#second year graduation ceremony

[russell-crowe]

my best friend: i really admire that you work right now just so you can study

me, internally: thanks i feel like i am drowning right under the surface & i can get just enough little gulps of air to get right back to suffering again

[vogelmeister]

shout out to my friend who agreed it was valid of me to feel put out when the guest speaker at my graduation only addressed the teaching and education students and literally opened with “you did it! welcome to the wonderful world of teaching”

[please-destroy]

Someone Familiar

Natasha Romanoff x Pregnant!Reader

Word Count: 7.6K

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Being able to build a family with the person you loved was a privilege. You knew that for Natasha, it was also a miracle.

Natasha did not believe in luck, only the absence of it. You could understand why good things made her nervous. You saw the effects of her childhood, of her entire life, every day.

Your relationship had clashed with Natasha’s understanding of the world. She’d told you, on your second date, that love was for children. Her brow had knitted in confusion when that had made you kiss her harder.

Natasha saw herself as fundamentally lacking because of her past. Natasha radiated steady love and then wondered why you trusted her.

You knew it was tied to the graduation ceremony that she’d been subjected to in the Red Room. It had taken years for her to believe in your relationship, in the simple success of it.

In a way, you understood her hesitance. There were too many pieces that had fallen into place. Too many hurdles cleared at the last second. 

Together, you had already built something better than Natasha had ever hoped for. Then, one day, you asked her to build something new together.

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You took the positive pregnancy test when Natasha was on a mission. You’d been trying for several months already. 

Each negative test had stung more than either of you knew how to process. Everytime, your heart would sink heavily and you’d try to smooth out your expression. You’d meet Natasha’s wide-eyed stare and watch a raw anxiety wash over her. You hated that look more than anything. Natasha had held your hand and taken a leap of faith with you. With every negative test you felt like you were letting her down, asking her to have hope when there was no guarantee. 

There was always an awful kind of silence after a negative result. Hearing Natasha’s shallow breaths echoing in the tiled bathroom. You’d bring your arms around her slowly, only tightening your hold as she folded into your arms. You’d wrap yourself around her softly, like a blanket, making your own heavy disappointment lighter so that you could carry some of hers.

‘It’s only negative this month.’ You would remind her carefully, repeating words you weren’t sure that you believed. After a moment, Natasha would kiss your cheek and you’d know by the way she avoided your lips that it was meant as an apology. Natasha was always apologising for what she couldn’t give you. 

Natasha didn’t chase happiness, because she didn’t know how to have it. 

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When she first met you, every moment together felt a little frantic. She held your hand on unofficial dates and you watched her unsurely, waiting for her to change her mind. Kisses felt unintentional, hurried but passionate as if neither of you could help it any longer. 

You couldn’t decide who this woman was, why the pieces of her didn’t quite fit together. You wondered when Natasha was ever just herself.

Initially, you only saw it in glimpses. But, Natasha shone through the smallest of cracks.

At night you faced each other in the bed, restfully watching each other in the silence. There was an electric kind of comfort in the space between you. It was those silent moments, in between heartbeats and shallow breaths, that made you certain of Natasha. That you fit together in a perfect way. 

Natasha would lift her hand hesitantly and run her fingers over your skin. She drew light patterns that never seemed to end. You watched her marvel at the fact you were still in her bed. That you weren’t leaving. That you thought you could be whole with her. 

For you, pregnancy was a dream worth chasing. A future that you could build with the person you loved. For Natasha, making a family was soaked in her own failing. The way she saw herself was unfair, it was untrue. Still, the feeling lingered.

It was past midnight when you took the positive pregnancy test. You’d had an inexplicable feeling and you’d been correct.

You smiled at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You barely recognised the person you saw, the giddy excitement reflected in your eyes. Natasha wasn’t there, but you heard your own hitched breaths echoing in the room and felt your joy double on her behalf.

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You made no plan for how to tell Natasha. You knew the news would be surprise enough. 

In the end, you didn’t even have to say the words.

Natasha walked through the front door around midday. A scheduled mission had overrun and she’d come home straight from the formal debriefing. You were leaning awkwardly against the back of the sofa, perched in anticipation as soon as you heard her car pull into the drive. 

Subtle tension left Natasha’s face when she entered her home. Her smile widened in pleasure at the sight of you. Your returning one was soft and careful.

Natasha scanned your expression casually as she walked towards you. There was a second of normalcy where you met her unsuspecting smile. Your rapid heartbeat thudded in your own ears. Her scan of your face faltered and Natasha’s breath caught in her throat. Your smile widened as her eyes searched yours more closely. Your head dipped briefly in confirmation.

Natasha exhaled all at once, as if she’d finally been allowed to breathe. She dropped suddenly to her knees, a few feet from you. Her hand touched her own waist, bracing as the shock rolled through her. Her mouth stayed open but no air reentered her lungs.

You moved forward instinctively and your hand touched her shoulder. Natasha’s eventual inhale was long and ragged. Her hand brushed the back of your leg. You’d become adept at reading the muted signals of Natasha’s emotions. For the first time, there was nothing subtle in her expression of surprise.

Your hand moved to brush the top of her head, trying to ground her in the reality of the good news. Natasha looked up at you and her eyes had the same sparkle that you’d seen in your own in the bathroom mirror. You grinned familiarly. 

Now that Natasha knew, the reality was settling with you too.

Her hands slid hesitantly under the front of your shirt. Her fingers grazed your stomach reverently. The warmth of her touch settled your jittering nerves for a moment. She started drawing light patterns across your skin and her lips pressed against your midriff. You loved her completely.

Natasha’s hands continued to trail up your sides as she returned slowly to her feet. Now, her fingers touched your face. She looked at you like you might not be real. You could feel the tremor in her touch.

‘Are you sure?’ She asked you suddenly, fingers stilling against your cheeks. You smiled even wider. You nodded again. 

‘We’re having a baby.’ You said simply. The words sounded too much like fantasy. You took her hand and led her to the bathroom, to show her the test that had confirmed every impossible hope.

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Natasha moved into a new kind of overdrive from that day forward. Nine months stretched before you like a precarious blessing. 

Natasha gravitated around you whenever she could. The casual hand around your waist became a constant when you were together. There was a redheaded shadow for every mundane errand. It was flattering and a little unnerving to have such unadulterated attention. 

Still, you saw the lingering carefulness in the way Natasha looked at you. The insecurities that led her to seek out reasons to touch you. It was fear that made her throat close up when you wondered aloud about baby names.

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You were sure that Natasha was waiting anxiously for the bump to appear. 

One morning, you caught her lingering, arms folded as she leaned against the bedroom wall. You were half naked, removing your pyjama top, when you noticed her interested gaze. You smirked as you turned around, lifting your clean shirt from the bed.

‘You can see your baby whenever you want.’ You reminded Natasha lightly, filling with a gentle kind of love for her. You held your smirk, waiting to see hers in return. 

Your heartbeat stumbled when she glanced back at you with a hesitant incredulity. You placed the shirt back on the bed and reached out to Natasha instead. Natasha moved closer, her eyes watching your bare stomach nervously.

You ignored the way her stare made you feel like a stranger. She was always familiar to you.

Slowly, you pressed her hand softly against your stomach. Natasha knew your body well enough to recognise the slight change that couldn’t yet be seen. Her other hand moved to mirror the first. You felt her warm palms slide hesitantly along your bare skin. Your breath hitched and Natasha blinked in surprise at the effect of her touch. You watched her expression change as she felt the first proof that the baby was there. Her eyes flitted up to meet yours and you recognised what you saw there. 

Natasha loved the baby already. You wanted to tell her that you understood, that you felt the same.

Your throat closed up when Natasha’s lips found your collarbone. 

Suddenly, she was whispering hurried ‘Thank yous” against your skin. You moaned at the brush of her lips, though her words didn’t sit well with you. You wondered if Natasha understood how much the baby was already hers to love.

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Natasha would have walked through fire with you. Still, you hated having to make her watch your morning sickness unfold. The waves of nausea found you in sudden onslaughts throughout the day. 

You tried to push through it, ignoring Natasha’s clenched jaw as she watched you gingerly pick at your food.

Every time you ended up running to the bathroom, Natasha insisted on sitting with you on the miserable cold tiles. Her hand rubbed familiar circles along the small of your back. Her touch was filled with concern, but it still soothed you. Natasha always brought you balance.

As the weeks went on, you found yourself crying at every mealtime. The morning sickness refused to lessen and a new sort of uselessness flooded you whenever you couldn’t keep a meal down. Each time, Natasha wiped your tears silently before she cleared away barely touched dishes. You watched her move through the kitchen, her eyes closing for long moments as she fought her own frustrated tears.

You could feel Natasha’s misery at being unable to fix it for you.

The feeling of failure only highlighted your wife’s resilience. 

Natasha tried every non-threatening food she could think of. She returned from grocery shopping with bags filled with the blandest foods imaginable. 

Nothing worked. 

You tried to hydrate as much as possible, tried to frame whatever food you did keep down as a positive. Still, you knew Natasha was starting to internalise your continued sickness as part of her own incapability.

Everything that she cooked or scoured from the shelves at the grocery store was rejected emphatically by the baby.

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At last, your body finally granted you reprieve, just as the doctor had assured Natasha on several occasions. 

You woke from an afternoon nap, indulging in the lazy weekend feeling of being at home with your wife. Selfishly, you loved being sure of Natasha’s proximity in the house. You wondered absentmindedly if Maria had had a heart attack when Natasha announced she was going to take all her unused time off, effective immediately.  

You wandered sleepily through to the kitchen and over to Natasha. She was sitting with her back to you at the counter, scrolling on her laptop.

You rested your chin on her shoulder, snaking your arms around her back and letting out a satisfied sigh. Natasha let out an answering huff of laughter, leaning back slightly into your hold. There was a small jar of caviar open on the table. You knew she was sneaking it whenever she thought you wouldn’t have to see it. Your nose still scrunched at the thought of consuming something so fishy.

‘I want Mac n Cheese.’ You mumbled unthinkingly as a yawn overtook you suddenly. 

Natasha stiffened in her chair and she turned to face you. 

Her hand touched your chest, tilting back slightly so she could better assess your yawning expression.

‘Really?’ She asked you carefully. ‘You’re hungry?’

You smiled suddenly with the realisation that you were finally feeling able to eat.

‘All I want is Mac ‘n Cheese.’ You confirmed readily. Natasha got to her feet instantly. She looked at you for a moment and you revelled in the fondness of her attention. Her hands squeezed your shoulders in obvious satisfaction.

‘I have to run to the store.’ She rushed out hurriedly, kissing your lips briefly but emphatically. 

Natasha’s love felt like a hot shower, encompassing and addictive. You watched her fly through the house, grabbing her keys and wallet. Her enthusiasm for you caught like a lump in your throat. You fought tears as you gave her a half wave, matching her wide grin as she glanced back before heading out the door.

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Natasha’s mac and cheese tasted like heaven. As you helped yourself to a third helping, you began to feel sure that this was also your first craving.

Natasha had barely eaten any herself, continually putting her fork down as she watched you moan with delight with each bite. You grinned unashamedly, too blissed out from the relief of keeping the food down and the deliciousness of the meal itself.

‘How have we never eaten this before?’ You asked Natasha dramatically. Her answering smile was soft. 

‘I had it a lot as a kid.’ She answered succinctly. Your surprise was evident, her reply was not what you’d expected. You tried to comprehend the Red Room ever providing Western classic dishes.

Natasha’s head shook in anticipation of your confusion.

‘I spent a few years in Ohio.’ She told you, a tightness in her voice as she forced a casual stab at some pasta with her fork. ‘It was an early mission.’

You stayed silent, knowing far more was omitted than what had been shared. Natasha stabbed another piece of pasta and you reached out automatically to touch her arm. Natasha glanced back at you and suddenly, she looked much younger.

You hated the people who had taken her childhood.

‘Was Mac n Cheese your favourite food?’ You asked, ignoring how strange it was for such an unassuming question to hold such weight. Natasha looked down at her plate when she shook her head. The food started to rest more heavily in your stomach.

‘Not my favourite.’ Natasha clarified in a carefully level voice. ‘Someone else’s.’ She paused again, choosing the right words. ‘A friend’s.’

Natasha looked back at you and you met her gaze steadily. No part of Natasha hinted that she felt off balance. Still, you caught the nervous energy emanating from her.

Your thumb brushed her arm soothingly and you didn’t ask any follow up questions. You both knew that she never had any friends in the Red Room.

‘Maybe it’s the baby’s favourite too.’ You said lightly, trying to alleviate the unspoken sadness that had settled between you. 

You stood up, moving to clear the dishes. You took the opportunity to kiss Natasha’s forehead.

‘At least it’s not caviar.’ You muttered teasingly, stealing Natasha’s fork and the piece of macaroni on the end of it. 

Natasha rolled her eyes and you knew she was settled by your familiar tease about her favourite food.

She stood up too, moving behind you suddenly. Her arms stretched around you to take the empty dishes from your hand, a silent insistence to leave the clearing of the table to her. Her lips touched your cheek and you felt immediate warmth spread through you at her affection. Pregnancy made Natasha’s love even more overwhelming.

Her lips lingered by your ear.

‘That’s okay. I’ve got plenty of time to teach them about having good taste.’ Natasha promised you, kissing you again before taking the dishes to the kitchen.

You stayed quiet, hiding a sudden beaming smile. You wondered if Natasha realised that she’d started making plans as a Mom.

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Natasha circled the date of your sonogram on the calendar. 

The calendar was already your favourite item in the whole house. Natasha had bought it a few weeks after you’d found out that you were pregnant. She’d filled in every important date that she could think of before hanging it in the front hall. 

You had a suspicion that she was trying to recreate the domestic family life that she’d seen played out in movies. Natasha, the professional spy, was not who you’d expect to display important upcoming dates for anyone to view. 

Your heart felt fuller and heavier when you saw Natasha attempt to become the Mom she wasn’t quite sure how to be.

You ached when you realised how little she had to go on. Natasha could learn anything and you watched her work to understand what she was missing. 

Her bedtime reading became exclusively books for expectant parents. She studied with a quiet purpose that made you wonder if she was expecting a test at the hospital.

As the day of the sonogram approached, the two of you mentioned it less and less. There was a heightened feeling of anticipation that was hard to acknowledge. 

You knew that Natasha didn’t actually care about the sex of the baby. Natasha didn’t believe in horoscopes either. Still, you’d found her plotting out the zodiac the other day, trying to figure out which star signs were likely for your baby.

Natasha was impatient to know her kid better. You related to the feeling entirely.

The silence on the drive to the appointment was full of awkward anticipation. You tried not to focus on your growing need to pee. They’d told you to drink some water before the appointment and you’d gone a little overboard. You turned on the radio for distraction, tuning in unexpectedly to a ‘Cheesy Hits’ station. 

Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers filled the car and relieved the tension. Natasha’s fingers started tapping out the beat on the dashboard. The shift in the air was tangible and, suddenly, you felt like you were going on an adventure together. 

‘Dolly for a girl and Kenny for a boy?’ You suggested with a smirk, making sure to keep your eyes on the road ahead. Natasha was not thrilled by your insistence on driving today and you were determined to be the perfect model of safety behind the wheel.

Natasha leaned back against her head rest and you could feel her eyes on you as she turned to face you.

‘Mickey or Minnie.’ She suggested drily.

Your lips pressed together as you tried not to laugh. 

‘Barbie or Ken.’ You countered and Natasha snorted. There was silence in the car and you knew Natasha was trying to think of something to make you laugh.

‘Kermit or Miss Piggy.’ She suggested suddenly and you found yourself desperately trying not to pee as you drove.

The giddiness you felt, as you checked in at the reception, reminded you of that first day together when you’d known that you were pregnant. Natasha’s fingers were interlaced with yours and her touch grounded you. 

You didn’t speak in the waiting room, filled with a shared understanding of the moment. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave your belly. The baby was part of you and so was Natasha. The three of you felt like one person.

Natasha told you that the jelly was going to feel cold before the nurse could. You wondered if she knew it from movies or from her studying. 

Natasha was trying so hard to be a good mom. Things were already too heightened and you started crying unexpectedly. Natasha used her free hand to stroke your hair comfortingly.

‘Soon.’ She promised soothingly and you knew she thought you were crying with anticipation of the scan. 

Natasha made your heart beat. 

Soon, the room was filled with the sound of the baby’s heart beating too.

When the grainy black and white image of your child appeared on the screen, Natasha stopped squeezing your hand. Your eyes moved between the screen and her expression. Unadulterated longing was written across her face. Her eyes turned to you and you met her gaze readily. Her desperate hope mellowed as she watched your steady joy.

Natasha’s smile turned wide and free. You had never seen her entirely unburdened before. Your eyes turned back to the screen, loving your baby entirely. 

The nurse informed you that it was a girl and the announcement didn’t even register. Natasha started crying, burying her head against your shoulder. Your arm curved around her back automatically. The nurse smiled at you and you smiled back. You felt free too.

You started laughing when you were back in the car. Elton John played out the speakers and Natasha stared down at a picture of your baby.

‘That’s your daughter.’ You reminded her happily. Natasha shook her head but her eyes stayed fixed on the picture.

‘I’m dreaming.’ She said dazedly and something about her tone made you blink back tears again. 

You didn’t have the right words. 

Instead, you placed Natasha’s hand back onto your rounded stomach. There was no absence of proof now that her dreams were coming true.

You didn’t drive back home immediately. You couldn’t resist heading to the baby store instead. When you took a left turn and Natasha realised your intention, she sent you an indulgent smile.

You wandered through the baby clothes section with a languid kind of confidence. You were going to have a daughter. Your skin tingled with happiness.

Natasha sought out a store assistant as you browsed. She wanted to know about the safety ratings on cribs. You couldn’t stop smiling when you heard her begin the interaction by announcing that she was expecting a daughter. The store assistant answered her questions readily and caught your interest in the clothing section of the aisle.

‘These are always my favourite.’ She told you conspiratorially as she approached, picking up a onesie that read ‘World’s Best Sister.’

‘We don’t need that.’ Natasha informed her immediately in a level voice. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at her corrective tone. 

‘Not yet.’ You added, sharing a smile with the store assistant before turning back to face Natasha. 

You expected to see playful exasperation in her expression. Instead, you saw a fierce and inexplicable kind of hurt. Natasha’s gaze was painful to meet. The store assistant saw it too, she placed the outfit back and moved away quietly.

‘Natasha.’ You started hesitantly, feeling entirely unsure of yourself. Natasha just shook her head. Everything felt raw and you knew from the way her eyes darted around the store that this wasn’t the right time.

You kissed her cheek in wordless apology. You led Natasha out of the store, expecting some insistence that you should finish browsing. Her continued silence made you worried. 

You saw the way that she swallowed uncomfortably and felt a corresponding lump rise up in your own throat. You didn’t have to understand the sources of Natasha’s pain to feel it too.

You let the Cheesy Hits station continue to play as you drove home. The silence was tense, but the music still offered some sort of reprieve.

You started humming along as the tune of ‘American Pie’ began to play. At first, you didn’t notice the change in Natasha’s breathing. Her hand gripped your arm suddenly and you startled at the unexpected touch.

You glanced over to her and caught her struggling to take a breath. Illogically, your first thought was that she was choking. Then, you heard her rattling inhale and recognised the panic attack. 

Anxiety flooded you too as you tried to keep driving safely. 

‘What is it?’ You asked stupidly as you started moving hurriedly through the lanes of traffic.

Natasha’s words were fearful and they didn’t make any sense.

‘I think my sister is dead.’ She told you as the shaky breaths turned to ragged sobs. 

You pulled over at the side of the road. You moved towards Natasha, ignoring the uncomfortable sound of the other cars rushing past.

‘Breathe love.’ You directed her calmly, resting your hand on her shoulder in an attempt to ground her.

With military effort, Natasha forced herself to breathe regularly. The sound was still shaky and her inhales were desperate. You’d never seen her spiral like that before.

You turned off the radio unthinkingly and Natasha sagged with a weighted kind of relief. You glanced at the car speakers in alarm. You tried to guess what her words could have meant. 

Natasha’s breathing regulated and you confirmed your suspicion.

‘The song?’ You checked carefully. Natasha nodded once, blowing out a slow breath.

‘You have a sister?’ You asked now and she nodded one more time, eyes squeezing shut for a second. You nodded too, trying to reconcile this new piece of information.

‘At the store.’ You began softly as the pieces clicked. Natasha gave you a pained look in confirmation.

‘That song was her favourite.’ She told you in between carefully controlled breaths.

You couldn’t help your eyebrows raising in confusion. The song was too American to fit with Natasha’s past. In a flash, you remembered the Mac and Cheese. You remembered her ‘friend’ in Ohio, you wondered how long that early mission could have lasted.

‘I don’t know where she is. She could have died in the Red Room.’ Natasha confessed and her eyes were filled with an awful self-loathing. You wondered how long she’d been living with this private grief. 

‘Can you track her down?’ You asked her unsurely, feeling the conversation drain away all your earlier joy.

‘I mean, can we track her down?’ You corrected immediately, because Natasha wasn’t doing this alone.

‘No.’ Natasha shook her head and her voice caught. ‘She, uh, she wouldn't want to see me.’ 

‘Are you sure?’ You prompted quietly and Natasha nodded. 

‘We’re not. We weren’t real sisters. There was a mission. It was all pretend.’

You could see the guilt resting on Natasha’s shoulders, you watched her bend forward under the weight of it. Her hands covered her face briefly. 

‘That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel real.’ You reminded her quietly. ‘Blood doesn’t make family.’ 

You took her hand then, it felt too cold. Instinctively, you covered it with both of your own, trying to give her warmth. You ignored the fleeting concern that Natasha wouldn’t see her daughter as really hers either.

Natasha shook her head slowly and abruptly you were sure that you’d said the wrong thing.

‘It felt too real.’ Natasha murmured. ‘She was too young. She didn’t know the truth. Not until they sent us back to the Red Room.’

‘Oh, Natasha.’ You said softly, because your heart was breaking. Your arm slid softly along her arched back.

Sometimes, you could imagine Natasha as a kid, the abandoned girl that monsters had raised. You had seen how protective Natasha was of you, of the child that was still inside of you. You imagined another little girl, trusting Natasha as family. 

You ached for Natasha’s loss, for the failure you knew she saw as hers.

.

‘She might be living happily somewhere, just like you.’ The words fell out of your mouth that evening. You were already in bed, you’d placed the sonogram photo on top of your nightstand. Your mood had swung sharply all day between bubbling joy and weighted tension. 

Natasha was undressing at the foot of your bed. Her breath caught and she looked at you. You saw the same desperate longing in her eyes as you had at the sonogram. You felt the urge to keep speaking.

‘If she’s anything like you. She’ll be busy causing trouble and making a family of her own. She’s your sister, it’s not impossible.’ 

The images sounded too fantastical and you paused uncertainly. Natasha’s eyes clung to yours. She moved over to you, hands touching your thighs as she crawled up the bed. Natasha looked vulnerable and your eyes searched hers carefully, trying to determine what she was looking for.

She lifted your top slowly and pressed her lips to your belly. You watched her reverence and felt a slow heat build inside you. Natasha kept moving up your body and you felt her breasts brush over you as she curved herself around you.

When she reached your mouth, she leaned in to kiss you. There was the slightest hesitation and then you felt her gratitude for your farfetched comfort. Giving Natasha hope was all you knew how to do.

Natasha pressed her lips against yours for a second time. When the kiss broke, more words fell from your mouth.

‘What was her name?’ You asked simply.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha replied and the sound of it was precious.

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You celebrated Natasha’s birthday on the 1st of December. It was unlikely to be her actual date of birth, but it was the one she used. All Natasha knew was that she’d been born in winter. 

Your baby was also going to be born in winter, but not until the new year. You felt too large now, missing the simple flexibility that you’d taken for granted your whole life.

You’d had plenty of time to think of a birthday present for Natasha. A Russian ballet had seemed like a risky surprise. You’d asked her about it before you’d booked the tickets. 

Natasha’s smile had been shy at your suggestion.

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She informed you hesitantly and you wondered if you’d ever stop finding new ways to love her.

Her birthday had been a languid and casual affair. You were getting tired more easily and yet hormones had woken you before daybreak with unbearable excitement. 

Your eagerness had lasted through most of the lunch at her favourite restaurant. Natasha had flushed self-consciously in front of her friends when you kissed her enthusiastically after she cut the cake. 

Clint’s sarcastic applause seemed to rally Natasha and she marked your nose teasingly with a piece of frosting just to make him roll his eyes.

By the time you returned home, you were living in a new state of exhaustion. Natasha ended up driving in silence whilst you napped in the passenger seat. 

You knew she didn’t mind. Natasha gently led you back into the house and onto the sofa. Your eyes barely opened, trusting her guidance entirely. You remembered nothing after the moment your head had touched the sofa cushion.

You startled awake when Natasha’s fingers lightly touched your shoulder. You smiled lazily when you saw her face hovering above yours.

‘Happy Birthday!’ You told her, arms going wide in a half stretch and half celebration.

Natasha stared down at your upside down smile and blinked back tears. 

You were no stranger now to sudden rushes of happiness. You moved her hands over to your belly. 

‘You can’t get one of these every year.’ You mumbled, still sounding half asleep. ‘Takes much more baking than a cake does.’

Natasha laughed easily, the sound bubbling up in a way that was rare for her. You grinned with satisfaction and your eyes closed for another brief moment as you soaked in the warmth of it.

Natasha helped you to sit up. She lingered awkwardly next to you on the sofa. You knew instinctively what she wanted to do. You lifted your top slightly and gave her a knowing smirk.

‘Love you.’ Natasha mumbled as she kissed your bump. Her cheeks reddened and she purposefully avoided your eye contact as she straightened up. Still, her hand reached out to help you as you moved to leave the sofa. 

When you stood up, you didn’t let go of Natasha's hand. You tapped her wrist twice and Natasha turned to face you automatically.

‘You can’t be shy about loving your daughter.’ You reminded Natasha quietly, trailing your fingers up and down her bare forearm. 

Natasha’s embarrassment flickered for a moment and then turned into something quieter. Her lips touched your neck as she brought you close to her. You felt her cheeks touch your skin as she started to smile widely.

‘I can’t believe I have a daughter.’ Natasha whispered, more to herself than to you. 

You grinned suddenly, hearing the dawning realisation in Natasha’s voice that never went away.

‘I can’t believe I married such a MILF.’ You teased back, arms wrapping around her. Natasha’s head tilted and she left small kisses up the side of your neck.

Since your second trimester, Natasha could turn you on with a wink. You moaned loudly at the sensation of Natasha’s lips on your skin and you felt her smile again.

‘Ballet.’ You choked out, trying to stay focused. ‘Ballet, Birthday.’

‘Ballet.’ Natasha repeated and her lips met yours in a gentle kind of kiss. 

‘Birthday.’ She told you, before kissing you again. 

‘Baby.’ Natasha added and her hands touched your stomach again. Her eyes were bright with excitement and you felt her joy like it was your own. 

You leaned forward yourself now. Your cheek brushed hers as you moved next to her ear. ‘Boobs.’ You whispered, reaching up to squeeze them meaningfully. 

Natasha rolled her eyes playfully. Her smile seemed permanent as her gaze trailed over you.

‘Bedtime.’ She promised and you tried to ignore the way heat pooled between your legs. It was going to be a long night of anticipation.

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You watched Natasha far more than you watched the ballet dancers. Everything captivating in their performance was reflected in the focus of her attention. Her eyes were fixed on each dancer in turn as they made impossible moves seem effortless.

You found yourself coming out of a trance at the interval. Natasha turned to look at you and you watched her lips draw back into a smile. 

‘I always wanted to be a dancer.’ She told you again and the thought of it made you smile. You tapped the top of your belly.

‘Maybe she’ll want to be one.’ You pondered playfully, reaching for the brochure resting in Natasha’s lap.

“What name should we pick?’ You considered thoughtfully as you began to suggest the names of various listed dancers.

Natasha’s hand on your thigh silenced you before you could finish half-seriously suggesting ‘Katarina.’

‘We can’t call her something Russian.’ Natasha informed you obviously. Her voice was light, but you could almost taste the sudden tension in the air.

You tilted your head questioningly.

“Why not?’ You challenged immediately. 

‘She’s not Russian.’ Natasha answered simply and you recognised the resoluteness in her eyes. You’d been together long enough to anticipate each other’s arguments. Still, you refused to give up.

‘Her mother is Russian.’ You emphasised pointedly. 

‘Not really. Not biologically.’ Natasha countered with a sudden softness. You hated that her tone had changed to appease you. 

‘I’m naming her Natasha Jr.” You decided stubbornly, rubbing wide circles over your belly in an attempt to calm yourself in the large theatre. ‘Good luck avoiding the child support payments.’

There was a pause as Natasha considered your expression. You refused to look at her, staring determinedly at the empty stage below you. If you focused on your anger for too long, you knew that you’d end up crying.

After a moment, Natasha’s head moved to rest on your shoulder. The moment settled immediately between you. You knew she was thanking you for loving her so certainly. You found her hand, still resting on your thigh and held it gently.

Those who’d left the theatre during the interval began to return slowly to their seats.

‘My mother was in the ballet.’ Natasha said quietly into the loud chatter that surrounded you. You fought the urge to turn your head. Instead, your arm moved instinctively around her shoulder, squeezing lightly in comfort. Natasha’s head tilted on your shoulder as she focused down at your bump.

‘I mean, I used to pretend she was.’ Natasha corrected herself. ‘I always wanted to go to the ballet, in case she’d recognise me in the crowd.’

You didn’t speak for a moment. Natasha had been too young, it was unbearable.

‘It’s hard.’ You began hoarsely, in the moments before the ballet resumed. ‘Things have been so unfair for you, but that’s made you exactly who you are.’

The tears began to catch up with your words.

‘And you’re going to be such a good mother.’ You choked out, feeling sadness like a tremble through your skin. 

Natasha didn’t say anything in return. She shifted in her seat slightly, moving almost imperceptibly closer to you. 

When the ballet finished and everyone around you moved to their feet, Natasha finally looked at you.

‘I love you.’ She reminded you quietly as she took your hand. You gave her a small smile.

“I know.’ You assured her, because you did.

.

You hadn’t known how to tell Natasha that you weren’t looking forward to Christmas. You’d entered your third trimester and begun to dread any days that called for increased stamina. 

More than anything, you’d found yourself desperate for the moments when it was just you and her. You were on the precipice of something new and you found yourself seeking comfort in the steadiness of what you’d already built with Natasha.

You should have known that you didn’t need to tell her. 

When you woke on Christmas Day, it wasn’t because of the alarm that you’d set the night before. Natasha was sitting up in the bed next to you, engrossed in a parenting book that you’d left wrapped under the tree the night before.

You hummed lowly in sleepy confusion, shifting in the bed as you tried to piece together the unexpected morning. You should have already been driving to see Clint’s family. Natasha looked down at you and everything about her smile was calming. Her hand brushed the top of your head and you felt assured that everything was going to plan.

‘Don’t worry.’ Natasha murmured and you couldn’t help yawning. ‘I only opened the one present.’

You nestled into Natasha’s side as you fell back asleep. Her hand stayed resting lazily on the top of your head. You loved all of Natasha’s warmth. 

You hadn’t bought any one big gift for Natasha this Christmas. You’d noticed in past years that, more than anything, she seemed to get a thrill just from the act of unwrapping. You had a feeling it was another way that she chased the American fantasy that she’d seen in movies.

Natasha’s giddiness on Christmas morning was your favourite thing. You watched her surreptitiously from the sofa as she opened each of your gifts in turn. You never took a photo of her though, the look in her eye seemed too precious to share.

Natasha was completely herself on Christmas morning. It was magical.

At last, she opened the present that you were most nervous for her to see. You held your breath as Natasha unwrapped the wide book eagerly. She stilled as she read the simple cover.

‘Becoming Mom.’

Natasha turned to the first page unsurely. She startled in surprise, just like you’d anticipated. She’d known that the photo inside had been taken, but she’d never looked at it herself. 

You’d offered your phone to the nurse during the sonogram. 

Natasha’s cheeks were tear stained in the picture and her hand was clasped loosely with your own. The other touched unthinkingly at her own waist, as if the baby on the screen might as well have been inside of her. 

Everything about her emanated a precarious kind of bliss.

Natasha closed the book suddenly and glanced back up at you.

‘The rest is for you to fill in.’ You mumbled unsurely, feeling a sudden need to avoid Natasha’s gaze. Natasha had never looked more vulnerable than in that photo. Everytime you looked at it, you loved her more fiercely than ever. 

Natasha didn’t love herself like you loved her. You weren’t sure what she was going to say. Her pause lasted an eternity.

Finally, Natasha’s choked voice cut through the silence.

‘I look like a Mom.” Natasha said quietly, and you decided that you’d never stop falling in love with her.

‘You are a Mom.’ You reminded her surely. Natasha’s hands moved to your stomach and suddenly you felt like time had lost all meaning. You felt like you’d always known her. Her touch felt more familiar than your own.

‘I love you.’ You told Natasha softly. The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched upwards immediately. When she looked up at you, her eyes glittered. 

‘I know.’ She replied simply, and you knew that she did.

.

Before lunch, Natasha led you out into the backyard to show you your present. You were having Mac and Cheese for Christmas lunch, saying farewell to a food that was now steeped in different layers of nostalgia.

The air was crisp and immediately you were grateful for Natasha’s insistence that you wear a jacket. Natasha’s cheeks turned red as she stood to your left hand side in an attempt to buffer you from the icy wind.

When you turned the corner, you saw what Natasha had made for you.

The wooden swing and slide set stood perfectly in the corner of the backyard. You gripped Natasha’s hand tight at the warm rush of being loved entirely. Suddenly, the air didn’t feel cold at all. Tears threatened as you tried to process the emotion.

The swing was too big for your baby, it would be years until your daughter could play on any part of the structure. You didn’t care. It made everything better. Natasha had planned for years in the future.

‘I had one like this in Ohio.’ Natasha told you with a serenity that you didn’t expect to hear. Her eyes trailed over the swing set as she spoke. ‘I know it’s not quite right for now, but it was my favourite place in the whole world.’

‘Why?’ You asked timidly. You’d loved Natasha for years already. You realised you were in love with a sun that was still rising. 

Natasha started walking again. Her hand slid around your waist, slipping down to squeeze your ass once familiarly, before resting at your hip.

When you reached the swing, Natasha gestured for you to sit and you did. Your fingers tangled in the metal chain as you watched her face in anticipation. You knew that she’d heard your question.

‘Whenever I was swinging, I would close my eyes.’ Natasha started, and you knew she’d spent the silence planning out her answer in her head. ‘And when my eyes were closed, I could pretend that my parents had bought me the swing set. That people loved me, really loved me, because how else could I have something so nice?’

Her hand covered yours on the cold metal chain. Natasha stood next to your shoulder. You closed your eyes, imagining the impossible feeling that she’d described to you.

You gripped the chain heavily as you pulled yourself back to your feet.

‘I need to show you something.’ You told her as you led her back into the house. You walked quickly, feeling certain of what you were about to do but entirely unsure of Natasha’s response.

You picked up the baby book that had been left on the kitchen counter and handed it back to Natasha.

‘Look inside.’ You directed her with an encouraging gesture. Natasha’s eyes dropped down to the book. She turned the page again, this time moving past the one of her at the sonogram.

The next page had been specially embossed. You’d glued in the card that was presented there. Natasha gripped the book tightly as she read the subsection title.

‘Yelena, aged 0 - 1 month’

When Natasha looked back at you, she seemed uncertain. 

‘After her Mom’s sister.’ You said, feeling uneasy about her lack of response. Your fingers played with the edge of your jacket and you found yourself avoiding her eyes.

‘We don’t have to do it.’ You hedged carefully. ‘I just want her to have a piece of you that can’t be taken away.’

Natasha didn’t speak and you glanced back up. Your shoulders relaxed at the familiar love in your wife’s eyes.

“And you won’t let me call her Natasha Jr.’ You added pointedly, with a sudden urge to lighten the mood.

The book snapped shut abruptly. Natasha moved towards you so suddenly that you didn’t have time to register her proximity before her lips were on yours.

Natasha filled your senses with a perfect familiarity. You loved the heat of her lips, the feel of her body pressed against you, the touch of her hand on the back of your neck as she deepened the kiss. 

Natasha was home and you couldn’t feel lost anymore.

Sharp relief flooded you as you realised that your daughter was going to have the name that you’d been hoping for. 

The kiss broke at last and your hands moved to Natasha’s shoulders as you tried to look at her face. Natasha took a small step back, eyes still closed.

A wave of understanding rushed over you.

‘You don’t have to keep your eyes closed.’ You promised Natasha softly. ‘I’ll still love you when they’re open.’

Natasha’s lips twitched into a shy smile and slowly she opened her eyes.

‘Yelena.’ Natasha repeated as her hands trailed up your sides and gently lingered at the top of your bump.

‘We can save Natasha Jr for the next one.’ You teased again and Natasha smiled wide. 

Her hand pressed lightly on the back of your neck and she pulled you in for another kiss.

[formula-nyoom]

Grid Graduation

Platonic!Grid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being a racecar driver and actively pursuing a higher education is a feat in and of itself. You didn't let your career get in the way of going to college. But when racing seems to prevent you from attending your graduation ceremony, your fellow drivers decide to take matters into their own hands

A/N: Congratulations to all the people that are graduating this month or next month! I hope you guys have amazing celebrations. And to my fellow college students who still have a year or years left to go, we’re going to get through it, even if it seems like hell. I know that the color of the graduation gowns can vary by college or are usually black but I went with dark blue because that was the color of my gown when I got my associates degree. 

~~~

Some people would say it's stupid to try and get a bachelor’s degree while being a race car driver. 

“You already have a career. Why would you spend all your free time off track pursuing something you don’t really need?” is the question that was constantly asked to you during interviews. Your answer: because it was important to you. It’s common knowledge that karting and racing takes up most of a driver’s life. And while most drivers are able to pursue basic schooling and education during their karting days and early single seater days, once a driver makes it higher up the racing ladder, pursuing an education becomes second to trying to be the best race car driver on track. 

You on the other hand felt that your pursuit of racing should not get in the way of your education. And thankfully with the ability to take online classes, you didn’t have that worry. 

“You’ve refreshed that page five times in the last 30 seconds.” Alex said as you two sat in the drivers lounge. It was media day so thankfully neither of you had to worry about racing and instead your worry was focused on something else.

 “Can you blame me? I’m supposed to get sent an email that tells me whether or not I graduate today and I’m dying to know.” You said, refreshing the page again. You had finally completed all the required courses you needed to graduate and get your bachelors degree. Now you were just waiting for the confirmation that all the hard work, all the study sessions you had done between and after races, and all the all nighters was worth it. 

 “Have you gotten the email yet?” You looked up from your laptop to see Logan approaching with Oscar behind him. You refreshed the page again.

 “Nope. Still nothing.” You let out a frustrated sigh. All the other drivers knew about your pursuit of a college education while also being a race car driver. They had been nothing but supportive in your efforts and could tell how worried you were about having to wait for your college’s final decision on you graduating.

 “The email will come eventually. Staring at the screen isn’t going to help.” Oscar said. 

“I suppose you’re right.” You said, refreshing the page again. You were about to close your laptop, putting the matter temporarily to rest, when the page loaded and showed you had a new email. It was from your college.

 “It’s here!” You exclaimed. You were about to open the email when you paused your finger over the mouse pad.

“I don’t think I can open this. What if they deny me? Or what if this email tells me that I still have some courses that I need to pass to graduate?” You started nervously chewing on your bottom lip as worst case scenarios started to run through your head. Logan placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder

 “(Y/N), you’ve been working your ass off the past couple years to get this degree. They’d be stupid to not let you graduate.” Logan said. 

 “I can read the email for you first if you want.” Alex offered. That seemed to calm your nerves. You handed Alex the laptop and waited with bated breath as he opened the email. Anticipation started to build as it seemed to take forever for Alex to read the first line of the email

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate!” Alex exclaimed.

 “Really?” You grabbed the laptop and read the first line of the email that did indeed confirm that you were graduating. Logan and Oscar started to shake your shoulders in excitement as you started to laugh from happiness.

 “I’m graduating!” You exclaimed. Logan, Alex and Oscar let out cheers of excitement as you read the first lines of the email again.

“What’s with the excitement?” Charles asked as he and Max entered the driver’s lounge.

 “(Y/N) got the confirmation that she’s graduating college.” Alex said.

“Congratulations!”Max said. He ruffled your hair while Charles gave you a hug. You were practically beaming with happiness as you started to read the email out loud. 

“Congratulations (Y/N) (L/N), you have met the requirements to graduate! We commend you for this amazing accomplishment and we’d like you to attend the graduation ceremony on….June 7th.” Your voice trailed off after reading the date and your smile slowly started to drop.

 “Are you gonna go?” Oscar asked. You shook your head.

“I can’t. We’ll all be in Canada for Free Practice.” You said. It was true. Your college’s graduation ceremony was the same week of the Canadian Grand Prix.

 “Do you think your team will let you go?” Alex asked. “I mean, you’ve done Canada multiple times and you’ll do it again. But you only really graduate college once, especially considering you're a race car driver.”

 “I don’t think (Y/N)’s team will let her go. Free Practice isn’t something you can really miss.” Max said. He was right. Attending a graduation ceremony seemed like a trivial matter compared to your career. 

 “But (Y/N)’s worked so hard for this. Surely her team will understand.” Logan said.

“No, it’s…it’s ok if I miss the graduation ceremony. I’ve been given confirmation that I’m graduating and will get my diploma in the mail later this year. That’s enough for me.” You told them. But that wasn’t really true. You would have liked to attend the ceremony. If not for just the celebration but also for the sense of normalcy away from the racetrack and responsibilities of being a Formula One driver. 

 “Well we can still celebrate right? Maybe get all the drivers together for a dinner?” Charles suggested. You smiled a bit.

 “Yea Charles. A dinner would be nice. This is still a cause for a celebration. Even if I can’t go to the official one.”

Dinner with the other drivers was a nice celebration. It helped you forget about not being able to attend the graduation ceremony for a while. But the week of the Canadian Grand Prix seemed to bring up that fact again. It seemed the media wanted to remind you too.

 “Well, before we start taking questions, I’d like to say congratulations to you, (Y/N). It was recently let known that you’ve graduated college and now have a bachelor's degree.” The media commentator for the drivers press conference said to you as you sat on a couch next to George, Lando, Lewis, and Zhou. 

“Thank you. If I didn't have to be here in Canada, I'd actually be attending the graduation ceremony, which is happening tomorrow. But racing takes priority.” You smiled to hide some of your disappointment, but the other drivers seemed to notice.

 “I’m sure you and your family are proud of all your efforts. Maybe some of the drivers too?” The interviewer said, motioning to the drivers next to you.

“I’m insanely proud of (Y/N) for what she’s accomplished. She’s shown that racing shouldn’t get in the way of pursuing an education.” Lewis said.

 “I will say, (Y/N) has worked harder than anyone else on the grid.” Zhou said. 

“She won’t admit it herself though.” George said, nudging your side. You shook your head.

“In terms of something like this, even if I can’t attend a graduation ceremony, I’m proud of all the work I’ve done.” You said.

 “Well, I hope you celebrate or have already celebrated what is an immense accomplishment.” The interviewer said.

 “Me and the other drivers on the grid actually went out to dinner to celebrate the day I found out I was graduating to make up for the fact that I can’t attend the ceremony. It was a really nice dinner and I’m glad I have friends to celebrate my accomplishments with.” You smiled at your friends sitting next to you. They smiled back, but for a different reason. 

Despite your efforts to hide your disappointment, your fellow drivers could tell how upset you were about not being able to attend your graduation ceremony. And while the dinner was indeed nice, they wanted you to have a proper celebration for such an immense accomplishment.

That’s how George and Lando ended up knocking on your driver’s room door after interviews and media responsibilities were done for the day.

 “Hey guys. What’s up?” You asked as you opened the door for them.

“Put this on.” Lando handed you a bag with what you assumed had to contain clothing.

 “Why? What is it that you have handed me?” You gave him a skeptical look.

“Open the bag and find out.” Lando said. You did as he instructed and pulled out something made of dark blue fabric. At first you thought it was a dress, but unfurling it revealed to be a graduation gown. You tried not to frown. The only need for something like this would be for graduation photos, which you had already taken. But Lando and George were insistent and you decided to amuse their idea for now and put it on.

“Now what? You want me to get into a race car and drive around the track in a graduation gown?” George and Lando just laughed.

 “I don’t think the FIA will allow that. At least not in just the gown.” Lando said.

“Of course you can’t have the gown without the cap.”  George handed you a graduation cap with a tassel in your team color. The cap was decorated with a little race car on top that had a diploma trailing behind it. 

 “What’s…what’s all this for?” You asked, while putting the cap on. You don’t know why you decided to put the cap on, but did so anyway.

“It’s for your graduation ceremony of course.” Lando said. You frowned.

 “There’s no way I can attend that ceremony.” You said.

“We’re not talking about your college’s graduation ceremony. We’re talking about the one that’s happening right now.” George said. “Come on.”

George and Lando ushered you out of your driver’s room and started to lead you somewhere. You still looked at them with confusion. 

 “We already celebrated during that dinner.”

“But it wasn’t a proper ceremony.” Lando said, leading you towards the track entrance. By now, you were starting to suspect what George and Lando were up to. It wasn’t confirmed until they led you to the start line.

“You guys did not….” Rows and rows of chairs were set up on the track with a makeshift aisle in the middle. Each chair was filled with one of your fellow drivers or members of your team. Tears started to well up in your eyes at the realization of what was happening. 

 “We wanted you to have a proper graduation ceremony.” Lando said, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into a side hug. Now you were trying really hard not to cry.

 “C’mon. Everyone’s waiting for you.” George said. He and Lando walked you past all chairs, the drivers and team members applauding you as you walked past. 

Lewis and Fernando were standing at what was designated the stage and greeted you with a hug and a whispered “congratulations” as you approached. 

 “Shall we get started then?” Lewis, who had been designated the commencement speaker, said to get everyone’s attention. Everyone quieted down and took a seat

“We are gathered here to recognize the immense accomplishments of (Y/N) (L/N) in her pursuit of a higher education in the form of a bachelor's degree. Not only has she strived for what many have wanted to achieve, but did so while also managing the life of a Formula One driver. That is something not many can do.” Lewis said.

 “I now ask for Fernando to present the graduate with their diploma.” Fernando walked over to you and handed you a piece of paper, then the two of you shook hands as formality of a traditional graduation ceremony while George quickly snapped a photo. You looked at the “diploma” that was handed to you and couldn’t help but let out a laugh. It was a diploma template that you could find on the internet that included your name and the name of your college. Though the official seal had your team logo on it. 

“I now ask the graduate of 2024, to move your tassel from right to left and signify your newfound graduation status.” Lewis said. By now, it was getting really hard to try and keep the tears in as you moved the tassel from right to left. Lewis smiled.

 “It is my pleasure to present (Y/N) (L/N) as the grid’s graduating class of 2024.” Everyone stood up and applauded you. At this point you couldn’t keep the tears in any longer and started to cry but also cheer. Lewis pulled you into a hug, followed by Fernando, then Lando and George and it got to the point of just being a big group hug full of drivers.

 “Go on, toss the cap!” Logan exclaimed once the group hug broke away. Chants of “Toss it! Toss it!” started to echo till you took the graduation cap off and tossed it into the air, signifying that all that hard work was worth it.

[cursedcola]

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia( pt.1 Here!)(pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. Also, I went overboard. So much that I exceeded the character limit and need to post Diasomnia in 2 parts. I have favorites I guess :/

Malleus experienced more firsts over the course of three years than the duration of his life. His first board game session, his first group trip with peers, his first taste of carnival food, his first sleepover, his first true friend - so, so many firsts. All a byproduct of one person walking into his life and taking a genuine interest in him.

You were the first houseguest he personally invited over to Diasomnia. Not for a tour, not for business, not on behalf of another - no. You were Malleus' houseguest, there to visit Malleus and spend time with Malleus. The snacks prepared were for you both to share. The lounge seating reserved for your company. His first time hosting for fun.

You were the first person he ever got a present for outside of his family. How quick your birthday had come, and how startled he became to find he cared. You were older. Growing so quick and changing at an alarming pace. He could see it in your features and mannerisms. Malleus knew that humans aged at a much faster rate than fae. Silver sprouted like a beanstalk. Yet you were blossoming like a flower in spring. How long until you'd wither?

Malleus cared. Not out of curiosity, but something deeper. Malleus did not want a servant to pick your gift, not even his closest companions. He desired to adhere to human custom and do the task himself. He did not trust another to pick something meaningful and to your preference.

You were the first to make him laugh. Your humor being like none he had heard before. Others tend to correct themselves in Malleus' presence, or try to cater to 'his' taste. Even those closest to him, often sharing a joke that flies over his head without any explanation. You did no such thing. Your humor was curious, and perhaps a bit crude. The jokes did fail to land with him, but he still found them funny regardless.

You were the first to make him yearn. Malleus had felt loneliness before. He's been bound in it's searing clutches and taunted. Yet his rooted longing never compelled him to change. He never felt jealous. Until your smile became another's and he felt a hot pit in his stomach. One different than his fiery magic.

You were his first desire.

Malleus fumbled and panicked. He had finally found a friend, yet he wanted more. The realization striking him deep. The first want he had no guarantee of obtaining. Yet his need for you was strong. He could not lose you. Malleus begun to value your presence. Your joy. The new life you breathed into him. He held it as dear as his family. You became his fondest treasure.

Malleus needed to ensure that you would never be taken from him. That you would never change.

You were also his first failure. On the dawn of your second year and his graduation, Malleus proposed. He had forgone all customs and jumped straight to marriage. Love to the fae was a lifetime bond. No power could chain you to him stronger than matrimony. Which is why he demanded your presence in the gardens after the ending ceremony. He decorated according to your tastes, with colorful lanterns and firefly lights strewn across the plants.

He saw the hope in your eyes. The way they sparkled with affection and pride bloomed knowing that he was the cause.

“Malleus….It’s so beautiful. Did you prepare this just for me?” You ask, clutching your hands to your chest. He smiles, reaching into his breast pocket and pulling out a black velvet box in the shape of a rose.

“I’m happy to see you like it; however, I hope this offering pleases you more”

Malleus opens the box to reveal a ring. Your eyes widen owlishly and he interprets it as a good sign. Until you step back.

“Oh Malleus….I can’t accept this. We aren’t even dating!” You deny his unspoken proposal with a shaken tone Malleus’ is unfamiliar with. Not from you.

“Why not? I love you. Is that not enough? Do you not love me?”

He fails to understand why you declined. He spent countless hours studying human customs and expression. No. Studying you. He was confident you returned his affections. So why? Why not leave this place and join him?

You explain to him that you’re incapable of marrying someone you haven’t spent time with romantically. That you do care about him. That you liked him and did feel for him. That you could love him, but not so suddenly. You have friends at NRC and didn’t want to leave. Not to mention how him marrying a human, especially with no warning, would cause so many political problems.

Of course he had already taken all this into consideration. He didn’t care about all that, yet bit his tongue from speaking his mind. Another first for Malleus.

“What if I abide by your terms? Would you allow me to court you properly?” He cuts into your sea of reasons not to be together. They weren’t his concern. Only you.

This gets you. He clearly wasn’t listening. Love blinded the average person, and Malleus’ heart bled. You consider his offer, and agree to his courtship. It would be difficult to maintain considering your distance and his status. Yet they were fickle matters to Malleus.

You were his first failure, yet he didn’t mind. There was no true victory without a bit of labor.

The change that he so feared, it became something Malleus adored. Every time he would whisk you away from NRC, or return for a visit - you were different. You had a new story to share, or had changed your appearance. At first he began to panic once again at how quickly you seemed to evolve without him.

And one day he realized that you would keep changing. He’d see a new you forever. All these new versions. A constant spark and longing that made him realize how precious each one was. They would come whether he bid them to or not - so he had to cherish them. Every version of you was one he loved and lost. Yet the fact that another would emerge kept his heart complacent.

You were his first kiss on a dewy fall morning. You were his first heartfelt dance, dressed in shimmery black satin and pearls that he gifted. You were his first goodnight kiss, and first morning embrace. You were his first comfort after tragedy struck and his first sympathetic heartache. You were everything.

It was no longer about chaining you. He loved his firsts. He would forever remember them.

His first goodbye.

On the cusp of your 3rd year coming to a close, Malleus prepared the ring from two years prior. He would gift it to you after your graduation. It would be yours whether you accepted the meaning behind it or not - the ring could go to no one else.

An announcement arrives to him the week prior via pen and paper. Hand written by you and oh how he so loved your letters. Malleus opened it with calm delight, yet as his eyes traveled across the words he forgot how to control his strength. The paper alit in flames.

‘The Headmaster found a way to send me home. Would you come for a visit?’

The letter was not so blunt, but that’s all he could comprehend. Malleus was not ready to say goodbye. He once thought his greatest fear was to watch his flower wilt, yet now it must be cut to make a bouquet.

As much as it tore him apart, Malleus had to let you go. He couldn’t root you to soil forever. His hands unconsciously drift to the velvet rose box tucked safely in his breast pocket.

It’s only natural you’d be the source of some of Malleus’ lasts. He would never love another.

He joins you days before your ceremony. You explain to him the procedure to return, and he bites his tongue once again. He encourages you, and is happy that you’re happy. The ring burns a hole where his heart lies yet he continues on with grace, ignoring the cautious behavior of your peers whenever he’s around. The only opinion he cared for was yours, and he’d stay as long as you needed.

Malleus missed the way your heart sought his. The way you gave him chance after chance to ask you to stay. How you clung to him despite the roles normally being reversed.

“I guess this is goodbye. I’ll miss you,” you whisper, holding Malleus’ hand and glancing at the glowing portal behind him. Malleus smiles, his eyes softening as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“I will never forget your heart,” he murmurs against your skin, and reaches into his breast pocket with fluid movements. Malleus places the velvet rose box in your hands, cradling them gently with both of his.

“This is yours. I had it made for your finger alone, and only you will be the one to wear it. My heart belongs to you. Let this be my final selfish wish, but I hope you will think of me when you look upon it”

Malleus doesn’t understand why you break down. The way you clutch the box to your chest and look at him with such pain. He thought you wanted to go home. Is it not what you waited so long for?

He cannot be strong when you’re crying. How can you be so cruel. He won’t be able to -

“I want to be with you. I love you,” you whisper yet he hears it perfectly clear.

Malleus’ heart stutters and he clutches your shoulders. With one hand he tilts your chin up to look at him. Your eyes splotched with red irritation and glassy with sorrow. He wipes at their edges with his thumbs, cupping your cheeks ans looking at you for any sign of doubt. Any insincerity or fear. Your expression from years prior still lives rent free in his mind…he would not risk your happiness for his selfishness.

He finds nothing and pulls you in his arms. For the first time, Malleus sheds tears born from love. From relief. He wraps his arms protectively around you, and tucks his chin over your head.

“If you love something, let it be free. If it was meant to be yours then it will come back willingly. This is a saying of humans, is it not? I could not have you at the cost of your happiness. You do not deserve such a tainted love…but if this is truly what you desire, then I will not cease my efforts. You are mine, and I will eternally be yours,”

{Malleus’ ring is hand crafted by the royal blacksmith. Some would assume that there is a ring passed down through generations of the Draconia bloodline. There is not. The fae do not follow such traditions, yet Malleus would not instill all his values onto you. If it is a ring you need, then it is a ring he will get. He decides to reforge a gem plucked from his mother’s staff. The ring is made especially for you, with a teardrop-cut of magic-infused emerald as the focus point. It’s enchanted to reject any hand other than your own, and morphs to the size of your finger. It is subtle, made of pure gold, and a symbol of union between fae and mankind.}

"One should never make a vow of eternal love lightly. Take it from someone with ample life experience"

Lilia often imposes advice without any prompting. The musings of an old man normally went in and out of people's ears anyways. Sometimes it takes experience to learn, and no matter how we try to warn our children - fate is fate. They will go through the motions just as the people before them. Especially when it comes to trials of the heart such as love and loss.

Lilia knows both intimately. They've forged the man he is.

Philia: Love of friendship and equals. His peers, his comrades in arms, his fellow fae. The friends he has lost through death and distance. Those he fought to protect.

Storge: Parental love. To raise the son of his closest friends, and the blood of his sworn enemy. Lilia has fought through loss to feel the gratification of fatherhood. Lilia loves his children.

Agape: Love of man. This one took work. It took losing all he had, and then losing more. Hundreds of years of healing and trying to be better. Even in his final stretch Lilia is still learning this love.

Eros: Passionate, unconditional love. Lilia has felt this once, and only once. The wound still fresh with a dribble of salt steadily halting the healing process. To feel eros is a beautiful thing, but to have it ripped away is enough to kill.

Lilia experienced his fair share, and now enjoys watching those in the prime of life seek out love. He doesn't engage in romantic gossip, but enjoys watching others live their lives. One of his biggest curiosities being you, oddly enough.

This is because you've shown no interest in feeling love of any kind. Being the nosy man he is, Lilia finds your dismissal of others a bit concerning. He's not the most open person himself, yet you're a young human. This is when you should be wild! Surely you must feel something, considering all the 'escapades' you've been on with other students. The best way to bond is over shared trauma - he's not endorsing it. Just stating a fact.

"It's nothing personal. I'd rather not get too attached considering my living circumstances, if you catch my drift" you say in response to his prying.

He indeed 'catches the drift' and sees a bit of himself reflected in you. You were not unkind, yet also not overzealous. You did not push others away, yet also made an effort to protect yourself. For all the kind deeds you've done, Lilia knew better than to think it a case of bleeding heart syndrome. You remind him of how he was when deciding to raise Silver - afraid and very good at hiding it for the sake of others.

He decides to step in against his better judgement. If anything to repay the kindness you've done Malleus and his two youngsters. He couldn't watch you waste the precious life you’ve been given huddled away in isolation. Lilia would become your confident, as he is the most equipped to endure inevitably bidding farewell. If anything he will encourage you to forge stronger bonds of your own accord without fear.

He does an outstanding job at being the extrovert adopting an introvert. His favorite hobby being to startle you - popping out from random places like trees, bushes, the ceiling, your closet, etc. So much that you grow accustomed to his antics and expect them. Going so far as to always carry hard candies in your coat pocket as a peace offering.

He invites you to play online video games, go shopping, and sometimes pops by your dorm with Malleus. However his visits soon become solo, sensing that his adopted son didn't enjoy his 'nightly stroll' with his best friend being invaded. Lilia didn't mind - it meant that he'd get your company all to himself! There was nothing like watching a few horror flicks and tormenting Grimm after them. You even had a guest room in case he felt too ‘lazy’ to fly home.

On your birthday, he bakes a cake and leaves it on your kitchen windowsill. You found it, and even thanked him 'happily' later that day. He never said he was the chef though....you must have quite a keen sense of taste! That or he must be so talented that you know his cooking by heart!

Lilia felt a sense of relief, seeing your mannerisms shift from neutral to happy as time passed. It was hard work ebbing away at those walls of yours. It's not good for humans to be stressed. It lessens their already short lifespan.

He really should step aside. Let you befriend more humans and people that will support your journey. Except he doesn't want to. Philia's taken root in his heart - you're now a friend. An actual one.

So...he doesn't let go.

You join the college's boardgame club, and Lilia feels honored that he's the first you ask to play with. Each time you sought his company made him feel young again. Thrills did tend to follow your wake after all.

You often spent many evenings teaching Malleus, Silver, and even Sebek about your world. Not something Lilia planned for, but seeing you open up about it put his mind at ease. The different cultures, history, trends - Lilia listens in happily as well. Going so far as to learn some of your favorite recipes. He wants to cook them right away, but agrees to wait for your company. You grew nervous when he brought the topic up, possibly because you didn't want to be left out? Surely, that must be why.

Soon comes another January 1st - Signifying a new year and also Lilia’s birthday. The night prior he was out on the prowl, flying free throughout campus, watching people party and celebrate. Normally he’d spend this evening having fun of his own, but being caged at a school left him little chances to be free. Jumping across rooftops and sneaking around doing parkour was a trip down memory lane. The fireworks and lively people made for an excellent atmosphere.

By chance he happened on your rooftop, and decided to pop in for a quick respite. Slipping in through an open window was child’s play, as was avoiding your paranormal houseguests and popping in and out of rooms.

His keen hearing picks up your voice coming from the main bedroom - and normally he wouldn’t invade a personal space but the door was open. So obviously it was an invitation. He sticks to the ceiling and crawls to a shrouded corner with a mischievous grin.

How unsuspecting you were - dressed up in fancy clothes and muttering to yourself while in front of a floor length mirror. Lilia thinks you’re going to a party and is prepping to tag along -

“Alright. I can do this,” you mutter and turn around to pace the floor. A neatly wrapped present is clutched tight in your hands - wrapped in ivory paper with a sparkly pink ribbon. Lilia freezes just when he’s about to jump down, and clings back to the wall. “Just give it to him. Give it and tell him how you feel,” you turn towards the mirror, holding the box out, “Hello there Lilia. Yes, this is a birthday present. Yes, you’re a year older, how exciting! By the way I really like you so would you want to go on a date?” You fall silent, cringing in disgust at your reflection before sitting on the bed, “Ah. That was such dogshit”

Lilia exits as swift as he entered. The night air whips against his skin as he transforms into a bat and is already on the way back home. The implications of what he just witnessed weighing heavily on his mind.

This would not be the first time someone has caught feelings for him. You don't go 700 years without any suitors - he'd always turn them down with careful consideration.

Except he doesn't want to this time. That's the major issue.

The flight home was long, with purposeful detours until he felt tired enough to retire. A familiar bitter ache stung his heart. He'd only felt this disappointment once prior, and swore off letting it bud again.

Eros.

Lilia was in love too. He recognized the passion growing long before this moment, and against his better judgement let it fester.

"Seems I'm not as equipped to handle this as I once believed" he says to no-one and moves to play some online games instead of sleeping.

Lilia once felt a love he couldn’t express through anything other than fealty and devotion. It was a darker time where there was no promise of future. He swore not to endure that pain again - yet this is similar yet also different. The love is blooming effortlessly. His devotion is growing. The desire is there and so is the fear. All the same feelings yet without the dire weight of external forces adding pressure. This time it’s his choice to follow through. There’s no bigger force at play stopping him. Not even your mortality, considering how his lifespan is almost at its close.

Yet for all his years of wisdom, the thought of putting his heart out was still as frightening as the first.

In truth, Lilia had ulterior reasons for pursuing your companionship other than worry or repaying a debt. Your behaviors did remind him of his past self. That was no lie. He simply felt affection blooming upon your first meeting and thought having your friendship would morph it into something more tame. He had a habit of drawing in lost souls - what was one more?

Now the affection is stronger, and you return it.

Heavens, was he being given another chance? After all these years.

You return it. It's requited. He needn't hide it for the sake of someone else's happiness. Lilia could be selfish, if only he let himself.

The next day, Lilia finds an ivory box with a sparkly pink ribbon outside his door. A neatly written letter is attached, with the words 'Happy Birthday' written on the front. His name is written on the tag in black ink, with your name signed as the sender.

Lilia picks it up and undoes the wrapping with nimble movements. Inside is an assortment of treats that he wanted to try from your home, and a neatly folded letter atop them. It details exactly what was expected, a perfect explanation of your feelings that's entirely different than the nervous display he intruded upon.

He looks around the hallway, checking to see if you’re nearby before disappearing without a trace. Nothing but an open door showing that he left.

Everything after is a blur. While doing the dishes back at your dorm and trying not to think of the present - Lilia appears out of nowhere, startling you for what was probably the first time in months. His typical cheeky grin and snicker were nowhere in sight.

He says one thing, “Are you certain?”. The words held a heavy meaning for the both of you.

Asking if he’s willing to go for one last chance. To take one final risk or simply be satisfied with all he’s accomplished thus far. It asks if you’re willing to do the same - to risk everything you’ve built in one fell swoop.

You nod, and Lilia smiles. Not an impish smirk or a snarky grin. A true, soft smile that is full of released tension. He happily hugs you from behind as you finish working in silence, gradually slipping back to his playful ways yet not entirely. He would remain the out of touch peepaw that you so loved to tease him as, but a bit of his youthful spirit was being revived. His inner self being healed, perhaps.

He loves you, and the world hasn’t split in two. It was his time.

Finally.

From then on he had no reservations in loving you. This was a new form of eros. A new passion filled with joy and living for the moment - versus the weight of time holding him back like it did when he was younger. Nothing changed in your dynamic other than he now had the strength to let himself love freely.

Which is exactly why he wastes no more time. Just as he told you off hand long ago, one should not make a vow of eternal love lightly. He’d take his own advice and seek his own happiness for the first time in hundreds of years.

On a random night with no inkling of warning, Lilia drags you out of bed to the Ramshackle rooftop in nothing but your nightclothes. It wasn’t the first time he’d ask for a midnight escapade - just for the thrill and surprise, most of the time. He loved to keep things exciting.

Except he was being far too gentle. Far too nostalgic. He sits you down on the edge of the roof and puts his cardigan over your shoulders. Not a word passes between you as he tucks it snug around your shoulders - his hand tracing the line of your cheekbones, down your arms and to your hands. He cradles them gently, never taking his eyes from yours.

Then something foreign glimmers against your finger. In an effortless motion, he slipped the ring on without pause. You can’t help but stare at the gem in thought, looking between it and Lilia’s thoughtful expression over and over.

Lilia nods, taking your hand in his and running his thumb over the ring - admiring it against your skin.

“I’ve lived many years. Lead many lives. I thought I had accepted my nearing end, yet I find myself wanting more. I want to grey with grace at your side. To enjoy mundane evenings - greet you come morning and kiss you to seal a day’s end. I want my last life to be at your side, if only you will have me”

{A blood red garnet placed inside a blossom frame. Lilia’s ring is made of silver, and gives the illusion of a red rose in a bed of vines. Red is the color of passion, devotion, and unconditional love. Red roses hold this very meaning in the language of flowers. Lilia has felt this before - but you are his fated. You have chosen him simply for the person he is - not who he needs to be. He can finally be free and at peace. Your love is something he can selfishly hoard and it gives him the desire to enjoy life. He feels full. Happy. He hopes that this ring shows that he wants to live for the moment by your side, eternally}

[wileys-russo]

forget me not (2) II l.williamson

part one forget me not (2) II l.williamson

"mum i need to go."

"leah no-" but her mums words were cut off as the blonde clicked end call, fingers flying against her screen until she found your contact, call after call declined until it stopped ringing all together.

she then moved to texting, sending message after message until the 'do not disturb' notification popped up and her stomach heaved, you never put your phone on do not disturb.

her guilt peaked even higher noticing all of the messages above those she'd sent to you in a panic, clearly prior to your graduation and worrying about her whereabouts.

(8) iMessages from; lover girl 💐 hey baby i just arrived, you were dead to the world when i left (shock x) i'm kind of nervous! they just handed out our caps and gowns, its feeling really real now. what if i fall over when i'm walking up?? someone just put that thought in my head and now it won't go away 🥲🥲 i can't wait to just look out and see your pretty face, you can always ground me even without trying💘💘💘 *three missed calls* less just called me, she's leaving soon so i hope you're up and showering! i know you're not the best texter in the morning anyway grumpy 🫶🏻 we have to switch our phones off and leave them in our bags now babe but i'll see you in a little while. still so nervous ah! your support means everything, i love you leah 🩵

even though leah knew you were upset, the fact you hadn't made any attempts to call or message her after her no show only solidified it further for her, the blonde selfishly sort of wishing you had to ease her guilt even just a little.

"fuck!" the girl swore as she threw her phone on the passenger seat, burying her face in her hands with a deep and prolonged exhale. "okay think leah, think." she mumbled to herself, fists balling and rubbing against her eyes until she saw stars, head thumping back against the headrest.

grabbing her phone again she winced seeing the multitude of other missed calls, from alessia, your mum, your aunt, your best friend, all worrying that something had happened to her for her not to show up, the sweet messages from your mum checking in if she was okay hitting her in the stomach in a different sort of way.

"alessia!" she realized, quickly hitting call on the girls contact, feeling like an idiot for not even noticing her friends absence and putting two and two together, this was a brand new low.

"come on!" leah grunted, calling the younger girl easily six times and each one going right to voicemail, finger hovering over your mums contact before abandoning that idea with a shake of her head.

"shit." leah swore again checking your location and noticing you'd stopped sharing with her, biting down on her bottom lip as her knee bounced and her fingers drummed against the wheel wracking her brain for anything.

"fuck me leah where did she say the celebration was afterwards?" the footballer mumbled to herself, eyes squeezing close as she tried to think back, unable to even remember you mentioning your graduation in the last few days, another nail in the coffin of realizing she had been an awful girlfriend to put it lightly.

a sudden spark of hope she grabbed her phone again, clicking into instagram and huffing when both you and alessia hadn't posted anything, searching up several of your friends and families accounts finding the same wall of silence in her way.

growing even more desperate leah clicked into an app she checked maybe once a year, only keeping her facebook active for the sake of her childhood friends.

"thank you aunty gillian, thank you!" leah whispered as a quick scroll of her feed showed your godmother had posted some pictures from the graduation and the post ceremony celebrations, a quick zoom confirming the restaurants name on a menu on the table.

without another seconds hesitation she was putting the address into maps, car roaring to life as she peeled out of the colney carpark at top speed, flying across town and swearing loudly as she seemed to hit every red light in all of london.

"williamson." she barked to the valet as she screamed to a halt in front of the hotel where the restaurant was, throwing the keys at the young boy who didn't even have time to say a word before she was pushing through the double doors and bursting inside.

"m'am im really sorry you can't-" the hostess tried to stop leah as she barreled past, ignoring her completely and hurrying into the restaurant. it didn't take her long to find your closest friends and family on a big table in the corner, alessia spotting her before anyone else did and eyes widening.

though as leah came to a screaming halt in front of them, the table falling quiet as they took her in, still clad in an arsenal tracksuit with wet hair and frantic eyes looking as you would have said had you been present, a hot mess.

"no auntie ava its alright, i'll handle it." alessia murmured to your mum as leah shrank under the scrutiny and harsh glares from your friends and family, nobody impressed with her no show even if they didn't know the full story.

"you need to leave, right now." alessia warned, grabbing the blonde by her bicep and pulling her away from the table, around the corner and out of view. "less please i can-" leah started as the younger girl held up a hand.

"i don't care leah. i've just gotten her to calm down after she's just spent twenty minutes crying in the bathroom after her big day!" alessia warned, leah taken aback by the venom in her teammates tone, the girl normally so sweet butter wouldn't melt in her mouth.

but there was one thing your cousin didn't mess about with, and that was family.

"she cried?" leah deflated, voice barely above as whisper as the taller girl nodded. "yes leah she cried several times, she's heartbroken that her girlfriend didn't show up for her graduation. but rather chose to go to the same training we have four or five times a week, she saw on instagram." alessia growled, poking accusingly at leahs shoulder.

"nope." alessia held up a hand again as leah opened her mouth to pour out another excuse or hurried apology.

"i told you leah, i don't care. she deserves to enjoy the rest of her day, you've ruined enough and done more damage than you can apologize for in the two minutes you've got to leave before i let my brothers escort you outside." alessia warned seriously, jaw clenched and still gripping harshly onto leahs arm.

"but less-" "leah, go."

but right as your girlfriend was ready to get on her knees and beg alessia to get her even one minute of your attention, you came stumbling around the corner in search of your cousin.

"baby-" leah started, falling quiet with a hiss as alessia sharply pinched her and moved to put her body in between the two of you like your own personal security guard.

"you have some nerve!" you laughed, leah frowning at the slur in your voice and the way alessia hurried to catch your swaying body, shooting the older blonde a filthy glare over her shoulder as she steadied you and mumbled something in your ear.

"no i know. i'm done crying over her!" you responded, leah swallowing hard as her knees buckled with how much anger was ablaze in your eyes as your gaze moved back toward her.

"you're a little late." you mocked with a pout, voice dripping with sarcasm as your eyes burned holes in your girlfriends head, trained on her like lasers.

"bubba please if you just-" "don't leah, don't call me that." all the anger seemed to deflate out of your voice at that, the obvious hurt and betrayal in it wrapping around leahs heart and squeezing tight like a fist.

"i don't want to hear the excuses, or the apologies, i don't even want to look at you leah. i have never been so let down or dissapointed, hurt, angry, sad." you listed off every emotion which was wracking your body, pausing for a moment and swaying a little leaning into alessia more.

"i have been there for you, for everything leah. i was there by your side every day when you did your acl, through the rehab and recovery good times and bad. i didn't leave when you yelled, when you snapped, when you hurled insults just for helping because i knew you were hurting and you weren't lashing out at me." you shook your head as leah felt sick to her stomach.

"i was there for you during the world cup. i stayed in england to be there for you, watching my own cousin playing the tournament and living out her dream through a phone screen, not daring to mention the games because i knew you were devastated to miss it." you paused to swallow the tears which brimmed at your eyes.

"i have put up with a lot of shit leah, dismissed a lot of things because i love you. but this...this isn't something i can sweep under the rug and excuse because you're hurting and i want to support you. today i needed you, i needed you to support me and you couldn't even do that." you whispered, wishing you had another drink in hand for a spike of liquid courage which was bleeding rapidly out of the open wounds your girlfriends actions slashed you with.

clearing your throat you continued, tilting your chin up a little higher. "less already took me past our place and i grabbed a bag of stuff, i'm moving in with her for awhile. i don't want to see you, hear from you, nothing, until i am ready leah. i never thought you of all people were capable of hurting me like this, now please go." with that you turned around, stumbling slightly but catching yourself with a sharp inhale and marching back off to the table.

"no. leah you heard her, you need to leave." alessia's hands pressed against her chest as she tried to follow after you.

"like i said, you can go on your own terms leah, or i'll get my brothers." your cousin warned seriously, leahs mouth opening and closing before she gave in with a nod, turning and walking away.

~

"its another one for you!" you looked away from the football match your cousin was currently forcing you to watch, alessia appearing seconds after the bell had rung with another bunch of flowers as you got up with a sigh.

"she's consistent, you've gotta give her that." alessia shook her head as you took the flowers from her, perching herself on the arm of the lounge as your eyes scanned over the card.

"we look like we own a florist shop." your cousin commented, eyes roaming over the countless bunches of flowers littering the living and dining rooms.

"i've texted her telling her to stop!" you shook your head placing down the bunch with a deep seeded sigh, dragging your hands down your face. "what are you thinking?" your cousin asked knowingly as you wandered back toward the lounge, collapsing into it as she spun around on the arm to face you.

"i don't know." you exhaled honestly, face buried in your hands as alessia kicked you gently, looking down with a raised eyebrow. "its been two weeks and i miss her." you admitted honestly, sitting up with a slight grunt.

"but i'm also still really hurt and upset and there isn't an excuse under the sun she could make that would help that go away." you added on, grabbing a throw cushion and pushing your face into it with a scream.

"would you consider hearing her out anyway?" alessia asked, playing devils advocate as you looked back up with another sigh. "yes? no? maybe?" you groaned, laying back down on the lounge in a world of indecision.

"sounds like you want to. but you're a little scared of what that might mean? just hear her out, it doesn't mean you have to go running right back into her arms but it'll mean you're not sitting here wondering what it is she has to say." your cousin read you like a book with a small smile. "i hate that you're always right." you shook your head as alessia chuckled.

"just looking out for my little piccoli ravioli!" your cousin cooed, a grunt leaving your body as she dove on top of you, pinching your cheeks and shaking your head side to side before rolling off of you.

"you know i can very easily smother you in your sleep russo."

none the less you took her advice, reaching out to your girlfriend? ex girlfriend? you weren't even sure what the two of you were at this point given you'd had practically no contact for the last fortnight.

which is how you found yourself a few days later taking a deep breath, hand on the door to the coffee shop you'd agreed to meet up with her at, steadying yourself with a nod before you pushed it open.

you spotted her right away, her eyes trained on the door and hand raising to wave you over the very moment you stepped inside. "i got your usual, sorry the ice melted a little...i was early." leah started with a slight blush as you sat down, pushing the iced latte across the table.

"thanks." you gave her a small smile, taking a sip as an awkward silence settled between you two. "should i start? is that okay?" leah blurted out suddenly, knee bouncing nervously as you nodded and she exhaled shakily.

"i'm not going to waste your time making excuses or apologizing over and over or grovelling." leah started as you quirked an eyebrow and sipped at your drink, curious where she was going with this.

"i'm just going to be honest instead, get right to the point. baby i was a selfish blind asshole, to say the least. i took you for granted. i did not support you even a tenth as much as you did for me. i don't deserve you, i don't deserve a second chance." leah paused, meeting your eyes for a moment as you nodded for her to continue.

"i forgot about your graduation, i didn't care enough to remember despite all the little hints you left me that you shouldn't have even needed to. theres no nice way to say it, theres no excuses for it, no lies. i didn't prioritize you, i didn't respect you or your achievements or put your needs above my own when thats all you've ever done for me." leah sighed, fiddling nervously with her hands in her lap.

"i was so blinded by the joy of being back on the pitch, kicking a ball, being with the girls again. all i was focused on was making the roster for camp, returning back to glory and my captaincy and playing full games for arsenal again." leah admitted, neck and ears flushing hot with embarrassment.

"but nothing, not football not arsenal, not anything, should ever take priority over me being a good supportive life partner and girlfriend. you were right you have put up with so much from me, done so much for me, pushed aside your feelings and your problems to put mine first, and i couldn't even do that for a day when you've done it since the moment we got together." leah continued, shaking her head disappointed with herself.

"love there isn't enough apologies in the world that i can ever say to make up for it. obviously i am incredibly sorry, but you deserve better than words you deserve evidence and action and commitment." you were taken by surprise as leah suddenly stood.

"if you will please please please just come with me for a quick drive i have something for you." she hesitated for a moment before offering you her hand, a confused and skeptical frown on your face as you sized her up.

"its not more flowers, is it?" that caused a small smile to make its way onto the blondes face as she shook her head.

"no, no more flowers."

~

"seriously? leah this is all very weird." you shook your head as she pulled up outside your shared home, a place you'd not stepped foot in for just as long as you hadn't seen your girlfriend for, holding out a blindfold.

"i know i know i know. and i'm sure you don't right now which is completely valid, but i need you to just trust me and put this on." leah bit her bottom lip sheepishly as you sighed, giving her a hard look before snatching it out of her hand.

"no! i've got it." you smacked away her hand which tried to help, tying it up yourself as your heart rate sped up the moment your world was plunged into darkness.

"can i grab your hands? please?" you heard the car door open and flinched a little, nodding slowly as you felt leahs warm hands interlock with your own, pulling you up to your feet as the car door closed behind you.

"step, step, rock, puddle, another step, three more steps, gate." leah announced each reason for moving you, your frown deepening as you realised she was leading you around the side and toward the backyard, ears straining and senses heightened trying to work out what was going on.

"leah!" you huffed as you tripped and almost fell, strong hands steadying you as the blonde winced. "sorry...one more step."

"okay, i'm taking the blindfold off now." leah sighed shakily, and you felt her hands trembling slightly as they fumbled around clumsily with the knot on the back of the blindfold.

but persisting she finally got it, wincing as it slipped away and the sunlight struck you in the face. but that was nothing compared to how high you jumped at the large yell which sounded next, your hand coming to cover your mouth.

"happy graduation!"

"what? this is..." you trailed off, all of your friends and family and colleagues gathered around the backyard, fairy lights strung up in trees and a long table splitting the yard in half decked out with flowers and food and candles.

you tensed as leah grabbed your hands again, moving to stand in front of you with a smile. "i know i ruined your special day by not showing up for you. but you deserve to have your achievements celebrated in a way even half as big and special as you are, and everyone who knows you and loves you agrees, and they're here to show that to you." leah explained softly, another cheer ringing out from the crowd in your backyard as you both looked across with a laugh.

"you organised this?" you asked as leah nodded, letting go of your hands. "i'm not asking you to move back in tonight and forgive me right away. but i hope this is a step in the right direction to me showing you that you mean more to me than anything in the world, and i was such a fucking idiot to take that for granted." leah promised sincerely as your features softened.

"thank you." you caught her off guard by pulling her into a hug, admittedly melting into her taller form as you held one another tightly, your guests all turning back into their own conversations as music started up and chatter floated through the air.

"you're very very welcome. now go and be celebrated!" the blonde pulled away and gently pushed you toward the crowd, smile on her face as you nodded, turning and stepping toward your parents first who cheered and handed you a flute of champagne.

"did you know about all of this?" you tugged your cousin aside around an hour later once you'd made your rounds greeting and chatting with everyone, the sun setting as leah was busy setting up the catering she'd organised for dinner, lia by her side helping out as a fair few of the arsenal girls hung about, good friends with you through both leah and alessia.

"who do you think helped her grovel for forgiveness with the whole family?" alessia smiled knowingly, sipping at her drink. "the whole family?" you asked, eyebrows shooting up in surprise as your cousin nodded.

"mhm, had me gather everyone at your mums place and she stood in front of them all delivering a speech about how much of an idiot she is and how much you mean to her, and how first and foremost she wanted to make up for ruining your day, even if it didn't mean you'd take her back." alessia explained as you glanced at leah over her shoulder, a small smile curling into your lips at the way she helped your nephew dish up his food, chattering away to him and pulling silly faces making him giggle.

"was it brutal?" you asked with a chuckle, alessia wincing. "horribly horribly awkward. nonna ripped into her, then your mum, then my mum, then your brother, then my brothers, then-" alessia recounted as you cut her off with a laugh.

"okay okay i get it, we have a very tight knit family who clearly have my back." you smiled with a shake of your head. "we do. but they all agreed to come, and that when she's not being an insensitive stupid idiot leah is crazy about you." alessia spoke a little more softly.

"go talk to her." your cousin kissed your cheek, slipping her drink into your hand and taking your empty one, pushing at your back encouragingly as you sighed and let your feet lead you over to her.

"hey, can we talk?" you asked, leah practically dropping the plate of food in her hand with a nod, hurrying after you as you made your way up the back steps and inside, wanting a little more privacy than your backyard full of friends and family provided.

"is this all okay? is it too much? did i do too much? less warned me not to go overboard and i know i said no more flowers but obviously theres flowers here and i got catering from your favorite restaurant and it took me days and days to get everyone to agree to come and then-" tired of her rambling you leaned in, pressing your lips against her own and effectively silencing her.

"i-okay." leah blinked in shock as you pulled away, a small smile of amusement on your face. "first of all, this is very very sweet leah, its perfect." you assured with a firm nod, leah visibly sagging in relief.

"second of all...i want to come home, tonight." you held up a hand as the blonde perked up and opened her mouth, snapping it right closed. "this doesn't fix everything leah, i'm still hurt and its going to take time for me to trust you properly again" you warned as the defender nodded eagerly.

"but we can't work on things unless we're together, and i have missed you." you admitted quietly, the words scary to confess but knowing you needed to be honest. "i've missed you so much, like...so so much." leah breathed out shakily making you smile.

"but promise me one thing?" your hands came to cup her face as she nodded.

"no more apology flowers leah for like...a long time." you grinned as leah let out a laugh of surprise, hands falling to your hips and drawing your body into hers, eyes searching you face as you nodded knowing what they were looking for, her lips sweetly pressing a few times against yours.

"i promise."

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 8: The Reunion

“Oh god, look at all these people,” you mutter, looking around the hall the award ceremony from your seat in the developer section, which is full beyond capacity. “Don’t think I’ve seen this many people before.”

The last time you saw so many people was your graduation night at Gotham Academy, but this makes that look like a small office party in comparison.

(There is no need to fret. You have polished your speech to perfection and have rehearsed it so many times you can recite it perfectly in your sleep. And when you are done, all will cheer for you.)

You smile at its words. No matter how uncertain you feel, the Megamycete always has your back. You’d hate to think where you’d be without it.

Well, without the Megamycete, you’d probably be dead.

“Wonder where Alfred is,” you wonder, looking around at the back of the hall. “He said he was coming.”

(We are sure he is here. The butler would swim through shards of broken glass to be here at the biggest triumph of your life.)

You’re so anxious to see the man; it’s been four years since you last saw him in person and you just know he’s going to bring up your lack of visits and probably try to guilt you into visiting since Gotham’s only three hours away, but you intend to stand your ground and go back to Goodsprings tomorrow.

“I hope he likes the suit I got,” you mutter, messing with your collar for the millionth time, not use to wearing such fancy clothes.

(He will. You chose from among millions of choices and made the best choice. Everyone in the room is no doubt in awe of your superior fashion choice.)

The day you were told you were in the running for this award, you drove to Vegas and spent well over an hour at the Men’s Warehouse, looking over and trying on countless suits. The salesman helped a bit, but many people in the Megamycete’s records included many upper class men, men’s fashion designers, and models, so you were more than capable of picking out a tasteful black blazer with a breast pocket perfect for holding your Momma’s pen, a white button up shirt, and matching black pants and dress shoes.

The clothes looked fine on the rack, but wearing them in public for all to see is something you had to psych yourself up for. You feel like a kid playing pretend with his father’s clothes and everyone knows it. Still, you can’t help but feel like a professional and take a little pride in it.

Just then, the lights dim and the audience cheers as the MC steps on stage.

“Hello, everyone,” he says. “Are you ready to kick off the Golden Games?”

The room fills with thunderous applause and cheers, yours among them. You’ve known about this event for years and have never missed watching it. When you first started your game, you fantasized about being at the Gamer’s Gala competing with your fellow developers for the Golden Joystick, but knew there was no chance your first game would ever make it to the first round of voting. Perhaps your second game. Or maybe your third.

But here you are, at this prestigious event with your first ever game in top contention for a prize so many covet.

You pinch yourself to make sure you’re awake and are pleased that you’re wide awake.

The ceremony opens up with the Golden Joystick for the Triple-A Game of the Year and awards for their various categories, like story, gameplay, music, graphics, etc.

“Alright, with all the big dogs out of the way, we finally get to the indie games. And boy, was this year a massive success for so many indie developers with over fifty percent of this year’s most anticipated games being indie games! Let’s go over your picks for this year’s Indie Game of the Year.”

You get a look at the trophy you and your peers are competing for: the Golden Joystick. As the name suggests, it’s a trophy in the shape of an old fashioned joystick made up of a gold material. For a moment, you allow yourself to visualize winning it and displaying it in your office. Hell, you had a spot on a shelf made for it when you got the email from the event committee that Salvage Rights was a candidate for Indie Game of the Year, even though voting was still ongoing.

The MC begins going through the list of games with said games and their developers being displayed on one massive screen behind him with the game’s team showing up on the other one. With each game mentioned, you think about your Momma; you can remember being at some awards ceremony years ago when one of her books was up for some fancy prize. Even back then, you could tell she was so nervous about getting up and making a speech in front of so many people and having it broadcast for all to see.

At the time, you didn’t understand because she would’ve been given an award and everyone could see. Unfortunately, she didn’t win and while she said she hope to win it, it was good enough to be considered for it, you were pissed on her behalf over it.

Being here, you understand why she felt that way. While it would be a dream come true to win the Golden Joystick on your first ever game, just being here, among your peers, is more than enough; knowing you’re skilled enough to make a game worthy of being judged among the best is a tremendous honor. Plus, the thought of having to make a speech in front of so many people makes you so nervous, you fear you’ll lose your lunch.

God, you wish your Momma was here. This is the biggest moment in your professional life and having her in the audience would make you feel better.

(We are sure she would give anything to be here for you. Wherever she is, she is no doubt watching this moment with unparalleled anticipation.)

“And last but not least, the game that exploded onto the scene a month ago and made a surprise cameo on the voting polls, Salvage Rights by Gould Games,” the MC announces as your game appears on one screen while you appear on the other, lit up by a spotlight.

You feel your face break out into a blush as the room fills with applause and cheers. To know that so many people hold you and your work in such high regard… it’s humbling to say the least.

You wave back and give them a big smile.

Finally, the room quiets down, allowing the ceremony to continue.

“Ok, everyone, with all the candidates on the board.” The screen on the right of the stage lists all the games and their developers, yours the last on the list. “We opened the polls for all gamers and had a record breaking ten-point-nine million ones this year for the Indie Game of the Year, guys!”

The room once again fills with applause and a girl runs from backstage, delivers him an envelope, and runs off.

“It took the Gala Committee a while to tally the votes, but when all was said and done, it was clear who the winner was.” He opens the envelope and a drumroll plays from the speakers to buildup the moment. As he pulls out the piece of paper inside it, you realize you’re holding your breath and your heart’s stopped due to the anticipation. “The Golden Joystick for Indie Game of the Year goes to…” He looks down at the paper and looks back up. “Salvage Rights by Gould Games!”

Your eyes become wide as saucers as you process the words, your heart resumes beating and your release the breath you’d been holding since the candidates were announced. You then realize you’re bathed in the spotlights as the big screen shows you at your seat; the room fills with applause and cheers, many people near you congratulating you.

You get up and walk to the stage, nodding and clapping hands with many you pass by on your way to claim your award. Finally, you make it on stage and shake hands with the MC, who gives you the Golden Joystick.

(This is the only way this could have ended. You worked tirelessly on your game and did not stop until it was the definition of perfection. You were more worthy than any other for this trophy.)

“Thank you,” you say into the mic, silencing the room. “I just want to thank my fellow game developers, the Committee, and especially the gamers, who gave me the opportunity to be here.” This garners more applause. “I have to say, when I first started working on Salvage Rights, I never in a million years thought I’d be here, in the most prestigious gaming event, receiving the greatest award an indie game can receive, but I guess I was proven wrong.”

The room fills with laughter and you sigh in relief. Good, they seem to be liking your speech.

(As they should. You revised it over a dozen times and practiced it in front of your stuffed toys at least fifty times.)

“When I first got into video games, it was just because I was a kid who was fascinated by being able to play on a DS anytime, anyplace. Now, I’m into video games because they are the new medium of art. Think about it, there are games out there that have stories that would made Shakespeare weep, music worthy of being performed in symphonies, and art styles that should be studied by artists hundred years from now. It’s a medium that transcends all others that have come before it.”

More applause. Good, they like it.

“I first started work on Salvage Rights not long after my fifteenth birthday, nine years to the day that I unfortunately lost my Momma to a drunk driver.” You see many people in the audience take notice at this, clearly not expecting to hear something so tragic. “At the time, I was living in a place that neglected me; from the day I first arrived, I was treated like I didn’t exist and any attempts I made to get their attention was ignored.” Clearly your words resonate with people, because you can see a few people tearing up.

“I had someone there I could rely on, and he made those times more bearable, but he couldn’t get rid of that feeling of loneliness that I had felt for years and all I wanted was for my Momma to walk through that door and take me back home. But no matter how much I hoped and prayed, she never came and my loneliness only got worse with each day.

“My only escape from those days were video games. While in real life, I was a nobody in that house, but I was able to dive into one game where I was a noble hero who was destined to defeat the embodiment of evil, or dive into another game where I tamed the mightiest of beasts and triumph over the strongest of champions, or dive into one game where i could master every life skill possible and bring light to a world facing eternal darkness. It was during those days that I learned that games provided an escape from the confines of reality, if only for a little bit. And that’s when I realized I wanted to create a game that could allow someone to escape reality and become the best version of themselves.”

There’s definitely a couple people on the audience crying at this point.

(You have them eating out of the palm of your hand. Time to reel them in.)

“So, I want to thank each and every one of you, both those in this room and watching across the globe, for giving my game a chance and allowing me to fulfill my dream. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

The room explodes into applause and cheers, even a few whistles. I shake hands with the MC once more walk off stage and cross the room back to your seat, shaking hands and receiving pats on the back the entire time.

(A resounding success,) the Megamycete says as you sit down. (They hung on your every word. After tonight, everyone will know of your talent and many will beg for the opportunity to work on their newest project, offering you the world in exchange for your expertise. As they should.)

“Easy, buddy, you’re gonna give me one hell of an ego at this rate.”

(It is only naturally to think so highly of yourself. Compared to everyone in this room, you are a god.)

The rest of the ceremony features trailers for games releasing in the near future and announcements for new titles, making a note to keep an eye on many of them for you to buy on release or pre-order when they become available.

After the ceremony, you follow the rest of the developers to the Developer’s Lounge, a room that’s lavishly decorated and fully stocked with a wide array of food and drinks being served by a dozen waiters, all of it courtesy of Lex Luthor, who is currently talking to a group of triple-A executives, his bodyguard close behind him; many of your peers and various VIPs are already eating, drinking, and talking with other developers, game journalists (ugh), or their personal guests. You gratefully accept a champagne flute from a passing waiter and make your way around the room, looking around for any sign of Alfred.

“Where is he,” you mutter to yourself, scanning the room.

“Mr. Y/N Gould,” a masculine voice calls out to you, making you turn to the source: a tall, blue eyed man wearing a pair of black framed glasses, a grey jacket over a dark blue tie and light blue button up shirt, navy blue pants, and black loafers.

(We sense a spike in your heart rate. Are you alright?)

Oh, you’re better than alright. Some attractive man knows your name and wants to speak to you.

(You are attracted to this man. This is the first time we have ever experienced infatuation firsthand. We look forward to seeing this interaction unfold.)

“Yes,” you say, managing to find your voice. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet,” the man responds, raising his hand and you accept.

It’s then you notice the feel of something metallic and when you glance at his hand, you see a gold wedding band.

Damn it.

(We grieve the loss of your potential mate.)

Oh well, always lots of fish in the sea.

“Is there something I can help you with, Mr. Kent?”

“Yes, the Daily Planet was hoping to write an article on the winner of the winner of the Indie Game of the Year. Is there anyway I can talk you into doing an interview?”

(He can still be of use to you. By doing this interview, he can help you find you a worthy mate.)

Great, now you have sentient mold trying to play matchmaker. Well, at least you’ll be able to get more people interested in your game. The Daily Planet’s the biggest paper in Metropolis and has decent following around the country.

“I hope you can wait a little while for that interview, Kent.”

You freeze at the new voice, a voice you haven’t heard in over four years. You hope that, somehow, you’ve made some huge mistake and it’s not who you think it is. You then realize that the entire room’s gone silent, sans a few whispers, and now all eyes are on you and the newcomer behind you, Clark chief among them.

You realize that your breathing and your heartbeat have ceased, and the pit of anxiety and fear from earlier has returned, but there’s now rage included in that mix; rage you haven’t felt in over four years. Rage that finally went away when you finally escaped Gotham and put it and Wayne Manor in your rearview mirror.

You feel a hand grasp your left shoulder and out of the corner of your eye, see a tall figure come to a stop to your right. You slowly turn your head to fae the figure and look up to see your worst nightmare: Bruce Fucking Wayne looking down at you, his signature fake ass smile adorning his stupid mug and a champagne flute similar to yours in hand.

He’s dressed far too formal for an event about video games, wearing a designer black suit with matching pants that probably cost more than your car. You can dig through all your memories of the man and never find one instance of the man wearing anything casual. And that smile of his, the one he always flashes to his insufferable blue-blooded friends; you want to punch him so hard in the face that every last tooth shatters, but you manage to put a lid on that urge.

If only just barely.

(What is this shameless heathen doing here,) the Megamycete hisses. (The audacity of this creature to show up on the best night of your life and ruin it. You should kill him. Immediately.)

Right now, you’re really tempted to give him the Joker Treatment.

“I’m afraid Y/N and I have much to talk about.”

“Mr. Wayne,” Clark stampers out. “Do you know Mr. Gould?”

“I would say so,” he responds in that fake cheery tone he only reserves for galas and paparazzi, those “honeyed words” so disgustingly sweet and fake it makes you want to vomit. Preferably on him. He tries to pull you closer to him, but you’re able to resist it no problem thanks to the Megamycete. “He’s my son.”

And like that, the crowd around you descends into chaos, many of them loudly talking among themselves while others take out their phones and cameras and begin snapping pictures of the two of you, and so many media types are shouting questions towards you and him.

But all that doesn’t really phase you. Right now, you feel as if the world has crumbled around you and now you’re left free falling in an endless void, doomed to spend the rest of eternity in this sort of purgatory.

You’re frozen where you stand, unable to look anywhere else but at the face of the man you hate with your entire being and as you look into those eyes of his, every single memory of your stay at Wayne Manor flashes before your eyes; you’re overwhelmed by the feelings of sadness, loneliness, pain, and humiliation you were forced to deal with during those twelve long, horrible years. Right now, it takes every bit of restraint and willpower you have to not let all the thoughts you have of ripping this bastard’s head off and kicking it so far that every NFL team in the country would offer you fifty million in advance if you signed on with them become reality.

(You should do it. Kill this man. Teach him the meaning of pain. Let him feel all the pain he and his flock have caused you for years and despair. Make him regret ever taking you for granted.)

Ok, your usual voice of reason is now howling for blood. This does not bold well for you.

“Mr. Wayne,” you finally respond, finding the strength to keep your voice steady and not cause a scene (or at least a bigger one than he has already); you brush his hand off your shoulder, making a mental note to burn these clothes (damn it, you paid good money for these). “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, I’m definitely not your son. Perhaps you’ve had too much to drink? Wish I could say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You should sit down before you make an even bigger fool of yourself in front of all these people.”

His smile falls and you can see the hurt shine in his eyes for a fraction of a second. He’s an expert at concealing his emotions, so for you to do something like that makes you giddy.

“Y/N,” he pathetically responds as he reaches out to you, but you take a step back. “I am—“

“You’re a sperm donor, nothing more, Mr. Wayne,” you hiss, revealing in the hurt expression that breaks out on his face. It’s probably fake, a stunt to pull for the crowd, but you don’t care. You’ve held all these feelings in for years and now that you have the chance to give this son of a bitch a piece of your mind, you’re taking it. “You’re not my dad and I’m sure as hell not your son!”

“Y/N, I know I wasn’t the best father to you, but—“

You lose it at that. All the abuse and misery and neglect you had to deal with from him and his kids for over ten years, and he has the nerve to say he “knows” anything about how you feel? In a swift motion, you throw your champagne at him, dousing his face in the clear-yellowish drink that quickly pours down his neck and soaks his expensive black jacket.

The crowd gasps at this, but you absolutely couldn’t give a shit. This was to be the best night of your life and he had to go and ruin it by daring to show his hideous face and dare to have a conversation with you. Fuck, he probably took Alfred’s place, so you had no one here to share in your big moment, something that makes you even more pissed off.

Throwing your champagne at him only made your rage burn hotter, demanding to inflict as much pain and suffering on this man that you’ve suffered for years. You quickly close the gap between you two, deliver a harsh right hook to the right side of the man’s jaw and follow up by shoving the man as hard as you can (though still holding back a lot of strength so you don’t reveal what you really are), causing him to topple to the floor, landing on his ass.

At this rate, you don’t really care what people say about you after this, all you care about is hurting him. You look down at the pathetic wretch at your feet and love the look of horror and pain etched on his face, reveling in the terror in his eye and the blood dripping from his closed mouth.

(Yes,) the Megamycete screams. (More. More. Make him hurt. Make him bleed. Make him realize who the superior one is.)

“Someone call an ambulance, this asshole’s gonna need one,” you growl, pouncing towards the man who made you lose the best years of your life, ready to pound his face so hard that they’ll have to rely on fingerprints to identify him.

Just then, you’re caught in mid-air and when you look behind you, it’s Clark, his arms wrapped around your waist in a surprisingly strong grip.

“Mr. Gould,” he says in a tone like he’s trying to soothe a startled animal (which isn’t too far off the mark). “Please, control yourself.”

You don’t want to. In front of you is the man who treated you like shit from the day you two met, making you wish you were in the car when your Momma died so that you never met him. This was suppose to be your night — your moment of triumph — and he had to go and ruin it. And you want nothing more than to put this man in a full body cast, and that’s you being generous.

But when you see the look of total shock on his face, and everyone in the crowd who has the same expression, your rage finally cools down. Not because you feel guilty over what you did to Bruce, you were ready to reduce him to a bloody red paste, but because everyone just saw your absolute worst.

You go slack in Clark’s hold and that’s when he finally lets you go, having to command the mold to reinforce your leg bones to keep you standing because without it, you’re ready to collapse form the burst of energy you just burned through.

“Is there a problem here,” Lex says as he emerges from the crowd, Mercy following close behind. He glances down at Bruce and a ghost of a smirk appears on his face.

“I have an axe to grind with him,” you say, doing your best to even out your voice. “I’m sorry for making a scene.”

“What about pushing Mr. Wayne,” Lex asks, motioning to the man.

“No, that’s something I’m very proud of.”

You can see Bruce flinch at that and it makes you feel good.

“Well, it’s always a pleasure to see Bruce Wayne be taken down a peg,” the man chuckles. He then turns to the rest of the crowd. “Alright, show’s over, everyone. Go back to your own business.”

Slowly but surely, the crowd breaks up and the party resumes, but you can definitely tell many of the media types are still looking at you and Bruce and are no doubt chomping at the bit to talk to either of you, many of them furiously typing on their phones, probably texting their bosses and sending whatever pictures and videos they took.

“Mr. Gould, I’d be honored if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” He extends his arm as if you were a woman. “I have much I’d like to talk with you about.”

You discreetly glance down at Bruce, who looks like he’s ready to do to Lex what you did to him a minute ago. You know that Lex is only doing this to piss off Bruce, his biggest business rival, and is probably using you in hopes of getting some speck of dirt on Bruce and maybe even some Wayne Enterprises secrets.

And god damn it if the thought of that doesn’t make you giddy.

“Of course,” you say in a sweet tone of voice, looping your arm in Lex’s. “The honor would be mine.”

He leads you towards a private area of the lounge and as you pass by Bruce, who’s still on the floor, you glance over at him and give him a dirty look, making it clear that you hate his guts and the next time he tries something like this, you won’t hold back.

You don’t know what Bruce wants and why he’s suddenly showed up after four years of your leaving, but chances are he’s only here to serve his own agenda and you want nothing to do with him or his crazy ass family. You have your own life and are finally happy for the first time in years, and you’ll be damned if you’ll allow all your hard work to be destroyed.

If it comes down to it, you’ll wage war against him and the rest of the Bats.

(Yes, clip their wings. Tear them to shreds. Grind them into powder. Tear down everything that they are and leave nothing behind so they are forgotten by the world.)

Bruce watches as you and Lex wonder off to some desolate corner of the lounge, simultaneously plotting an attack on Lex Corp that will hot Luthor hard and replaying his interaction with you, going through millions of different ways that could’ve gone better. Or at least, not ended with you almost tearing him limb from limb, the only thing saving him was Kent’s intervention.

Ok, maybe approaching you like Brucie Wayne, millionaire playboy philanthropist, was a bad idea, but it was the only way he could think of that wouldn’t scare you off. He really thought that talking to you with his usual charm and bravado would’ve at least given him a chance to talk to you.

All it got him was a look into your temper.

Fuck, the look of pure rage and disgust in your eye the entire time you talked to him. Right now, he just wants to curl up and die, but he also wants to scoop you up into his arms, hug you tightly, and beg for your forgiveness, no matter how much of a fool he made of himself or how much you bite, scratch, and hit him.

It’s then he thinks back on you shoving him and it’s then he realizes it doesn’t make any sense. He’s a solid six-foot-two, way taller than you and while he would never call you weak, you definitely aren’t a bodybuilder, so he should’ve been able to withstand your shove no problem. But he’s been fighting against beings with super strength all his adult life, so he knows the difference between a strong human and a Meta.

But you’re not a Meta, right? He’s spent the last twenty-four hours digging up every piece of information he can on you, your medical records from Southern Hills Hospital being one of the first things he delved into. When you were born, you were a healthy baby boy, no signs of illness and certainly no trace of the Meta Gene. He even has your medical records during your time in Gotham (Alfred being the one to take you to all your appointments because he certainly didn’t do it), and everything points to you being in perfect health.

So, how were you able to shove him like that, a man who goes toe-to-toe with the likes of Bane on a regular basis?

“Are you ok, Bruce,” Clark asks, extending his hand to help him up.

“I’m fine,” he responds, brushing the hand aside and getting up on his own.

“Pardon me if I don’t believe that, I could tell you were shaken up by that.”

If there’s one skill Bruce prides himself on, it’s his ability to conceal his emotions, able to hide his true feelings from anyone and everyone, even from telepaths such as Martian Manhunter.

But seeing how his son, his baby boy, feels about him made him forget his control. Him not being able to hide the pain he felt when you lashed out at him, clearly holding a lot of anger and resentment towards him, was one of the few experiences that has shaken him to his core.

“Mr. Wayne,” Vicky Vale says as she emerge from the crowd and approaches them. “Care to make a statement on what just happened?”

It takes everything he has to not let out a groan. Of course, Vicky Vale is always there whenever some drama happens to either him or his children in public. She had a field day with him when he she asked about his bruises and limp he got last time he fought Killer Croc and he had to play it off as some really kinky sex he and some supermodel had.

“Not now, Vicky,” he responds, leading Clark closer to where you and Lex walked off to. “I have a prior engagement with Mr. Kent here.”

“I didn’t know you had a son before Damian,” Clark whispers as they walk.

“Let’s just say I did everything wrong when it came to him,” he responds back, keeping his voice low. “I found out I screwed up and came here to try to make amends. You know how that ended.”

“I know, we all had front row seats to that. Also, I’ve been listening to his and Lex’s conversation the entire time.”

“What’s that bastard saying to him,” he hisses, pissed off beyond words that snake is talking to you, his baby boy.

“So far, Y/N’s just trash talking you, calling you every name in the book and angry that you ruined his big night.”

Bruce winces at that. He knew it’s Alfred you want here to share in your achievement, but he couldn’t miss this night, not when he’s missed so much of your life. To see you, smiling on stage and acting so humble after wining an award as important as that was absolutely mesmerizing.

Of course, your speech hit him like a freight train. He knew he wasn’t the father you deserved, but to hear you talk about your time with him so poorly was more than he was prepared to handle. Of course you miss your mother and he’s glad you think so highly of her, but is there really nothing he can do to make you reconsider giving him another chance? To give his family another chance?

“Lex is now offering to be a benefactor to Gould Games; Y/N have total creative license on all projects and would be given a massive office in one of Metropolis’ premiere high-rises.”

“In exchange for WE secrets, no doubt.”

The thought of you and Lex working together makes him sick. The man is a snake and wouldn’t hesitate to betray you if it benefitted him in any way. If you need money for your new games, he’d be more than happy to do it! You could be a subsidiary of Wayne Enterprises with as large a budget as you want, with your choice of office in Wayne Tower or around Gotham. You’d have all the best computers and software that money could buy and if you need to hire more people, you can choose all the people you want and he’d personally arrange for them to be flown to Gotham, ready to work as soon as possible.

“That’s right,” Clark responds. “Don’t worry, he turned him down. Looks like you won’t be losing nay more money to Lex this year.”

“Y/N doesn’t know anything.”

As sad as it is, that’s the truth; you’d been shut out by all of them that you couldn’t give any of his secrets away. Hell, you don’t even know that you’ve been living with Gotham’s vigilantes.

“He’s been kept in the dark about everything,” he mutters as he looks at you, chatting away with Metropolis’ biggest wannabe.

Maybe he should tell you that he and your siblings are Gotham’s vigilantes? Not that it’s any excuse with how they treated you for yeas, but with any hope, it would make you more understanding on why they were always so busy and at least consider talking with them.

Just then, Clark winces at something Lex just said.

“What,” he snaps.

“Lex just invited him for dinner. And based off his tone, he has more in mind than just business.”

And with that, all he can see is red and he’s filled with rage at the bald bastard.

“Bruce, wait,” Clark calls out as he stops over to where you are.

“Bruce,” Lex says with a smirk as he approaches the both of you. “I hope you’re not looking for another beating from Y/N.”

He looks over to you, your expression clearly indicating you’re visualizing beating the hell out of him right now.

“Of course not, I just wanted to extend an invitation to him for dinner. It’s been forever since we had a father-son dinner.”

“We’ve never had dinner together before,” you snarl.

“His loss, I assure you,” Lex responds, giving you a look that makes Bruce want to punch his lights out.

“Y/N has nothing you want, Lex,” Bruce growls, trying to keep his anger from getting the best of him. “Leave him alone.”

“I disagree, Bruce. Y/N is charming, witty, and a delightful to be around.” He has a twinkle in his eye that makes Bruce even angrier. “He definitely takes after his mother.”

Bruce opens his mouth to spit some insult at the fucker, but you intervene.

“Yes, Momma raised me well,” you say, looking right at him before looking back at Lex. “I appreciate the offer, Mr. Luthor, but I’m afraid I’m heading back home first thing tomorrow morning. Maybe the next time I’m in the area?”

“I’m certainly hoping that will be soon.” He pulls out a card and hands it to you. “My personal phone number and email. The next time you come to Metropolis, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me and I’ll see to it you’re afforded every luxury this city has to offer.”

“Thank you,” you responded, taking the card and pocketing it. “I certainly hope to visit again soon. Metropolis is way better than Gotham. Hard to believe that cesspit is its sister city.”

He winces hearing your clear disdain for his city, the home of his family. Your rightful home.

“Indeed,” Lex chuckles. “Gotham is so painfully outdated in every respect it’s almost funny. If I had my way, all of its archaic structures would be torn down and replaced for more modern and aesthetically pleasing replacements.”

“That style is Gotham,” Bruce growls, unable to put up with the disrespect of his city. “Gotham has resembled its current form for over a hundred years now. It’s a reflection of its storied past.”

“A storied past of misery and insanity,” you respond. “Gotham isn’t a place where good people end up. It’s a spiderweb that slowly drains everyone within it of all they have, leaving nothing but empty husks behind. Maybe all of it should be torn down.”

You say the words, but all he hears is his voice. When his parents were killed, he felt the same way about Gotham as you do. It took him years to finally shed his hatred and resentment for the city and see its beauty. As much as you’d probably hate to admit it, you really are his son.

“I’d love to stay and continue this riveting conversation, but I’m afraid I have an appointment across town. He turns to his bodyguard. “Mercy, ready the car.” She nods and leaves. “And Y/N, I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here in my city. Perhaps you’d allow me the honor of taking you to the airport myself?”

“I’d like that very much, Mr. Luthor,” you say, giving that bastard a smile that makes his blood boil.

“Please, call me Lex.”

“Ok, Lex,” you say with a chuckle.

Oh, he’s going to make Luthor suffer for this. When he gets back to the Batcave, he’s going to plant so many viruses into Luthor’s systems, he’ll spend months recovering a single piece of data.

Finally, the man walks away, leaving you and him alone at last.

“I’ll say this only once, Mr. Wayne,” you say in a tone that shows you mean business. “So listen close: I don’t know what you’re doing here or what you hoped to achieve here, but stay away from me. I’m finally happy for the first time in years and I won’t allow you to fuck it up for me.”

He winces at your words. And the fact that you’re calling him “Mr. Wayne,” like he’s a stranger (though with how he treated you for over ten years, that’s not too far from the truth). He knows that he has no right to be called “dad” or “father,” but you can’t even call him by his name like your siblings do? Do you really hate him that much?

“Y/N, please—“

“Shut the fuck up,” you growl, cutting him off. “This is your only warning: stay away from me. I’m not weak like I was when I was first dragged to Gotham. Keep butting in where you don’t belong and I’ll personally reunite you with your parents.”

You go to walk away, but he grabs you by your shoulder. You quickly snap your head to look at him, your expression so full of hate and disgust. He knows this isn’t helping his case, but he can’t let you leave like this; he needs to keep you here so he can talk to you, to beg you for just a few minutes of your time.

You grab his hand with yours and begin squeezing so hard his hand begins to throb and he has to fight to hide his expression of pain from the crowd.

Not only do you not look you visit the gym, but this type of strength is something beyond what a normal human is capable of. Just what secrets do you have?

He meets your gaze and he has to suppress the fear he feels when looking in your eyes. There’s hate in them, no doubt about that, but there’s something else in them. Something dark. It also doesn’t help that you have his mother’s eyes and seeing them look at him that way cuts him to his core.

You shove his hand away from you and you storm off, ignoring as a dozen journalists come up to you and leaving him to stand there, watching you walk away from him and ignoring the throbbing of his hand.

“You ok,” Clark asks after walking up to him.

“No,” he mutters. He looks down at the camera in the Kryptonian’s hand. “Did you take any pictures of him during the ceremony?”

“Yeah,” the reporter responds, holding it up. “I was in the press section of the audience. I got a couple good shots.”

“Send them to me,” he orders while walking off.

Many reporters try to talk to him, but he doesn’t spare them a second glance. Right now, all that matters is planning his next move. You’ve made it very clear that you resent them for how they treated you while you lived with them and while he understands that perfectly, you need to understand that he’s your father and his children are your siblings.

He’s happy that you’ve made a life for yourself in Nevada and are successful in your career as a video game developer, but you’re a Wayne and all Waynes belong in Gotham, under his roof.

He gets his phone out and tells his children to be ready for a family meeting as soon as he returns in the morning. As much as he wants to find a way to bring you back to the fold on his own, he can’t do it alone. With any luck, your siblings will be able to reach you. Hell, he might have to call on Alfred to help bring you home.

He will uncover everything about you (including whatever what you just did) and when he does, he’ll use that knowledge to make you realize you’re son and your rightful place is by his side, where he can keep an eye on you and shield you from the dangers of this world.

One way or another, you’ll come back to Gotham and when you do, he and you’ll siblings will shower you in the love you deserve. And after that, they’ll throw the biggest gala ever, with you as the centerpiece, and show you off as the most important member of the Wayne Family; all of Gotham elite will climb over one another in hopes of courting you, but he and you siblings will never allow them to come anywhere close to you as you won’t need anyone but them to keep you company.

It doesn’t matter how long it takes or what he has to do, he’ll learn your secrets (as is his birthright) and lead you back to where you belong.

Even if he has to drag you back home by your ankles.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick @hellcatsworld @prettyboys247 @marsmabe @paolexsstuff @c0l1fl0r @starryperson @kore-of-the-underworld @kiarst @vanessa-boo @moxiemy @greatwhisperspaper @tatsuri-zomushiki @starsdotalk @luna57765 @jsprien213 @lizz-lrm @chericia @v0idl1nq @diejager @solelifauna @bunbunbread @ratchetprime211 @ellaprime7 @fantasyhopperhea @exactlynumberonekryptonite @bellethesleepypotato @roseytheteacup @orbitingtraveler @lunaluz432

[mxymii]

FAREWELL

pairing | teacher!lee byunghun x fem!student

warnings | 18+, age gap (40 n 19), unprotected sex, cum eating, smut, sir kink, public sex, situationship, forbidden relationship, tit play, slight degradation, slight obsessive/possessive behavior, oral (m receiving), edging, orgasm control, lowercase int. (etc.)

summary | when your favorite teacher gives you a farewell gift.. (pt.2 of recommendation letter read here )

a/n | hello guys! i have received so much love from my other post and have been asked for a second part of recommendation letter, so here it is ! i hope you enjoy and pls bear with me and my mistakes, i’m all new to this :) (p.s i have the warnings up for you all to read, i am not your parent to tell you what you should or should not read :))

today was the day you’ve looked up to, the finale of the four years you have spent in school. it was a bittersweet moment, you loved the many experiences you had been through and not to mention the attention of someone you had been attracted to was being fulfilled more than usual.

part of you didn’t want to leave this all behind, you felt upset upon knowing you would be leaving it all, only now remembering it as a memory.

you stood with your classmates as the ceremony continued on, the speeches of several teachers wishing you all a farewell and congratulations on your achievements and to a new beginning. it was going great until it was his turn to speak.

after what had happened between the two of you, it was as if you two were addicted to each other in a way, nothing was made official although you had hoped for but didn’t want to seem all too desperate.

“we have all gathered here to welcome you to the real world, you have been taught throughout these four years the values in life that will benefit you in the long run.” he speaks his eyes scanning the several students across the auditorium.

“i wish you all the best in life, be grateful, be successful and nothing but most, be humble and kind to those you have given you the respect you all earned.” he finishes his speech fast with a smile at the crowd, loud applause and cheer erupt in the room as they announced the graduation countdown. capes thrown up in the air as the room fills up with laughter and cheers of happiness.

although the moment was something you cherished so dearly and was so proud you couldn’t shake the feeling of longing there be, and without another thought you walked where your legs were leading you to. an all too familiar classroom.

without having to knock on the door, you quickly opened it. meeting the man’s back as he packs up his stuff for day. he turns around to meet with your teared eyed gaze, a soft smile plastered on his face.

“baby..” he coo’s, inching towards you as he wipes the fallen tears. “i’m scared.. what’s going to happen to us?” you ask him, feeling all too confused on what you guys were or how it was all going to end.

problem is you didn’t want it to end. you wanted to have him to yourself, regardless if your parent didn’t accept him for the big age gap you two had or the fact that he was previously your teacher once.

“i don’t know sweetheart..” he states, unsure of it as well. he wanted you so bad but was it appropriate to have you by his side as something other than his student? was it wrong for him to want you all to himself? he feared the worst now that you were going to be far from him. he was never the jealous type but whenever it came to you, he was always finding new things about himself.

“i want to give you something that you’ll remember forever..” he says softly, his lips hovering your ear slightly as his hands were placed on your waist. your graduation gown long forgotten when you had came in the classroom, your figure now in a cute pink sundress that he adored. having been out with him you had come to the realization that he loved sundresses not only for the fact that it gave him easy access but the fact that it accentuated your perfect figure.

his lips glide down towards the nape of your neck, goosebumps appearing as his breath slowly bounces off of your skin. “byunghun…we can’t..” you says softly as your hands wrap around his neck. “there’s too many people out there and they will hear us and not only that my parents..” you say softly, your words seeming to be against his actions but your body betrays you.

“good thing i know you like the back of my hand baby..” he says as his lips come crashing down on yours, his kiss rough but passionate wanting to taste you completely. he knew for sure he was not able to let you go, not now not ever and he was going to make sure of that.

he realized that he valued his feelings and yours more than ever, if you’re parents didn’t accept it well he didn’t give a fuck, he had everything to give you.

his tongue swipes furiously inside of your mouth, his groans of pleasure sounding throughout the classroom. “fuck baby..you’re mine…all mine” he says roughly, as he’s quick to pick you up and set you on his desk.

his lips trail down your body, his hands moving to take off your sundress and then meet with his trousers that he fumbles to take off as well. his hands unclamps your bra as he swirl his tongue around your hardened nipples. “b-byunghun..” you moan softly as your back arches off the desk from the pleasure he gives you. your hands gripping his biceps like there is no tomorrow.

“you’re mine baby…” he states again possessively, his hands and lips touching and kisses your body entirely, marking what’s his.

“i need you..” you moan, your hair now a mess as you grip on it. you loved how he made you feel, he knew where all of your sweet spots were. he made you feel like you were up high with the stars and you didn’t want any of it to end at all.

he wastes no time in pulling his boxer briefs down, his hard lengthy cock red with precum oozing out already. his hands grip the soft fabric of your panties, slowly sliding them down as he is met with your wet pussy. “fuck..” he groans at the sight.

grabbing onto his hard on, he teases your entrance; mixing his precut with your wetness. “please sir…i need more..” you whine loudly as your nails dig into his skin, he didn’t care he loved the pain you inflected on him.

“what was that baby?” he asks, a teasing smirk plastered on his face. “i need—“ a loud moan erupts from your mouth as you feel him plunge into you so aggressively, his hands gripping your hips as he slams into you.

“oh fuck baby..” he moans softly as he throws his head back from the immense pleasure and tightness your cunt was giving him. leaving one hand on your hip, he moves the other onto your clit, drawing circle on it as he feels you clench onto his cock even more.

“oh shit!” you moan loud, your nails digging into the shaking desk that you currently lay on.

“such a naughty girl, huh? you love getting fucked like this don’t you slut?” he degrades you as he continues to ram into you, not stopping his pace whatsoever.

“you like your gift baby…your little farewell gift..” he says softly against your ear as you shake your head rapidly, mouth agape and eyes rolled back. by now you didn’t care if people heard you, you were loving the moment and the way he was making you feel.

“i’m so close….” you moan to him, your pussy clenching around his cock. “hold it.” he says authoritatively, leaving no room for complaints. he quickly pulls out with a gasp as he lifts you up and sets you down on your knees, he pumps his cock, sliding it against your lips.

“suck.” he states as he watches you intensely, your mouth open quickly as you take him in your warm mouth, he grips onto your hair with a loud groan, controlling the pace.

your hands placed against his thighs as he is quick to take control of the situation, fucking your face hard. you struggle to keep up as you gag a few times which only bring him over the edge.

“oh fuck yes baby!” he grunts loudly as he throws his head back as his cum fills your mouth, some spilling out of the side of your mouth. “swallow it.” you’ve never felt so high off pleasure before, this was like heaven sent and you didn’t want any of it to end at all. you’re confined to clench as you wanted and need friction so badly.

“sir please..” you whined as you stare up at him with doe eyes, he chuckles softly as he sets you up on the desk, your back lining up to his front as he is quick to plunge back into you.

he was the best at it all, you have been sexual before but nothing compared to him. he was the best of them all and you never wanted to experience anything else. he knew so much and it was easy for him to make you cum undone in just a few minutes.

tears seemed to fall from your eyes at the immense amount of pleasure he was giving, feeling so high off the actions and the places his cock would hit, your legs vigorously shake as he kept hitting your sweet spot. your eyes rolled so back and the way your hands hurt from the way you gripped onto the desk for dear life. the classroom was filled with skin clapping, moans and grunts from the two of you but you both couldn’t care less.

“oh fuck baby… take it like the good girl you are..” he moans softly against your ear, this pushing you further to your high, noticing you were oh so close he picks up his pace and plays with your swollen clit.

“fuck! fuck yes! please don’t stop!” you moan loudly as you feel yourself coming closer to your climax. “cum for me baby…” he says as that sets you off instantly, your body shaking as your eyes rolled back at the staggering high, him following suit as well, his warm cum filling you up.

he rests his sweaty body onto you being careful to not crush you completely. “i hope you know this isn’t over between us, you’re mine and you’ll always be mine.” he states as he heavy breaths against your ear.

“good…i didn’t want it to.”

a/n: ahhh okayyy that was a lot but ik you all will love it !! tysm and always feel free to give any feedback, i want to give you all the best of the best! tysm for reading <3

mxymii out!

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your middle-aged, loser Genetics professor who has a dad bod <3

Part 9

Wc. 7.7k

Miguel waits in his car, his gaze not fixated on anything specific; simply forward. He rests his forearm on the car door, window down. The thick hairs of his arm raise as his mind ventures, replaying the past few hours in his mind. A low hum stirs against his chest. There’s a sort of glow he emulates as he sits there idly, smizing at nothing in particular. He probably looks like a total creep with how he’s grinning in his car, alone, looking off into space. No passenger. You've sat there for the past few months, from campus to your place, and vice versa. But today, you aren’t there, yet he’s happy. His heartbeat intensifies, his stomach contracting once or twice due to unfiltered chuckles. As he waits patiently in the car, he lets it consume him, the memory of that morning, and he closes his eyes.

“Okay, what do you think?” you reach your arms out as if to present a prize, and the winner is Miguel. Miguel, who looks uncomfortable in your too-small-for-him lounge chair but shows no sign of strain on his face, fixes his glasses and observes with love-sickened eyes. After a simple, romantic breakfast at his place, he insisted on taking you back home so that you could get ready. Then after dropping you off, you figured he might as well stay so he can take you to the ceremony, too.

“Is it too much?” You give a little twirl.

His eyes scan thoroughly scan you. “Jesus… How’d I get so lucky?” The question sounds genuine, as if needing an actual answer. “You’re beautiful, mama.”

This makes you smile in return. You look to the mirror to see if Miguel is right (obviously, he is), running your hands over your pre-planned graduation outfit. Today, you receive your hard-earned Master’s Degree, and even though throughout the year you were convinced you wouldn’t be, you’re feeling more nervous than ever. “Picked it myself.” Your voice wavers just a hint. Has two years really gone by so fast? More specifically, the second year of your grad. The first one felt like eons. Maybe it’s just because you didn’t score an Adonis of a professor that year.

Miguel stands from his chair and comes from behind, his hands snaking through the gap between your arms and waist, holding you tightly against his plush exterior, “I just wish I was the one who got it for you.” and a kiss is pressed to your temple. His grasp seemed to soothe your nerves a bit, your body sinking into his natural warmth and plush. You can see his face through the mirror, the absence of doubt and judgment in his expression making you fall all over again. You really were a lucky girl. He looks at you with such reverence. And maybe a touch of arousal. Those aren’t his keys you feel on your backside.

“Oh, stop. You’ve given me more than enough, Miguel. All I need is you.” With his chin resting on the top of your head, you reach to cup his face, a picture-perfect moment displayed on the full-length mirror. He whispers into your ear, “Giving you lessons doesn’t count, that’s just my job. te voy a dar el mundo, mi Vida.”

“Right, right, and I’m guessing giving me that necklace was a part of your job description?”

You win a rich, dark chuckle from him, but he ignores you, still sprinkling kisses on your skin, his bifocals bending out of place at times. You giggle and even try to break away, but he doesn’t budge. You fight the urge to kiss back just to spite him.

“Or that skirt? Or those shoes? Or that one purse? Damn, how much does the school pay you?”

And before you can further argue, he presses more kisses onto you, almost sending both of you to topple over. “Just let me spoil you, mama.” He speaks against your jaw.

“Miguel!” the gravel chuckle of his voice continues to rumble against the side of your neck. You can’t complain and never will, but the difference between Miguel now versus the Miguel you met still leaves you baffled to this day. Or it isn’t much of a difference or change, really, but rather an unmasking. This Miguel was just stowed away until further notice; placed in the backest corner of the freezer to never see the light of day. This is the person Miguel was dying to show, he just needed the right person to coax it out of him. Now you have him attacking you with wet kisses in the middle of your living room, his hulking arms locked around you with no chance at an escape.

“Right, enough fooling around and help me into this, will you!” Reluctantly, he’ll let you move your hair for better access to the still-open zipper of your outfit.

“Fine. On one condition.”

Sigh. “Yes?”

“Un besito.”

“Oh my God.”

“Take it or leave it. Last offer. Don’t make me make it two.”

“Given there’s no one else around to zip me up, I guess I have no choice. Just my luck.” you joke, eagerly leaning your head back against his chest, granting his kiss entry to your neck, your chin, and then lastly, your lip. And then one kiss turned to multiple. If you weren’t so completely lost in his tongue and lips, you’d notice his hand rested and wrapped around your neck. The minor callouses provided a sensation that only added to the fervor of the exchange. Once y’all finally pull away, low eyes traveling in triangles, he politely requests, “Step forward for me.”

You move forward slightly so as to give him space to zip you up. But before he can do the job, he takes a second to look over the details of your back, a part of your body his hands have gotten to know very well, but his eyes haven’t gotten the same pleasure of. Miguel was very good at respecting your boundaries and wishes, which meant a lot (a lot) of making out, but nothing further than that. He notes to himself how soft it looks, the hills and curves of your spine creating a Grecian masterpiece.

And you can practically feel his eyes roam every inch of exposed skin, making you feel like art. You think to say something, but you’d rather let Miguel have this moment, and you let yourself have it, too. You’d often think about what it’d be like to see Miguel’s reaction to you. All of you. He’s made you feel nothing but like a deity for the duration of your budding, unlabeled relationship, and you’ve been fully clothed at all times. You can only imagine how he’ll act when you’re completely bare.

You know for sure he loves you. He said so. And he’s shown it to you. You’ve decided that being that vulnerable with him is something you want, it’s only a matter of when.

You start to hear the friction of the tab pulling the teeth together, one by one, that’s how slow Miguel was going. Unable to resist the urge, he stops the zipper and reaches to plant a tender kiss on the back of what’s left of your exposed neck. “I could do this every day, you know?” he admits softly, like a hymn. You turn, not completely, just so that your face is to him, “‘Everyday’? For how long?” You know the answer, kind of, but there’s still curiosity in what he’ll say. There are so many instances where you wait for Miguel to say the wrong thing; to do something that’ll break this spell, but he hasn’t. He just doesn’t have the capacity to. He’s perfect in your eyes.

“For however long you’ll have me. Which I’m really hoping is forever or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.”

Damn, he said the right thing. People can say his stab at humor is mediocre all they want, but Miguel never ceases to make you snicker. If you opened an Oxford Dictionary to ‘adorable’, it’d have his picture.

“Who am I kidding, you could absolutely humiliate me and I’d still say ‘thank you’.”

“Oh, this’ll make some good blackmail.” you finally turn around to tauntingly wave your index finger at his amused expression.

“Oye, Final exam grades aren’t due ‘til next month, so I’d be careful if I were you.” his brow perks when he says ‘you’, and your only response is a sarcastic ‘Oooooo’ before you’re muffled by the millionth kiss of the day, but who’s counting?

“There. Secured. Anything else, princesa?”

You take a deep breath, getting in one last overall look in the mirror before facing him, “Okay, yeah, I’m ready. Just need my chauffeur.” You look over at Miguel, who looks back at you confused, then looks around knowing fully well there’s no one else except the two of you.

“Oh, yeah? Who?”

Ha ha ha. Very Funny. If expressions could talk, this is what yours would’ve said.

Miguel smiles, taking your hand to kiss the back of it, and rubs your knuckles with his thumb as an apology. “Your chariot awaits, your majesty.”

Wait, where is he going?

“Mig, stadium’s that way.” your thumb points toward the window next to you, the street that leads to the graduation growing farther and farther.

Despite that a mistake has obviously been made, Miguel looks indifferent, eyes aimed straight at the road before them with no sign of a doubt. He huffs from his nose before responding, “I know,” his thumb runs across the back of your hand, “I have something for you, though.” He takes your hand up to his lips, a smile creeping up on your features.

“At your office?”

“Accidentally left it there.”

What is he up to?

His crooked smile tells you a different story. Miguel can feel you questioning him. You can see him physically gather his words in the driver's seat.

“Remember when… we were in the library one of those first nights and we exchanged books?”

You nod. How could you forget?

“And I told you about Gabriella?”

You nod again. He’s asking obvious questions here, it’s sort of scaring you.

“That was my first time talking about her with someone. In years.” His chest and belly deflate as if releasing a weight he’s held onto, “And you’re also the first person who’s said her name out loud. Someone other than me. In a very long time.”

You listen intently, everything that has happened up until now making more sense with this piece of information. You always knew the painful fact that Miguel has been by himself mostly since starting teaching, but it stings even more knowing that he’s never opened up to anyone about this. No one to turn to. No one to be soft with. Sure, he had his friends, from what you remember him telling you about his hero, multi-dimension, whatever-it-was days, but to your understanding, they all left him alone. By means of Miguel’s requests. He wanted those days to be over completely.

“She was beginning to feel like- I don’t know. Like a figment of my imagination. Photos and videos that I rewatch and stare at every single day were starting to… go stale,” this admission makes him wince in shame, “I replay them over and over again… and nothing new. I know what happens in each and every single one of them. And it ends up hurting every single time. I didn’t know how much more I could’ve taken before stopping altogether.” His lips purse, the guilt seeping from every inch of him. “Well, at some point, I even became afraid. Terrified that I was starting to forget the little things about her, or worse, that I’d move on,”

You didn’t even notice, but the car had been parked minutes ago, it’s only when he turns his face to look at you, eyes beginning to gloss, when you realize the car had stopped.

“Until that night.” His narrow gaze softens.

“The night at the library… I told you things that I hadn’t even thought about until that night. Like, for example, how she liked to match the color of her hair ties to her shirt,” Miguel allows himself to softly beam with this memory, “or whenever I’d fall asleep on the couch, she’d always, always, place a blanket on my feet so that ‘the monsters don’t get me’,” you both giggle at this, “Like those things? They had just come back to me in that moment.”

You both had entered campus grounds and turned to his office door, and he whipped out his keys, the metal hitting against the doorknob. The halls are quiet and hollow. It feels like the end of an academic year.

“I just never thought I could possibly let those things slip.” His voice lowers, an air of disbelief in his words.

“Will you ever stop loving her?”

“Of course not. Never.”

“Then she will live on forever. You’ve proven to yourself that you’ll never let the small things leave. They’ll always come back to you.”

Miguel smiles to himself, thinking about this.

He heads toward his bookshelf, reaching for something, but you can’t see given that he himself blocks the entire view of it. “When I hear you say her name,” you see his head bow down at something in his hand, “You sound so… lively... If that makes sense? Like… as if she were still here, as if you knew her. It meant a lot to me. Even in the way you talked about her. Maybe it explains why I was able to recall so much.”

He turns around to you, and you can only make out something small in his hand; something blue?

“I figured that, if she were still here, she’d want you to have this.”

He unfurls his hand and out blossoms a satin blue ribbon formed in a rosette; the words ‘first place’ are displayed in the center. “Wear it today?” He stands before you, the dwarfed ribbon sitting in his hand. His request sounds more like a plea.

“Her teammates gave it to her when she scored their winning goal. She was so happy. It was her last game before she-” Both gazes leave the ribbon and land on each other, glossed and daring to well.

He clears his throat, “She used to- used to show it off any chance she could,” His eyes well up, but regardless of presuming tears, he looks down at the ribbon with a soft smile.

“Miguel,” Your head slowly shakes from side to side, “I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” he persists, “Take it, it’s yours.” He insists through choked words. He places the ribbon in your hand, folding your fingers in, hoping that you’ll accept his gift.

Here stands a man you’ve been falling so hard for for the past year, who is not only giving you a piece of his late daughter’s life, but insisting you take it. You haven’t been around enough to know what love is, but with what Miguel is doing right now, you’re starting to think maybe this is what it might look like. When you started seeing Miguel, who was your professor, you didn’t think all those thoughts of him being yours would ever have come true. You knew it was silly, childish, and most importantly, out of the question. Yet here he is, giving you a piece of himself. This isn’t casual anymore. So he did really mean those three sacred words said last night and this morning.

After letting the ribbon sit there for just seconds but what feels like minutes, you take his hand back, but the ribbon is now pressed between you and Miguel’s palms. You give it a tight squeeze, taking in a deep breath. “It’s ours.”

You look up at him, a trail of a tear down your cheek. “Because I’m yours, if you’ll have me,” a bright smile grows behind your wet eyes. “And I’m really hoping it’s forever, or else this’ll be extremely embarrassing.” You actually laugh, and so does he, pooling eyes and all.

“You’re stuck with me. I love you.”

With those words, it was like the past five years of being alone became all worth it. All the lonely nights, all the predictive mornings, and the dune of a civilian life he was leading came crashing down on him because he knew a new one was dawning. Still civilian, but now, he has someone to put all the love he has to offer into. All his fears, all his insecurities, it all dissolved. The label of your relationship was blurry, uncertain if this was the kind of thing you entertained for only a bit and never spoke of again or something worthwhile. If last night wasn’t a confirmation of the answer, then this moment was, marking it as the official beginning of a romantic, exclusive, official relationship.

“I love you. I love you. Te amo. Te quiero. I love you. I love you… I love you…” his soft declarations are muffled in kisses on any spot he could get to. All those fantasies he’s conjured in his mind where you two live together, share a life, make a life… or two… or three… or however many you’re willing to carry, he doesn’t care, all of those scenarios now seem like promises. Like a nearby reality. Solitary nights dreaming about you in ways that leave him hot and bothered will finally come to an end. On a more suggestive note, He’ll finally be able to get through class without raging hard-ons again.

“I love you.” You manage to breathe out between kisses. Arms wrap around the back, hands wrap around the neck, fingers rake through tussles of hair, and legs begin to lose balance and find their way to the edge of Miguel’s desk. Visions become blurred, ears begin to grow hot, and heart rates quicken with beats large enough to feel on each other’s chests. You two are much too deep in it that you don’t hear the creaking of the wood underneath you. “Yes. Please.” Miguel hears your whisper, moving his head to look you in the eye. “You mean…?” He asks gently, to which you nod, repeating your plea. Without much thinking, Miguel taps your thigh. This was it. Miguel didn’t hear you say the exact words, but he knew. He knew what you were saying yes to. You, much less thinking, instinctively raise your leg, allowing Miguel to prop you onto the desk. “I love you. So much, it’s crazy, Miguel. God, I wanna spend the rest of my life with you.” You mewl in his ear, and in return, Miguel, with softly knitted brows, lets out a pathetic groan. Miguel may be quiet in everyday life, but when it came to the two of you, alone, he wasn’t afraid of being vocal about what he liked, and right now, with what you’re saying plus your legs wrapping securely around his waist seemed to have both an audible and physical effect on him. A big physical effect.

Is this the right spot to do this right now? Couldn’t y’all get in trouble? Was this even a good time?

These are questions that a sane person would probably think of, but with the current circumstances, you simply couldn’t give a damn, let alone Miguel. Even if you tried, you don’t think you would’ve even had enough brain wattage to string a single thought with Miguel touching you like this. However, if you had the luxury of logic, you’d know that:

1. Getting in trouble isn’t of concern since faculty are either at home starting the Summer they’ve been so impatiently waiting for, and students are at home doing the same or at the stadium.

2. Given that the ceremony won’t start until another 2 hours from now, it’ll give you both plenty of time. The traffic would’ve been dreadful anyway, so might as well just show up at the last minute.

3. What better place than here… where you two met.

You breathe heavily along with Miguel, “Remember… the first meeting… I sat right in front of this desk,” Miguel makes an effort to listen, but he’s currently too occupied with straining his hard-on against your heat, “Mm-oh…now look at us.” your breathless voice and coquettish smirk goes straight to Miguel’s cock, the feeling of his pants shrinking in size making him hot all over. Trapping your lips between his over and over again. You're pretty much without oxygen at this point, but you don’t care, it feels amazing. His teeth on your lips, his hands squeezing the flesh of your ass deeper against his length. Your fingers tugged onto his now disheveled curls and he whined. He whined.

“Mama, you don’t wanna know how many times I’ve imagined this moment. Fuck, am I dreaming again?” His words hit your skin like the thick air after a calm rain.

You cup his face in your hands, pulling him from your neck, and you’re met with a lust-drunken, devoted worshipper; a big man that’s been stricken of sex for far too long. In doing so, you notice the ribbon still in your hand, which knocks a bit of sobriety back into you. It’s almost like Miguel read your mind because the same alarm goes off in his head. With that, the two of you are quick to mend one tiny problem.

Miguel, still between your legs, reaches over to lower any pictures he has of Gabriella, faced down on the shelf. As for you, you stash the ribbon safely in a drawer right behind you. Gabriella shouldn’t be present for this.

Capturing you in a kiss again, your hand ends up untucking his shirt, resting on his stomach, your fingers caressing his skin. He huffs, slightly tickled by your soft touch along his belly. The corner of his lip curves into a dorky smirk as you sneak your hand into the waistband of his slacks and boxers, pushing past his dark happy trail. “Oh fuck. Haven’t been touched like this in so long,” The clank of his belt buckle rings in your ears, making you pulsate, “I need you. So fucking badly.”

“Keep talking. Please.” You murmur, unbuttoning his shirt, unveiling a plethora of chest hair covering a body fit to raise your future children.

“So lonely, honey… miss you every night when I come home. Miss you so much in the mornings, it hurts.”

Once his shirt is on the floor, with hands and eyes, you revel in all his glory: six feet and nine inches of caramel deliciousness, coated in equal parts of muscle and fluff. You could come undone just from this sight.

His hand holds your chin with a soft caress of his thumb, “I used to look a lot better back then. I’ll work on it.”

You pull him down by his neck to eye level in protest. “Don’t you dare change a single thing on this body. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. Finest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Oh, that made his dick twitch. Your free hand wraps around his broad shoulders while the other is in his hair, smashing faces. Miguel, with no hesitation, swipes everything off the desk and instantly pushes you onto your back, his soft husky exterior pressing you against the cold wood. Tongues are down throats. He stutters as his dick twitches, “Tell me I can eat you out.” The question and tone of voice alone make your back arch. You kiss even deeper, tongues intertwining as he moans in your mouth.

“God, yes, please, Mig, please-”

He gives a vicious squeeze to your ass, reminding you of his pure strength, “That’s not what I want. Usa tus palabras, mamita.” Your begging makes his cock ache, but he needs to hear the words. He needs to know you want this as much as he does. He needs your permission.

Your top lip curls before you speak again through hooded eyes, “Professor,” the name catches him off guard, “please… fuck me with your mouth.”

You were playing a dangerous game. Before you was a sexually deprived middle-aged man who’d been silently pining for you since day one, and you were begging him to treat your cunt like a 5-star meal. Having a gorgeous girl like you pleading for him to tongue fuck you like you deserved, it was driving him crazy. He wasted no time going down to the most sacred corner of this divine body.

“Funny… I zipped this up not even half an hour ago.”

“Hey, hey, careful, I still have a ceremony to wear this to.”

You had a point. And as if you were a gift, he bunches the fabric high enough to reveal some panties he’d recently given you. If it wasn’t for him wanting to last for both hours until the ceremony, he would’ve came right then and there. He looks at you with darkened eyes, a gaze intense enough to strip the cockiness from you, your cheeks growing hot from the act, “What? I assumed this was gonna happen later-”

Miguel cuts your sentence short with a French kiss to your clit through the thin lace, the combination of his nose, tongue, and breath on your heat making your thighs shake. “ So wet… you always this wet during class? Fuck.” With how Miguel was moaning and groaning against your sensitive skin, you’d assume he got more pleasure in giving you head than you did receiving it. Your hand darts for his scalp, the other holding onto the edge of the desk for dear life once he hooks the panty with his finger to move it out of the way, pursuing even more thirstily now. The wood creaks with each buck of your hips, but with the way Miguel’s arms hold your weight on his wide shoulders effortlessly, it doesn’t phase you. Breathless prayers of his name left your lips, panting softly as your head fell back against the table. You can feel the bundle in your core form as your whimpers turn to wails.

“Mig, s’good, feels so good. I’m close, pleasepleaseplease-”

Meanwhile, his eyes were practically to the back of his head, hips pathetically bucking to the matching rhythm of your hips as he took turns treating your clit like a lollipop and your entrance like a fleshlight. “M’gonna- aw fuck… voy a cuidarte, mamita, don’t you worry your pretty little head.” you hear through a whine before his tongue is back at it again. His hands take turns squeezing your thighs tighter around his head and occasionally using his forefingers to stimulate your sensitive bud. His glasses start to fog, and his eyes are covered by humid lenses. This was starting to obscure his perfect view of you and your euphoric expressions, and he just couldn’t have that. So, he pulled away for only a millisecond just to basically rip them off and he was right back to devouring your weeping cunt. There’s no way he was missing this.

You’re choked whines signify the peak, your body trembling uncontrollably. This will be the first of many, and he’s only getting started. When the man promises to take care of you, he’s gonna take care of you.

He spends the remainder of your climax lovingly rubbing his fingers up and down your pussy, making sure you ride it out all the way to the very end.

“Good, baby? You okay?” he purs back into your ear, tenderly caressing your thighs and planting gentle kisses of reassurance on your face. You nod with half-lidded eyes, catching your breath before replying ‘yes’.

“Tell me what you want, mama.”

“Fuck me, professor. Please?”

“Say that again.”

You look at him above you, your legs pulling his waist closer so that his aching length meets your pulsing core, “Please, I want you to fuck me, professor.” Whilst maintaining eye contact, Miguel reaches down to put your hand on the bulge. “Look what you do to me.” Your theory of his size is confirmed.

“This what you wanted?”

“Need it.”

“C’mere.”

Miguel sits you up, telling you to relax since ‘he’ll do all the work’. He carries you to his office couch. He plops onto the cushions with you straddled on his lap. While he has your tongue entwined with his, he releases his cock from the restraints of his boxers, the base erects against his lower belly. Not wanting to waste another second, although the view of it was mesmerizing, you sit up on your knees to line yourself up with him, but Miguel sits you back down, “No hay prisa, mamita, need to get you ready, but first,” His hand snakes to the back of the zipper, and the dress unveils, “Need to see all of you, beautiful.” you seem to knock the air out of him as he lets his hands explore you, your breasts the perfect hand full. “You’re so fucking hot.” He even looks up for a moment and thanks God for blessing him with someone like you, making you look down at the endearing gesture.

Your body goes limp once he laps at your chest, sucking and pulling like it was his first meal in ages. The feeling of his tongue circulating your hardened buds made you clench around nothing. He has you in a bear hug, front sides pressed against each other. The small room seems to disappear around the two of you, totally forgetting where you are, in both space and time. It’s just you, Miguel, and the beautiful sounds of pure, raw pleasure.

“Mig, wanna make you feel good, too.”

Miguel unwillingly pulls away, only half-hearing what you said, and not given even a chance to process. You’ve already positioned yourself on your hands and knees next to him on the couch. Kitten licks and tender sucks to the tip send Miguel’s head falling against the back of the couch. You know he’s needing more when his hips buck upward, and you’re more than willing to give it to him. Occasionally, you’d rest your head against his stomach chub to give him a few rewarding strokes, admiring his size, just to let it sink back into your hollowed mouth. You managed to get Miguel growling, hoarse moans spilling from his bitten lips as you tend to his stiffened cock that you’ve daydreamed of tasting.

“Baby, please, slow down, not gonna last long.” But it was no use. You were relentless on his aching manhood. The only way to get you to go easy on him was to reach over your ass and pump his fingers into you, so that’s exactly what he did. You whine with his tip in the back of your throat, but you’re able to still keep him in. To Miguel’s hopes, you do slow down, the mutual pleasure putting both of you in sync.

“Let’s come together, mamita, hm? Can I put another one in, baby?”

He takes your eye contact as a cue to put in a third, thick finger, eliciting a high-pitched moan against his veiny shaft. Having both ends of you completely filled was, in all honesty, a bit overwhelming, but it’s the best feeling you’ve ever felt. There’s no one else you would’ve rathered have you like this than your Mig.

His fingers get faster, and your strength to keep his cock inside is dwindling, but for him, you try, nonetheless.

“That’s it, mamita, that’s it…” His fingers are unbelievably fast at the point, droplets sent flying and falling onto the fabric of the couch. That’s something he’ll worry about later, but right now, his goal was to get you absolutely fucked out and coming all over his hand. Unable to hold it anymore, you free him from your mouth, letting yourself cry and whine freely as he finger fucks your second orgasm out of you. Still determined to have him come with you, you pump him with your hand as you ride off your high on his hand. Miguel wants to praise you, but his panting and mewling get in the way. You had this gentle giant making what would be considered embarrassing noises, but symphonic music to your ears. At the first sign of his juices, you place him back into your mouth, but this time, he holds your hair and fucks up into your mouth in short, fast, desperate thrusts until he’s finished.

You don’t even let him have a moment to breathe once you start kissing up his happy trail and to his stomach; what once was a pack of abs has given way to pudge. You kiss a little higher, giving his pec a gentle lick where it’s most sensitive, making him sharply inhale as a result. They proceed to the valley of his pecs, up his neck, to his jaw, and cheek. If Miguel still had doubts in the back of his mind about your love for his body, they’ve vanished now.

Your lips meet now, and various soft ‘I love you’s’ are exchanged.

“Just want you to sit back n’ relax now, mami. Wanna see that gorgeous face,” Holding onto your head and lower back, he carefully lays you on the couch, “Can I?” The gentle dominance this man radiated was good enough to make you already contemplate marriage. The expression on his face reflected utter devotion and praise. You thought his kind were only written in books.

“Of course, professor. Gotta repay you for all those private sessions.” Even after two orgasms, you still had to keep the cliche going. Miguel was unable to help a small chuckle. He had no problem playing right along, though. “You made it so hard to focus in class, you know that?” His voice is dark and low, a stark contrast to the noises he was making just a minute ago. He speaks while spreading your legs like precious artifacts, lining himself up. Finally.

“Sitting there all gorgeous n’ smart. Drove me insane.” He whispers into your ear, his leaking tip making a connection to your entrance. “And then having the audacity to help your classmates? How dare you have a heart just as beautiful.” He kisses you while sliding inside, muffling your gasp.

He tuts against your mouth, “Yo se, bebita, me too…mmnnshit,” His hand caresses your hair in an effort to soothe at least some tension, “I’ll go slow, mama, m’kay? Gonna take care of y- oh fuck,” His forehead presses against yours, his free hand holding onto yours as he slowly slides in and out, gauging how deep you can take him. The stretch induces a euphoric pain, causing you to squeeze his hand, but he squeezes right back, your cunt sucking him in all too well.

Miguel starts to go stupid once he’s halfway in. The sensation has him beginning to babble, choked words coming out in a gentle lull.“Que rico…Feel good, mamita? It’s okay mama, let me hear you. Please, let me hear you.” He talks delicately as he continues to go in and slowly draw out with only half of himself, just to be sure you're warmed up enough for all of him. Your eyes are closed, trying to focus on breathing, but it only makes it more difficult. It worries Miguel. “Too much, baby? I’ll stop.” And just as he’s about to pull out, you use your other hand that was clinging onto the arm of the chair to stop him, “Nonono, please,” He lowers himself, still connected, “Need you, Mig. Please, keep going, don’t stop.” You beg, the undeniable need in your voice making Miguel go weak. He puts all his weight on you, cautiously going all the way inside. When he gets as deep as he possibly can, his tip kissing you right in the perfect spot, he pecks your forehead before telling you, “You look so pretty taking it, beba.”

Miguel’s words are slurred as he begins fucking you, thick fingers playing at your clit as he does. He can’t help but prop himself on his elbow just to get a look of himself going in and out of you, the slick sounds and what looks like a bulge of his cock sending him into insanity, driving him to go desperately faster. He gets lost in the way every time he pumps in, he creates a hill in your stomach. You look down, too, seeing what he’s seeing, and it only makes his name fall from your mouth embarrassingly loud, as well as telling him how good he feels and how much you love him, every syllable coming out with pure verity.

Not now since you’re too busy getting amazingly fucked, but later on, you’ll surely think about how good of stamina Miguel has for his age. He should’ve been tired by now, but the man was rutting and there was no sign of him slowing down anytime soon. When his mouth wasn’t latched onto yours, he’d speak nonsense to you. He’d let out long, exasperated ‘Yes’s’ into your ear, unafraid to let his unfiltered noises fill the room. When he knew he was being too rough, he’d slow his thrusts until he was dragging his dick in and out of you, pumping ever so slowly and lovingly. It was then he’d be able to coherently form sweet words of nothings, “I’m obsessed with you. Wanna keep you like this forever.”

Whether he was going rabid or making sweet love, Miguel still made sure to hold your hand through it all.

He can feel himself coming soon. As if he needed to be deeper into you, he only stops for a nanosecond to bring your knees over you, pressing you even deeper into the couch, so as to better ram your already abused pussy. Your panting heightens in pitch. “Right there, sweetheart? Aww Fuck, there it is.” His big, strong hands hold your knees in place where they frame your head. Your bodies are sweaty, only enhancing the lewd sounds of his hips smacking your ass with each thrust. When your pussy flutters around him, it makes his eyes roll back. He’s already made you orgasm twice by now, getting his juices all over you, but he needs more. “I can’t stop.” He stammers through a slack jaw.

“Mig…dunno if I c-can… going-”

He slows down his rhythm, hands cupping your face to make eye contact, “Baby, please, gimme one more, just one more. Promise.”

With a nod of your head, he buries you in his arms, his face in your neck, body on body, leaving no space between you, and he rams into you like no tomorrow, luring one last orgasm from you. The way the curve of his belly and muscles rubbed against you was the icing on the cake. You feel Miguel getting closer with the way he moans into the crook of your neck. You are, too.

The dam breaks loose with an outcry of his name, to which Miguel lifts his head to kiss your tears as you peak, his own following right behind. Once it starts to descend, a rain of butterfly kisses fall on your face, “I’ve got you, sweetie,” he coos, “I love you so much… mamita,” he gently calls to get your attention, “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You at least accomplish a weak smile, requiting the love with a kiss to his swollen lips.

There was no need to rush, so the two of you just lay there, embracing each other.

“Miguel,”

“Hm?” He hums against your skin.

“I feel like I’m in a fairytale.”

“Me too.”

6:49 PM.

You don’t know how, but in one hour, Miguel and you were able to go back to your place, shower (separately. You two knew a joint shower would’ve most definitely led to other things.), redo your makeup, fix your and Miguel’s hair, and leave to the stadium with moderate traffic. You look in the passenger seat mirror for the last touch-ups.

“Praying I don’t trip on that stage. If I do, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll happily take the blame.” He gives your thigh a small squeeze, in which you glare at him in return. The shit-eating grin on his face still made you smile, though.

You sit in your assigned seat among a sea of students, dawning the traditional cap and gown, with numerous achieved stoles and ropes around your neck, but only one stands out from them all, and one that you consider your best achievement: Gabriella’s Blue Ribbon.

You look down at it, giving it a little tug to straighten it out. You look up to search for Miguel in the enormous mass of seats, but it isn’t too hard. All you had to do was find the freakishly tall man with glasses, and when you do, you smile at him. As subtly as possible, he mouths ‘I love you’, and you do it back. You think to blow him a kiss, but given the situation, you also think it better not to in public. You still don’t have that degree in your hand, and you can’t risk anything, especially not when you’re so close. But trust, the second that piece of paper is in your hand, Miguel is all yours, no shame attached.

You’re on the edge of your seat the entirety of waiting for your name to be called, and once it is, you feel you could cry. You walk across the stage, a sense of accomplishment and fulfillment filling you to the brim. Miguel watches on, a prideful expression on his face. You shake hands with a few faculty members, some you grew to love and will cherish, some you secretly wished would accidentally fall through a manhole, before you get to the dean, who currently holds your degree in their hand. You’re congratulated once it’s in your hand, the feeling of two very difficult years weighing down on your hand. It feels good. Smiling ear-to-ear, you look out into the audience as you walk across, degree facing outward for the whole stadium to see because one thing for sure is that everyone in the establishment will know that you did that. Your smile shines like a thousand stars, at least to Miguel. His heart could explode with how much love and awe he feels for you. Heaven knows he tried to make a new life for himself by putting the Spider-Man title to rest, and though he was successful, he was still missing a piece of himself. In this moment, he’s thanking you for taking a chance on him; for letting a different man, a happy man, come out for a while, and hopefully, for the rest of his life.

And that’s where he sits now, in the car, waiting for you in the parking lot. Prior to the ceremony, it was agreed that Miguel would slip away just a couple of minutes early (basically skip the dean’s farewell speech) so that you and Miguel could beat the crowds and go celebrate wherever he had planned for you. Hoards of crying mothers and cheering students catch his attention. It must’ve ended. It only takes a moment for him to pick you out from the crowd, immediately exiting the car to open the passenger door for you.

“Congratulations, mi vida.” He calls out, leaning against the car.

Elated, you crash into him, arms around his neck, legs lifted in the air, and you kiss him. You pull away with a joyous mwah.

You both retreat into the car. “You helped, my cute lil geneticist.” Giddiness beams from your voice. You reach over the center console to cup his chin and squeeze it, puckering his lips to kiss him again and again. This makes him chuckle. He may be older and bigger in every sense of the word, but at the end of the day, he is and always will be your dork. Your teddy bear.

“I just taught you a few formulas. This was all you, mama,” he starts the car but glances at you for a second. “What?” You tilt your head.

“I wanna thank you.”

“For what?” Every time Miguel opens his mouth, you’re reminded of what a lottery win you’ve made. You grab his hand to hold it up to your heart; the same spot where Gabriella’s ribbon is pinned.

“For loving me. The way you do.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me.”

His brows furrowed, his lips curled into a soft smile. He notices the blue ribbon. He caresses one of its tails, and a few of his heartstrings pull at the sight. He knows that if Gabriella were there, she would’ve been the loudest in the stands. “Wish she could’ve been here.”

You press his hand against your heart.

“She is.”

Miguel has told you so much about her that at this point, she feels like yours, and you feel that she’s there. You know with your whole heart that she is.

You both share one more tender kiss before Miguel pulls out of the lot.

“Well, it’s official. I am no longer your student. How do you feel about that?” you smirk, relaxed in your assigned seat; your rightful throne as passenger princess.

“Speaking of which, I hope you know that that degree is for decoration purposes from this day forward.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re quite the comedian today, huh?”

“You think I’m kidding? I want you home 24/7, you hear me? In the kitchen, an apron and all. I’m dead serious.” The sarcastic tone in his voice sends you chuckling through the nose.

“I’ll stay home and be your housewife if you give me a perfect score, how about that?”

“Deal.”

“Ok, no, but seriously, baby, please score my paper accurately.”

“Of course, beba. Just jokes. I’m kidding about the staying-home thing, too. You can do whatever you want,” He looks over at you at a red light, “Just as long as you always come back home to me.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You two snuggle in Miguel’s bed after a nice dinner celebrating you. The sheets are warm and soft, but it doesn’t compare to the warmth and softness of Miguel’s body on yours; skin to skin. You’re both entangled and nude, having just had another (or a few) rounds of passionate love. Sleep looms over both you and Miguel, a little heavier on you. You’re quickly learning that Miguel does not have the endurance of an average man.

Knowing how much you loved his speaking voice, he decided to finish and read aloud to you Pride and Prejudice, a book you recommended to him and has become a new favorite of his. A king of aftercare. How more perfect can he be?

Miguel, seeing your eyes grow heavy, kisses your temple and smiles before starting again, “ ‘I love you. You have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul. And wish from this day forth never to be parted from you.’” He recites the notorious line written by Austen, but not for the sake of reading aloud anymore, no. This line was directed to you. And only for you.

“And I love you.” You whisper back.

And for the first time in much more than just 5 years, Miguel didn’t have to go to bed alone. And he won’t have to ever again.

Miguel hasn’t thought about the canon theory in a very, very long time, but a fleeting thought went through his mind before drifting away:

If going through everything that he had to, may it be the day his genetic makeup was altered, the spider-verse, Gabriella, trading in the suit for a life of solitude, everything; Despite the pain, if it all had to happen in order to have met you.

Then it’ll all have been worth it.

<3 Tags <3

@mukeovernetflix @mochikisses @miguels-cock-piercings @miranexx @bunnibitez @deepdiveintothedeephive @faretheeoscar @sillygardeneggperson @librababe99 @sariespi @little-lovelace @monstersimp @oharasfilipinawife @obi-mom-kenobi @hyjionie @maomaimao @pomakori @pinkhelados @mochimoqa @princesatracionera @queerponcho @walmaerts @froggygal @yaysposts @koko-1025 @kikaaauu @lauraolar14 @anotherprettyprincess @kaidxra @farrowroyale @pigeonmama @exactlyyoungchaos @fayeofthenightingale @s4dow @safixiovi

@hartsucks @amberbalcom14 @wait2nourh @tatooieve @helen-j-magnus @cl3stevu

@mintssanctuary @ghost-lantern @snails-doodles22 @tinythebunni @shaquilles-0atmeal @nina-from-317 @exoticb-utters @sugurusyndrome @aphinthestars

A/N: Fav chapter I've ever written. It was made with love <3 Really hoped you guys enjoyed it <3 n thnx sm for sticking around even if I made y'all wait so long 😭 love youuuuuuuu‼️ MWAH!!!

[bunny-1111]

Mr fix it - dad Theo Nott x femreader

Description: Theodore is protective over his wife and daughter as they accidentally take a fall into the lake under his supervision

Word count: 1.65k

Fluff

Warning: mentions of falling into the lake (no complete drowning, just panic)

likes comments + reblogs appreciated xx

...

After graduating high school, Theodore wasted no time in proposing.

It was a collection of things. He didn't want to risk the two of you drifting apart. With his senior father falling ill, Theodore knew what would be waiting for him with his father's departure, a huge mansion, too much money and oh so much time.

Being all alone in that house was his nightmare. He knew he would go insane if you were not by his side, as his wife, creating a home out of that residency together.

So that you did. A small, intimate ceremony, your close friends and family, a not-so-humble celebration at the manor that would soon be yours to share.

When at Hogwarts, you practically lived with each other; your dorm was his and vice versa. Moving in was bliss.

You had redecorated the house and brought life back into its rooms; it was such a big property, though it never felt empty; how could it? When it was filled with so much young love.

After falling pregnant with your daughter, Theodore's whole demeanour shifted; a once carefree young boy had become an observant young man, the father of his little girl.

He would make sure, heavy or sharp objects weren't in her reach.

Her bedroom, to Theo's liking, was almost bare of furniture, simply her bed, a rocking chair and a small table cluttered with books, avoiding almost all ability of injury.

He would hover over her each step she took; this became harder the faster she ran; he was so scared of her own two feet, his arms never too far away, in case he needed to catch her.

"You need to relax, Teddy. She's not made of bubble wrap. Children are meant to fall and cry. It's natural" you expressed, sliding into bed next to him

"I know, I just don't want to see either of you hurt, ever." he sighed back

"Theo, when have we ever" you smiled at his foolish panic

"You do your damn best at keeping us safe alright, just take a step back. It'll be good for her, ok?" you said, hands through his hair

He looked into your eyes, "Ok?" you repeated

"Ok." he agreed, kissing you goodnight.

You were quick to fall asleep. Theo laid, eyes open, mind awake. How could he sit back and not do everything he could to make sure his precious girls didn't get hurt, even by accident. His heart strings pulled at the very thought of you both, it came from love, such devotion to his two brilliant girls, his wife and daughter.

The next afternoon, as he rested and watched against a large tree in the backyard, he observed the two of you playing near the lake on the property's edge.

'they're fine', leave them be', he reminded himself, body heavy against the tree, eyes still glued to you two.

When, from his distance, he saw your energetic three-year-old jump around you, you were wearing a long flowing dress; it was just a little too long for your body, as he had watched you hold it up in your hands to avoid tripping.

His two girls picked flowers by the lakeside, placing them into a basket you carried on your arm.

It was in a flash of a second as he watched your daughter step on the hanging fabric, causing you to fall in the water, "Daddy!" your small child called out

He sprinted toward you. "Stay there!" he yelled towards her. As he ran, he watched his daughter willingly enter the water to try and help you before he could get to you, completely ignoring his instructions

The problem was the dress was too heavy, you were struggling to stay afloat, and your daughter, she didn't know how to swim.

You held your daughter above water as she kicked against the current in fright, gasping for air yourself; you were swallowing too much water.

Without hesitation, Theodore plunged to your rescue, taking your daughter into his hand, the other pulling you with them.

She cried in confusion as she was placed onto the grass, but her now very drenched father, "Don't move darling", he sternly instructed her as he rushed to your side, rubbing your back as you coughed up.

"What's wrong with mommy?" your daughter questioned, tears still falling down her face. She knew she was responsible

"She's alright, mommy's alright," he said, holding your hair back as you caught your breath.

Crawling towards your daughter, you lay down completely on the grass next to her, "I'm ok, sweetheart", wiping the tears off her now puffy cheeks.

Theodore knew the child was ok, so he cupped your face to inspect for anything. When he was satisfied, he joined your place on the floor

"Holy shit" he muttered, grasping what just unfolded, placing his daughter onto his lap

"We're fine" you smiled towards your obviously freaked-out husband

"Sorry" your daughter frowned

"Don't ever come in the water again, alright, not until we teach you how to swim," you say, trying to hide your own panic about what might have happened if Theo wasn't closed; she nodded in agreement.

That night in bed, after putting your daughter into her own room, Theodore suggested removing the lake altogether.

"No, that's not necessary, Theo", you insisted

"and just after you told me to lay off as well" he shook his head, rubbing his eyes

"we're safe thanks to you, alright? Even if we do get hurt, you always come and fix it, piece us back together," you soothed

He couldn't even look at you without reimagining you fighting in the water

"Well, I know something you don't know, something that might cheer you up" You smiled, gently moving his face towards your own

"What's that?" he said, looking deeply into your eyes

Before you could reply, your daughter crept into your bed, sliding herself into the middle of you both

"Are you ok, my love?" you ask your little girl as she moves beside you

"I no sleep" she huffed, getting comfortable

Theodore smiled, eyes wandering between you both

"What are we call, baby brother, daddy?" she questioned

"You want a baby brother?" he said, gently wrapping his long arm across you and your child

You tried to hide your face

"No silly Daddy, Mommy said he's coming soon", she smiled with excitement

"Really?" Theodore said to you, sitting upwards

"yeah," you laughed as Theodore placed kisses all over your face, your daughter laughing at the commotion.

This meant two things, his family extending and another little human to worry over.

i love dad theo

Author Note: sorry, I've been so busy haven't had the chance to upload and write, but more is on the way. Don't worry - requests are open

[leascorner]

j.b.b | The Grinch

Summary: Y/N can’t travel to see her family on Christmas so she invite her grumpy loner neighbour, Bucky.

Pairing:  Post blip!Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: Use of Y/N and feminine pronoums, a few mentions of food and alcohol, angst, some vulgar language, everything is in the summary really, this is set like the falcon and the winter soldier never happened or it's happening before that.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This is the 4th Xmas OS of the series. So sorry it is a couple of days late. Please do share and like if you enjoyed it, it means a lot! Merry Christmas!

2024 Christmas Masterlist | Main Masterlist

18th of December

$125

Y/N blinked at the number being displayed on her phone’s screen. She had stopped right in the middle of what she was doing, in utter disbelief of her discovery. Her whole process of thoughts seemed to have frozen; just like her computer would display “error 404” when she would perform contradictory actions.

She didn’t understand how this was possible; something was wrong obviously wrong because she didn’t expect this number to be displayed. Refusing what she was seeing, she logged out of the app and then back in a couple of times.

Yet, every time, the sentence was the same.

$125

Despite everything, this was currently the amount of money Y/N had on her bank account. These past couple of months, she had been saving for this moment; a moment she had been imagining all year long and for which she expected to be shredding happy tears. Instead, the tears currently running down her cheeks were made of pure anger.

She found the culprit quite easily. A monthly interest payment of a loan that was playfully mocking her on top of her bank statement. Now that she was thinking of it, she should have probably read all those letters; the ones with the red-inked stamp “urgent” printed on them. She had found all the excuses in the world: especially how exhaustive was she after having worked double shifts almost every day lately or that it had just been easier to have them sitting on her coffee table.

Y/N had no idea what she would do. If $125 was probably quite enough to eat until the end of the month if she made a few compromises, there was no way she would be able to buy flight tickets to get home for Christmas. She would have brought them earlier if she had been able to – at a time she still had the money on her bank account, for example – but her colleague had only confirmed that same day they could take over her shifts during the Christmas week. Now, she didn’t have any money and would be alone for the year-end celebration.

Her cell phone ringing made her snap back to reality. She was still in front of her building, keys in one hand, frozen in her action to enter. Her heart sunk has she discovered the picture displayed on the screen; her sister and her, one of the last pictures they had taken together, at Y/N’s university graduation ceremony, a couple of weeks before the blip. Her sister was most likely calling her about this “very good news” Y/N had texted her about that afternoon. Now, she only had to let her know that it had been a false alarm and that she wouldn’t be able to make it home this year.

Again.

It wouldn’t be the first time indeed. In fact, ever since the blip had been reversed, Y/N had not been home for the Christmas. At first, she had chosen not to. She was the only person in her family to have been gone. Without her, they all had continued with their lives, and the post-blip had been brutal for her. One second, she was full of life: she had just gotten an amazing job in New York, and she was going to live her dream. The other, the blip had happened, five years had passed, and she had lost everything. Her family, her job, herself. Her little sister was now older than her, graduating college and ready to start a family. Her parents had retired and started a new life in California. She didn’t have a dream job anymore; she had no job at all in fact. In this world that had changed so much, she felt out of places. So, she did what she thought was could do. She left everyone behind and moved to New York.

The months after moving there had been full of hope. Hope that she could still make it to her dream job and life after all. She had gotten in touch with associations working on helping people post-blip. They said: if she took a few classes, she could be retrained on the most up to date information and she would be able to get the job she had always dreamt of after all. Yet, it was even worse than college. She had to work part-time to be able to take the night classes. She either worked or studied; leaving only a few minutes a day to eat, sleep and bath. This was until some court bailiffs came banging to her door. The banks had been quick to be back to find the people that had disappeared and were now asking them to provide the past five years’ debt payment. All of her dreams had been shattered yet again.

Determined not to ask for help, Y/N stayed in New York and totally forgot about her dreams. Instead, she found another job at a bar-restaurant – one that paid better than the cashier part-time job she had until that – and worked there ever since, trying to pay off her initial student loan and the other loan she had had to take to be able to repay the requested five-years’ worth of debt in one go. She was now planning every spendings up to the last penny. She was living off diluted body and hair shower gel and all sorts of techniques to have the impression of having eaten a lot more than she had. Yet, it hadn’t been enough.

It was never enough…

Drying off her tears, she answered her phone and stuck it against her ear with her shoulder while she entered the building. She was quick to break the news to her sister. She kept her voice steady, not showing any emotions to shorten the conversation as much as possible. She did so as she collected her mail and then turned to take the stairs up to her apartment.

On the phone, Y/N didn’t see her neighbour coming down the stairs and eventually run straight into him. She would have fallen down the two steps she had just climbed if he hadn’t caught up by the arms at the very last moment.

"For fuck’s sake!" he sighed angrily. "Can’t you watch where you’re going?"

Y/N only answered by rolling her eyes. She picked up her phone from the floor; her sister was still on the line, calling after her. While she turned it to her, she discovered her screen totally shattered. She would have cried if she could have…

Without further ado, she put her phone back to her ear and continued to go up the stairs. Her neighbour – a guy that moved in a couple of months ago and that was hardly saying ‘hello’ the few times they had seen each other in the hall – huffed and without thinking nor turning back, Y/N flipped him off. She would probably be ashamed of this later, but at that moment, she couldn’t care less of what he would think of her.

She couldn’t care less about anything anyway.

20th of December

Two days later, as Y/N was slowly accepting the fact that she would not be with her family for Christmas, she encountered her favourite neighbour in the hall again.

She had just gotten home from work and was collecting a parcel in her letterbox. This was a present for her sister that she wouldn’t be able to give her in the end and for which she couldn’t even pay stamp to ship it to her home. She would be lucky if she could return it and get a few dollars back.

As she was closing her letterbox, her neighbour entered the hall. Feeling a little guilty about the other night, Y/N’s first thought was to apologies for her behaviour. A quick look at the guy and the constant frown on his face made her swallow her saliva; hard.

He was good-looking though, with his blue-piercing eyes and full lips. The stubble on his chin –always of the same length whenever she would see him – let her think that he was taking care of himself; though the way he dressed was clearly demonstrating he wasn’t really on point on the fashion side. If he wasn’t always so… whatever he always was… she probably would have liked him. With his grumpy looks, he reminded her of this movie character she liked so much when she was a kid: the Grinch.

In silence, Y/N watched from the corner of her eyes as he also checked his mailbox, a couple of meters away from hers. After gathering the few letters in the box, he sighed and abruptly closed the door.

“What now?” he asked as he turned to her.

Y/N jumped to the tone of his voice. He was clearly annoyed at her while she hadn’t done anything. At least that day.

“No need to be a dick,” she quickly bit back, annoyance building up in her voice as much as his, and he huffed again – this seemed to be something he would do a lot. She had to take a quick deep breath before continuing: "I wanted to… apology for the other night.”

The words nearly burnt her mouth as she was saying them. It cost her a lot to admit her wrongs, yet his cold eyes only started at her, and he spoke no words back. She didn’t know how she wanted him to react, but his absence of reaction startled her, and only made her want to justify herself further.

“I wasn’t in a good mood,” she added.

“You are not the only one to have bad days,” was all he said before leaving.

Taken aback, Y/N watched as he climbed the stairs and disappeared out of his sight. She couldn’t believe how much of a jerk he had been. She swore this was the last time she would ever speak to him.

22nd of December

Y/N rarely overslept.

The only reason for that was that she didn’t sleep a lot. Ever since the blip, she had trouble finding sleep and then, staying asleep. It was like her body had a big fear of missing out on everything and anything, so it just let her sleep the number of hours she needed to keep going. She would have thought that with the double shifts she was doing, she would have slept better, but she didn’t. Instead, she stayed wide awake in her bed, fixing the ceiling, eyes heavy with tiredness. She had all this time to think about the misery of her own life.

However, it seemed that night that the tiredness had gotten the most out of her, and as she never set an alarm clock – because she rarely needed, she was now going to be late for work. She took only a couple of minutes to get ready, drink a coffee and brush her teeth all at the same times. Ten minutes later, she was already grabbing her stuff and putting her coat on.

As she opened the door of her apartment, she came face-to-face with her neighbour going up the stairs. They both immediately stopped in their tracks.

He looked at her. Her eyes still puffy from the fact she had still been sleeping less than fifteen minutes ago. Hair all other the place even if she had put hair clips in them to keep them into place. She had dressed up in such a hurry, the shirt of her uniform was halfway in and halfway out of her pants.

She looked at him looking at her. With the same frown on his face and the same cold glance. Just this time, the circles around his eyes were darker than ever and he looked much more tired than her. For the first time, she saw something vulnerable in him, a flash of sadness in the blankness of his face.

They looked at one another. So different yet somehow similar. With their inability to sleep properly, the memories that kept them up at night and their resentment about this life that had been taken away from them. Both of them with all their trauma and weaknesses. With their constant melancholy and sometimes, their good days.

They looked at each other some more and then they both continued on with their day.

24th of December

Y/N was just settling on her couch – which was also her bed – in front of the TV, wrapped in her fluffy blanket and two pairs of fleece socks on her feet when she heard a knock on her door. She froze instantly; bad memories coming back to her in an instant. She had been visited a few times by different people always banging on her door at sunrise; each time, it never had ended well. Per pure reflex, she held her breath as if whoever was on her front door would be able to hear her - the walls were probably thin, but not this thin.

After counting to ten and not hearing anything else, she relaxed into her sofa. It was probably just her imagination at this point, this was how tired she was. She reached for the remote on the coffee table and started an episode of her favourite TV show. This was when she heard a knock for the second time. One time too many for her.

This time she paused her show and got on her feet to have a look. Sulking for the five steps it took her to go to the front door, she opened it bluntly and was surprised to find her neighbour ‘The Grinch’.

He looked at her, surprised and she looked at him, probably even more surprised. Her gaze turned instinctively to her feet and the fluffy pyjamas she was wearing. She couldn’t help the heat crawling up her neck, so she looked back to him and her eyes got stuck on his hands. One of flesh and one of metal. Holding a metal box between them. That he was now holding up to her.

She frowned.

“For you.”

Her eyes moved up to his face again, to check if he was serious or not. She could have fallen asleep the minutes her show started and be dreaming; though from how cold her feet were, she was pretty sure she wasn’t. Nothing on his face indicated he was joking – he didn’t seem to be the type to joke anyway. He wasn’t actually frowning, but he still had a small wrinkle in between his two eyebrows from all the frowning he was doing that somehow it still looked like he was. She wouldn’t say the expression on his face was friendly, but it had something that for once made her not want to close the door on his face.

Perhaps, it was because of the straight line his lips were in. They which were was usually so pink and so… luscious. From that, she couldn’t tell what he was feeling right now – was he nervous? Or simply contemplating all his life choices now that he was in front of her. She knew it was costing him to be here in front of her.

She looked back at the metal box in his hands; was he really expecting her to take it?

“My ma’ used to cook cookies for our neighbours,” he stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. His glance adverted to the ceiling as if he was looking for the right words to continue: “I thought maybe… this was a good way to apologize. For the other day…and all the times before that.”

This time, it was Y/N’s time to stop frowning – she would have to check later if she had also a wrinkle. She took the box he was handing her and nodded, in some sort of way to mean ‘thank you’. The box was heavier than she had expected it to be. She wondered if he had made them himself, like his ‘ma’ was probably doing.

“My name is Bucky by the way.” Was all he said before leaving her like that, a box of cookies in her hands.

25th of December

Working at a restaurant had its own perks. One of them being that Y/N could have at least one meal a day in the form of the staff meal. And on special occasions – like today – she could even get home with leftovers, most of them she would normally stock up in her freezer to make sure she had something to eat in the next couple of days.

That day though, when she climbed up the stairs, she didn’t stop on the second floor where her apartment was. Instead, her feet got her to the fourth floor, on the second door on the right. One she had never been to and yet, she knew exactly where to find it.

She didn’t hesitate one second before knocking, though the few seconds she had to wait she did get cold feet and wonder if it was really a good idea. Bucky did have gifted her handmade cookies – she had eaten a couple after he left while watching her favourite show, and it was the best she probably ever had. However, it did not mean they were now friends. They were just two adults, seeing each other in the hall of their building sometimes. That was all… Then, why was she so damned pulled towards him?

Bucky opened the door when she was about to turn around. He had a blank tank top and black pants on. Thankfully, he did not seem to be in the middle of a Christmas dinner and his apartment was pretty quiet behind him. His usual frown had been replaced by raised eyebrows. He was surprised to see her, on Christmas day, in her work clothes, at his door. He would have probably expected her to be in her family, with her friends or boyfriend, even. Instead, she had nowhere better to be than in front of him, right now.

They stared at each other for what seemed to be a long time, before his cat – Alpine as he called after, while trying to stop it to get outside his apartment – came to rub itself against her legs. She immediately lowered herself to scratch it behind the ear and Bucky observed them without a word. His cat, who was usually more than a little fearful of people it didn't know, was on the verge of lying down on the floor and beg for belly rubs.

“Are you on your own too?” was the only thing he spoke, and she got back on her feet, suddenly remembering why she was actually here.

“Wanna share?” she asked while showing him the paper bag in which she had the leftovers from the restaurant.

His eyes scanned her face a little too long for Y/N’s liking that she grew nervous. She felt like an idiot, believing… whatever – she wasn’t even sure she was believing. She was just lonely, having been alone for too long. The only people she hung out with would be her colleagues, on her work time – and they had taken a drink together after work a time or two. Most of them were students or only planning to be in the job for a couple of months before bouncing back. None of them was like her, as if she had been the only one to disappear off of the surface of the earth.

Over the last few years, she had repeated to herself – over and over again – that she didn’t need anyone. It was true somehow; she was fine alone. It was just that today she wanted a break from all of this, and she had thought of him. Because she had seen the veil before his eyes. She had seen it on hers before. She knew why… He was just like her. And perhaps, she had thought, they could be alone together. That was what they called the Christmas spirit, no?

“I mean, I’ve got more than enough, and you can have some. We don’t need to eat together. Totally fine if you wish to be alone.” She overexplained, speaking so fast he couldn’t say a word, even if he wanted to. She was just going to go home anyway. It was probably already late in the day; she would eat some food because she could – it was a victory on its own. “And you’ve probably already eaten, it’s fine. Don’t mind me.”

She was going to turn around, but he stepped on the side, making room for her to get in. Alpine instantly trotted in, its tail straight as a pick.

“I’ve got Gin,” was all he said again. A man of a few words he was.

And that was how they would both of them spent their first Christmases with someone in years. They would drink gin, try a bit of every leftover Y/N had gotten and finish by some kind of French pastry neither of them knew how it was named. They would speak for hours – or sort of, it was a few words here and there, making sentences altogether. They would have a good time and when it was time for Y/N to go home, she would suggest doing it again and Bucky would smile in response. A soft smile that would warm her heart forever. A smile that illuminated his whole face and probably his life.

And perhaps that was what exactly what she had come to find that night.

Some warmth.

[sserpente]

By Chance

Synopsis: The very first time you meet Eddie the Freak Munson, it’s because you found his bracelet on the floor and decided to wear it, and he claims to have lost one just like that.

The second time you meet, he is absolutely flabbergasted because you are the only one outside of Hellfire who wants him to sign their yearbook.

The third time you meet, he’s feeding you drugs through a sloppy kiss before making you see stars.

The fourth time you meet, he is all but taken aback that you greet him with a boyfriend-and-girlfriend-kiss in plain sight of some other former Hawkins High students, thinking that you, just like all the other girls, would want nothing to do with him after one hot and high night together…

A/N: Just a couple of ideas that had been ghosting around in my head on digital paper. Enjoy!

Words: 4880 Warnings: drug use, alcohol, smut, RC has parents in this one, drunk driving

A/N: Both Eddie and RC are over the age of 21 in my stories.

The first time you met Eddie Munson, it was in the school cafeteria. You were new in town, damned to finish your high school years at a later age due to unforeseen circumstances in your past. Let’s just say it involved the military, an illegal weapon deal, you and your family being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and a witness protection programme. Not exactly the funniest years of your life but here you were now, significantly older than all the other students trying to keep up with everything you had missed when one fateful day, you found a leather chain bracelet on the floor in the hallway near the boys’ bathrooms.

You figured it looked cool, so, instead of throwing it away, you decided to wear it. Little did you know it belonged to Eddie The Freak Munson himself who, as it turned out, was absolutely gutted he’d lost it. He ended up in line to get his lunch right behind you that day and of course, he instantly noticed the edgy accessory on you when you reached for a cup of chocolate pudding.

“Cool bracelet.”

You’d be lying if you said that the other students hadn’t “warned” you about him. But being old enough to legally buy alcohol, you were long past the silly idea of popularity in high school, knowing that once you were out of that building for good, no one—literally no one—cared anymore. Respectively, you turned around to smile at him.

“Thank you.”

“I had one like that too. Lost it recently,” he added a little distraught, underlining his words by throwing a single peanut in his mouth. Your eyes widened.

“Oh my god, what? I found that on the floor in the hallway the other day! It must be yours!”

And just like that, Eddie blinked and then frowned at you as if you’d just sliced the tyres of his van. “Why are you wearing it?” he asked—carefully, if not suspiciously.

“I just thought it looked cool. Here, take it back,” you announced, unclasping it from your wrist to hand it to him. “I’m glad it seems you didn’t lose it after all.”

“Yeah, uh… it was a gift from my uncle, so… it means a lot to me.”

You could have imagined it but you were pretty sure that you received something like an electrical shock when your hands touched.

“That’s sweet. Good thing I didn’t throw it away. Well, enjoy the rest of your day, Eddie. I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you around too.”

And that you did. Every day. You did have a few classes together, after all, and sooner or later you realised that you kept stealing glances at him. He was fucking handsome—a classic metalhead with an affinity for fantasy novels and Dungeons & Dragons, so you soon found out, and of course, a renowned bad boy selling drugs right under the noses of all the teachers which, strangely enough… did not hinder him from finally graduating that year. It turned out that 1987 was his year and to call what he pulled off at the graduation ceremony a show would have been an understatement and you certainly couldn’t stop clapping and cheering along with his friends when he did flip the principal the bird and acted like he’d just won the gold medal instead of his diploma. That man was a chaotic rockstar in the making, you just knew it. In fact, you were more excited for him than you were for yourself even though you had barely spoken after the bracelet exchange.

Unfortunately, apart from his beloved Hellfire club as well as two freshmen called Dustin and Mike, everyone else in the school just seemed to be happy to finally be rid of him—Miss O’Donnells the most, you figured.

So when it was time to get those last few signatures in for your yearbooks and students rushed from person to person with markers in hand, Eddie was left out entirely.

You guessed that this was why nothing prepared him for the very moment you approached him and two of his friends—Jeff and Gareth, you believed—and held your yearbook out to him.

“Hey, Eddie. Care to sign my yearbook for me?”

It took him a second to process your words, you could tell. “Me? You want me to sign your yearbook?”

“Of course.” And you meant it, if anything to have an excuse to speak to him again.

Eddie took your yearbook from you with slight hesitation, flipped the front page open and then, using the red ballpoint pen he must have been using for his friends’ yearbooks, scribbled something in yours.

You couldn’t wait to read what he’d written when he handed it back to you. Another moment of silence followed.

“Do you… want me to sign yours as well?”

“Uh… yeah… if you want.” Jeff and Gareth were a lot more suspicious than Eddie was, perhaps thinking you’d write something nasty in his. In fact, he didn’t even pay attention to what you were writing in it. Instead, and you could practically feel his curious brown gaze on you, he wouldn’t stop staring like you were some sort of hallucination.

The truth was, he probably didn’t quite know what to make of you. You’d never been part of a specific clique ever since your arrival and hence socialised with whoever circumstances put you in close proximity with. They’d all seen you with Jason and the others a few times—and given how the basketball team treated Hellfire, it was not short of a miracle they all radiated a pinch of hostility toward you.

Eddie almost flinched when you shut his yearbook shut and gave it back to him. “Thanks.”

“Thanks to you as well. After your stunt on stage, I have no doubt that you’re gonna be the next Ozzy Osbourne. I wish you and your band all the best, I’m sure you’ll rock it.”

Jeff and Gareth blinked. Incredulously so. Eddie on the other hand gave you a sheepish grin. “Thanks,” he said again.

You figured there was nothing else going to come out of his mouth—and you hoped that your phone number that you had scribbled into his yearbook and which he still hadn’t noticed yet was going to give him a broad hint.

That’s why your heart almost leaped out of your chest when you suddenly heard him calling after you. “We were going to, uh… celebrate together just outside of the town centre tonight. You know… snacks, dru- I mean drinks, music… care to come?”

It was only when you turned back around that you noticed Jeff and Gareth looking downright shocked at Eddie’s invitation. The head of the Hellfire Club appeared genuine though. And with those sweet puppy eyes, how could you turn him down? You simply could not, even if you had wanted to.

“Oh, I always fancy some snacks and dru- I mean drinks.” You grinned at him. “Should I bring anything?”

“If you want. Don’t have to though. Do you have a car or… should I come pick you up?”

“If it’s not too much trouble? Here, let me give you my address.” Using your pen from before, you snatched one of the napkins from one of the tables (almost wiping an empty champagne glass from the surface in the process) to scribble your address on it.

You decided to make brownies for the occasion. They were spiced with rum to add a little bit of flavour and dressed in your edgiest outfit before Eddie came to pick you up. To say you were excited was an understatement, for despite being generally friendly with everyone, you hadn’t exactly made a ton of friends in Hawkins yet.

Funnily enough, however, you were not even in the least surprised that Eddie drove straight to the infamous Reefer Rick house near Lover’s Lake. The entirety of the Hellfire Club, excluding the two freshmen, were there, along with a couple of other friends of Rick’s you didn’t know. It wasn’t a proper party per se—although they did have music but given Eddie’s taste and looks, it was metal blasting through the speakers for the most part.

“You’re insane, Munson. Who is she again?” Rick hissed into Eddie’s hair, grabbing his upper arm as you walked past and you took in the dimly lit boathouse. The atmosphere here was great. Foldable tables held a large selection of snacks, with two massive pizzas from Surfer Boy’s Pizza taking up the majority of the space. Another table was filled to the brim with so much alcohol you feared it would all topple over if someone attempted to remove one of the glass bottles. The fishing boat swaying in the water unsurprisingly took up most of the space in the boat house. Only for the occasion it had been repurposed to a cosy-looking lounging area and covered entirely with several layers of blankets and pillows.

The most prominent feature of this small get-together, however, was the smell of weed—and you were certain that those rolled little cigarettes were the most harmless drug Rick had on offer tonight.

“You’re telling me you invited the girl who found your bracelet a few months ago to a party at my house? What if she calls the cops on us?”

“I don’t think she will.”

“I brought brownies,” you offered, holding them out to him with a smile. Both Rick and Eddie blushed when they realised you had been able to follow their conversation over the loud guitar riffs.

“Oh. Thanks. Welcome to the party then.” And that was that. You set the homemade dessert on the table and had Eddie pour you your first drink of the evening.

“You know, it took me a hot minute to figure out you’ve written your phone number in my yearbook,” Eddie admitted after a few drinks and some casual chatting.

“Oh.” You chuckled, following up with a wink. “Well, I figured I’d take my shot.” Eddie had skipped prom, of course, not buying into the whole idea of wearing a suit and awkwardly asking someone out only to dance to shitty music and drink non-alcoholic punch in the school’s stinky sports hall.

It was a shame really—you would have loved to have seen him in a suit. Besides, you figured that the real reason Eddie hadn’t been to prom was because he’d been unhopeful any girl would have wanted to show up there with the town freak who was regularly accused of satanic rituals.

Well, you would have. But you ended up going with your classmates from chemistry class who had all sworn they didn’t need a man to have a good time. Which was also true.

“Hey, can I ask you something?”

Eddie raised his eyebrows slightly, offering you a sweet smile.

“Why did you invite me? We’ve barely spoken all year and Rick is not wrong.”

“Listen, sweetheart… no one—and I mean no one outside of Hellfire has ever asked me to sign their yearbook for them. It might not sound like a big deal to you but you decided to come over to me despite what everyone else must have told you about me.” Sweetheart. Now that was a reason for your heart to skip a beat. The rising alcohol level in your body did the rest, of course, but you were far from drunk yet.

As of right now, Eddie’s hair was even messier than usual from headbanging to the latest Metallica hit that had come on after Rick had yelled “To our new graduates, Jeff, Gareth and Eddie!”. He was still a little out of breath. You were resting on the boat now, watching him giggle at a filthy joke Rick had just pulled and it was then you decided there and then that tonight was going to be the night. All good things started with a kiss, right?

Eddie must have noticed you staring at his lips. He took another draw from the cigarette he was smoking and then held it out to you with a mischievous grin on his face. “Want a draw?”

“Sure. Bring it on.”

Before you could close your mouth around it though, Eddie pulled away again, making you crawl closer to him in a confused manner. “Wait a second. You’ve… smoked before, right?”

“Duh,” you gave back. “Yes, I have. Never done anything stronger than weed though.”

“Okay, sweetheart. Just making sure you don’t throw up all over the boat.” Eddie didn’t hand the cigarette over. Instead, he brought it to your lips with his fingers, watching intently as you took a draw. The taste was just as awful as you remembered but it got the job done quickly. You relaxed, feeling more daring after only minutes.

“Hey, Eddie?” You stared at him matter-of-factly. It clearly confused him. You took another draw when he offered the weed to you yet again but this time inching even closer to him. His lips parted when you didn’t move away from him. “Can I kiss you?”

The metalhead grinned like a kid that got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. He didn’t respond. Instead, he lifted his ringed hand to your face to stroke your cheek and then, his mouth was on yours. Eddie kissed you softly and patiently, seemingly enjoying this first taste as much as you did. After you parted, you both smiled and as the night proceeded, you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other anymore.

Eddie insisted on taking you to his place instead of staying at Rick’s, and after some initial protest that he too had had alcohol and shouldn’t be behind the wheel, you agreed to slowly drive back to his place. Fortunately for the both of you, you both made it out of this risky mission alive and you soon plopped yourself down on Eddie’s bed.

His room was a complete and utter mess. Clothes and cassettes along with handwritten song lyrics on crumbled paper were scattered everywhere, along with the odd guitar pick and lone sock. The walls were plastered with posters of metal bands as well as some maps and other drawings he must have made for his D&D campaigns.

His uncle wasn’t home—Eddie claimed he was pulling night shifts and that you had the house all to yourself. Which was certainly a good thing. You weren’t exactly quiet in bed and you had no doubt that you’d make use of those condoms sitting on his nightstand tonight.

Eddie grinned, turning his back to you for a moment. Then, he got rid of his battle jacket and leather jacket almost at the same time, kicked off his shoes and joined you on the bed wearing only his ripped trousers and a washed-out band shirt.

He was quick to take the initiative now that you had made the first step. Eddie leaned down, his hair tickling your face, and lowered his lips to yours to kiss you again, without any unwanted eyes watching you both this time.

He tasted like the weed you’d been smoking and the fatty pizza you’d all been munching on. His kisses were consuming, you had learned this much quickly. You sighed when his tongue slipped between your lips, teasing yours gently all the while his right hand went on an exploration quest, repeatedly stroking over your side.

Joyful anticipation of what would happen next flooded you like a hurricane, your body all of a sudden annoyingly aware of the fact there were way too many layers separating you both still.

It was then you felt the small pill on Eddie’s tongue that he passed on to you, gently biting your lower lip before breaking the kiss. You closed your mouth with wide eyes, returning his eager grin as he hovered above you.

“It’s ketamine,” he said, still grinning, “Rick got a new batch, fancy pill form. Nothing like anything else you’ll ever experience.”

You swallowed it down. “Shit. How long does it take to kick in?”

“With how strong that dose is I’d say about fifteen minutes. Thought you’d better have your first trip safely without accidentally drowning in the boat house at Rick’s.”

You hummed.

But what was the point of waiting around for it to kick in? You wanted Eddie. Now, and regardless of the drugs. Biting your lower lip, you pulled him back down to you and crashed your lips against his, kissing him ferociously.

“You’re wearing too much,” you announced out of breath when you had to pull away for oxygen.

“I could say the same thing about you, sweetheart.”

“Hmm… we should do something about that, then.”

You both giggled like children. Eddie scrambled out of bed to get rid of his clothes, only leaving his plaid boxers on all the while you peeled yourself out of your shirt and your trousers.

“Do you know how to take off a bra?” you asked with a cheeky grin.

“You wound me, sweetheart.”

“C’me here and prove it then.”

He was on top of you again before you could blink, hands wandering behind your back as you arched it for him so he could take it off for you. He did in fact have no trouble whatsoever getting that last piece of clothing between your naked skin out of the way. When he tossed it out of bed, it landed straight on the neck of his acoustic guitar in the corner. Eddie chuckled but he soon gasped for air quietly when his brown eyes fell on your bare breasts, nipples hardening from both the sudden temperature change and your growing arousal—and perhaps the drugs, too. You could feel them kicking in now. It was like you were walking on clouds. Like everything you did was wrapped in cotton candy and each and every one of your senses was heightened.

Eddie seemed to feel the same way even though surely this wasn’t his first time on ketamine. In a haze, he cupped your breasts with his hands, kneading them gently all the while you tugged at the hem of his boxers, not failing to notice the growing bulge in them. Eddie’s erection sprung free when you pulled them down as far as you could in your current position, taking in his length. Damn. You didn’t have a lot of dicks to compare him to but you certainly liked what you saw.

Reluctantly, the metalhead let go of your breasts to reach for a condom. You moaned at the loss of them at the very same moment you started feeling like you were floating. Shit.

“I am craving ice cream right now.”

“You are?”

“Yes! I could eat three. No, six! You know what? Let’s go and have ice cream tomorrow!”

“At the mall?”

“At the mall!” you repeated, almost yelling the words. You blinked. Fuck. You were so high. Eddie grinned when he realised. You wriggled out of your knickers and tossed them out of bed with your foot. Utterly naked before him now, you watched him with your lower lip sucked between your teeth as he rolled the thin layer of latex onto his length and then positioned himself between your legs. You spread them even further for him, inviting him in.

“We can always stop, you know that, right?”

“Eddie…” You pulled him down to you, shutting him up with a sloppy kiss. The drug was really kicking in now and making out with him was like a whole new experience altogether. You couldn’t wait to feel him inside you. You needed him. Now.

You doubted he was still a virgin when he guided his member into you with skilled movements, slowly pushing in inch by inch without finishing instantly. You wouldn’t have minded to take a break and then try again but right now, the ketamine in your body was making you impatient for lust. Impatient for him.

“Move, Eddie, move…” you whispered, throwing your head back in the process. The metalhead obeyed. Slowly at first, he began to thrust up into you, each and every single movement eager and on the verge of madness.

You were an entanglement of sweaty limbs within a matter of minutes. Panting and kissing, you didn’t know where Eddie ended and where you started. You moved together rhythmically, your legs wrapped around his hips as he kept rutting into you.

It was the very first time you felt your arousal climbing higher and higher, that familiar knot of pleasure in your core tightening without any additional stimulation whatsoever. Surely, that was because of the drugs. It must have been because of the drugs. Eddie hit every single pleasure spot hidden deep inside of you but normally, even that was not enough for you to slip over the edge. Not so today. You could already feel your orgasm approaching, your toes curling and your cunt tightening around him.

Eddie groaned. “You going to cum, sweetheart?”

The sound that escaped your lips didn’t even remotely resemble a yes. So you nodded with your lower lip between your teeth, eyes rolling to the back of your head. You shattered underneath him like a piece of glass, breaking into a million pieces scattering across his room.

Moaning his name, you dug your nails into his naked back and pulled him even closer to you. Eddie didn’t stop. On the contrary, he sped up. His strokes were erratic now, uncontrolled. Eager for his own orgasm, as you pulsed around him times and times again, you felt him tense up and then, find his release.

After a few more thrusts he stilled, burying himself as deep inside of you as he possibly could and shot his load into the condom. You wished you could have felt it, wished you could have felt him coating your still lazily contracting walls instead. Next time. There was always next time.

And fuck… that was quite possibly the best sex you’d ever had.

When you woke up the next morning, memories of last night came flooding back to you like a tsunami. Your head rested on Eddie’s chest. He’d draped his blanket over the both of you after he’d gotten rid of the condom—or simply threw it on the floor to be precise—and then cuddled up with you to keep you warm, to keep you safe while this trip lasted. You were almost a little disappointed you had sobered up now but the aftermath lingered like the taste of a particularly sweet strawberry on your tongue.

You opened your eyes, inhaling Eddie’s scent. Cigarettes, alcohol, leather and a little bit of sweat… it made for an oddly attractive mix. Unfortunately, however, your blood ran cold as soon as you spotted the time on the watch on Eddie’s wrist.

“Eddie! Wake up! Eddie, come on!”

He grumbled—and you wanted to kiss him senseless for being so cute and sleepy—but your parents must have been worried sick by now. Besides, you felt a little nauseous. Certainly the after-effects of the ketamine. You were lucky you weren’t hugging the toilet at the moment.

“What? You okay, sweetheart?”

“I’m okay but I need to get home.”

“Huh?” Finally, he cracked an eye open. Another moment passed for him to take the time to wake up. You chuckled.

“I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus. Ugh, and I feel gross.” You needed a shower—and a change of clothes. “I need to get home and freshen up, and my parents are probably wondering where I am. Let’s meet at Starcourt? Around three?”

You wanted nothing more than to lazily wander into the kitchen and have a coffee and breakfast with him before doing what you did last night all over again—sober this time. But by now, his uncle was probably home too. You’d have to do that as soon as you got your own place. Then you could be fucking all day long and… you swallowed.

“Uh, yeah… sure. Three.”

“Alright.” You beamed at him. “I’ll see you there then.” You pressed a quick kiss to his lips before you climbed out of bed naked and gathered your clothes. Eddie grinned when you blew him one final kiss before you left the room fully dressed.

You had to admit it got a little awkward when you ended up walking straight past Wayne Munson who was at the kitchen table with a coffee and the morning paper in hand. There was absolutely no doubt the man new exactly what Eddie and you had done last night.

“Uh… morning, Mr. Munson.”

“Morning?” You didn’t need to explain. Well, Eddie did but not you, not right now. So you only gave him an apologetic smile and hurried out the door because three o’clock couldn’t come soon enough.

You couldn’t stop grinning. Not when you apologised to your parents for worrying them and not calling, not when you took a shower, not even when you got some sustenance in to chase away the residue of the drugs and the alcohol in your body.

At around two thirty, you put on some make-up and then practically darted to the bus station to make it to Starcourt in time. Eddie was waiting for you already when you arrived. He leaned against a pillar near Scoops Ahoy wearing his usual attire, with one leg propped against it. His face lit up when he spotted you—only to darken only a fraction of a second later when he saw Jason and his laundry basket crew approach, instantly alert.

You paid them no mind. So you only nodded at Jason in greeting and then hurried toward Eddie, wrapping your arms around him to give him a long and passionate kiss.

“Hey…” he breathed out when you broke apart. Eddie blinked at you, incredulous at what you’d just done—almost as if you hadn’t had sex on a high last night.

“Hey. What’s… wrong? Are you alright?”

“N-nothing. I’m fine, sweetheart.” He glanced at Jason who kept on staring at you as if you’d just sacrificed a sheep to a demon. You shrugged your shoulders, interlaced Eddie’s fingers with yours and dragged him inside the ice cream shop.

“What do you want? I think chocolate chip mint is the best one but cherry sounds nice too. Pick whatever you like, it’s on me.”

Eddie quirked an eyebrow at you. “No, no, sweetheart. This is a date. I’m paying.”

“No you’re not. You can pay next time. You know how much the stuff you gave me…” You cleared your throat and lowered your voice. “…you gave me last night normally costs. I’m paying.”

Eddie smirked at you—you just wanted to kiss him all over again. “Cherry and chocolate chip mint, how about that?”

“I like the way you think.” So you ordered and then made yourself comfortable in one of the booths to munch on your ice cream. Eddie glanced behind him and then, all of a sudden, he had that unbelieving expression on his face yet again.

“Okay, what’s up? Something’s up. Did I say something? Did something happen?”

“I just… didn’t expect you to want to be in public with me.”

“I’m sorry, you what?” It was you who had incredulousness written all over your face now. Your heart dropped to your feet. “What… do you mean?”

“The girls I hooked up with before, from school… they didn’t want anything to do with me after they’d gotten laid by the freak,” he admitted. “Granted, there weren’t that many but still.” Your lips parted. Shit. That’s why he was acting all surprised. You had just snogged him in front of the entire former basketball team, after all.

Of course that raised the question of why he would invite you to that party in the first place if he’d suspected that you’d only wanted some free drugs and to be able to claim you’d fucked the freak to find out if he was just that in the sheets as well. But there was always hope. Hope that it could be different this time even if it was all subconscious. You suppressed a sigh.

“Why the hell wouldn’t I want that?” you asked so you wouldn’t pause for too long.

“Don’t know. I’m just used to it, okay?” he said with a fake smile, scooping up some of his ice cream.

Oh. And now he was overwhelmed and flattered and touched and confused and… and he didn’t know how to act. You scooted closer to him in the booth, leaning against his shoulder. “I couldn’t give a shit about what the other people think, Eddie. I was in a rush this morning because I didn’t tell my parents I’d probably spend the whole night out. And I said I felt gross because I hadn’t showered and because the remnants of the drugs made me feel all icky. Not because I regret what we did. Actually… I can’t wait to do it again.”

Eddie’s face lit up. He grinned. “With or without drugs?”

“Both.”

In other words, that cheeky metalhead was your boyfriend now. And you’d be damned if you didn’t tell the world that you were his girlfriend.

[steddieas-shegoes]

not so different

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt ‘graduation’

rated t | 994 words | cw: mention of past character death, mention of alcohol, language | tags: childhood friends, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, good uncle Wayne Munson

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Steve Harrington didn’t cry, not even when he fell off the slide at the playground and his knee bled for 15 minutes and his nanny had to call his mom.

But this was a special instance where he was allowed to be sad. His nanny even said so. He watched all the kids in his kindergarten class taking pictures with their moms and dads, uncles and aunts, grandpas and grandmas, and wondered why he didn’t have anyone here for him.

He found an empty classroom in the big kid hall as soon as the ceremony was done, sat behind the teacher’s desk, and cried into his knees.

“Did your daddy not show up either?” A voice asked from in front of him.

He lifted his head, vision blurry and face wet, to see Eddie.

Eddie had already done kindergarten once, but he had trouble with his phonics, so they kept him behind. He was the first kid to talk to Steve in class, but within a few days, Tommy and Carol and Heather had scared him away from Steve entirely.

“Um, no.”

“What about your mama?”

“She’s with my dad.”

“My mama is with God. Or that’s what a lot of people say. I dunno if she was friends with him or not, though. I think she just got buried in the ground and people are scared to tell me,” Eddie was sitting next to Steve now, his leg knocking against Steve’s.

Eddie didn’t sit still very well, and the teacher always said he had ants in his pants. Steve hoped he didn’t have them in there now; he didn’t want any ants on him.

“Where’s your dad?”

“He’s probably getting ‘rested again. He showed up being silly and my Uncle Wayne had to take him outside,” Eddie shrugged.

“Is he tired?” Steve asked, sniffling and leaning more against Eddie.

“No. Uncle Wayne says sometimes he has too much of the drinks in the bottles I’m not allowed to touch and it makes him act like he don’t got a brain,” Eddie didn’t sound that sad, but Steve still wanted to hug him. “So your daddy isn’t here?”

“No. I think he forgot.”

“Sorry he forgot. My Uncle Wayne never forgets. He even came to the lunch room for my birthday. He brought me a piece of pizza!” Eddie always sounded more excited than anyone else. Most of the kids in the class thought it was stupid, but Steve kind of liked the way his eyes got wide and his smile got so big it took up most of his face. “Maybe he can bring you a piece for your birthday next year.”

“He doesn’t even know me.”

“You can come meet him!”

The classroom door opened just as Eddie started to stand and reach for Steve’s hands to pull him up.

“There ya are, Ed! Been lookin’ everywhere. You want some ice cream?” An older man stood by the door, button up plaid shirt only half-tucked into his jeans.

“Can we bring Steve? He’s my friend.”

Steve’s head turned, shocked that Eddie would say that.

“We gotta ask his parents first, Ed.”

“His parents didn’t come.”

“Oh.” The man looked Steve up and down before seemingly settling on something. He gave a small smile and gestured for him to come closer. “What’s your favorite flavor, then?”

“I dunno. Never had anything except vanilla,” Steve admitted, afraid to look at the man who had to be Eddie’s Uncle Wayne.

“Well, that just won’t do, will it? Let’s go try every flavor at the diner. Benny just added a few new ones. Think there’s even a bubblegum one.”

Eddie clapped his hands and dragged Steve out the door by his arm.

“I bet you’ll like mint chip,” he said as Wayne followed behind them, fond smile on his face.

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Steve Harrington had only cried a few times in his life, but this was the second time it was happening in front of Eddie.

Eddie wasn’t conscious this time, though.

“If you wake up, I’ll take you to the diner and we can have ice cream. They’ve got a new raspberry white chocolate flavor that you’d like. I could use some mint chip right now,” Steve said around the tears.

Wayne had left the hospital an hour ago to freshen up and grab one of his crossword puzzle books. Steve had been crying for most of that hour, holding Eddie’s hand and quietly begging him to wake up.

Two days without hearing his voice or watching his smile light up the room was too long, especially after having it for the last 13 years.

“How’re you gonna walk at graduation if you’re still asleep here, huh?” Steve closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks.

“You can walk with me.”

Steve’s head shot up at Eddie’s quiet, but surprisingly strong voice.

“Eddie!”

“Hey, Stevie. Heard you’re takin’ me for ice cream,” Eddie’s smile was crooked, the bandage on his cheek covering one of his dimples.

It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except for Eddie being awake, being alive, being okay.

“Yeah, Eds. Every day if you want,” Steve wanted to crawl into the bed with him, hold him close and feel him breathing and listen to his heartbeat, be sure he was there.

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“Soon as you can leave, that’ll be our first stop. Promise.”

Eddie closed his eyes, but the smile remained on his face. “You slept?”

“A bit.”

“So no.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “A bit.”

“C’mere.”

“Honey, you’re hurt-“

“Come here.”

Steve got in bed slowly, making sure he kept space between himself and Eddie’s injuries.

“Think I’ll graduate?”

Steve snorted. “They’d be stupid to hold you back after you saved everyone.”

“Yeah. ‘M a hero. Fuck Hawkins High.”

Steve could feel more tears trickle down his cheeks, but these were different.

These were relieved tears, happy tears.

“Yeah, honey. Fuck them.”

“Love you, though.”

“Love you so much.”

[hellfireloserclub]

For @kaspurrcat . Happy seasonal whatever it is you celebrate at this time of year ! Hope you enjoy your @steddieexchange fic !

Read it on ao3 here

Eddie didn't have a soulmate. He was almost certain of it.

He was almost twenty-two, most soulmates met or crossed paths way before they turned twenty-one.

If he had a soulmate, wouldn't they have shown up by now?

He was pretty sure your soulmate was supposed to show themselves in a near death situation? At this point he was pretty well versed in that department.

He had seen the light. The pearly gates had been calling. He had sacrificed himself for the greater good and all that bullshit, and if you were to believe Wayne, that was a one-way ticket to nirvana.

But the big guy upstairs had kicked him back to the mortal realm with little to no ceremony. He had followed the voices, like a good boy. You know the way they had preached each Sunday at church when he was knee high to a grasshopper. But instead of fluffy clouds and dudes playing harps, the voices had led him back to the blood red skies of the Upside Down.

Maybe he hadn't gotten a free pass after all.

Waking up in Steve Harrington's arms once was an anomaly, his stupidly honest big brown eyes pleading for Eddie to be alright. It wasn’t the worst experience in the world, at least someone other than Dustin had been there to put his insides back in the right place.

The second time Eddie came back from the dead under Steve Harrington's capable hands, it was just getting weird.

Harrington was like a cockroach; you couldn't kill him, but did he have to always be there when Eddie was on the brink of death?

The pair of them really needed to stop jumping head first into lovers lake, it never ended well for either of them. It was getting to where he was pretty sure his near-death experiences were more near Steve experiences these days.

Now if you were to believe the textbooks and the mushy romance novels… the love of Eddie's life should have been the one to bring him back from the brink.

Not Steve ‘king of the hair’ Harrington.

So in Eddie's defense, he was pretty sure that his soulmate just didn't exist.

She would have turned up by now right? Some universal bond tying him to the earthly realm.

He would have some sort of mark, something that tied them together, but he didn't.

All he had was scars.

Scars, nightmares, and a Knight in denim armor in the form of Steve Harrington. Someone he now got to count as one of his closest friends.

So when anyone asked him about it -why he still hasn't found his other half- he told them it didn't matter. Because it really didn't. The world was a big place, there was every chance your soulmate didn't even live in the same town, city, state… hell they might not even live on the same continent.

So it didn't matter. Eddie didn't have a soulmate. Eddie didn't care.

Only he did.

Ever since he came back from the dead the second time, (He really hoped he wouldn't have to make it a third time and that this time Vecna really stayed dead) Eddie had become obsessed with the concept of soulmates. Fascinated by the way the universe decided who was the other half of your soul and how that bond manifested. He had notebook after notebook on the subject. Read every book he could get his hands on copying paragraph after paragraph into his swooping scrawl.

He observed the people in his life like they were a nature documentary, then when his brain had processed the information he recorded it in his notes.

If he had been this thorough in high school, he might have graduated first time around.

He watched as Hopper and Joyce re-connected a soul bond that had formed back when they were teens.

Joyce would regale them whenever she got a drink in her hand, that something had pulled her to keep looking for Hopper when he disappeared. Not that same drive that had made everyone think she was crazy when Will disappeared, it was something else. It was the feeling of being tugged in a direction but not knowing where to go. A buzz in her mind that told her that Hop wasn't dead. It was the same feeling she had back when they Upside Down had come knocking the first time, but this time it was tenfold.

(Eddie wished he had someone who would always keep looking for him, it would be nice not to feel lost )

Lucas had instinctively known what Max had needed all the way through her time in the hospital, even when she was three floors above them and deep in a coma.

In her time of healing, he formed the echoes of her wounds and ever since any minor cut or blemish showed on the others skin when they hurt themselves.

Max learning to skate again had ended up with Lucas looking like he had fallen out of a tree. But he wore his bruises and scrapes with pride and they faded a lot faster than the ones that the car park had created outside of Maldives.

(The only wounds that showed on his skin these days were paper cuts from all his notebooks and the occasional burn to the tip of his finger. His mind wandered when he smoked and he must burn them down to the filter more often than he noticed. )

Nancy and Jonathan had manufactured soul marks, twin cuts on their palms that had been their own doing, a bond made rather than given, born through trauma and blood. Since they had reunited that bond had grown stronger.

It must have sucked to be Harrington, Eddie had been routing for him. As far as Eddie could see Steve was head over heels for Nancy, at least he had been back then.

But Jon and Nancy’s bond is forged in blood. The strongest of the soul bonds, made from sacrifice. Sure Steve had thrown himself in front of the jaws of death a million times, but not in the same way as Nancy and Jon had that first time.

(Eddie thought about it every time he looked at the scar on his arm from when he and Steve had cut themselves to lure the Demodogs away from the hospital and towards lovers lake. He still can’t believe his stupid plan worked. He had been in no fit state to be trying to run for his life again, but had been back on his feet enough to lure the drooling monsters away from Max’s door. But it had worked, and it had worked well. Right until something pulled him and Steve to the bottom of the lake again, but Eddie's plans rarely had an exit strategy, getting out was an afterthought.)

Eddie had wondered why the trauma that Robin and Steve went through hadn’t marked them. Normally five drinks deep and high as a kite he would ask them, the weird little third wheel that he was.

But whenever Eddie brought it up Steve would go quiet, and Robin would tell Eddie that when you only had one brain between you both, sharing a soul wouldn’t be the best idea.

Steve would get fidgety and rub absentmindedly at his neck, then mutter about soulmates being ridiculous, anyway. He rubbed that scar a lot, whenever he was nervous, whenever he was deep in thought.

Eddie wondered if it tingled and itched the way his own did, late at night when he was lying alone and pining for something he didn't seem to have.

Maybe notorious ladies’ man Harrington had the same problem as Eddie?

It wasn't unheard of to lose a soulmate, and Hawkins had a high body count.

Wayne had never met the other half of his soul, that little tug of fate had never come calling and Wayne was fine, Wayne was happy. At least that's what Eddie thought, it was sometimes hard to read his old man's expression and because he was a man of few words; it wasn't like they were ever going to go all deep and meaningful over it.

But just this once Eddie felt like he would like to be normal. He was getting kind of sick and tired of being the anomaly. He could deal with being the freak, but on his terms. When it came to this, to the matter of his very soul, it would be nice to be a little sheepee instead of the big bad wolf.

*************

Eddie flexed his arm in the breakroom mirror, his new ink had healed nicely.

Gareth had suggested a trip into the big city when he was back from college for Thanksgiving, and who was Eddie to deny one of his oldest friends anything?

It was an act of split second decision to swing into the tattoo parlor. Garath wanted, and Eddie was weak willed and easily led.

The guy had done a good job; he left with his bats touched up and looking a lot less like they had been chewed up by the demonic version of their best selves. The stick and poke version was long gone, replaced by the forking tails of the beasts that had given him the gnarly flesh wounds he was now trying to make a distant memory.

It was nice to look in the mirror and not instantly be reminded of skin grafts and trauma, to see bits of himself rising to the surface.

Yeah maybe the bats had been a bit on the nose, but he had read enough Batman comics to learn to embrace the thing that scared him.

It was helping to hold on to at least one bit of his own identity. He was not enjoying being part of the corporate grind, even if that corporate grind was lugging boxes around and stacking shelves in Family Video alongside Steve. Battle vest traded in for the forest green monstrosity that did nothing for his complexion.

The only thing it had going for it was the fact that he could wear whatever the hell he liked under the thing as long as he toned it down when head office showed up.

After all, he was friends with the boss.

Life was serene when Steve was the boss, especially when he was willing to rotate the staff around Hellfire, important Party business and Eddie’s inability to function on anything that looked or acted like a schedule.

Right now the man in question was watching him from the door, arms crossed in irritation as he tapped his foot in agitation.

“You look hot Munson, Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in a work vest, now can we please, get a move on.” Steve bitched as he checked the time on his watch again.

“Buckley isn’t back for at least another hour and a half, what's the rush sweetheart?” Eddie said over his shoulder as he pulled his sweater back down over his hands and threw his vest in the staff's corner room where it would have to rot till his next shift.

“We have to pick up the tree from Hoppers before we go get her and I wanted to catch my parents before they fly out to my Gran’s for the holidays-”

“They leaving you here again?” Eddie asked sceptically, as he pulled on his jacket, not that he didn’t like the Harrington's; they had been nothing but nice to him. He just wished that once in a while they would put Steve before whatever flight of fancy his mother took, or the business trips his dad couldn’t be trusted to take alone.

“I told them I didn’t want to go, I haven’t seen Robin in over a month, and I have work. Pair that with the fact that I really can’t be bothered with my Gran lecturing me on how disappointed she is in me I took the get out of jail free card . This way I get to see your cheerful face throughout this festive season.” Steve said, patting Eddie on both cheeks.

Steve had a way of getting under Eddie's skin like nobody else, if anyone else tried to baby him like this he would bite them. Verbally or physically depending on who it was, although he did try to rein in his strangeness these days, at least in public, but not around Steve, he snapped after Steve's fingers as he pulled them away.

“Yeah, but now… I get to feel guilty about the fact you're rocking around that great big house of yours on your own on the big day, baby… pretty thing like you shouldn’t be alone on Christmas.” Eddie said as he followed Steve towards the door. Getting as close as he dares to really irritate the man. It was too early to close the store, they both knew that, but who was going to tell them off? Steve?

Trying to irritate him didn’t work, as soon as they were at the door Steve halted and Eddie plowed right into his back, causing the other man to laugh and reach out and steady him.

“Careful.” Steve said as he reached around him to flip the sign, pulled his packet of Malbrough out of his pocket and gently pushed Eddie out the door.

It was a well-practiced thing now, the first smoke at the end of the shift. If they were picking up Robin soon, it might be the last one Steve had for a while. Robin’s wrath at them smoking around her wasn’t worth the nicotine fix.

Eddie watched as the other man went through his routine, lighting two cigarettes in his own mouth then passing one to Eddie, he let Steve place it between his lips no questions asked.

Steve seemed to mill something over in his mind as he took his first deep huff of smoke.

“I’m not going to be alone, I’ll be at Henderson’s, just like you no doubt, because I’m sure as hell that Uncle Wayne refused to take the day off.”

“Stubborn as a mule, and just as predictable.” Eddie grumbled.

“Uncle Wayne or you?” Steve asked, blowing small smoke circles in the air. The sight momentarily hypnotized Eddie, unable to take his eyes away from the way Steve twisted his tongue to get the shapes right.

“You don’t have to call him Uncle, we've been through this.” Eddie groused as he ashed his own cigarette, before opening his side of the truck and climbing behind the driver's seat.

“Yeah I know, but he won’t let me call him Sir and he keeps telling me if I call him Mr. Munson, I’m not allowed in the apartment.” Steve lamented as they drove out of the car park and turned towards the forest. “I know for a fact that Mama Claudia would never leave you and Wayne out when she invited all the strays around for lunch, because she’s incapable of not looking after a lost cause.”

“Does this mean I have to get you a gift?” Eddie asked as they idled at a red light, the snow falling slowly outside adding an element of whimsy to the traitorous conditions. He took his last draw of his smoke and stubbed it out in his ashtray, eyes half on the road, half on his closest friend in the passenger seat. He looked good today, all ruddy cheeked and wind swept, even if his signature hair hid underneath a black wool hat that he had stolen from Eddie last time he was at the apartment.

“You mean you haven’t already?” Steve pouted from the passenger seat, angel and bastard all rolled into one being. “I thought I was a kept man?”

“Whores will have their trinkets.” Eddie lamented and Steve punched him in the arm.

“Strong words when you're the only one who’s had a date in months.” Steve grumbled waving his cigarette around in Eddie’s direction. It was almost burned to the filter, and Eddie wondered if Steve was determined to enjoy every bit before Robin got here, or if he had just forgotten he was smoking it like usual.

“Failed date’s Harrington. Failed dates. I’m an accused murderer, at least I have an excuse for striking out. What’s your excuse?” God the light was taking forever to change, Eddie rubbed his hand along the raised bumps of his steering wheel, the action burning friction to the tips of his fingers, the warmth welcomed against the bitterness of the snow.

“I’m just not interested? I dunno, I just…” Steve trailed off, rubbing absentmindedly at his right arm. “Maybe I’m just caught up on something I can’t have, keep sabotaging myself before I’ve even gotten them out the front door.”

“You got your eye on someone?” Eddie asked. Steve had mentioned no one recently, he hadn’t even really tried to hit on any of the women that clearly were flirting with him when they came into the store.

“Is it someone I know?”

“He is yeah.” Steve said quietly, so quiet Eddie was sure he wasn’t supposed to hear it.

Steve made a fuss of stubbing out his cigarette, raising his hand to his mouth where he had ignited the filter and it had caught his skin. It was quick and Eddie almost missed it but Steve looked over to him as Eddie inhaled quickly, a warmth spreading through him he couldn’t quite put a finger on, even if that was where it had started.

“He?” he asked carefully, aware that how he handled this was going to make or break this strange friendship that both he and Steve had cultivated. He didn’t want Steve to think he was about to punch him in the face.

“He.” Steve said again, rubbing at his arm with a little more persistence. “But you know, small town Indiana. So the chance of him liking me back? It’s like the chances of something coming from Mars…so what? A million to one? So like…” He waved his hand about weakly. This wasn’t the time to point out that Steve had definitely been spending too much time with him and Dustin.

“So is he like… You know.. Your soulmate?” Eddie asked, wishing the light would hurry and change color so he could make himself concentrate on the road.

“I had a feeling he was. But it was sort of confirmed the other week. But who knows, maybe I’m just clutching at straws. I don’t think he knows, or if he does, he's said nothing.” Steve said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Maybe he knows and just doesn't care, that’s always an option.”

That made something twist in Eddie’s stomach, he had been so sure that Steve, like himself, was destined not to find his soulmate. But knowing that he had found him, and they didn't want him back?

It was making Eddie’s insides knot with jealousy and rage and he didn’t like the taste of it on his tongue.

“Maybe he’s scared? Or maybe he’s just an idiot, or he just hasn’t released? I mean Maybe he’s not looking for a dude? Although I dunno, how anyone could spend five minutes with you and not love you Stevie. You just need to turn on that Harrington charm right?” Eddie asked as the lights finally changed color and he could drag his eyes away from the worried expression that was plastered on Steve’s face now.

“I've tried, he's oblivious.” Steve said weakly, he sounded so defeated it was making Eddie’s heart ache.

This was why Eddie had given up, he never wanted to sound that sad over something that was outside of his own control.

He chanced a glance in Steve’s direction; he was chewing on his finger now, red from the burn and now the irritation of Steve’s tongue and lips.

“It doesn’t bother you… that I’m…that I like…”

“That, you like dicks?” Eddie asked, almost unable to keep the nervous laughter out of his voice. He didn’t have a problem with it, it had just thrown him, he hadn’t expected it from ladies’ man Steve.

“Dunno never tried it. I was gonna say dudes, but you just gotta make it weird right?” Steve said with a depreciated laugh. Eddie couldn’t let that slide. Steve was a saint, he didn’t get to belittle himself, not on Eddie’s watch.

“King of the freaks, remember? It’s my job to be weird, it happens by default. Anyway, who am I to ever stop anyone from being the best version of themself? Plus, if you’re gay that means more women for me right?” Eddie said, focusing on trying to find the turnoff to Hoppers through the now dense falling snow.

“Not gay.” Steve said as he tapped him on the arm and pointed to the turn in the road that Eddie had almost missed.

“You just told me your soulmate is a dude and that you like dicks…. Sounds pretty gay to me Stevie.” Eddie reasoned as carefully turned onto the wood-lined drive to the Hoppers- Byers cabin.

“You know you can like both women and men right?” Steve asked quietly as he zipped his coat tighter at the sight of Hopper and Jane waiting for them with a pre-cut tree. “There’s a word for it, but we all know how bad I am with words. Robin will be able to tell you later, but yeah.. Whatever that is? That's me, so, I just…” Steve seemed to sink into himself more lost in the many folds of his oversized jacket.

Eddie said nothing as he parked up. Processing what Steve had just told him? Both? That creature that lived in him paced, trying to process this new knowledge. Eddie tried to soothe it, this wasn’t the time, he could look at that new information later when Steve wasn’t spilling his heart out to him in a snowstorm.

They were both about to get out when he reached over and grabbed Steve’s arm, warmth running through him when Steve didn’t pull away.

“Thankyou for telling me, you didn’t have to-”

“-But I wanted to.” Steve said with a weak smile as he stepped out into the building storm.

*********

Robin and Steve had fallen straight into that silent communication that Eddie still didn't get but reluctantly admitted was kind of cute in a twisted way.

He preferred no words better than the hushed conversations the two of them were having in the back seat, keeping voices low so the sound of the truck kept their secrets.

After their earlier conversation, he and Steve hadn’t really circled back around to the earth shattering revelation that Steve’s soulmate was a guy.

It felt like with this new knowledge about Steve, Eddie’s world view was changing.

To be fair, his world view had changed a lot since 86, that ladies’ man Steve also liked guys was really pretty far down on the list of life shattering revelations.

Yet Eddie was confused why the thought of it was giving him palpitations. The idea was sitting heavily in his chest and in his head and it was just as well he had to keep his eyes on the road because he knew if he didn’t he was likely to dwell on his new factoid and spiral down a rabbit hole he wasn’t sure he would get out of soon.

Every so often Eddie would glance at the two people in the back seat, covertly of course, the wonder of the rear-view mirror.

Steve was showing Robin something, his body twisted so that Eddie couldn’t make out what it was. He couldn't make out what they were saying with a quirk of the eyebrow and a knowing glance, no matter how good he had gotten at reading the expressions of the two weirdos behind him.

Was Steve telling Robin the thing that had confirmed to Steve that the person he thought was his soulmate was actually his soulmate?

Eddie turned the music up to give the two of them more privacy.

Steve would share his revelation with him when he was ready. If he was ever ready to.

As he turned towards Loch Nora, Eddie felt the mood change in the car.

That ache was back, it sat heavy in his chest, a longing for something he couldn’t have.

He couldn't work out why it snuck up on him like this, more and more when he least expected it.

When he glanced in the mirror again Steve was watching him. Robin curled into his side as she talked animatedly.

It was easy to see why people thought the two of them were a couple, joined at the hip, mirrors of each other in almost every way, now that Steve liked guys, that just added to the reflection.

“I heard dingus told you his good news?” Robin asked, leaning forward and resting herself between the two front chairs. It would annoy Eddie that one of them hadn’t just rode up front with him. But he knew the two of them had to fuze together as soon as possible when reunited, and it really wouldn’t have been safe for both of them to squash themselves into the front seat, at least not with the snow coming down like it was now.

“The whole, doubling his chances of absolutely foul balling his relationships?” Eddie asked as they passed the now entering Hawkins sign. “Yeah, he mentioned it.”

“And?”

“And what? I don’t have an issue with it if that’s what you're asking?”

“So you are cool with him being Bisexual-”

“That’s it Bisexual! How the hell did I not remember that?” Steve complained from the back seat.

“Doesn’t bother me what or who he sticks his dick in, or you know… the other way around.” Eddie had to really concentrate not to swerve the car as Robin smacked him in the arm. HARD.

In the back seat Steve yelped, Eddie figured Robin must have kicked him or something, but he couldn’t see past Robin in his rear-view mirror.

“Why are you both so revolting? Like seriously, what did I do to be stuck with the pair of you?”

“You love us both Bucks, don’t be giving us that.” Eddie reprimanded.

“God, you are like a bonded pair now. How am I supposed to prosper in this kind of environment?” Robin grumbled, throwing herself back into the back seat with a huff. “Why has the universe cursed me with two absolute numbskulls as best friends?”

“Hey! Less of the numbskulls.” Steve complained. “My dumbness is all the concussions. I’m sure you have plenty of opportunities to prosper at all the wild parties you go to. Not my fault you left me to spread your wild oats or whatever it is you get up to in that fancy school of yours.”

“You would know what I get up to if you ever ventured further than Indianapolis.” Robin sniped back. “But you two seem to have made roots here. When was the last time the two of you went over three days without seeing each other?”

“We work together Robs, I don't think that's fair…” Steve started arguing, but Eddie had turned his attention back to the road, the snow was coming down harder now, it gave him time to think about Robin's question.

When was the last time the two of them had spent more than three days apart?

Maybe when Wayne and Eddie had gone on that fishing trip?

Sometimes Eddie spent more time with Steve than he did with Wayne, and they still lived together.

Often when Steve's parents were away, Eddie would crash at Steve’s house, wherever they landed was where they slept. He had shared a bed with Steve Harrington more times than any other living being.

Hu? Now he thought about it, maybe he really was permanently in Steve’s space. He really had fallen into the gap that Robin had left behind that easily. Her old job, her place at Steve's side, her place in Steve's bed.

Eddie had never been like that with any of his other friends as far as he could remember. Maybe when he was little and Wayne had let him sleep over at Jeff's, but they had slept top to tail.

But the first time Steve had grunted at him to ‘just stay put man,’ when he had moved to get up and move himself to the guest room, Eddie hadn’t fought it, he had just settled back in and let Steve get comfortable against his side again.

Steve needed it. Eddie knew he wasn't sleeping well again. And after that first time it had just been a thing that happened. He hadn't questioned it .

Maybe Robin had a point.

Steve had become such an integral part of Eddie’s routine and he hadn’t even noticed it happening.

That led to the question: who was the mysterious man who had imprinted on Steve and left his mark? Because Eddie would have to be aware of them right? If they were always together it wasn’t like a stranger had walked in and whisked him off his feet.

The mysterious man of Steve's dreams itched like an irritation that Eddie couldn't quite reach, and when he looked in the rearview again, it didn’t surprise him to see Steve staring back at him.

**************

“Season’s greetings and salutations.” Eddie said as he darted into the kitchen to get the dustpan and brush to pick up the pine leaves trailing from the front door to the corner next to the fire.

Mr. Harrington looked every bit his son when he shook his head and the small smile creeped upon his face, it was a testament to how often Eddie was in the house that the older man hadn’t even questioned his presence in his humble abode.

Not that you could call the Harrington home humble, it was every bit the show home that Steve’s mom had intended it to be. Mrs. Harrington would have a conniption if she ever visited Wayne’s place, the only interior design magazine that had ever entered the place was being used to prop up the corner of the wonky coffee table.

Ironically, it was the one that featured Mrs. Harrington on page three with her newest grand design.

Perks of being married to an editor, Eddie supposed. But hey, if it stopped him losing his cereal to the floor in the morning it had its uses.

“I thought you were both on the close tonight?” Mr. Harrington asked as Eddie grabbed the cleaning things.

“We were.” He started, and the rest came out in a rush as he rummaged through the cupboard for cleaning stuff, but Richard Harrington seemed to keep up. “But you're leaving tonight and Steve wanted to see you before you left and we had to pick up Robin from the bus station, ‘cause her parents aren't back until ten. There was no way I was letting Steve try to drive the Beemer in this. And then I was roped into getting the tree from Hoppers with him, because that couldn’t have waited till tomorrow, and him and Robin have left a trail of destruction in their wake,” Eddie waved the brush around to show his intentions and the reason for his rush of words, “So you know, I’m left to tidy up that mess… and that’s why, if anyone from head office calls, the snow took the power out.”

Richard Harrington had a pleasant laugh, sweet like honey, another thing he shared with his son. That Eddie had noticed that made the twisting in his chest churn again.

He really needed to look at that a bit more. It couldn't be good.

“I take it that if I walk into my lounge I'm going to be bombarded with Christmas cheer?” He asked, the grin getting bigger.

“Alas, just a naked tree, apparently your grandchildren need to be present to festoon its mighty branches with glitter and gold.” Eddie said sagely. “And that I believe is my punishment tomorrow as I think I’ve displeased his lordship.”

“Ah, just as well Lenore stocked the candy and soda up for the festivities.” Richard said sagely as he sipped his coffee. Eddie knew what was coming next, it was Richard Harrington’s current new obsession. “Have you thought about writing that book yet?”

“Ah, Mr. H, you know I can't spell for shit…”

“And I keep telling you that's what one of my editors is for. Tell me you will at least think about it again over Christmas?” Richard asked, and oh great. There was that pleading look Steve used to get Eddie to do a lot of the heavy lifting. It wasn't as effective when it was blue eyes doing the requesting, it was easier to say no to Richard.

“I'll think about it.” Eddie said as the sound of Mrs. Harrington descending the stairs caused Richard to jump to his feet.

“Good, I just want Steve's-” he cut himself off looking sheepish. It was another one of Steve's traits that he shared with his dad, no brain to mouth filter, Steve was always putting his foot in his mouth, especially around the kids.

Still, Eddie really wanted to know what was at the end of that sentence.

“Steve's what?” Eddie asked just as Lenore Harrington joined them in the kitchen trailing a suitcase behind her that her husband was quick to take off her hands so he could ignore Eddie's question.

“Oh hello Eddie dear, did I hear Steve and Robin?” Lenore asked with a quick hug as she passed en route to the lounge, she didn’t wait for an answer as she sashayed past with an elegance that Steve had not inherited.

“Lenore’s mother is a bit of a drama queen,” Richard said as he followed Eddie and his brush to the hallway. “She’s been on the phone several times already tonight asking us to try to convince Steve and his lovely young lady to come with us.” he explained as Eddie swept up the fallen pine leaves.

“By young lady, I take it she means Robin?” Eddie asked as Richard added the case to the pile by the door.

“Yes. She’s rather old-fashioned Steven’s grandmother, I don’t think she really understands the dynamic between the two of them. She nearly had a heart attack when I moved her precious socialite daughter to Hawkins of all places.” Richard said with a little chuckle to himself. “I keep trying to convince her to come visit, she never does, I would love to see her face when she meets you.”

Eddie didn’t know how to take that, unsure if it was meant as an insult or a complement. Mr. Harrington didn’t seem to notice though as he followed Eddie as he swept the entire trail of pine needles away.

“Dad, are you trying to get Eddie to sign to your label again?” Steve asked as he broke free of his mother’s hug. Evidently the conversation had carried from the kitchen, either that or Steve’s mother was whispering in his ear again.

“Just looking after my future interests Steven. Eddie has talent and he would be an excellent addition to the Harrington family, or do the two of you really intend on spending the prime of your life negotiating late fees for someone else's business?”

“I’m happy if you are Eds?” Steve said as he gave his dad a quick hug, “Some of us aren’t built for jet setting around the world. Well, I’m sure, given half the chance Eddie would be off like a shot as long as it involved his guitar-,”

“I’d always have room for you as my glamorous assistant Stevie, you know this.” Eddie said as he brushed around the base of the tree where the worst of the needles had fallen.

“See what I mean? You can’t separate them, you know, a bit like freezer burned burgers or that weird black mold in the back of the fridge.” Robin piped up from her perch on the end of the sofa. “The longer I’m away, the more tragic their bond becomes.” She lamented, popping a marshmallow in her mouth and chewing it, never once dropping her menacing smile.

Lenore laughed as she pulled on her big winter coat. “Last chance to change your mind, you and Eddie are welcome to join us?”

“See, even you are treating them like a unit. I feel like I’ve been replaced. Have I been replaced, Steve?” Robin huffed as Steve dropped on the sofa next to her, he shot her with a loaded look, and Eddie suddenly felt like whatever conversation the two of them had been having in the car needed to be continued, possibly louder and possibly involving a fair bit of bitching.

Eddie was not stupid enough to get caught in the crossfire of that.

“As much as I appreciate the offer of getting out of dodge for the festive season, Wayne likes to have me about, and I feel like Mr. Harrington needs a few days off trying to wrangle his next big book deal.” Eddie said, handing the dustpan and brush to Steve to finish what Eddie had started.

“Speaking of Wayne, I should get home, I want to see him before he goes on to shift, so I better hit the road.”

Eddie couldn’t read the expression on Steve’s face, but he could tell that Robin was biting her lip to hold back whatever was on her mind. No doubt he was going to get sounded out as soon as he turned up at Steve’s tomorrow. There was no point in fighting the inevitable.

Eddie grabbed his coat and followed Mr. and Mrs. Harrington out to the cars, helping with the bags like the good little boy scout he was.

“Eddie?” Mr. Harrington asked just as he turned to jump back in his truck. Eddie spun on the spot, no matter how much he got on with the Harrington’s he was still deep down aware of the class divide. Permanently torn between needing to fight the hierarchy and knowing that there wasn’t a threat.

“Yeah, Mr. H?” Eddie asked as he pulled his coat tighter around himself.

Richard stepped closer, making sure that his wife couldn’t see him from the car.

“Can you keep an eye on Steve over the next few days? Something’s been up with him these last few weeks and he won’t tell me or his mother what it is.” He asked, and it made Eddie feel a little worried that Steve’s dad was coming to him out of all of his friends to watch him.

“I mean, Robin is back, she will get whatever it is out of him-” Eddie started, not wanting to share the secret that Steve had shared with him, not if Steve hadn’t shared it with his parents yet.

“But you know him best. Just, I don’t know, maybe he will tell you what’s wrong?” Richard said, gripping him on the shoulder and giving it a tight fatherly squeeze.

For the second time that night, Eddie felt like the rug was being pulled out from under him. First Steve telling him about his soulmate and now Richard Harrington saying that Eddie knew Steve best? Robin was right there, and when Steve’s soulmate finally made himself known the two of them would probably descend in the ranks. Although Eddie very much doubted that he would ever outrank Robin in that department.

“Yeah, alright, I will talk to him.” Eddie agreed, the feeling of being watched itched at him. His scar on his neck aching slightly with the cold. “You best get going if this snow gets worse they might ground the flight.”

“True, very true.” Richard said, moving his hand away, waving towards the house as he stepped back to the car. “Merry Christmas Eddie. Think about that book again please.” He said as he got in the car.

When the engine started Eddie moved away to get in his own truck, but not before looking back to the house to see who had been on the receiving end of the wave.

Steve stood in the window, backlit by the harsh overhead light, but it was clear to see he was watching Eddie, his hand resting against his neck.

They held eye contact for a moment before Steve waved and pulled the curtains shut.

Whatever that was about, Eddie would not look at it too hard right now.

Right now he needed to get home to Wayne, then later he could unpack the cluster fuck that had been the last twelve hours.

*************

Ever since Eddie had been old enough to fend for himself over Christmas, Wayne had taken the crap shifts over the holidays. The money was better, often double or triple time, and the two of them weren’t exactly in a place to say no to that back in the day. Now Wayne did the shifts so that the people with little kids could have it off, because that was just the sort of self sacrificing fool that the guy was. After all, Eddie had to get it from someone.

So Wayne had left him in the early hours of Christmas Eve, and Eddie had all the intentions in the world of getting himself to bed and maybe getting some much needed sleep.

Unfortunately, Eddie’s mind had other ideas.

He had finally nodded off just after 6am, his books and notebooks scattered around him as he went through all his notes on soulmates trying to itch that scratch in his brain that was triggered earlier by Steve in the car.

He couldn’t work out how Steve could have met his soulmate, not if he was close enough to them to have confirmed his suspicions in the last few weeks. He was pretty sure that was the strangeness that Mr. Harrington had noticed, and now Eddie was trying to work out if he had seen Steve acting weird around anyone they knew.

Eddie had run through every interaction that they'd had with people since thanksgiving. Maybe it was the new delivery driver? He was cute, if you were into the blond hair and blue eye’s thing. He had muscular arm’s and with all the lifting he did day in day out, and he looked like he was probably a jock in high school. Maybe that was Steve’s type?

What was Steve’s type, anyway? Now that Eddie was looking at it, he wasn’t even sure Steve had a type he jumped around between the Molly Ringwalds and the Sigourney Weaver of this world, but did that apply to guys too?

Was it Jeff? It was a possibility he supposed; they had hung out a bit recently, but Eddie was pretty sure that Jeff was head over ass for the girl that worked at the drive in.

Maybe it was the guy that worked the ticket booth at the drive in? The punk guy that got Eddie's heckles up every time he lent his slutty little waist up against the Beemer.

That would just be a crying shame, Steve lowering himself to the crushing on a punk.

He might have to rethink the whole friendship if Steve ended up being soulmates with someone whose musical taste revolved around only three chords.

The kicker though came when Eddie realized how much the whole thing was upsetting him. And the more he looked at it, the more he was realizing that he wasn't sure where the jealousy was coming from.

His knee jerk reaction had been that he was jealous that Steve had found his soulmate. But now?

Now he was questioning if it wasn't something more, if he wasn't jealous of the fact that Steve had feelings for another man and that man wasn't Eddie himself.

It was making Eddie question everything he knew about himself.

Because he couldn’t say he hadn't looked at other guys. He couldn't stand up and honestly say he hadn't seen photos of Ozzy and felt something more than an admiration for the man.

Did he have a crush on Ozzy Osborne? That would explain a few of the more questionable dreams.

So that opened up another question.

Did he have a crush on Steve?

It was certainly a possibility.

The two of them were constantly in each other's orbit, and they flirted like it was a second language that they were more than fluent in. Only now Eddie wasn’t sure that he hadn’t meant all the things he had been dishing out to Steve on the daily for the last few years.

If would explain the gut churning and the ache he was currently feeling at the thought of Steve having found his soulmate.

What had Robin called it? Bisexual.

Steve liked women and men, apparently that was a thing.

Was that a thing that could apply to Eddie?

He definitely liked women, that was a given, if he was to believe Steve he was getting the most action out of the two of them.

Although Eddie had hit a dry spell that was embarrassing even for a self confessed nerd like himself.

It had been at least nine months since he had to find excuses to sneak out of anyone's bed rather than face the awkward next day conversations.

He had been striking out lately, turning down dates when Steve asked him to hang out, Eddie was running over his last few dates in his head, had he been sabotaging them because they weren't Steve?

The more he looked at it the more likely it seemed.

Eddie knew he was spiraling. Knew if he could just sound out the busy thoughts in his head to someone, he might make them make sense. But the person he would normally run to was the source of his confusion and that left him nowhere to turn.

This definitely wasn't the thing that he and Wayne were finally having that big heart to heart over.

“Yeah Wayne, I think I'm in love with Steve.” even in his head it made him want to cringe and hide away.

Love ?

Oh fuck right off, it wasn't love.

It couldn't be love if he only just realized it was a viable option right ?

Only it wasn't, was it?

Steve had a soulmate. Eddie didn't.

It would be a match made to fail even if there was the smallest chance that Steve liked him back.

Maybe he should just keep his distance?

The idea of not seeing Steve made him ache in a way that he recognized now, it made him feel sick but now he understood what it meant.

And that made it a million times worse.

He had a joint and tried to make his brain stop for just a moment, and it must have worked.

The next thing he knew someone's car was grumbling to life outside in the street and sunlight was streaming through the window.

***********

His new resolution to stay away from Steve hadn't lasted long.

The snow had fallen again during his existential crisis last night and the world seemed merry and bright. Or as bright as it could be when all Eddie wanted for Christmas was an interdimensional rift to open under his feet and the demobats to go three for three on his earthly demise.

Steve had given them both the day off, perks of being the boss, and Eddie had expected to be one of the first to show up at the Harrington home to set about operation Christmas. Yet when he crunched up the driveway his own footprints got lost in the imprints left by the hoard that had evidently already descended. The kids having their own wheels these days was making him feel old .

He let himself in, Steve had left it unlocked to save him the hassle of having to keep getting up every person who pounded on the door.

Not that it would have mattered if the door was still locked. Eddie had a key.

That was another thing to add to his list of confusing things that had happened between him and Steve.

Steve had given him a key in the middle of the night when the nightmares got too bad. He could get in without waking the whole Harrington clan. If Steve rang him in a broken down state Eddie would drive over and let himself in, climb the stairs and hold Steve until he calmed.

Eddie didn't mind, more often than not he was in the same messed up state.

Trembling in the quiet of his and Wayne's new apartment, that would never feel like a home in the way the trailer had.

Steve's parents knew, they didn't seem phased by it.

Not in the way Eddie was sure they should when a guy who was once a wanted murderer wanders down from their son's bedroom first thing in the morning, sleep rumpled and looking for coffee.

It was all a little overfamiliar, and Eddie wasn’t sure how he was supposed to deal with someone else taking that place in Steve's life. Was this how Robin felt when she left for college? Because if it was Eddie understood the tears and the mini breakdown now. It was completely justified.

The absolute chaos he had expected greeted him as he crossed the threshold.

The kids had commandeered the job of dressing the tree. Max was yelling, bossing the boys about as was her God given right, and Will was trying and failing to get the others to decorate the back of the tree as well as the front.

It hung limply towards them threatening a topple under the weight of the many brightly colored baubles and static fairy lights, a pale comparison to the fluffy tree that Eddie and the four armed Steve-Robin beast had blundered through the door the night before.

Max looked just about ready to smack Lucas and Mike with her cane, just to get Will and her point across.

Jane sat on the sofa, a bastion of calm as her and Erica slid popcorn onto string making garlands, eating just as much as they threaded on the needle.

Apart from the ruckus, it made quite the sweet Christmas scene, even with the chaos unfolding.

The kids all had matching sweaters on, no doubt courtesy of Dustin’s mom. Eddie's hunch was confirmed when Robin walked up to him and dumped a neatly wrapped package in his arms.

“Claudia is trying to make this into a thing, and she scares me sooooooo….” Robin said, looking at the two bags of presents that Eddie had brought with him. He wished he had hung fire and left Steve and Robin's gifts in the car. Because Steve was right, he had bought him something pretty and now he was sure it was a stupid idea .

“You gotta be kidding me”

Steve's voice piped up from behind them, and now Eddie had the inkling, he knew exactly what that skip in his heart meant.

“Dustin, stop. You're going to pull the damn thing down, you already stripped the bottom two branches, and Eddie spent ages picking the needles up last night.”

Steve rushed past them both, carefully depositing the tray of hot chocolates on the coffee table as he passed. Erica and Jane wasted no time in grabbing the ones with the most marshmallows whilst the rest of the party were occupied.

Steve Reached out and secured the tree while the others removed some of the heavy ornaments that were causing it to buckle and bow.

“The children never listen.” Robin said sagely as she relieved Eddie of his bag and nudged the present in his hand, indicating he should probably open it.

Eddie was too distracted though, he couldn't stop looking at Steve. It was the first time he had seen him since he had come to terms with the recent development in his life and he was mentally kicking himself for not realizing what any of the obvious feelings he had for Steve had been before.

Eddie caught Steve’s eye, and something in Eddie's stomach swooped like he was about to plummet over the edge of a presapiss. Oh, he was done for.

He was definitely going to die old and alone, watching Steve happily live his life with another man.

If he had worked this out sooner would it have made any difference?

Probably not, Steve was his friend, he had zero romantic interest in Eddie.

Eddie just had to go making everything weird.

Evidently he had been staring too long, Robin dug him in the side again, glancing between Eddie and Steve and the strange staring contest that had started across the lounge.

‘Pathetic’ Robin muttered to herself, then aloud she said “Come on Munson, you're the only one not dressed in a Christmas monstrosity. Strip dude.”

“It's a good job I know you.” Eddie said, ripping the paper from the present and pulling out his own matching festive cheer. “I don't know if I like these bad habits you're learning at that fancy School of yours.”

“They teach me how to get oversized man-boys to do what I tell them.” She said, poking him in the side again with extra vigor.

She was vicious, for someone who's only recreational Sport was soccer, her upper body strength shouldn't be so good.

He quickly pulled his jacket off and yanked the black sweater he had been wearing over his head leaving him in just his faded and worn undershirt he hadn't intended for anyone else to bear witness too. From the sofa Max let off a loud wolf whistle, Eddie flipped her the bird, but he couldn't help glancing to see what Steve's reaction was. From beneath his flop of hair Steve's eyes were fixed on Eddie, and under his gaze Eddie felt himself starting to heat up.

“You've been defiling yourself with the devil's sacrament again?” Robin asked, grabbing his wrist. It shook him from whatever fleeting vision of possible interest he thought he had seen in Steve's eyes as Robin twisted his arm. She held on as she looked closer at his new tattoo. “Either Jeff is getting better with his little pricks, or you put on your big boy pants and went to a professional.”

“Ha ha hilarious.” Eddie said, trying to shake his arm free. “Me and Gareth went to Indi when he was back for Thanksgiving.”

“It's a bit morbid isn't it? Doubling down on the bats?”

“Robin, leave him alone. Come here and help me with this will you?” Steve shouted from across the room. But Robin was more interested in making fun of Eddie, after all she hadn’t seen him since she went away at the beginning of fall, she must be champing at the bit to bring him down a peg or two.

“You can just tell me it looks metal as hell if you like Bucks, you won’t lose any brownie points over it.” Eddie said, tugging his arm back.

“Never said it wasn’t cool, Munson. I just said it was morbid, I mean didn’t they technically kill you?”

“And technically Stevie boy brought me back to life, should I have tattooed a picture of the boy wonder on my arm? I could have gotten him in that nice little sailor outfit the two of you used to wear-” Robin punched him, hard in the shoulder. Her penchant for physical violence making itself known.

“Rob’s for fuck’ sake!” Steve piped up from behind them, as the tree crashed to the ground. The baubles scattering far and wide.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Robin said, rushing to help Steve get the Christmas tree back on its stand straight.

“What was all that about?” Dustin asked as he started scooping the ornaments from the rug, throwing them into the box they had come from.

“Nothing, tree was just too awkward to hold on my own and Robin abandoned me to beat up Eddie, instead of helping.” Steve grumbled, shooting Robin death glares.

Robin wasn’t showing any sort of remorse, holding the tree and watching as Eddie finally pulled on his Christmas sweater.

“None of you are fit to decorate this fine specimen, everyone knows you put the enormous balls near the bottom and you always decorate the ample behind.” Eddie said walking over and hooking a fat red bauble out of the fallen mess, he got close to Steve as he deliberately pressed close to get to the back of the tree, nudging Steve’s ass as he passed. God how had he not noticed just how loaded his flirting really had been getting.

“So, are you talking about personal experience then?” Steve asked, as Eddie hooked his ornament in place.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, big boy.” Eddie teased, surprised to see the tips of Steve’s ears flushing red. Was that a recent occurrence? Has that happened before? Eddie really hadn’t been looking, but now he was and it was something he was determined to investigate further.

Around them the kids had peeled off and were now diving into the hot chocolate that Steve had left on the table. He knew that their interest in actual manual labor would only last as long as it took for candy and chocolate to get involved.

Robin grabbed the discarded box of ornaments and divided her haul as the three of them worked quietly, Eddie acutely aware of every time his and Steve’s hands brushed his as they dressed the branches or maneuvered around the other.

Now Eddie was looking for it, it was surprising how often he and Steve casually touched. A hand to the bottom of his back, Steve leaning up tight against him the long line of his chest curving into Eddie’s back as he stretched to put the smaller ornaments towards the top of the tree.

Eddie was almost certain that Steve was lingering in his space more than normal, he could feel Robin watching them. It felt like he was under a microscope far worse than any time the kids had tried to trip him up and get the juicy details of his next campaign.

Every time he caught her looking he would be met with the smug ‘ I know something you don’t know’ look that she had learned from Erica and honed under Steve’s careful guidance.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asked as he hooked a small robin on the branch in front of her. “It’s rude to gawk you know, I might start getting the wrong sort of ideas about you Bucks,”

“I would rather gut myself and use the entrails to summon a demogorgon than look at you in any way that wasn’t just platonic you weirdo.” She straightened up the ornament, glancing over to where Steve had just stuck his head in one of the old Family Video shipping boxes to hunt out the remnants of last year's tinsel. “Which is more than I can say for you and Mr. Bubble butt.” She stage whispered as she lent into his space.

Eddie shot a glance over at the table where the kids had gathered, too busy fighting over the toppings for the Christmas cookies that Will had just gotten out of the oven, to pay much attention to what was happening over by the tree.

“Just because Steve… is … you know… doesn’t mean that he’s going to fawn about like a damsel in distress around any guy with a pulse.” Eddie chided under his breath.

“Never said he was. He might be a dingus, but he’s a dingus with standards. I wasn’t talking about him. I was on about you, what’s gotten into you tonight, you're normally a lot more covert when you’re scoping out the Harrington goods.” Robin goaded, “You can’t seriously think you're being subtle about it.”

Eddie tried to defend himself but he couldn’t exactly deny that he had just seconds before been staring at Steve’s ass in his stupid skin tight Levi, he opened his mouth to protest but nothing came out. He couldn't lie to Robin, she was too clever for subterfuge.

“It is a bubble butt, “ he settled on in lieu of finding a way to address her observations.

“That you can’t stay away from apparently. You don't have to say anything, but you know, if you need to talk about it, I don’t really share a brain with him you know?” Robin said quietly with a shrug.

“Thanks Robin,” he said earnestly.

“You looking for Narnia at the bottom of that box Steve?” Robin yelled suddenly, breaking whatever heartfelt moment the two of them were having.

“I can think of better ways to come out of the closet Robs’, ones that don't involve candy that tastes like perfume.” Steve said as he emerged from his quest, hands full of tinsel and fairy wire .He beckoned Dustin and Erica over to add it to the tree. No matter how much Steve liked to pretend he didn’t have favourites, Eddie knew better. They ignored him completely of course, too involved in debating who deserved the cookie that had come out of the oven looking comedically phallic shaped.

“Come on, let's deck this baby and then see if they have left us any cock cookies to decorate.” Eddie said, reaching out to grab a handful of shredded silver.

“Right after we dick the halls?” Steve asked as he tried to hide a bald patch with some of the silver and red tinsel.

“Well, you have to, right before you jingle balls, especially if you want a white christmas…” Eddie reasoned, taking extra joy in the way that Robin gagged before throwing a plastic baby Jesus at him.

Eddie watched as Steve and Robin started lobbying clumps of glitter at each other laughing and giggling like little kids, although they managed to avoid hitting the tree in their play fight thankfully, Eddie wasn't convinced he had it in him to decorate the thing again.

It made his heart happy to see Robin and Steve like this, screwing about and looking the fool with his best friend.

Could Eddie deal with it if this was all he got to have?

Maybe he was confusing friendship for love, after all Steve had made the same mistake when it came to Robin. Finding answers on a bathroom floor was all well and good but Eddie didn't think that would work the same between him and Steve.

Maybe he would be lucky. Maybe he would get to hold on to this. To feel like he was part of something good, even when Steve’s other half joined them. Eddie was sure more than ever that nobody could be On the receiving end of one of Steve's longing looks and not cave in at the first flutters eyelid , still he dreaded the day a forth wheel joined them.

He didn't have much time to wallow in his own self pitty, soon he had a face full of tinsel and he was drawn into the fray.

*******

It was getting dark when they finally got all the decorations in place, the kids had decided that now the complicated bit of untangling the mess off lights and cleaning up the deluge of pine needles was tackled by the ‘older kids’ (Eddie refused to let anyone call him an adult) they would all join in, fighting over who got to put the star on the top of the tree.

“Technically, it should be Steve, I mean it is his house.” Max reasoned, glaring at Dustin who was currently in possession of the shiny metal adornment. The man in question glared at her before handing it over to Steve.

“How generous.” Steve snarked, as he turned to the tree and reached up to tuck the star in its rightful place.

“Hey Steve?” Dustin asked.

“Okay, okay …I’ll let you turn the lights on,” Steve said exasperated.

“No, I mean yes I want to turn the lights on. But this isn’t about that. When did you get a tattoo?” Dustin asked, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s right arm, pushing the sleeve of his sweater up to look at the skin underneath.

You could hear a pin drop, Eddie didn’t think he had ever known the kids be this quiet ever, all eyes drawn to where Dustin was holding Steve’s arm out for inspection.

Silently someone turned on the fairy lights, giving everyone a clear view of the six highly stylized bats on the inside of his right arm.

That was when all hell broke loose.

“Right. Everyone just be quiet.” Robin yelled over the commotion. “Everyone out … not you Eddie.” she added, pushing him towards Steve.

“But presents…” someone complained, probably Dustin, Eddie didn't have it in him to look away from the damning evidence illuminated in reds and greens.

“The purple bag is all the kids’ presents from me,” Eddie said, not looking up. He knew all eyes were on him and Steve and for the first time ever he really didn't want to be the center of attention.

“Yeah, that one with a snowman on has mine in, dish them out between you.” Steve waved his hand in the general direction of the pile of gift bags on the sideboard.

Eddie traced the movement, yup that was definitely his tattoo etched on Steve's skin.

Fuck.

Eddie didn’t know what was happening around him other than Robin was ushering the kids out of the door as fast as humanly possible. He could hear Dustin huffing at being made to leave, but he also heard Robin threatening to expose his deepest darkest secrets if he didn't get a move on.

Any other time that would have piqued Eddie's curiosity, but right now he couldn't make sense of anything enough to form any coherent thought.

“Call me if you need me.” Robin yelled as she slammed the door behind her.

“Alright-” “Okay” Both of them shouted after her. To be fair, she could have been speaking to either of them, but Eddie had a feeling she meant both.

The house was calm now. The crackling sound of the old and lightly scratched Christmas record accompanying the popping of the logs on the fire.

It had been a long time since a silence between him and Steve had felt awkward, but Eddie wasn’t sure how to fill this one. It stretched, and he ached to fill it but his mind was racing, trying to patch together everything that had happened to him since spring break of ‘86. It was as if the tiny bit of string that had been holding the box of his realisation closed had just frayed and the box had split at the seams. Leaving him to wade through the deluge of information in a new light.

“So,” Eddie started eventually, when the quiet became too much.

“So,” Steve echoed back.

“Robin’s kind of right. It is a little morbid.” Eddie nodded at Steve’s arm, chancing a step forward to get a better look. It wasn’t ink under his skin, it was dark red, almost black, but fading at the edges.

It was fading at least, Eddie felt guilt building up, Steve had enough scars, he didn’t need more, no matter how temporary this blip on his skin was.

“Yeah, well, I was expecting it to have disappeared by now, but apparently you have a habit of sticking around.” Steve huffed.

It had been almost four weeks, and the bats on Steve’s arms looked like they were fresh. He looked like he wanted to say more, but bit his lip trying to hold back the words. He stepped back, pulling his sweater back down over his hands.

“Trust Dustin to be observant for the first time in his life.” He said, but his voice sounded distant, like he was on the verge of tears.

“If you want to leave, I wouldn’t blame you.” Steve said as he turned his attention to the tree, fiddling with one of the paper stars that hung on the nearest branch.

“Like I said yesterday, The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one.”

Eddie really wished that Steve would look at him. He might have hidden away the newest scar under the sleeves of his sweater, but Eddie could see the silver markings tracing round his neck as they flecked red and green in the shimmer of the Christmas lights.

He instinctively brought his hand up to his own neck, tracing his own scar, the way it twisted up into the the back of his hairline and up behind his ear. Steve’s was similar but just how similar?

They had both grown their hair out to hide the worst of it so it was well hidden but…

Curiosity got the better of him, reaching out he gently brushed the hair from behind Steve’s left ear, tracing the end of the scar his fingers swooped up behind and into Steve's hairline. An almost perfect copy of Eddie's second most dangerous wound.

Under his touch Steve froze, but his fingertips betrayed Steve’s heart. The pulse thrummed through his skin at a rapid rate, making Eddie’s heart want to chase and match the rhythm.

“You do know that quoting nerd shit at me is going to have the opposite of a negative effect on me right?” He asked, hoping that for once Steve would just see through his words.

“Stevie? Yesterday you said…” Eddie trailed off, yesterday Steve had said a lot of things.

Eddie had become overly very familiar with them all in the last twenty four hours.

But the shining factoids that were barreling around his mind at a billion miles a second, causing galaxy’s to implode and die as fast as they were born, were this:

Steve liked men.

Steve had found his soulmate.

Steve had feelings for his soulmate that he thought were not returned.

Eddie liked men.

Eddie may well have found his soulmate, right under his nose and in plain sight.

Eddie definitely had feelings for Steve, it was very much returned.

“I hadn’t… I didn’t…” Eddie was lost for words, a rare occurrence, normally he had way too many words and nothing to do with them. But finding the right ones here, so as not to screw this up, felt like he was pushing a boulder uphill and the landslide of destruction was fighting him every step of the way.

“Steve… in the car… you said he was oblivious. I… I… was oblivious.”

“Yeah well, surprise.” Steve said weakly, almost on the edge of tears. “I’m your soulmate, sorry it's not some metal chick with huge tits that loves all your nerd shit.” He tried to pull away from where Eddie held him, but a simple tug at the base of Steve’s hair stopped him in his tracks.

“You are perfectly nerdy, and you have fantastic boobies Harrington, You also happen to be several chapters ahead in this book we call life. You gotta let me catch up, I only found out I was allowed to like guys and girls yesterday. The old grey matter isn’t what it used to be. I’m processing a lot.”

Steve turned to look at him, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s open hand, Eddie’s fingers still tracing the twisting scar tissue. The move felt familiar, even if Eddie was sure they had never done this before, a calm settling through him like thick toffee in his veins.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Like guys as well?” Steve sounded so hopeful that Eddie was sure he wasn’t going to get shot down from a great height. Steve had Eddie’s marks all over him and Eddie had just been to stupid to see what was staring him in the face all this time.

Eddie wanted to see Steve smile again, catch that starlight from the tree sparkling in his eyes rather than in his tears.

“I like you Steve. And I like you a lot. But you're not just any guy are you? You’re you, and apparently the universe thinks I’m good enough to make you happy.”

“And you do Eds, nobody else has ever made me laugh so hard I want to puke. Or at least nobody ever made me laugh so much I split my stitches. Nobody else has stupidly dived head first into danger with a hero complexion just to put me first.” He shot Eddie a loaded look as if to say ‘ am I wrong?’ and Eddie couldn’t argue the facts. “Someone's gotta keep saving your life. If fate says it’s me, who am I to argue?” Steve said with a wet sniffle, yet the smile was starting to creep back on his face. Eddie carefully wiped away the tears that had dropped to Steve’s cheeks with the sleeve of his Christmas sweater.

“Fate could have clued me in a little bit sooner,” Eddie said, chancing a step closer to Steve, pushing Steve’s sleeve up and run his fingers over the bats, curling behind them he traced his fingers over the raised scar they both shared from luring away the demodog from Max’s hospital room. A shared sacrifice, a decision made together. Was that the point this had taken hold?

Just how long had the two of them been entwined like this?

As if reading Eddie’s mind Steve took his free hand and lifted it to Eddie’s neck pressing gently at the left of his adams apple.

“It was such a tiny nic, I don’t think you even noticed it, but the bottle was pretty sharp when you pressed it to my neck. I felt it then, the first spark of something, an adrenaline rush pulsing under my skin like electricity. Dad had tried to explain it to me before, but I wrote it off as a load of bullshit. But there you were, living proof that the shit dad pedals for a living was actually true. But you were so scared and so stressed that I don’t think you even registered the scar showing on your skin, let alone the elevated heart rate and the scar had faded by the time we jumped in the lake.”

“The boat house? That’s where the bond happened?”

“Yeah, and I thought you were such an asshole, it had to be some cosmic joke. A twisted mistake, that Eddie Munson was my soulmate. But then you dived into the lake after me, and you kept just knowing what I was thinking when we were in the Upside Down. It was like you knew exactly what I was going to say and do even when I wasn't sure myself. Then I couldn’t believe you would run into danger to keep Dustin safe. To keep me and the others safe, when you hardly knew us.” Steve said, inching his way more into Eddie’s space. “Only my stupid ass soulmate would go being a hero when he had been told in no uncertain terms not to do that. ‘Cause that’s exactly what I would have done too”

Realization dawned on Eddie like the sun coming out from behind the darkest of rain clouds. It had been Steve’s voice he had followed back from the brink of death.

“It was you, you called me back.”

“Yeah, well Dustin worships you dude. I couldn’t just let you go and die on me.”

“Oh, so you only saved me so you didn’t have to be a single father, I understand.”

“No you dipshit, I saved you cause you slipping away was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life. And I’ve had several concussions and had part of my stomach sewn back together in a field hospital.”

“You say the most romantic things baby.” Eddie said with a grin, “Intestines are sexy.”

“You are so weird.” Steve said with a smile, his thumb stroking the length of Eddie’s matching scar.

“You’re the weird one that keeps saving me with your creepy soulmate powers, don’t go blaming-” Steve cut him off, shoving his hand over Eddie’s mouth and rolling his eyes with a sniff, the last of the tears now gone. It took everything in Eddie’s power not to lick his palm.

“And I would save you a million times more, because for some insane reason I’m extremely glad the fates decided you’re my other half, even if you are a feral racoon of a man.”

“Mmnsnatmuccun”

“What?” Steve asked, removing his hand.

“I said, I’m not a raccoon.” Eddie answered, letting himself be brave and pulling Steve towards him by his waist.

“I’ve seen you eat from the trash dude, definitely raccoon behaviour.” Steve said with a smirk. Letting himself be pulled in.

“It was one peanut butter cup, and the bin was brand new.” Eddie said in his defence, “Anyway I think that says more about you than it does me, I mean you’re the one who wants to kiss someone who ate something out of the trash.”

“Well you did say I was weird,” Steve reasoned as he lent in closer, “But you're right. I really want to kiss you Eddie, I have done for a long time.”

“Then we better make sure we aren't about to be invaded by little green men from Mars, ‘cause I really want to kiss you-” This time Steve cut him off with his lips. Eddie definitely liked it a lot better than the palm of his hand.

It was a sweet thing, tentative in a way Eddie hadn’t been expecting, but it felt different to every other kiss he’d had to date, the gentle thrum of belonging radiating from the soft press of Steve’s lips to his own.

Steve’s hands twist up into his hair, grounding him and deepening the kiss, pulling and pushing against each other until Eddie could taste the chocolate on Steve’s tongue and feel his body pressed hard against him.

It was all too much and not even a tiny bit enough.

All too soon Steve broke the kiss, his soft breath ghosting Eddie’s lips as he started to pull away.

“Nope, get back here.” Eddie muttered pitifully, pulling Steve back towards him. “Just so we're on the same page.If you look up the words oblivious, scared and idiot they all have my name next to them in the dictionary. Right under the entry that Robin has edited to deem me pathetic.”

“How would you know? You don’t know how to use a dictionary, that's why dad keeps telling you he will get you an editor.” Steve said with a chuckle, moving to pull Eddie closer.

“Don’t you start sweetheart.” Eddie softly scalded. “I can say no to your dad. But you start batting eyelashes at me and I’m done for.”

“He’s just looking out for you… for us.” Steve said bashfully. “He’s practically married us off already if you hadn’t guessed.”

Suddenly Mr. Harrington’s fumbling words made more sense, the insistence that he wanted to help Eddie in his writing career, the way he hadn’t battered an eyelid that first time Eddie had sauntered downstairs scars out in search of caffeine.

“How long has your dad known?” Eddie asked wearily, aware that he may well be the last person to have picked up on the glaringly obvious.

Steve itched at the scar on his neck, and now that Eddie knew they were connected, he could feel the ghost of it on his skin. Just how many nights had Steve been lying awake thinking of him, because the tingling was like a hug as it washed through him.

“Since you were in a coma the first time? ” Steve said sheepishly, “I swear other than Robin I didn’t mention it to anyone else… If you didn’t want me I didn’t want to become a pity case. Have you seen Dustin aim for sympathy? It’s like watching a muppet show real emotion, it makes me uncomfortable.”

“Of course you told Robin, I wouldn’t expect anything else, at least that explains why you got all weird whenever I brought up your soulmate” Eddie wasn’t sure how to process the fact that Mr. Harrington had known about this since 86 and had managed to keep his mouth shut about the whole thing since then.

“But Still. How did your dad know?”

Steve looked at Eddie dumbfounded, “Eddie, did you ever look to see who wrote the books you have been hoarding in your dragon cave? The ones about soulmates that you think nobody but you knows about?”

Eddie had not in fact looked, not even once, but now he was questioning if that was a major oversight on his behalf.

“Dad has been doing research and writing about Soulmates for the best part of twenty years now,” Steve said, pulling him in from the waist this time, taking the lead. “I was confused, because up until that point, I hadn’t really thought that my soulmate could be a man, let alone someone I thought was the very definition of straight. Turns out fate, just like my parents, doesn't really give a shit if I love another dude, just as long as it makes me happy.” Steve laughed. “And just so you know, him and Uncle Wayne have been plotting behind your back, I think I get you for like … two pigs and a packet of magic beans.”

“Wayne knows?”

“He has his suspicions.” Steve admitted. And yeah maybe Wayne did suspect something, his old man knew him better than he knew himself.

But now Eddie knew what he wanted, understood all the strange feelings in the pit of his stomach and the way his heart raced now was all down to the man who was holding him like he was something precious.

“Wayne knows to barter better than that, I’m worth at least three chickens, a pig and a cow, the only beanstalk I’ll be climbing at any point is you,” Eddie said with a flirty wink.

“Speedrunning the whole bisexual thing are we?” Steve gulped.

“I'm Stevesexual, If that isn’t a thing?” He asked, "I'm making it a thing.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, baby.” Steve said , and that baby tugged at the part of his brain marked horny and flicked a few switches for good measure.

“Is it not in one of your dad’s books?”

“If it was, you would have found it by now.” Steve said as he lent in and stole another kiss. Eddie’s heart sped up, this was what he had been missing, this was the thing he had been searching for not knowing that he had already found it.

“Another disclaimer,” Eddie said when they broke apart. “I was in love with you before I found out you were my soulmate, so don't think this is all just because it's something I think the universe wants from me.”

“When have you ever done anything someone expected Eds,” Steve said with a dopey grin, “I can't even get you to follow a rota, let alone someone invisible forces master plan. Why did you think I was so scared you weren't going to like me back?”

“Well that's just crazy thinking, this time the universe didn't have to help, I think I'd have fallen for you no matter what Stevie,”

Steve’s hands started to wander, and somewhere in Eddie’s peripheral, he heard the record skip to the end of the last song, its gentle hiss accompanied by the soft but hungry sounds Steve was making in the back of his throat as he kissed him deeply.

“You got anywhere you need to be?” Steve asked as he came up for breath, “Or…”

Eddie smirked and tugged them towards the stairs.

“What about the presents?” Steve questioned as they passed the hallway table.

“It's not christmas day until tomorrow. You’re trinkets will wait until morning sweet prince,” Eddie said, ushering for Steve to ascend the steps after him.

“I thought whores would have their trinkets?” Steve asked.

“You can be both.” Eddie said, matching Steve's teasing tone. “Now if you wouldn't mind, I would like to assess just how many of our scars actually match.” He said with a loaded wink, acting a lot more confident than he actually felt. He was a showman after all.

“Merry Christmas to me?” Steve asked and he was honest to god blushing now, how had Eddie missed this for so long it was adorable.

“Merry Christmas to us both, baby, and here's to many more.” He said with a kiss as he pulled Steve into his room.

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs - part four | r.c

summary:

“All done?” You asked, stretching your hand a little to make sure the bandage wasn’t restricting anything.

“Yup,” Rafe replied, shutting the kit. “Or is there anything else?”

“I thought you were going to kiss it better,” you said teasingly.

OR; You reminisce about the day you realized you had fallen in love with your best friend

pairing: rafe cameron x reader

warnings: mention of blood (small cut!)

word count: 2,9k

author's note: a little later than usual, but i hope you don't mind! new precious + rafe lore unlocked. this part explores rafe's and precious' friendship more and is slightly angsty (what a 180 from the last part lmaoo). pls pls pls let me know what you thought. happy reading!!! <3

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pt. four: "you taught me a secret language"

Throughout your life, Rafe had always been your best friend. Granted, the title became longer the older you got: Rafe, your best friend in the whole world; Rafe your best friend who you had a crush on; Rafe your best friend who you were undoubtedly in love with; and now? Rafe, your best friend who you had sex with.

You sometimes wished you could turn back the time to before you were in love with Rafe.

Or rather, before you admitted you were in love with him.

Deep inside, you knew that there was never a before. You’d always been in love with Rafe. You just refused to admit it, even to yourself, until it pretty much stared you right in the face.

It was right around the time of your senior year at the academy, which admittedly, you didn’t like looking back at all that much since it was probably the most stressful times of your life, with all the exams, finals and college apps you were doing; it didn’t help that your parents were on your ass most of the times, despite you doing fairly well in school. However it all came to a boiling point around the end of the first term of your senior year. You had just come home from studying at the library with the boys - with Rafe just bumming around because he had graduated two years earlier - when your mother greeted you at the door with a letter in her hand, her face red.

“What’s this?”

You sighed internally, turning around to shut the door behind you slowly, using that time to exhale deeply. It had been a long day and the last thing you needed was your mother screaming at you as soon as you stepped over the threshold.

“I don’t know ma,” you replied, squinting your eyes at the letter. Your vision was a little blurry from all the studying you’ve done, but you recognized the crest of the academy on the left corner. “The invitation for the graduation ceremony?”

Your mother scoffed. “Try again. It’s a letter from the principal. You failed a math test.”

“What?”

You snatched the letter out of your mother’s hands scanning the content before sighing, dropping your hands.

“Mom, I didn’t fail the test, I got a 82.”

“That’s basically a fail,” you mother huffed, shaking her head. “How do you want to keep your 4.0 GPA up with grades like this?”

“It’s a test.”

“Stop with the attitude young lady, this is your future we’re talking about?”

“Mom, I know! But it’s just a test, it’s not like it’s gonna affect my grades that much.”

Your mother made a noise of disapproval, throwing her hands up in frustration. “Just a test? Everything counts, you know that! Especially in your senior year, where every single grade you get can decide between an acceptance or being waitlisted.”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, running your hand through your hair. “I can’t listen to this right now. I’ve been in the library the whole day and the second I get back you’re on my ass about a fucking 82.”

You shoved your backpack on the counter and turned right back around, opening the door forcefully. Your mother was right behind you, appalled at your tone.

“This conversation isn’t over! Where are you going?!”

“OUT!”

You slammed the door behind you, rushing to your car and tossing your backpack on the passenger seat as you drove off. Brimming with anger, you didn’t feel like talking to anyone right now, so you headed straight to the beach, to the one spot you knew you would be left alone.

In less than five minutes after parking, you had put on your bathing suit and unstrapped your surf board from the trunk and were in the water. After catching your first wave, you were still fuming. After the fourth, you started to feel the sun on your face, and the anger slowly seeping away. You lost yourself in the water, becoming one with the ocean, starting to get bold and one tiny misstep on your board made you lose your balance, falling into the wave you were trying to catch. The brute strength of it knocked you around underwater like a rag doll, arm getting caught on some reef, and you were gasping for air as you finally resurfaced, clinging onto your board. With a groan, you heaved yourself back on top of the board, trying to catch your breath as the water lapped around you in smal waves.

“Shit,” you muttered, lifting your wrist to inspect the cut on your wrist, squinting your eyes against the sun. You let out a hiss as the salt water dripped from your fingers onto the cut.

“You tryna kill yourself?”

You jumped, not having expected anyone out there with you. Shaking out your wrist, you lifted your head to see Rafe paddling towards you, a frown on his face.

“What are you doing here, Rafe?”

His hair was still dry, board shorts clinging to his legs when he came to a stop next to you, waves softly lapping against his board.

“I swung by your place. Wanted to see if you wanted to get pizza and instead I find your mom all pissed, said you stormed off,” he explained, “and since I didn’t run into on my way to your house, I figured you’d be out here.”

You let out a sigh, staring out at the sea, ignoring how Rafe was holding his hand out, undoubtedly to get a look at your wrist. With an eye roll, you stretched out your wrist in his direction, and he curled his fingers around it, pulling you closer. Your cheeks heated as your leg pressed against his, added with the feeling of his hot breath on your skin, you breathed out softly.

“Y’know this could’ve ended real badly, precious,” Rafe muttered, brushing his thumb over your skin, before he looked up at you, his eyebrows creased.

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly, you’re not,” Rafe scoffed. “What happened?”

“My mom got all over me because of a “failed math test””, you said, air-quoting. “I’m just sick of it. It’s not like I’ve slacking off or anything, I’m working my ass off and they’re never happy with whatever I do, because in their eyes, I always have room to grow.” You let out a frustrated sigh, glancing at Rafe when you noticed he was sporting a look on his face that told you he understood exactly what you meant.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” Rafe chuckled, shaking his head. “Our parents should be doing better than setting expectations for their kids instead of loving them despite their achievements.”

You gave him a wry smile and he only let out a small huff, squeezing your wrist gently. “Are you all done or do you want to keep trying to drown yourself some more?”

Huffing out a laugh, you rolled your eyes at him.

“I’m done.”

The two of you paddled back to the beach, drying off and while Rafe helped you securing your board to your trunk, he glanced over at you, hair falling into his eyes.

“Let me get your cut cleaned off first before we leave. I have a first aid kit in my truck.”

“Kay.”

You took a seat at the edge of his trunk, while Rafe went to fetch the first aid kit from the glove compartment. The sun was starting to set, and with that, the temperature was sinking, your damp hair laying cold on your back. The car door shut, before Rafe turned around the corner of the truck, first aid kit in his hand and sweater slung around his shoulder.

“Put this on,” he said absentmindedly, dropping the sweater in your lap and the first aid kit in the trunk. Rolling your eyes, you slipped into the sweater and it was oddly comforting to be surrounded by his scent, but you didn’t let yourself dwell on that, because it was such a weird thing to think, right? Instead, you watched as Rafe rummaged through the first aid kit, picking out some bandages, gauze and a disinfectant spray.

“Roll up your sleeve.”

“Yes, nurse Cameron.”

Rafe gave you a look, but you only snickered as you rolled up the sleeve, before holding out your wrist to him. He muttered something under his breath as he cleaned your cut and dressed it, without much complaints from your side, even though the disinfectant stung a little. Rafe taped the end of the bandage snugly to your wrist, tossing the rest of the material back into the kit.

“All done?” You asked, stretching your hand a little to make sure the bandage wasn’t restricting anything.

“Yup,” Rafe replied, shutting the kit. “Or is there anything else?”

“I thought you were going to kiss it better,” you said teasingly. Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, before he reached for your hand, lifting it to his mouth to place a kiss on the bandage. You flushed, not expecting him to actually do it.

“You’re an idiot,” you said hotly, shoving him away but he only laughed, running his hand through his hair. The grin on his face was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh, rolling your eyes at him.

“There she is,” Rafe said, cupping your chin to lift it, forcing you to look into his eyes. Suddenly, your hands grew clammy and swallowed nervously as he smiled at you, blue eyes sparkling. For a split second, you thought he was gonna kiss you and for some reason, you weren’t opposed. Actually, you kind of really wished he’d kiss you.

Wait, what?

That was not a normal thing to want from your best friend. Suddenly, your heart started racing and you let out a deep breath, hoping it would calm yourself down.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just my mom,” you lied, wringing your hands in your lap. “I just stormed off. She’s gonna be super pissed and I’ll probably be grounded until I’m thirty.”

“Nah, come on. I bet she completely forgot about it already.”

You gave him a look and Rafe winced. “Okay, maybe not. But if we give her some time, we can hope for the best? Come on.”

He tugged you off of the trunk, closing up the front panel.

“Let’s go get some pizza. My treat.”

“I don’t know,” you whinged, “Maybe I should just go home. Get it over with.”

You weren’t sure if it was the best idea to spend more time with Rafe right now considering how weird you were feeling. Worst case, you’d do blurt something out and make things weird between the two of you, that was the last thing you needed. But Rafe wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close.

“Trust me, whether you go home now or in three hours won’t change anything. If anything, it’ll give you an even clearer head after having some food, huh?”

As if on cue, your stomach grumbled loudly and Rafe raised an eyebrow at you, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

“Fine,” you relented, rolling your eyes at him. “Gino’s?”

“Yup, meet you there.”

While Rafe got into his truck, you got into your jeep, rubbing your hand over your face, frustrated.

“Fuck,” you muttered with a small sigh. You couldn’t actually like Rafe more than a friend, right? That’d be crazy. You’d known each other for so long, had been friends for so long, there was no way. It was probably just a crush. There was no denying that Rafe was attractive, and it was normal to want to kiss attractive people, right?

I’m just emotional because of the fight with mom, you thought to yourself, rolling your shoulders, forcing yourself to calm down. I am not in love with Rafe. He’s my best friend. With a deep exhale, you put your key in the ignition, pulling out of the parking spot and driving towards Gino’s.

When you got there, Rafe was already entering the restaurant, the door swinging shut behind him. You turned your car off, and got out, grabbing a blanket from your backseat and opening the front panel of the trunk of Rafe’s truck, laying down the blanket. By the time you had made yourself yourself comfortable, Rafe returned with two pizza cartons, balancing two cans of soda on top. You reached for the cans, setting them down next to you so Rafe could settle down across from you, laying down the pizza cartons. Wordlessly, Rafe opened both of them, waiting for you to reach for a slice before he got one himself, biting into it.

Silence settled over you as you ate, with you handing Rafe his soda when he finished his slice, knowing he liked to wash his crust down with a drink, and him handing you a napkin. You and Rafe had never needed words to communicate before, understanding each other without having to say anything and as you sat there, glancing at Rafe as you chewed on your pizza, you came to the terrifying realization that you loved him

You were in love with him.

Suddenly, your mind was racing, coming up with 10 thousand different scenarios where you’d ruin your friendship because you had fallen in love with your best friend, as you started to think back to the past, realizing how obvious it was that you had feelings for him. Had it always been like this?

Lost in thought, you didn’t even notice that all that was left of the pizzas were crumbs, as Rafe shut the cartons, stacking them together. Drinking the rest of your soda, you crushed the can in your hand like it was your feelings, bringing the empty cans and cartons to the nearest trashcan as Rafe cleaned up the trunk. You let yourself stare at the back of his head for a while, inhaling deeply before you cleared your throat. He glanced back over his shoulder, attention on you.

“Thanks,” you said, trying not to be awkward as you fiddled with the sleeves of his sweater. Rafe gave you a look.

Despite the fact that you were sitting in silence as you ate, his presence had comforted, brought your nerves down and made your anger disappear the way no one really could. Rafe wrapped his arm around your shoulder and you leaned into him, head on his chest. You didn’t revel in his arms for too long, as the two of you separated as Rafe closed his trunk. He dusted his hands off before turning around, his attention wholly on you.

“Do you want me to come home with you? Create a buffer for your mom?”

“No,” you replied, crossing your arms. “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

Rafe eyed you sceptically for a second before he nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “A’ight then. Text me if you need anything, okay?”

You smiled at him, giving a quick nod before you got into your car, waving at him as you drove off, a pit in your stomach. The drive home didn’t take long, but the sun had already set as you pulled up on your estate. The house was illuminated in the headlights of your car, quickly returning to darkness as you turned your engine off. There were no lights on as you entered the house; you were hoping that it meant that your parents had gone out, and you’d avoid another confrontation with your mother.

Picking up your bookbag from the floor, you paused as you saw your mother sit in the living room, a book in her lap. The two of you looked at each other for a second, neither saying a word.

“Hey mom,” you greeted her, breaking the silence. Your mother took off her reading glasses, shutting the book.

“Where were you?”

“Surfing.”

Your mother slid the book on the table, setting the glasses on top. “Did you eat?”

“Yeah,” you replied, shifting on your feet. “I got some pizza with Rafe.”

She nodded slowly, easing into the cushions behind her. You waited, wondering if she was gonna apologize but your mother didn’t say anything; maybe she was waiting for you to apologize.

“… I’ll be upstairs.”

Your mother didn’t stop you as you retreated upstairs into your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. Setting the book bag on your desk, you laid down on your bed with a sigh, reaching for your phone.

Rafe [03/21/19: 7:44 pm]: everything good?

Precious [03/21/19: 7:49 pm]: as well as expected

Precious [03/21/19: 7:49 pm]: thanks for being there for me

Rafe [03/21/19: 7:51 pm]: always, precious

Ever since that day, you knew you loved Rafe, and sometimes, you indulged yourself and let yourself imagine what it would be like to be more than Rafe’s best friend. But as he was lying in the bed next to you, his chest slowly rising and falling while you were unable to sleep, you never would have expected that it would be like this.

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author's note: thoughts???👀

[verstappenf1lecccc]

Hi lovely. Can you please do mafia Charles and he’s very protective over reader who’s younger than him and maybe his enemies hurt her and he goes crazy or smth — F1driverszona

Protection

babe asked so she shall receive, I swear I’ve never written a fic this quickly I hope y’all’s like it 🎀

*Perceval*

You know how you look at someone and feel your heart swell with pride and joy? That was how Charles was feeling the exact moment he saw his pretty little girlfriend get her bachelors degree. She looked so gorgeous in the white outfit he had picked with her, so pure and innocent.

Charles genuinely wondered how she hadn’t noticed all the security that constantly followed him. How was he only 27 with an entire estate under his name? It really made Charles ponder. Maybe she noticed but was smart enough to not bring it up.

Regardless, he was the proudest person in the room, eyes beaming with glee as she threw her cap up in the air with joy enriched onto her face. With her only being 20, their relationship was the root of all the gossip in town.

It was strange, really. 7 years wasn’t that bad. He knew her better than anyone, and she knew him the most. He never let such thoughts bother him, especially since he was running one of the most discreet underground mafia. Charles knew the risk of getting her involved in his life. He knew that she would forever be tangled in his dirty business, whether she knew it or not. He hated the way that she drew in people with her charm and charisma.

In Charles' world, more attention meant a higher probability of ending up dead. Just thinking about something happening to her made his blood boil. She’d never be harmed. Little did Charles know that pissing off the Russian Mafia came with its drawbacks. The Russians played fast and dirty. They’d attack where it hurts the most. Due to their undercover agent in her university, they knew exactly who she was. Every little detail from the timings she enters and exits the university to the car that comes to pick and drop her.

The Russians were smart, very smart. They knew the best way to hurt Charles was to hurt his girl. They knew kidnapping would not work as she was heavily guarded at all times. So they came up with a public declaration of war. They were going to attack her at her graduation ceremony, in front of everyone, and most importantly, Charles.

This was their way to send a message. Frankly, ever since y/n and Charles started dating, he was ignoring his priorities with the mafia and appointed most of the tasks to Kyviat, who turned out to be a traitor. Some may say Charles’s lack of attention caused him to lose the most important person in his life. Just as they called out her name, the first shots fired. Almost in an instant, Charles whipped his head so fast you could hear a bone crack. He knew this was planned. He prayed and hoped deep down it wasn’t a message for him. He knew Alonso’s daughter also went here and selfishly hoped it was for him.

All his prayers fell on deaf ears when he saw his precious angel falling, almost in slow motion, with her white dress that he loved oh so much turning ever so red with each passing second. He knew he messed up. He had so much love he still needed to show her. The engagement ring in his pocket felt like hot coal, burning him almost taunting him painfully. He had everything planned out, each moment, each step. He never expected her to be ripped out of his arms. He had destroyed homes and families.

He knew he had unpaid karma. And just when he started becoming a better person, he had to pay his karma in full. They say the day she bled out in his arms was the day hell froze all over again. Each of her deep and labored breaths haunted his soul for the rest of his life. He still had days where he could imagine her next to him. If people thought Charles was cruel before the shooting, they would be very wrong.

Seeing the love of his life lying still on a ventilator enraged a different type of devil in him. He hunted each and everyone involved in the shooting like he was hunting animals. He shot, stabbed, burned, bleached, skinned, and mutilated each and everyone. It was borderline psychotic. By day, a doting boyfriend in the ICU. By night, a cold-blooded killer on the loose.

Each morning when he returned, he would utter the same words over and over again, “ça aurait dû être moi, pas toi, ça aurait dû être moi, ma chérie, pas toi. je suis désolé je suis désolé.”

Charles had lost it. More than ever, his reign of terror only ended when she opened her eyes again. He never touched another gun or affiliated with the mafia ever again.

The both of them found a safe haven in the Swiss Alps, only returning to Monaco when everything was over, Charles becoming the most protective person ever known to have lived. His large hand placed on her ever prominent belly. Monaco saw the aftermath of what happens when you mess with Charles Leclercs wife. That was the only incident that ever involved y/n. Charles made sure of it after all she was his and he protected what was his. His overprotective nature plus his power made sure she was safe.