#friends to enemies to lovers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rip-quizilla · 5 months

Text

Impossible to Hate You ~ Part 5

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is falling- leaves from the trees, rain from the sky, you for Eddie, and Eddie for you.

Word Count: 10.1 K

A/N: Big thanks to @the-unforgivenn (happy birthday❤️) for all of the help you gave me on this chapter, and honestly this whole fic in general. You've been an invaluable part of the writing process of this story, and the fact that you care so much about Eddie & Ace just makes me feel so loved... you don't even know. Ily wifey✨

Thank you @vintagehellfire for your priceless tattoo knowledge- I hope I did you proud!!

Also thanks to @blueywrites for helping me decide on what Eddie would tattoo on reader back in our Tumblr DMs in June😂 y'all that's how long I've had this scene in my brain. This part of the story has been a long time coming.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5

Fall, 1983

“Rick, are you serious, man?”

“Dead serious, I’ll sell it to you for twenty.”

You caught the tail end of their conversation as you approached the red plastic picnic table in Forest Hills trailer park. Today was the first day of fall, and while it may not have felt like biting cold and crunchy leaves yet, it did feel like flannels tied around waists and long-dead grass that broke beneath the soles of your shoes. You hopped up onto the surface of the table, swinging your feet around to rest beside Eddie where he sat on the bench.

“Sell what?” you asked, producing three cans of Coke from your bag that you’d brought from home and handing one to each of the boys. Rick had grown accustomed to your presence since the spring, so he actually cracked a smile when he answered your question and nodded in thanks as he accepted the can.

“Munson wants to buy my old tattoo gun.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait, seriously?” you asked Eddie.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rick. “And I’m wondering what the catch is if you’re selling it to me for so cheap.”

You cracked open your can of soda with a hiss, joining Eddie in his Rick stare-down. “Hmm,” you mused, “I bet he forgot to clean it and it’s staph-infested.”

“Nope,” Rick popped the ‘p’ after taking a swig from his shiny red can. “Never been used, so I can guarantee it’s staph-free. Always meant to use it, but after that brush with the cops I had last month, I don’t want to risk having it.”

You narrowed your eyes at Eddie, trying to discern whether or not he’d thought about the fact that if he bought it, then he would be in possession of paraphernalia for illegal Indiana activities.

Then again, you knew he smoked weed and that was most definitely against the law as well, and he hadn’t been caught yet. You trusted him not to be stupid enough to get arrested.

You turned your line of questioning on Eddie. “Why on earth do you need a tattoo gun anyway?”

“Well you see, Ace-” Eddie lifted one of your feet up from the bench, straightening your leg and presenting your right shoe- your white converse, half covered in mythical creatures and random doodles that Eddie had slowly been adding to with his fine-tipped Sharpie ever since you’d bought them in early August. “-it seems that I need a canvas for my art, and it won’t be long before I run out of shoe.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So now people are the canvas?”

Eddie held up his arms, bare skin nearly translucent in the afternoon sun. His nearly-too-small Iron Maiden tee showcased just how much bare skin he had to spare along the contours of his limbs. “If by people you mean me, then yeah.”

“You’re going to tattoo yourself?”

“Yep!”

“Without practicing on someone else first?”

Eddie smirked, “You volunteering?”

You rolled your eyes, but for some odd reason the idea stuck. You decided to play along.

“Let’s say I am, what would the tattoo be?”

Eddie hadn’t anticipated this answer. He was so surprised, in fact, that he choked on the soda that he’d just sipped into his mouth before your question. In a cacophony of coughs and wheezes, Eddie managed to regain his composure as you smiled wryly, feeling as though you’d bested him somehow in some small way. To fluster him with something as small as this, something he hadn’t expected.

“You’re serious? You want a tattoo?” Eddie responded skeptically, before turning away from you to fiddle with his soda can still held in his hands.

You shrugged, as if he were asking if you wanted a pizza, not a permanent brand inked on your skin. “Why not? I think I’d look pretty badass with a tattoo.”

You weren’t sure what was making you feel so bold today, but you had a feeling it might be related to the thought of Eddie covered in ink that wound up and down his skin that was making you ache to touch it when it was still naked and peach-pale. You scooched a couple inches down the tabletop to the left, placing your seat directly behind Eddie’s neck.

Then, in a stroke of something between bravery, stupidity, and need, you carefully slung your legs over Eddie’s shoulders so that they sat in the bends of your knees.

It was a simple gesture- familiar, even. You made a point to lean back a little, bracing your hands behind you on the tabletop so that the apex of your thighs stayed a good distance from the back of Eddie’s neck. You felt Eddie’s shoulders stiffen, each muscle under your jeans tensing for a moment before relaxing into the closeness.

Then Eddie brought his hands to your ankles, his fingertips brushing the spare skin between your high tops and the cuffs of your jeans. The pads of his thumbs barely caressed the skin but they felt like a kiss- a thing coveted and then forbidden, then coveted even more.

His touch drifted over your legs, warm hands coming to rest over your shins and squeeze, heating the denim that separated his skin from yours. You were holding your breath. You’d been so confident a second ago yet here he was, knocking the very air from your lungs.

You waited anxiously for him to say something; if he didn’t you were sure you were going to do something stupid. Something that would involve more of his skin on your skin.

“Would you want this tattoo of yours to show?” Eddie asked at last, breaking the silence between the two of you- well, the three of you. Rick was still there, taking in the sight before him with a smirk on his face.

“Not easily, my parents would kill me.” you said, ensuring that your tone of voice was nonchalant, casual. “But I don’t see the harm in something small that I could hide.”

Eddie tilted his head back and up, earthen eyes flicking up to yours. “What happened to ‘looking badass’?”

You pursed your lips as you leaned forward, bringing your faces to hover parallel over each other. “You’re saying that taking my pants off to reveal a surprise tatty isn’t badass?”

You watched as Eddie’s eyes flashed darker for a split second- nearly imperceptibly so- before his lips stretched sinfully into a mischievous grin. “Oh, under the pants then, huh?”

His hands traced higher, ghosting on your knees and burning his fingerprints through your jeans.

“Easy to hide,” you said, struggling to keep your voice even. “It’s a practical placement.”

Eddie’s thumbs stroked absentminded circles into the flesh of your lower thighs, tight denim puckering with the motion. “Practical placement…” he murmured, low enough that it sounded like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud.

“You could put it on your hip.”

Both of your heads whipped around to focus on Rick, who was grinning at both of you like he’d just discovered a fun new game to play. He shrugged, hopping up to sit beside you on the tabletop. “You want it to be hidden all of the time, right?” he leaned to shove you congenially with his shoulder. “When’s a good girl like you gonna be showing off some hip? I bet the only one who’ll see that will already be married to you when he lays eyes on-”

“Hey!” you interjected. “You act like I’m some prude, I’m not a nun.” Rolling your eyes, you looked back down at Eddie hoping to meet his gaze and laugh together over how ridiculous Rick was being. However, you looked down only to find Eddie’s chocolate browns trained on Rick with wide-eyed warning. A silent message was clearly being exchanged, but it wasn’t for you.

Rick was smiling smugly down at Eddie, unbeknownst to you, and Eddie was getting the message loud and clear:

It’s time to raise the stakes, kid.

“Perfect!” Rick chirped, smug eyes still trained on Eddie’s. “So you wouldn’t mind letting Eddie use your hip as his, uh… canvas, then?”

If Eddie’s looks could kill, Rick would be a dead man.

“Yeah.” you choked out, refusing to give yourself time to chicken out of what you’d gotten yourself into. “Yeah, why not?”

***

Rainy days in autumn just felt right.

Sure, you were in Latin class. Sure, you were supposed to be working on a packet the substitute teacher had just passed out. However, it was raining outside. The sub was easygoing enough that she hadn’t made a move to stop Eddie from doodling on your shoe that was perched comfortably on the crook of his hip.

You sat behind him in every class you had together- there were four of them this year- and Eddie had gotten into the habit of reaching back to tap you on the leg whenever he knew he was losing focus. Every time he tapped, you would carefully stretch your leg forward until his hand caught on your ankle, lifting it up until it rested on his lap. His sharpie would go to work on whatever blank spots he could still find on your white converse, and the mindless activity of his drawing would keep his mind awake enough to listen as teachers droned on and on.

The change in Eddie wasn’t lost on his teachers- they had all noticed the impact that your company seemed to have on him, and it was the only reason why they hadn’t had any issues with your constant companionship. When you were around, Eddie actually paid attention in his classes and turned in work- that was good enough for them.

The silence of the classroom and the soundtrack of rainfall beating against the roof and windows had created the perfect work zone for you, and your focus on your classwork was only interrupted when you noticed a folded piece of torn notebook paper on the edge of your desk.

Smirking as you felt Eddie continue doodling on your shoe, you unfolded the paper and read the slanted scrawl that you’d come to recognize instantly as Eddie’s handwriting.

Were you serious about the tattoo thing? It’s OK if you’re not.

Your cheeks heated, contemplating whether you were still serious about it or not. The only fears you had about it were completely logical- Eddie had literally no clue what he was doing. Yours would only be his second tattoo after his own. Worst case scenario, the tattoo would get infected and you go to the hospital. Eddie gets arrested for tattooing without a medical license. Best case scenario… you get to sit there while he grips your naked thigh for as long as it takes to leave a permanent reminder of him on your hip.

You blinked a couple of times, letting that mental image wash over you, before confidently penning your answer beneath his message.

I’m serious.

Folding the scrap of paper and handing it back to him, you felt his Sharpie leave your shoe as he took the note and read it. You watched him register the two words, glance back at you through the loose strands of hair that hung over his shoulder, then smile softly into a shake of his head. A second later, he was handing the note back to you.

If you say so, Ace. What am I tattooing, and where?

You had to think about it for a moment before passing back your answer

Hip is fine. What are you gonna do? We could match.

Eddie’s reply came faster than you’d ever seen him write any of his notes in class, that’s for damn sure.

You want matching tattoos?? Are you sure?

Your heart began to race. Was that bad? Was he judging you for wanting to match him? Maybe you were being too clingy, trying too hard… you glanced down at his jacket, which was wrapped around you almost every day at this point- it was practically a second skin. His handwriting was all over your shoes. You stared at your fingers, scarlet polish chipping from the tips of your nails, and you remembered that you’d chosen red solely because he’d mentioned it was his favorite color.

Were you coming across as desperate? Were you weirding him out? Maybe you needed to dial it back-

A new piece of paper slid across your desk, Eddie’s eyes glancing your way with nothing but warmth in his gaze before he returned his attention to your shoe on his lap.

I’m fine with it if you are.

Putting bats on my forearm.

You released a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, giving ways for butterflies to take flight inside your chest. You grinned, jotting down your reply beneath his writing.

I’m more than fine with it.

Could you do just one little bat on my hip?

Eddie took a little longer this time with his response, and you understood why once you saw the adorably small silhouette of a bat penned in black on the paper he’d passed back to you.

You leaned forward, letting your chin nearly brush the fabric of his denim jacket as you whispered low enough that the substitute teacher wouldn’t hear.

“It’s perfect.”

A snicker from the other side of the classroom caught your ear. Eddie and you both turned to see a cluster of letter-jacketed assholes staring at the two of you, whispering and laughing with each other.

You knew deep down that you didn’t care what they thought. You knew that you should just keep your head down. Ignore them.

But then you caught the tail end of one of their sentences.

“...fucking freaks.”

Two things happened simultaneously: your eyebrows jumped, and Eddie’s stomach dropped.

The ringing of the bell was all you needed to angrily shove your belongings into your backpack and march over to the other side of the classroom, stopping the jocks in their tracks. Eddie was right behind you, tugging you back by the crook of your elbow as you steadily ignored his pleas to sit down and ignore them, they aren’t worth it.

“You want to repeat what you were saying over there, Alan?” You stared up at the freckled boy, his harsh features sneering down at you from where he stood nearly half a foot taller than you. His height did nothing to deter you, however. Neither did Eddie’s death grip on your arm.

Alan snorted, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you before him. His eyes flicked over you, appraising for about two seconds before directing his attention to Eddie behind you. “You letting your girl pick your fights for you now, Munson?”

Eddie didn’t have a chance to respond; you didn’t give him one. “Don’t look at him.” you stepped forward, bringing you mere inches from the freckled football star. “I asked you a question.”

Alan and his cronies laughed, apparently amused by the show of dominance you were trying to make. You opened your mouth to berate him further, but the sharp tug on your arm from Eddie was strong enough this time to jerk you away from them and toward the door of the classroom.

“Wh- Eddie, quit it!” you tried to shake off his grip but it wasn’t going to budge; Eddie marched you out the door and down the hallway like a man on a mission.

“Yeah, Eddie, quit it!” You both could hear Alan’s patronizing whine from the classroom, his voice thrown into a reedy falsetto that made your blood boil. His voice trailed off, melting into the nasal snickers of his friends.

Eddie didn’t let go of your arm until the two of you reached his locker, at which point he finally looked you in the eye- and his stare embodied an intensity that you hadn’t seen from him ever before. You’d seen him intense, of course… just not like this.

This looked like fear.

“What the fuck was that for?” Eddie bit out, his teeth clenched and eyes wide.

You crossed your arms, suddenly defensive. Had you messed up, somehow? “I… I mean, they were calling us names, I wasn’t going to just sit there.”

“Alan’s an illiterate asshole, you don’t need to explain yourself to him.”

“I know I don’t need to, but…” You chuckled humorlessly, that familiar vengeful feeling from moments ago beginning to bubble back up. “You know what, no. I do need to. I’m not the kind of person who can just sit there while jerks like him run around slandering good people, it’s wrong!”

Eddie huffed, his hands on his hips as he glanced around and shook his head. “Slandering, huh? That’s a big word, Ace. What’s that, the college word of the day?” You raised an eyebrow, watching him closely and curiously.

He was fidgeting nonstop, repeatedly picking up his feet and replacing them on the floor only an inch or so away from where they’d been before. His eyes darted in every direction, as if scanning for potential threats so that he could run from them before they decided to pounce.

“Eddie, why are you so afraid of those guys?”

Big brown eyes widened to saucers, refocusing on you. “This isn’t fear, Ace, it’s just common sense.” Eddie checked over his shoulder to ensure the jocks were gone, then took a step closer. He leaned his shoulder against the locker, lifting his opposite arm to gently place his hand on your upper arm. You shivered, feeling his thumb trace small circles through his own black leather. Maybe that’s why he’s so scared all of a sudden, you pondered, leaning closer to Eddie. He’s given me his armor.

You lowered your voice, sympathetic to Eddie’s plight. “You know I wouldn’t let them hurt you, Eds.” Looking up into his eyes, you expected to see them soften, gratitude coating his gaze. Instead, they widened and crinkled slightly at the edges. Eddie huffed out a gaudy laugh, incredulous at your admission.

“Hurt me?” he shook his head, stunned, and began to rifle through his locker for the books he needed for next class. “Ace, I just don’t want them to hurt you!”

You balked. “Me?” an eyebrow raised, you crossed your arms over your chest, defensive once again. “You really think they’d hit a girl? They’re jerks but I don’t think they’d go that far-”

“Nah, they’ll only sick their girlfriends on you.” Eddie punctuated his sentence with a slam of his locker door. “Purebred harpies with matching scrunchies who’ll make your life a living hell and then pretend that you’re the crazy one.”

It was a struggle to keep up with him at the rate he was walking, strides each a yard wide as he tugged you along by your hand.

Your hand. Eddie Munson was holding your hand.

“You, uh… you speaking from experience?” You stuttered over your words, cheeks heating at the sudden skin-to-skin contact. He had just admitted that he didn’t want to see you get hurt- his blatant protectiveness of you coupled with the way he was decisively dragging you by the hand to your locker right now was nearly too much for you to handle.

“Trust me,” Eddie sighed, swinging you around as he reached your locker and (to your dismay) letting go of your hand. “You get asked out on a dare enough times, you figure out how their coven operates.”

Eddie wasn’t meeting your eyes. You had to actually place your hand on his shoulder to capture his gaze. “Eddie,” you said, making a conscious effort to keep your voice steady and be something stable for him to feel at least a little grounded on. “Deep breath.”

Surprisingly, he did as you said. Eddie closed his eyes, inhaling deep and allowing his lungs to fill long enough that his chest expanded before his exhale blew softly on your cheeks. It smelled like the apple you’d brought for him at lunch.

When you were once again treated to that warm hazelnut gaze, your hand acted without thinking and flew up to gently rest against his jawline. You were crossing some invisible line- you knew that- but the light in the hallway was causing shadows to take up residence in the dusting of whiskers that decorated the sharp incline that led to his chin. Your fingertips brushed his skin reverently, and he seemed frozen. Eddie didn’t dare move; you were like a butterfly that had deigned to land on him of all people, and damn it all if he was going to fuck it up and scare you off.

“I’ve got you, you’ve got me… right?” Your voice was barely loud enough to be heard through the noise of bustling students. “We look out for each other, Eddie, we’re stronger together.”

Eddie remained still under your caress, wishing he could focus on your touch. Wishing he could rip his eyes away from where they were trained behind you- held in terrified contact with a sadistic-looking Alan who stood with his cherry-lipsticked girlfriend across the hallway. Alan’s lips were curled into a sneer, watching as the thing that Eddie wanted most became his worst nightmare.

You were openly touching him, while wearing his clothes, standing in shoes covered with his drawings- and Eddie watched in horror as the harpy pushed up on her tiptoes to whisper something in Alan’s ear before both of them refocused not on Eddie, but on you.

They laughed like fucking heyenas, eyeing their next meal.

It took every ounce of self control Eddie had, but he gently took your hand in his and lowered it from his cheek. He ignored the way your eyes gazed up at him the same way a scorned puppy begged for some kind of affection, any confirmation that they are, indeed, loved.

“It’s the together part I’m worried about, Ace.” Eddie whispered, keeping his voice low.

You were quiet, which Eddie hated because it was his fault.

“Oh, and um-” Eddie raised his shoulders and shivered, rubbing his hands along his upper arms to warm himself with the friction. “-it’s a little chilly today… you mind if I wear the jacket?” His hand drifted down to the flannel that hung loosely tied around your waist, taking a corner of the material and feeling it between the pads of his thumb and forefinger.

“This’ll keep you warm, yeah?”

You stared blankly for a moment, stunned. You had nearly forgotten that the jacket was his to take. You’d assumed he liked that you always wore his jacket, but… perhaps you’d made that up. You were eager for him to want things like that, after all… ‘more than friends’ kinds of things. However, asking for a borrowed item to be returned was completely normal for friends. You chided yourself for reading too much into it and smiled warmly up at him.

“Yeah! Of course!” you sprung into action, setting your backpack down on the floor as you began to shrug off the jacket. “You’re right it’s frigid in here today.”

You handed the jacket to Eddie, who donned it with a thin-lipped smile. Parting ways for your next class, you departed in opposite directions down the hallway.

Upon arriving in your calculus class, you glanced out the window eager to zone out as you watched the rain, only to be greeted by a gray sky drained of its water. The rain’s reprieve left nothing in its wake but a tired sun, soft mist that obscured all surety, and packed Indiana dirt softened to mud too loose for one to find their footing.

The sort of mud that, should you try to walk through it, you’d be destined to slip and fall.

***

When Eddie thought of Halloween, he thought of blood and sugar.

It was a strange contradiction, the way that Halloween’s association with horror and gore had balanced itself out with candy corn and fun-sized Snickers bars, and yet the juxtaposition of the two brought a smile to his face. The combination of sweet and terrifying embodied the holiday perfectly. On Halloween, there was no need for any kind of steely exterior that might protect him from judgment. No need to hide the way he really feels behind the scary metalhead armor he’d so carefully curated as a defense mechanism.

On Halloween, he wasn’t just allowed to be a freak. He was celebrated for it.

On Halloween, he could just be.

It was the reason why Halloween just so happened to be the day he’d had enough courage to look through your bedroom window exactly four years ago. It’s the day when Hell meets Heaven to make something sweet, and anything can happen.

Anything- including matching tattoos on the floor of his trailer.

Everything was ready- Eddie had laid out sheets of newspaper to cover what he’d deemed the tattoo zone, and broken down a cardboard box to act as a stable surface on the soft carpet of his bedroom floor. Eddie had scrutinized every instruction he’d been able to wrench from Rick for how to work the tattoo machine. Grips, needles, fucking rubber bands that were apparently very necessary… he’d made sure he had it all. He’d even practiced on an orange that he’d swiped from the kitchen counter.

A thick black cable now snaked across his carpeted floor, connecting the machine to a pedal, the pedal to a power supply, and the power supply to the yellowed plastic outlet on his wall. Beside the machine sat a stack of paper towels and all sorts of other shit Rick had advised him to make sure he used. He was lucky that Rick had bought a bottle of black ink- Eddie wouldn’t have known where to seek out medical-grade ink in a state where it was illegal to ink your skin without a license.

Your knock at his door made Eddie jump; he wasn’t sure why he was so nervous. It would be easy to write his nerves off as adrenaline before his first tattoo, but who was he kidding- it was you. You’d gone from someone who made him nervous to someone who made him nervous for different reasons, and all of this was very inconvenient for Eddie.

“Trick or Treat,” You’d chirped when he opened the door, and it was at that moment Eddie realized that this night may very well be the death of him.

You wore your favorite baggy sweater over a tight black tank top, which you’d tucked into some high waisted acid washed jeans. Unsurprisingly, the chucks on which he’d scribbled his claim were fastened securely on your feet. In your hands was a variety pack of halloween candies and a shopping bag from the local drugstore. Everything about you radiated warmth, and Eddie had to fight the urge to change tonight’s itinerary to movies and a blanket fort and spend the whole evening on the couch with you, surrounded by candy wrappers and the light of his television set.

“I brought antibacterial soap,” you said, bringing Eddie back to reality. You rifled through your shopping bag to show him your spoils as you stepped through the threshold and into his trailer. “-large bandages, and a little travel first aid kit just in case. Oh, and I did a little bit of reading at the library and I couldn’t find much on tattoos, but the one commonality between every book and article I could find said to make sure you wash the wound often and disinfect everything-”

“Ace,” Eddie interrupted, taking the bag from you and closing the front door. The corner of his mouth quirked up, keeping an amused chuckle at bay. “You went to the library to read about how to safely care for an illegal tattoo?” Your expression soured, shifting to a half-scowl, half-pout.

“Well one of us has got to do it,” you huffed, grabbing the bag and marching towards Eddie’s room. “And I know you wouldn’t set foot in the library unless you were forced.” You continued to yell at him from his room, “You’ll thank me when your kitchen-scratched tattoo doesn’t get infected, and you get to grow old with all of your limbs intact!”

Eddie stayed glued to his spot as his smirk grew into a goofy grin. You were fucking adorable.

You hadn’t argued when Eddie insisted that he start with his own tattoo- before he got started on permanently marking your skin, he wanted to be sure that he at least had gotten the hang of it first. He immediately started getting to work with his trusty fine-tipped Sharpie, sketching out a scattering of bats on his forearm and glancing every once in a while at his notebook for reference. You’d flipped through that notebook on several occasions when the two of you had sat idle during classes or study sessions. The drawings were always sprawling, sharp and gruesome in a way that wasn’t so much scary as it was fascinating to you.

You laid stomach-down on his mattress, positioned behind where he sat on the floor, his back leaned up against the bed frame and close enough that you could probably reach down and play with his hair if you were bold enough. You didn’t- no matter how tempting it was, you didn’t want to risk anything that might mess up his focus. You settled for watching Eddie’s reflection in the mirror that sat leaned up against the wall in front of him.

When the Sharpie stencil had dried and Eddie picked up the tattoo machine, you couldn’t deny the nervous uptake in your heart rate. You watched him gingerly begin the process of permanently inking his drawing into his skin, and before the needle touched skin, Eddie looked over his shoulder at you and winked, whispering a surprisingly shaky “Point of no return.” Before you could ask if he was having second thoughts, he was already outlining the first bat, his socked foot pressing decisively on the pedal that whirred his machine to life.

Minutes ticked by before you uttered a soft “Does it hurt?” to break the awkward silence. Normally, Eddie had some sort of music playing, Metallica or WASP or something along those lines spinning on his cheap old turntable- but tonight there was nothing but the electric buzz that filled the small bedroom, and it was starting to make you antsy.

Eddie huffed, and it was as much of a laugh as he could afford while holding still. “Well, Ace, it’s a needle sticking in and out of my arm repeatedly, so if I’m being honest it ain’t exactly sunshine and rainbows.” You watched him wince as he moved on from outlining the first bat and started on the second.

“Does it at least make you feel a little badass?” You watched his reflection in the mirror glance up through the curtain of his hair and raise an eyebrow at you.

“That depends,” He said, “do I look badass?”

“A little.” You teased. “You’ll look more badass when the tattoo is finished.”

That earned you a snort from him. “What, fifty percent of a tattoo doesn’t cut it?” His reflection flashed you a genuine smile, that lopsided grin affecting you the way it always does, spiking your body temp and rushing the thump of your heart.

“Nope. Though, if your intention is to tell the world that you have commitment issues-”

“I do not have commitment issues-”

“Then what kind of issues do you have?”

Eddie parted the needle from his skin, taking a moment to glance wryly over his shoulder in your direction.

“You.” It was punctuated by a tongue that peeked out from between his lips. You followed suit, shoulders shaking as you chuckled.

Silence threatened to fall for a moment then, but Eddie put a stop to that. “Keep talking.”

“Huh?”

His voice was quiet, muttered like he was biting the inside of his cheek as he spoke. “Hurts less when we’re talking.”

You smiled, watching as he avoided your eye contact in the mirror, focusing on his arm as a subtle blush began to creep onto his cheeks. Tempting as it was to tease, you opted for a more neutral topic.

“Which is better, sour candy or chocolate?”

You could barely see his eyebrows furrow behind his curtain of curls as he considered your question. “Chocolate.”

“You’re crazy.”

He barked out a laugh. “After all the ridiculous shit I’ve said, that’s what crosses the line for you?”

You shook your head, amping up your reaction for his benefit; he was laughing, and it was music to your ears. You were greedy for more of it.

“Sour candy is a whole experience, chocolate is just sweet! That’s all it has going for it!”

Eddie gawked but kept his eyes trained on his skin. “What do you have against sweets?”

You rolled your eyes, flopping from your stomach to your back and staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling. “I haven’t got anything against sweets… I just like a little tart to go with it. Oh hang on, that reminds me-”

You stuck your hand into the plastic bag you’d brought with you, producing a variety pack of cheap Halloween candies. “Do you normally get trick-or-treaters? I thought we could pour these into a bowl and set it out on the porch- you know, so we don’t have to keep answering the door.”

Eddie Shook his head. “Nah, not a lot of kids who live here. Those who do always high-tail it to the neighborhoods where the good shit is, like-”

“Loch Nora?” you finished, smirking.

Nodding his approval, Eddie echoed, “Loch Nora.”

“Well in that case,” you yanked open the bag of candy so hard that a few individually wrapped pieces were flung onto the bedspread as well as the floor below. “I guess we’ll have to eat all of this ourselves.”

Eddie paused his tattooing to glance at a fun-sized packet of sour gummy worms that had landed on the carpet beside him. “Gummy worms?” he asked.

You flicked the back of his head while the needle was off his skin. “Uh, yeah, they’re delicious.”

“Did you at least get candy corn?”

You gagged. “Candy corn?!”

The two of you passed the next hour like that, debating about various arbitrary topics and inevitably disagreeing on almost all of them. There were only three things that you both agreed on without any debate whatsoever: Santa Claus was the superior holiday mascot, Joan Jett could easily beat Cyndi Lauper in a fight, and The Empire Strikes Back was way better than A New Hope.

When Eddie was finally finished with his tattoo, you were off the bed in an instant and already reaching for the antibacterial soap.

“You should wash it under some warm water first before anything gross has a chance to get in there-”

“Hey hey hey, whoa hold on!” Eddie was laughing, eyes wide as he smiled at you. Your hand was already encircled around his wrist, tugging his arm (and the person attached to it) toward the bathroom. “Ace, you haven’t even looked at it yet, c’mon you’re bruising the artist’s ego here.”

You sighed but couldn’t hide the rueful grin that danced on your pursed lips. Softening your vice like grip on his wrist, you shifted your hands to cradle his forearm and survey the last hour’s work.

“It looks good, Eddie… really good, actually.” You absently swiped a thumb over the soft skin of his wrist. “If you’d told me it was professionally done, I’d totally believe you.”

“Yeah?” He looked up from where your thumb stroked the base of his forearm, eyes shining.

“Yeah,” you smirked. “Of course, I’d tell you to try and get your money back, but-”

“Oh shove it up your ass, Sweet Tart.” The playful shoulder-check had you letting go of his arm, but both of your faces were painted with ear-to-ear smiles.

Eddie washed his new tattoo in the bathroom sink, admiring the way the bats stretched and shifted with every flex of his forearm. Your mouth hurt, as did the muscles in your cheeks; you couldn’t stop smiling. He was so happy with his work, and you had to admit that he had actually done a really good job with that tattoo machine.

“We’ve got to get you out of Indiana, Munson,” you murmured to the mirror where he continued to scrutinize his work from every angle. “I think you may have just found your calling.”

His eyes were wide and shining with pride as they glanced your way. “You think?”

You nodded, that saccharine smile stubbornly staying put on your lips. To be fair, you didn’t fight it.

“You’re coming with me, then.” Eddie replied, his own smile glowing in the dying light above the bathroom mirror.

There it was- that familiar fire beneath the skin of your cheeks.

“Oh I am, huh?”

“Hell yeah.” Eddie braced his arm on the doorway, leaning over you until your faces were mere inches apart. “We’re stronger together, remember?”

Breathe. Breathe… Why can’t you breathe?

You’d barely managed a nod before Eddie was ducking around you through the doorway, grabbing your hand, and leading you back to his room.

“Your turn, Ace.”

Oh yeah, you were also getting a tattoo today. You’d almost forgotten. Were you nervous? You weren’t sure. Actually, yes, you were very nervous- not so much about the tattoo as you were for where the tattoo would be.

In minutes, you were both sitting on Eddie’s bedroom floor- Eddie readying everything he needed for your new ink, and you sitting eerily still as your soul started to feel like it might leave your body.

“Ace,”

Eyes refocusing, you blinked a few times. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s expression was calm, sympathetic to the inward freak-out he had a feeling you were on the verge of. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”

You tried to laugh, but it came out sounding a little more strained than you had intended. “Hah…you saying I have commitment issues?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up, but Eddie’s eyebrows stayed knitted together above his big brown eyes. “No,” he murmured. His voice was soft, as if he were speaking to a stray animal and trying not to spook it. “I guess I’m just… trying to give you an out, so you don’t feel pressured or anything.”

You shook your head, “I don’t want an out.”

Eddie blinked, “No?”

“No.”

There was a second of silence between the two of you before you both took in a collective breath, exhaling simultaneously and giggling when you both realized that you were breathing in sync. Perfect harmony; sour and sweet, nervous but willing.

“You, uh…” Eddie stammered, his eyes flicking down to your lap and back up to your face. “...you still want it on your hip?”

Your heart rate doubled.

“Um, yeah.” you awkwardly shifted your weight onto your knees, grabbing hold of your waistband and unbuttoning your shorts. You shimmied them over your hips, revealing the rest of your leotard- leotard, Eddie realized. Not a tank top. You were wearing a black leotard. It was almost like the kind that he’d seen ballerinas wear, except it cut so high on your hips that he was sure it wouldn’t be allowed in any of the dance studios he could think of, and….yep. YEP, it was practically a thong. Your ass was out. You were sitting on the floor of his bedroom with your ass out.

Chill out, Munson! He screamed inwardly at himself, Chill the fuck out!

Of course, you couldn’t tell that there was a war going on between Eddie’s ability to function and the short-circuiting that threatened to render him unable to do anything but stare at you. All you could see was the way his jaw had gone slack and his eyes bugged out of their sockets.

You smiled shyly, a twinge of something between satisfaction and guilt nudging at your heartstrings. “I figured this thing would be less awkward than if I was sitting here in my underwear,” you laughed nervously as you gestured to your leotard.

Eddie gulped. He couldn’t see much of a difference. “Yeah, totally.”

A beat passed. You grabbed a bag of gummy worms from the floor, tearing it open with a crinkle of the plastic that would not have been so loud if the two of you weren’t dead silent. You bit into the candy where the color changed from pink to blue, then finally muttered through your chewing, “Ready when you are.”

Eddie blinked rapidly, taking his Sharpie in his hands. “Uh, yeah… yeah, okay.”

With your free hand, you pointed to the part of your hip where your flesh naturally creased as your thigh met your pelvis.

“Is here good?”

Eddie gulped.

“Yeah, that’s good.” But Eddie was very much not good. He was the opposite of good, he felt like he was malfunctioning. When he placed his free hand on your upper thigh, he almost apologized. Why the hell did he feel like he had to apologize? He had no clue. His palms were sweating- did you feel how sweaty his palms were? Oh god. He forgot what a bat looked like- you were trusting his artistic skills enough for him to permanently ink his drawing into your skin and he couldn’t even remember what a goddamn bat looked li- oh, wait, he had them on his own forearm now. Eddie glanced at his arm, reminding himself what a goddamn bat looked like.

He’s never felt like more of a nervous idiot than right now.

Meanwhile, you felt like you were about to explode.

His hand was warm. So warm as he grasped your thigh. Whenever he’d touched you before, there was always a barrier, some form of separation between his skin and yours- jeans, a sweater, a flannel.

A leather jacket.

That’s right- he had taken his jacket back. Maybe you were reading too deep into things, but you had this unshakable feeling that taking back that jacket had been a message.

We’re just friends. Nothing more.

But if that was true, then why was he looking at your thighs the way he was? Why had he looked at you the way he did when he said you should go with him when he leaves Hawkins?

He wasn’t your boyfriend… you knew that.

So why couldn’t you shake this undeniably girlfriendish ache in your chest?

“Okay.” Eddie’s voice jolted you out of your downward spiral into your very inconvenient feelings. “Check that out in the mirror, make sure you like it.”

You straightened up, walking on your knees until you faced the mirror leaning against the wall and inspected the tiny, perfect little bat that he’d drawn on the fullest part of your hip.

It matched the bats that now decorated his arm, now surrounded by an angry red halo that bloomed across his skin. Once that bat was inked, it would be something connecting you and Eddie forever- a shared experience, a secret that the two of you would always be in on.

Suddenly, you realized that in this moment there wasn’t a single thing you wanted more than a matching tattoo with Eddie Munson.

Well, there was one thing. But you had a feeling that wasn’t happening tonight. The tattoo, however…

“I love it.” You looked over your shoulder at Eddie, but his eyes were a little too busy staring at your practically naked behind to meet your gaze.

“Ahem.”

Breaking free of his trance, Eddie shook his head a tad, which drew a small chuckle from your smirking lips. Eddie couldn’t help but smile too, albeit more shyly than you.

“Distracted?” You teased, unable to hold back your glee at this kind of attention- any kind of attention- from Eddie.

He sighed, blinking rapidly while he finally met your eyes. There was something new in the way he was looking at you- if you didn’t know better you might call it frustration, but it was an amused sort of frustration. Almost like his eyes were saying “what am I going to do with you?” but through sunglasses tinted with desire.

You wanted to bottle that, stow it away for emergencies. Wanted to preserve the way that gaze made you feel so that you could experience it over and over again.

“No.” Eddie murmured through a rueful grin. “Lie down, it’ll be easier to ink the skin while it’s flat.” You did as he instructed, feeling the crinkle of newspaper underneath the skin of your rear. Once again, you found yourself staring up at the water stain on Eddie’s ceiling until his face came into view, looking down at you as he readied the tattoo machine.

“Are you?” You heard him ask.

You raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

The pads of Eddie’s fingers poked and prodded at the skin around where your tattoo would soon have an indefinite spot on your hip, and you wondered if he could tell that your temperature shot up ten degrees each time you felt his hands on you.

“Are you distracted?” he clarified. “Because it hurts less when you’ve got something else to focus on.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, your mind went blank. Of course, the moment you wanted something to distract you, all ideas turned tail and ran. “Um…”

Snap!

Your jaw dropped as the elastic of your leotard snapped back to your skin from where Eddie had pulled it away with his pointer finger. “Where’d you even get this thing?”

Now it was your turn to short-circuit.

“Uh-” You stammered, interrupted by the machine beginning to buzz.

Eddie didn’t wait for you to finish your thought before reminding you what he’d asked. “C’mon, Sweet Tart, where’d you get the leotard?”

You knew he was trying to distract you so you didn’t feel the pain, but you couldn’t help the tensing of your muscles as the needle pierced your skin. You winced, staring at the water stain with a newfound intensity. “Dance store.” you gritted through lips that formed a tight line.

“Dance store, huh?” You could hear the smile through Eddie’s words. “And why were you in a dance store?”

You huffed out a short, breathy laugh, careful to keep your hip still as Eddie’s needle continued to do its work. “I was making a Flashdance costume. Heard about this Halloween party a few weeks ago, but then we made the tattoo plans… and I had already bought the leotard, so…”

It was disconcerting to speak with Eddie without looking at him; he was a very expressive person, always talking with his hands, always making sure that he looked you in the eyes when you spoke to him. But now he was focused on his work on your hip, leaving your eyes to shift between staring at his ceiling and fluttering closed.

“You were going to wear this thing to a party?” he asked, incredulous.

Your eyebrows wrinkled over your closed eyes. “I would’ve worn tights under it…”

He snorted. “That wouldn’t have made a difference.”

You winced, groaning as the needle hit a nerve that particularly stung. “What- ah, shit- what are you trying to say?”

The buzzing stopped for a moment. “Fuck, you okay?” Eddie’s face leaned into your field of vision, his frizzy brown hair backlit into a halo by the light from the lamp behind him. “You want to take a break?”

You shook your head, taking a mental snapshot of how ethereal he looked like this. “No, you can keep going, I’m fine.”

Cautiously, Eddie got back to work. A few wordless seconds ticked by before you spoke.

“What did you mean, ‘that wouldn’t have made a difference’?”

Eddie’s reply was matter-of-fact, but you could have sworn that you heard a hint of protectiveness in his voice when he said, “Tights or no tights, the whole party would have been staring at your ass, Sweet Tart.”

The “T” sound in “Tart” was soft this time. So soft, it was barely there at all, and it almost sounded like he’d just called you sweetheart. If only. You’d give anything to be Eddie’s sweetheart.

Whether he’d meant to blend that consonant or not, it made you brave. “Is that a bad thing?”

A pause. Then, “Is this a trap?”

“Answer the question, would a bunch of people staring at my ass be a bad thing?”

Eddie sighed. “This is definitely a trap,” he muttered, before replying “No, Ace, objectively it would not be a bad thing. But sometimes people view girls differently when they walk around with their asses out.”

“Do you look at me differently when my ass is out?” You were being cheeky, you knew it.

“No, I don’t look at you differently.” came his instant response, muttered through nearly-closed lips. “I just look at you.”

Nothing could stand against your smile, not even you. “Yeah, that much I could see in the mirror.”

“You don’t sound too upset about that.”

This was different from the flirting you were used to with Eddie. Your regular flavor of flirtation had always been surface-level banter; nothing past a jab here and there, a joke at his expense or a nickname thrown your way.

Now? You were talking about the way he looked at your body, and the fact that he could tell that you liked when he looked. The two of you were in uncharted territory, and you buzzed under his touch in time with the inky needle at the beautiful unknown of it all.

“Okay, the outline is done but I’m about to start filling it in.” Eddie warned. “This part hurts a little more. You wanna take a break?”

You nodded. While Eddie jumped up to get you both a glass of water, you sat up on your elbows and peered over at your hip to get a look at your new ink. When you saw it, you gasped so fervently that you startled yourself.

It was perfect. The perfect little bat.

It wasn’t completely symmetrical. The outline was a tad thicker in certain places than others. But those imperfections made it his. And the fact that it was on your skin made it yours.

You couldn’t wait to wake up and stare at it like this every single day.

Eddie returned a moment later with two mismatched cups of tap water. Once you’d both rehydrated, he got to work replacing the needle at the end of the machine with a new one, as well as changing out various attachments and fiddling with a knobby-looking piece until he seemed satisfied with what he’d changed.

You were impressed with how intensely focused Eddie was on this sort of work; it didn’t seem to be taking him long to get the hang of this. It also didn’t take him long to come up with another topic of conversation that teetered on the line between friendly and flirty.

“Ever played Fuck, Marry, Kill?”

You had not, but the title of the game brought an unexpected chuckle out of you. “Edward Munson, I am a lady! At least take me out to dinner first-”

“I’m going to take that as a no.” Eddie chuckled, and you could hear his deadpan in the tone of his voice. “I say three people’s names and you have to tell me which you’d fuck, which you’d marry, and which you’d kill. Comprende?”

“Uhh-” whatever you’d been about to say was cut short by a harsher buzz than before, accompanied by the aggressive sting of needles on your skin. “Mmh, shit, okay yeah sure let’s play.”

Eddie smiled to himself. He wasn’t sure why he loved the little noises and whispered curses that spilled from your mouth while he tattooed you, but he honestly thought they might be the cutest sounds he’d ever heard. You were taking the pain like a champ- he was actually pretty proud of you in this moment as you remained still through the sting.

“Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield, and Kirk Hammett”

You rolled your eyes. Eddie had ensured over your many rides in his van this summer that every Metallica song he’d played had been an educational experience. Eddie had picked up a cassette of their debut album in July, and ever since he’d become obsessed. Already, he was trying to persuade the other members of his band to figure out how to play The Four Horsemen by ear.

Needless to say, you knew enough about the band to at least answer the question.

“Well I’m killing Lars for sure.”

“Poor Lars never stood a chance.”

You grinned, willing the distraction into something great enough to numb the pain. “And I think I’m gonna have to fuck Hetfield.”

“‘Have to fuck Hetfield,’ such a sacrifice.”

You carefully stretched your arms up to rest above your shoulders, cradling your head on your hands like a pillow. “Hey, if someone’s got to do it, I’ll take one for the team.”

You heard him snort, then after a moment’s quiet he added, “So you’re marrying Kirk Hammett, then?”

“I guess so.”

“What makes Kirk marriage material? Over the other two, I mean.”

You thought about Kirk Hammett’s wild, dark curls. His build. His brown button eyes. The way he looked holding a guitar.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.”

Eddie thought about the way he’d been trying to make himself look more like a rockstar ever since he’d first seen the tiny, grainy picture of the Metallica members in the corner of a page of Rolling Stone; he’d been bumming copies off Jeff’s subscription since the seventh grade. How he’d started growing out his hair after seeing Kirk’s long, black mane. He smiled.

He must be doing something right.

“Alright, Mrs. Hammett,” He quipped, “My turn, hit me with bachelorettes one through three, please.”

You thought over your options, trying to think of women you’d heard him mention before. Wondering if he thought any of them had something in common with you, and praying to God he didn’t kill them.

“Olivia Newton-John,”

Already, Eddie was descending into a fit of giggles.

“Why are you laughing? She’s pretty!”

Eddie launched into a falsetto rendition of the chorus from Grease’s Hopelessly Devoted to You, and you were instantly fighting the giggles too.

“Shut up! I’m not done yet. Olivia Newton-John… have you seen Fast Times?”

His response came in a tone of voice that was the vocal equivalent of a side-eye. “Why do you ask?”

“Because I don’t know if you know who Phoebe Cates is.”

“Oh,” Eddie sighed dreamily, “I know who Phoebe Cates is.”

You rolled your eyes, but chuckled nonetheless. “Okay then- Olivia Newton-John, Phoebe Cates, and Carrie Fisher.”

Eddie barked out a joyous “Ah!” before answering, “Well this is easy, Ace, say goodbye to Newton-John!”

You mock-gasped. “You’re killing Sandy?”

“I’m killing Sandy.”

“That is brutal. She was so innocent, too.”

Eddie squinted at the half-filled tattoo, smirking into his explanation. “Okay, I see the appeal, Ace, I truly do. That outfit at the end is killer.” He paused. Should he say it? Would he be too obvious if he did?

Ah, fuck it.

“I’m a sucker for a woman in red shoes, let me tell ya. However-” Eddie quickly glazed over that last sentence, as well as any opening you might have gotten to think about how that might relate to you. “-I’ve gotta fuck Phoebe Cates. Because… y’know-”

“Boobies?” you beat him to the punch.

Eddie confirmed with a matter-of-fact “Boobies.” He glanced up at your face for a moment, curious to see if he could read what you thought of his answers, but you were staring pensively at his ceiling, expression unreadable. “And you have to have known I was marrying Leia the moment she was an option.”

“You have a thing for Princess Leia?”

“Are you joking?” Eddie asked, incredulously. “How could I not? The woman’s the definition of a spitfire, she kicks ass and takes names. Not to mention, she’s got a thing for scoundrels.”

You hummed. “Do you think you’re a scoundrel, Eddie?”

“Well I’m certainly not a scruffy-looking nerf herder, I’ll tell you that much.”

You winced playfully, “A nerf herder you are not… but you are a bit scruffy.”

“You’ve got me there, princess.”

Eddie went silent. The nickname had just slipped out- all this talk of scoundrels and princesses and strong women who weren’t afraid of a fight and before he knew it, he was seeing more similarities between you and Leia than he’d realized were there before.

Princess had just seemed right. It just slipped out.

The line between friendship and dangerous territory had been so clearly drawn in Eddie’s mind before tonight. Where had he gone wrong? That once clear line was getting blurry.

Eddie was absolutely convinced that he would probably find a way to single handedly ruin your friendship before he was finished filling in your tattoo- which you would inevitably hate, because it would remind you of the asshole who you used to be friends with before he made things weird between you.

“My turn,” your voice cut through Eddie’s downward spiral, drawing a relieved sigh from him that tickled the skin of your thigh. “Let’s make this round more interesting. Only names of people from Hawkins.”

“Hm, that is interesting.” he mused, the needle inching its way toward the last remaining centimeter of bare skin left within the outline. “Let me think… Chief Hopper-”

You barked out a laugh, “Oh great start, Eds.”

“Chief’s a good looking guy! I don’t know why you’re laughing!” but Eddie was smiling ear to ear, delighted that his awkward apprehension had already begun to dissipate. “Principal Higgins-”

“Are you only going to give me old men as options?”

Eddie was going to do exactly that, because he didn’t want to picture you marrying or- God forbid- fucking any men in Hawkins that you might actually enjoy doing either of those things with. He wasn’t jealous, per se… but none of the shitheads in Hawkins were good enough for you. Eddie wasn’t even good enough for you; not yet, at least. He could picture a future version of himself one day taking his chances with you, once you’d both skipped town and found your way in some thriving city somewhere.

You were both too good for this place- you were the first person to make him think that about himself.

“What was that security guard’s name at the mall? Average joe looking guy? Quentin? Quincey?”

“Oh, you mean Quinn?”

“Knew his name started with a Q.” Eddie softly bit his bottom lip as he finished the last bit of your bat’s wing. “Hopper, Higgins, and Quinn. Those are your options.”

You groaned. “These choices suck, can I just kill them all?”

“I kinda like it when you go all bloodthirsty, Ace.”

You rolled your eyes before letting them flutter closed. “Ugh, well I’m obviously killing Higgins… he’s never been nice to you and all he cares about are school sports. I guess… I mean if I have to, I’ll fuck Hopper.”

Eddie was beside himself with giggles, “I mean, that’s one way to get out of a speeding ticket.”

“You’re lucky I can’t smack you right now.” You ignored Eddie’s snickering and continued. “And I don’t think I’d mind being married to Quinn, he always smiles at me and asks how my day was. Plus he’s kind of cute, he’s got nice hair.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “I don’t see it.”

You laughed, and the jingling tone of your voice suddenly sounded too loud as the buzzing of Eddie’s machine stopped.

“Alright, Ace,” Eddie announced, leaning back to survey his work. “Check out your new ink.”

You didn’t need to look at it again to know it would be perfect, but you looked anyway. You stood on your sleeping legs and gazed at the little black bat on your hip- it sat beautifully balanced on the skin framed by your high cut leotard, and you knew at once that you’d think of Eddie each time you saw it. This was exactly what you wanted- a daily reminder of exactly how he made you feel, of who he was to you.

At this moment, it dawned on you exactly what it was that Eddie made you feel. The way you always wanted to be around him, and the way he had become a balloon that inflated your chest every time he made you laugh, and how you knew- just knew- that you’d follow him anywhere if he asked.

You loved Eddie Munson. You were in love with him.

And you couldn’t stop smiling like an idiot at that little asymmetrical bat.

Taglist: @emma77645 , @rustboxstarr, @josephquinnsfreckles, @rozxartaki, @sheneedsrocknroll92

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #stranger things fic #impossible to hate you #ithy #friends to enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

173 notes · View notes

light-yaers · 9 months

Text

tangerine. | part one [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 5.2k

PART ONE

“What is the point of this entire trip if you’re not going to tell me the restaurants in advance?” Sydney whittled off, trying to keep up with the storming legs of her partner. “Carmen, are you even listening to me, right now?”

“Of course, I’m listening,” he said, peering back at her as his legs kept up their pace.

He slalomed through people on the sidewalk of 8th Street and St. Marks Place, with Syd close on his tail. She didn’t know these streets like he did. His prior positions in the city were prestigious, ranging from sous chef roles all over the damn city, before he finally made chef de cuisine at Union Square Cafe. As the time had passed, understanding came with it, but she still wouldn’t ever wrap her head around him leaving NY for The Beef.

She knew Michael meant a lot to him, to the family, but dropping it all for a sandwich shop in Chicago would always be something she’d secretly question. Syd tried not to think about it too much; the fear of him leaving, or bailing, and the like; because at the end of the day she’d bled herself dry for this.

A restaurant. A place. Somewhere her dad used to love, and would love after the renovation. The Beef was gone, it was true, but in its place would be The Bear. The product of all of Carmen’s and her hard work.

Syd sped up to a jog, until she finally wrapped her fingers around Carmen’s forearm. She tugged him back, and used it as an opportunity to catch her breath. “You’re not listening. I don’t even know where we’re fucking going, Carm.”

He gently tugged his arm from her grasp. “This is a last minute addition,” he said, before he placed his hands on his hips. “I just wanted to get it over with. Sorry for rushing.”

Sydney nodded at him, listening. “Okay. So, let me in, dude. Tell me about this place so I’m less confused, and you’re less… whatever the fuck this is,” she said, gesturing to his erratic behaviour.

Carmen shuffled on the sidewalk, peering around at shop fronts, and the abundance of restaurants that lined up outside Tompkins Square Park. This was an area he knew like the back of his hand, but one he hadn’t visited since long before he’d left New York.

“The first place I ever worked in the city. It’s not fine dining, or Michelin starred, or any of that shit,” he started, and despite the abrupt way Syd’s eyes widened from annoyance, she still let him continue. “The vibe of it, though,” he said, and chuckled the words out of his mouth in surprise. “Just, come on.” He gently placed a hand on Syd’s shoulder, leading her forward so they were on the same page.

From the outside, Lucky Strike Diner didn’t look like anything special. It was a small unit, placed betwixt two taller apartment buildings, to the North of Tompkins Square Park. Syd looked up at it, grimacing slightly, but she tried to keep an open mind. She’d been around her fair share back alley barbeques and hidden gems to know you should never judge a book by its cover.

When she glanced over to Carmen, he looked practically childlike. There was a glint in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since they’d first decided to bin off The Beef and bring in The Bear That wonder, that craving for something new, and excitement of something unknown. Nostalgia danced over every feature of his face, and she watched as he sucked in a sharp breath, before entering the diner.

Inside, the decor was minimalist, but homely. Black and white photos lined the walls, pictures of families, of friends, of celebrations. Cream and red colours graced the walls, and the booths looked comforting and inviting. Despite the drab appearance outside, inside was bustling. Practically every table was full, and the old style bar was inviting. Through the kitchen window, sparks and fire shot up whenever something burned, or flambed, on the grill.

This vibe, the one Carmen had mentioned; Sydney felt it all immediately. That warmth, like you were stepping into a family function instead of something elitist. Businessmen sat with their laptops, next to mothers with their babies, and grandfathers on their own. This was a place for everyone, and that was clear to see.

As servers scattered over the busy restaurant floor, one of them stuck out to Sydney. You scuttled, slaloming through tables with ease, as you made your way to the host stand by the door.

Saturday rushes were always hardcore, but you’d grown accustomed to them. You grabbed two menus before you even looked the two new customers in the eye, and let out a simple “Welcome to Lucky Strike Diner, table for two–?”

You stopped when your brain finally computed his face; a face you hadn’t seen in a long time. Carmen Berzatto was standing in your fucking restaurant. “Carmy.” His name slipped out easily, and along with it came a sickly feeling in your gut.

He cleared his throat. “Table for two, yes. Please.”

You glanced at the second member of his party, quickly, and shot her a smile. You didn’t particularly have anything to smile about, but it wasn’t her fault that she’d just been planted into the middle of this inevitable shitstorm. That smile disappeared instantly, as soon as you looked back at Carmen.

“Great,” you said plainly. Even disappearing assholes like Carmen wouldn’t stop you from being professional and civil at work. You loved this place too much, had been here too long, to do that. “This way, please.”

You steamed forward as you picked out a table in the corner, furthest away from the host stand. You didn’t want him in the middle of the room, where he could easily find you in the crowd of servers. Why he was here and what he was doing didn’t cross your mind until you seated them, dropping the menus down on their respective settings.

Carmen scooted his chair in, and peered up at you. “It’s been a long time–”

“So, have you guys ever been here before?” you cut over him, and mostly looked at his partner. She shot you a clearly awkward smile, but nevertheless shook her head politely. Carmen stayed silent, and bit upon his tongue. “Okay, so I’ll lay down the lingo for you,” you said, as you quickly went through the menu with her. “You need anything, just wave one of us down and we’ll be happy to help, all good?”

“Yeah, thank you,” Sydney said with a smile, before she looked over at Carmen. That smile quickly turned to a small frown.

“Fantastic,” you said. “Can I get you guys some drinks to start?”

“Um, I’ll take the lemonade, thanks,” Sydney ordered, as she attempted to hold this entire interaction together by the skin of her teeth.

“Great choice, it was made fresh this morning like always.” You turned to Carmen. “And for you, sir?”

A vein had popped out on Carmen’s forehead very noticeably. It was one that Sydney knew well, when he was either under insane amounts of stress in the kitchen, or fighting against the urge to yell. Maybe both meant the same thing, but still– she could see from a mile off that this was not the way he’d wanted this reunion to go.

“Surprise me,” he said, as he looked up and caught your eye.

You clenched your jaw. “I’m no good at surprises, so I’ll just bring you some tap water until you decide,” you said, trying and failing to keep things light. “I’ll be back with those drinks in just a few minutes.” You went to leave quickly.

“Hey, just–” Carmen reached out for you as fast as he could, but as his fingers grazed your wrist, you managed to snap your arm away from him just in time. He gave up when disappeared through the doors to the back, and dropped himself back into his chair.

Sydney leant forward immediately. “Okay, dude. What the fuck was that?”

“It’s nothing,” Carmen said bluntly.

Sydney started laughing breathily. “Yeah, sure, that was nothing. Don’t test me, Carm.”

“I– fuck,” he spluttered. “Just pick your fucking food, please.”

Sydney was a pro at telling Carmen to calm the fuck down, but this interaction had her stumped for a solution. “What do you recommend?” she said, switching her tune.

Carmen met her eye in some kind of silent apology. “Uhh, the eggs. The eggs are fantastic. And the french toast, that’s the restaurant’s best.” As the subject changed, Carmen delved into the menu alongside Syd. They talked about their menu ideas, and paralleled them with the dishes they saw here.

Maybe bringing a diner styled meal to a (soon to be) Michelin menu wasn’t so much of a bad idea. It fit the theme. The homeliness, paired with the decadence of the chaos menu they’d been discussing priorly.

In the back, you quickly punched in their drink order, before you slalomed through the kitchen. “Behind!” you yelled, as you made your way through each station. The chefs all shot you concerned looks, as it became apparent where you were heading.

“Is today really a walk-in day?” One of them, Paulie, said as you raced by. He’d known you for years now, and knew when something was fucking wrong.

“Yep!” you exclaimed back at him, tugging open the handle of the walk-in swiftly.

“What the fuck happened?” he boomed, but you slammed the door shut before you could muster up a reply.

Inside, you breathed alongside the ingredients. The vegetables, the homemade sauces, the fresh smoked salmon. It was cold, but not too cold that you couldn’t stand it. The cool air made everything feel calm, like you had somehow been transported to some Icelandic lake in the summertime. The air was crisp, and noise was muffled through the door, like the solace you felt by locking yourself in the upstairs bathroom at a house party.

Carmen Berzatto showing up out of the blue had been something you’d long stopped indulging in. He’d made himself clear, the last time you’d seen him, that he had no intention of continuing the working relationship or friendship you’d once had. It was only then that you realised how fast the time had gone.

You were twenty when you met him, the same age as each other. Both of you tried to navigate life together as you stumbled and fell, and got yourselves up again. You were on par with each other, both in intelligence and maturity. Paulie had liked Carm as soon as he’d walked through the door for his interview, and pretty soon after being hired, he’d turned Lucky Strike around like it was no skin off his back.

He was a refreshing change for the life you’d found yourself in. He’d made this place great, and you’d taught each other some life lessons. You’d always known he was destined for more, and you’d always been the first person to sing his praises.

Before his abrupt switch in personality, you’d thought fondly of your time here together. The same old grind of opening up the diner together in the morning. While he prepped for service in the kitchen, you did so on the restaurant floor. It was a collaborative effort, and without both of you together at that point in time, the diner would have gone under. That’s what made it sting even more, when you thought of your life now– you wouldn’t be in this position if he hadn’t come along. It was like rubbing extra salt in your already open wound.

You sucked in a deep, cold breath, and let it out slowly. The cold invigorated your lungs, and gave you the strength to continue with your day. Lunch service was on the brink of its lull, anyway, but having him there, sat outside, with his fucking face that he used to look at you so fondly with, you could hardly stand it.

A gentle knock sounded from the walk-in door, and you quickly wiped a few spots of sweat from your forehead. “Yeah!” you yelled.

“Come on out, sweetheart,” Paulie urged you, and you hadn’t been able to refuse him for the time you’d been working at the diner– so that wasn’t going to start now.

You pushed open the door and sealed it shut behind you, before you allowed yourself to peer up at him. He was a burly guy, but soft around the edges. You had no idea if he was in his forties or sixties, since he had one of those faces that were sort of stuck in time. He spoke like a character straight out of Taxi Driver.

“What the hell happened, huh?” he asked gently, patting you on your shoulders sturdily.

You sighed. “Carmen. He’s in the restaurant,” you said.

“Carmy’s here?” Paulie exclaimed, as he frantically looked around the kitchen. “Guys, Carmy’s here!” he yelled. A few of the chefs, who’d been employed here for time, started muttering loudly.

Paulie’s joy only made you feel worse, but you didn’t hold it against him. Carm had been a staple here all those years before, and had taught a lot of the guys all that they knew about their role. Literally. “Table twenty,” you said. “Knock yourselves out.”

Service stopped momentarily as Paulie and two other chefs made their way out to the restaurant. You stayed back, and peered through the kitchen window. Beyond the bar, you saw Paulie exclaim as Carmen stood up and shook his hand. They hugged like bears, and he introduced Sydney to them all.

Paulie’s voice was one that carried, so it was impossible not to hear every note of their conversation from where you were. “We’ll whip you up your old favourites. You still like salmon?” Paulie went on, and Carmen nodded and smiled in appreciation the entire time.

You composed yourself as best as you could, before you left the kitchen. You grabbed their drinks, already prepared, on the bar, and gently shoved yourself through to their table.

“Aye, aye, aye– we have hungry people waiting, Paulie!” you said, allowing yourself to don a small smile as you gently set down their drinks. “Come on now, back to work, chefs!”

Paulie squeezed Carmen’s shoulder, before he gestured to you. “She’s practically the boss around here now, Carmy. The big boss,” he said. Carmen gently met your eye, but you looked away as fast as you could.

“Alright, alright. Big boss says three orders of french toast on the fly, chef,” you said, grinning as Paulie held up his hands defensively.

“I’m going, I’m going,” he said, as he started treading back towards the kitchen. “Good to see you, Carmy!” he boomed.

“You too, Paulie,” Carmen said, before he awkwardly sat back down and tucked himself in.

You caught your breath again, as you cleared your throat. “So, it seems our chef has already picked your order for you. Can I get you guys anything else that he didn’t mention?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sydney said, pointing to the menu. “What is this exactly?”

You read the words just above her fingertip, and your gut dropped. Tangerine salade. You were torn between wanting to laugh maniacally, or leave and never return to the diner. Carmen’s eyes widened in realisation at Sydney’s request.

“Oh, it’s–”

“It’s–”

You and Carmen stopped talking when you heard the other start. You’d both gone to explain the dish– if it could even be called a dish. You held your breath abruptly and took a small step back. Part of you wondered if he remembered the entire meaning, but you weren’t about to explain it all in great detail. Not when it didn’t feel as special anymore.

“I’m sorry, you tell us. Please.” Carmen shut his mouth and sat back, as if he was on best behaviour.

“It’s exactly what it says,” you said. “Tangerine salad. Two fresh tangerines, cut into slices like big oranges, instead of peeled and segmented.”

Sydney smiled, amused. “Where did that come from?”

It came from Carmen. You had a habit of stealing fruit from the walk-in, when you realised you hadn’t eaten on a shift. Tangerines were always ordered, but hardly ever used, so there was always an abundance of them, destined to rot.

Carmen caught you everytime, eating them like orange slices, just so they were quicker and easier to scoff down during a rush. The juice didn’t get on your hands as much, and you enjoyed the vibrant colour they produced over the white pith that covered their segments when peeled. Carmen had taken it upon himself to add a new item during a menu refresh in the early days. Tangerine salade was born, and neither you, nor Paulie, had ever thought to get rid of it. Even after all this time.

“Why did you call it that?” you asked Carmen, gobsmacked to see it on the menu for the first time, all those years before.

“Salad didn’t sound as good as salade,” he explained.

“You chefs and your obsession with French words, huh?” you joked, as you rounded his station and dropped the menu down upon the pristine surface. “This is sweet, Carmy. Sweet, but unnecessary.”

“Not true,” he countered, bashing his shoulder into yours playfully. “Now that it’s on the menu, it’s got a button on the system. Whenever you need a tangerine just punch it through, and we’ll have two of ‘em, waiting for you when you get a moment to fucking breathe.”

You felt Carmen’s stare on you at Sydney’s question, and forced yourself to suck in a breath and come back to reality. “Tangerine salad is our version of McDonalds apple slice bags. For the kids,” you lied, but nevertheless kept a smile stamped on your face. Carmen looked positively pale at your response. “They’re good fucking tangerines, though,” you added, and Sydney chuckled in surprise.

“Okay, I need to try these tangerines,” she said.

“One order of tangerine salade, on top of all the rest, sure.” You made a quick note on your order slip, even though you didn’t need to. It was just a way to avoid Carmen’s stare even further.

For the rest of the lunch rush, you pretended like he wasn’t there. You did the rounds, topping up cups of coffee, and rushing fresh dishes and dirty plates to and from the kitchen. You stayed on top of admin when you got a spare moment at the host stand, and scrolled through invoices from suppliers.

Without meaning to, you’d stayed at Lucky Strike Diner for seven years. It was life for you now. You lived a few blocks away, through the park, but having an apartment felt like a waste when you practically lived in the restaurant.

You and Carmen had talked about so much, when you’d both been confined to these walls. What lay beyond for both of you. His dream to cook in top restaurants, and eventually build his own restaurant from the ground up. You didn’t really have any dreams, just the security and stability of a good life, and good people around you, but you indulged whenever he mentioned his own place.

“Well, if you ever need a front of house manager, you know where to find me,” you joked, as you wiped down the bar at the end of the day. Carmen poked his head through the kitchen window.

“Why don’t we do it, then?” he asked abruptly. You stopped wiping the surfaces, and turned around to face him. “Open our own restaurant.”

“Oh, man, I don’t know. Money, taxes, insurance, money,” you listed off, and he tossed a wet cloth at your face. You dodged it, and watched it crash onto one of the restaurant tables. “Hey!” You turned back, shooting him an amused grin.

“You’re too much of a fucking realist,” he said, as he made his way out of the kitchen and into the restaurant.

“And you’re too much of a fucking dreamer. These things take time, Carmy.”

“I know that,” he said, as he grabbed the cloth he’d thrown. He approached the bar, and leaned over it, bridging the gap between your faces. “We could still do it, though. Have our own place. Cook our own menu.”

You smiled at his words, and rearranged the napkin holders next to him. “Can’t do that when you’re about to join the big leagues,” you said, and Carmen slid off the bar.

“You’re gonna fucking jinx it!” he wailed.

“It’s called manifesting!” you exclaimed. “You’re gonna get the fucking job, Carm.” He pulled out a chair from one of the tables and dropped into it melodramatically.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll see,” he muttered. “You think Paulie will still talk to me if I leave?”

You were the one to throw your cloth at him now, and it hit him square in his face with a slap sound. You smacked your hands over your mouth in surprise, before you tried and failed to stop chuckles from cascading out of your mouth.

“I’m sorry–” you started, rounding the bar.

Carmen slid the cloth off his face. “You’re fucking funny,” he said sarcastically.

“I’m sorry, Carmy, really,” you said through chuckles, as you dropped yourself into the chair opposite him. You took the cloth from his hands, and gently squeezed his hand in apology.

A comfortable silence, one that you’d grown accustomed to over the past eight months, descended upon the two of you. All you could hear was the playful pounding of your hearts and the soft way he breathed. It was a relaxing sound.

“You’re gonna get it,” you said again, and Carmen only had eyes for you then. “And when you do, I can’t wait to go and eat the best meal of my fucking life.”

Carmen smiled. He’d always been shy, always quiet, unless he was in the kitchen. “My brother has a restaurant, back in Chicago. When I finished culinary school, I really thought he’d let me join him, you know? It could be a family restaurant. We could run it together, or something,” he said. You hooked onto his every word. “But, he told me no. Said he didn’t want me anywhere near it, and– I don’t know. I think that’s why I came here.”

You bit your lip, inhaling his words. “Family will always be our harshest critics,” you said.

Carmen scoffed, rubbing his tired eyes with his hands. “You can fucking say that again.”

“You know, my sister lives in Chicago,” you said.

Carmen leant forward. “Really?”

You hummed. “Has for a few years now. My mom didn’t like it when she told us she was moving, but.” You shrugged. “That’s just because my mom has never lived anywhere else than here.”

“Yeah, my own wasn’t thrilled about me coming to New York, either,” Carmen said, before he huffed in dark amusement. “It’s funny. She hates us, my brother and sister and I, when we’re around, when we complain, when we do anything– but she also hates it when we all wanna get the fuck out because of it.”

You smiled at him softly, in understanding. “They fuck you up, don’t they?”

Carmen flicked his gaze over your features. “You don’t seem fucked up to me,” he said gently.

“Give it time,” you said. Smiles slowly appeared on both of your faces, until laughter trickled from your mouths like drops from a tap. “One day you’ll realise just how messed up I am,” you joked.

“Is that a challenge?” Carmen questioned.

You scoffed, and raised your hands up defensively. “Fuck no. I don’t want to tempt fate when it comes to how fucked up chefs can be.”

Carmen pointed at you abruptly, sternly, but there was amusement all over his face. “That is an untrue stereotype,” he said. “Not all of us snort coke.”

“All?” you asked.

“Well.” He leaned closer to you, stretching his arms across the table. “Not me.”

You regarded him softly. You hardly got the chance to do this during service; just look at him. Hold his gaze, feel him close. You would never admit it, but having Carmen around was a constant over the past months that comforted you. You liked having him near, liked seeing him practically everyday, and it was clear that you got on enough to talk bullshit with each other.

When you got home that evening, way past midnight, you opened up your laptop and went to the Union Square Cafe website. You hovered your mouse over the reservations tab, thinking something crazy.

Carmen hadn’t heard back from the restaurant yet, but he’d only applied as the CDC there a number of days before. You knew he was going to get it, and felt it deep within your soul. That feeling is what lead you to book yourself a solo dinner, for the first available date you could possibly find– a years’ time.

You knew that, by the time that year was up and you were sitting at your table, Carmen would be in the kitchen, cooking your meal. You didn’t tell him about it either, but kept it to yourself for the remainder of his time at the diner.

You’d been right, when within a month, he’d gone through a rigorous interview process and landed the position and USC. Paulie had faked being mad, but it was clear to see the immense admiration he had for the young Carmen Berzatto. When his last shift approached, you had secretly arranged a goodbye celebration. At the end of a long Saturday, as you and Carmen shut up the diner and headed out, you were ambushed by the servers and chefs as you tread through the park.

Drinks and laughs were shared at your apartment across the way. It was the most you’d seen Carmen socialise in the time you’d known him, but he didn’t look uncomfortable once. He knew he had a support system behind him from the diner– and from you, predominantly. When the moon shone down onto your building, you found yourself out on your fire escape with a beer bottle in your hand. You looked up at the stars, and only looked away when someone shuffled out of the window and sat next to you.

Carmen crossed his legs next to you, and gulped down his own beer contentedly. You turned to him and smiled fully, overly excited for him to start his new endeavour.

He huffed at you softly. “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” he said.

“I know,” you replied. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

Carmen shuffled awkwardly next to you. “I know, I know, it’s just–”

“For once, you need to be okay with being the centre of attention, okay? Deal with it.” You hit back, and laughed when you saw the way his eyes widened at your tenacity. “We’re so excited for you, Carm.”

Carmen nodded, and allowed himself to accept all of your praise, just this once. “I’m excited, too,” he whispered. “I can’t believe I got it.”

“I can,” you said. “If you don’t get some type of chef award in the next year then I’ll be surprised.”

Carmen laughed. “Chef award?”

“You know, like ‘Best New Chef On The Block’, or ‘Shyest Chef In The Business’, or–”

“Enough, enough,” he let out, chuckling. You weren’t done yet, however.

“Or the James Beard award.”

He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

“It’s called mani–”

“Manifesting!” Carmen finished your sentence for you, imitating your past words. You leaned against the wall in awe at his playfulness.

“So, you do listen to me sometimes, huh?”

“I guess I do,” he said, and shot you a knowing smile. You held his gaze when he gave it to you, because it was somewhat of a rare thing.

Maybe you’d always been too out there for Carmen, but he’d learned to live alongside you despite it. You were glad about that. You enjoyed his company more than you’d ever say to his face, and despite being so happy for him to leave the diner, part of you was aching at the thought of his absence.

You flicked your gaze over his face, taking in his features. He had a strong nose, and the kind of cheekbones that they talked about in women’s magazines. His eyes, though– God, his eyes– they were so blue that they looked artificial in some lights. Like the kind of blue food colouring you put in cake icing. Alarming, but also impossible to shy away from when he was properly looking at you.

He swallowed, and his Adam’s apple shifted in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you,” he said, almost croaking out the words. Your heart melted. Your brows furrowed softly. Your chest compressed. You let out a shaking breath through your nose.

“I’m gonna miss you, too, Carmy,” you let out. It felt like the best and worst kind of goodbye.

You hadn’t thought about that day in years. The last time you had, it was after your reservation at USC the year after. Coincidentally, that was the last time you’d seen Carmen Berzatto too, until he showed up at the diner and plummeted you back to those thoughts from those previous years.

As the lunch rush died down, you wiped the bar down from lack of what else to do. In the corner, Carmen and Sydney were finishing up their meal. Sydney had made an abundance of notes in a small notebook, while Carmen talked in hushed tones and spilled all the old diner secrets. With his hands clasped on the table before him, used napkin to his left, plates practically licked clean, he turned himself around to glance around the restaurant.

You sucked in a sharp breath when his eyes hit yours. You almost froze, but remembered yourself as much as you could. You tensed, and looked away first quickly. You smacked your hands down on the counter when you looked to the kitchen, and caught Paulie’s eyes. “I’m going for a smoke!” you announced, before you slipped off your apron quickly.

“Those things will kill you!” Paulie exclaimed back, his voice booming across the restaurant floor.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you muttered to yourself, as you headed towards the back door of the diner. You slipped a cigarette between your lips on the way.

Carmen’s gaze followed you as you disappeared through the door. Sydney saw it all as she sat opposite him, and had the strangest urge to give him guidance.

“So, shall we get outta here?” she asked. Carmen’s attention was still on the door.

“Uh, yeah,” he said, but his mind was still elsewhere. “Just– give me one second,” he said, as he stood up from the table. He started towards the door, and Sydney grabbed his wrist abruptly. Carmen froze, and looked down at her.

“Don’t push her,” Sydney said suddenly. “I don’t know what shit you guys have going on, but I’m good at reading faces. Just don’t push her too hard, Carm.”

Carmen regarded her thoughtfully. He nodded. Then, he was gone.

PART TWO

312 notes · View notes

arealphrooblem · 8 months

Text

A Good Roommate Is Hard To Find Part 2

I was blown away by the response to something I banged out without much thought.! I've received several asks about continuing this so here is part two! Thank you everyone!

Synopsis: Civilian has harbored a secret crush on his roommate for a long time, only to find out that said roommate is the newest villain on the scene during a robbery at his job.

Part one here

CW: named characters (juggling two unnamed male characters pronoun wise was just a huge headache)

“Salt?”

Ben stared at his roommate from across their tiny kitchen table. Two bowls of soup lay before each of them, accompanied by folded napkins and spoons and glasses of water. The formality instantly raised his hackles. Whatever happened to eating on the couch while they watched stupid youtube prank videos?

Fear and anger twisted and blended into each other until he didn’t know what was responsible for the maelstrom in his chest that the hot shower did nothing to calm down.

“How long?” he said instead.

It was the question that plagued him the most. Did this start before they met? Had Ben lived with a stranger in a mask this whole time? Or did it start later? Did something horrible happen to make Adam desperate enough to try villainy and could Ben have prevented it?

“How long has salt been around?” Adam asked blithely. “I don’t know. Probably at least a thousand years or more. Did the Romans use salt? You’re the history nerd, not me.”

“Don’t mock me,” Ben snapped. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“Do you really want to know?”

What fucking kind of question was that? But Adam tilted his head to the side, the look in his eyes deadly serious.

“Because if I tell you,” he continued, “that could implicate you. Once you know, you can’t un-know. And Heroes have ways of making you talk. There’s no way they’d believe you didn’t help me all this time.”

So consumed with the fear of Adam himself, Ben never thought to be concerned with anyone else. Now a new fear dug its roots into him.

“There’s no way they’d believe it now,” he said, heart thudding again.

“They would if you were genuinely clueless.”

Or if I turned you in Ben thought. That was the other thought that had plagued him the last few days.

Now that he knew, what was he supposed to do about it?

“But I don’t intend on you talking to anyone about this,” Adam added.

Again, Ben’s hackles raised at the certainty in Adam’s voice. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.

“How would you stop me?”

He didn’t mean it as a taunt. He knew Adam was dangerous, but not how. Did Adam have powers or weapons? What plans did he have for Ben?

“You don’t want the answer to that question either,” Adam replied softly. “But know that I would, if I had to. I’m capable of anything when I know it’s my best option.”

The lump was back in Ben’s throat, making it hard to swallow. He could stomach the lying, even understand it a little. How do you tell your roommate that you’re the one behind all the recent robberies and arson?

And Ben could handle the crimes, for the most part. This city ate people alive and anyone not obscenely wealthy had one bad accident standing between themselves and homelessness. So far Adam’s crew had only targeted places with large payouts. They took hostages when necessary but had no casualties so far.

But the threats? The knife at his throat? The lack of hesitation before launching to dark promises of violence hurt Ben the most. Even without his stupid crush, they had become friends the last three years. Their lives had become enmeshed with each other’s in a domestic intimacy that went beyond two people who simply shared a space.

Adam knew his allergies and what restaurants to avoid because of it. He knew Ben’s parents and siblings. He knew Ben’s failed dreams and useless history degree. They shared shampoo and lonely holiday dinners and a Netflix account.

Ben thought he knew Adam the same way. But now all that had unraveled, and though he never harbored the hope that Adam could return his affections, seeing how easily Adam could threaten his life as if Ben never meant anything to him . . .

The knife would hurt less.

“What . . .” Ben swallowed again, his voice coming out choked. “What do you want me to do? I can move out. Leave the city.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Leave? You can’t leave!”

Hope rose ever so slightly without Ben’s permission. But when had it ever listened in the first place?

“I can’t afford this apartment without you.”

And there it went, dashed on the rocks.

“Haven’t you been . . .earning extra income,” Ben asked hesitantly.

“Not enough to cover your portion of everything for more than a month or two. Besides . . .I only get a small percentage of the cut. I need you.”

Boy, would Ben have loved to hear that in literally any other circumstance.

“But I’m a liability now,” he protested.

“Are you?”

Adam got a certain look in his eye anytime they played strategy games. It didn’t matter what kind — Among Us, Monopoly, chess, Street Fighter. His mind always worked five steps ahead, thinking of contingency plans for contingency plans, and Ben knew when that glint showed up in Adam’s eye, he was about to lose. That he had lost long before he even realized it.

“Here’s the way I see it.” Adam leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “You hate living with your parents and you don’t want to leave the city. I can’t leave because I’m . . .in the middle of things. If either of us were to move out, we’d both have to find another roommate and the odds of us finding people that work as well with us as we do with each other is impossible. We would both be miserable.”

“You think I would be more miserable with a person who didn’t threaten me with a knife?” Ben asked.

And the answer to that question was yes, but Adam didn’t have to know that.

“What if they never turn the light on when they piss at night and get it all over the toilet?” Adam countered. “What if they eat the last of all your snacks or move their obnoxious girlfriend in or never empty the dishwasher before sticking their dirty dishes in?”

Objectively speaking, Ben would rather have a knife to his throat one time than deal with any of those on a constant basis.

“We know how to live with each other. We’ve developed a routine that has worked for years. This doesn’t have to change anything. It’s not like I haven’t been doing this for months while you had no clue anyway.”

“You will never trust me not to snitch,” said Ben.

“If I’m in jail, then how are you going to still live here with any kind of sanity? Better yet — if I’m thrown in prison because you ran your mouth, how are you going to be safe from retaliation from my boss or crew members? How are you going to avoid your own prison sentence for being an accessory? Is it worth your life to put me away?”

That last question hit him hard. He knew it was cowardly and stupid beyond measure, but he couldn’t bear the thought of blowing up the little life he’d carved for himself here. It didn’t amount to much, especially to his parents, but he loved it all the same.

“No,” he told Adam softly. “It’s not worth it.”

He loved his life and he loved Adam and he loved his life because of Adam and it all fed into each other like one writhing ouroboros.

Adam leaned back again, looking devastatingly smug. “I didn’t think so.”

“So . . .what now?” Ben bit at his lower lip, the nervous tell that always gave him away in poker. “What do you want me to do?”

“Eat your soup for starters.” Adam nodded at the bowl in front of Ben. “And then give me your phone.”

“My phone? What do you want with my phone?”

Adam leveled a flat look over the table. A look he shot at Ben frequently over the years when Ben made a particularly bad pun. He used to love making Adam give him that look. Now it felt tainted with an undercurrent of a threat.

“Eat your soup, Ben.”

Ben ate his soup. It came out great, almost as if they had just ordered it from the restaurant that inspired it. Adam didn’t cook often, but when it did it outshone Ben’s rudimentary skills. And when they both finished, Ben cleared the table, almost on autopilot, because the person who didn’t cook did the dishes. It was one of the first routines they established.

Usually Ben hated washing dishes which was why he volunteered to make dinner so often. Tonight however it offered a soothing distraction, much more effective than the shower Adam insisted he take. Right up until he felt Adam’s hands on his thighs, sliding up to the edge of his front pocket.

“What are you doing?” he yelped, dropping the spoon with a clatter.

“Looking for your phone.” Adam’s voice pressed right against the shell of Ben’s ear.

His fingers wriggled their way into the pocket, tight in old jeans Ben should have thrown out when he graduated. His breath stuttered in his chest at the intrusion, which lasted only a few seconds, and at the triumphant snort against his ear when Adam slipped the phone out.

He swallowed thickly, throat tight for a very different reason than before. Adam stepped back, the heat of him gone just as suddenly as it appeared. A glance over his shoulder showed Adam leaning against the stove, brow furrowed as he typed in Ben’s password. Because of course Ben had given it to him, thoughtlessly, for vague future emergencies.

“What are you doing to it?” he asked, nerves fluttering in the pit of his stomach. What if he didn’t get it back?

“Precautionary measures,” Adam replied distractedly. “I’ll give it back in the morning.”

“The morning?”

He spun around, soap dripping from his hands. Adam leveled another flat look at him.

“Do you want this to work or should I get another knife?” he said.

The blood drained from Ben’s face. His eyes darted over to the knife block, sitting just inches away from Adam’s hip. There was no way he could reach it in time — not that it would matter if he could. Clumsy and inexperienced, he’d only hurt himself and save Adam the trouble.

“I just . . .want to know what’s happening,” he said, eyes prickling for the second time that night, goddamn it. “You don’t have to keep threatening me.”

The cognitive dissonance of having Adam so carelessly threaten him, pulling a knife on him — Adam, his best friend that he lived with for years — felt like it could split his head apart. Life was starting to not feel real anymore, like he was in a video game instead. Or a nightmare.

Adam’s expression flickered, looking almost stricken, before Ben turned away. He rinsed what was left of the suds from his hands and then turned the water off.

“I’m going to bed,” he said, even though it was barely dark. “Keep the phone.”

Then he walked straight down the back hall to his bedroom. Adam called his name, almost too softly to hear, but Ben ignored him and shut the door.

He locked it too, for good measure. Not that it mattered. Sleep did not accompany him much that night.

Part Three

#villain x civilian #hero x villain #m x m #my writing #friends to enemies to lovers #writeblr #named characters #a good roommate is hard to find

293 notes · View notes

steddieas-shegoes · 3 months

Text

watch the five hole

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘hole’

rated t | 404 words

cw: language | tags: hockey au, goalie Eddie Munson, forward Steve Harrington, friends to enemies to lovers, ambiguous but pretty obvious ending

🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅🥅

A shootout is a blessing and a curse.

When your team can’t finish it in 60, or in overtime, it’s down to you. Well, you and someone else to score a goal.

Eddie thrived under this pressure, practically prayed for it to happen against certain teams. He wanted to prove himself as a rookie, and this was the best way to do it.

His record for the season was impressive so far, and he planned on keeping it that way.

But for some fucking reason, his first NHL shootout had to be against the Avalanche, the most impressive offensive team this season. Their players were good.

And Steve Harrington wanted nothing more than to be the one to score against him, he just knew it.

They’d played together in high school, somehow beat the odds to both be drafted first round. They always supported each other.

Until they didn’t.

Steve had made a snide comment about being excited to play for a team with a real goalie during his draft interviews, and Eddie didn’t really like his fucking tone.

As if he hadn’t saved their team over and over again when they forgot how to defend their own net. As if Eddie hadn’t spent four years of their lives basically worshiping the ground Steve walked on. As if-

He looked straight ahead as soon as Steve took the ice. Eddie saw the flash of the 86 on his sleeve, thought about his own 86 on the back of his sweater.

He thought about its relevance to them, but quickly pushed the thought away when the whistle blew and Steve started skating down the ice with the puck.

He knew Steve, knew his habits, knew he’d go blocker side, top shelf. That’s where 90% of his shots went tonight.

Steve shot.

The buzzer went off.

Eddie looked behind him and frowned at the puck in the back of the net.

Steve stopped in front of him.

“Gotta watch your five hole, Eds. You’re a pro now.”

Luckily, he saved the next attempt and his guys managed to win it.

When he left the rink, Steve was waiting for him, Bruins beanie on his head with a number 86 on it.

“Think I could buy the goalie a late dinner?”

“Why?” Eddie couldn’t fathom Steve wanting to actually take him out.

“Because I figured I could try to score twice tonight.”

Eddie nodded. “Get in, Harrington.”

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddiemicrofic #steddiemicroficjanuary #hockey au #goalie Eddie Munson #forward Steve Harrington #friends to enemies to lovers

118 notes · View notes

buckysmischief · 2 months

Text

old foes, new flames (no one knows me like you do)

druig x f!reader

wc: 11.4k

summary: You and Druig were childhood friends, never one without the other, but that all ended when he got a girlfriend and things changed. Eventually it was too much to be hear him and at the first opportunity you had, you left town. Years later, an invitation to Wanda's wedding brought you back and nothing was the same.

warnings: while this story doesn't have any outright explicit content there are mentions of drinking, smoking, and sexual innuendos. minors please do not interact. angsty, stubborn idiots, fluffy ending.

an: I went a little out of my comfort zone with this one, I really hope you enjoy it. feedback is much appreciated :)

m a s t e r l i s t

Going back to the place you grew up wasn't something you ever wanted to do again. But when Wanda, one of your childhood best friends called and asked you to be the maid of honor in her wedding. How could you say ‘no’?

It was a super last minute thing. She hasn't been with the guy very long at all. But when Pietro said he didn't have any concerns you decided against calling in a welfare check.

"So she didn't tell you who he is?" Yelena asked.

"No, She did. I just forgot his name and I'm too stubborn to ask." You laughed out, "All I remember is that she met him a few months ago at her college graduation party and that he's super hot."

You and Yelena were roommates freshman year and the rest was history. It was a rare occasion you were apart. So when Wanda said you could bring a plus one, well, Yelena was the obvious choice. It’s not like you were dating anyone and could bring them, not that you would want to bring anyone you were dating back to that place anyways. She wasn't excited about the four hour train ride but you were. Not having to drive and having the opportunity to move around, even just to stretch, was preferable.

“So,” She asked you, with an hour of the ride left, "do you think he's going to be there? I remember you said he was her friend growing up too."

"I didn't ask. She only told me that it's in a few days and that she already has my dress picked out." The neighborhood you grew up in didn't have a lot of kids your age, just you and three others. Wanda, her twin brother Pietro, and a quiet boy named Druig. You and him had a different connection than you did with the twins, for a long time you thought the two of you were inseparable. But as you got older he became more independent of the group, you tried to be happy for him and not take it personally but it was hard.

You even took it well when he announced he had a girlfriend. That was until she made a joke about you following Druig around like a lost puppy. Looking back on it it was naive of you to hope he’d defend you somehow, but it felt like a punch to the gut when he not only laughed but agreed with her.

After that the only time you spoke was when you were insulting each other. For a short while Wanda and Pietro felt like they had to pick a side but that was the last thing you wanted, Druig too. Thankfully there were only a few occasions where all of your paths crossed, but when they did you made sure to avoid him completely. There was no way you were going to be the reason things got too weird.

“Well if he is and he says anything out of line,” she cracked her knuckles, “I’ll handle it.”

You laughed under your breath, knowing how truthful her threat was, “Let’s just hope he’s forgotten I exist.”

The scenery started to get all too familiar and all your mind could focus on was the last time you were here. You left a few days after graduation with no thoughts of returning, if it was anyone else but Wanda asking you to come back the idea wouldn’t have even been entertained.

Her and Pietro were the ones to drive you to the train station and it was obvious they were very against the whole thing, but thankfully they let you go without a fuss. Pietro had let it slip that he had invited Druig, in hopes of reconciliation or something, but you knew he wouldn’t. Not after what you had said to him the night before.

“Who’s there?” You woke up to the sound of rocks being thrown at your bedroom window.

There wasn’t an answer but you heard the leaves from the tree being rustled. Whoever it was had definitely done this before.

“Wanda? Pietro? Please tell me it’s one of you just trying to scare me.”

“Afraid not.”

You’d recognize that voice anywhere. “What are you doing Druig? Shouldn’t you be climbing out of someone else’s window and not into mine?”

He had finally made his way up the tree and onto the branch that had grown perfectly level with the window. The last time he did that felt like a lifetime ago, there was no reason for him to be doing that now. You didn’t want him there. Unfortunately for you he was climbing in before the words “you need to leave” could finish coming out of your mouth.

Druig looked around, “Everything still looks the same.”

“Not everyone changes their whole personalities overnight.”

He picked up a picture frame you had hanging on the wall. It was from your thirteenth birthday, in it you were with Wanda, Pietro and Druig at the top of a ferris wheel. You weren’t angry enough at him to rip him out of the photo though, but you were upset enough to put a sticky note over his face. “My mom still has this photo on the mantel, I’ve begged her for years to take it down.”

“How a saint like Ajak could raise a devil like you is something I’ll never understand.” Did he practically break into your bedroom just to be a dick? “Why are you here, Druig?”

“I heard from a little bird that you were flying the nest, never to return.” He put the photo back where he found it and walked over to your bed, sitting on the edge of it. “I wanted to say goodbye.”

Out of habit, you followed him across the room and sat beside him. You told yourself it was so you didn’t have to talk as loud, not wanting your parents to wake up, but deep down you knew it was muscle memory. “Usually that obligation is to the people who actually like the person that’s leaving.”

You noticed his eyes were glossed over, and you were close enough to him that you could smell the beer on his breath. Did he really have the nerve to show up in your room after all that had happened, while intoxicated, to talk about you leaving?

“Yeah, well..” Druig was usually so quick witted, you couldn’t put your finger on it (nor did you care to) but something was off about him, “it just took me by surprise. I never thought any of us would leave this place.”

He didn’t say it in a rude way, but something about him saying it at all made part of your brain short circuit. “You don’t know me Druig, not anymore. You treat me like shit for three years and show up here in the middle of the night for what? To make a pointless comment about a photograph and act sad that I’m leaving? You’re the reason I’m leaving! I can’t stand to be in this zip code wondering if I’m going to run into you, who you’ll be with, and what taunts you and your friends will throw my way.

“I have a long list of reasons why I want to leave and never come back, and since I’m too tired to tell you the rest of them just know that they all begin with you.” Somehow you had managed to get that all out without raising your voice or shedding a single tear and yet it didn’t make you feel better. You were so in your feelings that you missed the switch flip in Druig’s mind.

“I just came by to tell you that you’ll be back, you’re not special enough to leave this place for good. And when you do, I’ll be waiting to tell you ‘I told you so’.” His tone was cold and unforgiving, more than ever before.

He stood up and walked back to your window, but just before he climbed out he called your name. “Hey Yn..”

You snapped back, “What, Druig?”

“I’ll see you soon.”

It was midafternoon when you arrived at your parents house and it was already too much. Your mom wanted to show you all of the renovations before your bags ever touched the ground. Your dad wanted to show you the new pattern he mowed into the lawn, like you didn’t see it walking up to the front door.

“Mom, dad, I love you both so much and I can’t wait to see everything but give us like an hour to put our bags down and I don’t know, breathe?” You pleaded, hoping your parents would take into consideration the eight hour train ride you and Yelena just endured.

“Oh of course,” your dad agreed.

The two of you took that as the perfect time to walk up the stairs to your old bedroom, you had almost got to the top when your mom called for you. “Yn, I forgot to tell you. There’s a surprise waiting for you in your room.”

“Okay?” You replied, and then whispered to Yelena, “I’m scared, either she threw everything away and it’s unrecognizable or it’s a new pillow or something.”

“ME first!” Yelena barged past you, throwing the door nearly off its hinges before letting out a sound somewhere between a cat being murdered and a burglar alarm. You watched in slow motion as she flung her bag towards the window where a human shaped object fell out of it.

“What the fuck was that!?” You shouted at her as you both ran to the open window. There was a man laying on the lawn sprawled on his side.

“Oh look,” Yelena nudged your elbow with hers, “your dad’s lawn looks great!”

“I knew I liked you!” You could hear your dad yell from the front porch. “Druig, son? Is that you? Why are you laying on the lawn? You’re going to mess up the pattern.”

“Druig?” You asked in a panic to no one in particular. “Oh my god, Yelena! You killed Druig!”

The look on her face was blank, like she was wondering if she should care. “No, it was self defense. He deserved it.”

“Murder is murder Yelena!”

“Honey, we don't have the right insurance to cover up a murder.” Your mom chimed in from the doorway.

“Nope,” you heard a groan, “Still alive. A little less high than I was five minutes ago, but alive.”

“What are you doing down there?” You yelled to him, grateful he was alive but suddenly pissed off that he was there to begin with.

“So you’re like this because of your parents, not in spite of them.” Yelena said, the puzzle pieces finally clicking into place.

You ignored her and ran down the stairs and out the front door. As much as you wanted to make sure he was okay, you also wanted him gone as soon as he could stand. There was no way you were giving your parents yet, apparently, another chance of letting him in the house.

He started to sit up as you made your way out of the front door, so you asked him again, “What are you doing here, Druig?”

He took another minute to get up and wipe himself free of a few leaves and branches he took down with him. You couldn’t help but notice how his hair was longer, something you always told him he could pull off. How dare he take your advice when you weren’t around to gloat about it? And were those… Did he get tattoos?

Yelena nudged you again to get your attention, dragging you away from thoughts you shouldn’t have been having, just in time for Druig to walk up to you both. “I wanted to be the first to welcome you home…to be the one to remind you that I told you so.” He smirked, “Look who’s back.”

“Leave.” You demanded. “Leave now and leave me alone. I’m here until Wanda says ‘I do’ and then I’m going back home where I don’t have to see you ever again.”

Durig’s eyes never left yours and the smirk had grown to a full on grin. “Oh this is perfect. She didn’t tell you?” Then he looked at Yelena and laughed, “She didn’t tell her!”

You crossed your arms in annoyance, “Who didn’t tell me what?”

“Wanda. She didn’t tell you who she’s marrying?” You shook your head in confusion, waiting for him to say he was the groom even though you knew that wasn’t the case. “She’s getting married to my best friend, Bucky. So can you guess what that makes me?”

You tried your best to hold it in but a slew of “fucks” fell out of your mouth. You heard your mother shouting from inside that you could put a sailor to shame but you didn’t care. Of course Wanda was so vague with the details, she knew you’d politely decline the maid of honor (and maybe the invitation all together) position if you knew the truth. “The best man.”

“The BEST best man, actually. I beat Pietro in a race for it.”

“You’re mistaking me for someone who cares.” All the years of therapy didn’t do a damn thing. Well, you didn’t punch him so maybe it helped a little. “I’m going to call Wanda and talk to her about this. You’re welcome to walk in traffic, or don’t, I don’t really care. Just.. leave, please.”

You didn’t walk far, Druig didn’t show any sign of leaving and as much as you wanted her to, you couldn’t let Yelena hurt him again. Or threaten to hurt him again, because she would and the next time wouldn’t be an accident.

Wanda sent you to voicemail three times, so either she was super busy or she knew that you knew, so you texted her instead.

Yn: Hey! I’m back. When are we meeting up? I want to meet your future husband and hear all about how you met and how grossly in love you are! We can talk about all you need me to do, who is all in the wedding party. More specifically the best man. Do I know him?

She responded almost instantly.

Wanda: Oh good, I’m so glad you made it safe! I can swing by in an hour if that works for you?

Yn: That works. Are you going to avoid my questions then too?

Wanda: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Yn: When did Druig get tattoos?

Wanda: I’ll be there in 5

You put your phone back in your pocket and walked back down the walkway where Yelena was obviously running out of patience. There was a part of you that wanted to ask her to go inside so you could talk to him in private, he was always less of a dick head when others weren’t around, while the other part of you wasn’t in a hurry to be alone with him at all. “Wanda said she’s going to be here in five minutes, is there a reason you’re still here or do you get off on being somewhere you’re not wanted?”

He glanced back in your direction, his eyes locked with yours. “She might not want me here,” he pointed at Yelena and then to you, “but you do. You can tell yourself whatever lie you want, Yn, but you’ve never been able to lie to me.”

Before you got a chance to tell him where he could shove the finger he was pointing at you, Wanda had pulled into the driveway. She walked up to Yelena before ever meeting your eyes, she made sure she positioned herself perfectly when she gave Yelena a hug and asked her how the trip was, her back facing you.

“Yeah, yeah. You two missed each other, I love that for you both.” You were getting slightly impatient. Between waking up early, traveling, not getting a chance to relax, Druig and Wanda stalling, you felt like you were going to explode. “Can someone who isn’t Druig please fill in the gaps for me?”

Wanda turned to give you a look of sympathy, then spoke to Druig. “Bucky’s home, he’s waiting for you.”

“He’ll be fine,” he began to walk away, but turned to give you one last look, “I had a promise to fulfill.”

Thankfully Wanda had jumped right in and explained everything, from how she met Bucky to the Druig of it all. Apparently Druig introduced them and it was love at first sight, you ignored the voice in your head telling you that this was his plan all along. That he knew short of a funeral, the only way you’d come back was Wanda getting married. You would be giving him way too much credit if you actually entertained that thought.

“I’m sorry,” Wanda said, pulling you out of your thoughts, “you said once that he was tolerable now and I just kind of assumed it wouldn’t be an issue.”

“Yeah, because I live in a different time zone, not because he’s a tolerable person!” You pouted. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m here for your big day not to make you feel bad. The wedding is in what, three days? I can handle being around him for three days, but only because it’s you.”

“I’m glad you feel that way because,” she hesitated for a moment and then braced for impact, “he’s going to be helping you set everything up in the backyard, Bucky put Druig’s name down to accept everything as it gets dropped off just in case you got delayed arriving.”

“That’s, that’s fair.” You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “So what can I do for you now that I’m here?”

Wanda smiled and hugged you, excited that you weren’t upset with her. Not like you ever could be. “I just need you to come over at some point tomorrow to try on the dress and I’ll give you the itinerary for Friday and Saturday then. Friday is pretty much just you and Druig setting everything up and then Saturday I basically just need you at my side.”

It could have been worse, all you really had to get through was Friday, and Yelena being there would give you a distraction. You would only have to be around him for a minimal amount of time the day of the wedding if you played your cards right. At least that’s what you thought.

“Yelena,” Wanda said in a hopeful tone, “you can help Yn on Friday if you want but if you don’t feel like being a human buffer, my brother is driving to the city to pick up a few cases of wine and I’m sure he would enjoy your company.”

She knew what she was doing. She knew Pietro and Yelena had some weird unspoken thing. You were on Facetime with Wanda one night and she was with her brother, Yelena had gotten home and popped in to say hi to Wanda and then gave her full focus to Pietro. You ended up giving her his number before they completely hijacked the call.

They texted all the time but never talked about meeting in person. To your knowledge she didn’t tell him she was coming to the wedding, and you suspected Wanda had kept it a secret too. Yelena was never the serious relationship type, but you had a feeling if anyone could change that it was Pietro.

She looked at you, silently asking if you’d mind. Of course you did, but you weren’t going to hold her (or anyone) back because of your personal issues with someone. “Go and hang out with Pietro, I’ll be fine.”

“You sure? Because,” she paused, “I texted him when we got here and we already have potential plans. I was waiting to see what your schedule looked like before we made anything official.”

“Tomorrow too?”

“He wanted to show me around but since you’re free most of the day I was just going to push that to Friday.”

You thought about it for a moment, going over your options. The selfish part of you wanted to see if you could just be the third wheel for the day, but since you didn’t really make plans outside of helping with the wedding you decided it wasn’t fair to do that. You got to see Yelena everyday, if she was comfortable going off gallivanting with Pietro then you weren’t going to get in the middle of it. Maybe they’d be the next ones to have a last minute wedding. “No, you go and have fun! It’ll probably take my mom half the day to show me all the changes to the house, I can entertain myself after that.”

“Well that sounds depressing.” Wanda chimed in.

You laughed and rolled your eyes at her, “Do you really think I have the attention span for that? No, I’m going to walk around and be nostalgic. See where I end up. Nothing super dramatic.”

“Oh good, we wouldn’t want that.” It was her turn to roll her eyes at you. “If you want, you’re more than welcome to run errands with me.”

“No offense, but I’d rather spend the day with Druig. I don’t even like running my own errands.” You all couldn’t help but laugh at that.

After that Wanda had gotten a call from Bucky, something about the cake. She excused herself, reminding you that her offer still stood, and you and Yelena went back in the house.

The next morning Yelena woke you up, letting you know that she was leaving. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

You sat up to check the time, 8:07, there was no point trying to go back to sleep. “Yeah I don’t care, I”m going to get ready and head out soon too. Text me if Pietro gets weird, I’ll call you and fake an emergency or something.”

She knew you meant it, and you knew you wouldn’t have to do it.

Over the next hour you ate breakfast with your parents and indulged them when they asked if they could show you everything finally. Again. When the tour was over you quickly got ready and rushed out the door before they found a way to keep you inside all day.

It wasn’t that you didn’t want to spend time with them, you did. It was just that you knew they wanted you to move back home and you didn’t want to give them the chance to bring it up. It was easy for them to let you go the first time, they were under the impression you’d come back when you decided you weren’t going for your bachelor’s degree. That was three years ago and their “subtlety” of convincing you to come back was getting more and more obvious.

But of course when you dodge one bullet another one comes flying, or however that saying goes. Druig was in your parents driveway. Scratch that, Druig and his motorcycle were in your parents driveway. “Finally, I’ve been waiting for you for 20 minutes.”

“Did I wake up in a reality where I asked?”

He swung one leg over the bike and put on his helmet, offering you an extra one. “I heard you don’t have any plans today.”

Damn Wanda. She told him on purpose.

Your curiosity got the better of you, “And you made some for us?”

“No, but you can accompany me to mine.” Was a smirk permanently plastered on his face? It infuriated you to no end. Unfortunately, for no one but you, it also made him super attractive.

“Fuck you.”

“You weren’t on my to do list today but I can add you to it if you want.” Did he really just say that?

“Excus-” The sound of his bike roaring to life cut you off. You couldn’t make out what he said after that, but he extended his arm and offered you the helmet again.

Both of you were a bit surprised when you took it. You had never been on a motorcycle before so when Druig grabbed your hands and put them around his waist you flinched away from him. “Do you want to fall off?”

Obviously not. “Fine. But just know-”

“That what? Being this close to me drives you crazy?” He grabbed your hands and put him around his waist again, holding them a little tighter than he did before. “You’ll get over it.”

He revved his bike, probably so he didn’t have to hear yet another response to another one of his slick comments, and began to drive through the neighborhood. You had no idea where he was taking you and was slightly too afraid to open your eyes to guess.

For the first time since you found out it was him who fell out of your window you started to wonder why you were entertaining Druig and his antics. Was it for Wanda’s sake? Could therapy be working more than you thought? Maybe the distance had allowed you to outgrow him enough for it to not hurt anymore. Two things you decided that you knew for sure was that time and distance made you forget the feelings you had for him, and having to hold onto him for dear life solidified that they were back.

After what felt like an eternity, you felt the bike turn right and slow down. Only when it was no longer moving and had gone silent did you feel safe enough to open your eyes.

“You don’t gotta stop holding me,” he put a hand on your thigh and gently squeezed it a couple of times, “but you gotta let go of me long enough for us both to get off.”

Feelings be damned, his cocky attitude brought you back to reality. You let go of him and got your feet on the ground as quickly as you could. “You wish. So, where are we?”

If you took a moment to look around before you asked, it would have been obvious. “When did they close it down?”

“Last year.” The movie theater was your favorite place to be growing up. Not just because of the movies you saw there, but because of the easily accessible roof that you and everyone your age would hang out on after your respectable movies were over. Before things got weird between you two, you and Druig were attached at the hip and the roof was your favorite spot to hang out. After things got weird, you stopped going as much and eventually not at all. You never knew if he continued to go or not. “But they never took down the ladder.”

He gestured for you to go first but you stood there frozen. “Why are we doing this? Why did you bring me here?”

“Can we both just cut the act for a bit? I’m not used to it anymore.” His tone was laced with exhaustion.

As much as you related to his words, old habits do die hard. “Then take me home, wouldn’t want you getting used to being around me.”

He pointed from you to the ladder again, “Climb the damn ladder, Yn.”

You complied, convincing yourself you were only doing so out of pure curiosity.

When you got to the top you realized why Druig wanted you up there so badly. There was a huge blanket spread out with nice outdoor furniture set up around a cooler and a picnic basket. A lot of thought seemed to go into what was obviously a last minute thing, but you wondered why it was a thing at all. Why would he want to spend more time together than necessary?

“Take a seat,” he put his hand on the small of your back, encouraging you to once again take the lead, “it took Pietro way too long to get these up here.”

You took a seat on one of the chairs while Druig took the one across from you, but not before almost taking the one beside you. “You would make him do all the work.”

“That’s not what I said.” He began to take out food from the picnic basket, attentively placing what looked to be sandwiches, chips, and sweets out on the table. Your favorites. “You have a habit of taking everything I say the wrong way.”

“I do not.”

He grabbed two drinks out of the cooler, handing you one and keeping the other for himself. “Okay, not always. But to be fair he offered to do most of the heavy lifting, something about getting a workout in before meeting up with that scary friend of yours. And I made the food.”

“I can’t wait to tell Yelena you think she’s scary. “ You said before you took a bite of your sandwich.

“Oh I’m sure she knows, someone doesn’t get to be that terrifying by accident.”

Conversation stayed light for the rest of the time you ate, from what you majored in to the auto repair shop he opened a few years ago. It felt nice to just talk to him again without any hostility, like it used to when things were normal. Being in a secluded environment was the key, you doubted it would be that easy at the wedding while being around so many people who were secretly waiting to see which one of you take things too far first.

Then Druig had to go and ruin it. “So can we talk about it now?”

“Talk about what?”

His eyes came close but they wouldn’t quite meet yours. “About how we went from being inseparable to me having to beg Wanda for updates on your life.”

If Druig was right about anything, it was you taking what he had to say the wrong way. “Are you fucking serious? You don’t remember?”

“What? No I meant-”

You stood up and walked towards the ladder, “I don’t care, I really don’t. I’m leaving. Unfortunately I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Stop.” He grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you in closer by your hips. “I remember exactly what happened. I was about to apologize for it.”

The way the light hit his blue eyes had you hypnotized. “I'm listening.”

“If either of us was a lost puppy it was me. I didn’t realize it at first, not until I found out you were leaving. I showed up at the twins house to tell them my revelation, begging them to tell me what I could do to make things right.” His train of thought was all over the place but so was your concentration. His left hand was still on your hip while his right had traveled its way up to your cheek. “Wanda told me your plans, Pietro said I should show up and tell you everything. It felt selfish to tell you something so heavy after finding out how excited you were to leave, I always thought things would just somehow go back to normal in college or something..

“So I drank my feelings and showed up at your house. I said something that hurt your feelings, again, and you snapped and I said some fucked up shit. I went to tell you that I loved you and ended up doing the exact opposite.”

If he said anything after that your brain didn’t register it. You only had water but it felt like you drank a whole bottle of wine. Before you knew it your hands were pulling his face closer to yours, closing the small amount of distance there was between you.

His lips on yours felt foreign, yet welcoming. More than.

The way one of his hands comfortably held your jaw while the other was tangled in your hair sent a fire through you that you had never felt before. When his tongue swiped over your lips you knew you were a goner, he swallowed the soft moan that escaped your lips. Druig had made you feel a lot of things over the years but in that moment he made you feel at home.

“Stop,” you put your hand on his chest and pushed away, forcing space between you. “This can’t happen.”

You didn’t stay to hear him out, but that didn’t stop him from following you down the ladder and begging to understand what just happened.

“Yn, talk to me! What the fuck happened up there?” You both walked past his bike and down the sidewalk. There wasn’t anywhere you were walking to exactly, you just wanted to get as far away from the moment as you could. “Did I do something you didn’t want me to?”

There was something in his voice that made you stop. “No, really no. But this,” you gestured between the two of you, “can’t happen. I’m only here for two more days and-”

“Then stay.”

“It’s not that simple, Druig.”

“Why not?” He pleaded with you, asking a question you didn’t even know the answer to.

“Look, I promise to act normal tomorrow and for the wedding, I won’t tell anyone, Wanda will have the wedding she deserves and me and Yelena will go back home and you’ll never hear from me again!”

He scoffed and you swore you could feel him roll his eyes, “Can you stop being so dramatic?”

You ignored him the rest of the way back to your parents house. Eventually he stopped trying to get your attention, the only indication of his being behind you was the sound of gravel crunching beneath his boots.

Instead of paying him any mind you brainstormed of non life threatening illnesses you could quickly expose yourself to so you had a perfectly reasonable excuse to be a horrible friend to Wanda and miss her and Bucky’s wedding. The answer was none.

After what felt like hours and many blisters later, you and Druig eventually made it back to your childhood home. Much to your surprise though, a familiar car was in the driveway. “Pietro?”

Before you got halfway up the driveway a blur of silver hair came out of nowhere and picked you up into a tight bear hug, almost tackling you to the ground. “Yn, I’ve missed you so much! How did your date with Druig go? I didn’t think I’d get to see you until later.”

“My what?” You pulled yourself out of his grasp. “Is that what he told you it was?”

“No?” He admitted, obviously confused. “I just figured you both decided to stop being stubborn and were ready to admit your feelings for eachother.”

“I did.” Druig said proudly, “I think it’s physically impossible for her to stop being stubborn though, probably would combust or something.”

“That sounds more thrilling than being here right now.”

“Told you.”

Before you could get another smart ass word in, Yelena had finally come outside. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” you lied, “I was too afraid to get back on Druig’s bike so we walked back. He was just saying goodbye.” You walked into the house and went straight to your room, ignoring the worried questions of your parents. You got to your window in time to see the guys back out of your driveway, probably on their way to Druig’s bike.

You were worried Yelena would have a hundred questions about what had happened, but that was silly. She knew how to work through your issues when you couldn’t. When Yelena found you in your room she came with the only thing that could stand a chance at putting you in a better mood (no matter the season), hot chocolate.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” she reminded you, handing you one of the mugs she held, “but Pietro filled me in on some things that have happened since you left. He said he’ll come back later if you want.”

“Yes,” you grumbled, “but not if he wants to talk about him.”

“I’ll let him know.”

While you waited for Pietro, and dinner, you listened to Yelena as she told you about her day. As she spoke about all that Pietro had shown her, you noticed how much she really liked him. You had never heard someone talk so highly of Pietro. Hell, you have never heard Yelena talk highly of anyone, ever. She didn’t outright say it, and you didn’t dare bring it up, but you could tell it was going to be really hard for her to leave.

As much as you hated to admit it, so obviously you planned to take it to the grave, you were going to too.

It was that one thought that you let slip through the cracks that caused a mental avalanche. Flashes of you afternoon with Druig, all of the hurtful things he said and did when you were younger, him following you home, remembering you still have two more days with him, thoughts of what things could be like if you stayed…

Yelena never noticed how zoned out you got, but Pietro did.

He stood in the doorway, taking both of you off guard. “You’ve both been so lost in your own worlds, neither of you noticed me standing here for five minutes.”

“You’re an adult,” you stood up to take the boxes of pizza out of his hands, “you could have said something.”

“I figured one of you would have noticed the smell of pizza.”

Yelena opened the first box and looked disgusted, “Because this isn’t pizza. It’s buffalo chicken on pizza dough.”

“Ah but you said pizza dough, so you admit by default it's a pizza.” He replied to her in the flirtiest manner you had ever seen. He was absolutely smitten with her as well.

“You better have gotten something we like too.” You added for no other reason than to remind them you were still there.

The rest of the night flew by too quickly. After dinner the three of you went to the backyard, it was too nice not to enjoy it. The apartment you shared with Yelena didn’t have a yard of any kind, but at least it had a decent sized patio balcony. But even then your neighbors got really weird if you and, or Yelena were out there too late. Not weird like leaving passive aggressive notes on your front door or anything, you almost wished they did, but instead they would lean over the wall that separated you and would insert themselves in the middle of whatever you were doing.

That wasn’t something you weren’t used to though. Even though the distance between your childhood home and the neighbors was pretty spacious, that didn’t stop your friends from just showing up in your backyard. It didn’t matter if you were home or not, it never bothered you.

It only bothered you when it stopped.

“I miss this place.” You whispered. You didn’t even realize you said it outloud until Pietro asked you to repeat yourself.

“I said there’s too much space.”

“That’s not what you said.” He accused, the gears clearly turning in his head. “What would it take to get you back here?”

You didn’t quite know what the right answer was, so you just said the only thing you knew for sure. “If Yelena isn’t a stone’s throw away from me then I might die. Do you want me to die, Pietro?”

“If that’s the case,” Yelena quickly added, “our lease is up soon. I wouldn’t mind moving here with you, I like it here.”

“You like a guy here, that’s not the same thing.”

“Don’t pretend that that’s not the same reason why you do and don’t want to move back.”

“Yele-”

“No,” she cut you off, “someone had to say it to you. Pietro said you liked him and I didn’t believe him until yesterday and again today. The way you talked about him I truly believed you hated him, but the way you look at him.. The way he looks at you! The way you talk to each other, even. Your parents even see it! He took you on a date, he quite literally told you he loves you! What’s holding you back?”

“It just feels like another set up!” You blurted out. “I feel like the second I admit how I feel, Druig and his friends are going to all come out of nowhere like we’re on an episode of Punk’d or something.”

“You couldn’t,” Pietro laughed out so hard he had to fight to catch his breath, “ahh, you’re hilarious.”

That didn’t do anything but annoy you. “Can you stop laughing at me and find your words?”

“I’m sorry,” he took a deep breath and wiped the tears from his eyes, “it’s just that you couldn’t be more wrong. Druig hasn’t hung out with that crown since we graduated, he only hangs out with me, Wanda, Bucky, and the guys at the shop. And your parents sometimes.”

“My parents?” They never mentioned him.

“We all do, we basically grew up in your backyard. They’ve always been like second parents to us. One more thing,” he moved from his seat to sit directly in front of you, “if he ever sets you up to look or feel stupid again, I’ll knock his teeth out.”

“Only if you beat me to it.” Yelena stood up, ready to defend your honor then and there.

Pietro stood again from his seat, sizing her up. “Is that a challenge?”

“Ew stop flirting in front of me,” you stood up too and told them you’d be leaving, “I got to go to Wanda’s to try on my dress. I’ll think about what you said on the way there, you two have fun and if I don’t see either of you before your mini road trip, please be safe!”

When you got to Wanda’s house it was slightly after 9pm and thankfully it was just her and Bucky. He seemed really nice, you understood almost immediately how Wanda had fallen in love so quickly. There was something about the way they were just so genuine with each other, you had never seen Wanda so happy with someone. You were so distracted by them that you almost forgot why you were there, the dress.

It was a floor length lavender dress with a short flutter sleeve, thankfully it wasn’t anything crazy. Somehow Wanda did indeed get the perfect fit. You hung it back in her closet for Saturday and went back into the living room so spend more time with the happy couple.

Throughout the night Bucky kept mentioning how he wished there was more time to get to know you better and how Wanda was so excited you were there. Neither one of them mentioned Druig. There was no way they didn’t know what happened earlier, and you’d be surprised if Pietro didn’t call Wanda the moment you left. Whatever they wanted to talk about, they weren’t going to initiate it. At least, not out right.

“You’ve never been so quiet.” Wanda stated. “Do you want to talk about something?”

“I can step out if you need some privacy.” Bucky added.

“No,” you told the both of them, “when I’m done processing I’ll let you know.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

When you got to Wanda’s the next day neither her or Bucky were there like you hoped they’d be. It was just going to be you and Druig, who was already in the backyard, and you desperately wished Yelena would have taken pity on you and not go with Pietro. But you swore to her at least ten times the night before that she was fine and you could handle it.

You were wrong.

The tension could have been cut with a knife. You both tried to stay away from each other if you could, but when you couldn’t things were tense. It was obvious that he wanted to say something, he only spoke to you when it was necessary though.

After he would put a table in its designated spot you would go behind him and place the chairs. Since it was a small backyard wedding, the couple decided against the traditional seating for the ceremony and just have everyone sit at their designated table instead. Their backyard was big enough so no matter what it wouldn’t be too crowded.

When he was done you expected him to start the next project, but when you went to grab more chairs he was already bringing more your way. “You don’t have to help me.”

“But I want to.” You wanted to tell him that he can’t always get what he wants but you opted to just let him do what he wanted.

When that was done two men started to bring back the pieces to the arch and put it together. The flowers were going to be delivered the next morning, so once you knew it was correctly assembled you snuck inside for a moment to yourself before the next project.

All of the silence gave you time to actually think and process all that had come to light, and the longer you thought about it and really thought about what Pietro had said you knew you had to make a decision.

There was no real point in going back home other than to get your things, the lease would be up in just over a month. You and Yelena were going to renew it when you got back but you had no obligation to do that. There was no doubt that your parents would let the both of you stay with them until you found a house close by. That was if Yelena didn’t move in with Pietro, which you would absolutely love and support.

You and Yelena had talked about it some when you got back the night before, she told you that she didn’t expect to want to stay but she did. Admitting that you felt the same way was like admitting defeat at the end of the night you both agreed to think about it and talk about it again after the wedding.

If someone were to have told you the week before that you’d be back in your hometown, hanging out with Druig, thinking about moving back - you would have suggested they seek professional help. You never would have guessed that you’d be standing in the middle of Wanda and her future husband’s kitchen thinking about what to do about the Druig of it all.

“Hey,” he walked into the kitchen as if your thoughts of him summoned him there, “we just have to hang the lights around the trees and the arch. Did you want to take a break and order lunch?”

“Yeah that’s fine, get me whatever you’re getting. I’ve got cash.”

“Pizza good? And don’t worry about it, it’s a ‘thank you’ from the happy couple for all our hard work.” He pulled out his phone and put in the order. The two of you weren’t standing too close, but it felt like he was the center of gravity and was trying to pull you in. When he was done and walked out of the kitchen to the living room you followed, your younger self would have been disgusted.

Everything became too much at once, so many decisions were unofficially made at once and the only one you didn’t have a solution to was less than five feet away from you. Even though you knew how he felt and what he wanted, you didn’t know how to say out loud that you felt the same. It wasn’t even something you admitted out loud to your therapist.

“I’ve decided I’m moving back.” You tried to stop yourself, you really did, but the awkward silence was getting out of hand.

He looked at you like you had three heads, “What? When?”

You knew what he really wanted to ask. “Probably in a month. I haven’t told anyone yet, I just decided about 15 minutes ago honestly.”

“Is Yelena moving too? Aren’t you two a packaged deal?” He leaned back in his seat, probably didn’t want to seem too eager or show how excited he was about your decision.

“Yes, well, kind of. She wants to move here too but I think her plans include Pietro more than they do me, which I’m totally fine with.” And you were, you wouldn’t have ever entertained the thought of moving anywhere if your best friend wasn’t going with you. Her having someone that makes her happy was more than worth it.

He smirked at your answer. “So Wanda and Bucky are getting married, Yelena and Pietro are going to be in a honeymoon phase of their own.. Where does that leave us?”

You knew he was going to bring it up eventually, you just hoped he would have waited until you unpacked your belongings first. “Why would there be an ‘us’?”

“We could be friends, we could be more, or we can just go back to ignoring each other. I just want to know so I can respect your boundaries.” He almost sounded sad, it surprised you how much it made your heart ache.

That made you want to talk out everything then and there, but fate had other plans. The doorbell rang and Druig stood up to go get the food. After he got back and you were done eating you had no idea how to bring up the subject again. You convinced yourself that it was fine, that talking it over with Wanda and Yelena first would help you sort your thoughts.

The rest of the decorating went pretty quickly, some of the things had to be done the next day so you volunteered to get up early and do those since you’d be spending the night at Wanda’s anyway.

Since the guest list was so small, Wanda and Bucky decided to pick one friend each to be their maid of honor and best man. Neither of them wanted to do anything crazy for their bachelor/ bachelorette parties either. Bucky and Druig were going to spend the night at Pietro’s doing whatever Bucky decided he wanted to do, and you and Yelena were staying with Wanda to have a spa/ movie night.

It was there, while the three of you were applying your mud masks, that you told them your decision. “So unless Druig opened his mouth and told you before I got to, I’m-”

“Finally dating Druig?!” Wanda interrupted, a little too excited.

“Ugh you too?” You threw yourself backwards on her living room floor. “No, I wanted to be the first to tell you and Yelena and I are moving back here next month.”

“WHAT?” She jumped from her stop on the couch and onto you. “This is the best wedding present ever! I can’t believe you’re coming back.”

“You’re crushing me, get off.” You laughed half seriously.

She got off of you and went to hug Yelena, “I’m so excited for us to spend more time together.”

“Me too.” Yelena smiled. You once worried about the possibility of them not getting along, so you were overjoyed that they had a bond separate from you.

The later it got and the more wine you drank, you felt more comfortable talking about the subject everyone (even your parents) wanted you to talk about: Druig.

“Are you going to date him?”

“Are you going to take it slow?”

“Is he a good kisser?”

“Does this mean we can do couples vacations now?”

“I bet you two are going to be the couple that is just obsessed with each other, but in a cute way.”

“Can you two let me decide my feelings first before you plan my wedding?” You didn’t even blame them for their questions and comments, there was a part of you that wanted to fully let loose and talk about how you’ve had a crush on him for as long as you could remember, but there was also a part of you that didn’t want to celebrate too soon.

“Decide??” Wanda emphasized dramatically, “Are you going to look at me in my face and pretend you’re not in love with him?”

Yelena was right behind her. “And he’s even told me he’s in love with you, too. So why aren’t you two together yet?”

“Because…”

“OH! I have an idea!” Wanda yelled and ran to her bedroom. When she came back she had your phone in her hand with Druig’s contact information open. “Call him and tell him how you feel.”

“No, this night is supposed to be about you. You call Bucky and gush to him about how much you love him.” She rolled her eyes at your comment and looked for Yelena to back her up.

To your surprise she actually backed you up. Well, technically. “No, Pietro sent a voice memo earlier and they’re all very drunk. A text might work though.”

“Or, and really hear me when I say this,” you suggested after finishing off another bottle, “I could just wait until after the wedding. That way you and Bucky can have your day and I can procrastinate this a little longer.”

“Ugh, fine. I’ve just been waiting for this since high school, seeing two of my best friends happy. Not pretending they hate each other anymore. I’m just so happy for you.” Wanda was drunk but you knew she meant every word she said.

For years she was in the middle of you and his hostility, even though you did everything you could so that she didn’t have to. You never badmouthed him to her, or even Pietro, but you knew they weren’t unaware it was happening. They knew it was something they couldn’t fix, but at the end of the day you were their friend and seeing you hurt, hurt them.

“No Wands, I’m happy for you.” With that, the three of you called it a night. The morning would be there before you knew it.

You woke up before anyone else and decided it was your job as maid of honor to make sure Wanda was taken care of until it was officially Bucky’s duty. There was no way you would be able to do that without caffeine so you pulled out your phone and ordered coffee and breakfast for the three of you before the flowers were scheduled to be delivered.

Yelena was the next to wake up. The two of you sat on the porch and talked about your plans for the move before Wanda woke up.

“So were you thinking about moving in with Pietro?” You got straight to the point, just like she had with you.

She looked at you in disbelief. “We just made things official, I need at least a year to get used to being so close to him before I think about that. You know how I am. Besides, I’m not ready for us to not be roommates yet. That’s too much change at once.”

You jokingly threw your head back and laughed, “Oh thank god, I feel the same way! About wanting to still be roommates and too much change. I feel like I’m going to make a mistake somehow.”

“Me too. But this feels like a step in a positive direction.” She put her hand in yours. “We’ve outgrown our apartment.”

“Yes, so naturally the next move is my parents house. I love that for us.” You said sarcastically.

That snapped her back to reality. “We’re looking for a place the minute we get on the train. I love your parents but I can’t be a recluse there, I need that time to myself or I’ll go insane.”

“Oh you don’t have to tell me twice, I fell asleep looking at places last night.”

The front door opened and a sleepy Wanda walked out, “Did anyone make coffee?”

“No,” you laughed at how well you knew her, “but in one minute a delivery driver will be here with some.”

She sat on the other side of you and rested her head on your shoulder, “You’re the best.”

Just like you predicted, a car had pulled up and a delivery boy stepped out with your breakfast. You nudged Wanda’s head with the shoulder she was leaning on so you could get up, “I know.”

From there the morning got unexpectedly chaotic. The flowers got delivered thirty minutes late and the person who was supposed to help you arrange them had apparently called out, so you spent longer than planned getting them all in their proper arrangements on each table and around the arch.

Time wise everything seemed to work itself out in the end. Wanda and Yelena were showered by the time you were done, but only just, meaning you would have been waiting for your turn anyways. To your surprise there was just enough hot water left for you to get through the shower, it only got cold at the very end.

When you stepped out of the bathroom you were faced with a new set of problems. Wanda’s blow dryer broke when she was almost done, leaving you and Yelena with wet hair and the risk of frizz.

“Let me make a call, y’all just start on make up.” You excused yourself and called the first person you thought of. “Druig?”

“Good afternoon, sunshine. I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”

You got so distracted with his flirting you almost forgot why you called. “I need a favor, are you busy?”

“I could never be too busy for you.”

You knew he could tell you were smiling by the sound of your voice. “Can you go over to my house and get my hair dryer? Wanda’s broke?”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

You thanked him and walked back to the guest bedroom to find more appropriate clothes. The last thing you needed was for him to see you in a towel, he would have found a way to bring it up the rest of the day.

When you went to check on Wanda and Yelena things finally seemed to be going smoothly. Yelena had never worn much makeup so she finished up pretty quickly. Wanda’s makeup style always depended on the occasion, and for her wedding she went for more of a non-makeup look. Her foundation was light and dewy while her eyes had a natural look to them. You had just got done helping her apply a set of very subtle eyelashes when you heard a knock at the door. “Be right back, y’all figure out what you’re doing with your hair.”

The walk to Wanda’s front door felt like it took ages to get to and once you got there you had to work up the courage to open it, but eventually you found it. “Hey, thank you again. I owe you one.”

“It’s no big deal.” He handed you the blow dryer and you ran it to the girls before joining him back on the porch. “Shouldn’t you be joining them?”

“They can wait.” You purposely stood a little too close to him, but not close enough for his gravity to pull you in again. Not fully at least. “I need to tell you something.”

It took all of his restraint not to close the gap between you. “You can tell me anything.”

“I’m sorry about the other day, I was feeling a lot of things at once and I reacted badly.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting you to say but he appreciated it all the same. “No, that was my bad, I threw too much at you at once.”

“No, it was beautiful, really.” You reassured him, “I’ve got to go, but meet me here after the ceremony, okay? There’s something else we need to talk about.”

He agreed, but before he left you both took a half step forward. You leaned your head in quicker than he did and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled his signature half smile and walked back to his bike, “That just told me all I needed to know, darling. I’ll see you soon.”

You smiled and went back inside before Wanda and Yelena got curious, the last thing you needed was to get thrown off schedule right as you had caught up.

When you walked back in, Wanda was curling her hair while Yelena was almost done blow drying hers. They were so caught up in the excitement that they never questioned who had dropped the blow dryer off and why you took a few minutes to come back in, not that you had a problem with that at all.

You had just finished your hair and make up when the caterers arrived, thankfully all you had to do was unlock the door. There was still an hour before the ceremony was scheduled to begin and even though Wanda’s dress wasn’t anything super extravagant, it had probably about one hundred buttons in the back and it took you a little longer than you anticipated. Yelena had taken pity on you and helped you out, giving you just enough time to get dressed before guests and the guys arrived.

“Alright, Pietro texted they should be here in two minutes. I’m going to make sure Bucky stays out back. You,” you pointed to Wanda, “stay away from the kitchen windows, I won’t have him sneaking a peek.”

“Aye, aye captain.” Her smile was so wide, she was barely able to contain her excitement.

Everything after that was a blur.

The guys ended up arriving before the guests. You supervised Druig and Bucky while they showed everyone to their seats and Pietro joined Yelena in making sure Wanda didn’t get impatient. At least that’s the reason he gave, you were sure he selfishly (yet understandably) wanted to be close to Yelena. Druig tried doing the same with you a few times but you kept finding opportunities to slip away before he got too close, not for any reason other than to watch him get worked up.

When it was time for Wanda to walk down the aisle everyone was in their designated seats, leaving you, Druig, Bucky and his other best friend Steve at the altar. You didn’t get a chance to talk to Steve much but according to Bucky they were basically brothers and he couldn’t imagine anyone else officiating his and Wanda’s wedding.

The vows were short and sweet but they still managed to leave everyone in tears, they had nothing but love and fondness for each other and everyone felt it. When Wanda talked about falling in love with Bucky, you felt a pair of eyes on you. You tried to keep your attention on her, but Druig’s orbit had pulled you in again. In what felt like no time at all, Steve had declared them Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and instructed them to kiss.

You and Druig followed their lead as they walked back up the aisle and into the house. The plan was for the wedding party to get their food and drinks and join everyone else back outside, Wanda wanted to wait to take pictures during the golden hour before sunset. It had always been her favorite time of day so you weren’t surprised.

“Hey,” you pulled her to the living room, “is it okay if me and Druig step out front for a few minutes?”

She practically shoved you out of the door. “Finally! I don’t care, as long as you're back for pictures.”

When it was just you and him again you felt nervous, like you weren’t in the same situation with him just hours before.

“So,” he started, “what did you want to talk about?”

He stood so close you almost forgot what you wanted to say.

“Us.” It came out as a whisper.

“Oh so there is an ‘us’?” He brought his face closer to yours, his voice lower than it was before, “Do tell me sweetheart, does this mean you won’t run away after I kiss you?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

He didn’t take the bait, which you were secretly thankful for. If he did, you two probably would have missed the rest of the party, and even if Wanda and Bucky would have understood you would have never forgiven yourself. “We can save that for later, we only have about ten minutes before we need to get back.”

You tried to suppress a laugh and failed, “You’re such an ass, you just want to hear me talk.”

“I do love hearing your voice.” He admitted.

“Stop flirting!” You gently pushed him back so you could focus better, “I know this is technically new, we haven’t even had a proper conversation about us yet but I’ve known how I’ve felt about you for my whole life. I hate that we spent so many years at each other’s necks and I’m sorry the only way for me to cope was leaving. I know moving back won’t make up for the years I was gone, but I’m hoping we can make up for lost time now.”

He took a moment to let your words sink in. You didn’t know it then, but he had half expected you to tell him you just wanted to be friends (which he would have been more than okay with). So when you all but told him you love him, he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not.

“When do you move back?”

You weren’t expecting him to ask that, but answered him anyway. “We have about a month to get all of our things out, so I guess it depends on how fast we pack. Why?”

He grabbed your hands and pulled you into his chest, “Me and Pietro were talking about flying out to help you and Yelena pack, wanted to see if that would be okay with you first.”

“What?” You smiled at him, “Can’t go a few weeks without me?”

“I just got you back, I’ll go mad missing you.” You wanted to kick yourself for thinking his feelings weren’t genuine.

“Would you judge me for feeling the same?”

“Never.” He leaned in to seal the deal with a kiss, and you would have let him if Pietro hadn’t barreled through the door.

“I know you two are having a moment and I hate to be the one to kill it, I really do, but we can’t wait anymore.”

“Right behind you.” You and Druig walked behind him, hand in hand, to the back yard.

The rest of the night was perfect. You got to witness one of your best friends marry the love of her life, and as an added bonus you got to watch the beginning of Yelena and Pietro’s love story.

Your parents were over the moon when you told them about you moving back, but that was nothing compared to the news about you and Druig. As it so happened, they had been planning your wedding with him since you were kids. Yelena took one for the team and asked them about temporary living arrangements.

Druig took the opportunity to talk to you alone one last time before the night had to end. “You’re not going to get on that train and never talk to me again are you?”

He was mostly kidding but you could tell a part of him meant it. “Not this time, you can get up early and take the journey with me just to make sure if you want.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He held you close, anyone who paid attention would have thought you were swaying with the music. “I’m really glad this weekend turned out the way it did.”

“I am too.” You knew then that you were finally whole again. Everyone you had ever loved were going to be in the same place. The same place that broke your heart and it was put back together again. It felt like the universe gave you a second chance to have the life you always wanted and nothing, not even yourself, was going to get in the way of it happening.

@stuckonjbbarnes @buckyssoldat

#druig x reader #druig x f!reader #friends to enemies to lovers #angst with a happy ending #marvel #mcu fanfic

102 notes · View notes

cwispyshwimp · 9 months

Text

From an AU I made in which Chongyun receives a pyro vision and becomes a member of the Fatui, and Xingqiu/Chongyun end up becoming friends > enemies > lovers...... it's really good I swear (continues to not write it)

#xingyun fatui au #chongyun #xingqiu #genshin impact #color #xingyun #fanart #friends to enemies to lovers #what could possibly go wrong?

222 notes · View notes

rosiemarieyn · 2 months

Text

I Don't Like You, I Love You.

pairing: Robert Fischer x Reader

Summary: Robert Fischer, who was once your childhood best friend, becomes an enemy because of you guys' parents. Ten years later, both your parents decide it would be for the best for both of you to marry and save the broken bridge between both your family.

Genre: slight angst, fluff, friends to enemies to lovers

word count: 2.1k

Note: Friends just said they dont like me lol anyways enjoy!

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Your parents' rivalry affected you guys' friendship. Both very young, playing in one of the many rooms in your parents' mansion. Roberts's father came in and without saying a word, dragged him out of the mansion. That was the last time you saw Robert.

Ten years later, here he is, sitting right in front of you with a fancy candle-lit dinner set on the table. He changed. He became just like his father. Cold, deadly eyes staring into your soul, trying to figure out what makes you attractive to him.

"So…how's life?" he muttered, annoyed at his father for arranging a dinner date with you. "Good." you mumbled while playing with the expensive steak on your plate. You looked up to meet his striking blue eyes boring into yours "You do know why we are here, right?" he said, raising his eyebrow while taking a sip from his red wine. "I'm aware." You stated softly, knowing he didn't want to marry you. "I don't like you." he made his point clear, "I know." you replied, looking down at your plate, trying to make yourself get used to the fact that you will never marry someone you love or someone who loves you.

The wedding night, the honeymoon, the passion…was all fake. Even after 5 years of marriage, both of you decided it was for the best to sleep in separate beds…

Until one night, he opened your bedroom door, standing in the doorway. You opened your eyes, groaning a little while rubbing your eyes and speaking in a husky voice "You need something?" he didn't make any noise, which made you worried and slightly anxious "Is something wrong?" you spoke again, trying to get him to say at least one word.

You sat straight and leaned against the bedframe, "I need comfort." he stated, before you could protest, he joined you under the covers, pulling you close. What's with the sudden change in mindset?" you looked up. "I think we should act more like we are married, you know?" "I thought you didn't like me" he went silent after you said that, you huffed, turning to the other side facing away from him. He looked at the top of your head, smiled softly, and kissed it.

"I don't like you, I love you."

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

#robert fischer #robert fischer x reader #robert fischer x y/n #inception #cillian murphy #cillian murphy imagine #cillian fic #cillian x reader #friends to enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #rich kids lol #gn reader

109 notes · View notes

goonflower · 2 months

Text

moodboard twelve: rejanis

characters: regina george and janis ian/imi'ike

movie: mean girls (2004) & (2024)

type: femslash

tropes: childhood friends to enemies to lovers, toxic yuri, prep x goth, opposites attract and mutual destruction

72 notes · View notes

collapsedglasshouses · 3 months

Text

PLEASE SHUT UP || Nick Ruffilo x fem!Reader [Part Two]

READ PART ONE HERE.

PICTURE FOUND ON PINTEREST

SUMMARY: This is based on a request by @yumikitten (you can read the request in part one if you want to c: )

WARNINGS: SMUT [oral sex, female receiving; fingering], MDNI, angst, fluff, nick being an asshole, enemies to lovers, ...

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @thatchickwiththecamera @cookiesupplier @jilliemiw86

A/N: Hey! I hope you're all doing well! Here's Part 2! I think I don't have much to say today. So enjoy and consider reblogging, if you liked it. (also its not really proof read im sorry) Thank youuu!

The past few days had been more than tough. Nick and Y/n were avoiding each other so much that they didn't even acknowledge one another anymore. The other guys in the group were beyond frustrated. Every sound check became a gloomy affair, with everyone in a bad mood. The frustration reached a point where the boys couldn't take it anymore, and they started making snarky comments to Nick and her.

Currently, they all sat together on the living room couch during their days off from the tour, which only made things worse since they were still living together. While the rest of the group chatted, Y/n and Nick remained silent. Normally, Y/n would have retreated to her room, but Noah insisted she should stay in the living room. He had had a sincere conversation with her about how the situation couldn't continue like this and that Nick and her needed to resolve whatever was going on between them.

The problem was Y/n had no clue what was going on in Nick's mind. She couldn't stop replaying the moment he kissed her and how she didn't immediately put a stop to it. Her thoughts were a mess, making it impossible for her to focus on anything. Despite managing not to make another mistake during their performances, everything else was chaotic, especially Nick's confusing behavior.

As Y/n took a sip from her water bottle, her attention involuntarily returned to Nick. He was looking at her, but as soon as she noticed, he averted his gaze. Y/n felt like she was about to burst. She endured the tension for another twenty minutes before sighing and deciding to call it a night.

She paid no attention to the look Noah shot her. She had reached her limit and just wanted some time alone.

“Good night, guys.” She mumbled to the boys and didn’t even wait for their responses, before she stood up and dragged herself up the stairs and straight into the bathroom. She quickly began her evening routine. She brushed her teeth and washed her face before looking in the mirror. She looked like she hadn’t slept properly in days, which was in fact true. There wasn’t a night, where she hadn’t been lying in bed, thinking about the chaotic situation she was currently in.

She sighed before looking at the laundry rack, in hopes to find a shirt she could sleep in but when she didn’t see one of her own, she just mindlessly grabbed one of the shirts hanging there and decided to wear it, like she always did. Right as she was finished changing, she turned to the door and jump in fear.

Nick was standing in the door frame, looking at her with an intense gaze.

“What the hell are you doing?” She exclaimed in surprised and hugged herself, wondering how long he had been standing there.

“Just… wanted to brush my teeth.” He mumbled. Y/n realized how this had been the first couple of words the two had exchanged since their fight. For a second, she looked at him, standing in front of the sink. He looked just as exhausted than her; strands of his messy bun falling onto his shoulders.

Y/n took a deep breath before walking to the door, but right before she left, she began to hesitate. She again looked at her former friend, her mind racing as fast as it gets.

Nick noticed her gaze while brushing his teeth, so he looked at her through the mirror. Even though every look he shot at her was kind of painful now, he tried to hold her gaze. His eyebrows shot up, wondering why she hadn’t already left, while Y/n was struggling with herself.

“Can-…” She began. “Can we talk?”

She knew she wasn't the one who should have taken the initiative, but she had Noah's voice in her head the whole time, telling her it couldn't go on like this. She knew that too. She didn't want to go on like this either.

Nick took the toothbrush out of his mouth, a brief uncertainty crossing his face. There was a momentary hesitation in his expression, as if he weighted his options before answering. His eyes flickered for a moment, before he slowly began to nod. After that he washed out his mouth. “Not here though…”

Now Y/n nodded, almost crumbling under the tension that danced between the two.

They quietly walked into Y/n’s room, trying not to catch the attention of anyone downstairs and quickly found themselves sitting on her bed. After that silence came over them again.

The room felt suffocating, the unresolved tension between the two creating a invisible barrier between the them. As they sat on the edge of the bed, the silence became more and more unbearable, each passing seconds underlining the weight of the words that seemingly wouldn’t come out.

Y/n’s gaze lingered on Nick, her eyes mirroring a mixture of frustration and longing. She couldn’t shake off the memories of that unexpected kiss and it echoed in her mind like a constant reminder of the cruel nothingness between them.

Nick shifted uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding hers. The guilt of his impulsive actions weighed heavily on him, and he felt the need to explain what was going on, but he seemingly couldn’t bring a word out.

“You know… I’m not good with words.” Nick mumbled quietly.

“Oh, really? Wouldn’t have noticed without you saying that.” Y/n answered him just as quietly.

Y/n’s heart pounded in her chest as she tried to find the right words.

“We can’t keep going on like this.” Y/n admitted, her voice almost breaking while speaking out her thoughts. “We used to be so close and now it feels like we’re literal enemies living under the same roof.”

Nick sighed; his gaze fixed on the floor. "I know," he responded, the weariness evident in his voice. "I just... I don't know how to fix this."

Y/n nodded, taking in the first nice words Nick has said to her in the last months. "Neither do I," she admitted, her eyes meeting his. "But we can't keep going on like this. It's affecting everyone, not just us."

For a moment, they locked eyes, a silent understanding passing between them. The weight of the unsaid words hung in the air, but there was a mutual recognition that something needed to change.

Silence set over them again. Y/n felt like she was going to have a heart attack. Before she could even think, the words came out of her. “I can’t stop thinking about the kiss. It keeps haunting me.”

Nick's eyes softened as he listened, realizing the impact of his actions. "I didn't mean to complicate things," he admitted. "I just... I don't know what came over me."

Ignoring his statement, Y/n finally got the question out she wanted to ask him so desperately. “What did I do to you to make you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you, Y/n.” – “Then why do you keep acting so mean towards me?”

Nick sighed, again, not knowing what to say to her. Her presence made him slowly go crazy.

Y/n swallowed hard, turning to him. “I’m willing to move past this, if you finally tell me what I did wrong, Nick.”

“You did nothing wrong.” He mumbled, trying to avoid her gaze but seemingly unable to look away. God, he loved looking at her, but it was his own fault that he wasn’t able to do so anymore. Just because he was childish enough to think everything would magically go back to normal. “I don’t know why I’m being an asshole to you.”

“See, this is where you’re lying.” – “What do you mean?” – “You know exactly why you’re doing this.”

Nick sighed again and ran a hand through his hair.

“I-…” Nick started but hesitated. When he saw Y/n shout him a reassuring gaze, he started again. “I just don’t want to ruin our friendship entirely.”

“I think you already did that, Nick.” She coldly answered him, while her insides were turning upside down. She wanted to hate him for everything he did, but every time she tried, something kept pulling her back to the vision of them being as close as they used to. Even closer.

Nick reached for Y/n’s hand and took it into his own. “I’m really sorry, Y/n. I’m really sorry what I did to you.”

“Why, Nick? Just tell me why?” She asked him, desperation laced over her gaze.

“You know what? Sometimes it is hard to look at you.” Nick blurted out, not exactly sure if she would get what he was trying to say.

“What do you mean?” Y/n asked confused, hurt written all over the face.

Nick sighed in frustration. “You know, this is exactly what I mean. I’m not good with words and I’m a fucking idiot. How am I supposed to tell you how much I love you when I’m not even able to confront these feelings myself?”

Y/n’s eyes widened. “You what?”

Nick felt his heart sank in his chest. He realized his mistake the second it slipped out. He started to panic. His mind was racing. How the fuck should he go on from that.

“What did you just say?” Y/n whispered to him, her heart almost jumping out of her chest. Everything was tingling. She didn’t even know how badly she needed to hear Nick’s words. How badly she wanted him to tell her he didn’t hate her. But hearing those words slip out of his mouth, almost let her fall to her knees.

Nick’s mouth was slightly opened, when Y/n scooted closer to him. He felt like he was going to explode. Never in his entire life he had allowed himself to be this vulnerable to anyone. Not even Noah.

Y/n was so close to him, he could almost feel her breath on his face.

“Say it again, Nick.” She pleaded with him, her knees touching his.

“I love you, Y/n… And I tried to distance myself and didn’t notice how cruel I became until it was too late.” He whispered and noticed how his eyes flickered to her lips for a second.

Y/n was going to burst into a million little pieces. Nick loved her.

Without even thinking, she sat on his lap, her arms wrapping around his neck, while his hands held her firmly by her hips.

“Say it again.” She begged again, while leaning closer to him.

“I fucking love you, Y/n.” He breathed against her lips and with that Y/n leaned in and without another word, their lips met in a tender kiss. Y/n couldn’t help but sigh. It felt like every ounce of doubt left her body when she felt his lips press against hers again. She craved him. She wanted him to be good to her so bad.

When Y/n slightly grinded on his lap, his grip on her hips became tighter and she swore she heard a soft tone escape his lips. Even though they both felt like they were going to suffocate any minute, neither of them dared to pull away.

Nick’s hands squeezed her waist softly while he licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance that she granted. Their tongues danced in a slow and passionate way. He bit her lip, causing her to moan softly. Y/n’s hands roamed into his hair, tugging on it gently.

When they finally pulled away, it wasn’t for long. For a short second they stared into each other’s eyes, both filled with lust and desperation.

Almost immediately Nick sank his head and kissed down her neck, causing Y/n to breathe heavily. Everything tingled. She couldn’t form a straight thought. All she could think about was Nick and how he told her he loved her.

She felt him smile against her skin as he sucked the flesh on her neck until he left a mark. He needed to make sure to never let go of her again.

“Did you notice you grabbed my shirt from the rack?” He whispered against her skin, making her shift a bit to look down on herself. She shook her head, to flustered to form words.

“I like it on you.” He whispered and peppered small kisses on her cheeks. “But I think I’ll like it even better on the floor.”

Nick didn’t need to tell Y/n twice and with a swift motion she pulled the shirt over her head. Nick almost moaned at the sight of her naked body. He couldn’t believe she was sitting on him, only wearing her panties. He was rock hard. This was literal dream material to him.

“You are so so beautiful.” He whispered while caressing her breasts. Y/n took a shaky breath when his lips travelled from her neck to her collarbone and eventually to her breasts; slightly biting on her nipples. Y/n felt like this was a dream. It couldn’t be real. Not even a day ago, they couldn’t even look at each other and now she wanted nothing else but to feel him.

Her hands landed on his long hair again. God, did she love his hair.

“Gosh, Nick.” She moaned out, causing Nick to cover her mouth with one of his hands.

“We don’t want the others to hear us, do we?” He mumbled, looking her directly into her eyes. She slowly nodded. “Good. Be good for me, alright?”

She nodded again, feeling heat shoot to her core.

With a swift motion, he laid her on her bed, not letting go of her. His kisses started to travel down her stomach. When he arrived at her hip bone, he looked up at her again. “Is that okay?”

Y/n nodded.

“Use your words, Y/n. I need to be sure this is okay.”

“Gosh, Nick. Yes. Please.” She whined, wiggling with anticipation under his grip.

Nick laughed sweetly, before pulling down her underwear. Then the kisses began again. She felt like her skin was burning as Nick kissed along her hip bone before slowly moving down to her thighs. He was now fully kneeing in front of the bed, getting a perfect view of her wet folds.

He peppered soft kisses along her thighs and here and there she felt him sucking on her skin, making sure to leave marks that he could admire later. Y/n felt how she slowly grew impatient, whining and wiggling in his grip, but Nick didn’t let that happen. He was going to take his time with her.

His hands travelled to her hips, holding her steady against the mattress as his tongue licked its way to her core. He only let go of her with one hand, to let his fingers feather over her folds for a second. Right as Y/n was about to protest again, he attached his mouth to her clit.

Y/n quickly covered her mouth with her hand to muffle the piercing moan that threatened to escape her throat. It felt so good, she was sure she wasn’t going to last long but she was so concentrated on not alert her other friends downstairs that she didn’t dare to speak up.

When she felt surer, she wouldn’t just full-on scream, she whined out. “Nick… Fuck. It feels so fucking good.” Y/n didn’t even realize how bad she had needed Nick to touch her. It felt like he was made to be between her legs.

Nick moaned against her core because of her statement. The vibrations of his voice made her thighs tremble.

Right when Y/n felt like it couldn’t get any better, he slowly inserted his fingers into her. She gripped the bedsheets so hard, she feared she would rip them.

She wasn’t even able to tell him how close she was when the waves of her orgasm already started to wash over her. She bit her lip so hard while shaking uncontrollable under his touch, trying to contain her moans.

She felt how his hand drew small circles on her hips, while he slowly pulled his fingers out of her. She looked at him, still not able to control her breathing, just in time to see how he licked his fingers clean of her arousal.

She leaned up on her elbows and shortly after, Nick and her lips met in a sweet kiss. She could taste herself on him and felt like she was going to crumble again. She couldn’t really process the events evolving in front of her, but she knew she wanted to stay like this forever.

This was when she noticed Nick’s hard cock against her naked thigh. While still kissing him, one of her hands started to travel down his body but before she could even reach his hardened member, he grabbed her wrist softly.

“I wanna help you, Nick.” She nearly whined out, desperate to get even closer to him, but Nick shook his head. “No, Y/n. This, right here, is all about you.”

He placed a kiss on her forehead. “I have to make up for the bullshit I fabricated over the last couple of months.”

Y/n looked into his blue eyes that she had been admiring since the second she had laid eyes on him. She felt how her heart warmed at the sight of him. He was looking at her like he used to, but now she could grasp what the emotions were behind his eyes. He admired her with such a deep love in his eyes, she felt like she was going to collapse.

This was when she noticed something.

“Nick?” – “Yeah?” – “I didn’t say it back.” – “You didn’t have to.”

With that he kissed her again, all their emotions flowing between them. She caressed his cheek for a second, before he pulled away again. His pupils were dilated again. “Now… Let me show you just how sorry I am.”

Y/n knew she wasn’t going to sleep much that night…

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #collapsedglasshouseswrites #nick ruffilo x you #nick ruffilo x reader #nick ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction #nicholas ruffilo fic #nicholas ruffilo fanfic #nicholas ruffilo x reader #bad omens rpf #enemies to lovers #friends to enemies to lovers

76 notes · View notes