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calaisreno · 5 months

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Yes and No

“Do you love her?”

It had taken them less than thirty minutes to go from the Rizla game to just asking each other random questions. The only celebrities that Sherlock knew were nineteenth-century chemists and twentieth-century criminals, which had more or less spoiled the game, and Sherlock had declared it pointless.

Then he suggested Yes or No, which at least required some deductive reasoning, and John agreed. But Sherlock was very good at this game, having deduced nearly everything about John in the first days of their acquaintance. Without asking any question, he deduced that John would choose violin, a human liver, Mrs Hudson’s nephew, and Sherlock’s old mouse-coloured dressing gown.

John gives up. “Fine. What don’t you know about me?”

Do you love her is a real question, he gathers— from the look on Sherlock’s face, which is serious and a bit sad.

The answer, which should be yes, of course I love her, instead comes out, “I’m marrying her.”

“People marry for reasons other than—“ Sherlock stops, appearing to realise he is going in a direction that can only lead to bad feelings. “Sorry, not a fair question. Better: When did you know that you loved her?”

He remembers grief. The intense pain of the days after he saw Sherlock die on the sidewalk in front of Barts. There are few details he can recall after that moment. It was as if the pain had receded just enough to let him breathe, and a kind of grey fog had descended. Pain, then sorrow.

Somewhere during the sorrow part, Mary had appeared. She may have been there sooner, but he hadn’t noticed. At some point he became aware of her bringing him coffee, talking to him, urging him to come out for lunch. Always there, cheerfully bullying him back into life. Eventually he noticed that he wasn’t quite as sad, and that she was rather pretty.

But the pain was still there, a tender spot in his memory, and most days he still felt defeated. Mary helped, though, and he thought that if she stayed, everything would be easier. He didn’t need to explain; she understood. He could keep the memories at bay when she was around.

By then he was having sex with her. He didn’t remember exactly how that had begun. Maybe it was a pity fuck one night when he’d had too much to drink. He woke up in her bed hungover, waiting for the darkness to descend like a weight on his chest, and she was there, making him a cup of tea, urging him to have some toast, sweetly solicitous and not accepting any excuses.

Does he love her?

Sherlock is still looking at him, the question in his eyes.

“She was there when I needed someone,” he says. “I just knew.”

He’d known that morning that he needed to move on, to leave what had happened in the past and live his life. And there she was.

“Your turn,” Sherlock says.

John thinks of all the things he’s ever wanted to know about Sherlock, but has never asked because it has never seemed a good time. Sherlock has a way of warding off questions with just a look. An armour that does not allow anyone in, not even John. He’s wondered about a lot of things, but asking has never been an option. Sherlock never has to ask; he simply deduces. John is terrible at deductions, as Sherlock often reminds him.

“Have you ever been in love?”

Sherlock doesn’t hesitate. “Yes. Twice.”

“That was a yes-no question, so I get follow-up. So, the first. Who was he?”

Sherlock smiles. “You’re assuming it was a man.”

“Wasn’t it? I thought… you’re… erm…”

“Gay? Yes, I am.”

“You loved a man,” John says. Obviously.

“Well, a boy. I was twelve. I suppose it wasn’t love so much as infatuation and hormones. His name was Victor. I never told him until I met him again at uni.” He gives John one of those looks that makes him feel like he is being x-rayed. “Have you ever kissed a man?”

“I’m not gay,” he says at once. “I mean, why would I kiss a man if I knew I wasn’t gay?”

“Follow-up question, then. When did you know you were not gay?”

John’s mouth may have been open for a bit. It’s an odd question. Everybody knows they’re straight until something happens and they know they’re not. Isn’t that the way it works? “I just knew. When did you know you were gay?”

“When I was twelve. I was at a stupid birthday party my mother made me attend, and we were playing Forfeit. I was asked a question I didn’t like to answer and took the forfeit. Up until then the penalties were stupid things like singing a song or doing a dance, but this time it was kissing a girl. The girl was willing, and I was curious, so I agreed. That was when I realised girls weren’t my cup of tea, so to speak. I wanted to kiss Victor.”

John says nothing, though it’s his turn. He remembers a similar party, a boy who wanted to kiss him, and feeling terrified that his parents would find out if he did. Harry had just come out, and he was trying very hard to make up for all of her shortcomings.

Sherlock asks, “How do you know you’re not gay if you’ve never kissed a man?”

“I’ve kissed lots of women,” he replies. “I don’t need to kiss a man to know I’m not gay.”

Sherlock shrugs. “I assumed that I was like everyone else, that some day I would meet the right girl, get married, and have children. That was how it was supposed to work, and I thought there was something wrong with me because I didn’t like girls that way. All my fantasies were about boys, but I thought I would eventually be attracted to girls as I got older. That kiss told me I would never love a woman.”

“You think I should kiss a man just to see if I’m a bit gay?” He laughs.

“It’s your forfeit, for not having an answer.”

“I’m not going to kiss some random bloke just because you—“

“Not a random bloke. Me. Kiss me.”

This is dangerous ground. Somewhere in his libido lies something that he’s thought about. Maybe he’s even fantasised about kissing a man. Having sex with a man. Just a lark, maybe. Don’t lots of men go through that? It doesn’t mean anything.

But, Sherlock. He lived with him for a year and a half, and they’d been friends. And he grieved when Sherlock died. Not grieved like a friend. He’d lost friends before, and this was nothing like those losses. Pain, darkness, unending regret. Even after Mary, some of that darkness remained. Moments when he remembered something Sherlock had said or done, a stab of pain. If it hadn’t been for Mary—

And it came to him. Mary was balm for his wounds. She brought him back from the edge. He is grateful to her. But gratitude isn’t love. Being in such pain for so long, and then a bit of light— that isn’t love, it’s relief. He’s seen patients in physical pain become almost giddy when given a dose of something that takes their agony away, not even enough to make them high. Relief feels like intoxication when pain has gone on so long.

If it hadn’t been for Mary, he would have understood what he’d only begun to see. She helped him, saved him even. But she was a distraction from the pain, not a cure.

He glances at Sherlock, who is pulling back, looking like he wishes he hadn’t just asked for a kiss. Maybe he’ll make a joke about their game, move them towards goodnight, goodbye, see you at the wedding.

“Yes,” he says. It’s an answer to everything— regret, grief, sorrow, love. It’s an apology for not seeing sooner, for the night at the Landmark, for his anger and cruel rejection of the man he has loved for years. “Kiss me.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Sherlock is right. The kiss tells John things he’s tried hard to forget. It tells him that has loved men before, but called it friendship, that he has wanted to touch men and kiss them, and called it lust, or fantasy, or a phase that all men go through. Women attract him too, and he grabbed onto heterosexuality like a life-raft because he was afraid of the alternative. His sister and his father, yelling. Harry thrown out of the house. His father, looking at him, saying not you too. Never you, my boy.

The kiss tells him that has already met the love of his life.

“I need to call Mary,” he says when they break away.

Sherlock looks sad. He nods. “Of course.”

“One more question,” John says. “Who was the second person you loved?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says. “I’m about to call my fiancee and break our engagement just days before the wedding because I’m in love with my best friend. So please, answer the question.”

Sherlock’s face does something John has never seen. It crumples and tears fill his eyes, and then he’s laughing and crying and not able to speak.

John kisses him again.

Author note: This is an old ficlet, from Trifles, posted here.

#my fics #johnlock #bbc sherlock #stag night #sign of three #fixit fic

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xiaq · 5 months

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Steddie Time Travel Fix-it: Pt.9

Ao3 Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3 Pt. 4 Pt. 5 Pt. 6 Pt. 7 Pt. 8

It’s 2am and Eddie is sitting alone on the front steps, knife still in one hand, when Hopper’s truck turns into the cul-de-sac. Steve is leaning out the window, grinning. He’s got one hand pressed to the side of the cab, his hair a riot in the wind, and it feels like Eddie can catch a full breath for the first time in hours.

The truck has hardly stopped and Eddie has hardly managed to push himself to his feet before Steve is shoving open the passenger door and stumbling across the lawn to––‘hug’ seems like a woefully ineffective way to describe the way that Steve slams into him. The way that he pulls them together, desperate and aching, like he wants to merge them into a singular entity. It’s a collision of a gesture. Chest to chest. Steve’s arms are tight and undeniable and a little bit violent around him. His hands are fisted in the fabric of Eddie’s shirt. His face is in Eddie’s neck.

“You’re ok,” he says, and Eddie is reminded of that first, baffling, meeting in the bathroom, when Steve couldn’t seem to stop himself from touching, from reassuring himself that Eddie was real and whole.

“I’m good, man, but I’m really fucking confused.” He tries to pull away. Steve doesn’t let him. Eddie isn’t going to fight him about it. “Are you ok?” he asks, mostly into Steve’s hair.

“I’m fine. We won. And we’re alive. And we’re all—everything is going to be fine, now.”

“That is great news, but I still need an explanation and, whoa, hey.”

There’s a wetness smearing on his chin and Eddie realizes that despite Steve’s claims of being fine, he’s definitely reopened the line of stitches on his temple and one of his arms is seriously jacked up.

“You’re getting blood on me,” Eddie points out.

Steve lets go.

“Sorry,” he says, reaching up to try and wipe it away. His fingers are just as gory as his face, though, maybe even worse, and he looks a little panicked at whatever he’s done to Eddie’s jaw. “Sorry,” he repeats. “Oh jeez—here, let me––”

“Steve,” Hopper says, slamming the driver’s side door of the truck. “Can you have your touching reunion inside?”

There’s a kid Eddie hadn’t noticed before with a shaved head, blood all down her lips beneath her nose, getting out of the back seat. A bearded man and Joyce Beyers follow her, and there’s another car pulling up to park behind Hopper’s truck. Nancy is in the driver’s seat, and Robin and Jonathan and a couple other people he doesn’t recognize are piling out, bloodied and weary-looking, but all smiling. When a third and fourth car, both black, government-y vehicles arrive, Eddie looks to Steve who still has one disgusting hand wrapped around Eddie’s wrist, like he’s afraid to let go of him.

“Inside,” he says.

Eddie agrees that’s probably best.

Steve is met in the foyer like a conquering hero. The kids fling themselves at him with hugs and questions and shouts of dismay over the state of his bloodied face and his mangled arm, which under the entryway lights looks far worse than it did in the yard––like something had been chewing on it. Something big. Steve and the others spend a solid five minutes just repeating that they won, it’s over, they won, it’s over, while Eddie and Barb and Chrissy stand on the fringes and share confused looks.

When it becomes clear that no one else is in any hurry to take care of Steve’s injuries, Eddie grabs him by the arm that doesn’t look like it’s been stuck down a garbage disposal and drags him down the hall to the bathroom. He knows where the first aid kit is, now.

“Sit,” he tells him, nodding to the toilet.

Steve sits.

And then he’s looking up at Eddie, all wide-eyed and appreciative like some kind of triumphant but humble gladiator awaiting his reward for a battle well-fought. Eddie wants to punch a wall or something because he should not be endeared by this. He should not.

And yet.

“Take off your shirt,” Eddie says brusquely. “Or do you need help?”

“My ribs are still pretty fucked up from before,” Steve murmurs, “so I won’t lie, lifting my arms above my head isn’t great.”

Eddie benevolently does not point out that haring off to fight interdimensional creatures, or whatever the hell Steve was doing, probably hasn’t helped with the broken ribs situation.

“So, help?” Eddie says.

“Yeah, please.”

And he should have seen that coming. He offered, after all, but Eddie is stymied for a moment before he moves forward, leaning over Steve’s back to get to the hem of his shirt so he can pull it forward over his head and off without making him lift his arms.

It forces them close again. Eddie can smell him: sweat and blood and whatever nameless viscera is smeared on his clothes. It’s disgusting.

And yet.

“New plan,” Eddie says, tossing the shirt onto the floor and then kicking it further away for good measure. “Shower first, and then we’ll patch you up without worrying about secondary infections.”

“I don’t have any other clothes,” Steve says.

“Well, I’ve got a bag full of clothes in the car and you’re not that much bigger than me. Also, at some point you’re going to start explaining things. Feel free to start now.”

“Well,” Steve glances at the closed bathroom door. “The others are probably filling in Barb and Chrissy right now, if you want to join them.”

Eddie drops to his knees to unlace Steve’s boots. “No,” he says, slapping at Steve’s hands when he tries to do it himself, wincing. “I don’t want the others to tell me, I want you to tell me. I want you to explain why your personality has done a 180 and you’re suddenly best friends with Buckley and Nancy,” he cups one hand around the back of Steve’s knee so he can pull off his boot with the other, “and why you’re basically parenting a dozen middle-schoolers and why you’re afraid of DnD monsters and have a trunk full of weapons and lose your mind when lights flicker and why there’s some sort of portal in my living room ceiling and why you keep looking at me.”

“I—I don’t look at you,” Steve says, fucking looking at him. “How do I look at you?”

“Like that,” Eddie shouts, gesturing at Steve’s face with his own dirty sock. “Jesus.”

He pulls off the second boot, the second sock, even dirtier than the first, and tosses them aside.

“I’m sorry,” Steve exhales. “I don’t mean to. And I don’t know where to start. I’m not—none of any of this sounds believable.”

“Well, I was thinking time travel at first but now I’m leaning toward alternate dimensions, so I feel like I’m good with whatever you want to throw at me, here.”

“Alright,” Steve says. He leans forward, gritting his teeth around a grimace, to brace his elbows on his knees. “Honestly, it’s a little of column A, and a lot of column B.”

“Fuck. Okay. Give me the like, two minute version.”

“So there’s an…alternate dimension of Hawkins,” Steve starts. “Like, it’s still Hawkins, just. Wrong. We’ve been calling it the Upside-Down. And there are places where the dividing line between between our reality and the Upside-Down is weak. And those places can turn into gates where people or things can move back and forth between the two. There was one in your ceiling.”

“And Lover’s Lake,” Eddie says. “There was one there? And your…pool?”

“Yeah.”

“Following you so far. You said ‘things’ can move back and forth. What uh, dare I ask what populates this Upside Down version of Hawkins?”

“Monsters, mostly,” Steve says.

“Figured.”

“The kids named the monsters we’ve been fighting after D&D characters. Which is why I get weird about shit like demogorgons and mind flayers and stuff.”

“Okay, alright, so much is making sense right now. So there aren’t any people there?”

“Not really. There was one guy, an evil guy, I guess. Vecna. Who was responsible for the Upside Down going bad. He lived there. Sort of.”

Steve ducks his head and scrubs a hand through his hair with his still-operational arm. “I feel like I’m not doing a good job explaining this, you should really let one of the others––“

“You’re doing great,” Eddie interrupts. “We’ve got an alternate reality tenuously separated from real life, inhabited by an evil villain and his monsters. What else?”

“El, the girl with the shaved head? She came from a lab—the Hawkins lab––where they were doing experiments on kids. Giving them superpowers. And also finding out how to make gates to the Upside Down. The bad guy in the Upside Down was also one of the kids from the lab, a long time ago. They can both open and close gates.”

“Okay,” Eddie says slowly. “So El is the heroine and he’s her villainous foil in the story.”

“It’s not a story,”

“No, I know, I’m just, this is how I’m contextualizing, sorry. How did all the kids get involved?”

“By accident, mostly. Will––the nice one with the bowl cut and enormous eyes?––he ended up trapped there for a while. There was a gate in his shed. But he made it back, obviously.”

Eddie tries to place him but struggles. There are a lot of kids running around.

“The others are all friends with him,” Steve continues. “And also they found El in the woods when she escaped from the lab. They’re all pretty great, honestly. Even if they’re annoying as hell.”

“Where does the time travel bit come in?”

Steve’s attention drops immediately to his hands. His nail-beds are black. It’s going to take forever to get him clean and apparently Eddie has signed himself up for that task. He should probably be dreading it.

And yet.

“In our timeline,” Steve says, “it’s 1987. Or it was when we left. Things went really bad with Vecna and people died. A lot of people. Hawkins was pretty much destroyed. And we didn’t think we’d be able to stop him at all, his reach was just going to expand and get worse and worse until one of the people from the lab came to talk to El. Told her she could basically open up a portal in the Upside Down and go back in time. And prevent all the shit that happened from ever happening. So she did and we all went through with her. Except the first couple times we tried we only went back a few months and it wasn’t enough. Vecna still won every time no matter what we changed or how we tried to fix things. So this time we went back years instead. To stop him at the beginning. When he was unprepared.”

“Wait,” Eddie says. “Why don’t I remember this then? You all act like you know me, so I must have been involved in this shit at least a little, right?”

“Right,” Steve says. “No, you were. But it was only the people there in 1987 who went through the portal that remember.”

“Only the people there. What does that even mean? Where did I go?”

He might be a little bit of a coward, but there’s no way he would have abandoned a bunch of kids and Steve Harrington to fight monsters alone. He doesn’t think.

Steve’s attention is so forcefully on his hands, fingers now curled tight and painful-looking around his knees, that Eddie reaches up to stop him before he hurts himself.

Oh, he realizes, thumbs tucked between Steve's palms and his knees.

Oh, no.

“I fucking died, didn’t I?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says.

Well. That’s…sobering.

“So,” Eddie says, rocking back onto his heels, feeling winded. “Time travel. Parallel worlds. Bad dude. Monsters. Kids with superpowers. My untimely demise.”

“That’s about the shape of it.”

“And this Vecna guy. You said—when you first got back tonight you said it was over. Is it, though? Like, over over.”

“I think so. We won this time. And El thinks he’s gone for good and she’s closed all the gates but one. We’ll do a couple of patrols over the next few months to make sure, before we close the final gate permanently. But we’re pretty sure it’s over. Finally.”

Steve’s eyes are dark and wet and huge in his dirty face when he finally meets Eddie’s gaze.

“Well,” Eddie says. His hands are still wrapped around Steve’s. “I guess I should thank you for saving my life, then.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, then winces. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Sounds like it was a little bit of a problem. Just a smidge.”

“Worth it,” Steve says.

He shouldn’t be attractive like this–smeared in dirt and grime and his own blood. Leaning a little to one side to take pressure off broken ribs.

And yet.

Eddie clears his throat. “You really need to take a shower so we can patch you up.”

Steve is still looking at him.

The same way he’s been looking at him.

Eddie is starting to understand the depth behind it. He’s starting to have questions about the depth of it. Questions that are probably more wishfull thinking than anything else but also––

“I’ll need help,” Steve says evenly. “With showering. Because of my arm.”

“Right,” Eddie says. “Well, I’m…here.”

“You’re here,” Steve agrees.

It sounds like he means something else. Something more.

Eddie swallows.

He lets go of Steve’s hands.

He slides back the shower curtain and turns on the faucet.

Pt. 10

#steddie #steddie fic #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #steve harrington/eddie munson #myfic #fixit fic #stranger things fic

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thefreakymunson · 2 years

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Exact Copy

Summary: Eddie Munson went missing nearly ten years ago, living a a young Y/N to fend for herself. But sometimes, just sometimes, wrongs can get put right. T/W: Death, murder, angst. A/N: This is my version of a fixit fic. I hope you enjoy.

Hawkins, Indianna 1996.

You were standing at the ten year Hawkin’s high school reunion. It’s crazy how much everyone had changed over the last decade. So many of your friends had families now, children of their own, and careers you could’ve only dreamed for. They got out of this town. They got out and stayed out. They only came back to visit family and then they got to leave. Not you.

You never got over his death. You never got over the hurt and anger. How could he put himself in that position and leave you here all alone? Eddie was your everything. Everyone in town knew it and everyone in town shunned you after he was named a suspect. But that was ten years ago and no one remembered him now. They remembered Chrissy, Patrick, and Jason. But Eddie “The Freak” Munson was a name that the town kept hush-hush about.

You weren’t allowed to talk about him. You were shunned by your friends. The therapist told you that you just needed to move on – forget about him, that there would be other guys for you. As if you could just forget about the love of your life. As if you could forget the memories you shared. As if you could forget how good it felt to be loved by him. As if the ten year old boy at home didn’t remind you every day of him.

He never got to find out he had gotten you pregnant, that you gave birth to a son you named Ozzy that looked identical to him more and more every day. His long shaggy black hair and the same wide smile as his fathers. He was the spitting image of Eddie Munson.

You weren’t even sure what lead you to coming here tonight. It wasn’t as if you were going to bump into him. It was just a reminder of how hard your life had suffered. Classmates who were rich and successful, married, living happy lives. And you were still hung up on the guy who the town deemed a murderer ten years – a decade ago.

Tonight you’d hopefully change that. It was time to move on for your sanity. You deserved to be happy, too. Eddie would’ve wanted that. Tonight you were able to fully say your goodbyes to the man you loved and longed after for so many years.

You made your way out past the football field, through the overgrown brush, and back to where you had walked so many times before to meet him during lunch or your free period. So many conversations you had here. This was where your first kiss was the day that your ex boyfriend broke your heart. This was where he got you high for the first time. And your favorite memory - this was where he told you he loved you for the first time as well. So many memories in this small secluded spot that for three years belonged to just you and Eddie. No one else.

“Y/N” you heard his voice, like a ghost coming from the darkness of the surrounding trees. Tears filled your eyes. It wasn’t a new thing. You had heard him every once in awhile for the last ten years, especially when you missed him. In the dark nights, in the sunny warm mornings – when you were curled up with his vest he used to wear. You kept it in a bag to keep the scent of him on it, only bringing it out when the ache in your chest got too bad just to give yourself a reminder that he was real and he loved you – he existed no matter how many people wanted to forget about him.

“I miss you,” you said, voice quivering as you sat down at your picnic table, “I miss everything about you. This...this town has moved on...and for the most part, they’ve forgotten all about Chrissy and everyone else. Forgotten about you...but I can’t. I never could, Eds.”

“Y/N,” you heard his voice so clearly this time.

A small smile spread across your face as you remembered the way he used to playfully dance around to make you smile if you were having a bad day. He was the goofiest person you knew and he never failed to make you smile even on the worst of days.

“I miss your laugh,” you said, “And the way you smelled. I still miss those nights we’d spend on top of your trailer...two stupid kids, ya know? Getting high as shit. We’d get in trouble for being too loud all the time...we never listened.”

“Y/N, look at me.” His voice came again from behind you.

“You’re not real,” you whispered quietly, tears filling your eyes, “I’ve heard your voice so many times and every time I look, you’re not there. You haven’t been here for ten years, Eddie. I keep hearing your voice and seeing you in everything. You’re everywhere even still. I’ve gotta move on, Eds. I can’t live another ten years like this. My heart feels so empty every day that I don’t have you here. The hurt is the same every fucking day.”

A hand reached out and grabbed your arm gently, making you gasp. A hand – a warm hand with three silver rings: a cross with four skulls, a pig head, and a skull. They weren’t as crisp as they used to be, obviously a little worn down now. The voice had obviously never touched you. You turned around to see him – your Eddie standing there. Except he didn’t look the same.

His hair was cropped short and slicked back. He had facial hair now. He looked older and mature, almost as if he was a completely different person now. But you knew by those eyes – those big brown warm eyes, this was your Eddie.

“You’re not real, Eddie.” You said, voice trembling as you stared into those big brown eyes for the first time in a decade. You felt your knees almost give out from underneath you as you stumbled back and away from him,“You can’t be real. You – you died, Eddie.”

“No,” Eddie whispered, “It’s too complicated to talk about right now. I’m not even supposed to be here. I just...I knew you would be here. I knew you would be out here in our spot...well, I had a feeling at least. I’m staying in the hotel just out past route 8. Room 4. Will you meet me there?”

You stood there dumbfounded as tears streamed down your face. Panic rose in your throat as you struggled to breathe. Was this a joke? How could someone do this? Didn’t they know you loved this man with everything in you? And you never got over him?

“Eddie-” You were cut off by the sound of a few footsteps and laughter, a passing couple walking through the woods for whatever reason.

“Meet me there, okay? I can’t risk being seen.” His voice was frantic.

And just as soon as he was there touching you, he was gone again back into the vast darkness. Route 8 hotel, room 4. Route 8 hotel, room 4. Route 8 hotel, room 4. You must’ve repeated it a thousand times as you rushed back to your car, fumbling with the keys to unlock the door. There was a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach as you sped out of the schools parking lot, like this was a dream or a prank. But it couldn’t have been – no one could be this cruel, could they?

You knocked on the door, hands moving rapidly. There was no way this was real. This was just another delusion. But when the door opened, there he stood again. You rushed inside the door and wrapped your arms around him so tightly, sobs wrecking your body. He was real. You could touch him – you could see him and smell him. He was there in front of you for the first time in a decade.

“Oh my god,” you cried, pressing your face into his chest.

“I know, I know.” Eddie said, his hand cradling the back of your head as you sobbed, “I know. I’m so sorry.”

You leaned back from him, your reddened tear streaked face a sight for sore eyes as you shook your head in disbelief, “How, Eddie? Where were you? What hap-”

“Shh,” Eddie whispered, soothing your hair back from your wet cheeks, “I know you’ve got questions. But you have to calm down first, okay? You’re going to have an asthma attack.”

After all these years, he still remembered your horrible asthma. You couldn’t stop yourself as you stood up on your tip toes and kissed him. His hands came up to cup your face, tears of his own mixing with yours. He tasted exactly how you remembered – how you craved. Your thumbs stroked his cheeks, his beard tickling your fingers.

“I’ve missed you,” you whispered, unable to say anything else.

“I know,” he whispered, “Uncle Wayne told me you still come to visit him sometimes. I missed you so much, Y/N...I’ve wanted to contact you, tell you what happened to me-”

“Wayne knew?” Your eyes widened.

“Yeah.” Eddie whispered, “I had to swear him to secrecy. He hated having to lie to you as much as I did, princess.”

There it was. Princess. The word made you melt inside all over again, still having the same effect it did a decade ago.

You stepped back, holding him out at arms length to get a good look at him. He still looked the same except for his shorter hair and beard. He looked like the love of your life, just aged a few years. The beard looked great on him, and his short hair brought out his curls. He looked amazing.

“Can’t believe your eyes, huh?” He asked, smile lighting up his face the exact same way it used to.

“I can’t,” you smiled through your tears, “I really can’t, Eddie. You look….”

“Different?” He snorted, “Yeah...well...had to change to protect myself.”

“Where were you?”

He took a deep breath and nodded to the bed, “Wanna sit down while we talk?”

“I’m going to stand,” you said softly, letting go of his arms, “Keeps me preoccupied.”

“Understandable,” he nodded, but flopped down on the edge of the bed. He was quiet for a moment as he looked around the room and sighed softly, “Okay. Well. I guess...where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning,” you nodded, “After...ya’know, Chrissy.”

He nodded and bounced his knee as he fiddled with the rings – just like he used to do when he got nervous.

“I didn’t murder her. And I didn’t murder anyone else. I wished they would’ve listened to me and relocated you-”

“Relocated me?”

“I’ve been living in a place called Lenora. It’s in California.” He sighed, “There was...there was no other way to go about it, though. If we suddenly both disappeared...they would’ve tried to pin another murder on me.” He looked up at you, “A new identity...a new name...new life. Alexander Simpson.”

He looked up at you as if he was waiting for another question, but when you were silent, he continued on:

“You know, I...begged them to let me bring you with me. But they said it was a safety risk. I’ve tried to contact you over the years but they always intercepted it. The risk is finally low enough now, ya know, it’s been ten years. Everyone’s sort of forgotten about it.”

“If you didn’t kill her – and I know you didn’t. I’m not saying that I believed what they said. I just...what actually happened, Eddie? I seen her body...how was that possible?”

He took a shaky breath in as he looked up at you, and then right past your head. His eyes held a painful look as he chewed on his bottom lip as if he was hesitant to speak about it. A hand came up to scrub over his tired face before he spoke.

“Hawkins isn’t safe, Y/N. Apparently, it’s never been a safe place. There’s an alternate reality...dimension, if you will, and these...monsters from the other realm...they can attack us. They can step through the barriers...and that’s what happened to Chrissy. And that’s what happened to Patrick. I don’t know how, or why or if it because I was near them when it happened and that fuckwad Jason...I got the blame. I know it sounds insane, princess. But there are people that can confirm. Even Henderson will tell you.”

“He said he watched you die,” you said, unshed tears welling up in your eyes, “He said he held you while you passed away and that they left your body in the woods because you didn’t want to be brought back.”

“I did get seriously hurt,” he nodded, “And I’ve got the scars to prove it. But Henderson was there when I got attacked-”

“Attacked?”

“Demobats,” he nodded, “Or that’s what the others called it.”

“What others?”

“Harrington, Nancy, Henderson, Robin…”

You felt your heart drop to your stomach. They knew. They all knew he was alive for these past years and they lied to you. People you considered friends, who helped you raise your son along the years – they knew. They fucking knew.

“Do you know...about him?” you asked, shifting your weight to your other foot.

“About who?”

“Ozzy.” You felt your stomach turn.

He was silent for a few minutes before he looked up at you and mumbled, “Osbourne?”

“No,” you laughed softly, “You...we have a son.”

The news seemed to shock him as he looked up at you with wide brown eyes. He was quiet, too stunned to speak or even move.

“A son?” He muttered a few moments later.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “He’s turning ten in a month. He’s – he’s quite the character. Just like you.”

“Jesus,” Eddie said, standing up from the bed, a hand clamped around his mouth, unshed tears in his eyes. “Is he...is he okay, Y/N? Is he safe?”

“He’s perfect,” you smiled, “He’s what kept me going all these years...when you died, I thought that was it for me. And then the morning sickness started. And before I knew it, he was here.”

He bent over, hands on his knees as he looked up at you, and you knew the thought that was running through his mind. ------- “When I finally graduate,” Eddie smirked – it was a inside joke between the two of you, as he walked out of his bedroom, “How cool would it be to get married and start popping out babies?”

“We’re still young to be having babies,” you laughed, legs resting on the arm of the couch, “I’d marry you tomorrow though.”

“You’d marry me tomorrow?” He smiled down at you as he walked closer.

“Edward Munson, I’d marry you in a heartbeat.” You said, watching as he got down on one knee – what the fuck was he doing?

He fished inside his back pocket and pulled out a small ring box, opening it to reveal a small and simple diamond ring.

“Tomorrow then, yeah?” He smirked, brown eyes smiling as much as his lips were. ------

“I still have it, you know? My ring.” You pulled the necklace out of your shirt, revealing the engagement ring dangling from your neck.

He walked over to you, picking the ring up from your chest as he stared down at you. You should’ve been mad, maybe, or devastated. But he was there in front of you, looking down at you with so much...love? In his eyes. It made you weak all over again.

He pressed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes, letting the ring fall back to your chest. His hands came up to grasp either side of your face as if you were going to fade away. It was insane how much he felt the same – his presence calming and welcoming you.

“Come to Lenora with me,” he whispered, “I’ve already talked to Owens about it and he’s willing to help you move.”

“Eddie-” you sighed. You knew it was coming as soon as he looked at you that way.

“I know. It’s a lot to ask.” He sighed softly, “Especially with the kid – our kid. But I want to meet him and know him. I deserve to know him and I can’t do that here. I can’t move back to Hawkins. They’d have my head on a pike in a split second, you know that, Y/N.”

“I know,” you whispered.

“These portals are only going to keep happening,” Eddie said, “It’s safe in California. They can’t get to us there. It’s just here.”

“But Eddie-”

“But what, princess? I’ve kept tabs on you here. Harrington’s kept me updated with you. I know you’re not living the life here. I know about it all. I’ve got a good job and a good house back in Lenora. I can provide a good life for us there. I can give you everything we talked about back then.”

“I can’t just say yes, Eddie. I’ve got to think of Oz, too.” You sighed.

“What does he know about me?” Eddie’s voice cracked as he bit his bottom lip, “Does – does he think I’m dead or that I just left him? Does he think I’m a piece of shit like my dad was?”

“No,” you said, cupping his chin, “I’ve told him countless times that you would’ve loved to have known him. How good of a dad you’d be. I told him you were dead because that’s what I was lead to believe.”

“Can I meet him, Y/N? Please?...just – I don’t want him to hate me like I hated my dad, you know?”

“He doesn’t think that,” you said, fingers moving to gently wipe his tears away, “Let me talk to him first, okay? Prepare him...let him know you’re not really dead. I don’t want him to know about what you said-”

“Has he heard about the murders?”

“Yes,” you whispered, “He did. He knows. We lived through fuckin’ hell the first few years of his life, Eddie. They called him the son of the freak...ridiculed me for keeping him.”

Eddie sobbed at that – the sound leaving his pinched lips, “You can’t raise him here, Y/N. He doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’ve got to go pick him up in a few minutes,” you said as you noticed the time, “But...is there a way that you could come by the house tomorrow? You can sneak in the back door. I still live in my moms old house but it’s just the two of us now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, sniffling as he wiped his eyes, “Definitely. I’ll get to meet him, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you gave him a small smile, “Please...don’t just disappear again, Eddie. I don’t want to get his hopes up, okay?”

“I’ll be there,” he nodded, “I swear to you.”

----

The next morning, you were awake bright and early in the kitchen. As if it was some built in clock, you heard the slow footsteps of your son descending the stairs. He rounded the corner, revealing his wild black bed hair as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

“Morning, bud.” You said, watching as he slung his blanket up and over his shoulders.

“Morning, mom.” he yawned, “You’re cooking breakfast this early?”

You looked down at the pancakes on the plate in front of him and nodded, “Yeah...I’ve got something important to talk to you about.”

“Okay,” Ozzy mumbled, “...is everything okay?”

“Well...that depends,” you said as you poured syrup on his plate, “You remember what I told you about your dad?”

Ozzy looked up at you with one eye as he rubbed his other free of the grittiness of sleep, “Um...yeah. That he was killed because they thought he was a murderer.”

“Well…” you sighed, “Okay. I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it. He’s alive, Ozzy. And I seen him last night for the first time in ten years and he wants to meet you.”

Ozzy stared at you for a few minutes as it registered in his brain what you were saying. He went quiet as he looked down at his plate and then back up at you with tear filled eyes, “He...left us, mama?”

“It’s a long story, Oz.” You sighed softly, “But he was sort of put into something called witness protection due to what everyone said about him. It wasn’t his choice, bub. He didn’t want to leave us.”

“Does he know about me, mama?”

“He does,” you said as you walked over to him and sat beside of him, “And just like I said he would be, he’s so excited to meet you. I got to tell him last night. And if you’re okay with it...he’s going to be coming over in a little bit. But you can’t tell anybody about this just yet, okay? So if you see any of your friends, you can’t mention it.”

“Where does he live?”

“A place called Lenora...it’s out in California.” You said, thumb wiping his tears away from his small cheek. His bottom lip quivered as you pulled him into your lap and hugged him to you, “Hey...it’s okay. It’s okay, Oz.”

There was a knock on the back door and you knew who it was. Ozzy seemed to get the same feeling as he sat up and climbed out of your lap.

“That’s him, isn’t it?” Ozzy looked up at you, “That’s – that’s my – that’s Eddie?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, “It is.”

He wiped his face as he watched you stand up and walk over to the door, opening for Eddie to step inside. Except he wasn’t alone. There was a old gray headed man standing behind him and before he could walk in, you stopped him.

“Who is that?” you pointed at the strange man.

“It’s okay,” Eddie nodded, “It’s Owens. The guy I was telling you about who could help. He’s safe.”

You stared at him for a moment, your fierce protective instincts kicking in as you blocked them from entering your home.

“Y/N,” Eddie said as he gently grasped your arms, “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you or bring anyone near you like that. Owen’s is safe. He’s the one who helped me.”

“Here’s my badge,” the old man said, showing you his I.D and his waist to prove he had no weapons, “I’m here to help.”

You took a deep breath and nodded, stepping to the side to allow the two men into your home. You lead them into the kitchen where Ozzy was standing bashfully behind the kitchen counter, peeking out at the strangers. It was nearly like watching a two way mirror. You knew he resembled his father, but seeing them both in the same room made you realize just how similar they truly were.

Eddie walked a bit closer and squatted down to his level and to the surprise of both of you, Ozzy ran to him and wrapped his little arms tightly around his neck. His cries filled the room as Eddie hugged him tightly, his tiny body overcome with so many emotions that his knees buckled and he collapsed against Eddie.

You squatted down beside of them, your hand gently scratching Ozzy’s scalp to try and calm him down. Eddie looked over at you, a look of complete and utter shock and...happiness on his face.

“It’s okay, Ozzy.” You said as you kissed the side of his face, “I know it’s wild, huh?”

“Totally wild,” he hiccuped as he leaned back and wiped his nose on a napkin you handed him.

They both took a minute to study each other before Ozzy spoke.

“You’ve got my face,” he said, small hand patting Eddie’s cheek.

“Nah, man. You’ve got my face.” Eddie smiled despite his tears, “I’m so happy to meet you.”

“Ar – are you here for good?” Ozzy’s voice cracked as he struggled to maintain eye contact with his father, “Or are you going to leave again?”

“Well...I can’t stay here. This town doesn’t like me very much,” Eddie said as he wiped away his sons tears.

“They don’t like me very much either,” Ozzy cried, “The kids...they’re mean to me. I’ve only got a few friends and we play DnD together when mama let’s me-”

“No way,” Eddie said, a small smile forming on his face, “What’s your role?”

“Dungeon master, just like you.” Ozzy said as he pulled his long hair over his mouth, getting bashful all of a sudden, “I’ve even got your binders and your screen...use it in every campaign...but you can have them back.”

“You keep them,” Eddie said with a soft smile, “They’re in good hands, I hope?”

“Mom says I’m the best,” Ozzy smiled over at you, “Ain’t I?”

“You are,” you smiled softly, “You definitely are.”

Eddie looked at you as if to silently ask permission. You knew what he as going to ask and you nodded softly. You hadn’t slept a wink all night thinking about finally escaping this hellhole of a town. And now was your perfect chance, but only if Ozzy agreed.

“Hey, can I ask you something really important?” Eddie asked softly, cupping Ozzy’s small chin in his hand.

“Okay,” he nodded.

“What do you say about leaving here and coming to live with me? It’ll be me, you, and mama.” Eddie said as he fully sat down on the ground now.

“Are the people nice there?” Ozzy whispered, brown eyes searching his fathers face, “Do...do they know about the murders?”

“No,” Eddie shook his head, “And they’re pretty cool people. No one will be mean to you...no one will know anything about the accusations. It’s a fresh start, yeah?”

Ozzy looked between the two of you and the strange man standing behind you. You wondered what was going through his mind as he thought about it for a few minutes.

“Can I bring my guitar?” Ozzy looked sheepishly up at Eddie.

“Dude – you can so bring that guitar.” Eddie smiled, “I’ll even let you play mine-”

“I do have yours,” Ozzy spoke up, “Mama said you called her sweetheart…”

It sounded as if all the wind had been knocked out of Eddie’s body as he bit back a sob. Your hand came up and slowly rubbed his back to comfort him as he stared at his son in disbelief.

“You have my guitar, too?” Eddie asked, voice cracking with emotion.

“Yeah. I’m not very good at it, but I like to practice.” Ozzy said proudly, “I can play some Iron Maiden songs so far. I’m gonna go get it.”

You two watched as Ozzy walked quickly out of the kitchen, his feet padding up the steps quickly. Eddie turned to you and smiled softly, “You raise a kick ass kid, Y/N.”

“An exact copy of you,” you said softly, happy tears filling your eyes.

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson x reader #Stranger things #Stranger things fanfic #thefreakymunson #fixit fic #Original Fic

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makoredeyes · 9 days

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It’s my birthday and my gift to me (and all of you) is a little Warmind bullying… as treat :3

Part 22 of On Like A Housefire is up!

#destiny 2 #destiny #destiny the game #destiny fanfiction #makowrites #warmind rasputin #Ana Bray #fixit fic #Felwinter #Osiris (sort of)#Papabot is having one hell of an uncomfy day #but it’s ok it’s good for him #(cackles)

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whimsicalmeerkat · 5 months

Note

"Stackson Friendship Movie Fixit" for this week?

Make Me Write

"I did what I needed to to keep you safe. I can live with the consequences."

Stiles barks out a harsh laugh. It's so bitter it burns as it leaves his throat.

"Yeah, well, I'm not so sure I can. And I think you know that. Why did I have to find out about this from Jackson a week after the funeral?"

"You were already overseas by then. You wouldn't have been able to get here for it." John is trying to sound matter of fact, but Stiles knows it's an act.

"You should have told me anyway, but then I guess talking about it when someone dies isn't really your thing."

John's eyes shoot up to his, showing Stiles' arrow hit its mark. He knows as well as Stiles that they aren't talking about Derek anymore.

#wip wednesday game #wip wednesday #wip game #writing game #wip #fanfic #teen wolf #stackson friendship #sterek #fixit fic #wm stackson friendship movie fixit #stackson friendship movie fixit #author:whimsicalmeerkat

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sparkylurkdragon · 5 months

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For option one, assume the decision being reversed was otherwise written satisfactorily. Something like a major character's death that was a coherent culmination of their story, but it made you sad so you wrote fic at it, or writing a noncanon ship even though the canon ship made sense to you as written in canon.

For option two, assume the decision being changed is what you, at least, perceive as genuinely poor writing, such as plot holes or bungled character motivations.

For option three, a fixit fic would mean only fics which change something major that was also written poorly. Things like reversing shock value deaths or what you feel was a hamfisted romance.

For option four, a fixit fic could mean either sense and context will reveal which you mean.

#original posts #polls #fandom #fixit #fixit fic

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kcscribbler · 2 months

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Fandom: Loki (TV 2021) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Additional Tags: Gen or Pre-Slash, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Canon, Friendship/Love, Hopeful Ending, Angst and Feels, Mobius M. Mobius Needs a Hug

In which this story, like all good things, comes to an end.

Final chapter of this ridiculously long fix-it 'verse, other than a few bits and bobs that'll be posted later.

Read the entire saga here, if you're so inclined, and thank you for coming on the journey with me.

#loki #loki series #loki spoilers #loki season 2 #fixit fic #ao3 #fanfic #fanfiction #lokius

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alissa3000 · 9 months

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All I want rn is to live out a life with Sam Winchester where he doesn’t go back into hunting and actually becomes a lawyer and we have a cute little place together and dean and cas come over the visit and we order pizza and okay board games 🫶🫶

#sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #platonic dean Winchester #destiel #dean x castiel #supernatural fandom #supernatural au #fixit fic #alissa3000

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kasienda · 1 year

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Kisses in the Rain - Ch 1

Chapter 1 (of 3) is written for @adrinetteapril 2023 - Day 17 - Kiss in the Rain This is canon divergent from beginning of Kwami’s Choice Part One. Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Adrinette

“I feel like we missed out on something special.” Adrien said. “Do you think we’ll ever get another chance?”

Marinette’s fist tightened around the earring in her hand. She wanted to respond, to take back her ugly lie that she didn’t love him, to tell him that she wanted what he wanted more than anything. But the miraculous cut painfully into her palm. She’d never get to be truthful with him. Everything would end the same way it had with Luka, only it would be worse because she’s not sure she would ever get over Adrien.

The same way she’d never get over Chat Noir.

She choked back a sob.

“Good-bye, Marinette,” he said. And he slipped away, taking a piece of her heart with him.

The second the latch clicked closed Marinette let herself fall to pieces. She wasn’t allowed to love Chat Noir and she couldn’t let herself love Adrien. Which was impossible because Chat Noir always caught her every single time she had lost all hope, and Adrien was so sweet and so patient she still could barely form words around him. She couldn’t not love them. And that wasn’t going to change anytime soon because how did you make yourself stop loving someone just because it was a bad idea?

But no one could stop her from crying.

Her throat was raw, her eyes were hot, and her gut writhed with every sobbing convulsion. And she knew she could be akumatized like this, but she couldn’t clamp down on the torrent of feelings anymore than she could stop the sun from setting.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, you have been an exemplary holder of the Ladybug. You’ve always used the power of creation for the greater good.”

Marinette sat up. Tikki sounded oddly formal, and she looked like she was about to cry.

“The task you’ve been performing has become too much of a burden, crushing you. Your mission is over.”

Marinette blinked at Tikki, her shock temporarily overcoming her grief.

“Wh-what?”

“You can give up the earrings, Marinette. And then, you can finally be with Adrien.”

Marinette blinked again.

Could she really do that? Just hand over the earrings and let Tikki subject some other poor soul to this responsibility?

Isn’t that what had been done to her though?

She didn’t owe anyone anything, did she?

She could let go of the earrings and never look back.

She was tired of responsibility and secrets. She was completely over having to sacrifice everything she wanted for something that should never have been her fight.

She had already slipped the second earring off when she froze.

If she did this she might never see Chat Noir again. Even if he happened across Marinette’s balcony he wouldn’t know she was his partner.

Hadn't she promised she would never abandon him? Just as he had shown time and again that he would never abandon her. And as much as she hated what being Ladybug had stolen from her, she couldn’t deny that she wouldn’t change anything because it had brought her Chat Noir.

And she loved him. And whether or not they could ever be together, whether or not she was able to pursue something with Adrien, she wanted him in her life.

She couldn’t give up Chat Noir.

Not even for Adrien.

She gripped the earrings in her fist.

“No, Tikki. I can’t give up the earrings. Thank you, though, for reminding me why I still keep them.”

Tikki darted forward and nuzzled herself into Marientte’s chest.

“Oh, Marinette. I wish I could promise that things will get better, that they will work out.”

Marinette stroked her soothingly. “I know, Tikki. Thank you.”

…

The moment his door clicked close, Adrien dropped all pretense and let himself fall face first onto his bed. He didn’t cry, but part of him wished that he could. Marinette didn’t love him anymore. He had just realized his own feelings, but they obviously weren’t new. It was just so unfair. What had he done wrong to lose her affections?

Or was he just not enough or too much, or just overall, unloveable? His mother had left. She hadn’t thought he was worth it. His father always found him wanting. And Ladybug had never been interested despite everything they had faced and been through together.

But Marinette was different. She had loved him once.

He hadn’t noticed, and now? Now, it was too late.

His fingers traced his bottom lip, trying to recreate the memory of her kiss. He wished he could have said yes to her as Chat Noir.

But it was hopeless. He was unlucky and cursed or something.

“Adrien Agreste,” Plagg announced, floating ominously through the air. Adrien made himself roll over so he could see Plagg hovering over him. “You have been an exemplary holder of the Black Cat. You’ve always used the power of destruction for the greater good, unlike me. Your mission is now over.”

“But–”

“If you do this, you won’t have to hide anything from the ones you love. You can finally be yourself.”

Adrien shook his head. “How will that help anything? Marinette already said she doesn’t love me anymore.”

Plagg paused, his tiny lips pressing together for a moment. “Can you just trust me? It will solve everything.”

Adrien’s brows furrowed. “So the ring does make me unlucky then?”

Plagg had denied it over and over, saying that such associations with destruction were just superstition.

And now, Plagg looked so startled, but then his face lit up. “Yes! Exactly! Super unlucky. If you give it up everything will magically work out.”

Adrien snorted. Well, that clearly wasn’t it. But Adrien for the life of him, couldn’t guess what Plagg’s actual angle was.

“Is Ladybug trying to replace me and you’re just being nice about it?”

“No! She adores you!”

“Are you mad that I ordered off brand Camembert last week? I swear they’re the same.”

“They absolutely are not! But no, that’s not what this is about. I’m serious. Can’t you just trust me?” Plagg asked.

Adrien had rarely seen him so serious, and so he had to believe him. Plagg always led him towards mischief but he had never once led him astray.

“Okay.”

“Really?!” Plagg did a little dance in the air and Adrien laughed.

“Yes, I always trust you.”

“Give me the ring then.”

He started to slip the ring from his finger. It felt strange to let go of the object he had been trained to never relinquish. Even outside of superhero duties, being Chat Noir had once been his ticket to freedom and joy. He wasn’t certain when he had started to feel like another set of expectations that he could never hope to live up to. Where having a secret identity had once seemed fun, now just felt like it was a recipe to never ever show his full self to anyone.

What would it mean to be completely real with his friends? To never have to put his loved ones at risk just by caring about them too much?

To never have to hold back with Marinette?

The way he always had to with Ladybug?

He froze.

“Adrien?”

Ladybug who had lost everyone she could call an ally. Ladybug who had told him that she would never leave him. If he closed his eyes he could still hear her sobbing on the other side of his bathroom door.

“What about Ladybug?”

“What about her?”

“I’m all she has left.”

“I would find her a worthy partner,” Plagg promised.

Adrien was shaking his head. “You can’t just replace all that time we had each other’s backs, Plagg.”

“It would be fine!” Plagg insisted.

Adrien shook his head. “I can’t abandon her.”

His eyes squeezed closed.

“Not even for Marinette.”

Brave self righteous Marinette who always seemed to have a sixth sense for when things were awry in his world, who never failed to bring a smile to his face, who always seemed to simply understand him when he barely understood anything himself.

How lucky he would be to have her in his life as more than a friend, as a partner in every sense of the word.

And suddenly he was crying. It seemed like it should be easier to let Marinette go than Ladybug who he had loved for so long.

And yet, it wasn’t.

He felt the loss more deeply because now it wasn’t just her saying no. It was him making the choice. And he could barely stand it.

He whipped out his phone, shot her a text.

Can we please talk?

Her response was immediate.

Of course.

He texted back just as quickly.

I’ll be over in ten.

…

She’s waiting for him outside the bakery, unable to stay inside despite the threatening cloud cover overhead.

He arrives before she is ready. She can’t look at him.

“I’m not here to change your mind,” he says. “I just… I didn’t want to end things like… that.”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to leave it that way either. I… I want you to know that I was lying.”

His eyebrows come together. “About?”

“I do love you. I have since the day we met. I initially misjudged you…” and her throat closes off, and the words won’t come together, but this time it’s different than every other failed confession. She’s not nervous or tongue tied.

She’s breaking his and her heart at the same time.

It’s not fair.

“Shhh,” he soothes, taking and squeezing her hand. “It’s okay.”

She lets herself fall into his arms for a second. She lets herself cry. No one can take away her tears. “I just… I didn’t want to tell you. I thought if you didn’t know… it’d be easier somehow? Because the truth is… even though I love you, I can’t be with you. Not right now. Maybe not ever.”

And her throat squeezes closed, every muscle is quivering, every bone is jelly. But she knows she won’t fall. Not when he’s holding her.

He nods. “I understand more than you know,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head. “I’m not asking for anything that you’re unable to give.”

She looks up at him. His eyes are softer than ever. And he’s smiling at her, like she’s blown him away instead of broken his heart. He’s never been as gorgeous as he is right now looking at her with the patient kindness that made her fall in love with him the first time.

Before she can overthink it, she rises to her toes and kisses him. For a split second he melts against her, and she lets herself pretend that this is the beginning of a new chapter between the two of them instead of a possibility stolen away by duty and friendship.

Raindrops fall on her head, but she doesn’t care, wanting the moment to last forever.

Until she’s the one to pull away.

“I think you were right,” she says.

“Hmm?” his eyes are still closed like he’s trying to memorize the moment.

She’s trying to do the same with the expression on his face. “We missed out on something special.”

His eyes flicker open. “Yeah, I think we did, too.”

“I hope someday we get another chance.”

He smiles softly, and brings her hand to his lips. “Me too, Marinette. Me too.”

He lets go of her hand and starts to walk away.

She wants to burst into tears all over again.

Then he whirls back around and offers her an umbrella that she never noticed he had.

“Stay dry,” he says.

But what she hears is “I love you.”

She accepts the gift with trembling hands. “Thank you.”

But what she means is “I love you, too.”

…

I plan to post chapter 2 during Ladrien June, and Chapter 3 during Ladynoir July.

#adrinetteapril2023 #adrinette #canon divergent #love square kisses #Day 17 - kiss in the rain #kwami's choice spoilers #rewrite of kwami's choice #fixit fic #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #hints of ladynoir #angst #with sweet kisses #and eventual happy ending

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