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ghost-proofbaby · 5 months ago

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AND I REMEMBER THINKING, ARE WE OUT OF THE WOODS YET?

summary: you and eddie are given a choice.

warnings: strong language, angst, everybody's a hypocrite (still), the sort of fake dating plot has officially entered the chat, sugar (reader) is specifically an idiot, minors dni

wc: 5.4k+

a/n: dedicating this chapter as a blatant birthday gift to @fracturedarkness. i am so grateful to have you in my life and absolutely adore you to the stars and back <3 thank you for supporting this story so much, and for always just generally being such an absolutely lovely person. we are so undeserving of your presence and light. ily so much my dear friend <3

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“For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you. Especially now that I know the truth.”

The lobby is cold as Matt’s words echo within the confines of your mind.

It’s cold enough that the front receptionist dons a cardigan as she types away at the computer, and the security guard wears a jacket worthy of a Chicago winter to identify himself. Cold enough to send a shiver up your spine as you trail behind Matt to the elevators.

Cold enough that innocent bystanders don’t notice the severely chilly shoulder you offer to Eddie the entire time.

You haven’t looked at him more than the one time when you approached the front door of the building, only offering him a fleeting glance before the two of you followed the path of his agent. It’s clear that Eddie should know his way as well as Matt does, but it doesn’t stop him from purposefully trailing behind you.

In an elevator full of mirrors, even when you should have no choice but to look at the man who has opened up a chasm within your chest, you keep strict eye contact with your own reflection. You can see Eddie in your peripherals, and you can see the look Matt offers him over your shoulder as well.

For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you.

Eddie had kept you a secret.

Especially now that I know the truth.

Or spun you into a blatant lie. You don’t know which one is worse.

“You know,” Matt mutters as he fiddles with a key ring, unlocking the door to what is clearly his office. The plaque on the door says his name. “Normally, when your agent is calling you repeatedly in the dead of night, it means answer him.”

It’s clear he’s speaking to Eddie, so you let him answer as you slide in past Matt as he holds open the door, “I did answer.”

“And then hung up.”

“I was busy.”

“Clearly.”

The office is surprisingly large, probably a deliberate illusion aided by the panoramic windows that occupy an entire wall across from the door. There’s shelves of awards and photos, cleanly lined up in pristine condition, a few even appearing to be copies of ones you’d spotted in Eddie’s apartment. Plated plaques engraved with achievements, photos of moments of the utmost importance framed by sleek black wood. Photos of Eddie, photos of Corroded Coffin, photos of unfamiliar faces. There’s a few empty spots that reveal the need for dusting, but there’s nothing that makes you particularly ache.

Except for one photo. A photo taken the day that Eddie had clearly signed Matt on as his agent; a photo of him shaking Matt’s hand, the smile on his face never having been more superficial. It couldn’t have been more than a month after the tour that you’d left him during.

“I don’t understand why the front cover of some stupid ass magazine is so important,” Eddie grumbles as he follows you now, both of you deciding to stand and not yet sit in the empty chairs on the closest side of what must be Matt’s massive desk, “The tabloids run rumors about my dating life all the time-”

“Exactly.”

The door slams shut behind Matt, and he doesn’t bother to lock it. You’re sure whatever is about to transpire, Matt has informed the entire building to leave the three of you alone as you talk.

“The tabloids are constantly running headlines about you and your mysterious affairs,” Matt continues as he rounds the desk, heading straight for a fairly comfortable looking office chair, “You’re always adding more fuel to the fire. And the label is getting sick of it, Eds.”

There’s an edge to his tone that has you taking a seat the moment he waves for the two of you to do so. Eddie to your left, and a shelf of all that he is now to your right. A life he’s built without you. A life he drafted the blueprints for with you.

“I don’t think I’ve heard anyone call him Eds in years,” you whisper under your breath, staring at the grey carpet below the soles of your feet.

Neither man pays you any mind for the time being.

“I can’t control the press, Matt.”

“You could. You just don’t want to.”

“To-may-toe, to-maw-toe,” Eddie waves off into the air, slumping into the stagnant chair he now occupies, “My job is to make music, not make some perfect image.”

“No, my job is to keep your image digestible, at the very least,” Matt is scowling so deeply, you’re convinced you’re watching new wrinkles imprint into his skin in real time, “You and I both know that these days, it’s about more than the music. People need to like you so you can sell records. And all you’ve done is an exceptional job at pissing the people off.”

You finally, finally spare a glance to Eddie, and his glare matches Matt’s, “It’s never been an issue before.”

Matt lets out a scoff, making your head whip to him, “Oh, no. It certainly has been. The only time it wasn’t an issue was before you signed me as your agent.”

“That’s why I hired you,” Eddie smiles, but there’s not an ounce of joy behind the curl of his lips, “Right?”

Matt nods for a few beats, before he turns his head at a leisurely place to level you with a stare. The glare melts microscopically, some form of pity behind his older eyes.

“You did, and that’s the issue.”

When Matt’s hands come up to rest on his desk, you notice him immediately toying with the corner of the shortest stack of papers on his desk. Only a few pages, and you don’t miss the several blank spaces left deliberately throughout the top page.

A contract.

“I’ve done the best that I could with what you’ve given me to work with, but…” Matt trails off, eyes darting to Eddie only momentarily before focusing on you once more, “You haven’t been submitting nearly as many songs as your contract outlined. You’ve been busier making headlines than you have been making albums. I- They’re pissed off, Eddie. The label is pissed off now, and they’re up my ass.” “Sounds like a you problem.” Now, it’s you glaring at Eddie.

All his hackles are raised, the portrait of who he’s been trying to convince everyone that he has become over the last two years painting over all the lines of the man you’d been digging after these last few weeks. Overshadowing the promise of a good man by a simple, jagged tone of voice.

“No, it’s a you problem,” you snap, making both men finally have no choice but to acknowledge you, “You’re the one who wants to be a rockstar, not Matt. If you’d pull your head out of your ass long enough to actually listen to him, maybe he could actually help you.”

It’s crueler than necessary. A slap to Eddie’s awe-stricken face. “I-” he starts, but your glare sharpens, eyes narrowing at him as he tries to ready a counter-argument, and it’s clear the fight dies on his tongue as he sighs, “Fine – fine. What do we do about it, Matt?”

When the unspoken battle fizzles out, reluctantly on your part and eagerly on Eddie’s, Matt is simply onlooking with the faintest of smiles.

“What?” Eddie questions immediately, clearly just as confused by you in his sudden change in demeanor, “Why are you smiling?”

“Her.”

He nods curtly in your direction, grin growing a bit wider. It does little to answer the question.

“Me?” you ask, lifting a ginger finger to rest against your chest.

“You,” Matt repeats, and nods a bit more eagerly for a few seconds before he rifles those papers in front of him again, “Just now. You watched the way we were going back and forth. I can’t get through to Eddie-” a short pause in which Eddie almost speaks up, but one lift of your hand to signal him to stay quiet is effective, “-but you clearly can. He went from argumentative to agreeable in seconds. He became digestible, all because of you.”

Your stomach sinks. You can see where this is going, even if Eddie can’t, as you croak out, “It could have been a one-off. Sheer luck.”

The contracts. The headlines. The meeting with both of you.

“I don’t think it was.”

You’ve read about this somewhere, in some awful and painfully predictable romance book. You’ve seen a movie about this before, in some rundown and eerily empty theater as the cheesy rom-com occupies the big screen. “I can’t control Ed-” you start, but Matt is quick to cut you off.

“You’ve gotten more out of him in the last three weeks than I have in the last year,” Matt points out, leaning forward on his desk, palms making the wood creak, “He’s in the studio, making more music than I can even keep track of. He’s willing to get involved in the band's decisions, not even sleeping through the meetings with the suits these days.”

Eddie scoffs as he shifts uncomfortably, “Maybe I’m just inspired.”

“I’m sure you are,” Matt readily agrees, “By her.”

The fucking contracts. You’ve already had to sign on to be involved in Eddie’s life for a full three months, smoke and mirrors about closure and just surviving these months having filtered through your lungs since the moment you stepped foot in that conference room.

For what it’s worth, I am sorry for what I’m about to ask the two of you.

This was about to become about far more than just arranging a party for a single release. This was about to become about far more than just getting closure.

“Just get it over with,” you whisper, staring blankly at papers you can practically read already, even upside down. You’re not an idiot – you realize now what Matt, what the label wants. “Say it.”

Eddie’s still in the dark as he glances at you, “Say what?”

Matt shares a knowing look with you. Almost sad, almost remorseful. As if he isn’t about to ruin your life. As if he isn’t about to ask you to burn down every single thing you had built up with your own bare hands.

Just over a month ago, you had been convinced you’d finally closed the chapter on this part of your life. You had let the ink dry, you had let the fresh pages cool, and you had damned the entire novel of you and Eddie to the attic of your past. To gather dust, to be eaten away by the moths, to be forgotten as you moved along with life – you swore it was finally over.

And now this. Now, you were contracted to help him with the damn release party for a song certainly about you. Now, Matt was about to ask you to sign away the last of your sanity, all for the sake of the man you thought you’d finally slammed the door on.

“You think I can control Eddie, that I could be good for his image,” you say flatly, not sparing a glance at the problem child beside you, “You think I can fix the mess he’s made, because you can’t. You’re assuming, and assuming, and assuming,” you take a deep breath, moments away from breaking apart, not letting it show as you lean back in the chair, “Assuming is bad for business, Matt.”

To your surprise, Matt nods in agreement, “It is. So don’t let me make an ass of myself – prove the assumptions right,” Finally, he grabs a pen, bringing it to lay atop of the contracts. “I’ve already pitched the idea to the big shots upstairs. They’ve already approved it.”

Eddie lurches forward, “What idea?”

Matt ignores Eddie’s question, the conversation spiraling into tunnel vision between you two, “Again, I am sorry.”

He slides the contracts in a circle, finally making them legible to you and Eddie.

PUBLIC RELATIONS (PR) AGREEMENT.

Eddie takes the time to read the sentences, littered with blank spaces perfectly sized to fit your legal names. Spots for dates, empty boxes for initials.

A neatly wrapped up present – a professional PR stunt in a contract.

“Matt, what is this?” Eddie’s voice is shaking as he gets about halfway through the page, “What the fuck does this mean?”

“PR stunts are common in the industry,” Common with problem rockstars, he means, “Sometimes they’re simple agreements to benefit both parties, and sometimes they’re last ditch attempts at saving someone’s image. It’s the latter, for you.”

Eddie isn’t piecing it together fast enough. Or maybe he has, and he’s just in denial.

“Say it fucking plainly, or I’ll leave this office and-”

“It’s time to kill your bachelor image,” Matt grabs a second pen, working mechanically as though he’s gone into autopilot, “Tame the bad boy image, as I put it to the suits.”

“You want me to agree to be Eddie’s fake girlfriend,” you take over the explaining, since Matt won’t just say it, “You want us to sign a contract, and promise to play nice in public. Act so in love the entire public forgets that Eddie ever trashed a hotel room or stuck his tongue down some random’s throat-”

“I haven’t done that publicly in months,” he snaps, now looking harshly at you, clearly infuriated the more he reads.

“No, but the rumors still circulate,” you recall your Google search that night before Eddie came properly barrelling back into your life, “The only thing people love to gossip about more than someone’s downfall, is their love life.”

“Exactly.” Matt clicks one pen, and puts it closer to Eddie. “So help me out, and give them something good to talk about for once.”

You need a moment; you need to consider it all, you need to weigh out the pros and cons. The room is suffocating, all that dust you’d previously noticed now itching your throat and the fabric of the chair stabbing far too uncomfortably against your skin through your clothes. The large windows can’t stop the walls from closing in.

“No,” Eddie barks out, throwing himself back from the paper as though it might burn him, “No.”

“Eddie, please trust me when I say-”

“I’m not doing this – I’m not doing this to her.”

“You’ve already done it to me,” you laugh bitterly, leaning forward and pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until you see stars. Until the space behind your eyes aches. “The headline went viral online, right?”

“Yeah,” guilt seeps into Matt’s words, “It did.”

“Have they figured out who I am?”

The they in question being the fans – the they in question being the tabloids. If just one person recognizes you and cracks the code, you’ll be the talk of the town for at least a month, regardless if you sign the contract or not.

You’re the first girl to ever be taken back to the infamous Rockstar’s apartment. The first to ever make it past the threshold of the bars, the clubs, the afterparties.

It’s already a big deal.

“Not from what I’ve seen,” When Matt slides a pen over to you, he makes a point to not click it. A choice is very clearly being given. Eddie is expected to sign, no longer being given a choice, but you? You don’t have to do this, “There've been a few D list model’s names thrown out, and a few people thought it might even be a B lister in a wig, but… they don’t know it’s you, yet.”

Yet. But they will, eventually. The general public is capable of astonishing things when they set their minds to it. No doubt, there would be a way for them to resurface old photos of you and Eddie prior to the band skyrocketing to success, or someone who knows you will recognize your blurry side profile in the paparazzi’s pictures.

Eddie doesn’t budge on his stance, arms crossed and eyes blazing, “What’s the alternative?”

“Excuse me?” Matt raises a brow.

“The alternative,” one of Eddie’s ringed hands flourishes through the air, “What can we do instead of this?”

You already know what Matt is about to say before he opens his mouth. You already know the ultimatum about to be presented to the two of you.

“You only have two options,” he sighs, a pregnant pause before he continues, “Either you sign this contract, we arrange the fake dates and press, so on and so forth. Or you cut off all communications. The two of you are never even seen in the same city again, if possible. You,” he pauses to nod towards you, “Will sign an NDA before disappearing from Eddie’s circle entirely. And you,” he then nods to Eddie, a bit more stern as he looks to his client, “will have to go through the process of signing some other sort of damage control scheme. Likely either an arrangement with someone else of the label’s choosing, or a contract of celibacy for the next year or so. Put it into writing that you’ll be the angel child of the label for an indefinite amount of time.”

You’re still reeling a bit from the threat of having to vanish from Eddie’s life once more, for good this time, when you catch onto that last part, “If I don’t agree to this, you’ll just replace me with someone else?”

The image coming to mind through the fog makes you sick, and not for the expected reasons. It’s not the image of Eddie with his hands on someone else that makes your skin crawl. It’s not the picture of Eddie singing songs on a stage every night, songs written about you, and claiming they’re about some other lover in the crowd.

It’s the look on his face.

The fall of every muscle, the spark of fear behind umber eyes. The immediate fiddling of rings that exposes all the anxiety building up beneath his skin.

The thought of being in his shoes, and being forced to pretend to love a stranger, all because of a few mistakes.

And - okay, well, a few mistakes is an understatement. Eddie did this to himself. He had dug this grave, shovelful by shovelful, all by his own doing. He had made his bed; he should have to sleep in it.

But you can’t. You can’t let him when you see the shakes in his breath and the sincere regret, when you recall every single moment from the night before with such striking clarity. Even after all that the two of you have been through, you can’t resist that inherent urge to protect him.

You can’t quiet the voice that whispers that you still care for him, and you still want to be there for him, even at your own destruction.

He opens his mouth, surely about to seal his fate and agree to the one thing you know he doesn’t want to do but will for your sake, when you beat him to the punch line.

“I’ll do it.”

You don’t want to vanish again. You want to stay. You want to fight.

“What?” Eddie looks up to you, and he looks close to tears, “What, no. You’re not doing this-”

You ignore him, swallowing hard as you nearly jump out of the chair to retrieve the pen and glance over the paper until you find a random spot to begin signing at. The click of the pen drowns out his protest, and the angry scribbling across the paper shuts him up entirely.

The signature is messier than the one you’d scanned into the computer for all your emails, but it will do.

“Why would you do that?” Eddie asks, eyes wild as he reaches out to take the pen from you. But it doesn’t matter – the damage is done, “Why the fuck would you sign that?”

“You heard him,” you try to keep a steady tone, you really do, but you fail miserably. You refuse to look in Eddie’s eyes, instead choosing to channel all your glaring and all your anger towards Matt, “It was this or I leave again. It was the easiest option for everyone involved.”

Matt is riddled with disbelief – he clearly hadn’t thought you’d do it. He had thought he’d lost the battle.

“I…” he glances down at the paper, avoiding looking at Eddie’s hands that still hovers to snatch away the pen, instead choosing to point at another blank line towards the top of the page before he clears his throat to assume a professional voice, “Please print your name here.”

Eddie’s hand falls away, and as you carve out the letters on the parchment, you swear it’s your blood staining the page rather than the ink.

—

“Are you fucking insane?”

Once the two of you had finished filling out all the dreadful paperwork, Matt had offered to call a car to take you both back to the studio.

“I’m not the one screaming in the street right now.”

You were starting to regret not requesting a separate car from Eddie.

“Why the fuck would you sign that contract?” he continues his tirade, hands flailing as he stands before you on the sidewalk. “We had options, Sugar! Fucking options-”

“Shitty options,” you finally snap, leaning around his figure, glancing down the busy street for any sign of the black SUV that would be picking you up, “We had shitty options, and I chose the lesser of the two evils.”

“Lesser of two evils?” he laughs bitterly, hand shoving down into his pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes, “I was ready to tell him to just get one of those D list models on the phone. I had one rule, one fucking rule, and we’ve managed to break it with one flick of a pen.”

As he pulls out a cigarette, lighter appearing in his other hand as he cups the stick between his teeth, you decide to humor him, “And what would that one rule be? Hm?”

He takes his time. Lights the cigarette, takes a long drag, holds it in his lungs as he shoves the lighter back deep within his pocket. His eyes find yours carefully just as the first wisps of smoke slip free from between his lips, breeze ruffling his curls across his forehead.

“Keep you out of it.”

Your mouth snaps shut just as another strong breeze whips around the two of you.

What the fuck can you say to that?

“Keep me out of it?” you repeat his words in dubiety, creases forming between your brows, “What do you mean keep me out of it?”

You’re going in circles today, continuously returning to asking questions you already know the answers to. It doesn’t take a genius to decipher what Eddie means by his rule.

The notebook of songs that have yet to see the light of day. The way his past was seemingly erased the moment the band shot into stardom. The lack of your name and memory having ever been so much as uttered in an interview. The fact that even Matt hadn’t known the truth about you two.

You had originally been hurt at the erasure of you from the history of Eddie Munson, but there’s something breaking behind his eyes currently that offers explanation.

“Out of this entire shit show,” his breaths are hard and heavy as he flicks the ash off the cigarette, making no move to take a second drag, “Out of all the rumors, out of all the fucking headlines. I just- I just didn’t want them to ruin you, too.”

And yet, here you were.

“What’s done is done,” you mutter, an SUV turning onto the street that you have a hunch is heading your way, “Not like we can unsign the contracts.”

The car is, in fact, yours. Eddie opens the door after stomping out his cigarette. He holds it open long enough for you to climb in first, following quickly after and slamming the vehicle shut. Cutting off all the noise of the outside world and immediately leaving the two of you to be alone, properly alone, once more.

Save for, of course, the driver.

But the man doesn’t even so much as glance back at the two of you in the backseat before he’s slowly setting the car into motion once more, already beginning to navigate the roads back to the studio.

Until suddenly, Eddie is piping up, an irritable voice capable of echoing about the inside of the SUV.

“Take us back to my apartment,” he demands, but when you glare at him from the side, he clears his throat and adds on a measly, “Please.”

It’s a start. There’s a long road ahead, but it’s a start.

You expected the entire ride to be filled with arguments. Under the assumption that Eddie would be too riled up to care about the driver’s presence, you sit tensely and wait for him to throw the first punch once more. Make a comment about what you’d last said before getting in the car, once again scrutinize the decision you had made. He’d never been silent in his anger; he was always loud, always made it known. He’d always claimed, back in Hawkins, he’d rather you know he’s angry so the two of you could fix it.

But he doesn’t say a word. His jaw twitches with irritations, his eyes stay focused on the passing sidewalk out his window rather than you, and his entire body remains an impenetrable distance from your own. Even on the roughest of turns, he never allows his knee to so much as bump yours.

He’s not making it known. He’s not offering the option to fix it.

You fall into old habits immediately, youth insecurities as you simmer in the silence and the boil of a fight that has to happen eventually – right? The fight is unavoidable. The fight had already technically begun outside of Matt’s office. He has to make it known at some point; he has to say what needs to be said so the two of you can just fix it.

But then a hoarse voice in the back of your mind whispers, what if he doesn’t see this as something worth fixing?

Had you even seen it as something worth fixing?

You had been the one to leave originally. You had been the one to not make it known to him all those years ago, never using your words to tell him how you had felt and leave the door for redemption wide open. You had been the one that had evaluated the situation, and for some strange reason, deemed your relationship with someone you had truly believed you’d spend the rest of your life with as something to just run from.

By the time the car has arrived outside of Eddie’s building, you’re a mess. Metaphorically, physically, mentally. A tragic mess.

He still holds open the door for you, still nods at your squeak of thanks as you shuffle past him. He still mutters a pitiful goodbye to his driver. And he still won’t look at you, won’t speak to you.

Something inside of you burns. Had he even intended for you to follow him into the apartment? Or had he hoped you would have given your address to the driver as he slid out of the seat, set your eyes on your own home and away from him?

It’s funny, the way one quick signature and you’re back to square one of your youth. Insecure and unsure, second guessing every choice. The entire persona you had built up over two long years has officially crumbled, and you don’t even have to look into a mirror to absolutely hate the girl staring back now.

At least before, the catch of your reflection in the shining walls of an elevator wouldn’t make you sick to your stomach. At least in those two long years, you could stand the sound of your own breathing.

Each step down the hall and towards Eddie’s front door after the quiet elevator ride is haunted. More self-doubt, more anger at yourself. The pad of the soles of your shoes against carpeting is a drumming heartbeat building up to something.

That something snaps when Eddie unlocks the door.

He motions for you to enter first, but you stand your ground. Staring him down, silently urging him to just fucking look at you.

“After you,” he mumbles when you make no move to walk past him, waving his hand a second time as he continues to stare at the ground.

You were both different people. Personas don’t just crumble because you sign a contract. You were still someone head-strong, someone capable, someone who could be sure of herself. You weren’t some naive child, lost in the thrills of your first grandiose love. And Eddie was no longer the boy you’d spent long days and longer nights with at Lover’s Lake, and at local record shops every Sunday. He was no longer the person you’d kiss dizzy as the incense burned on the shelf. He was someone new, someone different, someone unfamiliar.

And yet, even in knowing all of this, attempting to redrill it all into your head once more, you also know that some things will never have to change. Some things between the two of you will always stay the same.

You want one of those things to be making the anger known.

“Look at me,” the demand comes out soft, a bit more feeble than you’d wanted, but it still comes out all the same. The words fall from your lips, and you swear you see Eddie flinch.

He doesn’t look up.

“Eddie,” you say, a bit more urgently, a tad bit more desperate, “I know you’re pissed so-”

“I don’t wanna do this. Not here.”

You take a sharp breath, and bite back the urge to spit out tough luck, “Well, I do.”

“Do you?” When his head finally snaps up and his eyes finally meet yours, it’s as if ice shards have replaced all your blood, chilling your system to its core, “Do you really? You wanna finish that fight we started back in the studio, right here – right outside of my apartment?”

There it is: the anger. It strains every syllable of every word of his. But there’s still hope, all because of one little word.

The fight we started.

We. Not just you, not just him. We.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, something in you eager at him finally just acknowledging it once again. His silence had been cruel, his brooding had been torture, and it’s easier to hear the venom he directs to you than nothing at all. “I do. I want to fight.”

Did something just soften in his eyes, or are you just delusional? Are you that desperate to crave and imagine him feeling all the same things you were feeling? You want him to want this; you want him to want the fight, because then, it means there’s still something to fix.

“Can we at least do it inside the apartment?” he flatly requests, lips a fine line as he levels you with that same dead stare. Dead, with glimmers of something buried alive beneath the surface.

Something. Anything.

He was never a stain. He isn’t an old maroon, seeped into the cotton of your existence, rusting over your past. He’s something here, something tangible, in this very moment. He’s fresh wine rushing down your chest, he’s vibrant scarlet sticking to your skin. The potential of a stain, but for now, the wound is still wet. Still fresh. Still something you can wipe away, if you play your cards right.

You walk through his door, shoulder brushing his chest, and you almost wonder if you’re even willing to play your cards right. This time, you almost consider if what you want, what you’ve always wanted, is for Eddie to leave a stain on you that could never be cleaned away.

After all, what is a stain if not a reminder of something loved, something worth keeping, fixed or not?

The door shuts softly behind Eddie as he trails in behind you, and with a final sigh and click of the lock, he turns to you.

“Alright. Let’s fight.”

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#ghost's stories #maroon #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things #if it's bad close your eyes #lord help us i'm getting too flowery and metaphorical again

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nethhiri · 5 months ago

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Chapter 59: Eye Eye, Cap'n

Warnings: "medical" "procedures", Heat gets something stuck in his ass

Milling about the infirmary, you made a list of things you needed to restock on. If it were an emergency, you could probably make them, however you preferred to keep your devil fruit reserved for your prisoners at the moment. You were starting to understand Wire's preference in clothing. You had no choice but to commandeer his fit since your pants were ruined. There was no question you could have fixed those too, but once you tried on Wire's fishnets, out of curiosity, you didn't want to. Instead, you decided to add his tiny shorts, which were much less tiny on you, yet stretchy enough not to fall down. His mesh bralette-like top had to be adjusted a bit to fit your body. Once everything was on, you couldn't deny that you felt very sexy.

There was a touch of a strut to your step as you paraded around your domain. When your eyes touched the place where Kid had upset you, your step faltered. Failing to push it from your mind, your heartbeat sped, thinking about it had been causing you quite a lot of anxiety. You were still angry, but no longer seething. It was reasonable to assume Kid would be safe in your presence, however not guaranteed. You knew you would have to face it soon. All you needed from him was a sincere apology and reassurance that you were something more than easy sex. You wanted to believe it was just something stupid he had said, and it most likely was, but you needed him to say it for you to fully forgive him and put it behind you. You wished it was easier being romantically entwined with him. With Killer it seemed so easy. Why couldn't it be like that with Kid? Or was it normal with Kid, and Killer was the abnormality? Relationships, if you wanted to call whatever you had with them that, were an enigma to you.

You leaned against the counter and took a short break. You had gotten into your feelings again and needed to clear your head. Tears pricked your eyes at the thought of not being able to forgive Kid. Fuck him for making you soft. You wanted badly to go back to the way things were, but you were not going to compromise your self-worth. When you first stepped on the ship, you were fearless and confident. Lately, you had been feeling like part of that was lost when you were in captivity. You were struggling to regain it. This anxiety of being wanted and accepted was undermining your composure. Maybe that was it. Maybe caring about it was the thing that was undermining your usual confidence. Before, you couldn't have given less of a shit about the Kid Pirates, and now you gave a lot of shits.

A timid knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, fortunately.

"Yeah?"

Heat shuffled in awkwardly.

"Hey, Heat. What's wrong?" You immediately clocked his discomfort.

He seemed to look around to make sure no one else was there.

"It's okay. No one is here." You went to the door to lock it and double checked that the one to Kid's workshop was still locked. "You can tell me." As Heat approached, there was a low humming noise. "What is that noise?"

Heat faced the floor, fidgeting with his hands.

The noise emanated from Heat, specifically his abdomen. Your eyebrows furrowed, as it sounded familiar. When you realized what it was, your eyes went wide and darted to his face. "Heat!? Are you serious?"

"It was an accident. Please don't tell Wire."

"I won't say a word to anyone." You sighed. You didn't have plans to be elbow deep in someone today, but here we were. "There's a few things we can try, but let's start with the easiest."

You had him lean over one of the gurneys and drop his pants while you put gloves on, the long ones. A few other things, like lubricant and a mild analgesic cream, were also grabbed. Hopefully, that was all you needed. If it was further up, you may need to use your fruit. You stood to the side of him.

"Cold hands," you warned as you parted his cheeks enough to put some of the cream on his asshole. Then you lubed up your hand. "I'm gonna need you to relax as much as possible, hun. I'm going to see if I can reach it manually. I may need you to bear down at some points, okay?"

Heat nodded, clearly embarrassed. This is not how he imagined you inside him.

"Tell me if it hurts. Ready?" After another nod, you gently pressed a finger inside him, using the vibrations to guide you. Luckily, the vibrator he used wasn't very far up and he was lubed enough from whatever he had been doing that your finger easily reached the base. Your clean hand rested on Heat's lower back, gently patting him for comfort. "You're doing great. I think I can feel it."

Gently, you retracted your hand enough to add a second finger. You paused as he tensed, waiting for him to relax again before going forward. Holding them in a scissor shape, you grasped the base of the sex toy with your fingers. "Push. Not hard, please." When Heat neared down, the base was pushed more firmly into your grasp and you tugged just enough to make it move. "Keep doing that."

With a soft whimper from Heat and a sloppy, wet noise, the dildo was free. Heat let out a relieved sigh.

"It's a boy!" You said, presenting the lube-covered thing to him, still vibrating. "Good thing it was a skinny one." You turned it off and tossed the thing in the sink. Heat stayed still while you cleaned him up with a warm washcloth. "All done."

Heat pulled up his pants. "Thanks, Doc." His face was red with embarrassment. Half from the incident that had happened and half because he was a little turned on by it. Did he just discover a new kink? Did he like playing doctor? Or maybe he liked seeing you in Wire's clothes.

"What did we learn?"

"Tapered bases are important for a reason."

"If it happens again, I may have to give you a lesson on how to play safely." You winked at him. "Now take your fake dick and scram."

"Sorry, ma'am. Won't happen again." Heat darted from the infirmary, shoving his vibrator in his pocket so no one could see it.

You went back to what you were doing, grateful to have your thoughts filled with wondering how Heat managed to get that stuck up his ass, instead of thinking about real feelings. Mini snorted in a judgy way from her napping spot against the back wall.

"Everyone does it once! Don't bully Heat. That's my job."

She snorted again and let her head rest on the floor.

Your list was fairly long. You had used up a lot of the supplies on yourself, or they had been used on you when you were incapacitated. You weren't even sure when the Victoria would docking at an island. If you were on speaking terms with him, you could ask Kid. You could have asked Wire the previous night but you were otherwise occupied. Killer hadn't been around for a minute and certainly, you were not going to ask Heat while you were knuckles deep in him, not that you had thought about it then.

You tapped your foot, staring at a bare corner in the small room. Something could fit there. Now that you knew you could restore things, as long as they weren't rotten to the point of no return, maybe you could start saving spare parts. Kid could build you a fridge no doubt. Killer may even have an old one to spare. You could harvest the more important parts from prisoners and replace them when one of your own crew was injured. You didn't even need a refrigerator technically. You could put everything in formalin like your eye had been in, though it would take a lot more effort to get it in working order. The fridge would be better. A deep freezer could work as well. You would have to test that to see if freezing affected the parts too much.

A metallic, rolling sound caught your attention. You rolled your eyes watching silver nuts and bolts stream across the floor. Not this again. Still, you felt your face get hot. It was the little things like this that made Kid so charming when he waned to be. Per routine, you knelt on the floor, watching them form words and shapes.

COME HERE.

You rearranged them: WHY?

MISS YOU.

More like he missed your pussy. There wasn't enough material to spell that though. AND?

LO- He started to spell something and then the metal bits quickly scattered and rearranged. WANT 2 SEE U.

WHY? You arranged the pieces in reply.

This time you heard muffled yelling from the other side of the door. "OH FER FUCK SAKE, WOMAN!" It was followed by banging on aforementioned door.

"WHY SHOULD I OPEN IT?" You yelled back.

"RAGHHHH." Kid's loud, exasperated yell was followed by stomping footsteps fading away and then getting closer, but in a different place. Kid flung open the actual door to the infirmary.

Startled by the stomping, the dozing boar in the back of the room suddenly became alert and ready to defend her master. Did she "accidentally" mistake Kid for an enemy? Did she have a grudge against Kid in the first place? Had she always wanted to headbutt Kid full force? Either way, Kid was barely one step in before a flash of brownish-red flew by you. You heard a grunt and a whoosh as the force of Mini's head knocked the air from Kid's chest. You took off running after him, realizing a little too late that Kid was flying over the edge of the ship, and you were following him down. Instinct made you chase him. You were completely focused on seeing if he was okay, and not at all focused on where he was headed. You should have been laughing your ass off at the railing watching that dumbass sink until Killer undoubtedly jumped to save him, but no. You cared too much and now you were destined to sink with him.

You saw the water below explode and froth as Kid's broad body hit it. The water swallowing you whole before you could register what was happening. At least you had taken a full breath before you were enveloped by the icy, cold sea. Kid had nothing. When your hand touched something soft, you grabbed onto it and pulled closer, immediately recognizing it. At the same time, something curled around you in an iron grip. The poor visibility in the water made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front of you, and the salt stung your eyes. Still, your mouth found Kid's and you pushed half the air you had into him. Here you were again, always giving him something of yours, trying to prove yourself. His stupid ass better appreciate you giving him a few more minutes to realize that.

Any second now Killer would be yanking you both out. Any second now. Except you were both still sinking.

He was coming to get you both right? What if no one saw you go in? You clung more tightly to Kid's feathered cape and you felt Kid's other arm wrap around you in a protective embrace.

It felt like forever because of the adrenaline. In reality, it was only a few seconds. Your muscles started to burn from the lack of oxygen. Kid grabbed your arm, positioning it in front of you and turning it so the bottom side of your forearm was up. You stared at him, confused. With his other hand he made your head look back down at your arm and gestured for you to watch. With a finger, he wrote across your skin. You could barely see what he was writing, but you could feel it.

S-O-R-R-Y

A mix of emotions flooded you. The first was relief, followed by longing. An apology was all you wanted. The second was anger. Why did it take a life or death situation to spur him on? Then you were guilty. That probably wasn't true. You had been ignoring him and pushing him away. Maybe he intended to say it earlier and you had been too hard-headed to accept that. Lastly, you were scared. What if he was only saying it because you were near death? Did he know something you didn't? He pulled you back into an embrace, suddenly pushing you away from him after a few long seconds. What was he doing?! You stretched, reaching out for him, and were yanked upward. You tried kicking at whoever was pulling you away, losing some of the air you had left in a flurry of bubbles, but were too weak. You covered your mouth and nose to keep the rest of the air from escaping.

As soon as your head broke the surface of the water, you were coughing and gasping for air. You hadn't even blinked the water from your eyes before you were scanning for anything red in the waves.

"Where's Kid?!"

"Worry about yourself, not your boytoy." Dive's sharp teeth glistened in the sun's rays reflecting off the water as she grinned. She patted your back as a fit of coughing overtook you. "Killer's got him. Don't fret."

With surprising strength, Dive swam with you in tow. Seconds later, there was a disturbance in the water as one blond, albeit under a helmet, and one red head popped up. You held your breath with worry until you heard Kid cough as well. Dive and Killer got you both on deck with the help of the rest of the crew. You and Kid lay flat on your backs trying to catch your breaths. Your hand searched to your side until it found purchase in Kid's. Even though you heard him cough, you were relieved that his hand was warm. At least this time you didn't loss consciousness. You had woken up in this position more times than you cared to remember.

You sat up and Killer helped you to your feet, then thanked Dive before Wire and Heat shooed off the rest of the spectating crew. Heat was still walking funny, but he seemed fine. From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kid glaring in the direction of a very smug-looking pig. You got in the way of his line of sight. You were mad at her, mad wasn't the right word, but would scold her privately. If you did it now, you weren't sure what Kid would do, assuming he was already pissed at the animal. Kid rose from the deck, shaking water from his hair, and walked towards you, meaning to get to Minerva. You backed up, putting yourself between he and Mini. You could forgive the things he did to you, but you would not forgive anything he did to her. Your back touched her as she stood to her full height, fur puffed out, taking a fighting stance against Kid. He similarly made himself look bigger, but you didn't sense malice from him, strangely.

You put a hand out to keep him back. "It was an accident! All your stomping spooked her!"

"YER LUCKY I DON'T BARBECUE YA AND FEED THE CREW TONIGHT FOR THAT STUNT!" He leaned in as if he were gonna growl something to the boar, instead speaking in a hushed normal voice. "That was yer one free shot at me cuz I deserved it." He narrowed his eyes. "I know ya been wantin to do that fer a while, piggy."

Gazing into his amber eyes before they flicked away, you knew that was part of his apology to you, choosing to let the boar's actions go because you loved her and he loved you. He turned to go back to his workshop, with you tailing him.

"Hey! You can't stay in wet clothes! You'll get sick!"

Suddenly your feet weren't touching the ground as Killer plucked you from the deck and followed Kid. "That goes for you, too, little darlin." He grabbed the back of Kid's coat and pulled him below deck with you towards his room.

Killer stripped you both of your wet clothes, though taking a minute to appreciate how good Wire's outfit looked on you. And the two of you were now seated nude at the end of Killer's bed, hands shoved between your legs and heads down with guilt, while he paced back and forth, arms folded over his ample chest. He was deciding which one of you to scold first, not allowing you to put clothes on yet.

"You." He stood at your feet and you reluctantly met his gaze through the holes of his mask. "Are you stupid? Why would you jump in after this big idiot?"

"HEY!" Kid protested.

You covered yourself up to the best of your ability, feeling vulnerable under Killer's gaze. "I didn't mean to. I just..."

"Just what? Hm?" Underlying Killer's stern voice, was a thin layer of exasperation. "I have to worry about him enough. I don't need you adding to it."

"I wasn't thinking! I saw that he got hurt and I went after him!"

"And you didn't see the ocean? The giant blue thing on all sides of us." Killer huffed and carried on. "You come get ME. Understand? What if no one saw you go in? Huh? Then both of you would be lost."

"I..." You snapped. "I only saw Kid okay?! I was scared he was hurt! As much as he irritates the fuck out of me and makes me mad, I still care about him and I can't stop." You saw him grinning stupidly beside you and punched him. "Fuck off. I hate you." You folded your arms tighter and turned away from him so he couldn't see your pink-dusted cheeks, slapping his hand away when he tried to pinch one.

Kid's boisterous laugh filled the room. "HA-HA! YER IN LOVE WITH ME, DUMBASS!"

Killer snapped at him with his fingers. "Hey, numbnuts, look at me." Kid's laugh faded as it was his turn to be scolded. "Stop riling up the pig, first of all. Second of all, stop saying stupid shit. That's what always gets you into trouble. Think for one extra second before you open that big ass mouth of yours."

"FINE." Kid huffed.

"Did you apologize yet?"

You half turned to see what his expression was, seeing him looking at you with a question, and nodded, indicating you accepted his underwater apology.

"Aye."

"Y/N?"

"He did."

"Great." Killer clapped his hands. "Now kiss and make up." Killer turned both of your heads to face each other. "Don't be shy."

You curled your lip and gave Kid a quick peck on the cheek.

"No! Not good enough!" Killer folded his arms. "What's wrong?"

You hesitated. If you were going to get it off your chest, now was the time. You huffed and faced Kid. "I want to know that..." you forced yourself to keep his gaze. "...I'm more than sex."

"Hah?!" Kid had an incredulous expression on his face. "What're ya? Stupid? Course ya are!"

"But you said...as long as I have a pussy-"

Kid put a hand over his face. "Fuck me! That's not what I meant. I was tryin to make ya laugh is all."

"It wasn't funny! I had real fears that...maybe that's all I would be if I couldn't fight."

"Once a Kid Pirate, always a Kid Pirate. We won't abandon ya, even if ya get hurt. Do ya think we would raid a marine base to save ya if ya didn't mean more to us?" Kid continued. "If all I wanted was easy sex, I could grab any random whore from an island."

You hummed in agreement. He had a point.

"And I did. But we made her our whore." Kid laughed again and you frowned.

"I really don't like you." You rolled your eyes.

"Come on now, doll." Kid wrapped his arms around you and smushed his face into your neck. "What would I do without my Rotten? Right, Kil?"

You tried to squirm out of Kid's overly affectionate hug. You could tell he was laying it on thick to annoy you, smug that he knew you could never really stay mad at him.

Killer sat on the opposite side of you and took one of your hands in his. "Kid isn't good with words. That just how he's always been. Sometimes he says the wrong thing or he doesn't realize what he says can be harsh, but trust me when I say he cares about you. If you're on this ship and a part of the crew, he cares about you."

"Even if ya ever decide ya don't want ta fuck us, yer still a Kid Pirate. I'll still take care of ya." Kid pressed a kiss to your neck. "But I will be sad if ya decide ya don't wanna be my bunny anymore."

"Good?" Killer got up and folded his arms again. "Now kiss." He made a motion of pushing your heads together.

You relented, facing Kid and planting your lips on his. He ran his hands lovingly over your cheeks and into your hair. You pulled back and rested your forehead on his. "I'm sorry for being stubborn. And thank you for not being an asshole to Mini."

"I've never been an asshole in my life. Tell her, Killer."

You rolled your eyes again and sighed, feeling a lot better than you had.

"Next time, because there will be a next time, we're going to talk about it together instead of you two being nightmares for the entire ship. Deal? Heat is gonna fucking quit if you keep dragging him in."

You and Kid nodded, regretfully.

"Or else you'll get seastone manacled together until you can be nice to each other."

You and Kid glanced at each other, neither exactly opposing that idea.

Killer shook his head and put his hand to his helmet. "Get dry clothes on and get back to work."

You got up and squeezed Killer's midsection. "Sorry for making you worry."

"Aye, sorry."

You were squished as Kid came from behind you to also hug Killer. Your head was being crushed from all sides by four huge manboobs. A much more preferable way to die than drowning. Shockingly, Kid didn't even get a boner. Wondering what was taking so long, you looked up to see Kid planting red lipstick marks all over Killer's helmet. You had no right to be annoyed, happy to see your boys being affectionate with each other. You could stay here a few minutes longer.

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

Kid dragged you to his workshop. He was dying to show you something, and that was why he had been pestering you earlier. He wouldn't tell you what it was. Killer was following you quietly. Even he didn't know what it was, though he had a pretty good guess. Kid made you sit while he rummaged around through his things. You weren't sure why he always had to be rummaging. Why wasn't anything organized? This was his space. It wasn't like anyone but him was making a mess.

While you waited, there was a crumpled piece of clothing on the corner of Kid's bench. It was peppered with smeared eyeliner and Kid's red lipstick. A sweat rag? You picked it up, fabric unfolding and revealing black kanji. This is-! You unfolded it in your lap. It was tattered and stained but it was your coat. Your fingers traced over the marks that were clearly left by Kid.

"Was gonna give it back. Meant ta clean it first." Kid was scratching the back of his head, a reddish hue developing on his cheeks.

"You saved it?" You had assumed it was lost when you were taken.

"And this." Kid held your gunblade out in his hands. "Hope ya don't mind, I tweaked it again."

He did more than that. It was shiner that it had ever been, and it was adorned with intricate snake designs that hadn't been there previously. He had taken your criticism from the last time and applied it. Against his professional judgement, he kept it weighted how you liked. You looked from it to your coat. Your stomach clenched with guilt. If you had known he had don't all of this, you wouldn't have questioned his feelings for you. You brought your coat to your face, to cover the emotions that ran through it. Tears threatened to make themselves known.

"Don't ya start being a crybaby on me. Ya won't be able to see the other thing I made ya." Kid pulled your hands away from your face.

You looked into the palm he had held out. It was a small marble-like object. You didn't understand. With the wires attached to it, it sort of resembled... "This is-!" You stood up abruptly and took it from Kid's palm. Inspecting it further, there was no doubt that it was a replica of your eye. "Kid!"

"Wanna try it?" Kid offered, cheeks radiating with blush. "Just... Don't be upset. It may not work initially. I haven't gotten to test it or-"

"Shut up! Of course it will work! You made it!" You looked at it and gave it back to him. "How do we do it?"

Kid pointed to an open book on his desk, one of the medical reference books that had been in the infirmary. You noticed it was gone, but thought Pomp, UK, and Reck had taken it again to look at the naked anatomical pictures. He explained where the wires should connect and that he could get them there, you would just have to use your fruit to make that possible. You did it with on eye. This wasn't that different. This one had been gone much longer though, and your brain had grown accustomed to not having it, so the neural pathways may be altered. You studied the diagrams for a few minutes and talked it over with Kid. Then, you sat back down and tilted your head back to rest on the bench top.

"Killer, do you mind holding my head still? I don't know what this will be like."

Killer put both hands on either side of your head and you held the eyelids open for Kid to place the mechanical eye into. It sat in the socket well enough, but now the connections had to be made. You and Kid had to work in tandem to put everything in place. With the flesh eye, you could sort of control the things around it. This was metal, therefore Kid needed to direct it. You probably could have, but he had far better control over it. A jolt went through your body as one of the wires strayed from the correct path.

"Fuck!" Kid flinched, trying to stay concentrated.

"It's okay. Keep going." You held onto his arm to support him.

Killer watched, mesmerized by the dancing purple electricity melding with the soft yellow-tinged glow, each devil fruit power working as one. He held your head still, periodically feeling twitches and seeing your face wince.

Kid pulled his hand away as a spark jumped to his metal finger. "Can ya see?"

The eye made a few jerky, mechanical movements, not quite in synch with your body. "No." You tried to hid the disappointment in your voice.

"Hold on." Kid made some minor adjustments, looking back at the textbook for confirmation. "Try again."

This time the movement was much smoother, though still no vision. "Still no." You sighed. Maybe the problem was on your end. "Let me try."

The best way to figure out the issue was to compare it to the working side. You couldn't see into your own brain but you could feel what was there, in a weird way. Everything was connected properly, the issue was that the path of the wires had missed a stop. Both eyes were being used by the same half of the brain. Kid didn't realize that the optic nerve was meant to cross to the other side. The right eye went to the left side and the left eye went to the right, give or take a few nerve fibers. Very carefully, you brought the necessary connections through the chiasm, nerves intertwining with the mechanical fibers. The small metal pistons that acted as muscles worked fine, they needed time to attune to your control so they would move more fluidly, but you could deal with that.

You cracked the smallest opening in your eyelids, afraid that it wouldn't work, and saw a sliver of light through both. BOTH! They opened the rest of the way and you sat bolt upright, taking in everything around you, everything that seemed so much brighter and vibrant. Your eyes darted around the room. How will the ocean look? The ocean! I have to see the ocean! You were caught by strong hands before you could run out the door.

"Whoa! Can you see? Everything ok?" Killer looked down at you, holding your shoulders tight.

You pulled him down by the helmet, too fast, almost knocking yourself out, but you had to see. You had to see his blue eyes. How much of the blue had you been missing? You brought your new eye up to one of his eye holes, trying to get a glimpse. Even in the shade of his helmet, you could see glimmering blue. You released him and he did the same. You looked around the room frenetically for Kid, running to him and yanking him by the shirt until his face was at your level. You held his face between your hands looking at every freckle in new detail. And his eyes! They weren't only amber, but orange and golden, too. There was nuance that you had missed before.

"Holy shit." You breathed. You clapped Kid's head between your hands, slapping his cheeks. "I can see, you baby back bastard! You son of a bitch!" You shook his head in your grip and hugged it. "You fucking did it!" Remembering that you wanted to see the ocean, you practically threw him away from you and zipped out the workshop door.

Killer allowed himself to chuckle. "Baby back bastard? That's new."

Kid's chest was puffed out and he had his signature grin plastered on his face, framed by two small, red handprints from where you slapped him. He was virtually levitating with how much pride was radiating from him. "Of course I fuckin did it. I'm me!"

They followed you out, seeing you bent over the railing with your eyes as close to the water as possible without falling in again. Killer grabbed your waistband, sighing. He didn't want to spoil your good time by reprimanding you.

"It's so fucking blue! Have you seen this shit?!" Suddenly, numbers popped into your vision, scaring you so badly that you jumped back. "What the fuck!?" You swatted at the air where they appeared to be.

"Ya didn't give me time to explain all the features," Kid said, preventing you from falling backwards.

"Features?"

He laughed. "Ya didn't think I was gonna give ya some dumbass plain eyeball, did ya?" Kid handed you your gunblade. "Here. Point this at somethin random."

You did as he said, pointing it at the deck some distance away from you. The numbers popped back into your vision, changing depending on where your gun was pointed. When you lingered, crosshairs also flickered into view. "No fucking way."

"That's not all. Look here." Kid pointed to the pulse point in his wrist.

You holstered your weapon and the display vanished from your sight. Staring at his wrist, a new set of numbers came into view, numbers you recognized as heart rate. You flung yourself at Kid, throwing both arms around him. You released one to reach for Killer, who gladly accepted your hand. At the moment, you had no words. Kid gave you something that you hadn't had in years. You took it back, the thing about always being the one to give. Kid gave, too. It was simply a different kind of giving. You pulled your face out of his cleavage, this time not trying to hold back tears.

"Thank you, Kid! Thank you. Thank you! It's so beautiful. Everything is so beautiful!"

"Wait until you look in a mirror," Killer added. He didn't mean for it to be cheesy. He only noticed how you were so excited to see everything, you forgot about yourself.

"Now that's an idea!" You ran into the infirmary bathroom where the nearest mirror happened to be.

Killer gazed at you adoringly as you saw your own face. Finally, you could learn to appreciate what they had noticed a long time ago.

It had been some time since you had seen yourself this clearly. Part of you thought you would be disgusted by the scarring on your face, but that wasn't so. It reminded you of how much it took to get to this point. You traced the semi-circle of a scar that went through your old right eye, then the outline of where the acid had melted your skin. It held all of your anguish, but your triumphs as well. Where some might see a disfigurement, there was only strength. You stared at one eye and then the next. They were exactly alike. How Kid managed to get it to match that well, you didn't know. Maybe you did. He always seemed to be watching you, though maybe it wasn't watching so much as it was looking. Kid's eyes followed you all the time. Had he had memorized the details? But why would he?

You ran back to Kid, stopping briefly to plant a kiss on Killer, who was kind enough to bend down for you. You did a running jump at Kid, which he, thankfully, was prepared for, lest you both fall int the ocean again. Kid caught you as flew at him. "Ha-ha! You stupid fuck! You love me back!"

Tag list: @bbnbhm @nocturnalrorobin @wgwingguns

#Ta-dah! Fluff this time!#2 eyes bitch!#one piece #marooned #eustass kid #massacre soldier killer #x reader #eustass kid x reader #massacre soldier killer x reader #kid x reader x killer

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