already way taller than you, but hadn’t lost the habit from when she was small.

You were helping her make bracelets (“One for all of us ! And one for Mom and one for Dad !” She had exclaimed, excited to be with you for the night while their parents were out on date night.). Kiri and Neteyam too. Lo’ak was still on the same one, grumbling that they were braiding bracelets instead of going out. Spider too.

Neteyam had sat them down quickly when they had tried to get out.

“You guys’ asses are staying right there. No bullshit.”

You had laughed with Kiri, hiding behind Tuk.

All was calm and good until there were loud noises, until you all went out to see what was happening and you saw the forest on fire.

Until everybody screamed out that sky people were back.

You felt yourself faltering, your hand letting go of Tuk’s and dropping to your side.

They were back. Back. Back. Back. Back.

No. No. No.

You felt a hand on your back and startled as a voice talked to you, “You okay, sky girl ?”

The nickname that you loved from his lips now wanted to make you scream, cry, throw up. They were back. And you were one of them.

You had never belonged here and they had just reminded you of this very fact.

You looked up at him, smiled sadly and hid your face in his side to let yourself cry. You would let yourself give in this one moment of weakness.

And then, you were tearing out the plug.

You left right when Jake and Neytiri came back and the Sullys were too busy being together. You left without a word for any of them, without a word for Neteyam who didn’t realize you had left until it was too late.

You locked yourself in your little room. You barely went out for weeks. You couldn’t bring yourself to go back.

“If they ever come around, just tell them I’m not here.” You told Norm, before locking yourself in your room again.

They tried to come again and again. Neteyam knocked on your door, day after day, with the others or alone.

“Sky girl, come out. We all miss you.”

“Please, sky girl. Just... talk to me. I’m on my own. You know you can trust me.”

“You always listen to me, come out and let me listen to you.”

“Let me hear your voice. Tell me you’re okay.”

“Sky girl, I’m never going to stop coming, you know that right ? No matter how much you try to push us away, to push me away, I’ll never stop coming.”

You knew he wouldn’t stop. He was loyal to a fault. Protective. He wouldn’t abandon you.

That hurt more than anything else. If he stopped, at least, you could comfort yourself in the fact that he didn’t need you anymore. He made it hard.

He made you want to open that door. You missed him. Missed Lo’ak. Missed Kiri. Missed Tuk. Missed the forest and the sounds and the feeling of it all around you.

But you couldn’t. Not when you remembered that sky people were out there, hurting them again.

At some point, the scientists and avatars moved to the Omaticayas and the mountains, to help them, to be as close as they could.

You didn’t. You stayed right in your little room and in this lab. Some humans came around to see you as often as they could. Max and Norm stayed sleeping there almost every night, to not leave you alone.

Spider too slept there a lot.

You never opened the door for any Na’vi. Not even the ones you loved.

You were trying to distract yourself with some reading when loud bangs erupted on your door.

“It’s Kiri ! You need to come out, right now. Neteyam’s hurt !”

Fear spread through your whole body. Not him. You unlocked the door and opened it wide.

“What happened, Kiri ?” You asked, your hand shaking on the handle of the door.

“He... They were out on a mission, to get supplies from sky people. They were supposed to just be spotters but Lo’ak got into it, so Neteyam did too, and then there were explosions.”

You could barely hear more, your ears were ringing. She told you that it wasn’t too bad, that he would be okay, but you couldn’t feel your fingers anymore. What if he was badly hurt after all ? What if, what if, what if ?

You ran through the forest, Kiri helping you up the mountains. You barely focused on the mountains, barely focused on Omaticayas welcoming you back or looking at you surprised, barely focused on the other avatars calling out your name. You needed to get to Nete.

Kiri pulled you to their tent. Neteyam was sitting down, his back to you, while Mo’at tended to him and Kiri got right back in it as she arrived.

You saw the scars on his back. They had been bleeding but they weren’t deep. You dropped your hands to your knees and took your first real breath in what felt like hours.

“Well shit, look who’s back !” Lo’ak screamed out followed by Jake’s “Language !”.

Tuk jumped at you, crying out. “Don’t ever leave again ! We missed you !”

You rubbed her back, “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you, yawntutsyìp...”

Lo’ak hugged you fiercely, almost breaking your back while whispering that it was good to have you back.

Jake and Neytiri smiled at you.

Neteyam hadn’t said a word. He wasn’t even looking at you.

He waited until Mo’at had finished (“Welcome back, girl.” with a touch of her hand on your shoulder) and he was deemed okay to get up. He took your hand and pulled you away from everybody.

He stopped but still didn’t look at you, letting your hand go in the process.

“Nete... I know you’re mad at-”

He interrupted you, “Mad ? Mad ? You don’t know the half of it ! I tried being patient, I stayed there behind that locked door for hours and hours, worried to death. And now you do come out ?”

You could feel yourself getting angry too, your throat getting all clogged up. “I didn’t ask you to stay behind that door ! So what ? I shouldn’t have come out ?”

“That is not what I mean, you skxawng ! Fuck ! I was worried to death that you weren’t okay. You wouldn’t let me in. You wouldn’t let me be there for you. I hated it. Hated the fact that you were all alone in there. Hated myself for not being enough for you. I’m never good enough, even at this.” He said, gesturing with his hand to you and him.

You startled at his words, “Not good enough ? Nete, you’ve always been too good. You’re the best of us all. Look, you even got hurt again for one of us. Me shutting down ? It wasn’t you. It could never be your fault.”

“Then what is it ?”

Looking up into his eyes, the tears started falling before you even said a word. “They hurt you all again. The forest, the planet, the people... They did. And I’m one of them. As much as we try to act like I’m not, as much as we try to act like I’m part of you guys, I’m still one of them. I’m part of the people that keep hurting and taking from you all. I can’t fucking handle it anymore.”

You wiped your tears away, your eyes turned to the sky and not at him.

“I hate myself, you know. Hate what I look like, hate what I am. Hate that I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I want to be a part of this, I will never be. People will only see that I’m...sky people.”

He took your face in his large hands, ripping your gaze away from the sky back to his eyes. He bent down, talking softly.

“Not to us. Not to me. Never to me. You look like them, sure. You’re small, fragile, and all the colors are wrong.” You scoffed and he softly tapped your forehead to make you stop. “But, inside ? You’ve never been one of them. You’ve always been one of us. And I know you’ve tried not to be, ever since we were kids. You’ve always tried to distance yourself from us. But, you can’t.”

He dropped his forehead to your masked-clad one and you traced the glowing freckles all over his face with your eyes, wishing it was with your fingers instead.

“You can’t go back. You can’t distance yourself. You’re Omaticaya. You’re with us, sky girl. You’re with me. I won’t let you go.”

You felt his thumbs gently rub your temples, behind the mask, wrapping his other fingers around your hair.

You came back with him to the tent. You stayed after that. You couldn’t go again. Not when he held your heart in his hands.

It all went back to shit when the Sullys came back without Spider. Quaritch was back. He had taken Spider with him. You could only comfort yourself in the fact that he would surely not hurt Spider. That was his son.

He might not have cared when he was human, but he wouldn’t hurt him. (Right ?)

And the Sullys were leaving. Leaving the Omaticaya clan and fleeing far away.

“I don’t want to go.” Neteyam whispered in your shoulder, both of you hiding deep in the forest.

“I don’t want you to go either, Nete but...you guys will come back.” You whispered, folded against him.

He shot up in a heartbeat at your words, “What do you mean, ‘you guys’ ?”

“Well, I mean you Sullys ?” You questioned, not understanding what he was asking.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes at you. “You’re coming, sky girl. So it’s a ‘we’.”

You scoffed bitterly at that remark. What was he asking from you ? To go to a completely different Na’vi clan with them ? A clan that would never accept you ?

“You know I can’t come with you, Neteyam.”

You got up and put some distance between you and him.

“The Omaticayas only accept me because of your father and because of the others. They wouldn’t, otherwise. You think a whole another clan far from here, with no sky people in sight will accept me ?”

He also got up and tried to close the distance you had created between you two.

“So what ?” He asked, truly angry this time around. “You just stay here while we go ? We have to leave you here ?”

“Yes ! That is the plan, Neteyam ! I can’t follow you there. Be realistic about it for one minute. Think about it. They will only reject me, and I get it.”

“You can’t ask this of me. They can’t ask this of me.” He shouted, pointing in the direction of his family. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

This was your very last night together for a long time and, instead, he had decided to be angry. Angry about something neither of you could control. You went to rub your eyebrows and forehead to try to calm the headache that was coming, before remembering the mask.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so stubborn about this, Nete. Think about your family. I’ll be fine here.”

Neteyam turned to you and got right into your face as you said that.

“Why I’m being stubborn ? This, us, this is the one thing that is only mine. I don’t need to meet expectations, I don’t need to be the perfect son or the best. I can just be me. How can you ask of me to leave you here ?” He whispered, his hands gripping your forearms.

“And how can you ask of me to follow you there ?” You whispered back, lightly pushing his hands away which made him let go. “Nete... What did you think was going to happen ? That I was going to come with you guys ? That they were going to accept me and we could live happily ever after ? This isn’t one of the stories your father used to tell us.”

You stepped away, willing yourself to look up right into his eyes.

“We’ll never get an happy ending, Neteyam. Not us. I’m not Na’vi. I can’t be accepted. I can’t give you anything.”

“And I don’t need you to give me anything, sky girl. I just... I just need you.”

A sigh came out of your mouth. “What I mean is I can’t give you a future. Not one you want, not one you deserve. What we feel isn’t enough.”

His shoulders had drooped, his face was obscured by his braids. You had never seen him so defeated and you hated that you were the one to put this look on him.

“It is, for me. I see you. Oel ngati kameie.”

He softly said it. A part of you had always known that he saw you the way you did him, but hearing it... Your heart wanted to be out of your chest.

But it also broke. Because you couldn’t say it back. As much as you wanted to.

“Nete... Please...”

Your voice broke, the sobs threatening to come out.

“It won’t be enough... If I say it back, one day, you’d resent me for it.” You cried, willing for him to understand. “One day, you would look back at me and wonder why you ever tried with me. I can’t...share the mating bond with you. I can’t give you a family. I can’t give you what I know you want, growing up in the family that you had. And I can’t do this to you. I’m sorry, Neteyam.”

He had no reaction. He stayed there for what seemed like forever. He then simply turned away from you and left.

You collapsed on the floor and cried silently for a while. When it finally caught up, you openly sobbed and sobbed until your voice was hoarse. You had ruined the one good thing that you had, you had broken your heart completely and his too.

It would never be the same. You would never get back the moments you shared with him. Holding his hand, falling asleep on his shoulder, flying his ikran with him, sharing a hunt, talking and talking for hours. Having no secrets. Knowing him inside and out and him knowing you inside and out.

It was over.

You said goodbye a few hours later to the Sullys, your eyes puffy and red and crying again as you had to let go of the people you loved most.

Kiri and Tuk didn’t want to let you go. You didn’t want to let them go.

Lo’ak comforted you, hugging you in the way he always did. (“Don’t be an idiot out there, dumb ass.” “Yeah, yeah, sky girl.”)

Jake put a comforting hand on your head, told you to be careful. Neytiri squeezed your shoulder with a smile (which you would have celebrated in the past but had no strength for now).

Neteyam never looked at you. He was already on his ikran, ready to leave. You only ever saw his back as they flew away.

It was over.

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drivergemini · 2 years

Text

california sun :: b.h.

summary: max always told stories about a brother she left in california. who knew that leaving hawkins after high school would bring y/n straight to the legend himself.

warnings: story is not canon compliant, non supernatural au, few swears, max loves billy and billy isn’t an arrogant asshole, y/n is just a little airheaded but only if you read into it

word count: 1694

she remembered the sad look in the redhead’s eyes when she first met her. maxine mayfield was her name. she remembers opening the door and seeing the two gingers standing in front of her. maxine was the first and only girl y/n ever baby sat. she was only 13 at the time, but the older redheaded woman seemed desperate to be alone without her 7 year old daughter.

she remembered sitting across the dining room table from maxine. she made her a plate of chicken nuggets and mac & cheese. she watched as she pushed around the food on her plate, scraping the metal fork against the ceramic.

“so maxine...” y/n broke the silence.

“max. my name is max.” the girl’s piercing blue eyes looked right as y/n. she stopped moving her forced.

“where are you from i’ve never seen you before.”

max sets down the fork. “california, southern california.”

y/n perked up. even at a young age she knew that no one in their right mind would move to hawkins, especially not from a place like that. “it’s always been, my dream to live in california!”

“mine too...” may looked back down at the plate of food. “i wish we never moved here.”

she heard a small sniffle come from max. “hey hawkins isn’t too bad. there’s so many great stuff here.”

“but there’s no billy.” max whispered to herself.

“there’s no who?”

“billy. i miss him so so much.” she started to grip the table. “he was the coolest and he listened to the coolest music and had the coolest hair. he let me shave it off for him. and he knew how to surf and he told me that his mom taught him to surf and he taught me how to surf. and he was my favorite person in the whole world.” max’s words faltered near the end.

“so billy is your..?”

“he’s my brother. well not really said my mom but i think he’s still my brother.” max went on about how her mom and billy’s dad were married and then they weren’t married.

soon enough they found themselves sitting in the living room, max still going on and on about her cool older brother.

“you know i would do anything to take you with me max.” y/n pinched her cheek.

“ew you’re like a grandma.” max laughed and opened her arms up for a hug. “i wish i could come to college with you.”

“in a few years you could try and come to cali for college too and maybe we could even live together.” y/n sang the last part. never in her life did she expect her best friend to be 4 years younger than her but here they were.

“hey y/n... if you see happen to see billy can you tell him i miss him?”

she squeezed her friend tighter “of course max.”

whatever she expected from college, she did not get. y/n found herself in a small dorm with a roomate who wasn’t too fond of small town girls. she spent so much time at the library or working at the campus smoothie bar just to get away from her.

y/n scanned the shelves of the non fiction section to find a book on da vinci’s ideas on anatomy. she didn’t realize studying art history would require a lot of, well studying.

she stood on her tip toes when she found it. before she could reach it, she saw a toned arm out of the corner of her eye. the arm grabbed the exact book she was looking for.

she turned her head to see a tall, muscular man handing her the book. she looked at his blond tied back mullet and opened her mouth to speak.

“is this the book you were trying to get?” he voice was husky, but it wasn’t low.

she continued to just stare at the man before her. wow y/n creepy move on your behalf.

“um- uh- yeah. i um- thanks.” she took the book out of his hand.

“you’re welcome i always try and help when pretty girls are in need.” he smirked. jesus were people in this state so bold to just share their feelings.

y/n’s face turned red. “i- thank you. you are also very pretty.” shit. really y/n? pretty? that’s the best you can come up with?

the blond chuckled slightly. “i do consider myself a pretty fella.” he held out his hand for her to shake. “i’m william.”

“y/n.” she shook his hand feeling the hard callouses against his palms.

“so this might be a long shot, but do you want to go down to the beach with me?” y/n thought to herself that going to the beach with a man she just met was dangerous. but then again, this stranger was beautiful.

“yeah sure.” this was a weird scenario that she would never be in. but something in her mind was telling her that she should go with william.

they ended up on the sands of the santa monica pier. she watched as the blond stripped off his shirt and placed his butt on the sand right next to her. the sun glared against his tanned and toned body. y/n wanted to run her fingers over his shoulders.

william took the sunglasses that sat on his face and placed them on his head. “so did you grow up in california?”

“no absolutely not. indiana. a small town called hawkins.” she made a hand gesture at the name of her town, like she was presenting something magnificant. “did you grow up here?”

“yup. true california boy. surfing and smoking is basically my only personality.”

y/n nudged into his body and laughed. “i wish i knew how to surf. my best friend back in hawkins always talked about how she loved to surf when she was younger. do you think you’d be able to teach me?”

“woahhhh, first date is going so well that you already are asking for a second?” he let out a fake shocked look.

“well that depends, are you gonna teach me for free or are you going to make me pay you?” y/n raised her eyebrows.

“i know one way you could pay me right now.” william placed his hand on her cheek and leaned towards her face. they met in the middle and he placed a soft kiss on her lips.

y/n felt her face get slightly hot. “jesus i have never even seen you surf how do i know your a good teacher?”

“i have been surfing since i could remember. and i have taught surfing before if you’d like to know. and she was the one of the most bad ass bitch i have ever met to this day.”

“oooooo she?” y/n teased poking his arm.

“uh uh calm down. she is my little sister, or at least was my sister. she was a classic california boy, surfing and skating. except you know, in like a tiny little human.” he looked towards the ocean. “she was the best. but she moved to god knows where.”

“i’m sorry that sounds like it sucks. when’s the last time you talked to her?” she leaned her head on his shoulder.

“i’m honestly not even sure. maybe when i was in high school?” he let out a heavy sigh. “her name was maxine.” he let out the last sentence like she was dead.

y/n shot up. “billy?! billy hargrove?!” she looked at the blond before her with a face of confusion.

“excuse me? do you know who i am?” the blond’s face was slightly painted with fear.

“know you? know you?! how am i so dumb! how didn’t i connect it?” she stood up and pointed at him. “you’re max’s brother! the one she told me about?”

at the sound of his sisters name he also stood up. “you know max?” he felt like he was going to throw up, but in a good exciting way. “i swear you better not be fucking with me.”

“max is my best friend! i basically raised max mayfield. she moved to hawkins with her mom after california”

william’s face sported a more excited look. “oh my god i can’t believe you know max!” he got so excited that he hugged y/n, lifting her into the air and spinning her around. “can you tell me about her? and what she’s been up to?”

“of course i can.” y/n smiled at the boy and leaned in for another kiss. ‘

billy and y/n giggled as the phone rang, shushing each other when the the other end answered. they both wore thick sweaters to deal with the cold indiana air.

“mayfield residence. max speaking.” she could hear a bored max on the other end.

“max it’s y/n!”

“y/n?! jesus i was wondering when you were gonna call again. i was beginning to think you forgot about me.”

“forget about you? i’m back in hawkins for winter break! can i come see you?”

“you’re back? and you didn’t tell me? get over hear right now before i kick your ass.” y/n could hear max laugh and then the receiver click.

both adults ran outside to the blue camaro they drove from california and headed over to the mayfield house.

billy was playing rock loudly through the speakers, looking over at y/n ever so often. he would smile at her in between the lyrics.

when he pulled into the driveway of the house, he felt his palms get slightly sweaty.

“you’ll be okay.” y/n squeezed his hand which was instantly relieving.

y/n entered the house first, billy could hear the squeals and jumping of the two girls. he couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

“a boyfriend? and he’s here?” billy heard faintly. he felt this was his cue to walk through the door.

max’s mouth hung open, eyes wide as saucers.

“max this is my boyfriend...”

“billy?????” max blurted out. billy smiled wide and opened his arms for a hug. max ran into his arms and squeezed him so hard billy didn’t know if she’d let go.

it wasn’t sunny california, but maybe hawkins wasn’t so bad.

#billy hargrove #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things series #billy hargrove angst #fluff #angst #billy hargove imagine

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losersimonriley · 6 months

Text

MWIII spoilers below - canon compliant drabble

Knowing

591 words, Major character death, non religious depictions of the afterlife, suicidal ideation from Ghost, bittersweet

It’s with the clarity that death brings that he knows it’s not the end. Far from it.

There are certain promises upon fading from this reality over to the next.

That there is a moss covered cottage in Scotland, empty and waiting. It needs some repairs. Definitely new furniture. He’ll have his work cut out before Ghost joins him soon, that’s for sure.

That there will come a time when Price, Gaz, and Laswell and her wife visit often. Sometimes Nikolai, Farah and Alex, too. Captain John Price will be washed free of the guilt. They’ll go hiking and fishing and grab lunch at the pub down by the water. Soap will be forever smug about how much they enjoy his Caledonian air.

That he’ll take up art again. Dabble in a bit of everything. Ghost will let him practice tattoos on him like his own personal mannequin. Jack of all trades, master of none—except maybe being able to render a perfect portrait study of Simon Riley in five minutes flat.

That they’ll live as they lived before. Through bad jokes, bad flirting, having each other’s six through whatever comes. Long looks and words never really needed but more than welcome. They’ll finally figure it out. They will hold one another and take turns cooking dinner. Argue and apologise and kiss and fuck. God, they will love.

That Ghost will be his, and he’ll be Ghost’s. Easy in the way that coming into the living world is. Comfortable in the way that leaving it is. Love, undying.

That he’s going to meet Simon’s family. It will only come with a bundle full of nerves. But it’ll be no wonder his love was cut from the same cloth as this woman. She’ll be nothing short of a mother to him. He’ll get to see Simon being an older brother, an uncle. He’ll get to be an uncle. And he will adore every unhinged second of it.

That it’s going to take a while to get used to life in a civilian existence where humans aren’t constantly shitting on one another. Where there are no wars. No need for soldiers.

That he’ll get by just fine. He’ll thrive.

He wishes he could tell them this. He wishes he could have just a few more minutes to stay and assure Ghost of all the things left unsaid but always, always known between them. He wishes he could say, “Dinnae ye let this turn you into a ghost again, Simon Riley. Not after everything.”

But there is clarity in death. And he knows.

That Ghost will not make it out of the cold lust for revenge driven, unsanctioned solo-operation.

That Ghost will be reckless and hot-headed and sloppy. Everything he’s not. Because he will have no intention of living longer than it takes to complete the objective.

That Ghost gets Makarov but an explosion gets Ghost only minutes after.

He wishes he could warn him. He wishes he could seethe, “They plant enough c4 in that compound to blow the tits off the devil. They know you’re coming. It’s a trap. I know you know it’s a trap.”

He’ll ream the fucker out the very moment they see each other again.

But he has to go now.

And the last word his flawed, human ears hear is an utterly broken, “Johnny.”

And the last thing his useless, mortal body feels is a hand. Just the right size. Placed over his unbeating, but full—so full—heart.

That all he has to do is wait.

#ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #mwiii spoilers #mw3 spoilers #my fic

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hellolovers13 · 8 months

Text

💟I Hope We Never Change💟

Harry/Louis | E | 13k | genderfluid harry, angst, canon compliant, gender dysphoria

“I just wanted to try how it feels.” “The clothes?” Niall asked. Harry nodded. “Is that, that's too weird right, I shouldn't-” “Hey, stop it. I told you already, it's not weird. It's just how you feel. That's okay. You can try whatever you want, okay. And you can always, always talk to me. Remember that.” or Harry is confused about everything, so is Louis. At least they have Niall.

🎄Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You)🎄

Harry/Louis | E | 20k | meet cute, genderfluid harry, christmas fic

Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad. But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

👄Slow Hands👄

Harry/Niall Harry/Louis | E | 3k | smut, genderfluid harry

“Wait. So when you say you’re genderfluid, that means sometimes you’re a girl, right?” “Uh, yeah.” “So when I asked what you’d do if you were a girl and you said ‘Niall’. Does that apply now?”

🪴Unplant🪴

Harry/Louis | M | 4k | strangers to lovers, trans harry

Please do not disturb my plant She needs 2 hours of sunlight a day and I live in a sunless flat I’ll be back to collect her soon Thank you and stay well. or Louis should've looked where he was going, then he wouldn't have to desperately try to save a little flower now.

🥀play pretend🥀

Harry/Louis | T | 1k | trans harry, gender dysphoria, depression, implied self harm

just a bad day for him for her

🩷His and Hers🩵

Harry/Louis | T | 1.8k | trans harry, canon compliant, fluff, tiny bit of angst

It's just a blanket, it shouldn't make Harry freak out like this

🏳️‍⚧️Hold Me Tight (Or Don’t)🏳️‍⚧️

Harry/Louis | E | 13.6k | trans harry, famous/non-famous au, fangirl harry, angst, falling in love

Falling in love with Louis is easy enough. Separating Louis from the singer persona Harry has been a fan of for years, however, is not. But she's not the only one making assumptions.

👗Secret Moments👗 (First Part of the She Series)

Harry | G | 1.7k | trans Harry, gender things, gender euphoria

Harry's first dress.

🫂The Truth In Me🫂 (Second Part of the She Series)

Harry & Zayn | G | 1.1k | trans Harry, coming out, harry & zayn friendship

Harry is ready to come out to her best friend.

💄Hold On Tighter💄 (Third Part of the She Series)

Harry | G | 1.4k | trans Harry, coming out, angst & feels

Harry finally has the house to herself again. Or so she thought.

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tinydappledleaf · 5 months

Text

Title: Stay

Chapter: 2/6

Pairing: Ezra x f!Reader, Ezra x you (Reader is addressed by 'you' or nickname)

Rating: 18+, smut in chapter 6

Content: Situationship to romance, soft Ezra, intimacy, loss of limb (non-explicit), canon compliant

Summary: When you've almost given up waiting for him, a certain prospector returns to the Pug to call in a favor...

Ao3: complete fic

《 chapter I chapter 3 》

Chapter II

Ezra gains awareness more often now, his wakeful moments brightening the room's atmosphere significantly. The second his voice fills the space, still rough and worn from its lack of use, the gloom of doubt retreats. He’s recovering, slowly but steadily, fighting off death’s cold and grabby fingers.

There’re secrets, between him and the girl, that you witness with each conversation, wordy or mute, that happens between the two. You wonder what has prolapsed out there, in the Green, to bind such and unlikely duo. Neither Cee nor Ezra care to share, yet, and you tiptoe around it, cautious to mind the delicate boundaries reigning all queries and tales.

He's told you that he owes her. That she has saved his live, more than once. That she chose to stick around, has nowhere else to go. The least he can do is allow her to stay and learn, though he hardly deems himself anything akin a teacher, let alone guardian.

"I apologize for loading that onto you as well, Patches," he says when Cee's out and about to look for... well, something she didn't want to tell you about.

"As soon as I'm back on my feet, we'll be off your back. I won’t overstay my welcome."

You raise a brow at him as you dribble expectorant into a half full glass of fresh water. Getting rid of the dust is something you won't (let him) neglect. You know the dangers, the potential consequences of protracted infections. The Green is lethal. Years later, unexpected, for some.

Not for him.

You'll make sure of that.

He takes the glass, pulls a pout, then downs it in one go. You shake your head at his antics and free him of the empty glass.

"You're always welcome here. Both of you."

"Very conside-"

"No, I mean it, Ez. I enjoy your company."

You rarely snub him, adore his verbose quality. Sparking exasperation in most, for you its soothing, somehow, to hear him turn any two word matter into a full discourse. But there's no further discussion in this point and you want it known.

"I've been waiting for you to show your mug here for much longer than anticipated. I'd appreciate if you didn't run off and jump right into the next heap of trouble the tick you recover."

You know he still might. Ezra’s an alley cat. A roamer. He doesn’t stay, doesn’t commit. It sucks, you think. But it’s part of who he is.

As if he has read your very mind, he offers a sheepish smile and a shrug that makes him wince.

It hurts you still, to see him like that. In pain. Bone-weary. Somewhat broken and at wit's end. It’s not the first time he’s taken damage out in the void. You’ve patched him up countless times, bestowing a little more meaning upon his nickname for you, besides the obvious hint to your well-loved patched up overalls. You’re certain it’s one of his reasons to keep returning. For you to aid all injuries and grievances, big or small, and help him rebound. But none of those have ever been so… devastatingly permanent.

“That dreadful, hm?” he asks and only now you become aware that you’ve been staring at the bandaged stump that once was his right arm. Caught, you redirect your gaze to his face. His pensive smile unsettles you greatly, hence, you boldly lie.

“I’ve been eyeballing measurements. For replacement.”

Ezra tilts his head and sees right through you. He knows you long and well enough. You’re not that sloppy when it comes to your work and passion. He doesn’t call you out, however.

“I won’t be apt to compensate you suitably, I fear. Great loss and little gain have marked my voyage into the Green. Not quite what I had longed for.”

It’s your turn to shrug then. You don't live off the smell of you oily rags. You can bear one job without payment. You cannot bear watching him and sensing the concern that festers inside. The whisper of uncertain future and dread to accomodate to his life altering predicament.

“I’ll figure something out, Ez.”

You know he’s not entirely destitute, either. When you stripped him out of his tattered suit with the help of Cee, a singular aurelac gem dropped from one of its pockets. You’ve shoved it back in, not mentioned it once, since. You won’t now. He’s lost his crew, his ship, his belongings, his arm. You will not take the little he has left. And he’s smart enough not to offer it. After all, he has a teenage girl to care for. And many necessities to replace. The meager haul will barely serve to get them through for a few seasons, give and take. Not worth its cost.

“You know what?” you say and pat his shin through the blanket, “Since you’re up, I’m gonna cook.”

His eyes grow large at the prospect of food. Real food. Not those ready packed protein slushies and Bits Bars he’s been surviving on. His innocent reaction lures a smile from you, the heavy prior conversation momentarily forgotten.

"You're kevvasend, Patches. I hereby vow, I will acquit my debt to you. If there's anything I can do to compensate, speak your wishes."

“Oh, hush Ez," you laugh as you get up.

You can't ask him to stay. You won't clip his wings.

You leave him to his own devices then, glad to direct you focus elsewhere and away from the wistful thought, and head into the niche that is your kitchen. Your living quarters are by no means large. The Pug offers little in matter of quality of living. At least in your financial range. There are spots for the luckiest ones, who’ve turned adventures into riches. High up, above the container structures that serve the those below the salt.

You don’t love the Pug. You don’t hate it either. For you, it serves a purpose. Travelers of all sorts frequent here and there’s always something to repair - be it a radio. Or a foot. It all pays well enough.

The area you live in might not be one of the nicest, but at least its no hellhole. Those are located closer portside. The days out are safe around here, beyond the occasional pickpocket. The nights are certainly not.

Cee knows as much, so she comes in no later than sundown. You’re relieved to see she seems to carefully gain some autonomy, unsticking herself from Ezra’s side little by little since he’s up. The trauma sits deep inside her soul, so much is obvious. But the ever-present haze of gloom that hangs above her lifts the tiniest bit with each passing cycle. She’s talking more now and her smartness shines with each witty retort.

Today she comes ‘home’ early. As she enters the living room, she holds a curious flat package pressed close to her chest, similar to the one she brought in cycles prior, and you wonder what's inside. Her sneakineass piques your interest, though you don't pry. If Ezra trusts her, so do you. There's no ill intent behind her secrecy.

Immediately after entering, she disappears into the tiny adjacent bedroom that has become her save haven. Surrendering it to her had only seemed the right thing to do. You don’t mind making do with the makeshift cot beside your provisory workspace, compiled of old roll mats, blankets and some stray pillows.

It’s all a bit cramped and no permanent solution for sure, but the situation justifies it for the time being, no question.

Cee reemerges from her hiding spot no sooner than you call her.

She helps you craft a crude dinner table from supply boxes in front of the couch and takes a seat as you serve dinner.

You’re a little proud of yourself as you carry the bowls over.

Living by yourself, you rarely take the time to cook. But Cee looks like she could use a decent meal and Ezra must be starving by now.

You’ve been taking it slow for him with solid food, not sure how much he’d be able to stomach, given his overall condition. But you’ve heard his stomach grumble several times throughout the afternoon and decided it’s time to take pity on him. Thus, you now offer something a tad more substantial than thinned out nutrient rations.

As you set down a bowl of stew in front of him and Cee, excitement settles over her features, and she doesn’t waste time to dig in. Very much like Ezra, it apparently has been some time since she last got any proper food between her teeth. She praises your (in your mind decent) cooking skills avidly between loaded spoons and you revel in her joy over something as simple as dinner. Your attention is on her until she freezes, spoon mid-air from bowl to mouth. A slight frown replaces the expression of content.

“Are you okay?”

Her cautious question returns your attention to Ezra, who’s fallen utterly silent. He still resides on the couch, now upright despite the nasty gash right though his midsection. The white-knuckled grip on his innocent cutlery sparks concern. First you guess pain. Then frustration. The situation must harshly remind him that he now, by force of events, is left-handed. A circumstance that threatens to grow more challenging with his progressing recovery.

But his expression reveals something entirely different. Brows drawn tight together, he stares down into his untouched bowl, lips almost non-existent with how adamantly he presses them into a line. Brown eyes brim with unshed moisture and a shaky breath runs through his tightly strung frame.

“’m fine,” he says but it doesn’t convince either of the friends present.

“Suppose I simply did not expect to someday enjoy another home cooked meal.”

It hits you then, like a wave crushing in. That he’d been closer to giving in than ever before. The Ezra you knew had his ups and downs, sure. You’d seen him falter and rethink, fuss and curse, if something did not turn out the way expected.

But he always, always, found his way out of life’s tumult eventually and, afterwards, spun it masterfully into serpentine stories of misfortune and close calls.

This time, however, he had been on the brink to surrender fate.

It scares you. It scares him. And it is all you can do not to join in and break, after cycles of watching him stubbornly battle the consequences of this one disastrous undertaking. Swallowing against the sudden tightness in your throat, you reach out and wrap your hand around his.

“The more reason to enjoy it.”

His iron grip slackens with your touch, and he collects himself enough to blink the tears away. Soon enough he’s digging in as well and regains a tad of his usual radiance. It does you a world of good to see him delight in the carefree moment that sprouts. In the jokes and banter, the recount of memories.

Ezra narrates one of your misadventures to Cee and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his unbelievable exaggeration of your occasional clumsiness.

You hadn’t meant to set your supplies on fire. And they sure as hell didn’t burn down entirely! But the mischievous glint in his eyes, the verbal jab of his elbow, stokes a familiar warmth deep within your chest.

You’ve missed this - him - so much it hurts. And you long for the moment to last.

Alas, dinner comes to an end eventually.

At least it does in laughter, you think, as Cee mockingly threatens to stab Ezra with her spoon at the mere mention of ‘channel rats’.

You totally get her.

Shortly after, she excuses herself to ‘prepare’ something and you’re left alone with your now exhausted chatterbox.

You’re still undoubtedly curious about the girl, but Cee won’t spill a word about her mysterious project before she retires to her room.

“She writes a novel,” says Ezra off-handedly as you accompany him to the bathroom and only goes into detail at your astonished expression, satisfied to now own your undivided attention as he praises his fledgling. Cee manages to impress you time and again.

Your focus, however, is elsewhere already as you maneuver Ezra to stand in front of the narrow shower cabin. You pause to consider how to go about your task without further hurting him.

“You certain this is necessary?” He quips, obviously mildly amused by your very thoughtful frown.

“Dead certain. No more cat baths, Ez. You reek.” you mutter and he does look somewhat affronted, though he knows you’re absolutely right. Its something else that has him stall. With a sigh, he relents and drops the humor.

You feel the tiniest bit sorry for barreling right through his façade but the tiptoeing around all sensible topics drains your energy. By now you’re tired. You both are. You want to get this over with.

Taking a small step back within the cramped space, you allow him room and privacy to rid himself of shirt and pants. It’s a time-consuming process, but he’s learning, accepting. And you’re there to help, if need be.

While he undresses, you busy yourself preparing new bandages and waterproof stick-on foil to keep his healing injuries dry.

As soon as he’s bare, you step in and skim cautious fingers across his skin to apply the foil around his right shoulder and over the cut in his abdomen. He’s lost some weight, you notice, as your hand ghosts across his stomach. It doesn’t take or add from his looks. He’s always been handsome to your eyes. Always will be.

Mid-way through enduring your gentle care, Ezra begins to ramble again. He tells you about the nights in the Green. How the mist crawls in on stormy ones. And how bright and clear the stars shine through the calm nights. No exhaust. No light pollution. Solely the mesmerizing radiant glow of myriad stars across the void.

You smile at that and try to imagine the beauty he’s found within the Green’s death trap. He amazes you, too, time and again.

You stay as he showers; too afraid still unsteady legs might give in to the slippery tile floor. He doesn’t mind your presence, its nothing new, but neither asks for assistance until he’s done. Upon his call of the nickname he bestowed you with, you hand him a towel and help him peel the waterproof layers of foil away. You don’t leave him time to lose himself in the misted mirror, to mourn his loss and detest his marred image.

You turn him to face you instead, and gently cradle his jaw in both of your hands until your reassuring gaze has melted his frown away. Nothing has changed in the way you see him, how you care for him. With a smile, you allow no space for doubt and he mirrors it, just the tiniest bit more confident.

Only then you move to change his dressings and check the stitches under his attentive observation.

You think there’s something on that wicked mind of his, as you briefly glance at his face. Something on the tip of his silver tongue.

But for now, it remains a secret.

#ezra prospect #prospect 2018 #prospect film #ezra x reader #ezra x you #pedro pascal #f!reader #soft ezra #fluff #leaf writes

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awesomelyanxiouspanda · 10 months

Text

A Fiercely Bleeding Heart (Lucifer/OFC): Chapter 7

Story summary: Emery (Our lovely OFC) owns a thriving coffee shop smack dab in the middle of Monroe City, Mo. She’s well known for her unique coffee drinks and her “coffee charity”. What happens when a woman with too much heart- and not nearly enough common sense- comes across the fallen archangel in his mostly human state? Will Lucifer behave, or will he bite the hand that (quite literally) feeds him?

Warnings/Tags: NO SMUT IN THIS CHAPTER. PURELY STORY LINE ADDITION!

Loosely based around S.13 E. 13! Plus size OC, OC is gullible and a big softie, Lucifer in his nearly human form, Soft Lucifer, Dean and Sam cosplaying FBI agents again, Canon typical violence, Non-Canon compliant story line, Soulmate AU-ish?, canon typical cursing, NOT a slow burn, not beta’d we die like our king Crowley, smut, vaginal fingering, oral sex (male receiving), unprotected smut, commitments are made, soulmate bonds are formed, praise kink, Luci can dirty talk with the best of them (we all know his sass would be sinful in bed), little bit of drama, some self-esteem issues, possessive Lucifer, breeding kink, dom/sub themes, pet names (such as princess, good girl, and little one), Castiel awkwardly and adorably cosplaying an FBI agent, Castiel is also scary af.

A/N: Draaammmaaa. Return of the Winchesters. Emery finally meets Cas! And, finally, reintroduction to the storyline of season 13, with creative liberties taken of course. Sorry this one took so long and it's a bit short, but it took forever to get the motivation and right head space to move on with! I hope you all enjoy!

“Have a good night!”

I waved at Lucy as she backed out through the door and let out a happy sigh, nearly collapsing against the counter with a goofy smile. Today had gone better than expected. After two full weeks of the shop being closed so soon after my last break, I had no delusions of grandeur on what the first day back would be like, and yet still, it was nothing like the chaos I had pictured. I had expected angry customers, understocked sources, and cranky patrons of the coffee charity when in reality, it just seemed all my regulars had solely been concerned by my absence. It was heartwarming, to say the least.

“You good boss?” Amy asked cautiously.

I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself. She’d been a mother hen since I’d gotten back. In fact, most of the staff had been texting me regularly since I’d fed them all the first little lie about being in recovery from an accident. To be fair, it wasn’t much of a lie the first time around. This time, though, was filled with much more fun activities.

Turning to face her, I flashed her a bigger smile and said, “Yeah, I’m great, actually. Today’s been nice, right?”

That earned a grin from the young woman as she nodded emphatically.

“We’re really glad to have you back and to be back. You had us all scared, Emery.”

Empathy bled through her tone and warmth every bone in my body. I truly was lucky to have her, to have each one of them, in my life.

“Yeah, yeah, I was scared too,” I admitted quietly, eyes unfocusing as I was pulled deep into the recesses of the memories I tried to keep blocked out.

I cleared my throat abruptly and shifted back to my feet, lips quirking into a half-smile.

“I’m just lucky Nick was there to help.”

Her pixie-like features twisted between emotions before settling on something like contentment and she gave a little smile and a nod.

“Anyway, enough jabbering. I’m going to grab the deposit and drop it off at the bank, you want anything while I’m out?” I asked as I popped up off the counter.

“A million dollars?” she quipped back cheekily.

I couldn’t stop the roll of my eyes that followed my heavy groan.

“Sttoooppp, you’re too young to make jokes like that. At least wait til you’re my age.”

Her laugh was interrupted by the ring of the bell over the door.

“Hi! Welcome in!” she quickly recited.

I turned to echo the greeting but the words fell silent on my lips as I spotted the supposed customers walking through the lobby. My heart began to race as the acrid taste of fear coated my tongue. Two of them I recognized as the “FBI agents” that entered my shop weeks ago, whom I now knew to be Sam and Dean Winchester, thanks to Lucifer’s entail. The other was someone I’d never seen before, but he was no less gorgeous or terrifying. If anything, there was something about him that was worse… better? My brain was very confused.

“Uhm, actually, could you do the bank run for me, Amy?” I asked gently, shooting the men a “one moment” signal.

I did my best to keep my worries hidden as I didn’t bother waiting for her reply, ducking beneath the counter and opening the safe to grab the drop bag from beneath.

“You sure?” she asked, confusion obvious in her voice.

While Amy was essentially my second in command, I usually didn’t bother her with managerial duties, but, at this moment, I needed her out of the shop as soon as possible.

“I’m sure. I need to talk to these lovely gentlemen and this is a good chance for you to get some fresh air while it’s nice,” I replied, forcing on a smile as I rose back to my feet and handed her the bag, “I’ll see you when you get back, okay?”

There was an obvious distrust in her narrowed eyes as she looked between the trio of men and I before she relented with a small nod.

“Okay, I’ll have my phone on me. Be back in ten,” she said, loudly enough for the men in the lobby to hear.

Oh sweet Amy. So tiny yet to protective. If only she knew these men could kill us both. Well, I knew two of them could. I still wasn’t certain who the last one was, though I was sure if he was with the Winchesters… he couldn’t be any safer.

The instant she was out the door, I placed on my most professional smile and skirted around the counter toward the “agents”.

“Agents, welcome back. I hope nothing’s happened again if you’re here?”

I did my best to hide anything other than courtesy and kindness but it was hard when three larger-than-life men were staring me down.

Sam, as sweet as before, offered me a smile before reaching out a hand my way.

“Emery, right?” he asked.

“Yes! I’m sorry, agents, but I don’t remember your names. My memory isn’t great in my old age of thirty,” I joked easily.

Dean snorted with a little smirk and commented, “Just wait til you get to our age.”

I saw the way Sam rolled his eyes minutely before that same patient smile covered his face once more. Before he could speak, I turned toward the third man and offered out my hand, determined to figure out who he was. He was a little shorter than Dean but still quite tall, with perfectly coifed dark brown hair, intense blue eyes, and strong masculine features defined by a light layer of stubble around his lower face. His tan trench coat was a little odd for a supposed FBI agent but it did give off a nice aura of detective. All in all, he was certainly a dream boat.

“I don’t think we met last time. Emery Pike,” I said.

There was an obvious hesitation before he reached out and limply shook my hand, retreating as soon as possible as he cleared his throat.

“Agent Beyonce.”

Oh. Oh, that voice. Had I not had Lucifer in my life, I had no doubt I would have fallen for him in that instant.

“Beyonce?” I had to ask, caught off guard.

“Yeah, like- like the singer, she-”

“Listen, Emery, we’re sorry to drop in like this,” Sam cut off the other agent sharply, “But there was something we needed to talk to you about.”

“Uh, okay, sure.”

It felt hard to swallow as I gestured toward the counter.

“Would you guys like some coffee or pastries while we talk?” I offered.

Dean’s eyebrows lifted instantly at the word pastries and he asked, “What kind you got?”

Gone was the stern agent, instantly replaced by something much softer and more genuine. I couldn’t hide the smile that slid across my lips as I made my way to the counter.

“Nothing too crazy but I hand make everything three times a week. I’ll check what I have left.”

As I went into the back store room, I could hear the men arguing in hushed voices even over the pounding of my heart in my ears. I quickly shuffled through what was left and came out with almost a dozen options. For a moment, I debated praying for Lucifer but I also didn’t want to drag him into something possibly dangerous for him if they didn’t know about our relationship yet. Hopefully, it was something I could handle on my own. If I put him in harm’s way of those three just to save my own skin, well, what kind of soulmate would I be?

“Here we go. I’ve got some muffins, blueberry and chocolate chip, a couple of apple and cherry danishes, and some plain bagels. Please, help yourself to whatever you’d like. I also have some coffee, freshly brewed.”

While I was no actress, I’d played the part of perfect hostess for so long that I was almost certain they wouldn’t see through to the panic beneath the mask.

“Thanks, uh, I’ll take a coffee, black,” Sam said as he sat, seemingly giving up fighting Dean’s sweets craving.

“Sure, if you decide you want cream or sugar, there’s some at the end there,” I replied, gesturing to the little turn wheel with the keep-cold creamer pot and sugar packets.

“I’ll take some too,” Agent Beyonce added as I poured Sam’s cup, “Please.”

Flashing him a genuine smile, I nodded and poured one for him as well. It was obvious he was either new to this, or was genuinely uncomfortable around other people. I almost felt bad for him being stuck with the Winchesters. I had to wonder if he knew what their ruse was, what they really were, or if he was just dragged along.

Of course, in the grand scheme of things, I could determine that the Winchesters weren’t bad people- though, to Lucifer of cour,se, they were. It didn’t mean I had to like them either way, considering they wanted to kill the love of my life despite the fact he was becoming less and less “evil” to their standards.

“Here we go.”

It was impossible to hide the grin that blossomed across my face at the way Dean nearly lit up with a groan when he took a bite of the apple danish.

“YOU make these?” he asked in obvious disbelief.

Sam gave a huff of a laugh, shaking his head, as I agreed softly.

“Almost as good as pie, almost,” Dean muttered, shoving the rest of the danish in his mouth before pulling the last two in his direction.

“Thank you, but if we might…?”

Sam trailed off and I quickly gave a little nod.

“Of course. What brings you guys in again?” I asked.

I reached out and snagged the little pot of creamer as Agent Beyonce put it down, mimicking his actions and pouring in a good slosh before snagging some sugar packets to add in as well.

“We know about you and L- Nick.”

His words made the world slow down instantly. My mouth went dry and my fingers froze in their actions, but I quickly kicked myself into gear with a little curse in my head, hazel eyes catching his soft green ones as he stared me down.

“Okay, and? I know he wasn’t the one who killed that guy, so what does it matter who I share my love life with?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level.

The guys exchanged looks and, much to my surprise, Agent Beyonce was the one to speak next.

“Nick isn’t who you think he is, Emery. He’s lying to you. He’s done horrible things-”

“What he means to say is that we don’t think Nick is being completely honest with you,” Sam cut in quickly.

Agent Beyonce cast Sam a hilarious bitch face before looking out the window and sipping his coffee, obviously off-put by being stepped on once again. Man, if Sam only knew how much I knew about “Nick” and how I knew Agent Beyonce was right.

“Whatever he’s done in the past, I don’t care about,” I spoke truthfully as I took a drink of my own coffee, “He’s a good person now. That’s what matters. He literally saved my life after an accident. He kept me safe and healthy while I recovered. As far as I’m concerned, what he does now is what is important. We all have a past. What matters is how we grow and change from it.”

Sam’s eyebrows pinched together in frustration and thought, obviously trying to decide how to get through to me, but Agent Beyonce was quicker.

“Lucifer is a murderer. He’s killed millions of people, Emery! He’d kill you too if it benefited him!”

His words were harsh, filled with such anger that I now had no doubt he had been affected by Lucifer in some way personally. Dean cursed softly as Sam tried to scramble for some kind of cover, but it was all useless.

I knew I was in over my head at this point. Resting my face in my hands, I silently sent out a prayer to Lucifer for help and made sure to let him know it was the Winchesters who were here and why.

“Listen, Emery, we just-”

“No, no, I think I’m done listening,” I cut him off coldly, lifting my head to look at the trio once more, “You’re not going to poison me against the one good man in my life. I don’t care what you have to say, whether you call him the devil or not. Nothing is going to change. Understood? Now, agents, I would appreciate it if you would get out of my shop before I have to call the cops. And believe me, when I say, this wouldn’t be the first time they’ve had to come to save me from rowdy men who have tried to hurt me so they’re going to believe me over even you suited jackasses!”

Their surprise would have been more satisfying if I weren’t shaking with the need to vomit and sob at the same time.

“What’s it going to be? Gonna be another addition to the “tried to rape Emery” list, or you going to use your brains and get the hell out of here?” I snapped.

Dean and Sam instantly raised their hands in submission, slowly backing away.

“Okay, fine, we’ll leave,” Sam said carefully, “But please, think over what we said.”

I looked over at the last one to move, Agent Beyonce, and instantly knew I was in trouble with the heat in his stare.

“You’re coming with us, whether you want to or not.”

“Cas, don’t-!”

Cas. Castiel. The seraphim, younger brother to Lucifer, and most dangerous ally to the Winchesters. I should have known! God, I was fucking stupid.

Before Dean could finish his sentence, the angel was by my side, one arm wrapped around my back and the other to my forehead.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t lose this chance. Jack and Mary’s life depend on it.”

Jack? Mary? Who was-

Everything went black mid-thought and I was pulled into the easiest sleep of my life.

#Supernatural fanfic #supernatural lucifer #lucifer/ofc

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couldntbedamned · 8 months

Text

The Phoenix Protocol - 2

Summary: No one else but Tony thought anything was off about Sharon. Investigating on his own, he discovered and brought down her Skrull impersonator and when he found the real Sharon near death, he made a choice that would change both of their lives.

AO3 Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Extremis, Extremis Tony Stark, Extremis Sharon Carter, Skrull Species, A Skrull Impersonates Sharon Carter, Canon-Typical Violence, Recreational Drug Use, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Childhood Memories, Team Cap Critical, SHIELD Critical, BAMF Sharon Carter, Sharon Carter Deserves the World, Tony Stark Has a Heart, more or less canon compliant up until civil war

Author’s Note: Look. This is supposed to be just a few bits of a premise I had where Tony saves Sharon with Extremis. But if you’ve read my writing, you know that sometimes no matter what I plan, things just happen. So.

_______

Chapter 2

_______

She's awake, Boss.

"Yeah, I can see that. So Ms. Carter, how are you feeling? Murderous? Psychotic? Do you have an urge to set the world on fire?"

"No more than I usually feel."

She sat up to see Tony Stark - Iron Man, the former Merchant of Death, and her one-time defender against the US Department of Defense - lounging in a chair that looked far too comfortable to be a regular hospital chair.

"You're safe in Stark Tower," he said. "The Skrull that impersonated you is dead. You're welcome for that, by the way."

She nodded, glad to hear that Kin'trak was dead, even if she wished she could have killed the identity-stealing bastard herself.

"I really thought I was going to die this time," she said.

"You almost did," Tony said. "You were not having your best day ever, medically speaking."

"But you saved me, so thank you."

"Sharon, you need to know just how exactly I saved you, because it's going to affe-."

"You injected me with Extremis."

Tony looked surprised.

"I heard you talking with the AI, off and on, while I was on fire and burning from the inside out," she admitted.

"And do you know just what Extremis is?"

"Oh, only enough to be dangerous."

Looking regretful, Tony filled her in. It took longer than she'd thought but she was a spy; more information was always better than too little. He talked about his own experience with Extremis after an incident in Germany that was exacerbated by another incident soon after in Siberia.

"What was so bad it prompted using Extremis?"

"A vibranium shield being driven into my chest and destroying the suit's power source. That was bad enough but given the literal subzero temperatures, it was worse."

She gaped as she put the pieces together. "He could have killed you!"

"Yeah, I'm aware."

"Will you tell me about it?"

He eyed her. "After you've adjusted to the new normal and I'm like 12% more sure that you won't try to kill Rogers."

"Fair enough." She looked around. "When do I get to meet your more professional half?"

"Pep?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "We uh, we called it quits. Well, she called it quits. It was reasonable, though. I can't exactly blame her for it, especially because I did drop a Jericho roughly the size of Sokovia on her one last boundary knowing that it was her one last boundary and watched it explode."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Sharon said. "Was it actually Sokovia?"

"It wasn't, surprisingly," Tony answered. "No, it was this." He tapped the arc reactor. "Saving you wasn't the first time I used the arc reactor to push Extremis. I was supposed to leave it alone and keep from stabilizing it. But I couldn't stop, so I perfected it, created a distribution mechanism, and built it into the reactor." He smiled wryly. "It's how I survived Siberia."

"And you did all of that knowing that if you did, it would be the last of your relationship."

She didn't judge him for it, exactly, but she couldn't fault Ms. Potts for walking away, either.

"I did, yeah. And I can't be upset because hey, I'm alive, but it wasn't fair to her and I'm not angry about it."

Wow, emotional awareness, she thought. Good for him.

"So what now?"

"That's a good question," Tony said. "When I went through this I had a teenager I had to get settled back here in New York City so I wasn't exactly in the best frame of mind-" she opened her mouth to ask what the hell a teenager had to do with anything but he waved that away. "But I think that for now, we should do some basic tests and see where you are physically."

"What kinds of tests?"

That was how she found herself in what was the old Avengers training gym, wearing a pair of skintight yoga pants and a compressive sports bra, dodging various blasts and attacks by several of the Iron Legion.

It was so easy - more so than breathing. Her eyesight was better, her reflexes quicker, and her running so much faster than before. When she threw a punch at one of the suits, she barely felt the pang of it in her arm but the suit flew back with the force of the blow and crashed against the wall.

When one of the other suits jerked her arm, popping it out of the socket, she only let out a small cry of pain before she swung her arm and felt it pop back into place.

Tony called time and she wasn't even winded or panting. There was no stitch in her side.

"Catch!"

He tossed a bottle of water at her and while she caught it easily, she overestimated her control and crushed the bottle when she did do, sending water everywhere.

"Yeah, it's going to take a while," Tony said as he handed her another bottle of water and a towel. "Learning to pull punches is a pain."

"Could be worse," Sharon said.

"I have to say, you are taking this so much better than I expected."

Sharon shrugged. "I was dying and you saved me. Why would I be upset about that?"

"Because I used Extremis and turned you into an enhanced without your consent."

"It's not any worse than what SHIELD did with my consent."

Tony's brows raised. "I like that agency less and less every time I hear about it."

"Well, it was founded by three people who thought super-soldier serum and hiring ex-Nazis was a good idea, so that's reasonable."

"I have no idea what my old man and that great aunt of yours were thinking."

"They weren't," Sharon said. "Or they were just too weak to not fall under the influence of the geniuses behind Operation Paperclip."

"We should grab something to eat," Tony said. "You don't realize how hungry you are, trust me."

He had a four-course steak dinner for six catered and after she'd eaten her second 12 oz ribeye it soon became clear that there wouldn't be anything left. She'd never been so hungry in her life.

"Your calorie requirements are insane now," Tony said, pushing a plate of rolls slathered in butter her way.

The plates and cutlery were all hard, durable plastic, something she never would have imagined Tony having.

"It's easier than breaking and cleaning up the fine China," Tony said.

"Painful experience?" she asked, eating another bite of perfectly cooked medium-rare steak.

"Well, not exactly painful," Tony admitted with a grin. "Cuts always heal up in a few seconds, but then DUM-E wants to clean it all up he's incapable of doing so without assistance from a fire extinguisher."

"Classic DUM-E, I take it?"

"He's one of a kind."

Sharon ignored Tony's insistence that he could handle clean-up and dishes and busied herself wiping down the table.

Boss, Captain Rogers, Ms. Romanoff, and Mr. Wilson are in the lobby. Shall I send them away?

Tony didn't pause in soaping up a plate as he looked to Sharon, who shook her head.

"Tell them that visiting hours are over."

There was a pause.

They claim to want to know if Ms. Carter is okay.

"I am," Sharon said before muttering, "No thanks to them."

"Yeah, FRIDAY, tell them to scram."

It took a few minutes but eventually FRIDAY came back with a They're gone for now, Boss. I'm sure they'll return.

"Yeah, well, good for them."

"Any plans for tonight?" Sharon asked as they finished putting everything away. "I feel like I could stay awake for days."

Tony leaned back against the fridge. "Yeah, that's normal now. I usually spend all night down in my lab, but I haven't had a movie night in a while. Feel up to that?"

"What kinds of movies?"

He shrugged. "As long as they're not war movies, I'm good with anything."

They couldn't decide on a movie and ended up watching The X-Files instead.

_______

#couldntbedamned fic #tony stark x sharon carter #sharon carter x tony stark #iron 13 #tony stark #sharon carter #iron thirteen

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mimhalennia · 1 year

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Rules

I’m always happy to receive topics or prompts for drabbles, short fics, headcanons, and all the forms of writing in between (no guarantees that they’ll be very good, though, I’m very new to this all)

For writing request rules, please note the following:

SFW content requests only (not comfortable writing into a NSFW direction, which may result in asks that steer towards that field being reformatted a bit)

Angst, cuddles and fluff, general themes, mild horror (if I can manage the style), comfort, AU scenarios, canon-compliant, time-skip - whatever the mood or genre you’re looking for, let me know and I’ll try to tailor my writing as best as I can to fit it!

No real people - especially if there’s a shipping request, please note that I will only be writing about fictional characters (and maybe OC’s if I get to know their character well enough)

Happy to write scenic passages without dialogue for real or fictional locations to craft images and location associations (if that makes sense, like “spending a day at the beach” or “countryside journey by train”)

Content-wise, please use your general discretion - if NSFW is out of the question, so are things that include non-con, dub-con, incest, abuse, drug or alcohol abuse, and similar triggers or subjects. If it’s a mention or allusion to such a topic, feel free to ask about whether I’d include it in passing, but I won’t be writing a main focus for any topic like this

(Edit: Newer development! also hoping to do little sketches for characters at some point - not able to guarantee any quality, but always looking for inspiration!! Please note that these would also be SFW - while I may occasionally draw partially NSFW, I’m not quite comfortable taking those as requests from people. The above writing rules also apply across to art - happy to do fan-art or original works, same content limitations and genre areas!)

As for Interaction rules, here we go:

While I won’t be writing NSFW or specific 18+ content, know that with some requests or topics, I will still be looking to confirm ages - so please either have your age somewhere easy to locate on your blog or mentioned in an anon ask!

Especially note that while I am not currently posting any explicitly NSFW content that I create, this blog does interact with NSFW blogs and posts. Therefore, as per my rules, please list your age in your bio or pinned post.

Minor or ageless blogs - do not follow. You will be blocked, particularly if you are a minor blog interacting with NSFW posts/reblogs.

Don’t repost, edit or translate my content - on tumblr or any other sites

If, at any point, you’d look to share my content outside of tumblr, please ask beforehand (I may still say no)

Trigger warnings (tw) and content warnings (cw) will be included in tags and at the beginning of posts - if there’s something you notice that hasn’t been tagged, please send me a little message and I’ll look to correct it as soon as I can!

Ultimately, while I’m very open to the concepts of prompts and asks, there may be topics that I personally do not want to write or feel comfortable writing about - please respect this and that I may not give reasoning beyond a general “no, I’m not comfortable with that”. (I don’t have a full list of such topics yet, but keep an eye on here for any updates)

Any content I write on here that relates to another creator’s work - either official published works or other fan works - will receive either direct credit for inspiration/collaboration with the other artist or writer, or simply show that my writing or art is fan-art or fan-fiction - not monetised or claiming credit for the characters, story or ideas of the original creators.

However, for original writing and art, the intellectual property and copyright for the content rests with me.

Fandoms: while I’m happy to read more into other fandoms for a request, and I am part of a couple others, the ones I’m most familiar with are:

Haikyu

Harry Potter

MCU (complete up to but not including Phase 4, including TV series)

Sk8

Stranger Things

BNHA

Yuri! On Ice

JJK (anime only at the moment, sorry, will get around to reading once I’ve got some time!)

Demon Slayer (anime only, same situation as JJK!)

BBC Sherlock

BBC Merlin

Percy Jackson

Heroes of Olympus

The Hobbit

Lord of the Rings

Shadowhunters and the Clockwork Trilogy

Select Disney content

Please feel free to send me an ask, message, comments through reblogs - I’ll try to get back to every single one, and know that I appreciate all of them!

Thank you for understanding, and I hope you’re all having a lovely day xx

#them's the rules

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ophie-writes · 2 years

Note

hey, you said you wanted requests (like six days ago but still) so i was wondering if you could do smut prompt 24-26-27 with jd? Idk i saw the prompts and i was curious on what you'd write :)

hey!! I tried to get this out on 2/2/22 because it literally has 2222 words, but alas, it's 1 AM and I've failed smh. ANYWAY, this one's a long time coming, but in my defense, I've been horribly busy with college/career things that have been putting my whole life on hold. enough rambling though!

psyche I'm not done rambling. I've seen such a surge in demand for J.D. content thanks to Tiktok, and though I have my thoughts about that, I'd be happy to write some requests! without any further ado, I think we're ready for this one.

(yes the title is from a Måneskin song)

Prompts:

Were you masturbating?

Have they ever touched you like this?

My boyfriend would kill us

Warnings: s m u t, cheating, praise kink, vaguely shitty relationship, multiple orgasms, fingering, Oral sex (AFAB receiving), brief mentions of murder, canon compliant J.D. , the word 'Pretty' is used A LOT.

Words: 2222

For Your Love- J.D. x GN! AFAB Reader

Your relationship had been fine for the most part. You’d gone through some stuff a while back and just needed a distraction. But now? Now you just feel caught up in it. You knew your boyfriend for way longer than you’ve been dating him, so it seemed like something to try. Something new to get you out of the rut you were in.

That sure as hell wasn’t helping, and that rut felt deeper than ever especially considering that you barely felt anything for this person. Everything just felt so forced, but he wouldn’t say the same. Your boyfriend would probably go on to tell everyone about your dates, and make fabricated sex jokes about your almost non existent sex life while everyone blabbed about how much of a cute couple you both are. Yeah, sure, communicating is hard, but how can you tell someone that they haven’t been there for your physical and emotional needs when you’ve been pretending everything was ok for so long?

You were planning on ending it with him soon, you really were this time. But the opportunity just kept failing to present itself. Even tonight, where you’d invited some friends and acquaintances from school over to your house since your parents were out of town for a bit and figured you could break it off easy and still have fun with your friends, he couldn’t show. Something about having to watch a younger sibling or whatever.

People showed up and hung out, including your friend Veronica, who brought with her Jason Dean. it felt almost intentional on her part. How fitting to bring the boy who had been staring at you from across the cafeteria, who caught you blushing at him in the parking lot while mounting his motorbike on multiple different occasions, to your party. J.D. and Veronica weren’t together or anything, but it just felt more like an unconscious reminder of what you couldn’t have. Hell, you’ve barely spoken with him. To rub salt in the wound, those precious few interactions had involved quite a bit of flirting on his part. Needless to say, you felt pretty taunted by the universe right now. After a while of being unable to keep your eyes off him, he disappeared after you turned away for a drink or two.

That’s how you found yourself here. In your room, door locked, with one hand rubbing circles on your aching clit, and the other palming your breast. It felt at least a little wrong to be fucking yourself to the thought of someone else, but wow did you need this. The party was still going on downstairs, and the screen door to the balcony to your room was blowing cold night air inside. The smell of cigarettes coming in from the outside fueling your fantasy. You imagined J.D. between your thighs instead of your hand, thought about him licking and sucking hungrily at your folds instead of you being the one lightly pinching your clit between your fingers. You closed your eyes as you fantasized about him. The thought of the noises he’d make as he ate you out, the words that might fall from his lips

“You’re doing so good” he’d say.

“What a pretty mess you are for me.” The thought alone was enough to let a moan slip from your mouth as you nodded. You felt yourself getting closer, circles getting faster and tighter as your abdomen tensed. Oh god maybe he’d make you beg? Would he deny you? Overstimulate you? You found your breathing was getting heavier and your volume was increasing as you neared your orgasm. Nobody would be able to hear you downstairs anyway, so you were as loud as you wanted

“Mmh! Fuck! Jason-! Please~” you whined as you reached your peak. Panting heavily and barely coming down and eyes snapping open when you heard a sliding noise to your right. Shit. standing in front of the screen door was the boy you were getting off to. Jason Fucking Dean. you were laying on top of any covers you had, absolutely no way to hide anything or make up any excuses. You were absolutely speechless. So was he. J.D. didn’t budge though. After the initial eyebrow raise, and momentary look of shock, you looked into his eyes like a deer in headlights. He seemed to be eying you up and down. You couldn’t read his expression as he slightly licked his bottom lip.

“Were you…masturbating?” he asked. Was he being serious? Of course, but how were you supposed to answer that? You nod as you didn’t even move to get your pants back on. You were absolutely astounded when J.D. walks toward the door. Smirks to himself, and grabs the knob

“Wait-” you start, the dark haired boy turns around. His expression is hard to read. You couldn’t tell if he was aroused or unfazed. God, that was hot. He cocks one eyebrow and makes his way closer. You stay in the same position as you were, but made knowing eye contact with him. He seems to have caught your drift, because he’s looking at you with hungry eyes, and leans down to kiss you. J.D.’s tongue invades your mouth as he deepens the kiss. You moan a little in the kiss, and that must have set something primal off in this boy because the next thing you know, that massive coat and blue flannel of his are on the floor as you’re straddled. J.D.’s hands move up and down your body, removing your shirt and leaving you bare and exposed. He kissed down your neck and eventually reached your chest.

“You want this?” he asked. It felt genuine and caring. You moved back any lines that could have been crossed with no guilt.

“Yeah…” you almost groan as the moment you give the ok, his mouth is making fast work of your nipple, and a hand is snaking down your body, almost making you whimper. You arch into his touch as his tongue bats at your nipple back and forth. His hand finds its way to your already dripping slit, and teases your wet entrance with his middle finger. Your hands go to his back and leave scratches when he teases you, making him moan around your nipple, his finger slipping inside you made you do the same.

“Already fucked yourself, and you’re still so tight,” J.D. teases as he works his ring finger inside you too. “Has he ever touched you like this?” he asks, moving his fingers faster, curling them up and finding your spot.

You gasp and nod, moaning a little louder. J.D.’s fingers hit deeper inside your core.

“Answer me, Y/N. Has he ever touched you like this?” He punctuated the end of the sentence with a curl of his fingers as he began to kiss his way down your body.

“N-no he hasn’t.” you respond with another moan.

“Don’t think that I don’t see the way you watch me. Y/N.” J.D.’s kisses get lower and slower as he teases you. You arch your pelvis just a little in pleasure before his other arm moves over your center to hold you in place. “Now I’m not the most subtle guy myself but fucking yourself to the thought of me? I’ve gotta say, I’m flattered” before you could formulate a response, JD’s tongue found your clit, and you didn’t shy away from moaning loudly as he started going down on you. The noises he made while devouring your pussy were so much better than you had ever imagined. Not to mention the beautiful groan that went straight to your cunt when you reached down to tug at his hair. The grip also made his tongue work faster, moving rapidly from side to side as you tensed around his fingers.

“Oh Fuck!” you whined. You were getting close as his tongue and fingers continued making you an incoherent mess as you were about to fall over the edge. Once J.D. felt your clit pulsing and tensing on his tongue, he quickly removed his fingers and mouth from your lower half, making you gasp and let out a weak moan in protest. “Why?”

“Wanna feel that for myself.” he responds, reaching for his coat on the ground to fish out a condom. Making eye contact with you as if asking permission.

“Please?” you asked. You didn’t know how else to express how much you needed him inside you. J.D. smirks and shakes his head a little in mock disbelief

“Needy, aren't we?” He mutters, voice deep and sending shivers down your body.

“Shut up and fuck me.” you bite back before J.D. cups your face in one hand, roughly kissing you and instantly sliding his tongue as far back in your mouth as he could. You moan into the hungry kiss as the tip of his length prods at your entrance.

“Now what was that?” he runs his up and down your slit in teasing strokes, making you groan.

“Please!” you repeat yourself, he was right. You needed this. J.D. obliged by sliding inside of you. It pushed inside with ease, seeing as you came so close earlier, but you still squeezed around him as you both made your own respective noises of pleasure. “Oh god!” you gasp as he bottoms out, starting to move slowly. He’s so fucking pretty. Even now, as he gets accustomed to your insides, he looks almost like he’s concentrating. His brows are knit together, and his lips parted with a low groan before his hips find a steady pace.

The second J.D. speeds up, his eyes are on you. At that moment, it’s hard to focus on anything else. He’s studying your face with such intensity. Angling his cock just right and taking in your reactions. J.D. leans down to kiss, bite, and suck on your neck, in turn making you take him deeper as he hits that spot that has you moaning incoherently. He pulls away from your neck as you groan. Your eyes meet his as he gives you the same smirk he had when he first walked in on you. Knowing that he’s the one pulling those beautiful noises from you gives him even more pride. Pride that goes straight to his dick as his thrusts get damn near relentless.

“Touch yourself for me.” J.D. says, his voice almost a growl as he traps your lips in another rough kiss.

“Wh-what?” you ask through moans one he pulls away. Too blissed out to fully comprehend what he said.

“I said touch yourself.” J.D. grips your chin, making you focus on his hazel eyes while he pounds into you. “You’re gonna cum with me, darling. And I get to say when.” you nod, and let out a needy whimper as your hand meets your clit once again.

“Good.” he maintains eye contact. The praise makes you squeeze and tense up around him. Eliciting the sweetest moan you’ve ever heard from the boy above you.

“Fuck!” it was more of a breathy whisper than a groan, and J.D. kisses you again. Softer this time. The erratic movement of his hips says something else entirely. Feeling you tense around him again, he mutters between kisses and thrusts

“M’ almost there too, darling” there it was again. Darling. Nobody had ever called you darling before, and coming from J.D. It meant the world. Your cunt pulses around his length. Your need for release becoming too strong to take anymore as your hand works frantically. Your eyes shoot open as J.D. replaces your hand with his. Moving at the same pace, if not faster as you whine and buck your hips. “Come on, sweetheart. You can cum for me, baby.” and with that, you come undone on his cock. He moans again as he stills inside you. Both panting and staring at each other for a few more moments before he pulls out, disposes the condom and lays back down next to you.

You half expected J.D. to just get dressed again and leave, but you’re glad he doesn’t. You turn to him and lay your head on his chest. You’re both spent and sweaty, but you haven’t felt this close to someone in a long time. Not even your own boyfriend. Shit. your boyfriend. You must have tensed up or something because the ever intuitive boy you were cuddling asks;

“Worried?”

“I mean yeah. If he knew anything about any of this, my boyfriend would kill us.” this only gets another small laugh from J.D.

“Not if I kill him first.” Wow, it’s hard to tell when he’s joking. “You’re mine now, and you’re fuckin’ crazy if you think I’m about to let him get in my way.” he tilts your chin up for one more sweet kiss. “You have no clue what I’m capable of, darling.” it almost seemed like a threat. You feel like you should be intimidated. Scared, even. But somehow you weren’t. For the first time in a very long time, things weren’t just fine. They were exciting.

#jason dean x reader #jd x reader #heathers #smut #jason dean x reader smut #heathers the movie #heathers 1988 #jason dean #j.d.

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sugarybitterness · 2 years

Text

finally found - natasha romanoff x daughter!reader

from this request | series masterlist

platonic peter x yelena x kate x reader & a hint of romantic wanda x reader ~

word count; 4983 (hfs my longest one shot to date)

warnings; implies alcohol abuse, abuse in general, mention of car accident & death.. some angst but happy ending

mega thank you to @wandaschaosmagic for helping me beta this!! <3

a/n; i was so excited for this request heheh:] also i’ve aged down peter, wanda, yelena and kate to be 15, the same age as reader! very non canon compliant but it is set in the mcu universe :D also don’t ask me how yelena and r are the same age but lena calls tasha “sestra” because i have no clue how to explain their backstory and im way too lazy to figure it all out. and yes peter is r’s best friend but i’m a fucking simp for wanda so .. hope y’all enjoy weehuu<3 feedback is greatly appreciated for this!!

“and so she did this insane move! like i don’t think i’ve ever seen anyone except miss romanoff pull off something like that. i don’t even know how she knows how to do it!” peter babbles on excitedly as he and the other teens on the team settles around the kitchen island to do their homework.

“he’s not joking sestra. i saw it with my own eyes, for a moment i thought i was looking at a mini you.” yelena chuckles as she breezed through the math homework in front of her. honestly, yelena being in school at this point was just for legality, the blonde assassin was extremely smart.

natasha just hums in response as she types away on her own computer, doing up some paperwork.

“would we be able to invite her over?” wanda asks, her eyes shining with excitement.

“ugh as if we don’t have to deal with you pining over her in school, we have to see it here too?” yelena huffs as she completes the last bit of her math homework, snapping the binder shut.

“i mean, if it’s okay with the adults we could maybe have a sleepover here?” peter wonders out loud, his gaze landing on the only adult in the kitchen. as if they timed it, peter and wanda turns to stare at yelena who just groans in annoyance.

“sestra,” yelena calls out, rolling her eyes when natasha doesn’t even bother looking up from her work. “sestra, i have an important question can you please pay me some attention?”

at that, natasha sighs softly before turning her gaze away from her computer.

“what is it lena?”

“can y/n come over for a sleepover? she’s my friend from school, peter’s best friend and wanda’s crush all rolled into one.” yelena supplies helpfully, ignoring the sokovian’s offended “hey!”

“i’m going to need a little more information than that lena.” natasha raises an eyebrow at her sister who sighs dramatically, turning to look at peter. he looks at yelena for a moment, slightly confused, until he finally understood what she wanted him to do.

“oh! er, her name is y/n.. y/n y/l/n. she was adopted as baby after being left outside an orphanage in queens. she turns 15 in december this year. she never knew who her parents were but she did those dna tests thing once and it said she’s half russian and half american, though weirdly enough the site didn’t give out any other information. she.. hm, she actually looks a lot like you ms romanoff- very red hair, green eyes. she seems really scary at first too! but is actually really soft and sweet.” peter rambles on and as soon as he realised he probably said a little too much, he laughs awkwardly before slumping down in his seat.

natasha simply shakes her head, and all the teens deflate a little before she replies, “alright i guess she can come. just her, you three and kate?”

the three teens erupts into cheers, peter pulling out his phone to text y/n while yelena goes ahead to text kate.

“thank you tasha.” wanda hops down from her seat and goes to wrap the redhead in a hug. allowing a rare moment of softness, natasha drops a swift kiss on the top of wanda’s head.

she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but these three kids (plus kate) were one of her biggest soft spots. love is for children, her brain tried to scream at her. but natasha knew better.

love makes people stronger. strong enough to leave them behind, when it’s safer than the alternative. natasha quickly pushed away those thoughts, she didn’t want to dream about what could’ve been, not tonight.

as natasha finishes up the last of her work for the night, there’s a light knocking on the door.

“come in.” natasha calls out as she powers off her computer.

“hey sestra,” yelena greets natasha, smiling brightly when the older girl opens up her arms for yelena to burrow into. the two sisters stay like that for a moment, relishing in the fact that they’re both here, they still have each other and they’re safe.

the silence is soon broken by yelena, who remembers why she came by in the first place.

“sestra, i’m here to talk about y/n.”

tilting her head curiously, natasha prompts yelena to continue.

“it’s nothing bad but.. remember the story you told me? about the little girl you had after one of your missions before the graduation ceremony?” yelena grimaces slightly when she feels natasha stiffen, the redhead attempting to pull out of the hug, but yelena stops her.

“i’ve seen y/n, and she.. she looks almost exactly like you. i swear it’s like looking at a carbon copy! and after the information peter shared, i’m just wondering.. what if it’s her?” yelena continues on, her grip on natasha finally loosening, so that she could look up at the redhead.

“way too many babies are left at orphanages lena, you know this. yes there might be some similarities but i highly doubt that peter’s best friend could be her.” natasha states firmly with a shake of her head. “can we not talk about this anymore? you should go to bed, you have school tomorrow.”

yelena opens her mouth to say something but, ultimately decides against it. leaning up, she places a soft kiss on natasha’s cheek, wishing her a goodnight before heading back to her own room.

that night, natasha dreams of a little girl. a little girl who looks like her, fights like her and she sees the life that she wished she could’ve provided for her.

but the red room was never a good place to grow up in.

“why’d you leave me mama?” was the haunting cry that jolts natasha awake.

i wish i didn’t. but i had no other choice.

natasha smiles to herself when she hears the telltale chatter of the teens who just got home from school. her ears picks up a fifth voice- which should be y/n.

setting down the last plate of food, natasha turns to greet the group of teens. her heart leaps to her throat and she has to force herself to school her features.

she sees what yelena means when you look exactly like her, heck even your laugh sounds similar to hers. her eyes zero in on what looks like a heart shaped birthmark on your collarbone, and her breath hitches.

“sestra?” “tasha?” “miss romanoff?” the overlap of voices shakes natasha out of her trance.

“yes-“ natasha clears her throat, wincing internally at how shaky her voice sounded. “yes, hello. uh, i’m natasha.”

you stand slightly behind peter, eyes widening at the sight of the natasha romanoff standing in front of you. a slight nudge in your ribs from yelena startles you and you’re quick to introduce yourself.

“you made mac and cheese?” yelena lights up, grabbing your arm to pull you towards the table. the russian assassin doesn’t miss the slight expression of pain that flits across your face before it was quickly gone, replaced with an excited smile to match the blonde’s energy.

“tasha’s mac and cheese is the best.” wanda comments happily, sliding into the seat next to you, all while peter grumbles about his best friend being stolen away.

“do you kids want anything to drink?” natasha turns around to busy herself with grabbing the glasses, missing the confused glances the kids (except you) shared amongst each other. sure, natasha would cook for them almost everyday, but she always stressed about them getting their own drinks. even when ned and mj were invited over, she was a stickler for that rule.

the rest of them rattled off their preferences, but natasha calls out your name when she didn’t hear you give an answer.

“i’m fine with anything miss romanoff.” you answer politely, your fingers fiddling nervously in your lap.

“you okay if i get you tea, like wanda?”

“that’s fine, but uh- actually never mind it’s fine.” you bite your lip nervously hoping natasha didn’t hear your slip up. but she was a trained spy after all.

“do you want it iced?” natasha probes, turning around to set down everyone else’s drinks before she settles her gaze on you. you blink at her, but nod your head slowly.

she sends you a soft smile, replying, “i like my tea iced too.”

this puzzling behaviour continues on for the rest of the day. for once, natasha wasn’t glued to her computer doing her work but she seems to be constantly hovering, making sure everyone (especially you) were comfortable and okay.

it was even harder for her to retire to her room for the night, knowing that joining in on the sleepover would just be weird. but she did manage to ask you about your favourite foods sometime during the afternoon, so she gets up early the next morning to go for her run before taking over the kitchen. even though saturdays were sam’s day to cook for the team, he was shooed away so that natasha could work undisturbed.

unfortunately for the teenagers, they still had to partake in training today, so they were all up and in the kitchen by 8am, which was where they found natasha packing up their foods into containers for them to have after their run. they also noticed that she had left out two plates, peter recognising it as your favourite dish.

“thank you for having me over, i know the rest of them having training today so i’ll just head home..” your train of thought cut off when you realised that there was food at the table and a very nervous russian assassin looking at you.

“is, uh, is this for me..?” you glance at peter with wide eyes, surprised at the fact that natasha had not only made you breakfast, but it was also your favourite.

“yes, but if you have other plans already it’s fine!” natasha replies nervously, her hands fiddling anxiously under the table.

a part of her really didn’t want you to leave. but what was she supposed to do? she couldn’t exactly tell you “hey i’m your mother, i abandoned you almost 15 years ago and i’m sorry but it was either that or have you be experimented on by the red room. oh and i don’t know who your dad is either.”

technically, she could but it just didn’t seem right to dump all that on you. especially when you seem to be doing alright now, without her. like you probably have been for your whole life.

“i’m okay with staying, thank you so much for cooking miss romanoff.” you smile shyly at the avenger in thanks. natasha smiles back in return before turning to the other 4 teens.

“alright, do the 4 of you have your fruits and shakes? good, remember to eat them before running, but don’t eat too much. 5 mile run for peter and yelena, 3 mile run for wanda and kate. come back for breakfast and homework before the rest of your training.” natasha instructs everyone, ignoring their groans of protest as she shoos them away. you giggle softly before hugging everyone goodbye, even leaving a soft kiss on wanda’s cheek, causing the sokovian to blush.

soon, it was just you and natasha left in the kitchen. she ushers you to sit at the table and you comply, answering her when she asks if you want a smoothie to go with your food.

despite both of your nerves, conversation flows easy. you don’t seem to find natasha’s questions odd, if anything it feels nice to have someone ask after you. you end up staying until the afternoon, doing your work with the rest before you eventually leave when they have to go for their individual training.

the next few weeks you came by to the tower almost every weekday. it had been natasha’s idea and while everyone was slightly confused, yelena had simply went along with it, a knowing glint in her eyes.

it felt good, the last few years had been rough for you and you often dreaded heading home after school ended. but now you would hitch a ride with everyone to go to the avengers tower after school and then get a ride back home with peter.

you found yourself getting closer to natasha as well, the russian could always be found where you were. it was confusing for you, to seemingly be the centre of natasha’s attention, but it felt almost natural.

one night would soon change everything.

wanda groans quietly when she hears her phone ring, blindly reaching out for it, she accepts the call and puts it to her ear.

“hello?” wanda mumbles sleepily, yawning as she waits for a reply.

“wanda?” your trembling voice immediately shocks all the sleep out of wanda’s system.

“y/n/n? milaya? what’s wrong are you okay?” wanda sits up in bed quickly, her free hand flicking to turn on the lamp on her side table.

“i’m sorry, i-“ your words are cut off by a shuddering sob. “i didn’t have anyone else to call. peter is on a mission and i, please i need to get out of here-“

“where the fuck did you go you bitch?!” a loud male voice makes both you and wanda jump. you whimper quietly and wanda is quick to rush out of her room to head to natasha’s all while telling you stay on the line.

she bangs impatiently on the door as she tries her best to reassure you over the phone. the door swings open to reveal an irate natasha but wanda is quick to explain the sitaution.

soon, the duo are in the car while wanda continues to try and calm you. thankfully, wanda remembers your address from the few times she went over after school. with natasha as the driver, the supposed 40 minute drive becomes 20.

the car pulls up to an apartment building and the two run up the stairs. the door to the apartment was slightly open and there was drunken shouting coming from inside.

“come out come out wherever you are~ it’s okay, dada just wants to play!” the drunk man laughs obnoxiously as he tries to look for you. slipping in quietly, natasha is quick to knock him out and wanda hurries to your room, finding you in your locked closet. wanda knocks gently, “y/n? it’s wanda. can you open the door milaya? i promise it’s safe now.”

the door unlocks and she opens it to reveal you curled up on the ground, clutching a blanket and a stuffed animal. wanda lets out a soft gasp at your state, a bruise was forming on your cheek, arms littered with more bruises but the most angering thing was the handprint mark around your neck. in your worn out state, you just sit there, sobbing silently as wanda quickly shakes herself out of her shock.

“milaya, y/n.. can i touch you?” wanda’s speaks softly, doing her best not to startle you. you nod weakly and wanda scoops you up, one arm hooking under your legs and another around your body. you drop your things onto your body, forcing yourself to move your own arms to loop around her, burying your face into her neck as you sob in relief.

“thank you.” you mumble out and wanda presses a soft kiss to the top of your head.

she carries you out carefully, not missing how natasha’s eyes flashed with anger when the older woman sees your state.

natasha gives one firm kick the unconscious man before they both walk back downstairs. natasha starts up the car and wanda sits in the back with you. you curl up on her lap, refusing to move and natasha doesn’t bat an eye as she drives back to the tower.

sometime on the drive back, you had fallen asleep, the day’s events catching up to you. wanda wonders how she never noticed the signs, and if peter had known about your father’s abuse at all. natasha’s heart felt heavy with guilt, her eyes constantly looking at your limp body in the rearview mirror. she catches a sight of a red blanket and she has to force the tears away.

she can’t believe you still kept it.

you groan softly when you feel pain throughout your body. you shuffle around a bit and tense when you don’t recognise the sheets you are on. the events of the previous night slowly come back to you, how you had tried to call peter but then remembered how he was on a practise mission with tony stark and steve rogers. the next person you had thought of was wanda, so you called her. you recall hiding in the closet, praying and hoping that he wouldn’t find you in his drunken haze. suddenly the shouting had ceased and wanda was in your room. she had carried you out, to a car.. that natasha drove?

taking a deep breath, you slowly open your eyes. you blink wearily as you look around the dark room. you sit up slowly, grimacing at the pain that shoots through your body. you hesitate for a while before calling out for FRIDAY.

“good afternoon miss y/n. do you need me to go get miss maximoff or miss romanoff?”

you reply with a yes and as an afterhtought, ask for FRIDAY to brighten up the light in the room.

there’s a series of knocks on the door and you call for them to come in, smiling softly at wanda and natasha as they step inside.

“thank you for coming to get me last night. i’m sorry i had to trouble you.” you fiddle with the blanket in your lap nervously, the same one that you had been holding onto since wanda found you the night before.

“it’s alright, but.. we do have to talk about it.” natasha moves to sit on the edge of the bed while wanda opts to sit next to you. you shift closer to her and sigh contentedly when her arms wrap around you.

“y/n..” natasha starts and you try to look at anywhere but her, chewing on your bottom lip nervously. “y/n, how long has this been going on for?”

“emotionally and verbally? years. but the physical abuse only started last year .” you hear harsh intake of breath from natasha and wanda stiffens next to you.

“my dad he, he never really wanted me. but my mum always wanted a child, even though they always had trouble conceiving. she’s the one that wanted to adopt and so she convinced him to adopt a baby together. she uh, she died in a car crash when i was 8.” your bottom lip trembles as you try not to cry.

“dad didn’t handle it so well. he never liked a lot of things but he loved mum the most. he uh, he started drinking and it spiraled from there. he raised me but was mainly absent from my life. but things got out of hand and he went to work drunk early last year, so he was fired. i think that was the final straw, you know? he got angerier, he drank more and his outbursts became more violent.”

it was as if the floodgates had opened. soon you were sharing about all the things that had been happening over the last year and a half.

“please i- i really don’t want to go back to stay with him. please don’t make me go back natasha.” you sob, hand clutching onto your blanket as you huddle closer to wanda, as if natasha was going to pick you up and send you back. she could feel her heart clench painfully and she shook her head fiercely.

“i’m never ever going to send you back there okay? i’ll call tony and see if we can pull you out of his guardianship, have you stay here with us instead.” natasha tentatively reaches out to you and when you don’t flinch, she wipes away your tears. “malyshka, i promise you that you will be safe here, okay?”

you nod in response, mumbling a relieved “thank you”.

“wanda, could you bring her to your room? it’ll probably be more comfortable than this guest room.” natasha instructs and wanda bobs her head in agreement. natasha continues, “no training for you today, just make sure that y/n is comfortable yeah? if either of you need anything, get FRIDAY to call for me. i’m going to go find tony now and sort everything out.”

leaning forward, natahsa presses a kiss to the top of both your heads before swiftly exiting the room, going straight to tony’s lab.

in a sick, twisted fortune, your adoptive dad wanted nothing to do with you and was more than happy to give you away.

“she’s your problem now.” he spat out venomously. steve had to physically restrain natasha from jumping him in that moment.

steve was granted temporary guardianship of you, until they figured out who would be your legal guardian. at this point, natasha had come clean about her connection with you. how she had given birth to you while on a long term mission, and how she decided to leave you on a doorstep of an orphanage the day before she had to be extracted by the red room. how she thought about you everyday and she had always second guessed giving you up. but when she was put on another mission and a 3 year old yelena was put in her arms, she was thankful that she had done what she did, especially when they had to forcefully pry yelena away from her once their undercover mission was over.

everyone had tried to convince natasha to talk to you, but while she would never admit it, she was afraid.

while you had struck up a friendship of sorts with natasha the first few weeks of coming over to the tower, your relationship only grew properly when you started to stay there permanently. you were given a week off school to recover and natasha had spent the entire week fussing over you, making sure you healed well.

natasha took you under her wing, and soon you were nicknamed her shadow. because calling you mini nat or mini romanoff hit far too close to home for the older redhead.

so it came as no surprise to anyone (but natasha) when at the 6 month mark of being at the tower, you decided to ask natasha to be your actual legal guardian.

natasha feels her heart soar at the question, her heart warming at your hopeful gaze. she wants to say yes, to wrap you up in a tight hug and pepper the top of your head with kisses.

but she also knows you deserve the truth. so she pushes down the happiness threatening to overflow and instead grabs your hand, pulling you to your room. despite your confusion, you follow her as she guides you to your bed, both of you taking a seat.

“i..” natasha hesitates slightly, not knowing if she was ready for this conversation to happen. she takes a deep breath, as she tries to calm her heart, knowing that she would not forgive herself if she didn’t tell you this. she wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t forgive her either for keeping this a secret for so long.

“thank you malyshka. it means a lot to me that you would choose me as your guardian. but, before i accept i think that there‘s something you should know.” you nod slowly, lips curling into a slight pout as you wonder what was going on.

natasha’s tongue swipes over her dry lips as she gestures to the blanket that sits on your bed. you grab it and look back towards her as you waited.

“do you know how you got this blanket?”

you nod, this blanket was the only thing you had of your biological mother. the orphanage said that it was left with you in the basket. you always struggled with your feelings towards your mother, did she not want you? why were you left there with nothing but a blanket with a set of initials on it and your name written in a cursive loop on a card.

“the initials on them.. N and R, correct?”

your breath hitches as you stare at natasha, your trembling fingers brushing against the initials the same way you do every night you think of her.

“how do you know that?” you breathed out, gaze steady on natasha’s.

“because i was the one who sewed them there.” natasha says softly. but you hear her, and soon you’re on your feet.

“no.” your voice is shaky, eyes filling with tears.

“y/n-“ natasha stands up but you quickly step back, hand still clutching onto your blanket.

“you.. you’re my mother? the mother who left me? and you’ve been here all this time? how long have you known?”

natasha doesn’t answer.

“godamnit natasha, how long have you known?!” you shout, your hand swiping across your eyes harshly.

“since the very first day peter brought you over. the heart shaped birthmark confirmed it for me.”

you chuckle weakly, your legs start moving and soon you’re pacing around the room. you stop suddenly and turn to face natasha. she takes in a shuddering breath, trying not to cry at the look of hurt and betrayal on your face.

“why? i don’t understand, how can you be my mother? my mother didn’t want me, she left me on the doorstep of an orphanage. but you- you’ve been nothing but a mother to me! you were the one that got me a place here and you were the one that patched me up. the one that held me through all my breakdowns and who even started to train me so i could protect myself. how could you be the same person that abandoned me?” you cry out, tears streaming down your face as you look at natasha, trying to understand.

you’d be lying if you said you never thought about her. especially after your adoptive mother passed, you wondered if you’d ever find your biological mom. you were actually considering asking tony if he could help you track her down, if it was even possible. but all this while, she has been right here in this tower you have come to call home.

“i never wanted to leave you malyshka. if i could, i would’ve taken you with me but i couldn’t do it. not when i was going back to the red room.” natasha’s crying now too, her eyes red as tears slipped down her cheeks.

“the red room they, they train little girls to be killers. we kill each other to be the best and i would never have forgiven myself if i handed you over. i missed you everyday malyshka, i thought about you day and night. but i never ever regretted leaving you behind, because i love you too much to put you through what i went through.” natasha risks a step closer to you.

“i’m sorry my little one, i never meant to hurt you. i hope one day you can forgive me for leaving you, but if not that’s okay. i promise that i will do all i can to make it up to you, even if you never want to see me again-”

“no!” you interrupt natasha, a sob clawing its way out of your chest. “please don’t go.”

this time you’re the one to close the distance. you were always slightly shorter for your age, which meant that you were still smaller than natasha. you wrap you arms around her midsection and you bury your face against her shoulder as you start to cry harder. she wraps her arms around you and hugs you close, swaying her body gently in hopes to soothe you.

“i’m.. i’m still mad.” you confess quietly. “i understand why you did it, you just wanted to protect me. but you could’ve still found me- you’re a trained spy. why didn’t you?”

“i still have red in my ledger. i’m a walking target, i have all sorts of people who want me dead. i never wanted to get you entangled in all this.”

you pull away, a new wave of tears threatening to fall at the implications of her words.

“does this mean i have to leave?”

“no!” natasha quickly backtracks, realising how her words got misinterpreted. “no. you don’t have to go anywhere okay? that was what i thought last time. but now..”

natasha raises a hand to cup your cheek softly, fingers wiping away your tears.

“but now i have you back i don’t think i ever want to let you go.”

your lips curl into a shy smile as you reply. “i don’t want to go either.”

natasha leans forward and presses your foreheads together. you let out a shaky breath as your eyes close. the two of you allow the silence to fall over the both of you until you decide to break it.

“i think this means you can’t be my legal guardian anymore.” natasha’s heart sinks into her stomach. her eyes open and she is met with your smile.

“maybe.. maybe you could adopt me? be my mum officially once again?” you continue on, eyes cast downwards shyly. natasha smiles brightly as she leans to press a kiss onto your forehead.

“even without that piece of paper, i have always been and will always be your mama. thank you for trusting me malyshka.”

both of you know that there is still a lot of things to talk about, but for now, you finally have your mama and natasha finally gets the chance to hold and call her baby hers.

you finally found each other.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #mama!nat #mama!natasha #black widow x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #peter parker #peter parker x reader #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader #kate bishop #i don’t really mention kate much i’m sorry #marvel #avengers #avengers x reader #finally found au

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