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limarkova · 4 months ago

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Experimental Obsession

Pt 9

Author's note: Hey guys! I promise I have not disappeared my school semester is just kicking up and I'm focusing on that. Anyway I started up a Ko-Fi so you want to you can leave a tip. Link is my bio. As always thank you for reading my work and all the engagement. Writing this has been oddly therapeutic so I'm glad that someone is enjoying it.

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The Library was once again quiet as you walked in. One of the librarian nodded to you as you strolled by. Quietly opening your bag, you returned some of the books you got the other day. A part of you still felt buzzy and hollow. The strange tickling feel lingered in your chest like a bad habit. A part of you felt like that feeling was going be there forever and you hated that. You were saved from it when you caught sight of your investigation notebook inside your bag the feeling changed.

The tingling shifted into a burning rage that smoldered in the pit of your being. Filling the hollow space inside of you with venomous smoke. It killed the small pieces of hope that said your 'family' was telling the truth, that they didn't know. The smoke took the hollowness away. You loved the rage for that, embracing it like life-line.

Turning to the study areas in the back you moved to the one you used yesterday. Talia wasn't there yet. In the isolated part of the library, you began to update your journal.

First you scraped your orginial list. Things were changing, you couldn't punish the whole family. No it wouldn't be fair to those who were involved. Plus you knew you needed to hone your intentions from experience. Even though you could have gone after all the scientists and guards during your escape, you focused on the exit instead to ensure you got out. It had more you more efficient. That's what you needed here.

Obviously there was Bruce simply because he had to have approved the whole thing. You wrote Bruce Wayne at the top left of the page. Under his name you wrote the evidence you did have, the financial records. You thought back on the past days than wrote down, "Past injuries to Robins/Allies=Motive?"

On the right side of the paper you wrote Richard Grayson. Under his name you wrote attempted to get information, admitted to knowing boarding school was a lie, was one of four to know 'real' boarding school location. Thinking a bit you decided to add "potential motive= over protective of allies/ Jason's death?"

Halfway down the page under Bruce's name you wrote Alfred Pennyworth. Beneath it you wrote pretty much the same thing as Dick; knew about the boarding school and was one of four to know real location. Afterwards you wrote "painfully loyal to Bruce. Would have information on what happened? Motive=Unclear."

On right side of the page and on the same lines as Alfred you wrote, Cassandra Cain/Wayne. Under her name you wrote "Choose the 'boarding school'. May have read investigation journal. Spied on me two years before kidnapping." For motive you simple drew a question mark. You honestly had no clue why she would have chosen to help Bruce with the experiments.

You considered adding Barbara but stopped yourself. Yes this morning had been a lot but the signs on her were mixed. If she was acting the part much like Dick was than she was just as dangerous to interact with. Yet if she wasn't and genuinely wanted to help than maybe she would be a good source of information. She might be a good source either way. You'd leave her off the list for now.

Turning the page you had just barely written out Edward Davis and Clint Owen when someone cleared their throat. Closing the notebook, you saw Talia standing at the entrance of the study area. Giving her your best easy going smile you greeted her, "Hello Ms.Talia"

"Hello dear. How are you doing today?" She set her bag down on the table. It let out a soft thud when she set it down. You guess she had learning tools in it. That or books, it was a library after all.

You nodded to her and began to pull out different notebook. Tucking your investigation notes away for bow. She watched the exchange with a raised eyebrow. Her mouth quirked to the side and she tilted her head towards your bag. A nervous laugh left your mouth, "Yeah, I'm doing okay. Sorry this one's my diary, don't think I should mix personal problems with Arabic notes."

"Oh, I'm glad you journal. It's good for development." She gave you that mother's smile she had. Something in you preened at the look but it was under cut by your own sarcastic thoughts. 'Would she be proud if she knew what it was really for?'

She gestured behind her to someone hidden just out of sight from the little alcove. "I have someone I want you to meet."

A man stepped into view. He was slightly taller than Jason but not by much. His hair appeared to be well groomed, almost like it was permanently styled. Parts of his hair were white, not in the salt and pepper white of aging but in a way that felt intentional. His features were stoic and calm. Something about him reminded you of half your family. Maybe it was sure footing or the steady stance but you knew he was trained to fight.

Yet that wasn't what stopped your brain. He was familiar. Not in the I've seen him on the street before way but in a deeper, I've known you in the past way. It felt like something in you cracked it's eyes open. That hidden part of you whispered to watch, to learn, to leave. Need this new thing in you be quiet you spoke quickly, "I'm sorry but have we met before?"

Talia blinked looking at the man. He also gave a slight look of surprise that disappeared quickly. Whatever their reactions were it was enough to get that part of you to quiet down. Tension left your body as you watched how the man would respond. There was an edge to his smile that told you he was impressed, "I don't believe we have. My name is Ra's Al Ghul, I am Talia's father."

"I'm (Fake Name). Are you one of the material art teachers Ms.Talia mentioned?" You held your hand out to him. If he was slightly impressed before he was completely impressed now.

Shaking your hand he asked, "How could you tell?"

You thought for a minute before answering, "The way you stand. Everyone I know who has had extensive training of some kind stands a certain way. Almost like they can't help but do it automatically."

That seemed to be the right answer. Both him and Talia shared a look. Ra's gave a subtle nod that made Talia's smirk grow the smallest but. She lifted an eyebrow as if to say 'watch' before clapping her hands once.

"Well than, after your lessons today my father will show you some of the basics." Talia offered, pulling things out of her bag. You looked at the items intrigued, it seemed to be learning aid for a different alphabet. An eager smile crossed your lips as you readied your notebook.

Jason leaned against his motorcycle holding a kid sized helmet. A cigarette hung out of his lips as he waited, watching the library doors like a hawk. Roy was nearby on his own bike. Neither one of them spoke.

Finally (Name) came out from the library. She was clutching her backpack looking around the space. When her eyes caught on him, she got a confused look. Jason put out his cigarette, gesturing for her to come over. "Hey kiddo."

"What are you doing here?" She walked up to him. Her body was angled away from him. A habit she seemed to have picked up with everyone.

Jason shrugged, "Tim told me to pick you up. Didn't he text you or something?"

Her face slackened before she bluntly stated, "I don't have a phone."

"Shit, did that get stolen too?" Jason rolled his eyes. Of course her kidnappers would take her phone, that was kidnapping 101. Maybe they could track it down to try find some evidence.

She gave he an absurd look, "No. I've never had a phone."

"The fuck..." Jason rubbed his eyes. Bruce was going to send you to a foreign country without a phone. No fucking wondered she got kidnapped. He tossed her the helmet, "Okay, we're fixing that. Put the helmet on let's go."

"And where are we going to?" She caught the helmet but didn’t put it on. In fact she gave it a strange look before turning her gaze back to him. Her look told him she didn't trust him. That wasn't good, he needed her to trust him.

Before he could answer, Roy spoke up. Jason couldn't tell he wanted to punch Roy or thank him for what left his mouth, "We're gonna go get lunch than see if we can max out your Dad's credit card."

"Sorry what?"

"Yeah, take you phone shopping than grab whatever else you need. Or want honestly." Roy snubbed out his own cigarette before lazily stretching. (Name) looked at the helmet for second before looking back to Jason and Roy. Jason could see consideration in her eyes.

"Can I get one those fake nose piercing things with the magnet to give Bruce a heart attack?" She gave them a sweet guilty smile and batted her eyelashes. Jason snorted, trying not laugh. Roy didn't care and double over laughing.

Of course her first thought was how to piss off Bruce with this. There was a surge pride in his chest. She gave him a hald assed shrug. Jason gave in to the laughter, "Fuck. You are my sister!"

"Hell yeah, let's go!" Roy pulled himself together enough to get on his bike. Jason gestured for her to put on the helmet and hop on. He secured her in the seat behind where he would sit before hopping on himself. After giving her a quick safety brief, they were flying down the highway.

The rest of the Outlaws were waiting for them at a Burrito Buck down by Jason's apartment. He lived relatively close to Crime Alley so if her goal was give Bruce a heart attack he was helping already. Everyone was passing around greasy Mexican food when him, Roy and (Name) pulled in. Jason could feel his phone going crazy in his jacket pocket. Handing his sister over to Roy he pulled out his phone to see what was going on.

4 missed calls from B

7 missed calls from Dick🖕

2 missed calls from Cyber Stalker

8 missed calls from Human Flashlight

3 missed calls from Murder Germlin

4 missed calls from Purple Chick

1 text unread message from Tim.

Jason sighed running his hands through his hair. What the fuck could have happened for them to be calling this much. Just when he was about to call one of them back he saw the preview of Tim's text. "She doesn't want to see Bruce" the rest of the message was faded out. Jason went to click the notification when his phone started ringing again.

"Great..." Jason rolled his eyes. His phone blaring a custom ringtone warning that his brother was calling. Pressing answer he launched right into it, "What do you want, Dick?"

"Where are you? You were supposed to be back by now? Is (Name) with you?" Dick panicked voice came out of the phone. Jason almost rolled his eyes again. This is what got them all panicking. Did they seriously not trust him with her?

"Yeah, (Name) with me. She said she was hungry so we stopped to get food." Jason shrugged moving towards the restaurant's window. He could see Roy leading his sister to the table. Kori immediately got up to hug her but was pulled back by Artemis.

"Dude, we were going to take her to get lunch before doing a family day." Dick half whined in his ear.

Jason paused. He racked his memory for when someone mentioned a family day but couldn’t come up with anything really. "Hold up. When did you guys decide to do a family day?"

"This morning at breakfast. Steph pointed out that (Name) and Duke have never been apart of a family day. So we decided to have one." Dick said it like it was the most obvious thing ever.

Jason popped his jaw to relieve the tension that shot through his body. He had a sneaking suspicion that he wasn't the one picking her up he wouldn't have been invited. Rolling his neck he sarcastically drawled out, "Okay. So when were you going invite me?"

There was a heavy pause. Dick said the words like he handling a bomb, "when you got here with (Name)?"

"Alright." Jason smirked to himself. If they wanted (Name) they have to find her. He knew his phone location was scrambled, a habit he picked up somewhere. "We're at the Red Lobster in the Heights. Haven't placed our order yet so if you wanna join in be my guest."

"The Heights? Dude what are you doing over there?" Dick asked. Jason didn't have to hide his mischievous smirk. The family would lose their shit on him for this but he didn't care.

"Didn't the one by the manor close down. Beside this one has the best cheddar biscuits."

"Just stay there we'll be there in 10 minutes." Dick said before hanging up. Jason nodded his head and clicked his tongue. He was going to have so much fun today. Turning his phone off, he went inside the Burrito Bucket.

His sister was sitting next to Roy listen to him tell a story. She had a taco in hand nodding along to what he was saying, sour cream stuck in the corner of her mouth. She giggled as Roy finished his story, "Yeah so after leaving me in a Denny's Bathroom for 30 minutes without pants, the dude had the audacity to sit there showing me photos."

"What story did you just tell her?" Jason squeezed into the booth with the rest of the Outlaws. One look around the table told he really didn't want to know. Everyone at the table had a shit eating grin. His sister let out a devious little giggle. He started to hope it wasn't an inappropriate one.

"You left him in a Denny's without pants to go and watch my 2nd grade science competition?" She sounded half shocked and half amused.

Jason groaned face palming. Oh course it was that story. Roy would never let him live it down, "Please tell me you didn't tell her why you were pantless in a Denny's Bathroom."

The Outlaws started to laugh. It was Artemis that responded to (Name)'s question, "He's done shit like that to all of us. He had Bizarro fly him back to Gotham leaving me somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest for a Christmas recital."

Bizarro nodded with a huge smile, "He did not."

"Yeah, and than he'll sit there showing us pictures of the event he ditched us for." Roy laughed before taking a bite of his burrito. Jason was hiding his face behind his hand. Sometimes he forgot that the Outlaws loved to embarrass him.

(Name) turned to him. Her expression was a mix of confused and happy. His heart dropped at she said, "I thought you didn't show up to any of those cause you hated me."

Jason blinked looking at her. He had shown up but stayed hidden from her. He was dangerous to be around, he knew that much. Yet he couldn't stop himself from wanting to be there. He sighed pulling her into a side hug. She tensed but let him, "B depends on the day of the week honestly, but you never."

She looked up at him with bright eyes, the small amount of sour cream still stuck to the corner of her mouth. He grabbed a napkin and wiped it away.

Maybe it was parental instinct, that made Roy keep an eye on the girl. She was close in age to Lian. Whatever it was he was glad he did. (Name) showed startling signs of PTSD. From the hypervigilance to disassociation to increase anxiety, shame, sadness and aggression. It was made worse knowing the family she was in. The Wayne's would support her but it was unlikely she'd get the professional help she desperately needed.

They had gone to a mall with a phone store to get her set up. Kori and Jason's Sister were up ahead of them talking. Suddenly there was a squeal of excitement from the little one and she bolted ahead. Kori shrugged, "She saw something she likes."

With that Kori ran ahead to keep an eye on her. Roy stopped Jason before he jog to catch up to the girls. The vigilante seemed confused when Roy stopped him. Taking a deep breath Roy began, "You need to get your sister help."

"What?" Jason gave Roy a weird look. The two look at each for a moment. Roy took a deep breath, not a great way to start this conversation. Still he pushed forward.

"You and your family have a bad habit of just toughing through your mental health issues." Roy placed a hand on Jason's shoulder. He continued on, "Yes, you all support each other but when it comes to the more serious stuff all of you tend to just destroy yourselves. She doesn't deserve that. If you get her actual therapy and help than she has a chance of being normal. Or at least not implode on herself."

"Dude she'll be fine. I'm gonna keep her safe from now on." Jason shoved Roy away from him. Roy watched as Jason walked towards her with a sinking feeling. This didn't feel right. If (Name) didn't get the help she deserved, he could only imagine the path she'd end up going down.

They found her and Kori at the pound's adoption in the mall set up. The two girls were currently playing with a small cat. The paper displayed said the kitten was a russet dark ginger cat named Churro. (Name) looked up at them with wide begging eyes, "Can we keep him?"

"B told Damian no more animals." Jason sighed shaking his head. The little girl's face dropped slight before morphing into a pleading smile. Roy looked over to Jason who had a contemplating look.

"He told Damian no more animals. He has literally never said anything to me." She spoke in an pleading tone, pulling Churro closer to her. It was adorable to watch but the last sentence caught Roy's attention. He couldn't explain what it was about it, the tone or the wording. That hurt seemed to be coming back with a slight rage.

"I don't know. I don't think it's safe to drive with a cat and a kid on the back of a motorcycle." Jason scratched his head. She looked down at Churro in despair. The kitten mewled before nuzzling into her arms. She gave it a little kiss to the forehead, giggling when the cat began to paw at her hair.

"I can watch her well you go get the car from your apartment." Roy offered to Jason. He could tell she was emotional attached to the kitten. Maybe it would help her when her world felt like too much. Similar to how he use to hold Lian when his world was too much.

Jason sighed before rolling his eyes. "Okay fine let me fill out the paperwork real quick."

Once Jason was gone to get the car, Roy sat next to the girl. She was petting Churro who was curled up in her lap. Kori was currently talking with the adoption lady about the different cats. Roy nudged her once, "Hey kiddo. Can I see your phone?"

She stopped petting Churro to consider him cautiously. Roy gave her a reassuring smile feeling his chest tighten. Finally she handed him her phone. He put his secondary number Jason didn't know about in her contacts as 'Uncle Will.' He than add his main number to her contacts under his real name.

"There. Now you can call me anytime you need something from this number." He pointed at his contact with his thumb showing her the screen. He than showed her the Uncle Will contact, "This one you can call if you are ever in a situation where you need a pick up no questions ask. All you have to do is press Call and say hey Uncle Will I got your message. The only thing I'll is where are you and are you safe, okay?"

"Why are you giving me this?" She took her phone back looking at the new contacts. Due to it being a new phone those contacts and Jason's were the only ones there. She had insisted on not getting any of her other family members numbers.

"I've made a lot of mistakes around your age." Roy rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. Saying it felt like a understatement, he had taken part in massive fuck ups. Looking at (Name) reminded him that angry kid though, "I like to imagine if I had someone I though would pick me up no questions asked, I wouldn't have made at least a quarter of them. So if I can get you out of at least one dangerous situation, I'll consider it a win."

"Okay, but why give this to me?" She gestured towards herself with the phone.

Roy thought for a minute. He wasn't certain what was making him reach out to her. Maybe it was guilt for his past mistake or the little kid he use to be reflecting in the girl. Whatever it was may this necessary. So he decided to give her what he had wanted, "Because something tells you just want someone in your corner that cares regardless of what happens."

She blinked her face turning into a sad form of shock. Looking at the phone, she smiled. Roy considered reaching out to hug her. Yet before he could her face fell into a resigned melancholia. "Thanks, I guess."

"Come on, I have a great idea for giving Bruce a heart attack." He stood from the bench gesturing to a beauty store nearby, "I think that store has a hair dye called Arsenal Red."

That got her to smile. Roy sighed to himself slightly, hoping everything would turn out okay.

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#yandere batfam x neglected reader #villian reader #yandere bruce wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere damian wayne #yandere duke thomas #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere stephanie brown #yandere ra's al ghul #yandere talia al ghul #no beta we die like jason todd #no beta we die like men

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p1astr81 · 2 months ago

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Just read sidelines and oh my god it was so good! I need soft and sweet Oscar in my life! Could you write a part 2 that is just like sweet fluff, full of pampering her and maybe a teenie tiny bit of smut if you are up for it? You don't need to add the smut if you do not want to of course! Hope you have a nice day!

why thank you so much for the compliment! of course I can write some fluffy oscar!!😊 as I’ve said, smut isn’t my strong suit so bare with me here.

warnings: smut, fingering

Not a week went by without Oscar taking you on a date. To dinner, the beach, the movies, a night in where you molded clay into silly monsters, a science museum—because Oscar picked up on your strange fascination with space and gems.

When you questioned him on why he was taking you on so many dates, he said, “to make up for all the shitty ones,” with a stupidly adorable smile on his face.

You recalled one time, when he heard you on the phone with your mom about how you were craving lobster. It took all of three minutes for him to book a reservation at the restaurant ten minutes away.

“I can’t wait until Monza. I love Italy. I’ve never been, actually. But I do love pasta, and it’s Italy, so it has to be good.” You rambled while you carefully split another leg of the lobster. You looked up at him. “You’ve been to Italy. How’s the pasta?”

With a soft smile, he replied, “it’s good.”

Truthfully, he wasn’t even thinking about the pasta, or the food sat right in front of him. You were so mesmerizing to look at while you rambled. The light caught your eye just right, giving it a sparkle as you talked with passion. He didn’t understand how any guy could feel any different.

Oscar’s staring panicked you, though. “What is it? Have I said something wrong?”

He chuckled. Shook his head. “No.” His voice, soft.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

He hummed. “You’re cute when you ramble.”

Your face turned a wild shade of red. “Shut up and eat your food.” You mumbled, trying to hide your face.

Another time came to mind, when you returned from the gym.

His apartment had basically become yours. You walked in one day, heated, annoyed, and ready to complain. “Someone tracked water out of the pool area and-“ you stopped short at the sight on the table. A giant bouquet on the table. An arrangement of your favorite flowers. You gasped. “Oh, Os.”

He wore a shy smile, standing at arms length. “Do you like them? The florist said that the flowers might clash but I just thought… well, they’re your favorite so…”

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him, squeezing tightly. “My god, it’s so gorgeous.” Misty eyes met his. “Thank you.”

His brows scrunched. “Hey, don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

You blinked a couple times. “I don’t know. It’s just so sweet. I think I’m pmsing.”

His eyes momentarily went wide. “Oh. Okay. Do you need anything?”

“A good cuddle, maybe?”

He happily obliged.

And then there was that time when work went late. And you came home to an unexpected dinner.

The mood was set with candles strictly lighting the place. Blankets stacked on the couch with the untold promise of a movie night. Dinner was already made, steaming hot on the dining room table. You expected to just reheat leftovers, so the gesture of receiving a fresh, warm meal meant more to you than words could describe.

Oscar emerged from the bathroom, smiling when he saw you. “Hey,” he greeted softly.

Palms encasing his face, you kissed him. “Thank you.”

He could tell in the way you held yourself, and the way you spoke that you were beyond exhausted.

You did cherish him, too.

On the weekends you couldn’t join them, you hid love notes around his luggage. Sat on top of his clothes. In the pocket of his jeans. Stick ‘em to the keyboard of his laptop.

And you surprised him one weekend. Flew in the morning of the race. Got in touch with Lando so he’d grace you with passes. Oscar won the race, and you were the first thing he saw when he got out of the car. His celebration on top of the car was short as he rushed to your embrace.

Perhaps your favorite time, was when you surprised him by putting on his race suit from the year prior. Shockingly, it turned him on.

He tore the suit off of you, threw it to the ground like it wasn’t worth thousands of dollars.

He swept you off your feet, literally. Picking you up only to toss you onto the bed seconds later.

“Didn’t think it would lead here.” You laughed, out of breath.

A choked gasp tore through your throat when he slipped a hand under your bra and palmed your tits. He left hot, wet, open mouthed kisses all over your exposed skin. “Looked so good. In my color. My name. My number.”

Oh. It was the possessiveness of it all. How, just by slipping on a piece of fabric, you’d branded yourself with him.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you as two fingers plunged into your pussy. He didn’t even let you adjust, just went straight to pumping his fingers in and out of you at a quick, measured pace. Each curled stroke of his fingers pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

You moaned into his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you panted. “Yes, fuck, don’t stop,” your nails dug into his arm.

Oscar was dizzy at the sight of you, growing rock hard in his pants. “So, so pretty like this.” He praised, kissing each of your cheeks. “Squeezing my fingers so well.”

Your head bowed forward, face now hidden in his shoulder. “Osca-ah“ you gasped out moans when a third finger found its way to your clit. “Oh, shit.” You cursed, head falling back to the pillow, mouth open in a silent moan.

“C’mon, baby. Cum on my fingers.” He pressed harder on your clit.

“Oscar!” A moan, a gasp, a scream, whatever it was, it was music to Oscar’s ears as he felt you paint his fingers with your release. You arched up into him, tits now in his face. He took it as an invite to latch onto one of your nipples. “Fuck! Oh, shit!” You cursed, and it was quickly followed by a mewl. “Too much, too much!” You pushed his face away, legs making a feeble attempt at pushing him away.

He took his fingers out of you, now covered in you, glistening. He cleaned them off in his mouth, then reached out to offer you a taste. You dodged his hand, a noise of disgust. He chucked and licked the last little bit off.

Your eyes trailed down to the very obvious bulge protruding out of his pants. “I think it’s your turn then.” You laughed.

#f1 x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 x you #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri smut

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jenosbliss · 28 days ago

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💔⌇ nct dream! and the reasons for your breakup

a/n. each member's part is around 450-500 words. you might find similar themes in some members' parts and it's because i didn't want to add themes like infidelity or anger... i didn't want to portray them bad.

MARK. Loving Mark felt like chasing stardust — beautiful, electric, and impossible to hold. He lit up rooms, stages, your heart. His energy was magnetic, his passion inspiring, and every word he said made you feel like you were the only person in the universe who mattered. But the problem was… the universe kept pulling him away.

He didn’t do it on purpose. You knew that. His intentions were golden. Every spare second he had, he gave to you — voice notes from hotel balconies, tired “I miss you” texts sent at 3 a.m. after rehearsals. Sometimes you’d wake up to a photo of the sunrise from wherever he was, captioned, “Wish you were here.”

But wishes don’t keep you warm. Wishes don’t show up to dinner. Wishes don’t hold your hand when you need someone to say, “I’m here, and I’m staying.”

You were always understanding. Always patient. You cheered for him when he debuted. You held back tears when he said, “I’ll only be gone a week,” and then another tour got scheduled. Another interview. Another album. And every time, you smiled and said, “It’s okay,” even though it wasn’t. Not really.

You missed the version of love that existed in presence — not just in promises. You missed seeing his shoes by the door. Hearing his laugh echo down the hallway. The way he used to fall asleep mid-conversation, your head on his chest.

One afternoon, you both found a pocket of time. A sliver of stillness between his chaos and your quiet. He sat beside you on a park bench, fingers barely brushing yours. The sun filtered through the trees, casting golden shadows, and for a moment, it felt like you were in a memory.

“I think about you all the time,” he said, turning toward you. His voice cracked like he knew it wasn’t enough. “But you’re never with me, Mark,” you whispered. You weren’t angry. Just tired. “You give me pieces of yourself when you can, and I’m grateful. But I need someone who can give me time. Not just thoughts.”

He looked at you with glassy eyes, his lips parting like he wanted to say something — maybe everything. But nothing came. Just silence. Just the weight of a boy who had too much to carry and didn’t know how to make space for more.

“I wanted to give you everything,” he said at last. “All I ever wanted was you.” And that’s when it broke. The understanding. The sacrifice. The waiting. You realized you were loving someone who was constantly in motion, and you were standing still.

You leaned in, kissed his cheek softly, and let your hand slide from his. He didn’t stop you.

Sometimes love isn’t about what you feel. It’s about what you have time to show.

RENJUN. You never doubted Renjun cared. He showed it in subtle ways — the extra dumpling saved for you, the playlist he made but never told you was inspired by your favorite books, the way he knew your coffee order down to the number of ice cubes. But affection isn't the same as vulnerability. Love, without expression, without depth, starts to feel hollow. And with Renjun, it always felt like there was a door locked behind his eyes, and no matter how close you got, he never let you all the way in.

You’d talk about your day, your dreams, your fears — and he’d listen. He was always a good listener. But when you asked, “And what about you?” he’d deflect. A shrug. A small laugh. “I’m fine,” he’d say, every time. And at first, you believed him. Until “fine” became a wall. Until the silence between his words began to echo louder than anything he said.

You wanted to understand him. God, you tried. You stayed up late on the nights he seemed withdrawn, gently nudging, asking if he was okay. He’d nod. You’d wait. But he never said more. You began to feel like you were in a one-sided conversation, always reaching, always giving, and never quite receiving.

He wasn’t cruel. That’s what made it so confusing. He wasn’t mean, wasn’t distant in the traditional sense. He held your hand in public. He remembered the small things. He kissed your forehead like it meant something. But you couldn’t help but feel… alone, even when he was right next to you.

One night, you sat together in the living room. He had returned from a recording session. You watched him from the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, unsure how to say what was building in your chest.

“I feel like I don’t really know you,” you said quietly. He froze for a second — not in anger, not in defense. Just… sadness. He sat beside you, his expression unreadable.

“I don’t know how to let people in,” he admitted, eyes cast downward. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It just feels… hard. Like if I open up too much, everything will fall apart.” You reached out, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. “I’ve never asked you to be perfect. I just wanted you to be real with me.”

He sighed, the sound filled with years of carefully buried emotion. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I think,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out, “you already have.” He didn’t argue. He didn’t cry. He just nodded, slow and tired, as if he’d known this was coming all along. You stood, heart breaking and strangely relieved, and left the room without looking back.

Sometimes the deepest wounds come not from cruelty, but from absence — from what’s never said, never shared, never allowed to bloom.

JENO. With Jeno, love felt calm — steady, secure, like resting your head on his shoulder after a long day and knowing he’d sit with you in silence until the world slowed down. He made you feel safe, not with words, but with the way he walked on the traffic side of the road or remembered to bring you water when you stayed up too late. He was gentle, dependable — the kind of person you could build a life with.

At least, that’s what you thought.

But every time the conversation shifted to “us,” something shifted in him. You weren’t asking for grand declarations or rings. Just plans. Vacations you might take. A future apartment. The kind of small promises that turn into a shared life. But every time you said “someday,” he pulled back. A subtle change — the way he looked away, or cracked a joke, or said “Let’s not think too far ahead.”

And maybe at first, you brushed it off. Everyone moves at their own pace, right? But it kept happening. Every question about “later” was answered with “I don’t know.” Every time you hinted at moving forward, you felt like you were tugging at someone whose feet were firmly planted in the now.

One night, you were lying in bed beside him. The room was dark except for the soft glow of his phone charging on the nightstand. You were both staring at the ceiling, and something in the quiet made your heart ache.

“Do you ever think about what this could look like in a year?” you asked. He was quiet for too long. “I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep,” he said finally.

You turned your head. “I’m not asking for a proposal. I’m asking if you even see a future with me.” He sighed. “I just… don’t want to feel trapped.”

That word — trapped — hit like a slap. “I’m not a cage, Jeno.”

“I know,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not you. It’s just… me. I get scared thinking too far ahead. I don’t want to hurt you by saying something now and not being able to follow through.”

You sat up, the weight in your chest too heavy to lie under. “I’m not asking you to figure it all out tonight. But I can’t be the only one imagining what comes next.”

He reached for your hand — careful, gentle, like he didn’t want to break anything. “I’m trying.” You looked at his fingers wrapped around yours. So much affection. So little intention.

“I know you are,” you said softly. “But I need more than trying. I need someone who chooses to grow with me.”

And in that moment, you realized he wasn’t that person. Not now. Maybe not ever.

HAECHAN. With Haechan, everything felt alive. He was laughter in the dead of night, spontaneity in the middle of a crowded street, the kind of person who could find magic in the most ordinary things. Being with him meant constant adventure — midnight drives with no destination, dancing in empty parking lots, plans made on a whim because “why not?”

And you loved that about him. At first.

But as the months slipped by, you found yourself aching for something steadier. Not just the fireworks — but the slow burn after. You wanted lazy Sunday mornings, not just adrenaline-fueled Saturdays. You wanted a home, not just another place to crash after the next big thrill.

He lived moment to moment. You were trying to build a future. You tried to tell yourself you could meet in the middle — that eventually, the chaos would slow, and you could build something real together. But Haechan was the storm and the sunshine, never meant to be tethered.

One night, walking downtown, the city buzzing around you, you tried to bring it up — the idea of later. Maybe an apartment together. Maybe just a vacation planned more than a week in advance. Anything.

“I don’t want to slow down,” he said, spinning in the streetlights, his arms wide, a boy made of dreams and light. “And I don’t want to chase someone who won’t stay,” you said, the words catching in your throat.

He stopped spinning, looking at you like you had just drawn a line between you he hadn’t seen before. There was a sadness in his eyes — deep, almost childlike. “I’m scared if I stop moving, I’ll lose everything that makes me who I am.”

You reached for his hand. “You don’t have to stop being you. I’m just asking if you ever see yourself… staying. Building something. With me.” He squeezed your fingers, so tightly it almost hurt. “I wish I could be the person you need.”

“I know,” you whispered. “I love you anyway.” And that was the truth. You loved every wild, unpredictable piece of him. But love, you realized, isn’t always enough when your dreams are running in opposite directions.

When you let go of his hand, he didn’t pull you back. You kissed him — one last time, one last burst of color in a life that had been painted too brightly to last — and walked away under the city lights that had once felt like your stars.

Haechan watched you go, arms limp at his sides, the boy who couldn’t stand still finally realizing that sometimes, the most important thing isn’t moving forward.

It’s staying. But by then, it was too late.

JAEMIN. At first, Jaemin felt like a dream. He was soft-spoken, thoughtful, always one step ahead — anticipating your needs before you voiced them. He made you laugh, picked up on your moods like second nature, and supported every decision you made without hesitation. He was your biggest fan. But eventually, that unshakable support began to feel… empty.

“Where do you want to eat?” you asked one night, scrolling through menus. “Wherever you like,” he smiled. You paused. “No, really. What are you craving?” He hesitated, then shrugged. “I’ll eat whatever you choose.”

It was the same with everything. Movies. Vacations. Even serious conversations. He agreed with you so easily, so readily, it stopped feeling like agreement and started feeling like absence. You started to wonder: Did he have opinions? Desires? Boundaries? Or was he just reflecting yours back to you like a mirror?

The worst part was knowing his intentions were pure. He wasn’t hiding anything malicious. He simply wanted to keep the peace, to keep you. But relationships aren’t built on harmony alone. They need friction — honesty — depth. And Jaemin, for all his warmth, had become someone you couldn’t fully see.

One evening, you sat together on your tiny balcony, wrapped in shared silence and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze. He handed you a mug of tea — chamomile, your favorite — and smiled, as always.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, breaking the quiet. “Do you ever say no to me?” His smile faltered. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I know,” you said gently. “But I want you to be happy too. And I don’t know what that looks like when you’re always saying yes to everything I say.”

He looked down at his mug, the steam curling around his face like a shield. “I guess… I’m scared. That if I disagree, if I show too much of myself, you won’t like it. You’ll leave.”

You reached for his hand, squeezed it softly. “But if I never get to see the real you… aren’t I already with someone who’s not fully there?”

That’s when it hit — the truth neither of you wanted to say out loud. You loved each other, yes. But love without authenticity is like a house with no foundation. Eventually, it crumbles.

You kissed his cheek, and it lingered — a quiet thank you, a final kindness. “Be yourself for someone. Even if it’s not me.” And he nodded, not protesting, not fighting. Just letting go.

Because maybe saying “yes” too often had cost him the one person he wanted to stay.

CHENLE. It didn’t happen all at once. That was the hardest part to explain. There was no fight, no betrayal, no moment where you looked at Chenle and thought, This is it. It was a slow drift — so slow, in fact, that for a while, you didn’t even notice it was happening.

You used to talk for hours. About music, about dreams, about what you’d do if the world ended tomorrow. You shared inside jokes and playlists, late-night snack runs and stupid dancing in your pajamas. With him, everything used to feel light — like life had more color.

But lately, it had dulled.

He still smiled at you the same way. Still kissed your forehead when you passed by him in the hallway. But your conversations had started to shrink. Texts became replies, not initiations. Your laughter no longer echoed the same way.

One evening, sitting across from him in the café you both used to love, you realized you were halfway through your drink and neither of you had said anything for five full minutes.

You looked up. “Do you feel it too?” He met your gaze — not startled, just… sad. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I don’t know when it started.”

“I think it started when we stopped learning about each other,” he said. “We just… settled into a routine.”

You nodded. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. Maybe that’s what made it worse. Because if one of you had done something wrong, there’d be someone to blame. But there wasn’t. Just two people who used to orbit the same sun, and now found themselves spinning in opposite directions.

“I still care about you,” he added. “So much.”

“I know,” you whispered. “And I care about you.” He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing softly over your skin. It didn’t feel passionate, or electrifying, or painful. It felt like goodbye.

“I’ll always root for you,” he said. “Whatever you do, wherever you go.” You smiled, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “Same for you.”

There was love in this moment — undeniable, quiet, enduring. But love isn’t always enough to hold people together. Not when growth pulls them apart.

When you left the café, you didn’t cry. Not right away. Instead, you walked slowly through the city, replaying every beautiful moment you’d ever had with him. You let yourself feel it all — the beginnings, the magic, and now, the end.

Some relationships don’t end with a bang or a wound. Some end with a whisper, a sigh, a knowing. You’d been growing. So had he. Just… not in the same direction.

JISUNG. With Jisung, love felt young — tender and careful, like a secret the world hadn’t fully discovered yet. There was innocence in the way he looked at you, like you were a marvel he wasn’t quite sure he deserved. He admired you, adored you. You saw it in the way he reached for your hand in crowded places or quietly tucked a note into your bag just because he thought you needed a smile. You cherished that sweetness.

But over time, sweetness gave way to suspicion.

It started subtly. The slight pause before he asked, “Who were you texting?” The quick scroll through your social media likes. The way he’d grow quiet after you mentioned hanging out with an old friend — especially if it was a guy. You brushed it off, at first. Everyone gets insecure sometimes, right?

But it kept growing. He started clinging tighter after you posted pictures without him. His compliments became layered with questions. “You look amazing in that outfit… Did anyone say something to you today?” You could feel the trust cracking beneath the surface of every word.

“I trust you,” he told you one night, arms wrapped around you under the covers. “But you don’t trust anyone around me,” you said softly, staring up at the ceiling. He stayed silent.

You turned toward him. “I can’t keep explaining that you’re the only one I want.” His eyes shimmered with that familiar vulnerability. “I’m scared. What if you wake up one day and realize you want someone better, smarter, more… confident?”

You took his hand in yours. “I’ve never asked you to be perfect, Jisung. Just secure enough in what we have. I can’t keep proving I love you. That’s not what love is.”

He blinked, and for a moment, you thought he might fight for this. That he’d finally trust what was between you. But all he said was, “I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m going to lose you.”

And maybe he already had.

The next time it happened — the jealousy, the tight-lipped silence, the tension that filled the room after a harmless mention of someone else — you felt something inside you shift. You weren’t angry. You were just tired. Tired of defending something that should’ve stood strong on its own.

It was raining when you finally said the words. You stood in his doorway, his hoodie pulled over your head, the sleeves still a little too long. “I love you,” you said. “But this isn’t love anymore. It’s fear. And I can’t build a future with fear.”

His eyes widened, lips parting as if to stop you — but he didn’t. He stood frozen, raindrops framing your silhouette like a memory that would haunt him later.

You stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him, and held him close. He trembled in your embrace. And then you let go.

Some heartbreaks aren’t loud. They’re soft. Fragile. A whispered surrender.

a/n. reblogs, comments and asks are appreciated! please tell me your opinions on this one.

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fluentmoviequoter · 1 year ago

Text

The Better, Hidden Half

Requested Here!

Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader (takes place in The Rookie 1x20-2x1)

Summary: Tim doesn't tell just anyone that he's married. When he's quarantined and his life is threatened by a fatal virus, he asks Lucy to call you, and ends up showing everyone what you mean to him.

Warnings: angst, fluffy comfort at the end, spoilers for episodes 1x20 and 2x1 (this is basically a rewrite, but still includes a brief reference to the suicide line from Tim). reader stress cleans?

A/N: The anxiety/stress cleaning bit is completely self-indulgent; sorry. I tried to manipulate Tim's conversations with Lucy to make them sound more platonic (I don't know if it worked though). I absolutely love this idea and had a ton of fun writing it!🤍

Word Count: 3.9k+ words

Tim Bradford is a man of few words, and he keeps his life separated into two distinct areas: work life and personal life. He tried to bring the two together once, but hated the constant worry that someone from his work life would threaten to hurt people in his personal life or worse, act on their threats. For that reason, for his family’s safety, Tim keeps his life separated, and only a choice few have been chosen to be trusted with a glimpse of both sides of Tim. Angela, Wade, and on occasion, Bishop, see a side of Tim that doesn't exist when he's at work.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How is she?” Angela asks, sitting beside Tim for roll call.

Tim rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “I trained her, I’m sure she did fine. Better than your golden boy boot, anyway.”

Angela smiles and leans in to whisper, “Didn’t mean Chen.” She turns her attention to Jackson, calling, “80 might be the passing grade, boot, but if you don’t get at least a 90, you should turn in your badge on general principle.”

Tim leans forward to add, “Officer Chen, I will take it as a personal insult if you get anything less than a 93.”

“Yes, sir,” Lucy answers. “Have you figured out what you’re going to do with all your new free time? Might I suggest a book club?”

Angela elbows Tim under the table, and he glances at her quickly, giving her a displeased stare which only makes her work harder to hide her smile.

“What are you talking about?” Tim asks.

“You know, after I pass, there won’t be any more daily evaluations to write.”

“Whether I evaluate you daily or weekly, I will continue to judge you every minute. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

As Grey enters, Lucy turns to Nolan, who whispers, “I can’t believe he’s single.”

“Tell me about it,” Lucy replies, rolling her eyes. “Evaluating a wife daily would cut into his ‘man of honor’ time.”

They silence as Wade directs the TOs to only take easy calls while the rookies finish their last shift before their exams. When Tim assures that he follows direct orders, he keeps his eyes straight ahead, knowing that Angela and Bishop are ready to tease him the moment he looks in their direction.

✯✯✯✯✯

7-Adam-19, silent hold-up alarm activated at Madame Megan’s psychic shop. 2417 Vine. Code 3.

Tim and Lucy enter the back room, taking control of the situation quickly, and he dials in once again to being a cop. Not a family man or anything of the sort. Just a police officer.

As Lucy walks out, and the (fake) psychic hits on Tim, he can only think of one thing. Excusing himself from the room, with a lack of grace that is unlike him, Tim lets his mind wander for just a moment. He thinks of a promise he made, a vow he took, and then his focus is back on his new case, a missing person discovered by a phony Hollywood psychic.

✯✯✯✯✯

Miles away, you are trying to focus on work, though you find it much harder than Tim to simply push your family and your personal life from your mind at a moment’s notice. Fiddling with your necklace, you refrain from grabbing your phone, wanting to text the only person on your mind. Oblivious to the dangers Tim is learning about from the CDC and Homeland Security, you sigh and clench your hands into fists before attempting to focus again.

Before you make any progress on starting the project awaiting your attention, your phone rings. Tim’s name appears on your screen, and you rush to answer, dread filling you. He never calls while he’s working, and you immediately expect the worst. Surely if it were something terrible, Angela or Wade would call you. If Tim is calling, that means he is okay, he is alive.

“Hello?” you ask, releasing a sigh when Tim says your name.

“Are you alone?” he adds, his voice strained.

“Yes. What’s going on?”

“I need you to stay where you are or go straight home. There’s a terror cell with a biological weapon; we’re doing everything we can to find them, but I need to know you’re safe.”

“Tim- yeah, of course. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I- I really can’t say anything else. Not about what we’re doing. Call me if you need anything. Anything at all, okay?”

“I will. Be careful, Tim. I love you.”

“I love you.”

Your phone beeps as the call ends, and your hand finds your necklace again, one finger slipping into Tim’s wedding ring. He leaves it with you each morning, taking it back with gentle touches and loving kisses when he returns each night. Today, all you can do is trust that he is good at his job and that he will protect you and the rest of LA, and then come back to you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim and Lucy approach one of the possible addresses in the search for newly discovered members of the terror cell.

“Man. And here I thought that test was gonna be the hardest part of my day,” Lucy muses.

“Best case scenario, it’s tomorrow’s problem,” Tim points out. His thoughts, however, are stuck on you, especially when Lucy asks what the worst case is.

“Took you long enough,” the man, Peter Langston, says as he opens the door. “Bag’s in here.”

“Sir, we’re here about the bus you took from Phoenix,” Tim explains.

“No kidding. I called you about the bag.”

“And what bag is that?”

“I thought it was mine on the bus. I picked it up by accident.” Tim follows Langston into a bedroom as he continues, “Noticed as soon as I got home. Called right away. Still took you guys like six hours to get here.”

“Uh, sir, we’re not here about a bag.”

“So, you don’t have mine? My computer’s in there… I went through this one for an address, and all I found was some weird science equipment.”

Tim glances back at Lucy, who calls for the task force at the mention of ‘weird science equipment.’

“Sir, did you touch anything in there?” Tim asks, pulling gloves on.

“Yeah, I cut my finger going through it looking for an address. Some kind of broken vial.”

Tim’s eyes widen and his breath catches as the man raises his bloodied finger, adding that it hasn’t stopped bleeding since it was cut. Hemorrhaging, Tim knows.

“Everything okay in there?” Lucy calls.

“Yeah. Just stay out there,” Tim demands.

The man coughs, and Tim flinches as blood lands on his neck and up onto his jaw. Looking down at the blood on the man’s shirt, Tim’s mind forgets the divide between work and personal life. He takes the initiative to lock Lucy out, slamming the door on her to keep her safe, but his true concern is you. If something happens to him, who will look out for you? Who will be your shoulder to cry on? In a moment, as the reality of the situation dawns on him, Tim thinks like a husband, and he begins to regret keeping you, his wife, hidden for so long.

“Tim, no!” Lucy yells, but she steps forward too late.

Tim is on the other side of the door, a new division created as others are dissolved.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim finds baby wipes on a nearby changing table, wiping the blood from his skin as he lies to Langston, telling him it will be okay and distracting him with meaningless treatments to combat the “bad case of the flu the police were warned about this morning at roll call.”

Langston disappears into the bathroom in search of cold medicine, and Tim walks to the door to ask Lucy, “Everything all right out there, Chen?”

“Uh, yeah. The CDC’s on their way,” she responds. “Hey, you need to come out of there.”

“That’s not gonna happen. Got to keep this contained.”

“Tim-“

“It’s gonna be alright, boot.”

Tim knows that Lucy is concerned about him, and he is similarly concerned for her. He feels responsible for her safety as his rookie, but his thoughts toward her are completely and totally different from his fears concerning you, driven by love rather than mutual respect and duty.

“You keep your head in the game, okay?” Tim encourages Lucy. “Everything’s gonna be fine.”

As Tim looks at the blood-covered wipe in his hand, he thinks of you, and how you’ll respond to the potential notification that he didn’t make it, taken from you by the very thing he tried to protect you from. He turns his attention back to the sick man feet away from him before his thoughts spiral. Tim needs you, so he needs to focus and survive.

✯✯✯✯✯

While the CDC is arriving at the house and quarantining Tim and the infected man, you are pacing in your shared bedroom. Memories of you and Tim exist in every inch of this house, and every moment that goes by without an update increases your worry. Walking into the closet, you find one of Tim’s recently worn shirts, changing into it before picking up the remote to distract yourself. With Tim’s pillow clutched to your chest, you try to laugh at the ridiculous sitcom on the screen, but it doesn’t work as well as you hoped.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Officer Chen, you want to tell me what happened?” Dr. Morgan asks, dressed in full hazmat gear as she enters.

“Yeah, uh, the bus passenger mistakenly grabbed the wrong bag, and the virus must have been in it because he coughed up blood on Tim,” Lucy explains.

“Did you get any blood on you?”

“Uh, no. I was out here. Tim immediately closed the door.”

“Smart man.”

Tim hears Dr. Morgan’s comment and clenches his jaw, knowing you would disagree entirely. At least in this case.

“Hey, doc,” Tim greets, standing against the door.

“How you doing?” Dr. Morgan inquires.

“Fine. But Mr. Langston’s struggling a little.”

“Can you describe his condition?”

“Yeah. He, uh, started coughing blood about 20 minutes ago. Now he’s got a pretty wicked nosebleed.”

“Why aren’t they coming in? Where’s my ambulance?” Langston asks.

“It’ll be here any minute. Just… stay put. Save your energy.”

Lucy interrupts to ask, “Where’s the vaccine?”

“Still in the air,” Dr. Morgan says. “Should land in the next hour or so.”

Scoffing, Lucy argues, “You can’t make Tim wait in there. He might not be infected.”

“Sorry. Quarantine rules exist for a reason.” Dr. Morgan turns to the door and asks Tim, “Officer Bradford, do you mind if I put you to work while you wait?”

“You want to know what’s in the bag?” Tim knows digging through the contents is dangerous, but waiting without doing anything won’t increase his chances of getting home to you.

“Yes, I do.”

“Copy that. Chen, I’m gonna turn on my body cam. You can monitor it from out there.”

“Okay. Please be careful,” she responds.

Tim hears your voice in his mind, telling him the same thing. He trusts himself to listen to you more than his rookie.

“All right. Here we go,” Tim says, using his baton to open the bag.

“Wait. Wait. What is that bottle?” Dr. Morgan wonders.

“Looks like the delivery device,” Tim guesses, raising it carefully from the bag. “It’s a misting fan.”

Dr. Morgan calls Homeland Security with the new information on how the terrorists are planning to spread the virus. As Tim continues searching the bag, failing to find identification or target information, Lucy sees Langston raising a chair in the mirror and yells for Tim just before he is knocked unconscious.

✯✯✯✯✯

Your house is as clean as it has ever been. Using your nervous energy and anxiety-fueled need to move, you clean each room in an attempt to keep your mind from worrying about Tim. You could call someone and ask for an update, but they probably can’t tell you anything. The only comfort you have is knowing that Angela and Wade would call you if you needed to know something. The silence is deafening, but it’s also a good sign.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim? Tim!” Lucy continues, growing concerned at the lack of reply.

Tim opens his eyes, moving backward quickly when he sees a puddle of blood running toward his face. He sees Langston standing across the room, mumbling about needing to get out as he tries to break the window. Tim tases him as he stands, and Lucy’s concerned yells continue. Covering his face with his shirt, Tim handcuffs Langston to the bed, shuffling backward as Lucy demands his answer.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he replies, breathing heavily. “Well, that was fun.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tim chuckles. “Kind of depends on your definition of the word.”

While Lucy tells Dr. Morgan to get the vaccine, and the LAPD sends patrol units out to find the other terrorist, Tim keeps his eyes on Langston, but his mind is on you. He should ask someone to tell you and find a way to let you know what is going on, but part of him knows that you are separate from this for a reason. You’re likely worried enough without knowing that Tim’s chance of being infected rises with each moment.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim watches Langston die, unable to do anything as he begs for help and convulses. Imagining himself in Langston’s place, Tim decides that he has to do something. He can’t go out like that, he won’t, but more importantly, he can’t leave you wondering. If Tim dies today, he is not dying without talking to you one last time, showing everyone around him that you are the best part of him.

He leans against the door in silence until Lucy says, “Hey, I, uh- I just checked with Dr. Morgan. The vaccine’s minutes away.”

“You know, you’re good at a lot of things – lying isn’t one of them,” Tim replies.

“You think I’m good at things? Can I get that in writing? … How are you doing? Are there any symptoms yet?"

"I’m sweating like a pig. But it’s probably because it’s 100 degrees in this room.”

Tim sighs just before Lucy assures, “It’s gonna be okay. I really believe that.”

“I’m sure you do. But if it isn’t-“

“Don’t think like that. It’s-“

“If it isn’t,” Tim repeats. “I’m not going out the way my man Pete here just did.”

“What are you saying?”

Tim sighs again, realizing what he said. He would never leave you like that; he’s a fighter. “I need you to do something for me, Chen.”

“Anything.”

“My- my wife is probably worrying herself sick right now. If this doesn’t end like you think it will, can you tell her that I fought to get home to her? Just- just keep an eye on her if anything happens. Wade and Angela, too.”

“Wife?” Lucy asks softly.

Tim smiles, glad to talk about something other than himself or the virus released in the room with him.

“Yeah. We eloped a while back; Grey, Lopez, and Bishop were there.”

“You’ve never mentioned her.”

“I keep her separated. She - everything in my personal life – would be at risk if there wasn’t a divide there.”

“I get that. What’s she like?”

Tim says your name, closing his eyes and picturing you as he tells Lucy how beautiful, kind, and loving you are. “She’s my better half. I don’t- can’t imagine not going home to her.”

“I promise, Tim. I’m confident you will go home to her, but… I promise.”

“Thank you,” Tim says quietly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Please tell me that’s the vaccine,” Lucy says when Dr. Morgan returns.

“It is,” she answers quickly, walking toward the door quarantining Tim. “Stand back, Officer Chen. You’re not wearing protective gear.”

“Yeah.” Lucy steps back, hoping Tim is okay, and that he gets to go home to you.

“Officer Bradford, it’s time to let me in,” Dr. Morgan calls.

Tim opens the door, greeting Dr. Morgan before answering that he’s not feeling too bad. She tells him that she’s going to administer the vaccine. “It’s experimental, right?” Tim asks.

“That’s correct. So, we’re just going to have to wait and see what happens. Maybe nothing. Maybe you grow horns. But for now, I’d say you might’ve dodged a bullet.”

Tim looks at Lucy to ask, “Can you get Lopez? Ask her to call for me?”

Lucy nods, pulling her radio out to contact Angela. She knows that Tim will need you, no matter how the vaccine works… or doesn’t.

“Lopez,” she says, sighing before saying, “Tim wants to know if you can call his wife.”

“Of course,” Angela answers. “She’ll be at his side, even if I have to go get her in the shop.”

Lucy smiles at Tim, and he sighs as Dr. Morgan administers the vaccine. There’s more hope surrounding Tim now, but the fight may not be over yet.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you see Angela’s name on your phone, you consider not answering. Biting your bottom lip to hold your tears in, you answer.

“He’s okay,” Angela begins.

You sigh in relief, a few tears breaking free anyway. “Thank you, Angela.”

“The vaccine is experimental, so they’re taking him to the CDC for observation; you can visit with the proper protective gear. Do you want me to come pick you up?”

“I’ll meet you there.”

“See you in a few. And, just so you know, he didn’t call me.”

“Who did?”

“His rookie.”

Angela reminds you that she’s happy to pick you up if you want before ending the call. Tim mentioned me, you think. Then you wonder whether or not that’s a good thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey, I heard you guys saved the day,” Lucy says, exiting Langston’s house to meet Nolan, Jackson, Lopez, and Bishop.

“It was a group effort,” Jackson corrects.

“Glad you’re okay,” Nolan expresses.

“Me too,” Lucy sighs. “I- I mean that you’re okay, too.”

“How’s Tim?” Angela asks.

“I think he’s gonna be all right. Now, 24-hour observation at the CDC.”

“I’ll bet my pension he just told doctors Tim Bradford does not ride in a wheelchair,” Angela jokes as Tim walks out.

“Only way I’m leavin’ out of here is on my own two feet,” Bishop imitates.

“Don’t you guys have paperwork to finish?” Tim retorts.

Tim looks at Lucy, nodding his thanks before continuing to walk toward the car waiting to transport him to the CDC. He stops suddenly in the yard, growing dizzy before he falls backward onto the grass.

“Officer Bradford!” Dr. Morgan yells.

Lucy, Angela, Bishop, and Jackson run toward him before the CDC holds them back. Someone calls for an ambulance, and Angela backs away to make a call.

✯✯✯✯✯

“What happened?” you ask, answering Angela’s second call.

“Meet us at Shaw instead of the CDC,” she says.

You can hear yelling in the background, and repeat, “What happened?”

Angela says your name, unyielding as she says, “Shaw. I’ll meet you there.”

You inhale deeply, turning toward Shaw. Knowing that you have no chance of beating an ambulance escorted by police cars, you grip the steering wheel, hoping that Los Angeles traffic has grace on you, and you make it to Tim’s side quickly.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim better make it,” Jackson says.

“He will.” Angela knows that he’s a fighter, but she also knows that losing him will destroy you. He has to make it for himself, for the police department, and most importantly, for you.

In the ambulance ahead, Tim goes into anaphylactic shock. Lucy helps the paramedics and glances at Tim’s left hand. The line where his wedding ring sits is barely visible, but she whispers for him to keep his promise, to keep fighting.

Once the ambulance and the police cars enter into the hospital parking lot, Nolan notices a woman with a gun, alerting the officers surrounding the ambulance before the firefight starts.

Lucy covers Tim in the ambulance as the paramedics assist him as well as the injured medics. Nolan shoots the woman in the shoulder, but his gun jams as he moves closer to her.

Tim opens the ambulance door, downing the armed woman on a surge of adrenaline. Stepping onto the ambulance driveway, he asks Nolan if he’s okay.

“I should have reloaded on the move,” Nolan mutters. “You?”

“I should’ve taken yesterday off,” Tim answers.

“Alright, Officer Bradford, let’s go,” a nurse says, pushing a wheelchair to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Angela!” you call, jogging to her side.

“Don’t freak out,” she begins, but your eyes widen when you see the bullet holes covering, well, everything.

“Where is he?”

She nods, leading you around her shop. Tim is standing beside Nolan, arguing with a nurse.

“I can walk. Clearly, I’m fine,” Tim argues.

You don’t think about how many people are watching as you walk to Tim’s side. He turns toward you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Get in the wheelchair,” you demand.

Tim sighs but does as you say. Nolan and Jackson look at each other in shock, and Lucy smiles as she says, “His wife.”

✯✯✯✯✯

When you walk into Tim’s hospital room, he looks like he’s been waiting for you.

“I’m sorry,” he begins.

“For what? Not listening to the nurse?”

Tim chuckles as he raises his left hand, pulling you to his side. “No. I’m sorry for not showing you off more, for never telling people about us. I worried you; I know I did, and you don’t deserve any of it.”

You lean forward, running your fingers across Tim’s jawline as you smile. “You don’t have to show me off. I know why you do it, Tim. Being a secret, being separated and safe, I get it. What I don’t like is not knowing if you’re okay.”

“I don’t want the separation anymore. You are my entire life, and- I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I’m not risking this again. The idea of not making it home, leaving you alone, with no one knowing you or how much you mean to me… that was terrible, and I’m sorry.”

Pursing your lips, you lean toward Tim and look into his eyes before scanning your eyes over his face.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Trying to figure out where the Tim I know went.”

Tim smiles, moving over in the bed and tugging you against his side. He taps your necklace before raising your hair away from your neck. You unclasp your necklace, sliding Tim’s wedding ring off the chain. Tim lays his left hand in your lap, and you put his ring on slowly before kissing his hand.

“I love you,” Tim says.

“I love you. And I accept your apology, even though I didn’t need it.”

“Ready to meet the rest of my-“

“Friends?” you fill in, smiling.

“Colleagues,” Tim finishes, shaking his head as his arm tightens around your waist.

“Thank you for making sure Angela called me.”

“How clean is the house?”

You laugh, pressing your face against Tim’s shoulder. He knows you well, and though you didn't know what was truly at stake over the last few hours, you did miss him.

“Hey, Mrs. Bradford,” Wade greets, smiling as he leads a small crowd of officers into the room. “I have some rookies here who don’t believe someone would marry Tim.”

“I changed my mind,” Tim replies. “Get out.”

You elbow him gently, smiling as you stand. “It's much easier when he doesn’t tell people. No association to him.”

Tim laughs behind you, and after shaking hands and introducing yourself, you return to Tim’s side: where nothing can hurt you, everything is safe, and you’re the most important thing in the world.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

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mouthfullofmunson · 1 year ago

Text

Dirty little secret

Summary: Eddie is in desperate need of a fake girlfriend after lying to his band mates about his dream girl.

Warnings: so extremely cheesy, corny, very much classic romcom tropes! Swearing, smut :p not exactly proofread!!

Wc: 11.5k

Y/n walks home, soft rain pattering on the concrete, she watches the drops splash on her black boots. After a long shift at the hideout all she wants to do is get back home to her cozy apartment where she can wash the liquor scent off of her and become useless on her couch.

“Hey, you!” She adjusts her tiny headphones, turning up the volume on her Walkman to drown out any noise around her. “Hey!” She walks a little faster when she spots a van out of her peripheral vision. The van drives slowly, matching her speed. “Hey!” She finally pulls one headphone away from her ear, turning to look at the man.

“What?!” His eyes widen for a second before they return back to normal. “You work at the bar right? The hideout?” She gives him a skeptical look, either he is a regular or a stalker and she doesn’t have the time for either. “Why should I tell you?!” The wavy haired man softly laughs, his ringed hand tapping on the exterior of the old van. “I see you there all the time.”

“Hm…well maybe you’re thinking of someone else?” Y/n picks back up and continues her walk home, but not before she's stopped again. “I need you to do me a favor!” She slowly turns her head back to him, trying to decide if she should give him the time of day or continue on home. “Before you call me crazy and run away, I’m Eddie, my band plays at the hideout every tuesday- you've worked a couple shifts when we play.”

She huffs, but ultimately decides that he might have something valuable to say. “Yeah, so what?”

“So,” he pulls the key out of his van and steps out, feeling the relief of his jeans clad legs finally being stretched. “Just hear me out before you say anything, okay? Basically I'm like the only single one in my band so I kind of…maybe told them that I have a girlfriend?” Eddie finally ends his spell and waits for Y/n’s response. She tosses her arms out a little, letting her hands slap back on her legs. “Sorry about that. What does this have to do with me?”

Eddie gives her a smile, “And that’s where you come in. You are… close enough to the description of what I gave them. So what do you say? Will you be my fake girlfriend?” She blinks at him, her eyes bugging out in disbelief of what she’s hearing. She scoffs, not being able to form any words. Gulping, she finally musters up a response to this maniac. “Are you serious?! What’s wrong with you? We hardly know each other.” She rubs her forehead, looking back down at the sidewalk.

“Well, yeah. I need this, I’ll pay you back! I’m not sure how, but I promise I’ll make it up to you! And who wouldn’t want to have this.” His hands scan his body, trying to show off what a prize he is. Y/n shakes her head, not that this isn't interesting, and maybe the drama of it all will spice up her ever so boring life of sleeping and working, but she still isn’t sure. “I’ll have to think about it. I’ll call you!”

And with that she makes her way back to her apartment.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

Y/n’s been thinking a lot about that strange encounter with Eddie earlier. He wasn’t a complete stranger, She’s been there a couple times when his band was playing a gig at the hideout but they’ve never had more than a five sentence conversation. She’s gotten into a bad loop of sleeping, working, sleeping, working, she hardly sees friends anymore and she definitely isn’t going out of her way to make any fun just herself, so fake dating really didn’t seem too bad. Maybe this will get her out of the house, and add a little excitement.

She flops open the phone book, finding Eddie’s number and dialing it. She waits for him to pick up, sitting on the counter, picking at her nails. He finally answers and her ear is instantly flooded with the sound of his raspy, sleepy voice. She has to admit, when she heard his tired voice she felt her breath hitch a little.

“What do you want?” He almost growls, his sleepy eyes growing heavier by the second, threatening to close and send him back into a deep sleep. “It’s me, Y/n. I was thinking about our conversation earlier.”

Eddie blinks his eyes back open, “So you call me at one in the morning? Couldn’t this have waited?” Y/n rolls her eyes, but damns herself for continuing to ignore the healthy sleep schedule she so desperately needs. “Well, I was going to agree to it. But maybe it’s just one of those crazy one AM thoughts. Who knows?”

Eddie rubs his hand over his face, rolling his eyes. “Are you doing it or what?” She waits a best before responding, to give herself a second longer to really think it through- but mainly just to leave Eddie waiting. “I’m doing it. But we need to lay down some ground rules. I’ll come over at two tomorrow-“ suddenly she’s interrupted by Eddie’s groggy voice “don’t you mean today?” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “I’ll see you at two.”

And just like that, she’s fake dating Eddie Munson.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔.

Y/n knocks on the door or Eddie’s trailer, patiently waiting to hear him walking towards the door. He flings open the door, standing in a pair of sweatpants with his plaid boxers coming out and a cut off tank top with his lower belly slightly peeking out from his hand resting at the top of the door frame.

“Come on in.” His free hand glides out to show her the way and he lets her step inside before shutting the door behind her. “This is my palace. Take a seat on the couch and I’ll be back with refreshments.” He walks down the hallway and soon joins Y/n on the couch with a cigarette between his lips, offering her one then lighting his own. “No thanks.” She moves the pack away from her and sits her bag in her lap.

“What did you call this meeting for?” He pulls his cigarette away from his lips, letting out the white Smokey air.

“If we are going to fake date we are going to do it my way.” Eddie glances at her without moving his head, then looks right back at the television. “We need to ease into it, not packing on the PDA right off the bat, but also seeming comfortable around each other. And I think it would help if we did some sort of test run, maybe I could properly meet these bandmates of yours before we jump in?”

Eddie ashes his cigarette, “Did you major in fake dating or something?”

“Haha, very funny asshole. Do you want to do this or not? You’re trying to act smug but you’re the one who had to lie to his friends about having a girlfriend.” Eddie lets out a sigh, extending his response by taking a long drag from his cigarette. “You’ll properly meet them on Friday.” She nods, jotting it down on her planner.

“We need to lay some ground rules, obviously don’t try to randomly shove your tongue down my throat. I think since it’ll be the first time I'm meeting them let’s just keep it simple, maybe hand holding, a cheek kiss or two. Nothing crazy.” Eddie laughs, leaning forward and crushing his cigarettes in the glass ashtray already full of white and grey ashes and cigarette butts.

“I’m not going to fuck you infront of them or anything, don’t worry. I understand boundaries.” He gives her a smile, faint dimples carving in his cheeks. He’s lucky he’s got a pretty face or she’d storm out right now.

She gives him a disapproving look before shaking her annoyance off and continuing with the plan. “Hugs, hand holding that’s all fine, cheek kisses or whatever- I guess that’s okay all the time. But an actual kiss or anything like that needs a little warning and easing into.”

“Yeah, all sounds good to me. So I’ll see you Friday?”

“See you Friday.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

Eddie’s van is pretty cozy. Despite the five curbs he’s run over and the ten stop signs he’s blown through, it’s actually been a nice ride. The diner they were meeting at was about fifteen minutes away and Eddie had called her an hour before telling her he was going to pick her up. His van was warm, surprisingly smelt good (she noticed the cherry scented air freshener he hung up), and was actually pretty clean. He had a few books in the back, a water bottle or two and a few cartons of cigarettes in the door- but it had a homey feel.

“Haha, sorry.” Eddie murmurs, making her sling forward as he breaks hard. Thank god for seatbelts.

He pulls into the diner parking lot, looking around to find a parking spot. The diner is pretty cute from the outside, it has. A blue roof and a bright LED sign, large windows giving you a peek into the busy restaurant.

Eddie jumps out, racing to open the door. “They are already here.” He holds a hand out, helping her out of the van. They walk inside, Eddie leading the way to the table the guys were sitting at. “Hey guys,” Eddie gives a little wave, pulling a seat out for Y/n then plopping himself next to her at the table. The diner was bright, checkered floors with red and white booth seats, neon colors everywhere. “This is Y/n, Y/n these are the guys.”

She smiles, shyly tucking her hair behind her ear. A boy with brown feathery hair sticks his hand out, “Hi gorgeous, I’m Gareth.”

Suddenly Eddie was hyper aware of the fact that his band mates were oogling his (fake) girlfriend. He grabs the underside of her chair and pulls her closer, reaching over Y/n and pushing Gareth’s hand down. “And he has a girlfriend.” Eddie stretches his arm in the top of Y/n’s chair, guarding her from the others.

“Well it’s nice to meet you guys! Eddie has told me so much about you.” She smiles, feeling warm and awkward with all the eyes on her. “Like what?” Another one speaks up, staring at her awkwardly. Eddie leans in her ear “That’s Doug. Ignore him.” Y/n softly laughs, “Tons of good stuff! I’ve seen you guys play a couple of times at the hideout. I work there every other day during the week and all weekend. I’m excited to get to know you all a little better.”

“Well, you’ll have tons of time on the trip! I’m Jeff. We’re all so excited to finally meet you, Eddie has really talked you up. I’m bringing my partner, Gareth and Doug are bringing their girlfriends so you won’t have to deal with us alone!” Y/n gives Jeff a sweet smile before turning her head to Eddie, her face instantly changing. “What the fuck is he talking about!?” She whispers, leaning in to whisper in Eddie’s ear.

“We’ll be right back.” Eddie announces to the group before him and Y/n step aside.

“What trio are they talking about?! You didn’t tell me about a trip!” Eddie rubs his face, “We go on a ‘group bonding’ trip every year. That's why I needed you, I couldn’t not bring a girl when everyone else is bringing their partners.” She groans, suddenly growing the urge to stomp her foot and fold her arms like a child.

“When is it?”

“Next week”

“How long will we be gone?”

“Only a week.”

Y/n huffs, rubbing her forehead then crossing her arms. “I think I can swing it. I never miss a day at work and I’m always on time, and I always pick up extra shifts if they need someone so maybe I can talk them into some sort of paid time off?”

Eddie bites at his fingernails, “so you’re coming?”

“I guess so.” Eddie claps, giving her a smile. “You won’t regret it, sweets!”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

It’s a chilly morning, the ground frosted over, chattering teeth and near frozen eyelashes, but with the body heat of five guys, and two girls, Y/n was more than warm. Usually being up at Seven in the morning on such a cold winter morning would have Y/n seething with regret and frustration for agreeing to such early plans, but this morning was quite different already.

Eddie picks her up last, giving her a little extra time to sleep since she had previously made it very clear that if she doesn’t get a full eight hours of sleep she will not be getting out of bed at all and if she is forced she will “reign terror on all of Hawkins”. He tosses her luggage in the back, the other girlfriends already asleep in the back row, and then lets her hop in the passenger seat as they head up to the cabin they rented for the trip.

The boys are loud, and the music they blast was about to give Y/n a major migraine, but it was oddly enjoyable. They had a nice energy to them, they were all smiles and laughs, the good energy was rubbing off on her.

She was looking forward to this week, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, especially if she got some alone time. She’s always thinking she needs to give herself a break since it’s not stop working for her, and this is the week just for that. She’s overpacked but not in her mind, she’s brought anything and everything she needs to make this week's stay as comfortable as she can and she intends to do that. She hopes the cabin has a nice big bathtub so she can use the fancy bath salts she packed.

Eddie turns the music down a couple notches, “having a good time?” He reaches for her hand, and at first she almost pulls it away but reminds herself that they have to act natural. “Yeah, the music is a little loud though.” He laughs, “they’ll be louder than the music will ever get if I try to turn it down. Good luck.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

The drive hasn’t been so bad, now that they are an hour into the drive the boys have settled down, the adrenaline and excitement has worn off and now they are a little sleepy. Everyone’s head is either pressed against the window or sagging back onto the headrest of their seats. Y/n huffs, sinking into the passenger seat that is growing evermore uncomfortable by the second. She presses her forehead against the glass of the window, closing her eyes.

Eddie pants her hand and she cracks an eye open. “No you don’t. If I can’t get any sleep you can’t either. You can sleep once we’re at the cabin.” She groans, rubbing her eyes while trying to stretch to the best of her abilities in the limited space. She wracks her brain, trying to recall a time where she agreed to be woken up early, then stay up the whole two hour drive with Eddie while everyone else slept- but she guesses it’s a good thing a girlfriend would do.

“Okay, but” she yawns. “I don’t know if that will last long.”

Eddie turns the music up a little louder, “we’ll stop to get gas soon. Just hang in there for about five more minutes maybe? There should be something coming up.”

A couple more minutes pass by and before y/n knows it Eddie is pulling up to a gas pump. She swings the door open, jumping out. The relief of stretching her legs is unmatched and she paces a couple times.

Everyone stumbles out of the van, everyone equally as excited to be able to stretch their bodies and get some fresh air that wasn’t contaminated by cigarette smoke or the smell of a bunch of twenty year old boys.

As Eddie shoves the nozzle in and starts pumping gas he wraps his arm around Y/n, pulling her into a little hug. She leans in, resting her head against his chest. His hand reaches up to play with her hair and she pulls away from the hug, letting his arm continue to rest around her shoulder and play in her hair.

It is a little awkward to hang on to each other like that but she’s going to have to get used to it if she’s going to survive the week. She came here to do this favor for Eddie, and as much of an annoying asshole he is, she still plans to follow through with this to the best of her abilities.

“You can head in with them.” Eddie says, nodding over to the group that is heading into the gas station to grab whatever road trip snacks they can find. “It’s fine, It would make more sense to stay with you, right? I don’t really do this whole dating thing.” Eddie nods, “Me either. If I’m honest, I’ve never really had a girlfriend. I wasn’t exactly the most popular in high school.”

“Yeah, I had a few dates but they never went anywhere.”

The gang comes out of the store, white bags filled up with different bags of chips, cookies, and different sodas. Eddie tops off the tank, closing it up and opening Y/n’s door before hopping back in and starting up the van to continue their journey up to the cabin.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

The sudden stop wakes Y/n up, feeling Eddie’s warm hand on her shoulder softly shaking her awake. She rubs her eyes, yawning. “Are we there?” Eddie laughs, “Yeah, we’re here.” She blinks her eyes open. The snow is falling, bundling the dark cabin in a white blanket of snow. It piles up high on the ground and stacks up on the room. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful.” She steps out of the car, pulling zipping her coat up to her chin to hide herself from the bitter cold.

Eddie opens the trunk of the van, pulling out everyone’s luggage. He throws his beat up old duffle bag around his shoulder and then grabs Y/n’s suitcase, lifting it so it doesn’t track snow in. “It’s okay, I’ve got it.” Eddie shakes his head, “I’ve got it, sweets. I’m pretty strong.” He mumbles with a wink, grabbing the key from the mailbox and unlocking the door.

Y/n has to keep her jaw from dropping. The cabin is absolutely beautiful, big and open with warm, dim lighting. There’s a brick fireplace in the living room with a big puffy couch, knit blankets tossed over the back, Sliding glass doors that lead out to a big deck. When you walk in there is a kitchen to your left, a round wooden dining table with glossy cabinets, little green accents all through the kitchen.

Eddie leans forward, “stop gawking and go snatch the best room before anyone else can.” And with that Y/n turns the corner, walking through the hallway and jogging upstairs. All the bedroom doors are open, showing off the perfectly pristine rooms. She peeks through each room until she stumbles upon the biggest one. She opens the door to the bathroom, a nice big bathtub with a standing shower next to it, a big mirror and two sinks.

She would definitely be comfortable here for a week. A big cozy cabin that looks like it’s straight out of a fairytale book, the biggest and nicest room with snow blowing in, she didn’t have anywhere to be or anything to do besides relax. The only downside is that she would have to constantly be putting in a performance when in front of everyone but despite that, it was perfect.

“Well I could get used to this.” She hears Eddie’s deep voice from behind her. Spinning around on her heels, Eddie gives her a quick smile. “Nice huh? And where will you be sleeping? The floor?” Y/n rolls her eyes at him, “No, maybe you should go sleep on the couch downstairs while I take this nice bed.” She pats the king sized bed while Eddie throws their bags on it. “Or maybe there will be a spare room for you?”

It’s Eddie’s turn to roll his eyes. He crosses his arms against his chest, “in all seriousness, let’s just try to make this weekend as easy as possible. And don’t go falling in love with me, sweets.”

She fake gags then opens her suitcase, if she’s going to be staying here for a week she’s going to make it comfortable. She pulls her folded clothes out and shoves them into the dresser, then hangs her sweaters and whatever else she doesn't want getting creased or wrinkled. She takes out all of her toiletries, stashing them in their respective spots in the bathroom.

“I’m going to shower. I want to wash all your cigarette stench off.” Eddie nods, yawning. “Yeah, I’m going to build a fire. The guys are already bitching that they are cold.”

“Okay, I’ll be down soon.” She grabs a change of clothes, something cozy to bundle up in since today they were just getting comfortable in the cabin. “See you later.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

Eddie sits next to the fireplace, tossing wood into it to start a fire so everyone will get off his ass about how cold they are.

“So how long have you and Y/n been together?” Jen, Gareth’s girlfriend asks. Eddie rubs his forehead, glancing over at the group who is all huddled on the couch. “Um, about six months I guess?” Maybe that’s how long he has been trying to lie about a girlfriend? He knows it’s pathetic, really, but with the way his friends (even his 16 year old friends) were making him feel about being single was too much that he had to make up some fake girlfriend.

“Awe! You guys are so cute together! How did you meet?” Eddie strikes a match then tosses it in to start the fire. Not exactly how he learned in cub scouts but it was good enough. “We met at the hideout. She works there.” He scratches his face, he’s not really in the mood to try to make up anymore details of his and Y/n's fake relationship.

“Were you playing a gig? That’s so cute! Have you said I love you yet?!” Jen is a nice girl, but god does she ask a lot of questions.

Out of the corner of his eye Eddie sees Y/n walk down the hallway and into the living room to join the rest of the group, and fuck is he happy to see her. “There you are. How was your shower?” Y/n takes her place next to Eddie, sitting by the fireplace. “It was good! I feel a lot better now.”

Now that they are here at the cabin with everyone, maybe they have underestimated how difficult this is going to be. Now that this is the first time everyone is properly meeting Y/n and getting to know them as a couple there will probably be endless questions about their relationship, their future plans, etc.

“Good, good. Now you can relax.” He picks at his nails, closing his eyes to relax.

Every year this trip is the highlight of his year. He loves coming up here and staying in for a week, doing absolutely nothing at all but hanging out with the guys. Usually they have some big fun thing planned, skiing, snowboarding, one year they tried to ice skate but that didn’t go very well, but with the stress of Eddie having to find someone to have a fake relationship with- well, they didn’t really get to plan anything big. But that’s okay, these trips are really all about reconnection and spending some quality time together.

“We were just talking about how cute you and Eddie are!” Y/n gives Jen a polite smile. “Oh I’m sure Eddie just loved that, hm?” She pats Eddie’s chest, relaxing back into the pillows Eddie threw down by the fireplace for him to sit. “I was just asking him some questions, is all. You guys met at the hideout? He said that you work there!”

Y/n glances over at Eddie. “Yeah, he was playing a gig when we met. I guess his whole rockstar thing just kind of drew me in. Love at first sight!”

“Oh, so you guys have said I love you!?” Eddie and Y/n make direct eye contact, and thank god Eddie had a little sketch book out or else they both would’ve been in trouble. He quickly scribbles in the corner of the book, his handwriting spikey and in all caps reading “we’ve been together for 6 months” trying to quickly fill her in on a few things they haven’t gone over due to Jen’s questions.

“Yeah, yeah. What about you and Gareth? Enough about us!” Y/n shifts the conversation, not wanting to get caught up in any confusion or lies. “Enough about you?! This is the first time we’ve met Eddie’s girlfriend! To be honest I didn’t know if we were ever going to meet you, he’s hidden you from us for so long I just want to know everything.”

Y/n wanted to kill Eddie for refusing to go over more plans for this fake dating scheme, but she also wanted to thank him for taking a hundred stops on the trip even though she was annoyed. He made her wake up so early just for him to stop every fifteen minutes and make them get to the cabin at sundown. She blames all the peach tea he was guzzling but she’s so thankful for it at this moment.

“It’s getting kind of late. I think I’m going to head to bed. Tomorrow we’ll have all day to get to know each other, right? Eddie has talked about you so much so I can’t wait to get to know you.” She tries to politely excuse her and Eddie off to bed but she gets pulled back down by Jen’s constant questioning. “It’s only nine! How are you already sleepy?” Jen laughs, repositioning herself to get comfortable to stay up a couple more hours.

“She gets car sick. So I think we’re going to get some shut eye.” He stands up, putting his hands on Y/n’s shoulders and giving them a quick rub as she leads the way off to their room.

Once they get in the room Eddie shuts the door. “What the fuck are we going to do about Jen’s constant questioning?!” Y/n scoffs and shakes her head, dressing down the bed for sleep since they don’t have much else to do. “You’re the one who said it was “dramatic and not necessary” to go over the details! Eddie groans, flopping down on the bed. “This is your fault, Eddie! Don’t get grumpy with me.”

“Shit!”

“Shit is right! We will just have to go over whatever details we can think of tonight.” Eddie stands back up, dropping his pants and ripping his shirt off until he’s just in tube socks and boxers. He slides back in bed, taking his time to get comfortable, ignoring the fact that he’s loudly fluffing his pillow and practically jumping on the bed. Y/n huffs, tossing a body pillow in the middle of the bed to separate their sides.

“How are we supposed to know what the fuck else she’s going to ask us?! She might personally quiz us on facts about each other.” Y/n’s throws her hands in the air, “Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. We just go over simple things that a girlfriend and boyfriend should know about each other! Some family stuff, age, name, the obvious!”

“Well I’m pretty sure we’re the same age, and you know my name!” Eddie tosses and turns trying to get in the perfect spot. “Keep your voice down or they are going to think we’re fighting and question us even more.”

“Okay, my name is Eddie, your name is Y/n, we’re both twenty-two-unless you’re hiding something? You’re favorite thing about me is my gorgeous hair and my favorite thing about you is your personality. Is that solved?”

Y/n’s jaw almost drops at how annoying he can be. “I’m going to bed! I guess we’ll just play this all by ear.”

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Three days into the trip and it’s been a breeze. Eddie and Y/n have had a few hiccups, but nothing to throw them off too hard. Jen got the message and stopped her constant questions, which kind of made them feel bad because she didn’t mean any harm, she’s just a curious cat.

After more arguing they finally settled down and stopped being so stubborn and went over a few things. They both got to know the basics, just simple get to know me icebreakers you would tell about yourself on the first date- not that either of them would really know what to say on a first date, but they tried to fill each other in as best as possible without staying up all night to share their whole life story.

“You know, you snore really fucking loud.” Eddie says, walking out of the bathroom with toothpaste still on his chin. Y/n folds up her clothes, shaking her head. “Well you kick, and you groan, and you drool but I haven’t complained about it.” A smile appears on Eddie’s plump lips as he walks over to what has become his side of the room, digging through his bag to find some clothes for the day.

“You love every second of it.” Y/n raises her eyebrow, “I’ll see you downstairs, weirdo.”

Y/n joins the group downstairs, everyone huddled in the kitchen eating breakfast. “Hey guys” smiles full of pancakes and bacon greet her back. “Where is Eddie?” Jeff asks, looking around to see if he had missed him- which was pretty hard to do since he sticks out like a sore thumb with his crazy dark hair and his loud mouth. “He should be coming down any second!” She grabs a plate, adding two pancakes onto it, a pat of butter, and some maple syrup.

Eddie comes down almost scarily quiet, coming up behind her and kissing her cheek. “Oh thanks for making my plate, sweets!” He takes the plate of pancakes from her, adding on some bacon and a mountain of potatoes. “Gotta fuel up for the day.” He gives his signature smile then shovels a pile of pancakes into his mouth.

Y/n shakes her head, grabbing another plate and making breakfast of her own- again. She joins the rest of the group at the table, sitting down next to Eddie where he shovels food into his mouth like a starved man.

“I can’t believe we still have eleven days left of the trip.” Doug says, a smile on his face. “It’ll be over before we know it. I don’t want it to end!” Y/n turns to look at Eddie, his face just as full of confusion as hers is. “What do you mean eleven days? Are we not leaving Monday morning?” Y/n looks around, waiting for a response while everyone looks at her confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” Eddie says between a mouthful of potatoes.

“I’d like to know too.” Y/n says, her voice slow and confused.

“We’re staying here for two weeks. That’s been the plan all along.” Jeff pipes up, shrugging at Eddie like he’s stupid. “Well who the fuck was going to tell me that?” Eddie gulps down orange juice after then wipes the juice that falls from his plump lips with the back of his ringed hand. “We all decided to add another week to the trip, you were there.” Eddie tosses his hands up in the air and Y/n stands up, grabbing his arm to lead him to the bathroom to talk about whatever the hell was going on.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me we’re staying here for two weeks?!” Eddie scoffs at Y/n, shaking his head. “Obviously I didn’t know either! You think I wouldn’t have told you?” She groans, smacking her hand down on the sink. “Why didn’t you pay attention?!”

Eddie’s jaw drops, throwing his arms in the air. “Maybe if you would have paid more attention you would’ve figured it out!”

Y/n grabs the hand towel, slapping him in the arm with it. “You’re so frustrating!” The room goes silent for a while, both of them thinking how this is going to work out, how they can deal with another week of this without cracking.

Suddenly Y/n hears Eddie’s deep chuckle, shooting her head up to see his arms cross against his chest while he has a crooked smirk on his face. “What?” He continues to laugh, rubbing a hand over his mouth to try to stop the laughter. “Are you done with your fit now?” She’s a little annoyed, but can’t help but crack a smile. All Y/n has to do is let her family know that she will be gone another week so they don’t get worried if they try to call or visit, she needs to call the hideout and let her manager know that she’s going to be gone longer than anticipated. And luckily she has enough to fall back on since she will be out of work for two weeks.

“I think I can swing it.” She rubs her forehead, “Yeah, it’ll be fine.”

Eddie claps his hands together, smiling. “Then let’s get back out there and shove our faces full before we head out today.”

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Thankfully, the group found some stuff to do so they won’t be totally cooped up in the cabin the whole entire trip. The guys want to go to some of the bars around the little town they were staying in, and there are some random touristy spots they wanted to hit, like a snowy hike Eddie seemed excited for, but Y/n is not excited in the slightest. She wasn’t excited for hiking in the freezing cold, ice everywhere, smoke coming from your mouth anytime you speak, teeth chattering.

“Are you almost ready?” Eddie asks, pushing the door to the bathroom where she is getting ready. She gasps, looking back at Eddie. “What the fuck?” A smeared black line is under her eye, blinking fast since the wand hit her pupil. “Um, you’ve got something right here.” She groans, smacking her hand down on the sink, letting her mascara wand fall from her hand.

“You just ruined my makeup, Eddie!” He walks back over to her, lifting his hand up and circling around his eye. “Right there?” She nods, “Yeah, you don’t need all that shit anyways. It just hides your face from me.” Y/n is taken aback, her face gets hot as he walks out of the room.

“What?”

“Five minutes! Come on!” He claps his hands together as she hears him swing the door open and jog down the stairs.

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Y/n feels like an outsider.

Everyone is already well acquainted with each other, having established relationships that have lasted years. The guys are all sticking together and the other two girls have been friends for a while, so Y/n is kind of stuck. She gets along with the other partners, but the only one she’s comfortable enough to talk to is Eddie. So she lingers around behind him while everyone else chats about. She doesn’t mean to leave herself out, or seem rude, but she isn’t sure how to include herself and she doesn’t want to form some bond with these people if she’s never going to see them after this trip.

Eddie clearly enjoys hiking. He’s climbing huge rocks and going above and beyond, nearly causing everyone a heart attack when he fake trips near the edge of a cliff- completely ignoring the ice and snow all around him.

It’s not that Y/n isn’t athletic or necessarily hates hiking, it just isn’t her thing. She feels out of place enough and heavy breathing in the freezing cold in the back of the group is a little humiliating.

Patches of ice cover the big rock steps, everyone carefully trying to avoid them so they don’t slip. Snow falls and covers most of the steps so it’s a big guessing game on where the ice is under the heaps of snow.

Y/n grabs onto the railing they built for people to hold so they wouldn’t fall on the steep stairs. She tracks up the stairs, successfully navigating the rocks. She steps onto the last one and instantly feels unsteady, her foot sliding from under her from the slippery ice under it. She falls on the stairs, smacking one knee on a sharp edge and her chin on the ground.

“Oh fuck!” She hears, already growing more embarrassed than ever at the eyes she knows are on her. Eddie scrambles to help her up, “Careful now!” He whispers as she stumbles. Her eyes well up and she blinks hard to try to keep her tears at bay. She's not sure if the tears are out of embarrassment or the nauseating pain. Eddie sizes up her injuries, wincing and turning her head. “You guys go ahead, we’ll catch up.”

There’s spots of blood in the snow and the knee of her pants is completely soaked through. “C’mon sweetheart. Let’s sit you down.” He takes her hand and leads her to a little bench, throwing his first layer of jackets onto it so she doesn’t have to sit on the wet wood. “Sorry,” Y/n mumbles, feeling bad that Eddie has to stop when he’s clearly enjoying himself to clean up her mess.

“Honey, you don’t need to apologize for anything.” He softly chuckles, thumbing away her tears. “Can I check out your leg?” She nods, wiping her tears away while he shuffles her pants over her knee. “You’re lucky I’ve got all sorts of shit in here.” He pats his large hiking backpack and opens one of the front pockets, pulling out a first aid kit. “We’ve got to stop the bleeding but I’m going to try to clean it up as much as I can.” His tongue peaks out as he rips open some packages, wiping over her knee.

“Ah shit, I think you might need stitches.” She panics, shaking her head. “No, no, no! We’ve still got so much to do!”

“Who cares when you’re hurt? I don’t think anyone will mind if we skip bar hopping to get you taken care of. Now I can play doctor, I’ve had to stitch myself up a few times but I don’t want to risk that on you.” His tongue pokes out again as he bandages up her legs, wrapping it up. “I think that’ll do for now. Now let me see that chin, honey.”

He softly grips at her jaw, looking at the big cut under her chin. “Well, it doesn’t look good, but I think it just needs some cleaning up and you’ll be all better.” He rips open a little alcohol pad, whispering a warning before he wipes her cut clean. He sticks a padded bandage under it and pulls her pant leg back down.

“Okay, wounded soldier is all recovered.” He holds out a hand for her, kissing the top of your head. “Thanks, Eddie.” He rubs her shoulder, throwing his back back on his shoulder. “No problem, sweets. Let’s get back up there. The troops are waiting on us.”

Y/n successfully gets through the hike without any more accidents. Though she is embarrassed about the whole thing, she smiles through it. Eddie holds her hand the rest of the hike to ensure she wont lose her balance and end up injured again.

“Do you wanna go back to the cabin? We don’t have to go out with them.” Y/n shrugs while buckling herself into the van, Eddie starts it up and cranks the heat up to warm their red noses. “No, you’ve already had to hang back. I don’t want to keep you from them anymore.” Eddie leans in, “Truthfully, I don’t want to be their babysitter. So let’s hang back, yeah?” She nods, cracking a small smile. She was kind of relieved that Eddie doesn't want to go out, she wants everyone to have fun but she’s happy that she doesn’t have to hop around to crowded bars with a janky knee all night.

“Yeah.” And with that he drives off, dumping the group to some random bar and heading back to the cabin, Y/n half asleep next to him.

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“Wake up, sleepy head.” Eddie shakes Y/n awake , his hand on her shoulder. “We’re back. Time to get up.” Y/n blinks awake, stretching and rubbing her eyes before sitting back up. “Are we home?” She hears a warm chuckle from Eddie, his lopsided smile making her want to fall back into her cozy sleep. “We’re back at the cabin if that’s what you mean by ‘home’.” She nods, holding her hand out for him so he can help her out.

He leads them to the door. “You really did a number on yourself today, huh?” She nods, “I guess so.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie starts, opening the door and letting her walk through before shutting it behind them. “We can set up on the couch for the night. But first, I should probably double check to make sure you don’t need stitches.” She groans, but leads them to the bathroom nonetheless. Pathetically jumping up on the sink, Eddie knees the floor under her and rolls her pant leg up to investigate her injury again.

He peels the bandage, cleaning it with cool water. “You could use maybe one stitch. But you’ll heal fine without it. I’d do it myself, but you’re much too delicate for that, hm?” She gulps, nodding before he lifts her chin, wiping the dried blood clean. “Let’s keep these bandaged. You want to keep them clean, but you’ll heal them up in no time.” He pats her thigh to let her know she can jump down before he walks off.

Eddie gathers supplies, throwing down a mountain of blankets on the couch, along with all the snacks from the kitchen, and a pile of games he found in one of the hallway closets.

“We’ve got scrabble, monopoly, connect four, guess who, or we can just play D&D?” Y/n rolls her eyes, “What’s with all the baby games? It’s not 1981 anymore.”

Eddie scoffs, “You’re taking a lot of smack for someone who’s got a busted jaw. Shouldn’t it be all locked up or something?” Y/n laughs, plopping down beside him on the big puffy couch. She’s kind of happy that she slipped and busted her knee, if she didn’t they would probably be in a stuffy bar with old drunk men surrounding them who smell strong of liquor and body odor despite the cold temperatures. Without her injury she wouldn’t be wrapped up in a fur blanket on the couch, watching the snowfall in the big cozy cabin.

It’s crazy to think that a couple weeks ago she hardly knew Eddie and now she shared a bed with him every night.

“Let me get a fire going and then we’ll start a game or something? Maybe we can look through their VHS tapes?” Eddie stands up, walking over to the fireplace since there was an extra chill from all the snow piling up outside. “We can do anything. I’m happy as long as I’m on the couch.”

Eddie comes back after lighting the fire, “Well, let’s get this party started.”

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“I’m about to flip this fucking board over!” Eddie groans, smacking his ringed hand onto his forehead. “You chose monopoly don’t get pissed that you’re losing!” Eddie huffs, watching Y/n make her next move.

“I win! I win!” Y/n laughs loudly, sticking her arms up in celebration of her victory. Eddie shakes his head, trying to act mad. He grabs her arms pushing them back down- but she refuses and wrestles him away. Eddie can’t help but laugh along with her, wrestling her arms down. The board falls onto the floor with a clatter and they ignore it, Eddie straddling her legs while they fight. “You cheated! You are a cheater!” Y/n laughs loudly, Eddie smiling down at her. Suddenly his arms give out, the big smile not leaving his face. Y/n opens her eyes, her laugh suddenly fading as she sees Eddie above her.

The silence is loud, only their breathing can be heard before Eddie leans down, slotting his lips between hers.

The door suddenly swings open, making them fly apart like they were caught doing something they shouldn't have been doing. Eddie clears his throat, falling back on the cushion breathless, unable to make eye contact with Y/n.

Caught, both of their cheeks burn red. “Can’t wait until you get to your bedroom?” Doug questions them, letting out a throaty laugh while all the others stand there with smirks on their faces.

They both know that for people who are supposed to be in a relationship this is completely normal, but given their situation they are embarrassed to be caught, especially knowing what could have happened if they weren’t interrupted. “Fuck off, Doug. Don't act like I haven’t caught you two two unspeakable things. In my van too!” Doug gasps and Eddie snickers, walking back to their bedroom and Y/n follows hot on his tail.

Once they get into their bedroom Y/n shuts the door. Eddie stands there, watching her as she rubs her hands against her bare arms. Neither of them are sure what to say, obviously something happened back there and they would both be lying if they say they didn’t feel a spark.

“Well,” Y/n takes a step forward. “I think I’m going to get ready for bed. I shouldn’t be long- if you need the bathroom.” Eddie nods, biting at his fingernails. “Yeah, yeah. Go ahead.”

While she is in the bathroom he paces around the room before sliding his rings off onto this nightstand, leaning back onto the mattress and blowing out a sigh. He rubs his face, “what the fuck are you doing, Eddie?” He asks himself, wondering why he can’t get his thoughts straight. It’s supposed to be a two week thing, after this trip they can just fake a breakup and forget about this whole thing and move on with their lives. Eddie isn’t so sure about that. How can he ever just forget about all the memories he’s already made with her? Today was one of the best days of his life, being able to take care of her, spending the evening playing board games with her and completely letting her win.

“Do you mind if I turn off the light?” He hears her voice from the other side of the room, she stands next to the door, her hand on the switch. “No, go ahead. Let’s hit the hay.”

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A group of girls arrived in the cabin next to them today. The two other girls decided to invite them over to join them since they had a day planned of sitting in the hot tub and getting drunk.

The snow has stopped falling for the first time in their week-long stay, finally crawling up to a tolerable temperature of forty five degrees. Y/n and Eddie have completely ignored the moment they shared last week, taking the weekend to have a little alone time, the girls went out to get pedicures while the guys stayed in and played D&D. It was nice to get to know the girls, Y/n actually really enjoyed talking to them and getting a break from the nerdy guys was pretty nice.

“Okay, we’ve got enough beer for the day.” Eddie says, lifting two twenty four packs of beer and setting them on the table. “You’re joking… right?” Eddie shakes his head, “Duh!”

“Smart ass” Y/n mumbles, shoving the random groceries Eddie had bought into the refrigerator. “What did you say?” Eddie questions with the rise of an eyebrow, walking over to her and peeking at her face. “Oh nothing.” She hums, ignoring him standing behind her.

“Hm, no, I think I heard something!” Y/n shakes her head at Eddie’s words. “Nope, nothing.”

Eddie nods back at her, “Oh! Okay. Sounded like you called me a smart ass but maybe I misheard.” She softly laughs, shrugging. “You’re probably having auditory hallucinations. The beer is already getting to you.”

Eddie cracks a smile, “okay smart ass, go and get your bathing suit on before you end up in the spot next to Doug’s feet.” And with that Y/n jogs away to go put her swimsuit on and score them a good spot in the tub.

When Y/n gets back Eddie is already in the tub, a gap open which he obviously saved for her. On his opposite side is a girl, long dirty blond hair that falls mid back. She’s beautiful and Y/n can’t help but feel a little insecure in her color block bikini.

She turns back, walking into the kitchen. Feeling far too exposed to be walking around in the house, She tries to adjust the highwaisted bottoms and cups on her top to cover more, but to no avail. She dotes around, trying to figure out how to stall. She's not sure why seeing Eddie talking to that girl has got her so worked up, she feels a little lightheaded and her face is hot.

“What’s got you looking so green?” Jeff asks, stepping into the kitchen along with her.

“Um, nothing. What are you up to?” She places a hand on the cold surface of the table, trying to get her to calm down. She can feel herself getting increasingly angry with her own thoughts. Her and Eddie aren’t actually together, there’s no reason for her to feel so… jealous.

“I needed to go to the bathroom, but Eddie sent me for a beer.” Jeff complains, leaning against the fridge in his rubber ducky swim trunks. “That’s okay, I’ll grab it for him.” Jeff thanks her and runs off to the bathroom while Y/n collects a couple beers in her hands, knowing Eddie and the guys are bound to be taking a couple more trips to the fridge.

She slides into the hot tub next to Eddie, seeing the girl's hand placed on Eddie’s arm. A switch goes off in Y/n’s brain, “Here, babe. I got the beer you asked for.” Eddie turns his head, seeing her holding a can out for him. “Oh, thanks. Where did j-“ Y/n smashes her mouth into Eddie’s, cupping his jaw with one hand and pressing the other to his chest.

She slips her tongue in his mouth, Eddie taking a moment to process it before he slowly kisses back. She pulls away, red embarrassment painted all over her face. Eddie clears his throat, cracking open his beer. “I’ve got to go… clear my head.”

Y/n face palms. How stupid could she be? Of course he didn’t feel the same, he just needed a girl to play along with him so he didn’t have to tell his band mates his dirty little secret. She groans, getting out of the hot tub and ignoring the looks she gets from the girl. Y/n is sure she is nice, and she probably just ruined a potential girlfriend for Eddie, a real one.

She waits a while before she goes to talk to Eddie. As she walks up the stairs after fifteen minutes of sitting on the couch she plans what she will say to him, apologizing for shoving her tongue down his throat and getting jealous when she has no right. They aren’t actually together, this is all acting and she needs to respect that.

She opens the door to their shared room, hearing the shower running. She shuts the door behind her, sitting at the edge of the bed to wait for Eddie once he’s out. He was probably in the shower rinsing the chlorine out of his hair since he was trying to avoid it the best he could.

After a couple of minutes Y/n hears him turn the water off and she prepares for him to come out.

Eddie steps out, leaving the door cracked behind him to let the steam escape the bathroom. She opens her mouth to start, but promptly closes it. Eddie stands in front of the door, chest rising and falling with ragged breathing. She starts up again but fails to get any words out once more.

Eddie walks towards her, standing tall above her. Her breathing matches his, her chest suddenly feeling heavy. She reaches her hand up, settling it on his stomach and trailing it down before she pulls the white towel wrapped around his waist, letting it fall to the ground then wraps her hand around his thick cock. She’s at a loss for words as she takes in his naked form. His skin pale and pink, the dark blank ink of his tattoos contracting. His plump lips already puffy and bitten, his wet waves dripping down his chest and rolling past his belly button.

His cock is pretty and pink, long and thick. Perfect, just like she knew it would be.

“Eddie… I really like you.” He lets out a hiss then softly grabs her jaw, leaning down to press a kiss to her lips. “Fuck sweetheart, I’d love to talk about this right now but if you keep touching my dick I don’t know if we’re going to get any talking done.” He presses his lips back to hers, trailing them down to her neck. His hands grab at the strings of her bikini, trying to untie it but failing.

“Get this fucking thing off.” She softly laughs into his mouth, reaching behind her back and pulling the strings to untie them. He peels the wet top off of her skin, groaning at the sight of her tits. “Jesus Christ, honey.” He’s practically drooling at the sight of her, reaching out to run his hands along her body. “Get in the bed.” She listens to his order, crawling up the bed and laying in the middle, watching him follow her lead and crawl over her body.

Y/n reaches down, going to pull her bottoms down. “Don’t you fucking dare.” Eddie practically growls, pushing her hands away and slipping her swim bottoms off herself. Her chest heaves, begging him to do something, touch her, feel her. “Please.” Eddie smiles down at her, “please what? What do you want me to do?” His hands slide down her thighs and her hot skin warms his cold hands.

“Anything, please Eddie.”

He connects his mouth with hers again, moaning into the kiss. He tastes like beer and cigarettes and Y/n loves it, she doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough.

Eddie’s lips trail down, pressing pecks down her arm, her chest, her sides, kissing over the little stretch marks that line her hips before he sinks between her thighs. “Is this good?” Eddie asks, his deep voice dripping out like honey that’s been sitting in the sun too long. His big brown eyes stare up at her, dusted with lust and heavy with need. “Yes, yes it’s perfect.” He lets out a deep laugh, making her squeeze her eyes shut as hard as she can to stop a moan from coming out of her pathetic mouth.

He finally lowers his head, pulling her thighs up to rest them over his shoulders. “Fuck look at that.” Eddie presses a kiss to her thigh, “is this all for me?” She bites her lip, nodding. Eddie dives in, pushing his tongue between her lips.

Y/n gasps, her hand flying into his dark waves. Her eyes flutter closed, enjoying the feeling of Eddie’s tongue working magic on her. He gently sucks at her clit while he slides a ringed finger inside of her. They hear a creek at the floor, the stepping sounds far too close to the room for their liking. Eddie looks up, panting. “Did you lock the door?” Y/n shakes her head and Eddie jumps up, walking to the door to quickly lock it before any of his rude friends could barge in.

Y/n admires Eddie’s perky ass, softly laughing at it bouncing. Eddie jumps back on the bed, both of his hands cupping her jaw as he pulls her into a kiss. Y/n hand cradles the back of Eddie’s head, closing her eyes and leaning into him. “I think I might have a condom.” Eddie softly laughs on her lips, pulling her body closer into his.

“I don’t have any. I didn’t think this was how the trip would go.” Her hands slide over his arms, threading their fingers together and placing pecks over his lips. “One” kiss “second” kiss “I’ve gotta grab one I’ll be right back.” He laughs on her lips, giving her hands one last squeeze before grabbing his wallet and pulling out an old condom he’s had in there for a while.

“It’ll do the trick, right?” Y/n softly laughs, nodding. “Yeah, as long as there’s no holes in it.”

Eddie shrugs, looking at the gold packet. “Should work.”

“Lay back.” Eddie mumbles, getting serious again as he tears open the packet with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his cock. “You ready?” He crawls between her legs, his thumb rubbing her clit. She nods, pulling home closer. He knees the bed, lining himself up before slowly pushing inside of her.

She gasps, gripping at his arm. “You okay, honey?” Eddie trails kisses over her neck, taking his time to place delicate kisses on her skin. “I’ve never been better.” He pulls out, starting to slowly thrust in and out of her while his mouth gravitates to one of her nipples.

He sucks at her nipples, feeling it grow hard in his mouth. He circles his tongue around the sensitive bud, gently biting at it. Her back arches into him, throwing her legs around his hips and pulling him into her again. “Faster baby, please.” Her hand rests on the back of his head again, moaning at the electric feeling pulsing through her body.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” Eddie’s pants, completely breathless as he slides in and out of her, making a complete mess of the now crumpled sheets. Y/n feels her wetness drip down, surely making a wet mess of the fabric under her, but she couldn’t care less.

She didn’t expect the fucking whines that come out of his mouth. Whining like the one thing he’s never wanted has been ripped from his hands, laced with want and desire. She squeezes around him the moment the noise hits her ears, feeling like she could already cum around him.

He whines again, shoving his face against her neck. His hips speed up, snapping quick and deep. Eddie hits her G spot, making her back arch. He hums, letting out a little breath. She’d spend the rest of her life making him feel good as long as he keeps making these noises.

She doesn’t get around much, but she’s never had someone be so delicate with her but still make her feel so good. Everything about him is intoxicating, the slight drag of his teeth against her lip when he kisses her, the way his head falls back when he feels really good, the way his thick cock stretches her out perfectly and fills her up.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. Jesus H Christ, I fucking love your pussy.” He's obviously close to cumming as he starts rambling on, his balls growing heavy as he gets closer and closer. “I need you to cum first, sweetheart.” His hand slips between them, rubbing her clit. Y/n’s thighs twitch as the feeling, feeling more lightheaded as she gets closer and closer.

She squeezes tight around him, never wanting it to end as his cock slides in and out of her dripping pussy, Eddie all over her. “I’m about to cum, Eddie.” It takes him all but one second after her words for Eddie to bust inside of her, moaning loud. His hand never slips from the spot where he rubs her cunt, needing her to cum more than he’s ever needed anything before. “C’mon honey. Cum for Eddie, please. I know you want to.” She whimpers, closing her eyes as he works her closer and closer.

“Eddie” she gasps, calling out his name while she cums, clenching around his dick while her eyes squeeze shut.

She blinks her eyes open, trying to catch her breath. She watches Eddie sink down between her thighs again, her eyes widening. “Holy shit” she whispers, feeling his tongue dart out to clean her messy pussy up.

He raises with a smile, pulling her into a kiss before he flops down next to her. “We’ve got to find spare sheets.” Y/n laughs, laying her head on Eddie’s chest. He rubs her back, kissing her forehead.

Edie glances around, suddenly feeling fidgety. “I…” he shuts himself down, not sure where to start. “Yeah?” Y/n looks up, placing a kiss to his bare chest. She laces their fingers together with the hand that wasn't softly scratching her back. “I know I’m not the… coolest guy ever, and I’ve still got some growing up to do… but I think I can be something good for you maybe… if that’s what you want.”

A smile breaks across Y/n's face, “I think so too, Eddie. I didn’t expect this trip to go this way… but maybe now you won’t have to lie to your bandmates about a girlfriend?” Eddie laughs, wrapping one of his legs around hers. “I think, maybe no more lies?”

“Yeah?” Y/n asks, rubbing her thumb against the back of his hand.

“Yeah.”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

“We should probably get up.” Y/n mumbles, Eddie half asleep as he breathes slowly with his head back against a pillow. “I can’t.” He whispers, “I’m too sleepy.” Y/n shakes her head, drawing circles on his chest. “We’ve just been laying on the wet sheets for almost an hour.” Eddie shrugs, finally opening his eyes.

“C’mon, I need to shower.” She jumps up and Eddie follows her, walking behind her as she opens the bathroom door, turning the shower on.

She looks in the mirror, trying to wipe the messy mascara that has leaked under her eyes. While she’s occupied Eddie leans against the wall, admiring her messy state. Completely bare, bed head and smeared makeup. “You’re really beautiful.” He’s just thinking out loud, really. Not fully aware of his thoughts just flowing out. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” Y/n stands there completely stunned, not sure what to say.

“No one ever said that to me.” She awkwardly laughs, feeling embarrassed by his sweet words.

“Really? That’s hard to believe.” He takes a step forward, brushing her hair out of her face. “Can I tell you something?” She nods. “I told the guys that I was dating you before I even asked you. You were the one I told them about all along.”

Y/n’s mouth falls open, at a loss for words. “It’s kind of creepy, huh?” He laughs, shaking his head at how unbelievably dumb he can be sometimes. “I just saw you at the bar and you were so sweet and I just… I got a little crush on you and I really didn’t think it’d go anywhere.”

She sighs, “Maybe a little creepy before, but not now that everything works out.” Eddie scoffs, feeling playful again. “Creepy huh. Sure you want to be with me?” Y/n hums, tapping her chin. “I’ll give it a good two months before I get a restraining order.”

Eddie's jaw dramatically drops, grabbing her and yanking her over to the shower with him. “And I thought it would be kind of endearing!”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

“Wake up, baby.” Y/n whispers, pressing kisses to Eddie’s cheeks to wake him up.

Today was the last day of the trip, and Y/n was kind of relieved. It was always nice to get a break and go away, especially with how this trip panned out for her- but it all felt like a dream and she wanted to get back to reality to make sure it was all as good as it seems.

Eddie groans, yelling while he stretches. He tosses the other way, trying to get away from her so he can sleep some more. “Eddie,” she laughs. “You’ve got to wake up. We gotta be out of here by one and I already let you sleep in until ten.”

Eddie groans again, sitting up with a grumpy look on his face as he rubs his eyes hard to force himself to wake up. He shouldn’t have put off packing last night, but he got a little preoccupied.

He turns to Y/n a deep from turning his whole face down. Suddenly a smile flickers onto his mouth, “I forgot you’re naked.” He rubs his hands together like he has an evil thought. Y/n steps out of bed, throwing on Eddie’s corroded coffin shirt and pulling her panties up. “No time for this. We’ve got to get packing.” Eddie flops back on the bed, sitting there for a beat until he throws himself out, standing up and stretching out with a big yawn.

“Put something on to cover your ass and get to packing.”

Eddie snaps his head to her, offended. “You love it!”

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔

Somehow, everyone packed all their things up and got them shoved in Eddie’s van with ten minutes to spare. Since Eddie drove the whole way up to the cabin, Gareth agreed to drive the last hour so Eddie could have a little break.

“Get your ass in there.” Eddie jokes, smacking Y/n’s ass as she crawls into the van. She rolls her eyes, smacking his hand away before he closes the door for her. “Now you can’t fall asleep. I need twenty four seven entertainment to keep me driving.” She laughs, leaning her head back against the seat.

“Were you guys in a fight at the start of the trip? You seemed pissed at each other.” Eddie and Y/n look at each other with knowing grins on their faces. “Something like that.” Y/n mumbles before Eddie starts up the van for the ride home.

This drive doesn’t nearly seem as long as the first time around. Maybe that’s because she and Eddie get to cuddle up in the back, and Eddie is definitely relieved to not drive the whole way.

Y/n plays in Eddie’s hair, softly massaging his scalp. “You’re putting me to sleep.” Eddie says with a sleepy smile, his eyes closed while he enjoys the light massage. His head rests in Y/n’s lap, deciding he needed a relaxing nap.

“Yeah, well your nap won’t be too long. We’ll be home in about twenty minutes.” He groans, shoving his face in her thigh. “Just keep playing with my hair.” She laughs, “I will”

It’s not long before they are back in Hawkins, sad the trip is officially over, but excited to be back home and in a more calm climate instead of there being a constant blizzard outside.

Gareth dropped himself off and the others quickly trickled out, leaving just Eddie and Y/n. “I don’t want to leave you.” Eddie confesses, lifting their tangled hands and pressing kisses to each of her knuckles. “Maybe you don’t have to.” Eddie takes his eyes off the road for a second, glancing back at her. “Hm?”

“Maybe just unpack at my place. Stay with me for a while.” She gives his hand a squeeze. “Maybe I’ll just stay with you.” He squeezes back, pulling up to her apartment building.

“Let’s get in there. I want to make up for all that lost time on the trip when we weren't together.”

A/N: this is my first fic I’ve ever posted on here:)))! This is kind of big for me, sorry if there is typos I tried my best to check!!! I’ll fix the spacing because tbh it’s annoying me! I hope you liked it! Please let me know your thoughts!

Tagging people who asked or was interested! :D - @ali-r3n @celestair @rustboxstarr @the-fairy-anon @myotherlifeiswattpad

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ryescapades-archived · 10 months ago

Text

lover boy | kaiju no. 8

"𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧' 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰."

— just them simply being down bad for you. (alt: what i think their primary love language is and how it’s expressed)

characters: hoshina soshiro, narumi gen, ichikawa reno x platoon leader gn!reader genre/warning: fluff fluff fluff, petnames (hoshina), whipped bois, the aforementioned love languages are not specifically stated (though it’s kinda obvious) a/n: dunno if it's actually canon that they do patrols in the defense force but for the sake of the plot it is canon k

being a platoon leader is a tiring job.

that's quite literally the simplest way to put it. you don't just get your unleashed combat power up to a certain level and march in to the battlefield fighting kaiju; you've got a bunch of soldiers put under your care and now you're responsible for their lives too. not to mention the amount of paperwork and reports you have to get done in a short span of time.

but for you, being a platoon leader particularly in the third division, working so closely alongside its vice captain, the defense force's ever so reputable strongest close-quarters combatant, feels like a whole other job entirely.

"and according to the keynotes i've gathered from my and ikaruga's reports, we've concluded the pattern of these attacks— are you even listening?" your hand halts from pointing out the important points on the document, eyes twitching slightly at the sight of hoshina soshiro, once again, spacing out.

"oh, sorry. what were you sayin', sweetheart?" the man sitting beside you asks, the alluring accent thick as his frustratingly attractive face is propped up by a hand on the table and he's smiling innocently at you like he didn't just disregard everything you've been explaining for the past ten minutes or so.

you resist the urge to facepalm, exasperation bubbling inside of you. "vice captain, please. if i have to call you out again while i carry on with these reports, i might just lose it." you deadpan.

hoshina laughs, fanged and all the more cheeky. "alright, alright. i'll focus now, i promise. so what is it about the attacks?" he questions, though he does not move from his position— his very close, very personal position where your thighs are nearly brushing against each other might you add— as he looks at you with his crimson eyes now opened.

initially, you’re supposed to be reporting all these stuff straight to captain ashiro. but the reason why hoshina had asked you to meet up and convey them to him first is honestly beyond your comprehension.

"...if we are to proceed, firstly please stop that." you mutter slowly, looking away with a huff.

"hm? whatever do you mean, darlin'?" he gives you another one of his charming grin.

you finally relent. "stop looking at me like that!" with a grumble, you succumb to the embarrassment as you cover your beet red face with the back of your hand.

you're fine with the nicknames. you are. but not the sweet, loving look he keeps sending your way. the way his sharp gaze would soften, full of warmth and affection reserved only for you, not caring that other people could see how enchanted he is by everything that is you to the point you're the only thing that matters in his eyes.

oh, he would've given you the world if only you'd so much as ask him to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the unfamiliar wooden object resting in-between the many piles of books on your table does not go unnoticed by you.

your steps falter, making a second take before moving to grab the item. it's a carving of a raccoon. it's smooth to the touch, intricate and small enough to fit in your palm.

this is the third time this week, you think to yourself, eyes glinting in wonderment as a tiny smile makes its way on to your face.

three times you'd found a piece of object, something or the other just laying around in your working space, albeit they were hidden in places that are fairly easy to spot. maybe that's exactly the point; for it to be noticed even though it's supposedly meant to stay concealed.

hours later, you're sitting with your fellow platoon leaders in the meeting room as hasegawa briefs you on updates for the division's patrols, reports, trainings and the likes. you glance at the corner of the room where narumi gen is lounging in his chair, his console held in his hands as the faint sound of a video game fills the room.

as the meeting finally ends, you gather up your belongings before rushing out the door, trying to catch up to a certain captain with dual-toned hair.

"captain narumi!" you call out.

you see the way his back freezes for a second at your voice before he turns, giving you an easy grin. "well if it isn't our platoon leader y/n. why, did you need anything from your amazing captain?" he boasts.

this time you're ever so oblivious to the way his eyes twinkle, body relaxing at the sound of your responding laugh. "no, captain. just wanted to say good work for today! and i'll be doing patrol with you tomorrow so hopefully we can give it our best tomorrow as well." you chime.

he's about to reply when you add in, "also thank you for the raccoon carving, captain. though i'm kind of wondering why that animal specifically. but it's still cute so i guess it's the thought that counts."

at that narumi tenses, rosy irises darting away before he trips over his words, "y-you better not think anything of it! it just so happened that i came across that thing while i was on patrol yesterday." he grits, ears flushing red at the tips as he points a finger at your amused face almost accusingly.

it's the same reasoning— or rather, excuse— like the previous times.

"eh... is that so? well, i'm still thankful you decided to gift it to me." you reply, smiling so beautifully it almost had him falling to his knees and confessing about how much he adores you.

you don't know that, of course. what you also don't know is that the gift is extremely well-thought out by narumi (and so are the previous…trinkets, you’d call them). you'd once mentioned in passing that a raccoon reminds you so much of him, of how the dual-toned fur and its silliness resemble your captain so much.

and silly as he may be, he wouldn't pass up the chance of that you'd think of him whenever you look at the carving, just like how you occupy his mind almost every second of the day.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

that's sixteen headshots, seventeen, eighteen... your head continues to count the amount of targets you've shot down.

today you've taken it upon yourself to go to the shooting range, wanting to refine your gunning skills as the memory of the recent mission the third division had been assigned to flares in your mind.

vice-captain hoshina was right, the new recruits this year are an exceptionally talented bunch. they're something else alright, you ponder. but there's no way in hell you can afford to lose to these kids now. a grin grows on your face, your eyes never strayed from the moving targets in front of you.

"platoon leader y/n?" a familiar voice has you pausing from reloading your gun, swiveling your head to look to the side where the voice comes from.

"oh, officer reno! what are you doing here?" you ask, turning your body fully to face ichikawa as you put away your gun. you can only stare curiously as the silver-haired boy suddenly seems like he's blowing a fuse from how red his face has become.

he'll never get used to you calling him by his given name. it feels... intimate, somehow. or maybe he's just overthinking it, who knows. his admiration for you is probably too intense that it's making his brain all mushy.

"i-i should be the one asking you, senpai! it's been hours and it's so late already but you're still going at it?" he asks, making you blink a few times before you smirk teasingly after registering his words. "'still'? were you keeping tabs on me, reno?"

ichikawa blushes even harder, realizing what he just said. "i wasn't— that's not—yes?" he groans before sighing defeatedly as you laugh, feeling the fondness you've always held for him increases ever so slightly. "i was only joking, reno. no need to be so tense." you wave him off when you notice he's about to give an apologetic bow.

"so? is there anything that i can help you with?" you question with your head tilted to the side, a hand now resting on your hip. reno straightens up and takes in a deep breath. "i was hoping you're already done with your training. i, uh... i want to show you something, senpai."

a few minutes later, you find yourself following ichikawa as he leads the way, the two of you walking leisurely in the hallways of the tachikawa building. you slide your hands into the pockets of your uniform, taking note of the way his fists keep curling and uncurling, as if to relieve the strain his body holds.

the sight of the cafeteria greets you, and you make a confused noise at him as you enter the dining hall. the place is mostly dark, apart from the few dimly lit lamps hanging over your heads. "it's already closed at this hour, reno. if you're hungr- oh?" you halt in your steps when ichikawa moves to one of the long tables.

he's standing there, and in front of him there's two ceramic plates filled with a variety of food, each full to its edges. your eyes widen in surprise, looking up to see ichikawa rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

"i figured you'd be staying in the range for quite a while... so i saved you some food, senpai. o-of course, if you're not hungry i can just keep these in the fridge for tomorrow or something- i don't, um... i didn’t know what food you'd like so i kind of just took some of everything...-"

you stop his nervous rambling with a hand on his shoulder. he sharply inhales, looking at you with his ears, cheeks, neck and everything in between burning hot. you ignore the way this lovely, endearing sight of him has your heart expanding almost to the point of combusting. "i'm definitely famished after all that training!" you chirp, saving him from his misery before approaching the table.

ichikawa smiles in relief, "i'm glad!" and then he tenses out of the blue, backing away a bit and bowing low to hide his embarrassment. "b-but please be assured i don't have any ulterior motive nor it's my intention to be unprofessional about it! i just thought i could be of a little help since you and the other senpai's are working so hard for us..." he clarifies, just realizing how inappropriate it'd be if somebody sees him acting so forward like this to you.

your sounding chuckle has him biting his lip, lifting his head to peer up at you. "i understand. well in that case," you move to grab a plate, pushing the other one to him with a pointed look. ichikawa's gaze light up in understanding.

"thank you for the food, reno." you say softly, sending him one last smile as you head towards the exit, leaving him to his own thoughts.

he'll work hard too. he'll work even harder than anyone else here. after all, there's no wall he wouldn't scale in order to become stronger. in order to fight alongside you, to be worthy of your equal.

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alchemistc · 2 months ago

Text

the promised follow-up to like pulling teeth. the show is never gonna let them talk this much, but I will continue to do so

suckage ratio

"Sometimes I say things before I think them through," Evan says, and Tommy's brows shoot up. He can feel them being judgy, and he wants them to stop but unfortunately they have a through line to his reactions in a way his mouth doesn't.

This feels like a test.

Tommy keeps his mouth shut, and Evan breathes.

"And I just - you always - I know I say stupid things. I know I should think before I talk, but s-sometimes the words just get backed up and if I don't get them out..." He gestures, some strange swoop over the top of his head, something that might be an explosion. "...a-and then I get flustered, and I say things that - I say things I don't mean the way you think I mean them."

What we've got here is a failure to communicate, Tommy thinks to himself, and tries to get some control over his goddamn eyebrows. The whole face area in general, really. His shoulders, too, which have turned in on themselves and he's already failing this test fucking miserably, he's pretty sure.

He's still here. That was - that was the first thing. The one thing Evan had demanded, before they even thought about...this. This nightmarish scenario where they excavate things they've both buried for safe keeping.

Evan pauses. He's been doing that thing where he leans - feet planted, wrists turned with the full weight of his body leaning into the palms planted on a vertical surface, shoulders shifting, head tilting. Tommy's dubbed it his We Should Talk stance, and every time he's pulled it out since they agreed to try it again it's set Tommy on edge.

His eyebrows aren't a fan of the We Should Talk stance at all.

He wishes there was a rational way to explain to them that this is actually helping.

The shoulders are a lost fucking cause. He perfected protecting his core by rolling in on himself before Evan was even born, and once he stopped playing it straight in both a literal and figurative sense he lost the habit of projecting.

Mostly. A direct hit to his meaty center typically sends him flying back to the comfort of not-being-Tommy, for a while.

"You can - you can say something, now."

Tommy blinks. Processes. He feels like a selfish jackass for taking in Evan's words and immediately spiraling into his own self-pity.

"How -?" Tommy starts, pauses because he's not sure that's the question that will actually get him the answer he needs. "What can I do? To help you with that?"

"I..." Evan looks stumped. Like it never actually crossed his mind to come up with a solution, a bridge between the two of them. It makes Tommy ache, a bit, to think of all the time he's recognized this about himself, to think that no one has ever bothered to ask before. Tommy certainly hadn't. Tommy's been constructing and tinkering with his exit plan from the moment he booked it out the door after asking him out.

("Don't make me ask you for your work schedule, Tommy, I know you didn't have a shift that morning."

"Well it wasn't in the morning, obviously."

"When was it?"

"...28 hours later," he'd said, and immediately added another movie series to the growing list he'd maintained even while they were broken up.)

"We can figure it out together," Tommy says, and the full weight of that hits him like fucking anti-aircraft artillery. He holds up a fist, raises a finger. "Shutting down and bolting doesn't help," he says, and lifts a finger. "The snide comments are a problem." Another finger. Evan blinks and stares at him with something heated simmering in his gaze, and Tommy glances at his own hand long enough to conjure up an eyeroll. "Deflecting into a flirt isn't useful, either," he adds, raising a third finger, which earns him Evan's tongue planting itself in the side of his cheek before he rolls it out to poke between his teeth.

Evan takes a deep breath, shakes the flirty brow loose, sucks his cheeks in like that's a more serious expression. Christ, they're bad at this.

They can get better, though.

"I - I know you're trying to relate with me, but th-the interruptions are... when I lose where I'm going I get frustrated," Evan adds, his own shoulders curled in like the way his mind words is some sort of moral failing, and not one of the most fascinating things about him.

Tommy wishes they were in a place where he knew how to explain how much he adored the things Evan was always trying desperately to keep under the surface.

He still hasn't figure out a way to phrase "Your obsessive nature and idiosyncrasies and the way you're incredibly annoying sometimes make me feel a little feral." in a way that won't be interpreted as an insult.

Tommy holds up a fourth finger. "Add it to the list."

Evan's gaze darts around for a moment like he's thinking about making a physical list, and Tommy wants to bite him.

"You have to stop interpreting shit before I even get to my point," Evan says, looking a little less like this is the first time he's never thought about how to make it work, before. "I'm not a mystery for you to unravel, Tommy, it just takes me a bit to get to where I'm going."

Tommy nods. The eyebrows seem to have settled. Evan shifts his weight, glances again at Tommy's hand - all his fingers and his thumb outstretched. He looks antsy.

Tommy can't help the soft grin that tilts at the corners of his mouth. "You wanna get your phone out, or is this a paper and pen kind of situation?"

Evan's hand digs into his back pocket immediately.

Tommy's shoulders are loose, he realizes, while Evan ducks his head to type.

He hates this, but its the first time in a long time that he hasn't had to temper an immediate urge to lock his heart in a cage and throw away the key.

Evan pauses in his typing. Reaches across the space between them to fold Tommy's pinky and ring fingers down. He pauses. Frowns. Folds Tommy's ring finger back up. "That's blanket permission to call me out when I'm being an asshole."

Tommy sucks in his lips. Fights the urge to press forward and smother his face in kisses, run his fingers through the loose curls he'd thoroughly enjoyed fucking up last night. "After you've finished, maybe," Tommy negotiates, and Evan's face does something complicated, self-admonishment followed by a glance so devastatingly grateful that Tommy's afraid he'll have to fight someone in the future for not just fucking listening to this man.

It'll probably be himself, if he's being honest. No issue there, he's used to that internal battle.

He bullet points his list until he's folded all of Tommy's fingers back into his palm. He strokes Tommy's thumb once he's done, curls his hand around the closed fist. Holds Tommy's gaze for a long, long moment.

"I'm gonna say something and I just want to let you know ahead of time it's a - a fully formed thought."

Tommy can't help the grin, or the hand that reaches up to fully encompass the one Evan has curled around his fist. Tommy's never been particularly enamored with his own size, or the way he dwarfs people, but there's something about the way their hands slot together that has always driven him a little wild.

"I want this to work," Evan says, and Tommy's breath kicks it's way from his lungs. "Someday, I wanna live with you. Get a dog. Talk about marriage, and - and kids." A flash of something across his eyes. "If that's - if that's something you might want, too."

The last time Tommy admitted to wanting something like that, he'd been getting ready to spend the rest of his life pretending to be straight. The want never left, but it did bury itself deep where Tommy could keep it safe.

They're tunneling down, though, aren't they?

"I want those things," he murmurs, because saying them at a normal volume feels like asking to have the words ripped right from his mouth. "I want them with -."

Tommy's breath comes out shaky, and between his fist and palm Evan's hand squeezes.

"I've wanted them with you." He manages slightly more than a whisper. Evan's eyes are a little misty. Tommy's throat is tight enough to be aware he's close to tears.

He shoulders don't curl in. He's almost certain his eyebrows aren't currently grooving the wrinkles he'll have when he's older and grayer. Both of his hands are occupied either with holding or anchoring Evan. He takes a steadying breath, and the noise that bubbles out of him is half-laugh.

"I hate this so much, Evan," he admits, and Evan grins back at him. He's aware of the fact that he's definitely going to cry, at some point in the near fucking future, and for once it doesn't feel like the end of the goddamn world.

"Next time it'll suck like..." he tips his head side to side, "...three percent less."

"Does the suckage percentage increase over time?"

Evan's cheeks drift up towards his ears. That smile has been fucking deadly since the first time Tommy saw it.

"Guess we'll find out, right?"

#bucktommy #bucktommy fic #tevan fic #if we're not crashing that chopper i'm gonna MAKE! THEM! COMMUNICATE!

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daeniradraconis · 19 days ago

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Hey, Lovelies! ✨

Sorry I’m a little late — my Mac decided to quit on me today 😅, and I spent the whole night saving my files. But all is well now! Everything’s backed up, so here’s hoping no more tech issues in the future. 🌙

Before we get into the first chapter of William and Eli’s story, I want to share something fun. For each chapter, I’ve chosen a song that I think fits the mood or foreshadows something ahead. If you play the song while reading (hit play on the video above the text), it can add a little extra layer to the story — sometimes you might even catch a hint of what’s coming next! 🎶

Anyway, here’s the first chapter of William and Eli’s story! I hope you enjoy! 🫶🏼

Themes/Warnings: Hannah Elise Hughes x William Nylander, love at first sight, weddings, pure fluff, mentions of a car crash and injury

Chapter 1: A Promise Under the Stars

June 27, 2014

The sun’s been sitting heavy all afternoon, warm and lazy, the kind of heat that makes the grass smell sweeter. You’re stretched out on the lawn, elbows propped, legs kicked out in front of you, pretending to read Greek and Roman History of Art — a book you’ve read so many times it might as well be your diary. But you’re not really reading. Not today.

Your brothers are at it again.

You don’t even have to look to know what’s happening. Jack’s yelling, Luke’s trying to keep up, and Quinn’s probably rolling his eyes while doing everything better than both of them. The clatter of rollerblades on the driveway, the slap of sticks, the crash of a puck hitting the side of the garage — it’s like background music you never asked for.

You glance up anyway.

Yup. There they are. Jack’s already got his shirt off like he’s playing for the Stanley Cup instead of sweating through another backyard game. Luke’s copying him, all limbs and attitude. And Quinn, steady as always, holding it all together with that calm “old soul” energy he’s had since birth.

You roll your eyes and let out a sigh. Loud enough to be heard if anyone was paying attention.

You love them. You do. Jack, all wild energy and reckless chaos, like a storm that never quite settles. Luke, the baby of the family, all big eyes and easy charm — a golden retriever in human form. And Quinn, the quiet one, steady and serious, with a calm kind of passion that runs deeper than he lets on. They’re your brothers, and they’re home. But some days, it feels like you were dropped into the wrong family by mistake. A Hughes who can’t skate? Blasphemy.

You tried once. You really did. At 11 years old, bundled in gear three sizes too big, wobbling on skates like a baby deer. Quinn held your hands, patient and kind, while Jack chirped from the bench and laughed when you hit the ice face-first. You lasted maybe half an hour before you ripped off the helmet and declared hockey the enemy.

Ellen — your mom — just smiled. “Stick to your books, Eli,” she said, brushing ice shavings off your coat. “That brain of yours will get you further than a slapshot.”

So you did. You built your world out of stories and soil — history textbooks, dog-eared art guides, a garden full of stubborn tomato plants you refuse to give up on, no matter how many times your brothers trample them chasing after a ball.

“Eli! We need a goalie!”

Jack’s voice cuts through the afternoon like a fire alarm. You don’t look up.

“We’re down a man!”

“Don’t care,” you mumble.

“Get over here, nerd!”

Luke. Of course.

You flip a page, even though you’re not reading it. “Yell one more time, and I’m snapping your sticks in half while you sleep.”

Jack snorts. “You’d probably cry if you chipped a nail.”

“I’d cry if I had to live with you forever,” you shoot back, deadpan.

Luke gasps dramatically. “She doesn’t love us.”

“Fix your helmet, Luke,” you add. “It’s halfway off your head, you walking concussion.”

From the garage, Quinn’s voice cuts in, flat and amused. “Jack, you couldn’t score on an empty net. Luke, stop trying to be Jack. And Eli, please don’t murder them before dinner.”

You smile. Just a little.

Quinn’s always been the balance. The one who sees you when you go quiet, the one who reads the room without needing a single word. Maybe it’s because you’re closest in age, or maybe it’s just the way he sees the world, but you’ve always felt closest to him. Like he just gets it — gets you — in a way the others don’t.

Still, it’s exhausting sometimes. Being the only one who doesn’t speak “sports.” Like you’re a guest in your own home.

You pull your knees up, rest your book against them, and stare out at the garden. Your basil looks droopy. One of the tomato cages is crooked. You think about moving it, but—

The sound of tires crunching gravel stops you.

You look up.

Your dad’s car is pulling into the driveway, and for a second, everything feels normal. You expect him to step out, maybe toss Luke a water bottle, ask if Jack’s broken anything today.

But then the passenger door opens.

And someone else gets out first.

He’s tall. Really tall. His golden blonde hair almost looks white under the sun, and his eyes — blue, clear, like the ocean on a perfect day. There’s something about the way he walks, the smooth confidence in his stride, that catches your breath. He looks… different. Like he stepped out of a storybook. Like the version of Prince Charming no one told you actually existed. And for a second, you honestly wonder if you’ve just imagined him.

He glances around, and then — he sees you.

Just for a second. A flicker of a glance. But it hits like a lightning strike.

You forget the book in your lap. You forget the sun on your shoulders. All you can think is: Oh.

Your heart, which was perfectly fine a minute ago, starts doing something weird. Like it’s trying to crawl up into your throat.

“Kids!” your dad calls out. “Come say hello! This is William Nylander. He just got drafted, and he’s staying with us for a bit while he settles in.”

The name clicks, vaguely. Hockey. Leafs. But honestly, your brain is busy with other things.

Like the way William is walking toward you, easy and sure, hands tucked in his pockets. Like he’s stepping straight into your daydream and bringing it to life.

Jack drops his stick. “No way! He’s a Leaf?! That’s so sick!”

Luke’s already bouncing. “Wait, like on the team team?!”

William laughs — soft, polite, a little bashful. But his eyes haven’t left yours.

And then, he stops in front of you. You.

He flashes a grin — just crooked enough to feel dangerous.

“Hi,” he says, voice low and smooth. “I’m William.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like of course that’s who he is. And maybe it should be — with that smile, that hair, that confidence like he already knows you’re staring.

Your stomach flips so hard it might do a full somersault. Words? Gone. Logic? Useless. All you can think about is how warm your face feels and how suddenly awkward your hands are, just sitting there like they forgot how to be hands.

You manage to squeak out, “Hi.”

It’s quiet. Too quiet. You sound like someone just rewound your whole personality and left it on mute.

He looks amused. Not in a mean way — in a charming, "this is cute" kind of way. Like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you.

Your dad’s saying something — something about him staying here for a couple of weeks until his apartment’s ready. But it’s background noise now.

He’s going to be living here.

With you.

You’re pretty sure your soul just left your body.

You glance up again, and he’s still looking at you, still smiling, like this is all some kind of inside joke he hasn’t let you in on yet.

And that’s when it hits you. You’re in trouble. Like... real trouble.

Because this isn’t just a crush. Not even close.

You're in love.

And he hasn’t even made it through the front door.

—

The next two weeks are a blur. Not in a busy, chaotic way, but in a dreamlike, everything-is-new kind of way. William’s presence feels like an added layer to everything you’ve known. He’s in your house, under your roof, sharing your space, and it’s almost surreal how easily he slips into your world.

He’s still the same charming, confident guy from that first moment. He talks with that easy, magnetic confidence that makes everyone gravitate toward him. But what surprises you the most is how he makes space for you in the midst of it all.

Every morning, he’s in the kitchen, making coffee, and when you shuffle in — hair a mess, sleep still heavy in your eyes — he’s always there with a quiet “Good morning,” and that crooked, too-perfect-for-him smile. It’s like he knows exactly how to make you feel like the only person in the room, even if Jack’s already rambling about his latest skateboarding tricks and Luke’s stuffing his face with cereal. William doesn’t mind. He just listens. Really listens, in a way that makes you feel like you could tell him anything.

And you find yourself telling him things. Little things.

Like how you started gardening because it felt like the only thing that could grow in the chaos of your family. How Ellen once tried to teach you to skate and you cried on the ice. How you’ve read Greek and Roman History of Art so many times it’s basically your second language. How you despise salted caramel with such passion that you believe its fans deserve a short, contemplative exile in purgatory.

He doesn’t laugh. He just nods like it’s all valuable information.

“You really like art, huh?” he asks one night on the porch.

It’s late — one of those velvet-sky summer nights where time slows. You’re in your usual spot, knees pulled to your chest, hoodie sleeves over your hands. He’s next to you, hoodie half-zipped, legs stretched out, hair still damp from his shower. He smells like clean soap and warm skin.

You nod. “It’s not just that I like art. I love it. And not just paintings — I mean the whole thing. Art history. Architecture. The stories built into stone.”

He glances over, intrigued. You go on before you can stop yourself.

“I read about the Pantheon when I was thirteen. This giant, ancient Roman temple in the middle of the city — still standing. I’ve never even been to Rome, but the pictures? Unreal. The dome is a perfect hemisphere — same diameter as its height. They built it without modern tools, and no one even knows exactly how. The concrete they used? Still hasn’t cracked. The oculus — that giant hole in the roof — it’s open to the sky. Rain falls right through it. But the floor is sloped, with invisible drains, so the water just disappears.”

You pause, but he’s still looking at you, listening.

“It’s not just architecture. It’s—” You shake your head, smiling a little. “It’s art. The kind that makes your chest feel too full. It was built to honor all the gods, but they made it feel like it could touch the universe. Like they wanted to bring the heavens into reach.”

You hug your knees tighter. “And it’s still there. People walk into it every day. Into something made almost two thousand years ago. You can feel the history pressing in around you. It’s like standing in a heartbeat that never stopped.”

William is quiet for a long moment.“That’s… amazing.”

You laugh a little, embarrassed. “Sorry. I get carried away.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. I think it’s incredible that you care about something that deeply.”

You glance over, unsure. But he’s smiling — that quiet, thoughtful smile he doesn’t give out easily.

“I think that’s what art’s supposed to do,” he says. “Make you feel something you can’t really explain. Even if it’s just a building or a painting. Doesn’t matter. If it moves you, it matters.”

You blink. That’s… not what you expected. William Nylander — hockey guy, professional athlete, and also someone who actually gets art?

“You’re full of surprises,” you murmur.

He smiles, sensing your surprise. "What? You didn’t think I was all hockey, did you?"

“I mean… kind of.”

“Wow,” he says, mock-offended. “I’m layered, Eli. Deeply complex.”

You laugh, but it sticks in your chest, warm. Because somehow, it’s true — he’s funny, confident, ridiculous… and he sees you. Not as one of the Hughes siblings. Not as the quiet one. Just…you.

That’s how you end up here. Most nights, side by side on the porch while the house buzzes behind you.

Tonight is no different — quiet air, cicadas in the trees, stars overhead like someone scattered glitter across navy velvet. Your bare toes brush his knee by accident, but he doesn’t move.

You look over. He’s fiddling with the cap on his water bottle, uncharacteristically quiet. The kind of silence that makes you want to fill it with something soft.

“I always wanted a dog,” you say.

He turns, eyebrows raised slightly. “Yeah?”

“Since I was five. Every birthday, every Christmas. I begged. Once I even made a Power Point on why a dog would help with my emotional development.” You snort. “Didn’t work.”

“What’d they say?”

“That I already had three brothers and that was enough chaos for one household.”

He laughs — that warm, low sound that always makes your stomach twist. “Fair. But brutal.”

You smile, leaning your head back. “I even had this whole Pinterest board. His name was going to be Pablo. He’d wear a little bandana and sleep at the foot of my bed.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Pablo? That’s kinda badass. Like a mob boss or something.”

You giggle, nudging him lightly. “Exactly! Super manly, right?”

William hums like he’s really considering it. “I’ll get you one.”

You blink. “What?”

“When I get my place. You move in. I’ll get you a dog.”

You snort a laugh, but your face feels suddenly way too warm. “William. I’m seventeen.”

He smirks. “So? It doesn’t have to be today. Just… someday. I mean—” he stretches his arms over his head, all long limbs and relaxed confidence “—I’m just saying, I could see it. Me, you, a golden retriever with too much energy. Maybe a garden. I’d build you a whole greenhouse if you wanted.”

You laugh again, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

He leans in closer, just enough that you feel the heat of him, his voice suddenly lower, teasing. “Nah. I’m serious. I think you’d look really cute walking a dog in one of those oversized sweaters. Maybe wearing my hoodie. Nothing underneath.”

“William.” You choke on a laugh, heat crawling up your neck.

He grins like he’s just scored a goal in overtime. “What? I’m a romantic.”

“You’re a menace.”

“And yet,” he says, leaning in just slightly, “you’re still sitting right here.”

You roll your eyes, but your pulse is loud in your ears. The porch feels smaller, the air charged.

He shifts closer. Not suddenly — slowly, deliberately — like he’s checking to see if you’ll stop him.

You don’t.

His hand lifts, brushing a piece of hair from your cheek. But it’s not just a gesture. It’s careful. Intentional. His fingertips graze your skin like he’s memorizing it, like this moment matters. And maybe it does. Maybe it always has.

You can’t think. Can’t move. The world narrows to the space between you — to the heat pulsing there, to the way your lungs forget how to work.

“I meant it,” he says softly, his voice a low thrum against the quiet night. “I’d get you that dog. Or anything you wanted.”

You look up at him — and this time, you don’t look away. Your voice is barely a breath.

“I just want you to kiss me.”

And then everything shifts.

He leans in — slowly, like he’s giving you every second to change your mind. But you don’t. You couldn’t, even if you wanted to. And then his lips are on yours.

It’s not fireworks. It’s not chaos.

It’s warm.

Soft at first — almost hesitant, like he’s learning the shape of you, tasting the moment. His lips are tender, sure, and it’s careful — not rushed, not greedy, but full of something deeper. Something real. The kind of kiss that makes time slow down, stretch thin. Like your heartbeat just synced to his.

You breathe him in — soap, skin, sun-warmed cotton — and everything else disappears. No porch. No summer night. Just the quiet pull of it, of him, of this thing you didn’t see coming but somehow always knew was meant to happen.

His hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling gently in your hair. You melt — literally melt — into him, into that touch, into that kiss, like your body finally understands what safe feels like.

When he finally pulls back, it’s just an inch — enough for his eyes to settle on yours, lingering, as if he’s trying to memorize every detail. His thumb strokes your cheek, slow and deliberate, like he's tracing the very shape of you in his mind.

His gaze dips to your lips, his voice low, thick with something that makes your pulse race.

“Your dad’s probably going to kill me, you know that, right?”

You laugh softly, the sound escaping with more ease than you expected. You shake your head, the playful glint in your eyes never fading. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’m his favorite. I’ll handle him. Just…don’t break my heart, okay?”

For a beat, his smile falters, just a fraction, before his eyes soften with an intensity that makes your heart skip. He leans in, his breath warming your lips, and for a moment, the world goes still.

“Never,” he murmurs, his voice barely a whisper, just before his lips brush against yours again — slow, gentle, as if he’s savoring the very moment, the very feeling of you against him.

—

The August sun spills gold across the edges of the white tent strung with fairy lights and swaying eucalyptus garlands. Toronto’s late-summer air hums warm and bright, the breeze from the lake brushing against the skin like a soft kiss. Laughter rises from the open bar, mingling with the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation. The light is honeyed, slow — the kind that wraps itself around memories, preserving them in warmth and shimmer, like a pressed flower between the pages of a well-loved book.

You’re dancing.

Barefoot now — your heels long since abandoned under the table — you move slowly in William’s arms, your wedding dress whispering around your legs with every step. His hands are gentle at your waist, your palms resting over the slow thrum of his heartbeat beneath the crisp collar of his shirt. His jacket is off, tie loose, hair a little messy. And still, he’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

The world fades. It’s just him, you, and the music curling softly through the late summer air.

And you can’t stop smiling.

You let your eyes sweep across the crowd — the blur of people clapping, slow-dancing, talking over champagne and cake. Familiar faces beam back at you. Jack is on the dance floor, leaning in a little too close to one of William's cousins, flashing a grin that says I’m about to charm you out of your penties — and she’s laughing, probably rolling her eyes, but clearly amused. Quinn, a little too tipsy, is dancing with your mom like he's auditioning for Dancing with the Stars, spinning her around with moves you didn’t know he had. Your mom's laughing, loving every second, teasing him about how he's killing it. Meanwhile, Luke’s found Banksy. The two of them are tucked in a corner, and you swear Luke’s sneaking him bites of something he shouldn’t be eating — probably pastry crumbs. Banksy looks up at him, wide-eyed, like he’s in on the secret. Luke’s giving him a soft smile, whispering to the dog like they’re plotting something together. It’s one of those moments that makes you laugh because Luke’s too pure for his own good.

And then there’s William’s side — Michael, laughing over drinks with your father like they’ve known each other forever, probably arguing over hockey plays and statistics. Catherine, poised and glowing in a soft sea-blue dress, watches you both with misty eyes and a smile that says she always knew her boy would find this kind of love.

His sisters — Michelle, Jacqueline, Stephanie, and little Ella — are huddled near the dance floor, swaying and giggling, clutching glasses of something sparkling and non-alcoholic for the youngest. Ella looks especially radiant. She's grown so much, but you still remember the quiet, sweet girl who lived with you and William for a while, who left tiny mugs half full of tea all over the apartment and asked you questions about plants like you were a walking encyclopedia. She studies in Toronto now, living in her own dorm, but she never stopped feeling like your little shadow. Your heart squeezes at the thought.

And then there’s Alex — standing near the dessert table, deep in conversation with Auston and Mitch, probably trying to talk them into some ridiculous offseason challenge. He loves those. He was your temporary roommate, too — shared takeout dinners and hockey talk on the balcony, late-night dishwasher debates and all. He winks when he catches you looking and lifts his glass in a silent, smiling toast.

It hits you slowly — not like a wave, but like sunlight through a window. Quiet. Warm. Certain.

This is your life now.

Not just his, not just yours — but something you built together. Layer by layer. A life that started on a quiet porch, with a kiss under the stars when you were seventeen and trembling and unsure. A kiss that said, I see you. A promise he never stopped keeping.

When William moved out to play for the Marlies, it wasn’t far — just across the city, but it felt like the start of something new for both of you. A few months later, you started your degree in Environmental Science at the University of Toronto, throwing yourself into early mornings and long lectures, lab reports and field work. Your days were full of discovery; your nights, often spent curled up in his apartment, surrounded by textbooks and half-eaten takeout, with him brewing you tea and soft music humming low in the background. He never made you feel like you were chasing your dreams alone. He was there — not just beside you, but behind you, making space for your ambition and cheering it on like it was his own.

Then came the day your family packed up and moved back to Michigan. You still remember standing in the driveway, watching them go, feeling a crack form right in the center of your chest. But your parents saw it — the way William looked at you like you were the only thing that made sense in the world. The way you spoke about your classes, your city, your life here. You had already started putting down roots.

And somehow, they understood.

You stayed behind.

Not out of rebellion. Not out of stubbornness. But because your heart had already chosen a home. And he was here.

So, you and William moved in together — and he made good on another promise. Just a few months later, Pablo came bounding into your life. Curly-haired, floppy-eared, endlessly sweet. He slept at the foot of your bed and carried around his stuffed pig like it was his life’s purpose. A year later, chaos arrived in the form of Banksy — pure mischief and boundless energy, a lovable menace with paws too big for his body.

Somehow, the two of you built a life — dogs and houseplants and a garden that spilled from the balcony like your own little jungle. William, who kissed you every morning like it was the first time. William, who never once made you feel like you were orbiting his world — because you had created one together.

And then, 2019 arrived. It was Christmas Eve — your favorite night of the year. Lights strung across the living room, cinnamon in the air, your mom crying before anything had even happened — you swear she knew. William cleared his throat and then — of course — launched into a speech. Classic Willy: heartfelt, a little cocky, and so completely sincere it made your knees weak.

He turned to Jim first, asked for his blessing like a man raised right. And Jim — naturally — acted all serious and intimidating… before pulling William into a hug so hard you thought he might break a rib. Your mom sobbed so intensely she forgot to record the moment — something she still brings up every single Christmas, like it’s your fault she was too busy crying to press the red button.

Jack wasted no time. “Biggest simp I’ve ever seen,” he declared loudly, shaking his head, but grinning so sweetly at you.

Quinn just smiled. Then, without a word, hugged William like he was his own brother. When he finally pulled back, he said, “It always felt like you were part of this family… but now it’s official.” You think William nearly cried at that part, though he’ll never admit it.

And Luke — sweet, sentimental Luke — tried to play it cool. But the moment the ring box opened, his chin wobbled. He stood up clapping and wiping his face with his sleeve at the same time. Of course, Jack immediately took a picture of Luke crying and has printed it every year since to hang as an ornament on the tree. “The emotional support elf,” he calls it.

That was the moment everything shifted — not just for you and William, but for all of them, too.

They saw what he meant to you. What you meant to each other.

And now, here you are.

Married. His wife. Barefoot under a Toronto August sky, the sun sinking low over the lake, the air thick with roses and summer and laughter.

And through all of it, William watches you like he still can’t believe you’re real. Like he’s still that boy on the porch, blinking stars out of his eyes, wondering how the hell he got lucky enough to end up here — with you.

“You okay?” William murmurs against your temple, his breath warm, his lips brushing your skin.

You nod, your voice thick with emotion. “Better than okay.”

His fingers shift slightly at your waist, pulling you just a bit closer. “You were worth every second of waiting.”

You tilt your head up, meeting his gaze. “You kept every promise.”

He grins, that soft, crooked smile that undid you back then — that still undoes you now. “Told you I’m a romantic.”

“Yes, you are. I’m a pretty lucky lady,” you tease, eyes glinting.

His hand brushes along your spine, and suddenly, you’re both laughing quietly, breathing each other in. It’s strange, really — how something can feel brand new and completely familiar all at once. How love, real love, doesn’t feel like butterflies. It feels like sunlight — constant and warm and always finding its way back to you.

A microphone crackles, and then a voice rings out — someone from the band, smiling into the mic.

“Alright, everyone, if we could have your attention—our bride and groom are about to head out for their honeymoon! Let’s give them all the love they deserve!”

The room erupts in cheers, whistles and applause. Champagne is lifted. Glasses clink. You blink back the sudden blur in your eyes as William leans down to whisper against your ear:

“You ready to go, Mrs. Nylander?”

You laugh — a bubbling, joy-soaked sound as you nod. “With you? Always.”

And as you walk hand in hand through the crowd, showered in petals and love and laughter, you look back once — just once — at the people who built you, held you, shaped this life. And then you look forward.

—

The doors of the car close behind you with a soft thud, and suddenly, the world feels quieter. The buzz of the reception is replaced by the sound of the engine, the warm night air drifting in through the cracked window. William’s hand finds yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in the way they always do — familiar, steady, grounding you.

He starts the car, and as you pull away from the venue, the streets of Toronto slipping by in a blur, you glance over at him. His eyes are still full of that joy, that soft, warm look that has been there since the moment he slipped the ring on your finger. There’s a relaxed, almost goofy grin on his face, the kind that only comes after a long, perfect day.

You turn the radio dial, and suddenly, the opening chords of “Take Me Home, Country Roads” fill the car. It’s the very song you and your brother used to sing at the top of your lungs on long summer road trips. A surge of excitement hits you, and you can’t help but start belting it out, loud and carefree, your voice rising with every word.

“Almost heaven, West Virginia…”

William glances over, his eyebrows lifting in mock horror. “Oh, no,” he laughs, shaking his head. “Not this song.”

You don’t stop. “Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River…” Your voice is full of energy, all the joy and excitement of the day flooding out of you in the form of music.

William laughs beside you, one hand on the wheel, his hair still a little messy from the dancing. “You’re unbelievable,” he says, grinning. “I marry you and now I’m stuck with a country music soundtrack for life.”

“Oh, come on, it’s a classic!” you tease, singing louder, not even trying to stay on key anymore. “You just don’t get it.”

William gives a dramatic sigh, shaking his head with a grin. “No, I definitely don’t. I never understood how anyone could love country music this much.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes playfully. “Take me home, country roads…” you sing, your voice rising with the chorus, throwing your head back as you belt it out, carefree and happy.

He watches you for a moment, shaking his head but clearly entertained. “Okay, okay,” he finally says, the teasing in his voice softening. “I get it, you’re killing it. But I still don’t get the appeal.”

You grin, leaning over to nudge him playfully. “You’ll come around one day,” you tease, eyes sparkling.

The song continues, and you sing your heart out, your joy filling the car. It feels right — this moment, this life, this love — everything wrapped up in the sound of a song that’s been a part of you forever.

William starts laughing softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as you hit the high notes with all the conviction of a true country fan. “I don’t know how you do it,” he says, still chuckling.

You’re lost in the song now, the road stretching ahead of you, the glow from the dashboard casting a soft light on William’s face. His focus is on the road, but every so often, his smile flickers as he glances at you.

You throw your head back, still singing — louder now, on purpose. “To the place I belong…”

He shakes his head, but he’s smiling.

Then it happens.

A flash of headlights.

A horn blares.

The scream of tires on pavement.

Metal.

The impact slams through you like a punch. Your body jerks, flung forward and snapped back by the seatbelt. The airbag explodes, the sound impossibly loud — like a bomb detonating in your ears.

You can’t see.

You can’t breathe.

You hear glass shatter, the car twisting, spinning — and then stillness.

Pain hits you all at once, hot and sharp — blooming in your ribs, your shoulder, your head. Your vision sways like a curtain of water. You try to move, try to sit up, to find William, but your limbs feel heavy, unreachable.

You hear him.

Faint, but frantic.

“Elise—”

You try to answer. Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You want to reach for him. You want to tell him you’re okay, or ask if he is — but everything is fog.

His voice grows sharper, full of panic.

“Elise! Elise, stay with me! Please—”

You try. God, you try.

But the pain grows thick and distant, your head lolling as the dark swallows the edges of your sight. The world fades — his voice, the night, the music — all pulling away like waves retreating from shore.

And then—

Nothing.

Just black.

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