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avalordream · 6 months

Text

Prompt: Imagine an MC who gets a tattoo that goes all around their ankle so that they always have an "anklet" for Cove.

Pairing: Cove Holden x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, Cove getting his anklet fix, mostly fluff tho

Word count: 4.7k

A/N: With this newfound will in me, ALLOW ME TO INDULGE YOU IN SOME LOVELY COVE JAMES HOLDEN- Also! This fic was intended for fem readers but it can be taken as gender neutral!

Now seeing as the age to get a tattoo is roughly 18 years old, let's assume this is Step 3 Cove we're talking about

At this age, Cove and you haven't quite gotten into a relationship yet.

In fact, you're stuck at the crush stage

Even so, you and Step 2 Cove had the talk of what you both were into during the Roadtrip moment. (Y'know- the beige eyes and anklet conversation)

That particular conversation was surprisingly difficult for you to initiate, considering your rather quiet nature

That didn't mean you were shy! No no!

It was just...

Awkward.

It wasn't the "normal" type of conversation you usually had

Maybe it was because of the fact that it was so different that made it so difficult to talk about.

In any case, that led to you thinking over the anklet attraction Cove had, trying to understand it as you lounged around on your bed in the middle of a hot summer day

It was the sort of day where the California sun shone exceptionally hard, the heat making it so nothing really stood out to you. You could almost remember this exact type of day from when you were younger... When Shiloh was still around...and when Cove had just recently moved in.

You were currently lazing about on your bed, soaking up the sun's rays shining through your window as the AC worked to cool your room and a nearby fan rotated slowly, its blades providing an ample amount of background noise. It was truly the staple sound of summer. Your eyes blearily blinked as you stared up at your ceiling fan working overtime to beat the summer heat. Normally your moms weren’t so keen on cranking up the AC but today was an exception, considering the high was a 90. Even the water was warm which meant that even walking along the shoreline - forget it, the sand was practically steaming - wasn’t appealing.

That left you in your current condition, leaving your mind to wander and daydream about everything and anything in the quiet. It was already noon but there was no rush to go out. While it wasn’t the norm for you to be alone, usually hanging out with Cove or even Terri or Miranda., today was an exception though because of the heat. And in any case, you relished the feeling of just…coasting through the day with nothing to do… free as the birds in the sky…

A few soft knocks on your door blinked you out of your sleepy stupor as Ma stepped in after you had hummed an affirmative. Her eyes softened as she seemed to take in the sight of you: Curled up yet sprawled out in a cocoon of light blankets and pillows, the sun shining brightly through the window and you relishing it all in the center, having the time of your life. “You doing ok, hon?”, she hummed in turn, trying not to break the peaceful trance you were under as you simply nodded, tucking your hair back as you smiled at her. You loved your ma more than anything, even now as she came close to sit by your head, gently stroking your hair as she eased your head into her lap while you leaned into her hand. Guess today she was feeling pretty lax too… Figures…

You felt your eyelids drooping as she continued, her ministrations cooing you to sleep before her voice, a quiet whisper, kept your attention from waning. “No plans for today?”, she hummed as you yawned, stretching before getting comfy again, nuzzling your nose against her thigh.

“No…not yet at least…”, your voice came out slowly, humming as the fan faced the pair of you, sending a refreshing blast of cold air into your hair. “Just…thinking…You ok, ma?” There had to be a reason why she entered right?... Or…maybe there wasn’t one. That was ok too.

Ma chuckled in some amusement as she shook her head, taking her hand away as you whined, audibly wishing for more. “I’m doing just fine, kiddo… Nothing to worry about. Just wanted to check up on you before I get started on lunch. Do you want anything specific?” You told her your current crave fix before she left the room again, offering another head pat before you were left to your devices again, decidingly more lucid than before as you sat up to stretch and work out the kinks in your back.

You checked your phone just to let your friends know that you were alive and hadn't up and left them- As if Cove would let you anyway, you thought with a chuckle. A funny thought but you weren’t that evil.

Tossing your device back to the swath of blankets, your mind wandered to the past few years- gravitating back to Cove. It didn’t surprise you as much why now than when your feelings had begun to simmer but the fear of possibly destroying what you already had always stopped you. A worry that proved to damper down on your interactions, restricting them ever so slightly rather than how freeing they used to be. You had become close confidants to one another since the moment he moved in at the ripe age of eight. Given your rich history, it was reasonable to worry that taking such a big step could tarnish what you had and…quite frankly, you weren’t ready to risk it all just yet.

You sighed, feeling the familiar trill of heat flitting over your cheeks as you rubbed them furiously to wipe them away just as fast. Until you figured out what to do with yourself- and- everything- Then the plan was simple: ACT NORMAL. Whatever your new normal was anyhow. You had a feeling Liz knew just by looking at you when Cove was over, judging from the smirk she would send your way- not to mention the teasing remarks! But…you hoped that until you were ready to tell Cove (if you ever did), that…he wouldn’t know.

It surprised you a little that he hadn’t knocked on your window yet or made his arrival via the door but apparently, judging from the text he had sent you three hours ago, he was helping his dad with the scuba shop. You appreciated the heads up so you knew where to go in case you needed to reach him.

Your thoughts followed you as you made your way downstairs to get started on lunch- or brunch as mom liked to call it. A smile crept on your face despite the mild joke, appreciating the play on words as your lazy state decided to pull for some cereal, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as you remained quiet. You were more so or a thinker rather than a talker. You preferred to listen rather than start a conversation. It made things easier. With the friend group, you were the same; going with the flow unless it was something you wholeheartedly refused to do. It had never gone to that point before since the group respected your opinions and were quick to pick up on your preferences…one more so than others…

Right as you were washing the dishes, your thoughts wandered again- this time to that anklet discussion all those years ago. You’d be surprised you still remembered it but the entire road trip itself was a memorable experience and would be…rather hard to forget anyhow. (More so for Mr. Holden getting his lunch snatched away by a stray bird but you digressed.) The discussion itself… you still felt a little bad for pushing it onto Cove to answer your questions, even if he had tried to console you when you made it known to him a week later, saying that he didn’t mind since you were only curious. Even so, you never really thought he actually liked anklets all that much… or beige eyes. You already had quite a few anklets you got from Hot Topic that were pretty neat but you never really found the time to use or wear them. It became a sort of…rare occasion kind of thing. Though- you already had the beige eyes- which made you hopeful that he liked you in some capacity??

You shot that down quick with a grumbled shake of your head, consoling Ma when she asked if you were ok.

Your mind was quick to pick back where you left off, sighing as you focused on scrubbing a particularly difficult splotch of cooking from a pan. Anklets…you might not understand entirely why Cove liked them but you gathered that it had to do with the aesthetic of them that appealed to him so much. Maybe. Even so, you enjoyed making some yourself and had gifted some to Cove already, much to his delight. He tried to wear them as much as possible, but after nearly losing one to the ocean, you didn’t see them as often- unless it was too cold to go in the water. At this point, Cove lived and breathed the salty ocean breeze… One time, you had joked that if Cove wasn’t a human in this life, he was definitely a mermaid in his last which was nicely reciprocated with a very flustered Cove with his familiar wobbly smile.

But unlike him, you lost so many of your precious anklets, that also being why you nearly abstained from wearing them entirely. The weight would grow familiar but then you would forget about it until much later. By then, the anklet was long gone and you had gone to too many places to retrace your steps to find them. You remembered one particular time where you had lost an anklet that Cove had gotten you as a birthday gift and you had worn it everywhere. Until the inevitable happened and you had lost it, inconsolable as even Liz had been roped into helping you find it. Mr. Holden did end up finding it in his shop but that was the final nail in the coffin for the entire anklet business. From then on, you kept most of your anklets under lock and key unless it was a special occasion like going to the Cypress’ dinners or such.

What you needed was a way to wear one without losing it…you wouldn’t mind as much if it were one of your own- but if it was one that someone gave you… At that point, you figured you should buy a display for them. There wasn’t a point for them gathering dust in the wild…

“Hey baby sis- You done over there?”

Liz stood behind you with a caring smile, a smile on her face but her eyes held a little concern as you followed their gaze to the now pristine pan in your hands- as well as the time. “You must’ve been really focused, huh?”, she chuckled with a conspiratorial tone as you quietly rinsed the pan and put it aside, segwaying into a classic Liz interrogation as she pick-pocketed your brain… to which she had a solution.

“Well…”, she started as you wiped your hands on the drying towel. “How about a tattoo that looks like an anklet?” Feeling your questioning stare, Liz held out her hands. “Here me out: Firstly, I’m not saying to go and get a tattoo on a whim. Think over it- Obviously. Removing it costs at least twice or three times as much so give it some thought. But…in a way… You’d still be wearing an anklet and you’d never lose it, right?” The more she talked about it, the more it made sense to you. Obviously, you had to promise her (and your moms ‘cause they were listening) not to get that tattoo right away if you wanted to- and if you did, to at least let them know. No matter what you chose, they made it clear that they’d support your decision either way and loved you very much. As per usual, this brought a smile to your face and it never failed to make your day.

You didn’t end up getting that tattoo until around a week later, having taken Liz with you as moral support. She joked that you took her because Cove declined but that wasn’t the case. Instead, you wanted to try to surprise him! It was a very out-of-the-blue sort of thing for you to try but it was new and you were curious about the entire process. While it wouldn’t be the same as wearing an anklet, at least you’d never lose it! Besides! You still had all the anklet shrine to refer back to if you ever needed it.

The tattoo shop wasn’t near the neighborhood shops or district, meaning Liz had to drive you into the city. It was…surprisingly pretty cute, judging from the pictures online! Which was…not the aesthetic you expected. It was also a little close to Mr. Holden’s shop if you and Liz wanted to walk over to say hello. Speaking of, Cove was supposedly hanging out with Terri and Miranda so as far as you were aware, there was very little chance for your paths to cross so everything checked out!

As for the anklet in question… you decided to go for a (intricate/cutesy/simple) design with (floral/beachy) aspects. If you decided on floral aspects, you pulled up pictures of the white poppies behind your house for the tattoo artist as a reference as well as asking for some fireflies to be floating around them. The hill behind your house was where you met him after all…and the memories behind catching fireflies with you, him, Liz and Shiloh were important to you…

If you decided on beachy aspects, you pulled up a picture of your favorite orange seashell, the same one that Cove was drawn to in your collection on your first playdate, and the dolphin keychain that he got you when you went to the shops together. The tattoo artist had nodded and gave you the rundown of what was going to happen. You pointed down to the ankle you wanted the tattoo on as your sister stayed by your side, taking her role as your moral support incredibly seriously.

Once you decided on what the design would look like, they got right to work. The first few pin pricks of pain were easy to bear but as time went on, your grip on your sister’s hand tightened as she tried to make you feel better by pointing out how great it’d look after- and Cove’s face when he saw it. Despite her laughter at your blushing face at the thought, that little comment did help you pull through and before you knew it, it was over.

You finally let go of Liz’s hand who didn’t complain one bit the entire time so…you were grateful to her for putting up with you. The area where the tattoo was sensitive, the tattoo artist told you. They also said that tattoos typically took two to four weeks to heal on the surface, but it could take three to six months to fully heal. It usually involved a week of redness and oozing, followed by two to three weeks of itchiness and peeling. They had already told you this before getting you set up to get a tattoo but they wanted to remind you again, just to be sure you’d take extra care of your skin during that process. You were quick to reassure them, making a mental note to be extra kind to yourself in these upcoming months.

After the talk was over, they saw you back to the front, finalized the payment and sent you on your merry way as you couldn’t help but awe over their work. The (white poppies/seashells) were beautiful and they had stuck to your original design well, considering what you asked for. Your skin was holding up fairly well and you loved the colors on it so much, Liz had to stop you from accidentally bumping into everything.

“If you like it so much, take a picture of it! It’ll last longer! And you could send it to your lover boy!~”, Liz laughed teasingly although you knew she was trying to keep you safe. “He’s not my lover boy…”, you sighed, shaking your head as you tried to walk away from her to look for a bench, ignoring her laughter as she followed. “Not yet!~”, she warbled, obviously taking amusement in your half-hearted misery. As soon as you sat down, you quickly aimed your phone at the tattoo and sent it straight to Cove. Sure, you meant to keep it from him just a little longer but- crush aside- he was your closest friend and you told everything to each other. It was a habit you fully indulged in- except for the crush part. Obviously.

_______

MC: Hey

MC: Look what I got :D

Cove: Thats a tattoo

Cove: Wait

Cove: THATS A TATTOO

MC: Ahuh

Cove: YOU GOT A TATTOO

MC: Yup

Cove: Since when??

MC: Like

MC: Five minutes ago

MC: Got it at a tattoo parlor in the shopping district with Liz

MC: And Liz says hi

Cove: Where

MC: Down past art gallery

Cove: Stay there

MC: Wait why

Cove has gone offline

_______

Huh. That was weird.

Liz had noticed the confused look on your face, accepting your phone once you handed it over to see what her thoughts were on it. Your older sister stifled a bark of laughter before passing it back over with a grin. “Don’t worry about it!~ Tell you what: How about I scour around for a snack before we head back?”, she cooed teasingly, patting your shoulder as you huffed quietly, crossing your arms as she stood up. You offered to go with her but she shook her head, saying she’d be fine and that she didn’t need a chaperone.

You did ask if she could get some (strawberry ice-cream/pretzels), making a mental note to share in case Cove did end up stopping by. Thankfully, Liz didn’t comment on the gleam in your eyes and playfully rolled her eyes before walking down the street. No matter how many years passed by, you made sure to watch your sister as long as you could before she turned a corner. It never failed to make you anxious being utterly alone in a space, given that you were always with someone throughout your entire childhood. There was safety in numbers, you guessed.

You didn’t have to wait long before the buzz in your pocket alerted you to a text, distracting from your plight as you pulled it out. It was Cove.

_______

Cove: Im at the shop

Cove: Where are you?

_______

That was your cue.

You got up from the bench and stepped back on the main street to look back where the tattoo shop was. And right there was a familiar mop of seafoam green hair looking up and down the street. Couldn’t imagine why.

“Cove!”, you called out, watching his eyes widen and look for the source as you (waved/shouted again/stepped into sight) to get his attention. Seeing how his face visibly brightened just by seeing you alone never failed to make you smile. He was quick to join your side, offering a hug which you easily accepted, snuggling yourself in his warmth as his arms curled around you softly, resting his cheek on your (head/shoulder).

Just as fast as he had come, came your realization as you pulled your head back to look at him. “Wait- How did you get here so fast?,” you started as Cove tilted his head slightly with a small smile, catching up to the speed of your words. “I sent that text not even five seconds ago!”

Your neighbor was quick to blush lightly, rubbing the back of his hair as he seemed to look anywhere but at you. “The hangout with Terri and Miranda was cut short so I asked if they could drop me off at dad’s shop.”, he chuckled, finding his eyes drawn back to you as you listened with a nod. “I would’ve drove myself but I wasn’t driving everyone around this time.” His hand found its way back to your back, keeping you close although you certainly didn’t mind. “That’s when I got your text and decided to walk here to meet up. Where’s Liz though?... You told me she said hi.”

You figured it probably didn’t settle right with him, seeing you all alone and by your lonesome with your sister nowhere to be found. You pat his arm, offering a smile to try and alleviate his worries as his worried frown persisted. “It’s ok! Liz offered to grab some snacks while I waited for you. And I didn’t stray far anyway. The plan was to stick by the bench until (I found you/she came back)!” He seemed to accept the explanation, sighing even then but grateful that nothing bad happened to you.

“Ok cool. How about we head back to that bench? We can talk and- Oh!” His mouth opened in shock as he realized what he came here for. Cove looked down at you, a determined look on his face as he tried to properly word his thoughts into something coherent. “Were you being serious about the tattoo? That…wasn’t a joke, right?”, he asked hopefully, barely to stay still, judging from how he let go of you to fiddle with the bracelets on his wrist. You knew it’d probably shock or catch him off guard so you decided to play coy, putting a finger to your lips and skipping on back to the bench as you left Cove in some confusion. It took him a minute to react before quickly following you like a lost puppy, a sentiment you kept to yourself, trying not to giggle at the thought of it- although it didn’t go unnoticed by your precious neighbor.

As soon as the pair of you sat down, Cove was quick to ask about the tattoo. It was why you were here anyway and he seemed a bit more interested in the fact that it looked like it was around your ankle. The (skirt/pants) you wore covered it up so he couldn’t even get a sneak peak at it- if it was real at all. Sure, you liked to joke around and tease him from time to time but Cove didn’t think you’d go so far to joke about…a tattoo. It just didn’t rub off of him right. And if you did… Well. He didn’t want to go down that route. It was why he was here anyways! You were close by and had a tattoo he needed to verify!

Thankfully for him, you weren't the type to deny him much (of anything.) You spoiled your neighbor rotten too much already- what was one more going to do to him? You pulled up your (skirt/pant leg) slightly to show off the tattoo as Cove’s eyes widened, the (fireflies flitting around the white linen poppies/ dolphin keychain diving around the orange seashell and coral reefs) catching his eye as he inhaled sharply. “Can I…?”, he barely whispered, his voice reduced to almost nothing as his fingers were a breath away from tracing the (eccentric/adorable/simplistic) designs. You were (quick/slow/hesitant) to nod as he took the initiative to take extra care not to irritate your sensitive skin, easily in awe and appreciative of the colors splashing across your skin-kissed canvas. He was already going down the memory lane, judging from the tears that bubbled up in his eyes. “Surprise?”, you offered, giving a sheepish smile as your ocean-loving lover boy (Liz would cry tears of laughter if she heard your thoughts) looked up with one of his iconic sappy smiles.

“It must be my birthday…”, he whispered, sniffling as your hand moved to wipe his tears away. Cove leaned into your touch with ease, his wobbly smile evident even when he tried to cover it up. He would always be touched by sentimentality; the reaction to something small meant volumes- it was truly the memories behind those items that held the most meaning to him. Your existence was paramount to his growth and he would always be ever so grateful to you for being his favorite neighbor.

“But…did you get for yourself or me?”, Cove continued, his smile replaced by a worried frown. Judging from the look his eyes, it was pretty discernable to guess where they stemmed from. It was the same concern Liz had indirectly brought up when you were washing the dishes a week ago: Getting a tattoo was a pretty huge decision and it wasn’t something to decide on a whim. While you knew that your family and Cove would support whatever decision you chose, you guessed you had to reassure him that, yes, you chose it for you but you also chose it for him…mostly for you though!!

“Cove James Holden,” you started, which easily startled him as your grip gently squished his cheeks, drawing out a pout from him. He knew that you knew that you were being serious but having way too much fun messing with him. And also- you never really called him by his full name? Actually…when did you find out his full name?? “I promise you that I got this anklet tattoo just for me and that I was 100% sober while doing so. Nobody made me do it except me, myself and I.”, you vowed in a rather (silly/serious/exasperated) voice, making sure to exaggerate quite a bit just to see him try and fail to fight off a snort of laughter.

“Alright, alright! I’ll lay off!”, he chuckled as you finally let go of his face, satisfied even as he struggled to hide his blush. “You know you’re adorable right?”, you spoke up (with a smirk, teasing him shamelessly/shyly, bashfully trying to hide your own blush/with a soft smile, being as honest as you always were). It always ended up the same way- Cove started blushing up a storm and tried his hardest to vehemently deny any and all allegations while you would laugh and easily bring up every moment where he was. This would prompt him to flip the tables onto you and you would be on the receiving end of compliments galore, to your (amusement/embarrassment/surprise). In the end, you both had come to the agreement that you both were equally deserving of praise despite not outwardly agreeing to those allegations, much to both of your dismays.

Unbeknownst to you, the tattoo had affected Cove more than he let on. Yes, it nearly reduced him to tears, seeing how you managed to tie key points in your conjoined childhood into a tattoo that was on your skin for…forever-! But… there was a part of him that was…relishing in the fact that you not only got in the form of an anklet but that it was just as much as it was for you as it was for him. It meant the world to him that those pieces of your childhood were just as important to you as they were for him. Although Cove didn’t like imagining a world without you in it, he was grateful he had you in his life. You were there when he needed you and… Well, before he knew it, the waterworks bubbled over again, trailing down his face as your fingers held his face again to wipe them away.

“What’s wrong, Cove?...”, you (whispered, gentle and soothing/hummed, direct and straight to the point) as you always were.

“Nothing nothing…”, he whispered, content to simply be with you for as long as he could. “I’m just…really glad you’re in my life.” His aquamarine eyes focused on you, offering a wide smile as you returned with ease, (hugging him through your own tears/ruffling his hair with a grin/holding his hand with a comforting squeeze). One day he’d tell you just how much you meant to him but… not right now. He found comfort in familiarity but he couldn’t hold it off forever.

The more things change, the more they stay the same…

©2024 avalordream Please do not COPY, REPOST (without permission), TRANSLATE, MODIFY or CLAIM as your own work. Doing so otherwise will result in a REPORT and an INSTANT BAN. No exceptions. Give credit where credit is due.

⊹ ‧₊˚ Taglist: @now-and-4ever ˚₊‧ ⊹

#olba #our life beginnings & always #our life #our life cove holden #olba cove #cove holden #cove holden x reader #cove holden x mc #cove x reader #ama thoughts

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sethcertified · 1 year

Note

hi i found you by the ‘scream for you’ series and lorrrrd i love your work!! my favorite part was during the phone call i was giggling tucking my hair behind my ear so i wanted to request more of that if the reader went along with the flirting yk? if not i understand!

「 CALL ME ! 」 . . . 📁

scream : ambiguous ghostface but wrote with billy in mind

wrd count : 1.5k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . [name] gets a call from an unknown caller who is quite the flirt

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . ambiguous ghostface (billy intended but never stated) & male reader

My index finger delicately traced the cool edge of the countertop mindlessly as I burned holes into the the digitalized numbers on my microwave. An eye-catching, neon green number radiated off the timer’s screen, brandishing the time left until my popcorn was finished popping. The sounds of kernals popping, blossoming into delicious, fluffy popcorn made my mouth drool with anticipation.

With my popcorn finished, the start of my horror movie marathon could begin. The circumstances were right, and something in atmosphere just made this the perfect night for a few slasher flicks. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly that made this very night seem so perfect. Maybe it was the rare weather we were currently experiencing. Living in California, humid days tend to melt into even more humid nights with air so thick it seemed to stick to your skin. My nights were apt to consist of fighting the AC to remain just cool enough to save me from the humidity. This was enough to ruin any aspirations of a horror movie marathon.

But tonight was different. Tonight was unlike any night I had faced before in my 17 years old living in Woodsboro, California. An unfamiliar blue breeze had swept through as the sun ducked down behind buildings and night emerged from the suns departure; a tiny golden blaze of warmth and light on the horizon marking the rebirth of a perfect night from the sun’s ashes.

As I said, I wasn’t sure what really made the night so perfect, but that was my best guess. Nothing else else was out of the ordinary. It was just another day in Woodsboro.

The microwave beeped as the final symphony of pops echoed from the bag. Just a few more seconds before I got my hands on the delicious treat. I licked my lips at the thought. My hand clutched the handle to the microwave wave door as I pulled it open. The bag sizzled as I pinched the very edge of it. The heat from the bag warmed up my hand as I walked past the living room into my room. Just a quick flight of stairs and the marathon would begin!

“RI-I-ING!”

…

“RI-I-NG!”

The clattering of the phone echoed in the empty house, startling me. My mother usually picked up the phone before it even rang due to her insane motherly intuition, so to hear the rattling scared me more than I would have liked to admit. I shook of my nerves as I clutched the phone, bringing it up to my ear, “Hello?”

“Hello.”

My brows jumped up at the cadence the voiced possessed. It wasn’t by any means human, but strangely, attractive. The raspy, manufactured sound of it sent a chill down my spine. Who’s voice was this? “Hi.” I said back, eager to hear more of the mysterious voice.

“Who is this?” The voice asked.

“[Name]. You?” I answered nonchalantly. But this was just a facade. My foot tapped against the tiled floor, enthusiastic to get the name of the owner of this voice. “That’s a nice name.” The response was curt, leaving me dying for more. “You still haven’t answered my question, you know.”

“What question?”

I rolled my eyes at the remark. “The question I just asked you?”

I could hear the muffled sound of a chuckle from the other end of the line. This must be a prank call after all. I sat on the plush cushion of the couch as I settled the phone in between my ear and my shoulder, awaiting the caller’s response. “I can’t say.”

“You can’t say?” I quirked a brow in disbelief, “Why? Are you a top secret FBI agent or something? Will revealing your identify to me, end you up dead?” I teased.

“No,” the voice drawled out, “But you might.” My shoulders tensed against the soft feel of the couch. “Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” The voice replied as innocently as ever. I sighed in frustration. “Goodbye now.” The phone fell silent as I slammed it back onto the phone stand. My head leaned against the couch. So much for that. I pushed up against the couch, shaking off the encounter and grabbing my abandoned bag of popcorn. Before I could even set a step down to move away from the table, the phone began to ring. I bit my lip in frustration before snatching the phone in my hand. “Look, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or why the fuck you’re calling, but if you pull some creepy shit like that again, I’m calling the police.”

“Don’t get your panties in such a twist. Just having some fun with you.”

I laughed sarcastically. “There are many other ways you can have fun with me without threatening murder.”

“Is that so?” The voice purred out. The sound of his voice so clearing twisting my words made me cringe. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t believe you.”

My brows furrowed. “You don’t believe me? Why?” I asked as I sat back down onto the couch. This guy obviously had no merit to what he was saying so I let myself relax back into the cushion waiting for him to answer me. My waiting; however, was prolonged as there was a long, excruciatingly suspenseful pause before the voice finally responded, “Because I know what you want, [Name].”

“Oh yeah,” I snarked, “And what do I want exactly?”

“Me.”

My face warmed up suddenly. This guy was bold. And a good flirter, no doubt. But I wasn’t one to cave in so easily even if I found his voice extremely attractive. That didn’t mean; however, that I wouldn’t enjoy the man’s attention on me. “You caught me red handed, but I’m afraid my heart belongs to someone else.”

“You got a boyfriend?” There was a brief pause. “Girlfriend?”

“Why should I tell you?” I teased.

“Why shouldn’t you?”

I hummed out, “Good point. But, nah, no boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“That’s surprising.” The man replied. My eyes squinted as my lips pursed. “Really? What makes the fact I’m single so surprising?”

Another long pause followed, and my body tensed with anticipation of what the man would say next. He had drawn me into his game. I was playing checkers while he was playing chess, and now I was simply a pawn in his grasp. The silence on the other end of the phone made my ears reach out for the slightest of sounds. Disappointingly, the only noises I could pick up on were a slight breeze and the sound of rustling against something.

“You still there?” I asked.

“I’m surprised such a pretty boy like yourself is still single.” The voice answered without the hint of stutter. My eyes shot open, wide as saucers as my face heated up to an almost unhealthy temperature. I could feel my mouth go dry as I fumbled for a response that didn’t make me look like a flustered idiot. “H-how d…o you know what… I look like?” I asked embarrassed.

The man snickered at my awkward pauses and stutter. “Do you want to play a game?”

I exhaled a breath at the topic change although it was slightly irritating that he was avoiding my questions yet again. “Sure, but it isn’t fair that I’ve answered all of your questions but you’ve never answered mine, you know.”

Ignoring me once more, the voice went on. “Guess what I’m doing.”

“Bothering me at…” I paused as I checked my watched, “around 12:30 in the morning.”

“Am I really bothering you?”

I chewed on my lip with the slight twinge of guilt overcoming me. “Nah. I didn’t mean that. I actually like talking to you, to be honest.”

“Good.”

“That’s all you gotta say?” I asked.

“Guess where I’m at.”

I blew out past my lips in frustration. What was this guy’s attitude problem? “I don’t know. I mean,” I thought back to the breeze and rustle I heard prior, “Outside, maybe?”

“Correct.”

“Do I get a cookie?” I asked with a large grin spreading across my face.

“I could give you something better than a cookie.”

“Another innuendo? You must be a teenager,” My voice trailed off, “Or a 40 year old bald, greasy perv.”

The voice chuckled. “Which would you prefer?”

“Good question,” I laughed awkwardly, “The teenager. Way less creepy.”

“You’re in luck.” Answered the voice and my knees went weak. Why did that have to be so hot. I felt almost dizzy with attraction. My voice trembled. “So I’m guessing you go to Woodsboro Highschool, right?”

“Why?” The voice asked, but I could practically hear the smirk that dawned his face. “You want to know who I am?”

“And what if I do?”

“I can show you.”

My lips spread out into a toothy grin. “Show me.”

“Say please.”

I felt humiliated but strangely enough, the word that followed left my mouth agape in utter allurement. “Please?”

“Find me.”

©️ sethcertified

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serasvictoria · 1 year

Text

Title: Roller Queen

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Female Reader

Summary: A heatwave has hit Hawkins and bored out of his mind, Eddie tries to find something to do. He finds that something in the Palace Arcade…

Word Count: 6997

Content Warning: 18+ mdni. Semi-public sex. Oral sex (male receiving). Vaginal fingering.

Notes: This is what you get when you spend quite some time on Pinterest during a heatwave and suddenly finding a picture that just inspires you. The picture is all the way at the end, it just worked for me.

There is also one mention of the name Arlo in this and that's what I called the unnamed Hellfire member aka Corroded Coffin’s bass player, also known as the titular “Freak”. There’s an entire backstory in regards to why I gave him that name, but I won’t bore anyone to tears with that particular HC.

Betaread by @adrille88 Thanks again ❤️ Any remaining mistakes are all mine.

If he was really honest with himself, Eddie had to admit that he kind of liked heatwaves.

All the assholes would leave the town of Hawkins, abandoning the hot and humid place like a bunch of rats leaving a sinking ship, and they’d go spend a couple of days at their log cabins near some lake, leaving all the less fortunate residents behind.

Not that he thought that he was less fortunate, fuck no. He wouldn’t want golden boy Jason Carver’s shiny life. Sitting next to mommy, wearing his Sunday best and listening to daddy as he preached fire and brimstone to the congregation as they clutched their crucifixes. Lord knew where the bastard was now. Probably forced to suck up to some senator’s kid whilst he pretended that he wasn’t from some backwater shithole in Indiana.

So yeah, heatwaves weren’t all that bad. Besides, you could dress for the heat.

He was currently lazing about on the porch in an old pair of jeans that were cutoff right above the knee. His Motörhead shirt (which he had also modified after he tore it making it sleeveless as well as a little bit too short) was in a crumpled heap right next to him.

The only thing that was bugging him at the moment was trying to decide what to do.

It was the first summer after graduation, so he should have been spoiled for choice, but sadly that was not the case at all.

Steve and Robin were at work, like Jeff, and he didn’t feel like bothering them at their workplaces. Again. Dustin was at some kind of robotics camp. Wheeler had joined the Byers family for their last summer in California before they moved back to Hawkins. The Sinclairs were visiting relatives, as was Gareth. Arlo had been signed up for summer classes by his mother because he was failing a couple of classes.

So there was currently no one that he could shoot the shit with.

Usually Eddie wouldn’t have any problems on his own, he’d almost grown accustomed to it when he was a kid, but he was bored out of his mind at the moment. Didn’t help that he was coming off his previous high as well.

Absentmindedly scratching his neck, he brushed away some of the locks of hair that had come loose from his ponytail and that were sticking to his sweaty skin. He’d already taken a cold shower earlier and even that wasn’t enough to fight the heat.

The AC had also gone on the fritz at the worst possible time so staying in his bedroom wasn’t an option. Which meant that jacking off was off the cards, too. Because hey, when in doubt, jerk off. It was basically an unwritten rule.

Everyone that was still in town had either gone to the community pool or the woods, but those weren’t really places where we wanted or could go to. Lover’s Lake and Skull Rock were places that were worth considering, but you never knew if you’d disturb anyone whilst there and some people didn’t take too kindly to having an audience. And even if they were keen to have onlookers, that didn’t automatically mean that they’d want him there.

There wasn’t really much else to do apart from aimlessly driving through town until he found something that was worth his while.

Getting to his feet with a groan, he stretched out, grabbed his discarded shirt from the couch and put it on. His keys and cigarettes were on the small table next to him so he pocketed the packet of smokes and then locked the front door (even if no one was insane enough to attempt to steal anything from them, what with them having the good old Munson name and all).

As expected the van was hot as hell, so he rolled the windows all the way down on both sides before starting the engine and heading out of the trailer park in search of something to do.

Driving around town, he’s reminded of that Ghost Town song by The Specials (Robin was going through a bit of a ska phase at the moment) and before he knew it he was humming it which was in stark contrast to the Megadeth song, Wake Up Dead, that was currently blasting through the speakers.

Despite having previously decided that he wasn’t going to go to Family Video, he found himself driving in that direction anyway. Maybe Eddie could convince Steve to give him access to his backyard so he could have a dip in his pool in exchange for a couple of joints? Worth a shot.

This brought him right past the arcade, which was practically next door, a place that he hadn’t set foot in for quite some time. Together with Harrington, he seemed to have earned the dubious privilege of dropping the kids off there quite frequently, but he never joined them despite Henderson asking him to do so every single time.

He wasn’t about to have his ass kicked by some kid at-

Eddie swore that his eyes were seconds away from rolling out of their sockets.

All that he caught was a quick peek through the open doors of the arcade, but it had been enough to make him punch the brakes of his van and he came to a standstill right in front of the building.

Eddie had never parked his van so fast in his life.

When he got out of the van and walked across the asphalt to his destination, nerves set in, which was insane when he really thought about it. Why was he even nervous? Was it because he was seconds away from shooting his shot and potentially getting horrifically turned down?

The name of the place was lit up in purple neon on the awning over the doorway. Unbelievable that this was something that could make him set foot in the place after all this time, having seemingly graduated from it many years previous, constantly proclaiming that it wasn’t “his scene” since books and board games were more his thing.

That was a better excuse than saying that he had simply been unable to afford it. Money had always been tight in the Munson household and wasting a couple of quarters on something that he couldn’t even take home with him or put in his belly seemed pointless.

There’s an acne stricken teenager sitting on a folding chair next to the open door, a look of annoyance on his face that betrayed the fact that he didn’t want to be here at all.

“There’s a change machine inside. You know where to find me if it stops working,” he says with a bored tone when Eddie passes him by. The kid doesn’t say it, but his line sounds well practiced, leading him to believe that the aforementioned machine must have some issues.

It also sounds like the kid has no intention of going inside unless he absolutely must.

So that means that no one will see Eddie crash and burn if he does. And if he doesn’t, there won’t be anyone to disturb him either, so it was a win-win situation no matter what.

It was cooler inside, but only slightly. The AC was old and far too small to cool such a large space, but it still tried to do its job to the best of its abilities.

There were plenty of noises around him, machines beeping in an attempt to make him look at them, to make him see what he could play if he would only give them a couple of coins. He barely even seems to notice them at all, not caring about what the games have to offer him.

Not now.

The row of games that were visible from the door are all vacant. No one’s there to pour over them, desperately trying to win, so he moves on to the row next to it as he tries to find what he’s looking for. He’s about to turn the corner into the third, already somewhat convinced that his mind had been playing tricks on him, that the heat had fried his brain, when he comes to a sudden standstill and simply stares at the image before him.

Eddie had not imagined it, hadn’t gotten a severe case of heatstroke, hadn’t witnessed a mirage or anything of the sort. Even if mirage was probably the best word to describe what he was looking at.

You were leaning over the controls of one of the machines, tapping away at the buttons and moving the joystick back and forth.

That in itself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

Dustin often spoke of you with awe in his voice, regaling everyone with how good you were at the games at the arcade. You and Max held a lot of the high scores and that was pure catnip to the younger boys who only cared about trivial things like that. The fact that you were older only seemed to make you more appealing to them.

A fellow nerd.

An older fellow nerd.

An attractive, older fellow nerd.

Eddie had never really gotten it until now, but that was more down to what you were wearing, which was a lot more revealing than what you had worn when you still walked through the hallways of Hawkins High. Hell, Principal Higgins would probably have a heart attack if someone wore that to school.

In an effort to fight the heat, you were wearing a pair of cut off blue sweatpants, which were so short that they might as well be hotpants, and a dark blue bikini top. And on your feet were the signature roller skates that were very much an extension of yourself as it were.

He doesn’t think that he’s ever seen you without them when you weren’t in school or working. There’s even a story about how you kicked Andy Collins in the balls with them once, but no one has ever been able to confirm that particular story since it was very much based on hearsay.

It is a fact however that Andy doesn’t seem to sniff around you quite as much as he does with every other (single) female in town. Had to be a reason for that.

The corner of your mouth twitches, so you definitely noticed that you had an audience of one by now. It would be rude not to go over to say hello, right? Right? So Eddie starts moving, unsteady on his feet all of a sudden, like he had forgotten how to walk simply because he was in the presence of such beauty.

“Hi,” he croaks out and he raises his hand in greeting. “Pretty hot outside, huh.” He mentally slaps himself for saying that, because why on Earth had he decided to state the obvious? Guess that meant that trying to act cool had gone straight out the window. His remark makes you snort though, which he supposes is a win of sorts. “Anyway. Hi.”

“Hi,” you say with a grin, doing your best not to laugh, as you look up for a few seconds before focusing all your attention back on the game. “Don’t see you round here a lot.”

“Not much of a gamer,” Eddie admits, which technically wasn’t true, but he didn’t think that he had to clarify that he was talking about video games. You would have seen him around the arcade a lot more if he was into those.

“So why’re you here then?”

“Thought I’d check the place out. Henderson’s always talking about it.”

“Ah, Henderson,” you sigh and there’s a hint of exhaustion there that almost makes him laugh. “And that’s enough to get you to show up?”

“Maybe not just that.” His eyes skate over the curve of your ass and when he looks back at your face again, he can see that your eyebrows are raised. Subtlety had never been his strong point. “Busted,” he chuckles.

“Hm,” is all that he gets out of you before you look back at the screen once more.

Eddie tries his best to feign an interest in the game that you’re playing, Bubble Bobble, by trying to keep his eyes peeled on the screen. Even thinks about commenting on the cuteness of the green dinosaur that’s blowing bubbles at his enemies, but he doesn’t out of fear of looking like a complete fool. He actually opens his mouth once with the intention of commenting on how well you’re playing, but what the hell is he supposed to say?

‘Good game, hot stuff, but do you wanna get out of here and play a real game in the back of my van instead?’

Bad idea. Really bad idea. He’d prefer it if his nuts didn’t meet the boot of your skates. That would be a horrible ending to what was turning out to be a pretty good day so far. He’d like to end it on a high if he could, preferably with your phone number scribbled on a piece of paper in his pocket.

Damn, this was easier when he could hide behind his usual bravado, but he’d already fucked that one up from the moment that he started talking to you. Hell, he couldn’t even hide behind his hair, because it was in a messy ponytail right now.

Still, you haven’t told him to fuck off just yet so it wasn’t a complete disaster. He leans back against the side of the machine next to yours and he really looks at you this time.

God damn, he had always thought that you were pretty, but fuck, you looked good enough to eat right now. He catches the glint of a bead of sweat as it rolls down your neck, following it as it makes its way down your skin and ultimately disappears into the fabric of your bikini top.

Eddie can almost taste the salt on his tongue if he thinks about it hard enough.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Your voice cuts through the first wisps of the daydream that was forming in the back of his mind, one that already had his cock twitching in his pants, seconds away from begging him to excuse himself so he could jerk off in his van.

“I would if I had a camera,” he bites back.

You shake your head and sigh and a couple of seconds later the game makes a noise, something that even a newbie like him knew wasn’t good. As if to emphasize this, the words “game over” appear on the black screen.

“Thought you were good.”

“My heart wasn’t in it,” you say while the screen starts flashing the ‘insert coin’ message on the screen in an attempt to lure in new players. “It’s this damn heat.”

“Maybe you don’t do well with an audience.”

“You’re shitting me, right? You know how many times I have those little shitheads breathing down my neck?”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “A lot?”

“Yup. I barely get any alone time as it is.”

There’s a sudden flush of guilt and he can feel his cheeks burn as they begin to color a dark shade of pink. He’s bothering you. You never said it, but that's what he reads between the lines.

“You want me to leave?” He’s already turning away from you, instantly apologetic, so he’s surprised when he feels your fingers touch his wrist.

“Did I say that?” He’s watching your hand, noticing the gentle pull on his arm which doesn’t stop until he makes no move to leave anymore. “Did I?”

Since you repeat yourself, you’re obviously expecting an answer. The only problem is that the heat combined with your touch are kind of short circuiting his brain.

Eddie eventually manages to get out a small “No?” which he considers a victory. At least it shows that he’s still capable of speech, if only a little.

“No,” you repeat after him and he’s instantly relaxed when he finds that his presence does seem to be wanted after all. He can’t stop his expression from falling a little when your hand lets go of his arm. “But you say you’re not a gamer. Maybe you just haven’t found one that you like yet.”

“Sweetheart, I haven’t been in here for years,” he says with a casual wave of his hand. “The flashing lights are about to give me an epileptic fit.”

“Was that a joke?”

“Yeah?”

“That was so funny I forgot to laugh,” you deadpan.

The flat tone of your voice makes him snort as well as make him wonder why he has never tried talking to you before.

He supposes that it was a form of thinly veiled jealousy over the kids liking you so much. But who cares about them? And why is he thinking about them so much anyway? Being in the presence of a hot girl combined with the stifling heat was really doing a number on his brain, that was for s-

You clap your hands together in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts for the second time since he was with you.

“Anyway!” you exclaim and clear your throat before continuing. “There’s a couple of old games in the back. Maybe you’d even recognise some of them, oldtimer. Want me to show you?”

“Which ones?”

“Pong, Death Race, Space Invaders, Asteroids… ring a bell?”

“Always was quite partial to Death Race actually.”

“Figures,” you grin. “Come on then,” you say as you push yourself away from the cabinet and start leading the way.

Eddie lets you take the lead, because it means that he can walk behind you and his eyes drop down immediately, unashamedly ogling your ass as you glide through the arcade.

On your way to the back, he hears the crinkling of plastic and watches you remove the orange wrapper from a lollipop before it disappears into your mouth. He swallows hard when your jaw moves, your cheek bulging as you keep moving the candy from side to side. He’s practically salivating as he tries very hard not to let his mind come up with images of how your cheeks would look if there was something else in your-

“There she is,” you break through his reverie again and he briefly wonders if it’s intentional, if you have some kind of inbuilt radar that alerts you whenever a guy is about to have some very impure thoughts in your vicinity. “Death Race.”

You point out the black cabinet at the end of the row of machines, the two steering wheels making it instantly recognisable. You come to a standstill right next to it and wave your hand over the front of it, like some bikini babe that they sometimes use to advertise cars.

“Goddamn,” he whistles in wonder. “Didn’t know they still had this one.”

“They do,” you reply as you stand to his left. “Don’t think they ever get rid of a game if it’s still working.” You dig around in your pocket and hold out a quarter to him. “Here. First game’s on me.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Eddie takes the quarter from your fingers and puts it in the slot. “I’ll try to make it last.”

Unfortunately it doesn’t last that long. Sadly, he’s a little bit rusty. Not that he was any good when he still came here, but he finds himself wanting to impress you as much as he can.

Eddie’s on his fourth quarter when there’s an almost sickening crunch from your direction. Eddie looks up from the screen to see you chewing on the hard candy of your lollipop and he catches you tossing the stick in a garbage bin behind you. He wants to say something, but the words die on his tongue when your hand suddenly connects with his chest and he’s pushed back against the wall.

“Hey, wh-”

-at the hell.

The rest of the sentence comes out all muffled, because your lips crash into his hard. There’s barely time to close his mouth and you enthusiastically take advantage of that by licking into his mouth, your tongue connecting with his, and he can taste nothing but oranges. When he starts kissing you back, he can taste the same artificial nectarine flavor in your lip gloss.

Wrapping his arms around you, he pulls you in closer and you sigh when his hands start rubbing up and down your back. You even giggle when one hand dips down lower and grabs your ass cheek.

There’s no opposition from him when you push him to the side, in between the opening between the black cabinet and the wall, one that the both of you fit into neatly, effectively shielding you and him from the view of others just enough.

Not that there was anyone else there apart from the bored employee that was still sitting outside and even he wouldn’t be able to see what the pair of you are doing from where he’s sitting.

“Aren’t-“ You pull away just far enough so Eddie can look in your eyes for a split second, see how blown out your pupils are, and then you dip your head down so you can drag your lips over his neck. “Aren’t you scared that anyone might see us?”

“No.” Your reply comes far too quickly and your teeth graze his Adam's apple slightly. “Why?”

“Wh- are you serious?”

“Mhm,” you hum against his skin. He gasps when you suck on his neck hard enough to leave a mark. “So sensitive.”

“Fuck.” At least Eddie can sort of peer into the space behind you now. He catches no movement whatsoever. And it’s not as if the arcade is rigged up with security cameras either. You stick your hands underneath his shirt, your fingers finding his nipples with ease and pinching them. “Damn, sweetheart.”

“What?” You look up at him, batting your eyelids almost too innocently, and when he doesn’t reply, you lick a stripe from the dip in his collarbone all the way up to his ear. “Cute,” you say directly into his ear before you gently tug on his lobe with your teeth. “You’re cute.”

Your intent couldn’t be more clear however. You wanted him and you were laying it on so thick that it was hard to ignore. It was all in the hungry way that you kissed him, filled with lust and longing, full of heat and desire.

Even though there shouldn’t be any mistaking your intentions, Eddie still wonders when it would be acceptable to invite you into his van. If he does it too early, you might smack him for being a perv, but if he does it too late, you might mistake it for disinterest, which would be a million miles off from what he wants. If only he had talked to you before, he would know what you were like a bit more, but all he has to go on are stories from Henderson and a handful of rumors.

There’s an unexpected brush of your fingers over the front of his jeans and it’s so light that he mistakes it for being accidental at first, but when it happens again and then again, it becomes a bit more difficult to ignore.

“Oh?” The triumphant tone in your voice is impossible to miss, because now you know that he was already half hard before and that was definitely because of you. “Thought that you had a couple of rolls of quarters in your pocket, but I think I was wrong.”

“You use that line a lot?”

The words came out too easily after all so naturally he’s curious, maybe even a little jealous, but he would never admit to that.

“Please,” you chuckle, “you think so little of me?”

“I don’t know. Don’t know you that well. Unfortunately.”

“You could get to know me. If you want to.”

“Hmmm. Tough question. Let me think about it.”

Eddie meant it as a joke, obviously, but he doesn’t miss how your brows furrow and how your hand stops moving, even if you can’t seem to stop your fingernails from scratching at the fabric.

His hips end up chasing your hand when you pull it away.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Eddie blinks, suddenly confused. “Is that a trick question?”

“Nope, just an honest one.”

“No.” It’s his turn to answer quickly now. And Christ, he feels like such a fucking dickhead for giving you the impression that he might not want this. “I don’t want you to stop.”

“Good,” you reply with a grin that’s bordering on feral, “because I really didn’t want to.”

“Then wh-?” He cuts off his sentence because your hand is back on his crotch again. You touch him with more intent now and he wonders if you can feel his dick twitching through the thick fabric. “Fuck.”

“Cause you looked a bit uncomfortable for a couple of seconds there. Figured that it was because of me.”

“It wasn’t, sweetheart. Trust me. Just never had a pretty girl seconds away from making me come in my pants like a schoolboy in a public place before.”

“Hmmm. I can think of something a lot better than that.” His eyes widen when you drop down onto your knees and start undoing his belt. “All you need to do is stay quiet.” A strangled kind of noise comes out of his mouth and it makes you grin even wider. “Think you can do that?”

“I’ll fucking try,” he squeaks out when you pull his pants down roughly to expose his underwear and his pale thighs. “I’ll really fucking try.”

“You’re gonna have to do better than that.” Your hand rubs over the front of his boxers and he groans low in his throat. “No louder than that, okay?” You pull the last cloth barrier down, unveiling his cock and it proudly stands at attention. “Oh god,” you say, obviously impressed, “prettiest cock I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh yeah?” You lick at the glistening bead of precum on the tip and your eyes close briefly as you taste him. The noise you make is exaggerated, but fuck, who cares? “Like it that much?”

“Uh-huh,” you answer as the tip of your tongue starts following the trail of a prominent vein on the side of his shaft, chasing it all the way down to the base and then back up again. “I do.”

Eddie lets out a sigh when you finally wrap your lips around his cock and let him slip halfway into your mouth. You sit there, looking all pretty, your eyes on his, and he already knows that he won’t be able to get this image out of his head for as long as he lives.

You bob down a bit further, a mere inch at most, and then release him with a soft pop. You spit on your palm, circle your fingers around the shaft, and start working him with your hand.

Ducking your head, you sink your teeth into his pale thigh and then lick the already slightly reddening mark. You repeat this a few more times, much to Eddie’s amusement. The slight sting of your bites in combination with the movement of your hand are pushing him ever closer to the edge.

Having teased him enough, you take his dick into your mouth again and he briefly wonders if you would have still done this if the place had been a bit more crowded. Not that he thinks that the sound of screaming kids would have done anything to kill his boner. If anything, the sheer thought of there being a greater possibility of getting caught only turns him on more.

When you cup his balls and start massaging them, Eddie hisses through his teeth. Fuck, he really wasn’t gonna last long. He also had no idea how he was supposed to stay quiet. He didn’t consider himself particularly noisy (he was), but he liked talking and there was no way that he would be able to control the volume of his voice.

Not when you kept eagerly sucking him off and especially not when you were pairing it with a look that was practically spelling out how much you loved having his dick in your mouth.

You also look like you want him to crack, like you desperately want him to make noises that are way too loud, like you want to get caught giving him head in the back of the arcade.

“Shit,” he groans as softly as he can and he can feel the corners of your mouth twitch upwards into a smile. “Can’t help it,” he says, softer now. “Feels too fucking good.”

Humming around his length, you hollow out your cheeks and when your hands lightly grasp the back of his thighs so your fingertips can dance up and down his skin, he shudders.

Saliva was bubbling at the corners of your mouth and fuck, it has to be one of the hottest things that he’s ever seen. His hand instantly moves of its own volition, moving to the back of your head, and he pushes you down for a split second, stopping when your fingernails dig into his skin. He loosens his grip, giving you ample opportunity to pull away, but you don’t and your eyes are almost flashing a challenge to him, practically daring him to do it again.

So he does.

This time he holds you down a little bit longer, forcing you to take him in a little bit deeper and instantly letting go when you make a gagging noise. You stay right where you are, his dick halfway in your mouth, eyes still a little defiant, so he does it again, harder, and forcing his cock in deeper still. The discomfort is plain to see and when your fingernails drag down the back of his thighs harshly, he can feel it, too, but your grip on his legs relaxes soon enough. He scratches your scalp affectionately.

Your eyes are glistening with unshed tears, threatening to overflow, and his hand releases you so he can wipe at the corners of one of your eyes, in an attempt to brush your tears away.

“Didn’t mean to make you cry, sweetheart,” he admits. “You just look so fucking good like that.” You blink once which finally makes the tears spill out. “Good tears though, huh?” You make an affirmative noise even if he already knows the answer. “Good ‘cause I’m seconds away from coming all down that pretty throat of yours.”

He catches a glint in your eye, as if his words spurred you on, but Eddie’s entirely unprepared for what you do next.

Your hands grab his hips and you plunge your mouth all the way down his length until your lips make contact with the thatch of hair at the base of his cock. You gag around him, but you inhale deeply through your nose and manage to stay down for a bit longer.

Your throat muscles contracting around his cock is what pushes him over the edge and he comes in thick spurts down your throat. He bangs the back of his head against the wall behind him, his lips pressed tightly together to stop himself from shouting as he climaxes. His hands are balled to fists at his sides and he slams them against the wall as a form of channeling the pent-up energy that has nowhere else to go.

It takes him a short while to come back to his senses and his hands shake when he relaxes his grip. When he hazards a glance down, you’re still on your knees, his now soft cock still in your hands as you’re lazily licking up and down his shaft.

Reaching for your face, he touches the corner of your mouth and mumbles the words, “Show me.” You stick your tongue out obediently, showing him that there’s not a single drop of his cum left. “Good girl.”

Exhaling shakily, he manages to say, “up,” a couple of times, his fingers hooking under your chin and pulling in an effort to make you move faster. As soon as you’re on your feet, his lips crash into yours, his tongue invading your mouth until he can taste himself on your tongue.

His hands are everywhere. On your ass, your hips, your tits. He simply doesn’t know what to grab first, and it’s not like you seem to care either with how content your sighs are.

Changing positions, he pushes you up against the wall and hurriedly pulls his boxers and shorts back up. Your hands take over to zip him back up this time, leaving his hands free to pull the cups of your bikini top to the sides and burying his face between your tits.

“Like that,” you breathe out when his lips finally find one of your nipples. “Just like that.”

“So sensitive,” he remarks with a grin, positively delighted that he can throw your earlier words right back at you this time. “I wonder…” He trails off and brushes a hand down your stomach, light as a feather, until his fingers come to a stop at the waistband of your shorts. “May I?”

You’re nodding before he even manages to get the words out, betraying your eagerness and perhaps your impatience. So naturally that makes Eddie move slower than he would have, taking his time to undo the bow that keeps the drawstring of your shorts tied together, and even when that’s undone, he slides his digits underneath the fabric painstakingly slowly.

“Eddieeeee,” you whine, “stop teasing.”

“Who’s teasing?”

“You are,” you pout. “Not like we have all day.”

“We don’t?” You’re ready to say more, he can tell, but he knows you’re right. And he doesn’t know what you’ll do if he keeps teasing, so he slips his fingers into your panties and slides them between your folds. “Jesus, baby, you’re soaked.”

“Mhm,” you bite your lower lip and nod.

“You got this wet just from having my dick in your mouth?” You moan affirmatively. “Poor thing. Seems only right that I help you out then, right?” One of his fingers probes your entrance, not quite pressing inside yet. Not until you answer him. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

“Please,” you whimper. “N-need to feel your fingers inside me.”

“Come on,” he husks against your cheek, “spread your legs a little wider.” You give him some more space to work with and he slides the digit in with ease. “Good girl.”

Your head drops forward onto his shoulder, your mouth almost level with his ear so he can hear every shaky breath and strangled moan. It makes him add another finger, plunging them deeper inside and curling them upward until he hits your sweet spot. Your walls spasm and contract around his fingers, trying to keep them there.

“Really want to get my mouth on you, sweetheart,” he husks against your temple.

“No time,” you answer. “R-raincheck?”

“You’d better,” he chuckles. He just knew that he’d be taking you up on that offer before the end of the day.

Fuck, if he had his way, he’d be on his knees in front of you right now. Your ass pushed up against the controls of the Pong machine, his head buried between your thighs, until you’re screaming so loud that it drowns out every other fucking sound in this place.

If only he’d asked you to come with him, he’d have had his wish.

His thumb finds your swollen and neglected clit with ease. His touch sends a shockwave through you which makes your whole body jolt. You grab at his shoulders, his name on your lips as your fingernails leave crescent shaped marks in the sections of his skin which aren’t covered by his shirt.

Your breath hitches and you let out a choked sob, only to have Eddie cut off any other sounds that you might make by pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all your delicious noises, effectively silencing you. Your thighs convulse around his palm, trapping his hand between them.

Reaching upward, you grab at his tied back hair, wrapping the ponytail around your fingers and pulling until your hand, along with all the other muscles in your body, go slack.

“Mmmm.” You sigh against his lips and he pulls away just far enough to see your blissed out features as you float back down to Earth. “Always knew you’d be good with your fingers.”

“You wanted to get caught, didn’t you?” Your face splits into a grin and he shakes his head. “Fuckin’ knew it.”

You open your mouth to speak, but you’re distracted by Eddie sticking his fingers into his mouth and sucking your juices from them. Cupping his cheeks, you lean forward and your lips brush together when a loud scream suddenly cuts through the relative silence. Startled, it makes your eyes snap open, but you visibly relax when it dawns on you that the noise isn’t anywhere near where the two of you are.

“I wanna play that one,” an underage voice shouts and it’s answered by a decidedly more bored adult voice. “Come on!” The child sounds impatient and is probably dragging the adult behind him in the direction of the game of his choice.

“Shame that,” you say as you adjust your top, covering your chest up once more. You move away from him and he hates the fact that there’s space between you now. “I totally would have let you fuck me as I played the pinball machines.”

“I have a van,” he replies, helpful and hopeful at the same time.

“Aren’t you a charmer?” You stick a hand in your pocket and he thinks he can hear you jingle some coins. “Still got some quarters left so you’re shit out of luck.”

“You’re just going to play a couple more games after that?“

“Uh, yeah? I never leave until I’m all out of quarters. Sorry.” Eddie’s expression falls, but his smile returns when you press your lips against his cheek and whisper in his ear, “Can’t you wait a little bit longer like a good boy? Promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” You give his lips a quick peck and wink. “If you think I’m going to end this day without having your dick inside me then you’re an idiot.”

Someone clears their throat loudly behind you and when you turn, you see what you can only assume is the owner of the bored adult voice earlier.

“There are kids in here, you know,” the man huffs.

“I don’t see any,” you say as you flip him off. “Or are you talking about yourself?” You grab Eddie’s hand and pull him along with you. “Come on, babe. Let’s leave these games for the kids, huh? We both got what we wanted. For now.”

The implication of what you’d done there hangs in the air as Eddie lets you lead him past the man and he barks out a laugh when he sees the furious, and dare he say frustrated, expression on his face.

Fully expecting to leave, he can’t hide his disappointment when you come to a standstill in front of a machine, Q*bert, and take a coin out of your pocket, obviously intending to still stick to your rule of not leaving until you had no coins left.

“You’re still going to- Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head as you put a quarter in the slot and start playing. “I’ll just get comfortable here then, shall I?”

“Uh-huh,” you reply, “just stand there and look pretty. Maybe it’ll help.”

“Okay, I can do that.” He folds his arms and leans against the cabinet next to yours, very much mirroring the stance that he had taken earlier. “But seriously, just one game and then I’m dragging you out of here.”

“Fiiiiine. One game,” you say with a loud groan that didn’t sound anywhere near convincing enough. “But you’d better settle in, pretty boy, because I can make these games last a lifetime if I have to.”

“Did you just call me out over not being good at playing video games? Seriously?” Amusement was dripping off his voice, because he honestly didn’t care that he was no good at any of the games here. But he could have sworn that you had just issued him a challenge and he had every intention of winning that. “Honey, I can last real long when I’m doing other things.”

“Sure.” If you were trying to come across as unimpressed, it wasn’t that successful. You looked more curious than anything else. You shrugged, a bit noncommittally, and threw in a, “They all say that.”

“I actually do though.” Eddie took a step closer and he could see your fingers tightening around the joystick, fully prepared to try your damndest not to let him distract you. One more step and he’s so close now that his lips are a couple of inches away from your ear. He clears his throat and chuckles when you jump ever so slightly. “Baby, I’m genuinely not boasting when I say that I could be down there for hours and I don’t think that I need to elaborate on that now, do I?”

You release the breath that you didn’t even know you were holding, close your eyes for a fraction of a second, and then the telltale “game over” tune starts playing.

“Fuck.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, did you just lose? I was really looking forward to seeing you play as well, but… a deal’s a deal.” Before you could protest (which you wouldn’t dream of doing), Eddie grabs your hand and makes good on his promise of dragging you out of the arcade. “I just really want to show you what I can do now. Promise you won’t be disappointed…”

And here's the picture that partially inspired this one...

#stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #mar writes

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seris-circle · 1 year

Text

The Other Woman

Drew starkey x femreader

Summary: After seeing the most recent post of drew in Italy, y/n begins to worry about them and the distance.

Warnings: pregnancy, thoughts of cheating, swearing, angst, Odessa

Life wasn't too enjoyable as the june heat of california began to ramp up at the same time as the final stretch of the pregnancy. Swollen ankles and excess sweat, you were miserable. Drew not being there made it worse. Of course, your mother was there, but without drew to hold you like usual or dote on you every waking moment of the day, it left you feeling alone, especially in the most important weeks of your pregnancy.

Luckily, your best friend, Danica, was in town and visiting. Danica was there to stay with you during the times when your mother was out running errands or even just having a day to herself, like times like now. your mom had gone to the grocery store to get your most recent cravings.

This left you and Danica alone to reflect on life. After having lunch together they had spent the rest of the day lounging on the living room couch in the AC. Scrolling on their phones as most do in the company of others until Danica broke the silence.

“Ooh, would you look at who’s in Italy?” she said turning her phone towards you. She revealed an insta story of Odessa and her friend Tyler walking the streets of Rome.

“Good for her” you responded after looking at the post. then back to scrolling.

“Are you serious y/n/n, that doesn’t irritate you? Odessa does seem to have the reputation of being sus around drew.” Danica pressed. you huffed and looked up at Danica.

“Dee, it's fine. Drew loves me and he would be stupid to let her do anything. Even so, if she were to make a move on an engaged man that has a child on the way I… ” you choked on your words. It is known that Odessa gets close to most of her male friends, including Drew. After they had starred in a film together, she had been at every event that he was at to the point where fans believed that they were a thing. This sent a weird thought in your head and with the hormones wreaking havoc on your emotions, you began to tear up. Danica looked at you waiting for you to finish the sentence. “I would… I don’t know yet. It will come to me, but I shouldn’t have to because drew would never even think of doing that.” You finished. You then went to your phone and began sending a text to Drew.

‘Missing you soooo much right now.’

‘But this mix of baby and heat is really making me hate you for doing this to me’

You sent the texts giggling to yourself, putting your phone down and began rubbing your belly. The baby girl that occupied your womb was so close to arrival and you were cherishing every moment of it but couldn’t wait until you could hold her in your arms.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hours had passed and you arrived back home after shopping for babygirl’s nursery with Danica. Still no response back from Drew or even an answer to your Facetime to get his opinion on rocking chair pillows, you began to get some symptoms of worry, one being heartburn but one that gave a cramp near her heart. you tried washing that feeling away with the reasoning of time differences and the possibility of him still shooting to ease the worry. Some time though had passed since you had been in the store you tried again.

Settling yourself in your room upstairs away from your mother and Danica, you dialed Drew’s number on Facetime. Yeah, it was 2 in the morning his time but Drew was an insomniac and was most likely awake. After 3 rings, the call was answered.

“Hey baby” Drew yelled over loud music, clearly he was at a club, but he still answered.

“Hi,” you responded with a small smile. “How are you doing? You haven’t answered texts.”

“Yeah, sorry. My phone was on silent all day, shooting went late” he replied trying to apologize.

“You shot all day and you still went out? I’d think you’d at least want one of those trailer naps you love” You said trying to come off jokingly but there was lots of concern laced in your voice.

“Yeah but for some reason, I'm wired and a couple of the crew members wanted to get drinks. Forget about me, how are you and baby doing? Anything happen today?” He went on, looking around once in a while to scope his surroundings.

“We’re ok, I sent you a text about the heat but that's about it. I bought some pillows for her nursery and tried calling you about it but you didn't answer so I just grabbed all of them.” He could hear the slight irritation in your voice so he focused completely on the screen. “Danica’s still in town so we went out to lunch too, but I haven’t been able to eat and-” you were cut off by another person’s voice in the call. It was a woman's voice, a voice you knew a little too well. “Who’s that?” You asked.

“Mmmh?” Drew responded while he was looking straight ahead but about the camera rather than at the camera as if he was talking to someone else.

“Who is that girl that I hear? You're with someone, just tell me who” You said again. As he looked back at the camera bringing it down, another person pulled it from him. It was Odessa.

“OMG, hey y/n! What’s up?” Odessa said grabbing the phone from Drew to talk to you.

“Heyyy, oh nothing, just making a human all by myself over here.” You replied, clearly now pissed. You heard some mumbles clearly coming from Drew as he grabbed his phone back from her. Drew must have told her to walk away and wait for him somewhere because she said goodbye and then whispered something in his ear, laying a quick kiss on his cheek before walking off. It clearly made him uncomfortable since he had to cough before turning all his attention back to you on the other line.

“Sooo, Odessa found you. Cool” The tears that you had been holding back caused your voice to slightly crack. You would think being an actress would hone in on this skill but it didn’t.

“It's nothing, we ran into each other at the bar and she wanted to get a couple of drinks at this club she knew about. I was just about to get her car back to her hotel, that's why she left.” Drew said, he sounded sincere but something just wasn’t right in your eyes. He could sense it too. “Don’t be mad” he continued.

“Mad, why would I be mad? She is just your friend” you said feeling the gerd build up in your chest and the ache in your abdomen worsen. “Forget about it though, I’m not feeling the best so I’m going to take a nap and you can go back to whatever you were up to before I called,” you said in a snide tone.

“Babe don’t. Let's talk, are you feeling ok? Is the baby ok?” Drew pressed on, knowing you were upset and he hated letting you go to bed upset.

“Everything’s fine, just slightly achy and nauseous, but I’ll be fine. I will text you when I wake up in the morning. Goodnight” You said, hanging up the phone before he could say anything else. The tears all fled in when you shut the phone off. You drenched your pillow with the salty waters.

It was only 5pm but you cried so much, you were out for the night, or at least you thought so. It was about 2am when you were awoken from a sound sleep but the worst possible pain in your abdomen. It was the ache from before but like cranked to 1000. You couldn’t contain the pain to the point that when you got up to walk to the in suite bathroom, You fell to your knees. You cried for your mom and she rushed to you the moment she heard the noise from down the hall of the quiet house. She ran into the room cradling you in her arms and she stroked your hair to calm you down, Danica soon in after her as she had heard the stomps of her running from downstairs.

“Baby what’s wrong?” Your mother said concerned, still holding you like you were still her little girl.

“Mommy the pain, my abdomen!” You cried holding your bump. “Something is wrong with the baby” you continued through the deep breaths.

“Danica, call 911, she’s in labor” your mother said after she felt the small puddle that crowded you. “Honey, it’s time, we gotta go” your mother said to you softly trying to hold back her own tears.

“Noooo. It’s too early, I’m not due for another 5 weeks” you pushed out through sobs.

“I know baby, but your water broke and your pain is too bad not to do anything” she said trying to get you to move. “Now let’s try to get you back on the bed while the we wait for the paramedics to get here” she finished

“I can’t move, it hurts too much. Get Drew, you have to get drew?” You said now hysterical. She began picking you up, Danica assisting now that the paramedics were on their way.

“I will call him as soon as you get in good hands and I no longer have to be on high alert.” Your mother responded.

“Please, I want him” you moaned through your cries now on the bed unable to keep your head up. Your mother did her best to reassure you that everything was ok, calming you enough until the paramedics could get to you and to the hospital. While she did that, Danica called drew until she couldn’t anymore. Each time it went to voicemail, so she just left a text at that point. Here you are about to give birth to your first child while your fiancé and the father of your child is off in another continent doing god knows what with his “friend”.

To be continued….

#drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #obx #Spotify

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darlingshane · 10 months

Text

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

#michael berzatto x ofc #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal #original character #michael berzatto x reader #angst #fluff #darlingwrites #sorry i used the reader tag #it's the only way to get my fic seen #salt of the earth

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