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sweetsweetjellybean · 8 months

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A night out with friends turns into a surprise welcome home party for the man who broke your heart, Eddie Munson.

Masterlist Listen to Scar Tissue Here

What to expect: Second Chance Romance set in 2012 Chicago, with flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter. Eddie and Steve are in their 30s. Fem!Reader is given a pet name from each of the guys. No other name mentioned. No use of Y/N. No physical description. Reader does have a bit of personality, as I find it nearly impossible to keep her blank for such a long fic. You may find yourself at times making choices that you wouldn't normally make, but I hope you can put that aside and enjoy the ride. Sensitive Content. 18+ Guaranteed happy ending. This is my love letter to Eddie Munson.

WC:5162. Beta'd by @superblysubpar

“Have a good day,” your mother calls out as you shut the front door to the gray clapboard-sided home that your parents had fallen in love with the moment they laid eyes on it. You hadn’t even gotten past the front steps before she appears in the doorway, pulling her purple terry-cloth robe tighter around her shoulders as she calls you back. “You don’t have to come right home after school,” she tells you, pressing a few folded bills into your hand, “Go out with your friends. Have some fun.”

“Thanks, Mom.” You muster up a smile, shoving the bills into the front pocket of your Levi's, certain they will end up in the ceramic pink elephant bank that sits atop your dresser, just like the money she gave you last week. She watches you walk down the steps, giving you a wave before she turns away, shutting the door behind her.

She tries her best, but she doesn't understand that friendships in the seventh grade aren't made as easily as they were in kindergarten, and you can't tell her that in the six weeks you've been enrolled at Hawkins Middle School, not a soul has spoken to you unless asked to by a teacher.

This was the life that your parents had chosen, a career that demanded constant relocation and upheaval. "It's an adventure," they'd tell you as your things were being packed into boxes. But the older you got, it felt less like an adventure and more like a test. A test to prove yourself over and over. There’s a phrase your mom has uttered so often over the years, that it's surprising it's not embroidered on the throw pillows. Bloom where you're planted. But here, in this town, you're only a weed in the garden.

Hawkins isn't any worse or better than any of the other ten places you've lived in the last seven years, but these kids have been together since birth and aren't eager to welcome newcomers into the flock. Pouring your efforts into being confident and friendly, projecting a cool and unbothered facade, the constant exposure has left you empty. The mask is too heavy, and you’ve been wearing it far too long. If this were one of the comics you kept in the box under your bed, you'd be discovering your superpower–Invisibility. They don't see you here, and maybe they never would.

The edges of folded bills in your pocket press into the meat of your thigh. Adding them to your total should give you enough for the new Elastica CD. With a bit of luck, you might be able to talk your dad into driving you to Tower Records in Indianapolis this weekend. A few houses away, the battered front door of a small yellow cape opens with a click and thud, drawing your attention. The house was more run-down than the others on this street. The grass was left to grow a little longer before being mowed, and a few nights a week, you could hear the yelling coming from inside before seeing the slow flash of lights of a cruiser parked in front.

A boy with curly shoulder-length hair bounds out from inside the house, slinging on his worn backpack as he hits the sidewalk.

Right on time this morning.

The scuff of your white Doc Martens falls in step with the crunch of his black Converse hitting the pavement. The chain running from his back pocket to his hip sways with his movements. It’s more of a determined bounce than a walk. Your eyes stay trained on the frayed holes of his Jansport, corners of textbooks and papers pushing through. You keep waiting for physics to kick in and the thing to give way entirely.

“Quit following me.”

His voice floats over his shoulder, shattering the quiet of the morning. Your head swivels from side to side, looking for whoever he is speaking to. His body turns until he’s walking backward, both hands gripping the straps of his backpack, casting his expectant brown eyes on you.

“Me?” You ask, touching your chipped painted fingernails to your chest.

“You’ve been following me for weeks, and it’s creepy.”

“I’m not following you,” you say incredulously, “We’re just going to the same place.”

“Well, walk on the other side of the street or something,” he says, turning back around, continuing on his way like he assumes you’ll comply.

“No.”

Your defiance comes out flat and solid, drawing a line, sick of him and this whole town.

“Yes,” the word comes back without a glance, utterly unbothered by your show of determination.

“No,” you repeat louder, your eyebrows pulling together in a scowl, “If you don’t like it, you walk over there.”

“I was here first.”

“Seriously?” The anger in your chest turns to heat, rising up your neck and settling in your face. Your mouth opens, ready to unleash the venom sitting on the tip of your tongue when he stops walking.

“Might as well walk beside me then.”

Surprise melts the words in your mouth as your feet carry you forward until you’re close enough to see the freckles covering his nose. His eyes stay forward as his stride lines up with yours, moving forward at a more relaxed pace. A light breeze rustles the leaves of the Maples lining the street. The sound of your footsteps is interrupted by the occasional passing car.

“You’re in seventh, right? You got Schnider?” He asks, his eyes darting to your face.

“Yeah.” You nod, looking down at your boots.

"Bad luck. She's a real bitch. I had her last year."

Answering with a shrug, you risk a look back at him. Long eyelashes framing big doe eyes, a sweet face he tries to hide with a hard shell. He wears a mask, too.

Your brain’s on overload for the rest of the day—thoughts of the boy coloring away the hours like a secret, overanalyzing every bit of your interaction. When the shrill sound of the final bell rings, you join the current of students, gathering your belongings and exiting the building in a wave.

The fresh air is a welcome escape from the stuffy classroom as you cross behind the school past the football field, heading toward the path through the woods where the boy is lingering just beyond the gate, digging through his pack but coming up with nothing like maybe he had been waiting. Without a word, he falls into step beside you. When you look at him, this time, he meets your eyes. The sunlight flickers through the swaying leaves as your footsteps resonate through the trees as you continue together.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," his voice cuts the quiet air when you reach the front steps of his house, his tone revealing a hint of uncertainty.

"I'll be headed the same way," you answer.

He turns away from you, pausing with his foot on the top step, looking up at his house before looking back at you.

"I'm Eddie, by the way," he offers, his cheeks pinking at the vulnerability his words carry.

"I know," you respond, a small smile gracing your lips as you continue home.

"Shit. Shit. Shit," you mutter, tucking your phone into your clutch and bolting up the marble steps to the second floor of the Kimpton Grey Hotel. Composing yourself as you pass through the lobby and open the double doors into Vol.39. The bar exudes timeless elegance with its dim, warm light shining on the dark-wood accents. Vintage jazz playing through hidden speakers, sounding like smoke and liquor. Everything here is steeped in leather, old money, and sophistication. It's no surprise that Nancy chose it.

"You're late," Nancy says flatly, no amusement in the blue eyes framed by the blunt cut of her black, sleek hair as she glances at her watch with disapproval.

"Sorry." You slide into the open seat on the tufted couch across from her, adjusting the material of your dark emerald midi skirt so the slit wouldn't be showing off too much thigh, "There was traffic." It definitely wasn’t the extra half hour you spent with your feet up on your desk at Stax listening to the new release from Band of Horses.

"This is Chicago. There's always traffic," she counters, keeping her voice low enough that it doesn't travel past the lit bookshelves lined with leather-bound encyclopedias framing the seating area that your friends are currently occupying. "That's why I gave you a time a week ago. So you could plan ahead."

"She’s in a mood," Argyle says from the corner of his mouth, his hair falling around him like a curtain as he leans closer from the velvet upholstered club chair beside you.

"Where's Steve?" Nancy demands, setting down her crystal tumbler on the gray marble table in the center of the space.

"He's not here?" you ask, scanning the bar. "It was Robin’s turn to watch him."

"Me?" Robin exhales from the other end of the couch she shares with Nancy.

"You're his best friend," you point out with a quirk of your brow.

"Yeah, but you're his–"

"I don't know why I bother to organize nights out for all of us if no one is going to be on time," Nancy cuts off Robin, huffing as she crosses her slender arms over her chest.

"It will be fine, Nance," Johnathan reassures, coming back from the bar carrying a flight of martinis he sets down in the center of the table. "Just relax. Everyone's going to be here in plenty of time." He takes the seat beside her, comforting her with his arm around her shoulder.

Nancy and Johnathan have been on again-off again since she left Hawkins for school in Boston. Rekindling their relationship when she moved to Chicago and accepted a position at Spectrum Media, where she still works as their vice-president of content strategy.

"Plenty of time for what?" You ask, leaning forward to choose a martini, picking the Astoria with a knot of lemon.

"There's a mystery guest," Robin says, wriggling her brows and hooking her thumb towards Nancy. “Full of surprises, isn't she?”

"Where's Flora tonight?" You ask Robin, noticing she is without an escort.

"Flora?" She asks, picking up a drink for herself, "That was over a week ago." She dismisses her with a wave of the hand before running it through her wavy blonde streaked locks, "Sadly, she left for a goat herding commune in Sacramento. I've been seeing someone new, a painter named Taylor. She's on exhibit at Magnolia. Her florals are really dreamy." She bites an olive off the end of her toothpick, sighing.

Smiling around the lip of your glass, you shake your head. Robin works as an exhibit coordinator for Magnolia Gallery in Wicker Park, falling in and out of love with artists as quickly as she sells their pieces. You give her credit, she's having fun.

"Did you text him?" Nancy asks, her lips twisting with impatience. The tense clench of her jaw has you setting down your drink and reaching for your clutch with no arguments. "Do you know how hard it was to get this reservation?"

"Then why are we here?" Argyle complains, gesturing around the room while he slumps back in his chair, swirling the amber liquid in his glass with the other. "You know I own like six bars, right? No reservations required."

"But then you'd be working," Nancy explains, as Argyle smoothes out his handlebar mustache.

"I'm always working, babe," Argyle says with a smirk, looking the part of a restaurateur and music promoter in his shiny flat-front trousers and short-sleeved silk shirt.

Argyle is a new friend - meaning not from Hawkins. The California transplant, whose family owns a chain of successful pizza restaurants, has breathed new life into the Chicago music scene. Booking up-and-coming acts as well as big names into his bars and venues all across the city. He's a good friend to have, especially in your line of work–a music journalist for Stax the city's premiere music, arts, and culture magazine.

“He’s on his way,” you inform them, setting your phone face down on the table before settling back on the couch.

“On his way or leaving now?” Nancy shakes her head, knowing with Steve it’s probably the latter. “Why didn’t you ride with him?” She asks, turning toward Jonathan.

“I wasn’t in the office today. I was on a shoot,” he says, pulling his arm away from her and setting his drink down harder than necessary, his patience with her at an end.

Jonathan, like you and Steve, works for the conglomerate Second City Media. Nancy likes to think that she permits the three of you to work for her competitor, but Steve had already gotten his foot in the door, securing himself an entry-level position at Metro Sports division before she was even out of grad school. Jonathan had been doing alright freelancing as a photographer, but when Nancy started at Spectrum, Second City recognized their competitor would wind up with an edge and hired him on as full-time staff. Everyone knows it's better for their relationship not to be working in the same place, especially with Nancy as his boss.

“Give us some clues about this mystery guest,” Robin interjects to lower the temperature between the couple, which is ready to boil over.

"Okay, I'm here." Steve comes from behind you, his voice alerting you to his arrival before you see him. His tie is already missing, the first three buttons of his starched shirt undone beneath his midnight blue suit, and his hair tousled from a day of running his hands through.

"Really, Steve? You couldn't be on time just this once?" Nancy scolds him, rolling her eyes.

"Meeting ran late. You know how it is," he leans down to kiss her cheek,"Or maybe you don't. I heard things are a bit slow over there at Spectrum," he teases, earning a smirk from Johnathan.

Steve worked his way up from the sports division to chief content officer for Second City Media. The position puts him just shy of the power Nancy holds at Spectrum, fueling the pair's competitive and ambitious nature until their bickering often drives everyone else crazy.

"Steve," Robin draws his attention before Nancy gets the chance to respond, "About tomorrow–"

"Just a minute, Robin. I haven't gotten to kiss my beautiful wife hello." He steps over Argyle's legs and gives the man a quick handshake in greeting before sitting next to you on the sofa.

"I'm not your wife yet, handsome," you tell him as his strong hands cup your cheeks, tipping your head up toward him.

"But it sounds good, doesn't it?" He asks before soft lips close over yours, his thumb pressing on your chin, asking for access to deepen the kiss beyond the line that's appropriate in front of company.

"Niiiice," Argyle hums as the others snicker. Steve takes a hand off your cheek, holding it in front of you to block some of their views as his mouth moves hotly over yours.

"God, you two are sickening," Nancy's remark is probably accompanied by an eye roll, but you're too occupied to notice as you tighten your grip on the front of Steve's shirt, drawing him nearer.

Four of his fingers curl down, giving Nance a one-fingered message as he continues to kiss you until he's had his fill. Breaking away with a gentle peck. "How was your day today, Ace? Did you write me a Pulitzer?"

"You ask me that every day."

Despite teasing you, he wouldn't be surprised if you had what it takes. That's how much he believes in you. He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips to place a kiss next to the glittering diamond he put on your hand a little over two years ago.

"Excuse you." Robin climbs over Argyle's legs that are still stretched out in front of him, taking up all the space between the chairs and the table, and walks over to the couch, squeezing her way onto the sofa between you and Steve, "Best friend privileges." She winks before launching into a conversation about the next exhibit she's putting together.

"You two crazy kids set a date yet?" Argyle asks at a volume higher than you'd prefer. Raising your index finger to your lips, eyebrows drawing together as your eyes flick over to Steve.

"I'm just making sure my invite didn't get lost in the mail," he says, sipping his drink. "I love weddings, man—all those tiny little versions of regular-sized food. Maybe I should open a restaurant like that, where everything is tiny. Tiny little kebabs and tiki drinks with tiny little umbrellas. I don't know what's taking you so long. You need to make an honest man out of him." His voice grows louder at the end of his sentence, earning him another look from you, a distraction that diverts Steve's attention from his conversation.

The waitress chooses that moment to appear, saving you from another conversation about setting a wedding date. It's not that you don't want to marry him–you do. Someday. Decisiveness has never been your strong suit, along with dressing up in big puffy dresses that look like frosting and being on display for everyone you have ever known and their plus ones.

While Steve squints down at the drink menu, fondness warms you like the opening notes of your favorite song. Reaching across Robin, you tap his chest. He looks over at you as he pulls a pair of glasses from his breast pocket and slides them on his nose.

Your lips move without sound–I love you.

You too, he mouths back. His mossy eyes softening as he smiles just for you.

You're happy. Why change a thing?

“I’ll have an old-fashioned. Top shelf. Please,” Steve tells the waitress after she had gone around taking orders for small plates to share and more cocktails from the others. “Another Martini?” He raises his eyebrows at you.

“Yes, please. An Astoria,” you tell her as she finishes scribbling everything down on her pad and heads off toward the bar to put in your orders.

“The ladies?” You tip your head at Robin, who nods, getting up to follow you. Steve squeezes your hand as you walk by as he continues his conversation with Nancy about the effectiveness of paywalls on digital content.

“God, she’s in rare form,” Robin comments as you enter the empty ladies' room, each of you closing yourself into a stall.

“Are she and Jonathan fighting again?” You ask once you’ve finished up and moved to the sink to wash your hands. The echo of your voices bouncing off the black and white hexagon tiles.

“When aren’t they fighting?” She pulls a few paper towels from the machine bolted to the wall and drys her hands. “It’s like foreplay for them at this point.”

You laugh, checking under your eyes for make-up smears. “Any ideas about this mystery guest?”

“No idea.” She tugs the brass handle of the door open, and you follow her back into the bar. “Maybe her brother?”

“That would be nice,” you say, your boot heels tapping on the dark chevron floors, “He just got married, right?”

“So young, practically still a baby,” she tuts, her head shaking from side to side.

“Robin, he’s not that-”

Robin's hand clamps onto your forearm, a squeal escaping her mouth as excitement radiates through her. She bounces on her toes, leaving you in her wake. Whoever elicited such a reaction is being blocked by Steve and Jonathan. When she gracefully maneuvers past them, you catch a fleeting glimpse of dark curls before the two men shift back into place, obscuring your view once more. The clinking of glasses and chatter from the other patrons swells in your ears. Your feet carry you forward, curiosity resonating like the reverb of a guitar. Steve feels you coming up behind him and shifts to the side. Without warning, rich chocolate eyes are locked onto yours. Eyes you haven’t seen in eleven years when he left you a mixtape instead of a goodbye. The eyes of the man that shattered your heart into so many pieces, all the edges are still sharp.

“Hey, doll.”

The breath trapped in your lungs forms a suffocating bubble, its dull, aching pressure stifling any movement in or out, causing your body to lock in protest. You're tugged forward, unable to fight it, until your body collides with his. The faint but familiar scent of him embraces you, lingering beneath the spicy notes of expensive cologne. Triggering a flood of a hundred painful memories, like songs you’ve overplayed and can’t bear to hear again. They jar your instincts into overriding the shock, compelling you to push him away. Eddie's solid frame absorbs the force. To your relief, the others haven't noticed as you retreat to your seat. Your trembling hand raises your martini to your lips, taking larger swallows than you normally would, but nothing with this situation is normal.

"Desperate times," you mutter under your breath, tipping back your glass. By the time everyone has settled back into their seats, your martini glass stands drained, the lingering taste of its contents bittersweet on your tongue.

Steve directs the waitress to bring another drink for you and a double Mescal for Eddie. The others' voices are a distant buzz in your ears, but their words don't breach the barrier of your thoughts. The chords playing in your mind are more discernible now. Their lyrics printed onto the faded photographs of a boy that you struggle to reconcile as the man before you. He's older, but you are too. His long hair is much shorter, the dark curls a richer brown pushed away from his face. A few lines grace the corners of his eyes and forehead–a reminder of the life he's lived without you.

Steve's comforting hand wraps around your shoulders while the other finds a home sliding between the soft skin where your legs are crossed, exposed by the high slit of your skirt. Eddie's eyes are on you, his stare focused on Steve's big hand covering half your thigh. Your left hand moves on top of Steve's, adjusting to make sure the sparkling rock on your finger gleams with brilliance in the soft, ambient light.

"Well, this is a blast from the past," Robin notes, her voice full of whimsy as she dangles her cocktail glass between two fingers, swaying it gently like a pendulum.

"Aren't you all glad I forced you to come out?" Nancy quips, much more relaxed now that her plan has come to fruition.

"You did good, love," Johnathan murmurs. His fingers tangling with hers before giving her a quick peck.

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this," Steve agrees, "How long has it been, dude? Three, four years?"

"Yeah, I think that was the last time you were in L.A." Eddie scratches at his chin, covered with just enough scruff to almost be a beard.

Steve keeps in touch with Eddie? Had he told you when you hadn't been paying attention to him, your mind wandering with the words you would write for other people's songs?

"Now, I know that I told you only old friends," Nancy says, angling herself towards the plaid upholstered chair that Eddie occupies. "But Argyle knows all the local talent, and I thought he'd be a good connection to have since you're moving here."

"What?" You ask, as if a sudden vacuum has just sucked the air from the room.

"You're moving here?" Robin's eyes light up with excitement at the prospect of all her friends in the same city. She was the original connection that brought you together all those years ago.

"When you say here. You mean Hawkins, right? You're moving back to Hawkins," you clarify.

"No. I mean here. I'm moving to Chicago," Eddie says, leaning back into his chair, his long legs spread in his tailored black suit, the black v-neck underneath giving off a laid-back California vibe. "I told those corporate studio fucks I was done. I'm opening my own place to record music that's actually good, not just the kind that will sell. I'm surprised you don't know all this, doll. Isn't it supposed to be your job or something?"

“Fu–”

"Why Chicago?" Jonathan asks, cutting you off before you let loose a very appropriate response to his question, "Why not stay in L.A. or New York. Aren't there music scenes bigger than here?"

Eddie tips his head to the side, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "You know, L.A.'s lost its charm for me. Too many fake people made out of plastic. And, well, Wayne's not getting any younger. Thought it's about time to be closer, you know?"

“You'd be much closer in Hawkins. Bet you could find a place downtown real cheap. You should go look there.” You cross your arms over your chest, drawing a line in the sand.

“Hawkins doesn’t really scream rock ‘n’ roll, and I already got a place, but thanks,” he says, unconcerned as ever by your tone.

“Look at you two,” Robin says, clapping her hands, “Just like old times, back to your usual banter." Her mischievous grin widens, "Remember when she had that massive crush on you, Eddie? You’d stroll into Musicland during our shift, and she’d follow you around with those big heart eyes.”

Your ears ring as heat rushes up to your neck to your cheeks,the whole world spinning. Eddie looks down, swirling the remnants of gold liquid in his crystal-cut glass.

“You’re exaggerating, Robin,” you sputter, reaching for your drink, hiding behind the lip of the glass, “We were just friends. And it couldn’t have been too major. I don’t even remember it.”

“Oh, come on,” she protests, “Everybody knew.”

"I didn't," Steve's voice cuts through her teasing, leaving an awkward stillness in its wake. The distant sounds of high-pitched laughter and the faint scrape of utensils against plates fill the void. Your friends exchange uncomfortable glances, even though there was no malice in his tone.

“Hey, it’s no big deal, though,” his smile puts everyone at ease. “Right, Ace?” His head dips, brushing your lips in confirmation. You nod as he continues, “Robin, remember when we both went on dates with the same girl. What was her name? Brenda.” His fingers snap with the recollection.

“That’s right, Brenda! Brenda Mackenzie!” Robin laughs and begins to regale the group with the story.

When you lift your eyes, Eddie’s stare remains fixed on you, amusement replaced with an intensity you can’t read. An unfinished sentence or lyric. Words hanging between you like a question that you can't answer—one that you don’t want to.

“I’m going for another drink,” you say to Steve, picking up your empty glass.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He asks, brows drawing together.

“No, I’m okay,” you tell him with a plastered-on smile, “You want anything?”

He shakes his head no. “I let my car service go early. I’ll drive us home in your car.”

With gentle fingers, you sweep aside a stray lock of hair that's draped across his forehead, planting a tender kiss on his lips before making your way to the bar.

There is a soft creak of the leather as you seat yourself on a high stool in front of the polished wood bar. A bartender with an easy smile takes your order and leaves, giving you a much needed moment alone. Your lungs expand and contract without releasing any tension. You study your reflection in the mirror behind the rows of brightly lit bottles. If you could rewind the tape to a few hours ago, you'd have happily stayed in your office. Calling Nancy tomorrow to grovel for forgiveness for messing up her plans. But you can’t and the song plays on. It’s always the music that hurts the worst.

You release an audible sigh, your breath escaping through parted lips, as he settles onto the stool beside you. With a casual tap of his rings against the bar, he signals for the bartender, raising a single finger, his tongue peeks out, grazing his bottom lip as he gestures toward his empty glass.

"What’s the matter, doll? You really that unhappy to see me?" Eddie drawls, a half-smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It’s been eleven years, Eddie. Sorry I’m not organizing a parade." You settle back into your seat, glancing around as if you're bored.

The bartender lowers his eyes as they deliver your drinks and wisely retreats to the far end of the establishment.

"I didn’t come here to fight," Eddie replies, his tone softening. He shifts his weight slightly on the stool, one arm resting casually on the counter, the glint of a gold chain around his neck catching the dim light.

"Then why are you here?" Your eyes narrow as your fingers trace the condensation on the side of the full glass.

"A fresh start. To build something of my own." He looks at you with determination, his dark eyes reflecting the soft glow of the bar lights.

"Then build it somewhere else," you respond curtly, your words laced with frustration. You pick up your drink and down half of it in one go, the chilled liquid leaving a slight burn as it slides down your throat. Setting the glass back down, you turn to leave.

He stops you with a gentle hand wrapping around your wrist, his touch causing your pulse to quicken beneath his fingertips. "There are some things I want to say to you. Let me take you to lunch unless Harrington has got you on too short of a leash."

You pull your wrist back, the feel of his touch lingering like smoke in the air. "Whatever you have to say has waited this long, try again in another decade. Unless you're dying."

"Would it make a difference if I was?" He meets your gaze with amusement playing on his lips.

"Let me think about it… nope." Your reply is quick and sharp, meant to cut.

"I know you're mad–"

"No. Mad would imply some kind of emotional attachment. What I feel is indifference. In case you don't know the definition, that means nothing at all." Your voice stays cool and detached as you hop off the stool. "It's a big city, Eddie. There's no reason we have to see each other again."

"We'll have to see about that," he smirks.

"Have a nice life," you say a final goodbye to your past and turn away, walking in the direction of Steve when he stops you with one more question.

"Did you listen to it? The tape, did you ever listen?"

The lie comes without hesitation.

“No.”

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Read Song 2. here

AN: I hope you had as much fun reading this as I did writing it. If you have a song that you think Eddie would have recorded on the mixtape send it to me in an ask and it might be included. Anything before 2001. I'd love to hear from you. Comments and Reblogs are always appreciated.

#steve harrington #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfic #torn series #torn #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington fanfiction #Spotify

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seireiteihellbutterfly · 2 months

Text

Secure in your Lap

ft Nanami Kento

a/n: I can't believe I finally wrote thisI So this was inspired by this ask from @sitarawrites. It was supposed to be a cute fluffy fic, but somehow devolved into this angsty piece, so idk. Although I wrote this fic with a desi/asian reader in mind, I think anyone with a difficult relationship with their parents can relate to this, and I hope it comes across that way.

Rating: 13+, nothing explicit or sexual

Warnings: difficult family dynamics, mentions of familial trauma, guilt, manipulation

Pairing: Nanami Kento x female reader

Summary: A phone call from reader's mother results in her remembering all the reasons she's grateful for her now fiance.

Word Count: 2343

Nanami masterlist

It’s never a good day when your mother calls. Sometimes you wonder why you put up with it and allow her to test your boundaries, despite setting a schedule that you would not be calling her except for Tuesday and Friday nights.

Even the hour spent on those nights are tedious at best. They never make you feel better; it's all for her. It makes her feel better. And despite the fact that you have graciously made this time for her, she never seems to appreciate it. In fact, most of these conversations are one-sided. You’ll have your headphones in, while she chatters away, as you try to focus on other tasks, like folding laundry, or tidying up the general clutter that always accumulates in the living room, throwing in the occasional ‘uhm hm’ every few minutes so that she knows you’re still on the line.

You’ve learned to tune out most of the conversation because very little of it is ever relevant to you. Unless you hear a few key words such as ‘dad’ or ‘finances’ or ‘house’ you don’t really pay attention to the conversation at all. Because you know how most of these conversations go. They start with her talking about her day, complaining about her job. Then she complains about your dad, despite knowing you’ve heard it all before. Then it devolves into blaming other people for circumstances she’s in right now based on events that happened long ago.

When all of these topics are exhausted, she gets to her juiciest arsenal; you. Oh, the things she has to say about you, about how you were such a wonderful child, sweet and obedient and how you suddenly became this rough woman who she doesn’t know how to talk to anymore. Or how you’ve stopped visiting of late, that you’re never home for the holidays, and that she blames your boyfriend for this. Then it’s criticism of your life choices, starting with how you moved in with your boyfriend while unmarried, the fact that he’s not from the same ethnic background as you, or the fact that she blames your ‘attitude’ on him because he defends you from her each time.

Today it was about how you could do so much better than him, and you finally snap.

“He’s not my boyfriend anymore.”

There’s a moment of silence, then with uncontained glee, she says, “Oh, I’m sorry. Well relationships sometimes don’t work out, it’s ok-”

“Because he asked me to marry him.” You finish bluntly, cutting her off. “He’s not my boyfriend anymore because he’s my fiance.” You wait for the bomb to drop.

“Oh.” Your mother’s voice sounds tight, like it’s been stretched taut between pins on a tacking board. “And when did this happen?”

“He proposed last Sunday.”

“And I’m finding out just now. You really must hate me…”

“Don’t do that,” You warn, keeping your voice deadly calm. You knew if you raised it or gave any signs that her words had affected you, it would give her a rush of satisfaction. “Either you’re happy for us or you’re not. Now which is it?”

“Well, it hardly matters now does it? Although I supposed I should be grateful you’re marrying him after all this time. There’s nasty gossip back in our community…so at least you’ve spared me from the embarrassing idea that you wouldn’t marry a man you’ve been living with like an unprincipled woman.”

“How lovely,” you said through gritted teeth. “Be sure to tell the community I have zero fucks to give them as well.”

“Language…I raised such a proper girl, when did you start saying filth like this?”

“I have to go mom. Your behavior will determine if you’re invited to the wedding or not.”

“You are the type to exclude your mother from your own wedding.I’ve known that for years. So it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise. Anyway, talk to you later…Friday night now?”

She disconnects the call and you sit there in disbelief, heart racing. Every time you stand up for yourself, you know it should feel like a victory but somehow, she manages to even steal that from you. You sigh and rest your head against the back of the car seat.

You had just driven home after a long day’s work and decided that it would be easier to talk to your mom in the car and finish it off since you didn’t want to detract from the peace you feel at home. You feel tears prick the back of your eyes and your throat feels like it’s closing in on itself.

Why did you let her in on your life? There’s a strange sense of loyalty to her despite her abuse of you. Because despite everything, there are certain things she did which she wouldn’t have done if she hadn’t loved you. Putting you through your degrees, both bachelor’s and master’s. Letting you live at your parent’s house for free when you were in between jobs. Letting you borrow their car to get to job interviews. There’s signs of love there but why did it have to come attached with this emotionally manipulative price tag?

You let yourself cry for a short while, then hold up your left hand to admire the engagement ring your now fiance had picked out. A watery smile breaks out over your face as you look at it. You feel vain when you allow yourself to do this, but you can’t help it. You weren’t really looking at it for it’s monetary value, but more so for what it symbolized; the peace and balance he brought to your life, the maturity your own parents lacked while raising you, and the security that it didn’t matter if you made a bad choice, he’d never make you feel worse about it.

Wiping away your tears, you turn off the car and quickly look at yourself in the mirror. Thankfully your makeup hadn’t smudged much and you could chalk up the tiredness in your eyes as lack of sleep. You take a deep breath before getting out and entering your home. Your fiance was unloading takeout containers from a bag as you entered. He looks up and smiles warmly at you.

“Thought I heard you in the driveway,” he says as he comes over to embrace you, his arms enveloping you with affection. Nanami presses a kiss to your forehead then pulls you in closer, tucking your head under his chin.

You let yourself rest against the warmth of his broad chest, the comfortingly familiar feel of his body relief to the turmoil inside your chest. Resting your cheek on his chest, you close your eyes and breathe in deeply.

“Y/n? Are you all right?”

Nanami always notices. There’s never a single moment when he’s out of touch with your feelings. He’s learned all the lines in your face, the way your different facial muscles contract or relax depending on how you're feeling. He notices the tension in your shoulders, the slight drop in energy in your step as you walk through the door. Nanami always notices.

You slowly shake your head no. The flurry of feelings inside you, the hurt, the disappointment, the inability to cut off your mom for good, the overwhelming feeling of being inadequate, a disappointment, churn inside you to the point that you feel like you may never come out of this cyclone feeling like a winner. It’s so complex that you’re not even sure where to begin or how to put it into words. Your thoughts and feelings tangle like a ball of string, knotting into a mess of strands that are impossible to separate.

“Kento.”

“Yes my love?” His hands run soothingly over your back.

“I need your lap.”

That was all you could say at the moment. The complexity of everything was too much to bear. Over the years his lap has become a safe space for you. A quiet, designated spot where you could feel everything you wanted to, without any judgment.

Nanami nodded wordlessly, gently taking your hand and leading you to the couch, sitting down and pulling you on top of his lap. Your feet wrap around his lower back, wedged between the sofa cushions and his body while your head rests on his chest, listening to his breathing and you try to match yours to his, a calming technique you’ve learned over the years.

His large hands play with your hair, stroking it, cupping the back of your head and gently pressing kisses to your forehead. He’s learned over the years that lap sessions meant you were in a state of distress and that it wasn’t his place to force you to talk. You would talk when you’re ready, if at all.

“Mom?” he asks softly, his voice fluttering through the top of your hair. You merely nod, the thought of explaining it too difficult to even form words. A deep hum of understanding echoes from his chest and you close your eyes at the comforting sound.

Everything about him screamed security. You remember one time breaking a cup while making your morning coffee, the distinct crack of shattering porcelain filling the kitchen. You had flinched, waiting for the tirade of blame and accusations of clumsiness to come at you, only to see Nanami rushing over to you, concern etched all over his face.

“Are you all right? You didn’t get cut?” His words had brought you to tears, that his primary thought had been you and your safety, instead of a very replaceable coffee cup. No one yelling at you for making a mess in the kitchen, or muttering under their breath that you had wasted a usable mug. Nanami had, in a befuddled state, watched as you came to his side, wrapping your arms around him. It wasn’t until 2 weeks after the incident had happened that you had told him what that moment meant to you.

And now here you were, again, allowing your mom to rob you of the happiness you had worked so hard to build. You're amazed at the patience Nanami has with you, at the way he always reassures you, never letting you forget your worth. That you're more than just your parents’ child. That you are a whole human being on your own, that has the right to live your life without their interference.

“I don't think I want my parents at our wedding.” The words fall out of your mouth. There's lingering guilt but deep down, you knew it was for the best.

Nanami adjusts himself on the couch and leans back against the cushions. Most of the time, he leaves handling your parents up to you, despite how much it bothers him that they ruin your mood every time. But there's understanding in his eyes.

“Not even your dad? I thought you wanted him to give you away.”

“My dad’s an enabler. He'll never come if I don't invite my mom. Besides,” you inhale deeply and continue, “The only person worthy of giving me away is myself.” You gaze into his warm brown eyes, feeling proud that you had come this far. This would be your achievement today. That you were able to say these words and believe them.

“That’s so very true sweetheart.” He gives you a reassuring squeeze. “Look at you, remembering your affirmations.”

Although it’s not much, you still feel yourself glowing at his praise. Growth on your end. “Besides, if they got involved, they’d hijack all the planning, blow it up into a grand ceremony even though that’s not what we want. It’s just easier without them.”

“Anything you want.” He brushes his lips against your hair.

“No, not anything I want. It’s your wedding too. I’d be ok if you wanted a ceremony. I imagine there’s lots of people you’d want to invite. I just won’t be inviting anyone from my side. Except for my best friend.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and with sincerity asks you, “How did you imagine it?”

You consider this for a second. Previously, you had imagined the typical traditional wedding that people of your background were expected to have. But the image has been fading lately, and now, unburdened from your parents’ expectations, your mind immediately creates a picture.

“I want to do it at the beach. Just…no expectations, no one grumbling about how we skimped on decorations or other unnecessary things like flowers. I want…to walk down towards you on the sand, barefoot. Feel the ocean breeze on my face. There’s a small group of guests. Very minimalistic.”

He looks like he’s considering it for a moment but his expression doesn’t show signs of objection. “We could do that. Small wedding, intimate ceremony.”

“Really?” You look at him with love in your eyes.

“Really. I think all the people I want to invite would easily fit into this setting.”

You lean forward and wrap your arms around him tightly. There were simply no words to express how grateful you are for him, for his presence in your life. That you could actually be a family, just the two of you. You lean back to take in all of him, just sitting serenely on the couch, in this shared space the both of you called home now.

“Thank you, Kento.” You say quietly. You know it’s unnecessary, that his love is so very unconditional, no emotional price tags attached. “I know I’m not the easiest to love sometimes.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He draws you tightly to his chest. “It’s so easy to love you. Because every small thing you do is filled with love and consideration. Thoughtfulness. Emotion. And that’s enough. You don’t have to be more than that.”

Your heart swells as you hear his words, the only person to ever really understand just how much you needed to know those things.

“I’m enough.” You whisper softly, still on his lap, resting comfortably in his embrace. You rest your head on his shoulder, eyes closing.

I’m enough…

all banners and dividers by @cafekitsune

#nanami #nanami kento #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk nanami #kento nanami #nanami kento fluff #desi reader #nanami kento x desi reader #desi writers #desi women #nanami kento x indian reader #desi tag #nanami kento x you

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forthevillains · 2 months

Text

Only good girls get what they want

Albert Wesker X fem! reader (18+)

You had no idea just how you ended up in such situation. Legs spread deliciously as your eyes kept darting away from the mirror sitting opposite you. The thing being so large that you had no other choice than to look at your sinful reflection.

"So good for me..." a sweet whisper from the man behind you made you shiver in anticipation as tingles spread inside your stomach, making you try and attempt to press your thighs together, rub them, hide your arousal from his eyes filled with pure greed, yet you couldn't. He wanted you, he would've swallowed you whole if that was possible. The red orbs stared into your own through the reflection in the mirror, his blonde hair that used to be slicked back was now messy and his chin lay comfortably on your shoulder as he took the image in. Wesker adored you, each part of your body, in every position he put you in, how you prayed for him as if he was your God, repeating his name over and over in a state of pure bliss, however this was his favorite one - having you already in front of him, with his knees keeping your legs spread, making you vulnerable, desperate and unable to do anything but fall apart in his arms, under the sweetness of his touch.

His fingers were glued to your aching cunt, covered in that sweet wetness of yours. It felt too heavenly to have your arousal coating his fingers, especially knowing that no other man is ever going to touch you like that. Not on his watch, not while you're his. Not when you're locked up with him and only him... He's stained your brain with how much of a pleasure he has to offer and it is indeed the truth that no man could ever make you feel like this. So dumb from the way his body makes you feel.

He rubbed your clit in painfully slow circles with his rough digits while his eyes kept piercing through you, making your skin burn under his intense gaze. You couldn't help, but whimper, your eyes closing shut from the overwhelming pleasure.

"Eyes on me, my sweet little girl," Wesker commanded as soon as he noticed and the movements of his stopped, yet he didn't move away. "Or else you won't get to cum." When he added that, your eyes flung open only to be met with those terrifyingly attractive irises of his.

His fingers spread your folds, the middle finger finding its place on your shamefully revealed clit and his movements began all over again, abusing it while he applied a bit of pressure, only to have you squirming around as you tried your best to keep quiet. Yet still, he was taking his time. He wasn't always like this, no, he was often too busy to be like that, however whenever he got the opportunity, he would be your worst nightmare, teasing you with painfully slow pace, not giving you what you wanted, barely even bringing you near your climax, just so that he could watch as you grew more desperate, needy, whiny... It was all just for him and that control over your body was enough to satisfy his ego.

"P-Please..." you begged, stuttering over your words, oh you poor thing... That only earned you a chuckle.

"What are you begging for, darling?"

"Faster..." you whispered and that earned you a slap right at your pussy, making you yelp in both, pain and surprise.

"Now... What have I told you about being too greedy?" He was greedy himself and yet, you were deprived of that opportunity. Or at least you couldn't talk about it. Wesker on the other hand couldn't help it, nor did he have a need for that, because your beautiful body is all for him after all.

His fingers returned to your aching core, though this time - his fingers slid lower. He circled your entrance with his wet fingers, drawing an impatient sigh out of you. One of your hands shot up to hold onto his muscular forearm and at the very moment, he pushed two digits inside of you, making you gasp. Your grip on him tightened, nails digging into his skin as he withdrew his fingers out of your dripping cunt only to push them right back in. He continued with that movement, in and out, in and out, hard and quick. You threw your head back to lean against him, your breath ragged and eyes rolling back.

"Look at yourself, dearheart, look how pretty you look with my fingers inside of you." Wesker's voice sounded heavenly to you when he whispered those words. Though everything about this man seemed so angelic, you could've sworn he fucked like the devil himself. Each time he took you, he made you see stars, making you forget about everything you had left in your head apart from him. So lovely.

His other hand shot up to catch your jaw and turn your head towards the mirror. "Open your eyes, my dear." And you do. Your eyes wide open now, staring right into his through the reflection. He looked back at you, a playful grin on his lips as he still fingered you in almost brutal pace.

"That's it."

Your mouth fell agape, any desperate attempts to muffle your moans were useless by now and the sight of your naked form surrounded by his muscular one made your legs tremble. You held onto him like your life mattered on it as warmth covered your entire body and you bucked your hips against his hand in desperation. You were close. So close...

Just when you were about to come undone on his fingers, he pulled them out of you, making you whine in response.

"Not yet, dearheart, the night has just begun," Wesker gave you a smug grin, his eyes fixated on yours when he brought his digits coated in your arousal to his lips, tasting you. The sight alone made you whimper, only imagining how good it would feel if he tasted you properly.

He made sure to lick his fingers clean while he made you watch. Impatience in you only grew, your heart racing as he forced you to just watch. It was pure torture.

You squirmed in his hold. "Please... Touch me again," you begged.

"Patience," he clicked his tongue. "Be a good girl and you might get what you want." Though his orders were direct, you knew better than that. He wanted you to obey, without him having to remind you. The thought of you struggling to keep up with him turned him on so much and he had the whole night to continue with the teasing, edging you until you would be so sensitive it'd become a dangerous play whenever he'd touch you.

You ached for him, to feel his skin on you, to feel him all over you, inside of you.

"Yes sir." You muttered silently as you stared at him and noticed a smug grin form on his face again.

One of his hands took a hold of your breast, squeezing it almost painfully before his thumb slid over your hardened nipple, making your breath hitch. That seemed to satisfy him enough. He was holding himself back from fucking you senseless at this point, every other sound from you only added to the fuel. What a pathetic feelings for a man like him and yet, he was caught up enough not to care one bit.

He began kissing your neck, gently, his tongue sliding over your skin, wettening it before he began to suck on it. You gasped. Completely engulfed by mixture of pain and pleasure you could only think of how purple your neck is going to be the next day. He kept sucking and biting, becoming rough, only to shove his fingers back into your aching hole, forcing a loud moan out of you.

His fingers moved in and out of you quickly while he kept looking at you through the mirror. That was an observation - he needed to know whether you'll listen to him or not. A sigh escaped him, enjoying the beautiful sight before him. You were indeed trying to be good for him.

Your mouth fell agape and you fought the urge to close your eyes and seek support of his body behind hours. You trembled with each thrust of his fingers, not even knowing how many he stuffed you with. You were so wet, he slid in so easily, making your vision go blurry so that you couldn't even count.

Your eyes were locked together as he brought you closer to your orgasm, enjoying every moan of yours. It was like a music to his ears, absolutely angelic.

It was your body that seemed to be giving up on you. You were close again, gripping his arm roughly, hoping for some stability. Though when he brought you over the edge, your eyes immediately rolled back, a loud cry escaped you. If you'd only known...

"Now have I given you permission to cum?"

There was the catch you didn't count on. He didn't stop there, working you through your orgasm, the movement of his fingers only intensified. Tears formed in your eyes while he kept overstimulating you, you tried to desperately push his hand away, the amount of pleasure becoming painful, yet he didn't budge.

A low chuckle escaped Wesker at your pathetic attempts of stopping him. "But I suppose that since you wanted to cum so badly, I'll just make you do it again and again, until you learn how to ask politely."

#albert wesker x reader #albert wesker #resident evil #resident evil wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x you #smut #re smut #oneshot

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avenging-fandoms · 1 year

Note

Hello!

I have this scenario in my head. Pedro and you have a fast growing relationship. The love at first sight kind. You gets pregnant from their first time having sex (yeah they are not safe and that’s the result). Nobody knows they are in a relationship. They don’t know how to announce it , it’s so fast , they know it’s not gonna be welcomed very well. At a press tour for their common movie , you almost faint and Pedro is very worried running to her to make sure she’s ok, all the cameras on them, kinda giving away both their secrets (relationship/ pregnancy).

That’s very precise 🤣😅 sorry

**brief sexual scene **yes this is a pregnancy fic

**alternative ending

It all happened so suddenly, you didn't expect it and it made your head spin. But a good head spin, you were deeply in love. And you weren't even looking.

Pedro Pascal had been a name you heard of a few times, but never really looked him up. You were cast in a movie with him where you were his love interest, so when you first met him at the first script reading, you couldn’t catch your breath.

He was charming, creative, and got the giggles very easily which you adored. Pedro would make frequent stops in your trailer to practice lines. Practicing ended up being full out, which led to acting kisses being real heavy make-outs.

Pedro didn’t expect to fall for you either, but 15 months working together something was bound to happen. He would offer to make you an early breakfast at 3am after the shoot day was over. It ended up with you falling asleep on the couch, then asleep on him. Pedro loved being around you and that he could be himself anytime around you.

You two knew each other for over a year, but only started dating for 4 months. You two took time jumping into anything, really getting to know each other over wine.

You sat on Pedro's couch with your feet tucked under you, wine glass resting on your leg with your left hand supporting your head as your elbow rests on the cushion. Pedro plopped next to you with his own glass, turning his body towards you as he took a sip of his wine.

"I'm really glad I'm getting to know you, Y/N. You are something special" Pedro's hand touched your leg, and you looked at him with a smile as you adjust your head, breasts bouncing in your silk dress. Pedro licked his lips softly, leaning over and putting his wine on the table, taking yours as well.

"I'm glad you're allowing me to get to know you" you touch his shoulder and rub your thumb over his shoulder. He leans over and kisses your hand, and you couldn't wait one more second.

You throw your leg over his waist, straddling him as his hand wrapped around your throat. "I was waiting for that" He smirked and pushed your head back, running his fingers down your chest and over your hard nipples poking through your dress. "I've been waiting for this" Pedro dragged his fingers up your thigh and ran his fingers up and down your folds slowly.

"Pedro.." his hard-on poked painfully hard against his jeans and you smile as you pull it out. You lick your fingers and stroke him a bit, Pedro holding your dress up.

"You wanna do this?"

"Fuck it, I want all of you"

You two did well hiding your relationship. Hanging out in groups who also didn't know you were together, and hiding your meet up spots. You woke up sprawled out in your bed, eyes struggling to stay open as the sun gave you no choice but to be up.

You sat up in your bed, checking your phone which had a few messages from Pedro, your manager and social media notifications. You swung your legs over your bed and stood up, getting the sudden urge to vomit every where.

Luckily the bathroom was right next to your room and you were able to make it to the toilet. You sat against the tub with your head leaned back, washcloth on your forehead. Your phone buzzed next to your butt and you pick it up, Pedro facetiming you.

"Good morning sweetheart. Are you okay? What's going on?" Pedro voice dropped into concern and you whine.

"I just started throwing up and I feel hot" you pout and Pedro stands up, sliding his shoes on.

You pick your head up as you get a notification from your period tracker app. "Hi, YN! It's been a while since we've seen y.." and your eyes widen. "I have to go, Pey"

"What? What is-" you hung up and opened the cabinet under the sink, reaching in the far back for the pregnancy tests you always had just in case. You peed on at least 5, lining them up on the counter and sitting against the floor with your knees against your chest.

Your pushed your toes against the carpet as you rock yourself back and forth, your timer making you jump as it goes off. You hit record on your phone as you held it pointed towards you, your eyes immediately welling with tears as all 5 read 'pregnant' and had 2 blue lines.

You prop your phone against the mirror and slide down the wall, just then Pedro walks into your apartment. "Babe!" he yells as he hears you crying, running to your bathroom.

Pedro's eyes find the tests immediately, squatting down next to you as he held your head. "Oh, princesa. It's okay, it's alright" he whispers and kisses your head, rubbing your arm. "I've always wanted a baby"

"But we just started dating, Pedro. Are you okay with have a baby with someone you barely know?" you sob and look at him, Pedro smiling as he brushed a piece of hair stuck to your cheek off your face.

"Baby I knew from the moment I met you that I wanted you in my life forever. I am more than okay with having a baby with you" you smile and laugh, looking at him through tears.

"We're having a baby" you mutter and he laughs, hugging you tightly as he rubbed your back.

"We're having a baby!"

You hit 3 months pregnant and press tours started to begin. You hadn't popped yet but you had just enough of a bump for people to know. You work a loose blue shirt with a pair of jeans and some black flats, waiting with your microphone on the side of the stage.

Pedro rubbed your arms as they called your name. You walk up the stairs and wave, heading to your seat and watching Pedro walk across the stage as you softly bit your lip.

You tried not to rest your hand on your stomach so much, and it took everything in Pedro not to rest his hand on your stomach which was his favorite thing to do as you two relaxed.

After almost 2 hours of talking, the panel was finally over. You all stood up and waved, walking towards the exit and the audience disappeared as your vision turned white.

Pedro caught you as your legs gave out, holding your body up as he held your face. "Honey, can you hear me?" his hand fell to your stomach and you blink, the room silent with clicking of cameras going off frequently. "There you are, hi beautiful" Pedro smiled at you and you close your eyes as you smile, paramedics bringing a gurney and Pedro carried you down the stairs onto it.

"My baby.." you hum and Pedro nods, looking at the paramedics.

"She hit 3 months pregnant yesterday, could that be it?" he asks as they shut the ambulance doors.

"We won't know until we check her, just hang tight" the sirens wailed, and you were off.

Your head rested in your head on your side as you took a nap, Pedro in a chair as he scrolled through social media. Every single place was talking about what happened, and how you were pregnant, and how you and Pedro were together.

Every single secret out in one picture. Pedro locked his phone as you woke up, immediately standing up and heading over to you and stroking your hair.

"Is our baby okay?" Pedro smiles as he kisses your forehead.

"Our baby is okay, you were just dehydrated and needed to eat. Nothing else is wrong" you sigh with a smile and Pedro swallowed. "But.. everyone knows"

You smile at the ceiling then looking at Pedro. You grabbed his hand and placed it on your stomach, his eyes soft. "Our baby is healthy, we're happy. I don't care who knows"

"I'm glad you feel that way, cause I already posted a photo of us" You laugh and he kisses you over and over, rubbing your cheek with his thumb. "I love you, sweetheart"

"I love you, Pedro" you scoot over and he lays in bed with you, and the both of you fell asleep as he held your stomach.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal imagines #pedro pascal blurb #pedro pascal blurbs #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #rpf #real person fiction

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gh0stsp1d3r · 9 months

Note

Bestie hear me, out hear me out, it might be my atsv hyperfixation still running high and the fact that the kraven trailer got me binge-reading/watching every piece of media that this man appears in but could I request an enemies to lovers trope with Kraven and gn spidey reader ? Is it going to be just fluff or have some smut at the end ? I'll leave that up to you.😜

Anyway, feel free to ignore it if it's not right up your alley.

Thank you and I hope you're having a good day <3

I LOVEEE THIS

Warnings- suggestive towards the end but no actual smut, reader and Kraven been “enemies” for months with just a lot of tension

Spiders

Kraven liked spiders, just like he did lots of animals. He found them interesting and beautiful.

His opinion had changed when he met you.

“I’m just doing my job.” You said, putting your hands up in defense quickly running up a wall, away from the man who was currently trying to attack you. He seemed feral, almost.

“Well let me do mines.” He growled, and started to walk away when you shot a web to him, quickly making him turn back to you.

“Yeahhhh.. after what I just saw, can’t happen.” You folded your arms, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Well then pretend you didn’t see it.” He began to walk away again, not feeling like killing a popular hero and getting arrested for it.

“You bit some guys nose off, man!” You groaned and shot some webs in front of him, blocking him from leaving.

The man turned back, sighing.

“Fine.”

He ran up to you, you shot a web in his face, making him unable to see, you kicked his ankles, he fell down to the ground and ripped the web off his face, now pissed off.

He ran towards you, your eyes widening and you quickly shot your webs towards him, they hit his arms, and you pulled, throwing him towards the ground, as he was down you made a makeshift cocoon with webs, trapping him.

He threw his head back onto the concrete, and you picked him up like he weighed nothing as he trashed around in the webs.

“Jesus Christ, man, you’re so violent.” You said, as you struggled to hold him.

“If you let me go I can show you just how violent I am.” He mumbled.

“Sounds great. So great.” You rolled your eyes. Asshole. That’s when a loud noise behind you stopped you, a whole damn tiger running up.

You yelped and dropped Kraven, his head hitting the ground as he groaned, the tiger sniffing him before looking back at you, making a run for it.

“How’d you get a damn tiger?!” You yelled, running away.

————————————————————-

So that’s how you were now standing in front of him, you both just staring, your arms folded.

“Sooo… how was your day?” You said, trying to lighten to very tense mood.

“It was good before I saw you.” He looked back at the group of people he had just murdered.

“Mm.. I see that. And what’d these guys do?”

“They are- they were working for my dad.”

“Oh, so daddy issues?”

“Yeah… something like that.”

“Well.” You sighed. “As much as I would love for this great conversation to continue, I gotta take you back to jail.” You shrugged.

“So I can break out again?”

You groaned in annoyance. “You better not.”

He laughed quietly and shook his head.

You both fought for a while, and suddenly he was on top of you, breathing heavily as you tried to push him off, your attempts futile. He stared down at you, just staring.

(Can you guys tell I suck at writing fights?)

It all was probably because of adrenaline, but you quickly lifted up your mask, and he was bending down to your level, and your lips suddenly connected in a hungry kiss.

———————————————————————

You laid in the hotel bed, lifting the sheet up and thinking about every single choice you just made.

He got in the bed next to you, you continued to stare at the ceiling.

“That can never happen again.” You mumbled after a while, him reading a book.

He looked at you, laughing again.

“That’s what they all say.”

“Seriously- me and you- we fucking.. hate each other.

“Mmm.. do we?”

“Yes! I’m the person who’s stopped you like a billion times-“

“Tried to stop me. Some of those times you failed.”

“Oh, whatever! You’re a prick.. just happen to be a very attractive prick. And it was just adrenaline-“

He snickered and looked back at the book.

“Was it?”

“Yes! You’re like… you’re like a fucking bird, and I’m the damn spider! In case you don’t know-“

“Birds eat spiders-“

“Exactly!”

“So you admit it? I beat you a lot?”

“Shut uppp.” You rolled your eyes.

“Something kinda rude to say to a guy who you were just begging to fuck you.” He snickered.

#kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x reader #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff

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be-co-me · 4 months

Text

All I Want For Christmas Is You

Levi Ackerman

6.8k words

Summary: The day before Christmas Eve, you happen upon your new roommate's living room calendar and discover that his birthday also happens to fall on Christmas and after a drunken night of meeting his friends and getting to know each other better, also discover he doesn't have a family to spend Christmas with, so you offer him your own.

A/N: The more I wrote this, the more I hated it lol, but please listen to my favorite Christmas song before or while you read as it gives me the floaty happy feeling I desire this fic to have. It's Cold December Night by Michael Buble. Levi may be a bit OOC, but I wanted this ready for Christmas, so I didn't have much time to skim it over and fix things. Thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! This isn't yet edited so please don't mind any mistakes! The AO3 curse got me the past couple of days, so this is much more delayed than I would have liked it to be.

-----

You pulled the last of your packed moving boxes through the front door of your new residence, nudging the door closed with your foot as to not let anymore of the heat inside escape. You had been moving things in slowly the past week, the first few days unpacking consisted of larger and more important items and as the days passed, the less important items made their way into your new home. You let the heavy box cradled in your arms plop to the floor with a thud and sighed heavily, folding over to catch your breath. You quite literally felt a huge weight drop from your shoulders as you realized you were done moving. And not only was it the last box, but the last of your Christmas shopping.

Speaking of Christmas, you noticed the lack of Christmas decor adorning your new apartment. While the shared quarters still held a sense of home and comfort, the decor, you felt, was not up to par for the season near enough for your liking. You would have to ask your new roommate about it and see if you could put more up. You shrugged your winter attire off and made your way to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It would be a long night of wrapping presents and you could use all of the fuel your peppermint mocha had to offer.

As your Keurig sputtered your drink of choice out, you opted to change into comfortable clothes for the evening. When you reentered the kitchen, you grabbed the steaming mug off the machine and blew on the top of the drink, taking a small sip to test the temperature on your tongue.

As you did so, your eyes wandered the walls and found a relatively large calendar hung perfectly straight. You eyed the current date, December 23rd, and the following days, your eyes widening as you abandoned your warm mug on the countertop and made your way closer to the calendar.

Your fingers touched along the block that held 'Christmas Day' and your eyes roamed the calendar adorned in neat script and back to the unfamiliar scrawl that sat atop the block labeled 25.

'LEVI'S BIRTHDAY!!!!!!' It read, in messy capital letters with an astronomical amount of exclamation points following the words. A quite ugly and cartoonish drawing of glasses sat underneath the script, the manufactured 'Christmas Day' scribbled out, and you assumed one of his friends had written everything inside the box. A feeling of panic set in. You had to get him something. It was his birthday. Did that explain the lack of Christmas decor? Does he despise Christmas?

At that moment, you heard a set of keys jingle outside and the click of the door unlocking. You quickly stepped away from the calendar and your hands encased your mug once again. You took another sip of the drink as Levi walked in, brushing snow off of his shoulders. You looked away, scrunching your face at the still boiling hot temperature of the mocha, cursing your awkwardness around the new man. His face adorned the same look, but only because of the cold.

His eyes met yours with a curt nod in greeting as he removed his shoes and he began walking towards the counter. He set his keys across the countertop and hung his backpack across the back of one of the high top stools lining the island countertop you currently leaned on.

"Sorry it's so late. I'm glad I didn't wake you up." he said, unzipping the bag and pulling his laptop out. You shook your head.

"I just got back as well! I finally have all of my stuff here now, so no more ruckus!" you responded hastily, opting to sip your drink once more. You hadn't yet engaged in many conversations with the man, only those around your mutual friend who shared your own college major, Isabel, who had suggested you as Levi's new roommate. But she wasn't here anymore to guide your conversation and it felt quite awkward.

"That's good to hear." he responded, fingers working to plug in the laptop's charger into the countertop. Something you hadn't yet noticed about the home, but you were glad it existed and were sure it would prove handy for late nights studying. You wondered if he had also felt awkward around you. That would have to end quickly if so.

You continued sipping at the drink in silence and watched as he worked, typing into the laptop. Maybe it would be a good time to retreat to your bedroom and give him his space to mitigate from work. Or make him a warm drink as well? Maybe try to strike up a conversation and get to know more about him? Or-

"Got any plans for the evening?" he asked, cutting your internal rapid firing line of questioning off. Your eyes met his own when he stopped typing. Your cheeks warmed at the steely grey's examining your expression. You quickly looked into the swirl of your drink.

"You're looking at them. Why? Got something in mind?" you asked, jumping at the opportunity to know more about him, or more specifically, what would be his fancy in terms of a gift or two.

"Hmm. I'm surprised Isabel didn't mention it. We're all going out in town tonight for a few hours." he responded, fingers reaching for his phone, also plugged in, and swiping it open. You were also surprised she hadn't mentioned so, but forgetful was one of her more endearing qualities so you were quite sure it wasn't on purpose.

"She's forgetful. I'm sure she meant to ask you about it though." he responded to himself. "So? Would you like to come?" he asked. His voice monotonous. He continued his work as you pondered the question and the task you would be abandoning for the evening.

You nodded, agreeing to go along, but now you would have to get ready. You'd have to give Isabel a call and see what the unspoken dress code of the evening was. You imagined if it went her way, you'd be quite dressed up for the night, which also meant freezing your ass off.

"I'll go get ready!" you responded. He nodded and turned his full attention back to his computer, finishing what you could assume was work for his graduate program he'd be starting the preceding semester at the university you would now also be a part of. You had met Isabel at a club meeting in your old college. An event all the universities had gone to. You had struck up a conversation with her, and were pleased to find she went to the same school you would soon be transferring to and it was history from there.

You pulled your phone from under your waistband, finding Isabel's contact as you closed the door to your bedroom. You set a coaster out onto your desk and set your drink down. You'd definitely need the fuel now. Or maybe the better idea would be to abandon it for water.

"Heeellllloooo?" a perky voice drew out the greeting. You smiled, shaking your head.

"Did you forget to tell me something?" you asked. A loud gasp rang over the other line and you took the phone off your ear in preparation for the yelling that was about to ensue across the other line.

"I'm so so sorry! I totally meant to tell you when Hange planned it! Shit! Did Levi tell you?" she asked. You nodded, laughing.

"Yes he did. Now onto more important details. What are you wearing? Is this more of a dressy going out or just comfy?" you asked, fingers sliding hangers over as you mulled over what you could wear for the evening in either option. You hated to not fit in with the theme.

"Hange wants us to dress up because it's Levi's birthday on the 25th! SHIT! That's another thing I forgot to mention!" she responded. This was a celebration. You felt guilty at not knowing the new man's birthday sooner. You chuckled despite the nervous thoughts that began to rapid fire your brain again.

"It's alright! FaceTime me so you can help me pick an outfit out!" you told her. You removed the phone from your ear, awaiting the video call and answering as soon as she called.

----

Your outfit of choice ended up being much more short and showy than usual; an extremely short velvet cocktail dress and heels that matched the color, much to Isabel's pleasure. You wore your trusty black 'going out' trench coat as it went with everything and kept you as warm as you could be in a short dress.

You finished the minute details of your outfit, leaving your bedroom. You walked into the living room, eyes in search of your new roommate to see if he was ready to go.

He had also changed into something a bit more dressed up; a pair of slacks, dress shoes, a button up shirt, and a blazer. His steely grey's met your own, looking down and up before meeting your own again. You swore your caught the faintest tint of blushing to his cheeks.

"Won't you be cold?" he asked, turning towards the counter, taking ahold of his keys. You shook your head.

"This is my trusty trench coat, either it's never let me down or alcohol warms me up enough." you responded.

"Want me to drive? Or we could walk if you won't be too cold or uncomfortable." he responded. You could only nod before realizing you were given two options in the question.

"Walking is fine." you answered curtly. You made your way to the front door, opening it and stepping into the cold. He followed behind you, his hand meeting your own as he propped the door open. You quickly retracted your hand. Now it was your turn to blush, but at least you could blame it on the cold weather.

You heard the telltale click of the lock on the door and he stepped down the stairs in front of you, turning and offering a hand. You stood still, putting your hand up to take his own in hesitation.

"It would really suck if you fell down the stairs before we got there." he said. You laughed loudly, slapping your hand down into his own and beginning your descent down the stairs. You small talked about your days, his at work and university, despite the off season from the semester, and you about your moving and Christmas plans.

You made it to the first place of the evening, a fine dining restaurant. If this friend group was anything like the one in your hometown, then you'd get dinner first and then get wild at bars and hangout spots the rest of the evening and into early morning.

You weren't quite sure of what anyone looked like outside of Isabel, your eyes scanning the tables for a mop of pink hair, but you couldn't see above anyone even with your heels on, and the restaurant was what you would call 'packed', everyone eager to finish their drinking bouts with heir university friends before returning home to their families.

You looked to Levi, who also struggled to see over the top of patron's heads. His eyes widened lightly and then met your own. He nodded his head a certain direction and you began following him through the throng of people towards your destination, taking ahold of the sleeve of his jacket.

Once making it to the table, Isabel stood, beaming.

"This is the infamous new roommate I've been telling you guys about!" she shouted. You laughed, Levi taking a seat next to Isabel. You opted to take the empty spot next to him at the end of the table.

Isabel sputtered more facts about you to the group before someone cut her speech off, a lean blonde man with bright blue eyes.

"Please, introduce yourself. We at least need a name with the face." he said more politely so than Isabel, who now pouted. You laughed too, proffering your name and a few small details about yourself. Where you came from, what your college major was, although you were sure Isabel had already shared those facts for you in her eagerness to adopt you into the friend group, and more typical introductory details.

The server came around and asked drink orders. You went with your regular drink of choice, something that wouldn't get you drunk after one, but definitely not something to drink on all evening. Everyone else made their orders and you were surprised to find Levi had actually ordered something containing alcohol. Albeit, not much, but it was a start. Isabel had told you he wasn't much of the drinker with he exception of tea and the occasional coffee whilst studying together. Your elbow met his arm and his gaze quickly made its way over to you.

"I thought I heard you weren't much of a drinker?" you chided. He looked down to his hands, which sat clasped together atop the table, then leaned back in his chair, a hand brushing through his hair with a long sigh.

"Hange said if I didn't have some drinks tonight they would cancel the whole thing." he responded, irritation laced in his tone, a stone cold gaze now looking to the perpetrator. You laughed loudly.

"I'm sure that's not true." you responded as your drink was placed into your field of vision. You took a sip right away, savoring the way this restaurant made it. This may be the best variation of the drink you had drank before. You'd have to ask for the recipe they used if they'd give it to you.

As you sipped at your drink, you side eyed Levi, who hesitantly took a sip of his own. His nose scrunched and he stirred into the drink more with the cocktail straws, taking another sip, seemingly satisfied with how it tasted now. You engaged in idle chatter with the group, only ordering appetizers and splitting them all amongst yourselves evenly. You insisted you boot Levi's portion of the bill, but Erwin met that proposition with a strong and resounding 'No'.

After two drinks you began feeling warm for the evening, ready to shed your coat at the next location the night took you too. You only followed his friends, not sure what they had in mind. You were sure they had regular locations they frequented and such.

You walked behind the group next to Levi, noticing the silence between the two of you was much more comfortable than earlier in the evening at your shared home. You found yourself enjoying his company more and more so.

Isabel suddenly came up behind you, tossing an arm over your shoulders and the other over Levi's. You stumbled, laughing. As you regained your footing, you caught the heavy glare Levi pointed her direction.

"Can't yell at me tonight bro!" she shouted, laughing loudly. You laughed along, wondering how their dynamic would usually be in your absence. It seemed her lifelong dream may have been to get on every last nerve roaming through his body you thought, maybe even Hange too. You were almost certain they planned antics to annoy him together.

The group made their way inside the next location and the first thing you did was shed the stuffy coat, draping it across your arm. Christmas music boomed loudly across the speakers as it intertwined with the bar's usual playlist.

You followed the group as they made their way through groups of dancing people to a table tucked in the back corner of the bar. You sat your coat atop a chair, scheming how you would pay for all of Levi's drinks for the remainder of the evening.

"What would everyone like? I'll go grab it!" you asked the group as they attempted to make themselves comfortable atop the booth behind the table. You opened a note in your phone and began writing them down.

"I'll come with you. You can't carry it all." Levi announced, standing. You noticed his blazer now shed off as well, another button undone on his dress shirt. It was now your turn to eye him, down and up. When your eyes returned to his face, his eyes met your own with what you could swear was the faintest hint of a knowing smile.

You walked to the bar, grabbing ahold of his shirt sleeve once more as you followed. You squeezed between two people's shoulders and leaned against the bar to wait your turn for a server. You turned your head over both shoulders to find Levi, his hand perched to your left side on the bar and right on his hip. You felt safely encaged, like no one could hurt you. While he didn't stand much taller than yourself, he definitely held an intimidating aura, something you couldn't say was a quality of your own.

You quickly looked back to the bartender as they were ready for your order and leaned further, allowing them to see your phone's notepad as you explained your new friend's drink orders. She nodded, stalking off to quickly make the requested list and move to the next.

Once she returned, you began handing Levi drinks and carried four on your own, which you were quite impressed with. Maybe your old serving job was useful in some aspects. You carefully walked back to the table as to not cause a mess or drop anything.

"Alright. Here's Furlan's, Isabel's, Hange's, and Levi's." you recited, handing the drinks to each respective person and setting Levi's in front of the seat that held his jacket. You turned to grab the remaining drinks out of his hands, smiling as your eyes met his own. He wasn't one to smile nor show emotion much, always stoic, you noticed. You turned back and set your own drink next to the seat you had discarded your jacket in and also next to Levi's.

"And finally mine, Erwin's, Moblit's, and Miche's." you finished. You clapped your hands together and made your way to your seat after Levi made his way in.

After loud idle chatter about anything and everything, Isabel and Hange insisted that you come to the dance floor with them, and despite your considerable amount of protesting, you ended up in major defeat as both of them grabbed ahold of each of your arms, dragging you out of your chair.

You laughed as you danced with them in a circle, each of you holding one of the other two's hands, skipping around. Some of the classic club songs blared through the speakers and your last drink began creeping into your bloodstream. You laughed harder at the heinous dancing Hange managed to pull off, curled over with your eyes closed, laughing the hardest you think you ever had.

You felt a finger tap your shoulder and you straightened your posture, eyes meeting the perpetrator. Isabel leaned close to your ear, telling you the group wanted to take shots and you should head to the table. You nodded and followed behind her and Hange, all holding hands so you wouldn't lose each other in the now packed and large crowd.

You placed your hands atop the edge of the table as you reached it to steady your balance, laughing as you thought of a silly dance Hange had done on the dance floor, your gaze meeting Levi's. Despite his lack of emotion, he didn't seem to be having a bad time. He seemed the type to enjoy the company of his friends and be hellbent on not showing it.

Shot glasses full of bright red liquid were dispersed and you attempted to ask what it was. The overall consensus was that it was a Christmas themed drink. You shrugged and downed the shot after Hange's loud and enthusiastic countdown.

You returned to the dance floor, more of the group joining along, with the exception of Erwin and Levi, who remained chatting away at the table. You couldn't help it, but you found yourself gazing his way the entire evening. You wished he was the dancing type.

After another shot later in the evening, you all had decided to filter outside in search of your next location. You had also succeeded in paying for all of Levi's drinks, much to Erwin's dismay, who insisted paying the entire bill every place you went to.

You opted to not put your coat back on, allowing the cold weather to sober you. You couldn't help but smile as you watched the group. You hoped to become a permanent part of it.

You felt a nudge to your shoulder and looked towards Levi, his hands in his pockets as he walked. Your cheeks were warm and your smile grew wider as he encased his hands over your shoulders, rubbing lightly. You were a bit cold. Maybe he could tell? You had surrendered your coat to Isabel, who had forgotten her own at home.

"Enjoying yourself?" he asked. You nodded eagerly.

"I should be asking you that question." you responded, nudging him back. He shook his head and you all opted for the last location of the evening to be a small coffee shop cafe, something they apparently did routinely after going out for the night. You never did get to finish your peppermint mocha earlier in the evening.

You walked up to the shop, ordering another of the aforementioned drink. Levi had opted for tea, and everyone else some variation of a hot chocolate or coffee. You filtered out of the door, allowing more patrons to filter in before hearing a screech and howling laughter that could only belong to one person behind you.

Your eyes turned to Hange, who pointed a finger curtly above your head, still laughing. Your eyes widened as they met the bundle of leaves and small white fruit hanging above you. Your eyes met the pair of also widened steely greys in front of you.

"You have to! It's bad luck if you don't!" Isabel shouted. Erwin and Moblit could only shake their heads at the antics of the two troublemakers, who doubled over howling with laughter.

What do you do? You don't want to reject Levi. Nor do you want bad luck during the incoming year. If anything, you currently wanted him to kiss you. You shrugged your shoulders and his eyes scanned your features, down to your lips and back to your own gaze. You wet your lips with your tongue unconsciously, stepping closer to your roommate.

And as if by chance, the cheesy Christmas music playing the entire evening filtered through the cafe doors as they opened. The line in the music gave you a sense of (false?) confidence, a sense of this being fated to happen in your tipsy state.

'So kiss me on this cold December night.'

You lightly placed your hands over his arms and his own met your shoulders hesitantly, circling his thumbs over them once more. His eyes scanned over your face once again, as if asking permission. You nodded, closing your eyes, and soon after felt a pair of warm plush lips capture your own. And like a ghost, they were there one second and gone the next.

You forgot about the group behind you, your eyes opening and meeting the pair in front of you. Your smile beamed once more, the group behind you hooping and hollering at the two of you. He really smiled for the first time that evening.

As you made your way home, the hands that were once shoved into his pockets now held a warm drink and your own warm hand in comfortable silence.

----

You awoke to the smell of coffee wafting through the apartment. Christmas Eve, the day to wrap all of the presents you had meant to wrap the evening prior, a task that needed to be done before you left for your family's home.

You stretched yourself awake, abandoning your bed to make yourself not look such a mess before making your way into your shared living quarters. You eyed your phone, the time still quite early.

"Good morning Levi." you said, pouring yourself a cup of the still hot coffee. He muttered a good morning back to you, typing across the keyboard on his laptop once more.

"Got any plans for the day?" you asked him, elbows leaning atop the counter he currently sat on the other side of. His eyes met yours as he shook his head.

"You're looking at them." he responded, and you remembered your similar conversation the evening prior. Did he have no family to go home to? On his birthday? Maybe they lived close and he'd go the next day.

"How about you?" he asked, eyes still scanning the laptop screen. You shrugged.

"Wrapping presents and driving to my family's house. I haven't seen them in a while. I'm pretty excited." you spouted, rambling on about your family to him. You noticed halfway through he had stopped typing and removed his glasses, fully intent to listen to your words.

"What's your family like Levi?" you asked. Any more hints to get an idea as to what you could get him for his birthday tomorrow may come from information on his family.

"I don't have one." he responded. Your eyes widened, taken aback.

"What do you mean?" you asked in thought. Before he could respond you realized the insensitivity of the question. "Never mind you don't have to answer. I'm prying." you answered yourself.

"It's alright. I don't mind telling you. My mom died when I was young and I don't really know my dad." he said quietly with a small shrug of his shoulders. You nodded, your eyes widening as an idea sprung to mind. His face contorted to one of confusion at your sudden beaming smile.

"Come with me to my family's! We'll be back the day after Christmas!" you shouted, your hands slapping over the top of his across the countertop after abandoning your coffee for the second time in as many days.

"It'll be so much fun I promise. they're a little crazy at times, but I don't think it's fair to spend your birthday alone Levi." you continued, almost pleading. His gaze looked to the ceiling in thought before meeting your own once more.

"Okay. Yeah. I'll do it." he responded. You squealed in happiness, quickly sputtering that you had to call your mom before grabbing your coffee and prancing off to your room, closing the door shut.

You found your mom's contact, calling her to let her know the situation. You knew how your parents were, there with open arms to anyone who needed it. And they'd be damned if they also didn't have something there for Levi as well. You had a small pull out couch in your childhood room you could sleep on, opting to let him take the bed as it was larger.

You eagerly spouted a plan to your mother, different gifts for him you thought he would like so she could purchase them. She was just as excited as you it seemed. She always loved when you brought friends home. She loved your big heart even more, which was the main reason she indulged in the company of your friends.

You wrapped your family's presents quickly afterwards, eager to drive to your parent's house in Levi's company. Once you finished wrapping everything or stuffing it into respective gift bags, you stuffed changes of clothes into your suitcase along with your laptop and other items you may need during your visit.

You re-entered the living room at eleven, Levi also packing up his needed items, a suitcase sat next to the door and you set your own next to his. You filtered in and out of your room, stacking the presents next to your cargo. Once you were certain you had everything, you quickly made a to go coffee in a thermos before grabbing your keys, warming your car up as you packed everything into it.

You talked back and forth on the way about school and the friend group you had been assured you were now a part of. You had received more than enough details about Levi to get him gifts of your own after the drive, allowing your mother to steal the ideas you had learned of him the night prior.

You and your mother decided together she could buy the Christmas gifts, and you the birthday gifts.

----

You made a quick pitstop at the strip mall down the street from your parents that you frequented as a teen. Levi walked into the store behind you, and you made the excuse that you needed to pick up one more present for your mother, Levi didn't fail to mention the large load of presents you had already packed into your car.

He scanned over a rack of clothing and you used that as your chance to hastily escape, picking up a few gifts your mother had told you she hadn't gotten yet over text.

When you were satisfied with your selection, you made your way to the front to pay and found Levi quite easily in the shop, letting him know you were finished.

You ran back to the heat of your car, the remaining five minutes of your drive felt so long.

----

As you pulled into the driveway, you beeped the horn of your car lightly to let your family know you had arrived. You parked and exited the car as your parents and four year old younger brother stepped onto your porch. You little brother beelined it for you and you laughed, kneeling down to his level. He jumped into your arms and shouted your name. You spun him around and hugged him tightly, balancing him atop your hip bone with one arm, leaning in to hug your father.

Your mother made her way to Levi, letting him know how happy she was he could join you to see your family and that he was always welcome. Typical motherly things you always appreciated about her. You watch as she gave him a hug and smiled, a soft smile making it's way across his lips as he conversed with her.

Your father helped you unpack your car, grabbing your suitcases and setting them down. He handed a present to your brother, ensuring him the sole responsibility to make sure it got under the tree safely, allowing him to help in bringing yours and Levi's belongings inside. Your brother nodded eagerly, excited to help. Your mother and father grabbed the rest of what you had in the car and you wheeled your suitcase inside.

It smelled of cookies and coffee inside. Your eyes met the Christmas decor littered across the house. A kids Christmas movie played at low volume on the TV for your younger brother and you grabbed Levi's arm, who had also been admiring the decor, and dragged him to the room you'd both be staying in, your childhood room.

Your mother had already prepared your room to accommodate the both of you and you emptied a few of the drawers in your dresser for Levi. You both unpacked your things and you abandoned the suitcases in your closet.

He sat atop the bed once he was finished and eyed the boyband and more embarrassing aspects of decor littered across your room. You plopped down next to him.

"Seems you were quite the fangirl." he observed. Your cheeks heated and you nudged his arm, muttering something about all kids having a fixation when they were young.

Once done in your room, he followed you to your living room down the stairs and you made your way to the tree, helping your mother sort the rest of the gifts. She went all out every year without fail, and your eyes scanned the group of gifts that listed Levi's name.

You turned to your mother and threw your arms over her shoulders, whispering a thank you to her. She nodded, spouting he was happy to do it all.

Levi made himself comfortable on the couch next to your father, who asked if he would like a beer, the TV channel changed to some sports game that was happening. He nodded, not wanting to turn your father down. You made your way to your younger brother, who busied himself with a halfway built puzzle.

You sat next to him, pulling a cushion off the lounge chair behind you to sit on. Levi eyed you as he sipped his beer, your mother bringing you a drink as well. Homemade spiked cider had become your favorite to drink on when you came home and she made it perfectly every year without fail.

You had talked to your mother about hiding a couple of your share of Levi's gifts for the next day, opting to actually open gifts for Christmas that evening so you could celebrate Levi's birthday to the fullest the next day.

After helping with the puzzle, you stood, plopping onto the couch next to Levi, watching the game with him. His knee shook up and down as he sipped the beer idly, and you set a hand atop his own, wrapping your fingers over it. His knee stopped bouncing and his gaze met yours.

"Don't be nervous. Trust me. There's nothing you could do wrong around my family. They already love you." you assured him in a whisper. He nodded, letting out a sigh.

"Sorry. Fathers make me nervous." he said. You shook his knee side to side, and his hand wrapped tighter around your own, both of your gazes turning back to the game on the TV.

After dinner that evening, gift opening commenced. You found your seat next to Levi once more, your cup of cider hot and full once more, Levi now drinking on the same thing, and watched your brother carefully open his gifts. He was calm for a four year old, not too energetic, something you appreciated about him. Your parents instilled his manners at an early age as they had done with you.

Then it was your turn. You set your cup down, carefully opening the assortment of gifts your family had gotten for you. Some new jewelry you had eyes for right after Christmas the prior year, some little plushes you adored that your brother insisted you had to have when he saw them in the store, nice stationary for school, some in trend clothing, and a skincare brand you always used.

Your mother and father opened their gifts from you, your father's a nice watch, and your mother's a necklace that had your brother's and your birthstone's embedded into it. She instantly had your father put it around her neck and she insisted she would wear the necklace to her grave.

Then it came to Levi's, whose eyes widened at the fact you had gotten him anything at all. You leaned your shoulder to his own and his gaze met yours, hands hesitantly reaching for the wrapped boxes your father handed to him.

He opened them with surprise. You had dug through the kitchen cabinets in his absence to find his favorite teas and maybe those that were of a higher price point to get him more, a nice watch as well, and nice stationary for him too as you mentioned to your parents he attended the same university.

His eyes met your own, still wide, then your parents, smiles across their faces.

"You didn't have to do all this for me." was all he could mutter out. You shook your head.

"Of course we did! Quit being humble honey! Besides, there's more where that came from for tomorrow." your mom said, walking over to embrace him once more, then your father, and finally you. Your little brother wanted in on the action, jumping over the two of you, wrapping an arm around your neck and the other around Levi's, a group hug commencing. He had already become part of the family, much like he had adopted you into his friend group.

----

The next morning, Levi's birthday, you awoke especially early, trying not to stir him from sleep as you exited your room to help your mother decorate the house for Levi's birthday. Before exiting the door, with a soft smile, you whispered a quiet happy birthday, leaving and closing the door quietly.

You had a lot of work to do, your mother already started a pot of coffee, a cup sitting on the counter for you already. You worked quietly to adorn the house in birthday decor, your mother had made a cake already and it cooled outside so you could decorate it.

You blew up balloons, careful to not let them pop. Your brother eventually awoke, helping you blow up the balloons as your mother taped the tops to the ceiling and you worked to wrap and curl ribbon around the bottoms.

Your father then awoke, grabbing the hidden gifts and placing them on your living room table. You made a cup of the tea you had gotten Levi as you were sure he would wake up soon. You changed into your chosen outfit of the day and got ready in your mother and father's room.

Levi appeared five minutes after, and you handed him the tea you had made.

"Surprise!" you shouted. He was taken aback once more, eyeing the littering of birthday decor that now sat covering the Christmas decor.

"You're insane. You really didn't have to do all of this." he said, eyes following along the decor you meticulously placed around for the better part of the morning. You received a side hug from him and something about the whole situation just felt homey and domestic. You wanted to lock it up and keep it forever.

You all worked together to prepare breakfast, your father playing a Christmas parade on the TV that your brother watched intently, already slowly eating on the first pancake that left the pan, his eyes glued to the television.

You all sat around the living room as you ate breakfast, your mother and father drilling Levi with questions about university and his graduate program. Oh no. It sounded like the boyfriend talk was upon you.

You eyed your mother mouthing a heavy 'NO' to her, smiling as your father continued rambling on. She nodded, nudging your father, who seemed to understand. You smiled, shaking your head, as they changed the subject from the impending talk.

You comfortably leaned against Levi, your father bringing the last gift to Levi out. You were most excited for this one. You had drilled Erwin fro information the night you went out together when Levi was away from your table. You sent quite a nice amount of money to your mother to have the jewelry shop expedite your order the previous morning, the main reason you had stopped by the strip mall.

"I hadn't planned on giving this to you till after Christmas, because I didn't know your plans, but here it is." you said, watching as he opened it. It was a ring, gold to match the watch your father had gotten him, with his birthstone set in the center, a script across the band you had gotten out of Erwin, a quote Levi had found in a book that he very much so enjoyed.

'Dedicate your heart." it read across the band

"How do you know about this?" Levi asked, sliding the ring onto his finger.

"Let's just say that I'm pretty amazing at grilling your friends for all of your information without you hearing about it." you responded. His eyes met yours and you smiled, your cheeks warming. You could blame it on the cider your mother made again, but you didn't think you would this time.

The look in his eyes matched that of the evening before Christmas Eve when you had gone out together, and you readied yourself to kiss him. You pulled him by the front of his sweater and captured his lips with your own.

Maybe the boyfriend talk wouldn’t be so bad if it was Levi you were with.

——

A/N: I definitely had a different vision for how this would go but I wrote it in two days in my free time and kind of hate it lol. Just straight cute fluff!! Please let me know what you think!

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arealphrooblem · 7 months

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The Promise

Synopsis: An officer of the Empire makes an offer of marriage to his former friend, now a rebel and his enemy, to honor an old promise they had when they were street orphans.

The rebels he put in separate cells, spread across the detention block. He knew a daring rescue would be fronted by their friends — they were always making reckless stupid decisions, risking the many for the sake of the few. But at least this way they would have to break into each cell separately.

And they wouldn’t know who would be interrogated in what order.

To be truthful, the antagonist did not care much for information. He captured this cell for one purpose only. The rest could rot or scatter or break free for all he cared. So long as he kept one rebel in particular.

Seeing their face through the small grate in the door twisted something in his gut. It had changed so much in the intervening years — baby fat melted and hardened into sharp gaunt lines. Body grown into sinewy strength. Scars.

But their eyes were still the same, wide and dark and kind. Expressive eyes that betrayed their every emotion. And their body still small and scrappy and dirty.

So many things had changed since their days at orphaned street urchins, their paths diverged into wildly opposite directions. What used to be his only ally in the world had turned into his enemy and vice versa.

Well that would change by the end of the day. Folding his emotions up carefully, tucking them away and smoothing his face into an apathetic mask, the antagonist took one silent breath and then stepped through the door into the interrogation room.

The rebel sat at one side of the table, hands changed to a rung in the middle, legs chained to the chair. He fought the slice of guilt at the sight of it.

The shock of seeing him lit up the rebel’s eyes. He knew he looked much different than the last time they saw each other, wild hair combed back and tamed, skin spotless of dirt, body tall and strong in his uniform. Sometimes he didn’t even recognize his own self in the mirror.

“Hello, old friend,” he said.

“We haven’t been friends in a long time,” the rebel said, the accent he tried hard to banish singing through their voice.

“True,” he acknowledged, though he never stopped considering them as such even as they blew up his ships, cut supply runs, drew more rebels to their cause.

They stared at each other, drinking the other in. He could see the rebel struggling to hide the pain and yearning at the sight of him, but their eyes gave it away, as always.

“I’m not going to tell you anything,” his friend said finally. They swallowed. “You will have to kill me.”

“I’m not interested in information,” he said. “And I’m not going to kill you.”

Wariness cross their face. “Then what do you want?”

“You,” he said simply.

Then he pulled out the crisp folded paper from his pocket and slid it across the table. His friend gave him one more searching look before dipping their gaze to the paper. He watched in breathless anticipation as they took in the information. Then their gaze jerked abruptly back up, eyes sharp and glaring.

“I don’t understand,” they said slowly.

“It’s a marriage contract,” he replied.

“I understand that. It’s the rest I don’t get. What do you want me to do with this?”

They were being deliberately obtuse but the antagonist was happy to spell it out for them.

“I want you to marry me.”

The rebel had no answer to that. Only speechless, suspicious shock.

“I know you don’t agree with my choices,” he said, “but I chose them to give us both a better life. I promised you that. I went to look for you after basic training and you were gone. When I finally found you again . . .you were with them.”

They glared at him. “The Empire is the reason why we grew up starving on the streets with no parents. Of course I joined the people trying to eradicate it.”

“Eradicating the Empire is not going to eradicate tragedy. We could have been orphans either way. At least now I have no worries about where I will sleep next and when my next meal is coming.” He nodded at their ragged clothes. “Can you say the same?”

“I’d rather starve than get fat off of other people’s suffering.”

“Doesn’t that get old, starving?” he asked softly. “Doesn’t it get old, never sleeping in the same place for long, never feeling safe, never knowing if you would survive the next day? Aren’t you tired of it?”

The rebel had no answer to that, biting their lip against the sudden wetness in their eyes. Because he knew the answer. It’s what drove him into the Empire’s arms, knowing what they did to his people. And in basic training he slept all the way through the night without fear for the first time in his life. He felt full after dinner for the first time in his life. He could predict each day for the first time in his life. All things he would happily give his friend and they wouldn’t even have to work for it.

“Marry me and I will release you rebel friends in my cells. No muss, no fuss, no hair harmed on their heads.”

They were too noble to take the easy way out for themselves, but perhaps they would do it to save someone else. Make them feel like a martyr. Already he could see the wheels turning in their naked gaze.

“Sleep on it,” he said, standing up. “I will expect your answer in the morning.”

The answer the next morning was yes.

#hero x villain #enemies to lovers #my writing #not a prompt #writeblr #fantasci tumblr #the promise #marriage of convenience

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renx01 · 1 month

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Betrayed

Prompt: Your father is the head of a criminal enterprise, one which has come onto the kingsman’s radar. Galahad has the task to get closer to said head, so he starts dating you. After a lot of apprehension on your side, you finally let your walls be broken down by him. That is until you find out that he’s been using you all along. Pairing: Harry Hart x (GN!)Reader Fandom: Kingsman Tags/Warnings: angst, manipulation, established relationship Word count: 2569

A soft knock on the front-door of your apartment draws you from the book you were reading, pride and prejudice. You had started reading it after your boyfriend, Harry, had recommended it to you. Standing up, you quietly walk to the door and look through the peep-hole. It was him, which was unexpected and unusual, but it excited you nonetheless, as it had been quite a while since you last saw him. He had been away on a business trip to Canada for two weeks and the time difference made calling a challenge, especially with his job requiring to stay up late often. Opening the door, you notice that he’s wearing a new suit. While it still fits his usual colour-scheme with it being a darker grey with a white pinstripe, it has some red detailing around the buttons. The fit of the three-piece-suit was impeccable as always, accentuating him in all the right places. ‘Evening Harry.’ Your voice is cheerful as you greet him, ‘ I wasn’t expecting you to be back yet.’ He smiles softly at you, ‘I was hoping to surprise you.’ Leaning down, he kisses you, after which he pulls you into a hug.

‘I missed you, love.’ You tighten your grip around him. ‘I missed you too.’

Ever since the two of you had started dating three years ago, the two of you saw each-other at least twice a week when he wasn’t on a business-trip. He kisses the top of your head before slowly letting go of the hug. ‘Tea?’ You ask him as you walk towards the kitchen, ‘or would you prefer something stronger?’ It was half past eight on a Friday evening, so having a glass of wine or bourbon together wasn’t out of the ordinary. ‘How about some whiskey?’ He replies following you, his hand on the small of your back. ‘Sounds lovely’ you smile, ‘I should have some in my liquor cabinet.’ While you grab two glasses, he looks at your collection. Since you started seeing him it has grown significantly. He enjoyed teaching you about all the different types of liquor and what effects certain techniques may have if applied to the distilling process. ‘This one?’ He holds up a bottle of Scotch after kneeling down to grab it. It was one of your favourites and he had recently bought you a new one while in Scotland. Nodding, ‘You know me too well dear.’

The two of you sit down in your home library, where you had also been sitting previously. It was your favourite place to be in, as it reminded you of your grandparent’s mansion in Italy, which you had often visited while growing up. You have always been quite the reader, so their library provided many of the books you read as a child. ‘Excuse the mess, I’ve been reading and writing all day.’ You apologise for the clutter in your desk and the many books which lay folded open next to your reading chair, annotations sprawling across their pages. ‘Don’t worry my dear,’ he smiles as he sits down across from you, ‘we both know that this is a normal part of your creative process.’ Once you’ve set down your glasses onto the table that’s standing between the two of you, he fills them with the liquor of his choice. ‘So please, don’t apologise.’ After all this time, you still felt flustered at times. He was always so well-put-together, with his exterior almost always being perfect. It was the exact opposite of how you felt at times, yet he encouraged and supported you, telling you many times that one can never be perfect and that you should be comfortable in whatever clothes you decide to wear. ‘To us.’ He states, clinking his glass to yours. ‘To us.’ You reply before tasting the brown liquid. It was as delicious as you’d remembered it to be.

‘I see you’ve picked up Austen? Is it to your liking?’ After thinking for a moment you reply, ‘I’m enjoying it quite a bit, though I am still uncertain what to think of Darcy.’ ‘Ah yes, Mr. Darcy is quite a complicated man. I suppose depending on the type of relationship one holds with him the experience can be quite different.’ He muses. The two of you spent the rest of the evening talking, reading, and drinking scotch. Only at three in the morning did you realise how much time had passed. Because of this, Harry decided to stay the night at your place. Luckily he always had some spare clothes and his own toiletries at your place. Once he’s gotten changed into his pyjamas, he joins you in the bathroom as you are brushing your teeth. Reaching over your shoulder, he grabs his own toothbrush and starts doing the same. His hair is slightly messy, with some of its waves cascading down his forehead rather than them being pushed back. He had also taken off his glasses, which made him appear slightly younger and less serious, at least to an extent.

‘Enjoying the view?’ Harry jokes as he catches you staring at him through the mirror. ‘Why yes of course,’ you turn to face him, ‘mister Hart.’ He smiles down at you. ‘You don’t look too bad yourself my love.’ Leaning in, he tenderly kisses you, slowly becoming more passionate when you put your hands into his hair, pulling him closer. Pulling away, he puts his forehead to yours. ‘We should take this to the bedroom.’

The next morning you wake up relatively late, around eleven o’clock. Harry lay there with his arm around you, his pyjama shirt still open. Soft snores fill your ear, it was quite cute to see him sleeping so peacefully. He isn’t like this often, and it is quite the exception that you are awake before him, so you decide to enjoy the moment. After a few minutes, you supposed that it’d be best to brew some tea before Harry woke up. So very carefully, you climbed out of his grip and silently walked into the kitchen. Putting the kettle on the stove, you start looking at the different teas you have. ‘English breakfast… Chamomile… Mint…’ Pondering and mumbling, you eventually choose a black tea and put in some fresh lemon slices. As the kettle boils, you are putting some yoghurt, granola, and fresh berries into two bowls. Two arms suddenly wrap themselves around your waist. ‘Morning love.’ Harry’s deep voice greets you before he leans down to kiss you on your cheek. ‘Morning dear.’ You turn and meet his lips. ‘Want to go for a run later?’ You suggest as you put your breakfast and cups of tea onto the dinner table. He shakes his head before taking a sip of his tea. ‘I was rather hoping we could go to a museum, I was thinking of Tate Britain?’ You smile, ‘That sounds lovely.’ ‘We can go out for dinner after,’ a familiar smirk creeps onto his face, ‘I may or may not have pulled some strings and gotten a table at Nobu.’ He was definitely planning something, so you decide to agree without prying much more. It became much more apparent that he was planning something after he had picked out an outfit for you, which very much complimented what he would be wearing. While it was somewhat casual for Harry’s standards, many would believe it to still be quite formal. Black slacks, a perfectly ironed white shirt, a light-grey knitted jumper, and of course, oxfords, not brogues. As it was still somewhat frigid, especially in the evening, he decided to wear a black overcoat.

After a short walk to Tate Britain, the two of you strolled around the museum for hours, admiring the many pieces of art which were being displayed. He would make comments on the techniques which were used to paint certain well-known pieces, his knowledge ranging from historic to modern art. Offering his arm, he eventually leads you to John Everett Millais’ painting Ophelia. It is a beautifully detailed painting, displaying the character as it is described in Shakespeare’s play, Hamlet. The two of you had originally found a connection through your love of literature, Shakespeare being one of the first authors which came up in your initial conversations. ‘It is quite beautiful, is it not?’ He whispers in your ear. ‘It is,’ you slowly nod, ‘must’ve been quite the undertaking to add all the details which were mentioned in the Scottish play.’ ‘That, I agree with dearest.’ He chuckles. After walking through the remaining parts of the museum, it is already quite late, so you decide to take a cab to the restaurant Harry had reserved a table at. After ordering a bottle of wine and your food, the two of you enjoy quite a relaxed conversation about his business trip and what you had been up to. The dinner itself was phenomenal, the wine complimenting it, bringing out its flavours and umami. You decided to share dessert before walking back to his place, as it was closer. As you pass through Hyde park, he suddenly halts and points at the stars, which are remarkably visible. Quietly, he describes to you which stars form the different star signs, Orion, Sirius, and more. A couple of minutes pass in silence before you feel him shift next to you. When you turn to face him, he is kneeling. ‘My love,’ he starts, ‘these past three years have been the happiest of my life.’ Pulling out a small box and opening it, he reveals a beautiful ring. ‘Will you do me the honour of spending the rest of your life with me?’ Words escape you. While you had expected him to surprise you in some way, this was outside of the scope you’d expected. Slowly, you nod, some tears escaping your eyes. ‘Yes, Harry. I do.’ ‘My love,’ He stands up, cups your face in both your hands and kisses you passionately, before putting the ring on your finger, ‘please don’t cry.’ As you look in his eyes, he himself seems moved, but something else in his eyes is unreadable to you. The rest of that night was a bit of a blur. Harry told you that he’d gone to your father and asked for your hand in marriage not too long before his latest business trip, who in turn, had agreed. He admitted that he’d been looking at rings for quite a while before that, however, because he is the gentleman he is, he thought it necessary for him to follow tradition. After a couple of weeks, the two of you decide to start living together full-time at Harry’s place, as it’d be easier to see one another on an almost daily basis that way.

Two months after your engagement to Harry, your parents come over for dinner, as it had been a while since you had last seen them. Your mother is over the moon about the engagement and has insisted that you and Harry should marry in Italy, where you had spent most of your summers as a child. If it were up to her, the wedding would already be taking place this very summer, but because of the perfectionist your fiance is, you have decided to plan for spring of the following year. ‘So Harry, how has your work been lately?’ Your father enquires before taking a sip of his red wine. ‘It’s been busy, but I’m happy to have my lovely fiance to support me.’ Harry says as he squeezes your thigh and smiles at you. Your father doesn’t seem too convinced, however, and lets out a snort. ‘I’m sure you have been busy,’ he slowly leans forward and whispers, ‘busy blowing up my men and warehouses, perhaps?’ After sliding a few pictures across the table, he leans back again. It was quite clear that it was Harry, the security cameras your father had installed recently in his warehouses after finding multiple men dead and the building in shambles, had captured a video of him. The second picture was Harry holding a gun and clearly shooting one of your father’s men, Antinio. You had rather liked Antonio growing up and had felt awful after his death. You turn to him after staring at the picture for what felt like an eternity.

‘What’s the meaning of this Harry?’

He swallows. ‘It is none of your concern, love.’ You stand up. ‘Yes it is,’ your voice wavering slightly, ‘Harry Hart, you are going to explain to me what you were doing shooting up my father’s people and business.’ ‘Please sit back down, dear.’ He doesn’t dare look at you. ‘Harry.’ You say sternly and he finally looks at you, the guilt in his eyes quite clear. ‘Please, I can’t, you kno-.’ He almost begs you, but it’s interrupted by the sound of a gun being loaded. You turn and look at your father pointing it at your fiance. ‘I expect you to be honest now Harry, or should I say agent Galahad?’ Harry sits deadly still, all the emotion he had shown you completely wiped off his face. Slowly, he stands up, his hands slightly up and clearly visible for your father to see. ‘You have flown too close to the sun agent; and you’re going to pay for deceiving my child.’ Your father’s voice rising to an almost screaming level. ‘Father please! Don’t hurt him!’ You scream back. ‘Can’t you see that he has used you?! The only reason he ever got together with you is to get to me! Isn’t that right?!’ You turn to Harry. ‘Tell me it isn’t true Harry.’ He doesn’t answer. ‘TELL ME!’ Tears stream down your face as he looks at you without a hit of emotion. ‘We can discuss this later, dear.’ He states before turning back to your father, whose gun was clearly shaking as a result of his anger. ‘No, you’re going to be honest, Hart, if that’s even your name.’ He motions Harry to walk around the table and stand in opposite of him, your mother shifting to stand next to your father. Your fiance didn’t seem to be phased by the situation in the slightest while your father looks like he is about to pull the trigger. Before he can, though, Harry suddenly and swiftly kicks the gun out of his hands, with it flying across the room. Pulling out his own gun, he doesn’t hesitate to shoot your father through the head. ‘DAD! NO!!’ Before you are able to move, he does the same to your mother, who had been relatively quiet throughout the argument. ‘Mo-mo-MOM?!’ You run and fall to the ground, trying to do anything to help them. Blood covers your hands and feet as tears continue to stream down your face. ‘Ha-.’ Swallowing, you try again. ‘Ha-Harry, wh-why…’ Your hands are shaking violently as you search for anything to grab onto. ‘Wa-was it- was it all fake?’ Grabbing your father’s gun you point it at him. He doesn’t look at you. ‘HARRY, LOOK AT ME!’ He turns, taking off his glasses and putting them onto the dinner table, the once white tablecloth now splattered with blood; tainted. Crouching down, he grabs your face and kisses you before pulling you into a hug, the gun you’re holding hitting his chest. ‘You may shoot now, my love.’ Is all he whispers into your ear.

~~~~~~

Part 2

#harry hart x reader #kingsman x reader #kingsman reader insert #harry hart imagine #harry hart reader insert #harry hart #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #angst #like a lot of it #established relationship #manipulation #open ending #ao3 writer #kingsman imagine #kingsman #small blog

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skull-fvcker · 9 months

Text

my heart, my heart wants to hold you

❥ Leon Kennedy x Gender Neutral! Reader

A/N: posted this months ago on ao3 but finally worked up the courage to post it here—this was honestly just my exploration of his character since it's the first time I've written him. Hi

Summary: In which you, a friend of Leon's, track him down and try to put an end—quite badly—to his alcohol issues

warnings: 4340 words, implied alcoholism, unrequited love, general angst and swearing, awkward as hell, written with no Leon in mind so you can imagine whichever one you want, no use of y/n

PT 2

The pub was warm, but not yet bustling. It lacked the social atmosphere in which it would once have. The only people that remained were that of single drunkards and sardonic businessmen who knew nothing more than to drown their sorrows in shitty whiskey as if that would numb the pain of their failing marriage. They knew it would not, yet the urge to drown overcame the rational thinking.

Leon thought that way, too. You knew he did. With every paid vacation that he had, he would escape to some undisclosed location and drown away his sorrows in expensive alcohol—his alcohol of choice is Jack Daniel's. God, it hurts that you know that—until he would lose all sense of clarity and become a babbling mess of a man. Lord knows he becomes even more of a sarcastic prick, those clever quips of his leaving no weight to them and making even less sense than they usually do. He doesn't necessarily become a separate person, but, an exaggerated version of himself. Truth be told, he made you feel like you should get into alcoholism. But you never told him that.

The warm air of the pub waved through your hair, the heavy scent of alcohol and overpriced cologne invading your sense of smell, making you nearly vomit as you stepped through the doorway. The men and women who lost their inhibitions and allowed themselves to verbalize their true beliefs, thoughts, and emotions were filled with each side of the pub, most of them likely accumulating on the second floor to avoid making eye contact with any poor soul that would dare to enter at this time of night. That person just had to be you, didn't it? Always chasing after the people you care for but never getting the reciprocation for your acts. Fate indeed was an unfair mistress.

Your eyes observed the pub with a heavy heart, the sorrow enveloping each and every individual weighing solemnly on your soul. Due to how late it was, you tossed away the idea that some of the people may be college students seeking to have fun. Still, your eyes anchored on a similar figure which sat at the bar, waving for the bartender to refill their drink. Leon... Of course, you recognise that choppy haircut from anywhere; even from the rear of his head. Speaking of which, his head was hanging low. From—what you guessed, anyhow—his overwhelmingly tricky career, no doubt.

Despite it all, you desired to know more about his employment, though he never would budge nor inform you any more than he deemed necessary. Some things are better left unsaid, you suppose.

Your feet moved on their own, heels dragging with each step that you brought. It was the apprehension, you assumed, that was making your hands so clammy and your ears burn up. You knew Leon so well, yet you didn't at the same time. You barely knew anything about his job. He was like an enigma to you. He knew everything about you, whereas you couldn't say the same about him. Did he have a favourite colour? Did he prefer his clothes to be folded a certain way? What about the way his bacon was cooked? Crispy, or chewy? You didn't know. You probably never would, either. Not with how secretive he was.

Leon had sat, drunk, melancholy, and desolate, handling the weight of the world pushing down on him. He seemed so lost, adrift in a sea of regrets, seeking solace in alcohol but finding none. His ashy hair covered his expression—that haircut, he never gets rid of it—with soft strands parting in many different directions. Sometimes it appeared more delicate than other days, and sometimes it seemed incredibly silky and soft.

"Leon," you abruptly spoke, striding next to Leon and sitting on the stool directly neighbouring to him. "How are you doing? What are you doing here?" Your eyes flicked to his shot glass, which was carried to his dry, cracked lips before you even finished your sentence. His cheeks were flushed slightly, and there was sweat collecting by his brows. His furrowed eyebrows pulled his taut skin near the bridge of his nose. Leon turned to face you, his expression softening, but only a short bit. He seemed a bit tipsy at best. "C'mon, you gotta come home already."

He hummed in response to your words, "I could say the same to you, y'know?" He took another gulp of his shot glass, pressing it down into the counter, his bottom lip suddenly moistened with alcohol. A piece of you wished that you could dab the burning whiskey from his skin. "You're not wrong, though." He says with a sigh, snatching the bottle of Jack Daniel's next to him—you can't believe you were right about that—and refilling his shot glass practically to the brim.

One glimpse at his face and you realised what was happening. His mind was clouded with regrets, haunting memories of the horrors he had witnessed in the past. The world's weight seemed to press down on his shoulders, and he found solace in drowning his sorrows in alcohol, hoping it would numb the ache in his heart. But it wouldn't. You know it wouldn't. He did, too. But he was too deep in his alcoholism to even think otherwise. Your eyes look down to your clammy hands, clasped together as if you were to pray.

"Yes," you breathed through your nose, eyes flicking back to glance at the man before you, "I know... I just haven't heard from you in a while, you know? I messaged you a couple of weeks ago, but you didn't respond. I was worried. What are you doing?"

"Classified information, you know that." He was quick to reply, bringing the shot glass back to his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, his face pertaining to a certain perplexity that you didn't understand. "If I could, I'd tell you why I'm constantly on and off." he trails off a bit, shaking his head in defeat.

Despite yourself, you shakily reach out a hand and set it on Leon's, ignoring the twitch of his brow when you do so. "You're only human, Leon. Don't forget that."

His thoughts were a chaotic mess, filled with self-doubt and regrets. You never realised the regrets and self-doubt that plagued his psyche. You were never informed, and you never knew how much he wondered if he could have done things differently, saved more lives, or prevented that one catastrophe altogether. He reprimanded himself for not being able to protect those he overlooked and cared about, and for the mistakes he had made. And yet here you were, blissfully unaware and lending him a hand like he was the only friend that you've ever had. The emptiness inside him was palpable, and he yearned for the company of his friends who were now lost or separated from him.

Even him thinking about that when you were right there—was that not irony?

He missed the camaraderie, the laughter, and the sense of purpose they had once shared. But, now, despite all the people he surrounded himself with—you knew. You knew how many associates he had, he spoke of so many people whom of which you know not the name of, that you've lost track—he's drowning his sorrows in alcohol, trying to escape the pain that gnawed at him from within. You wondered, even for just a wee bit, if he felt isolated. Ostracized from the world itself, and that concerned you to your very essence as you showed him that bright, inexperienced smile that he used to have not so long ago.

Leon chuckled, if not for a moment, gently shaking your hand from his own, taking another drink with little to no regret. It was as if he wasn't even listening to you. It was as if you were just another pebble on the road to his alcoholism. He truly was a man that you knew you would never understand. The shot glass stayed on his lips for what seemed like forever, never leaving the pink tissue that never seemed to pull back for a smile. But, the moment didn't last forever. He soon slammed down the glass, startling you to the point of flinching, your breath hitching.

Leon stares you straight in the eyes, his calloused fingers gripping his shot glass so tightly that the tips of the digits begin to turn white.

"You know what's the worst thing about being a federal agent in this goddamn country? You're not allowed to have a bad day. Ever. You're supposed to be the tough guy, the one who can stomach everything and pull through because it's your job to handle it. I'm so tired of being caught in the middle of it. I just want to be left alone for once." He huffed, the furrow of his brow and the flare of his nostrils itching deep inside your brain.

Though you knew he worked with the government, you knew not of the specifics. You knew of Raccoon City, but not the rest. He was secretive, and you respected his privacy, discreetly hoping that he would trust you enough to brief you on the rest. That was wishful thinking, but hope wasn't too far gone. However, his words still shocked you, and you could only stay silent as his eyes gazed down at the empty glass in his fingers. His hands are so large, you loathed yourself to confess that. They were consistently warm and rough. Without much foresight, Leon reached for the half-empty bottle of Jack Daniel's, but you snatched it from his side over to yours before he could grasp it. He stared at the empty space where the bottle had been, his face swirling with a mix of emotions. He looked like he felt a pang of longing, a sense of loss, and a hint of anger all at once.

"Hey," he called out breathlessly, "that's mine. I need it." He reached over, only for you to glide it down the counter, your expression deadpan. Leon's face suddenly became astonished, his eyebrows raising as he blinks in disbelief. He had been savouring the rich, amber liquid, the warmth of the alcohol rushing through his veins, and now it was gone, snatched away without warning. Never in all the years that you've known Leon have you done something like this. And, deep down inside, you wished that you would have done it sooner.

You could tell that he felt a mix of frustration and confusion as if he had just lost a part of himself. The alcohol had been his comfort, his companion during the long nights when he sought solace in its familiar taste and burn, when he had no one else to turn to, not even you. And you had just snatched that away from him. You felt unfair—you did, but... it had to be done. "Leon, listen..."

He interrupted you, "You've got a lot of nerve to come in here and tell me how to live my life." He scoffed, leaning back in his stool. "Don't get me wrong. Love your company. You're a great friend," your name fell from his mouth like a curse, "but did you just come here to condemn my life choices? Is that it?"

"No, Leon, I just..." You sighed regretfully, your right arm gripping your left bicep tightly. "I was worried about you, that's all... And all of this alcohol? It can't be good for you." Your gaze does not meet his own, but you're sure that he's glaring at you. The daggers in his eyes pierce your flesh like teeth. Though he did not speak, you heard a scoff, followed by a grunt, while the words appeared to be caught in his throat.

Eventually, your eyes dart back at him, and those blue hues, his striking blue eyes—such an attractive colour, you think—stare back at you with a sense of normality and vacancy. Leon appears empty but shortly sighs and slumps his head low, bouncing it a tad before looking back at you, both relief and happiness crossing over his features. A stark contrast to the anger and disbelief he had just a moment ago. A part of you couldn't help but feel as if he was prepping you for something - but you didn't know what.

He smacks his lips, suddenly, "You're right," he seems to begrudgingly accept it, "hate to admit it, but, you are right. It's not healthy for me. You know," he paused, a breath hitching in his throat, his face lightening up, "I had been drinking all night before you came in. Thought I was going to stay here all night, honestly." His gruff voice fell to a whisper, harsh laughter wracking his chest as his head shook.

"That can't be healthy," you confessed. "Yeah, that's the point. It isn't," Leon stated matter-a-factly. It had been a long time since someone had shown him genuine care and concern. Leon took a deep breath and let out a sigh, finally feeling a glimmer of hope, though that was just how you saw the situation. It was wishful thinking, as he barely told you anything about his life. Apart from a few colleagues. "Listen, if it would make you feel any better, I can go home."

Your gaze sank to the floor, watching as the cracks in the marble begin to create vivid illustrations that gnawed on the back of your mind. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, and sighed, "Could I drive you home? It's the least I could do... I just want to be certain you get home safely since you've been drinking." You reached out a hand, setting it on Leon's shoulder. And for the first time, in a long while, you saw him genuinely smile. A grin of appreciation.

"I'd like that," your name fell from his lips a second time, though better akin to a prayer rather than a curse. It filled your heart to the brim with joy. It made you feel as if you were doing something right with your life. Especially with such a good friend as Leon.

"You gonna pay?" "It's on my tab." "That's..." "Don't worry about it."

Leon hopped off the stool with a chuckle and waited for you to do the same, which you did, though not as aggressively as he did. You walked him out of the pub, opening the door for him before he could do the same to you, to which he offered you a snarky 'thanks'. A diminutive part of you was concerned that he might make a critique of your automobile or its decorum, but you pushed those thoughts aside for more favourable ones. Leon has ridden in your car plenty of times before—you haven't ridden in his, though. Does he even have a car?—so you were sure he wouldn't say anything too mean. You could never be too sure, nonetheless. He was unpredictable, yet predictable in the worst fashion.

A tap on his shoulder got Leon's attention as soon as your car came into view, he giving a hum in acknowledgement. "You going to ride in the passenger seat like a big boy?" You joked dryly, walking over to the driver's side and unlocking the door. Leon stared at you in surprise for a moment but soon snickered.

"I don't know. You think I'm a big enough boy?" "The biggest boy, I'm sure." He laughed in response to that, a deep, robust laugh from his chest as he climbed into the passenger's side. Your car was relatively small, so the springs in the suspension system bounced slightly when he sat down. It made you wonder if the bedsprings in Leon's bed fell ill to the same fate. But those thoughts were driven away and you let out a loud sigh, pulling out your keys and puncturing them in the ignition. "Do you want to play any music?" Leon buckled up, clicking his tongue, "You think Three Days Grace is playing at this time?" "Probably not, no..." "Then no thanks." He looked outside the window in an almost dejected manner, which compelled you to laugh stiffly, if not shake your head in doubt. Leon really liked dad rock, and you'd never understand why. Maybe he was destined to be a father in another life? You never really asked him if he wanted to settle down. It wasn't your place to ask, either way. As you began to think, you couldn't help but steal glances at him from across the car. He was the epitome of everything that you knew every man wanted to be - enchanting, confident, and with a smile that could melt just about anyone's heart—did that include you, too, you wondered?—Your sentiments, purely platonic are what you told yourself, feelings for him were deep and genuine, though there was always that rat in the back of your head that told you that he would never see you as an equal.

You would always listen attentively to his performances, though he told you not much, laugh at his jokes, and be there for him whenever he needed someone to talk to. But did he feel the same way? You could only wonder if he genuinely wanted to be your friend. You gripped the steering wheel, suddenly recalling the small conversations you had with him about a certain someone. Ada Wong was her name — from the things you heard, she was absolutely gorgeous. Had a heart of steel, and a mouth of venom, but truly cared for Leon. She could've done more for Leon than you ever would have.

"Hey, we're friends, aren't we?" Your voice cracked at the end of the sentence, the lights on the dark streets at each corner blinding your otherwise perfectly fine vision. Ada understood Leon better than you ever would, and that was the unfortunate truth that you ought to face.

Leon side-eyes you, and you can tell by the slow turn of his eye. "Of course, we are. I consider us friends. Close enough to be friends, anyhow. Why?" His voice sounds fatigued.

A thankful sigh escapes you, in both relief and partial malevolence. How many times would you have to come to drag Leon out of random pubs before he actually drinks himself into a drunken stupor that he won't get out of, even with someone by his side to help him? If he didn't want to get better, then there would be nothing for you to do. You could push someone to do something for their health, but the longer it would go on, the more they would resent you because it's not what they honestly want. "Just wondering. We're here, by the way."

There was another hum of acknowledgement that came from Leon, and it made you wonder if it was all his vocal cords wanted him to say at this time. Drawing the key from your car and turning it off, you get out of the vehicle, both the passenger and driver's side doors closing at the same time. Guess Leon had the same idea as you. You watched as Leon strolled up the steps of his apartment, and, biting back your dread, you pursued behind him, locking the car—does Leon even know cars have automatic locks now? Of course, he does. What a stupid thought—behind you.

"Pardon the mess," Leon chides as you walk into what would have to be the cleanest apartment you've ever seen in your entire life. Not only was it clean, but it was absolutely empty. Save for a few knick-knacks and a sofa in the middle of the living area, adorned by a plain mat and a glass table that separated the sofa from a simple television mounted to the wall. A cosy little place; but you guess Leon wasn't the one for sentiments. Another thing you learned about him that he did not and most likely would not tell you.

You watched as he walked over to the sofa and seated himself down, spreading his legs out and groaning when he hit the soft cushions. "Hey, hey, if it's not too much, could you grab me a glass of water?" There was a juncture of stillness before he began to force himself up off the Davenport. "No, that's not fair for you. I'll fetch it myself."

"No, I'll get you a glass." You vocalised, holding your hand out as if that would preserve him from leaving. He let out a sigh but accepted your advances. You took off your shoes at the entrance—Leon didn't even take off those filthy boots of his—and made your way to the kitchen space. In jaw-dropping shock, it was equally as barren. "I have, uh... I have a question," you called out as you pulled a glass from the cabinet, turning on the cold water to the faucet as you did so.

"Shoot." "I probably shouldn't say this, but... It's been eating at me, you know?" You finished filling the glass and strolled back out to the living area. "What's with you and Ada? Ada Wong?" You observed as he gently took the glass from your hand, but sagged his head down low as if you had struck a sore spot. "I'm sorry, I really shouldn't have asked." "No, it's fine..." He hissed through clenched teeth, taking a sip of the cold water. "To be honest, I don't fully know myself. There's something inside of me that can't let her go no matter how hard I try, a part of me that will always be yearning for her, but... I don't know," Leon laments, taking another gulp from the glass, "If only things were different, you know? Maybe we would've made it work."

He rubs the bridge of his nose, seemingly about to pass out from fatigue, the eyebags that hung beneath his eyes make him seem at least 5 years older than he truly was. "I guess it wasn't made to be." He leans back on the sofa, a small crack of his lower spine unexpectedly catching your attention. The fat inside your cheek was caught between your teeth to prevent the pitiful whimpers that might escape. She really meant that much to him. Leon surely was a dedicated person, especially when it came to the people he cared about. That was something you were always sure of, right from the beginning.

"I think that her, uhm... the way of her living, makes her seem like she doesn't care about you. I think she cares about you more than she lets on. If the situations were different, I know that she would love to be your friend." You took notice of the yawn that escaped him after you voiced that, followed by a chuckle of disbelief. You didn't know how to comfort someone in this position.

You breathed heavily through your nostrils, "Or even something more, you know?" You crouch down near the end of the sofa, one of your hands setting itself on Leon's thigh, gripping it reassuringly. "Maybe in another life, you and Ada are together." You maintained a smile on your face, but it was beguiling. You would only hope that Leon would merely accept it as it is, and you believe that he did, given the rugged chuckle that jerked his body. "Maybe, in another life, you two are married. That's a funny thought, isn't it? Leon Kennedy, settling down. Little Leon and Ada's running around."

Leon pats your hand with his. His rough fingertips and the palms of his hands set your heart aflutter. "I would've loved that," He pauses for a moment, "I bet they would look just like me." You could see the fond expression on his face, his shoulders drooping as if he was reminiscing or recalling a tender, distant memory. One that didn't include you, apparently. Leon holds a peaceful expression on his face and closes his eyes, humming slightly to himself. He isn't quite asleep, but he seems droopy.

"I'll get you a blanket, Leon. You deserve some sleep." You pat his thigh a final time and stand up fully, staring at him for a moment before blinking and turning around, leaving him seating there as you leave. You would only hope that there was a spare blanket in the hall closet. Leon didn't seem to spend too much time in his apartment either way, so you were sure that there would be extra blankets lying around. Your hand opened the hall closet slowly, and of course, there was a thick, fluffy blanket just lying there, folded haphazardly as if someone was in a hurry. It would've been funny if it wasn't so depressing. Gently, you grasped it and started to shake said covering loosely as you sauntered over to Leon's leaning form. You allowed him to lie down on his flank, before covering him with the blanket.

"Thank you," you heard him mumble negligibly through the other dazed murmurs you couldn't quite understand as well as the rest. You would've been tired, too, after all that drinking. You gently gave him a pat on the head—despite its soft texture, his hair always appeared greasy—ruffling the short, straight locks of hair that adorned his head. You dared to never ask him the colour; the first time you did, he just plainly stated that it was blonde, despite what you thought at the time.

Leon slowly began to let out snores, to which you started frowning, dragging your hand away from his now-sleeping form. He was peaceful; he deserved it. He deserved a good night's rest. Without the sorrow and angst etched into his skin, Leon looked so at rest and like he had not a care in the world.

"Maybe, in another life, you could've been given the life you desired and deserved."

#leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy imagine #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fanfic #x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x you

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eternalremorse · 10 months

Text

I Will Gladly Be Yours

This was supposed to be my submission for last week’s Weasley Wednesday for the “wet” theme, but alas, my deadbeat brain and personal life got in the way! I hope you enjoy it :)

Word Count: 2K

Pairing: Garreth Weasley x F!MC (house not specified)

Warnings: Mostly fluff, but with some implied impure thoughts

Notes: Read on AO3 [here]

“Tell me again whose bright idea it was to go foraging for potion ingredients in this weather?” MC huffed as she folded her arms.

Garreth chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, MC, we just need a couple more things and then we can head back to the castle.”

She looked up at the looming black clouds that were heading their way. “Let’s just hurry this up, please.”

Earlier in potions class, Professor Sharp paired up everybody and gave each couple a piece of parchment specifying which potion they will need to make in their next class. Garreth and MC were given the task of brewing Draught of Peace; a potion that relieves anxiety and eases agitation. Everyone had to research the ingredients, the preparation and how to stir it all together correctly.

Since Garreth considered himself a prodigy on the subject, he instinctively took lead of the project. Not that MC minded, she rather admired his enthusiasm.

“What else do we need to get?” she asked, nodding at the note Garreth had in his hand. She shivered at the cool gust of wind that blew through them. A reminder that they needed to make haste if they were to beat the weather.

“Let’s see. We need to find the Hellebore plant for the syrup and somehow find a unicorn horn.” Garreth frowned when he mentioned the latter. “I think we’ll struggle to find the unicorn horn unless we go to J. Pippins or Brood and Peck.”

MC bit her lip. It was fairly rare to come across one out in the open since most people acquired it after the animal had passed away of natural causes, and if either shop had any stock, they were sure to charge more than a few Galleons for it. Money they both didn’t have right now.

Garreth rubbed his chin with his fingers. There must be a way somehow! He thought. Their next potions class was in two days’ time, so they didn’t have a lot of time to gather and prepare.

MC’s eyes glanced at the dark clouds again. They were almost above them. The wind had picked up and the temperature was rapidly declining. It wouldn’t be long until the first drops of rain would fall.

“Let’s try the Forbidden Forest,” MC blurted out. She sounded almost desperate. “I’ve heard there’s a unicorn den there. That may be our best hope.”

Garreth’s eyes widened with horror. “Are you mad? The forest is full of dangerous people and creatures! Not to mention every student is banned from entering. If we’re caught, we’ll find ourselves out of Hogwarts before we can say Quidditch!”

MC shrugged. “I’ve dealt with the horrors in there before many times. You’ll be safe with me.”

Garreth took a moment to think about it. What other choice did they have? If they couldn’t buy one, then they had to source it from somewhere!

He exhaled and slowly closed his eyes. “Fine, but let’s make this quick! I don’t want us in there when it’s sundown. I’d hate to become a spider’s dinner!” He shuddered at the thought.

MC agreed. “Then let’s hurry!”

They both decided it would be quicker and safer to travel by broom. They flew above the Forbidden Forest with MC leading the way. She had a rough idea of where the den could be from her many escapades there. She made her descent northeast of the forest with Garreth not far behind her.

As they landed, she immediately pulled out her wand and scanned the area. She remembered that a spider cave was nearby, so there was a risk of the creatures being close.

Garreth mirrored MC with his wand. As much as Gryffindors were known for being brave, he couldn’t deny that he was afraid. He’d only ventured in the forest a few times, but he was never in there for long. He wasn’t a natural duellist by any means, but he could put up a good fight if his life depended on it.

Garreth noticed how MC was in a protective stance in front of him, ready to shield him from any oncoming beasts without hesitation. He rather liked the idea of being cared for in a way that she would be willing to fight off danger. Not many friends would do that.

Friends, he thought. That’s all we are.

Garreth wouldn’t admit it, but he had developed a crush on MC in the last year. He was delighted at being paired “the new fifth year,” as she was known at the time, in potions class. She was the talk of the school because of starting so late and beginning the term in a very… unusual fashion. Not many people can say that they had a near miss with a dragon!

He tried to play it cool by asking her to retrieve a Fwooper feather from Professor Sharp’s office for his “special concoction,” but in true Garreth style, the feather caused the contents to blow up the cauldron and it splattered all over their robes. He thought she would take an instant disliking to him afterwards, but she found the whole ordeal hilarious (much to his relief!).

Ever since then, the pair would spend as much time together as possible. For the first year, she was whisked away by Sebastian a lot of the time doing Merlin knows what! At one point he convinced himself that they must have been courting. However, MC explained that they were only friends, and she harboured no romantic feelings towards Sebastian. Garreth was pleasantly surprised at the revelation and felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Luckily, their sixth and present year left MC with a lot of free time. She didn’t need to fight poachers or loyalists anymore, and Sebastian was currently courting Poppy Sweeting, so he requested MC’s help significantly less.

A blanket of darkness shrouded MC and Garreth and they looked up to whatever sky they could make out through the trees. The storm had arrived.

“Shit! We need to be quick!” Garreth exclaimed, looking around at the few possible directions they could go. “Which way from here?”

MC took a moment to make sure no beasts were nearby. They seemed to be in the clear for now. She turned to her right. “This way! I think the den should be just further down those trees.”

They both took off running in the direction she pointed. They could hear distant noises of a troll battling something, no doubt it could either be spiders or rogue poachers – luckily, they seemed to be going in the opposite direction to where the grunts and roars were coming from.

MC slowed down when she reached a clearing in the trees and carefully made her way behind one of one of them to peek around. Garreth gingerly followed suit and stood directly behind her to also remain sheltered. He was so close he could smell MC’s cherry blossom shampoo, along with her complimentary perfume of citrus and sandalwood. She was intoxicating!

Focus, Garreth!

MC turned to face him in excitement, before realising how close her face was with his. Their lips mere inches away as she could feel his breath.

“Um… we’re here. At the den.” She purred, her eyes purely on his lips.

Garreth noticed her gaze and felt a little surge of confidence within him. He gave a little smile before leaning in-

CRASH!

A sudden loud clap of thunder jolted MC into Garreth’s arms as she gripped his shirt with her fists. Garreth instinctively wrapped his arms around her as he was startled himself.

Dammit! So close! He cursed the weather.

A cool raindrop landed on MC’s cheek, she looked up and saw some of the leaves twitching at the falling rain. She realised her fingers were still entwined in Garreth’s shirt, she blushed and immediately let go to smooth the creases. “I… I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting the thunder to be so close.” She gave a slight embarrassed chuckle.

Garreth pined at the loss of her touch. The warmth where she was against him fading away to a chill. “S’alright,” he sighed.

MC peeked round the tree again. “It looks like the unicorns are away. Come on, let’s check the den before they return.”

They left the cover of the tree and approached the entwined archway that stood in the middle of the glade. The rain began to fall faster and heavier as the thunder and lightning continued all around them. Garreth and MC had little cover, as the thick trees only partially covered the sky from where they stood. MC had resigned herself to the fact that she was going to get soaked, and casually began her search without fuss.

Garreth followed suit and checked in the opposite direction. Every now and again he’d steal a glance towards MC. Her hair now heavy and slick and clinging to her face, the pink hue of her skin could be seen through her white blouse as it clung to her body, and the chemise she was wearing underneath was now peeking through.

MC turned around and noticed Garreth’s stare. His eyes slowly making their way from her face, down to her neck, and then down to where not much was left to the imagination. It took a second before he realised what he was doing and quickly turned his back to her. “I-I’m so sorry, MC,” he gulped. “Please forgive me for my behaviour, it was completely unacceptable.”

Well done, Garreth, you’ve done it now!

He may have been hearing things, but he could have sworn he heard MC giggle! It was hard to make out for definite in this downpour.

The next thing he knew, a hand grasped at his forearm, gliding down before entwining their fingers with his. Garreth’s breath hitched, and he immediately turned around. MC was standing directly in front of him, looking up with a soft, knowing smile on her face. Garreth’s cheeks felt hot as he blushed at the beautiful sight in front of him.

“It’s okay to look,” she purred. She brought his hand up to her lips and slowly kissed his knuckles. Her eyes were firmly locked on his as she studied his reaction.

Merlin! Is this really happening?

It didn’t matter anymore that the rain had made him freezing cold, the girl he loved was kissing his hand! He’d been dreaming of something like this for months, and now it finally looked like it was going to happen!

“MC… what are you doing?” Garreth was breathless. As much as he was enjoying this, he was also slightly perplexed. She had never given him any indication of her affections other than friendship – until now.

MC slowly closed her eyes, allowing the cool rain to wash away the doubts in her mind. It’s now or never.

Before she opened them, she cupped his hand to her cheek and nestled against his touch, allowing his warmth to caress her cool skin.

“Garreth Weasley… you have no idea how long you’ve been driving me crazy,” she whispered. Her eyes finally opened to see that his expression was filled with a mixture of surprise and adoration. Lips slightly parted to exhale his heavy breaths. “My heart swells at just the thought of you. Being near you ignites a fire within the very core of me. And now touching you like this sets that core alight all over my skin.”

Garreth lifted his free hand to sweep some of the wet hair away from MC’s eyes and stroked down her cheek, tracing his thumb across her jawline. He pulled her chin towards his lips and rapidly closed the gap with a passionate kiss. Teeth almost clashing as their tongues swirled in motion together, almost like a dance. It seemed their mouths were a match made in heaven!

MC wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him in closer. Garreth moaned into her mouth at the contact – this excited her! She deepened the kiss and they continued for at least a couple of minutes. They both eventually, yet reluctantly, parted their lips to catch their breath. Arms still enveloped around each other.

“Bloody hell, MC. That was incredible!” he panted.

MC giggled. “It seems this excursion in the rain wasn’t quite so tedious after all.”

Garreth chuckled, “We should do it again sometime,” he then softened his smile into a more sincere gaze. “I must confess, I have also been harbouring feelings for you for quite some time now. I guess we were both too afraid to admit it. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, as that alone is precious to me.”

MC held her breath for a moment. She scanned his emerald eyes and they twinkled with a certain truth to his words. “I didn’t want to lose our friendship either, but after the way I saw you look at me just now, I wanted to take the risk. My heart couldn’t bear the ‘what if’ scenarios anymore.”

Garreth exhaled deeply and he leaned his forehead to touch hers. Both slowly closed their eyes, he then whispered:

“I will gladly be yours.”

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #garreth weasley #garreth weasley fanfiction #.weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #weasley wednesday #eternalremorse writes

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axofluff · 9 months

Text

A Soldier's promise || Fem!Reader X Simon "Ghost" Riley

・❥・Masterlist

・❥・Tag's/warning: Angst, major character death, reader is pregnant with Ghost's child, trauma, slight comfort, mentions of antenatal depression, no mention of y/n in the military, comfort, grief. Depression and other serious topics.

・❥・Summary: Your pregnant with Ghosts child but Ghost has been deployed to an important mission. With you on maternity leave, you have no choice but to stay behind as your due to give birth, but will Ghost ever return?

・❥・A:N: I've had this idea for a WHILE. I cried whilst writing this, I explained it to @the-jarvy-party a while ago and they encouraged me to write it so, here you go!

I will not be paying for anyone's therapy after this

"I'll be back in no time love, I promise you. You take care of you both for me alright?" Simon pressed a light kiss to your forehead and rubbed your stomach, your little daughter growing rapidly inside.

"Stay safe...please." You were upset more than usual about Simons departure and no matter how hard Simon tried to put the mission off just so he could witness your beautiful baby into the world; Price just simply couldn't hold the mission back further then he could. antenatal depression was hitting you hard

"Always, darling...always for you." He murmurs, capturing your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. Stroking your cheek softly, his brown orbs gaze into yours and you try your best, memorizing every last detail of his face before he slips his mask down.

"To infinity..." Ghost turns to you one last time before he leaves.

"To the ends of the universe." You feel a tear drop from your face and with that, he was gone.

The house suddenly felt empty, despite signs of life blossoming in every corner. Trails of ghost could be seen in every corner. His "World's best soldier." cup still half full of coffee on the table. As much as it annoyed you that he always left it half full it was replaced with a sudden urge. You'd give for a million mugs of half full coffee if it meant for Ghost to remain home.

You were supposed to be used to Simon always leaving for a mission, but this time it felt completely different and you just couldn't figure out why.

You trusted him with your life. He'd always come back home to you, a little bruised but he came back home every single time he left that door. Yet somehow, a gnawing feeling was turning at your stomach.

: ̗̀➛

You and Ghost would call every chance he got, they were short and sweet but you cherished every time your phone would ring and the familure name of "My love." pop up.

To hear his voice was enough to keep you going, making each second that lead up to your point in pregnancy. Sometimes he'd send photos of him and the others. Always keeping you updated on their current status. He'd always remind you that you were strong and that you would make it through this. Simon would almost always ask you to move the phone so he could speak to your belly directly, saying how he can't wait to come home and meet the little angel you both worked so hard to have.

The nights were the worst. You'd often have frequent nightmares and you'd wake up in a cold sweat all alone in bed, expecting to be wrapped in his loving arms only to be greeted by the harsh silence of the night. Simon knew about these when he asked and he promised to have all the cuddles you could ever think of when he comes back.

: ̗̀➛

It was a Saturday night, you were packing things ready to give birth to your beloved daughter as you were only a week away now. You was expecting a phone call of from Ghost today since he promised you on Tuesday he'd call although the day was drawing to an end and you began to feel the anxiety creep in.

"He's probably just taking a nap...I'm sure he'll call in a few minuets...he's fine." You told yourself, folding a t-shirt into a suitcase.

The minuets turned into hours and the night turned into early morning. Your anxiety was almost like a volcano now waiting to erupt but you know for the safety of your little one, it was best not to worry.

So thinking nothing of it, you decided to go to bed. Maybe sleep will help ease your mind, praying you didn't have a nightmare tonight.

You decided to check your phone last time, hesitating to message him but you could never be sure if he would even read it. Sighing, you put it down and close your eyes. Trying to put your mind on other things.

You were suddenly jolted awake as your phone began to ring. You reach over and you see it's ghost, although it was 3:42 am. Ghost would never ring this late, you accept it and put your phone to your ear.

"Hey love! Is everything ok? You-"

"Y/n...baby....oh god..." You were interrupted by him, his voice sounded tired and you could hear faint coughing in the background as he was trying to hide his pain. A sudden worry shot you awake and you were on high alert.

"Simon...what's going on? Are you ok?" You blurted out. Sitting up straight.

"It's so good to hear your voice baby..."His voice was weak and you instantly knew he was hurt.

"SIMON?!-" You could hear Soap in the background, his voice rang alarm bells right through you.

"Are you hurt?!" You frantically try to keep it together, a sob almost breaking out.

"N...No no...just a little scratch." He was lying, knowing if he told you the truth you'd be devastated and he didn't want the last image of you crying,

"Then why do you sound...you're injured Simon don't lie to me." You say between gritted teeth, your chest suddenly feels heavy and you feel clammy. The reality of the situation becoming almost too much for you to handle.

"Shhh...shhh...I'll....I'll be okay love, how's....how's Lilly?" He grunts, knowing he doesn't have much time left. Lilly is what you decided to call your daughter.

"Simon don't you dare try to change the topic! Don't you dare." A cry breaks out and you feel your whole world closing in on you. Your heart racing in your chest, crushing you completely.

"The sky is so beautiful...it always reminds me of you, you know? They remind me the first time I looked into your eyes, my love...Your eyes shone so brightly compared to everyone else's...they reflect on your soul....a soul I am so glad I got to meet..." He wheezes, clearly in pain as he tried so hard to cling on for you.

"Don't talk like that, you are coming home and meeting your beautiful daughter we worked so hard for. 2 years we tried...2 whole years to create her...You are coming home to her...to me...to us." You angrily sob, trying so hard to cling onto any hope.

"I never did thank you...love...you changed me in a way I couldn't see...you....you saved me y/n...you saved me." His voice was getting weaker by the second and you could tell he didn't have long left. You wanted to scream at him, to tell him not to give up, to tell him to fight for you. However, it felt like your throat had been ripped out and you couldn't bring yourself to say anything.

"Please...please Simon....don't leave me." You begged, tears welling in your eyes.

"Oh..love I'm not leaving you...as long as I'm in your heart I will never leave you...I...I just need to rest for a little while...I'm sorry I couldn't make it to see our daughter grow up...to watch as you both grow and be the most amazing and strong women you both will be. You've done so well...my love. You are so strong...so strong. You always had a strength I could never have. I... I love you so much..." He was crying now, it was always rare for him to cry, at least around others. A knife stabbed in your heart as you hear him cry. Knowing there was nothing in your power to make this change.

"Simon... I can't do this without you... I don't want to be alone." You tried to plead. Your voice was shaking and you found it hard to form a sentence.

"Maybe in the next life my love... Please... For Lilly's sake... Stay strong for her. She needs you. Remind her every day she is loved. I know you're going to be an amazing mom. She'll love you endlessly... Promise me that you won't give up on her." He whispers, his voice getting quitter.

"I don't want to be on my own Simon... Please... There has to be something. Where's Soap? Gaz? Price?" Your mind races through any sort of possibility that he could pull through with this.

"Y/n, I need you to promise me that you won't give up on her... Please..." He begs now, his voice straining.

"I... I promise." You mutter and tears stream down your face. Your sobs and the distance sound of gunfire fill the air.

"Simon... Are you there? Simon..." No response.

"SIMON? DON'T YOU DARE!" You scream. No response.

"THIS BETTER NOT BE SOME SICK JOKE SOAP TOLD YOU TO DO!" No response.

You screamed, you sobbed, you yelled, you pleaded.

No response.

You didn't want to accept the fact he's gone. There was absolutely no reason on why he had. He promised you after all, he promised to always come back home to you.

Your throat began to swell and your eyes pricked with tears. You're mouth sobbing as it felt like someone shoved an ironing brand right down your throat. You clutched onto the bed sheets and the sudden wave of his scent caught you. You slept with one of his t-shirts every night. The smell of him was your comfort... Now it was a painful reminder that the person who gave you everything and more was in fact gone.

Tears stained the pillow as you couldn't keep it in anymore. Your whole body was shaking and your chest burnt in pain. You gasped for breath as you struggled. Your painful sobs echoed through the walls.

A sudden knock caused you to jolt awake.

"Y/n, is everything alright in there? I heard screaming." A familur Austrian accent spoke from the other side.It was Konig, he could hear your sobs from the other room.

"GO AWAY!" You scream, gasping for breath.

"Bitter... Let me help you..." His voice was calming, inviting. You just sob and you cling onto the shirt. Burrowing your face in it. You could smell the familure scent of wood pine, gun powder and his cologne he wore everytime. Your tears damperning the fabric as you sobbed hard into the t-shirt.

"I want to help you... Y/n please... Whatever it is..." Konig pleaded. Sounding sincere, you lift your head up slowly and you open the door. Konig suddenly looks down at you, his green eyes widening at your state.

"Oh no no... Come here..." He wraps you in his arms and you just sob into his chest. His warm hands pressingly softly onto your back

"He's gone Konig... He's gone..." Is all you can say between sobs. Konig rubs your back tenderly, his hands moving in circles as he holds you close. Your sobs muffled by konigs chest. Your lungs were on fire as the tears just wouldn't stop and everything became a haze around you.

"I am so sorry y/n, truly... I really am." Konig sighs, looking at you sympathetically. His fingers pressed along your spine gently.

"I can't... I can't do this without him Konig. He... He promised me..." You tighten your grip around him. Wishing it was him, wishing that the phone would call again and it would be Ghost's voice. Telling you it was just a stupid game.

"I'm going to need you to take deep breaths for me ok? Think of Lilly..." Konig 's voice was warm, his words was soft as he desperately tried to get you to calm down. Your tears flowed from your check to Konigs hoodie, his mask tucked neatly in. You sniffle and you know Konigs right, so you pull away and begin to take deep breaths. "There you go y/n, deep breathes." Konig whispers, tucking some of your hair which was now matted with tears away from your face. Your eyes bloodshot from the tears, You wipe your eyes and you sob softly, trying so hard to keep keep everything together. Your sobs slowly subsided to sniffles, having no energy anymore. You felt so weak, so fragile. It felt like ghost took a part of you, a part of you you'll never get back. You loved him endlessly, he was your home and your safety. He loved you the same, you truly had a connection that made you inseparable from each other. You was each other's light. Together, their was nothing you couldn't get through. : ̗̀➛ You were cradling your beautiful newborn, Lilly gurgled and was sucking on her thumb as she slept peacefully in your arms. She had Simons eyes. That beautiful brown haze that shared the same spark as his. Konig was there with you for the birth and he quickly adapted to helping you look after the little one. He was amazing, despite his size. Lilly took a shine to him. Konig helped with everything, to feeding Lilly to even waking up in the middle of the night to change her diaper to let you rest. Although you couldn't love another, you was always grateful for Konig's company. You'd often find yourself in his arms after waking up from a nightmare. His arms becoming your only comfort. Konig understood your boundaries and he respected you, Never pushing himself on you. The task force returned around a month later, instead of the roaring of cheers as they came back from the mission. The boys were silent. Soap especially. The base became silent. Everyone was hurting differently. Price gave you the warmest hug when he returned. Price was like a father to you and he saw how happy you made Simon. Prices eyes were usually warm and swelling with life, but his gaze was different. Even he was hurting. Even Gaz was a different person. His bubbly self was now hidden behind a layer of grieve. The task force was a family and on that day, they lost a brother. You tried so hard to carry on. Every night you had night terrors, imagining Simon laying there in the battlefield in different ways. You struggled so hard. Mundane tasks felt so hard to complete as you were just a shell of who you used to be. Lilly was the only reason you kept pushing through. You promised Simon you'd stay strong for her, so that's what you'll do. The task force did their best to help chip in with supporting you. Taking it in turns to babysit her when Price would force you to get out there and have some time away. Simons funeral was small, since Simon never had family other than the task force and you. They never found his body but you still held a ceremony for him. The days eventually turned into weeks which turned into months. After a while you returned back to your work, knowing Simon wouldn't want you to waste your life away at home. Lilly was growing quickly and before you had time to process everything she was 3 years old. The older she got the more of Simon you could see in her. Her small button brown eyes and her cheeky little smile that Simon always gave you. She saw Konig as her father and eventually you began to fall in love again. You and Konig cared for one another, he was there for when you couldn't pick yourself back up. You found your solace with him and you learnt to trust again. Knowing this is what Simon would have wanted for you and in time, you'll see him again sometime.

There were times where you'd still breakdown, often triggered by a song Simon showed you as you hear it over the radio. Sometimes it'll be from finding old polaroid photos that fell behind a drawer. Often you and Ghost pulling funny faces or sharing a tender kiss. Each with dates written on the back of when you took them.

Eventually, you slowly rebuilt yourself piece by piece. With Konig's support. You became the best mom for Lilly. Making sure she was always happy. It was hard but you had no other choice but to power through. The task force became your family, they gave you a second chance and with the help of everyone. You finally left the past as it was. Only the ghost of it remained.

#call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #ghost #y/n x ghost #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #fanfic #cod fanfic #angst #i am not sorry #axofluff #ghost x you #ghost x reader

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darkdarkroom · 1 year

Text

~ Heat of the Moment ~

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Best friends to lovers. An unexpected drunken kiss has the potential to change everything - was it just the beer, or did Eddie actually mean it? CW: Mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, swearing, kissing, mainly fluff with a hint of angst. Words: 5K

Coming out of inactivity to post some bonus fluff that’s been sat in my drafts, for all you drunk Eddie lovers out there. Happy holidays x

MASTERLIST

***

“Give me one good reason why we can’t just stay in and watch a movie”

You stare expectantly at Eddie, arms folded as you block the doorway to your dorm room. He simply rolls his eyes and shakes his head, choosing to ignore your blatant show of stubbornness. “Because you’ll enjoy it? Now if you’d just let me in…” he insists, making an attempt at moving past you.

“That’s the best you can come up with?” you shoot back, not budging an inch. “Why would I enjoy a high school party?”

“Because I’ll be there” he replies, leaning casually against the door frame. His calm demeanour is beginning to infuriate you; he knows you well enough to know you’ll give in to him eventually, and though you hate to admit it, you know this too.

Despite being at college whilst he’s stuck repeating senior year, you rarely go a week without seeing each other. The standoff you’re currently in is nothing new; in fact, it’s almost a ritual you play out every time Eddie decides he wants your company.

Which is often.

All he has to do is play it cool, flash that disarming smile and wait for your resolve to crumble. He has you wrapped around his finger and he knows it.

Still, it won’t stop you from trying to drag this out for as long as possible. “Look at me, Eds. Do I look like I’m in the mood for a party?

“A pyjama party maybe” he smirks, eyeing your choice of outfit.

“Pyjamas mean I’m in for the night” you state, and he sighs.

“Off you go”

“What?”

“Go and get dressed”

“Not happening” you retort, trying to ignore the intense eye contact he’s serving you right now.

You wait for him to come back with a smart remark or a sound piece of logic, but he simply continues to stare, eyebrows raised and a smile playing across his lips.

“What? Why are you staring at me?”

Still nothing. Just a cool, patient stare that holds your gaze in a way that stirs up something in the back of your mind, something that you choose to ignore this time and every other time he plays this game.

The longer he stares, the thicker the tension grows. You cross your arms tighter across your chest, caging in any questionable feelings that threaten to surface. Not a good idea, you tell yourself.

Not with Eddie.

“Give up, Munson. I’m not coming and that’s final”

***

Twenty minutes later you’re sat in the passenger seat of his van, scowling out of the window as he drives. Every so often Eddie glances over at you, a victorious smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“You scrub up well” he murmurs suddenly, and you look down at the outfit he’d given you five minutes to pick out and put on.

You roll your eyes. “Don't try and butter me up”.

“No, it’s true. You're looking good” he counters, no trace of teasing or sarcasm in his voice - he means it.

You shuffle down further in your seat, turning your face away to avoid looking at him. “Thanks, Eds” you mutter indistinctly, and Eddie grins.

“Any time”.

***

An hour or so after arriving, you realise that your earlier reservations had been correct; high school parties just aren’t as fun when you’re a college student.

Still, Eddie seems to be having a great time. Over the past year he’s managed to find more and more of his own people, finally breaking out of his reject status and gaining a well-deserved amount of attention for Corroded Coffin. You’re endlessly happy for him, softening some of the guilt you’d felt at more or less abandoning him when you moved on.

What you’re feeling right now, though, is very out of place. Perhaps it’s just your own insecurities, but sometimes you swear you can see people looking at you with thinly veiled confusion. How can you, a college student, fit into his life?

The last question is one that has been playing on your mind uncomfortably often in recent months. You feel guilty for even thinking it, knowing that your friendship hasn’t changed at all since you left for college. It’s stupid, you tell yourself, in a bid to squash your negative thoughts back into the locked box they belong in.

It’s the same box which holds other thoughts about Eddie, ones which aren’t so negative.

Ones which enter your mind as you watch him from across the room, laughing and joking with a group of young metalheads who’ve already had a few beers too many. He stands tall and confident, a hand brushing idly through his messy hair. It’s a force of habit that he can’t seem to stop himself from doing, an idiosyncrasy that you love to tease him about.

You smile as you watch him, thoughts drifting back to a recent afternoon you and Eddie had spent together.

“Ten times in as many minutes”

Eddie looks over at you from his position on the couch, nose crinkled up in confusion. “What are you on about?

“That little hair thing you do, I’ve been counting. It’s like…”

You run a hand through your hair, flicking your head back to mimic his gesture with the addition of an over-exaggerated pout.

“I do not make that face” he protests, only to earn more hair flicking and preening from you as you stroll around your living room.

“Oh hey there, I’m Eddie” Flick. “Don’t mind me, I’m just…” Flick. “Making sure everything looks…” Flick. “Perfect!” Flick.

“I’ve never said that in my life” Eddie scoffs, watching your performance with frustrated bemusement.

You run a hand through your hair again, stopping briefly in front of the mirror to admire yourself. “Do I look metal enough?” you ask, flashing him a teasing smile over your shoulder.

“Come on now” he warns playfully, “Don’t make me have to come over there and stop you”

But you’re enjoying yourself too much to stop, only spurred on by his warning. “Look at my curls, aren’t they luscious? It takes effort to have hair this spectacular” you continue, as he pushes himself up onto his feet.

“That’s it, you’re done for”

You pick up the pace as he begins to follow you. “I’m Eddie Munson and I can’t even last sixty seconds without touching my hair”

“Brace yourself” he advises coolly, hardly having to make an effort to catch up. Still you persist, caught up the thrill of the moment… and besides, a big part of you wants him to catch you.

“I have the most beautiful hair in all of Hawkins!” you announce, seconds before his arms wrap around you from behind and pull you tight into his body. He wrestles you onto the sofa with ease, pinning you down into the cushions with his full weight.

“Jesus you’re strong” you manage to blurt out through your laughter, as he grins down at you.

“Damn right I am”.

You stare up at him as you try to get your breath back, neither of you moving from your tangled position. As your breathing calms, you became aware that you can feel his heartbeat through his chest. His breath is warm against your neck, his face mere inches away from yours, his knee between your thighs… and suddenly the playfulness of the moment shifts.

The room fills with an unfamiliar energy, one which both excites and scares you. It’s the second emotion that you feel the strongest, however, and the cautious part of your mind pushes through the fog and takes over.

“And you’re so heavy!” you exclaim, pushing a hand against his shoulder. In an instant, the tension is broken. Eddie springs off you as quickly as he can manage, stumbling a little as he gets to his feet. You sit upright, filled with a nervous energy. “I’m gonna grab a drink”.

*** You’re brought back to the present by the feeling of something coming to rest on your shoulder. Craning your neck to investigate, you discover that the object in question is, in fact, Eddie’s chin.

He grins tipsily at you, empty bottle in hand. “Hey” he says, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly, “How’s it going over here?”

You’ve been too caught up in your reminiscing to even notice his approach, and you hope the pang of embarrassment you suddenly feel isn’t obvious. “Having a pretty good night” you lie, and his face lights up at your words.

“Hell yeah, that’s what I like to hear!” He slurs, nudging your neck with his nose.

Eddie is already a pretty affectionate guy when sober, but Drunk Eddie always takes this to a whole new level. After a few beers you always find yourself on the receiving end of countless hugs and compliments, personal space becoming an alien concept to him.

“Seems like someone’s having a pretty good night too” you tease as you turn to face him, watching him sway a little as he tries to re-steady himself.

“Every night’s a good night when you’re around” he sighs, ruffling your hair with an uncoordinated hand.

“Looks like a few beers might have something to do with it too” you suggest, and he shakes his head vigorously.

“What are you talking about, I’ve only had one”.

“You liar!” You gasp, mock-accusingly.

Eddie slips his arm around your waist and pulls you into his side, pressing his warm flushed cheek against yours. “Maybe more than one then, but who’s counting?”

“Clearly not you”

His face drops. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m not mad at you, Eddie” you reassure him, nudging his shoulder gently with yours. “I’d be the same if I didn’t have class in the morning”

You feel his body relax into yours once again, and he squeezes you a little tighter. “Good, don’t want to make you mad. I’d hate it if you hated me”

You can’t help but laugh at the implausibility of his words. How could anyone ever hate Eddie, least of all you?

Hate is the opposite of what you feel for him, the voice at the back of your head chimes in unhelpfully.

You squash it back down into its box once again, choosing your words a little more carefully. “I’d never hate you, Eddie, you’re one of my best friends”

A look you don’t quite recognise crosses his face, the drunken glint in his eyes replaced with an unfamiliar seriousness. He opens his mouth to say something, but he’s interrupted by the arrival of a guy you recognise from another party a few weeks back. Eddie steps away from you to clap the guy on the shoulder, his fingertips brushing your hip as he withdraws.

“Hey, good to see you!” he exclaims, glancing back at you briefly as he launches into a friendly conversation with the new arrival. You stay and chat obligingly for a minute or so, but your mind is preoccupied. Excusing yourself politely, you step outside to get some much-needed fresh air.

The patio is still heaving with party goers, so you grab a beer from a cooler and keep walking until you set foot on the grass. It’s more peaceful here, though you can still hear the muffled sounds of the party even from this far away.

You sit cross-legged, back resting against a grassy slope as you try to push Eddie’s expression out of your mind. Clearly you’re just overthinking things. The boy is drunk, nothing he did merits any deeper reading than that. You knock back a considerable mouthful of your drink, grimacing at the acrid taste.

Why can’t you just enjoy yourself tonight? Eddie made all that effort to get you out to a great party and here you are, sitting alone like a loser. And why is it that you can’t seem to talk to him without joking or gently making fun of him? The nature of your friendship has always been playful, but recently it seems like nothing that comes out of your mouth around him is entirely genuine.

It’s a defence, the voice at the back of your head chimes in. You’re overcompensating.

It stops you from saying how you really feel.

God damnit. It’s getting harder and harder to keep these thoughts locked in their box, no matter how many times you shove them back down.

At the heart of the issue is one very plain fact:

You like Eddie as more than a friend.

Eddie sees you as a friend, a best friend at that, but apparently that’s no longer enough for you. It will have to be enough though, won't it? Your friendship is much too precious to risk derailing it with a few silly little feelings, and it just wouldn’t be fair to put that kind of pressure on Eddie anyway.

What does it matter that your heartbeat quickens every time he smiles at you?

What does it matter that ever single innocent compliment makes your cheeks heat up with an unstoppable rush of blood?

And what does it matter that every time he hugs you goodbye, you wish it had been a kiss?

None of it matters. You’ve kept your feelings hidden for this long, and hidden they must stay.

“Found you!”

You look up to see Eddie standing at the top of the slope, his expression triumphant. “What'ya doing all the way out here?” he asks, before plopping himself down beside you. He hasn’t sobered up at all since you’d last spoken. If anything, he’s even more drunk.

“Fancied some fresh air” you explain, watching as he pulls up a handful of grass and sprinkles it into your lap.

“Oh thanks, just what I wanted” you tell him, and he grins.

“Should come back inside,” he suggests, gently elbowing you in the ribs. “Kinda looks like you're hiding”.

You make a show of looking back at the party, and then sigh like you’ve just remembered something. “I should probably make a move actually, I have to be in class for half seven”.

“Aw, come on!”

Eddie leans into you, one arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into a hug. “Wanted to party with you!” he slurs, eyes wide.

You can’t help but smile at the puppy dog expression he’s pulling, something he tries whenever things aren’t going his way. Doe-eyes wide and pleading, lips soft and pouting... it nearly always works on you, so you’re going to have to stay strong if you’re going to leave any time soon.

“We can party together another time” you assure him, which doesn’t seem to make a difference.

“Won't enjoy myself if you’re gone” he grumbles, pouting exaggeratedly.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine, Mr Popular”.

“You've enjoyed it though, right?” he asks suddenly, genuinely concerned. “I kinda dragged you out, but -”

“I’ve had a great time, I’m glad you dragged me out” you insist. Another lie, to save his feelings.

“So you don’t hate me?”

You frown at him, intrigued as to why he seems so hung up on this tonight. “Why do you think I hate you? Like I said, you’re one of my best friends”

“Oh, friends!”

Eddie rolls his eyes dramatically, throwing his head back in drunken disdain. “Frieeeeends,” he repeats, dragging the word out as long as possible. You stare at him in confusion, wondering just how much more he’s had to drink.

“Are you okay?” you ask, shuffling round to face him properly. This level of Drunk Eddie isn’t one you’re familiar with, and you're not sure what to make of it.

He laughs bitterly. “Why wouldn't I be! We’re friends!”

“Why do you keep saying it like that?”

He ignores this, swaying away from you to rest against the slope. He folds his arms across his chest, staring up at the sky with an indignant expression on his face.

“Eddie? Talk to me, I don’t get it” you implore, and he snaps round to face you. His expression changes from indignant to serious, his molten gaze focused on your face. He stares intently at you as he sits up straighter and swallows hard.

“Fuck friends” he whispers back, his eyes dark and his brow furrowed. And again, with more certainty, “Fuck friends”.

His hand comes up to caress your cheek, before he leans in slowly. He pauses just inches away from your face, those deep brown eyes staring into your own as if searching for objections.

Entirely hypnotised by his touch, you have none.

His expression softens entirely when he realises this, and he closes the gap between you with his lips pressed softly against yours.

It’s gentle at first, cautious even, but it soon deepens as he feels you kiss him back. He kisses you with passionate enthusiasm, leaning into you as he lets himself be swept up in the moment.

This is a moment you’ve hardly dared to dream about, and finally it’s happening. Eddie is kissing you. What does it matter that he’s drunk and… he’s…

Eddie is very drunk.

You can taste the alcohol on his lips, a sharp reminder that he isn’t altogether lucid right now. One drink alone has blurred the edges of your mind, and who knows how many he’s indulged in?

Eddie is kissing you, but…

No.

This isn’t how you want it to happen.

Your eyes snap open as you part from him suddenly, heart beating rapidly. He moves with you, his body swaying forwards as a soft sigh leaves his lips. You place a hand firmly on his shoulder, holding him up before he can fall into you entirely. “Eddie, I –“

“Hey Eddie! You out here?”

The voice comes from the direction of the patio, and the pair of you crane your necks to see above the slope. “Down here!” Eddie yells back, his slurred speech confirming everything you’re thinking.

He turns back to grin at you, a hand reaching out to tuck some stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll be right back for you” he mumbles softly, before staggering to his feet. You can only stare mutely up at him as he stumbles away, tripping over the uneven ground.

For a moment you sit in silence.

That kiss… it had felt so right, so electric, until you’d let overthinking get in the way.

But maybe you aren’t overthinking. Eddie is undeniably drunk, so how can you possibly know if the kiss had been sincere on his part? He’s always been an affectionate drunk, and maybe this is just an extra, accidental step in that direction.

Maybe he hadn’t known what he was doing at all.

Maybe it was a mistake.

It has to be a mistake.

This is all wrong. You pull yourself to your feet and walk back into the house, hoping for some kind of distraction. More chatting, more dancing, less thinking - that sounds like a good plan.

It even works for a while, an hour or so passing as you surround yourself with strangers and do your best impression of someone enjoying a party.

You're always keeping one eye out for Eddie, though.

You just can’t face him right now. What would you even say? You can’t pretend that everything is okay, but you can’t have a serious conversation with him either.

Maybe you could just... leave?

Chances are he’s so drunk that he’ll forget you were there. Hopefully he’s so drunk that he’ll forget you’d ever been there.

Forget that he’d kissed you.

Yeah, leaving sounds really good right now. All you need to do is catch a ride home and you're in the clear.

It's only when you find yourself out on the street that you remember Eddie is your ride home.

Shit.

He's clearly not in any state to be behind the wheel, that's for sure. This isn't the first time he's been too drunk to drive, but usually he just tosses you his keys and lets you take the driver's seat. That option is looking like your best shot at getting home tonight, but a knot in the pit of your stomach stops you from just heading in and making it happen.

The thought of being stuck in the van with a still drunk and totally clueless Eddie is unbearable. He was so soft, so happy when he left you - and here you are, tense and confused and barely thinking straight. No, you can't deal with that right now.

It's too far to walk, though, and you don't know anyone else here. There's no chance of finding a cab in this part of town either; yeah, you're not going anywhere.

You're just gonna have to wait.

Maybe this is a good thing. You need a little space to cool off, and perhaps by the time Eddie emerges you'll have processed things enough to have normal conversation. Yeah, this is good.

This is great.

At least it's not cold, right? And there's a bench over there you can sit on whilst you wait for god knows how long, kept company only by your racing thoughts and the faint taste of his lips still lingering on yours...

Fucking hell.

Resigned to your fate, you settle onto the bench with your arms folded tight across your chest. The longer you have to wait, the longer you have until you need to face him again.

***

It's hard to tell how much time passes as you sit and watch the world go by, but a fair amount of partygoers have left already when you hear a familiar voice calling your name. You find yourself looking up without thinking, heart jumping in your chest when your eyes land on him.

The first thing you notice is how sober Eddie looks in comparison to a few hours ago. No swaying, no stumbling, no giddy grin on his face. Just a look of relief and a steady gait as he approaches, hand shoved deep in pockets.

Eddie slides casually onto the bench beside you, letting his knee knock gently into yours. “Hello, you” he says softly, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips. And then, after a moment’s pause – “I think we need to talk”.

Your chest tightens. “What about?” you ask nonchalantly, watching as Eddie pushes a stray curl out of his face.

“You don’t have to pretend” he sighs, rubbing his cheek. His gaze drops, and he stares down at the ground for a moment. You don’t try to fill the silence, unable to find the right words.

Suddenly he’s staring directly at you again, his wide eyes filled with the same seriousness you’d seen earlier. “I didn’t want this” he begins, a troubled frown creasing his brow. “I just thought… but…”

You watched as he trails off, realising that this is just as hard for him as it is for you. “Eddie, I –“

“I shouldn’t have kissed you”

The words hang in the air as you stare mutely at him, hardly wanting to believe your ears. This is the type of scene your imagination produces in your darkest moments of self-doubt, but this is real.

Eddie had spoken those words and he meant them.

The certainty in his voice ensures that you’re under no illusion: He regrets the kiss entirely.

He can barely look at you, head turned away and shoulders hunched.

You will yourself to say something, anything, to make this a little easier. The tension thickens unbearably and finally you open your mouth to speak, hoping that the words will just form themselves. They don’t have to – Eddie finds his words first.

“I fucked up”

He clenches his fists, avoiding your gaze as he looks down at the table. “I’m sorry I ruined this. I’m sorry I got drunk and I’m sorry I acted like an idiot and I’m sorry I kissed you. I was so… stupid” he continues, jaw set and shoulders hunched.

You stare at him in disbelief.

“Eddie, you didn’t ruin any-“

“Yes, I did. You left without saying goodbye and now you're sat out here all by yourself? I really fucked up and I’m so sorry –“

“Stop saying that!” you protest, his constant apologies only making you feel worse. You aren’t angry at him, you’re angry at yourself. If only he knew how you really feel, but you can hardly tell him now when he seems to regret kissing you so much. It will only make this worse.

Eddie rubs a hand across his face, swallowing hard “Can’t believe I thought it was a good idea. One drink would’ve been fine, fuck, even two, but no. Fucking stupid idiot had to overdo it”.

He laughs bitterly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I thought you felt the same”.

Your breath catches in your throat.

Did he just… does he mean…

Wait.

This isn’t what you’d thought it was at all. Your heart begins to race, sitting up straighter as a swell of adrenalin rushes through your bloodstream.

You’ve got it all wrong, and so has he.

Eddie is doing exactly what you always do, letting his negative thoughts take over until he’s blinded to any other scenario. He hasn’t even heard your opinion and yet he’s assumed the worst.

Your mind races as you think of the right words to say. If this is what you now realise it has to be, you need to stop him.

You need to make this right.

Eddie lets out a deep sigh, not noticing your sudden change in demeanour. “Our friendship is so fucking important and it was dumb of me to ruin that. I didn't wanna make you hate me but –“

“I don’t hate you. I love you”.

Eddie looks up at you for the first time, his eyes wild and his lips parted. You stand as you continue to speak, the words bursting free in a rush of emotion.

“I wanted you to kiss me! I kissed you back, Eddie, don’t you remember? But then I remembered you were drunk, so I thought maybe you didn’t mean it and I couldn’t deal with that. That’s why I left. But if you did mean it and we’re on the same page here I need you to tell me because I’m going to feel really stupid if I’ve just –“

“You love me?” he interrupts, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Yes,” you reply, “I’m in love you”.

There’s a moment of silence as the two of you stare at each other. You’ve made your move, and now it’s all down to him.

There’s a different tension in the air, filled with potential and fear and relief and everything in between. Your heart is beating so loud you’re sure he can hear it, but you hardly care.

Slowly, Eddie stands, drawing his lip between his teeth as he takes a few steps towards you. "You love me?"

You can only nod, afraid that the slightest word will shatter this delicate moment.

"Shit" he breathes, "This is really happening".

Eddie stares at you in wonder for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on yours as he lets the sweet reality of the situation fully soak in. “Fuck, I love you too” he says, “I’m in love with you".

He nods to himself, a gentle smile playing across his lips as he takes another step towards you. “I’m in love with you” he repeats, the smile broadening until it lights up his whole face.

His beautiful, beautiful face.

“And you’re in love with me”.

He closes the distance between the two of you, his hand coming up to caress your cheek as he stares deeply into your eyes. All you can do is smile back, as everything falls into place.

“How long?” he asks softly, his gaze flicking from your eyes to your lips and back again.

“Years, probably” you tell him, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“Years… I could’ve been telling you I loved you for years.”

Eddie moves in closer, his face inches from yours. “I love you,” he whispers, his eyes full of tenderness and conviction. “I just... it feels so good to say it, y'know? I love you, I love you”.

His other hand comes up to rest on your waist, pulling you even closer until your bodies are flush against each other. He tilts your chin gently, letting his lips brush softly against yours as he speaks; “I Love You”

And with that, he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is slow, as the pair of you savour every second of it. Quickly, though, it heats up, his lips moving hungrily against your own and conveying all the deep emotion he’s kept locked up.

It’s nothing like the kiss you’ve previously shared; where that had been rushed and uncoordinated, this is deliberate and refined and oh so perfect. It feels natural, so right, your hands moving up to lace themselves in his hair as his fingers stroke soft circles against your hip.

You don’t know how long you’ve been kissing for, and you don’t care. Eddie loves you, and you love him, and that is all that matters.

When your lips finally part, Eddie pulls you down onto the bench and holds you against his chest. He laughs gently to himself, tucking your head into the crook of his neck “Oh, sweetheart. We have so much lost time to make up for”

#ddr #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #x reader #stranger things fic #eddie munson fluff #fluff

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violet-shadows · 1 year

Text

Missing Piece (Part Nine)

Series Index | Masterlist

Summary: Cassian and Nesta are happily mated and in love, so why do they feel like something is missing? When a newcomer arrives in the City of Starlight, they learn that their bond is not yet complete.

Pairing: Cassian x Nesta x Reader (She/Her) (Poly Relationship)

Word Count: 3.0k

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

I didn’t see Nesta again for three days after we kissed, and I was growing more nervous by the hour. Cassian walked me home each day, assuring me that Nesta was just working some things out in her mind, but my confidence diminished each day I walked outside to find him alone. He insisted that it was Nesta’s own demons rearing their head, but it was hard not to take it as a rejection. On the third day of walking me home alone, Cassian diverted us to a cafe on the Sidra for dinner. Whether he could sense my anxiety regarding Nesta or simply had impeccable timing, I wasn’t sure, but once we were seated in an isolated corner of the pavilion, he began to speak. “I wanted to talk to you… about Nesta.” I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat as my mind began to spin up possibilities.

“It took me a long time to understand her,” he said, looking out over the water, “longer than it should have. She closes off when she gets scared… puts up walls to keep people at arm's length. I thought it was about me, at first, that she pushed me away because I was a bastard and a brute, but it’s not...”

“She doesn’t want to get hurt,” I surmised, so familiar with the feeling that it made my eyes sting with tears.

“In part, yes,” Cassian nodded, eyes boring into mine. “But she also doesn’t want to hurt anyone. I think that’s what scares her the most: letting someone get close and then hurting them, by accident.”

“She wouldn’t—” I began, feeling defensive of my mate.

“I know,” he assured, giving a small, sad smile. “She doesn’t, though. It’s hard, once you’ve seen yourself as a monster, to ever see anything else.”

“Have you?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Seen yourself as a monster?”

“I was raised to be one. I’ve been one before,” he replied, drawing a deep breath. He folded his hands in front of him on the table, a distant look in his eyes. “In the camps, you’re the hunter or you’re the prey, especially without a title or bloodline to back you up. If Rhys’s mother hadn’t taken me under her wing... if I hadn’t known family through them… I don’t know what I might have been.”

“You’re the furthest things from a monster,” I whispered, reaching out to grab his hand.

“I can be, though,” he rebutted, “but I’m not… not always. Nesta helps me remember that.”

“You two understand each other,” I murmured. I thought back to the long, shared looks I had witnessed between them, of the way they moved and breathed in sync, and I couldn’t but feel a bit like an outsider. Could I ever grow to know them the way that they knew each other?

“I got lucky, in that sense,” he replied. “When we found you… when it clicked, we were both afraid you’d outright reject us. I think, perhaps, Nesta still is. Perhaps we both are…” He said the last bit quietly, as if he were speaking to himself, and seemed to regret it almost immediately. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said that. We agreed not to pressure you.”

“Pressure me?” I inquired.

“About accepting the bond,” he clarified. “We didn’t want you to feel obligated… like you had no choice. We still don’t.”

“And here I was afraid you two would reject me,” I replied.

“Reject you?” Cassian seemed surprised at the notion, his eyebrows shooting up. “Why would we reject you?” He said it as if the concept were preposterous and my heart squeezed, hope blooming within me.

“You really can’t see it? The most legendary General Prythian has ever seen and the Made Valkyrie who beheaded the King of Hybern are mates to a random healer from the Winter Court. I can’t exactly… measure up to that. Comparatively, I’m nobody.”

“Don’t say that. You’re not a nobody,” Cassian gave my hand a gentle squeeze, his eyes burning with intensity. “Regardless, Nesta and I don’t care about status or power. You’re good, through and through. That’s what matters.”

“The two of you seem so well matched… so in love… I’m afraid there won’t be a place for me,” I cringed as I said it, looking down at our intertwined hand. I wasn’t sure what had prompted this vulnerability, but once I was spilling truths to him, I didn’t want to stop.

“There is a place for you. I can feel it. We can feel it. We’ve known since long before we met you, that there was something else, someone else for us,” he leaned forward across the table, brushing his hand across my chin to make me look at him. “I need you to know that any hesitation you might have picked up on has nothing to do with you. I think it’s just… different with you. You’re kind… and good… it’s frightening to think that we might wreck that.”

“You’re kind and good too, Cassian. You both are,” I said quietly, swallowing a lump in my throat, “I can feel it.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” he said, breathing out a deep sigh. “If you can give Nesta a bit more time, I think she’ll come to agree with you.”

“I can wait for her. For both of you.”

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

Upon dropping me off at home, Cassian informed me that he had a meeting the following afternoon, but offered to send someone else to walk me home. I already made plans to have dinner with Elise and Ezran, so I declined, assuring him that one or both of them would walk me home afterward. He had hugged me again before we parted, placing a gentle kiss on the top of my head, and I could swear that stepping out of his embrace drew physical pain. As I lay in bed that night, wide awake with Cassian’s scent still lingering on my clothes, I thought of my mates unendingly. Keeping them at arm's length, and not getting emotionally invested, was a moot point by now, and I hoped beyond hope that Cassian was correct in his assessment of our dynamic. I couldn’t stomach the thought of rejection, not now that I had bared so much of my soul to them both.

The next day came and went without incident, my thoughts far away as I went about my duties. My final patient of the evening was a young Fae with a tricky laceration to his hand, and I stayed nearly an hour later than anticipated ensuring the sutures were perfect. Ezran and Elise were long gone by the time I finishes, so I rushed to get to Elise’s house by myself. Upon arriving, I knocked on her front door, waited a few moments, then knocked again. When she didn’t answer, I decided to let myself in, figuring she and Ezran were probably upstairs in the kitchen, unable to hear me.

When I reached the top of the steps, I gave a yelp of surprise and quickly shut my eyes and smacked my hand over my face. Elise and Ezran were indeed in the kitchen, but their state was entirely unexpected. They were locked in an embrace, lips pressed together, with Elise’s dress halfway unlaced in the back. I could hear them scrambling to jump apart, but kept my hand firmly over my eyes, not wanting to see my friends in states of undress.

“Oh Cauldron! Sorry, Y/N, we… uh… got caught up. Forgot you were coming.” I could picture Elise’s face as she spoke, blushing crimson with embarrassment. “Just give us a minute and…”

“That’s okay!” I squeaked, “I’ll leave you two be, I don’t want to interrupt.”

“Really, it’s fine,” Ezran began, but I shook my head, feeling for the stair rail so I could retreat. The idea of spending the evening as a third wheel, pretending I hadn’t walked in on them, was less than appealing.

“I had a long day, you just… enjoy your night,” I stifled my laughter until I was all the way out of Elise’s apartment, already making note of how I would tease the two later. I had suspected some chemistry between them since we first arrived in Velaris, but I certainly hadn’t expected things to progress so quickly. They were a good match, though, both healers of similar social classes, with uncomplicated pasts and bright futures. In contrast to my own situation, it seemed rather simple for them to get together. I tried not to get hung up on childish envy.

I was halfway home by the time the sun began to set, the streets emptying as people went inside for dinner. As I rounded the corner to a particularly empty corridor, the hair on the back of my neck stood up. A few meters ahead was a group of males having a rowdy conversation on a pub stoop. I could see drinks in their hands, and from the way they were swaying, I knew these weren’t their first of the night. I ducked my head as I passed, hoping to go unnoticed, but just as I thought I was free of them, a hand hooked onto my upper arm. I gasped and whirled around to see a grinning, glassy-eyed stranger clutching my arm. “Why don’t you stop and have a drink with us?” he slurred. I tried to pull away, but his grip remained firm. Behind him, another male, one of his friends, was approaching us. For a moment I thought he might mean to come to my defense, but when I saw his face, my heart dropped.

Even years later, I recognized him immediately. Blonde hair, a long straight nose, and a predatory glint in his eyes, as if he was amused at the sight of fear. The first time I saw him was when Amarantha’s soldiers arrived in Winter to declare the new law of the land. The last time I saw him was several years later, when he ran my father through with a broadsword and then dragged my mother away in shackles. I didn’t know his name, but I had memorized his features, revisiting them in my nightmares where I watched him rip my family to pieces, a sick smirk on his face. I would recognize him anywhere. “C’mon, doll. Come have a good time with us.”

“You,” I gasped and I ripped my arm free of the other male, stumbling backward as the world seemed to tilt on its axis. I had fantasized many times about what I would do if I ever saw him again, imagining how I might leap upon him and pluck out his eyes, fueled by rage and grief. Now, with the male I hated most in the world standing before me, I instead wanted nothing more than to run. Despite my mounting fear, I remained frozen, as if shackled to the ground by his mere presence. Something shifted in his expression as he looked at me, displaying vague recognition that made my stomach roll.

“I know you from somewhere,” he said, stepping towards me. My heart thundered in my chest, my plans for vengeance forgotten as the reality of the situation set in. I was gravely outmatched by him, let alone with his friends nearby. I picked up my skirt, preparing to turn heel and run when a large, dark shape appeared in front of me. The males before me were blocked from view by a pair of large, leathery wings. For a moment, I thought Cassian might have come to my aid, but the dark whisps of shadow swirling around the person’s hands gave away their identity.

Azriel. The Shadowsinger.

I had never been so relieved to see someone with such a terrifying reputation. “Is there a problem here?” he asked the males, his voice low and deadly. I peeked around his wing to see the group had gone still, all traces of merriment extinguished. The other males on the stoop began to retreat while the other two remained rooted in place.

“We were just inviting the lady for a drink,” the first male explained, a slight waver in his voice. It was a far cry from his earlier demeanor.

“Didn’t look like she was interested,” Azriel replied, his voice unnervingly steady. He turned around, looking me up and down in a clinical manner before asking, “Did they hurt you at all?” I shook my head, shock stealing my voice, nd Azriel looked me over one more time before he turned back to the males. I was too distracted to hear the rest of the conversation, my mind stuck in a loop of grisly memories and unbridled fear. I didn’t notice the males leave or Azriel turn to me again until a gentle hand rested on my shoulder. “Y/N?”

“What?”, I looked up, struggling to focus on anything when the world felt like it was spinning.

“I said ‘are you alright?' You’re shaking,” Azriel asked again, his demeanor softening slightly. I opened my mouth to respond, to assure him I was physically unharmed, but my throat tightened and I was cut off by a choked sob. I buried my face in my hands, embarrassed to cry in front of a near stranger but unable to stop myself. “I’ll get you home,” Azriel murmured, sweeping me into his arms. I kept my eyes closed during the short flight, determined to catch my breath and calm down so I could explain myself. We landed in front of my building and Azriel gently herded me up the steps, taking the key from my trembling hands to unlock the door. “

“What happened? What did those males do?” he asked urgently once we were in private. I fought to catch my breath, the tears seemingly endless, and he crouched in front of me. “It’s okay, you’re safe. Take deep breaths.”

I never would have imagined being comforted by the Spymaster of the Night Court, but the male was surprisingly good at calming me down. After a minute, I drew a steadying breath, finally able to speak.

“That male,” I began, wrapping my arms around myself, “the blonde one. I know him. H-he worked for Amarantha. He k-killed my father.” My voice broke on the last syllable and I shuttered, the image of my father’s bloodless corpse flashing behind my eyelids.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Most of Amarantha’s people have been hunted down.” I knew the odds of one of her captains making his way to Velaris were slim, and the more I thought about it, the more I questioned myself. The lighting was poor and the memories old, and I was hesitant to condemn the wrong male, lecherous as he and his ilk were.

“I’m… almost certain,” I replied. Azriel nodded, moving to stand.

“I’ll look into it, you have my word. If he is the same male, there will be consequences. I’ll be having a longer… conversation with all of them, regardless, about harassing females in the streets.” Something told me he intended to do more than talk with the group, but I didn’t have it in me to ask. “Do you want me to bring you to the House?”

I shook my head, wanting to be alone while I processed my grief. Just as he was moving to leave, I remembered to ask about one key detail of the evening’s events. “Azriel? How did you find me?”

“Nesta asked me to make sure you got home safe. You left your friend's house earlier than I expected, so I was out looking,” he said with a shrug.

“Oh… Nesta did?” I asked, somewhat surprised. Seeing as it was Cassian who made it his mission to walk me home each day, I figured it would be him to make the request.

“Nesta is… protective of the people she cares about,” he explained, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Well, thank you, for coming to the rescue,” I replied, replaying his words in my mind.

“Anytime,” he nodded, moving towards the door. “Lock this behind me and stay in tonight, okay? I’ll send Cassian and Nesta your way.”

I considered telling him not to bother them, that I could sort out my emotions on my own, but I found myself wanting nothing more than my mates at my side. So instead, I thanked him and deadbolted the door behind him.

I lay in bed after Azriel left, replaying the moment of my father’s death and comparing his executioner to the man I had just encountered. In my mind’s eye, the two were nearly identical, but I knew the brain could play tricks on you, especially where trauma was involved. I wondered what Azriel would find in his investigation, and felt embarrassed at the thought that I might have lost my cool over a mere doppelganger.

After an hour or so of wallowing, there was a knock at my door. I all but leapt from bed at the sound of it, anticipating Cassian or Nesta or, preferably, both on the other side. Perhaps it was because I was tired, or maybe it was the ache in my heart drowning out all reason, but I didn’t check the peephole before I swung the door open. The figure on the other side was tall and broad-shouldered, but he lacked the exceptional height and trademark wings of my mate. I froze, squinting to see his face in the low firelight, and then my blood ran cold.

“Remember me?” asked the male who killed my father.

⊱ —————— ❈ —————— ⊰

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bambinella · 13 days

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Chores are no fun (or are they?)

A/N: Domestic amberpricefield incoming! You cannot change my mind that they'd playfully bully each other with every opportunity they'd have. Enjoy!

Summary: Chloe is being a brat for not doing her chores, so Max and Rachel have to persuade her a little.

Warnings: Fluff! All the fluff!

Word Count: 1551

It all started as a very chill day. Both Chloe and Max had the day off from work, and Rachel had no current streams, so the trio was lounging in the living room. There was a comfortable silence, as each of them were doing their own thing, until Rachel stood up.

“Alright, who wants to have some fun?” She suggested with a smile, making Chloe and Max look up at the same time with a smile.

“I’m always up for something fun,” Max replied, putting her book to the side as she sat up straight on the floor. Chloe remained laying on her back on the couch.

“I’m game. What’s on your mind, babe?” She asked, putting her phone away. Rachel paused to think, as she didn’t have an actual plan yet.

“Hmm, let’s see. we could–” She started while making her way to the kitchen to get something to drink, before abruptly pausing again. “Chloe Price!” She said sternly, making her girlfriend look up as if she had been whipped.

“Huh? Yes? What’s wrong?” She asked, sitting up straight immediately. Rachel was thumping one foot and had her hands on her hips. That usually meant bad news.

“Chloe, it’s your turn to do the dishes today!” She scolded, pointing towards the three dirty plates and glasses on the counter. Chloe couldn’t help but let out a laugh, relief washing over her.

“Rachel oh my god, don’t do that please, you scared the hell out of me!” She chuckled, waving her hand at her girlfriend. “Don’t worry, I’ll get them done,” She said. Rachel looked unimpressed.

“How I’d love to believe that. Except, it’s the second time this week you’ve been skipping this chore. Max, tell her,” Rachel said, folding her arms as she leaned against the doorframe of the kitchen. Max hadn’t planned on getting involved, but with Rachel looking at her like that? She had no choice but to cooperate.

“Rachel’s right, Chloe, I did them the other day after you’d forgotten them,” Max said with a raised brown and a smile. Chloe stuck out her tongue at her, giving her a ‘who’s side are you on’ glare.

“Go on, be the responsible adult you are and clean the dishes,” Rachel urged, yet didn’t sound stern anymore. She’d never actually get angry over something this small.

“But mooooom, the couch is so comfy! I’ll do them later!” Chloe playfully whined, placing her arms behind her head while laying herself back down on the couch, as she figured the danger had passed. Rachel looked at Chloe with mock disappointment and let out a sigh, fighting off a smile as she turned to Max.

“See what I have to deal with for the rest of my life?” She asked, earning a laugh from both of them.

“You love it, really. However, I do remember that when I used to stay at Chloe’s place as a kid, Chloe would refuse to do the dishes too. Her mom always had to motivate her a little,” Max recalled with a smile, barely dodging a pillow to the face from Chloe.

“Max Caulfield, you hush,” Chloe said, only to be hit by a pillow in her own face moments later.

“There. Max, you were saying?” Rachel smirked, walking over to the brunette. If there was one thing she loved, it was teaming up with Max to bully her girlfriend.

“Joyce had many different techniques when it came to making Chloe give in when she was being stubborn, but this one,” She said, suddenly reaching over to give Chloe’s side a few ticklish squeezes. Chloe shrieked in surprise and immediately curled in on herself, her arm yanking down to cover her side. “This one always worked best,” Max smirked at Chloe while standing up, ignoring the shiver running down her spine as Chloe glared daggers at her.

“Max you’re SO dead!” Chloe playfully growled, yet recognized the danger as her best friend and girlfriend surrounded her. She tried to make a run for it yet before she could even fully get off the couch, Max had grabbed one of her ankles, making her roll down on the floor.

“Get her!” Rachel cried excitedly, sitting herself down on Chloe’s lower back to trap her. Wasting no time, she started drilling her fingers up and down her ribs, making her girlfriend burst into loud, wheezing giggles.

“Raahahahachel! Rach nohohoho!” Chloe tried her very best to hold back her laughter and buck her girlfriend off of her, yet she simply couldn’t as Rachel’s pesky nails were scribbling all over her sides. To make matters worse, she suddenly felt a set of nails tickle the bottom of her foot, making her roar.

“Rachel yes. This is what you get for making us do your chores,” She scolded, poking one finger between her ribs on each side while smiling brightly. If she was completely honest, she wasn’t even annoyed anymore, or doing it as a punishment. She’d simply take any chance she had to mess with Chloe, and make her laugh while she was at it.

“Yeah, this is what you get, Chloe,” Max teased, lightly scratching her nails against the middle of her foot while holding her ankle in a tight grip. Chloe was already dying, banging one fist on the floor while burying her face in her other arm.

“You suhuhuck! No STOP! STOHOHOHOOP! THIHIHIS IS MUHUHUTINY! BAAHAHAHAHAA!” She was laughing her head off at the double attack, deciding to do the only thing she could think of at that point. She reached backwards with one hand, wiggling her nails against one of Rachel’s knees. Her girlfriend yelped and stopped tickling for a moment to try and cover her knee.

“Aahahaha hey! Stohohohop! Oh now you’ve done it!” Rachel almost growled with a wide grin, reaching forward to wiggle her nails under Chloe’s arms. It worked, as Chloe immediately slammed her arms to her sides with a loud squeal, rolling around with the limited movement she had.

“Uh oh, looks like Chloe Price is about to die. May she rest in pizza,” Max chuckled, scribbling her nails side to side underneath her best friend’s toes. It was the one thing that always drove Chloe crazy when they had tickle fights as kids.

“OKAY STOHOHOP! OOHOHOHO STOOHOHOP! I CAHAHAHAN’T!” Chloe finally pleaded, closing her eyes shut as she blushed. She’d been defeated by tickles, yet again. Even her own body was betraying her!

“Stop? Does that mean you give in, Chloe Price? Thou shalt surrender this little rebellion, and thou shalt finally do thy duty?” Rachel teased in her acting voice, still wiggling her nails under Chloe’s arms. Chloe could only frantically nod, too busy laughing her head off to even reply to that. Rachel and Max shared a glance, smirked, and only then stopped their assault. Chloe was a giggling mess for a while longer, rolling onto her back as she slowly caught her breath.

“We have successfully defeated our Captain!” Max teased, holding up her hand to high five Rachel, who eagerly smacked it. Chloe shook her head and rolled her eyes with a grin.

“That we have, Max. I think this calls for a promotion, don’t you think?” Rachel asked, briefly shaking her clawed hand into Chloe’s stomach, who let out a girlish shriek while rolling away.

“I don’t see why not. You’re officially Captain for the day, Ms Amber,” Max said with a smile, dramatically bowing in front of her friend. All three shared a laugh, and Chloe finally decided to sit up.

“You two are so mean to me,” Chloe playfully whined, leaning her chin on Rachel’s shoulder.

“You love it,” Rachel countered with a smile, patting her blue hair while kissing her cheek. Her girlfriend huffed, yet didn’t even try to deny it. They all knew Rachel was right.

“Maybe you’ll learn to do your chores instantly from now on,” Max teased, leaning backwards just in time to avoid a flick to her forehead from Chloe.

“Just you wait, Max, I’ll get you for spilling my secrets like that,” Chloe promised with an evil grin, making butterflies appear in Max’ stomach. Honestly she looked forward to that.

“From now on if you don’t do your chores within the time limit, you get punished for it. All in favor?” Rachel asked, looking at the two women sitting next to her. Chloe and Max looked at each other for a moment, before nodding with a smile.

“Aye aye, Captain!” They both cried out at the same time, making Rachel burst into laughter.

“Good. Oh and Max?” She said, standing up as she loomed over the brunette, putting her hands on her hips. “I believe I asked you to fold the laundry earlier today,” Rachel said with a grin, pointing towards the very much not folded pile of clothes. Max froze.

“Ah shit,” She groaned, realizing Rachel just had switched from ‘help Max bully Chloe’ to ‘help Chloe murder Max’. The urge to rewind time was suddenly very present in her mind as she looked at their evil grins.

“Get her!” Rachel yelled with a smirk, before pouncing on Max along with Chloe. Among the loud laughter that filled the house once again, one thing was certain. They had definitely settled on their ‘fun’ for the afternoon.

#life is strange #lis #max caulfield #chloe price #rachel amber #pricefield #amberprice #amberpricefield #fluff #tickle fic #tickling

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