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havecourage-darling · 1 year

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I've always been yours // Eddie Munson

Prompt: "I think... I'm in love with him.” "Congrats on being the last one to find out" + the 5 ways to say I love you without saying I love you.

wc: 14K (I'm learning what brevity means y'all)

warnings: female reader, some implied sexual stuff towards the end but not really ish, friends-to-lovers, oblivious idiots in love, the beginnings of rockstar eddie.

Masterlist || AO3

1. Covering sharp edges with their hands, so you don’t get hurt.

You were going to get Max’s birthday cake absolutely perfect even if it fucking killed you, you thought to yourself as your arm ached the harder you mixed the batter.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help Nov?” Eddie asked again.

Pushing the hair out of your eyes with the back of your wrist, you huffed. “I’m okay. I think I adjusted the recipe perfectly this time. I just need to make sure there’s no lumps or the chocolate won’t-”

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU WHEELER!” You heard Dustin yell from the basement.

Eddie snorted. “Ten bucks on Mike,” he said from his place on the counter.

“I’m telling Dustin you said that,” you said, turning from your batter and shooting him a playful look over your shoulder.

He clasped his imaginary pearls dramatically. “Fair maiden, you dare betray our sacred friendship?”

Not able to keep your laugh down, you shook your head. Loud stomping alerted you to the shift of location of whatever fight was happening.

“Do not come into the kitchen with your shit!” You shouted.

Dustin’s voice floated in from the living room. “But Mike-”

“But Mike nothing!” You shouted. “You two shitheads work it out!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” Mike shouted, grunting right after. “Ow! Dustin!”

Eddie immediately huffed out laughter. “I’d listen to her, she’s on her fifth batch. Her face is getting whiter and whiter with each cake.”

Your hand flew up to your face, fingers coming back dusted in flour. Turning your glare to his grinning face, you rolled your eyes. “You couldn’t have told me?”

“And ruin how cute you look with all that flour on your face?” Eddie said, nonchalantly going back to the book in his hands. Doing your best to ignore the flustered expression you knew was growing on your face, you turned back to the batter. Eddie always managed to draw out reactions from you, you were sure that was the main reason why he kept doing it.

I like unnerving you he’d said. Asshole, you thought fondly, glancing at him. A good chunk of flour dusted down towards your hands at the motion. Christ, how much flour was on your face?

“I’m going to slap you the second I put this into a pan,” you threatened, trying to get it all off.

Eddie’s grin morphed into something more. “Promises, promises,” he winked.

And there went the butterflies in your stomach.

You opened your mouth to say something else when a blur of curly hair, black shirts, and a flying white shoe flung the kitchen door open.

“Guys,” Eddie warned, placing his book down.

“For fuck’s sake, what’s wrong now?” You said, putting the bowl down onto the kitchen island and stepping towards them with your hands on your hips.

Dustin was the quickest to speak up. “He borrowed the comic that I just managed to get and got it wet!”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” Mike shouted back. “I swear, Holly was eating at the table and spilled her soda!”

“Likely story!” Dustin snapped, eyes narrowing. “You’re doing it because I accidentally broke your figurines last week. I didn’t want to hit that pothole and go flying!”

“For the love of- it wasn’t on purpose!”

Dustin’s arms swung out and Mike darted left to avoid being hit. Before they could even crash together, you knew exactly what was going to happen.

As if in slow motion, you watched as Dustin shoved Mike’s arm into the mixing bowl. Without much prompting, your perfect batter, went tumbling off the island and flew with a vengeance in a million different directions. The opened bag of flour next to it, toppled right after it.

The silence as the bowl wobbled to a stop was painful. You blinked, shocked for a few seconds and nodded dumbly.

Well, that hurt more than the demobats clawing at your neck in the Upside Down.

“I’m going to rip your spines out and play jump rope with it,” you said calmly, eye twitching, at Mike and Dustin. The flour was splattered everywhere, including your new vans and the crevices no one was ever able to clean in the cracks of the linoleum.

The two idiots shuffled closer to the door. At least they had the decency to look somewhat mortified. Before you could go through with your threat, Eddie’s hands came down to their necks and they both winced.

“Dudes, not cool,” he said, voice uncharacteristically serious. “She said don’t come into the kitchen for a reason. Now she’s gotta wait until you two assholes clean this all up before starting again.”

“Wha-” “But!”

Their protests quickly died down when he smacked them in the back of their heads.

“You break it, you fix it,” he said.

Hiding a smile, you rounded the island towards the rag by the sink and sighed. “Try to hurry, I want to get this decorated before midnight,” you said to the two apologetic teens who were already moving towards the mess.

Pushing the door out into the dining room you tried your best not to trek batter anywhere. Swiping the rag down your face and hair to get rid of any remaining flour you leaned down to help save your vans.

A sudden hand flying out towards your face made you flinch back. Falling onto your butt, you groaned as your hip smacked into the leg of the table.

Eddie shook his head, a soft expression on his face. Your eyes trailed down to where his hand was curled around the corner of the dining table. “Did I almost go face first into that?” You asked from where you were sprawled.

“Yeah, Nova, you almost cracked your skull,” he said, huffing a laugh. “I’d tell you to be more careful but it’d be a waste of breath.” Eddie tugged the rag out your hand and sat down by your feet.

“I-I am insulted.” The indignation cancelled out by the stammering. Eddie had picked up one of your, now dirty, sneakers and plopped it into his lap. He went about meticulously cleaning the chocolate off. “I can do that. You don’t have to-”

His brown eyes darted up to yours, silencing you. “I know I don’t have to; I want to.”

Mildly surprised, and a little flustered by his earnest tone, you nodded dumbly. By the time he was done, there was a pink tinge to his cheeks that you found stupidly endearing.

“There you go fair maiden. Good as new.” He bowed, dropping the rag onto the table. He offered his hand and pulled you up with a firm grip.

Warmth bloomed in your chest at the sight of his wide smile and soft gaze. “Thanks Eddie,” you said, smiling up at him.

He tossed an arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the kitchen. “Come on, let’s go give them a little more hell,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

Not one to resist, you beamed up at him and nodded. “Dibs on Mike,” you said, laughing when he did.

2. Covering you with a blanket when you look cold.

You met Eddie when you were in middle school but, you hadn’t really become friends until freshman year of high school. You were a cheerleader, one of the few freshmen on the team, and you’d caught Tommy Hagan cornering Eddie in a hallway.

You hadn’t hesitated at the sight of the stupid bully and had thrown your pompoms at his head. With a promise of a Herkie to the face, Tommy and his entourage had left you alone.

“Are you okay?” You asked him, bending over to pick up your tossed pompoms.

Eddie, however, hadn’t looked like he was two seconds away from being shoved into a locker. He was beaming. At you.

“What?” You asked, looking around at the empty hallway. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No, I just…didn’t ever think that my knight in shining armor would be a cheerleader,” he said, tone teasing.

Biting back a smile, you crossed your arms. “Why? Because we’re vapid and only care about our hair?” You cocked your hip.

“No,” Eddie said, straightening, “I swear, that’s not what I-”

Not able to help it, you burst out into laughter. “I’m fucking with you,” you said, hiding your laugh behind your hand. “I know Tommy’s little sister and she basically rules his household. He knows not to mess with her.”

Eddie smiled and you’d realized that he had a really nice smile. With a flourish, he bowed. “Well, I’m in your debt knight.”

Scrunching your nose, you shook your head. “Not a fan of the nickname?” He asked, starting towards the exit doors. Walking backwards, he drifted closer to you. “What about Nova?”

“What?” You laughed, surprised. “How’d you go from Knight to Nova?”

“Well, you’re my knight in shining armor – what’s brighter than a supernova?”

Throwing your head back, your laugh echoed down the hallway. You’d quickly become friends.

“Novaaaa, come on,” Eddie groaned, flopping down onto the sofa, “just pick a movie.” Clearly, almost a decade later, the nickname had stuck.

“Don’t rush me!” You told him, eyeing the three tapes in front of you. “Which one do you want to watch?”

Eddie’s head lolled back around to you and he smiled. “It’s your turn to pick,” he reminded you.

“I know, but-”

“Just put on Grease,” Eddie said, voice muffled by the pillow. You were about to protest, what an absolutely rude assumption, when a knock echoed from Eddie’s front door. “Pizza’s here. Pick a movie!”

Sighing, knowing that he’d had a bad week, you pushed Indiana Jones into the VCR. The smell of hot pizza wafted over to you and your stomach immediately roared – reminding you that you hadn’t had enough time to eat before your shift.

“Alright, alright, I heard you,” Eddie said, motioning to your stomach. He brought the box over, handing you some water and frowned at the television. “What’s this?”

“Indianamph Jonesah,” you said, around a mouthful of steaming pizza. You were going to miss your tastebuds but goddamn if it wasn’t a great mouthful.

Eddie rolled his eyes, pulled the tape out and shoved Grease in. Dodging your flailing arm, he dropped to the floor by the coffee table, his shoulder brushing your knee.

The opening music started and you found your eyes drawn to the screen. “What the hell?”

“I got that because I know you like to watch one of the same five movies after a long shift,” he said, picking up his own slice.

“But-”

He bumped your leg with his shoulder. “It was your turn to pick, I promise – I don’t mind. Besides, it’s starting to grow on me. It’s definitely better than Overboard.”

“Hey, that’s a good movie!”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Right, and I’m Ozzy Osbourne.”

“Well,” you said with a smile growing, “you had the chance to bite off a bat’s head but you wasted that opportunity.”

Choking on his mouthful of pizza, Eddie laughed and shot you a soft look. “I’m glad my brush with death is something you can laugh about now.”

“Yeah, well, it’s been almost a year. Thought it was about time we all started joking about almost dying,” you said, “besides, Max started it.”

“I’ve never met another person with such morbid humor,” Eddie said, eyes following Danny and Sandy as they kissed on the beach. A flash of something shot through you but you ignored it.

You shrugged despite the fact that you knew he couldn’t see it. “I’m kinda proud of her for having it,” you said, bopping your head to the music you knew by heart.

I solve my problems and I see the light

We gotta loving thing, we gotta feed it right

Eddie turned to you suddenly, his eyes shifting. “Yeah, I’m proud of all of us.”

You grinned at him, dropping your plate onto the table and getting comfortable on Eddie’s couch. It was one of his better purchases – Wayne had chosen to accept the new trailer the state had bought him while Eddie had moved into a small one bedroom downtown. It made more sese considering it was close to the music store you both worked at.

“I’m not pausing the movie if you knock out,” he warned as you fluffed the pillow behind your head.

“I’m not going to fall asleep, when am I ever the one who knocks out first?”

Eddie shot you a look. “Did you want me to bring out a list or?”

Smacking the back of his head, he ducked and laughed when you half missed your target. “Alright, alright, I’m missing the good stuff.”

“I knew you liked this movie,” you said, nudging him with your knee. Eddie shot you a withering glare, or he tried to, because you laughed at his attempt. Amused, his eyes drifted to over your head and you were about to turn when something dropped into your lap.

Eddie pulled the crocheted blanket over your legs and let it pool around your waist. The black and white blanket had been gifted to Eddie by Robin. She’d decided she was going to learn to crochet last year and spent the entire months leading up to Christmas lost in her projects. Your green scarf was hanging with your jacket by the door. You loved this blanket and you knew Eddie did too – it was always draped across the sofa for easy access.

“My place gets cold at night,” he said at your questioning look, “you know that. Besides, you’ll make it an hour before knocking out.”

The sweet gesture was overshadowed by his smug look and your hand jutted out to hit any part of him you could reach. “I’m not going to fall asleep.”

Both of you went back and forth, poking fun, and as you watched Danny ignore Sandy for Cha-Cha, you heard Eddie snort.

“What?” You asked, tapping your fingers along to the beat.

“I just always thought it was funny how he leaves her behind, he just goes with it,” he said.

You pointed to the cameras. “They’re on live television,” you explained sleepily.

“So?” Eddie raised his brow. “Are you defending him?”

“Of course not!” Why was this couch so comfortable? The blanket moved around you, warm hands tucking it over your shoulders and sighing when you snuggled into it.

Eddie’s knowing smile went a little fuzzy around the edges as your eyes felt harder and harder to keep open. Before you could formulate a comeback, the exhaustion of the day pulled you under. As you were entirely lost to the world, you heard Eddie murmur, “I would never leave you behind.”

3. Holding your hand when you’re falling apart.

Four years of cheerleading practice had not prepared you for what it truly meant to run for your life. Not really.

It stood to reason that you’d really never had to run from an interdimensional monster before – up until your employment at The Gap. Honestly, it was The Gap’s fault.

You’d met Robin at the first Hawkins Middle School band practice as small seventh graders. Her mom had told her she needed to get a job for the summer and she’d dragged you along with her. She had gotten hired at Scoops Ahoy and, in your defense, who was going to say no to a daily free ice cream? So, if you really thought about it – it was Scoop’s fault. And Robin’s.

The moment you saw Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington behind the counter, you should’ve turned the other way. But no, Robin was absolutely sure he’d changed. You snorted. Sure, he’d changed. Having all your friends drop you towards the end of your senior year would humble anyone. You’d been close enough to the source when the downfall of The Hair happened. It hadn’t been pretty. Especially after Nancy Wheeler decided to stick by Jonathan.

While he hadn’t been one of the few who liked to remind you of your low spot on the totem pole, he definitely wasn’t Mother Theresa. You’d seen how his friends treated Eddie’s friends – people who they deemed outcasts. Eddie had only been mostly spared because you two were practically fused at the hip. Besides, he knew that Nancy liked you – the two of you had hung out before considering you’d both been close friends with Barb. While you and her weren’t best friends, you knew he didn’t want to mess with anyone Nancy liked. Which, really, made him a selfish, self-centered asshole. And anyway, you’d seen what he’d spray painted onto the theater header.

It wasn’t until you saw him with Dustin, one of your favorite neighbors, that you’d conceded. How could someone who clearly held a middle schooler up to such high standards be that bad? Besides, Dustin was a kid – but you trusted him. Robin, of course, still held that against you to this day.

To be fair, Steve himself hadn’t won you over until he’d taken hit after hit to keep you and Robin as safe as possible. Russians in a secret lab under Starcourt injecting you with truth serum was not something you’d had on your 1985 bingo card.

You still remembered how Steve had grabbed each of your wrists so tightly that it’d taken weeks for the bruises to fade. He’d practically tossed you both under a massive table when the Mind Flayer had landed mid-food court. Robin clutched at your shoulders, Steve a steadying presence behind you.

He’d waited, for hours, as the EMTs cleared all of you outside the burning mall. And while you’d hoped that this was the last time any of your friends, new or old, had tried to save you – clearly that had been wishful thinking.

The muscles in your arms burned as you hauled yourself through the gate. Breath knocked out of you as you landed on your back, you glanced up to see Eddie’s hands stilling on the makeshift rope.

“Come on!” Dustin screamed. “Eddie come on!”

A flash of something crossed his expression and you knew. You knew he was going to do something stupid.

“Eddie!” You screamed, voice cracking in your desperation. His wide eyes struck yours and you knew the moment he’d decided. “Don’t you fucking dare! Edward Munson, you listen to me right now. Climb this fucking rope.”

“I’m sorry Nov,” he said, staring up at you with a sad smile. Without thinking, you scrambled to throw yourself down the gate but the rope dropped by your feet, cut from the source. “I love you. Take care of Dustin,” he said, eyes sincere and apologetic.

“Eddie!” You both screamed, voices hoarse.

Panic clawed at your chest. You couldn’t breathe – he was…he was going to get himself fucking killed. Spurring into action, Dustin pushed you aside as he grunted from the effort of pushing the dining table towards the middle of the room. “Come on! Those things will kill him, we gotta get back!”

Not one to be told twice, you shoved a few pieces of furniture on top of the table for good measure. You climbed up to the gate, barely able to touch the edges. Adrenaline rushed through you as you looked down to Dustin. “Give me a boost, I can almost reach it!”

Without hesitating, Dustin kneeled, hands on your calves and you used his knee to hoist yourself up. You didn’t have much time to adjust yourself but you channeled every tumbling move you’d ever done and tried to tuck and roll. Mostly successful, you only winced as your shoulder collided painfully with the metal chair.

“Okay, I’ll be right back!”

“You can’t just fucking leave me here!” Dustin shouted. You pointed up at him with all the authority you could muster.

“Try to tie more sheets together, the others will need help climbing through when they come back,” you glared at him, “don’t do anything stupid Henderson.”

Not waiting for a response, you kicked the trailer door open and scanned the field. A tornado of bats and a loud, heartbreaking, scream cut through you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, you fucking idiot,” you said, panicking as you ran. You watched as the bats took turns diving for him, his spear barely keeping them back.

“Come on!” He screamed into the eye of the storm. Because of course he did. The idiot. You willed your legs to run faster, to just get you there so you could help. Then, they struck. Eddie’s hands whipped up to his throat and you watched him slam into the floor.

“Eddie!” You screamed, throat raw, but it was drowned out by the screeching bats. A flash of Billy being impaled, lifted into the air, and thrown like a ragdoll bubbled up to your consciousness. No, please, you begged, not Eddie, not him.

Slowing as you neared, you pulled the gun from around your shoulders and squared them like Hopper had taught you. The shots echoed despite the chaos, your blood rushing through your body. “Get away from him!” You shrieked, fighting your way through the opening you’d created.

You slipped on the unmoving body of the ones you’d shot down and slid directly into an motionless Eddie. Covering his body with your own, you raised your gun as they swooped down. Almost out of bullets, you’d just hit another when one managed to swipe you from the side – claws digging into your skin. Screaming, you waved the gun like Steve’s bat and swatted as many as you could out the air.

Shit, you couldn’t keep this up. There were too many.

Then, as if puppets that were cut, they all dropped to the floor. One slammed into your bad shoulder painfully and you cried out.

“Nov?”

The weak voice was like beacon and you quickly slid to the ground. You weren’t going to question your good luck. Pulling the leather jacket off his chest your heart dropped down next to the dead demobats and you immediately started to cry.

“That bad huh?” He joked, voice wet as blood poured out his mouth.

“You absolute fucking asshole. You dickhead,” you berated him as you tied your own cargo jacket around the gash in his stomach. Rising to your knees, you quickly pulled your belt off your waist and made a tourniquet around his upper thigh. Your hands were drenched in blood and you forced the bile down. Focus, you need to stop the bleeding. You needed to get him back to the trailer, you yelled at yourself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Eddie’s weak hand came up to your forearm and your heart creaked as the cracks deepened. “It’ll be okay.”

“No it won’t you fucking moron, you’re my best friend – I – can’t watch you die. I won’t,” you said, hauling him onto your lap. You tried to stand but your shoulder immediately gave and you both crashed to the ground.

A sob wrenched it’s way out your throat, helpless and willing your shoulder to work. Just this time, please, please, you begged.

“Nova,” Eddie’s voice trailed off, weaker than before.

Cradling his stupid face, your hands left streaks of blood on his pale skin. Shaking, your fingers caressed his jaw. The brown eyes, more familiar to you than your own, slowly started to fade.

“Eddie, stay with me, someone’s coming okay – it’s going to be okay,” you said, entire body clinging to his.

“I-I told you this was my year,” he said, blood tricking down. His unseeing eyes searched for you, like they always did, and you realized that you wouldn’t survive this. Eddie was going to fade from existence, the entire town thinking him a murderer, and this would finally be the storm that broke you.

“I can’t live without you,” you stammered, words bubbling up in rapid succession, you had things you needed to say – stuff you needed to do with him still. You were supposed to have time – it wasn’t supposed to end this way. Jaw aching as you bit down your anguish, you pressed a kiss to his forehead and he sighed. “Eddie, please,” you begged, unashamed and desperate.

Take me, you begged the dark skies that mocked you, anyone but him.

“I l-love-” he gagged, choking on his own blood and you pressed your forehead against his.

“Sh, sh, it’s okay, I’m here Eddie. I’m here. I know. Me too,” you said, tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Sorry you weren’t fast enough, sorry you couldn’t save him, sorry for having to be the one to watch him die. Eddie’s hand came up to your wrist, squeezing once before dropping limp.

The silence around you was deafening. No, no, no, no.

You screamed, anguished, and the pain unbearable. Anger coursed through you, mixing with your overwhelming grief. It crashed into you from all angles, its hands grabbing onto you and pulling you under. Your throat hurt but you couldn’t stop screaming, all of you couldn’t stop screaming in the unfairness of it all.

“Eddie?” A voice shouted through the darkness. You whipped your head up, searching through the night for the voice.

“Steve?” You called out tentatively, hand reaching for your discarded gun. Was this a trick? You scanned your surroundings, vision blurry. No, you steeled yourself, this place had already taken everything from you – they couldn’t have his body too.

Swinging the gun towards the quick footsteps, you ignored your trembling arms.

“Hey, hey! Wait, it’s me,” Steve said, hands up. He stepped in front of Robin, his eyes on the still body behind you.

Eyes wild, you blinked away your constant tears, and loosened the hold on your gun. “Stevie?”

“It’s me, it’s me – I promise,” he said, hand coming out to take your shotgun. Handing it to Nancy, he pulled you into his arms. “What happened?” He winced when he saw your skin bleeding sluggishly.

“Eddie?” Robin whispered, dropping to her knees beside him.

Willing yourself to keep it together you nodded towards the house. “What happened?”

“He’s dead, we got him – Nance got him. It’s over.”

Feeling weak, you leaned on Nancy’s outstretched arm and watched as Steve dropped to examine him.

“He’s – he – cut the rope – I tried, my shoulder – it, oh God,” you said, scrambling towards the nearest wall and throwing up everything in your stomach. A warm hand came up to your back, rubbing it back and forth until your heaving stopped.

“I got you,” Nancy said, “I’m here, it’s okay. I’m here for you.”

He was dead. Eddie was gone. Nothing would ever be okay again.Your blood-soaked hands reached out and she clasped them. Eyes on yours, strong and steady, she nodded. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

“Nance,” your voice sounded warped. “I tried.”

She shushed you, bringing your arm over her shoulders and taking most of your weight as you crumbled. You watched as Robin and Steve grabbed him, moving quickly towards the trailer.

“What? Where are you going?” Nancy shouted.

Robin grunted under the weight as she climbed the steps. “He’s got a pulse! The tourniquets are holding! We gotta move fast!”

Coincidentally, the nearest hospital to Forest Park was at the town line one over. Robin had assured you that since it wasn’t Hawkins, they weren’t likely to recognize him instantly. Worry for Max joined your overwhelming weight as you glanced at the destruction the earthquake had wreaked. “Do you think he got her?” You asked, voice barely audible.

“I killed him as the clock was chiming,” Nancy said, “it only rang three times. I’ll call when we get to the hospital – they’ll be okay. We’re all okay. We have to be.”

After admitting Eddie, a concerned nurse offered you a pair of scrubs to change into. Glancing down at your clothes, you realized you were covered in blood. Eddie’s blood.

Tearing up, her eyes had softened incredibly and she helped you wash it off. “It’ll all work out honey, you’ll see,” she whispered as the blood dribbled down the drain. You’d barely felt the needle as she stitched the claw marks on your chest and neck.

It’d taken an hour of arguing but you promised the others you could keep it together for the night as they drove back to Hawkins to figure out what was going on. Robin had kissed the top of your now clean hair, and clasped her hands with yours. “I will be back as soon as I can, okay? As fast as I can.” The fierceness in her tone had your eyes tearing up again and she hugged you tightly.

Five hours after being admitted, with no news, you received the second shock of the night.

“Hopper?” You sputtered, almost bowled over to see the ghost of your old Chief of police.

Head shaved, a few pounds lighter, but the smile that came from hearing your voice was just the same. “Hey kid,” he said, bringing you into a tight hug.

It took another hour, and the arrival of just about everyone you knew, for a nurse to let you know that Eddie had stabilized. They’d needed to operate to stop the internal bleeding, he’d needed a few blood transfusions and was placed into a medically induced coma, but he’d be alright.

“He’s…he’ll be okay?” You asked, not willing to cling onto any false hope.

The nurse from earlier stepped forward, her kind eyes wrinkled as she smiled. “Yeah, honey, he’ll be okay.”

Swallowing back your tears, you pulled her into a hug. “Thank you.”

Two hours later, while you sat glued to his side, Hopper let you know that Eddie was cleared of all charges.

“Do you want to know?” He asked.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him for the first time in the last twelve hours. The sun peaked out from the horizon, drenching Eddie’s dark room in a warm orange light. “I don’t care how. Just – thank you.”

Hopper ruffled your hair and you leaned into his touch like cat arching for more affection. “They’ll want your statement but not until a few days from now. As far as you know, you were over Robin’s with Steve for the entire night. Her neighbor, Mrs. Matthews has already said she could corroborate your alibi.”

Smiling, you nodded. “I don’t even want to know what the U.S. government had on her.”

“You don’t,” he agreed.

It took Eddie another day to wake up. Wayne had finally convinced you to go get something to eat, I won’t leave his side sweetheart, I promise.

You balanced the two coffees in your hand as you pushed open the door to Eddie’s room. Surprised to see the entire party surrounded by the bed, you blinked, a little taken aback.

Dustin was the first to catch your eye, his grin so wide it almost split his face in two. “Eddie’s awake!” Your eyes darted to the bed, the man in it grinning up at a tearful Wayne.

“You absolute asshole,” you hissed, not able to keep it down.

The party laughed, Steve shaking his head. “Hi Nova,” Eddie said, voice hoarse, and you felt your stomach swoop as those eyes met yours. “I’m sorry.”

“You better be,” you said, handing Wayne his coffee. He promised to be back, wanting to speak to the doctor. The moment the door closed; chaos reigned. Everyone talked over each other and you watched, amused. Sipping your coffee, you smacked Lucas’ shoulder as he made fun of something Mike said.

Steve’s whistle was loud enough to pierce several eardrums and you winced. “One at time! The man just woke up from a coma.”

“Medically induced coma,” Mike clarified.

You fought the urge to smack him too.

Despite the severity of what brought Eddie to the hospital, after a week – he was given the all clear. The party was at Eddie’s new trailer, decorating the larger space for his homecoming. You’d been tasked to watch over the patient. You’d arrived early, still not entirely able to have him out of your sights for too long. As you popped your head in, you realized he was asleep.

Dropping into the comfortable chair next to his bed, you set yourself up for waiting. In the past week and a half, you hadn’t managed to find a moment alone with Eddie. There was always a party member at his bedside at all times. Or a band member. Or a parent.

Eddie’s room had quickly become well known for the noise and chattering that spilled out into the hallways. At its absence, you realized you didn’t know what to do.

Smacking his lips, Eddie’s head moved towards the door, eyes still closed. As he shifted, you caught sight of the large bandage by his neck. The purple bruising on his arms looked painful and your chest clenched at the sight of them.

It seemed that before you could decide for yourself, the silence swallowed you whole. Bringing you hand up to your lips, you tried to silence your sobs. Chest heaving with the effort, you buried your face into your hands and cried. The last week of pushing everything down and resolving to deal with it later had finally caught up to you.

Everyone has their reckoning, you were reminded. This was yours.

A warm hand came up to your shoulder, the bandaged one, and softly caressed where the tape adhered to your skin. “Hey you,” he said, sleep clinging to the corner of his knowing gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, trying to push it back down but there was no use. Pandora’s box had been opened. Turning from him, you caught sight of his frown. His pained grunt made you whip back to him and you almost tripped over your own feet as you rushed to help. Eddie’s expression was twisted as he sat up, sweat beading at his temples.

“Lie down, you psychopath,” you said once the lump in your throat let you speak. “The bed will move for you! You just had surgery on your side for fuck’s sake.” You ducked your head, trying to avoid his eyes as you adjusted the bed to his liking.

Stubborn as always, Eddie tapped your forearm. “Don’t hide from me, not you,” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. Giving in, you let your blurry sight find his and he sighed. “Nova, you should’ve told me.”

“Told you what?” You said through desperate inhales.

“That you’d been bottling it up – come here,” he said. You wished you could climb into the bed with him but you couldn’t, his incision still very off limits to movement. You were trying to decide where to touch, when he decided for you. His right hand opened, fingers wiggling towards you. “Come on.”

Interlocking your fingers with his, relishing in the touch, you pressed the back of his hand to your cheek. His pulse beat against yours, alive – wondrously and beautifully alive. This, this was what you needed. A moment to lose it before rearranging the bricks of your mental foundation back in place. The image of him, eyes unseeing, bubbled to the surface and despair twisted it’s venomous grip around your lungs.

Choking, you let the sob come out unbidden. Not sure you could stop it if you wanted to, you let the tears drown you. Weeping, you whimpered as you accepted what could’ve been. What you would’ve had to watch. The fact that you would’ve had something so important ripped from your grasp.

He's okay, you thought, he’s alive.

“I’m here,” he said, his voice a quiet echo of Nancy’s lost words. “I’m here. I got you.” After a few minutes, your chest stopped heaving and you could take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” you told him, a little embarrassed. “Thank you.”

“No, I’m sorry,” he said, pulling your hand from your face and towards his own. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles and you blinked at him.

“Why are you sorry?” Christ, you were a mess. He’d been in a coma for two days and he was comforting you. He’d almost died and you were too weak to be strong for your friend.

“I’m sorry for leaving you,” he said, “I’m sorry that you had to be the one I left behind. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry that you had to see me like that. I’m sorry for hurting you even if I’d do it again if it meant you were safe. It was scary and I’m sorry for doing that to you, no matter how important it was that I did it.”

His thumb caressed your hand and you bit back the tears that wanted to wail out to the world that you’d almost lost something that couldn’t be replaced. But the silence that fell was comforting, a soft and easy kind. One that didn’t need to be filled and his pulse was a balm soothing your raw panic.

And yet -

“Don’t leave me here alone. It’s your Sam calling,” you said, eyes on his. A small real, smile broke out on his face and he squeezed your hand.

Despite the bandages across his jaw, and the wince of pain as he shifted, you hadn’t seen someone look so beautiful.

“Don’t go where I can’t follow, wake up Mr. Frodo,” Eddie whispered and you beamed at him.

4. Telling you to call them so they know you got home safe.

“For fuck’s sake,” you hissed, rubbing your temples as you watched Robin hop on top of a bar table to dance.

Eddie’s laughter hit your ear and you shivered at the warmth. “Come on Nov, she looks like she’s having fun,” he said, chest pressed against your back. Tucking his chin over your shoulder, you finally waved down the bartender.

“Can I have another club soda please?” You asked, handing her the money. She nodded, eyes drifting to Eddie and smiling.

“You two are a really cute couple,” she said, sliding the glass towards you.

Opening your mouth to correct her, Eddie beat you to it. “Thank you!” At your glance, he shrugged. “It’s easier to go along with.”

Something in your chest tightened at the thought but you shrugged. “Jesus, Eddie, can you bring her down? She’s going to end up falling and cracking her neck.”

Eddie sighed, his warm hand coming up to squeeze your waist. “We really need to stop promising to be the babysitters,” he said, lips brushing against your temple before leaving to drag a protesting Robin off the sticky table.

“Hey,” a guy to your left said, his hair long and pin straight.

You turned to him, not wanting to be rude but also not wanting to make it look like you were welcoming any type of flirting. Eddie already had to shove a creep with a persistent attitude off of Nancy. “Hi,” you said, taking a sip of your drink.

“Sorry to bother you,” he said, a little too quiet for the noise level inside, “but is that the lead singer of Corroded Coffin?”

Relief flooded through you and your shoulders dropped. “Yeah, that’s him.”

“Holy shit, I saw his band last month when he was the opening act for Riot Act. I’m a big fan! They’ve got a great sound,” he said awed. “Sorry! I’m Jack.”

“Hey, I’m-”

“-here with someone,” Eddie’s voice floated over your shoulder and towards the straightening man on the stool.

A little surprised by Eddie’s furrowed expression, and practically thrown by the small ember of something in your spine at his serious tone, you placed a hand on his and smiled up at him. “This is Jack, he’s a fan of Corroded Coffin’s.”

Eddie’s expression completely transformed, a wide smile overtaking the sharp look in his eyes. “Oh man, thanks! Sorry, you know how these bars can get.”

“Yeah,” Jack said, brightening, “totally! Are you guys going to be playing somewhere else soon? I heard a few people say you might be going to Sold Out in Indianapolis!”

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck and you could tell he was flustered by the pink tinge to his neck. “We are! We’re going to be there for a few weekends for the next couple months. We start sometime in the summer. Still ironing out a few details.”

“That’s great! I’m sorry for asking but, do you mind signing something for me?” Jack asked, excitement growing his eyes.

Both of you thrown, you felt your own giddiness build in your chest. “He’d love to,” you answered for a stunned Eddie. “In fact, the entire band is here tonight. You’ll have to excuse everyone else – we’re the designated drivers. They might be a little drunk.”

At the promise of more autographs, Jack straightened. “Holy shit, yeah that’d be amazing. Thank you so much,” he stammered, grabbing a clear napkin from behind the bar and pulling a pen from his coat. “My friends are going to shit themselves.”

You squeezed Eddie’s hand when you saw it trembling as he signed with a flourish. Shooting you a grateful look, he walked Jack over to where Jeff and Gareth were chanting chug, chug, chug! at a teetering Liam.

Jesus, you sighed, rolling your eyes when Jeff’s excited hand swatted too close to Liam and he started coughing up the beer.

Turning back to your drink, you didn’t wait long before you felt Eddie’s palm at your lower back. “Well, that happened.”

Not missing a beat, you turned with a crumpled napkin and wide eyes. “Oh my God, sir, would you autograph my napkin too?”

Eddie laughed, shaking his head, and he shoved your shoulder. “Shut up,” he grumbled, motioning to the bartender for his own club soda. “You brat.”

Grinning, you bumped his shoulder with your own. “I’m glad I’ll be able to say I knew you when you were a nerdy freshman.”

“I’m still that nerdy freshman,” he huffed, “people just actually like my singing now.”

The band on stage switched to a fast paced song and the bar emptied a little as people flew to the dance floor. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. They really deserved this. You crossed your fingers beneath the bar and hoped it was just the beginning.

“To be fair, I always liked your singing,” you told him, poking his chest. Eddie’s eyes shifted and you felt the same tightening again.

His eyes dropped back to yours, something new swimming in them, and your breath stuttered in your lungs. “I know you have,” he said, gaze darting across your face. “You’ve always been there for me.”

Not able to take the pressure in your sternum, you huffed. “And don’t forget that when you’re rich and famous, okay? I want a fancy BMW so I can taunt Steve with it.”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed. Instead of breaking the spell, your eyes drifted to his neck and you briefly thought about how appealing the muscles there were. Straightening so quickly that your spine audible snapped, you swallowed nervously.

What the fuck was that?

The look Eddie shot your way let you know that he’d caught whatever that was. Your mind raced in a thousand different directions but before you could choose a route to go down, a body pressed itself into your side.

“You guys, Jonathan puked,” Gareth said, matter of fact. “It was funny but then Steve started gagging.”

Liam joined in next, his eyes glazed. “Steve said he’s a sy-symp- sympat-” his face scrunched together when he realized he wasn’t getting the word out.

“He’s a sympathy puker?” You guessed, already knowing Steve wasn’t the best around puke. He was always the first domino to fall during hangover mornings.

“Ugh, you’re so smart,” Jeff complimented.

Brows rising, you elbowed Eddie. “Time to corral?” Sighing, Eddie nodded.

“Grab as many as you can and shove them into the right car,” he said, hands coming out to grab his bandmates before they could drift off. “Meet outside in ten?”

“Minutes?” You asked incredulously. “It’s going to take at least that long to get Steve to stop gagging.”

“Bet you five I can get them out in fifteen.”

Rolling your eyes, you slapped his outstretched hand. “That’s an easy win.”

And sure enough, you leaned against Steve’s car with an amused expression as Eddie tried for the fourth time to load Jeff into his van. You glanced at Robin, who was talking animatedly with Gareth about what sounded like cheese fries. A blur in the corner of your eye caught your attention and you watched Liam open the passenger door and pass Jonathan his joint.

“Jesus,” Eddie groaned, “okay you win, please, just-” he waved his hand towards your friends.

“Robin get in the car we have to go now,” you said firmly, knowing she was the hardest to convince but the one everyone would follow once she was.

Her expression morphed into indignation. “Gareth thinks bacon on fries is better than cheese! That’s – that’s treason.”

“Because it is better!” He said, clutching his head.

“Alright you two, you’re both right, how about that?” You turned to Gareth and glared until he simpered off towards Eddie without a backwards glance. “And you, into the car.”

“But-”

“I’ll tell everyone what you’re hiding in the box at the back of your closet,” you threatened. She paled and tripped in her hurry to the car. She knocked into a sleeping Nancy, who grunted when she landed in the middle seat with a loud thump.

“Byers, get your ass in gear or I’m telling Joyce!”

A sheepish Jonathan crawled into the car, jostling Robin who cried out and accidentally smacked a snoring Steve in the passenger seat. You quickly shut the door and locked them in. With a flourish, you took your bow and Eddie clapped. “I admit defeat o’great knight.”

“Knight in shining armor, please,” you clarified.

“Of course, of course.”

“You okay with your lot?” You asked, nodding to where Liam was starting to look a little green.

Eddie snorted. “Yeah, they’ll be fine. What about you?”

“Jonathan and Nancy live nearby, the rest of us are crashing at Steve’s. Like the good ol’ days,” you joked, shivering when a sudden cold gust of air blew your hair into your eyes.

A pair of hands came up to your arms, rubbing some warmth into them and you smiled. “Lucky, Gareth and Liam live in completely different directions,” he said with a roll of his eyes. You pointed to car behind him.

“You should lock them in before one makes a break for it,” you said, yawning and checking the time. Without giving you time to think, Eddie pulled you into a tight hug. Never needing a reason, you wrapped your arms around his waist and squeezed just as tightly back. His cold nose nudged your temple, inhaling deeply and you lean your face against his chest. His heartbeat fast and yours quickly matched its pace. With a soft sigh, Eddie let you go.

“Hey, but seriously, I’m so happy everyone else is finally seeing what I always did,” you told him, pinching one of his cheeks for levity.

Instead, he smiled at you softly. A small, little shy smile that made your heart flip. “Yeah?” His eyes softened, the brown deepening with his gaze. You felt your chest tighten painfully this time. Turning back to hop into your car, you rolled the window down and Eddie leaned into your space.

“Don’t let it get to your big head.” Eddie smiled at your barb but his eyes trailed down your face, the look in his gaze different. You leaned back to examine it but you couldn’t put your finger on it. “What?” His eyes darted back up to yours and it clicked. It looked like he knew something you didn’t.

A little surprised at what he saw there, he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing, see you tomorrow at work?” That sounded like a diversion. You had a full shift tomorrow but he was on towards the end at closing.

“Yeah,” you said, not sure you wanted to let go of this. As if sensing it, he surged forward to press a kiss to your cheek and you blinked, surprised.

“Drive home safe, call me when you get there, okay?” He said. “Leave a message if I’m not home yet. I won’t be able to sleep if I think you’re dead in a ditch somewhere.”

That, in the end, got a smile out of you. “Who would’ve thought you and Harrington would turn into the mothers of this ragtag group?”

“Hey,” he said, hands on his hips in a clear imitation of Steve, “you love it.”

“Yeah,” you said, starting your car and rolling up your window, “I do!”

5. Bringing you something just because it reminded them of you.

“Fuuuck,” you squawked, feet sliding out from under you. Bracing for the impact, your eyes flew open when Eddie’s hands slide through your underarms and steadied you. He pulled you up, your knees aching, and you both stilled.

“That…would’ve been bad,” you said quietly, looking down at the wet pavement outside the Wheeler’s house. Eddie’s eyes were wide, his gaze on the puddles.

“Note to self, slippery driveways might take down the mighty Nova but demobats are a walk in the park,” Eddie said, grinning when you whacked him.

“Ugh, they’re still outside,” Dustin shouted from the doorway, “come on, we’re taking a vote on which movie to watch first.”

Despite his teasing, you felt Eddie’s hand on your back – steady – as you followed Dustin towards the basement. Everyone was scattered, a few conversations going on at once. The party was back for the summer from college and, as tradition stated, a movie night was set on the first weekend.

El jumped up, grinning, and threw her arms around you. “Oh, hello,” you said, squeezing her tightly, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you,” she said into your shoulder, words muffled. You glanced up to see Max tucked into Eddie’s embrace. He smiled when they swapped and Max’s grip bruised you. Kissing her temple, you watched them tumble back onto the first couch – Mike and Lucas waving at you both.

You made to step towards a beaming Will when a hand on your elbow stopped you. “Hey, I forgot to give this to you yesterday at work,” Eddie said, hand ruffling around in bag. He grinned after a moment, pulling it out triumphantly. A small drawstring bag swung wildly for a moment before coming to a stop. The black suede looked soft and lumpy.

“We just started that gig out at Sold Out last week and we were looking for something to eat before we drove back. I saw this in the window of a store and thought of you,” Eddie said, making your heart flip. You reached for the bag, a gold necklace spilling out the mouth.

“It’s a sunflower,” you said, voice faint, thumb tracing the small blooming flower.

Eddie nodded, already rooting in his bag for something else. “You said that was Barb’s favorite flower, right?” Suddenly, it felt like the entire room had gone quiet.

“It was,” Nancy said, leaning over your shoulder to look at the pendant. “She loved them, her room was covered.” An old memory flashed through your mind.

You’d met Barb when you were six, in kindergarten. She’d shared her chocolate with you and picked you as a partner for nap time. She had a sweet smile and gave great hugs. She was good and kind, and you’d been angry at the world for taking her. For a lot of things.

“Sunflowers symbolize friendship. But really, they just make me smile.”

For a moment, just a brief second, you could hear her light laughter echo within your memory. Nancy’s soft smile let you know that you weren’t alone.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said with a smile and you knew he was thinking of the tulips you’d both left at Chrissy’s grave last week. “This way you can have her close by.”

Nancy helped you clasp it around your neck and smiled down at you. Sound filtered back in as she grunted and turned to the boys. “Don’t throw the remote!”

You scrambled to stand before Eddie could find a seat, your had grabbing his. He stilled, looking back at you – the unasked question on his lips. Taking a step forward for a hug, for a second time within a span of five minutes, you tripped on a forgotten figurine. Eddie cradled you to him, staggered, but steady.

“Okay, I stand corrected. Rainy driveways and dnd figurines,” he joked, the smile from his gaze fading when he realized how close you’d landed.

The world moved around you both in a blur. This moment, you in his arms, had happened hundreds of times. You’d known Eddie for years, both of you were affectionate people. But this…was different. Time slowed and you felt Eddie’s pulse ricochet within your own, his lips parting in surprise. You eyes darted down to the movement, his lips chapped and in this bubble you’d created – a thought crossed your mind.

You wanted to press yours to his. You wanted to press every part of you against his.

Then, quickly, a second thought rose from your subconscious.

This wasn’t the first time you’d wanted to kiss him. It wasn’t the first time that your heart felt like it would burst at the sight of him. You liked the way your skin felt electrified at his touch. The way he always seemed to focus on you. The way you both always gravitated towards each other, like sunflowers bending towards the sun. Your eyes dipped lower and you felt a lump form in your throat. The way…you were dying to bite into that tattoo on his neck. The way you wondered if he’d squirm against you. If he’d push you into the-

Holy fucking shit, you loved Eddie. You were in love with Eddie. Your best friend. How the fuck had you been so blind?

Stumbling, you staggered back from his touch – not able to think clearly with him so close. You ripped your arms away from him and greedily sucked in air.

“What’s wrong?” Eleven asked you, realizing you were all but hyperventilating.

Pulse roaring in your ears, you didn’t know what to say. Dumbstruck, your limbs went numb as you finally met Eddie’s worried eyes. He stilled at the sight of your expression and suddenly the rug was pulled completely out from under you because he knew. The look in his eyes was one of complete and total understanding.

And you knew that he knew - and he knew that you knew that he knew.

Your mind flashed back to the moment outside the bar a few months ago. That look in his eyes. The way he’d been acting strange recently. He looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. Struck, you’d honestly be less shocked if the ground opened up and Vecna swallowed you whole.

His own panic flooding his face, he took a step forward.

“No!” You shouted, a touch too loud, your soul flying out your body and staring down at the situation with terror.

“Wait, just wait,” Eddie stammered, hands raised like he was approaching a scared animal. “Let’s talk about it.”

“Oh shit,” you heard Dustin mutter. The rest of room went silent.

Robin groaned, a soft thump following. “Oh no, this isn’t good.”

“Right now?” Steve hissed. “What the hell changed?”

“What the hell is happening?” Lucas grumbled.

Max sighed. “She just realized she’s in love with him.”

Eleven’s eyes widened and Lucas frowned. “Congratulations on being the last one to find out,” he said and somehow that made it worse. Your face crumpled and everyone’s glare turned towards him.

“Jesus Sinclair, have you heard of tact?”

Were you the absolute last person to know?

He was your best friend – you couldn’t, this would ruin everything. Oh God, what if he’d known and he never said anything because he didn’t feel the same? What if he did? You honestly didn’t know which was scarier.

As your friends descended into chaos, you glanced back at Eddie and found him frozen too. Overwhelmed and feeling like you’d been knocked around the ring a few times, you let your flight instinct take over. Taking the stairs two at a time, you were at the basement door in seconds.

Chaos erupted behind you.

You were at the door and fucking Christ, you couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t you breathe? Was the ground shaking?

“Stay here,” you heard Eddie bark at everyone, his had tone not leaving any room for argument. Despite it all, you felt the zing of something travel down your spine at the sound of it. Before you could even analyze it for what it was, it triggered another fresh wave of panic.

You knew he’d be close behind, but you were used to running for your life at this point. Practically racing down the driveway, you scrambled into your car and slammed the door shut. Your first mistake was trying to still your shaking hand to get it into the ignition.

A body half-slammed into your passenger door and you screamed, terror taking over your rational side for a moment.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! The fucking grass is wet and I slipped,” Eddie said, backing up with his palms up. “Nova, please, don’t go. Not like this. I-”

“Nope!” You said, feeling like a stupid child but you weren’t able to process right now. You’d known Eddie since you were fourteen. That was a decade. How the fuck had you been so blind? “I can’t – Eddie, I can’t! Just give me a second, okay? I need – I need to process. Alone.”

The world felt like it was crumbling. Like you were back in the hell hole, clinging to Steve and Eddie for balance as the ground shook beneath you. Oh God, this was going change everything.

Your second mistake was turning to look at him. The knot in your chest tightened beyond belief at the sight of the heartbreak in his eyes. A flash of movement brought your attention to the several heads peeking out from the windows. Eddie’s head whipped around and you could feel his glare from where you sat. “Jesus Christ, does anyone know what privacy means?” You knew it was bad when you couldn’t even muster up a smile.

“Nov…”

Like a cornered animal, you felt tears well up. “Please. I’m sorry. Please Eddie, please.” Panic clawed up your throat, threatening to pull you under. Black dots danced across your vision.

He smiled and your heart broke at the emptiness in it. “Yeah, Nov, it’s okay. I’ll go back inside, just- take a few deep breaths before you go. Okay? Don’t drive like this. Just, deep breathing, remember?”

You slammed your eyes shut; you didn’t have the strength to look at him anymore. You nodded, taking an unsteady deep inhale. How was it possible that you were the one running and he was still thinking of you?

Not sure how long you sat there but by the time you opened your eyes, your tremor had settled and Eddie was gone. Taking a deep breath, you turned your car on and peeled away from the Wheeler house.

It took Robin and Steve exactly ten hours before they showed up on your doorstep.

“I know you’re in there asshole, open up!” Robin screamed.

Jesus. You flung the door open and glared. “I have neighbors.”

“You look like shit,” Robin said, matter a fact, with a small smile on her face. You groaned, dropping your face into your palms and Steve sighed.

“For fuck’s sake Robin, it hasn’t even been a day,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and guiding you to the couch.

Not one to ever be excluded, Robin smushed herself next to you. Her thigh pressed against yours and you found yourself stuck between your two friends – friends you hadn’t ever been good at lying to.

“I know why you’re here,” you started.

Robin snorted. “Well duh, what’d you think? That we got up at nine in the morning to come wish you a good morning? Even Dingus knows better than that.”

Biting back a laugh at her quick retort, you caught Steve’s exasperated glance and nearly broke. “Do not enable the behavior,” he hissed. “How do you feel?”

What a loaded question.

“I feel a little numb. Sort of, like, if I don’t acknowledge this is happening then it isn’t,” you said, pinching the bridge of your nose, “which, I guess, is what got us both into this mess in the first place.”

Robin’s expression softened and you sighed. “I’m just…I feel embarrassed mostly. I didn’t mean to be so dramatic – I just…I was so overwhelmed and it felt like I was drowning. You were all staring at us and I couldn’t think – I couldn’t breathe.”

“Hey, give yourself some credit,” Robin said, “you needed space and time and you asked for it. Everyone needs to understand that boundary.”

“Except for you two,” you joked weakly.

Robin huffed, waving a hand in the air. “We don’t have boundaries-”

“-we should though-” Steve muttered.

“-once you’re tortured by Russians together, you’re bonded for life,” Robin continued, ignoring Steve’s scrunched expression.

They started to bicker good-naturedly and your mind drifted to Eddie. You felt horrible but it didn’t override your need to crawl under the covers and hide yourself from the world. The one question on your mind refused to be put to rest.

“How could I have been so blind?” You wondered, not realizing you’d said it out loud until Robin leaned some of her weight onto you.

Steve pulled himself closed to the edge so he could turn to look at you. His gaze was gentle, eyes on you. “I mean this genuinely with no judgement, but how could you not have noticed?”

You threw your hands out, Robin dodging your left one expertly. “I don’t know! I think I knew on some level and just ignored it? Its…scary, feelings this big for someone who’s your best friend. I’m so scared, I don’t want to lose him,” you admitted quietly. Steve sighed and you glanced at him. “When did you guys know?”

Steve frowned but Robin spoke first. “To be fair, I don’t think Eddie knew right away either. At least not that I could see and we’ve known each other for a while now too. I realized sophomore year,” she said. “You always had those damn starbursts around. I know your favorites are the red ones because Dustin tried to take one from your stash and you almost chewed his hand off.”

A pile of starbursts were tossed onto your kitchen counter now. “So?” You asked, confused at the connection.

“They’re Eddie’s favorites too and you always let him grab them. I don’t think he even knows you do that, to this day. Let’s not forget how any time either of you ever went on a date or, God forbid, had a relationship, the other was always in a constant mood.”

Before that could sink in, Steve stirred. “I realized when he’d come to visit you at Scoops. Remember when I’d smushed that sundae into you. We were waiting on Robin to come back, worried about the Russians and you’d insisted on staying to help us. You had finally decided I was worthy and we were laughing about something stupid Dustin had said.”

You knew what moment he was talking about – you’d forgotten to call Eddie and tell him you didn’t need a ride home anymore. He’d arrived, on time as always, and walked in on you and Steve wrestling over some spilled ice cream.

“I turned with your ice cream too fast and hit your chin. I was trying to clean it off but you’d taken a handful and shoved it down my uniform. Dustin was practically on the floor laughing and I was chasing you with the bowl. Eddie walked in and instantly hated me. I knew he thought I was flirting with you, which I wasn’t. It was something in the way he looked at me. He wasn’t mad that he thought I liked you, he was mad because he thought I wasn’t worth your time – you know? He wasn’t even jealous, just protective,” he said with a shrug. “With you, it took a while, I think. I wasn’t sure if you felt the same for some time. Not until I knew you better.”

“Oh,” you said, throat dry. “Did everyone know but me?”

Steve bumped your shoulder amicably. “Maybe. It’s obvious to everyone now but it’s because it’s like you’re two magnets. The second the other is in the vicinity, your gravitate together. It’s…natural, almost. Something you’d expect,” he nodded, blinking down at you. “Does that make sense?”

“No,” you said petulantly at the same time Robin nodded.

Rolling her eyes, she grasped your hands and squeezed them. It was reminiscent of that moment in the emergency room, her eyes wide but determined.

“What do you want to do about it?”

You shook your head. “Too big a question.”

Steve took over. “Okay…how do you feel? You can love him as your friend, or be in love with him as a person, but if you don’t want to risk that – it’s up to you. We can have our own opinions-”

“-that you two need to get your heads out of your asses-” Robin said, expression furrowing.

“-but,” he said, shooting her a look, “it’s your choice.”

Feeling like your chest would explode with it, you abruptly stood, needing the space to pace a hole in your carpet. Chewing on your nail, you flung another hand in the air and frowned. “Of course I love him, how could I not? He’s…he’s Eddie. He’s my Eddie. Sometimes, at night, before going to bed I think about it you know. I think about how we were too close to be just best friends. We did things that went far past platonic and it was addicting. I – fuck. I love him. I love him.”

Shoving Steve’s hand off her shoulder, Robin stood, her arms coming down to your shoulders and shaking you. “So, I ask again, what do you want to do about it?”

You started to shake your head but she shut it down. “No, enough with this. You’re the bravest of us all. What do you want to do about it?”

“Robin-”

She waved a hand in Steve’s direction, her blue eyes turning sharp. “Say it.”

The knot in your chest choked you as you swallowed nervously. You wrung your hands together but you knew. You didn’t feel unsettled and panicked because you didn’t want him – you felt off kilter because he wasn’t here. You’d run away when you really wanted to just be with him. You’d hurt the one person you never wanted to hurt.

“I want – I want to tell him. I need to tell him!” You said, spine straightening.

Robin smiled. “There she is.”

“Oh my God,” you said, hands coming up to your face. “I just ran away; he must be freaking out.”

Steve stood, grabbing a yellow starburst. “He was a little…freaked out.”

Guilt flooded you as Robin glared at him.

“Shit, I need to talk to him. Right now. Where’re my shoes? I need to go!” You ran around your living room, frantically looking for your converse.

How the fuck could you have just left him behind? Without telling him – without saying the words. Suddenly, you remembered.

“Fuck! He’s in Indianapolis,” you said, slumping into a nearby chair, “he won’t be back until Sunday night.”

Steve frowned, his hands inching towards a red starburst and you shot him a glare.

“I’m distressed but not dead, get your hands off the red ones,” you snapped.

Robin laughed, knowing glint in her eyes and she grabbed a set of keys from your front table. “You have a fucking car and Indianapolis is three hours away, not across the country. Get what you need and let’s go.”

“Get off, you’re squishing me!” Max hissed at Lucas.

“Where do you want me to go? It’s a small car!”

“Will you two shut up?” Dustin snapped.

Robin sighed from the passenger seat and you took the same left as Steve did ahead of you. “You know, I don’t know why you all thought it’d be fun to make this into a group road trip,” she sighed, “you really don’t know how to mind your business!”

You snorted at the hypocrisy of the situation and she shot you a look. Shutting up, you made sure to stay behind the maroon BMW.

“We can’t miss this,” Dustin stressed, “he’s been in love with her for the entire time I’ve known him. I can’t deal with all the pining anymore. I get to see this through!”

You glared at him through the mirror. “We are not a soap opera to entertain yourself with,” you snapped.

By the time you’d made it out to your car, the rest of the party had managed to bike to your apartment with their own nosy agendas. Once they’d found out you were going to drive down to Eddie’s gig, they climbed into your cars – not leaving room for arguing. Because God forbid any of you do something without the entire party knowing.

“You probably won’t even be let in, this is a twenty one or older bar. As in, where they serve alcohol.”

“So?”

Robin shifted around to glare at them. “As in, you’re all not twenty-one yet?”

“Robin, please, what do you take us for? Rookies?” Dustin asked, his brow quirking. “I’m basically Corroded Coffin’s manager-”

“-you’re really not,” you said, thinking of Charlie, Gareth’s cousin who handled all the gigs and scheduling.

“-and I’ve got passes to all their gigs, it’ll be easy.”

Sharing a look with Robin, she shrugged. “Whatever, don’t whine about it to me when you’ve got to stay in the car the whole time.”

Not twenty minutes later, you both rolled your eyes at Dustin’s smug look as the bouncer let them all through with bright green bands indicating they couldn’t be served alcohol.

“Shut up,” Robin hissed.

“What time is it?” You asked, grabbing Steve’s wrist. “Shit, they go on soon – I think I can still catch them backstage.”

“Go, go!” Robin urged, shoving you forward.

Shouldering your way through the crowd, you were astounded at how packed the bar was. Determined, you kept slipping through the restless horde of people. You’d gotten halfway through when a loud strum stopped you. The crowd came alive, cheering and screaming as Eddie sauntered on stage.

Your heart dropped at the sight of the bags under his eyes. “Hello Indianapolis! How are you all tonight?”

The crowd went wild and you were jostled forward, right towards the front. Eddie was a few feet away and you sighed. Of course.

The band went through with introducing themselves, like they always did before starting, and you resigned yourself to catching him after their set. You watched Eddie swing his guitar over his shoulder, adjusting the strap. You don’t know how, in the sheer amount of people in the crowd, but as his eyes swept across the front row – they zeroed in on you.

Surprised, you blinked up at him. His answering grin was so wide, it cracked your heart further. Your breath rushed right out your lungs. Frozen, you stared up at him, and wondered how you could have ever been so blind as to not notice the way your heart always leapt around him. It rattled around in your ribcage, like a police siren. Him, we want him, it shouted at you, grinning up at you when you tried to knock it back into place.

I know, I know we do, you told it.

Of course you loved him, it was Eddie. How could you ever have thought otherwise? You wanted his friendship, because that was the most important part, but you wanted more. You’d always wanted more and you weren’t going to let fear keep you from reaching for it.

Eyes not leaving yours, he grabbed the mic again. “So, I have someone important in the audience today – someone who means a lot to me. She hasn’t heard our newest cover yet but, it’s one of her favorite songs. I’ll admit, it’s never been one of mine but I changed it around a little for her and hope you all like it too.”

Raising your brows at the first few notes, you couldn’t keep your delirious laugh in when you heard him start singing.

“Ooh, baby, do you know what that's worth?

Ooh, Heaven is a place on Earth.”

Eddie’s voice lowered as he rasped out the vowels, the drums transforming the song entirely.

You watched Eddie transform, he always put his entire being into the performance and you loved watching him relish in it. Bobbing your head to the song, you danced alongside the three girls to your left.

Catching his eyes towards the end, he grinned as he inhaled.

“In this world, we're just beginnin'

To understand the miracle of livin'

Baby, I was afraid before

But I'm not afraid anymore.”

A smile made it’s way onto your face as you shook your head and you knew he’d caught it by his laugh. Staying right in the middle, with the crowd’s energy pulsing around you, you sat through the entire set.

As Metallica rung through the speakers, you knew it was their closing song. Eddie nodded towards the side door and you started to make your way there.

The guard at the door stood at your approach but the door behind him opened in time for you to catch Charlie’s smile. “She’s good,” she told him, “whenever you see her around this summer, let her through. She’s with Munson.”

The burly guard smiled then. “Oh, you’re his girl? Don’t worry, I never forget a face.” He waved you through and you knew she could read the mild embarrassment in your eyes.

“Don’t worry, I won’t pry,” she said, elbowing you, “but I’m happy for you two. Anyone with eyes can tell you’re gone on each other.”

Right.

“I’ve got to help them pack but you’ve been to the green room in the back – he’ll come by when they’re done.”

Thanking her, you stumbled your way there – nerves finally taking over you. You should’ve thought about what to say – how to say it. God, why did you feel so awkward? You’d fought monsters from another dimension but you couldn’t tell your best friend that you loved him?

The door suddenly burst open and Eddie came in, guitar still in hand and hair stuck to his skin. “Hey you,” you said, standing from the velvet couch. “You were amazing.”

“Yeah?” Eddie said hopefully, putting the familiar guitar down and turning his full attention to you. “I thought you weren’t going to come.”

“There was a full house, I – I’m so happy for you guys. Are you booked full for tomorrow night too?” You asked despite knowing the answer. You needed a moment, just a brief moment of normalcy before you flung yourself off the metaphorical cliff.

Eddie nodded, a ghost of a smile flashing across his face. He knew. He knew that you knew that he knew. Because of course he did. But he was letting you take this at your pace, because Eddie never did anything you didn’t want to. He always let you lead.

He opened his mouth, no doubt ready to let you distract yourself, but you were done with the pretenses.

“Fuck it,” you said, surging forward. A flash of surprise was the last thing you saw before you slammed Eddie into the wall and pressed your lips to his.

Finally! Your heart sang, finally, we’re home.

Eddie took a second but after a beat he met you just as fiercely. His grip was bruising on your waist, his other hand coming up to the back of your neck. Not giving him a chance to take the lead from you, you ran your fingers through his hair and pulled his head back. He moaned and the sound shot straight to your stomach. Butterflies in full force, you leaned back, out of breath and saw the dazed look in his eyes.

“Nova,” he begged, unseeing eyes darting around your face. “Nova.”

“I know,” you said, right before you dove back in and pressed open mouth kisses to his neck. And then, after all these years, you finally sunk your teeth into the meaty part of his neck. Right at the base of the skull tattoo. Eddie jerked, as if electrocuted, and shoved you back. Stumbling, you let him cradle your jaw, the other lowering you onto the couch.

Needing more, you whimpered and Eddie grinned. His knee pushed up between your legs and the pressure was amazing. Your hips stuttered, bumping into his and you both hissed. His teeth worried the sensitive skin of your neck and you whined as he lapped at the bruise he left.

“Eddie,” you gasped, “Eddie, please.”

His forehead came down to your shoulder, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon, and you both just breathed the other in. At your nudging, he dropped his weight onto you and you jerked at the hardness you felt by your hip.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding at all sorry. “The amount of adrenaline going through me right now-”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, hand drifting down his side but Eddie caught it. “I can help,” you offered. Jesus, you wanted to help if the pressure between your legs was any indication. Eddie’s face softened, his eyes drifting down your face and he groaned.

“I want that too but, maybe we should talk first? Before going past the no return point?”

You blinked. “Munson, I’m past the no return point,” you said, matter of fact. And it was true. There was no going back now.

His answering smile blinded you and you heart threatened to burst at the happiness you found there. “Yeah?” He asked, tone a little uneven.

You nodded, fingers trailing down his face. Eddie lifted himself off you, sitting on the couch and pulling you into his lap. “Yeah, me too.”

“When did you realize? And why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, ripping the band aid off.

“Because I was scared,” he admitted, “I...think I’ve always loved you. From that moment in the hallway when you chased away Tommy and his gang of assholes. You took one look at me and I think I was yours. I didn’t want to ruin what we had but there were times where I’d catch us in moments and I thought yeah, this could work. I wanted it so badly but I didn’t want to lose you. Then, years later, I realized you felt it too. I just, wanted you to get there on your own. I never wanted you to feel like you had no choice or no out. You’ll always have me, in any form you want me.”

Your heart melted. “You’re killing me,” you groaned, dropping your forehead to his shoulder.

Eddie laughed, his chest rumbling with it. “I’m sorry but, it’s the truth.”

“I know I’ve said it before but, I love you Eddie. How could I not?” You said, cradling his jaw in your hand.

Eddie pressed his lips to yours, eyes suspiciously red, and you decided to be mature enough and not tease him.

“Hey, you didn’t answer the first question. When did you really realize?”

“To be fair, it took me a while. Everyone knew I hated Mason,” he said and you thought back to your first boyfriend who’d moved to Texas your junior year, “which made the guys tease the shit out of me but I think I fully realized it for our senior prom. I was so bummed that you were going off to college and I was stuck in Hawkins. Then, you managed to blackmail Higgins into letting me go-”

“I didn’t blackmail him, I just asked,” you laughed.

“-I knew you knew I was upset and I could tell you wanted to cheer me up. But then you did that stupid promposal-”

“Hey!”

“And you had that big bouquet of daisies. And it hit me like a fucking truck, I’m not going to lie. That’s why – I don’t blame you. It was a lot,” he said, his fingers trailing down your cheek. “We’d been friends for years at that point. It was both shocking and stupidly obvious. How could I not have realized? It took you, standing in that meadow behind my old trailer, that massive glitter poster and those flowers. It was like…lightning. One moment I was totally oblivious and then the next, I just knew.”

“Is that why you never dated anyone after that? I thought you were hung up on Joan,” you said, thinking back on the girl he dated through high school.

He smiled, looking down at you. “No, I’ve always been yours. You’re branded on my soul, Supernova. From that first moment in that old gross hallway.”

“How did you know that I felt the same? I didn’t even know.”

Your heart sung, breath completely stolen at the look he gave you. “I mean, I didn’t know-” You leaned back to shoot him a look and he snorted. “There wasn’t an exact moment! After you went to Indie State and we’d hang out there were just small moments, I promise. Like, how you’d wait up for my call when I got home after visiting you. Or, how you stayed up all night to help me study for my finals – like two years in a row. Or that time that I caught the flu and you hit every pharmacy in Indiana getting me what I needed. Or the way Wayne just downright loves you – there’s no competition. You’re his favorite.”

“Because I bring him baked goods,” you said, laughing.

Eddie smiled. “Yeah, but he’s always loved you because you care. You just – you do all these little things and I didn’t notice until I did. I don’t know.”

You mulled that over and realized he was right. The way Eddie would steer you away from sharp corners, or always made sure you walked on the opposite side of the curb. How he always knew your order or how you liked you take your coffee. You flashed back to his broken body and how you’d snapped and lost it. How he’d only thought of making sure you were okay when he woke up.

In hindsight, you realized, he was right. It wasn’t one big moment. It was a lot of little ones.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get there,” you whispered, thumb tracing his bottom lip, “I’m sorry for leaving you at the Wheeler’s house. I should’ve been braver.”

“You are brave,” he whispered back, “I knew you just needed time. Besides, I was going to give you a week before I hunted you down.”

Laughing, you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, the other played with his necklace. “Yeah?” You felt suddenly shy.

“Yeah. Even if I was wrong and you didn’t feel the same way,” he shrugged, “I wasn’t scared enough to let you go. Romantic or platonic, Nova, we’re for life. Between Vecna and surviving ninth grade gym class together, we’re practically trauma bonded at this point.”

You laughed realizing you’d already had a lifetime of experiences with him. Eyes trailing down his content expression, you kissed the corner of his mouth. But a lifetime wasn’t enough. You wanted more. And you’d have more – you had all the time in the world.

“Yeah, Munson, we’re for life,” you agreed and leaned back down to kiss him.

Because hey, even he was right sometimes.

A/N: thank you all so much for the comments on my other fic, you cannot imagine what it means to me! This is the cover I was thinking of if anyone's interested.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson

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gffa · 10 months

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Did you know I’ve probably cried like a dozen times from BATFAMILY fic over the last two weeks? I’m not a big cryer, so that’s saying something for me, by which I mean, I realize I have some incredibly intense feelings about fictional characters, but also fandom is phenomenal about hitting those feelings dead on in exactly the way they mean to do. And it’s great, hell yeah make me cry buckets in emotional catharsis!! And then balance it out with comfort or humor because my soul needs soothing, too! I have been reading so many comics lately (so many good comics, what is this, I’m not used to having comics I actually think are good) and I love the canon so very much, but part of the draw towards this fandom has always been the enthusiastic fic response, the willingness to explore things the comics themselves don’t always have time for, whether aftermath of events or psychological effects that aren’t necessarily intended but are fascinating to consider or just straight up downtime that’s not about a case because fic doesn’t need to make people punch things in every issue. The two go hand in hand for me and getting fun comics to read and fun fic to read has been really meaningful to me in a time when I’ve really needed that in my life. I hope that I can return the favor even a little by shoving a bunch of fics at you and only making you scroll a little to get through my Dick Grayson Problem. BATFAM FIC RECS - BABY DICK IS THE CUTEST FERAL ROBIN I’M NOT HEARING ANY ARGUMENTS: ✦ May Our Memories Light The Way by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce, time travel, 1.9k Bruce travels into the past and serves up an apology long over-due. ✦ Late Spring by halyordan, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.5k Dick gets in his first ‘fight’ at school. Luckily, Bruce was an angry boy once. He knows how to deal with it. ✦ the color violet by TheResurrectionist, dick & bruce & cast, 2.6k The address – 1007 Mountain Drive – told Alex two things: one, their patient was either going to be someone unreasonably wealthy or an unlucky service worker, and two, getting to the actual patient was going to be a bitch. ✦ as i was walkin’ by oh_fudgecakes, dick & bruce & alfred, 3.6k Bored and chased out of the kitchen by an irate Alfred, a young Dick Grayson falls through a loose floorboard while exploring the attic and ends up in an locked storeroom housing an interesting set of journals. ✦ help me fill this hole in my soul by renecdote, dick & bruce & cast, 5.9k Dick nearly drowns on patrol one night. He’s fine, except that he really isn’t. Alfred and Bruce take care of him when he gets sick and let him know that even though his parents are gone he isn’t alone. ✦ medio by newsical, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.1k Loss, again. This loss was by his hand, by his own tongue, with words so sharply edged that they tore apart his mouth and left his lips bloody. The manor was silent, and he was alone. And Alfred’s half birthday was in three days. ✦ My Little Bird (is a Troublemaker) by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & clark & cast, 10.9k No, not good enough, thought Bruce as he gripped the boy’s shoulders in his hands. Dick still didn’t move and the man had to resist the violent urge to shake the answer out of him. This wasn’t his little bird. This wasn’t his Robin, he would never do something like this. Dick gets caught drunk, Bruce loses it. ✦ things kept hidden by emavee, dick & bruce & cast, 9.7k “Better hope the Batman doesn’t catch wind of you. Batman hates metas. He’ll make you disappear. That’s what he does.” “But I’d never hurt anyone,” Dick stammers. He doesn’t know very much about Batman, but he’s a hero, right? He fought crime, like Superman, and Superman was a hero. Right? ✦ (Not) Enough by daringyounggrayson, dick & bruce & alfred, 2.3k After the training simulation goes wrong, Bruce takes his kid home. ✦ i can’t promise (it’s not written in the stars) by konan_konan, dick & bruce & alfred & cast, 7.3k Batman is following him, surely, but he’s smaller and faster and he’s not going to let someone take him and lock him up again. Wayne Manor, he’s learned, is just another kind of prison. It may be big and fancy but it is also empty and cold and he’s not going back. Tony Zucco dies tonight, he tells himself. It is the only thing that matters. ✦ what’s needed most by dizarys, dick & bruce & alfred, 1k �� Dick wants to fly. Bruce would like that to not involve giving him a heart attack for once. ✦ two sheep counted, but not enough to sleep by batofgoodintent (crownedcrusader), dick & bruce, 1.8k Dick hasn’t been sleeping. It’s a problem Bruce should have addressed by now. BATFAM FIC RECS - ADULT BATSON AND BATDAD ARE MY KRYPTONITE, I FOLD LIKE WET CARDBOARD FOR THEM: ✦ (At the Very Least), I Can by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian, 3k “… something is wrong.” That was Bruce’s voice, he would know it anywhere. OR, Dick Grayson + Full Body Paralysis ✦ Catch by sElkieNight60, bruce & dick, 2k Raptor has Bruce in dire straits. Nightwing catches Bruce as he falls. Then it turns out Bruce never fell at all, he jumped. “Dick. I didn’t fall. I jumped. I jumped because I knew you’d catch me.” Childhood trauma never truly goes away, it seems. OR, the emotional aftermath of “Better than Batman.” ✦ Call Me if You Need Me by LiterallyThePresident, bruce & dick & alfred, 1.1k “Master Bruce is rather distraught, you see.” and now Alfred sounded pained, “The dose he received was not enough to render him immobile, but it is causing some paranoia and unpleasant hallucinations. He… Well, he appears to be rather convinced that something has happened to you.” BATFAM FIC RECS - EVERYBODY LOVES DICK: ✦ Sons and Fathers by FabulaRasa, dick & bruce & jefferson & dick/babs, 4.9k Dick has three conversations that needed to be had, at the end of season three. This is blatantly a “there I fixed it” fic. ✦ The Best Medicine by JpegDotJpeg, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cass, 2.2k “I’m dying.” “You are not dying.” “This is it. It’s the end for me. I bet I have some exotic viral disease with no known cure and now I’m going to waste away into nothingness.” “I highly doubt that, Master Richard.” ✦ Look to the Stars by Zephyrra, dick & bruce & jason & hal & alfred & cast, lantern!dick, 8.3k After Batman fires Robin for the last time, Dick becomes a Flying Grayson in an entirely new way: by becoming a Green Lantern. But no matter what kind of mask he dons, Dick Grayson has a way of (accidentally) changing history irrevocably. This is only the beginning. ✦ the courage of stars by theragingstorm, dick & clark/lois & jon & cast, 1.8k When he really needs somebody, Dick goes to Metropolis. ✦ a great honour (to hold you up) by dizarys, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & duke, 2.6k “For the last time, I’m not getting sick!” Jason and Tim exchanged skeptical looks behind Dick’s back. “You’re pale, shivering, and wince every time your bare skin touches the cold metal desk.” Jason ticked off on grease smeared fingers, “Sounds sick to me.” “Wonderful observations, Holmes.” Dick muttered, still looking through the microscope. “What does Watson have to add?” “That first of all, I’m Sherlock.” said Tim, “And my associate is correct. You should go get some rest.” ✦ i am tired of all these motherfuckin’ bombs on these motherfuckin’ spaceships by konan_konan, dick & bruce & damian & titans & background dick/kory & justice league, 4.5k “Those generators won’t last long,” barks Batman. “We’re losing our window. What other plan do you propose, Nightwing?” He huffs. “I’m gonna blow up the ship.” or: when the justice league gets stranded in space, the teen titans come to the rescue. it doesn’t exactly go to plan. BATFAM FIC RECS - JASON TODD IS AN ASSHOLE CAT, I’M GONNA THROW HIM AT HIS SIBLINGS BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY: ✦ abyssal plain by glassofwater, dick & jason, 3.5k “What did you do?” “Exactly what he said. I killed him.” ✦ Bang, bang by Ididloveyou_once, tim & jason & cast, 5.5k ‘You shot me!’ Jason gasped, stunned, ‘Holy shit, you actually shot me.’ Tim’s eyes widened and he froze. They stared at each other for a second, dumbstruck and then- ‘Don’t tell Bruce.’ ✦ Break the Ice by dizarys, dick & jason, 1.5k He felt the blades pierce his body. It was at the height of his leap, back arched as he sprang backwards over the car. A bolt of searing hot pain shot through his side then thigh. But Nightwing still landed with grace and flung his escrima sticks straight into two gang members’ heads. BATFAM FIC RECS - DICK AND DAMIAN WERE THE BEST BATMAN & ROBIN, I’M NOT HEARING ARGUMENTS ABOUT THAT EITHER: ✦ Not Quite Saudade by Wisptheraccoon, dick & damian & bruce & jason & tim & alfred & jon, 3.1k Aka. The reason Dick is no longer allowed to leave on long missions without Damian. ✦ Scorpion-grass by Ididloveyou_once, dick & damian & bruce & tim, 2.9k Damian gets hit with fear toxin and is forced to relive Dick losing his memories… Dick could’ve gone without knowing how the kid reacted to his amnesia. ✦ what’s waited till tomorrow starts tonight by theragingstorm, dick & damian & john/mary & cast, time travel, 63.4k wip After an argument with his Batman, Dick Grayson, Damian finds himself in Dick’s past, with one of his greatest tragedies fast approaching and no easy route forward for either. As long as he risks being stuck seventeen years in the past, all he can do is live at the circus, with a family he never knew — and just maybe learn from it all. BATFAM FIC RECS - BATKIDS ALL HAVE MANY SIBLINGS AND THEY’RE ALL PETTY ASSHOLES AND/OR WONDERFUL BABIES AND I LOVE THEM WITH MY WHOLE BEING: ✦ When Wisdom Must Go by AnicomicQueen, bruce & dick & tim, 5.1k Bruce experiences taking his children to get their wisdom teeth removed. Chapter 1: Dick (Age: 17) Chapter 2: Tim (Age: 16) ✦ So you’ll know where I’ve been by victoria_p (musesfool), jason & steph, 2.1k “I just noticed your scars.” “We all have—Oh.” Jason drops his gaze again, runs his fingers along the faded incision on the left side of his chest. “No one else has one of these.” ✦ and when you’re in the trenches by dizarys, jason & tim & dick, 4.3k When Jason stumbles across a shocking discovery, he’s forced to decide how much he truly cares about the people he used to call family. ✦ The Kids Are All Right by Browniesarethebest, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & cass & steph & alfred, 11.4k Dick and Tim are de-aged. It goes about as well as anyone would expect. ✦ World’s Saddest Breakfast Club by motleyfam, dick & jason & tim & damian & bruce & cass & steph & duke & cast, 7k Following a couple of Very Bad Weeks™ (which may or may not have involved being kidnapped and mildly tortured), Jason decides the best way to cheer himself up is to break into the Manor for a 3 a.m. snack. Turns out he isn’t the only one awake. BATFAM FIC RECS - I CUT MY TEETH ON DICK & TIM AS CLOSE BROTHERS AND NOT EVEN CANON WILL NOT TAKE IT FROM ME: ✦ Not So Large but Definitely In Charge by dottie_dc (dottie_wan_kenobi), dick & tim & bruce & alfred, 6.7k Alternate universes suck so much. Tim has always known that, but he’s never really grasped it, not until he and Dick were forcibly thrown into one a week ago. ✦ there’ll always be a few things, maybe several things by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k Tim breaks the silence, half-glancing over his shoulder to murmur, “Pop-culture has taught me that you’re supposed to seek out your parent in the middle of the night. Not your sibling.” “Pop-culture isn’t a perfect teacher, Timmy.” ✦ will we ever get to the other side? by dizarys, dick & tim, 4.8k Blockbuster is dead and Dick is lost. Haunted by that night and no longer Nightwing, he flees Gotham only to find himself back in Bludhaven on mob business. Now Robin is the city’s new protector and Dick is determined to avoid Tim & his old life. That is, until he finds Tim bleeding in an alley. ✦ World Gone MAD by Havendance, dick & tim & justice league, 5.5k Ask the GCPD about the Joker’s death, and they’ll tell you he died of natural causes. Ask the Justice League, and they’ll tell you that it’s a matter that’s been resolved internally. Ask Batman and he won’t give you an answer, because he’s Batman. The truth of the matter, however, is this: Dick Grayson beat the Joker to death. ✦ Wake Me Up Before You Go Go by incogneat_oh, dick & tim, ~1k He’s already halfway up the stairs, towards the window on the second floor landing, when Dick says, “Tim.” He turns back, says wide-eyed and guilty, “Mhm? Can I– I’ll get you a blanket? If you want?” – Or, Tim visits Dick in Bludhaven. ✦ unleash the beast (with a kiss on the cheek) by InkpotSprite, dick & tim & bruce & jason & stephanie, 1.3k Dick’s chest tightened as his lips parted to say something that he’d truly regret. Before a soft pair of lips pressed against his cheek, then disappeared so quickly that Dick was almost sure he’d imagined it. If it weren’t for Bruce’s fractionally wide eyes, Dick would think he had. Slowly, he turned his head to the side. Tim smiled back at him. BATFAM FIC RECS - I WILL DIE ON THE HILL THAT TIM DRAKE’S TRUE LOVE INTEREST IS CONNER KENT AND NOBODY CAN STOP ME, NOT EVEN GOD: ✦ cat tactic of healing by CarrionCarnival, tim/kon, 2.1k Kon finds a moderately sick Tim, and decides that it’s his problem to solve. feline style ✦ In the Corner Taking up Space by Louis_the_Snake, tim/kon & cast, NSFW, 5.1k Tim gets roped into doing a simple modeling gig for Wayne Fashion with some of his siblings and realizes that everyone he knows is way hotter than he is. And the hottest thing about him is his ass. Which ends up plastered in every major city in the U.S. ✦ Thief by rotasha, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k Kon walks in on Tim wearing his leather jacket. ✦ only touched you once by distracted_dragon, tim/kon, NSFW, 1.8k Kon decides to tease Tim a little with his TTK. ✦ Missing Words by Violet_Witch, tim/kon & cassie, 6.9k It takes Tim years to realize what’s always been there. ✦ What’s Real and What Isn’t by JpegDotJpeg, tim/kon & bart, 2.3k Kon’s eyes almost glow in the dark, a luminescent blue so vivid Tim almost can’t stand looking at them, though he has a harder time trying to look away from them. “I thought you were having a nightmare or something. Your heart was beating so hard it woke me up.” Tim feels himself a flush. He can’t even sleep without bothering someone else. “Oh,” He replies, voice small. “Sorry. I’m fine, you can go back to sleep.” “You’re shaking,” Kon points out and Tim curses internally. ✦ you taught me the courage of stars before you left by popsunner, tim & kon & bruce & damian & lois & jon & cassie & cast, 6k “He loved you, you know,” She says wistfully, meeting his eyes. Tim looks away. “I loved him too.” “Love.” “What?” “Love,” she repeats. “Not loved. He might be gone, but we don’t love him any less.“ BATFAM FIC RECS - TAKE THE ANGST DIAL, TURN IT UP TO ELEVEN, AND BREAK THE KNOB OFF, THAT’S WHAT I’M HERE FOR: ✦ Arguments with the Recently Deceased by JackHawksmoor, dick & bruce & clark & tim & cast, 7.9k Dick just got back from a lousy, week-long adventure traveling in time. When his ride drops him off at the cave the morning after he left, Dick isn’t expecting to find Bruce in the middle of a complete meltdown. Dick realizes there’s been a mistake- Dick hasn’t been gone six hours, he’s been gone six months, and everyone thinks he’s dead. ✦ Solar Flares by glassofwater, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & alfred & cast, 46.1k wip Personhood, noun: the quality or condition of being an individual person. Son, noun: a man regarded as the product of a particular person, influence, or environment. Dick Grayson, noun: oldest son of Bruce Wayne, first son of Batman (i.e., a sum of parts, not a whole) ✦ Starlings in Winter by FromStarstuff, dick & bruce & clark & alfred & cast, 14.3k wip When Dick was eleven years old he ran away from Gotham. No one could quite figure out why. Take your pick; there was a fight at school, a circus in town, and a song he can’t remember the melody of. Eleven-year-old Dick Grayson was flooded with grief, swimming in it, perpetually drowning. One day it was too much. ✦ Going Nuclear by wrsttballplayer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian & barbara & cass & steph & alfred, time travel, 15.3k wip Dick looked at his younger self; the way his brow twisted up in so much anger and his was chest heaving with pure vitriol. Dick remembered what fury like that felt like. He remembered the way it burnt in his throat. He used to spew that poison at Bruce all the time, hell even the Titans had gotten the bad end of his temper more than once. And yet, Dick couldn’t place the last time he had been mad like that. Nowadays, all his anger died into withering flames of resignation and compromise more often than not. ✦ Why Is Tim the Only One With Any Tact? by CamsthiSky, dick & tim & wally, 4.1k In which Tim tries to mediate an argument between Dick and Wally. Things don’t go so well. ✦ You Won’t Wake Up Alone by DawnsEternalLight, dick & bruce & jason & tim & damian, 5.2k Dick’s captured and drugged and probably about to die. The last thing he wants to do is die in front of his family, especially not his baby brothers, all he wants is to be with Bruce and feel safe again. ✦ Hold Me Dear and Close to Your Heart by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, 3.8k Dick Grayson leaves his whole life behind when Bruce Wayne kicks him out. ✦ the flute of your whole existence by LovesFrogs, bruce & dick & jason & tim & damian & alfred, 4.2k He could voice his greatest fears, weaknesses, or most secret dreams at the drop of a hat; all the things he’s never put into words before and keeps tucked close between his ribs. What kind of ammunition is his son going to ask for? What will he make Bruce admit, knowing he is incapable of a lie? ✦ The Kids Are(n’t?) Alright by avengemyheart, dick & bruce & tim & alfred & cast, rape aftermath, 3k Dick saves a young rape victim from his babysitter and in the process reveals his own trauma. The problem? Dick is Batman at the time, and kids are blabber mouths. ✦ Cursed Silence by TheSilencer, dick & bruce & jason & tim & steph & cast, 3.4k Dick Grayson is given a gift - to seal away his emotions. No one has a good time. ✦ Peeking Through the Tunnel Beyond by sElkieNight60, dick & bruce & cast, read the tags, 2.4k Or, Dick Grayson just can’t seem to free himself from his past. And this time, Bruce is there. ✦ soft clocks by dustorange, dick & bruce & damian & jason & tim & alfred & tiger & cast, 35.2k Dick has amnesia during his time at Spyral. The family grapples with finding out he’s alive. Dick grapples with finding out he has a family. ✦ Never Say That by JackHawksmoor, bruce & dick & jason & damian & cast, 9.6k "Calm down, I’m not aiming for anything vital,” Jason said irritably. Batman turned away from the man he’d just floored. “We agreed-” he began sharply. “I didn’t promise anything,” Jason snapped. He lifted his gun, muttering under his breath. “You ought to be grateful, it could be worse-” Or: the Bats have an extremely bad night in Gotham City BATFAM FIC RECS - SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED TO TAKE ALL THE SERIOUSNESS OUT OF THE ROOM AND STAY SILLY FOR AWHILE: ✦ there but for the grace of god by TheResurrectionist, hal & dinah & ollie & flash & j'onn & bat-kids & young justice & justice league, 3.7k A Justice League fic where everyone argues about who’s the most beautiful and intimidating sexy from the Big Three and everyone has valid points. ✦ The One With The Bat’s Son by Maximum_Quinn, bruce & dick & wally & hal & billy, 3.4k “Batman has seven kids.” Wally blinked. “You’re shitting me.” “Not even a little, I just overheard him and Supes talking.” “Oh my god,” he breathed, staring at Hal incredulously. “You don’t think -?” Hal nodded, slowly and seriously. “Batman could be Captain Marvel’s dad.”

#lumi.txt #dc #batfam #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth #conner kent #timkon #fic recs #batman fic recs #long post

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starkwlkr · 9 months

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hii! maybe it's y/n's birthday charles and their kids are having an argument about who will get the best gift

a rock? thanks! | charles leclerc

yes, it’s another vine reference but instead of an avocado it’s a rock 🙃

Y/n’s birthday was coming up and everyone in the Leclerc household was each getting her something. Ruby had asked her grand-mère to take her to a store to buy her maman a gift. Charles had been planning his gift to his wife for weeks. He was convinced Y/n would love this year’s gift.

While his sister and father did their own thing, little Mathéo Leclerc thought that his mother would like something handmade so he wandered around the house looking for supplies to make his gift. He settled on making her a picture of her.

He kept his gift a secret until a day before his mother’s birthday. It was dinner time and Mathéo was trying to find his mother’s drawing, but it was no where to be found. He lost the most important gift. But he wasn’t going to end up being the only one without a gift. He didn’t want to be embarrassed.

One thing Charles never thought would happen was that he would argue with his children about who had the better gift. It was there next day and Charles got up early to make his wife her birthday breakfast. When he got to the kitchen he was surprised to see his mother and daughter already making waffles and freshly squeezed orange juice.

Ruby had on a little smirk on her face, sitting on the counter with her legs crossed one over the other. “Hi papa.” She knew that her papa would make her maman a special birthday breakfast each year and this year, she had asked her grand-mère to help.

“I never thought that my own daughter would betray me.” Charles walked towards his mother.

“You’re so dramatic, hand me the plate.” Pascale rolled her eyes.

“Just letting my wife know that this was my idea since we’ve met.” Charles stated as he walked to the cabinet to get a plate thrown handed it to his mother.

“You were snoring really loud like I think uncle pierre heard you and he lives in italy so grand-mère and i made maman’s special birthday breakfast.” Ruby said with a smile.

“Yeah, well when your maman sees my gift, she’s going to forget about her special birthday breakfast.” Charles ruffled Ruby’s hair since he knew how much she hated her hair being messed up.

“She better not! Ruby called me at five in the morning to make sure I didn’t forget!” Pascale said.

“Wait, you never got up that early to make me a birthday breakfast.” Charles suddenly remembered.

“That’s because grand-mère loves me and maman more.” Ruby teased.

“Stop it, you two! Now, Ruby, my little beautiful girl, you take this and give it to your maman, okay?” Pascale gave Ruby a small gift bag that contained Ruby’s present to Y/n. “And don’t forget to show your lovely smile, oh! You look so pretty!” Pascale placed a kiss on the girl’s cheek.

She then turned to Charles, who was more than ready to receive compliments from his mother. “Here.” She handed him the tray that had the special birthday breakfast.

“I have a lovely smile too. Ruby got it from me, aren’t you going to compliment my smile?”

“You have a nice smile.” Pascale said and practically shoved him out the kitchen so they could surprise Y/n.

On the way to the bedroom, Ruby giggled. “See? Grand-mère looooooovessss me.”

When the father and daughter got to the already opened door, they heard Y/n talking with Mathéo.

“Happy birthday maman!” Ruby ran to her mother’s side and gave her a hug. “Look! I bought you something!” She gave Y/n the gift bag.

“Aw, you didn’t have to get me anything because you and Théo are my greatest gifts.”

“Say that again, I don’t think papa heard you.” Ruby continued her teasing.

“Okay, okay, you win Ruby Jules,” Charles rolled his eyes. He then placed the special birthday breakfast infront of Y/n and gave her a kiss. “Happy birthday, Mon amour.”

“Thank you, all of you.” Y/n smiled.

“Maman, open my gift!” Ruby exclaimed.

So Y/n did and when she opened the bag, she found a teddy bear with a smaller teddy bear attached to it. “This is adorable! Thank you, Ruby.” Y/n hugged her daughter.

“Yeah, well this is from me and no one else,”Charles continued with his teasing. He handed her a small box that contained a ring. “It’s those rings that have the picture inside when you look. It’s a picture of all of us.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” Y/n gave him a kiss.

“Maman, I got you something too.” Little Mathéo shyly spoke.

“You do, my beautiful boy? Let’s see what it is,”Y/n sat up. From behind his back, Mathéo brought out a rock that was just the same size as his hand.

“I named it rock.” Mathéo smiled proudly.

“Rock the rock?” Ruby wondered. “I like Steve better. Steve the rock is better.”

“This is a wonderful rock, Théo. I love it.” Y/n placed a kiss on her son’s forehead.

“It’s a rock?”

“And I love it.”

#inbox <3 #formula 1 #anon #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #baby leclerc series

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tasteleeknow · 1 year

Text

º.☆・ ⇢ HURT/COMFORT WITH SKZ

genre: fluff, angst. content warnings: insecurities, depression, jealousy, fear of the dark, accidental injury, minor illness, alcohol use, driving anxiety word count: 4.6k (500 each)

a/n: my first ot8 post as a little thank you for 2k! i appreciate you so much both for reading and leaving feedback. hope you enjoy this too!

CHAN — his insecurities are getting to him

“But…you said we could go today…” you mutter, struggling to keep the disappointment from your voice. You’d been looking forward to this day all week. Your boyfriend had promised you’d finally go to the art exhibition in the city. It would be ending soon and then it would be gone forever.

Your boyfriend looks up from where he is hunched over his desk, where he had been scribbling something in a notebook. “I just can’t today.”

“Is it work?”

He looks back at the paper, pen halted. “No.”

“What’s so important that it has to be done today?”

“Go with Hyunjin instead.”

You take a step back, caught off guard. “What?”

“Hyunjin likes art, I’m sure he’d be stoked to go with you.”

You instinctively look down at your phone, having just texted your roommate minutes earlier. “Yeah, he probably would. But I want to go with you.”

Chan stands from his desk, keeping his back to you. You watch as he fiddles with his pen for a moment before dropping it and finally turning to face you. “Do you really?”

You frown, walking over to him and adjusting his necklace where it had twisted around his neck. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I want to do something with my boyfriend?”

He’s quiet for a moment.. Most of the time he just speaks, letting whatever he was thinking out—no filters or barriers. You loved him for it, for speaking his mind so freely. These moments when he was clearly preparing his words before voicing them are rare, so you wait. You wait, knowing he was taking a moment to gather his thoughts and that any interruption would throw him off track.

“Do you ever wonder if someone else would be better for you? If we don’t…click as well as we should?” he finally says, eyes cast down.

You drop your hands from his necklace, the one you’d gifted for his previous birthday. “No,” you answer without hesitation. “Do you?”

“Can you…think about it for a moment… before answering. It’s important.”

“I don’t need to think about it. I’m being honest. I’ve never wondered that and I’ve never had any doubts about you. About us.” You watch as his brows draw together, clearly lost in thought again. “Have you?” you ask him again.

“I wonder…if someone like Hyunjin might make you happier.”

You glance at the desk, where the notebook lays open—his scribbled handwriting filling the page. “Have you been feeling bad again?” you ask.

He looks over his shoulder, following your eyeline. He takes a step back to close the book. You step up to him, trailing your hand up his chest to rest over his heart. “It’s okay, I wasn’t trying to read it. I just…want you to tell me when you’re feeling bad. So I can be here for you.”

He takes a step away from you, your hand dropping from his chest. “But that’s the problem. I’m always having these episodes; days where I don’t want to leave the house or where I feel so low I feel like I bring you down with me.”

“Why are you writing?” you ask, a flicker of panic crossing his face at your question. “I’m not asking what you’re writing. Just why you’re doing it.”

“Because…it…makes it better. Helps.”

“You’re working on it. You’re doing things you’ve been taught will help you get better and that’s why it’s not a problem. You love me and I love you and we are working on ways to be better people because we love each other. Right?”

“I do… want to be better for you,” he says, pressing his own hand over his heart.

“And for you?”

A small smile crosses his lips. “And for me.”

You match his smile, stepping close so you can wrap your arms around him. “I love you now and I’ll love you when you love yourself too.” His arms tighten around you. “I can’t wait,” you finish.

MINHO — you’re afraid of the dark

“400,” you announce, grinning at your boyfriend across the table.

A grumble of thunder distracts his attention to the window behind you before he looks at you again. “Why the fuck is it 400?”

“I own all 4,” you say, pointing to your monopoly cards.

“This game is stupid.”

“It was invented as a critique of landlords and capitalism, it’s meant to be stupid.”

“Be a nice landlord and give me a free pass.”

“No. Pay up.”

He grumbles, slapping the money in your palm just as your apartment goes dark. You yelp, dropping the paper money and reaching blindly across the table until you feel your boyfriends arm.

“Blackout,” he says, stating the obvious. He stands from the table before you have a proper grip, leaving you stranded. You stand, feeling around the table for him.

“Where are you? Minho?”

“Just getting my phone,” he replies, already sounding much too far away.

You reach out into the darkness, relying purely on your memory of your apartment to navigate. “Come back, please. Minho! Please.”

“Boo,” he whispers, right at your side. You grip his arm, too relieved to be mad at him for attempting to make you jump. The screen from his phone lights up his face, then he turns on his torch.

“I’m gonna find some candles, you wanna stay here?”

“No.”

“I can get your phone? Won’t be dark.”

“Wanna come.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Poor baby.”

“Shut up.”

You keep your arm on his as he leads you through to the kitchen, standing right by him as he crouches down to dig through a drawer. You hold the torch for him until he stands, holding a few candles and a matchbox.

“Where do you wanna set up camp? Are we finishing the game?”

You shake your head.

“Bath?” he suggests.

“In the dark?”

He holds the candles up. “Come on.”

He leads you to the bathroom and you’re forced to let go of him as he sets up the candles and leans into the tub to turn the water on. You turn to look behind you occasionally, the pitch black hallway making you feel uneasy.

Minho’s breath tickles your neck as he comes to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Would you like help?” he asks, fingers moving to fiddle with the buttons on your jeans.

You look up at the dark doorway. “Could you... shut that?”

He kisses your cheek then moves around you to shut the door as you pull your clothes off. The room is barely lit, the reflection of the candles in the mirror making the small bathroom seem much bigger. He pulls his shirt over his head as he approaches you.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you. Yeah?” You nod and he leans around you to turn the water off. “Hop in.”

You lower yourself into the warm water, watching as your boyfriend removes the rest of his clothes. You shuffle aside to make room as he joins you, lying back so his head rests on the soft neck rest you’d bought him for christmas. He hold his arms up, beckoning you onto him. “C’mere.”

You climb over him, pressing your chest against his and resting your head on his shoulder—just above the waterline. His arms wrap around you.

“Good?” he asks.

You close your eyes, surrounded by warmth. The darkness feels far away. “Mm, good.”

CHANGBIN — he accidentally hurts you

It was an old injury, so old you’d only ever mentioned it in passing once. You’d get a twinge in your wrist occasionally but apart from that, you practically forgot about it yourself. That’s why when your boyfriend challenges you to an arm wrestle, you don’t hesitate to say yes. You were equally competitive, you challenged each other to silly little games constantly.

“You’re not gonna let me win?”

“Have I ever?”

“Fair.” You settle yourself over the counter, opposite him. He presses his palm to the smooth surface, offering an example for you to mirror. He grasps your hand in his, pulling you over the counter a little more so he can press a kiss to the back of your hand. “Ok, ready,” he says, allowing you to resume your starting position.

“What’s that?” you ask, pointing over his shoulder with your free hand. As soon as he turns his head you start, pulling with all your strength. You manage to get him halfway down to the counter before he stops you, easily turning the tables. He puts more strength into it than he needs to, thrown off by your headstart. A sharp pain runs up your arm as your hand slams into the counter.

You pull your hand back to your chest, cradling it against your body as you scrunch your eyes shut—waiting for the pain to dull. It’ll pass, it’ll pass… you repeat to yourself. A soft touch on your shoulder alerts you to the fact Changbin has moved around the counter to your side. “Just a sec,” you mutter, unable to speak properly until the pain has dulled.

“Let me see,” he says, sounding stoic. He sounds so calm that you’re completely caught off guard when you look up at him and see his eyes watery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him cry. It’s so shocking it distracts you entirely from the now dull wrist pain.

You let him lift your hand gently as you watch his face. “Can you move it?” he says, inspecting your skin as if tracking down the source of your pain would remedy it.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s just that old injury flaring up.” You pull your hand from him easily, the hold he has on you so gentle it offers no resistance.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You lift his chin with your fingers, his gaze pointed towards the floor. “Was just karma for trying to cheat,” you say, a small smile on your face as you attempt to lighten the mood.

It doesn’t work, your boyfriend's eyes fix on your wrist—his eyes reminding you of a kicked puppy. You give him no warning when you jump on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. His hands come to support you naturally, a reflexive response to the way you’d greet him every day.

“Wasn’t your fault,” you mumble against his neck. “I’d forgotten about it too, honestly. S’okay.”

“Does it still hurt?”

You pull back from him enough to hold the inside of your wrist up to his mouth. His eyes flick between yours, confused for a moment. Then he brings his lips to your skin, pressing a soft kiss to your wrist.

“Not anymore,” you whisper, offering him a small smile before replacing your wrist with your lips—pressing lightly against his.

HYUNJIN — he thinks you don’t love him as much as he loves you

Your boyfriend was a hopeless romantic. You loved that about him, truly. The only problem was when you felt like you struggled to meet his expectations; when you didn’t express your love in a way that fit with his love language. He would wilt.

“Jinnie? Please talk to me,” you encourage, lifting the blanket from your boyfriend's head. He rolls over to face the wall, ignoring you. You sigh, lying down next to him—resting your hands under your head as you stare at his back.

“It’s okay,” he says, still facing the wall. “I love you more than you love me, I just have to…accept it.”

You reach to grab his shoulder, forcing him to roll onto his back so you can crawl over him. You stroke his forehead gently, brushing away a non-existent lock of hair—a habit you hadn’t yet abandoned since he’d cut his hair short. “Stop saying that, it hurts me.”

His brows pull together as his plush lips press together firmly. “You said you needed space.”

“Yes, that is what I said. I didn’t say ‘I love you less than you love me’.”

He looks confused but he shifts a little, bringing his hands up to rest against your thighs. “I’ve never wanted space from you. I want you always.”

His cheeks are rosy and you can’t help brushing your thumbs across them, cradling his face in your hands. “If I had to see anyone else as much as I see you, I’d lose my mind. It’s because I love you so much that I ask for my own space so rarely,” you finish.

“Do I bother you? Is that why you asked?”

“Sometimes anything external irritates me. Anything. My clothes on my skin, a notification on my phone. I just need to be alone sometimes, completely. No notifications, no sound, no other person. Even you. Even though you’re my favourite person ever.”

“Ever?”

“Ever, ever,” you smile, moving one of your thumbs to brush over his lips. You pull his bottom lip down gently, he’s much more relaxed now. “We are different people, hm? It’d be boring if we were exactly the same.”

“Mm,” he agrees, pulling you down against him. You rest your head on his chest, listening to the sound of his heart as you rise and fall gently with his breath. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Sometimes…I get…scared that you could never feel…as much as I do. So one day you’ll just…have had enough of me and because I know that won’t happen for me…it feels like…a clock is ticking down.”

“You have to trust me. If you really love me, you’ll trust me when I tell you how I feel. I promise I’ll always be honest, hm?”

“Yeah,” he says, the vibration of his voice in his chest against your ear.

“I promise I love you,” you say, lifting your head to whisper against his lips.

“I promise I love you, too.”

JISUNG — takes care of you when you’re drunk

You stumble up the steps, fiddling with your keys as your friend drives away. You drop them just as the door opens, stumbling forward into Jisungs arms as you lose your balance trying to bend down. He catches you, holding you upright until you're steady. Then he bends down, snatching the keys and poking his head out to look down the street.

“Where’s your friend?”

You smile. “Left.”

He frowns. “Before I opened the door?”

You reach out to stroke his hair. “You look so cute when you’re worried.” You kick your shoes off, stumbling into your apartment until you find the couch. “What time is it?” you mumble, struggling not to fall sideways and sleep right there in the living room.

Your roommate drops the keys in the little box near the door before following you, dropping to his knees at your feet. You reach to pet his head again. “You’re a good friend,” you slur, giggling when he frowns. He lets you pull the corners of his mouth up into a smile then he stands, holding his hand out to help you up.

“Bed,” he says, grunting a little as he pulls you up—your legs practically jelly. You fall into his arms, resting your head on his shoulder. You almost fall asleep just trying to walk to your room, collapsing onto your bed the second Jisung releases you. You close your eyes, drifting in and out of consciousness as Jisung moves around the room.

He’s leaning over you, trying to touch your face. “Sleep,” you mumble, attempting to push his hand away. He holds your hand down on the bed.

“Just let me clean this off, yeah?” he says, attempting to wipe the makeup off your face. You relent, going limp to let him work.

“Sungie?”

“Mm?”

“You’re a good friend.”

“You’re completely off your head,” he laughs. “Will you remember this tomorrow?”

“Maaaybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, the cloth against your face halting for a moment. “Did you…meet anyone tonight?” he asks, resuming his makeup removal service.

“My friends,” you mumble.

“I meant…ya know…like flirted with anyone.”

You giggle, reaching for Jisung’s arm. “Do you flirt, Sungie?”

“No.”

“Whyy?”

“There’s no one I want to flirt with.”

You pout, sitting up and squishing his cheeks between your fingers. “That’s sad, poor Sungie.”

“I’m not sad. I’m happy.”

“You are?”

He reaches up to smooth down your hair. “Mm. I'm happy if you’re happy.”

“What if I’m sad?”

“Then I’ll find what’s making you sad and take it away.”

“You’re a good friend,” you yawn, falling back down onto your pillows. He leans down to press a kiss to your head. You reach out to grab his hand as he stands to leave. “Sungie?”

“Yes?”

“Am I a good friend?”

“You’re a good everything.”

“...a good everything?” you mumble through another yawn, closing your eyes as Jisung intertwines your fingers.

“Mm. You’re everything.”

FELIX — you’re burnt out from uni/work

“What do you want for dinner?” your boyfriend asks gently. He’d been overly gentle with you all day, treating you like a cornered kitten. You loved him, but every question he asked you was wearing away at you. He’d suggested going to your favourite park, the colourful flowers and gentle breeze often did your mindset wonders. You didn’t want to get dressed. He’d put on your comfort film, the background noise was nice—but not enough to distract you from the heavyweight in your chest.

“I don’t care.”

“Pizza?” he asks, knowing it was your favourite—your go-to option when you were feeling low. You say nothing, closing your eyes and resting your head back against the couch.

“Wanna go for a drive and pick it up?” Felix asks, making the decision for you.

“No.”

His gentle fingers trace across your knuckles, where you are gripping a pillow to your chest. You relax your grip.

“I’ll order then,” he says, sounding a little dejected. You lift your head. It feels heavy on your neck. You fall into your boyfriend's lap, head resting against his thighs.

“Thank you,” you whisper. His free hands come to your hair, stroking the strands gently just above your ear.

“Anything you need?”

“Just you,” you answer, closing your eyes again. The sound of the tv is the only noise in the room for the next 20 minutes, your boyfriend's fingers continuing their gentle ministrations in your hair.

When the doorbell rings he lifts your head gently, replacing his lap with a pillow so he can answer the door. He’s gone not even a minute. That’s all the time you need for your eyes to fill with tears, suddenly completely overwhelmed. He places the pizza on the table then kneels by your side.

“Okay?”

You open your mouth to speak, unable to get anything past your lips but an ugly sob. He jumps into action, lifting your head so he can resume his position on the couch. You press your face to his legs for a moment before lifting yourself to climb into his lap, wrapping yourself around him. “So tired,” you sob, his hand stroking up and down your back.

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I wish—I wish I could take it away.”

“Don’t—” you heave in a breath, already struggling to breathe through your uncontrollable sobbing. “Don’t leave.”

“Shhh. Not going anywhere, promise. Right here…just breathe.” His voice wobbles a little, prompting you to pull back to look at his face. “Breathe for me,” he finishes. His eyes are watery to match yours, his cheeks already wet from where his tears had spilled over.

You bring your hands to his cheeks, attempting to wipe them away. “Please don’t cry,” you sob.

He huffs out a laugh through his tears. “You cried first.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

His eyes soften, pulling your head back down to rest on his shoulder. “I know.” He lets you cry into his shoulder until your head hurts, finally lifting you from his lap so he can bring you a box of tissues. He takes one for himself. You take in the scene you both make, blowing your noses as your pizza sits cold on the coffee table.

Felix looks up at you, his nose bright red. You burst into laughter, leaning forward to wrap your arms around his neck again. “What’s funny?” he asks between sniffles.

“Just love you.”

SEUNGMIN — he comes home to find you sick

You’re faintly aware of a knock at the door, too unwell to even consider getting up to answer it. Instead you groan as you roll over, reaching for the bottle of water on the ground by the couch. You struggle to sit up, lifting your head just enough to sip from the lip of the bottle. The door opens just as you look across the room longingly at the fan, wishing you had the energy to turn it on and drag it over to blow directly in your face.

“Oh, you’re home. Why didn’t you—” your boyfriend pauses, taking in your sweaty form sprawled out on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

You’re suddenly overwhelmed, the exhaustion from looking after yourself all day catching up with you. You reach out towards him as your face crumbles, a sob escaping your throat. You don’t see him approach you, your eyes squeezed closed as you feel his arms wrap around you. He pulls you into his lap, guiding your head to his shoulder.

“You’re sick? Why didn’t you call?”

“You were busy,” you gasp between sobs.

He’s quiet, letting you gather yourself. It doesn’t take long, you don’t have the energy to cry. When you’re quiet he speaks again. “What do you need?”

“Don’t wanna be sick anymore,” you whine, knowing he couldn’t actually take it away but feeling much like you did as a child—begging your mum to make it stop.

“I know,” he says, palm rubbing up and down your back. “What else do you need?”

“Sleep.”

He stands, lifting you with him. Your legs dangle, too tired to cling to him like you usually do. He lowers your legs to the ground briefly so he can hook his arm under your legs and lift you properly. You wrap your arms around his neck weakly, relying on him entirely to hold you against him.

“Should’ve called,” he mutters, turning to manoeuvre through your bedroom doorway. He lowers you gently to the bed then disappears into your ensuite bathroom. You close your eyes, a small pained sound escaping your throat.

A cold cloth presses against your forehead and your eyes flutter open to take in the worried face of your boyfriend. “Have you taken anything?” he asks.

“This morning.”

He stands quickly, leaving the room without a word. When he returns he’s carrying a bottle of water and a small cup. “Swallow these,” he instructs, sitting down at the edge of the bed so he can help you sit. You do what he says, swallowing each tablet individually with a mouthful of water.

He places his hand at the back of your head to lower you back against the pillow. “Sleep.”

“Can’t sleep without you,” you mutter. He pulls his shirt over his head then crawls up next to you, wrapping his arm around you so he can pull you into him. “Do you think it’ll be gone when I wake?” you ask, trying to focus on the warm pressure of his body against your back.

“Definitely,” he answers, sounding completely sure of himself. You close your eyes as his lips press to your neck, drifting out of consciousness almost immediately.

JEONGIN — you panic while learning to drive

You’d been putting it off for years, the anxiety of learning to drive completely overwhelming. It wasn’t until your boyfriend offered to teach you that you finally worked up the courage. He made everything enjoyable, every grocery trip felt like a fun day out if you were with him.

“You’re ready to go out on the street,” he encourages again as your hands grip the wheel tightly. You’d only managed driving around an empty carpark so far. It was late on a Tuesday night, the streets were practically empty.

“I…don’t think I am.”

“I know you are.”

You turn to look at your boyfriend, his eyes shining behind his round glasses. You suck in a deep breath, attempting to loosen your grip on the wheel a little. You ease your foot off the break, rolling forward slightly before pressing the accelerator down slowly. Jeongin is quiet next to you, patient as always.

When you reach the exit you slam the breaks on, suddenly panicked by the open road ahead of you. “We’re going left,” your boyfriend says, still sounding totally calm and confident.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I can’t, I really can’t.”

He rests his hand on your thigh. “Baby? Hey,” You take one hand off the wheel to grasp his hand. “You got it,” he finishes.

Your heart races in your chest as you grip the wheel with both hands again, a shiver running through your body. Jeongin talks to you as you turn out into the street, giving you calm instructions and gentle encouragement. It isn’t until a car pulls out and follows directly behind you that you start to really panic, their headlights shining directly into the car.

“The car,” you mutter, panic evident in your voice.

“Ignore them,” your boyfriend says. “You can turn left at the next street.” Your eyes keep flicking to the rear view mirror, another shiver running through your body. Then they honk and you break too fast, swerving to pull up the side of the road. The car honks again as they speed past you, leaving you gasping for breath as you try to stay calm.

A hand gently rests over yours and you look up to the man sitting in the passenger seat. He pulls his hoodie over his head. “Want me to take over?” he asks. You nod, pulling the handbrake on and stepping out of the car.

He meets you half-way around the car, pulling his soft hoodie over your head and helping you push your arms through the sleeves. He’d often give you an item of his clothing when you were anxious, the smell of him close to you calming your nerves. The fabric is soft against your skin and you press the sleeve to your face as you climb into the passenger seat.

You’re both quiet as your boyfriend drives, your heart slowing back to a normal rate as you watch the world go by. It isn’t until the car pulls into an unfamiliar car park that you realise you haven’t been heading home. Jeongin presses a button to open the sunroof then turns the engine off. He gestures to the back seat and you climb over the centre console, your boyfriend following close behind.

He lays himself across the back seat and holds his arms open, beckoning you to join him. You press yourself against him, head resting against his shoulder—his arms around you prevent you from falling off the seats. You have a perfect view up to the clear night sky, your boyfriend's soft breath tickling your skin.

“You did well,” he says, breaking the silence finally.

You huff. “I freaked out.”

“You overcame your fear and drove on the roads,” he presses his lips to your temple. “Proud of you,” he mumbles against your skin.

a/n: some of these are snippets from longer wips! may be seen again in longer form in the future...

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

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dawn-moths · 19 days

Text

Tomura x Reader

word count: 800+

(You try and convince Tomura to take a break from his games and come to bed at a reasonable time for once.)

disclaimer/content warning: no warnings apply! sfw, soft tomura, maybe quirkless au?? i don’t really know, i just love and miss him a lot and wanna take care of him.

***

It’s late— nearly two AM— and the glow of the moon trying to creep in through the gaps of the curtains competes with the glow emanating from the trio of computer screens currently in use in the other corner of the room.

“Tomu…” you murmur, half a groan and half a whine, as you turn over beneath the covers. “Come to bed…”

It’s so warm here, your body heat seeping through the sheets, the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing— one of his shirts, the soft black cotton displaying the fading decal of some game he used to like— clinging to your drowsy form like a veil of comfort and familiarity.

If you buried your nose in the collar, it still smelled faintly like him, despite you basically having claimed it for your own a few weeks back.

From across the room, Tomura sits before his three monitor display, the soft light from the screens shifting the colors cast across his face in a fast-paced rainbow, reds and blues and greens illuminating the pale waves of his hair.

It’s almost to his shoulders again. You’ll have to convince him to let you give it a trim soon.

“Tomuraaaaaa…” you whine a little louder, drawing his attention that time as he shifts his headset so only one ear is covered.

“Ok, just one more round,” he replies, something almost apologetic in his tone, no more irked grumbling or sarcastic attitude present like he used to respond to such a request in the past.

You basically had to drag him away from the computer, once upon a time. If you didn’t, he’d be playing right up until the sun was about to rise.

You rolled over onto your other side, facing away from the glow of the screens, letting your eyes fall closed once more, the constant mashing of buttons clicking softly to fill the otherwise silent room.

Whatever game he’s decided to log into tonight, the rounds are long. After ten minutes he’s still playing, one or two curses hissed out under his breath when his character takes a hit or someone else on his team messes up.

You turn again, squinting your eyes as they adjust to the light. Once the room becomes clear, you can see just how focused Tomura is. Like he’s locked in. Like he’s entranced. The way his fingers fly across every button and joystick of the controller like its second nature to him.

But it’s been nearly twenty minutes.

Enough is enough.

You sigh and rise from the warm comfort of the bed, padding over with bare feet to where he sits in his big gaming chair— a birthday present you’d surprised him with last year. He glances over at you for a split second, trying to conceal the slight guilt that pangs inside him.

“Make room…” you say, and he obliges, pushing back a bit from the desk so you can curl up against him, sharing your sated warmth with him in hopes of coaxing him to bed.

“Swear I’m almost done,” he says, shifting a bit to allow you to get comfortable, pressing your chest to his, legs straddling his waist, arms draped loosely around him as your head rests against his shoulder.

You can just barely hear the up-beat battle music muffled through his headset, the looping audio somehow making you even more tired despite the high-energy pulse of it.

Before long, you feel yourself dozing off again, that heavy, floating feeling of the moments right before you sink into sleep dripping through you like thick syrup, honey sweet.

Not two minutes after your body had gone slack and heavy against his own, the round ends and Tomura logs out of the game, one hand carefully pressed against your back to hold you in place as he leans slightly forward to place his controller on the desk. He puts his computer to sleep, the screens fading to black.

And now, it seems, it’s time for him to put you to sleep too.

You’re passed out, completely dead to the world, breathing slow and shallow, head beginning to loll as he carefully shifts to splay his big palms under your thighs, carefully lifting you as he stands, carrying you to the bed and placing you back among the rumpled sheets.

Once you’re all tucked in again, Tomura slips out of his jeans and puts on a fresh t-shirt— a habit you worked hard to instill in him, something about not sleeping in your day clothes or wearing your sleep clothes during the day— and then joins you under the covers, snuggling up next to you and gently cradling you in his arms.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead before allowing his own eyes to fall shut, hoping to meet you somewhere in your dreams.

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 6 months

Text

horny, sulky, kinda mean, kinda roughhousing könig thought bc it's my birthday, it's 2:50am, i have been horny like a fuckin werewolf for like a week now. f!reader ig for talk about pussy.

So our man König doesn’t keep normal hours—not that you do, but dude is two days back from KorTac and pretty much strung out on the “fun” amphetamines KorTac req officers pass out like candy if you even wave smth that looks like a form at them. So kind of out of the worst of it, exhausted, but wired and feeling kind of shitty and toothy and wound up.

He wants to fuck. Easiest way to diffuse, decompress, and he’s hard as shit by the time he lumbers his way into bed with you—over you—all around you. You were reading off your kindle, not anymore. He plucks that shit right out of your hand and puts it behind him, tangling those long, heavy limbs around you like a boa constrictor.

“Was wondering when this was going to happen,” you say, hissing when he’s none to kind in nipping the skin of your neck, wrapping his arms around your torso, pushing your breasts up under your t-shirt. “Shit, you’re moody,” it’s half a laugh, and a grapple at not immediately just folding and giving into him. You like to bite, too.

“Give me your mouth,” he grunts, nose pushed into the spot behind your ear. He’s pushing down your underwear, singlemindedly stripping you down. His words make your skin humid, “Gonna play with your pussy, want you fucking wet for me.”

You give that little bit, turning your head over your shoulder, smirking into a kiss that drives deliriously deep as soon as contact is made. König isn’t a prim kisser, but a primal one. It’s not a clean act; sloppy, yes, and somehow tinged with something kin to restrained violence. Challenge? Dick swinging? Maybe something more biblical in nature—gluttony, or greed.

He’s a fearsome thing, and he may only be beautiful to you. A needful thing, too, twisting nest of starved serpents—6 feet 10 inches and pushing-300-lbs of fucking muscle, battering-ram-body housing more than thirty years of neglect-crushed memory out for retribution.

But you never were a target. He didn’t have a choice in that matter. You both know good and goddamned well that you picked him. Everything he gets away with is at your allowance, and good fucking Christ, he loves you for it.

His cock throbs against your bare ass through his boxers as his arm wraps around you, craning his hand to pump two big fingers into your sopping cunt, angling his wrist so he can press and rub your clit with his thumb.

Man’s got his perversions, and he’s the most physical person you’ve ever met in your life. He’s had a fraction of the sex he’s fantasized about, but you’ve covered hectares of that ground since you’ve gotten together. He’s a quick study, and his mind’s a nightmare of steel trap memory. He never forgets what you like.

Two fingers turn to three, and he almost pushes it to four—assured torture, too much stretch too fast—before you snap a hand around his wrist and buck hard back against him, seething his name in warning. “Don’t fucking dare.”

“Ja. Ja, Schatzi,” he mumbles, breathing hard and too collected. You’re both sweating already, and the bed feels too damn warm, but neither of you shift. The spooning position is perfect as-is, only needs acted upon. In the mean time, he draws his slicked fingers up, leaving them in the air before your mouth in question. He groans and shudders harshly when you take the digits into your mouth, almost laughing at the ever-fresh amusement of your own taste. Salt and cold coins, your own metallic tang a complement to the one on his skin. His voice shakes as he warns, “Time, now. It’s time, bitte, aw, fuck.”

Just like that, he sinks right into you, to the base, balls pressed tight against your lips due to your body’s contortioning to meld against his form. An ungodly moan bellows out of his throat, rattling from his chest into yours, arms tightening around you. You meet the fuck-weird noises, turning your head to keen into your pillows and pressing back against him. Your hand anchors behind you on his hip, as if pinning him in place, affixing your bodies together.

You both hang in a moment of suspension, hearts pounding, minds blank, stomachs rising as if careening over a hill with momentum not sparing you a moments reprieve.

When that finally snaps, you have to force him to focus, to fuck, and he’s slow about it, grinding into you as your cunt sucks him deeper.

That huge hand you know so well drops between your legs, right back to toying with you. Oh it doesn’t take long to get you off, bent in half on your side, holding onto him and gasping as you’re hit with wave after wave of pleasure.

He’s not subtle to signal when it’s his turn. He pulls you back up and clamps his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard through the fabric of your shirt, fucking you rough, now, and unheeding, like an animal in heat. When he finally finishes, spasming and jolting all over now that his balls have been emptied into you, he leaves his heavy arm over your waist, keeping you close. “Good shit,” he mumbles, throat sticking to itself it’s so dry as he pants, parched, “we split a smoke?”

You’re not much better, even though you’ve bravado to fucking spare. “I smoke. You go the hell to sleep now,” you try to sound stern and dismissive, but there’s a laugh in your tone some place. And fondness, undeniably. You feel his grin against your neck, his body purring mhm in question. “Feel better?” you ask, at length, stroking the hair on his forearms.

“Yes,” he says after a moment, weak and sweet with relief, “can sleep now.” A pause, you can hear him thinking. “Won’t, though. Because you were an asshole and had to bring it up first.” His laugh wheezes, low and susurring.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #teehee and as usual it's just my oc dressed up as a reader yall know the drill by now

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7ndipity · 5 months

Text

He Forgets Your Birthday

Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin just wants to make your birthday memorable, but what happens when life gets too hectic and makes him forget?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me a little bit to get to.

Masterlist

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

Life moved quickly with Jin, in multiple ways.

The first time you ever met, he asked for your number, fearing you wouldn’t cross paths again and he might not get another chance. You both said ‘I love you’ less than two months into dating, after he accidentally let it slip out during one of your first nights together, you even ended up moving in with him after less than a year when the apartment you were subletting fell through(or more accurately, flooded through, but whatever)

Things also moved quickly because of your careers. Sometimes days would flick by without your realizing, a week would turn into two before either of you noticed, and then suddenly it’s been nearly two months since your last technical date.

Despite your reassurances that you understood, Jin felt guilty at times for the two of you missing out on special occasions like holidays or anniversaries with each other, but one day he promised he wouldn’t let slip past was your birthday.

You weren't exactly a fan of making a big fuss for your birthday, but Jin wanted to make it special for you.

“I’ll cook,” He’d promised you. “I’ll make all your favorites, as well as traditional seaweed soup for good luck, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” You’d asked, raising a brow as you sat on his lap.

“Then we’ll do nothing together,” He’d replied, pulling you closer. “And have a wonderful time doing it.”

It’d been an easy promise to make when your birthday was still almost a month away, but as the days and weeks passed, things became increasingly hectic. Comeback season was drawing close, and with it came the pressure and chaos of constant rehearsals, video shoots, and promotional activities, leaving Jin little time to think about much else. Half the time you were already asleep before he got home at night, tiredly wrapping himself around you for a few precious hours before starting the cycle all over again.

He didn’t even know what day of the week it was until Jimin spoke up as they slumped against the wall, trying to catch their breath during rehearsals.

“Oh, how’s Y/n? Did they like their gift?” Jimin asked. “I haven't heard from them since I texted happy birthday this morning.”

Jin felt his heart screech to a stop as he looked over at the younger man, hoping he had misheard. “What?”

“The flowers you helped us pick out? I figured they would’ve-” Jimin’s voice trailed off as he noticed the growing look of horror on Jin’s face. “Tell me you didn’t forget?”

Jin’s whole body felt cold as he fumbled for his phone, stomach dropping as he read the date, and then the numerous text notifications from you.

His hands shook as he read your words, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

‘You left this morning before I got to say it, but love you💖’

‘Do you know what time you’ll be home?’

'Ngl, I'm kinda excited for tonight, it's been ages since I had your cooking😋'

‘Jinnie? Is everything okay?’

‘You’re not coming, are you?’

‘You could at least answer your phone so I know you’re okay.’

Shit.

Sparing no time explaining to the others, he grabbed his things and bolted out the door, nearly sprinting for the elevators.

He couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up, you must’ve been so upset with him. How would he even explain himself to you? Would you even talk to him when he got home? He wouldn’t blame you if the answer was no.

“Y/n?” He called as he opened the door but the house was silent, all the lights off, the stillness seeming to loom over him as he kicked off his shoes.

Tip-toeing through the house, he caught sight of the bouquet of flowers the guys had sent you sitting proudly in the center of the dining table, their cheery brightness almost mocking him now.

As he neared your shared bedroom, he caught sight of a sliver of light slipping out into the hall from the crack in the door.

Peeking in, he found you curled up on your side of the bed, sound asleep, but he could tell by the puffiness around your eyes that you’d been crying, shattering his heart completely.

He slowly sank down on the bed next to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He choked, tears blurring your image in front of him. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world, how could he have forgotten something like this?! He had promised you!

He’d always tried so hard to live up to his commitments and responsibilities in your relationship, no matter how small, but in the moment when it mattered the most, he’d failed you.

“Jinnie?” Your cracked, sleep laden voice snapped his attention back up to you, meeting your tired eyes.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He said, crying in earnest now.

“ ‘s okay.” You said drowsily, too tired to fight with him.

“It’s not. I made you a promise, and I fucked up.” He said, wiping his face.

You didn’t speak, sitting up slowly and pulling him into a hug. As upset as you might’ve been, you couldn’t stand to see him cry.

You wouldn’t lie, you were deeply hurt, but it wasn’t just for you. You’d seen how hard he’d been working lately, coming home late sore and exhausted, bags under his eyes from fatigue. You hated seeing him so tired all the time, so stressed and not able to do anything about it. You knew that under normal circumstances, he would’ve never forgotten, but your lives weren’t normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He cried into your neck. “I’ll find a way.”

“Jinnie, I don’t care about the dinner,” You said, trying not to start crying again yourself as you pulled back to look at him. “All I really wanted was to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Just come hold me, please.” You half dragged him under the covers with you, winding your limbs around each other tightly.

Neither of you spoke much as you slowly drifted off to sleep, clinging to each other desperately, needing to feel each other to be sure you were both still there.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found his side of the bed empty.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced around, questions only just beginning to form in your mind before you heard a faint noise from somewhere in the house, the scent of one of your favorite dishes drifting through the open bedroom door.

Still groggy, you climbed out of bed and followed the smell to your kitchen, where you found your missing boyfriend, his back to you as he stood over the stove, fussing at something he was stirring.

“Why are you so salty? I didn’t even add that much.”

“Maybe it’s just in a bad mood.”

He turned at the sound of your voice, eyes softening as they found you in the doorway, messy hair and sleep clouded eyes, wearing one of his pajama tops as a sleepshirt.

“I thought you were still asleep.” He said softly.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Fulfilling my promise to you.” He said, turning back to the stove for a moment as he spoke. “It’s not quite all of your favorites, but it’s a start. Plus, we’ve got the whole day to do whatever else you want to do.”

“I have work.” You said, not unkindly.

“No, you don’t.” He responded. “I left them a message saying you were sick and couldn’t come in today.”

“Sick with what?” You asked.

“Bad boyfriend-itis,” He said, coming over to hook his arms round your waist. “It’s a very serious condition, it requires a lot of rest and care to recover from.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend.” You said quietly, fiddling with his shirt collar.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He said, frowning.

“Well, I am.” You pushed up on your toes to press your lips to his softly, making him melt instantly. You let your hands slowly trail up and around his neck, earning a slight shiver from him before you pulled away to look at him. “What about rehearsals?”

“I told them the same thing as your work.” He said with a slightly dazed grin.

“You have boyfriend-itis too?” You raised a brow at him questioningly.

“Are you kidding? I’m patient zero.” He replied, earning a giggle from you, making his heart swell as he smiled down at you.

“Go back to bed,” He said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“I don’t wanna go back to bed.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him seriously. “I told you last night, I just want to be with you.”

“Alright then.” He hooked his hands under your thighs, boosting you up to sit on the counter with a surprised squeak from you. “You can sit here and be my lovely assistant.”

“I don’t even know what you’re making.” You giggled again.

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead and make yummy noises when I show you something.”

The two of you talked as he continued cooking, stopping each time he passed by you to leave a kiss on your waiting lips. Once everything was ready, you moved to the table, sitting close enough that you could reach over and grab his hand as he settled next to you.

He glanced up at you. “What is it?”

“Just thank you.” You said.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“Being you. Being here.”

Jin felt the familiar twisting in his chest as he leaned over to press another kiss to your lips.

“Always.” He promised.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he swore to himself, he would be there for you, no matter what else was going on. You were his world, his heart, and he would make sure you knew that from now on.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan

#seokjin angst #seokjin scenarios #seokjin drabble #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin fluff #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts angst #bts requests #7ndipity

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somnambulic-thing · 1 year

Text

Eddie Munson x gn!reader with vagina&boobs

Rating: E, nsfw, 18+ Words: 3.9k read on ao3

smoke and cherry pop rocks Summary: You’ve been silently in love with Eddie for years and he’s leaving Hawkins soon. You want one kiss before he does. He gives you more than that.

CW/tags: no upside-down, angst, fluff, first times, grief, open end, reader has regrets, coming of age (everybody is over 18 though), smut, piv penetration, oral for everybody, lovemarks/bruises, rough sex, sex in public places, nicknames

A/N: In case: Pop Rocks are candy that pops and fizzes in your mouth. I hurt myself with this one, but growing pain is what it is.

If you like and enjoy this little story, let me know. I’d love to hear from you.

It had been dry the past few weeks. So dry that your feet are kicking up small clouds of dirt where the paved roads of Forest Hills trailer park turn into gravelled paths, making your throat itchy and the inside of your mouth feel just as dry.

You’ve been to the trailer park before but never figured out which trailer was home to Eddie Munson. Had, in fact, avoided finding out. You have a rule when it comes to Eddie and you are about to break it.

The rule was simple enough: Don’t.

Don’t get too close.

Don’t get lost in those eyes, that wit, that kaleidoscope mind.

Don’t let him get too close.

Don’t.

He had been a Senior and you a Sophomore when you created that rule, your crush at first nothing more than a light tickling on the back of your neck and some innocent thoughts about a kiss from those ever-smirking lips. He’d been prickly, snapped at you more than once when he caught you casting not-so-secret glances across hallways until one day, he didn’t. Until one day, he said hi.

And then he had been a Senior and you a Junior and he had given you a ride home, picking you off the street with sweet words and gentle hands after your bike betrayed you and the asphalt scraped the skin off your knees and palm. He walked you to your door to make sure you wouldn’t faint or something even though you clearly felt alright, insisting on taking care of your bike.

“I know what I’m doing. That way I’m sure it won’t give up on you again. Don’t want this to keep me up at night.”

His graduation had been only a few months away that day - or so you‘d thought - and as he stood there, so close, smiling at you, arms crossed over his chest and unable to stand still your whole body had screamed Don’t. He’ll be gone and it will rip you apart.

And then he had been a Senior and so had you and Eddie slipped you pieces of paper during class; little silly drawings to make you smile on days you didn’t feel like it. He held doors for you when you were still half a hallway away and remembered your birthday without you ever telling him the date, singing for you in the school parking lot.

Despite your best efforts to stay away, there had been many and many small moments that had felt like lurking avalanches - a few close calls - but one way or the other, you had walked away unscathed. Right?

You had both graduated three days ago.

Eddie had walked the stage, snatched his diploma and raised two of the happiest middle fingers you had ever seen into the air and bolted like the devil was behind him. You wanted to kiss him. Kiss him so badly. While you still could.

But you didn’t.

Eddie would leave Hawkins soon. He’d found a spot as a roadie, hoisting equipment for a thrash metal band. “Not even a bad one,” he had smirked, radiating excitement. You remember the afternoon he told you about it with painful clarity. He was going to make connections, be a good sport, flex his skills on the guitar whenever an opportunity revealed itself. He had a whole plan.

Eddie would leave soon and you would go to college and so you had said so long tohim with a straight face that felt like it was on fire and that finally was the end of your ordeal. Right?

You already miss him.

So now you’re at the trailer park and your mouth is dry and no matter how much you tell yourself it’s just the dust or the unusual heat or the fact that you had walked here for almost an hour without so much as a sip of water, you knew the real reason was Eddie.

You spot his van first.

And then you spot him. Stretching out on his back on the floor of the small deck in front of the trailer. One arm under his head, his feet bopping to a tune in his mind, tendrils of smoke rising up from his face like ephemeral poems. Golden hour was only minutes away and already the sun tinted everything in this light that had the color of bittersweet memories.

You place your feet carefully, eager to stay unnoticed as long as you can, not ready to leave this limbo yet. He was just beautiful like this; even in inertia, Eddie was a wild thing.

He turns his head at last; you don’t stop, don’t falter even though inside of you everything screams Don’t.

You see him squint, the low and glaring sun behind you shrouding you just a little longer giving you a few more precious seconds to clear your mind, to prepare your words.

Except it doesn’t. He recognizes you anyway.

Over the distance, you hear your name spoken in that voice that had made you jump on your first day in High School; he’d been running late and barged into the wrong classroom. His hair had been shorter, sticking out in every direction like he was electric, made of storm. The voice is deeper now, rougher, but you would recognize it underwater. You hear it in your dreams.

“Hi, Eddie,” says your mouth while your mind says Don’t.

“You, uh, got lost or something?

“No,” you say and come to a halt. With you, you bring your shadow and you cast it over his face. His features relax, the squint disappears and you look down into pitch-black eyes. “I was looking for you.”

“For me?”

“For you.”

“You, like, wanna… buy something green or…?”

“For you.”

Where once sleeves had been on his shirt were now big holes reaching down to his waist, the fabric rolling in slightly at the raw edges where he’d cut along. You can see the pale skin spanning over his ribcage, can see the rise and fall, can see the ink.

Eddie looks at you in silence. You even like the way he doesn’t talk.

Don’t.

He starts to move, eyes fixed on you as he sits up, places his palms on the floor, rings click-clacking softly, cigarette butt coughing bitter tufts of smoke from between his fingers. He pushes himself around in one swift motion, crossing his legs, bare feet covered in dust, and faces you.

Your mouth is dry, is arid, is a desert.

“What do you mean for me?”

DON’T, it screams.

Ah, shut the fuck up, you answer.

“Have you ever heard of anticipatory grief?”

He blinks, fast, tilts his head, tilts the corners of his mouth down.

“Hmm, nope,” he shakes his head, “but I think I… get the gist. Why? You came to ask me this?”

“I came to kiss you.”

“What?”

“That is, if you want me to... To kiss you.”

The cigarette has snuffed out between his fingers and he throws it away into an unseen distance, his eyes searching your face for clues. You give him a smile.

“Are you for— for real?”

You nod.

“You’re not messing with me? Because that would be a fucked up thing to do.”

Your heart rushes the blood through your veins like a torrent, you feel it pool on your cheeks.

“Eddie,” you say the way you always wanted to. Soft and longing. “I had a crush on you for so long…” You close your eyes. “Years... Still have.”

“Shit! I… uh, shit.” You hear only crickets and a lawn mower in the distance and you wonder if he has vanished into thin air. “Could you, like, look at me?”

It takes effort, but you do.

“You… you never...”

“I know.”

“Why now? Why—“ You can see him think, putting crooked pieces together. “Anticipatory grief?”

“Fuck, you’re clever.”

His head draws back, his brows draw together; it looks like he’s drawing the wrong conclusion. “So you, what? Expected me to be an ass about it? To mess with you?”

“Not all that clever then,” you smirk and Eddie looks confused.

“Well, fuck you, milady,” he says with a tense smile and waves a hand through the air. You want to evaporate, flow through those fingers. “But you’re making no sense to me right now. Help me out?”

“You’re leaving soon.”

“Wait, wait, wait: you said years.”

A laugh is tickling you to let it out, you hold it back and sigh. “I thought for years you’d be leaving soon.”

“Shit,” he almost barks, fingers stilling an itch on his temple. Then he laughs and you do too.

You step closer, leaving only a few feet between you while the laughter is softly running out. And then he breathes in deep into his lungs; holds it holds it holds it. Oh to envy the air so much, it was embarrassing.

“Why now?”

“I don’t know—”

“Bullshit.”

“Eddie…”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

His chest expands again, you see him clenching his fists before he rests his hands on his thighs, ringed fingers splayed wide on black denim.

“Say my name like that—”

“I’m sorry—“

“Answer my question, sweetheart.”

“Don’t do that.”

It’s like a dance somehow, no, not quite, but you’re feeling out of breath and the rhythm is addictive.

“Answer my question…” and then he smiles, pulls his hands to his face, palms pressed together like in prayer, “…sweetheart.”

Asshole, you think losing the fight against a shiver.

“Because,” he says, propping his sharp yaw against his knuckles, “I would have been in on it in a heartbeat. On a date. Or something. Anything, really.”

You say his name like that again and hide your face inside your palms, seeking refuge from your past decisions. “Don’t do this to me.”

“Yeah, fuck that. You started this. I’m just, ahm, levelling the playing field,” he laughs a little bitterly. “T’s not like I won’t think about some if’s and could have been’s now, ya know?”

You can’t look up. You want to ask him if he heard of spontaneous self-combustion before but then he holds the match that sets you on fire.

“I always liked you.”

The groan escaping you is muffled by your palms. “So why did you never say something?”

There is a tap on your shoulder, the sudden touch startling you out of your stupor, and when you come up his warm palms almost feel cool on your heated face.

And Eddie kisses you.

A high-pitched noise escapes your throat, your hands fly to his wrists, holding on like vices because he tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and like endless summer skies and the world is spinning as much as his lips are soft and he sighs a little and—

Eddie is kissing you!

You take a step forward, your stomach hits the deck and you wind your fingers through his hair. The roots are damp with sweat and he sighs again when you pull. He opens his mouth to welcome you in, to lick at you with his cherry tongue and steal your breath right from your lungs and—

And then it ends. Time has never passed so fast.

The dissonance of your laboured breathing hangs between you like a chance, a peek, a warning; Eddie won’t let go of your face and you won’t let go of his.

And then he smiles. “Was good?”

You nod. “Too short.”

“Wanna come up here for more?”

Eddie’s laugh echoes through the trailer park as you scramble to climb up the deck. You knock him over, or maybe you don’t, because his hands are already on your arms and pull you with him to the floor. It doesn’t matter one way or the other. What matters is his tongue in your mouth, the hard edge of his teeth against yours and his skin under your wandering fingertips.

The sun is setting.

Eddie is still kissing you when it leaves this day for good.

Wedged between your thighs he now and then whispers little secrets to your skin.

You are so pretty.

You smell so good.

You’re making me so hard.

Eddie’s throat tastes like salt and summer dust; he likes it when you bite him.

I never said a thing because I thought you wouldn’t want me.

Because wanting you scares me.

Because you always were so distant—

when I came close.

“I’m so stupid,” you confess.

“Not stupid, sweetheart.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t know.” He speaks those words into your mouth as if to share the bitterness.

I’m glad you came.

I’m glad you’re here.

I want you to stay.

I want you to stay. And if it’s only for one night…

Eddie’s room is a mess but his bed is soft. So is the light, illuminating chaos you had imagined countless times before but it’s no match for the chaos inside you. There’s so much you want to say, but so much skin to kiss. You fill the spaces in between.

“Sometimes,” you pant, his lips against your throat, “I sneak into your concerts.”

“I’ve never seen you there,” he says, almost ripping your shirt, sucking on your breasts.

“I love the sound of your voice.”

“You mean that?”

You nod, straddling his thighs, unbuttoning his pants. “I wanna hear you moan.”

Eddie moans for you when you sink down on his cock.

You feel so good.

I can’t believe it.

Neither can you. For the day began with a dragging sense of emptiness and now you are so full of him it’s driving you insane. He moans your name while you ride him, while you show him how you feel in a way words can’t.

You’re so warm.

So soft.

I wanna taste your pussy.

The secrets stop as he licks at you with fervour; but not the moans. Eddie is spoiling you with those and you’re spoiling him with praises.

He’s careful with his fingers, almost like he’s scared. You tell him where to touch, how to move and he thanks you with his eyes; shining and wide and full of pride and wonder as you tense around his fingers, twitch under his tongue.

“Fuck me, Eddie, please…”

Eddie is rough. You want him to wreck you.

I want you to remember this with your whole body.

I wanna make you breakfast.

I’m leaving in two weeks. Two weeks. Gimme those two weeks.

“Yeah,” you moan against his neck. “I’ll give you anything.”

“Don’t— don’t do that.”

“For two weeks,” you shove your hand under his chin, you make him look at you. He’s so deep inside of you it’s hard to think but this is easy: “For two weeks, I’ll give you anything.”

Eddie kisses you; he tastes like you, like you, like you and nothing else. With one hand he pins your wrists above your head and fucks you like there’s no tomorrow.

When he falls asleep on your chest, you whisper little secrets of your own.

I’m sorry.

I’m so sorry.

I’m so in love with you.

Eddie makes you breakfast. His uncle looks happy and confused; he wants you to call him Wayne. Dramatic eyes seem to be a Munson thing. Wayne makes you laugh with stories about Eddie, Eddie makes you laugh with being flustered and shy. When it’s just you and Wayne for a moment, he slips you a picture of a younger Eddie. Hair short, guitar too big for him. You hide it away like a treasure.

You promised each other two weeks so he gives the car shop an early notice to make time.

“But you need the money, Eddie.”

“I can’t buy this with money, sweetheart.”

“But—“

Eddie likes to shut you up with kisses. It’s not fair, you tell him. He doesn’t give a fuck, he tells you.

You have fourteen days and Eddie’s head is in your lap, a guitar on his chest and he plays for you; melody soft and sad, smile sharp and wide under your adoration. Even little quarrels feel like blessings because the make up is so sweet. Later, he takes you downtown where he never lets go of your hand and licks ice cream off your face.

I wrote this the day you scraped your knees.

I don’t mind you being stubborn when you kiss me like that.

You taste better without it.

Twelve days and you wake up in his arms; he keeps you in bed for hours. Soft kisses, roaming hands and never a moment of silence, you and Eddie sharing everything your minds provide, making every second count. In the evening, Eddie takes you to see a movie. He makes you come twice. You walk back to the trailer park, barefooted.

I still can’t believe you’re here.

I could listen to your thoughts for hours.

I want to fuck you in weird places.

Ten days and Eddie rolls a joint for you to share. You smoke on the roof of the trailer, making up silly names for constellations, laughing till your stomachs hurt. Then you fuck him, palms pressed to his chest, keeping him down. You draw it out till the sun comes up behind you, leaving him a mumbling mess, the corrugated metal of the roof leaving bruises on his back. You kiss them all; they are your favorite color.

I don’t want to leave anymore.

“But I’m leaving too.”

“I know.”

Seven days and Eddie packs you a picnic. It’s mostly junk food and you both feel full and lazy, like turned-over beetles, giggling like children in the high grass at the shore of Lovers Lake. You find clouds that look like dicks and whales and guitars and it’s all a bit of the same, really, and you bully Eddie out of his clothes because the water looks so nice and cool.

I used to come here with my mother.

It’s good to leave here laughing.

I’ll miss your laugh. So much.

Four days and Corroded Coffin play their last show. You are the first row in a crowd of twenty people; you cheer for twenty more. After, you give the band space, watching the end from the sidelines. There are tears, there are hugs, there are stories of days past and promises for those to come. In his van, Eddie falls into your arms and clings to you for twenty minutes. Then he kisses you, pulls you greedily into his lap and almost breaks his window when there’s no condom to be found.

I didn’t think all of this would be so hard.

I’m crazy about you.

It’s not fair.

I want to make you come with my fingers, please.

Three days and you take Eddie to your house. He needs to see where you live from the inside. Your mother loves him, like you knew she would. He pokes around your room, inspecting everything he can. Sadly, it’s not much; you already started packing. He gets quiet.

“What’s wrong?”

“I hate to see those boxes with your stuff.”

“You wanna sleep at your place?” you caress his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“No.”

Eddie can’t fall asleep. You find him wide awake at three in the morning, staring at boxes and crying silent tears. He hates it that you see them.

“Come on, get dressed. We’re leaving.”

“No.”

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

“Tough shit,” he huffs. “You said you’ll give me anything. Give me this. I wanna feel this.”

So neither of you sleep. The sun comes up when Eddie pushes your face into the mattress, your wrists in his hand on your back. He’s not gentle. You don’t want him to be. He’s everywhere. By noon he kisses the bruises on the back of your thighs. They are his favorite color, he says. He wants to leave the boxes now. So you leave.

Maybe you were right. Maybe you are stupid.

I don’t mean it!

I’m sorry.

I just want years of this.

Two days and you just stay in bed. Eddie reads to you. Lord of The Rings and he’s doing different voices, and sound effects; narrates the rain, the hooves of pony’s and everything in between with gentle fingertips on the back of your hand. And it makes you cry. Makes you cry so hard that Eddie’s shirt is soaked where he holds you to his shoulder.

“Anticipatory grief. I get it now,” he says into your hair. There is something he doesn’t say. You can feel it, but you don’t ask.

This time when he fucks you, Eddie is nothing but gentle. You almost can’t stand it. You never want him to stop. Keep him inside of you forever.

I’m in love with you.

No, I mean it.

I always liked you, remember?

“I’m in love with you too, Eddie.”

“Say that again.”

Eddie’s van is packed. He’s leaving in two hours.

Your lips are swollen from kissing, biting, sucking his cock and bruises into his skin.

“How can you be so perfect?” you ask him.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t let me leave.”

“Eddie…”

Eddie slides from your arms, slides from his room, out the porch door and flees into the forest behind the trailer.

You look after him, stunned.

Wayne sits on the deck, smoking.

“M’ sorry, kid. Really sorry.”

You know what he means. You’re sorry too.

“If he’s not back in twenty, you go after him.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. He’s my boy,” Wayne chuckles. There are tears in his voice.

You find Eddie sitting on a low branch, staring into the distance.

“You found me.”

“You’re leaving.”

“So are you.”

There are some nettles stinging your calves as you walk over, but the look on his face stings more.

It’s like the day you found him two weeks ago: you looking up at him, his eyes brimming with confusion. Except it’s nothing like two weeks ago.

“If this isn’t a pretty fucking case of self-fulfilling prophecy then I don’t know what is.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, brushing hair out of his face.

“You know what I mean.”

Of course, you do. It was you who made that prophecy.

“Do you regret it? That you gave me that kiss?” you ask in fear, a tear fleeing down your cheek.

Eddie kisses it away. “Don’t be stupid.”

Ten minutes and you lean against his van. His arms are crushing you, your nails leave red trails on his back and shoulders. You want him to remember.

“M’ going to miss you,” you sob.

“Gonna miss you too, sweetheart.”

I’ll call you every day I can.

I’ll let you know when I’m in the area.

M’ gonna visit you. I promise.

Eddie kisses you. He tastes like smoke and cherry pop rocks and plain old sadness.

You made me so happy.

It’s almost cruel.

I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

Your mouth is dry as you watch him drive away, clouds of dirt rising from the dusty tires. Wayne holds you while you sob; he’s crying too. “Stop by for coffee b’fore you leave,” he says and you promise you will as you wave him goodbye.

The sun is low and golden as you start your way home. No. To the place where your boxes are waiting. You feel uprooted.

Two days later and the phone is ringing. You trip over a bag of clothes and bump your knee on the coffee table. You don’t feel the pain.

“Eddie?”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x afab!reader #Eddie Munson #eddie munson smut #somnambulic-thing #my fic

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peachesofteal · 1 year

Text

First Sight / Chapter 2

Chapter 2 of 2. Part five of the Sassy series. First chapter here.

Simon Riley/female reader - soft dad Simon Riley 4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, PTSD, PPD, mentions of blood and violence, reader is a new mom, tenderness, fluff, complicated feelings, mentions of Percocet (no addiction or abuse), feelings of fear and anxiety, emotional hurt/comfort. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

The house is quiet. Practically silent, except for the ebb and flow of Simon snoring, the broad expanse of his chest combined with the crook of his elbow making a very comfortable sleeping spot for Theo apparently. It’s like white noise, you guess. You've heard of babies being lulled to sleep by the sound of the ocean, or rain, or even a vacuum cleaner, but you didn’t have to resort to any of those, the crackle coming from Simon’s nose more than enough.

Which is great, because you’re exhausted. Or at least, you think you are. It’s hard to tell right now. Your abdomen is still sore, giant incision finally starting to close after six long weeks, and your brain never turns off, the darkness pulling at the edge your mind dragging you through hell almost every day, the bright spots few and infrequent. You feel haunted. You feel like a husk.

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You stare at Theo in awe, his little face perfectly serene while he sleeps in your arms, and you lower your own to the crown of his head, skimming your nose across his tiny tuft of hair. You hold him close, pointer finger tracing as lightly as possible across the apple of his cheek, back and forth. It’s hard to believe he’s even real. Or that he’s here. That the two of you made it through, and that he now has a birthday, a name, ten fingers, and ten toes.

This, whatever it is, is the strongest concentration of love you’ve ever felt in your life, that you’re sure of. Things that mattered before, don’t anymore. Things you were worried about in the past, don’t exist. The only thing that’s real is this baby in your arms, your baby, Simon’s baby, and you blink rapidly to hold back tears at the realization.

“What do you think, mom? You ready for some pain relief so you can get some sleep?” The nurse asks, and Simon nods but doesn’t speak. You know he wants you to get some painkillers, that he’s having a hard time watching you wince and bite your lip to the point where you draw blood, but he also wouldn’t dare speak for you, even though you’re sure he wants to take over, take charge and make sure you get what you need.

You did just have major surgery, and the other drugs have worn off, leaving you with searing pain in your stomach and cramps in your legs.

But the idea of taking a Percocet makes you nervous, lights some uneasy fire in the back of your mind, and irrational but completely real fear buzzes in your nervous system. If you’re drugged, you’ll be loopy, and it makes you want to say no. The amount of pain your body is in fights against the resistance, and you glance at Simon hesitantly. Like he’s reading your mind, he reaches out to place a gentle hand on your thigh.

“Nothing is going to happen if you take a pain pill. I promise.” He says encouragingly and you relent with a sigh.

“Okay, yeah.”

“Sass?” It’s Simon, standing in the doorway, Theo in the sling that is his giant forearm. He sits comfortably there, perfectly snuggled against his dad, and it makes your heart clench. Simon is looking at you warily, like he doesn’t recognize you. Which is fair. You don’t even recognize yourself. “What’re you doin’ out here?” Where? You blink, processing the question. Here? Your toes wiggle, in grass, and you look around. Why are you in the backyard? At night?

“Oh. I don’t know.” He’s holding his hand out to you, large fingers reaching for yours.

“Come inside.” He presses his thumb to your wrist, eyes closing before speaking again. “I think you should call the shrink.”

“No.”

“Sass. There’s nothing wrong with it, if you need to talk to someone.” You laugh weakly.

“That’s rich, coming from you.” You spit, tone edged in an eagerness to fight, and he tenses. Fuck. “I’m sorry.” Your shoulders slump. Stop being such a bitch. He’s doing practically everything for you right now. “I’m sorry. Really. I’m just… out of it.” You step closer, leaning your forehead into his chest, blinking down at the wriggling baby in his arm. Your son. You feel Simon’s nose in your hair, and then a heavy palm rests at the small of your back.

He inhales deeply.

“I know.”

Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. You repeat it over and over for assurance, even though your son is sleeping comfortably in your arms, safe and healthy. Ten fingers, ten toes, ten pounds. It’s hard to believe you’re a mom now, someone who has a tiny, defenseless little human depending on you for everything.

Well, not just you.

You eye Simon, asleep in the chair less than a foot from the bed, head tilted back, mouth open. There’s a large white spot of baby vomit on the front of his black sweatshirt, and he’s sporting some serious undereye circles from being up with Theo as much as possible. He doesn’t let you lift a finger, which is fine considering you can’t even really get out of the bed without help, your giant incision still wrapped up and body still exhausted from surgery, two days later.

On top of everything, something felt off. There was this feeling, a dark, lonely thing pulling at your limbs, trying to wring you out over and over, dragging you down into the dark of the deepest waters. You were frightened of it, the cycle of thoughts spiraling through your mind every time you closed your eyes, the inky blackness of dark feelings overtaking you from every direction. Were you going to be a good mom? Would you be able to take care of Theo? What if Simon wasn’t here? What if something bad happens? What if you die? What if Theo doesn’t love you? What if Simon leaves? What if you don’t like your own baby? What if you can’t bond with him? What if you suck at this?

Theo gurgles, a small noise, and you try to shift to alleviate some of the pressure on your back. Pain zings through you, the sting of your muscles seizing, and you gasp, loud enough that Simon is jerking awake, eyes scanning the room until they land on you and your hopeless form.

“Need help?” You nod miserably, and he lifts Theo away from your body while you try to get situated. You watch him rock the baby easily, settling into a natural rhythm like it’s nothing, and try not to feel irritated. He’s a natural. How is possible that Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley is so good at this and you’re a failure? Tears prick along your waterline, and you slam your eyes shut, but not before one escapes down your cheek. “Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” A big, warm hand envelopes yours, and your emotions surge inside of you, sadness and love and anxiety swirling in your heart until you’re sniffling.

“I’m sorry.” You sob and he looks stricken.

“Sorry for what?”

“For being such a mess.”

“You just had a baby, Sass. And you have a huge wound in your stomach. You’re gonna be a mess for a bit.”

“Yeah, b-but I can’t even take care of my… my own baby,” The words are slurred, pieced together through tears, and you try to catch your breath. He folds his hand around the back of your neck and leans forward, bringing Theo between your two bodies while your face nestles into him. “and you’re being so nice to me.” You cry aloud.

“Shhh. It’s alright, sweet girl. You’re okay.” TWO babies. There are two babies in this stupid hospital room. You take a deep breath through your nose while Simon rubs your back, Theo blinking up at the two of you silently. “Did you get any sleep this morning?”

“N- no.” He sighs as he pulls away, lips dragging across your temple gently and then up to your forehead to press a kiss there, soft and slow, lingering as long as he can.

“I think you should try to get some sleep,” you shrug and wipe your eyes. “I’ll turn out the lights.”

“Wait.” Your hand shoots out to latch onto his in a panic. “Si. I- don’t go anywhere. Please?”

“We’ll both be right here.” He assures you, folding your hand back into your lap with a squeeze before moving to flick the light off. “We’re right here, okay? Close your eyes.” He slides the reclining chair another half a foot closer to the bed, easing down into it with Theo secure in one arm, holding your hand with the other. He traces a thumb over the skin of your knuckles, and your eyes slip closed.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, the straggly ends of your hair, the rise and fall of your chest beneath Simon’s t shirt. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. Your head is pounding, a headache ripping across the front of your brain, your stomach churning like you’re going to vomit up the breakfast you ate this morning. Your legs feel weak, or maybe it’s your body that feels heavy, but either way, you can hardly stand, leaning against the bathroom countertop for support. You focus on your breath, in and out, counting inhales and exhales, but there’s a buzzing sound in your ear, and the room suddenly feels dark, like your vision is cloudy.

When you close your eyes, you see a teenager walking towards you, a bomb wired to the vest he’s wearing.

You see Soap’s blood on your palms, you feel it slicking your skin up your forearms, you hear his grunts of pain as you pack his wound.

You see Simon outside the tent after you left, staring up at the helicopter as it took you away. You remember the unadulterated rage that coursed through your veins, the overwhelming feeling of anger that consumed your entire existence.

You see the faces of the first infantry troop you deployed with in the desert. The fresh-faced lieutenant, begging you to make sure his wife and kids get his death benefits while he dies in front of you, torso blown open, organs shredded by bullets. The private, from Louisiana, whose parents were long dead, but he told you about how sweet his baby sister was while the two of waited for a field medic that would be way too late.

You see your dad, the last time you ever saw his face, putting you on a plane to a country you knew nothing about while you screamed, your mother crying in his arms. The silver of the cross around his neck glinting in the afternoon sun.

You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear.

There’s a knock on the door and you snap to attention.

“Sass?” You fix your face in the mirror as well as you can before answering.

“Yeah, coming.”

It’s the familiar ring of a facetime call that wakes you, your head foggy with the cotton of deep sleep. You squint at the caller ID, Johnny’s name popping up across the screen accompanied by the soap emoji.

“Hi.” You answer, voice still a little groggy. Simon is already lifting Theo from the bassinet, depositing him on your chest gently, and giving your shoulder a squeeze before he slumps back in the chair.

“Sassafras, look at ‘im.” Theo’s just visible in the screen, and Johnny is grinning, hand partially covering his face because his eyes are suspiciously wet. “You did a grand job lass.” You smile at him in thanks, and Simon grunts from the chair right next to the bed. “Where’s the big guy?”

“He's here.” You angle the camera, and Simon cracks a small smile under the mask.

“Hey Johnny.”

“Ghost! Yer a lucky man, LT.” Simon looks to you, something soft shining in his eyes before it disappears.

“Yeah.” He reaches over, hand laying gently over top yours where it rests on Theo's back.

“He’s ready to meet Uncle Soap, whenever you get leave next. Feel free to come over this way.” You chime. “We, uh actually wanted to talk to you about being his godfather...”

“No, we don’t.” Simon barks but you shake your head, moving the camera back to you.

“Yes, we do. Ignore him. It was his idea, Johnny.” You shoot him a look.

“Ah you two, I’m honored.” There’s a noise in the background, something loud, and Johnny looks away quickly, before returning to the screen. “Gotta run. Miss ya Sassy, and the grumpy bastard.”

“Bye, Soap. Be safe, stay frosty.” Theo cries just as Johnny hangs up, and you pat his back slowly, murmuring above his ear.

“What is it?” You soothe. “Hungry?” You bounce him slightly, all you can do from the bed, before looking up at Simon imploringly. “Si…”

“C’mere” He pulls the baby from your arms, tilting him onto his back at a good angle for the bottle, before settling down next to you on the bed. “Like a champ.” He says proudly, and you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips.

“He’s got a good appetite.” You push your finger into his tiny fist, and he grabs onto it reflexively. “Like his dad I guess.” You tease and Simon smirks, leaning down to plant a kiss across your cheek.

Theo is screaming on the monitor. Both of you jolt awake, and Simon is out of bed before you can even say anything, hall light flicking on and floorboards creaking under his feet.

You glance at the clock. 3:32 AM. Well, at least he made it three hours. There’s a beeping sound inside your ear, and you cringe, shaking it away as you fully wake. Anxiety immediately blooms in your mind, and you take deep breaths to calm your heart. You’re home. You’re not in danger. Simon is here. Theo is here. There is nothing to fear. You sit up slowly, shifting your hips until you’re fully upright, and Simon comes back.

“Hungry, I think.” He’s got Theo against his chest, blanket over his shoulder. His hair is all a mess, like the baby’s, and the sight of them together nearly makes you start crying. Your boys.

“Here.” You clear your throat. “I’ll take him, you grab the bottle?” He rubs his face sleepily and you rock Theo, trying to get his cries to calm down while you wait for the formula. “Shhh.” You make the hushing noise near his ear, to no avail.

The song comes easily. It’s not a lullaby, and you’re a shit singer, but since he was born, singing works better than humming, though you’re not sure why. You rock him in time with the beat you’re conjuring in your head, closing your eyes and imagining your voice is not terribly off key.

“I am not the only traveler, who has not repaid his debt. I’ve been searching for a trail to follow, again. Take me back to the night we met.” Theo cries, but more softly, a little hiccup shaking his chest. “And then I can tell myself, what the hell I’m supposed to do. And then I can tell myself, not to ride along with you.” You press a kiss to his forehead, stroking across the baby soft skin of his cheek. “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” He’s gone silent, just looking up at you with big wide eyes now, and you smile down at him in the dim light of your bedside lamp. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost you. Take me back to the night we met.”

When you look up, Simon’s standing in the doorway again, bottle in one hand, burp cloth in the other, frozen to the spot, staring at you.

“Hey.” He startles, like he was off somewhere else, and takes big strides until he’s sitting at your side, handing the bottle over. “Thanks.”

“Y-yeah.” He stutters, and you frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just tired.”

“I can put him back in the crib, if you want to lay down.” You gesture to his side of your bed, but he shakes his head.

“No, no. ’s fine.”

“You sure?” Theo sucks the bottle down with ease, and you prop him on your shoulder over the burp cloth. Simon leans forward, and presses his lips to your brow, hand resting on Theo’s back. He holds himself there, for a second, then two, and three, until he pulls away to touch his forehead to yours.

“I’m sure.”

The woman says your name, nodding at you from where she sits to the left of your bed.

“I’m Dr. Moreno. I’m a resident psychologist here, but I also do work for the VA.” You fight the urge to tell her to get the fuck out and choose to smile politely instead. “I understand you have some concerns about postpartum depression.”

“Yeah.” Suddenly, you wished you hadn’t been so painfully honest on the questionnaire your OB gave you.

“Are you currently receiving any treatment for your PTSD?”

“No.”

“Are you interested in receiving treatment for PTSD?”

“Not really, I’ve done therapy before.” She nods thoughtfully.

“Did your doctor go over everything with you about C-section recovery?”

“Yeah, she did.” Somewhere, in the very back of your mind, something tells you to be more forthcoming, to be more open with this shrink, but it gets shut down before it can become a full thought.

“Okay. I am going to give you my card. It has my office number on it and my email. You can reach out to me anytime you need to.” You give her another polite, lackluster look. She sighs. “Being a new mom can be hard, even for those who don’t have histories of trauma. There is no shame in needing help.”

“I know. Thank you.” You hold the card up like its proof that you’re listening, like you can be trusted to call if you think you’re in trouble. She gives you a sympathetic smile as she makes to leave, reiterating that she wants you to call her if you need to.

A heavy knock sounds on the door, and then Simon is standing in the room, medical mask on his face, sleeping baby cuddled against him. Just the sight of him holding Theo cleaves your heart in two, and you hold your arms out to them both, anxious to be near them. He gives the doctor a look when she passes, and then raises an eyebrow at you.

“You alright?” Theo cries and you motion with your hands so you can hold him.

“Yeah. Just usual shrink stuff.”

“Alright, come off it. It’s not that funny.” Simon’s jaw flexes as you try to hold back the laughter and fail. It hurts your stomach, but at the same time, it feels great. It feels real.

“Oh my god. I’m so- sorry. For laughing, it’s just-“ you stare down at the mess of burnt food in the pan, eyebrows creasing in sympathy when you look back up at him. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” He scowls.

“I’ll order takeout.”

“No, no you don’t have to. We can make something else.”

“No.” He turns to stalk away, and you’re hit with a wave of emotion out of nowhere, so strong that it nearly knocks you off balance, almost steals your breath. It feels familiar. It feels like Belize, and every second afterwards until he sent you away, it feels like waking up in the hospital to his face hovering over yours, it feels like watching him press his ear to your belly when Theo was still inside you. It feels like that night when the two of you sat on the roof of the safehouse in Belarus, after the botched extraction mission, the one that left him with twenty stitches in his thigh and you got that really bad burn on your arm. The roof where the two of you traded secrets, where he told you about his dad and you told him about yours. It feels like the night in Uruguay, when you and Johnny and him all went out and found a bar, when you got drunk and he pressed you against the brick wall in the alley, your legs wrapped around his waist, his face buried in your neck, whispering words you couldn’t quite hear under his breath. It feels like watching him cry in the operating room when he saw the baby for the first time, watching him become a dad, watching him beat the vicious cycle of trauma and abuse right before your eyes.

You wrap yourself around his waist before he can get too far away, molding your body to his back, and his hand comes down to where yours rests on his stomach.

“Sass?”

“Don’t. Just, stay here. Like this. For a minute.” He shifts, turning while keeping you pressed against him, until you’re resting your cheek on his chest, and he’s rubbing your back.

“You alright?” His voice is gentle, he’s always gentle with you now, and the realization makes the feeling grow even stronger.

“Yeah. I’m… Simon. I-“

Theo cries on the baby monitor. Insistent. Bossy, as Simon enjoys telling you, like his mum.

You step away with a sigh.

“I’ll get him.” He kisses your forehead before heading up the stairs.

When he makes it back down, you’re scrubbing the pan out, charred food already deposited in the garbage can.

“There she is.” Simon says from behind you, and you turn to see Theo blinking in your direction, eyes wide and making little garbled cooing noises.

“Hi baby.” Simon shuffles him into your arms, and you sway side to side slowly. “You’re hungry.” You deduce, and he agrees with you, making an impatient crying sound, tiny fist swinging into the air. “I know, I know. Hang on.” You soothe. You settle yourself on the couch with a bottle, brushing against his cheek lightly to trigger the rooting reflex before plopping it in his mouth. He drinks greedily, eyes trying to slip shut once he’s had his fill, and Simon laughs from where he sits next to you.

“You’re good at this.” He says quietly. You balance Theo on your shoulder while you burp him, and then look at Simon like he’s off his rocker.

“Me?”

“Yeah, Sass.” He pauses. “And ya look good, holding my baby.” Your cheeks heat, and something clenches in your stomach. You shoot him a look and he grins like a fool, real happiness stretching across his face in spades. It’s beautiful, he’s beautiful, and you- “I know you’re struggling right now,” he pulls you out of your train of thought, eyes pensive, grin morphing into something bittersweet. “and it’s been hard, but… I’m here. For you. For Theo. I want us…” he trails off when Theo burps and you shift, cradling him back into a sleeping position. “I don’t know… what will happen, in the future, and I know I still got a lot, of making up to do. But I want this. With you. I want us to… be a family.” You study his knuckles, fingers bunched together with tension, the height of his shoulders under his ears. You expect to feel the unraveling force of your anger, the swell of rage towards him that has been lurking under the surface for so long, but it never comes. It simmers in the distance, cool and unprovoked, sitting silently and uneager. You wonder if it's temporary, if you’ll ever feel it again, the way you used to.

Instead, when you look at him, all you see is Simon. Theo’s dad. All you have is that feeling, the strong emotion that makes your head spin, and while you can’t get your mouth to form those three words, you feel the full force it when you look up at him with softness in your gaze and say,

“I think we already are, Si.”

#sassy series #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #reader was pregnant #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mwii #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #ghost cod #tw pregnancy #soft dad simon riley #reader is referred to as mom #simon x sass #ghost x reader #peaches writes

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beyondthesefourwalls · 9 months

Text

Clandestine Meetings

Summary: Bradley was coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bursting at the seams with happy excitement. But the two of you had left things in an...interesting place. When he’s finally standing in front of you, you can tell by his cold and dark eyes that he remembers, too. But he’s had six weeks to think of exactly how you can earn his forgiveness, and you’re all too willing to do anything it takes.

Warnings: Language, masturbation, oral (male receiving), rough sex, degradation.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.3K

Notes: A special surprise birthday one shot for @mak-32. I hope you love it, babe!

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“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He was quiet despite being the only ones in the house, his voice nothing but a whisper floating in the space between your bodies.

Your breath stuttered out of you and your mouth was dry. You knew this was different from anything you had ever done before. You weren’t sure you’d be able to come back from it. It made you nervous. But you couldn’t deny the heat that settled low in your tummy at the thought of going through with it, either.

“I’m sure,” you whispered.

---

It’s fitting, you suppose, that it’s a rare cold day in Southern California. The wind feels like ice on every inch of your exposed skin and goosebumps prickle your entire body. You think it might even rain, the clouds above you darkening with every minute. You almost regret your outfit choice tremendously right now. The flowy purple dress you wore was thin and short and did nothing to combat the cool breeze. But you really had no choice but to wear it. It was Bradley’s favorite, after all. And you know that it’s just a silly dress, but it’s important for him to see you in it right now.

He’s coming home today. Six weeks on a no-contact deployment, stuck on a carrier in the middle of some non disclosed body of water, and he’s finally coming home. Normally, you’d be bouncing on the balls of your feet, too excited to care about the cold. And then the moment you saw him, you’d launch yourself at him, the comfort of his embrace warming you from the outside in.

You swallow thickly at the memory of previous reunions. They were always sweet. Loving.

You don’t think today will go like that.

You’re a cold, trembling bundle of nerves in a flimsy dress by the time the ship finally docks and men and women in khaki uniforms start to disembark. Your eyes dart through the crowd, looking for the familiar mustache and head of curls. You’re standing where you always do when he comes home, something you agreed upon after your second deployment together when he wandered around for almost an hour trying to find you in the sea of people. You hope that he still thinks to look for you here.

You hope that he’d still expect you to be here.

You don’t have to wait too much longer to find out; your breath catches when you see him. He looks so good. Tired, like he always does after a deployment, but a sight for sore eyes nonetheless. It takes everything in you not to run and jump in his arms like you’ve done so many times before.

A range of emotions pass through those entrancing brown eyes of his, so quickly that you have a hard time deciphering all of them. You think you see a brief flash of relief and happiness, but it goes away so fast, you can’t really tell. He stops in front of you and for a moment, you both just stare. He lifts an eyebrow with a slight tilt to his head, like he’s trying to read you. You adjust the chain around your neck, drawing his gaze downward for a moment. You suddenly feel like the jewelry is suffocating you and your mouth feels like you were chewing on cotton balls.

“Surprised to see you here.”

You nearly flinch at the words, biting back a gasp. The cold, accusatory tone of his voice cuts you deeper than the wind ever could. Because of course you would be here. Where else would you be?

You have to swallow several times to get the words out.

“I’m…I’m here to…apologize.”

Bradley lets out a single sharp bark of laughter, shaking his head like he can’t believe you. This time, you do flinch.

“That’s rich. You didn’t seem very apologetic six weeks ago, sweetheart.”

Right, you thought.

You flashback to the night before he left, when this had all started. He’s right, you remember - there wouldn’t have been any apologizing then. Instead, it was antagonizing words and insults flying out of your mouth, trying uselessly to defend yourself when you had been the one to mess up. To manipulate him into believing that maybe it was all his fault. You have had six long weeks, every possible scenario playing in your head of how that night went, and how it did.

“I - I know,” you stutter.

He raises one of those thick, endearingly perfect eyebrows. You stare back at him, transfixed at having him in front of you. You want to touch him, but you know you can’t. You aren’t used to having him so close yet so far away, especially on the days he comes home. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that it takes you a minute to realize he looks like he’s waiting for something. Oh. Right. An apology. “Bradley. Baby, I -”

A crack of thunder rings in the air, and you both look up to the sky just in time for the first raindrop to fall. It’s followed quickly by a second, and then a third. You look back at Bradley, eyes wide. He lets out a sigh and adjusts his duffle on his shoulder.

“I’m not going to let you stand out in the rain, no matter how mad I am,” he says. You feel relief at the words, even if his tone suggests maybe he wanted to do otherwise. He extends his hand, and for a second you think he’s asking for yours. Heat crawls up your neck when you realize that’s not what he was after. Wordlessly, you extract the keys from your dress pocket and hold them out. You gasp when his fingers brush yours when he grabs them. Electricity and warmth shoot through you at the touch. Your eyes meet, both of you frozen. The cold indifference on his face slips, replaced by a longing that makes your heart clench. Your breath catches when he shuffles a step closer to you. You think maybe he’ll forget all of this and lean forward and kiss you, or at least touch you with some sort of intention. Anything. But then another rumble of thunder has the warmth fading from his eyes and he steps back.

The drive back to your house is silent, the tension in the front seat of the Bronco thickening with every mile. His jaw is clenched as tightly as his grip on the steering wheel. You can see the veins throbbing with the effort and you swallow at the flash of heat that flares through you at the sight. Your thighs press together on instinct and you think Bradley clocks the movement because you feel him watching you, though you can’t tear your gaze away from his hands. They’re one of your favorite parts of him physically. They’re so capable and strong and versatile, providing the roughest of touches along with the softest carasses. Desire pools in your tummy just thinking about it. You missed his touch. You missed him.

The quiet doesn’t dissipate when you walk through the front door. You’re used to him hauling you into his arms and carrying you back to your bedroom, or the closest mostly-flat surface you can make it to. This time, Bradley doesn’t even look back as he makes his way to your shared room. He closes the door behind him, and the message is clear: he needs more time.

You feel something prickling under your skin. There’s anxiety, certainly, but there’s a simmer of heat that you can’t deny either. Part of you feels ashamed of it, being turned on at the anger he’s emitting in your direction.

You suppose that’s the point.

You busy yourself with making dinner, some of his favorites that you know he craved when he was away. You serve up two full plates once you’re done and it’s five minutes of sitting alone at the table, waiting, before he comes out. He’s showered and changed, his curls still damp on his head. You know the shirt he has on is one of the softest that he owns. You look at him eagerly, but he avoids your gaze. He sits across from you and picks up his fork without another word. Your thighs clench.

When he’s done, he sets his plate in the sink and pours himself some of the expensive whiskey you bought him for his last birthday. He moves into the living room, leaving you all alone to clean up after the meal. Both of you have yet to speak since walking in the front door.

You take your time doing the dishes by hand and wiping down the countertops. Your heart is pounding in your chest by the time you go out to join him. He’s sitting on the couch, those long legs of his spread, the glass of liquor halfway gone in his hand.

God, his hands.

You stand in front of him. You pick at your fingers and chew on the inside of your cheek so hard that you can taste blood. Bradley watches you with a raised eyebrow, bringing the glass to his lips another sip of the dark liquid. You watch his throat move as he swallows.

“What can I do?” you ask. You know you sound desperate, but you’re so close to breaking. You aren’t sure how long you could do this. You need guidance, direction - you need him.

“I don’t know that there’s anything to do.”

His words make you want to cry or drop to your knees or both. “Please, baby,” you whisper, “I’ll do anything. Please.”

He’s silent for another moment and your will power is rapidly leaving you. But then he throws back the rest of his whiskey and lets out a long suffering sigh. The glass clinks hard against the end table and he stands to his full height. You don’t dare move as he walks over to you. His gaze makes you feel like you’re going to burn alive.

“You wore my favorite dress,” he finally murmurs, slipping his finger under the strap and running the back of his knuckle against your skin. You nod slowly. He hums in consideration before taking a step back. You nearly whimper at the rejection, but then he speaks.

“Take it off.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What?”

“Take it off,” he repeats, leaning against the arm of the couch with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I-right here?” you ask, looking around like you aren’t alone in your living room.

“Right here,” he confirms with a nod. When you don’t move, he motions you to hurry up, looking impatient. “Go on.”

It’s a challenge. He’s pushing to see how far he can go, and you’re going to let him. Your hands shake as you reach for the hem of the short purple dress he loves so much. You tug it over your head and let it float to the hardwood floor. The look you give him when you’re done is a little shyer as you wait for him to tell you what to do next.

Bradley scoffs with a shake of his head even as he looks at you with clear appreciation. “No underwear, sweetheart? I should have known.”

The words make you feel hot with embarrassment. But you also feel the heat flaring up in your core.

“I thought you’d like it,” you tell him.

He pushes off the couch and steps forward until his body is practically flush with yours. You aren’t blind to the juxtaposition you make with him fully clothed while you’re completely naked. It makes you feel a bit like someone to be used - like someone who wants to be used. You squeeze your thighs together in anticipation, and then your lips part in a gasp when his fingers lightly wrap around your neck, forcing your head back the slightest bit until you meet his eyes. He pauses for a moment, tilting his head just the slightest bit, considering you. The shaky breath you let out is laced with anticipation and arousal and without needing to even think about it, you lean into his touch. Just like that, his face hardens again and he moves.

He releases your neck and trails his fingertips down your body, starting at the column of your throat and traveling between your breasts and down your fluttering stomach. His touch is so featherlight it’s almost not there, but if anything, that turns you on even more. You’re aching for him. By the time he passes your belly button, you’re audibly panting for it. You can feel your arousal starting to coat the inside of your thighs. But he stops right above where you need him the most.

“You say that you’re sorry? That you missed me?” he asks quietly. You’re nodding before he’s even done with the first question. Bradley trails his eyes down your body again. His eyes are darker when he meets yours. “Go back to our room. Lay down on the bed.”

Our room. It’s the first thing he’s said that acknowledges that you’re still an “our”. It sends your heart pounding and your feet moving down the hallway to the other side of the house. When you walk into your room, you notice that he had unpacked his bag. The dirty clothes hamper is nearly overflowing with things that need to be washed. His phone is plugged in on his nightstand, where the picture of the two of you he always takes with him on deployment is sitting back in its rightful spot.

You hadn’t considered the fact that maybe he wouldn’t have put it back, if he had even ended up taking it with him at all.

You don’t get long to overanalyze or get in your feelings that maybe things, your relationship, is salvageable after all, because you hear the old floorboard in the hallway creak under his weight and know that he’s on his way. You rush over to the bed. Your head has just hit the pillow when he appears in the doorway.

You want to say something, anything, to get further confirmation that everything was okay. But you don’t dare move. He doesn’t look anywhere but in your eyes as he pauses at the foot of the bed. There are goosebumps all over your skin as you wait for his next direction in this game you’re both suddenly playing.

“You want my forgiveness?”

“Yes,” you breathe. “Yes. Please. I’m so sorry.”

He chews on his lip and drops his gaze down to your open legs. He groans, and you almost sigh in relief that you’re having this effect on him.

“Earn it. Show me how much you missed me.” His voice is rougher than it has been all night, that deep and raspy tone that you enjoyed so much. You nearly gasp in delight as pleasure races through your body at the sound of it.

Earn it.

Splayed out naked on your shared bed, your legs spread for him and with wetness threatening to pool on the duvet under you, you know exactly how you can do that.

Despite the nerves you feel, you take a deep breath and slowly trail your hand down your body. With one more imploring look from him, you slide your fingers through your wetness. You moan when you make contact with that bundle of nerves.

You swirl your swollen clit in soft, slow circles, the pads of your fingers quickly becoming slick with your own arousal. Bradley never takes his eyes off of your motions and it makes you even wetter. You press down harder, knowing that the more you pleasure yourself, the more pleased he’ll be. Your pussy clenches around nothing, aching to be filled. After another moment of teasing circles, you dip your middle finger inside yourself. It’s nothing compared to how you know Bradley feels inside of you, but it’s enough to make you gasp. You arch into the feeling, immediately adding another finger. Your entrance has to stretch to accommodate them and you can’t wait for the delicious burn you’ll feel with his cock, if he even lets you feel that tonight.

You let your eyes flutter closed the longer you pleasure yourself. You think maybe, maybe, you’ll be able to make yourself come like this. You’re climbing toward it, slowly.

“Stop.”

You whimper, but you do as you’re told - as you’re commanded. You withdraw your fingers and immediately your pussy clenches, wanting more. You open your eyes and moan at the site you’re greeted with. He had shed his clothes while you had gotten lost in your own touch and he stood, his cock heavy and thick in his hand, stroking slowly. You see a pearl of precum at the tip and your mouth waters, wanting to taste it. It’s been so long since you tasted him. You can’t stop yourself from crawling to the end of the bed. You’re practically drooling by the time you scramble off of it and drop to your knees in front of him. You want to reach for him and replace his hand with yours, but you stop yourself at the last second. Instead, you look up at him between your lashes.

His gaze is hungry and predatory and focused solely on you. His chest is rising and falling quicker than it was before; he’s just as turned on as you are.

“Please,” you whisper. You rub your thighs together to try and relieve some of the ache that you felt. “Let me earn it?”

His eyes darken and in one quick movement, Bradley takes a step forward, letting the swollen red tip of his cock hit your lips.

“Make it good,” he growls. You open your mouth and take him in. The taste of him mixed with the weight on your tongue and his heady scent is making you dizzy in the best of ways. You want to savor it, to just stay here on your knees and keep him warm, but you don’t want to disappoint him, so you don’t waste time. You dip forward, trying to take more of his length into your mouth. Your hands splay on his thick, muscled thighs, and with a deep inhale through your nose, you pull back before sinking forward and then repeating the motion. You take him a little deeper every time, swirling your tongue and sucking as you do. You’ve been in this position so many times before, and you quickly find the rhythm that you know he prefers. You gag when he nudges the back of your throat, but you don’t let it deter you.

Spit trails down your chin and you know the sounds you’re making are vulgar, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You get lost in it quickly, each moan and curse from above you going straight to your own core. When his hand falls heavy to the back of your head, you think he’s going to guide your movements. You’re surprised when instead, he yanks you back by your hair. His cock falls from your mouth and you gasp. It hangs in front of your face, thick and hard and wet with your own saliva. You go to take him back between your lips but he keeps his grip firm in your hair. You don’t resist when he pulls you to your feet.

“On the bed,” he demands, and you take some satisfaction out of how breathless he sounds. “Hands and knees. Facing the dresser.”

You do as he says, anticipation racing through you like a trail of fire. You’re barely in his desired position when you feel him squeeze the flesh of your behind in both of his hands. “Oh god, please,” you whine, arching into his touch. Only the feeling stops, and your eyes pop open with a gasp of surprise.

You look over your shoulder. His eyes are as dark as they’ve been, but through your lust you see a gleam in them now. Something playful and hot. It’s accompanied by a slow building grin tugging at his lips.

“B-Bradley?”

He tsks mockingly, giving a slow shake of his head.

“Bra-“

His hand connects with your asscheek so harshly and so suddenly that you fall forward, barely catching yourself before face planting into the duvet. But your pussy clenches and the fire in your belly increases and the moan that escapes you is long and drawn out. He drapes himself over you, his weight pressing your entire front into the mattress in the most delicious of ways. He’s completely surrounding you and for a moment, every fiber of you relaxes, forgetting about the anger and the apology.

But then he presses a kiss to your ear, and the words he whispers has it all rushing back.

“Beg for it. For me.”

You can’t turn to meet his eyes with how he’s holding you down, but when you look forward, you realize why he had specifically picked this placement. The mirror over your dresser provides a perfect visual of the two of you tangled together over your forest green duvet. You moan at the sight, and without a second thought, you do just as he requested.

“Please, Bradley. Fuck me. I’ll do anything you want. Please. Use me. I want your cock so bad, baby. Please, please, please.”

Pleading continues to fall from your lips, so jumbled together you lose track of what you’re saying. But Bradley delights in every word. The vein in his neck throbs as he picks himself up, hauling you back to your hands and knees. He looks so large and strong behind you and as he drags the head of his cock through your wetness, you shiver. You watch through half lidded as he lines himself up.

And then he starts to push into you. You both moan at the feeling. It’s always amazing being with Bradley, but that initial stretch that comes with being apart for however long is something special. He’s so big that you can’t take all of him at once, but just like he knows you like, he barely pauses, inching himself in until he’s buried all the way inside of you. You sigh with pleasure and relief, finally feeling full for the first time in six weeks.

You meet his eyes in the mirror again, and for just a second, he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. It makes all of this so worth it. “Bradley,” you whisper, softer than you had all night. You wonder if it will ruin everything, but you say the words bubbing on your tongue anyway. “I missed you so much.”

The breath he releases comes out shaky and he squeezes his eyes shut. You hold your breath as you wait, wondering if this is all about to come to an end, if your words had impacted him that much. But he shakes his head in a way that almost seems like he’s trying to rid himself of your words, and you know before he opens his eyes that you’re nowhere near done.

“I bet you did,” he grits out, and then he pulls out almost all the way before harshly snapping back into you.

The pace he sets is vicious, demanding everything you can give to him. The room is filled with the sounds of your fucking. It’s filthy and wet, your skin slapping together. The reflection you see in the mirror is a sight to behold. Your breasts shakes with every thrust, your necklace hitting against your skin. The veins in his arms bulge as he grips your hips. You both shine with sweat. You let yourself get lost in the pleasure and your eyes close as it starts to consume you. And then all at once, you feel the sharp sting of his hand connecting with your asscheek while the other twists itself into your hair, retching you up so your back is flush with his chest.

“You better keep those eyes open. I want you to watch while I’m fucking you. I want you to know it’s me making you feel this way. Because I’m the only one who can, aren’t I, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, yes, only you.”

“By the time I’m done with you, you’ll never question that again.”

He lets his teeth trail over the pulse point on your neck, biting down slightly. Another whimper falls from you. Despite being flush against him, you’re desperate to be closer. You reach an arm back, slinging it around his neck. The angle is a little awkward but you’re grateful when Bradley doesn’t seem to mind. He settles one hand on your hip while the other comes around to your front, tweaking your nipples and sliding down your sweat-slicked body.

You aren’t prepared for his next move, and the scream you let out is ringing in your ears by the time you register it had left your lips. You clench around him as your clit throbs from the slap he just delivered. You’re desperate for the painful pleasure it caused.

“Again,” you beg, fingers tugging at his curls. You brace yourself this time, and the sting is somehow even better. He slaps your pussy for a third time just for good measure and then sets his attention on torturing your wet, swollen clit with his fingers. You gasp lightly, only to let out another scream when he slams into you again, harder than before.

“You feel so fucking good wrapped around me,” Bradley rasps. You think you say something in return about how good he feels inside of you, but you’re to the point of pleasure where you can’t be sure. You can feel every vein and ridge of his cock as he pounds into you, fucking you in earnest. You can’t do anything but take it, and you do so gladly. The tightening in your core starts and you know you’re close. The pressure of it builds and builds with each stroke in your throbbing cunt and you know you won’t be able to keep it at bay for much longer.

“I’m close,” you manage to choke out, feeling the need to warn him. At your words, Bradley stops, pulling out of you completely. You moan at the loss, preparing yourself for what’s coming. You expect him to deny you, or to taunt you, make you beg and plead and prove that you’ve earned it. But he doesn’t do any of those things. Instead, before you have time to dwell on what you’re sure is your fate, he flips you onto your back and sheaths himself back inside of you in one smooth movement. At the same time, he presses his mouth to yours. You wrap your legs around his waist, pushing yourself further into him. His tongue tangles with yours and it’s messy and desperate, but it’s the first time he’s kissed you since he left six weeks ago, and even more so than feeling him deep inside of you like he is, this feels like coming home. You nearly sob into the kiss.

He’s panting harshly when he breaks away, as are you, but the look in his eye is different now. It’s more familiar, softer, and your walls flutter around him. “You’re so good for me, sweetheart,” he rasps, and you arch into the praise. He kisses you again, his thrusting becoming more erratic now. “Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come all over my cock. I need it.”

“Bradley,” you breathe.

“I love you,” he whispers, “come for me.”

The look of love in his eyes reflected back at you is the catalyst, but the words are truly your undoing. You scream his name as the cord inside of you snaps and you gush around him, your body nearly convulsing at how powerful of an orgasm this is. It’s six weeks of built up tension and anticipation, thinking about his return and how it would transpire. It’s six weeks of longing and missing him, and being without him. He fucks you through it the whole time, chasing his own end. Through the haze of your pleasure, you feel his thrusts become jerky and quick, and when he lets out a hoarse shout of your name, you feel his hot cum spill inside of you, filling you up.

For a long moment, you let yourself float, completely surrounded by this feeling of relief and euphoria and home. Your breaths mingle together as he rests his forehead against yours. He places a soft kiss to your lips as you both come down from the high you reached together. And once your breathing is a little bit more controlled, he pulls back just slightly, and you watch as he glances down to where he’s still buried inside of you. The sigh he lets out is full of content. It’s reflected so clearly in his deep brown eyes when he looks at you.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says.

You hum softly, your body tired and completely relaxed. You scratch lightly at his back, delighting in the goosebumps that appear under your touch. Your voice is hoarse from how loud you had gotten when he fucked you. “Hi, baby.”

Bradley presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, and then another on your cheek before finally placing one against your lips, so featherlight you almost don’t feel it.

“I missed you,” he whispers, followed by another kiss. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too.”

“Are you alright?” he checks, a tinge of worry filling his voice. “Was I-”

“I’m perfect,” you cut him off before he can spiral too much and ruin the bliss that you had both fallen into. “You were perfect.”

He nods, letting out a breath of relief. He doesn’t pull out of you yet, knowing how much both of you need the connection after he’s been away and after a scene. You had always been adventurous in bed, and role playing was one of your favorite things.And this one was intense. Instead, he shifts so you’re both laying on your sides, the front of your body flush with his, his cock still buried in your warmth.

“That was…”

“Yeah,” you breathe out a laugh, shaking your head. You flashback to six weeks ago and can’t help the shiver that goes through your body.

You snuggled closer to Bradley on your shared bed, your leg sliding between his. His fingers traced shapes into your bare lower back. “Tell me how it will go again?”

“It’s a six week no contact deployment” he told you. “And when I come home, it’ll be like we had a massive falling out before I left. And you have to earn my forgiveness. I’ll be mad at you. Degrading. And you’ll…you’ll be desperate for me.” You could feel him hardening against your stomach as he described it, and you shivered in return.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. He was quiet despite being the only ones in the house, his voice nothing but a whisper floating in the space between your bodies.

“I’m sure,” you whispered.

“Wear the purple dress, and the necklace with my initial on it, if you’re sure,” he told you anyway, and your heart swelled, knowing he needed the extra validation. Your comfort was always his number one priority. “If you don’t have them on, I’ll know that you don’t want to act it out anymore. But if you do…”

“Then I’ll be ready.”

----------

Main Masterlist

Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAK!!! Keeping this a secret from you was one of the hardest things ever, I swear. The amount of times this almost got sent to you on accident...man oh man.

Thanks to @roosterforme for all of her help with this! Literally would not exist without you!

Tag List: @roosterforme @mak-32 @wildxwidow @gretagerwigsmuse @lilyevanswhore @too-fangirl-to-fuction @fav-fanficssss @notroosterbradshaw @teacupsandtopgun @sometimesanalice @sunflowersteves @littlezee80 @je-suis-prest-rachel @khaylin27 @infamous-reindeer @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @yanna-banana @avengersfan25 @wkndwlff @sylviebell @lt-spork @indynerdgirl

@mssleepy876b @kassieesworld @mizzzpink @a-serene-place-to-be @sexualparkour @sadpetalsstuff @almostgenerallyalways @alilstressyandlotdepressy @ccbb2222 @taytaylala12 @shelbycillian @mavrellover91 @vici111 @lunamooncole @blackwidownat2814 @pisupsala @bellaireland1981 @jynxmirage @shanimallina87 @greatszu @na-ta-sh-aa @callsign-magnolia @chaoticassidy

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ja3yun · 4 months

Text

Rudolph | S.JY

bf!jake x gf!reader

warnings: suggestive, fluff, lap dance (it's unserious), they're cringy and in love, not proofread anything else lmk!

wc: 2.2k+

synopsis: jake gets a secret santa present from work and he wants to show you what he got, giving you a present of your own.

a/n: hi! this is just a short, fluffy, unserious one shot for xmas. i was intending to make this smutty but i left it where it is because i got lazy. anyway, happy holidays from mine to yours <3 i hope santa is good to you.

“FREEDOM!” Jake bursts through the door, his voice booming across your shared flat, “Out of office is on, alarms are off, Christmas is upon us, and I am free for the next 2 glorious weeks.”

It’s finally the 23rd of December which means Jake has finished up work for the holiday period. After a year of working countless overtime, he was never more thankful for this time off.

You look up from the couch and smile widely, matching his excitement, “Did you get away early?” It’s not like him to come home this time of the day, which is sad because it’s 6pm.

“Mhm, the boss had a thing with his in-laws so he wrapped everything up quickly and told us to get lost” Jake imitates wrapping a present and tying a bow before pretending to kick it away as he speaks, your boyfriend was always so animated when he was excited.

He places the shoes he slipped off in the caddy and replaces them with his bell ringing elf slippers. To say Jake loved Christmas would be the understatement of the century. The 2 weeks off were lush, that’s true, but the whole season was so precious to him. Everyone was happier than usual, he could eat and drink as much as he wanted and just use the excuse ‘it’s Christmas’, and he got to spend time with you.

Unfortunately, you don’t have the luxury of a paid holiday but you always get at least 4 days in a row work free which is a rarity. Those 4 days you never ever take for granted.

Spying a red and gold gift bag at his feet piques your curiosity, “Ooh did you buy me something?”

Jake scoffs and skips over to you with it in hand, “Eh, excuse me, I am actually liked in my work and someone got me a gift.” He held his head proud before sitting down next to you.

“Right, you mean you got your Secret Santa present today that your boss forces on you every year?” You lift your eyebrows waiting for him to respond.

“Well yeah, but mandatory or not,” He waves the bag in your face, “I got a present.”

Swatting it away, your eyes roll as you smile. He looked proud as punch to have gotten something, “Did you open it?”

“Do pigeons fly in the sky? Of course I opened it.” Traditionally, you’re supposed to wait until the 25th to open any gift but it wasn't going to be gold, frankincense, or myrrh, so big boy Jesus in the sky isn’t going to care if presents are opened before his birthday.

“So what did you get?” You try to sneak a look in the bag but he pulls it away and tuts.

“I got the usual, socks, a festive tie, sample bottles of whiskey, and,” A smirk graces his face when he remembers what else he got, “Actually, there might be a present for you in here.”

Puzzled, you eye the bag up once again but he stands up, “I’ll be right back, baby.” Leaving a peck on your lips he dashes out, gift bag in hand, waddling like a kid about to show his parents his new drawing from school. Jake was so cute you could cry.

After a few minutes you hear the jingle from his slippers once again, “Okay, baby close your eyes,” your overly excited boyfriend shouts from the bathroom, “close them tight!” His voice is filled with glee.

“They’re shut!” Shouting back, you wonder what it could be. All you hear is the sound of his slippers trotting towards you and all you can do is laugh.

Once you feel his presence standing in front of you, the urge to open your eyes is too much to resist, so you peek one open.

Jake is standing there with his arms spread wide and mouth with the biggest cheeser you’ve ever seen, “Ta-da!” He wiggles his hips to drag your focus down and you cannot believe what you are seeing.

An eruption of laughter fills the room as you double over, your chest losing all ability to breathe at the sight in front of you. Jake laughs along with you, “Good, right?”

Jake stands there in nothing but his elf slippers and a g-string which has his cock tucked into a pouch that’s designed to be Rudolph’s face. The novelty underwear is not at all what you were expecting and you still can’t string a word together for the hilarity of it all.

He turns around to showcase the thong aspect of his underwear, “I do think this finally shows that I have an ass.” In any other circumstance, you probably would make a sarcastic quip about how he’s never going to beat the flat ass allegations but you can’t even look at him, burying your face in the couch seat next to you.

Not helping the situation at all he starts flexing his muscles like he’s in some body building contest, “Do you like it?” His eyes are shining as he looks down at you, your happiness and laughter will always be his favourite thing to witness, even if it means embarrassing himself like this for you. Although, truth be told, he isn’t embarrassed at all, he never is when he’s with you.

“Who bought you that?” You wheeze out, trying to regain some composure.

“I don’t know, it’s a secret Santa, remember.” He has a suspicion it’s either Jay or Sunghoon but it’s one and the same, he’ll find out eventually.

Poking the red nose at the tip of his cock you howl when it lights up, “Oh my fucking god.”

“I didn’t even know it did that! How cool.” If his smile gets any wider his face will split in half. You look so fascinated by it, your hands guide him to twist around and showcase his butt again, “See what I mean with the ass? I’ve got cake.”

Slapping his left butt cheek you laugh, “Yeah, yeah.” It’s Christmas so just like some people believe in Santa, you’ll let him believe he’s double cheeked up.

“Want another surprise?” Jake wiggles his eyebrows and leans down to kiss you, lips soft and gentle against yours. Placing one of his hands on your face he grins widely before pulling away, stroking his thumb over your bottom lip, “Yes or no?”

“Yeah, I do.” He plants one more kiss on your lips and walks away, leaving you time to take in your boyfriend’s body. Someone so lovely and goofy shouldn’t also be graced with such a gorgeous body. He’s the perfect package.

Music infiltrates your ears as the melody of Nat King Cole’s ‘The Christmas Song’ blares from your hi-fi. Jake seductively walks back to you, his eyes narrower than before, “Sit back and feel free to tip me.”

Oh god, “Sim Jaeyun you are NOT giving me a lapdance in that thong.” He cannot be serious, Nat King Cole nor Rudolph deserve this.

His hands run down his body and his teeth take hold of his bottom lip, “C’mon, baby, let me take it for a ride.”

Lap dances weren't something you guys did a lot of, most of the time it was you just showing off your new bra and panty sets, so to see him eagerly swing his hips and offer you one, you can’t really refuse.

Taking your hands, he puts them on his chest and guides them down to his toned tummy. Whoever sculpted him in their lab must have had you in mind because he was everything you could have asked for. You keep your hands on his v-line and claw at each side slightly, he loves to be scratched like this.

Jake’s cock twitches at your action and it makes Rudolph jerk up, causing another laugh to leave you. Your boyfriend is too caught up in the feeling of your hands on him that he doesn’t even register what you’re laughing at, “Hmm?”

“Rudolph’s getting a bit excited,” You say smiling, staring at the garment.

“I heard he likes to be petted.” Jake jokes, wiggling his cock in your face.

Looking into the wide eyes of the pouch as it moves from side to side is actually quite unsettling, like he’s pleading for help to be off your boyfriend's penis, something you can’t relate to, “Jake please you’re giving Rudolph whiplash.”

Stilling his hips he takes your left hand and puts it over his clothed member, waiting for you to stroke down, but when you don’t he pouts, “You’re going to make him sad.”

“This is supposed to be my present.” You state, removing your hand and sitting back, “I’m still waiting for it.”

Jake smirks because you’re playing his game back to him. Honestly, he’s so lucky to have you, someone who just goes with whatever the flow is, not taking anything too seriously, he loves you so much for that. Continuing his previous task he puts his hands on your knees and strokes up your thighs, his eyes not leaving yours. The booty shorts you’re wearing leave your skin bare to receive his wet kisses, each one lingering longer than the last.

His hands slink around your hips and under your ass to pull you to the edge of the couch, “If this is how lap dances go in your world you are never allowed in a strip club ever again.” You say anticipating his next move. What you are expecting though doesn’t happen.

Rather, he moves up to hover his whole body over you, body waving as he does and it makes you giggle. When he rolls his hips his cock brushes against your abdomen, and the feeling of the material covering him tickles you. The over dramatic ‘sexy’ face he is trying to pull reminds you of when Hozier used the sexy Squidward filter which only adds to the merriment. He’s no Magic Mike, more like a Mediocre Matthew, but he’s yours and he’s trying, that’s all that matters.

Jake stops his attempt at seducing you when Mariah Carey's ‘All I Want for Christmas’ blares from the speakers, instead opting to sing the words to you, “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need,” His fingers tickle your sides to make you squeal in delight and titter, his mouth grazing your neck, smile is evident as you feel it across your skin.

“I just want you for me own, more than you could ever know.” He scatters a short burst of smooches on the base of your neck whenever there are no lyrics to be sung. The song was true though, all he wanted for Christmas was you, everything else was just a bonus because he didn’t need anything else as long as you were with him.

As the song picks up, Jake shoots up with a shit-eating grin and pulls you up with him, “Dance with me!” The bells on his slippers are going crazy as he kicks his feet and does what you think would be considered a shit version of the jive but you’re not too sure. That’s the thing about your man, one minute he can be sultry and sexy, then in a flash, he’s being silly and eccentric. It keeps a dynamic in your relationship that you love, making it easy to fall more and more in love with him every day.

When you start to join in with his terrible dancing the room is filled with laughter, exactly how Christmas is supposed to sound. Taking his hands in yours, you twirl him around, both of you stumbling as he trips over thin air. Instinctively, his hands grab ahold of your waist to steady you.

Your eyes are shut due to how much you’re laughing so you don’t see how fondly Jake is looking at you, like you’re his whole universe. Jake has wanted nothing more than to have a relationship that felt like you were everything to each other; lovers, best friends, soulmates. And he found that in you, you’re his one true love.

“I love you.” It comes out of nowhere, so much so you tilt your head with a ‘huh?’, “I love you, Y/N.” It’s not the first time he’s said it, Jake’s probably proclaimed his love for you a million times over, but this one feels like its meaning runs a little deeper than the others.

Pouting you squish his cheeks with your palms and kiss his protruded lips, “I love you too, Jake.” The moment is so sweet it could make anyone sick and if you saw anyone else act the way you two did you would probably want to throw them in a fireplace for being so cringy but by your logic, since it’s you and Jake it’s fine.

It dawns on you how this sentimental moment is being had with his current attire, “I need you out of this thong, I’m sorry.” A giggle leaves your lips when you look down to see distressed Rudolph once again.

“He still wants that pet, y’know. He’s earned it now.” Jake jumps slightly to bounce his cock and make the reindeer nod.

“For the love of God if you stop doing that I’ll do anything you want.” You plead, hands covering your face.

Kicking his slippers off hurriedly and ridding himself of the hopefully never to be seen again underwear, he lifts you up and carries you to the bedroom, kissing your nose delicately. As he walks you see the thong lying sadly on the floor.

You’re never going to look at Rudolph the same again.

#enha fluff #enha smut #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #jake x reader #jake smut #jake fluff #enha x reader #aj writes #enhypen #i will forever write unserious jake content

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cellythefloshie · 5 months

Text

;; You Are In Love

Dedicated to @senditcolton for her birthday bingo!

Summary: When your best friend Luc needs a plus one for his wedding, you don't question it. Even if the key term of pretending to be his girlfriend begs to be questioned.

Kinks & TW: unprotected sex (are we surprised?), mild choking, intoxication

Word Count: 11k+

A/N: I refused to be too late with posting this, so I stayed up late to finish writing it. Fair warning, it's not edited. So there are probably going to be some grammatical and spelling errors throughout. Now, with those cautions aside... Happy Birthday Nicole! I hope you had a wonderful day! Thank you for being such a wonderful part of the hockey rpf community! I hope you enjoy this mess of a fic that I threw together for you - and I apologize if it feels rushed. I know if I took the time this fic could have easily ended up being a whole novel.

Playlist.

Act 1.

Moving the prongs of your fork in circles around your plate, you pushed the contents that remained along the glass. You didn’t quite have the stomach to finish it, but couldn’t bring yourself to tell Luc you weren’t going to finish your plate. If you sat there long enough, if you held the casual conversation long enough, maybe you’d be able to finish it. But not even Luc had managed to clear his plate. Which you didn’t let go unnoticed. Luc had a routine, even during his off-season, and that included eating enough to maintain his busy training schedule.

That was your first clue that something wasn’t right. The second clue was that he hadn’t met your eyes since the two of you sat down to eat at the island in his kitchen. Instead, you found his eyes staring out the grand glass window overlooking Downtown Winnipeg. You had thought he might have been distracted by the bumper-to-bumper traffic down Portage Avenue as every nine-to-five worker headed out to their cabin for the weekend, or maybe the wail of the sirens that were so frequent you almost didn’t hear them anymore. That was until you saw his gaze flicker over your features for but a moment before falling to his plate. He too was just pushing around what remained.

Lowering your fork to rest across your plate, you pushed up to lean across the kitchen island, a little closer to your best friend. “Something on your mind?”

Your question drew his bright gaze back up to you, the corner of his lips curling up into a smirk that was framed by the mustache you had been trying to convince him to get rid of or at the very least blend into the rest of his beard. But not even his awkward mustache could distract you from his small smile as he pushed up from his seat and made the few steps that carried him to his fridge.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Luc started slowly, piquing your interest and drawing a soft oh from your lips as you pushed your plate aside so you could rest your elbows on the countertop. He stood with his back to you for a moment, and you could see the muscles of his back grow tense as he reached up to pull a single piece of paper from beneath a magnet on the fridge. He only had to turn around to be able to toss the thick white cardstock down, the very weight of the paper and the flick of his wrist giving it enough of a push to send it drifting into your reach.

It was an invitation, the text was a beautiful gold cursive and the paper itself was embossed with a beautiful floral pattern that was synonymous with a wedding. You traced your fingers over it slowly, your eyes dragging the two names that were only familiar to you because of Luc. He had spoken of the wedding when he had first received the invitation months ago. He and his girlfriend were to take the trip to Montreal together. But Luc was single now, and the wedding date was a mere week away.

“I want you to come with me,” his words were a statement, not a question as he leaned back against the fridge, as if the distance between you both would make it less likely for you to reject his offer.

It was a statement that left you staring at him, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, “No, no I shouldn’t.” Your hands raised, shaking from side to side as you offered your careful rejection. Then your lips fell into a ramble of excuses, “It’s really short notice. I won’t know anyone there and I would have anything to wear to something like-”

As you rambled you looked around his kitchen at anything but him. So you didn’t notice as Luc left where he leaned against the fridge and rounded the counter to stand at your side. There he coaxed you to silence with the softness of his name on his tongue and the careful touch of his hands on each side of your face. His warm touch spread over your cheeks and carefully guided your face to look up at his.

“I already have the plane tickets,” his words were soft, his eyes staring right down into yours as you pouted up at him, “and I will buy you a dress for the wedding. And one for the rehearsal dinner too, even if you like.”

“Rehearsal dinner?”

“Yeah,” his smile was a little crooked now as he was about to reveal just how busy your weekend would be if you agreed to go, “I’m in the wedding party and I ah-”

“You what, Luc?” you questioned, your voice firm. What wasn’t he telling you?

“And I told them I would be bringing my girlfriend.”

“Luc!” You shouted at him, your eyes going wide.

He didn’t need to put it into words, you knew exactly what he was suggesting without saying it. Pierre-Luc Dubois, your best friend since he arrived in Winnipeg after a literal run-in at the airport, not only wanted you to be his date to a wedding in Montreal, he wanted you to pretend to be his girlfriend. Just the proposition of it all made your hands sweat. You weren’t girlfriend material. At least not NHL girlfriend material. You didn’t fit the stereotypical cookie-cutter mold that came to mind when you thought of a WAG - even if you knew those stereotypes weren’t always true. Being Luc’s friend, you had the luxury of meeting a handful of the Jet’s wives and girlfriends and they quickly challenged every belief you had about what they were supposed to be prior. Though, you would be lying if there weren’t a few that were the very embodiment of what a hockey WAG was believed to be. Which wasn’t always a bad thing. And maybe, just maybe, pretending to be one would be fun.

“Okay,” you sighed after a moment of leaving him hanging in the silence of your contemplation, “I’ll come.”

With your words, you could practically see the tension leave his shoulder. They seemed to fall away from his neck and ears as his hands left the hot skin of your cheeks. But his touch didn’t leave you. His hand instead found your back as his arms would around you in a thankful embrace that echoed the thanks in his words as he spoke them into your hair.

Act 2.

Growing up in Winnipeg, you didn’t know all that much about Montreal. You knew what your school taught you; that French was their first language and there were often discussions about how they wanted to be their own country but beyond that you knew nothing about it, which terrified you as the plane made its landing in the historic city. That terror sunk further into your gut when Luc led you out into the airport where you quickly discovered your beginner-level French wouldn’t cut it.

The rush of the French language being spoken so fluently around you left your head spinning and your stomach in knots. If you were alone, you surely would have thrown up and caught a flight back home, but Luc was your anchor. Your savior, as he reached out for your arm and kept you close as the two of you navigated through the airport and the city together.

Luc spoke so you didn’t have to, the French leaving his lips so fluently it left you jealous. While, if you wanted to say anything there would be a long pause as you thought about what exactly you had to say. Even then, it was probably wrong, and you knew it was when Luc would give you a crooked smile and his eyes would water as he held back a chuckle that was threatening to creep up his throat. He did it in the cab, and again in the hotel lobby as you tried to keep up with the conversation at the check-in desk. But he didn’t comment on it until you were alone in the elevator, making the ascent up to your floor.

“You know, you don’t have to force yourself to speak French, especially with me while we’re here. I have no issue with translating for you,” his words were kind, but they still tied your stomach into knots - or maybe that was just how quickly the elevator seemed to rise from the ground up.

“It’s that bad, huh?” You tried to hide your insecurity, but your own voice betrayed you. It had broken as you spoke, and that alone only brought you more embarrassment. It left your palms sweaty and had the handle of your bag slipping from your hold. It fell to the ground in an awkward clamor, leaving you flinching and apologizing as you reached out for it, but Luc’s hands beat you there.

He would be carrying your bags the rest of the way.

“You’re doing your best,” Luc assured as the elevator chimed, you had reached your floor.

He continued to speak as he led the way, “but you’re here as a favor to me. The least I can do is assure that you are enjoying yourself, and you can’t do that if you’re constantly trying to figure out what needs to be said.”

You stood behind Luc with your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes on his feet. You used them as your guide, not once looking up at him because you hated that he was right. The entire trip was going to be a struggle if you didn’t look to him for his help, but the last thing you wanted was to have to rely on a man’s help to do anything. You had gone years without a boyfriend. Years without needing a man to do anything for you, but now you needed Luc just to get through the simplest interactions. And it left you pouting.

“I don’t want your help,” you pouted at him, following in his wake as he opened the room’s door and led the way inside.

“Keyword, want,” Luc sighed, and you heard him place the bags down on the floor, “but you do need it,” he said your name so softly it had your gaze rising from the floor in search of his face.

Your eyes didn’t find Luc, they had been quickly distracted by the simple elegance of the room and the one bed that had been placed at the center of a beautiful accent wall. You looked around quickly. The room was small, with a grand window just beyond the bed, and a television on the opposite wall. Then there were two doors. One that would open up to a small closet and the other for the bathroom.

You swallowed hard, your eyes rolling back as you let out an exasperated sigh, “One bed? Really?”

You shouldn’t have been so surprised. He hadn’t been single when he originally made the reservations, and you couldn't blame him for not requesting an updated room. You were both adults. You both knew where your boundaries had been set. And while you were playing pretend, you were friends. Luc respected you. You knew he did. If he didn’t, he would have tried to pull something stupid with you a long time ago.

Yet, your stomach was left fluttering the nervous butterflies at the thought of having to sleep beside him. The thought of having to feel the warmth of his body so close to yours-

And you felt it then, pulling you from your thoughts before they could spiral as he came to stand behind you. Luc’s body was warm, so warm that you could feel it radiating against your own body before you could feel the touch of his hands against your arms. His touch dragged down in a reassuring caress before you could feel the strength of his chest brush against your back as you both stood together, looking over the king-sized bed.

“Don’t you trust me?” He punctuated the question with your name, his words teasing as he reached up and took your jaw in the hold of one hand. Luc guided your gaze back to look at him, his face so close to yours you could feel his hot exhale as you muttered out a simple, “I trust you.”

“Good,” Luc breathed out, then guided your head to the side just enough to place a sweet kiss on your cheek before every part of you was void of his touch and his heat as he returned to the bags, “because I was not going to offer to sleep on the floor.”

“Wow,” you gasped to mock him, “such a gentleman.”

“I’m going to be on my best behavior for you this weekend,” he promised with a grin that left you wondering how close to lying he may be. Luc always did like to cause a little trouble, “but only if you start getting ready, we have to be at the rehearsal in just over an hour.”

Raising a brow at him, you looked at an invisible watch on your wrist, “I don’t know, Luc. I can’t get ready for such an important function in less than an hour.”

“You just have to change into your dress-”

“And do my makeup, and fix my hair, and-”

Luc stood up, taking a single stride to bring him to stand toe to toe with you. His bright eyes narrowed, his stare dragging over your face as he tried to compose himself, but you could see the smile that tried to creep up at the corner of his lips as he spoke, “Just get changed before I have to drag you down to a Taxi. Besides, you look great.”

And he wasn’t wrong. You did look great. You had gone to the salon the day before to get your hair and nails done just for the occasion. The stylist had given you a tight curl, something that when you slept on it the curls would still be there but softened. You wouldn’t have to do much more than smooth out a flyaway. And you’d keep your makeup simple. Mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and brows were all soft and natural. It would only take you a few minutes, but you still took the opportunity to tease him and be a little dramatic for the fun of it. You expected him to threaten to rush you out like he had, but what you hadn’t expected was the compliment. And it left you biting down on your tongue, unsure of how to accept it from him.

“That’s what the beauty sleep on the plane gifted me,” you joked after a minute of contemplation as you slipped into the bathroom, out of sight.

Luc mocked you with exaggerated snores as the two of you got ready in separate rooms. You were in the bathroom, while he remained in the main room. You didn’t need more than five minutes in front of the mirror with your makeup bag. Everything going on flawlessly for the first time probably ever. But when it came to putting on your dress, you struggled to reach the zipper that ran up the center of your back.

“I hate to do this but-” you spoke as you came to stand in the doorway, but your tongue seemed to swell before you could get your full sentence out.

Luc was leaning back against the dresser, his suit pants undone and his belt threatening to bring them down the length of his legs if the weight of the buckle dipped down a little too low, and he had yet to button up his pale dress shirt. It hung off his shoulder, his bare chest on full display, right down the treasure trail that ran down his abdomen and disappeared behind the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“What was that?” Luc’s hands were trying to fix his tie that had become unmanageable in his suitcase. But you barely noticed the silken fabric, you were too caught up in how his muscles tensed with his every moment. It left your skin hot, you could only hope you weren’t blushing.

“I’ll help you with your tie if you zip up my dress,” you offered, your words softer, less playful than you had intended them to be when you first entered the room.

“Can you tie one of these?” Luc arched his brow.

“You can’t?”

He was quiet for a long moment, his eyes leaving you to glance anywhere else before he pushed up from the dresser. You couldn’t tell if Luc was embarrassed, or if he was just being kind and looking away from you as you struggled to keep the unzipped dress held against your body with the clutch of your own hands over your breasts. You clutched the fabric to your chest. Your own grip amplified your own cleavage as you went braless for the dress. It was a risk but also a comfort. But you couldn’t help but wonder if that was the very reason that Luc was so hesitant to be near you.

Your friendship with Luc in many ways was still young, even if the two of you were close. But that meant the two of you had a lot of firsts left to experience together, including some things you didn’t think you’d ever experience together, which included pretending to be his girlfriend and standing in front of him so vulnerably in the middle of the hotel room. Clutching your dress a little tighter on his approach you stiffened up and stepped out of the doorway to give Luc room to stand behind you. And you held your breath as his hands found the zipper of your dress. One pinching the sleek pull tab while the other made sure it guided effortlessly up the zipper’s teeth instead of pinching your skin.

His fingers dragged over your skin as the zipper traveled up, stopping only when the zipper had reached the very top and they were left to graze over your flesh. You could feel as the pads of his fingers stroked over you, in a way that you were sure was done without thought. Moving up until they found your hairline. Then, he followed it, finding where you had your hair thrown over one shoulder before fixing it to hang down your back. Even then his touch seemed to linger, leaving your breath held in your chest as your eyes fell to the floor.

Luc had never touched you like that before.

So carefully.

So slowly.

Hell, had he ever really touched you?

Sure, the two of you had shared the occasional hug. Your hands would bump and collide on occasion. When the confines were close, you could feel the heat of his body. And he was never shy about taking your head in his hands when you weren’t listening to him or he wanted to assure you that you were okay, but this? This was different. This was his skin against yours. His fleeting touch in places you were sure he hadn’t even thought of touching you before. And it lingered as you stepped forward, cleared your throat, and reached a near trembling hand out for his tie that lay limp over the end of the dresser.

It was only with it in your hands, distracted by the silken material that you found your composure. Then, you showed Luc how to tie his tie, pausing on occasion to make sure he was paying attention because you were only going to help him with this once.

If there was one thing you were good at, it was faking your way through awkward situations. You could put on a smile, and hide any feeling of awkwardness with false confidence with ease. And you couldn’t have been more grateful for that as you found yourself consumed by the rehearsal dinner. You had hoped that you would have been nothing more than a fly on the wall. That you could make your pleasantries with small smiles and sweet I’m great, how are you’s, but you were wrong. You found yourself to be a popular wedding guest, all thanks to Luc.

He wasn’t the only NHL player that was going to be in attendance, but he was the only one in the bridal party. Which made him a popular target for conversation outside the bride and groom. And by proxy, you were too.

After the rehearsal itself, and sitting down to eat, when there was time left to mingle every single conversation started with an introduction. It was always the same, with Luc’s hand finding the small of your back and stroking it slowly as he said your name and introduced you as your temporary, fake title: girlfriend. And every single time it had the same effect on you. His touch would coax you in closer to him, your body leaning into his so casually, so effortlessly it was as if you had done it many times before. It made you smile too, so wide, yet so softly that you looked excited to meet stranger after stranger. It hid that you were completely overwhelmed by the introductions and the switch from French to English and back to French again in the conversation. When in reality, you just liked how it sounded leaving his lips, you liked how it left you giddy with butterflies in your belly. And you liked how his hand never left you for in that moment, you were his.

It was so easy to play pretend with Luc. Your chemistry was so natural because that was how it had always been. The two of you had always been comfortable with one another, especially since you had always just clicked. It was all of the lingering touches and knowing glances that were new to both of you.

Luc would meet your gaze med conversation, his lips curling into a smirk almost as if he was on the verge of laughter before he forced himself to look away. You were sure it was his attempt at trying to find his composure, that and how his grip on your waist, or hip if it had slid downwards throughout the conversation, would grow a little tighter.

It left you on edge all night in the best way. Your heart racing in your chest right up to the moment the two of you took to the Montreal streets together after dinner.

The streets were left wet from the rain that had started to fall sometime after you had arrived at dinner. It reflected the city lights, glistening beautifully even as your rushed footsteps splashed through the puddles. The rain continued to fall, hitting the ground hard and leaving you to shiver as it dripped down the angles of your face and down the curves of your body. It would not be long until your dress was soaked right through, and Luc must have noticed.

The moment the two of you were forced to stop at a red light, a mere block away from the hotel, Luc was stripping off his coat. He draped it over his arms and held it up high over the both of you in an attempt to keep you dry. But it was already too late. Your dress was sticking to your skin, and Luc was only getting wetter. You could see it in the red glow of the stoplight. The cold, wet rain soaked into the white fabric, leaving it to cling to the muscles that had already threatened the tight shirt.

While he was failing, you appreciated the effort, your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you stepped in just a little closer to his cover to keep you from the rain. The close proximity, paid with your unsteady feet left your body colliding with his. It was a gentle bump, one that left you reaching out to steady yourself against his chest, and laughing out an apology as you looked up at him.

Luc’s features were aglow with the red tint of the stoplight, his expression one you could quite place. It left you to narrow your eyes, your lips parting in a slow, curious, breath. He wasn’t quite smiling, and his eyes fixated completely on you. It was a soft stare, one comparable to what you would have after a long night's sleep. After sweet dreams, and before you had to force yourself to get out of bed. But you weren’t dreaming. Neither of you were as you stared at one another, the glow of the lights going from red, to green and red again before Luc leaned in.

You held your breath, your bottom lip trembling as his smirk grew.

“Don’t you trust me?”

You let out an unsteady exhale, one that left your entire body shivering as you nodded.

Frozen, your eyes didn’t leave Luc’s face as he lowered his coat back down to hang off his shoulders. The cold rain met the skin of your face again, but it was only for a moment. Then, all you felt was warmth.

If came first with the touch of Luc’s hands against your cheeks. That touch alone had sent heat flooding through your entire body. It only burned hotter as Luc leaned, the very proximity of his face sending your eyes fluttering shut. And then you could feel him. His breath washed over your face in a heated wave that came crashing down on you with the kiss of his lips against your own.

If you had the air, you would have gasped.

But his kiss consumed you so fully, that all you were left to breathe was Luc.

Every single one of your senses was met by him. You could taste him, and the drinks he had consumed throughout the night on your tongue. You could smell that distinct scent of his cologne. You could feel him, and the strength of his chest beneath your palms as your hands rested on his chest, so close to clutching at the fabric of the tie. And he was the first thing you saw as you drew back and let your eyes open.

You wanted to ask him why he had kissed you, but you were at a loss for words as you stood there, and so was he. There were only smiles shared between you as his hand found your back and let him guide you through the crowded streets back to the hotel.

It was a silence that hung over the two of you as you returned to your hotel room and split off into separate rooms to get ready for bed. You claimed the bathroom once more. It was there you struggled to unzip on your own, and as you struggled you battled the simple thought that you could ask Luc to help you with it. That he could unzip it for you. Yet, you struggled alone. It took you a long time to work the zipper free, your body straining and weakening with every awkward reach that would send the dress to the floor in a wet heap. Then, you washed your face free of the makeup that had held up surprisingly well in the rain, before you used the fluffy white hotel towel to dry your hair.

Warm and dry, you went through the rest of your night routine which included brushing your teeth and pulling on a pair of pajamas you found yourself regretting. You had packed them thinking you would have your own bed. They were your favorite, comfortable, with fabric light to keep you from getting too hot during the night. And they cover enough. You had planned to wear them to lounge around the hotel room, knowing full well that Luc would see you in them. But sleeping next to him in them was different. You knew the fabric would shift and move in your sleep, and the risk of waking up with one or both of your breasts hanging out was a high probability.

The risk sat like a rock in the bottom of your stomach as you stepped out of the bathroom and stood awkwardly for a moment in the doorway. The kiss was still heavy in your mind. You didn’t know why he had done it, what his intentions may have been. Maybe he was just caught up in the moment. In the love that filled the atmosphere of the rehearsal dinner and bled into every interaction with everyone afterward. But you didn’t let yourself look too much into it. Not when you knew you were just here pretending to be his girlfriend. But that didn’t mean you weren’t nervous to crawl in next to him when you could practically still feel the warmth of his kiss against your lips.

“The bathroom’s all yours,” you told him from the doorway, and it drew his eyes straight to you.

During your time spent in the bathroom, Luc had shed his clothes and sat shirtless on his side of the bed. His shoulders were slumped and his neck craned down to look at his hands before your words piqued his interest.

“Thanks, I won’t be long,” Luc assured as you watched him place his phone face down on the bedside table, “just set the alarm. The downside of being in the wedding party is an early start.”

Your hands came together in front of your stomach, your fingers picking at one another as you stepped out of what would be his path to the bathroom. But you didn’t crawl into bed. You hovered around it, pacing up and down what you assumed would be your side of the bed as you listened to Luc beyond the threshold of the bathroom. He had left the door open, the water running and the buzz of his electric toothbrush too loud to be ignored, and it kept drawing your gaze.

“What time do you have to be there?”

“They’re asking before eleven,” he called back out to you after you heard him spit into the sink, “enough time to get ready, and the session with the photographer before the ceremony.”

“Which was at what time again?”

“Three,” he answered simply, “gives you lots of time to sleep in and get ready, that is unless you want to come with me.”

“I shouldn’t-”

“But you can, they wouldn’t say no - they like you.”

“Do they?”

It shouldn’t have mattered if they did. You probably wouldn’t be meeting them again after this weekend, but it made you smile to know that you had made a good impression. That was the reason you were there after all, right? To be good company for Luc? The question crossing your mind left your brows to furrow. You never really did come to understand why you were there. He had asked you to go because he already marked down going with a plus one before his breakup. But why did he have to tell people you were his girlfriend? That you had never been answered.

“Hey, Luc-” you started, moving to lean against the door frame of the bathroom. You peeked around it, the question on the very tip of your tongue only for it to be lost at the sight of him.

Luc stood hunched over the sink, his hands pressing a towel to his face but it didn’t stop the water from dripping down the angles of his bare chest. The sight of it was enough to leave you mute, but when his eyes found you, his expression consumed by the softest of smiles as he waited for you to say something, anything, you choked out any words you could manage.

“Is it alright if I turn the lights off?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right in,” Luc said, and you peeled yourself away from the wall.

It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, and the question would eat at you all through the night - and maybe even the entirety of the trip - but you struggled to find your composure with Luc now. It had been easy before. He had been nothing more than your closest friend, but that was before he kissed you.

It hadn’t been a simple kiss. Nor was it fleeting. Luc had stopped you there in the street and kissed you so deliberately, and you didn’t know why. There was so much you wanted to know, so many questions that needed answers, but you didn’t know how to ask them.

So instead, you suffered in silence.

You turned off the lights, sending the room into darkness with the exception of the warm glow of the bathroom light bleeding into the room. It illuminated your every moment, casting your shadow across the bed and dancing over the hotel room walls as you pulled back the blanket and crawled into bed.

The cool, crisp sheets welcomed your body, sending a shiver straight through you as you hadn’t quite recovered from the rain’s cold. And for a moment, you thought you may never. That was until the bathroom lights went dark, and you felt the opposite side of the bed shift as Luc climbed in. He was more than an arm’s reach away. Yet, you could feel his warmth.

You tried to ignore it, and how it radiated over the sheets and into the blanket. But then Luc rolled over, and his legs brushed yours so quickly it could have only been an accident. The feeling lingered against your skin, his hairy legs so coarse against your legs that you shaved before dinner and would shave them again before the wedding tomorrow. The contrast of your contact should have left you flinching away, but it was drawing you in. Your legs bent a little more just to feel him.

It was a slow, careful drag. The inside of your leg moving up and over his. It was then you realized just how small the bed felt with Luc in it. Just how close his body was to yours.

Then he rolled over again. Leaving you flinching back as he tossed and turned.

Both of you were restless.

You were too afraid to roll over, and Luc constantly moved in an attempt to get comfortable. Both needed sleep, but it failed to take you.

Your mind was too focused on the kiss and on his warmth.

It left your body quivering with a heavy breath as you shifted from your side to your back, and finally to your other side where you finally came face to face with a sleepless Luc.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low whisper, so low that it was almost a growl in the dark.

You shook your head, your hair surely becoming a mess between your head and the pillow.

There wasn’t much you could see through the darkness. But what you could see, left you holding your breath. There was a glimmer of light coming in through the window and you weren’t sure if it was a street light or if the clouds cleared and let in the light of the moon. No matter what it was, the light caught Luc’s eyes, his stare on your features. It dragged down from your eyes, down over the angle of your nose only to drop to your lips where they lingered before gliding back up again. And it illuminated his chain, a silver gleaming, as it hung off his neck, down his chest and shoulder, and down onto his arm that he used as his pillow.

It was a chain he always wore. One that hung off his neck all night, and all day, even when he was out on the ice. He kept it trapped between his equipment, his cross over his heart. And you knew it. Something so familiar, shouldn’t have been so captivating, but it was drawing in your touch. Your arm reached out, your fingers meeting the warm chain before they slipped and landed on his chest.

Your lips parted, your tongue ready to curse for being so careless but your larynx was left weak. You couldn’t find your words, your throat closer to gasping as Luc was leaning in, closer. Closer. So close you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin and his lips found yours again.

Unlike the first time, Luc didn’t ask for your permission. He didn’t need to, because you had been leaning in too. You welcomed his kiss as your fingers coiled around his thick silver chain. If you could have twisted it around your index finger you would have, but instead, you fisted it in your hand, using the delicate tension to draw Luc in further.

You could not get him close enough, even with your lips joined together in a kiss that only grew deeper. You didn’t have to worry about being in the middle of the street now. No one was watching. It was just you and Luc, alone, together in the hotel bed. There was nothing but privacy, and no one to know that you had indulged yourself in the kiss of your best friend.

The best friend that you told all of your other friends that you didn’t like Luc like that. That that two of you were just friends and it would be weird to be anything more than that.

But there was no ignoring how good it felt to kiss him. To feel the roughness of his stubble against your face, and his tongue stroke along your own in your mouth. It had you melting, both metaphorically and physically. So much so that you pressed your legs firmly together in an attempt to combat the weakness between your legs that left your arousal to puddle in your panties.

It was the only thing you could do in restraint, but any thought of holding back was quickly fading as Luc’s hands began to explore your body. They were warm, and calloused from his days spent training in the gym for the coming season. And they ran down the angles of your arms before dropping to your waist. Fingers wrinkled the soft fabric of your pajamas, bunching it up around your ribcage so he could feel the soft warmth of your skin against his palms. Luc’s touch sent a shiver coursing down your spine, and a soft groan from his lips. One that sounded so sweet to your ears, and you felt it against your lips. It was the first of what would be a symphony of sounds.

Soft moans became groans that he guided you to straddle his waist. Your body on top of his, his between your thighs. It coaxed out heavy breaths, and desperate sighs as hands touched what had once been untouched. And you welcomed it, encouraged it as your body became consumed by need, by instinct, and your hips rolled to tease the stiffness of his cock that you could feel pressed up against your clothed core.

You could feel his smile grow against his lips at the simple action, his teeth coming down to tug at your lower lip in a playful nip that left your legs squeezing around his strong thighs. There was only so much more you could take, and he knew that too. He must have been able to see it, feel it, hear it as he pulled back and mumbled your name against the angle of your jawline.

There was a fine line between friendship and more. The kiss had toed that line. It had corrupted your mind with the thought of more, and the two of you found yourself on the very verge of crossing a line there would be no coming back from. If you fucked him, you wouldn’t be just friends anymore. You would be caught between friendship and something more. Something complicated, and undefined. Something that could threaten your friendship. There would be no going back to how things were before. That was clear, even with your clothes still on. The kiss changed everything, and put your friendship in jeopardy. Which made the choice you had to make easier.

You could lose him either way, so you would dive in head first.

No regrets.

“Take your clothes off,” you breathed out, a simple instruction, your decision made.

Together your bodies fumbled, your clothes not coming off fast enough. Limbs collided, your hands pulling off your top before you fell to the side to pull your bottoms and panties both off in swift motions that left you bare. He didn’t help you, and you didn’t help him, but once you both were naked your bodies met again. His hands found your hips, drawing you back to where you had once sat in his lap, and his mouth continued its sweet assault on your lips.

The first thing you did once Luc was between your legs again, your knees pressed down on the plush surface of the mattress, was let your hips resume their teasing roll. You had hoped to coax another groan from his lips, but this time you could feel his cock glide along your slick and it left you shuddering. If the sweetness of Luc’s lips hadn’t consumed your lips, you would have cursed him for just how good he felt without even being inside you. Your core clenched, and you did it again. And again. Your hips rolling, to and fro, Luc’s cock embraced by your body and coating him with your click.

The feeling had him throwing his head back, a sting of French words you didn’t understand leaving his lips like a sweet melody. Part of you wished you knew what he said, but a part of you loved it. The mystery of not knowing was sexy.

You teased Luc with the friction of your body, and the wetness of your arousal so much that it was almost a form of self torture. And he admired you the entire time you did it. His hands stroked over your body, along the curves of your body. Hands cupped at your breast, giving them a gentle squeeze, before trailing down. Fingertips left a grazing touch over your stomach, making the firm grapes of his hands around your hips all the more shocking. Biceps flexed as he lifted you up just enough to reach a single hand down to take hold of his cock.

Hair fell down into your face as you looked down, your eyes on his hand as it stroked his cock. The careful guidance of his hand brought the head of his cock to your core, and for a second you thought he might tease you. That he would drag the tip of his cock along your dripping entrance until you couldn’t take the teasing.

Luc had always looked like the type to want to tease his lover. To make them beg.

But maybe you didn’t know him as well as you thought you did. Or maybe he was just desperate for you because he didn’t waste time with you. Luc raised his hip, pressing his cock up into your eager core before his hand found your hip again to guide you down along his cock.

Legs quivered at the mere feeling of him, and your lips parted in a gasp at the fullness of his cock buried deep in your core. It left your head spinning, your eyes shut as you were seeing starts at the very pleasure of just feeling him. All of him.

You rode him slowly, your hips rolling as your hands came down to brace yourself against the strength of your chest. And you rode him until the muscles in your legs burned and your lips parted in a panting breath. It was then that Luc took hold of you and flipped you over until you lay flat on your back, and not once were you void o his cock. It remained buried deep inside your walls, and deeper once he had you laying out on your back.

His hands guided your legs to wrap around his hips, and your hips collided with his every impactful trust that left your core clenching. Yet, you were desperate for more.

Your hand that had found the mattress in a knuckle-white grasp left the white sheets and sought blinding for one of Luc’s hands. You found it, taking it in the hold of both of your own and guiding it to where you wanted his hold.

Around your throat.

His grasp was careful, yet firm as you stretched your neck out for him. The simple action brought another string of words you didn’t understand spilling from his lips.

Your core clenched.

He spoke again so lowly it was more of a growl, and his hold grew a little tighter. Luc could feel the effect it had on you as he fucked you. His every thrust was deep and steady, leaving you gasping, moaning, and quivering as he brought you closer and closer to the very peak of your pleasure. It left you gripping at his shoulders, your nails leaving half-moon crescents in his flesh, and your legs winding tight around him as you were lost in the pleasure of Luc. You were so completely consumed by him, mind and body, that your head was left spinning. It was a dreamy daze of pleasure, one that didn’t feel real as Luc buried himself right down to the hilt of his cock and unloaded deep into your core.

And he remained there, tired, panting, as he slumped down to lay in the bed, his hand finally falling away from your throat. Together, your bodies still joined as if they were one, you lay there. Panting, staring. Tired, but nowhere near ready to sleep. It was the perfect time to let regret and doubt consume you.

But then Luc smiled.

You smiled too.

And you regretted nothing.

When you woke up in the morning, Luc was already gone. He had gotten up early with his alarm, and left you to sleep in after your unexpectedly late night together. But it wasn’t without thought. Luc had brought breakfast back up to the room and had left the note. You would have until two in the afternoon to enjoy your day. Then, a town car would be at the hotel to pick you up. It would bring you to the cathedral, where he would meet you after the reception.

You spent the day in bed, making no effort to dress in anything more than the complimentary robe. You picked at the breakfast he left for you and sipped the coffee that was left along with it. After the night you had, you would need the caffeine to get through the day. Then, when the time wound closer and closer to two, you stepped into the shower and washed away the salt of sweat that remained on your skin, and the remnants of Luc that had dried on the inside of your thighs.

A part of you felt that what happened was all a dream. That you may be dreaming still. But little things brought you back to reality. The tenderness of your core with every stride around the hotel room as you got dressed. The heat of your curling iron when you held it a little too close to your neck. And the shrillness of your alarm at 1:30 all kept you grounded as you rode out the high of your night.

There was an elegance in your stride as you made your way through the hotel lobby. One that had a bit of a hop in your step, and a confidence in your smile as you waved to the bellboy who admired your body in your dress as you made your way out the doors and out into the streets where you met the town car.

It was a quick ride to the cathedral, and you fell straight into the chaos that came with a wedding. There were what felt like hundreds of people, and you were merely one of them as you found an empty seat near the back. You sat in the pew, your eyes admiring the stained glass, the beautiful architecture, and the almost sickeningly sweet atmosphere of love that consumed every person and every little detail in the cathedral. Normally, it would have left your nose wrinkled with disgust. You hated weddings. You didn't believe in love. But you were consumed so fully by the afterglow of sex, and it left you in love with the idea of love.

Then, the music began to play, and the ceremony began.

You were sure that you would be lost in the crowd. Just one face lost among family and friends closer to the bride and groom than you could ever be, but Luc found you the moment he stepped through the door with a pretty bridesmaid on his arm.

Your eyes locked, and you held your breath. He acknowledged you with a subtle nod, and your hand raised in a small wave as you admired him. Luc looked too good in his suit, the pants just a little tight around his thighs, and the color of his tie matched the hue of his eyes. It is a color you admire throughout the ceremony, his gaze finding yours as the bride and groom exchanged their vows, and again when they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

By the end of it all, you wanted nothing more but to kiss him. But could you?

Sure, you were pretending to be his girlfriend, but last night left you were too many unanswered questions. Did the night have the same effect on you as it did you? Was this more than just pretending? You wouldn’t get your answers.

But you did get your kiss.

Luc found you in the crowded church as the guests, his hands falling to your waist to draw you in. You stood flush against him, and one of his hands raised to capture your chin between his thumb and forefingers to guide you up for a slow, simple kiss. And when he pulled back, his soft smile silenced any question that sent anxiety coursing through you.

It was the first of many kisses that peppered your evening. Luc kissed you sweetly when he left to sit at the head table and you were forced to mingle with strangers. He kissed you again when he found you after the first few dances, his hands guiding you out onto the dancefloor to dance together. And again before he left you alone at your table with the promise of returning with a flute of pink champagne.

It would be your third, or fourth, drink of the night. You hadn’t exactly been counting. You had one to sip in your hands while you socialized and you needed another after dancing. One after the other, you welcomed its sweet taste and the feeling of the bubbles against your tongue. And you welcomed the warm fuzzy feeling that came with drinking it. It left you too comfortable in the crowded room. Too comfortable with having Luc’s hands on your body, and his lips on your lips, as you spoke to his friends, to strangers, as his girlfriend.

The title garnered a crowd. Everyone wanted to know how you met, how long you were together, and every little detail that you were willing to offer them. The questions were easy to answer because you didn’t have to lie. And those you did have to create some kind of answer for, were born from truth. But handing it all alone in Luc’s absence, while he was taking longer than expected to get you a drink, left you overwhelmed and desperate for a moment alone.

Excusing yourself with a smile, you promised to return once you found Luc, and you began to walk past the crowded dancefloor towards the bar. Your steps were unsteady, the buzz of the champagne coursing pleasantly through your body as you pushed your way through crowds. You kept your eyes sharp, looking for Luc in the winding line at the bar only for your brows to furrow. He wasn’t there. You stopped in place, turning in place slowly, trying to find where he could have wandered off to.

You didn’t find him at the head table with the bride and groom who were still on the dancefloor. He was with the maid of honor who was trying to prepare the cake for cutting. And he wasn’t with the groomsmen on the way back from smoking cigars. No, you found him in the shadows by the bathrooms, tucked away from the chaos. And he wasn’t alone.

You couldn’t see who he was with at first as you pushed through the crowd to meet him. But then, as you got closer, you wish you hadn’t.

Luc was tucked away with his ex.

They were standing a little too close for comfort. His hands were cradling each of her cheeks, her hands resting atop his, as he stood, arched over so that she could hear him speak in his hushed tones. You could see his lips moving, but you couldn’t hear a single word. But you didn’t need to. His body said it all, as did the look on her face. Her eyes were glassy, her lips swollen, and her hands clutching at his tie. Your mind was quick to connect the dots, jumping to one conclusion, and one conclusion only.

Luc had brought you there to make her jealous.

And it worked.

She wanted him back, and you were sure you had just caught them at the end of kissing and making up.

There was a heaviness that consumed your gut. It was a coiling of regret and naivety sitting there like a rock as you were sobered by your own anger. How could you have been so stupid to think that this was the opportunity for the both of you to be something more?

It left a sour taste in your mouth as you stumbled back, running into guests you didn’t know and drawing too much attention to yourself. You muttered out rushed apologies, your voice breaking but you were nowhere near tears. You were too angry to cry, but you knew you needed to get out of there before that anger boiled down to sorrow.

Quick steps carried you to your table, your hand grabbing your clutch like you were Indiana Jones stealing a treasured idol and a large bolder was now in full pursuit. But your bolder was Luc.

You could hear him calling after you as you pushed your way to the exit. You ran when you could, but it would never be fast enough. You couldn’t outrun him if you tried. And when he finally caught up to you, you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, dazed by the rush of traffic on the busy Montreal street.

There was nowhere else for you to go, so you turned around and you faced him.

“You knew she was going to be here, didn’t you?” You threw your words at him, the question emphasized by the honking of Montreal city traffic as you stood in the center of the sidewalk, crowds from the wedding and general foot traffic moving around the both of you in a blur. And you just stared at him, waiting for an answer, an answer he couldn’t give you, because he knew you wouldn’t like it. He did know she was going to be here, you could see it in the ashamed look on his face, and the sad look in his eyes. And you should have known that too. They had been together for years. His friends were her friends too.

It made you want to scream, but instead, you took a few steps towards him, your palms meeting the strength of his chest to shove him back towards the door of the venue.

“You’re a fucking joke,” you said, your voice not once losing its harsh confidence even if it so desperately wanted to break like your heart already had deep in your chest.

“You could have saved me and yourself a lot of trouble if you had just come alone, Luc. But no, everything is always so complicated with you. You can’t make anything easy. You’ve got to make her jealous right? So it’s all the more satisfying when you get her back into your bed.”

Your name slipped from his lips, a desperate plea as he tried to reach out to you. You stared at his hand for only a moment, his reach so tempting to reach out to. He wanted you to take it, to hold your hand and draw you in. What he would do after that, you didn’t know. And you wouldn’t find out. You would rather step out into traffic. And you did. Your heels met the wet roadway, splashing through the shallow puddles as you came to stand between parked cars.

“We were just-”

You almost groaned at the sound of his voice. You didn’t want to hear it anymore. So you cut in before he could try to feed you any excuse he could come up with.

“Pretending? Your head cocked to the side, an unpleasant smile on your lips, “you’re right. We were. All of this was just fucking pretend. So I’m done pretending.”

Throwing your hands up, you moved further from the curb to hail a cab from the chaos of the Montreal city traffic. But Luc was moving into the street after you, his footsteps making your shoulders tense up before you could turn around and see that it was him.

“Can you just give me a second to fucking say anything?” His voice was strained with the frustration that was painted all over his face.

“Why should I?” You bit back.

“Just let me explain-”

“Explain, ha,” you laughed, “As much as I would love to see how you would justify this, I’ve given you more than enough of my time, Luc.”

The conversation didn’t end there.

Luc always needed to try to get the last word. “You’re impossible!”

But you never let him have it. “And you’re an asshole,” you told him with a forced smile before climbing into the cab that was holding up traffic in the street.

A symphony of honks was the background music as you told your destination to the driver. You would return to the hotel, spend the night there, and come morning you would catch your flight back to Winnipeg. After that, you hoped you’d never have to see Luc again. What he had done to you, in your mind, was unforgivable, and it sent you into tears as you sat alone in the back seat of the taxi cab.

Act 3.

It was the ring of the courtesy call that woke you up the morning after the wedding. Your flight was in a mere few hours, your checkout time dawning on you, and you couldn’t have been happier. The sooner you got home, the sooner you could try to forget what happened. You had tried to forget it already, but as you threw back your blanket, and swung your legs over the side of the bed to place your feet flat on the ground you were met by the biggest reminder of the mistakes you had made when agreeing to go to Montreal.

On the floor, draped under a decorative throw blanket, was Luc.

A sigh so heavy that you almost groaned rocked you. He sure had some balls to come back to the hotel room after what happened the night before. You had made it quite clear that you were less than impressed with him, and what he did. Surely he had to know the severity of his deceit. That it had not only been cruel to you but to his ex as well. The manipulation and the lies-

You stopped yourself midthought, your eyes falling to where he slept on the floor so peacefully. If he had come all the way out here playing pretend with you just to win his ex back, why was he here in the room?

It was a question you tried to ignore as you quietly changed into a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to wear on the flight home. And one you pushed further into the back of your mind as you took a quick inventory of the hotel room bathroom to make sure you hadn’t left anything behind.

You shouldn’t care to know why he was there. But you did care enough not to let him miss his flight - or well, be the reason he missed it. Grabbing your packed back you nudged Luc in the back with your sneaker-clad foot on the way to the door. You didn’t greet him with pleasantries and instead met him with the same harshness he heard from you the night before.

“Get up asshole, you’re going to miss your flight,” you stood in the doorway long enough to watch Luc wake up in a panic. The last thing you saw on your way out the door was his hand lurching out to grab his watch to check the time.

You left him behind, your suitcase rolling in your wake as you followed the same route out of the hotel as you did the night before. You waved to the bellhop in the lobby, your smile a little weaker this time, and instead of meeting a town car, you found a vacant taxi and loaded your luggage into the back seat with you.

“Trudeau International Airport, please?” You asked of him with a sigh, your head leaning back against your seat.

You could have fallen asleep there, your eyes falling shut as you heard the turning signal of the cab begin its rythmic tick as he tried to merge into busy traffic. It was almost soothing, hypnotic, but it was broken by the abrupt opening of the back door.

Your eyes opened quickly, your body lurching defensively away from the door as your heart raced, startled. Your lips parted to yell at the idiot who didn’t see that the cab was already occupied, but you were met with the familiar face of Luc. You wanted to be relieved at the sign of him, but your disgust continued to bubble deep inside your gut. You couldn’t even bring yourself to tell him to fuck off and find another taxi. Instead, you sat in silence, your gaze leaving him and looking out the window to fixate on the buildings as they passed.

To your relief, Luc didn’t say a single word the entire ride to the airport. Not did he try to carry your bags when you arrived. Instead, he merely followed in your wake, until you came to the check-in counter. It was there you decided to let him go first.

It was an innocent thing. Something he didn’t even question as he checked in for the flight. A first-class seat that would take him back to Winnipeg. And he even lingered afterward, waiting for you to check in as if it had been a show of good faith. But in reality, it was the only way you could ensure you wouldn’t have to sit with him on the flight home.

“I was wondering if you had any other seat available?” You spoke to the airline representative who met you with a perplexed expression.

Luc wore one of the same, your name leaving his lips as if to beg you to change your mind.

You weren’t going to.

“There’s nothing else in first class,” the representative told you as if it were going to change your mind.

“Something in economy will do just fine,” you assured them with a nod, your grip on your bag growing tighter and you didn’t ease up on your grasp until the updated ticket was in your hands and you were ready to board.

There was a relief in going home. A relief in being able to spend the flight alone, but it wasn’t without one last attempt from Luc. He spoke your name so softly, so gently, that for a moment you considered listening to him. You hesitated in place, your eyes raising to meet his as he reached out for your arm. He gripped it carefully, not too hard, just enough to keep you in place. Just enough to assure that you would listen to what he had to say.

“I made you this,” Luc spoke slowly, his free hand raising to show you his phone screen. On it, Spotify was open for you to see, a playlist labeled i’m sorry the only thing you could see. It was a playlist of twenty or more songs, you wouldn’t quite see, and want to get close enough to see. “Listen to it on the flight home?”

Your eyes stared at it for a moment, your tongue parting your lips to lick over them slowly as your mouth went dry. “I’ll think about it,” was all you could offer him before you pulled out of his hold and stepped aside. First class was boarding, and you were in his way.

Luc lingered for a moment more, his eyes fixated on you until he let out a defeated sigh and left you standing alone waiting to board. It would be some time before you were called to board, yet you stood, lingering where he left you. It was there, waiting for your call to board that curiosity got the best of you.

Your thumb stroked over your phone screen, bringing it to life with its light and pulling open Spotify with the click of a single button. There, you found Luc’s profile and the playlist he had made for you. Twenty-five songs. 1 hour, 30-plus minutes long. It had artists you knew, and others you didn’t. Songs that were your favorite, and some you didn’t even know what they would sound like. It wouldn’t last the entire flight, but it would kill time, and maybe it would help you understand.

Quickly you downloaded the list, and when you boarded the plane and found your seat, you pressed play.

Kiss Her You Fool.

Take Me to Church.

Where Do We Go From Here?

Now or Never.

They were just a handful of the songs Luc had compiled onto the playlist for you. The playlist you had listened to from start to finish, and then started again before you had landed in Winnipeg. It had taken you through a rollercoaster of emotions. You smiled. You laughed. You cried. And it left your heart heavy in your chest as you collected your bag and made your way out to hail a cab.

You did not completely understand what Luc was trying to say with the song he put together. Some confused you. Others gave you hope. But what you did know, was that you owed him an apology.

You fumbled with your belongings and your phone as you stood on the platform, taxis waiting for their next passenger in front of you, as you began to dial his number. You were halfway through it when the long honk of a horn drew your eyes up, and you found Luc leaning against his car, waiting for you.

“What are you doing-” you started, your ace blanketed with confusion as you began to take slow, cautious strides toward him.

He had reached through the driver’s side window to honk at you before rounding to stand at the hood of his car. Arms crossed over his chest, his tattoos on full display as he left his sweatshirt and back in the backseat of his car.

“I owe you a ride home,” he told you simply. It had always been the plan, but you hadn’t intended to take him up on it after what had happened.

“I think you owe me a little more than that,” you told him, trying not to smile as you tossed your phone at him.

He caught it effortlessly, the screen on, and displaying his playlist.

Luc smiled.

“You listened to it?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“Explain,” was all you told him.

“You’re my best friend,” he said your name, and it oozed with the pain he felt for the pain he caused you, “I didn’t do any of this to hurt you. I invited you because… Well,” he sighed, “because you’re right. I’m a shitty person. The break up a few months ago, was because of you. She didn’t like how close you and I were. She wanted me to distance myself from you, and that wasn’t something I was willing to do. Then she gave me the ultimatum. You or her. And I chose you.”

A lump formed in your throat, you swallowed it back and held your breath.

“When I invited you. My intentions weren’t the best. I wanted to mess with her, and that was wrong for me to do. Not just to her, but to you too. But I’m glad I did-”

“Luc-” you gasped out, both in shock at his words and his lack of regret for his actions.

“I’m not finished,” he cut in, “I’m glad I did because playing pretend with you, fuck, it wasn’t just pretending.” Luc stepped away from the car, and you were frozen in place, watching him as he approached. Your bag slipped from your hold, falling to the ground as your hands reached out to welcome his body as he stepped so close to your own as he took your head in his hands and drew you in so close to his lips you could feel his words in a hot breath against your skin, “Because I’m in love with you. I have been for a long time.”

It wasn’t much of an apology, but it was the explanation you asked for. It wasn’t what you expected to hear, but you liked hearing it. It made you smile as you reached up, your hands finding the nape of his neck and knitting in his hair as you drew him in for a kiss.

You loved him too.

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