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eiightysixbaby · 5 months

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baby, it’s cold outside

i ought to say no, no, no sir — at least i’m gonna say that i tried!

eddie munson x fem!reader

3.6k

cw: 18+ ONLY - SMUT. mutual pining, friends to lovers, eddie convinces reader to stay but he’s not a creep - she’s just nervous, one (1) singular use of y/n, brief mentions of alcohol and weed consumption, protected piv sex, fingering. barely proofread so i apologize in advance if there's mistakes xoxo love u guys.

“No, really! I’m serious,” you laugh, tears springing from the creases in the corners of your eyes. “I had the biggest crush on him,” you add, taking a tiny hit of the joint between your fingers before letting it rest in the ash tray.

The warmth from the tiny space-heater in Eddie’s living room kisses your cheeks, your fingers warming up where they wrap around your mug of spiked cider. You shift your weight on the worn cushions of the sofa, tucking one leg beneath you. You’re home from college for the holidays, catching up with all of your closest friends. Steve had hosted at his place, and when the party died down there Eddie had offered that you come back to his.

“I can’t believe you never told me,” the boy grins, shaking his head as he takes a swig of his beer.

“Yeah, well… I don’t know. We were in high school. Everything feels like such a big deal when you’re in high school. I felt like that crush could’ve been the end of the world if word got out,” you giggle, leaning your head back against the cushions behind you.

“I get what you mean,” he says, leaning to knock his shoulder with yours. “I just can’t believe I didn’t know,” he says, glancing sideways at you. “You weren’t always subtle, you know.”

You shove him, snorting out another laugh.

“Okay, so who was your high school crush?” you ask him, tilting your head to face him, a playful grin on your face.

“Chrissy Cunningham,” he says easily.

“That’s the obvious one,” you roll your eyes. “We all knew that. Robin never let you live it down. I want your secret crush, one you never told anyone about. You have to have one,” you pry.

Eddie swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. His eyes shift away from yours, his beer bottle raising to his mouth to take another sip. A way to avoid his answer.

“Well,” he says, his voice gravelly. “It was, uh, it was… you, actually.” He’s quieter now, less sure of himself than you’ve maybe ever seen him. Your heart twists inside of your chest.

“What!?” you ask, sitting upright. You didn’t mean to sound so incredulous, but it certainly caught you off guard.

“Forget it, it’s stupid,” Eddie retreats, trying to laugh it off. You stop him, though, reaching out to put a hand on his knee.

“No, no. It’s not stupid. I just… I had no idea,” you say, emphasizing the last few words.

“Yeah. It’s like you said, I thought it would’ve been the end of the world if you found out,” he laughs a little, but you detect a twinge of sadness behind it.

“Eddie…” you say. “You could’ve told me. I— I’m glad you told me now,” you continue, rubbing a soft circle over his knee with your thumb.

“You are?” he raises an eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

“Yeah. But I have one question,” you say, drawing your hand back from him and placing it in your lap.

“Okay, shoot.”

��Do you still have feelings for me? Now?” you ask nervously, glancing back and forth between the contents of your cup and his face.

He’s quiet, searching your face.

“Would it completely ruin everything if I said yes?” he asks, so quietly. His voice a gentle hum in your ears.

Suddenly, words escape you. You feel frozen, not knowing what to say. No, it wouldn’t, is what you want to say. Kiss me, please, is what you want to demand of him. But you find yourself unable to say anything at all. His gaze is overwhelming. Your heart races in your chest. Why is this so daunting?

He’s about to speak again, his mouth opening and closing. The moment is heavy, nerves raised high. Something in you wants to run, to flee. To escape the scary precipice you teeter on, between friends and something more. You welcomed this, but now it’s too much. You glance at the clock, cursing under your breath when you see the time. An excuse.

“Shit, Eddie, I’m so sorry. It’s so late, I really should get going—” you say, scrambling to stand while you set your mug on the coffee table.

“Wait,” a firm but comforting hand grips your arm, stopping you. “Please don’t go,” he says.

“Eddie, it’s almost midnight—”

“So stay with me. Please don’t leave right now, not after what we just talked about.”

“My parents, Eddie, they’ll be worried,” you rush out, slipping on your boots at the door and opening it.

A flurry of snow falls outside, coating the cars and the dirt and what’s left of the grass. The December night air is frigid and harsh where it hits your skin.

“Oh!” you gasp, wincing at the cold.

Eddie’s stood right behind you, his arm reaching over you and pushing the door shut again.

“No way you’re driving home in that, ‘s dangerous,” he tells you.

“Maybe I’ll wait it out…” you murmur, words failing you the longer he stares at you.

Your cheeks feel hot despite the below-zero windchill. Facing Eddie is harder than it had been five minutes ago, and you’re the one who brought on the conversation. He’s so close to you, gazing down at you, his eyes pleading.

“Y/N,” he says softly. “If you want to run, I won’t stop you. But I don’t think you really do. Just tell me, is the world going to end? Or can I have you?”

“I…. Eddie—” you stammer, and you really, truly feel like your heart might hammer through your chest and land on the floor.

His eyes are so big, pools of deep brown that draw you in. You could drown in them if you looked too long, could get lost in his vastness. He’s begging without words, aching for you to say something. Nervous eyes travel over his face, watching the slight twitch of his lips and the way they part just slightly. He’s beautiful. He’s always been beautiful.

“You can have me,” you whisper.

It takes a split second before his hands find your waist, pulling you into him. He noses at your face, watching your eyelids flutter shut. Every exhale from him wafts breath over your face, warm and so incredibly him. The air that he had breathed and put back out into the open space, filling your lungs now. His lips press against yours, featherlight and testing the waters. Your body relaxes fully, mouth melting against his as you let him kiss you.

It becomes needy quickly. What started so soft and tender becomes eager, open mouths devouring each other as tongues touch.

“I had a crush on you, too—” you blurt in between kisses.

“What?” he breathes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth and then to your cheek. The way he says it doesn’t indicate surprise, but rather he just wants to hear you say it again.

“You were my other secret crush in high school…” you confess shyly, eyes wide and blinking at him when he stops his movements abruptly.

“You really weren’t always subtle,” is all he says, smiling as he leans in to kiss you once more.

Teeth clash, both of you giggling into the kiss, your hands wandering up his chest as he holds you close to him. He tugs at the collar of your sweater, pulling you with him as he walks backwards to the couch. Straddling his lap, your hands find their way up his shirt, smoothing over his soft skin. He lets out a satisfied hum, his own hands reaching around to squeeze your ass as he lets his tongue prod into your mouth.

A soft whimper escapes you, your hips grinding on top of his. You can feel the tent in his jeans as he grows stiff beneath them, completely affected by you. It becomes increasingly obvious to you, then, the boundaries that are being crossed right now. You can’t go back after this, things are forever changed between you and Eddie.

You stop kissing him, glancing out the window at the falling snow. “Eddie—” you say, your eyes looking frantic; skittish.

“Don’t you dare tell me you have to get home. It’s cold outside, baby. The weather’s bad,” he says softly, nuzzling his face into your hair by your ear.

“What happens after we do this? Everything will be different,” you say, wishing you weren’t so nervous. So hesitant. So scared to fall completely for him and for it to end badly.

“Sweetheart,” he coos, bringing a hand up to brush his fingers along your cheek. So gentle, so slow. “We don’t have to do anything. We can take it slow,” he soothes, and you can’t help but melt into his touch.

The blizzard still rages outside, no way you can get home safely.

You rest your forehead against his, your body relaxing once more. “I’m sorry for being so jumpy. I just… I want you in my life forever.”

“You know I feel the same. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to never give you a reason to kick me out of it,” he promises, hands rubbing up and down your sides.

You sigh, rolling your hips once atop his lap. Kisses are left on your cheeks, your jawline, traveling down to your neck. Everywhere his mouth lands is set ablaze, your body giving in to him, craving more. He paws at the hem of your sweater, causing you to pull it up and over your head, tossing it to the floor.

“Fuck,” he mutters, taking in the sight of you.

Your bra holds your breasts perfectly, your chest rising and falling with each breath you take. His hands trail up your skin, fingertips making you shudder as they dance along your torso. He caresses the swells of skin in warm hands, letting his thumbs run over the tops of each cup of your bra, dipping down to roll over your hardened nipples. A delighted, breathy noise leaves your throat, and Eddie revels in it. He wants to pull more pretty noises from you, keep you like putty in his hands.

“Can I take this off?” he asks you, dipping down to place a kiss between the curve of your breasts. His hands reach around your back, gliding along the band of your undergarment.

“Mhm,” you hum, your fingers tracing over the buckle on his belt.

He makes quick work of unclasping your bra, letting it rest on the floor with your sweater. His mouth immediately finds your tits, those big eyes of his glancing up at you as he sucks one nipple into his eager mouth.

You let your head fall back with a soft moan, electricity running through your veins. Your whole body is tuned into his actions, ready and waiting for more. And fuck, he’s barely doing anything yet but he’s so good. You know he’s fooled around here and there in the last few years, gained experience, but god, he’s so much better than you ever could have imagined on those late nights with your hand between your thighs. His hands and his mouth know exactly where to be at every second, making you perfectly pliant for him.

Your fingers start to undo his belt to the best of your distracted-ability, his tongue swirling around your nipple and making you dizzy with arousal. You work the button of his jeans open, fumbling with the zipper right after. You ease your weight off of him, hovering in place so he can slide the denim down till it pools around his calves.

A short, punctuated groan slips past his lips when you palm his stiff length over his boxers, his mouth now focused on your other nipple. Your short skirt does very little to keep you covered, the soft fabric riding so far up your thighs you’re almost exposed. His big palms move down to squeeze them, fingertips grazing beneath your skirt. You whine, bucking your hips slightly, encouraging him to move his fingers higher.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he coos, his mouth so close to your ear, hands rubbing the expanse of your thighs. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m gonna take good care of you.”

It sends shivers down your spine, the way he talks to you. So unaccustomed to hearing him speak this way, and still in disbelief that he’s speaking this way to you — doing these things to you. His hands bunch your skirt up as far as it will go, fingernails dragging along your sheer black tights. He snags them, leaving a run in the material.

“Oops,” he says, smug as his hands climb your thighs, reaching closer and closer to your core. There’s still too many layers between him and you for your liking. Your tights and panties, his boxers concealing his cock.

“Eddieee,” you whine, squirming on his lap.

“What, sweet girl? Where do you need me?” he asks, voice so sugary sweet as he blinks at you, lashes fluttering.

You huff, brows furrowing in desperation. “Do you need me… here?” he asks, letting his fingers trail over your clothed core. They tease, cupping your sex and rubbing soft patterns on the skin.

“Yeah, please Eddie,” you gasp, your hands planting firmly on his shoulders to brace yourself.

“Take everything off for me, baby, yeah?” he suggests, watching intently when you stand momentarily to strip.

You’re grateful for the warmth coming from the small heater, the chill from outside slipping in through the cracks of the trailer’s windows being warded off to the best of the equipment’s ability. You come to straddle Eddie once more, one of his hands immediately grabbing your waist, the other making its way back to your cunt. He ghosts his fingertips over your clit, making your hips jerk ever so slightly. He laughs lowly, not mocking you but instead basking in the spell he has you under in this moment.

His index finger runs through your folds, collecting the wetness that waits for him. “Christ, sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to yours for another kiss.

His tongue pushes gently past your lips right as he slips a finger inside of you, making you moan into his mouth. He swallows your sounds gratefully, his finger curling inside your walls to hopefully bring on more.

“Need more, Eddie,” you beg, grinding yourself on him. He obliges easily, slipping a second finger inside.

The way he stretches you is divine, it feels far too good to have you worrying any longer. You don’t care that one of your best friends has you naked on his lap, you don’t care about what your other friends will think, you don’t care that it’s late and you haven’t called home. You don’t care. He pumps his fingers in and out expertly, your arousal filling the trailer with lewd, wet noises. Your mouths move hastily against one another, kissing and licking and biting, making up for lost time.

“Feels so good,” you pant between kisses, making him smile.

“Yeah? You’re so gorgeous,” he praises, pressing more kisses to your face.

You feel your cheeks warm at his words, your head fuzzy. “Want— want you to fuck me,” you say softly, and he tilts his head, reading your expression.

“You sure?” he checks, stopping the movements of his fingers and instead removing them from you. He cups your face, his cheeks flushing pink when you nod.

“I’m sure,” you reply, reaching your hand down and squeezing the outline of his cock beneath cotton fabric.

He inhales, sharp and fast, his eyes half-closing in pleasure.

“Okay, sweetheart. Why don’t you lay down?” he asks, patting the cushion beside him.

You both maneuver your bodies, you lying on the sofa as he comes to hover over you. A condom had been pulled from his wallet, and he opens the packet with his teeth as he shimmies out of his boxers. You watch in awe as his cock springs free, the size of it surprising you. Your eyes are trained on him as he rolls the condom on, his fingers making quick work of it.

“Like what you see?” he asks, catching the area your eyes are glued to.

All you can do is nod, redirecting your eyes to the smirk on his face. Goosebumps rise on your skin, the icy wind blowing stronger outside now, more persistent in the way it penetrates the trailer walls. Eddie notices, standing up and pulling the thick knit blanket from the armchair in the corner of the room. He returns to the couch, positioning himself on top of you and awkwardly fixating the blanket over both of your bodies with your assistance.

It’s warm, and it’s safe, and it makes your heart swell.

“You ready?” he says quietly, kissing you on the cheek and then the forehead.

“Yeah,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him sweetly, letting your tongue take control this time.

He exhales heavily as he starts to push in, his head breaching your folds and making you both moan. His forehead rests atop yours, strong arms caging you in as he holds himself up. He moves slowly, filling you inch by inch and paying careful attention to your reactions. Your lips part, no sound coming out as he bottoms out inside of you. His head drops to your shoulder, shaggy hair tickling the junction between it and your neck.

“Fuck, Eddie,” you sigh, letting your body adjust to the stretch of him. It feels like he was made for you, your body quickly aching for more.

He starts moving, careful not to go too fast for you.

“Baby…” he breathes, pulling almost completely out before thrusting back in again.

Your hands slide down his back beneath the blanket, nails digging in slightly when he starts to pick up his pace. You can’t fucking believe you have him like this right now, and you think about how different this night would’ve played out if you had just gone home after leaving Steve’s. You’re grateful you didn’t; grateful to be here, being loved on by Eddie.

Your relationship blossoms into something new with each snap of his hips against yours, further solidifying the fact that you want more with him. Something deeper, something intimate.

Moans leave you in short, breathy spurts as he fucks you, filling you up over and over. He’ll slow down, taunting you with drawn out movements before he’s back to thrusting quickly, giving you whiplash. His teeth tug at your bottom lip, his nose brushing against yours. He smells so good and his skin is so warm, it only urges you closer and closer to release. Being so close to him is intoxicating, and you cry his name over and over as his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you.

“Getting close, angel?” he asks, grinning down at you when you nod. “God, you feel so fucking good around me, baby,” he says, kissing you like he simply can’t get enough.

His breathing is heavy, exertion evident in the way he fills his lungs with air. You snake a hand down your body, softly starting to rub your sensitive clit with the pad of your finger.

“Want you to cum for me, baby, give it all to me,” Eddie encourages you, your eyes screwing shut as pleasure builds and builds in the pit of your stomach.

His cock glides in and out with complete ease, your pussy soaking him. He keeps a moderate, steady pace, wanting to savor every last second of this milestone with you. You can feel yourself quickly approaching your release, rubbing more urgent circles around your clit now. Your brows are furrowed in concentration, Eddie’s breath fanning your face as he grunts with each thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you pant, feeling yourself let go completely.

Your walls clench tight around him, tensing up over and over as he helps you ride out the high. “That’s it, sweet girl,” he soothes. “Did so good,” he praises as he continues to fuck into you.

He’s close, you can tell by the way his movements get less precise. You pull his face down to you, capturing his lips in what feels like the millionth kiss of the night. He kisses back urgently, pulling away only to warn you of his approaching climax.

“Shit, you’re gonna make me cum,” he huffs, barely giving you a few more thrusts before he’s spilling inside of the condom.

His hips stutter, and you can just barely feel the way his cock twitches as he rids himself of every drop. Both breathing heavily, he collapses on top of you, your arms wrapping around him to hold him tight. The blanket keeps the warmth locked in, his skin sweat-slick against yours.

Regaining composure, he pulls back enough to look at you.

“Did you mean it, when you said I can have you? Will you be mine?” he asks, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you assure him. “I’m yours.”

His grin is brighter than the sun, outshining the glow from the Christmas tree as he smiles down at you. All he can think to do is kiss you, and somehow it feels even sweeter this time.

Once you’ve both redressed, him in his pajama pants and you in his borrowed clothes, he pads into the living room with a glass of water for you.

“Oh, hey. The snowstorm’s died down,” he says, peering out the window. “You still want to try and make it home?”

“No. I want to stay right here,” you say, coming up behind him. Wrapped in a blanket, you reach your arms out, enveloping him in the warmth, too. Your face nuzzles into the space between his shoulder blades, before he turns around so he’s facing you.

“Good. Cause I really don’t want you to go,” he smiles, his dimples peeking out. “It’s still cold outside, after all. A lady like you should be safe and warm in my bed, not braving the elements.” You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his.

“You’ve convinced me. I’ll stay.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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tonicandjins · 2 years

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right where you left me

characters: wonwoo & reader word count: 8.9k genre: exes to lovers summary: in which wonwoo leaves and takes your heart with him. three years later, you're in another city, but tragically, right where he left you. warnings: alcohol consumption, detailed smut.

please help me see seventeen on december!

***

Seoul’s stale and dusty air reminds you exactly why you don’t like visiting the capital city often despite its vibrance and the colors built upon its land. As someone who likes to have their own space once in a while, the city is not for you, with its busy streets and lights that never seem to dim even a little. Seoul, at least for you, is a place to visit when you’re looking for some excitement, some diversity, some stories to tell your workmates—but definitely not a place to reside in full time.

But here you are, two days after moving, trying to get used to its noise and its beauty at the same time. If it hadn’t been for your job requiring you to move around multiple times a year, you wouldn’t be here. Albeit grateful, part of you wishes it could have been some other place closer to where you were raised.

Growing up in Changwon, your slightly tanned skin had been used to the coastal area’s cool, salty air. Also, it’s 40 minutes away from Busan—where your best friend Jihoon lives (which means to reach your best friend is a 40-minute drive). And this is also one of the reasons why you didn’t want to move to Seoul unless Jihoon tags along with you (which he, unfortunately, did not because he “can’t just pack up his entire life so that you’re not lonely in Seoul”).

“Is it that bad?” Jihoon’s voice echoes from the speaker of your phone as you put away your groceries.

“Yes,” you huff, remembering how someone bumped into you as soon as you stepped out of the subway, making you drop one of your grocery bags. The person did not even bother to look back. “Jihoon, I want to go home.”

“How old are you again?” your best friend teases. Even from miles away, you could make up his face as he speaks with you. “You’ll be fine. Remember that your boss had said it’s a temporary relocation. Once you’re done with whatever you have to complete in Seoul, then you can come back home.”

“I doubt,” you answer as you finish organizing the last few containers. “Launching this project in Changwon took them 2 years to fully establish. It’s Seoul, I know many things are more accessible here; for sure we’ll have more chances of finding competent potentials here to kickoff the project with me. But still, I don’t think I can do this in six months; one year at the least, maybe, if I work hard enough.”

Jihoon hums, agreeing, then proceeds to ask when the rest of your team would arrive. You briefly explain their itinerary and tell him that you’re also in collaboration with HR to ensure that enough manpower will be available by next week. You ask about the project that Jihoon is also working on; he tells you he will most likely visit Seoul, too, and it excites you until he reminds you of what you’ve been trying to avoid since you arrived.

“Wonwoo lives in Seoul. At least you have someone you know,” he says, voice reluctant. “I mean, that is if you need help settling. I know you don’t have a lot of relatives up there, but you know, just in case you need someone to remind you of home.”

You laugh at the last statement. Jihoon sighs, knowing how stupid he sounded just now.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “It’s not like I stopped being in contact with him after, you know, and it would be nice.”

“What would be nice?”

“You know, to catch up and all,” he answers, yawning. You look at the time, nine in the morning, Jihoon probably hasn’t had a wink of sleep.

You stay silent, sitting on the stool from your kitchen island, looking at your phone as if you’re waiting for him to say something more.

“It would be nice,” he repeats. “You were friends for a long time before you dated. It would be nice to have someone in the lonely city.”

You hum, still not willing to say anything. Jihoon knows that you never like talking about this, about Wonwoo.

“I mean, it has been how long?” Three years. “Two? Three years now, right? I’m sure Wonwoo’s moved on. I’m sure you have, too. Right?”

Being friends all throughout high school, dating as soon as you go into college, Wonwoo leaving as soon as the three of you graduated, you and him not being able to handle the distance—of course. Of course. You should have been able to move on at this point. Three years should be long enough for someone to move on. Three years should have allowed you to see someone else, to get rid of your feelings from the starry-eyed boy whose dreams are as vivid as yours.

Jihoon calls your name. “You there?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “I’m here.”

You’re here, in Seoul, miles away from Changwon, but here also means right where Wonwoo left you.

***

Kwon Soonyoung is a long-distance friend of Jihoon, which by default makes you a friend of his, too. He and Jihoon used to live next to each other when the latter temporarily moved to Seoul to be trained for his current job. Soonyoung is vibrant and loud like the city, but kind and warm like home. He helps you familiarize yourself with the city and gives you a list of places to visit nearby where your live and work. He shows you which subway or bus stop to go to certain places and helps you settle in further.

A month into living in Seoul, you’re finally getting used to it. The rush still bothers you sometimes, but it’s better now, thanks to Soonyoung.

“Do you like this place?” he asks, mouth full as he chews on the grilled beef you had just served for him.

You nod, taking a piece of meat into your mouth.

“I’m glad,” he says. “This is me and my best friend’s favorite place. We come here every weekend to drink. He doesn’t really drink, but he eats a lot and takes me home to make sure I don’t die. Jihoon knows him, too, apparently. Small world, if you ask me. Wonwoo used to go to the same college as Jihoon.”

You almost choke. Soonyoung quickly hands you a glass of water and asks if you’re okay.

Small world, my ass. The universe should might as well just punch you in the gut.

“Wonwoo,” you breathe out. “Jeon Wonwoo.”

“Yes,” Soonyoung exclaims. “You know him, too? That’s—wait, that actually makes sense. You and Jihoon have been best friends since birth. Of course, you know Wonwoo.”

“Soonyoung,” you say, catching your breath after chugging the glass of water. “We have been hanging out for two, three weeks now. Why haven’t you ever mentioned Jeon Wonwoo?”

What difference would have it done? You would have avoided Soonyoung at all costs, wouldn’t have bothered to befriend this bright, kind man across you. Then, that would minimize the chances of ever seeing Jeon Wonwoo in Seoul until you have to go back home.

Soonyoung shrugs. “He’s been busy. But he should be free next weekend, so we can meet up here then—“

“No,” you cut him off and visibly, you could see how Soonyoung’s mouth form into a pout. “No, Soonyoung. Sorry.”

“Why?” He asks. “Wonwoo is not that bad. He’s a little cold, but he’s not that bad. You should know if you had known him back in Changwon. I mean, Jihoon is the coldest person in the universe, so Wonwoo is not half bad.”

“It’s not like that, Soonyoung,” you sigh, picking up a piece of radish and shoving it in your mouth.

The man across you is puzzled for a minute, chewing on another piece of meat with his eyebrows furrowed.

Soonyoung suddenly gasps when it dawns to him. “Oh my God.”

“Shut up.” He knows.

“You’re the ex,” he exclaims. “Holy shit!”

“Shut up, Soonyoung.”

“You are!” He repeats. “You’re the ex that got him so fucked up on his first year here in Seoul!”

“That’s rude,” you remark.

“Sorry,” he says. “Oh, I am so going to call Jihoon later. This should be fun.”

***

What are the odds of meeting Jeon Wonwoo for the first time in three years?

More than half month ago, back in Changwon, chances were nearly zero. Wonwoo completely moved to Seoul and never bothered to return since he left. His father and brother had already moved to Seoul, too; Wonwoo never really had a reason to go back.

Weeks ago, chances were little to likely. You are in Seoul. It is a big city, but bumping into him wasn’t completely impossible.

Two weeks ago, chances were most likely. After learning that Soonyoung had been friends with him for three years, it’s definitely a possibility to see him one of these days.

But here, in a small cafe at the corner of the street leading the way to your workplace, you would think that it’s less likely. There are thousands of cafes across Seoul, a wide variety of themes scattered along the busy streets, and it’s not very likely for you to meet Jeon Wonwoo in this place.

Yet here he is. Right in front of you. Sitting right across you as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“So, uhh,” he starts, clearing his throat and setting his clasped hands on top of the table between you. “Seoul. How is it?”

You shrug, looking anywhere but him. “It’s alright. Too noisy—“

“I figured,” he interrupts but apologizes right away. “I mean. It’s different. From home. So, I figured it would be too noisy for you.”

Jeon Wonwoo is different, and it’s not like you expected him to remain the same after all these years, because you, too, are an entirely different person now. His hair is fixed, cut clean and pushed back from his forehead so that it doesn’t cover his eyes. Eyeglasses are nowhere to be found; you reckon he’s wearing transparent contacts to help with his sight. He’s wearing a suit and a tie, something you seldom saw back in Changwon, and he’s more confident now. He doesn’t look away when he talks. He doesn’t look like the Wonwoo you had known.

The Wonwoo you had known never would have approached you as soon as you stepped in the cafe. The Wonwoo you had known would have pretended he never saw you and ran away. The Wonwoo you had known would have shot a text to Jihoon to let him know that he saw you, so that you would initiate a conversation with him next time because you knew that he was too shy to say hi first.

In the end, you don’t really know a Jeon Wonwoo at present. He doesn’t know you at the same time.

“Jihoon said the same thing,” he continues, filling the awkward air with words you could barely absorb because you’re still trying to wrap your head around the fact that he really is sitting right across you. “When he moved here for a while. I also thought of the same thing during my first few months here.”

You hum. The barista calls both your names just in time before another wave of awkward silence could take over you.

Wonwoo abruptly stands and tells you he’ll take both your orders. You let him. Your legs probably do no have enough strength to stand on its own at this time.

He comes back with both your orders combined in one tray. You’re glad you didn’t get anything to eat, otherwise you might have to vomit your insides out with how much your stomach is shaking.

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything?” He asks as he sets your drink in front of you. “The strawberry shortcake here is nice. Even the tiramisu is to die for.”

You shake your head. “I should get going,” you answer instead. “I just dropped by for some coffee. I need to go back to work.”

Wonwoo nods as he sips into his drink. “You work right down the street, right? I texted Jihoon while ordering, I hope you don’t mind. I asked him where you worked. I should have just asked you.”

“It’s okay,” you say. “But I should really go.”

Wonwoo pulls out his phone and slides it in front of you. The screen tells you he’s asking for your number.

“Please allow me to take you out for lunch,” he asks. “Let’s catch up.”

If your heart was galloping two minutes ago, at this point it’s in a fucking drag race. It’s not a good feeling and you do not trust yourself enough for things like this.

“Wonwoo,” you sigh. “I don’t think we should.”

“Why not?” He asks. “It’ll be alright. Besides, I’ve been meaning to ask Jihoon for your number anyway, ever since he told me you had moved here. I can help you fi—“

“Wonwoo, please,” you reply. Wonwoo stops. And this is the only time you actually look at his eyes.

His eyes soften when he notices the way your face winces in distress. Worry clouds the windows to his soul, and this lets you know that this Wonwoo may not entirely different from the Wonwoo you had known.

“Please,” you say again. “I’m not even sure why I agreed to sit across you, let alone give you my number and let you in again.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“You left, remember?” you reply. Wonwoo doesn’t answer. “You left. I could have waited for you, or uprooted my entire life so I could follow you here if you had a little more patience. A little more understanding.”

You have no idea where this burst of emotions are suddenly coming from, but it’s here now and you are not going to contain it.

“I don’t think I can be friends with you again, Wonwoo,” you continue. “It’s—it’s not right. It’s not good. For me. It’s not good for me, and I don’t think I am ready to reconnect with you in any form. I’m sorry, Wonwoo.”

“No,” he says. “I’m sorry.”

You nod and take your cup of coffee, bowing your head a little. “I’ll see you around.”

Wonwoo watches you leave.

***

You don’t drink a lot, and it reminds you why you, Jihoon, and Wonwoo were closer to one another compared to the rest of your friendship group back in college. The three of you were, by default, the ones responsible to take everyone home safely.

It was a routine back in college. So long as nobody has to attend some kind of practice on the weekend (swimming, football, debate club, theater – name it), everyone from your group would meet up at the same place at seven every Friday night. You, Wonwoo, and Jihoon knew everyone’s dormitories and were always in a conquest to ensure everyone would have hangover soup and aspirin ready by the time they wake up in the morning.

The flashes of memories make you smile as you down on another shot of alcohol, and man, do you wish Jihoon could keep you company. Both of you would have been so shitfaced by the third shot, careless and honest strings of words thrown at each other. As soon as alcohol has reached your system, you and him become emotional turmoils. You and him, despite being fully grown adults, are still terrible drinkers.

And you wonder if Wonwoo had learned how to handle his alcohol tolerance better.

The drink is hot when it slides down your throat, but you like it better than the feeling in your chest.

Jeon Wonwoo is the greatest love of your life.

It had always felt like he was a gift from the sky, like a star who fell comfortably on your hands, sharing his light and warmth whenever he was close. The star himself winked his vibrance amidst the void surrounding you – just in time when you were going through growing pains.

High school wasn’t the best time of your life, unlike any other person you may ask. It was when you were still trying to get to know yourself better while juggling school and family matters. Jeon Wonwoo had sat at the back of the class, as though he’s the furthest star from the sky, but his light extended far enough for you to see him.

Wonwoo has always been handsome, even when he had gained some weight on his cheeks in sophomore year and when he decided to get a K-Idol type of haircut that didn’t quite suit him. He was quiet and timid, wouldn’t talk to you unless you approach him first, but was subtly funny when he starts becoming comfortable. Wonwoo and Jihoon’s similarities made them friends, and you had to start competing against Wonwoo for the title of Jihoon’s best friend as soon as you noticed how much Jihoon adores the boy.

The three of you were inseparable. But it was always different with Wonwoo.

Jihoon wrote you a letter when your 15-year old dog passed away, and it was the most beautiful string of words you had read your entire life. Wonwoo couldn’t express himself well, but he slept over for two weeks and held your hand every day during that difficult time of your life.

Which is why the lines were never blurred with Jihoon, but with Wonwoo, it was always grey.

Jeon Wonwoo kissed you under the stars on the night of your graduation day – hands shaking, lips soft, eyes twinkling – and told you he had decided to go to the same college as you and Jihoon.

Wonwoo had just gotten a car from his father on the first day of college, and he made it a point to drive you to and from the state university. He had asked you to be his girlfriend before you got off from his car on the first day of freshmen year.

When you, him, and Jihoon had found part-time jobs to get you through dorm rent and daily needs, it had saved countless of core memories in your head. Those were difficult times, but it never felt that way when you had those two boys by your side.

Eventually, you and Wonwoo moved in together to save some money for rent. You and him fell into daily routines and in love with each other even more. Wonwoo became family, eventually, and you to his, and for a period of time, all was well. Better than well, most of the time.

That is until Wonwoo had to leave right after graduation and you couldn’t because you had so many things going for you in Changwon. There were opportunities for you and him, but in different places, and it would have been unfortunate if either of you turned these chance. Wonwoo had asked if you wouldn’t consider moving with him. Seoul is a big city, after all, there were jobs available for you. But as much as Wonwoo was a dreamer, you were, too. You had dreams of your own, and those dreams aren’t in Seoul.

Hence, Wonwoo had left and you had stayed. You were ready to let him go if it means he would fly and be successful. There were hushed promises the last time you made love in your shared apartment, words of comfort that things would be fine, that you and him will eventually find your way back to each other once you figure things out. No concrete plan, but promises nonetheless.

Promises that were, eventually, thrown into oblivion.

Inevitably, you and him became occupied at work – too much that sometimes both of you forget to call. On the weekends, during Wonwoo’s first few months in Seoul, you would take a train to visit him and spend your days off from work together. For a while, it worked. The routine of not talking at all from Mondays to Fridays and catching up on the weekends with you taking a train to Seoul worked. That is until you noticed Wonwoo never bothered to come see you at home.

To your surprise, his father and younger brother had moved to Seoul when he found a place for them to stay nearby. Bohyuk, his brother, was getting ready for college, and Wonwoo decided it would be best for him to study in the city and have his father move, too.

“Not right now,” Wonwoo had answered as soon as he picked up the call. But you weren’t having it.

“Don’t hang up,” you had warned while knowing well that he was in the middle of work. “Bohyuk dropped by to say goodbye. You never bothered to tell me you’ve decided to have them move to Seoul.”

“Y/N,” Wonwoo warned in the same tone. “I’m at work. Let’s talk about this when you come here on the weekend.”

“I am not going there on the weekend, Wonwoo,” you firmly replied. “Why don’t you ever come home?”

Wonwoo had stayed silent on the other line.

“You like Seoul that much, huh?” You taunted. Wonwoo huffed on the other line and you knew him well enough to understand that he’s just as angry as you. “You’ve never bothered to come home. I’ve always travelled miles and miles for you, spending my days off on trains and not being able to sleep well at night because it’s not my bed. Every fucking weekend since you moved to the city.”

“What are you trying to say?” Wonwoo asked.

You sighed, palm on your forehead as you tried to think about where you and him went wrong. “Wonwoo, why do you never come home?”

Wonwoo never held back, didn’t take a second to even think about his answer. “I don’t have a reason to visit Changwon. It’s not home for me.”

That was the last straw for you.

It may be the vodka that’s keeping you from remembering, but you’ve forgotten what you had said after that. All you remember is how you were fuming mad and had taken an empty box to gather all of Wonwoo’s things and to send it to his address in Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo had really left. He had taken all of his belongings when he left to Seoul, and you realized he didn’t bother leaving any clothes or any pair of shoes when he took the flight to Incheon to reach Seoul. It was only then that you had realized Wonwoo never inteded to go back. He took all of what’s his and had left you.

And it may be, again, the vodka that’s talking but you understand now why you dislike Seoul so much.

It’s because you never understood why Wonwoo had easily left you for a city so bright and so loud, and you were jealous of that. You were envious of a city and you wonder why Changwon was never enough for him to even visit. Why you were never enough for him to call you home.

Wonwoo, indeed, was a star that fell out of the sky.

The universe never told you that you had to return him back to the sky eventually. It was the most painful thing you had to do, but you did it, anyway.

***

It turns out that saying that you don’t want to reconnect with Wonwoo is better said than done.

Soonyoung is determined to see you and Wonwoo in the same room, same space, same air – that’s why you are here, again, in the same barbecue place that Soonyoung took you weeks ago.

It’s Saturday, and Soonyoung picked you up from your apartment to have some grilled meat, yours and his favorite. And you should have known, truly, with the smug look on his face and overly huge grin on his mouth, that Wonwoo had been waiting for you and Soonyoung at the said place.

Wonwoo and Soonyoung talk animatedly about work and how the week went by so slow with the load of work they had to finish. The two apparently met at work and have been friends since then.

You stay silent for the most part, reason truly being to tired from work. You tell them you had been working ten to eleven hours a day since Monday because of the preparation for the program’s launch. Soonyoung points out that all you’ve been eating for the entire week are noodles and soda.

“That’s not healthy,” Wonwoo comments.

“I know,” you sigh. “But I don’t really have that much time to make something for breakfast. And I would be too tired in the evening to even wait for food delivery so I just settle on what I have.”

The conversation falls into place, awkwardness from the first few minutes gone, thanks to a tipsy Soonyoung clearing the air for everyone. And just like this, you and Wonwoo fell into another routine, as if those years of nothingness between you and him never existed.

***

Jihoon is surprised when he sees you and Wonwoo pick him up from the airport.

You had filled him in, of course, with the situation and how much you hate it, but still, your best friend couldn’t hide how happy (maybe?) he was to see you and Wonwoo together (not really). You decided to let Jihoon stay in your apartment for the entire two weeks that he needed to be here for business. One thing common about you and him, he could never sleep well on a hotel’s bed.

Wonwoo tags along, of course, and it’s the first time he sees where you live. You see him briefly stare at the pictures you had displayed in your small living room (many, many photographs of you and Jihoon, your family, some friends, and your pets who were left at home). He takes a second to study each, and you wonder if he’d been expecting to see his face on the photographs.

“Thanks, Wonwoo, for driving us here,” Jihoon says. “Y/N, I told you it would be more convenient if you get a driver’s license and buy a car. Especially here in Seoul. How are you commuting every damn day?”

You shrug as you start to unpack Jihoon’s carry on. “The company pays for my transportation. Also, driving, me? Can you really picture that?”

Both Wonwoo and Jihoon laugh.

“Some things never change,” Wonwoo mumbles.

You never learned how to drive because Wonwoo always drove you to places when you were younger. You were too uncoordinated to learn it on your own, and now you feel like you’re too old to take driving courses.

Wonwoo helps Jihoon settle in on the spare bedroom you had prepared for him. You can’t help but kiss Jihoon on the cheek when you the dried fish he had packed just for you.

“There is dried fish from the supermarket nearby,” Wonwoo comments as he watches you place the delicacies on the cupboard. “They’re good, too.”

You shake your head, still smiling, “Nothing will ever taste like home.”

Jihoon agrees from his bedroom.

The three of you decide to have dinner across the apartment complex. Soonyoung joins you within half an hour, which is why as soon as you finish your meal, alcohol is served on the table.

“You’re a fucking alcoholic,” you joke. Soonyoung pouts and says it’s the best time to drink because Jihoon is here. This is, as he says, a rare occurrence in the universe.

Eventually, Soonyoung was able to pursuade the three of you to drink, but he was already too tipsy himself to realize that you and Wonwoo had stopped taking shots on your second ones. Jihoon, however, seems to be having fun drinking with Soonyoung.

When the clock hits 12, Soonyoung’s roommate arrives to pick him up. The man introduces himself as Jun.

Jun is handsome, and he shakes his head when you offer him a drink. Soonyoung begins to tease you and tells everyone that he’s never seen you so red before. You tell them it’s the alcohol, but even Jihoon wasn’t buying it. Flirting wasn’t really your forte, and maybe it was those two shots of soju that helped you speak confidently with Jun the entire 20 minutes he sat on your table.

“Sorry,” you say as you and Jun haul Soonyoung to the car.

“It’s fine,” the man answers and settles his friend on the back seat. “I wonder why Soonyoung never introduced you.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” you reply. “I’ll see you around. Thanks for picking him up.”

Jun nods, smiling, and takes a device from his back pocket. “Here,” he says softly. “Put your number.”

Your breath is caught when you realize what’s going on, and unconsciously, for a reason unknown to you, you look back at the restaurant where Wonwoo is seated right the wall made in glass.

He is looking right back at you as this is happening.

Jun is quick-witted. He realizes what’s going on and chuckles.

“Oh,” he mutters, about to pull his phone back but you stop him, pulling your eyes away from Wonwoo.

Jun is surprised when you punch your number in and give yourself a missed call.

“Is it okay?” He asks.

“Nothing’s going on between me and Wonwoo,” you answer confidently.

Jun laughs, and you blush. “I’ll just say I believe you, okay? Now, give me a hug so he can throw more daggers at me. He’s been slaughtering me with his eyes since you and I started talking back there.”

You’re taken aback when Jun suddenly pulls you in, your face buried in his fruity scent and you laugh when he makes an effort to make it look real. He bids goodbye and you watch his car leave before returning to Wonwoo and a very sleepy Jihoon.

“Took you a while,” Wonwoo mumbles and helps Jihoon to stand. “Saying goodbye really takes that long?”

You shrug and walk to the other side of Jihoon, helping him walk as well. “He’s nice.”

“Nice enough to give your number immediately?” he mutters, making you chuckle at the new behavior.

“Yes, of course,” you answer sarcastically. “Soonyoung has mentioned him before. I’ve been looking forward to meeting him.”

The three of you walk (Jihoon, very drunkenly) across the street. Wonwoo punches the button to your apartment’s floor and you’re impressed at how easily he remembered it despite being here the first time.

Wonwoo complains about how buff Jihoon had gotten and how heavy he is when he comes back to the living room after closing the door behind your best friend’s room. He catches you making tea, and you don’t even remember grabbing two mugs from the cupboard.

“Tea?” You offer. Wonwoo hums and takes one mug from the counter. He comfortably takes a seat on the couch, taking a look around while waiting for the tea to cool a little. You don’t hesitate to take a seat beside him.

“Nice place,” he comments.

“Isn’t that compliment a little too late?” you joke, blowing air to your tea and deciding to set it down the table beside Wonwoo’s because it’s still too hot.

“We were busy unpacking Jihoon’s things,” he answers. “I didn’t get a good look.”

“Thanks,” you say anyway. “Nothing like home but, you know, it’s nice.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “You like comparing everything to what it is at home. If you keep doing that, you’re never going to truly like Seoul. Changwon and Seoul are two different places.”

“I have no plans of liking Seoul,” you answer. “I’m here for work. Once I’m done, I’m going back home.”

Wonwoo nods. He looks at you and finally, you look back at him. Wonwoo had his hair down today, unlike all the other days you’ve seen him. He’s wearing his glasses and it reminds you a lot of what he used to look like when you were in college. He’s wearing a plain white shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. And you would be lying if you say you’re not attracted to him right now.

He has always been handsome, and though you like when he wears suit and tie, nothing will ever compare to how attractive he looks right now, to how much he looks like the Wonwoo you had known right now.

Wonwoo licks his lips when your eyes meet his, and the sparks light up like a switch, then seconds later he’s kissing you.

Wonwoo’s lips are as soft as you could remember despite how roughly he’s holding you as he kisses the air out of your lungs. His hands are on your jaw, keeping your face still and he dives in, his tongue licking your lips and asking you to open up. You cave in so, so, so easily when his hands travel to your arms and to your legs and when he pulls you so that you’re sitting on top of him.

Wonwoo licks and bites and sucks your lips and your tongue, and the heat between your legs makes you moan. The sound you make invites Wonwoo to touch the skin in your hips, your shirt lifted a little, and suddenly he’s pulling the material over your head.

He is hard when you move closer and sit right on top of his crotch, and he makes the same sinful sound when you grind yourself on his boner. The strap of your bra begins to fall from your arms and this encourages Wonwoo’s lips to leave yours and mark up your shoulders and chest. You throw your head back when Wonwoo pulls one of cups of your bra down and starts kissing your breasts. He nips and sucks where you want it the most and uses his other hand to massage the other.

“Wonwoo,” you moan. “Room.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need a second. He uses his strength to stand and carry you while your legs are wrapped around his waist, teas forgotten and cold. He locks your room, gently places you on bed and pulls his shirt off his body before climbing on top of you again.

“Can I take these off?” He asks. You don’t know which piece of clothing he’s asking but you nod anyway.

Wonwoo unclasps the last piece of clothing that’s covering your chest and continuest to dive in, mouth finding your nipple, sucking, nipping, biting, kissing. And it’s hot and your heart somersaults with how familiar this feels. With how much Wonwoo remembers when it comes to your body. You feel your wetness pool even more between your legs when you realize Wonwoo has been kissing you on the right places, sucking when you need it the most, biting where you want it the most

“Wonwoo,” you moan when he finishes sucking both your breasts and moves down to kiss your stomach. “Please.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” He asks. You involuntarily moan at the nickname and how low and attractive his voice sounds, and how much you remember that he likes words being used when fucking. “Tell me what you want.”

“I need you,” you answer. Wonwoo chuckles, kissing your stomach.

“You need me now?” he taunts. “You seem to like Jun.”

You shake your head, reaching so you could pull him back to your lips. You kiss Wonwoo, palms touching his neck and shoulders. (Wonwoo had started working out, you realize.)

“I’ve only ever liked you,” you say in between kissing him. “Please. I need you.”

“Don’t be in love with someone else,” Wonwoo whispers and you nod. He kisses you one more time before going back down in between your legs.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” he commands. “What do you want me to do?”

“Your hands and mouth,” you answer. Wonwoo shakes his head. You sigh, closing your eyes and know exactly what he wants to hear. “Please eat me out, Wonwoo. Please use your tongue and your fingers.”

Wonwoo doesn’t hesitate. “Can I take these off?” You nod. He pulls your pants alongside your panties down.

You bite your lip when Wonwoo breathes out as soon as he sees you on full display. Unconsciously, you start to cover your breasts and close your thighs, but Wonwoo stops you and tells you he wants to see you first. Wonwoo takes his time looking at you, admiring your skin and the wetness between your legs.

“You have no idea how much I’ve missed this,” he whispers and dives in.

Wonwoo knows how to use his tongue well. There were a lot of things you’ve already forgotten about your dynamics, but if you could recall one thing perfectly, it’s how amazing he treated you in bed. He takes his time making small, soft licks on your folds, tongue glazing on your clit, making you squirm and moan. Wonwoo holds you down when you start to move and close your legs on his head.

“I’ve missed this,” Wonwoo mutters as he sucks and kisses your cunt. You’re a moaning mess and even worse when you see him looking right at you as he licks your wetness. “I’ve missed you,” he says, eyes locked to yours, tongue slowly licking up, showing you exactly how wet you are for him through his tongue. He climbs back and kisses you, letting you taste yourself.

Wonwoo takes this moment to slide to fingers in while you’re making out. His mouth swallows your moans when he fingers you fast, your cunt making a scandalous schluck, schluck, schluck sound as his fingers pound you hard and fast. You’re about to cum when Wonwoo stops.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks and that’s when it hits you.

“Fuck, I don’t,” you answer. Wonwoo nods and says it’s okay. He lays on his side beside and starts to slide his fingers again.

“I’ll make you cum like this,” he assures but you shake your head.

“I’m clean,” you say suddenly. Wonwoo takes the message. “I’ve never had sex with anybody after you.”

“Me neither,” he answers and you’re already gone.

“Pull out,” you remind him. “I’m not ovulating so we should be good.”

Wonwoo agrees and removes his pants. His erection springs and it’s huge and red and you sit up to touch him but Wonwoo stops you.

“I might cum as soon as you touch me,” he says. “Next time.”

Next time. Next time. Next time.

You nod and lie back down on your pillows, legs open for Wonwoo, all wet and ready for him. Wonwoo settles between you, one hand on the bed steadying himself and the other holding his hardness. He massages his tip nice and slow with your clit and it takes everything in you not to take matters into your hands and ride the fuck out of him. You let Wonwoo take his time when he slides into you slowly.

He’s as big as you remember, but he prepared you well (and wet) enough for your cunt to swallow his cock gracefully. Wonwoo is a mess when you look at him. His face is read and contorted into a look of pleasure when he feels how warm you are inside.

“Fuck,” he groans. “You’re still just as warm.”

He begins to slide in and out, a steady pace, and kisses you all over your face, asking if you feel good. You nod and let out a moan when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

“You feel exactly the same since the last time.” Since you left. “And I love you,” Wonwoo says. “I love you.”

He says it over and over again. He says it when he pulls out for a second, bringing your legs up on his shoulders and fucking you deeply on your bed. He says it when he spreads your legs again, diving back to your lips, and tells you he’s about to cum. He says it over and over again when he makes you cum first, fingers making circles on your clit as he swallows the noises you make when you reach your orgasm. And he says it when he continues fucking you until he has to pull out and cum on your stomach.

You say it back when Wonwoo carries you to the toilet because he knows you need to pee after sex. You say it again when he cleans you up with the shower head and a towel. You say it again when he carries you back to bed and pulls the covers over your body, kissing you on the lips and on the forehead. You say it again when he’s asleep and you’re staring at the digital clock on your bedside table, Wonwoo hugging you from behind, his naked chest keeping you warm.

Just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, you look at the time again. 1:56 am, it says, and you wonder if it’s going to hurt if it doesn’t work out with Wonwoo for the second time.

Your back aches a little, a small groan leaving your lips when you adjust your torso so that it's more comfortable. Wonwoo remembers it like the back of his hand and helps you adjust yourself so that your back is not as stiff. He mumbles a soft I love you, and you hum when his thumb makes small circles on the skin of your stomach.

The last thing in your mind before completely passing out is the answer: yes. It’s going to hurt.

A routine is made after that night.

Wonwoo had woken up long before you, but he stayed on the same position as you slept. The only difference was that he had his phone in his hands as you slept soundly. He had kissed you as soon as he realized you were awake like it’s the most normal thing to do. He had dressed up and said he’ll pick you and Jihoon up for dinner and that he had to leave because he had to do his laundry before Monday arrives.

Indeed, Wonwoo had picked you up that same evening. When he held your hand and kissed you in the car, Jihoon didn’t say anything. After that dinner, Wonwoo stayed the night again (and this time, you and him had to be more quiet because Jihoon was awake and sober in the other room).

The routine goes like this: Wonwoo picks you up from work every day because he clocks out at the same time and eats dinner with you or with you and Jihoon if the latter is not busy. Sometimes he would take you out for dinner, other times he asks you to cook for him at your apartment. He does home and only stays the night if it’s the weekend. When Jihoon leaves Seoul for Busan, he tells you he's happy his best friends are together again, and warns that love is more painful the second time around as much as it is sweeter.

Some weekends, Wonwoo would take you to his father and brother’s apartment nearby the university. Bohyuk looked confused, most likely why you’re suddenly in the picture again when he knows all too well that it didn’t end up nicely between you and his brother, but he never said anything.

It’s easy to fall into a routine with Wonwoo, and the lines were never blurred. He never shied away from admitting how he felt and conveniently, you had always felt the same.

He apologized for leaving you behind (though, him leaving Changwon wouldn’t have been so bad, you could have compromised) and for never making an effort all because he was too excited to venture out his new life in Seoul. He spends hours talking about his experience and how much he missed you every step of the way. And just like that, you and Wonwoo are back together.

All is well, at least for the time being.

The program launch was a success six months in. You had underestimated yourself in the beginning, yet here you are after months of working hard, recognized and praised by your bosses with how efficient you had worked for the last six months.

They jokingly tell you that you’re free to go back home now, but Seoul will always be ready for you whenever you wanted to come back.

And in the last six months, you have learned love the place despite its noise and how busy it is all the time. You have understood why people sought after Seoul’s vibrance and why people find inspiration when they visit the city. You have seen different personalities and realized that maybe it’s not the city that’s giving the place colors, maybe it’s the people and their diversities and quirks. Seoul, finally, is a place you like and would often visit if given the chance.

But in the end, home is still home.

People think that all small town girls want to venture out the big city and learn life from there, but it’s different for you. You like Changwon, and as much as you love Seoul now, nothing compares to home.

And so you decide to go back home.

And Wonwoo wasn’t taking it well.

“But I thought you love Seoul,” he argues when you drop the bomb on him.

“I do,” you answer. “And I love you. But it’s not home, Wonwoo.”

He licks his lips, frustrated and leans back from the dining chair. “Y/N, stay. You’ll do well here.”

“I’ll do better in Changwon, Won,” you reply. “Besides, it’s not like we’re breaking up again. We know better now.”

“You don’t know that,” he mumbles and drinks from the glass.

You sigh, losing the appetite. “Won. I supported you when you wanted to move to Seoul. Can’t you do the same for me?”

“Am I not enough?” He mumbles. You understand but you ask him to repeat. “Am I not enough?”

You laugh sardonically. “It's funny because I was asking myself the exact same thing when you left me for Seoul.”

Wonwoo sighs. “That was different, Y/N. We were just starting our careers back then. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss. It’s different this time. You have the choice to stay.”

“And you had the choice to visit me once or twice and to make it work,” you retort. Wonwoo is taken aback by your sudden attitude. “But you didn’t. In your head, it was all Seoul. You told me you didn’t have a reason to come home.”

“I only said that because I was pissed,” he answers. “You’re the one who broke up with me.”

“And you didn’t bother calling back,” you respond. It’s true. He never called back, never tried to apologize, never took a train home to ask you to take him back – which you would have. In a heartbeat. Without a doubt.

“Was I not enough?” You ask the question back to him. “Was I not enough for you to compromise, Wonwoo? Now, am I not enough for you to finally learn how to compromise and make this work?”

Wonwoo stays silent. You can’t read his mind, so you pick up the dishes and wash up. He avoids you at all costs. By the time the clock hits 9 pm, Wonwoo bids you goodbye – but not before kissing you on the forehead.

When the door is shut, you start to cry and pack your things.

***

Your flight is three days from now, but Soonyoung is already acting like it’s your last day. He reckons it would be nice to have dinner at the same barbecue place for the last time because you would be too busy for he next two days.

The dinner is nice, as always, and Wonwoo is silent the whole time. Soonyoung teases him and tells his friend not to be too sad that you’re going back, unaware of the fight you and the latter had two days ago.

When dinner is done, Wonwoo drives you home and announces that he’s staying the night. You let him and kiss him on the lips before taking a shower.

Wonwoo hugs you while you scroll through your phone on the bed.

It’s been two days and all he’s done is to mope around. He has followed you everywhere but hasn’t said anything about you moving. He takes care of you, kisses you, and even makes love to you but he doesn’t talk about the elephant in the room. You are just as bad; you don’t say anything either.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly when you’re laughing at a video from Instagram, you almost miss it.

“What was that?” you ask, pausing the video and looking up at him. Your head is resting on his arm, his hand playing with one of yours.

“I’m sorry,” he says it again, clearly this time. “I thought about us a lot, even talked to Jihoon and asked for his insights. And I realized how insensitive I have been towards you and this relationship. Jihoon told me about how much pain you went through three years ago—“

“Wonwoo, you’ve already been forgiven,” you interrupt.

“No, please let me apologize properly,” he says. “Three years ago, Changwon wasn’t the place for me. I was happy with you but I knew it in my heart that I couldn’t stay in Changwon. The first week in Seoul was the best week of my life. I had learned how to deal with different personalities here, and found myself learning about my own potentials that I couldn’t see when I was in Changwon. I was happy in Seoul, and it had always felt incomplete because you weren’t around. And I knew you never wanted to move.

“I had asked father and Bohyuk to move here because I knew they’d be better off here, too. And I knew deep down, you weren’t too keen of the idea of moving here with me someday, and that made me mad. That made me think as though you didn’t love me enough to even visit me every weekend, not realizing that you did. You do. You loved me so much that you let me go even when you were lonely and missing me most days. You supported me, and took your days off with me so that we could make it work.

“I was the one who didn’t love you enough to see through what we could have done and compromised to be together until the end. And with you being here in Seoul for the last six months, I have learned that I can never be truly happy if you’re not with me. So, I’m sorry, Y/N, that I had been too selfish years ago and even now. I’m sorry that it took me so long to realize once again a mistake I could have done for the second time. I’m sorry that you had to double your efforts back then and that I had made you feel like you weren’t enough – and the truth is that you are. More than enough if you ask me. And I am willing to meet you halfway to make it work this time.”

By the time Wonwoo is done, you’re already crying and hugging him. You don’t realize this until Wonwoo laughs and comments about how you made a paper towel out of his shirt. You apologize and stand to grab another shirt for him. He thanks you and helps you wipe your tears as you and him sit across each other on your bed.

“So how do we do this?” he asks. “We can take turns going back and forth from Changwon and here.”

“They’re promoting me as senior manager for both sites: Changwon and Seoul,” you announce. Wonwoo gasps and hugs you. “You can come visit me if you miss me too much, but I’d like to talk about moving some of my things to your apartment if you don’t mind.. I’m giving this place up.”

Wonwoo kisses you again and again, saying he’s proud of you and tells you that he’s going to start moving your things tomorrow. You tell him that you will still take the flight to Changwon in three days to check on your team, but you’ll most likely be back in a month.

You and Wonwoo spend hours talking about your plans, and somehow it reminds you of three years ago when Wonwoo had to leave. But this time, instead of hushed promises, you and him had plans: a timetable and a commitment to make it work this time.

Wonwoo randomly brings up the question of marriage and what would happen by the time you and him decide to tie the knot. You kiss him goodnight and tell him that you’ll cross the bridge when you get there. He asks if you would marry him if he asks you.

You say yes before you and him drift to sleep.

***

The flight back to Changwon took an hour at least. Your luggage weighs lighter compared to how heavy it was when you left six months ago.

There is a light, hopeful feeling in your chest as you push your luggage in the middle of the busy arrival area. Your phone dings, but you decide you’d check it later when you reach home.

Changwon is much, much warmer than Seoul, and you kind of forgotten because you wore a jacket before departing the city. Its salty air hits you as soon as you step out of the airport and suddenly, you’re reminded why you loved home so much.

The taxi stops right in front of you. The old man helps you with your luggage albeit light. You thank him and he asks you the address. His accent tells you you’re home.

Your phone dings again, and you pull out your phone this time.

The messages are from Wonwoo. The first one is a picture of him pouting with a caption “missing you already x”.

The second one is a message that makes your heart swell.

From: Wonuuu <3 Seoul is colder without you. Have a great time in Changwon, love. Trust that your Wonwoo will wait for you.

#wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo scenario #wonwoo angst #wonwoo au #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo scenario #ex!wonwoo #seventeen #svt wonwoo #seventeen smut #seventeen fic #seventeen au

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simphornies · 2 months

Note

I saw you drop a request in my askbox and bsksksjakdhkshd I love it- so imma drop an idea in yours too and what you do with it is up to you lolol

So what about Vox and a drunk fem!reader? Like they were kinda just chilling but Reader has one stupidly large crush on the TV man but is too shy to say anything- but it all comes out on a drunken spiel at some point?

Anyway have funnnn :D

A/N: SORRY FOR BEING INACTIVE. I got burnt out </3 But I hope you guys enjoy!

Word count: 1.2k (1,258) Contents: no mention of y/n, alcohol consumption, valentino being valentino

Drunk Confession [ Vox x F!Reader ]

After an extremely productive day, Vox decided to take out the employees that went above and beyond for their quotas, per your request. It took a lot of begging to convince the Vees to come along but Velvette denied, saying she didn’t want to hang around “lower class” demons. Vox agreed after you begged and pleaded repeatedly. Mainly just to get you to stop talking.

Everyone met up at the “Consent” club Valentino suggested. You show up, excited to have a day off and hang out with Val and Vox. One thing led to another and you got caught up in a drinking game with the employees. Vox watched you down shots after shots. Fifteen shots in and you were drunk out of your mind. You became a giggling, flushed, and drunken mess. You stumble over to Vox, draping your arm lazily over his shoulder.

“Hey, Vox!” Your words slurred as you spoke, a strong smell of alcohol emanating off of you. You give him a wide smile, “I’m so glad you came tonight. Made me really happy.”

Vox let out a chuckle, “I think you’re done for the night.” He says, glancing at his watch, “Let me take you home.”

You whined and pouted, “I don’t wanna.” As you tried to get up off of him, you stumbled over your own foot and fell. Vox caught you in time before you hit the ground and hurt yourself, shaking his head.

“Yeah, you’re definitely done.” He puts your arm around his neck and supports you. He turns to look at Valentino, “I’m gonna take her home. We’re done for tonight.”

Valentino smirked at Vox, “Don’t have too much fun, Voxy~” He teased.

Vox scowled in response, “Shut the fuck up. It’s not like that.”

Valentino laughs, “I’m just saying! But! if you do anything else…Record it for me.”

He grimaced at the comment. Who knows what Valentino would do with footage of you and him sleeping together? He stopped his own thoughts before he started to imagine it. “Gross! No.” Vox scoffed and walked out with you to his car. You were laughing at anything and everything throughout the whole car ride, pointing at every little light that interested you. Vox quietly admired this different side of you. You were always shy and professional around him, but this was new to him. He’d never seen you so open. He honestly liked it better than the front you’d put up at work.

You reach for the doorknob and miss it multiple times. “I can’t fuckin’ open it.” You whined, “Stupid door…Vox can ya open it f’me, please?” He sighed at your question and opened the door to which you wobbled over to your couch, nearly missing and landing on the floor. “Thankssss~” You look at him as he stands in your doorway. His arms were crossed and he was watching you with interest in his eyes.

Vox hasn’t seen you this wasted before, honestly it was entertaining to him. Usually you’d have a little bit of your wits but you just laid on your couch, giggling uncontrollably at him. He didn’t know if you would be okay to be left alone right now so he, reluctantly, shut your front door behind him.

“Why are you so giggly, right now?” He said as he walked towards you, joining you on the couch. You took this opportunity to stretch enough for you to have your head on his lap.

Your giggles didn’t cease unless you needed to catch your breath. You reach up and touch his screen, tracing the borders of his face with your fingers. “Because you’re sooooo cute~” You answered, “I looove being around ya all the time.”

He rolled his eyes, pulling your hands off of his face. He brushed away your compliments, writing them off as drunk talk. “You need to go drink some, I don’t know, water or something. And go to bed.”

You pout and whine, “I meannn it! I love workin’ with youuu.” You poked his screen.

“Yeah? But don’t you complain about work, which includes me, all the time?” He replied, crossing his arms. He didn’t want to admit to you that he liked your company and your help. Probably because you weren’t going to remember it anyways.

“Pfff-” You scoffed, “Youuuu…are what I look forward to~ I like you.”

Vox stared at you in silence. He heard what you said but he didn’t know if you were being honest or just drunk. His fans kicked up and his screen started to warm up. “W-Well…” He cleared his throat, attempting to stop himself from stuttering due to the curveball you just threw at him, “I like you too. You’re a good employee, you’re perfect in your work and hardly make any mistakes.”

You laughed at him, “Silly TV demon man~” You placed your hand on his screen, “I like like you~” As soon as you confessed, he warmed up even more under your touch. You giggled at this, “You’re hot.”

Vox became a flustered mess. You were just shooting curveballs at him at this point. He fiddled with his collar in an attempt to cool himself down before he crashed. He enjoyed your company and grew to like you over time. He didn’t really understand his own feelings until Velvette had to tell him, calling him oblivious for not realizing and an idiot for not understanding his own feelings. He managed to compose himself the best he could but his voice cracked as he spoke, “You need to go to bed.”

Your smile faded into a pout. You squint at him and cross your arms, “No! I dun’ wanna.”

“I’m not asking you to go to bed, you’re going to go to bed. You’re drunk.”

You sit up and scoff, waving your hand as if you were swatting his ridiculous statement away. “Who’s drunk?” You get up, walk around the couch just to end up on the floor.

He got up to look at where you fell, “You. Come on, let’s go.” He walked over to you, laughing a bit as you whined, lifting you up into his arms to take you to your room. He sets you down and begins to take your shoes and jewelry off. “You’re not doing any more drinking games after this.” He tucked you in but you were fighting the sleep that slowly crept up on you.

“I’m not even tired.” You say just to be proven wrong by your own body as a yawn comes after your statement.

“You worked and drank enough. Go to bed and get some rest. You deserve it.” His voice was softer this time. He shifts to leave but you grab him by his sleeve.

“Stay until I fall asleep?” You asked. He was internally screaming and malfunctioning but you were too drunk to notice. He simply nods and sits on the bed next to you, holding your hand until you eventually dozed off. He gives your knuckles a gentle kiss and smiles.

“Sleep well.” He leaves a bottle of water and some medicine in case you get a hangover the next day on your bedside table.

You wake up the next day to a single text from Vox.

VOX: We need to talk about last night. Meet me in the security room when you’re not hungover

You suddenly don’t feel your pounding headache as soon as the words register in your mind. You don’t remember anything after your 6th shot.

Me: what happened? VOX: :)

“I’m never fucking drinking ever again.”

Taglist: @froggybich @baizzhu @dickmastersworld @matrixbearer2024

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #vox hazbin hotel #vox x reader #hazbin hotel vox

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wandasfifthwife · 3 months

Text

attempt to dominate

ceo!wanda x fem!reader

tw: SMUT MDNI, top!wanda, bottom!reader, r tries to dom but fails, fingering (r giving/w receiving & r giving/r receiving), strap in v (r receiving), riding, bratty!reader, consumption of alcohol

a/n: I’m a shit writer, so I hope in some way this is entertaining

It was stupid. You were so very stupid.

Wanda sat beside you, amusement very obviously shown in her body language.

Vanessa sits back, “that true? Honestly I thought Wanda to be the top,” she gets looks from everyone, “I am totally sharing unnecessary information right now, I’ll stop.”

Her husband cuts her off, “no, I find this humorous. Is it true?”

You could feel Wanda’s eyes on you, curious to know if you’d entertain the thought you so confidently announced, but Vanessa took notice of your hesitation.

“My husband asked to be pegged one,” she blurts and covers her month, but still continues, “he was drunk. But drunk thoughts can be sober thoughts.”

The group changes their attention to them, ans you’re thankful it has. You’ve already begun to dig your grave, you would be stupid to dig it any deeper.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Wanda turns to you, “he’s about to fall over.”

Your eyes flicker to Vanessa’s husband, finding him leaning heavily on her from how intoxicated he is.

“I don’t need alcohol to get you like that.”

Your attitude flares at her smug expression.

“Don’t. I don’t like feeling like you’re looking down on me.”

“In what ways am I looking down on you.”

“You really don’t think I could.”

Her only response is a smile, and you want to scoff.

“Can’t blame me for being a realist, baby.”

“Then tonight,” you say to her, “I’ll top.”

The lighting of the room is dim, but you can still tell where her eyes are looking. You remove her hand from your cheek, and she rests it on your thigh.

“Really excited for tonight then,” she says and you give her a show of rolling your eyes.

You were digging your own grave.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

The night came. You were fuming, determined to prove something motivating you. You sat on the hotel bed, hands slightly fumbling as you tried to take her belt off.

“This is familiar,” she starts and you shoot her a look to be quiet.

You slide it through the loops, and throw the belt on the bed beside you. Your hands hook under her shirt, and pull it over her head. She holds back a laugh at your posture. It’s like a dog with their tail between their legs.

“Baby,” she says, pulling you close by your belt loops, “how do you want me?”

You flip your positioning, pushing her onto the bed. You crawl up her body, your breathing getting heavier from seeing her underneath you.

Her hands try to hold you, but you grab them and place them by her head. You kiss her, your aggression apparent in the way you hold her hands to the side.

You break to strip her completely and adjust the belt around her wrists. You sit up, taking your shirt off and flinging it somewhere.

“You’re so pretty baby.”

“Stop talking,” you murmur against her skin before kissing it.

You kiss down her body, taking your time when you reach the inside of her thighs. Her wrists pull at the restraint whenever you get too close. You finally kiss at her clit, relishing in her guttural moan.

“You’re so sweet,” you say, tongue pressing into her.

You watch her reactions the whole time. The sent and taste of her consuming your senses. You press a finger, curling it and adding pressure against the surface of her walls.

She gasps, “I’m going to come.”

“I know.”

Right as her breathing quickens, you stop. She calls your name out in an almost whine.

“I know,” you faux pout at her, “you want to come, so sorry.”

Your lips find hers, your ignorant pride growing with each passing minute, spill when you situate yourself at her feet, body facing hers. You strip your pants off, and she whistles at the sight. You moan softly when you slide a finger into yourself.

“Like what you see?”

You worked yourself up, trying to only focus on stretching yourself out. Wanda’s gone silent except for an occasional hitch in her breath. When you felt prepped enough, you left for a second, coming back with the strap.

She still had an amused look on her face while you were feeling dizzy. You straddle her, lining it up and lowering yourself onto the strap with a choked moan.

“Beautiful.”

You shake your head since your mind is too fuzzy to make a complete sentences. You place a hand on her shoulder, looking back at yourself as you start a steady rhythm.

The sounds coming from you were dirty, and it made Wanda that much more turned on. She teasingly thrusted her hips up, the motion causing the strap to slide deeper. You cry, nails gripping her shoulder.

She’s barely had to say a single thing the entire night, your actions speaking louder than anything she could’ve said. You could feel it build, but it was just out of your reach. And she knew.

You slow your pace, trying to take the bindings off her. She coos, her hands cupping your face.

“Tired baby?”

You nod, begging for her as she lays you on your back. She guides your legs around her waist, her lips pressing against your neck.

“You did a great job,” she coos, “I’m so proud of you.”

She presses into you again.

“Let me take care of you now,” she pulls your hips down, getting deeper if even possible. Your back arches, hands coming up to pull on her hair. She laughs quietly, watching you fall apart so quick.

“So good for me, always a good girl.”

“Close,” you babble, repeating it one too many times. With the way she was moving her hips so deep, you didn’t last long.

She presses her thumb to your clit and your body goes limp. She talks you through your high, kissing your face as you come down. You swallow air into your lungs, and you drop your hands from her hair onto the bed.

“I have to pull out,,” she looks to you, awaiting a response from you, “probably going to have a slight limp in the morning.”

“That’s hot.”

She laughs, lifting you and bringing you to shower so you can comfortably crawl in bed for the night.

#dom wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #top wanda #wanda x you #wanda x reader smut #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #bottom reader #sub reader

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m0llygunn · 9 months

Text

Apologies and Promises (eddie munson x fem!reader)

Part 3 to Same Old Song and Dance 01 / 02 Summary: Hurt feelings hidden under the shallow guise of anger and indifference, in an inebriated state there’s no choice but to face the layers of truth.

Tropes: enemies to lovers (kind of), mean stubborn idiots in love, honestly idk at this point. Warnings: 18+! mature language, ‘bullying’, forcible wrist holding, pet names (princess, sweetheart, angel, baby), mentions of oral (m receiving), angst, alcohol consumption, vomit mention. Author’s note: I am resisting the urge to over explain why theres no smut and this chapter was needed to progress feelings (i know smut is a selling point IM SORRY... but soon i swear it'll be back). wc: 7.2k+

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73 @ropickle @suethh @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels @emma77645 @yujyujj

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You didn’t wait around for him to show but you also didn’t expect to have to wait around for him to show.

You’re not disappointed. Why should you be? You didn’t want him to pick you up anyways.

If anything, you’re pissed.

He relentlessly badgered you last night about it. Wouldn’t leave until you agreed to let him drive you to school. He was so insistent, that he nearly slept on your floor using that stupid notebook as a pillow.

You’re not disappointed.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Want me to knock him out?” Steve offers and you can’t help but laugh.

Steve was dropping off his coworker-turned-best friend, Robin, when you were walking into school. He’s a close family friend— and Nancy’s on-again-off-again boyfriend, so you happily stopped for a chat.

“Steve. I hate to break it to you but Munson’s a veteran school fighter. He might not win every fight but he’s definitely been in more fights than you.” You say, patting Steve on the cheek as he comically deflates before you.

“Hey! I won the last fight I was in and I’ve been working on my biceps, can’t you tell?” He says, flexing his arms.

“Yeah, yeah.” You smile, watching Steve flex his unnoticeably larger arms until he rounds up his antics and leans back against his car. “Your dad at that work conference thing too?” You ask, curiously wondering if it really is a work trip your dad’s on right now.

“Absolutely. Any chance to get away, right?” Steve says with a somber laugh.

“I know the feeling...any chance.” You reply, nodding your head in agreement.

“Yeah, well.” Steve shrugs. “Might throw a party, might not.” He says indifferently. You perk up at the idea of a party. It’s always the same crowds that show, you know the list of attendees like the back of your hand.

“You should, I can get Nance to come along, maybe you can rekindle.” You say, hitting Steve’s arm. This could be to his benefit too, Nancy has been bringing him up again recently and that’s always the catalyst to the ‘on again’ portion of their relationship.

“You got some kind of insight?” Steve replies, eyes studying you.

You purse your lips, choosing your words wisely. “Can't say. Bad enough I already told you my business, can’t tell you her business too, Stevie.”

Steve smiles, shaking his head, accepting your answer because he knows that’s as close as he’ll get to you spilling Nancy's secrets.

He knows all about your rivalry with Munson, and as much as he doesn’t like the guy, he was actually the first one who suggested sleeping with him quite some time ago. It was a joke of course… yet here you are. You figured he deserved to know that he was some sort of prophet, so you filled him in. Not in as much detail as you did with Nancy, but you told him the gist of it.

Your conversation with Steve simmers to a lull, both of you watching over the crowd of students funnelling from the parking lot into the school. You’re not explicitly looking for it, but you can’t help but notice the lack of a certain obnoxiously loud van.

“You’re good, right?” Steve asks, shoulder bumping your own.

“Yeah.” You sigh.

“You sure?” He asks again, turning towards you enough to gauge your reaction. You shrug your shoulders.

“Maybe a little embarrassed.” You say, shifting back and forth on your feet, eyes still flickering over the bustling parking lot.

“Don’t be. Fuck him.” He says making you snort a laugh.

“Fuck him?” You question, smirk playing on your lips.

“No! I mean, unless you want to. But he did stand you up so…” Steve says trailing off. You try to laugh it off but it sounds more like a scoff.

“Yup. Eddie Munson stood me up.” You say, words rolling off your tongue in a confusing cross between regret and hurt even when you meant for it to be a joke. A laughable comment between two friends who know how you and Eddie interact, who know he’s nothing more than a nuisance to you, nothing more than an incessant house fly that just won’t quit circling you.

You never thought you’d be saying that in this lifetime. You never thought he’d have the opportunity to stand you up.

You tell yourself you’re not disappointed, but the words sure do taste like it.

You shrug your shoulders, shaking off your thoughts. “I should go, bell’s about to ring.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

It was during your second period math quiz. A timid, curly headed freshman knocked on the door interrupting the silence of the room.

Mrs. Rotman stood from her desk, crossing the room, engaging in a whispered conversation with the boy. She turned to look around the room, eyes flitting over the students before landing on you. She turned back to the boy, whispered something to him and sent him on his way.

You tried to pretend you were busy doing your quiz but it was hard with her eyes focused on you as she walked in your direction.

“Honey, your fathers in the office for you. Something about a family emergency. Don’t worry about the quiz, sweetie.” She whispered, leaning down to your level with sullen eyes that made your heart rate pick up.

“Family emergency?” You questioned anxiously.

“Yes dear, go on and head down to the office.” She said, patting your back.

Leaving behind your quiz that you barely had a chance to start on, you quietly let yourself out of the class.

Speed walking down the hall, opening the door to the stairwell with enough force for the sound to echo against the cement walls and linoleum floors, you hurry to descend the stairs. With your mind busy, rifling through what potential family emergency would bring your father back to town, you didn’t even notice him standing by the stairwell exit until you stepped down onto the landing.

There’s a moment before he looks at you. A moment where your heart beats faster. A moment where you’re flooded with scary feelings. A moment were you remember last night. And a moment were you remember this morning.

“Oh for god's sake.” You groan, leaving that moment behind, churning everything into a genuine annoyance because you fell for such a stupid trick.

“Princess, funny seeing you here. Daddy’s been waiting.” Eddie says, smirk plastered on his face, waiting with his back against the wall, trying to exude some sort of coolness that he doesn’t possess.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You spit, burning hot from the inside out. Eddie deflates in front of you, smirk dropping as he steps away from the wall towards you.

“No?” He says, almost like he’s asking you.

“Why the fuck would you think this was okay?” You sneer, voice raising in volume. He shrinks further.

“Just wanted to see you.” He shrugs, eyes falling to the ground.

If he 'wanted to see you', he wouldn’t have stood you up.

“You wanted to see me?” You scoff bewilderedly.

“Yeah, and apologize for this morning.” He says, eyes flickering up to you.

You spin on your heels, ready to explain the situation to Mrs. Rotman and go back to finishing your quiz. You don't want to hear an apology for that.

“Shit— Princess, come back!” He calls after you. You hear feet clambering, catching up to you just as you clear the first set of stairs. His grasp captures your wrist and you get the eeriest sense of deja vu.

“Princess, c’mon, let me apologize.” He says, voice pleading as you try to tug yourself free.

“No. You can apologize to Mrs. Rotman’s math class for interrupting everyone during the quiz.” You huff, using all your weight to try and free yourself.

“No, let me apologize to you.” He insists. You feel your heart rate pick up and in an instant you spin, startling Eddie with your fast movement.

“Do you think this is funny, Eddie?” You spit, brows furrowed, face flushing hot in anger.

With his mouth pulled in a flat line, he shrugs.

You know he's hardly phased by your spitfire and you step closer to up the ante.

“No, seriously? Are you having fun, Eddie? Answer the question.” You say, burning your gaze into his.

He doesn't indulge you in an answer, he just looks at you with round eyes. He doesn't cower, he doesn’t spit heated words back, he just remains looking at you with his stupidly big eyes. You're not even sure if his disposition is meant to soothe you, but it does and you hate it. It irons out nearly every wrinkle of anger and you hate it.

“I know none of this matters to you, Eddie, but it matters to me.” You say, mustering up every blazing emotion you have left in you but it comes out too gentle to be anger.

“What matters to you?” He asks quietly, his face softening, eyes getting impossibly rounder. His grip on your wrist loosens as he steps closer to you.

You press your lips closed, breathing deeply to compose yourself. Your sentiment is ambiguous, you recognize that. Whether is was purposeful or not is a mystery to even you. You wouldn't admit this matters, whatever this is between you and Eddie, never. You couldn't.

Even if you didn't leave space for ambiguity, you know what he's asking right now. Does he matter to you, does this matter to you?

“School, idiot.” You say quietly. You cover ambiguity by shutting him down and embellishing it with an insult. It's a lie, you both know it. It’s an orchestrated move at this point; he steps right, you step left.

He moves in closer to you, toe to toe, his chest less than arm's length away. His grip on your wrist slides down, stopping just before your palm, inches away from being a hand hold.

“You're only upset because I took you away from your quiz?” He asks quietly, amusement hinting in his tone. His eyes flicker to your lips.

“Yes.” You reply flatly. You lick your lips instinctively and you mentally scold yourself.

“No, you're not.” He laughs softly, eyes only watching your lips now. “You're really that desperate to finish a math quiz?” He asks, amusement becoming forthright.

He does think this is funny and it makes your blood boil.

“Stop doing that.” You sneer but it comes out weak.

“Stop doing what?” He asks, eyes still unmeeting of yours.

His overconfidence and arrogance buzzes around in your head, spurring on your anger. You feel cornered by him calling your bluff and nothing good has ever come from that, especially when your heart is beating so fast you can't hear your own thoughts.

“Assuming you know me, Eddie. You don’t.” You snap, hammering your words into him like nails in a coffin, punctuating your words with a tug of your wrist but his grasp hardens, not letting you go.

He finally looks up at you, eyes meeting your gaze and you can tell your words stung by the mirrored reflection of hurt. He looks taken aback. Whatever he thought was about to happen, you pulled it out from under him like a mean trick and hurt switches to anger.

“So you’re really only upset because you’re here?” He scoffs, brows pinching.

“I just fucking said that.” You spit back.

“And you’re not at all upset because I didn’t pick you up this morning?” And that's all he has to say to send you into a flighty panic. You won't look truth in the eye, you can't.

“Eddie. Let go.” You seethe, tugging your wrist harshly. You bring your other hand to his in an attempt to pry his fingers off. His grip isn’t enough to hurt you, it’s simply unrelenting, a desperate attempt to finish this conversation.

"Princess—" He starts but you interrupt him, not wanting to hear anymore, not wanting to give him another opportunity to throw your own feelings in your face.

"Let go." You say, your volume raising out of desperation.

“Fine. Just fucking relax for a minute, Jesus Christ.” He groans, when you start swatting at his forearm. His own annoyance rises and it pisses you off because what does he have to be annoyed about? He’s not the one that got stood up.

“I am relaxed!” You shriek, squeezing your eyes shut and stamping your foot.

Eyes still closed, you listen to your own voice echoing off the walls, forcing you to hear yourself. It sounds like a reverb of hurt between the two of you. Despite the meaningless message your words attempt to convey, it sounds like a slip of honesty, a slip of your true feelings and how he’s affected them. It sounds tears short of being an angered cry.

A beat passes before the echoes subside, leaving the two of you in silence.

“Princess.” Eddie whispers softly. His voice isn’t loud like yours, it doesn’t vibrate off the walls but it still echoes in your consciousness, occupying a space hugged tightly next to your heartbeat.

You feel fingertips ghost over your cheeks, delicate in nature despite residing in the antagonistic warland that you and Eddie have fostered together. Your heart catches in your throat and you hate it.

Your face pinches in its default anger. You ready yourself to scold him, but when you open your eyes and all you see is soft, warm brown staring back at you, it doesn’t come. You hate it.

He closes his grasps on your face, both hands holding you gently by the jaw. Both hands.

Your wrist set free, you pull away, storming back down the stairs. He steps forward, you run away— another orchestrated move.

Hearing yourself is too much, you need air. You need somewhere where your own thoughts can't reverb like your words against cement and linoleum. You need something to get you thinking straight.

Scuffing sneakers echo behind you as you clear the staircase, cross the foyer, and push open the door to the parking lot. You expect a hand around your wrist again but it doesn’t come.

You slow to a walk and so does he, his steps crunching on the pebble covered pavement as he trails behind you quietly.

You round the corner of the building before leaning against the wall, expectant hand held out towards Eddie.

He tentatively raises his arm, fingers grazing yours, palm just barely ghosting your own, before you smack him away.

“No you idiot, cigarette.” You say, exhaling deeply.

He mumbles an embarrassed apology before digging through his pocket.

“Here.” He says quietly, passing over his carton of camels.

You pull one out, placing it between your lips, Eddie’s eyes watching your every move. Flickering the lighter that was tucked into the empty space of the box, you light it up, smoke pluming from the corners of your lips as you take your first drag. Eddie swallows harshly, lost in thought.

“Well?” You snap, his eyes fleeting back to yours.

“R-right. I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up this morning, princess. I’m really really sorry.” He says softly, strumming the chords of your heart with his words. You hate it.

“Why should you be sorry about that, I didn’t want you to anyways.” You say, trying to sound indifferent. You don’t though. You hear your own voice just like you did in the stairwell and you sound like a little kid who hasn’t quite mastered the art of fibbing. It’s a jejune lie, not even a good one.

“I said I would though, and I didn’t. I’m sorry.” He says, round eyes set on you.

The sun glimmers against his hair making the wavy brown strands look golden, a perfect match to the gold in the eyes staring at you right now.

He’s genuinely sorry, you believe him, and you hate it.

Continuing on your juvenile streak, you pocket his lighter before handing back his carton. You know he sees you do it but he doesn’t say anything.

“Whatever, Eddie.” You mumble, taking a drag from your cigarette.

You let your head fall against the brick behind you, eyes scanning thoughtlessly over the surrounding thick tree line. Eddie takes a step, his shoulder hitting the wall as he leans against it, still facing you.

“Don't you wanna know where I was?” He asks carefully, a testing tease lingering around his words.

“Not really, but I have a feeling you’re gonna tell me anyway.” You retort, folding your arms over your chest, your burning cigarette skillfully held out to not get ash on yourself. Eddie exhales a light laugh before leaning into you.

“Well, princess.” He starts, leaning in even closer. “I accidentally slept in because I was too busy staying up all night thinking about this girl who gave me the best head of my life.”

“Gross.” You scoff, hiding your smile by taking another drag.

“Fuck yeah. It was certified sloppy toppy. I think I was reborn yesterday, died and got as close to heaven as I ever will.” He says, body twisting so his head knocks against the brick wall dramatically.

“Now you're just sucking up.” You grimace, taking another drag.

He laughs softly before the both of you fall into a quiet lull. You partially expected him to make some kind of joke out of ‘sucking up’ but he doesn’t. Only the sound of trees blowing in the wind can be heard, along with scattered chirps of birds in the distance.

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks, breaking the silence. You let your eyes flicker to him before focusing back on your barely burnt cigarette. You drop it, stomping it out under your shoe. It was a waste of a cigarette, but Eddie doesn’t say anything.

“I wasn’t mad at you.” You reply, facing towards the tree line again.

“Okay, princess.” He sings, clearly not believing you. “But everything aside… we’re good?” He asks, watching you carefully.

“Eddie.” You exhale. That’s a big thing for him to ask of you and he doesn’t even realize it. How can you say that everything between the two of you is good when… What even is there between the two of you? Are you even friends? It's another truth you're not willing to face.

“Princess, tell me we’re okay or else you’ll keep me up another night.” He says, slouching his shoulders.

“You’re being dramatic.” You laugh. He steps closer to you, hand raising and grasping a piece of your hair. You watch in your periphery as he swirls it between his fingers.

“I’ll never get another wink of sleep, I’m begging you. Tell me we’re okay or tell me how to fix it.” He says, tiptoeing even closer to you.

“Eddie.” You laugh again, shaking your head. The hair between his fingers falls but he’s quick to reach for the strands that fell into your face, skillfully tucking it behind your ear.

“All I’m asking for is your forgiveness. What d’you say, angel?” He whispers. You turn your head, looking at him skeptically with raised brows.

“Angel? I think that’s hardly a fitting name.” You scoff.

“Trust me, it’s fitting. After last night.” He says, hand retreating from you to grab his heart dramatically, throwing his body back against the brick wall in a swoon.

“Suck up.” You say trying to hide your amusement. You watch him as he continues his antics, biting your lip to hide your smile.

He turns to you, looking up through his lashes, feigning a faux innocence.

“So what d’ya say, princess?" He questions, quirking a brow at you. "Want me to kiss it better?” He asks with a deep grin, eyes amusedly awaiting your response.

You pause, not necessarily thinking about his offer but more so distracted by the way the sun reflects off of his eyes making them glow golden again.

He takes your pause as a yes, stepping into you, hands grabbing behind your ears, cradling your neck. He presses sloppy kisses all over your cheeks and up to your forehead, all while you protest through giggles. It’s sickeningly sweet. Truly sickening. You hate it.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Why’d you ask my friends where I was yesterday, princess? Are you, like, obsessed with me?” Eddie mocks into your ear startling you.

“Oh no.” You groan to yourself, flashing Nancy a preemptive apologetic look.

“Princess, d’ya happen to have a lighter? Mine seems to have gone missing.” He says, moving on from his original remark, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke, it’s a dirty habit.” You say flatly, keeping your focus on your lunch and Nancy sitting across from you.

“Oh, that’s crazy I could have sworn I saw you hanging out in the back of the school with some guy smoking earlier? I must have been mistaken.” He says, arm wrapping around your shoulder as he throws one leg over the cafeteria bench, straddling it.

“We weren’t ‘hanging out’.” You scoff.

“Right, right. I was groveling, my bad, princess.” He laughs.

You look up at Nancy and she’s shaking her head, lips pursed tightly, holding back her ‘I-told-you-so’ smile. Eddie doesn't typically bother you at lunch, so to Nancy, this very much looks like him 'getting worse'.

“Eddie, don't you have somewhere else to sit?” You say, shrugging his arm off your shoulder.

“What? Can’t come have lunch with my girl?” He teases, scooting closer to you, his knee pushing against your thigh, your shoulder practically resting against his chest.

“I just barely forgot about the stunt you pulled earlier, you’re pushing your luck, Munson.” You warn.

“Don’t call me that.” He says flatly.

“Munson? That’s your name, isn’t it?” You laugh.

“Nope, not to you it isn’t.” He replies flatly, grabbing a grape off your lunch tray before you can stop him.

“Is there a reason you’re here?” You say, his arrogance pinching at your agitation.

“Lighter.” He sings, eyes sparkling with amusement meeting yours, stealing another grape in the process. Turning his head, he focuses on Nancy. “Wheeler, how’s it going?”

“Good.” She laughs, still shaking her head.

“Heard you tattled on me to Princess.” He says, eyebrows raised, a smile playing on his face.

“Eddie, leave her alone.” You huff. You feel his hand raise up your back, settling slowly, before rubbing back and forth. He leans in closer to you, face brushing against your hair.

“Gotta share the attention sometimes, princess.” He whispers just loud enough for you to hear. His breath tickles the shell of your ear and you feel your heart rate pick up.

You sit up straighter, Eddie’s chin knocking into your shoulder as you reach into your front pants pocket.

“Lighter. There. Leave.” You say, finding his free hand to push it into his hold.

“Good girl.” He teases, quickly pulling you closer to him with a hand on your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

You feel yourself burning hot and it takes everything in you not to hit him back with some sort of insult but you know if you do he’ll just stick around for longer.

He gets up from the bench with a coy wave of his fingers and a polite nod to Nancy, disappearing into the crowd of the lunch room.

“Nancy, if you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to god.” You say, holding back your smile as you watch your friend’s eyes burst with amusement.

“I wasn’t going to say I told you so!” She laughs.

“I can see it in your eyes Nancy, I know you’re dying to say it.” You reply.

“I won’t say it… but I will say that you’re blushing pretty hard right now.”

“Out of embarrassment! That was embarrassing, Nancy.”

“People aren’t usually that smiley after being embarrassed.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie kept his eyes on the prize all night. Not in a creepy way, just to make sure you were okay… and because he just liked looking at you. You were making it awfully hard though, the way you kept disappearing between the groups of people occupying Harrington’s infamous Saturday night party.

His goal was to sell what he needed to sell, then he could have his fun. So when he sold his last eighth, his heart rate picked up as he bounded through the waves of people to find you.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t get a pang of nerves when he finally found you, all alone in the kitchen, getting yourself a drink.

Steve decided late Friday night that the party was on. He called you up and from there you called Nancy. It’s a practiced drill at this point, Steve calls a few people, who call a few more people, and the word gets around pretty quickly. Eddie got news that night, and it was a given he would sell. He always sells at Harrington parties, similar to how you’re always drinking at them.

“All your friends scurry off on you, Princess?” An all too familiar voice says right into your ear.

“No.” You say flatly, turning to see Eddie at your side.

“That’s funny, I only see you.” He says, eyes teasingly looking around you before settling back to meet your gaze.

“You should get your eyes checked, there’s like 20 other people in here.” You say, motioning to all the other bodies occupying the room.

“You know what I mean.” Eddie says, hip bumping yours gently as you pour from a bottle of something highly alcoholic into your cup.

“Do I?” You laugh before quickly shooting back your drink.

“Look at her, she’s a professional.” Eddie teases as you scrunch your face through the burning sensation in your throat, some of the liquid spilling down the corners of your lips from your overzealous tilt of the cup. Without as much as a second though, Eddie’s hand raises to you, wiping your chin dry.

“Why are you so nice now?” You ask, leaning closer to him so he can hear you over the music.

“I’m not.” He smiles, eyes leaving yours to watch as you set the empty cup down on the counter. He knows he’s lying, you both do.

“Is it because I sucked your dick?” You giggle.

You take another step closer to him where he leans against the counter. His eyes meet yours again with a mixture of amusement and shock looming on the surface of his gaze.

“You’re more drunk than you look, princess” He holds your gaze, amusement taking the reigns until his eyes lower to the short distance you’ve created between the two of you.

“I’m not drunk.” You scoff, rolling your eyes. Eddie watches you, you can tell he’s smiling and you’re not even looking at him.

“Where’s Wheeler gone? You were with her all night.” He asks, changing the subject. You turn your head, meeting his gaze, lifting your eyebrows as you decipher his question.

“You were watching me all night?” You ask teasingly, a smile playing on your lips.

“Princess.” He exhales, rolling his own eyes jokingly. The way his little nickname for you rolls off his tongue makes your already dizzy head spin.

“She went upstairs with Steve.” You answer, letting your hand rest on the counter, pinky brushing the material of his jeans where he leans against the marble countertop.

“I hope she’s not as drunk as you are.” He replies, eyes on your fingers as you continue to brush them against him. You shake your head. You could tell him that their rendezvous was premeditated, and a recurring pattern between the two, but you don’t want to talk about them.

“Aren’t you just the sweetest? First you took care of me when I was sick, now you’re looking out for my friends. Such a sweet boy.” You coo, leaning into Eddie, removing your hand from the countertop and placing it flat on his chest to stabilize yourself.

“Baby, I think you're too drunk, look at you being sweet.” He laughs and you dip your head, hiding the way his words affect you. You’re always ‘princess’, never ‘baby’. It makes your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

You can’t help but notice how he doesn’t touch you though. He’s always poking and prodding at you in one way or another. Last time you saw him, he was all hands and kisses to your cheeks, but now, nothing.

“Did you make a lot of money tonight?” You ask, stepping in closer to him, your thigh pressing into his as you stand beside him.

“I did good enough.” He shrugs, arms staying closely to his sides and it almost makes you want to pout. He should be grabbing your hand or twirling your hair, doing what he always does.

“You were busy all night.” You mumble, your head down, watching as you kick at his shoe before stepping over it with one foot. Still leaning against the counter, he shifts, arms moving at his side and you almost get excited before you realize he's just crossing them over his chest. You lower your hand, sitting it closer to his hip as you move to stand directly in front of him.

“You were watching me all night?” He mocks, copying your same lilt.

“I set myself up for that one didn’t I?” You whisper, head down. He’s still not touching you.

“You did.” He replies, exhaling a laugh. You rest your other hand on his crossed arms, hoping he’ll get the hint but he doesn’t and you sigh, slouching into yourself.

“What’s wrong, princess?” He asks, quietly.

“You.” You reply flatly.

“Yeah, but you’re all pouty. You don’t pout. You scowl. Yell. Threaten violence.” He teases gently, dipping his face enough to meet your gaze.

“You’re not touching me.” You mumble, words so quiet you can barely hear them yourself over the blaring music.

“What was that, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, leaning his ear closer to you. You step in closer to him, pushing your way between his legs.

“I said, you’re not touching me.” You grumble, annoyed that you have to repeat yourself. Even more annoyed when he hears you and still doesn’t touch you. You huff, pushing your body flat against his, but he stops you, hands on your shoulders holding you away from him.

“Princess, I can’t. You’re drunk.” He says firmly, serious eyes meeting yours. Your knee shakes as you try to stop yourself from stomping your foot.

“You can. You just want to piss me off.” You say, funnelling all of your emotions and forcing them into a short lived anger.

“Trust me, that’s not why.” He says softly, thumbs rubbing gentle circles on your shoulders. You happily focus on his simple caresses on your bare skin, but the feeling it gives you just leaves you wanting more.

“You're touching me right now, Eddie. Just keep doing that.” You whine, giving him your best pout paired with doe-eyes. His gaze soften, eyes fluttering over your features.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” He says, flashing you a small smile.

“You like it though, that’s why you keep coming back.” You whisper. Eddie’s mouth pulls in a flat line and you think you might have said something wrong. His grip on your shoulders falls and you’re sure you did.

You’re sure you did until you feel his hands meet your waist, pulling you towards him. Your hands slip up his chest and around his neck and you hug yourself to him tightly. You absorb every ounce of him you can, every inebriated sense of yours captivated and buzzing with feelings and flutters. Even through the thump of the bass vibrating throughout the kitchen, you swear you hear his heart, or maybe it’s yours, either way it doesn’t matter because Eddie Munson is holding you just like you wanted him to.

“I was waiting for you to come find me.” You whisper into the skin peeking out of the collar of his shirt as you press your head to his shoulder.

In the bustling of the party, you stand chest to chest, arms wrapped around each other like this was the only way things were meant to be. He responds to you through the movement of his hands, rubbing up and down your back, touching you, just like you asked. Soothing you like you didn’t know he could.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Eddie, you’re not doing it right, you’re supposed to just come in. I’m not supposed to have to ask you.” You whine.

“Princess, I can’t.” He says, smiling as you try to tug him through the front door of your house.

“You can, you did it before, remember?” You say, giving him your best pout.

“You were sick.” He says, amusement twinkling in his eyes as he stands firmly outside, your tugs not making him budge in the slightest.

“I'm going to be sick right now, if you don’t come inside.” You whine, punctuating your words with little stomps of your feet.

You may have taken a few more shots after Eddie broke up your hug earlier. You knew you had him at that point so maybe you took them just to spite him. It made sense at the time and as the night progressed, you were right. He was by your side the whole time, never more than an arm's length away. And when it was time to go home, you didn’t even have to ask, he was already offering you a ride and guiding you to his van.

“Princess, you’re killing me.” He says exasperatedly through a smile before stepping into the doorway.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“Jesus, just drink the water, princess.” Eddie laughs.

“I’ll do it if you lay down with me.” You say stubbornly. He shakes his head and you drop yourself down onto your pillow. “Please, Eddie. Please.” You plead, your eyes catching the dizzy image of him in the lowlight of your room.

“Drink the water and I’ll think about it.” He says sternly.

“Lay down and I’ll think about it.” You mock, copying his tone.

“You are so…” He laughs, trailing off.

“Good at giving blowjobs?” You giggle, filling in his sentiment. His gaze drops to the floor as he sits on the edge of your bed, shaking his head in disbelief of the moment.

“I was gonna say ‘impossible’.” He corrects with a laugh.

You furrow your brows. In attempts to prove him wrong you sit up, taking the water from him and silently finish it small swallow by small swallow until your belly feels impossibly full of water.

“Done.” You huff, falling back to your pillow dramatically.

“Good.” He says, hand patting your calf that’s sprawled against the comforter next to him.

“No. Good girl.” You say, correcting him through giggles. He squeezes your calf, before sitting up enough to put the glass down on your bedside table.

“Good girl.” He says to appease you, smirk heavy in his features.

“Was I good enough for you to lay down?” You ask, flashing him innocent eyes. He exhales deeply and even in your spinning state, you know he’s weighing his options. His eyes track the span of the bed before looking back at you, seriousness written across his features.

“No funny business.” He says firmly, making sure to make eye contact so you know he’s serious.

“No funny business.” You agree, nodding your head waiting for him to give in.

“Only for a few minutes. Sober you wouldn’t want me here.” He says, removing his jacket and tossing it to the floor.

“Yes she would.” You mumble with a pout but quickly get excited when Eddie starts shuffling to lay down. You prop yourself up ready to cozy into him but he stops you.

“Nuh-uh. On your side of the bed, princess.” He says, motioning for you to lay back down. You throw yourself to the mattress with a whined cry.

“You’re no fun.” You huff, whine building in your chest.

“I’m not here to have fun, princess. This is serious business.” He laughs.

You continue pouting on your side of the bed, turning enough to watch as Eddie settles into your mattress. His hair sprawls over your pillow, just like before, his throat bobbing as he swallows before turning his head to you.

“Go to sleep.” He says and your jaw drops. His lips curl into a smile, eyes dancing in amusement.

“You’re mean, you couldn’t even say goodnight? Just go to sleep?” You shrill, trying to focus your gaze on Eddie to get your glare across.

“Go to sleep.” He repeats, smirking as he reaches his arm to your bedside table, switching the light off, leaving you both in the low glow of the moonlight that sweeps in through your half open curtains.

“Eddie, I can’t unless you say it nicely.” You argue.

“Princess. Please go to sleep.” He says with teasing lilt.

“No.” You giggle.

“I said it nicely, c’mon princess.” He groans.

“Eddie.” You whine, hearing the annoyance in his voice.

“Princess.” He mocks.

You scan your eyes over him, the low light helping you find where his hand lays at his side. Quietly, you tiptoe your fingers across the mattress until you brush against his hand. Before you can close your grasp, he rips it away with a tut.

“Eddie, I held your hand when you wanted me to.” You whine.

“That was different.” He replies.

“No it wasn’t! Just hold my hand.” You say, pushing yourself up to try and grab his hand where it lies on his stomach now.

“Lay back down.” He laughs pulling himself further away from you. You drop yourself to the bed, your bottom lip quivering. It’s not for dramatics though, you know Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it.

“No. I’m tired of doing this, I just want you to hold my hand.” You whisper back. Eddie says some kind of teasing response but you ignore it, feeling too lost in the spinning of your head.

In your current state, you feel a lot of things. Most importantly, you’re confused. These nights usually end with Nancy and Steve. Eddie's existence would have never even crossed your mind, but now, all you want is to be close to him. It doesn’t help that he’s been making you practically beg for his attention all night. It might seem sudden, but it doesn’t come as a surprise to you when you feel your eyes grow wet. Your breathing starts to come out in harsh whines from your stomach that get caught in your throat.

When the first tear falls it feels catastrophic. It feels destructive, disastrous even. It feels like a break in your guard and you aren’t quick enough to catch it. There’s no snark left in the world that could patch this up right now. So you hide.

Pushing your face into your pillow, your tears free fall.

You feel shifting on the bed and you push your face further into the pillow.

“Are you crying?” Eddie asks softly, sounding closer to you now.

You don’t offer a response, your throat feels too tight to speak. You feel like you’re drowning in more than just tears.

“Princess, don’t cry.” He replies gently, all teasing gone from his voice. “I’ll hold your hand, here.” He finds your hand, taking it in his but it’s too late. The floodgates are open, set on their path of destruction, open to exposing damage.

His hand wraps around yours and you feel small. Not because of the size difference but because there’s a reason you don’t show these feelings. There’s a reason it’s easier for you to scowl and yell. This side feels too bare, too soft, too uncomfortable. It’s unfamiliar and scary. It feels like offering yourself up to impending disappointment. It feels like waiting for someone to pick you up and they don’t.

He pulls your hair, you pull his back. He stands you up, what can you do besides pretend it didn’t hurt?

You should yell, you should scold, you should threaten violence. You should tear your hand away, kick him out.

But you don’t. You couldn’t, not anymore. Not right now.

You just want Eddie, all games aside. You want him in the silence of the night, not through the bass of the music where one of you has to move left while the other moves right. You don’t want to dance the line of whatever this is anymore.

You pull his hand, willing him to come closer, a silent plea through your tears, and he does. He shifts closer until you're pressed to him, your intertwined hands hugged between your chests as his other hand wraps around you, resting against your back. He soothes you with quiet promises of everything being okay intermixed with his own apologies that only make you cry harder.

Maybe you’re not the whole reason that you two have ended up here, but you’re half of it, and it takes two to play this game. If you tap out, you’re half of the way to it being over.

If you walk away and he follows, isn’t that just the game changing again? A game of cat and mouse?

Maybe all these metaphors are stupid. Maybe they’re all a figment of your imagination that blossomed as a child from the first time he pulled your hair. Maybe you’re too old for these playground antics. Maybe you’re too old to not say how you feel.

“I was sad when you didn’t come to pick me up.” You whisper, your sob-filled secret sailing into the darkness of the room as if his chest wasn’t there to catch your secret.

Your words are as much for you as they are for him, you couldn’t admit your hurt before, but now you do.

Truth tastes soft in your mouth, not at all like the burn of alcohol you’ve drowned yourself in. It’s not sweet, it doesn’t fix everything, it just creates a storm in your belly. A fight between everything you know, everything you’ve done, and something new. It’s unnatural, it makes you feel sick.

“I know, princess. I’m sorry.” He whispers in return, his hand rubbing against your back. You imagine with every pass of his hand on your back he’s helping you fight the furries of the storm rising inside of you, but with the storm rising, there is nowhere else for these feelings to go but up.

“I don’t want you to say sorry, I just don’t want you to do it again.” You cry.

Your throat constricts as you feel bile rising.

“I won’t. I promise, okay?” He says softly. His words would have eased every metaphorical storm inside you, but this storm has turned literal, you’re about to vomit.

“Eddie, I'm gonna be sick.”

It’s a rush of limbs and a dash down the hall. Everything pours from you, every uncried tear, every burn, every furry, every roar of the storm. Everything you know, everything you’ve done, it all leaves you. And in its wake all you have left is Eddie’s hand rubbing your back, telling you it’s okay. It’s soft and unnatural but you let it absorb you entirely. It burrows into you, finding a place you never knew existed, a place where softness thrives and doesn’t need to be hidden by the guise of anger and indifference.

Eddie brings you back to your bed and in the silence of the night, apologies and promises lay side by side, holding hands.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction

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hqbaby · 8 months

Text

eighteen — all along

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.3k content. swearing, implied excessive alcohol consumption

Suna leans against the door after he closes it. He feels like throwing up.

This wasn’t how this night was supposed to go.

He wanted to get you back in some way, to remind you that you need him as much as he needs you. He fucked up when he told Oikawa it was just sex between the two of you (because it really isn’t), but he never thought his words would end up in this.

You’re with Atsumu now. You’re giving him up for Atsumu. You’re giving up on him.

It makes him sick.

“Suna?”

He looks at the girl beside him. Fuck, he doesn’t even remember her name. He’s hooked up with her five times now and, every single time, he only managed to call her by your name.

He’s an asshole. He deserves exactly what he’s getting.

“Hey,” he manages to say. “Kinda need a moment alone here.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh! Yeah! No, of course. I just wanted to check up on you.” She looks around before smiling at him. Sickly sweet. “I guess I’ll just see you around then.”

The girl starts walking away and—no, don’t do it, don’t do it—“Wait.”

She looks back at him. “Yeah?”

Stop it. You’re better than this.

“Do you wanna come to mine?”

A smile. “Definitely.”

Atsumu finds you by the pool, leaning against one of your friends while you watch Kaori somersault on the grass nearby. Your eyes are squinting slightly and a smile is plastered on your face. You light up when you see him.

“‘Tsumu!”

You try to get up, but end up stumbling and giggling into your friend’s shoulder.

“She’s drunk, Miya,” the girl slurs as she rubs your head, clearly wasted herself. “You be good to her, ‘kay?”

He smiles and nods, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. “Ya need help, baby?”

You shake your head, furrowing your brows as you try your best to get up. “Can handle myself, ‘Tsu.” You trip over your legs and burst out laughing, your friend joining you. “M’kay, you can help now.”

Atsumu crouches down and picks you up, your legs coming around his waist as he holds your thighs. “Ya good?” he asks, one of his hands going to support your back. “Tell me if yer not comfortable or somethin’.”

You nuzzle into his neck. “‘M good, ‘Tsumu. Thank you.”

He turns to your friend. “Are ya good? Do ya need a ride?”

“Nah.” The girl waves him off. “My boyfriend’s just over there. You take care of our superstar.”

“I always do.” He grins, nodding at her and saying goodbye before he carries you out of the house.

You mumble something into his skin that he can’t hear.

“Whaddya say, sunshine?”

“You’re so pretty, Atsu.”

His cheeks darken at your words. It’s not that you aren’t normally this affectionate—because you are, even when completely sober—but something about you just always makes him feel all light and giddy. You make him feel like he’s seven years old with his first crush, always so new and exciting.

“Yer pretty too, sweetheart,” he tells you. “Also really drunk.”

You slap his chest weakly. “So mean.”

He laughs, holding you close. “Did ya have a good night?”

“Kinda. It was sad for a bit.”

“Oh?” He frowns. “Did somethin’ happen?”

You hum against his neck. “Yeah,” you say, but before you can elaborate, your voice brightens up as you add, “But I’m all better now. Because you’re so pretty.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles, but he’s still worried about you. “Are ya sure yer okay?”

You lean back a little to look him in the face. Your eyes are hazy and your smile a little lopsided, but you look happy. Content. “I have you,” you say. “Of course I’m okay.”

You get to his car and he places you in the passenger seat, buckling the seatbelt and double-checking to see if it's secure before getting in the driver’s seat. He can hear you humming something as he gets in the car (“something stupid” you’d probably say if he asked what it is). He looks over to his side and sees you staring at him, eyes wide and adoring.

“What?” He laughs, trying to hide how shy you make him feel.

You’re still looking at him, blinking like you’re trying to see if he’s real. “‘Tsumu.”

His name sounds like honey on your tongue. So soft and sweet.

He feels his breath catch in his throat. “Yeah?”

“‘Tsumu,” you say again. Fuck, his heart is beating so fast. “I think I really like you.”

He knows you’re drunk and probably half-asleep, but there’s something about the way the words just spill out of you that feels so true. So real. It might be the way you’re staring at him like he hung all the stars in the sky. Or it might be because the words are coming from you.

He’d trust you with all that he had if he could.

He reaches over and places his hand on top of yours. “Say that again in the mornin’,” he requests. “Please.”

You nod fervently. “I will,” you say. “Because I mean it. I like you, ‘Tsumu. I really do.”

It feels better than anything that’s ever happened to him before. Better than winning a game. Better than beating Osamu. Better than having sex. So much better than anything because it’s you.

“Thank you,” is all he manages to say. “Thank you.”

You wake up in the middle of the night to a fuzzy feeling in your head. It’s not exactly a hangover yet, just a sweet spot between being awake and completely dead to the world. You try not to think about how it’ll feel in the morning.

Your eyes adjust to the darkness and you realize that you’re in Atsumu’s bed. You’re wearing one of his shirts and a pair of loose pajama bottoms that could be his or Osamu’s (their laundry gets mixed up a lot). He’s right beside you, one arm over your body, the other beneath you. He probably won’t be able to move his arm in the morning, but you have a feeling he doesn’t care.

You tilt your head up to find him fast asleep. His hair is falling over his eyes and his mouth is slightly agape, quiet snores escaping from between his lips.

Your body is facing him, curled up in his arms. You reach up to trace his collarbone with a featherlight touch and you swear you can feel him lean closer to you.

After your talk with Suna, the night had gone downhill. You spoke to your friends about it but, try as they might, they could only understand so much. It wasn’t like you understood it that well yourself. You downed more drinks that you should’ve and ended up barely knowing what you were doing.

Until Atsumu came, of course. That, you remember. You always seem to remember when it comes to him.

You wonder what you did to deserve this, to deserve him. To have him hold you in his arms when you know you probably smell like you’ve raided a whole bar. To have him check up on you and make sure you’re okay. To have him proudly keep you on his arm in front of his friends, to show you off like you’re the only thing that matters.

You spent a whole year with Suna, thinking that you were only worthy of being fucked in secret and barely acknowledged in public. Even people who claim they loved you once like Terushima just treat you like a toy to be played with whenever they see fit. Boys who barely know you ask for your number, not because of who you are, but what it would mean for them to "have" you.

Atsumu’s changed it all for you. He makes you want to see the goodness in yourself, the parts of you that he seems to recognize even if you don’t. Sure, he can be brash and loud and frankly a bit of a mess, but he makes you feel whole and safe.

You close your eyes and push yourself further into his hold.

Maybe this is what you were looking for all along.

notes. the new update sched is so good for my nerves like i need you all to feel with me here pls thank you (also if you wanna vote on my next series, there's a poll up rn 🫣)

#hqbaby.fyi #hqbaby #haikyuu #suna rintarou #suna #suna rintarou x reader #suna x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou fic #suna fic #miya atsumu fic #atsumu fic #haikyuu fic

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nochukoo97 · 1 year

Text

hold me while you wait

Pairing: Jungkook x OC

Summary: Oc has a break up and goes to a bar. Shes heavily intoxicated before someone stops her…

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption, cheating in relationship, but Jungkook is here to save the day 😊😊 oc cries alot, and drinks way too many bottles than she should, Jungkook has a fat crush on oc, OH! and theyre childhood bestfriends who distanced a little during ocs relationship with her ex 😔

Word count: 2k+

You can’t remember how many drinks you’ve ordered ever since you came here, but you know you definitely need this alcohol in your body. Especially after your boyfriend of three years, Jaehyun, had broken up with you out of the blue. Apparently he had been interested in his girl best friend all along, and you wonder how you did not see their suspiciously close relationship. But right now you feel like an idiot. Not only have you been broken up with, you also have been cheated on. Your ego and pride dropped to an all time low after Jaehyun had explained everything. You didn’t even try to fight back, just nodded and accepted this was how it was gonna be.

You order another beer as you chug it down, finishing half the bottle in one chug. Your head is spinning and you start to feel the migraine coming in. Shit, even if you go home, it's another 40 minutes by bus, and right now you either want to get home fast or stay here and drink the pain away. Was Jaehyun the stupid one for cheating or was it you who was stupid for not being able to see the now obvious red flags in that guy? Frustration and anger pent up in your body. One part of you was mad at Jaehyun for cheating on you while acting like he loved you so dearly during your relationship with him, and another part of you was angry that you were so blind and paid no heed to the signs of your relationship.

From across the bar counter, there were a group of guys sitting at a nearby table. Upon seeing your state and the number of bottles piling up around you, one of the boys said, “Hey, look at that girl over there, must have gotten her heart broken for her to drink nearly what? Ten bottles of beer?” The rest of the guys laugh and comment here and there at his statement. You can hear their remarks, but you are not in the mood to bother with them so you ignore their words. The ringing in your ear is way louder than any of what they were saying anyways.

Little did you know, that that table of guys contained someone who you were really close with…

Upon hearing Jimin’s comment, Jungkook turns his head in the direction of this ‘girl’, out of curiosity, wanting to check just how many bottles she had drunk. He’s counting the endless beer bottles on the counter when he watches the girl pick up the half full beer and chug it down once more. He watches as her hand grabs the bottle, slightly shaking, and there's a purple bracelet on her wrist. Wait. That bracelet… Jungkook squints at the girl once more before coming to a conclusion that that was really you, his childhood best friend, as well as crush for god knows how many years.

“Gguk! Look! I made a bracelet when I went to Japan, and I made you a matching one!” 14 year old you had exclaimed after not seeing your best friend for two weeks. Jungkook took the blue bracelet in hand and stared at it, before putting it on. On the outside, he didn’t show much reaction, simply smiling and saying a small “thanks”. But on the inside Jungkook was going crazy. He’s had a big fat crush on you since the early ages, as early as he can remember. And here you are giving him a matching bracelet, something mostly only couples would do. But you, being young and naive, could not see Jungkook’s love for you, and when you had gotten into a relationship with Jaehyun, it broke Jungkook’s heart and he distanced himself away from you as well. You were confused and hurt why Jungkook had seemed more cold than usual and was giving you one word replies, but you did not spend too much time thinking about that as you were so occupied in your new blooming relationship.

“Shit,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. He had never seen you drink more than two bottles of alcohol, and even when you had drunk two bottles you were already super intoxicated. He didn’t want to know how you were still holding on to consciousness at this point. Jungkook walks over to your figure, as you pick up the bottle again, wanting to chug finish the beer, you feel a warm hand grasp onto your hold on the bottle, stopping you from bringing the bottle to your lips. You look back at who this stranger was, trying to stop you from drinking your 11th bottle of beer. Your eyes widen and you freeze as you see the familiar face standing in front of you.

“That’s enough, I’m taking you home, come one,” Jungkook commands. “No! Who are you to tell me what I do!” you hiccup back, “I’m staying here and I’m ordering another drink! You’re not stopping me!” You stutter over a few words but manage to get it out. “Y/N, please, enough, you’ve drunk ten bottles already, that is more than enough.” Jungkook’s voice is stern and firm, his hold on your hand is still strong, even more so tighter.

You pathetically try to fight back this muscular man's grip on your hand, as he prys the bottle off your hold. You attempt to stifle his movements by kicking at his shins and pushing against his body, but he doesn’t move an inch. Of course, this is Jeon Jungkook, the gym rat ever since young. What makes you think you can make him move a muscle, more so when you're drunk? You can’t take it anymore, so you start to cry out in his hold. Frustration and anger yet again fills your mind, this time for another reason. Your wailing and sobbing into your best friend of 18 years' chest, as he manoeuvres you through the crowd at the bar, and brings you outside the bar.

When you two are outside, he relaxes his hold on you, allowing you to finally not be trapped in his hold. You slump to the floor and sit on the sidewalk, figure slightly trembling as you whimper and cry pathetically in front of Jungkook. He stands in front of you and crosses his arms, raising an eyebrow as he questions, “What’s gotten into you huh? Tell me why I find you at a bar you have never been to, drinking like a madman?” Jungkook’s eyes search for you face to try and read what you are processing in your head but you turn away from his gaze and mutter a “Don’t wanna tell you” Before Jungkook sighs and his heart melts when he hears your sniffles as you bring your knees up to your chest in attempt to hug yourself.

You can hear Jungkook fumble with something in his pocket, a mixture of his car keys jangling and plastic crinkling. You find a lollipop being shoved in front of your face, and you reluctantly snatch the lollipop from his hand and attempt to open the plastic wrapped around the lollipop. To no avail, your weak hands fiddle around with the plastic and fail to even cause a tear in the plastic. Jungkook sighs upon seeing this and squats so that he is now eye-level with you, grabbing the lollipop back to open the plastic packaging for you. “How did you expect yourself to bring yourself home if you can’t even open this small packaging huh?” He scolds you gently. You only sulk at his words before he says, “Open,” And at first you look at him with confusion, wondering what he was referring to, until you see the pink lollipop being held close to your mouth, so you obey and open your mouth before he sticks the lollipop in. He whispers a “Good girl” but with how intoxicated you are at the moment, you don’t fully process his words.

You allow Jungkook to guide you to his car, as you cling onto him, he opens the car door to the passenger side, before carrying you into the seat and buckling you up. Jungkook then goes over to his side and starts the engine, before he hears a quiet, “He broke up with me” Followed by a hiccup, “And he even cheated on- on me…” You slowly start to cry again. As surprised as Jungkook is, as well as the thoughts of wanting to beat the man who hurt you so badly up, he sighs and rubs your back in comfort, allowing you to cry out to him.

You slowly begin to get exhausted from all the crying and drinking you had been doing the past three hours, so you find yourself curled up on the passenger seat, eyes fluttering shut. Jungkook sees this and you feel him gently remove the lollipop stick from your mouth. You whine at the lost of the sweet in your mouth but Jungkook softly shushes you, lulling you back to sleep.

Soon you’re fast asleep, and Jungkook has reached your apartment. He carefully unbuckles you and picks you up, causing you to stir a little. He carries you to the door of your apartment, and seeing that the lights of your shared apartment were off, he realised that your roommate had probably gone out of town. Jungkook lays you on your bed, and retrieves a towel from your bathroom, wiping down your face with it. He was about to leave your side to put the towel back when you grasp onto his t-shirt, whining, “don’t go… stay please,” He sighs again as he places the towel on your bedside, tucking you into the blanket and mumbling a “I’ll be back soon, wait awhile,” Before walking to your closet to find the drawer where he knew his clothes were, you two often had sleepovers when you were in college, before Jaehyun was involved in the picture, and Jungkook would leave his clothes here to make things easier for him.

Changing into his new clothes, Jungkook makes his way back to you, and when you sense that his presence was near, you whine and grab your hands towards him, wanting him to cuddle you to sleep. Jungkook slots himself under your duvet next to you and you curl into his body as he wraps his strong arms around you, petting your hair as you drift off to sleep…

You’re awoken the next day by the throbbing in your head as you try to recall what had happened last night. After you went past five bottles of beer, your memory had been cleared and you could not remember a thing that had happened. Suddenly, the phone beside you lights up as a notification pops up on the screen. On the lock screen, is a picture of the familiar brown dog you know, Jungkook’s dog, Bam. You piece two and two together and figure out Jungkook had brought you home and stayed over. As you wondered how on earth he had found you at the random bar when you two were not contacting each other as often anymore, Jungkook came in with a glass of water and three pills, eyes widening a little, he was not expecting you to be up when he came back.

“Gguk, my head hurts” You whine, rubbing the temples of your head in an attempt to soothe the migraine. “That’s on you for drinking like crazy yesterday. I tried to stop you and you kept fighting back” He explained as he handed over the pills. You sulk at him before popping the pills in your mouth, swallowing them with the water Jungkook brought. “Go back to sleep, get some rest, I’ll cook you hangover soup when you get up okay?” You smile at his words, snuggling deeper into the comfort of your bed and shutting your eyes. Jungkook brushes the hair out of your face before muttering a “I’ll be back when you’re awake”, walking out of the room to cook you the soup.

You smile to yourself as the door shuts, maybe with Jungkook, your life won’t be so miserable after all.

#jungkook comfort #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #boyfriend jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook ff #jungkook x oc #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #bts ff #bts #bts fic #bts smut

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itsbackwoodsbby · 3 months

Text

Stay Away From My Son!

American Daniel Kaluuya X Black Fem Reader

Warning: Alcohol (Consumption of Alcohol)! Death (To my death anxiety girls, me too sis, had to pull through to write this.)! Depression! Drugs (Drug Dealing and Drug Usage)! Guns! Sex (Unprotected, be safe tho)! Violence!

Summary: You’re a single mother of two kids, Bryson, 17, and Brooklyn, 3. Brooklyn is a sweetheart. Not a tablet kid, always in her picture books, and lets you teach her stuff before she’s off to pre-k. Her troubled ass brother, Bryson, just wants to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a drug dealer to support the house. You try to tell him it’s okay and you can take care of it without him trying to help, especially in the way he is trying to go about it, but he just doesn’t listen. So now, you must do whatever it takes for Bryson to stay away from the local drug dealer, Daniel before he ends up dead like his daddy.

Sneak Peek: “What I got to do for you to stop fucking with my son?” You look at him with so much hatred. He looks at you and then laughs. “You going have to let me fuck before I let you take my biggest boy out of the game.” You look at him in disgust, “I’m not fucking your bummy ass, nigga!” You yell at him before you slap him. His boys roll up on you, but they fall back when he raises his hand. “Damn, you got a hand on you.” He says to you, “Maybe you should run with me.” You roll your eyes, “If I don’t want my son running with you, the hell makes you think I will do it. Stupid ass nigga.” You walk to your car. He calls out to you, “Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.” You flick him off and get your car.

“I love you, Bryson! Have a great day at school!” You say to your son, as you drop him off. “I love you too, mama. Love you, too, Brooklyn.” He kisses both you and Brooklyn’s cheeks and heads out of the car.

You wait for a while to see if he goes inside the building. Bryson has been skipping school a lot recently. You two got into an argument about it last night and he promises you that he won’t skip school anymore. You watch him go inside and wait 15 minutes to see if he comes back out. He doesn’t, so you go back home. You cook some breakfast for Brooklyn and yourself. You would have cooked for Bryson, but as usual, he woke up late as hell. You cook pancakes, sausage, and eggs. You cut Brooklyn’s food up and some fruit and put it on her plate in front of her. She smiles and begins eating. You fix your plate and you eat your food next to her. After you both finish eating, you clean up and go into her room to learn. You teach Brooklyn her colors, the days of the week, the months, and numbers 1-20. Then it’s back downstairs to watch Bluey on the TV. Around two hours later. your phone goes off. It’s Bryson’s school. You sigh and answer, “Good morning, Mrs. Wilson.” You say as you tap your fingers on the couch. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N. I was calling to inform you that Bryson isn’t in school now. Did you know that?” You stay quiet for a moment before answering, “No I didn’t because I dropped him off this morning and waited to see if he would come out and he didn’t.” You start to get angry at your son and his damn school. Lock the damn doors when school starts, so kids can’t fucking skip. “Well, Ms. Y/L/N, he’s not here. And if he misses school again, you will be fined and sent to jail.”

You sigh and hang up the phone. You pick Brooklyn up and she whines. “Mommy, I want to watch Bluey.” You look at her, “I know, baby. We get to Bryson before he does something else stupid.” You sigh lock the house door and get Brooklyn in her seat.

You think you know where Bryson was. And sure enough, you are right. Bryson is on the porch with a few friends his age and some men you went to school with that also hung around your baby daddy before he died. From what you see, everyone is drinking including Bryson, and smoking the two blunts in rotation. You park your car and hop out. You can hear everyone saying “Oh shit!” when they saw it was you.

“Bryson! Get your monkey ass in that fucking car right now!” You yell at him. He looks at you angrily as if you are ruining his fun. “Boy, get your ass in that car right fucking now. I’m not fucking playing with you, Bryson. Get in there now!” He stands up and brushes your shoulder as he walks to the car. You turn back to him, “Oh, you have lost your damn mind.” You are about to grab him, but someone stops you. “Aye, chill off my young nigga forreal.” He tells you. You stand there and look at him.

Daniel aka Drako. The city’s biggest kingpin. Daniel doesn’t care about anyone or anything. As long he gets his money. He recruits kids young, so that is why your son hangs with him. If someone doesn’t have his money, he usually beats them daily, until they have it. They’ll have three months, once the time is up, they are dead in the weirdest fashion. One way, they are tied up by their feet and fatally beaten up and stabbed and carved with a “D” somewhere on their body.

You look at Daniel with your arms crossed. You examine him before you say what you say. You honestly aren’t scared of him, but you do have to live to see tomorrow because you are the only one to take care of Bryson and Brooklyn. He has one of his hands in his pants and smoking the blunt. His eyes are low and red, but they are stuck on you. He bites his lips at you, making you roll your eyes.

“What I got to do for you to stop fucking with my son?” You look at him with so much hatred. He looks at you and then laughs. “You going have to let me fuck before I let you take my biggest boy out of the game.” You look at him in disgust, “I’m not fucking your bummy ass, nigga!” You yell at him before you slap him. His boys roll up on you, but they fall back when he raises his hand. “Damn, you got a hand on you.” He says to you, “Maybe you should run with me.” You roll your eyes, “If I don’t want my son running with you, the hell makes you think I will do it. Stupid ass nigga.” You walk to your car. He calls out to you, “Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.” You flick him off and get your car.

As you drive to your house, your thoughts start beating you up. Are you a bad mother? You can’t even protect your son from the streets. You know he needed another male figure, but why did he go to the worst one EVER? You look at Bryson in the corner of your eye. He just stares at you, mad because you embarrassed him in front of his “friends.”

He stays quiet and once you park in the driveway, he rushes out of the car and goes in the house. You get out of the car and get Brooklyn out as well. She smiles at you and holds you tightly. As soon as you’re inside, you hear Bryson slam his door and play his music loud as hell. You sigh and put Brooklyn in her room to watch Bluey. You open Bryson’s door, take his phone, and turn his music off.

“You fucking tripping. Damn just get the fuck out of my room!” He yells at you. You look at him in disbelief. Did he just cuss at you? You put his stuff in your room and come back in his room and look at him, “Did you just cuss me?” You ask him. He doesn’t say anything back, but he gives you the “I sure did.” look. “Bryson, you have lost your fucking mind. Baby, let me tell you something, I am YOUR mom! You respect me!” He rolls his eyes and puffs, “Man, get the fuck out of my room. I don’t have to respect you.” He gets all in your face. You push him on his bed, “Look here, I don’t care what Daniel ass told you about not having to respect anyone but him. But you are going to respect me. I am YOUR mother. Ight.”

He just sits there and mugs you. You've never seen Bryson be this defiant. You sigh knowing you lost your baby boy. He isn’t the same boy he was when his dad was here. He isn’t the same boy he was when his dad died. He’s heartless and reckless. He is the boy who sells drugs, gets multiple pregnancy scares from girls, and now cusses and disrespects his mom.

You look at him and talk lowly, “Bryson, you don’t get it, don’t you? You don’t need to run with him or anything. We are good. Can you please for once listen to me? Stop doing this. Your little sister needs you. Bryson, I need you.” You tear up. “And if you don’t honestly give a fuck about me as your mom, cool I’m sorry for being a shitty mother, but do it for your little sister. Do it for your dad. You know he did everything in his power to stop from following in his footsteps. Yet here you are because I am a bad mother.” You sigh and look at him as the warm tears fall down your face.

His demeanor changes and he starts twisting his dreads. He hates seeing you cry. Right now, it may not look like it, but Bryson is a mama’s boy. That’s why he tries to help you so much by selling drugs. He hates how you stress yourself out to make ends meet, making sure your babies look the best for school. He hugs you tightly.

“Mama, I’m going to stop selling. I promise. I’m sorry for hurting you.” He says. “Bryson, you say that all the time. Just to break that promise again.” You sigh and walk out of his room.

You start wishing your boyfriend, Brandon, was still alive guiding Bryson how he was. You know he’s turning in his graving, watching how his son became what he didn’t want him to become. Brandon used to tell Bryson his jail stories, how he’s forever stuck in the streets, that Bryson can do better, and why he should never be in the streets like him. It’s a slap to the face. You sigh the more you think about Brandon and how he died almost three hours after his first daughter was born. He wanted a girl so bad. Now he’s missing her, not able to physically watch her grow up.

You trudge down the stairs slowly, get a bottle of Casamigos from the fridge, and examine the bottle. Bryson has been drinking some because you left more than this in here. Or have you been drinking a lot more recently? You sigh and start drinking straight out of the bottle as you lay your head on the table. Not only did you feel like a shitty mom, you also looked like a shitty mom drinking alcohol in the afternoon. Five minutes later, the bottle is empty. You trudge back upstairs, lie down, and close your eyes for a moment. You couldn’t sleep however because every time, you hear Bryson’s phone dinging. You sigh and get up to turn it off, but you look at the screen to see it’s Daniel blowing him up, asking Bryson to come back, so he can drop off a load. You go to the messages and text back, “yea ill b over there in seven.”

You shower up and get dressed in something cute and chill. You lock your room door, so Bryson won’t try and get his stuff from out there. You go into Brooklyn’s room and see that she fell asleep, as she was watching Bluey. You pick her up and lay her in her bed. Then, you go to Bryson's room. He’s lying in bed throwing his basketball in the air. He sees you and sighs. “Momma, I’m sorry. I’ll stop running in the streets.” You look at him, “I know.” You smile. You go to him and kiss his cheek. “I’ll be back. Watch your sister for me. Don’t leave the house either.”

He nods his head. You already know he’s not leaving because he doesn’t like leaving Brooklyn alone. You smile head to your car and drive off from your house. Seven minutes later, you’re parked across his house. His boys are on the porch with him, smoking and waiting for Bryson to come.

“Man, this little nigga ain’t coming, Daniel.” You hear one of them say. “Lil bro is probably getting pressed by his fine-ass momma.” Bryson’s friend, Dominic says, making the whole group laugh. You roll your eyes. Then Daniel huffs and puffs, “Fuck! Just go without him.”

His boys leave him on by himself. Daniel sits on the porch, smoking his blunt before he goes inside his house. You wait a few and then walk across the street and go up to the door. You knock on the door. He instantly opens it.

“Man, Bryson, what the fuck?! Why you lat-…” He’s caught off guard when he sees you. You push through him and come inside. “Yeah yeah. Now, Daniel. I’m going to ask you nicely. Stay the fuck away from my son. He doesn't need this life and you know that.” You say. He chuckles and sits down on the couch, “Nah, he’s really good, Y/N. This life is teaching him a lot. How to be a man. Brotherhood. He is doing good just like his dad used to do.” You look at him, “Yeah, until you set him up. Did you even tell Bryson you’re part of the reason his dad is dead?” Daniel starts yelling at you, “I had nothing to do with his death! And you know that! I love Brandon as if he was my blood.” He was mad as hell at your accusation. “Whatever, you say.” You cross your arms, not believing shit this nigga says. He sighs, “You know what? Here’s what happened that night. Brandon died because of Taylor. Okay? Taylor was jealous because of how close me and Brandon were. You know I knew Taylor before I knew Brandon. But I liked Brandon’s work ethic and his hustle. We clicked on so much shit from the past, that was my boy.” He says and he leans back in the chair, covering his eyes. “Taylor told Brandon I gave him a drop. I didn’t. I was sleeping. Taylor knew some of our opps were sliding on their other opps. He sent Brandon over there and that’s what happened.” He sighs, “I had no clue at all, Y/N. But I did handle it.” He looks at his hands. You gasp, “You killed Taylor?” He bites his lips, trying to fight back tears. “Yeah… yeah I did.”

You look at the pain in his eyes. You were shocked he killed Taylor for Brandon. Especially since Taylor was Daniel’s blood cousin. You sit next to him and hold him. He cries in your chest. There’s a lot of emotions that you have right now. You feel bad for accusing him of your boyfriend’s death for a very long time. You feel relief that you know what happened that night.

He sighs, “This is the only way I know I can pay Brandon back by being a male figure to Bryson. This is the only way I know how to do it. By showing him the ways of the streets. No one taught me the normal way of how to be a man. I was taught to be tough. Be a street nigga. Get a good name in these streets.” He says. “Bryson doesn’t need to be in the streets. And you are teaching him how to disrespect women. I don’t like it. I hear him talking to girls. Calling them bitches and shit.” He looks at you, “Nah, that’s them other niggas. I can’t disrespect women. I love my queens. Especially the black queens” You raise your eyebrows, “Oh yeah? Then what was that when I came and got him from you? ‘Feisty ass. You just need some dick. That’s all. It’s been three years since your man got killed? I know that pussy tight.’” You mock him, sounding goofy as hell. He laughs, “Just trying to look cool in front of the boys. I’m sorry about that.” He says. “But I promise, I don’t teach the young ones disrespect. That's Fredo.” He continues. “Well, who taught him to just fuck? And fuck raw at that! I swear to God every day it’s always, “Momma, I think I got a girl pregnant.” every time. Like what the hell?” He chuckles, “Okay, that’s me. I’ll admit that. I want to be able to feel it. Connection.” You roll your eyes, “There's a condom that feels like nothing you know.” He gives you a crazy-ass look, “That shit not the same and you know it.” You look at him, “No, I don’t. All the time that I had sex has been protected.” He looks at you, “So how the hell did Bryson and lil Brooklyn get here?” You laugh, “Condom broke.” He looks at you, “So you never had sex without a condom before.” He asks you and you shake your head no.

Something about that answer turns Daniel on. He tries to hide it, but you can tell. You look down and smile. You look back up and he’s staring at you biting his lip. You giggle. Daniel has always been attractive, but you let the negative things block it. Now that some things are clear and off the table you see his fine self peeking through.

“Control yourself.” You say. “It was just a fact.” He looks at you, “Man, I’m chilling. Just thinking.” He says, chuckling. “What’s on your mind?” He looks at you clueless, “Nothing.” You shake your head, laughing, “For real. What were you thinking about?” He sits up, “Me being the first person to fuck you raw.” You laugh, “I knew it. I haven’t done that in a while for real. And besides, wouldn’t it be wrong? You are the father of my children’s best friend.” You look down. As tempting as it is, you can’t help but feel like Brandon would be mad at you. “I think Brandon would want you to move on. I’m not saying that because I’m trying to fuck. But honestly, I do. I don’t think he would want you sitting here upset and lonely.” He lifts your chin and looks into your eyes. You smile, “He would want me to. He always talked about it. I always brushed it off thinking he was just talking normal nonsense.” You sigh.

You start thinking. You've been lonely for three years. Not to mention, you stopped having sex when you were pregnant with Brooklyn. So it’s almost been four years now without dick. And sex toys can only take you so far. What’s the harm in having sex with Daniel right now?

“You sure?” You say, needing some confirmation. “I’m sure, Y/N. But I don’t want you to be unsure, you know.” He says as he rubs your back.

His hand travels down to your waist and your thighs. He looks at you. His eyes ask for permission to go further up your body. You slowly nod your head yes. He starts rubbing your pussy through your shorts. Instantly, you lose your mind. This is what you’ve been missing. A touch. He takes your shorts off and pulls your panties to the side and looks at your pussy. It was glistening with your wetness already.

He kisses your neck as he slowly rubs your clit. Then, he lowers to your thighs, sucking on them, leaving marks on them. He looks at it one more time before he dives in face first and starts eating you out. You gasp and throw your head back on the arm of the chair. His tongue slides up and down on your clit. You grip his head with your other hand. He switches from licking to sucking on your clit. Your body lifts a bit, giving him a bit of an entrance to use his fingers. He teases your hole with his two middle fingers before he curls them inside you. You start gripping his head tighter. He resumes eating you out and you can’t wait to come for him. He looks up at you to see your beautiful love faces. He smiles and slides his free hand up your hoodie and rubs on your boobs and everywhere else on your body. Your breath starts to get heavier and heavier.

“Fuck! I’m about to come! I’m about to come!” You whimper out to him. He smiles and continues to pump you faster with his fingers as he sucks gently on your clit.

You jerk up as you have your first orgasm. Your juices were dripping from his hands to his forearm. You sit up on the couch and look at him. He smiles at you before picking you up and taking him to his bedroom. Your lips connect with his for the first time and it feels so amazing. His lips are super soft. He then attacks your neck with kisses and lays your body down softly on the bed. You take your hoodie off and he takes his sweats off. His dick is semi-hard. He gets in between your legs and starts rubbing his dick on your pussy to coat it with your wetness. He leans down and kisses your neck, making you moan even more.

No warning, you feel something slide inside, making you inhale sharply. He lets you adjust to his size since it’s been a while for you. He then kisses you all over your body to relax your mind and your body, which makes you adjust to his size much faster. He looks you in the eyes as he slowly strokes inside you. You cover your face. You couldn’t even look at him with how much pleasure he’s giving you. He removes your hands from your face and makes you look at him. His eyes are filled with lust and you know he wants to make this enjoyable for you. He starts picking up speed. He rips your tank top off your body to massage your breasts as he pushes himself deeper inside you.

“Shit, Daniel!” You grip the sheets and close your eyes. “Come on, open them pretty eyes and look at me.” He says as he places his hand below your belly button. Your eyes open as soon as the pressure overwhelms you. Your hands travel to his chest and lower to his stomach, “Daniel, please, it’s too much. It’s too much.” You whimper out. “I can’t take it.” You cry out. He looks into your eyes, “No, you can take it.” He smiles at you and kisses your neck. Slowly, you move your hand back on the bed, gripping the sheets again, “Mm, just like that, ma.” He groans, locking eyes with you.

You start clenching around him. “Oh…shit! I’m about to come.” You moan out. He smiles at you and shakes his head no. You look at him like he’s crazy. What does he mean by no? He smirks and starts pounding into you. “You can come when I tell you to.” Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your toes begin to curl. You keep begging but it only turns him on more, “Mm, you look so beautiful when you beg.” He starts, “You keep on, Ima make you hold it even longer.” You hold it to the best of your ability, clenching tighter and tighter around him. He starts to twitch inside you, “You want to come?” He asks you. You nod your head frantically, but that wasn’t good enough for Daniel, “Use your words, mamas.” You look at him, “Please, please. Let me cum, baby. Please let me cum.”He is a sucker for your begging. He smiles, “Nut on this dick.” He says low.

You jerk up as you climax and he fills you up with his cum. He buries his head in your neck and places sweet nibs and kisses. He was right. It is WAY different to have sex without a condom. Getting to feel every inch of that big dick sent you head over hills. Sadly, aftercare could not be done because you have to get back to your two kids that you left. Quickly, you two shower and get dressed again. Daniel only puts on some gray sweats. He walks you back to your car and opens the door for you. You get in and start the car as he closes the door. He hunches over and motions for you to let down the window. You do so and look at him.

“So, am I going to see you again?” He asks you, sliding his hands in his sweats. “Yeah. You will.” You smile back at him and look down at his print. “My eyes are up here.” He chuckles. “Sorry.” You look at him. “Just call me whenever you want to see me again.” You say. He nods at you and you wave bye to him. You grab pizza for you and the kids on the way home and you have a good time with your kids.

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cowgurrrl · 9 months

Note

drunk college!joel @ karaoke 🗣️🗣️

THIS IS SO FUN 🗣️🗣️🗣️

Piano Man

Pairing: college!joel miller x reader

Author’s note: furiously typed in the Charlotte airport and unedited so if you see a typo no you didn’t (PS Joel Miller is an affectionate drunk you heard it here first)

Summary: this ask

Warnings: alcohol consumption, Joel being A Menace, smoochy smooch, June your Texas is showing, I think that’s it???

“Does he normally do this?” Olivia, a girl from your Spanish class, asks over the loud music. You glance between her and the drunk mess you call a boyfriend.

Everybody’s been stressed with midterms coming up and impending fights with your family about why you and Joel can’t come home for Thanksgiving. Your job isn’t giving you the time off and even if they did, you can’t afford to take it. Contrary to popular belief, Austin is not the cheapest place to live. You and Joel have been like passing ships with him coming home right as you’re leaving for work or class and vice versa. You both needed a break. So, when he suggested going out on a Friday night, you couldn’t find a good reason to say no. Sure, you had work to do but Joel is never the one to ask you to go out to the bars. So, naturally, you had to go. What you didn’t expect was… this.

Joel is leading the crowd of drunk college students in a group karaoke of Piano Man by Billy Joel. He’s sweaty and obviously drunk, the top four buttons of his shirt undone to reveal his tan skin and beautiful collar bones. His curls are bouncing with his movements as he sings and his beer sloshes a little haphazardly when he swings his arms. The crowd is so completely at his command and he loves it. His eyes seem to shine under the hot lights of the bar but it could also be the three tequila shots Joel bought thrumming through your veins.

You tear your eyes away from Joel long enough to look at Olivia and laugh. “No, Joel Miller is not known for his karaoke skills.” And yet, you think to yourself, he’s such a natural performer.

“Well, I think he is now.” Olivia says as the song ends and the people in the bar erupt into applause and cheers. Joel takes a gracious bow and then, ever so gracefully, chugs the rest of his beer. Thank God Olivia is your designated driver. You laugh and clap as he makes his way back over to you. He smiles goofily and clings to your side the second he’s close enough. People walk past him and say something about how fun the song was or whatever else but he’s staring at you or your lips more specifically.

“You’re not very subtle, Billy.” You say and he gives you a mock offended face.

“‘S it a crime to wanna kiss my girlfriend?” He slurs, his words getting more and more Southern the more he talks.

“It is when you’ve been drinking Love Street.”

“What’s wrong with Love Street?!” He screeches and you quickly cover his mouth with your hand.

“Besides the fact that it makes you loud as hell,” you say. You can tell he’s smirking even though you can’t see his lips. It’s in those stupid brown eyes. “It’s gross.”

“‘S not gross.” He grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away from his mouth but he uses the leverage to pull you flush against him. The heavy-lidded, smug look is making you feel… things especially when his other hand is resting dangerously low on your back.

“Yes, it is.” You try to argue and he raises his eyebrows.

“You ain’t even tried it.”

“I have!”

“Yeah?” He asks. “What’d it taste like?” The question throws you off and your first thought is ‘beer?’ because they all taste the same. Full stop.

“I don’t remember.” You say and he hums. Without skipping a beat, he lets go of your wrist and slides his hand over your jaw, pulling you towards him in a searing kiss. He tastes like stale beer and the cigarette you shared outside and you think you could get drunk just from kissing him like this. He tilts your head back to kiss you deeper, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip until you open for him, and the table top you were standing next to digs into your hip. The sticky bar fades away and everything becomes Joel. He’s crowding your space and the uncharacteristically loud groan he lets out when your fingernails rake down his chest makes your brain short circuit. Joel makes you stupid and just a touch reckless. It isn’t until someone wolf whistles at you that you remember where you are and realize just how close you’ve gotten.

His chest is pressed against yours so much so that you can feel his heartbeat. His foot has somehow made its way between yours, his thick thigh forcing yours apart. You clear your throat and struggle to wade through the Joel Fog in your head.

“D’you remember now?” He asks, his voice low and gravely. You furrow your brows and lean back to look at him fully.

“Remember what?”

“What the beer tastes like.” He says. You flounder for an answer and he smirks down at you. You shove at his chest and shake your head.

“You’re drunk, piano man.”

“Mm,” he hums, ghosting over your lips again. “Maybe you should take me home.”

“Can’t wait until last call?” You tease.

“If you make me stay until last call, I’ll make you get up there and sing with me.”

“I’ll get Olivia.”

#the last of us #joel miller headcanon #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #joel miller one shot #the last of us fluff #the last of us fic #joel the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us oneshot #the last of us request

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eiightysixbaby · 4 months

Text

i’ll be home for christmas

PART FOUR: Merry Christmas, Darling

previous chapter || series masterlist

word count: 7.4k

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie’s return sends you through emotional turmoil. can things go back to the way they were?

cw: angst, there’s a lotttt of feelings in this chapter whew what a ride, mentions of alcohol consumption, brief mention of reader’s parents - they aren’t described it’s just mentioned that we go to see them, reader’s nickname is ‘sunny’

author’s note: the final part is here!! thank you all soooo much for coming on this little journey with me. i’ve had so much fun writing this fic, and i appreciate every kind comment i’ve received. keep your eyes peeled in the coming weeks, there’s an extra something i’m working on for this universe :)

Present Day: Christmas Eve, 1989.

Eddie. You’re staring at Eddie, that much you know. He’s standing right in front of you, yet it all feels hazy. There’s a ringing in your ears that won’t stop, a sickness in your gut that won’t ease. You say nothing as you step aside to let Dustin and the rest of the kids rush to the door to greet the man before you.

He looks at you, desperately, before being swarmed by everyone else.

“Eddie! Holy shit!!” Dustin yells, throwing his full weight at the man and barely giving him time to get his bearings.

“What are you doing here!?” Lucas asks, pushing Dustin out of the way to get his own hug.

“Slow down, you gremlins,” Eddie laughs. Oh, god, his laugh. It makes your stomach churn. What was once music to your ears is now an unfamiliar sound. You’d know his laugh anywhere. But you don’t feel like you know him anymore. “How’s everyone doing? I missed you fuckers,” he says, ruffling Max’s hair.

“We missed you,” she says, rolling her eyes as if she can’t be bothered. Eddie knows it’s just an act.

You move out of the doorway, feeling like you’re in a daze as you walk back to the living room.

“Did you guys know about this?” you ask Nancy, Robin, and Steve once they turn expectantly to catch your reaction to the whole surprise.

“Yeah, he got in a few days ago. We wanted it to be a surprise,” Robin says, biting her bottom lip in an attempt to cover a smile.

“Right,” you say, not matching her excitement as you sit down in an empty chair. It explains why the girls were acting so weird during your baking session. It explains why you made the stupid raspberry cookies.

You can feel Jonathan’s eyes boring into you, watching your every move. You don’t look at him, knowing you’ll break if you see the concerned expression you know will be on his face. Nancy’s about to say something when Eddie and the teens come swarming in, Dustin already blabbering his ear off. You go stiff in your seat, not meeting those gorgeous brown eyes and instead keeping your face trained on the floor.

Jonathan stands, moving to greet Eddie as he’s the only one who hasn’t yet. “What’s up, man? You back for good?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I am,” he says. “It’s good to see you.” You know everyone’s eyes are on you, including his. You know they’re waiting for you to say something. Your silence is ear-splitting, and it feels like a bomb is about to go off.

Everyone moves to surround Eddie, except you, but you can’t blame them. They ask him for all of the details about Chicago, his reasons for moving back, anything and everything. You catch him looking around their faces, trying to get you to look at him, but you avoid his eyes every time. You thought this was what you wanted. You thought seeing him would fix everything.

But it didn’t.

If anything, your heart feels even more shattered. He thinks he can just come home, show up at this party without warning and you’re just going to fall into his arms? Confess your love for him? Act like nothing has happened?

He’s too nonchalant, the way he talks to the group. The way he sits casually on Steve’s sofa, the way he grabs cookies and a drink to indulge in.

A part of you wants to be upset with your friends for hiding this from you, for giving you no warning, but the other part of you knows they were just trying to make you happy. This was supposed to make you happy. You’re unhappy without Eddie, and now he’s here and you’re still unhappy. What is wrong with you?

It’s too much, your head feeling like it’s going to cave in as you listen to the chatter around you. Eddie’s voice is grating in your ears, and you can’t bear to look at his face — you know you’ll just burst into tears. He’s in the middle of telling a story about his attempts to land a recording gig when you stand from your seat, stopping him mid-sentence.

Without a word, you walk quickly to Steve’s back door, letting yourself out to the backyard. You can hear Jonathan call after you, but you don’t want to be bothered. The cold air hits you harder without your coat on, and you wrap your arms around yourself to keep as warm as possible. Steve’s covered pool is coated with a layer of ice and snow, and the lights from inside make the snow sparkle. Inhaling deeply, the icy air burns your lungs, but at least you’re feeling something definite. Your emotions are all over the place, none of them clear or easy to work through.

Maybe you should just go home. Just slink off to your car and go, because you certainly can’t be here with him. As if on cue, sent by some fucked up force in the universe that loves to put you through the wringer, the door slides open.

You hear shoes crunch on the snowy ground, bulky steps that can only come from heavy boots. A deep breath is taken but it’s not enough, you feel like you can’t get any air when he’s taking it all from you. Standing still, you stare straight ahead, your back facing who you know is right behind you. You can’t bear to turn around, to be the one to face him first.

“Sunny,” is all he says. His voice is soft, but it raises every hair on your neck. You’re back to a year ago, to that horrible place he took you to and locked you away in.

You steel yourself, preparing for the floor to fall out beneath you and trying your damndest to be ready for it.

“Please, look at me.”

Turning, slowly, your eyes lock with his. He looks the same as he did the last time you saw him, except now his face fills your mouth with a sour taste. You don’t like this feeling.

“I missed you,” he says, quietly.

His hands are tucked in the front pocket of his jeans, his face barely visible in the dark. He looks at you almost expectantly, like you’re supposed to do something here. Like this isn’t insane.

“I can’t do this, Eddie,” you say, barely above a whisper. Your voice is failing you.

He hears you anyway, his ears so attuned to anything and everything you have to say. You don’t look the same, the usual fire behind your eyes is gone. It worries him.

“Please, just… I came back for you. I’ve never stopped thinking about you.”

“Please don’t. Don’t do that, Eddie,” you warn, tears burning at your eyes.

“Do what? Be honest with you? I’m sorry Sunny. I’m so sorry. But it’s the truth. I’ve never stopped missing you,” he presses. His tone isn’t harsh, but passionate. You know he’s being honest, and it makes you want to throw up.

“So, what? You’re just going to walk in here and act like everything is normal? Like this isn’t fucking weird?” you ask, getting progressively louder as you go. He’s standing not even a foot away, silent. What can he say?

“You’ve been gone for a year, Eddie. You left me, you barely gave me a warning!” you hiss, stepping further away from him. Retreating into yourself, protecting yourself.

He takes a step toward you, chancing it. Reaching a hand out as if to grab you and comfort you. You don’t let him, slinking out of his touch.

“Sunny, please. Can we talk about this?” he asks, his voice desperate as he pleads with you.

“You didn’t want to talk it over when you made the decision to leave,” you spit. “So maybe I don’t want to talk things over now. I’m sorry you thought I’d just fall right into your arms again, but it’s not happening, Eddie. This? Whatever it is we had? It’s done, it’s gone. You can thank yourself.” You brush past him, slamming the door shut behind you once you’ve entered the house again. Anger and hurt blaze through your veins in a deadly concoction, your vision blurry with the hot tears that sting in your eyes.

Eddie follows after you, hot on your trail, emotion-strained voice calling out from behind. “Sunny. Sunny!”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response, simply putting your coat on and grabbing your purse. “I’m leaving. I’m sorry, everyone,” you say curtly, and then you’re heading towards the front door, stepping outside into the cold night with nothing more than the slam of the wood.

Eddie stands in the living room, forlorn as everyone just looks around, unsure of what to do. Of all the ways this reunion could have gone, they certainly didn’t expect this. They thought it would make you happy, not make everything worse.

“I have to go get her—” he starts, frantic as he pats down his pockets for his car keys.

“Eddie, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Robin says warily, standing from her seat on the couch.

“I let her go once!” Eddie yells, a painful twinge to his tone. “I can’t let it happen again.”

He looks like a kicked puppy, scared where he stands in the middle of Steve’s home. The looks everyone gives him are pitying, and it makes him scoff as he starts to pace, running his hands through his hair.

“You need to give her space, man,” Jonathan adds, trying to calm him down. “If you bombard her right now, it’ll only make her more upset.”

Eddie looks at him, saying nothing. His eyes are glassy, tears threatening to spill but he doesn’t want to let them. The impulsive part of him wants to tell Jonathan to fuck off — he used to know you like that. He used to be the person that knew everything about you, and now Jonathan has taken his place. Even if only platonically. He bites his tongue, reminding himself of the unfortunate truth that it’s his own fault you aren’t close anymore.

“I— I just need some air,” Eddie settles on, turning around and going back out to the backyard.

He isn’t out there for long before he hears someone else join him. Turning, he’s a little surprised to see Jonathan. He’d expected Steve, maybe Dustin.

“Hey,” Eddie says, his hands in his pockets as he stares out across the yard.

“Hey,” Jonathan replies, taking slow steps closer to him. “Listen, Eddie,” he starts after a pause. “You put her through a lot this last year,” he says. Eddie can tell by his tone he’s not trying to be unkind or sour, but it still hurts. It’s hard to admit that he was so incredibly wrong, and that his actions are having major consequences. He never wanted to hurt you this badly. Everything had spun out of control, and he’s to blame.

“I know, man. I know,” he replies. “I’m sorry about it.”

Jonathan just looks at him, watching him carefully. There’s a brief silence, before Eddie takes a deep breath and a little leap of faith.

“Can you talk to her for me?”

He looks at the man beside him, breath hitched in his throat, nervous.

“Eddie—”

“Please, man. She… she trusts you. In a way that she doesn’t trust me anymore. And I know that that’s my fault, but…” he takes a shaky breath, furiously swiping at his wet eyes with his thumb. “I want to earn her trust back. I want her back.”

Jonathan thinks this over, running his tongue over his teeth behind his top lip as if collecting the taste Eddie’s words leave in his mouth. Meeting Eddie’s eyes, his gaze softens when he sees the pain sitting on his face.

“Okay. I’ll try to talk to her,” Jonathan says finally, and Eddie lets out a relieved breath. “But. I’m not promising anything. If she wants to cut ties with you, that’s her business, and I can’t force her to do anything. You screwed up last year, Ed. I’m not trying to rub salt in your wounds, I just need you to understand why this is so hard for her.”

Eddie almost wants to laugh. Jonathan has a way of saying harsh things — of giving you the truth — yet not making you feel like complete shit while he does it. Eddie knows that he cares, he just cares on a level that not everyone does.

“I know. Trust me, I know that,” he sighs, blowing out a puff of air as he looks up to the dark sky. “I know you can’t force her, and I don’t want that. I just… I want her to know how sorry I am. If nothing else, I want her to know that she’s the most important person I’ve ever met and that I’m a moron for what I did last year.”

Jonathan does laugh at this, and then Eddie starts laughing with him. And it feels good, if even for a fleeting moment.

“I’ll talk to her, okay? I’m glad to have you back, man,” the younger man says, giving Eddie a soft fist to the shoulder. There’s a smile on his face, just enough for Eddie to notice.

He smiles back. Jonathan doesn’t need words to hear the ‘thank you’ that lies behind it.

•

You don’t feel any better after your outburst towards Eddie. You wanted to be with your friends tonight, not sitting alone at your apartment. But you’d left on impulse and now… here you are. Sitting alone on your floor because it felt right to sit on the floor and now you’re spiraling.

You don’t know what to think, or what to feel. You’d been sad for months over Eddie’s absence and now he’s here and you go and have a meltdown. Frustration boils inside of you, your heart twisting in your chest. Being angry at Eddie doesn’t feel any better than missing him had, it’s not like being mad allows you to just forget him.

Before you can think yourself into oblivion, your phone rings. Groaning, you stand to retrieve it. Your heart pounds in your chest — what if it’s him?

Steadying your breathing, you let it ring a few times before you convince yourself to answer.

“Hello?” you mumble, not quite ready to find out whose voice will come out on the other end.

“Sunny. It’s me,” Jonathan’s voice comes through the receiver, relaxing every muscle in your body. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Honestly, Jon? I have no fucking idea,” you say, with a slight laugh at the end. There’s no humor in it, though, you simply feel like you’re going mad.

“Can I come over?”

“Jonathan, no, stay at the party—”

“Sunny. Can I come over?” he tries again, not wanting you to put him first in this situation. He wants to be there for you.

“Okay. Yeah, fine. Door’s unlocked, just come in when you get here.”

Clicking the phone back into its place, you pace the floor slightly, chewing your nail.

Did Eddie really come back for you? Is this all for you?

Your heart aches at the thought of it. You just don’t understand how he expected everything to be just fine the second you saw him, and all you can picture in your mind is the look on his stupid fucking face the second you opened Steve’s door.

He looked at you like you hung the moon. He looked at you like you were everything.

You think about last year, you think about the kiss. The way his lips felt so soft against yours, like they were made to be there. You dig the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing at them with a frustrated sigh. Taking a seat on the couch, you await Jonathan’s arrival.

The door opens quietly before his figure slips through the gap, his cheeks rosy from the cold. You’re curled in one corner of the sofa, and you must look pitiful because his eyes soften the second they land on you.

“Sunny…” he says, hanging his coat on your coat rack before instantly coming to sit by you.

“What the fuck is happening, Jonathan?” you croak, moving to lean against him. “I thought this was what I wanted. I wanted him to come home I… I still miss him…”

“I think he just surprised you. You’re feeling a lot of things at once, and that’s okay. Every single emotion is valid,” he says softly, rubbing your back with a gentle hand.

“I’m just so mad that he walked in like it was nothing. He sat down and talked with everyone like there wasn’t a giant elephant in the room to address,” you say, that anger still lingering in your voice. “But I’m not proud that I walked out on him. I didn’t let him talk, or anything. I told him we’re done,” you sniff, letting tears drip down your face. “I don’t know if I really meant that.”

“Do you think he’s just gonna give up on you? I promise you he’s not, Sunny. He was ready to chase after you the second you left.”

You think this over, a pang in your heart making you cry more. A small part of you wanted him to chase you, although you wouldn’t admit it in your anger.

“He’s really sorry, Sunny,” Jonathan sighs, squeezing you closer to him. “I’ve never seen him this beat up over anything. He’s devastated. You have a right to be devastated, too. I just want you to know that he knows he screwed up.”

“Did he tell you to tell me this?”

Jonathan pauses, takes a breath. “He asked if I would talk to you, yeah. But I had every intention of coming over here, anyway. I think you need someone to talk it out with, that isn’t him.”

“Is that all he said?”

“He said he’s a moron for what he did,” Jonathan adds, smiling when he gets a watery laugh from you.

“He is a fucking moron,” you admit, wiping your nose with the back of your hand.

“And he said that you’re the most important person he’s ever met. There’s no doubt in my mind that he means that. He really adores you, Sunny.”

“I feel the same about him,” you say, lip wobbling. It’s true. You’ve never met anyone else who’s impacted you quite the same as he has. He’s everything. That’s why this is all so earth-shattering.

“So what are you gonna do?” Jonathan asks, waiting a beat. “You don’t have to decide now. I’m not here to change your mind or tell you how to feel. You don’t have to talk to him anymore if you really don’t want to. But I saw how happy you were with him last year, Sunny. I want you to be that happy again.”

“I need to think things over,” you say meekly, letting out a sigh. “Can we just watch a movie?” you ask, looking up at your friend.

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “We can watch a movie. Give yourself all the time you need to think.”

Present Day: Christmas Day, 1989.

The night had been a restless one. Tossing and turning beneath your heavy comforter, your mind racing with a million thoughts. A million things you want to say, a million things you should say, to him. He hurt you, and he can’t take that back, but you didn’t even hear a single thing he had to say. You didn’t hear him out, and that’s not how you’d typically behave around him. Maybe nothing involving him was “typical” anymore, but you couldn’t sleep restfully knowing you haven’t had a real conversation with him.

All you’d wanted, for 12 months, was for Eddie to be home, to apologize. You realize now that your anger has eased that you need to talk to him. Nothing will improve if you don’t speak to him. You know for a fact it would eat you alive every day if he was home in Hawkins, seeing your friends, and you had to avoid him. You have things you need to get off your chest, stuff you want to say, and as you laid awake blinking into the darkness, you’d decided you needed to go and see him.

Christmas morning arrives too bright and too early, your body curled beneath blankets as you rub your eyes and yawn. It feels like you fell asleep for maybe an hour or two, your mind still racing with thoughts that seemed to never stop. Immediately, you’re throwing the covers off and getting out of bed.

There’s still time to fix things. There’s still time to talk to him, to have a good Christmas. You deserve a good Christmas.

The shower water pours hot out of the faucet, steam filling your bathroom as you undress. You let the water coat your skin, making you feel more awake as you shampoo your hair and scrub your body. You feel like you can’t move fast enough, anxiety swirling in your stomach coupled with your eager need to see Eddie.

You get ready in record timing, hair done and outfit donned, teeth brushed and everything else in between. You bundle up for the weather, as one look out your window told you it was definitely a cold one, a hefty layer of snow coating the ground. You can feel yourself tremble as you get in your car and start it, nausea creeping back in as you worry the whole drive to Eddie’s.

Your boots crunch on the snow-covered dirt, your hand pushing your car door shut with a reluctant creak. It’s been so long since you’ve been here, at the trailer park, standing in front of this very trailer. It looks the same as you remember it, though it looks like Wayne got a new wreath for the door.

It’s early, god you know it’s so early, and you only hope you won’t be disturbing the sleep of the two men who inhabit the home. But this is important, you think to yourself. You have to do this.

Taking a deep breath, your hand trembles before you bring it to the door in a repetitive pattern, knocking firmly. There’s no answer for a moment, and you worry that maybe coming out here was a mistake. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to you, after all. Maybe Jonathan was wrong, and you’d pissed him off, and he’s done with you.

Maybe it’s too late.

You’re about to resign, to get back in your car, when you hear footsteps on the inside of the door. It swings open in front of you, revealing Eddie’s sleepy face and his sleep-tousled hair.

“Sunny?” he asks, rubbing one eye with his hand. He reaches off to the side, yanking on a coat before coming to stand outside with you.

“Sorry, uh… Wayne’s still asleep otherwise I’d—”

“I miss you, Eddie,” you cut him off, making his eyes widen for a split second. “And I’m so fucking mad at you, but it turns out being mad at you doesn’t make me miss you any less.”

He blinks, looking down at you but not speaking, as if he’s too scared to say anything at all.

“You really fucked me up leaving last year, you know that?” you ask with an icy laugh, looking off to the side. “I missed you every single day you were gone. All I wanted this whole time was you. And now you’re here, and— and, you think you can just show up and everything will be fine. Everything’s not fine,” you ramble, voice cracking at the end of your speech.

You’d tried to ward off any tears, but they’re running warm down your cold cheeks before you can stop them. You wipe furiously at them with your fingers, trying to hide your emotions from the man in front of you. You hadn’t planned on getting this emotional, but then you suppose you can’t really fully plan for a conversation like this.

“Nothing— is fine, Eddie,” you croak. “I missed you so much,” you start to cry harder, collapsing against him as he readily accepts you into a sort of hug as you let it all pour out of you. He holds you against his chest, and how you missed being pressed close to him like this. Your chest aches with every single second of those 12 months without him that you can’t get back. “How could you do that to me?” you ask him, fist clutching the fabric of his coat, not wanting to let him go.

He squeezes you so tight, he doesn’t know what to say. He didn’t expect you to come here, especially not so soon.

“I’m so sorry, Sunny,” he says quietly. “I’m so sorry. I’m the dumbest man alive for leaving you. I really am.”

“At least you know that,” you sniff, the tiniest laugh rumbling in your chest amidst your tears; reminding you of what Jonathan had told you the night before. That he’s a moron.

“I’ll let you tell me that every day for the rest of my life,” he says, brave enough to crack the smallest smile. “Just please don’t give up on me.” Gripping your shoulders, he coaxes you just far enough away so he can really look at you. “All I want is you, Sunny. Chicago… didn’t change my life. Not in the slightest. I thought I needed to get out of here but… I couldn’t have been more wrong. And I’m so sorry you had to be caught up in my dumb mistake,” he says earnestly. “It was never a problem with you. My feelings for you were always real. Are still real.”

You’re silent, taking a couple breaths before you speak. “I’m sorry Chicago didn’t work out. But the selfish part of me was hoping it wouldn’t…” you confess, looking down at your shoes.

“It’s okay. I learned my lesson, that’s for sure,” he scoffs a little, his expression downtrodden.

“This year was so hard, Eddie,” you tell him. “Nothing has been the same without you.” The pain in your voice feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart, and he so horribly wishes he could take everything back. But he can’t. All he can do is be better for you, now.

“I know, sweetheart,” he says, his big chocolate eyes so apologetic. You missed his pet names, missed the way sweetheart rolls off of his tongue specially for you. “Please tell me you didn’t mean what you said… when you said that we’re done.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says that last part, not the entire time at least. His eyes dance nervously around, his voice wavering with anxiety. It makes tears spring to your eyes again, the thought of going on without him. Of spending every day for the rest of your life without him.

“I can’t do this without you, Eddie,” you say. “But you have to promise me you’re never going to pull something like that again. You’re never leaving again, unless it’s with me,” you steel yourself, not letting yourself get too emotional until he can make this promise. Until he can prove himself.

“Never. Never, I swear. I don’t want to be anywhere you aren’t,” he breathes, moving closer to you. “Please let me make it all up to you. I’ll spend the rest of my life being the best I can be for you.”

His hands cup your face, warm against your frosty cheeks. He wipes a stray tear from your face with a gentle thumb, smiling so softly when you lean into his touch. All at once it hits you, your overwhelming affection for him that you’d had to shove down all year. It gnaws at your chest, clawing its way out of you triumphantly. He’s still the same man you knew then. He’s still the only person you want first thing in the morning and last thing at night.

“Eddie…” you sigh, letting your eyes flutter closed, your hands holding his forearms.

You can feel how close his face is to yours, his nose nearly ghosting over your own and his breath warming your skin. The broken pieces of you are being glued back together one by one the longer he stands holding you.

“I’ve thought about that kiss every single day for the last year, you know that?” he says softly, your eyes opening once more to look up at him.

“Me too,” you breathe. “I’d started to think that maybe it was a mistake,” you admit sadly, watching the way his expression changes. “But it was the best kiss I’ve ever had.”

Both of you go quiet, eyes saying so much without words as you look at each other. He’s so close, his face right against yours as you stand in the freezing cold morning. He starts to shift even closer, and you feel like his lips are about to close the distance to yours when the trailer door swings open.

“Is that my little lady?” Wayne’s gruff voice calls out.

You and Eddie break apart abruptly, Eddie rather reluctantly letting you go as your head swings to look at his uncle.

“Wayne!” you beam, moving instantly to accept his hug. You glance back at Eddie, heart thumping in your chest as you watch him watching you.

This is how it should be. This is how you always want it to be.

“Get in here and out of the cold. I missed you, you know that?” the older man says to you, pulling you inside.

You have a lot of catching up to do. That second kiss will have to wait.

After a mug of hot cocoa and a lot of reminiscing with Wayne and Eddie, you find yourself alone with Eddie in his room. There’s a tiny bit of awkwardness in the atmosphere, both of you getting your footing together after so much time apart. It almost feels wrong to be in his bedroom, but then you remember you spent nearly every day here not so long ago.

“I’m sorry it’s a mess,” he smiles weakly. “Unpacking hasn’t exactly been my top priority.”

“Don’t apologize,” you insist, standing in the doorway as he kicks his messy suitcase to a corner of the room. “Was it ever clean before you moved?” you tease, more and more of that weight being lifted off your shoulders with each lighthearted comment, each joke and laugh and smile given and received.

“Sometimes!” he defends, immediately relenting. “Okay, no, it’s always a mess.”

“I really need to get going, Eddie. I need to see my parents at least for a little bit today,” you tell him, glancing at the clock.

“Will I see you back at Steve’s later?” he asks.

“I was hoping I could hitch a ride with you,” you say shyly.

He beams, pearly white teeth shining at you. He could light the entire city with that smile.

“Of course you can. I’ll pick you up, say around six?”

“Six is perfect,” you smile, moving toward him to give his arm a squeeze. “I really fucking missed you.”

He exhales, taking both of your hands in his. “I missed you more than I can even say. I hope you believe me. If I could take this whole year back, start over, I would.”

You don’t reply, just nod at him with empathetic eyes. You know he means it. You do believe him.

“I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Be safe getting to your parents, alright?”

You nod again, smiling at him before you put your coat back on, saying goodbye to Wayne and walking out into the cold.

•

Opening gifts with your parents was a good reprieve from the emotional whirlwind of a morning that you’d had, simply sharing in their joy and having lighthearted conversation. It felt good to feel good, that was for certain.

To have a happy Christmas, a happy day, finally. There was still much to be discussed with Eddie, but you felt at ease now that you’d finally poured your heart out to him. You can’t really stay angry with him, because your heart knows he never meant to cause you so much pain.

Six o’clock rolls around surprisingly quickly, a knock sounding at your door as you give yourself a once over in your mirror. Smoothing down your velvet skirt for a final time, you turn to leave your room. As you’re about to flip off the light, though, your jewelry box catches your eye.

You walk over to your dresser where it sits on the top, opening the lid. Eddie’s necklace sits with its broken chain on top of the other miscellaneous jewelry, the initialed pendant gleaming right at you. There’s another knock on your door, and you hurriedly rummage through the clutter to find a spare chain, one that hadn’t been ripped in half.

You let the pendant fall from the old chain, slipping it onto the new one as you walk quickly to the door.

Swinging it open, Eddie’s sweet face greets you on the other side. The things you would’ve given to see him greeting you all those torturous months when he was gone. And now he’s here. He looks gorgeous; wearing what might be his only pair of black jeans that aren’t ripped, along with a deep green flannel that slightly pokes out beneath a dark gray sweater. You want to devour him, you realize. But that will have to wait — the time will come eventually.

“Oh, thank god. I was starting to think you weren’t gonna answer,” he jokes, playing off the comment with a slight laugh. You can see in his face that a small part of him really was concerned you’d bail.

“Sorry, I was looking for something,” you say, stepping aside to let him in.

“Oh? Did you find whatever it was?”

“Mhm. Would you mind putting it on me?” you ask, holding out the necklace to him.

He looks at it, his eyes softening when he recognizes the pendant.

“You still have this,” he muses, surprise evident in his tone. Like he thought you’d get rid of it. You truthfully never could have.

“It’s important to me,” you tell him, glancing up at him through your lashes. “I… broke the original chain. One night when I took it off. I-I’m not proud of it and I’m sorry. Because this gift is so important to me. It was the only piece I had of you,” you admit, pouring your truth and your heart into his open hands.

“Sunny, you don’t have to apologize. You still have it, I’m so glad you do.”

He smiles, a warm and wonderful thing, before he motions for you to turn around. He drapes the pendant over your head, letting it rest on your chest while he fidgets with the clasp at the back. You nearly want to cry as he puts it on you; you didn’t get the chance for him to do this when he’d gifted it to you. You’d put it on alone, in painful tears, wishing it would bring him back.

“Okay, I think it’s good,” Eddie murmurs, his gaze soft when you turn back around to face him.

“What do you think?” you ask, biting on your lip.

“It’s a beautiful necklace for an even more beautiful person,” he says, calm and collected, his words steady and meaningful. “I’m just sorry it took me this long to see you wearing it.”

You feel your cheeks flush, smiling as you pull your coat on and grab hold of the bottle of wine you’d bought to bring to Steve’s.

“Ready?” you ask, shy beneath the way he stares at you; like he never wants to look at anything but you.

“You know it,” he says, jingling his car keys before opening the door for you.

Your foot taps nervously on the floor of the car the whole ride to Steve’s home, butterflies twirling in your stomach at the thought of your arrival with Eddie. After your outburst yesterday, you were admittedly a little embarrassed, and now to show up with the man you’d just walked out on… well, what a roller coaster. Tension hangs thick between the two of you, the mutual acknowledgment of what maybe almost happened earlier before Wayne had interrupted blinking like a neon sign. He had definitely almost kissed you, and the thought makes your stomach swirl.

Neither of you really talk much, not knowing what to say. Sitting in silence and enjoying the company of the other feels like enough, for now. You can’t help but smile to yourself as you look at the pretty decorated houses that you pass, heart soaring with the knowledge that you have Eddie back, and with it comes the holiday cheer you’d been missing.

Before long the clunky van is pulling into Steve’s driveway, parking behind Nancy’s car. Eddie kills the engine, telling you to stay put so he can jog around to your side and get the door for you. He extends a hand, helping you down into the slippery concrete as you clutch the wine bottle tight in your other hand.

“Why thank you,” you giggle, not missing the way his cheeks grow pink.

“Anything for you, m’lady,” he salutes, reaching in behind you to grab your purse for you.

You take a deep breath as you start to walk up to the front door, arm tangled with Eddie’s so you don’t slip and in the slushy mess. You can sense his nerves, too, as he knocks on the door. You glance to the side, smiling at him and watching him return the gesture.

Steve opens the door, wearing reindeer antlers and a red Christmas sweater. He stops in his tracks when he sees both of you, a smug grin spreading on his lips.

“Well, would you look at that?” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I missed seeing you two attached at the hip,” he jokes, stepping aside to let you both in.

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says, squeezing the other man’s shoulder. What you don’t see is the way Steve gives him a celebratory fist bump, mouthing a silent “yes!”.

Heads turn the second you and Eddie are inside, and you watch as Nancy and Robin beam at the sight. Jonathan gives you both a pointed but subtle thumbs up, and his smile says it all.

“Look at you two!” Robin exclaims, and you unravel your arm from Eddie’s to give her a hug.

“Okay, guys, we’re the spectacle of the evening, we get it,” Eddie laughs, giving her a hug after you.

“I won’t lie, I missed seeing you two arriving places together. You used to basically be conjoined,” Nancy jokes, taking the wine from you. She moves swiftly into the kitchen, getting out a few glasses to pour some. She hands you a glass, along with one for herself and Robin.

“Wait, hey, let me catch up!” Eddie says, grabbing a beer for himself from the fridge.

Steve and Jonathan gather around with their drinks, too, everyone raising their glasses and bottles high.

“Cheers, to Sunny and Eddie,” Nancy says, smiling brightly as everyone clinks their drinks together before taking a sip. Her toast makes you flustered, heart beating rapidly in your chest.

The wine goes down easy, warming your stomach with a pleasant tingle. This is how things should be. The hole in your friend group filled by the person you’d all been missing. The energy in the room is brighter, better. Eddie is needed here, not only by you.

Robin puts on one of Steve’s many Christmas records, letting the music fill the room along with your blended voices chattering happily. You’re talking with the girls, filling them in on what happened since last night. Your eyes keep wandering to wherever Eddie is, noticing him standing in the sun room with Steve. They’re talking about something you can’t hear, looking out the window into the snow covered backyard. You start to walk towards him, telling the girls you’ll be back in a bit, but stop at Jonathan first where he sits on the couch.

“Thank you. For helping me sort through my feelings,” you tell him, giving his hand a squeeze.

“I hardly did anything. You made this choice yourself,” he says, squeezing your hand right back. “I’m so happy for you, Sunny. It’s good to see you happy.”

“You’re the best, you know that?” you ask him, giving him one last grateful look before walking away.

“Gentlemen,” you say, announcing yourself as you step into the other room with the two men. You hope you aren’t interrupting anything too important, but staying away from Eddie is the last thing you want right now.

“There she is,” Steve says, pulling you into his side. You laugh, reaching a hand up to mess up his hair.

“Hey, hey— watch the antlers!” he defends, slipping out of reach.

“Do you mind if I have a minute alone with him?” you ask Steve, motioning to Eddie with your thumb.

“No, no. Of course not. Behave yourselves,” he winks, slipping out as he takes a sip of his beer.

“What’s up, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, moving in on you, wrapping an arm tentatively around your waist. His expression eases up when you relax into his touch, smiling blissfully up at him.

“I just thought we should pick up where we left off earlier…” you say, poking his chest softly with a finger and letting it trail down.

“Oh? And where exactly did we leave off?” he smirks, pressing his body closer to yours.

“I think… that you were about to kiss me again,” you murmur, hooded eyes looking up into his.

“Interesting theory,” Eddie jokes, placing a hand to his chin as if pondering this. You slap him lightly on the arm, giggling like a schoolgirl at him. “You might be right about that, sweetness,” he admits, dropping his face down closer to yours.

Your noses brush, the smell of his cologne and shampoo overwhelming your senses. He still uses the same stuff he did a year ago, turns out.

Your eyes focus in on his soft lips, the way his tongue darts out to wet them slightly. And then you let your eyelids flutter closed, feeling his other arm wrap around you, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips press to yours, so soft and hesitant at first, before gaining more confidence. You hold the back of his neck with one hand, fingers tangling in his curls, taking in his warmth and softness. Your mouths move together perfectly, two pieces of a puzzle finally brought together. The same fireworks you felt that first time go off again, yet this time they somehow feel even brighter. You’d waited so long for this, wondered if you would ever get this, and now it’s happening.

His tongue prods gently into your mouth, ever so slightly dancing around yours. His lips are so plush and gentle, and he smiles into the kiss with a soft little laugh. Pulling away, he rests his forehead to yours.

“You can tell me I’m crazy for this if you want to, okay? If it’s too soon, I get it. But I have to know if you’ll be mine,” he says, eyes darting back and forth between each of your own.

“Eddie,” you breathe, smiling wider than you have all night. “I’m all yours. I’ll be yours forever,” you promise, wrapping both arms around his neck and pulling him into one more passionate kiss.

“Okay, lovebirds!” Robin calls from the living room. You both turn your heads to see everyone watching you, and your cheeks flush.

“Didn’t know we had an audience,” Eddie says softly, only for you to hear, making you laugh again.

“Are you guys coming out to make a snowman with us, or what?” Steve asks, hands on his hips as he waits.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right there!” Eddie calls back. “We’re just making up for lost time,” he adds, winking at you before planting a wet, sloppy kiss to your cheek.

You feel whole in this moment, with Eddie’s arm around your waist. What you thought would be a horrible Christmas turned out to be the brightest one, and having Eddie home is the best gift you could’ve asked for; even if it was a rocky start. He’s yours, and you’re his. This is the way it should always be, you’re undoubtedly certain of that now.

“Let’s go, sweetheart,” he says. “Forever starts right now.”

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8bitscarlet · 1 year

Text

If We Said Goodbye

Summary: You were scared of the future, you always saw it's worst possibilities. Being with Wanda, you began to saw the best possibilities. And the moment you began to plan for the best, that's when the worst had it's chance.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Angst (mention of alcohol, consumption of alcohol, blood mention, death of a major character)

Word Count: 5.5k

A/N: Italics is a flashback. No writer's block but all my energy is going to angst, so this is the road we find ourselves in. 😂 Happy Reading everyone! 💕

*please do not repost or translate my material or claim as yours. reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated!*

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The wind blows comfortably across the wooden deck, making the porch wind chimes sing out a quiet tune. The sun is dipping down closer to the evening, coloring the sky with a darkening orange as you run your finger down your sweating drink.

You purse your lips together, thinking back on the conversation you just had. A terse conversation that started out light hearted.

A chair scrapes out along the wood and you glance up, watching as Bucky sits down across from you. You sigh out, leaning back against the chair and glance around him.

You can see her. Red hair falling out of her bun as she helps pin down Barton to the grass, his kids sprinting from the side of the house with freshly filled water guns. Their laughs are clear as day and you can hear her’s, sending your stomach twisting.

“It’s nice to see Barton can have a family and still have time to save the world,” you sip from your ice cold drink, clearing your throat.

“Jealous?” Bucky’s tone suggests a rhetorical question but you answer anyway.

Clenching your brows, you glance away from the dog pile occurring, “Why would I be jealous?”

“Because that’s exactly what you want,”

You narrow your eyes but can’t stop the sigh that leaves your lips, “Uh huh, right. Besides, I’m missing a few key components.”

“Come on,” Bucky stares at you and without spilling a drop, cracks open another beer, “I overheard that conversation you had with her. There’s feelings there, you’re just denying it.”

“There’s nothing to deny. There’s a mission. And I’m focusing on that,” you reach forward and rip the can from his fingers. Sloshing it against the table as he tries to keep grasp on it.

Grunting as he pushes away from the table, you hear him muttering to himself as he flips open the cooler, “You’re scared. You don’t want to break her heart. Better yet,” the can hisses, “You don’t want her to break yours. Stop blaming it on the mission.”

You look down at the tab of your beer, rocking it back and forth until it snaps off, “She doesn’t deserve to have her heart broken.”

“Nobody does,” Bucky crosses his foot over the other as he leans next to your arm, “but you’re never going to get this, if you don’t grow a pair.”

Rolling your eyes, you knock your hand against his arm as he chokes slightly on the beer, some of it rolling down his nose. You stand, “You just want to say that I copied you by also dating a red head,”

He shrugs, “True. But if you really care about her, then you need to see all of this through her eyes. She’s probably just as scared as you. Look at her,” he points down towards the side of the house. Wanda is fluffing up Fanny’s face as Nat clips the harness on the dog. Fanny needs never ending walks when Yelena is away on mission and Wanda is always happy to take her. Usually you join her, but she didn’t come searching for you this time.

“You can’t let her slip away.”

You shake your head, “And what if I die?”

Bucky sighs, crossing his arm over as his chin rests on the top of his beer, “You have got to stop thinking about every possible bad thing. What if I cut my finger on your broken tab and get an infection and I die? See? It’s stupid.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss your empty can into the trash, “Now, that’s just ridiculous,”

“You’re being ridiculous!” Bucky calls after you as you descend down the stairs, swinging your keys on your finger.

The breeze follows you as you drive with the window of your truck down, the smell of evergreen trees growing the longer you drive. And you don’t drive too long, you spend longer sitting in the bed of the truck. Swinging your legs, you catch the sound of branches snapping and a soft voice talking. You chuckle, it sounds more like a therapy session with the occasional barking response of the therapist.

Fanny makes it through the brush first and sees you. She takes off in a dead sprint, flinging herself straight into the back of the truck and climbing onto your back. You chuckle,

“Oh, well now look who it is. Going on a walk without me? You traitor!” you laugh as the dog wiggles through any attempt you make at petting them.

“You know dogs,” Wanda wraps the leash around her fingers, “They can sense bad energy.”

You hum, “As long as she got a proper walk. You know if you actually ran that whole five mile loop, it’s a decent warmup.”

“Oh really?” Wanda runs her hand down Fanny’s back, “And what if that was my cool down?”

“Pretty weak if I’m honest,” you scoot over slightly on the tailgate, “I do the out and back for my cool down.”

Wanda chuckles as she hauls herself up, Fanny keeping the two of you separated, “You’re so irritating,” Her green eyes glow as they reach yours, working down and seeing you’re still dressed in jeans and your button down, “You aren’t going out for your own warmup?”

You swing your legs, angling your boots that aren’t really made for running. She looks at you as you glance back up, watching how her pupils grow and a reddening in her cheeks as you both brush over the same part of Fanny, “What’s wrong?”

With a sigh, you think back on what Bucky said only a few moments ago, “Look. I need to make a few things clear here.”

Wanda’s face falls slightly as she sits ever so slightly rigid. She doesn’t speak a word, just waits for the bomb you’re about to drop on her lap.

“I don’t like your weird vegan cardboard food that you make me eat once a week. It tastes like dirt, frankly.” you shiver at the thought of the last one she made you, “I don’t like that you’re seemingly right all the time. I don’t like that I need your help when I thought I was fine alone. And I definitely don’t like that you’re making me do this,”

Wanda grins slightly, “Do what exactly?”

Squeezing your fist and stretching out your fingers to attempt to release the energy inside of you, you look up at her, “Tell you that I like you. Just being completely and totally honest. I really like you.”

Her grin grows and her hand that brushed through Fanny’s fur rests on your cheek as her lips press against yours. You smile, her lips the softest things you’ve ever felt and this, the best kiss you’ve had, even with a handful of fur in your mouth.

“I owe someone a beer,” she whispers against your lips,

You groan, “I can’t believe you made a bet about this.”

“Forgive me?” she whispers, her lips pressing against your nose and watching your eyes open with a grin,

“Only if I get one too,”

________________________________

You sigh, staring into your mug of black liquid. It doesn’t steam but has white foam as you attempt to hide what it is to any passing person. Sipping from it, you grimace. Even though it’s not steaming, it isn’t pleasantly cold. Muttering to yourself, you pull your pant legs over your tied shoes and look into the mirror to finish getting dressed. One of the last things you seem capable of it seems.

Tucking in your shirt tighter, you run your hand down and along your belt. Ensuring the buckle is centered, you work your eyes back up until they rest on themselves. They’re stained red, puffed and glistening more than usual. Pressing your hand against a small box in the breast pocket of the jacket you’ve slung over the chair, you feel a lump in your throat grow.

Peering outside the window of the room you’re in, the gathering is an unusual energy. Something you’re certainly not used to. Granted, you aren’t really used to being here anyways. You always thought it was hot and stuffy and now, you know you’ll never be back. The beer is hot, you glance back at your mug, and the folk are cold. The time is young but there’s not a single person trying to rile anything up. If anything, they all want the time to end as quickly as possible.

Buttoning the jacket as you step out of the room, there’s an unsubtle hush that falls over the room. Everyone is dressed up like you, scattered around the gathering area outside of stained glass with chairs that are somehow more uncomfortable than the pews inside. You feel old as you loiter around the area, giving subtle nods to people you pass as your fingers grip tighter to the mug in your hand. You just want to go home and away from this crowd of people. Their eyes on you because they know exactly why you’re here. Who you’re all waiting on.

A silver haired gentleman breaks through the crowd, his presence bringing whispers instead of hushed silence. As he makes his way towards you, he raises a thermos that should be holding coffee. But as he hands you the second one he holds, you grin and see you’ve both learned the same trick. Beer looks so much like coffee.

“You prepare anything?”

Sipping on the lukewarm liquid, you still can’t believe you forgot to put the cans in the fridge, “I was never one to write a speech. Besides, I might not have to.”

Pietro hums, “You’re like me than. Wanda could spew out a speech without a thought. That maid of honor one had everyone crying and the only thing she worked on was saying their names in Russian. Totally unfair,”

You never thought you’d have to make a speech in front of people. The plan was always to do it in private, together. The facts in front of you though, changed all your plans.

“There’s gotta be something you say. Something that comes to mind when you hear her name.”

Your brows raise slightly, there’s a million things that come to your mind. You don’t know if many of them are appropriate for this moment though. They would be much better off staying inside of your brain.

“Her eyes are like rarest emeralds and her kisses, they’re like rain. They can calm any ounce of nerves in my body,” you skim your thumb against your lip, wiping the spilled beer, “Always once to dance, always has to pull me up onto the dance floor. That’s the only reason I was dancing at your wedding,” you chuckle and every second feels like torture, “So many nights with that radio singing.”

You run your hand down your jacket, pausing over that box again, “And I can’t remember now what song it was when we… Not that it matters anyway.”

“It’ll always matters.”

Grimacing, you swallow the lump in your throat, “I don’t… I’m scared.”

Pietro slowly takes the thermos from your shaking hands, “We’ll walk in together?”

“Is that allowed?” you whisper, staring past the now empty courtyard to the large wooden doors as a bell tolls out.

“You’re family.” The crack of his voice practically sends you to the ground in a crying heap, you can see it on his face. Everything about this day keeps him from hiding it all inside.

You wipe your face, feeling your trembling lips let out a trembling voice, “Piet. I never-,”

He pulls you in, arms wrapped too tight for you to even attempt to escape, not that you’d wanted to, “I know you would’ve. That’s all that matters to me.”

______________________________

The place you stepped into was dimly lit and packed to the brim with people waiting to get inside. A couple talked to the host, you caught the sight of money sneakily being passed over, trying to get a table. You nervously squeezed through hordes of people and waiters scrambling to their tables. You’d never been to such a fancy establishment and as you tried to rub the wrinkles from your suit, you hoped to never be back in one.

“Oh man, I’m sorry for being late,” you leaned over and pressed a kiss against her cheek as you whispered, “Again,”

“Honey, you just came from overseas and you’re only a few minutes late,” her hand tightly wrapped around yours beneath the table, trying to find a sense of calm in this hurricane, “I think you’re okay,”

You grinned and looked up finally at the two pairs of eyes that sized up every move you made. You desperately tried to hide the itch in your throat as you tried not to cough, knowing your eyes were beginning to water.

Wanda’s father reached forward and tore a piece of bread for himself and Wanda’s mother. They both buttered the pieces, carefully as if it was an egg shell. Her father didn’t eat it but instead just rested it back on his plate as he interlocked his fingers.

“Where’d you come in from?”

You cleared your throat, quickly putting down your glass of water, “I’m not really allowed to talk about.”

“Well wherever it was,” her mother gave a look to Wanda before glancing down at your fingers, “Looks like they had you playing in the mud.”

You glanced down at the dirt trapped beneath your nails and the streaks of mud along your hand that were partially hidden beneath your shirt. You hid them beneath the table, sliding them slowly across your thighs. That itch was back and you tried to push back the image of Nat gasping for air as you finally broke through the collapsed tunnel. You had been digging nonstop, nearly giving up before a flare was shoved through an opening above you, scorching your neck.

“Mom,” Wanda said through gritted teeth.

You chuckled, trying to make light of the whole situation, “You could say that, yeah. They did,” you voice quiets at the end, “Do we want some wine?”

Her mother hummed as she looked at the menu and Wanda nodded quickly, “Italian?”

You flagged the waiter down and dug deep into the recesses of your mind, pulling out the quick course you were forced to learn before a mission. You tried to speak with confidence as you ordered the Italian wine, closing the menu you glanced across the table. You were expecting impressed looks. But all you got was a continuation of a blank stare from her father and fake enthusiasm from her mother.

“So, you speak Italian, Y/N?”

Before you could speak, Wanda sat upward sharply, “They speak six languages,”

There were some hums, some nods but it was all a ruse for what the two across from you truly wanted to talk about. Wanda’s mother was the first to broach the subject.

“Regarding this, how does it work between you two? I mean with the amount of time you’re gone. Overseas,”

“Do you have any control of your schedule?” Her father was forthright with his questions, his fingers clenched tighter and you swallowed dryly.

Your thumb skimmed along Wanda’s hand, “Uh no, not really. I just get up and go when my team is called. Wherever we’re needed.”

“Following orders,”

There was hostility in his voice. You caught it right away and your brow cocked without a thought, “It is a government agency, sir.”

Wanda breathed in carefully, crossed her leg and rested her foot on your shin.

“Doesn’t sound like there’s room for a stable home life. Doesn’t seem fair to ask that of a partner. Fear of worrying, of losing you while you’re out where you’re needed.”

You nodded slowly, not finding a lie in his words.

“Okay dad, I think I told you not-,”

You sat up straighter. She wasn’t going to fight your battles. You were here to win over her parents so you could add to the rings on her fingers. The man in front of you would never respect you if Wanda did all the talking.

“Yeah, I do have to go do things that I don’t exactly agree on. But I do it so people I love, like Wanda, don’t have to see what I see over where I’m needed here, at home. I don’t plan on doing this until I’m dead. I want a stable future with your daughter,” you glanced over at her and saw the glistening in her emerald eyes, “Have kids, find a way to help make this world a little bit better. I love Wanda and that’s not going to change.”

Her smile beamed over at you as she leaned and pressed her lips to your chin. You chuckled under your breath for her to hear, you felt good. You felt that the respect would finally come. You put your foot down and let your morals be known. You told them exactly what they wanted to hear. The truth. Wanda grabbed your hand and your grin fell when you saw the way her dad stared at you,

“Well, that’s good to hear, Y/N. Until you come home in a box. What about Wanda then?”

__________________________________

You walk inside the church, your eyes talking in everything around you. The pews are slowly filling up with people as they talk amongst each other. Everbloom roses litter the place, covering over the smell of incense that fills all the way up to the high ceilings above. They’re placed at each end of the pews and you gently touch each one on your way down the aisle. The music softly fills the space and hides the words that people are no doubt sharing with each other. You know what they’re saying. You’re all here for the same reason. Still, it puts a knot in the pit of your stomach.

And then you see her.

A beautiful and perfect portrait made just for this day. You feel your breath push out from your lungs as your knees begin to tremble. The stinging of tears threatens to escape your eyes as you press a fist against your lips.

“Hey,” a voice whispers from behind you and you turn, gripping tightly onto their arm, “You’re good.”

“Why am I here,” you clench your face as you move your vice like grip to the edge of a front row pew.

“You know why you’re here. Always is love, isn’t it?”

You scoff, glancing up at the red head with her own ring on her finger, “I messed up, Nat. I really messed up.”

Nat pulls you down with her, trying to get comfortable in the wooden seat, “We all do. No fight could ever end what you two shared.”

You grimace, running both hands down the front of your jacket. One hides a flask and the other that small box. She’s right but you didn’t want her to be right. You could never hate each other, none of your fights ever ended that way. Even though sometimes they did. Sometimes you thought you had really ended things forever, made her hate you beyond words.

_______________________________

You knocked on the door loudly for the umpteenth time, swaying slightly from the alcohol in your system and slightly from nervousness. You stood there, thinking about what to say. The door whipped open before you could think of a proper greeting. Wanda saw you there and gave you a scolding look when she saw that case of beer next to your feet.

“Y/N,” her voice was tight, the arms that crossed in front of her were even tighter,

“Yeah,”

“I have neighbors. What’re you doing? I thought you were supposed to be hitting the town Bucky,” you could hear the tone as she said his name.

You sigh, “Well, you know. A beer with you sounded better.”

She rolled her eyes and pressed the door closer to her back as she saw your eyes try to peek inside. You sighed, “And I lost my house keys,”

“Oh, you don’t know how to breach a door? Or pick a lock?”

You patted your jeans, trying to muffle the sound of jangling metal, “Uh, can’t get there. Lost my car keys.”

Wanda sighed and stepped further into the threshold, trying to keep you from getting closer to the door, “Uber.”

You were running out excuses, “I misplaced my cellphone.”

Her green eyes glowed ever so slightly, her phone had been ringing and buzzing from the moment you left the bar, picked up this case of beer and until you started to slam on her door.

She smiled softly, “Y/N, these are lies.”

“Okay, okay. You’re right. You got me, you got me.”

Wanda tilted her head, brows raised, “All right. Then tell me the truth,”

You sighed, “I already did. A beer with you sounds better. And… I’m sorry.”

Her eyes widened slightly. It was all you said. You added no words to try and explain anything. Just a pure apology. A pure understanding that you had messed up and you owned it. A step in the right direction for both of you. Wanda knocked her head against the threshold with a groan and kicked open the door with her foot. You leaned down and picked up the case of beer as she watched you carefully from her lean against the threshold.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever heard you say that,” she admitted as you stepped past her and listened to the door lock.

You rolled your eyes as she walked to the kitchen and replaced her ice cold beers with the lukewarm ones you brought her. She shook her head, “You need to remember to get cold beers. I won’t be here forever to remind you,”

You scoffed as you cracked open both cans, “When did you become a mother? That’s what my mother says to me,”

“One step at a time, buckaroo. You still need to learn to take care of yourself,” Wanda snatched the can from your hands, “Besides, I have to learn to relax. You can’t control your schedule.”

You nodded and took a sip with her, “I can control who I see when I’m home though,”

“You both were celebrating being alive and-,”

A hand was placed on her cheek as your lips found hers, “Don’t make excuses for me. I’m home. I’m yours.”

__________________________________

You never lied. You were her’s the moment you stepped off the Quinjet to the moment you stepped back on it. But those steps frequented more on than they did off. Something with the world needing more saving meant that you were working more overtime. Your schedule was creating problems and Wanda’s wasn’t any better. And when she was home, she was arguing with her parents about you while you sat and waited as dinner grew cold and colder.

Efforts were put into trying to convince the team into putting you two on a mission together. Maybe you could fix your problems by kicking ass together. But that was quickly shot down and as much as you wanted to fight it, you knew it was the right decision. The two of you couldn’t work together. It would compromise the mission. You knew how you were when Wanda was injured. How your blood boiled. You’d lose every sense of duty to the mission if you ever saw Wanda get hurt in front of you.

And as you remember that feeling, of undying devotion, the trembling in your knees grows once more as you reach out for something to hold on to. You have been able to ignore that trembling, just feeling it in your hands as you pressed them beneath your arms. The voice of the priest was nothing more than mumblings as you glanced over at those emerald eyes every few moments. The grin on her face brings back that knot in your stomach all over again, just like the very first time you saw her.

As you reach out to keep yourself from stumbling, your hand rests on the perfectly shined box in front of you. Made just for an occasion like this, it was exactly what Wanda had wanted. Everything about today was planned far in advance because she knew, she always had to be the one prepared for the future. You barely could remember to put beer in the fridge.

You glance over to the side once again, wondering how the brushstrokes captured all of her so perfectly.

__________________________________

You sat at the bar, finishing the glass of caramel colored beer as another sweating glass is placed next to your hand. You raised the glass to the bartender as you started to walk towards the group. A hand grabbed your shoulder roughly and shook you, your beer slightly foaming out of the glass and spilling across your hand.

Running your hand across the top, you flick the foam at Steve in retaliation, “Go get your own beer, you geyser!”

Steve laughed, “So, what about Wanda? You talk to her?”

You chuckled, picking at the peeling skin on your fingers, “Yeah, yeah, I talked to her. She’s good, man. She’s just, uh… She’s gotten really good at buying things to add to my ‘Honey Do List’,”

He ran his hand down the scruff on his face, “You’re sounding more and more like Buck over there. Except she traded her name for a band.”

“I heard it’s still Romanoff,”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Only on mission,”

The table erupted into jeers as they chucked peanuts and pretzels at the escaping man but Steve was still staring at you. You chuckled, “I’m surprised she’s still there, honestly. I don’t know how she does it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Life after this. I mean, hero like her, how do you walk away from all this, you know? Work intelligence and tell us where to go.”

Steve scratches at his forehead, “Yeah but she’s still in the team. She works some ops and then makes you brisket for dinner.”

You grinned but shook your head, “Yeah but that’s it. This… this isn’t just a job. This is a, it’s a life. This is ten times the life most people live.”

“Okay. And you remember that she gave that up for you then. Now, go get us some beers, yeah?

You stood, “Listen man, if I ever lose sight of that… you tell me to go get my eyes checked.”

He smiled, “Let’s do that now, how many fingers am I holding up.” You watched as he held up his hand but they were not how you normally held up numbers. He twisted and contorted his hands, putting up three fingers sideways on one hand and another with only half a finger up.

“What… what the hell is this? Jenga? Don’t worry, I know what she’s done,” you downed the rest of your beer and gently placed it down on the table, “We’re two people but one beating heart. I’m lucky enough to have that, so I’m gonna give it all of me.”

“Good,” he nodded, “Don’t ever forget that. Just give it all you got and fill up that pitcher, will you?” He flicked you with his empty, glass, droplet of beer dropping onto you, “you’ve been baptized, go get more of that holy liquid. Chop, ch-,”

As his hand smacked against your shoulder, the side of the bar slammed in towards you. The pitcher was ripped from your hand as debris blew up all around you. Through the ringing of your ears, you heard Steve talk to you. He asked if you were okay and as you blinked through the dirt in your eyes, you gathered your surroundings through the smoky haze around you, only seeing with the help of the neon lights.

You climbed slowly up to your feet, wiping away glass in your arms as you started to help the team triage the people who were inside the bar. Bucky came running through the half caved in entrance and met you there,

“You good man? It’s chaos out there,”

You glanced around you, “Yeah, yeah. We got a lot of people we need to help right now,”

Screams came from outside as people tried to escape the area and as you looked at the damage inside, you knew there had to be damage on the street. Jogging outside, carts of the street market are thrown all over the road. Food, souvenirs and debris littered the area. People called out for each other and there were others who were trying to stop anyone to help them. You stopped for them.

Grabbing people form the street and carrying them inside for the team to start working on them. You coughed at the smoke that was inside the bar and the dust you inhaled from the blast, but you kept working. You directed people away from the blast zone, telling them to go to the hospital to find anyone missing.

A younger yell caught your attention as you whipped around and saw a young boy in the middle of the street. Blood poured down his arm, dirt covered him from head to toe.

“Aysha!”

You jogged over to him, “Hey, Aysha what? What’s Aysha?”

The little boy held up a burnt pink teddy bear and you eyes widened, “My sister, Aysha!”

“Aysha!” You yelled out and held out your hand for the child to stay there, “Hold on, Aysha!”

You started to head down the street, peering into parked trucks and underneath them. Trying to listen out for anything above the wailing sirens and screams. A few paces down the street and you hear the soft sob of a child. You jogged back to a truck and saw a small child had curled up on the floor of truck. As you opened the door, you kneel down and meet their terrified gaze,

“Aysha?”

They nodded and you quickly grabbed them, running them back to their older brother, “My friend Clint is gonna take you two inside, okay? He’s gonna keep you safe.” Clint had exited the bar quickly and takes the child from your arms, guiding the older one inside for refuge.

“You good, Y/N?” He asked quickly as you wiped blood from your ears,

“I’m good, go help Steve. I’m going back out.”

You glanced down the street, watching people take the last of the limping and injured out and away. You walked behind the last of them, ensuring they made it out of the perimeter and clearing the way for the ambulances that were no doubt on the way. As you threw a destroyed cart out of the way, you froze as you heard a phone begin to ring.

Beside a parked car, you saw a lone backpack hidden behind the back tires. You barely have time to remember the lecture you had taken about bombers. Always check for secondary devices.

________________________________

You clear your throat as your thumb strokes along the lid of the box.

There was one thing Wanda didn’t decide. She left it up to you and you wish she hadn’t. It was something you didn’t want to think about. It made all of this real and you couldn’t escape from it.

Open casket or closed.

“I hate all of this…” you whisper, your finger following each grain of the wood, “You knew I would. You took care of everything. You took care of me and I…it went to hell. We had one too many long nights away. The dish broke and I can’t remember whose fault it was. Not that it matters anyway.”

Trying to breath through your clogged nose, you take another glance at that portrait that captures her so perfectly in time. The way her hair fell to frame her face, you even notice the small lines of the scrunch of her nose.

Something you saw nearly every night, after a shared kiss. If you tried hard enough, you could convince yourself that you could still smell her, feel the cold touch of her hand on yours.

“You left me standing in that driveway dust and cranked your car and drove away. Just some time, Piet told me when you dropped your bags off there. Maybe I should’ve gone there. Maybe I should’ve brought you back home. But I signed up for that damn mission.” your lips tremble, “I nearly died. You picked up that mission. You did die.”

Chuckling, you press your hand against your mouth as it nearly turns into a sob, “Guess you did still love me. Revenge, right? That’s what it was? I was still in surgery when you left. Maybe I could’ve convinced you to stay. You shouldn’t have been there. I can take a bullet, you can’t. And I’ll ask why for the rest of my life. And I’ll never come to understand it, even if this god came in front of me and told me why.”

Hot tears run down your face as you grip the small box through your jacket, “I can’t recall if we said goodbye. But,” you take out the small box and carefully pry open the leather, watching how the ruby reflects the candlelight around it.

Gently, you rest it on top of the lid, “I’ll try to remember the beer. And I’ll say goodbye, now that you’re gone.”

__________________________

#wanda #wanda maximoff #wanda marvel #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff fanfic #wanda angst #wanda imagine #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda x you #wanda x y/n #wanda mcu

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mjolnirswriststrap · 7 months

Text

You’re The Reason I Smoke

_____________________

Summary- reader needs something to take the edge off, and doesn’t know super soldiers can’t really get drunk.

Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: smoking, alcohol consumption, Bucky roughly grabs your face, that’s all 😇

Masterlist

This is my first Bucky fic, so go easy on me, there will be mistakes, my only hope is that I get better with practice ❤️

Edit: I’ve fixed some things and found out there was a whole paragraph missing, do not copy and paste from notes app! 😂

You just wanted a quick drink of water from the kitchen, you didn’t expect him to be there, leaning against the counter. White tank top tucked into navy blue slacks, a black belt with a golden buckle shines at you. He was quite literally, halfway undressed, you couldn’t help but to glance at his arms, both stunning in their own way. You favored the left, the thought of what it could do was enough for you. These kind of thoughts are why you smoke, and you need to right now. Having fantasies about your coworker isn’t good for your health. You quickly grab a cup filling it half way: taking a sip before dumping it down the sink, walking out without interacting with anyone else in the room. Strolling out the front door of Stark tower, you spot your favorite green bench. It doesn’t have any particularly favorable qualities about it, except for Tom, the old man that sat himself there everyday, protesting everything Tony was doing. It had been a month and it didn’t seem like he was going anywhere so you made friends. An eyebrow raise and an offer of cigarettes was all it took for Tom to open up. After hearing him out, you kind of agreed with him and not your current boss.

Your eyes search the surrounding area and your smile falters. There’s no Tom, no sign saying “no more playing god”. Sighing, you sit alone, ripping open a new pack, sliding a single cigarette out instead of two. You feel around every pocket before you realize you left your lighter on your dresser upstairs. Which was weird since you always lay it on top of your pack. You look around seeing a newsstand that sells some basic necessities, down the street, behind some food trucks. You start to feel triumphant before you think about the fact; your wallet was also left on your dresser.

You tell yourself surely someone is going to be leaving soon and you’ll just wait and borrow a dollar from Nat, Sam or Wanda. As if the moment could be any worse, you see a wall of a man walk out the front door of the tower. Just the sight of him makes your nerves vibrate, you can’t decide if it’s a good or bad buzzing. You’re casual with each other, never too friendly and never unpleasant. To him and everyone else, you two were just regular coworkers. To you, you were the office crusher and he the brooding, well mannered super soldier, you’re crushing on. Maybe he’d be a nice coworker and lend you a dollar, or maybe he won’t and you’ll look stupid. Your brain continues to overthink as your feet take you to catch up with his large paces. It was a hike to get up to your room and having to come all the way back down just didn’t really feel worth it, so, humiliation it is!

“Hey Sergeant.” Bucky stops in his tracks, slowly turning around. Softly smiling when his eyes land on you, “Hey Птичка, what are you doing hanging around out here?”. You take a breath, processing him, processing the use of the Russian name he always calls you, Google can’t help you translate since you have no clue where to even start. He could be calling you dumbass, which is the most probable scenario in your mind. “I just came out for a quick smoke, and to see my guy, but he’s not here today and I forgot my lighter so I’m 0 for 2.” You scratch your neck, dryly laughing.

Bucky slowly shook his head up and down as you spoke, as if he was interested in every word you said, hopeful you say “I was wondering if you had a dollar I could borrow? I left my wallet upstairs and I really need a lighter right now. I will have one crispy dollar waiting for you when you get back,” you pleadingly look between his bright eyes, you finish your plea with a “, scouts honor.” And a look of seriousness. “You know, you really shouldn’t smoke those things, they could kill y’a.” Bucky says as he reaches into his pocket, handing you a 20 dollar bill. “That’s too much, I just need a dollar Bucky!” You say, shoving his hand back into his chest. “Well,” He smiles, grabbing your hand, putting the 20 in it. “, I dont have anything smaller.” You thank him, promising again to have his money waiting when he got back, not mentioning the slight scolding he just gave you. Your lung health seems out of ordinary for someone like Bucky to think about or even care for.

You hear a beeping sound coming from his pocket, without checking it, Bucky says “Sorry to cut this short but I really have to get going or I’m gonna be late.”, giving you an apologetic look. You shake your head no before words formed in your mouth “no of course, I’d hate to hold you up, got a hot date?” You shot off that last part without thinking, you internally scream at your attempt of small talk. “Something like that, Steve’s idea.” You die a little on the inside, the buzzing turning into a throbbing in your skull. You pray the obvious blind date fails miserably as you wave him off, watching his back as he walks away.

Briskly you make your way to the stand, purchase a lighter and go sit down on your bench again. Except this time, “where the hell did my cigarettes go?” You say patting your pockets looking around the bench.

_____________________________

Bucky watches from the window as you stand there in shock, wondering where Tom is. He flicks your lighter, open and then closed, again and again as he watches you sit down and fumble with the cancer sticks that have some sort of hold on you. He secures his tie before walking towards the elevator. Sure, Bucky had smoked once or twice at a bar when he was younger. But that was then, and now science knows what they can do to people, he knows what they could do to you. He didn’t care when other people smoked, just you. Bucky couldn’t wrap his head around it. He felt an instinctual urge to protect you from hurting yourself. Thank God you weren’t a field agent and he didn’t have to constantly watch your back when guns were involved. It would be a lot harder for him to conceal his minor infatuation with you. You run laps around his head, even as he’s making his way through the lobby and out of the tower to have dinner with someone else, a girl Steve swore was the one. He couldn’t blame his friend for trying to get him back out there, it had been 70 years.

He knows you won’t be successful in your little smoke break. Thanks to his lock picking, he held your silver zippo in his pocket as he nonchalantly walked out the front door, keeping his eyes to the right, purposely ignoring your burning stare. He didn’t expect to hear feet running up behind him, or hear your sweet voice. The sound of his title fell so easily off your lips. You were the only person who called him Sergeant, everyone else seemingly knew it was reserved just for you.

Bucky listened intently as you made a case for a dollar loan. He would give you a million dollars if he had it, he just didn’t know how to show it. Too thick of a skin had grown over his heart for him to be able to tell you how he felt. Not being able to deny you, he hands over the first bill he pulled from his pocket, taking the opportunity to distract you by grabbing your hand, his other hand slips the little cardboard box from your loose hoodie pocket. You don’t notice as he slides them into the pocket of his slacks.

He’s about to walk away when his phone beeps, signaling he was already late for his so called date. He would rather stand here talking to you all night. Wanting to end the night before it even started Bucky said his goodbyes, and was almost home free, till you said hot date. He couldn’t lie about this, so he assured you it was Steve’s idea. He played it cool as he walked away, but inside, he hated the way your face fell when he confirmed your suspicions. He could almost say, you looked jealous. He knows you feel something for him too, but without Bucky being able to tell you how he feels. It’s going to be a never ending loop of will they or won’t they.

_______________________

It was late, and Bucky still hadn’t come to get his 20 back. You knew the money was an excuse to go down stairs, light one up and wait for him to get back. You truly just wanted to know how his date went, would there be a second? Leaning against the brick wall you take a long drag as you pull your hoodie tighter around you.

Bucky turns the corner and sees you standing there, cigarette dangling between your fingers, you looked irresistible. Maybe it was the nightmare of a date, or maybe it was him clearing out the pub down the street of draft beer. He especially thinks it was the way your lips perfectly wrapped around the orange tip. He didn’t have much time to pin point a reason why before he sprung into action. He stalked towards you, you smiled, opening your mouth to speak but before you could say anything, he rips the cigarette from your hand, throwing it to the ground and smashing it under his boot. He grabs your chin, staring into your eyes. Your breathing matched each other. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t move yourself from his grasp, Bucky could smell the staleness on your breath, he was so close he could feel your deep gasps fan across his face “I don’t want to see you with those things again, got it?” He hides his real frustration.

You’re confused, one second it’s casual Friday with this guy and now he’s pressuring you to quit smoking in the horniest way possible. You shake your head, agreeing that you got it. You weren’t actually going to quit because he said so, but whatever got him away from you and kept you from doing something you regret. You could smell the alcohol on him. You knew he wasn’t in a right state of mind, maybe he just really hated smoking and cared about your well being, he just came on a little too strong due to the drinks. You’ve dealt with plenty of drunks before, so you decide to change the subject. You loosen yourself from him, careful not to push him away completely. “How was your date, Sergeant?” You ask innocently.

One word was enough. Bucky can’t take it anymore, still close enough to do the one thing that would convey everything he felt, he leans forward and presses a light kiss to your lips, quick and gentle, barely there. It was enough to cause all the buzzing inside of you to stop. Everything stopped, the cars passing, the traffic lights changing, pedestrians walking by, the low hum of people in their apartments. The world disappeared, and all you could see was Bucky standing in front of you. Before you could protest, refusing to take advantage of a drunk person, Bucky blurts out “You ruined it. All I could think about was you. Everything she said was wrong because she wasn’t you.”.

You’re stunned, like all the air was removed from your lungs, you know you can’t take what he says now for certain, but it felt good to hear it. “Would you rather it have actually been me?” You say feeling brave. Bucky breaks eye contact at your question. He doesn’t answer as he faces the ground and lets his hair mask his emotions. You take his face in your hand, mirroring your stance moments before, you lift his glassy eyes to meet yours. “Yeah.” Was his response after searching your sincere eyes. You were playing a dangerous game with your own heart. You knew whatever you got into tonight with Bucky, would be just that, tonight only. It would only lead to more heartache. You decide to be a good friend right now, not a coworker, not a peer, not a hookup.

“You look tired Buck, let’s get you up to bed.” You receive no response as Bucky just watches you, gauging your reactions to him. You smile lightly and gently tug on his arm “I’ll even tuck you in, if you make this easy on me” you say referencing the maze of a tower you have to drag a drunk man through. It earns a “deal” from Bucky, which is enough for you to start moving towards the door. To your surprise, Bucky walked fine, stood up straight the whole way up the elevator. No lost shoes or throw up like a normal person. He physically showed no signs of being drunk, but his words screamed to you that he was intoxicated.

You point to a door, silently asking if it was the right room. Bucky nods, procuring a key from his pocket. You take it from him, assuming he has no hand eye coordination in his state. You jimmy open the door and let yourself in, holding the door wide open for Bucky to stomp in and make his way to the bed. He kicks his shoes off, taking off his tie and jacket, he lays them on the back of a small chair in the corner. “You don’t have to tuck me in, I appreciate the gesture though.” Bucky says lowly, now avoiding eye contact.

Still reeling from the kiss downstairs, you don’t notice Bucky’s change of mood. Nodding your head you bid him goodnight. “Well, here’s your $20 back,” you reach into the slim, side pocket of your leggings, pulling out the promised crispy bill. Bucky doesn’t look up as you place the money on top of his nightstand, he’s too embarrassed. He never should have said those things. He let it bubble up inside and when it finally came out, it wasn’t the right words. Bucky knows his confession sounded harsh. He used to think maybe one day he’d get over himself and attempt flirting with you. But that mission failed before it began.

_________________

Jumping up in a sweat filled haze, you shake the sleep from your head, the dream had been too real, too detailed, and rich; sickeningly sweet. The movie that played on through the night was just a fairytale. It could be real, but it was all contingent on a drunk Bucky. You needed to ready yourself for work, checking your phone you see 7:34 glaring back at you. Since yesterday was a leggings and hoodie day, you figured you’d make yourself presentable for this Saturday morning. Your job in stark tower was an unexpected one, no one else ever had the job or ever will have the job, Tony and Pepper’s lifeline. Pepper makes sure Tony is sorted and you make sure Pepper and the avengers are sorted. You see things Earth’s mightiest heros wouldn’t want anyone else seeing. You wouldn’t say you’re an assistant, or a pr manager, a wrangler if anything. Covering up the red in ledgers, wild nights out, a 17 year old spider who should be in bed for school, the usual at the tower. So what you wore wasn’t really a topic of conversation, if leggings is what the woman with all the knowledge wanted, she’d get to wear them to her 9-5.

Today felt different, you wore a short feminine blazer with a long black pencil skirt. A creme colored chemise tucked behind a single hooked button of your jacket. You walk from your small 3rd floor apartment down to an elevator that would take you to the avengers common room, you would do debriefs at 8 every morning. It consisted of wagging a heavy finger at who embarrassed themselves the day or night before, reminding Peter that his homework is more important than finding bad guys. And today, it wasn’t subject to change. You walk into the room, everyone lazily strewn onto the couches. Pepper being the only presentable one besides yourself. You can feel a thickness in the air as you make eye contact with Bucky, an unspoken “we need to talk” passes between you.

“Good Morning Team, I just wanted to start this day off by saying, you didn’t do too bad yesterday, I’m almost impressed.” you say looking down at your data pad, checking off “introduction” on the meeting schedule. “Sam, you didn’t draw a crowd of fans at the veteran’s food bank yesterday! Gold star for you. Wanda, I know you’re just trying to help, but Ms. Rosita told you to stop trying to teach Carmen magic. She’s only 5.” You finish by giving Wanda a pleading half smile. Some of this stuff should be common sense, you think, as you check off things they’ve heard a million times. “And finally, Peter, mind telling the class why my eyes are on you?” You question, eyebrows raised. You tap your foot, waiting for his response. Peter sits there with his mouth agape, not knowing he’d already been found out. “I uh..I…” he looks around for help. You assist him, “I uh heard someone was being bullied so I webbed Flash to the basketball net.” You shake your head, you know he means well, he just doesn’t pick the best corse of action, every time. “I’m sorry Y/N, Mr Stark. I just couldn’t see Flash hurting people who don’t deserve it, no one deserves to be bullied.” You nod your head at him, “That’s very sweet Peter, but you can’t be a vigilante. I’ll call your Aunt later.”. He groans looking down, fully understanding “Yes, Y/N”.

You sign off on the debrief “well that should be it guys, don’t get into any trouble today, please, it’s bad enough I work weekends, make it easy on me” you giggle, obviously joking, you loved your job. You started making your way out of the common room, heading towards the elevator, you pressed up. Never fully accepting that you worked in the penthouse. you worked beside Pepper in Tony’s office, of course they wanted to keep you close, you knew too much. All it is, is a tiny desk in a corner that’s facing the wall, a modest studio on the 3rd floor, a company credit card and knowing things that could easily get you killed. It wasn’t all food banks and bullies. You sigh as the elevator takes longer than usual. Completely forgetting about Bucky, you’re taken back when he taps your shoulder. “Hey, could we talk?” You nod, stepping away from the elevator. “I just wanted to apologize for last night, I shouldn’t have done or said that. It was out of line.” You smile softly, listening to him. He was drunk so he has an excuse, the fact that he’s standing here practically begging for forgiveness melts your heart. “Sergeant, you have nothing to worry about, everyone drinks a little too much sometimes. You should just be thankful it was me out there and not a paparazzi.” You give him grace, letting him know there is no hard feelings. Bucky looks at you, still ever so confused.He thought the coddling was unusual last night, now he understand why, you thought he was drunk off of human beer.

“Wait Y/N, you do realize my metabolism is so high, alcohol can’t affect me? Maybe the mead from Asgard, but nothing from the pub down the street. I’m apologizing for grabbing you, for telling you what to do, for kissing you, but I’m not sorry for telling you how I feel.”

You’re left speechless at his confession, “I..I uh don’t know what to say.” Scratching the back of your head you kick your toe around trying to make sense of the situation. Before you could, you see a blonde head of hair making their way towards you and the elevator. “C’mon Y/N, you know Tony doesn’t like to wait.” Pepper says, only playfully scolding you. She pulls you into the elevator away from Bucky, before you could say anything she’s waving as the doors close “Have a good day Mr. Barnes.”. Pepper is oblivious to what she just ripped you away from. You couldn’t blame her though, you’d talk to Bucky after work, letting last night play over and over while you sat at your desk.

_________________

PART 2

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x y/n #avengers #mcu #marvel #bucky x you #avengers fanfiction

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hheaven-sentt · 7 months

Text

an oasis, a sanctuary

summary: i would say it was nice to see you, but it wasn't really | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 2.8K

warnings: 18+ MDNI, SMUT!!!, mentions of a toxic/transactional relationship, mentions of alcohol consumption, leon is kinda mean but like he's going through it, angst to smut pipeline

notes: this is like. half baked smut but i wanted to post it | ao3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’re fighting like teenagers. It’s pathetic, really, but you can’t will yourself to move from your spot on the floor. You’re sitting in front of the bedroom door, back rigid against the wooden planes. You feel stupid, stubborn, and, most of all, lonely. You know Leon’s either sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for you to crawl out from your cave of solitude, or he’s left entirely. You didn’t hear the front door open, though, so you’re betting on the first option.

You hear footsteps traipse across the padding of the carpet before they come to a stop outside the door. You hear him sigh.

“Are you going to open the door?” he asks. You feel your frown stretch down further over your chin.

“No,” you say defiantly. He sighs again. “Go away, Leon,”

“You’re being ridiculous,” he says. You want to groan, knowing he’s right. But you’re stubborn, cut from a taught cloth.

“You can sleep on the couch tonight,” you say. “I’d like to go to bed, and I don’t want you to stand outside the door all night,”

“What is this? Marriage?” he says, frustrated. You can picture him running a hand down his face. His comment flares the anger in you again. Of course it’s not marriage. It’s not even funny to consider it that. You laugh quietly.

“Go away, Leon,” you say again. “I want to go to bed,”

“I’m not letting you go to sleep without resolving this,”

“Too bad,”

He groans, and you hear a bit of shuffling, suggesting that he’s sat down on the floor outside the door. You feel a bit of pride, knowing that you’d bothered him enough to make him do that.

You consider, briefly, telling him to pack his things and never come back. It would be the worst pain you’d ever experienced, but how would that heartache be any different than what you feel every day? He barely has the decency to return your calls. He’s away for weeks–months even–without a word. You want to scream at him, tell him how much you ache and hate him. You want to throw things at him, bruise him in the way he has you. Your fists curl up at the thought. What would it be like to be free of this? What would it be like to live your days without worrying if Leon was coming back?

As if he can hear your thoughts, he says, “You knew what you signed up for,”

You did. You knew what was to come when you invited him to stay. You knew the way things would end when you sewed up an open wound upon his return in the middle of the night. You knew the story. You’d thought that maybe, somehow, there was a way to change it, to rewrite the script to fit your desires better.

“I signed up for you, Leon,” you respond. “Not this,”

You wanted Leon. You yearned for him more than a desert yearns for rain. You wanted the Leon who laughed at your jokes and watched movies with you. You wanted the Leon who washed the dishes after dinner. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want the radio silence for days or more, or the gag order of his job. He got to know you, how could he deny you the same right?

“I’m leaving in two days,” he says. You cringe against the door. “Is this how you want to leave it?”

“I don’t know, Leon,” you whisper. He sighs heavily from the other side of the wood. You hear him shuffle.

“Call me when you make up your mind,” he says.

You don’t hear from him for two months. You’re almost expecting to get a call that says he’s dead, or never hear from him again at all. It’s an agonizing two months. You spend most of your nights alone, wasting away on your couch. It’s not much different to what you did before, but at least you had good company.

The knock on the door is abrupt, almost angry. You shuffle over to it, slowly and languidly like you’ve just been woken up from a deep sleep. You’ve been dazed the last eight weeks. You peer through the peephole; Leon stands, a bit worse for wear than when you last saw him, drenched in rain. You sigh.

“I know you’re home,” he says through the door. “I can see the light on through the frame,”

You grimace, and begrudgingly open the door. Leon looks good, almost better than you remember even if he’s got a few healing bruises and cuts. “Unfair,”

He shrugs, and goes to move around you to enter the space, like he always has. You put a hand out to stop him. He furrows his brow.

“What do you want?” you ask. He blinks at you. “Don’t act confused, Leon. There’s no way you actually thought you could just waltz back in here without a word for a few months,”

“Isn’t that what we always do?” he says. You bristle at the words. He’s not wrong. Every time he’s left, you’ve welcomed him back with open arms without a second thought, regardless of contact over the time he was gone. You can’t keep doing that to yourself, though.

“I deserve more than that,” you say. He takes a step back. “I don’t want this anymore,”

“What are you saying?” he asks.

You take a deep breath, holding your ground. “Until you can step up, I don’t want you. I can’t do this anymore, Leon,”

“Do what?”

You frown. “This,” you say, motioning between you. You glance at the clock. “It’s half past two, Leon. And you show up at my door, expecting what? A welcome home party? That’s too much. I haven’t heard from you in months, Leon. I thought you were dead. Wouldn’t you agree that I deserve a bit more than a shrug? That I deserve a better you?”

He blinks at you as your words seep into his skin. You half expect him to ignore you, to stumble away and find another couch to crash on and someone else’s food to eat. He’s frowning deeply, setting in lines that look more like scars.

“Of course you deserve more,” he says. “I’ve always known that,”

This enrages you. “Then why haven’t you been that for me?”

“Because that’s not what I am,” he says plainly. You feel your eye twitch. “You’ve known that. This is what we do. We find comfort in each other for a few nights and not any more,”

Your breathing is heavy, labored. You want to push him, shove him out of the doorframe and back into the hallway. “That’s all we were?”

“I thought you knew that,”

“Get out,” you say. He’s not even in your apartment, just standing in the threshold, but your words ring. He takes another step back. “Don’t ever fucking come back. Can’t believe I wasted my fucking time on someone who didn’t even care,”

“I care,” he says. You roll your eyes, moving to close the door.

“Get out,” you say again. He doesn’t stop you as the door shuts. You stand in front of it for a moment too long, wondering if you’ve made the right decision. Ultimately, you step away, return to your spot on the couch.

You don’t cry like you might’ve a few months ago. Instead, you stare at the floor, watching the way the moonlight catches on the grooves of the wood. Everything feels for naught. You feel defeated, detached. You wonder if he’s slinked down the hall to his car yet or if he’s still standing at your door. You don’t move to check.

Life without him is normal. You don’t feel the guilt as you might’ve in another time. You continue your work, spending your time photographing galas and balls as if nothing bad has ever happened to you, as if no pain has ever washed down your back. You feel lucky to avoid him. The city can feel so small at times, and still, you have yet to cross paths with him.

The museum unveiling is beautiful. Golden ribbons and streamers streak across the ceiling, the bar looks to be made of crystal, and every waiter sounds vaguely british. You’re enjoying yourself, a glass of celebratory champagne in your hand as a perk of the job, and you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel a bit stiff in your outfit, but the theme is black tie formal, and you know your supervisor would skin you if you didn’t dress accordingly. Absent-mindedly, you pick at the hem of your shirt with your free hand. Your camera hangs loose around your neck like a badge of honor.

“You look nice,” comes from your left. Your blood runs cold for a moment. Of course you’d see him here of all places. You spy the president and his family from the corner of your eye.

Turning on your heel to face him, you say, “Thank you. Had to dig out the formal clothes,”

Leon smiles at you. “Me too,” he motions to his stiff suit. “This thing hasn’t seen the light of day in years,”

You want to bypass the formalities and ditch him where he stands. You’re still so angry at him. “Enjoying yourself?” you ask instead.

He shrugs. “You know crowds have never been my thing. Bar’s open, though, so I’ll take what I can get,”

You huff a laugh. “How’d you even get in here?”

“Last minute invite,” he says, glancing over your shoulder. “Figured I should get out of the house,”

The two of you go silent for a moment. He looks well, put together and whole. You like how he’s carrying himself. You clear your throat.

“I would say it was nice to see you,” you say. “But it wasn’t, really,”

This makes him smile. “I’m glad I got to see you,” he says. “You gave me a moment of reprieve. An oasis,”

You blink at him. For some reason, everything begins to make sense. And you hate him for it. All at once, you realize that your apartment became something of a sanctuary for him, and you denied him of it. It wasn’t without reason, but still, you deprived a man of few constants of the one thing he sought comfort from. And you feel guilty.

“How’s work going?” you ask. He falters for a moment.

“And here I thought our transaction was done,” he half jokes. “Work is okay. I’m sidelined for the next few weeks because the doctor said I could tear my ACL if I so much as jump a little bit, so here’s to office work,”

“So you’re in town for a while?” you ask. The question stands in the air for a moment, and you wish you could snatch it away from where it idles. There’s a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah, for at least another few weeks,”

You nod slowly. “I still live in that dingy old place, if you ever want to stop by. Y’know, if you need an oasis,”

His smile widens into a full grin, showing off his teeth and splitting his face in two. You can’t help but return it.

“On one condition,” he says. You quirk a brow. “I’ll call when I’m away,”

Your heart constricts, and you feel silly for letting it. “I expect results, Leon,”

He laughs. “You’ll get them,” he promises. “Can I admit something?”

You nod.

“I’m not what you deserve,” he says. You frown. “Wasn’t then, still not now. But I will be. You deserve that, and I’m willing to give,”

You reach out to him, feeling his sturdy muscle beneath your hands for the first time in a while. “I trust you,”

He looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. You’re sure that if you were, he’d kiss you. You want him to anyway.

When you get back to your apartment, slightly tipsy and light, you can’t help but think about him. Maybe this time, things will be different. You find yourself praying to any deity that might listen that they will be. You deserve for them to be different. He arrives a few moments later, standing with his hands in his pockets at your door.

And when he kisses you, you feel like you’re floating. There’s something here that wasn’t there before, and you can feel it. It’s electric, it feels like coming home. You hadn’t known how much you really missed him until his hands are on your waist, holding you steady because your body threatens to collapse. There’s a hunger behind his actions, one that claims to have missed you too, but he keeps it at bay. His lips are softer than you remember. You’re pulling him as close as you can get him before you morph into one.

“Missed this,” he says, moving to trail kisses down your jaw. You sigh. “Missed you,”

You’re fumbling with the button on his suit jacket, itching to push it off his shoulders. He lets you, and you splay your hands across his back. He’s leaving bruises across your chest, blue and purple blossoms that will certainly ache in the morning. You’re clawing for him, begging for more. He lets up on his assault on your neck and chest to lean his forehead against yours.

His breathing is labored, steady and strong in his chest beneath your hands. You feel alight.

“Leon,” you say, words whispered between kiss swollen lips. “Please,”

He sighs, heavy and gruff, before hauling you into his arms. There’s a fervent stumble to your room before you’re placed between plush pillows and blankets, and he’s above you. The first three buttons of his shirt have come undone, exposing the flesh of his clavicle.

“Tell me this is what you want,” he says, soft and sweet. You swallow thickly, nodding. “Use your words, sweetness,”

You could die right there. “Yes, Leon. I want this,”

He drops his head slightly, sighing. “Thank God,”

He bends to kiss you again, working to unbutton your slacks. Once they’re gone, he smooths his hand over your thigh gently, making you shiver. Leon was always gentle with you, but there’s a different tone to his movements now. He seeks to appease you, to satiate whatever hunger you may have regardless of his own. There’s love behind his behavior, and if you think about it too long, you’ll burst into tears.

He works you open slowly, gently, taking his time with you. You squirm against his fingers, mewling pretty sounds and reaching for him every chance you get. His hands are skilled between your legs, deft movements that nearly send you over the edge. Your desire is heady, completely intoxicating. He reaches up to push your shirt out of the way, fingertips tracing the curve of your neck.

“Leon,” you whimper. “Please. Don’t wanna wait anymore,”

You don’t have to ask twice. He’s stripped of his trousers before you can even blink. It almost makes you laugh. You’ve barely touched him. He rolls you onto your stomach, pulling you back toward him for better access. He smooths a hand down your back affectionately.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, aligning himself between your legs. “So good f’me,”

You sigh desperately as he eases into you, relief and pleasure flooding your senses. You feel like you’re going to explode. He bottoms out, leaning over to hover above your ear. His breath is hot against your skin, a tickling sensation that electrocutes you to your toes. His hands hold your hips gently as he begins to pump into you. His pace is steady, easy going against the fervor of the room. You choke on a moan. Your fingers curl into the sheets, searching for purchase.

It doesn’t take long for the coil to build in your stomach, begging to burst with each thrust. You’re sighing against the sheets, breathy moans that twist around your ears and dissipate into the air. Involuntarily, the thread snaps, and your orgasm washes over you in pulses. You feel yourself clench around him.

“That’s it, baby,” Leon coos, squeezing at your hips. “Doin’ so well. I’ve got you,”

His hips stutter, and just as the pleasure of your orgasm wains, you feel him pull out of you. Warmth coats your back as he comes undone, choking back moans with his fist. You’re breathing heavily, barely able to open your eyes. He disappears for a moment to fetch a towel. He wipes your back clean, placing a delicate kiss between your shoulder blades. You shiver. He lays beside you, barely touching you.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask between labored breaths. He glances at you. “About being what I deserve?”

He pauses for a moment. You worry that things have already started to crumble. “I meant it. I want to be what you deserve,”

He already was. Always has been

#leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #x reader #my fics #m writes #resident evil #resident evil fanfic #nsft

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yueisyum · 1 year

Text

Don’t Think About It. (Part three)

Genre♥️college au/vacation au, enemies(not really) to fwb to lovers

Parings☎️haechan/donghuck x conflicted reader

Warnings🚨mentions of / alcohol consumption, and Use of nicknames, angsty!!!! Arguing? Sadness? Angst!!! Talking about love and the fear of love! (Philophobia)

Notes📌 This the part three, obviously. There is no smut, but there will be in part four. Yes, there will be a part four. This one is quite short, but that’s because I didn’t want to switch back to the college au in the middle of the same fic. So stay tuned for part four. And please don’t be shy, share your thoughts!

Ever since you were a kid, you made rules for yourself. Adding them as you grew older. And changing them as you experienced. Everyone has rules, wether they realize it or not.

Your rules were basic and simple. Crafted to perfection. And there were also some you didn’t even realize existed:

1. Boys have cooties(except for Johnny) << especially johnny

2. No falling behind <<< (school)

3. Date to marry experience <<< (boys)

4. Don’t be venerable <<< (liars)

5. Privacy is power

6. Stop being so understanding

7. Don’t allow others to love you (no “I love you”’s)

8. Don’t fall on love too quickly

Rule seven had a couple different reasons. Reasons that we don’t need to get into right now. But everyone who has ever “loved” you, didn’t seem to love you enough to stay; ripping pieces each time one of them left. So, you refuse to allow others to feel for you. Not truly. Always subconsciously inviting people into your life, people you know couldn’t hurt you.

But naturally, rules are meant to be broken.

Falling behind in school around the holidays.

Trusting too easily.

Being too understanding/to forgiving.

And allowing others to say those words to you. “I love you”. And you would continuously, stupidly believe them. nothing had changed. Your were always the stupid one, the girl who never understood who she was to people.

But you had rules, rules you tried your best to follow… until haechan.

•••

Muffled Music blared your ears, drawing you from your sleep. It was still dark out, but Haechan was still next to you. You were tired, but relived to feel his presence.

“What time is it?” you ask, Not bothering to check if he was awake.

“Don’t know” he responded, his voice far from tried or drowsy. You drew back to look at him, his body facing you. Haechans eyes find yours as soon as they come into view.

“Have you been awake?” You ask, your brows pinch together, He tried to act as if he had also just woken up. “Huh? No?”

You slightly sit up on the bed. “You totally were- you were watching me sleep!” You announce with a grin on your face.

“No, that would be creepy, and boring. On the other hand, watching you shower-“ you punch him and settle back down into the bed with a soft laugh. He winces but joins you in your laughter nonetheless.

“As much as I’m enjoying this…” heachan began, turning over to sit up straight. “…And believe me, I am” looking down at you with a stupid smirk. He continued “I’m afraid you have to go”

You paused for a moment.

Was all of this really just sex? You can’t believe that you let your mind slip- to forget that this isn’t real, for this long at that.

It’s just two friends helping each other out.

You reminded yourself.

Haechan pouted when he saw the look on your face, afraid you got the wrong idea. “Jenos been blowing up your phone. He’s wondering why you’re not joining the party, or why he can’t find you” He informs, hoping to ease the thoughts he knows have filled your mind. Your phone was in his hands, and you grabbed it. Looking through the notifications, you curse yourself- or Jeno actually.

Oh- Damn you jeno! What could he possibly need right now?

You sigh dramatically into your palms.

“I know” he said, his smile growing wider. “I wouldn’t want to leave me either”

You rolled your eyes and scouted from underneath the covers and his side. “Now you’ve ruined it.”

“Just as I intended” he chuckled, leaning back against the headboard, watching you make your way to the door.

It physically pained you to leave him. But you won’t acknowledge it more then that.

“Y/n?”

“Hyuck?”

“You can keep my shirt, it looks sexier on you”

“Ass” You replied, and grin plastered on your face, against your will. Then you opened the door and left with your phone in hand, making your way down the hallway.

The music slowly picking up in volume as you made your way into the kitchen/living room area. Though you saw almost no one. Until you peaked out the sliding doors to the backyard. Finally finding the sources of the music, along with at least 20 other people. Some people in the pool, some people grilling or just playing games. You smiled to yourself, you can feel that everyone was having a good time.

You decide you should change before joining them. As you make your way to your own room.

You think for a moment, you should probably check your phone.

JenO

______________________________________

|| JenO -

Hey, we are back from the store

Delivered

Where you at?

Delivered

y/n?

Delivered

Chaewon said she saw you with haechan, are you two talking?

Delivered

y/n it’s been 2 hours, are you ok?

Delivered

______________________________________

Damn it.

You enter your room, beginning to type all kinds of apologizes into your phone, when you look up to see Jeno sitting in your bed. “Jeno?”

He looks up from his phone to see you standing in the doorway… in heachans shirt…

“Looks like you two did more then just talk huh?” He was smiling, but he sounded agitated. And you can’t blame him.

“Sorry, I feel asleep”

“In his room?”

“Yeah…? Is that bad?” You finally enter the room to join him on your bed. He clears his throat while making room for you to sit next to him. “No, I mean- I don’t know” He answers, not looking at you. “I talked to Shihyun” he informs. You whip your head to look at him. His eyes still don’t meet yours. “She wants to try again” Jeno’s hands are fidgeting with his phone case. Waiting for your reaction.

“That’s great! Why aren’t you out there with her? I saw her in the pool.”

“Was looking for you”

“Why”

He finally turns to you. “Um, just wanted you to know that… that I’ve moved on”

“What!? From Shihyun? Wha- didn’t you just say-“

“-no not her, I love her” he interrupted quickly correcting your thoughts. You look at him confused. It sorta felt weird to hear him say those words. You didn’t like those words, but for some reason… hearing him share his heart to you about Shihyun made you feel as sense of adoration towards him. “Then what have you moved on from?”

“I-um… just- It doesn’t matter, just felt like I needed to say it out loud to you, it’s been suffocating me… but I’m happy that I found Shihyun, she really makes me really happy”

You can’t help but smile. Who needed kdramas when you have this? “And I also wanted to say that… uh… you mean a lot to me y/n, you are such an amazing friend, so encouraging and un-judgmental. I really appreciate you. Even if I mistook those feelings before.. I understand them now.”

You think for a moment, trying to make sense of his words. “What the heck are you going in about Jeno? Your not making any sense.” You laugh and stand up to begin looking for clothes. “I’m sorry, don’t worry about it. It doesn’t need to make sense to you, I just need to say it.”

“It’s Okay, don’t apologizes, I understand. Thanks for feeling comfortable enough to tell me” you smile while picking out an outfit to join the others in. Jeno watches you concentrate.

“I love you”

it was almost a whisper, you didn’t even hear it. He didn’t want you to. He knows how you feel about those three words. But he needed to say it. Out loud.

He really does love you, but not romantically- like he thought he did. But As a friend. As a person he was never scared to go to for help or advice. He loved you, and he would never leave you.

He smiles thinking about how lucky he is to have a friend like you.

“Okay I’ll go join the others.. meet us out there when your done changing.” He ends his rant with a pat to your head, making his way to the door. You nod and begin to change.

…

When you made you way outside, you find yuta and Yejun laughing at a joke Jisung must have made. Because he looked super proud of himself. His posture straightened, and he is puffing his chest out. Adorable.

Other groups of people, that your sure you’ve seen before, fill up the back patio.

Music and conversations fill your ears as you make your way towards the three. “Hey! Y/n! Nice of you to finally join us!” Yejun greets you with a smile and Jisung runs to hug you. “I feel like it’s been ages!”

“It’s been a couple hours ji” but you reciprocate nonetheless. “Jeno was looking for you” yuta informs with a small head nod. “Yeah I talked to him” you shrug and turn around to face the noise. Towards the People talking, and Shihyun and Chaewon are messing around in the pool. Isn’t it freezing?

“Y/n!”

You turn to your right to see Johnny running over. You try not to laugh when you realize he looks like a typical college jock. His hair is wet? Or maybe sweaty? There’s a drink in his hand and his jog looks ridiculous. Then you compare it to a dog, who’s just got done playing with the hose and you snicker even more. “What’s up?” You give Johnny a half hug and he takes another drink form his cup. Yejun and jisung continue whatever conversation they were having before you showed up. When you look back to Johnny, his face was slightly red and he couldn’t stand straight for the life of him.

He’s definitely drunk.

“Where’s haechan?” He asks, his voice is an octave louder so you can hear him over the music.

You don’t know why the the mention of his name threw you off. You felt odd. “How would I know?” You respond with a shrug. Johnny gives you the most unamused look you’ve ever seen. “Don’t give me that bullshit, you can’t tell me you two weren’t together this whole time” you slap at Johnny’s shoulder and glare at Him. “You talk really loud”

Johnny let’s out a laugh and hands you his drink. “Here hold this, he’s probably in his room, I’ll go get him.” Before you can even respond, Johnny’s running off, towards the sliding doors leading back inside the lodge.

You just stand there and look around once more. Haechan probably wants to sleep, you should’ve told Johnny that, but he’ll find out on his own.

When you spot Jeno and Shihyun in the pool, you can’t help but smile. She’s sitting on top of his shoulders, playing a game of chicken with another couple. Your smile grows when Shihyun wins and yells in victory. Cute!

•••

The rest of the night consisted of you drinking and talking with Chaewon and Yami. Chaewon was going on a rant about how people who ‘don’t like alcohol’ are ‘pussies’ or whatever. You laugh all throughout her tangent because the only person who came to mind was Jaemin. “Y/n, do you want to come with me to get more drinks?” Chaewon asks with a pout, her face was round but so perfectly defined, and her outfit looked absolutely amazing on her. You smile to her direction and nod. She always amazes you, her beauty, her amazing personality, she had no flaws. You admire her. “Where are they?” You ask.

“They are over by- Haechan! over there!!” Chaewon pointed towards the coolers that were stationed next to the grill. Jaemin, haechan and mark were all over there. When you saw him, you couldn’t look away.

You didn’t really think he would be joining the party, but there he was. He was wearing a black t-shirt and loose sweatpants. For a moment you felt hurt. Why wouldn’t he come to you? Does he not want to talk to you? Or spend time with you. Even after you two had sex? Is he avoiding you now? Is it’s awkward?

Then you had to mentally stop yourself:

This cannot be Happening.

You should not care about what he’s doing.

You shouldn’t care about what he’s wearing.

You shouldn’t be upset that he didn’t choose to find you first.

You should not care about Lee Donghyuck…

Then your faces with his eyes in yours. A flash of cold rushed throughout your body. You whip your head back to Chaewon so fast, your vision almost went blurry. Curse the gods, Haechan just caught you looking at him. It took almost all your strength not to drown yourself in the pool in-front of you. “Okay let’s go” Chaewon didn’t seem to notice the small interaction, maybe it’s all in your head. But that moment felt like it lasted forever. She hops up from the small pool chair and held her hand out to you.

“Actually, I don’t think I should get up-“

“-Why?”

Her eyebrows cutely pinch together and her smile drops to a frown. “Yami should go with you, my head really hurts” you squeeze your eyes shut and bring a hand to your head, as if in pain. “What? Girl- let’s gooo” she grabs at your hand and drags you to your feet. “Yami, you too, let’s go” then Chaewon pulls you along as she makes her way around the pool.

As your walking up to the group of boys, you notice Haechan’s eyes following your figure. God this is embarrassing. He has this stupid knowing look on his face, and you almost jumped in the pool. Instead you look at the water and the people in it, refusing to look up, or take any chances of making eye contact with him again. You don’t want things to be awkward, you just want to act normal.

WHY CANT YOU ACT NORMAL!?

“Haechan, where have you been all night?” Chaewon presses as she opens the cooler and grabs some cans of beer. “In my room” he starts, his eyes flicker to you, giving you a smile then back to Chaewon “you look nice” he smiles at her and she beamed in response. “Thank you” her dramatic giggle makes the group laugh in unison.

Woah. At least he smiled at you. He’s definitely trying his hardest to act normal. But you can tell he doesn’t know what to do either. You cough awkwardly, you didn’t mean too. Your trying your hardest to not draw attention to yourself, but that’s all haechan is giving you… attention.

“Are we planning on partying all night it’s almost 4 in the morning” mark begins.

You shouldn’t have been upset that he called Chaewon pretty, or griping at your arms, and holding yourself like this, or burning up this easily. You wished he would’ve said those words to you. The only thoughts that can fill your mind now are him. He isn’t looking at you anymore, his gaze is now fixed on Chaewons and Yami, you sigh in relie, but at the same time, you feel overwhelmed with emotions. Maybe he thought you wanted space? That wouldn’t be a reach, but he’s wrong, if that’s the case.

“We don’t have any other plans! I could go for 12 more hours!” Yami replies, and once again the group laughs.

So wrong.

“I’ll probably head inside soon” heachan informs with a sip of his drink.

“What you just got out here!?” Chaewon complains with a pout. The conversation continued on, and you stopped keeping track of it. Lost in your own mind once again.

Maybe he is satisfied, that’s what he wanted right? You helped him out, and he’s satisfied. But your not, you want more then that. More then sex. And you’re not pushing it down this time, your allowing yourself to feel it, maybe it’s the alcohol? Or the cold that made you feel alone, more then usual.

“Y/n?” You blink to he direction of your name. to Johnny. “Yes?” You drop your arms to the side in order to seem natural, ignoring the air that creeped up your skin, causing goosebumps.

It’s freezing.

“Aren’t you going to go with them?” Mark asks, as he gestures his hand behind you.

“Who?”

“Chaewon and Yami? They left already? …Are you drunk?” He questioned, scanning your face. You glance over at mark and Haechan, then behind you. Chaewon and Yami have made their way halfway around the pool now.

When did that happen?

Haechan eyes you suspiciously, almost asking you ‘what’s wrong?’. You send him a reassuring smile. That didn’t seem as awkward as before, and you felt relieved. “Yeah I think I am, I should probably go lay down” you blink twice more, preparing yourself to walk, and turn on your heal, heading straight for the sliding doors that lead back inside.

Is it bad that you wanted to be alone with him again? Jeno had already talked to you, there’s no longer a reason to be out here. can’t you two go back into his room? In His bed? Is that weird? Would that be weird?

When you make your way back inside, you plop down in the couch and take a couple deep breaths. Did he not think YOU looked nice?! Why didn’t he compliment YOU? I mean of course Chaewon looked perfect but-

Nonononono Nono quit it. Stop!

you feel so unbelievably confused. Every feeling is so unexplainable. Jealous? Annoyed, hurt? Alone? Tired? Drunk? Flustered? It’s all too much!

Just two friends helping each other out.

“Y/n?”

“What?!” You respond frustrated, you didn’t realize how upset you felt until your tone left your mouth. You lift your head to the person in front of you to apologize. Haechan stood there, with a cup in his hand and a surprised look on his face. You hesitate for a moment. Looking away, to spare yourself some dignity.

“Sorry, I was just-“

“-Thinking?”

“Yeah”

“You do that too much” he smiles and sits next to you. When he did, you felt your heart calm, your skin and muscles relax. And your brain stoped running so fast. It felt as if you just took some kind of drug. Intoxicating your senses.

“How much did you drink?” Haechan’s head is facing yours on the couch, you turn to him and realize the distance between you two is non existent. “Two” you mumble, distracted by this familiar position.

“Two? Two what?” Haechan chuckles at your absent mindedness. “Two… somethings, I don’t remember” you shake your head and turn back to look at the blank tv. “Hm interesting. Do you want some water? There’s some in the fridge-“

“- Nono, no water” your head shakes faster at the thought of his presence leaving you. “Okay” he chuckles again. Your lost, you don’t know what to say, or what to do. Your just… lost. You’ve never felt this feeling, it’s foreign. And it terrifies you. Your scared that you have no control over your words or actions anymore.

His body, his heat, his comfort, and safety saturated you. He fed the parts of you that are needy and starved. He grounded you and you wanted more. Then you realized that its Haechan that made you feel less alone.

And as selfish as it was, you hoped you wouldn’t be alone ever again.

“Hey…”

This is all too much…

…To much, all at once…

“…Y/n”

He smells like.. like him. And he’s so warm, almost like he’s been living on the sun for the past couple of months.

Haechan:

Full sun

Makes sense.

“Y/n” he calls once more, this time turning to you, probably checking to see if your are still alive or breathing.

“Yes?” You finally respond and look to him. “Your cutting off my circulation” he smiles and you look down at his arm. Your hands wrap around his bicep, gripping onto him like you’ll fly away if you let go. “Sorry”

When did that happen?

“It’s okay, just relax”

“I’m relaxed” you lighten your grip and rest your head on his shoulder. “Did you catch feelings yet?” He teased with smirk, you laugh lightly, your eyes remaining on the blank tv, as if there’s something playing.

Yes you did.

“You wish”

And yes he does.

“Did you?” You ask looking up at him. His gaze remains on the blank screen.

“Not a chance” he answers with a smile.

“Good” you nod and blink away thoughts that you wish would quit reappearing at the worst times. “Do you regret it?” Haechan asked, this time his voice is almost at a whisper. Haechan is a person who needs a lot of reassurance. And your not very good at that kind of thing… but you’ll try for his sake.

“No” he nods at your response this time, remaining quite as you make yourself comfortable- practically cuddling him.

You then slouch further into the sofa, into him. You can hear his breaths, they’re calm and paced. You try your hardest to match his, almost dying in the process. When you start panting, Haechan begins laughing. And you join him. That was ridiculous.

“Y/n? Do you remember my last birthday?”

“The one when we all went to that terrible restaurant? And Jisung threw up?”

“Yeah, but after that, when we ended up getting take out, at your place?”

“Yeah? Why?”

“When I joined you on your balcony, did you mean what you said?” Oh no. No no no no. Gosh this can’t be happening, everything was going so well.

“What do you mean?” You front, your body stiffens and your eyes shut to prepare for impact.

“The words you said, did you mean them?”

Yes… yes you did. But you can’t tell him that. He can’t know that. “I don’t remember any of that” you shake your head, trying your best to end the conversation.

“You don’t?” You feel his head turn to look down at you. You try your best to act as nonchalant as possible.

“No? Maybe your confused with someone else”

“Impossible”

You bite at your lip and curl your fingers into a fist to ground yourself.

“You told me that you only befriend people you knew couldn’t give you what you needed. Because.. you didn’t want to feel like you’ve lost something- you know if they ever left-”

“I did?” Yes you did…

“Yes. Then I asked if you didn’t think I was capable of giving you what you needed…”

“You did?”

“Yes. And you told me that you never actually choose me…”

“Hm-“

“-what did you mean by that?”

You meant that: heachan was capable of giving you everything you’ve ever wanted or needed, and that terrified you, so you would never have chosen him. He just entered your life, and there was nothing you could do about it but pray he would never leave. But alas, that’s not something y/n would ever admit. So you won’t.

“I’m- I don’t know. I don’t remember that”

“You weren’t drunk… you never explained what you meant and we- we kissed. do you remember-”

Yes.. god yes. You remember it like it happened just now. You remember thinking about how you would never bring it up. About how you would have to learn to forget about it. But of course Haechan won’t allow you to. He did, for a while, you assume he’s probably tired of you acting as if these moments never happened.

“-No, no. No we didn’t” you begin to shake your head again, your body moves to sit up and away from him. Your panicking.

“We did-“ haechan follows you, sitting up to look at you in the eyes. “-no we didn’t, you must have me mixed up with someone else-“

His eyebrows furrow together, you can almost taste the frustration building in his head. “I wouldn’t mix you up with anyone… who else could it have been-“

“Chaewon-“

“No, it was you. I would never kiss Chaewon” he shakes his head this time, his eye close to ensure his seriousness.

“But you called her pretty”

“That doesn’t mean I would ever kiss her-“

“-But you would kiss me?” You challenge, with a scoff. You turn your body to face him in the couch. Both of you are obviously heated and neither of you are willing to be completely honest with yourself a or each other. He doesn’t answer… because yes he would, but are you ready to hear those words… no.

“Exactly-“

“Why are you refusing to accept it?”

“I’m not-“

“You are” his gaze on you becomes more angry then upset or frustrated. You look at him for a moment longer before ripping your eyes away from his piercing ones. “I just don’t remember that” you cross your arms over your chest and try your hardest to look at verything in the empty living room but him.

“No, your choosing not to…forget it, that’s not what’s important Right now. I just want to know what you meant by that… that I’m incapable of-“ he begins, but you refuse to hear him say those words, so you give in… sorta.

“-I didn’t- I just… I don’t know, I wouldn’t have chosen you, if that’s what you’re asking”

“Because?” Haechans eyes flicker between yours, hoping your gaze will answer the questions you’re refusing to.

“Because… just because” you tried to think of a response for a moment, but the only one that came to mind was the one you didn’t want him to hear. When he continues to glare at you, you give in once more. Turning to him and letting out a sigh you explain yourself to the best of your ability: “Because your a good person, and I knew that if you left me… I would lose something”

“Something? What do you mean by something?” His face changes in almost an instant. Like you’ve said before, Haechan is someone who needs a lot of reassurance, and your not very good at explaining your feelings.

“This is stupid” you turn away from him once again, and he absolutely hates it.

“What would you have lost.. if I ever left you?”

“Why are you asking me this?”

“Why won’t you answer me?”

“It doesn’t matter, I don’t need you using it against me.”

“Against you? What does that mean!?” If you were actually looking at him, you would’ve seen how hurt he looked at those words.

“Just stop”

“Stop what? Being confused? Because that’s kinda your fault” he tries to laugh but he can’t.

“I don’t want to have this conversation anymore”

“Why do you keep treating me like I’m your enemy? I wouldn’t use anything ‘against’ you, or leave you.. ever” he tries to look at you in the eyes, but you refuse.

“Okay”

“Okay? That’s it?” Now he’s mad.

“Stop dragging this on haechan” you drop your hands from around you and glare at him.

“Haechan? Y/n what the hell?” He didn’t mean to yell, but he was upset, angry, sad, offended? All of them! You can’t do this anyMore, your not ready to have this conversation. It all escalated so quickly, you didn’t have time to think properly.

“I’m going to bed” you bring yourself to your feet and grab your phone to leave. You know haechan won’t force you to stay, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to convince you to.

“Y/n.. y/n wait let’s finish this conversation, please.” He look up at you and watches you walk around the other couch and towards the hallway. Your upset, you know you shouldn’t have let yourself get this heated, and you know you shouldn’t have let that conversation go the way it did.

“I’m drunk and tired is this isn’t the best time to be talking to me”

“That isn’t fair, y/n..”

When you made it to your bedroom you sit on one of the beds, bringing your knees to your chest and stared into space.

You feel like such an idiot.

But it can no longer be avoided, the longer you spend with haechan, the more you realize you can’t live without him.

How could you have let yourself get this far with him!?

You had rules.

But then again, rules are made to be broken.

Taglist:

@nctzennikki09 @mings-cafe @gaeulswrld @chimiwimi @aliceinwhateverland

In all honesty, I’ve done better, however, the Juicy parts are in part four… so🤷‍♀️ yeah! Please let me know if you have any:

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317 notes · View notes

hqbaby · 8 months

Text

twenty-one — bad

fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader

you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.6k content. swearing, marijuana use, alcohol consumption, ANGST ANGST ANGST

When Atsumu drops you off at the airport that morning, he has no idea how the rest of the day is going to go. He has no idea that everything is going to go wrong.

“I’m gonna miss ya,” he tells you, pouting as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “Don’t forget about me.”

You roll your eyes, pecking his lips. “It’s literally three days, baby,” you remind him.

He grimaces. “Don’t even remind me,” he says. “Way too long without ya.”

“You’re such a drama queen.”

“Yer not dramatic enough.”

You chuckle, pulling him in again and placing a kiss on his jaw. “Have fun tonight.”

“I’ll try.” He sighs, finally letting you go. His eyes scan your figure, as if he’s checking to see that you have everything you need. He can’t help but worry about you. “Text me when ya get there.”

You pull the handle of your luggage and offer him one last smile. “I’ll text you the whole time.”

He watches you turn and walk through the gates, waving at him as you skip away. He knows you’ll be back soon, but he’s gotten a little used to your presence—he won’t deny that it’ll be weird to not have you around for a few days.

As he heads back to his car, Atsumu takes comfort in the fact that everything will be back to normal when you return… right?

It’s times like these that Atsumu remembers why the volleyball team doesn’t party together that much. Individually, they’re all a little explosive. Bokuto manages to rile everyone up, Sakusa gets spectacularly drunk and does stupid things, and Oikawa always ends up stripping in a room full of strangers.

When you put them all together? Chaos. Absolute chaos.

“We’re lockin’ the balcony!” Atsumu announces, dragging a giggling Hinata and a dour Hoshiumi back into the living room. He gives the boys a pointed look. “You two need to stop screamin’ at the neighbors!”

The orange-haired boy just grins. “But they were asking for it!”

Hoshiumi points at him, nodding in agreement. “They were, weren't they?” he says. “Assholes.”

Atsumu runs a hand over his face and groans. “Just… stop goin’ outside.”

They promise him they won't—rather unconvincingly, but he doesn’t have it in him to point that out—and they scurry away to join the rest of the party.

“Told ya a party was a bad idea,” Osamu says, coming up to him and placing a bottle of beer in his hands. “Drink up.”

Atsumu takes a swig. Unlike most people, he actually likes the taste of alcohol. The bitterness of it, the lingering aftertaste. He just doesn’t think it’s worth all the trouble of losing control of yourself and waking up with a headache. It’s why he stays away from it when he can.

He pats his brother on the back and walks over to the living room where Oikawa is performing a rousing rendition of WAP in blind karaoke. On the couch, Yaku heckles the setter while trying to keep Sakusa from collapsing. The coffee table has two empty bottles of tequila and another one that’s nearly polished off. Figures.

“How’s it goin’?” Atsumu asks, laughing as Oikawa death drops while belting the lyrics at the top of his lungs.

Yaku smiles at him through half-lidded eyes. “Atsumu!” he cheers in a weak voice. “Great party, man.”

“Ya think?”

The boy hums, catching Sakusa as he nods off again. “Great, great. Good idea for the team too. Haven’t hung out like this in ages.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Atsumu says. He scans the area and frowns. “Hey, have ya seen Suna?”

“Suna?” Yaku repeats, as if saying the name again will somehow jog his memory. “Oh! Right, Suna. Yeah. I think I remember him saying he was going up to the roof.”

The blond frowns. “The roof? By himself?”

“Dunno, man. Probably.” Yaku catches Sakusa again as the boy nearly slides off the couch. “You gonna go to him?”

Atsumu sips his drink and nods. “Yeah, I’ll check up on him.”

Oikawa finishes his song and starts demanding requests from everyone else, Bokuto comes barreling over and reciting a whole list of songs he wants to hear. The whole room swirls with alcohol and madness. Just another day with the team.

Atsumu heads out, ducking his way through the crowd of people, avoiding Ushijima and Kageyama—who are in deep conversation about something and really want everyone else to join in—and sneaking up the stairs to the rooftop.

He finds Suna lying down on the concrete, a blunt between his lips and a solo cup of Bokuto’s “Super Strong, Super Crazy, Super Wild Drink” in his hand.

“Can’t believe yer havin’ a party up here without us,” Atsumu says, sitting down beside him and plucking the blunt from his mouth. He takes a hit and tilts his head up to the sky. It’s empty, devoid of any stars. Typical Tokyo. “Whatcha doin’ up here?”

Suna shrugs. “Stole some of Aran’s stash. Didn’t want him to find out.”

“Smart thinking.”

“That is what I’m known for.”

The twin laughs, lowering his back to lie down beside his friend. “How have ya been?” he asks. “I barely see ya anymore.”

Suna makes a sound he can’t quite decipher. “Well, you’ve been busy.”

“I have?”

“Yeah. With Y/N.”

Atsumu’s eyes flit over to the side to find the brunette frowning, eyes narrowed. He guffaws. “Are ya jealous of her or somethin’?”

“Haha.”

“Come on, Sunarin. What’s up?” Atsumu prods. “I hear yer spendin’ time with that girl from the econ department. Things gettin’ serious?”

Suna stays silent. He doesn’t know if it’s the nasty concoction he’s been drinking or the weed or just the close proximity to Atsumu—Atsumu, your boyfriend—but he can feel himself growing overwhelmed, choking on the very air he breathes.

“Sunarin?” Atsumu asks, turning his head to face him. “Oh fuck. Are ya cryin’?”

“What? No!” His face twists as he looks away from his friend. “Shut up!”

“No, no, no, hey, it’s okay! Cryin’s okay!”

“No, it’s not!”

“But it is!” the blond insists. He nudges Suna with his shoulder. “Talk to me.”

Suna rubs at his face, the skin growing an angry shade of red at the roughness of his touch. “Fuck you.”

“I mean, if sayin’ that makes ya feel better, go ahead.”

That only makes Suna feel worse. “Fuck you, man. Seriously.”

“Okay.”

“I hate you.”

“Sure.”

“Fucking fuck you.”

“Let it out, man. Not gonna stand in yer way.”

They lie down for a while, neither of them saying a word. They pass the blunt between the two of them, chasing each hit with alcohol until they stop feeling like themselves. Atsumu talks first, Suna talks soon after, the conversation flows easily between the two of them—like it always does. Only a lone bird passing through the night sky serves as a weak reminder of where they are.

“It’s just so big, isn’t it?” Atsumu says, his eyes closing a little. “Y’know. Life.”

Suna snorts. “Yeah, life is big, man. Always has been.”

“No, but ya know, it’s so… big! And real. Feels so real.”

“I think I get that.”

Atsumu takes a hit and closes his eyes completely. He lets himself seep into the sensation of the ground beneath him. The chill night air.

“Y/N’s real,” he says eventually. “She’s so fuckin’ real.”

“She is,” Suna answers. Somehow, the sting of your name is gone. Somehow, he doesn’t feel like burning at the sound of it. “She’s so real... it’s like she burns so bright.”

“Yeah! So bright.”

“Everything about her is perfect.”

“Really is.”

“Like that face she makes when she puts on her eyeliner, all scrunched up when she looks in the mirror.”

Atsumu stills. “Right.”

Suna can’t stop. He doesn’t stop. “Or the way she stays in the shower for too long and complains when her fingers get all pruny. Or how she makes those little sounds when you’re right beside her ear—it’s just… everything she does can just drive someone insane.”

The sober part of Atsumu tells him that this conversation has taken a strange turn. That there’s something very wrong about the way his best friend is talking about you, his best friend who you’ve barely even spent time with. He tries to listen to that part of himself, keeping it in the forefront of his mind.

“Yeah…” he says, opening his eyes, on high alert. “Sure, man.”

Now, what you have to understand about what Suna says next is that he tried. He tried so hard. He tried for two whole months of you and Atsumu’s relationship. Fuck, he’s been trying for even longer—since he saw you and Atsumu at that party, the night he fucked you in the bathroom just to convince himself he still had you. He tried so hard. It ripped him apart, but he tried.

He tried and he tried, but something in him couldn’t let it go.

Something in him stopped trying.

“I love her.”

Atsumu bolts up, seeing red when he turns to look at Suna still lying down. “What the fuck are ya talkin’ about?”

Suna sits up too. “Atsumu, I love Y/N,” he says like he’s pleading. “You don’t understand. It all happened before you even met her. I love her. I love her so fucking much that it’s eating me alive.”

“Yer drunk.”

“Atsumu.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

“I love her.”

The blond gets up and storms off, slamming the door to the rooftop behind him.

“Fuck,” Suna whispers to himself. He places his head in his hands and lets out a frustrated groan. “Fuck!”

On the other side of the door, Atsumu punches the wall by the stairs. “What the fuck!” he yells, pulling his hand away to find splatters of blood on his knuckles. “What the actual fuck!”

He had no idea how this night was going to go. He figured it wouldn’t be too great. But he didn’t know it would be this bad.

Nobody could have known it was going to be this bad.

notes. i present… le shit storm!!!!! and the continued shit storm in the next chapters lmao

how are we all feeling???

305 notes · View notes

devilfic · 8 months

Text

❝small favor❞

IV. another white guy from new york.

parts: previously / next plot: it's uncanny, but it can't be. right? because that would be stupid. and spider-man isn't stupid. right? pairing: mcu!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: violence, guns, knives, blood mention, alcohol consumption, peter parker isn't beating the average white guy allegations, well. when he smiles like that he might. words: 6.7k.

You almost expect them to turn you away at the door when you hand over your badge, some paranoid part of you thinking they’ll take one look at you and know you don’t belong here, but the man at the check-in hands it back to you with a pleasant, “Enjoy your evening.”

That was half an hour ago, and Parker was nowhere in sight.

He was going to “meet you there” as Jameson promised, though without a clue what to look for, you found yourself aimlessly floating through perfume clouds of high society. You didn’t want to hit the bar this close to eight, but if you didn’t find an anchor quick, you’d vibrate right through the floor. Worst of all, you didn’t even have the guy’s number. What would you do if he was a no-show?

Your job, you suppose, sullen and already dreading the evening to come.

There’s no sign of Wilson Fisk either. In your usual setting, you might’ve already flagged down a guest or two to ask what they thought about the rumors, but your usual settings were messy, bloody, and out in the real world. Here, you had a list of questions to ask that didn’t even scratch your curiosity.

What’s your name? Are you excited to be here this evening? How does the Stark Charity Ball reflect the New York City you know and love? Were you attacked? Can you confirm Wilson Fisk was on the scene?

You hadn’t even made it to the fourth question before you’d given up. How would you last a night like this?

Slithering through the crowd, you make your way to the snack table with hopes to eat your way through the night. At least you could count on rich people to shell out on good cheese.

There’s a band playing in the corner, a gentle stringed melody that you appreciate over the chatter of the guests. You make your way over and let yourself get carried away in the tune, only glancing every so often at your watch to gauge the time. It was nine minutes to eight, nine minutes until Pepper Potts took the stage to start the night, and you still had no idea where your partner was.

It’s almost natural the way your hand finds your phone, swiping over the familiar contact name and pressing out a quick message.

The party can’t start without you.

Towering windows make up most of the ballroom, fading sunlight overpowering the chandeliers above, and you take advantage in hopes it might reveal your webbed friend hanging off the roof.

Almost immediately, you get a text back.

Aww, you really do like me :) No kidding. Are you already in place? Just about. Doing a quick perimeter check. You enjoying the party? I would be if my partner was here on time. Hey, cut Parker some slack! His train’s probably late and I don’t see any signs of Kingpin yet. I'm just glad you've stopped trying to fight me on this. If you can’t beat ‘em... And maybe look up every once in a while, you’re gonna run into somebody.

Just as your eyes scan the very last word, your senses go haywire. There’s cold liquid running down your hand and you've just run into something. When you finally tear your eyes away from your phone, you unfortunately realize that something is now wearing the remainder of your drink.

People nearby have formed a clearing around you, but it feels less out of courtesy and more to point and laugh at you. Regardless, you’ve got to fix this, “I am so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?”

Your victim stands in a small puddle of sangria, the front of their tux dripping in it still, and you could see how red stains crawled up crisp white. You could only imagine how much every bit of their suit cost (and the Daily Bugle definitely didn’t have the budget to cover it).

They lift their copper head and you’re at first struck by the smile on their face, then the peppering of freckles across the bridge of their nose, and finally... their name.

He carefully removes his suit jacket to assess the damage to his shirt, “Nah, don’t worry. I was looking for a reason to leave early anyway.”

You’re breathless, certain you should be rushing to grab towels or begging him not to sue you into oblivion, but you don’t really get that far, “I’m... really sorry.”

He laughs, so genuine that you feel the tension in your shoulders deflate just at the sound. Just then, a waiter rushes over with a hand towel, insisting he lead him to the men’s room to clean up, but he’s waved off with little more than a “thank you” and “I’ll survive, I promise.”

He steps out of the puddle to allow someone to clean it up, bringing him that much closer to you. When he's done with the towel, he hands it off to you. His eyes trail to your chest and his eyes widen some, “The Daily Bugle. You a reporter?”

You realize he’s spotted your press badge and rush to introduce yourself, wiping absentmindedly at your sticky hand, “Uh... yes. Actually. Crime beat reporter.” You set your empty cup on a passing waiter’s tray and hold out your clean hand to shake.

His hand is warm, if not a little sticky like yours, though you have no grounds to complain, “Nice to meet you. I’m Harry.”

“Oh, I know.”

He quirks an eyebrow, still smiling, “Then... was that drink a calculated assault?”

“No! God, no. I genuinely wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Not very safe for a crime beat reporter, don’t you think?”

You’ve got to be on fire. You feel like it, struggling between a laugh and a whine, “I’m sorry you had to be the one to teach me that lesson.”

“No worries. Like I said, you did me a favor.” Harry glances around, “So… you're reporting on what, exactly? You betting on a robbery or something?”

The humor of that isn't lost on you, “Actually, I’m filling in tonight. Our usual reporter definitely wouldn’t have ruined your nice shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I find this stain rather charming.”

You can’t help it. You giggle and he smiles even wider, “May I ask why you want to escape so soon?”

“Not if you’re gonna write it down.”

“Off the record? In exchange for the stain.”

Harry Osborn has a boyish look to him even though he’s steadily approaching 26, some baby fat still clinging to his cheekbones when he smiles wide enough, “Well, this was my first stop since hopping off a nine hour flight from Oxford and I’m, as the English say, absolutely knackered. I was gonna leave in half an hour after photos but…” He laughs, casting a look over his shoulder at the stage, “I’ve made my donation. I won’t be missed.”

Perking up with an idea, you reach into your bag and pull out a recorder, “In that case, how about I get you down for a comment on your generous donation of…”

“Five million.”

You blink, swallowing hard, “Five million… to make up for it? I'll even throw in a few questions about your study at Oxford. I hear you're working on a revolutionary breakthrough with lab-grown bacteria that breaks down plastic.”

Harry's eyes light up. For a moment, the image of Harry Osborn is just Harry, “You sure Jameson would let you publish something nice about an Osborn?”

The Daily Bugle was no friend to Spider-Man, but neither was it a friend to Norman Osborn. You recall some of the more scalding headlines about Oscorp’s president that you’d published in the past. It was the one thing you and Jameson could agree on. “You know Jameson well?”

“Of course. I’ve got a buddy who works there too, actually. You might know him. His name’s-”

Harry’s voice is drowned out by the collective oohing and awing of the crowd when the lights dim, shrouding the grand ballroom in the fading glow of the sun. The stage, once empty, is now illuminated with the presence of Pepper Potts. Uproarious applause fills the room. Harry smiles politely at you. His buddy would be a conversation for later.

You want to focus on Pepper, you really do, but it’s like you’ve broken out of a spell the second Harry’s eyes leave yours, and you find yourself once again scanning the crowd for Parker. There was no good reason for him to be this late and you couldn’t even give him a piece of your mind about it.

You shoot off an indignant text to Peter.

Your guy better have been hit by a cyclist on the way here or he’s getting an earful when I see him. Pepper looks amazing :(

But no instant reply. In fact, three minutes pass and there’s nothing. You glance up to the windows for any sign of him watching and find none. Was... he here?

You glance at Harry. If Jillian were here, she’d punch you in the face for what you’re about to do, for the opportunity you're about to squander. Okay, maybe not a punch, but it’d be violent.

But then you’re thinking about Peter, about that night that changed everything, about his blood and bruises and the men with guns for hands. You think about how Peter worried for you. You think about Harry, who has just donated five million dollars to charity, and how there are over a hundred more of him packed in this ballroom right now. You think about Wilson Fisk, and how much havoc he could wreak if he put Spider-Man out for good.

And then you're elbowing yourself through the crowd, searching for the nearest emergency stairwell, hoping that if Peter’s still watching he might meet you halfway. Parker and those questions be damned. You'd find a way to make it up to Jameson somehow.

You’re about ten feet away from the nearest exit when someone takes a hold of your wrist, a few seconds away from the end of Pepper’s speech, and whoever is holding you back has a grip so iron it stings. You can’t clearly see the face of who’s grabbed you but it doesn’t feel familiar. Your heart jumps into your throat. Had Fisk's men infiltrated the room already? Had they gotten to Spidey? Did they know you? Were you next?

You’ve got no pocket knife on you, but you have a fist.

You curl your fingers inward and aim right for your captor’s head. Your fist makes contact with skin. The room erupts into thunderous applause. The lights go up.

You never actually land the punch, but your captor looks a little too wide-eyed to be one of Fisk’s men, too soft in the face. His own hand has completely stopped yours in its tracks, just a hair away from breaking his nose, and he’s staring at you like a deer in headlights. A big, brown doe-eyed deer. “Uh, hi,” your eyes flicker down to the camera hanging from his neck, almost blocking the badge beneath it that reads "P. B. Parker", and then you meet his eyes with the same bewilderment, “sorry I’m late.”

Parker is about average height with a build you can't quantify when his shirt is draping off him. It's a ridiculously huge plaid thing, the kind of thing someone would wear to hide themselves, but all he does is stand out in the sea of Armani and Givenchy. Old jeans, old shirt, high-tops, and a muddy-grey beanie to top it all off. It was a wonder they let him in the door at all.

What you can feel is the strength behind his hand as it holds your fist in place. Some people are looking—you realize, after the tremors of your punch reverberate back up your arm—and so you yank your hand back before any security can take notice.

Your partner waits a full second before holding out his own, offering a subtle, wobbly smile, "I would've been here sooner but... traffic, ya know?"

His voice is low, you notice this next. Practically a mumble. You kind of realize why your coworkers said you weren't missing much; outside of his awkward mannerisms and sweet, unassuming baby face, he looked like any other white guy from New York. He also seemed like he didn't want to be seen or heard, and you imagined that Jameson had no problem with that.

But his mumbling forces you to take notice of his lips so you can read them, and their thin, blushy quality is only marred by a little dryness. Broken by biting or... or something. "You're late." Is all you manage to say.

His lips part, turning downward, "Yeah, I know," he stutters, the pitch of his voice going up a hair, "I said- um, I caught the last half of Mrs. Potts’ speech." And then he turns his camera to you, flicking through images that are too small on the screen for you to assess the quality of. You actually have no doubt they're good, but you're upset he's late and you're certain there's nothing remarkable about this guy—nothing at all—and yet you can't stop staring.

"You know Spidey?" You blurt out next, and his eyes widen and zero in on you. You don't know why he's surprised. "He's mentioned me, hasn't he?"

Parker blinks, "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. All the time. You're very... good. At your job."

"Thank you. So are you."

And wouldn't you know it, he actually blushes. It's sweet and alarming how quickly red blooms across the apples of his cheeks, how his hands wobble around his camera a bit, how it disarms you for a moment. It'd be cute if you could just figure out what about him was throwing you off.

In fact, you're so enthralled in figuring out that something that you see his lips moving but just miss his question, barely hearing the tail-end of it. You watch his lips again as you ask him to repeat it, but the musicians have started up a jaunty tune with trumpets and high white keys, so you duck closer to him and ask him to repeat it once more.

"I asked-" And as you get closer, you have an excuse to look at him more deeply.

Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth to his chin (and all its little hairs that he hadn't caught shaving), down to his neck where you see, just peeking out beneath the lip of his beanie, a curl. You've abandoned his question now. You just feel, as strange as it is, that you need a closer look...

Your hand is moving before your mind can catch up with it, until it's caught in Parker's halfway to his throat. You're so close to him that you can see the way the skin of his chin rolls with the effort to lean away from you, or the honey speckles in his eyes that are all but eclipsed by his blown-wide pupils.

His fingers are latched around yours. He's not using the same strength he was before, doesn't need to, but you can sort of feel it beneath the callouses. Even then, it's so gentle. You don't know why you react with just as mush wonder. The world might as well be at half-speed. You almost wish him to speak again because you've got nothing to say for yourself here.

Parker looks on at you, still holding onto your hand. He smells... like the city.

"Do you-" He starts, chokes on his spit, and then swallows, "are you always this friendly when you're tipsy?"

You blanch. "What? I'm not-" You yank your hand back, cup it to your mouth and nose, and breathe in the sangria. Could he smell it on your breath? "I'm not tipsy. I barely even had a drink before I spilled it all over..."

You catch Parker's eye to find him looking interested. "Spilled it all over...?"

"Someone. Whatever. It was an accident."

"You spilled your drink on someone?"

"It was an accident."

"You know, I was feeling real bad about showing up late, but Jameson's gonna have a field day with this." You're mortified. He wasn't interested, he was amused. "Are we gonna get sued?"

"No!" Your voice draws the attention of a couple nearby, making you shrink even closer to Parker, "I told you it was an accident and I apologized. And you're still not off the hook for being late."

He folds his arms across his chest, smiles steadily this time, and agrees. The action is so unmistakable that it saps all the lightheartedness right out of you. Parker notices the change.

The only thing that breaks the moment is Harry Osborn finding you both.

Your head whips at the first "Peter!", thinking you'll see red and blue somewhere nearby, but Harry is gunning straight for Parker with the widest smile on his face. You break away just in time for him to envelop Parker in a big, friendly hug that would've knocked Parker off his feet if not for how solid he was. A few onlookers take in the scene, some amused, others not so much.

It takes you a moment to digest that Harry meant Parker, had called him Peter with such love and affection that there was no way he was mistaken, and Parker had returned the hug a beat later without correcting him.

There were probably a million Peters in New York alone. And yet...

They stay intertwined a minute longer, only breaking away so that Harry could hold... Peter's face in his hands. "Peter Parker! What the hell are you doing here?" Harry seems to remember you're there. He releases Peter and points to you, "So, you two know each other after all. Pete's the buddy at the Bugle I told you about. We've been best friends for years."

As if this Peter business wasn't enough for you to wrap your head around, you struggle to imagine these two being best friends. One of New York City's richest heirs and a contractor for the Daily Bugle. Your disbelief is evident as you ask, "How did you two meet...?"

"College. We went to ESU together. We were even roommates before I went off to Oxford." Harry smiles proudly, patting Peter on the back. It's then that you notice Peter is looking very, very uncomfortable. You wonder for a moment if this is all some elaborate joke Harry's playing, but it hadn't struck you as his type of humor.

This is, in fact, a man named Peter Parker. He works for the Daily Bugle, he's best friends with Harry Osborn, he works with Spider-Man, and they both share a name. Unremarkable Peter Parker. Nothing you were missing, they'd said.

Peter must see that you're focused hard on him, so he turns to Harry, "Yeah, Oxford. Why aren't you... there? Again?"

Harry laughs, unbothered, "Don't tell me you didn't miss me?"

"No, it's just... last I remember, your dad wanted you there until your project got approved."

The very mention of Norman Osborn kills the mood entirely. Harry's smile falls quick, though he tries to hide it, and shuffles a bit uncomfortably. "That was the deal. But you know dad: the world revolves around his every whim." Harry's eyes cut to you so fast that you tense up, recovering quickly. "Off the record."

Jillian would not accept that. You, on the other hand, swallow it down and tuck it away for another day, "Anything for a friend of a friend."

That gets Harry smiling again, however terse. The conversation quickly changes course as Harry pulls at the stained white of his shirt to show Peter, "Speaking of: you like? Our new mutual friend gave it to me."

Peter glances at you, chuckling with a nervous edge, and grabs at the fabric to examine for himself, "Something tells me you deserved it."

Harry immediately resorts to banter that Peter melts into. It was no doubt now that they were friends, that Peter's awkwardness had only been on account of you being here.

You can only smile and nod, smile and nod, while you watch Peter's every move. You couldn't say anything even though you were bursting, but now your heart was beginning to pound in your ears, making it hard for you to do what you were trying to pretend you weren't doing.

Spider-Man was smart. Beneath the quips, he was extremely smart. He wouldn't tell you his real name and then show up here as a civilian, so brazen, knowing that you'd instantly figure out it was him. That'd be too easy. He trusted you, sure, but he wasn't stupid. He'd been uncomfortable at the very thought of unmasking when you'd mentioned it last night. If Peter was... Peter, he wouldn't have come at all. Because that would be stupid.

And he wouldn't have bothered to pretend, up until the last second, that he wasn't Peter, if he was just going to flay himself before you like this. Because you would've figured it out eventually.

So, surely, there were a million Peters in New York and you happened to know two of them. And they knew each other. And one of them was a superhero. Of course.

You slip your phone out, checking your recent messages with your heart in your throat. If Peter wasn't Peter, he'd have texted you back by now. Because Peter—fuck—Spidey wouldn't miss a chance to make that joke.

There's one new message. You barely get to see what it says before broken glass sprays from above.

There’s a cacophony of sound all at once. Glass breaking, screaming amongst the crowd, and the sound of gunfire letting off into the ceiling. One minute, the room had been in peaceful bliss, and the next, a tidal wave of terrified guests were rushing at you.

You’re lucky that Peter’s arm is like iron, strong enough to rip you back and away from the crowd that converges on the exits, because if you had stayed in your spot for a second longer you would have been trampled underfoot. Like your phone, which is in pieces the second it slips out of your hand.

Harry is there too, huddled against the two of you in the corner, but that doesn’t stop you three from all being pressed upon by the panicking crowds. There’s no rhyme or reason, no order in the chaos. Beautiful clutches embedded with Swarovski crystals lay abandoned at your feet. Everyone in the room can see, whatever it might be, that their life is worth more than a single thing in this room. Even worth more than the lives of the other guests they shove to get out first.

You try your best to see over the heads of the swarm to get a glimpse of what had set the entire party off, and immediately two things are visible. One: Pepper Potts is center stage, the bright white stage lights beating down on her. If it weren’t for the sweat beading at her brow, you’d think her bored. The second thing was that there was a man standing beside her who wasn’t standing there before, a microphone in one hand and a gun in the other.

Even from all the way at the back of the room, you could see the gun trembling in his grip as the barrel kissed Pepper’s temple.

The next thing is his voice. It’s loud, feedback screeching off the walls so high that you think they might shatter the windows. The crowd is loud and he’s louder. You can hear him saying something about how everyone shouldn’t leave just yet, that they’d want to see this front row and not on the 10 o’clock news. You do not see Kingpin. This man is utterly alone.

Harry is shouting something at you, you can feel his breath and the spit that flies out in the hurry of his words, but you can barely make out what he’s saying over the guests. Peter clutches you both even closer.

“We… we have to…” You start, glancing up at the windows for any sign of Spider-Man, but you see nothing. Your eyes drop to Peter’s to find him already staring right at you. You’ve no idea what’s going through his head, and the adrenaline rushing behind your eyes makes it hard to speculate. You only know what you need to say, “…we need to find Spider-Man.”

“We need to leave!” Harry argues. He wriggles out of Peter’s grip and starts pulling you both toward the nearest exit, but he only makes progress with pulling you forward.

You were about to argue back until you felt Peter’s hand at the base of your spine, pushing you into Harry with ease and right toward one of the exit doors. You turn, clutching onto Harry as to not lose him in the crowd, only to find Peter isn’t following you. “You both need to get out of here.”

“Both? Wh- Peter! We’re not leaving without you!” Your attempt to grab at him is futile. He shrugs away from your touch, keeps pushing you and Harry through the stampede as if he really intended on staying behind. “Peter!”

He finally looks you in the eyes that second time, the desperation with which you’d said his name snapping him out of some dissociative spell, “I’ll be right behind you! I’m gonna help get people out. Some got trampled, I-I’ve got to-”

Harry is next to admonish him, “Pete, come on. This isn’t the time to play fucking hero!”

But Peter’s not listening again—eyes faraway, slipping over the crowd as if searching for something—he’s heading back into the fray, calling to you some half-hearted promise that he’d follow soon, and then his head disappears into the whirlwind of bodies. You were able to follow him up until the moment his hat got pulled off, and then… nothing.

The current pushes and pulls at you and Harry, dragging you down the hallway. You feel your ankle twist awkwardly and are thankful that Harry is still clinging to you because had he not been, you would’ve been dragged down and trampled for sure. He holds you upright, pressing you to his side, assuring you over the noise that you’d go back in to get Peter in a minute.

You think that Harry Osborn is much kinder than his father seemed to be, and that you really do owe him a good soundbite in the Bugle after this.

You feel a draft coming from outside, promising you were close to being free from the confines of the hallway. You grab Harry’s hands and peel them off of you, pushing him forward into the crowd without a second thought, just as you see the light of the city come up ahead. His head whips to you. He calls your name as he’s swept away, but you press yourself hard against the wall and let the crowd lead him out to safety.

The crawl back to the ballroom is awful.

There are fewer people escaping, thankfully, and so it’s less like an undertow, but there are so many people and all of them are perfectly fine with throwing their bodies forward with caution thrown to the wind.

It takes you longer than a minute to get back to the door you’d come out of, even longer to squeeze through with elbows hitting you square in the chest and heels digging into your feet.

The room is less than a third of what it had been when the gunman had arrived. You frantically search for Peter in the remaining, scattered crowd; people are frozen in awe, in horror. Some people in the crowd were begging the gunman to reconsider, and others were praying. Your heart sank. A woman was about to die and there was virtually nothing you could do.

You look up to the windows one more time. You couldn’t see him, couldn’t call him, but you close your eyes and pray too. Whoever he was. Wherever he was.

And then you hear it. The familiar thwip! cuts through the air. You open your eyes and a second later, the clatter of the gunman’s pistol hitting the floor follows. You’re blessed with a whole five seconds of glee before the gunman surges forward and pulls a knife on Pepper, holding it to her throat in a panic.

“Easy there, buddy.” Your head snaps up to the rafters. From a single thread of spider silk, Spidey descends from the ceiling with a hand outstretched. He’s a ways away from the two of them, offering some sense of space. “You don’t wanna do this.”

The gunman has since abandoned his microphone, but his voice reverberates in the near empty room just fine, “Get out of here, Spider-Man! You’re next!”

“Why don’t you and I hash it out, then? Just you and me. Leave Mrs. Potts out of it.”

“No, no,” the man mutters; you can hear sirens growing closer to the building, “she’s part of it. You’re all part of it.”

Pepper speaks up for the first time, “Whatever you want, I can get it. This doesn’t have to end badly.”

That must’ve been the wrong thing to say. The man jerks his knife closer to her skin and you can see, after a moment, a thin bead of red dribbles down her collarbone.

Spidey holds out both his hands, “Whoa, whoa, whoa-”

And it happens in a flash. One second, Pepper is being held at knifepoint, and the next, she’s being pushed off the stage.

Spider-Man immediately swoops in and catches her, swinging her to safety on the other side of the room, but you’re too mesmerized by the new body on stage pinning the attacker down by the throat. How you’d missed him, you’ve no clue, but he’s wrestling the man onto his stomach and restraining his arms behind his back just as the doors to the ballroom are thrown wide open.

Cops stream in, rushing the stage to take the gunman into custody. Some head straight for Spider-Man and Pepper, but it’s the guests that catch your attention. There are maybe fifty of them in the room altogether, but applause catches on like wildfire. All of them, and the musicians and the cops at the door, erupt into applause.

Because the man on stage, the man who’d thrown himself at the gunman and disarmed him, the man who had just saved Pepper Potts’ life… was Wilson Fisk.

You can’t find Harry anywhere. Most of the guests had stayed behind out of sheer curiosity, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

You stand out on the sidewalk with the rest of the crowd as the police escort the gunman into a cop car, murmurs flitting from ear to ear on who he’d been, what he’d wanted, and whether they should stay behind for interviews. Pepper was still inside getting questioned. But Wilson Fisk was out here.

You’d been in the same room as Fisk only once before, the night of his infamous press conference three years ago when you were still an intern trailing after the likes of Jillian. He’d struck you as a measured man, one who carried himself with impenetrable humility, and even in the face of his detractors kept a cool head.

Back then, he’d been accused of money laundering, something to do with all his companies not adding up. In and out of trouble, he was. Jameson had likened him to a cockroach: never quite dead, even when he really ought to be by now.

And now he stands before reporters, guests, onlookers, and the like, giving a statement about his “harrowing” rescue of Mrs. Potts. He hadn’t even been invited.

You know you should be right up there with the rest of them, fiending for a soundbite, but you’re gnawing your bottom lip from afar trying to catch him in a lie. Something about this was refusing to add up, and thankful as you were that Pepper was safe, the whole thing was off. Convenient, even.

You watch him smile and nod, none of the charm ever reaching his dead eyes, but everyone eats it up anyway.

Just as you’re about to force yourself to head over, knowing Jameson would have your head otherwise, you’re flying.

“Jesus!” You screech, scrambling to cling onto Spidey as the crowd below watches the two of you swing away. Your stomach drops as he carries you to a nearby rooftop, and you all but collapse when you meet solid ground. “Oh my God, don’t ever do that again.” You expect a quip in return, but when you look behind you, Spider-Man is sitting with his head on his knees, utterly silent. Your stomach drops again, “Spidey?”

That gets him to look at you, big white eyes narrowing, “We’re not on a first name basis anymore?”

You’re stunned, and then you scowl, “Peter Parker.” When he says nothing, you repeat it, “Peter Parker.”

“That’s his name.”

“His? Or yours?”

His eyes stay narrowed at you, only now his head is lifted upright, “I’m not the only Peter in New York.”

“I’m sorry if I find it a little suspicious there’s a Peter Parker who works at the Daily Bugle selling the only decent photos of you in the city, who just so happens to share your name and- and your lips.” That last part awkwardly tumbles out of you and his eyes are no longer narrowed.

“My lips?”

Peter’s lips flash in your mind. You don’t know how to say it without sounding more suspicious than him, “You’re… you both… your mouths are very similar.”

A beat passes. The silence isn’t enough to convince you you’re wrong, but it is enough to make you fidget.

But then Peter bursts into laughter, and, well, it’s not funny to you at all. “Quit it.” You demand, meek.

“I’m sorry, I just- I stick to walls and you think it’s crazy that we’re both named Peter?”

“You can’t convince me I’m off with this one.”

“There were like… four Peters in my graduating class!”

“He even kind of sounded like you! When I could hear him clearly.”

“He sounds nothing like me!”

“He sounds a lot like you.” You say, and wish that there had been a moment when you’d caught him speaking at an octave higher than his, frankly, forced baritone and an octave below shouting. Peter—this Peter—has a voice you know well enough. You’ve memorized his vocal fry when his voice gets a little too high, that nervous ramble-y pitch of his. It’s so distinct. If you had just… heard him use it just once, “You can’t make me feel crazy about this.”

“’m not trying to make you feel crazy, I swear. You’re one of the smartest people I know. I’d be skeptical too.” You wait patiently for a confirmation or a denial, but he gives you none. He takes a deep breath and stares out over the edge of the building where Fisk is being escorted to his car. You crawl over to sit beside him.

Part of you wants to ask him to prove it, to peel his mask off and show you, but you can’t make yourself do it. He’d only just given you his name. He trusted you with that. You’re wary about pushing it.

Because the pieces fit so well, but he’d never make that kind of mistake. Would he?

Would he think it was a mistake?

Peter sighs. “Hey, you alright?” You ask.

He doesn’t really look at you, though his voice answers at a lower volume than before, "This was too convenient.” You hum in agreement. “That guy… he said we were all ‘part of it’. Like it was planned.”

“You think Fisk planned it.”

“I think he’s a little too eager to be in the spotlight about it.” But getting that off his chest doesn’t seem to change the solemnness in his tone.

“Pepper was never in danger.” Your hand presses against the scratchy concrete, itching to touch him. To comfort him. “If this was Fisk’s plan, it was all for publicity. Pepper was never gonna get hurt.”

“She got hurt.” Peter whips his head to you.

You knew Iron Man was his mentor, had plucked him off the streets and thrust him into a world of gods and aliens before his untimely death. And maybe with Tony gone, he thought it was his job to keep her safe.

“Peter, you can’t… you can’t think like that. You can punch your way through a lot of things, but that? That back there? You did what you could.”

“I could do more.”

You get that urge to touch him again, only this time, you let yourself do it.

Your hand touches the side of his mask, cupping below his ear. He watches you the entire time but doesn’t move to stop you. Your thumb rests on his cheek and your pinky- it brushes the overlap between his mask and the rest of his suit, “It’s not just that you’re Peter, too.”

You feel the muscles in his neck twitch, “What?”

“It’s that… in all that chaos, you chose to stay behind. To help people. You made sure me and Harry got out, but you stayed behind. Everyone was so busy trying to save their own lives and you were thinking about them. I don’t know Peter Parker very well. Maybe he’s just that kind of guy. But I know you. I know if anyone in that room was you, he’d be it.” Peter doesn’t say anything. You feel the tension in his jaw, feel the way his throat bobs with a hard swallow, but he doesn’t say anything. He just watches you. You stare hard into those white eyes and imagine a someone staring back at you. “Or maybe that’s just the kind of people Spider-Man hangs out with.”

He huffs humorously, “Yeah, that checks out. We’re friends, after all.”

Your heart swells to hear it, “friends”. “Don’t make this about me when I’m trying to expose your secret identity.”

“I think Peter Parker would be flattered you think so highly of him. He was kind of worried he made the wrong impression… after you tried to punch him in the face.”

Your jaw drops, having nearly forgotten in the mess of the night. “Well, maybe Peter Parker shouldn’t go around grabbing people in the dark.”

“You were walking so fast. How else would Peter Parker get your attention?”

“Are you just saying Peter Parker over and over to convince me that you’re both completely different people?”

“I just think it’s funny that you don’t believe more than two Peters can live in the same city.”

“There are other factors!”

“Can’t believe you’re the type of reporter who flies by the seat of their assumptions. But you do work for Jameson, after all.” When Peter stands, you naturally follow.

You decide to switch tactics, bruising the alter ego, “You- you know what? You’re right. You couldn’t be Peter Parker. Peter Parker would be shaking and crying if I so much as raised my voice at him.”

“Wow. I’m gonna tell him you said that—wrap your arms around me?” And he snakes an arm around your waist, sending your heart into overdrive again, “he’s never gonna talk to you again. He’s probably gonna issue a copyright claim every time you put his pics on the Web-Blog, now. Legs too.”

“Wait, no. We are not swinging again. We are taking the stairs.”

“How else am I gonna get you off the roof? Legs, please.”

“We can take the stairs!”

“Door’s probably locked and Kingpin’s already on his way back to his super-secret evil lair. Legs or I’m webbing you up in a baby wrap.”

You grumble. It’s enough to make you grab onto his shoulders and jump, locking your ankles across his back with the fear of gravity instilled in you. You reckoned he’d be fast enough to catch you if you did fall. The very possibility makes you sick to your stomach, though. “Please don’t drop me.”

Peter dips his chin into the crevice where your neck meets your shoulder. "Don't worry," and it's not even that you hear his voice, you just feel it, "I've only dropped someone once."

And you're plummeting off the ledge before you get the chance to run away.

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