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delphi-shield · 3 months ago

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di!leon x reader - long-distance relationship - part 2

previous part

you weren't bluffing.

you'd made the sign. wrote his name in big block letters, too confident in how you wrote the first half of his name. the 'EDY' crowds together at the end. 'E' shoves 'D' close to the end, 'Y' drawn paper thin and cocked to the side, threatening to topple off the edge of the paper. leon finds he's not too tired to laugh.

he had the whole goddamn flight to figure out what to say to you, but when he sees you standing there with that sign in your hand, scanning the crowd for a man you expect to be two inches taller, it all flushes out of him to make room for the queasy feeling in his gut. when you finally spot him (thank god; the words had gotten lodged in his throat, your name running around his mind again, again, again, lodged so deep in the crevices that he couldn't pry it free and force it out his mouth) your smile nearly blinds him. he shields his eyes with a hand, watches you bounce on the balls of your feet.

he flicks your sign with a finger. the only words that make it past the lump in his throat are, "messed up the kerning, huh?"

you tip your head, puppy-dog cute. more adorable in person. "the what?"

"kerning." silence. you shake your head a little, blank look in your eye. leon tries to swallow, feels barbs jab into his throat. ten minutes on the ground and he's fucking up already. his gut turns. he tries to blame it on airplane peanuts. "the space between the letters."

he should get back on the plane. if he flashes his badge and declares it official business they have to let him on, right? brass wouldn't be happy with him, but what are they going to do? he's leon fucking kenn--

you laugh and his thoughts screech to a halt, plane crash on the concourse. footsteps pound past him - or maybe that's his heartbeat in his ears. your laugh is prettier in person, too.

"okay, all right." your face lights up, eyes squished to make room for your smile. "why do you know that?"

mentally, he flips through a rolodex of excuses. he moonlighted as a graphic designer (false), he was really into fonts (no strong opinions, really), it's classified (outright lie). he settles for the truth, shrugging.

"late night wikipedia dive."

you laugh again. his heart is a bird, fluttering in his chest, battering itself against his ribs to get to you. what the hell is wrong with him? he hadn't felt like this in years, thought he wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore. when you were an adult you grew out of this sort of giddiness. he'd choked it down every time he'd checked his phone under the table at an intelligence meeting, dismissed it as heartburn. he's supposed to want. it's supposed to be a blaze that swallows him up. confident and bold and all-consuming. not fidgety and desperate.

he's not anxious. he's a grown man. he's met presidents, plural. he doesn't get nervous meeting people, even if they're stunning, even if his hands twitch to hold theirs.

does he hug you? kiss you? slip his hand into your back pocket and guide you out of the terminal, lead you blindly to a car that isn't his, take you to an apartment he's only ever seen portions of on a 15 inch screen, ask what he can make you for dinner in your own home? that's what he wants. skip over all of this and slide right into familiarity, fly right past all the work it takes to get there. you've done the leg work, right? you know how you feel about each other. he's here. that says enough, doesn't it?

he's eternally grateful that you reach through his thoughts and pull him into a hug. your face stuffs into his shoulder, words muffled. "i'm so glad you're here."

you inhale deeply and he swears his heart does a backflip. jesus, he needs to get a physical. this can't be normal.

it's you who loops your arm with his, you who tugs him into motion. you rattle off questions that he answers as best he can. it feels like drowning, like he can barely keep his head above water. his flight was fine, thanks for asking. no, he didn't get any sleep. he never sleeps on planes. it's a long story. he didn't need a nap, but yeah, he could go for a coffee.

you know this great place, you reassure him. really low-key. he treads water in the parking garage while you dig for your keys. you drop them - twice - and he wonders if you're struggling to stay at the surface, too.

as a last act before sinking into the passenger seat, he rescues your sign from the trash, folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

he looks up from buckling his seat belt, beckoned by the way you call his name. he's still smiling when you cup his cheeks and kiss him.

by day two, he's decided you need a new apartment. he hasn't told you that yet, figures it comes off too pushy, but he would fly back down to help you move if you wanted. (if he thinks it hard enough, won't you ask him to?)

don't misunderstand - he likes what you've done with the place. honest to god, you're a miracle worker with decor. you could really shape his place up.

it's just that your front door is less than secure. your locks are ran through. it would take him less than a minute to break in. he doesn't even want to think about your windows. other than being drafty, they're just another completely unsecured access point.

you'd invited him to sleep in your bed the first night, and he had every intention of doing so. he'd just passed out on the couch before he had the chance. leon had woken with a pillow stuffed under his head, thick, handmade blanket tucked over him. it was sweet. really.

but it wasn't the same as sleeping next to you.

leon has every intention of sleeping in your bed that night. you'd filled the day with a tour of your city, pointing out your favorite and least favorite spots, telling stories that let him imagine the streets as a stage, you as the star, top billing as far as he's concerned. everything had been optional, as you'd feverishly reassured him after every stop. he could change the itinerary with one word. the only mandatory stop had been lunch with your friends. a good sign, he thinks. if you're confident enough to introduce him to the people in your life, then you see this going somewhere, right?

by the time you hit your last stop, it feels like he's emerged from a war zone. leon would know. he's been run ragged on back to back operations before, but this - the pressure of trying to be right for you, to show you who he is, waiting on pins and needles for you to sour on him and push back from the closeness he craves - this is truly exhausting.

you must feel it too, offering to pick up dinner on your way home in lieu of cooking. he waves away apologies, reaches past you to hand the cashier at taco bell his card when you try to pay. the food is gone by the time you pull your car into the parking lot.

both of you have the same idea. you're just as worn out as he is (makes him wonder if you're doing the same thing, all anxious energy, making sure to put your best foot forward, always stumbling and falling into a better impression than the one you set out to make) and bed comes naturally to mind. he slips into the side closest to the door and you stop him immediately, voice teasing.

"uh, that's my side." you poke at his ribs. the awkwardness had melted over the course of the day together. you were playful, eyes bright and laugh loud. touch came easy between you now, both playful and lingering. the comfort that had been stirred up and tossed into disarray by physical proximity had settled back in.

leon's eyes flit to the door over your shoulder. it's not a big deal, he tells himself. the odds of something happening were astronomically low.

but he knows his luck with astronomically low odds. one in a million is too risky. he's got to be closer to the door, won't be able to sleep if he's not. his hands wrap around your waist, urging you on top of him. he doesn't miss the way you stiffen, the momentary hitch of your breath, but you let yourself get swept along all the same, drape yourself over him as he guides you to.

"just sleep like this." leon shifts lower to make more space for you. he presses a kiss to your head.

it takes longer than he expected for you to relax. slowly, when his hands still at your back and his breathing evens out, your limbs loosen. your weight thickens atop him, pressing him further into the mattress. it's all he can do to remind himself that he's tired, that starting something now would lead nowhere fast.

leon stays awake until he's certain you're out cold. the door remains unbreached, your home still safe. he can't bring himself to regret his caution.

when he's finally able to sleep, he sleeps hard. he wakes to your fingers carding through his hair, his cheek cushioned against your chest, completely flipped around during the night. it's the best night he's had in years.

on day three, leon wonders if he should be more obvious.

he's been putting out all the signs, carefully curated his touch to be lingering, to make you burn for more, but each time you settle against him and offer up a contented "this is nice."

does there need to be a neon sign draped around his neck that says "take me for a spin", arrow blinking down toward his crotch? you'd let him press against your back during an afternoon nap, knee wedged between your legs, arm curled around your stomach to keep you next to him. he woke from dreams where he was bolder, where he wasn't afraid of losing you with that lingering confidence, pressed kisses to the back of your neck until that gauzy empowerment lifted.

hell, he'd woken up that morning laying half on top of you, his head nestled in the valley of your chest. you'd pet his hair til he woke from nuzzling your tits in his sleep.

he abandons subtlety during the credit crawl of eight-legged freaks, a 'classic' you had insisted on making him watch. (you'd laughed when he had commented he could keep you safe in the event of giant spiders. he hadn't been joking, but he still hasn't grown tired of hearing you laugh.)

"hey," he asks, hand curling around your thigh. his thumb smooths an arc across your skin, traces the path again and again. "do you wanna..?"

smooth, kennedy.

you look over at him with that same puppy-dog confusion that he's growing familiar with. instead of moving his hand, you draw your legs up and lay them over his lap. how the fuck is he supposed to interpret that?

"do i wanna..?" you parrot back, drawing the words out into the form of a question.

leon hates himself. he wishes he could back out of this. he clears his throat. how the hell do people broach this topic smoothly? he searches for the words, the silence stretching a little too long for comfort. finally, he says the first thing he can.

"like, sex."

real mature, kennedy, he thinks. he wishes he could backpedal, take it all back. he's certain your face warms. before he can issue a take down for his words, (maybe cut out his stupid goddamn vocal cords, if he has the time) you fumble out, "oh. like- right now? uh, i mean, do you want to?"

continuing with the maturity, he turns it back on you.

"i asked you first."

"i don't not want to."

leon shakes his head. his hand cups your ankle. "i really only take 'yeah' or 'hell yeah'."

"i just didn't think giant spiders got you in the mood."

"hey, the more legs the better."

leon knows deflection when he hears it. he's the reigning champ, after all, could play this game with you all day. but he has mercy; he chuckles, lets you get away with it and grabs the remote, declaring it's his turn to pick another movie since your choice was a mood killer.

later that night, curled up in bed with a video playing mindlessly from your tablet, you turn around to face him. he widens his arms to accommodate the movement, circles them tighter once you settle in.

"you're not mad?" you ask, pressing your face into his chest, already hiding from the answer.

"about what?"

"y'know."

"spell it out for me, sweetheart."

he can feel your breath puff against his chest, an exasperated huff. people have done this same thing to him time and time again. he always hated it, being forced to be forthcoming and earnest. (vulnerable, some people call it, but that always made him feel like a wounded bird.) now that he's on the other side, he sort of sees the appeal.

"'cause i don't wanna have sex yet."

there's a 'yet'. that's promising. he saves that little victory for later. his hand rubs slowly, reverently across the planes of your back.

he knows what he's got to say. he knows that he means it. putting the words to it is different. he needs you to understand, has to do this right.

"i didn't come all this way just to hook up."

you hum. "but you still want to."

christ, he's got to man up and say it.

"of course i do." you burrow closer to him, hands fisting against his side. he taps your back firmly. "hey. i'm not finished. i'm attracted to you, okay? like, really attracted to you. it's not- it's not just physical. i want to see if we can make this work. if what we had on the phone was real."

"is it?"

"yeah. i think so."

"sex isn't important to you?"

"it is. it's just not more important to me than you."

you pull your face from his chest, look up at him with big wet eyes. he brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek tenderly, afraid you'll splinter and those tears will cascade down if he's anything but gentle.

"i think so, too."

you curl back into him, your touch melting from desperate to serene. leon can't help but feel accomplished - as though he's threaded the needle perfectly, cut the right wire just before the clock hit zero. gradually, his breathing falls into step with yours.

"besides," he murmurs, half-asleep. he drops a kiss against the top of your head. "your walls are thin. i don't want you catching a noise complaint."

day four is a glimpse of the life he could have, but it makes him realize what he needs to do to obtain it. the sickly feeling pools in his stomach, leaves him picking at the dinner you made. it's good, he swears. then the lie - just all the travel catching up to him.

he knows by day five that he's got to tell you everything. it's no longer a want - he needs you in his life. he's resolved to come clean.

he nearly does it over breakfast. you set his coffee in front of him, muss his hair before you take your own seat, and it almost comes spilling out onto the table.

i work in national security. i'm a federal agent. there's so much i can't tell you, but it's dangerous. god, it's dangerous. there's so much blood on my hands. it doesn't scrub off but i'm worried it will stain your skin. i think i could love you, if you'll let me. please don't say it back.

"plans today?" he says instead, sipping his coffee.

maybe tomorrow.

day six leaves him melancholy.

you'd insisted that today was for him. whatever he wanted, you would accommodate.

leon worries that his answer is boring. he wants a day in with you. an imitation of what it could be like to come home to this. the idle sounds of you milling about the house could lull him to sleep if it weren't for the words lodged in his throat.

you were doing the laundry. not yours, not his, but the, the definite article that's never felt intimate until that very moment. it silenced him to hear you refer to it that way. he's so tired of reading into every word you say, clinging onto every nuance. he'd forgotten how exhausting this stage of a relationship is. you couldn't send him home with dirty clothes, you explained, and he had no argument against that. his eyes traced after you as you puttered around, busying yourself with tidying. you're so at home. of course you are. it's your apartment. but he wants that. he wants to lift you from this place and into his own home, to watch you make yourself at home and busy yourself with the mundane.

he's got to tell you today. he can't do it over text. it's wrong.

when you finally settle down next to him on the couch, drawing a blanket into your lap, you breach the topic gently, give him a chance to do it himself. leon doesn't realize how obvious he is when he gets that look on his face, all forlorn as if he'd collapsed onto a fainting couch, hand over the back of his forehead. drama queen.

"what's up?" you ask, sitting close - but infuriatingly distant, not quite touching him yet.

"nothing. just looking at you."

bless you for trying to make it easy on him. it's always been like pulling teeth to get him to talk. he's trained to resist torture and coercion, should know better than to melt under a gentle hand or the way your body fits against his side.

you hum softly, disbelieving. so that's it, then. the silence, the 'i'm respecting your distance until you break' tactics. damn, you're good. leon takes a deep breath, chest aching with the weight of what he has to say. now or never.

"look- i'm not who you think i am."

you don't miss a beat. "in what way?"

he has to force the words out. he's acutely aware that this could ruin everything. you could kick him out. block his number, never speak to him again. good. it was safer that way. you deserved a normal life.

"i lied to you. about my work."

"yeah, i know."

"i work in security. national security."

"leon. i know."

his brain reels back a few steps, trying to process your words.

"you know?" he repeats, almost offended. how could you know? was this a set up?

you pull your phone from your pocket, tapping a quick query in. you turn the phone to him. article after article, a few interviews pinned to the top. every link is purple, clicked on and read through. the one that draws his eye is tucked at the bottom of the screen, makes his skin crawl to remember.

KENNEDY, HARPER CLEARED OF CHARGES

"i googled you." you set your phone down on the coffee table.

"and you still let me into your house?" he was serious, but you laugh. leon's brow pinches. "how long?"

you shrug, as if this conversation is about the laundry. "a couple months. ever since you told me your last name."

"months? why didn't you say anything?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me yourself. and you did, sort of."

his mind is still reeling. the drama of it all had his wound up tight. where does he put that energy?

he must look as thrown-off as he feels, because you chuckle, sweep the hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"i get why you don't tell people upfront. just don't hide stuff like that from me again, okay? seriously. i'll be mad."

it's more grace than he deserves. your acceptance churns his stomach. is there another meaning behind your words, a resentment coiling in the pit of your stomach?

you crack open your book and lean against his side. he settles his arm around you, moving slow, scared to frighten you away. only one chapter in, you pass him your phone, a take-out app order, asking what he wants. if you're mad, you hide it well.

day seven is a funerary procession. you help him scour your apartment for things he may have left behind, packing them neatly in his suitcase-shaped coffin. it's amazing how his things had flooded into your apartment during the short course of his visit. he had spread out, made himself comfortable. part of it had been testing how his belongings felt next to yours, how it all fit - the final test he had constructed in his mind. you'd passed that with flying colors, clearly. he's lost track of a shirt somewhere along the way, but he isn't concerned about it. he'll be back. he can look for it another time.

both of you linger at your front door. excuses are myriad, flowing from both sides. reasons to double back, reasons to keep his hand on your waist, your fingers in his hair, your lips on his.

but eventually the time becomes too urgent, the threat of missing his flight too real. he'd joked in the car that if he didn't turn up for work they might just send a helicopter to pick him up instead, expecting a laugh. you only smile, a wry twist of your lips that fades too quickly. you reach for your sunglasses and shove them on. the air is tense by the time you pull into the parking garage, cherry scented car freshener cloying.

“you gonna cry?” he teases.

you sniffle.

“oh my god.” he is such a jackass. “don't cry. i'm sorry, sweetheart. it's okay. jesus.”

“i just don't want you to go,” you squeak. your hands fist the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white.

leon leans over the center console, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. he shrugs you closer to him, hushing you gently.

"let's plan another trip, okay?" he murmurs against your head, placing apologetic kisses there over and over. "c'mon. it's not forever. it's okay. i'm gonna call you when i land. we'll text, like we always do. it's my turn to pick the movie, so-"

fuck. his voice cracks. he clears his throat, blinks quickly to keep his composure.

"so, i'll pick a good one. wednesday night, okay? you, me, and a really good movie."

steadily, his promises slow your tears. the pressure of time detaches you from his hold. you're with him as far as you can go, waving him off to his gate. his heart sinks like a stone. he hates flights, never gets comfortable on them, but the way home feels longer than usual.

made it home he texts the second he's through the door. you're probably asleep. he hopes you are, at least. it's late for you, and--

yay

before he can bother telling you to go to bed, another message pushes through. his house felt empty before, but your message only deepens the feeling, hollows out the hallways and leaves his bed feeling too big, too cold.

i miss you already. call me tomorrow if you can.

leon squints at the screen.

"is that my shirt?"

you stop mid-sentence. caught red-handed - or, rather, grey-shirted.

it's your movie night since he made it back home. you're curled up in bed, your popcorn off to the side. he can fill in the gaps of your room now, knows what extends beyond the screen - and he knows that shirt. an old work tee of his that had mysteriously gone missing after you did the laundry. well-worn and soft. his name stamped on the back in big, block letters. possessive pride stirs in his chest to imagine you wearing his name.

sheepish, you promise, "i'll bring it back to you. how about next month?"

leon shakes his head. he pulls open his calendar, skimming through the busy weeks to clear the time for you.

"keep it. wear it to the airport for me so i know who to look for."

"you're not gonna make me a sign?"

"the shirt is the sign, sweetheart."

"are you gonna wear a matching one with my name on it?"

"i might." he opens another tab, googling how to make custom t-shirts. "you'll have to get here and find out."

connection restored -`♡´-

dividers from @/adornedwithlight

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #sorry for doubling the word count of part 1 i daydreamed a little too hard.

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charliemwrites · 10 months ago

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Mister(s) Steal Your Girl — part 3

(I seriously need to come up with an actual name for this series before it sets in)

Introducing his grand horniness- John “Soap” MacTavish

No Content Warnings

It’s been six, coming up on seven, dates with Kyle. A dwindling part of you feared that after the absolutely mind-blowing night you two shared, he’d ghost you or something.

But nope, the morning after was spent in one of his jumpers, receiving kisses and breakfast and tea. The two of you watched movies all day until he drove you home, kissing you at the door. He let you keep his jumper.

Not three days later, he invited you to a movie you’d both been excited to see, and giggled over the popcorn bowl like teenagers. He didn’t even mind that you leaned over to whisper during certain parts, or the ramble you went on afterwards. (When you apologized for overanalyzing and talking so much, he gave you a bizarre, almost offended look. “Don’t you dare stop,” he huffed, “you’re way better than radio. What did you think about that after credit scene?”)

A few days after that, he called with apologetic news.

“Being shipped out for a couple weeks. Shouldn’t be anything too dangerous, and I’ll call when I can,” he explained.

You told the nervous little twist in your gut that you knew this about him. That this is Kyle’s job, not a convenient excuse to ignore you.

“Stay safe regardless,” you murmured earnestly into the phone. “I‘ll… I’ll miss you, Kyle.”

“You’re getting the biggest hug when I get back, darlin’,” he promised.

He kept to it too. Called at odd hours sometimes - once during dinner with your fiance even. But Brandon is always taking random calls nowadays, so you figured, given the circumstances, it’s not such a big deal to excuse yourself either.

On the other end of the call, Kyle sounded a bit tired, but happy to talk to you. He couldn’t tell you anything about what he was doing, but shared some smaller, safer details. That the tea was shite because Soap kept over-steeping it. That his lieutenant was big enough to body slam him during sparring practice. That Captain Price wishes you well and promises to bring Kyle back in one piece.

You even heard one of his teammates in the background, asking Kyle if he was “chirping at his new bird.” Soap, as you found out. They sound like a good bunch.

When Kyle comes back, you offer to welcome him at his apartment. You bring a little plate of cookies and a pack of his favorite beer, hoping it’s not too much. But when he opens the door, his expression melts before he scoops you up in the big hug he promised.

“You’re a fuckin’ dream, ya know that?” he murmurs, tucking his face against your neck.

You spend the whole weekend with him, kissing at the stitched-up knife wound on his muscled arm. Otherwise, all in one piece.

“Would you… want to meet my mates sometime?” he asks as you’re getting dressed for work Monday morning.

“Of course,” you reply instantly. Realize that might be too eager. “If you want to introduce me, that is.”

“I want to show you off to the bloody Queen, babes.”

You giggle, crossing the room to drop a quick kiss on his lips. He tries to draw you in for something deeper, but you wiggle and swat at him, complaining that he’ll make you late.

It’s good, you think. Blissfully good. Honeymoon phase, maybe, but considering how far off your actual honeymoon is, you feel like you deserve this. Kyle is a wonderful partner - kind, attentive, respectful. He listens, he cares, he’s independent of you and respects your boundaries. Sometimes you can’t believe you were ever nervous about this open relationship thing in the first place.

On Wednesday of that same week, Kyle tells you that Soap is going to visit and is eager to meet you. He was thinking dinner and drinks, come back to Kyle’s apartment afterwards. You readily agree.

The next day, a bouquet comes in. It’s a beautiful, though not extravagant, arrangement. Calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas. The note that comes with it says, “Wanted to make a good first impression in case Kyle told you lies.” It’s signed “Johnny.”

You send a picture to Kyle, amused and a bit endeared. It brightens the rest of your day so much that you barely notice Lucy’s usual snide comments.

On Friday night, Brandon is unexpectedly home. Usually he doesn’t even come home from work on Fridays anymore - or at least he didn’t before you met Kyle. Lately, you only pop in if you’ve forgotten something for your overnight bag. You had to stay late at the office today, though, and your apartment is closer than Kyle’s.

“Was thinking we could go out tonight,” he tells you.

“Oh,” you say, taken aback. Not just by the invitation, but by the mix of emotion in your gut. Some of it is excitement and relief, but not as much as you’d expect. It’s warring with unease and reluctance, a bit of frustration that now of all times he wants to reconnect.

“Um, raincheck?” you offer, smoothing down your dress. It’s a new one you picked out with Kyle; you’re hoping he (Kyle) will notice. “I have plans.”

Brandon’s brow furrows, smile going tight. “You can’t reschedule?”

God you hate confrontation and he knows that, doesn’t he? Why is he pushing?

“Well I don’t know when I’ll get to see them again,” you explain.

Suddenly the tension in his shoulders eases. “Oh, is it a few people then?”

“Just a couple. I’m meeting one of them for the first time.”

“Have fun then,” he says, fishing his phone from his pocket. Like you’re not even there anymore.

You blink, then your phone buzzes with a message from Kyle and you hurry out the door.

“I knew you’d look terrific in that dress,” he says as soon as he sees you.

Thoughts of Brandon, that strange interaction, and those churning feelings all disappear in an instant. Kyle just has a way of soothing you.

The restaurant is one that has quickly become one of your favorites with Kyle. Good food, good drinks, quiet and relaxed atmosphere. You like the funky artwork and squishy booths.

Soap (Johnny?) has already gotten your party a table, and stands as the two of you approach. You nearly stop right there, and then almost trip a bit as momentum urges you onwards. Manage not to make a fool of yourself, but you still boggle at him.

Because Kyle? You thought he was a fluke. Just too handsome to be real, never mind tall and fit and friendly and— well, anyway.

You thought he was a fluke.

But Soap/Johnny is goddamn handsome too! Trim stubble, pretty eyes behind thick lashes, a soft-looking Mohawk that gives him a boyish charm without seeming immature.

“There you two are, thought ye stood me up!” he greets, drawing Kyle into one of those friendly man-hugs with the shoulder pats that look like they hurt.

“Youre a cheap date anyway, MacTavish,” Kyle replies, gently easing you forward with a hand on the small of your back.

“Och, don’t bad mouth me in front of a lady,” Johnny/Soap complains, then turns his twinkling gaze to you and offers a hand. “John MacTavish, but this bampot calls me Soap.”

“Not Johnny?” you ask curiously.

You take his hand, find callouses similar to Kyle’s. But his palm is a bit broader, a scar along his thumb - from a burn it looks like. Just as warm, just as careful. A firm, but not tight shake.

“You can call me anything you like, lass,” he says. From the corner of your eye, you see Kyle choking back a laugh. Johnny it is, you figure.

“Wait ‘Soap’ is a callsign right?” you ask as Kyle herds you into the booth.

“Right-o,” Johnny replies, smiling.

“Does Kyle have one?”

The grin that he gives you would make the devil sweat. As it is, Kyle groans and shoots you a betrayed look.

“Oh does he, lass.”

You light up, grin right back. “Tell me?”

“As if I could say no to a pretty face like that!”

And so begins a long, warm, perfect night. Johnny is great company. Welcoming and friendly, quick to smile, sharp witted. You could sit all night listening to him and Kyle quip at each other, but they’re so careful to keep you included and engaged.

Johnny even offers you some of his chips when his order comes, and you’re too delighted to say no. Not that Kyle seems to mind, encouraging you to steal a couple for him since Johnny keeps whacking his hand away.

The night ends back at Kyle’s. You whip up another batch of cookies with some suspiciously new-looking baking ingredients. The boys keep you company while you work — Kyle mixes the batter when your arm gets tired and Johnny keeps your wine glass full. In the end, you let them each get a lick of the dough spoon.

Eventually, you move to the couch, climb on together. Kyle, for some reason, scooches you into the middle instead of one of the ends, but you don’t mind and neither does Johnny, it seems. They argue over a movie to put on, but it doesn’t matter because the three of you talk through most of it anyway.

The second movie is your pick, which is your downfall. You barely get halfway through before dozing off. End up stirring to muffled laughter and harsh whispering. You’ve slumped into Johnny, you realize, seeing Kyle’s broad smile.

“Oh,” you hum, trying to sit up. “‘M sorry…”

“You’re alright, lass,” Johnny murmurs, gently nudging you back down.

“Kyle?” you ask, yawning.

“Still watching the movie, sweetheart. You can go back to your nap. Soap’s nice and warm, yeah?”

You hum, snuggle in again. He is comfy. “So are you.”

Another quiet chuckle. “I know, love.”

He rouses you later — the movie must be over, you think blearily. Kyle scoops you up, plants a kiss on your cheek as you tuck in.

“Say good night to your teddy bear, baby.”

“‘Night, Johnny,” you mumble, nuzzling your face into Kyle’s neck.

“‘Night, bonnie.”

You wake first the next morning — rare and precious. Kyle is lying behind you snoring softly, arm around your waist. You wiggle around to watch his sleeping face for a minute, appreciating the peace in his features. Drop a whisper-soft kiss on his cheek and then slip out of bed.

He grumbles a bit, but you coo at him to go back to sleep and he subsides quickly. Once you’ve freshened up in the bathroom, you pad out to the living room. Johnny is up as well, watching tv on low volume with a coffee on his knee.

“Mornin’,” he says.

“Good morning,” you chirp back, continuing for the kitchen.

“You’re up early,” he observes, following.

“Slept well,” you reply, grinning. “Thanks in part to you. I hope that wasn’t uncomfortable.”

He ducks his head a bit, a light flush blooming across his ears and cheeks. “Nah, can’t complain about a pretty girl fallin’ asleep on me. Means I must have made a good impression, eh?”

“Oh! That reminds me - those flowers were gorgeous. Did you know calla lilies are my favorite?”

“Aye, Kyle’s been talkin’ about ya nonstop since ye met.”

It’s your turn to flush, and much brighter. You hurriedly turn to the cabinets.

“Well, thank you. I loved them.”

“Yeah? I’ll send you more then.”

Startled, you whip around on him, mouth stupidly open as you try to find a response. “You really don’t have to do that!”

“But what if I want to?”

And if you were struggling for words before, you’re hopeless now. So you just throw your hands up with a little “gah” sound and turn back to gathering ingredients.

“What are we making?” Johnny asks, taking mercy on you. Not that using that sly “we” isn’t devastating to your composure.

“My super special flapjack recipe,” you answer. “Could you get that big bowl down for me?”

He steps past you to do so while you dig out the measuring spoons from the dishwasher.

“If they’re as good as your cookies, then I’m gonna need extra PT after this weekend.”

“Good,” you reply, smug, “that’s my goal.”

“Dangerous woman.”

You snort, holding up a wooden spoon. “Oh yeah, I’m a real threat brandishing cooking utensils at a special ops guy.”

“Och, don’ sell yourself short - my nan used to be a menace with those things!”

Kyle exits the bedroom fifteen minutes later to the smell of cinnamon and his best friend with a face full of flour.

“…Do I even want to know?”

“Just be glad she’s on our side, Garrick.”

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Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #get it? misters plural. because they all steal that girl #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #johnny mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #Brandon the crash dummy

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sillylilreader · 6 months ago

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Hawks With A Silly Crush on a Shy Reader HCs

contains: sfw, hawks fluff, no angst, sfw, nervousness

warnings: creep mentioned, not proofread, uhh lmk if i missed smth

enjoy!!!!

-Hawks found himself in quite the predicament upon meeting you. He was encapsulated by your beauty, sure. But what really caught his attention were your mannerisms.

-Hawks, with his keen eyesight and observant nature, found himself noticing all your nervous habits. The way you twirled your hair between your fingers, as if counting the strands. The way you seemed to time your blinks if you lost focus on what he was saying. The way you lost eye contact whenever he asked a question.

-Hawks knew anybody else would have found these a bit on odd, but to him they were endearing. He soon found himself asking more questions, counting your blinks in time with his, and averting his attention to whatever seemed to catch yours.

-Hawks found himself making excuses to bump into you, learning your schedule and borderline stalking you through the street, from the sky above. He was embarrassed of this new habit, but his conscious made no move to stop him.

-Hawks made note of anytime someone stopped you to chat. He made note of all the little ways you displayed discomfort. The way your shoulders tensed, the way you subtly made your way further down your path, and even the way you twiddled your fingers together. You always rung your fingers around your index finger, as if making your own ring for it.

-Hawks wasted no time swooping in on one particular day, when someone was far too pushy with you. They had been resting their hands on you, snapping in front of your face to catch your attention.

-Hawks landed with a fyoosh, the air around him gusting over the stranger, being blown about by his wings. The poor creep knew he was in trouble, almost scurrying away when Hawks asked if he was bothering you. Lucky for them, you shook your head and began your journey home.

-Hawks let his judgement filled gaze land on the perv, before he rushed after you, begging to lead you home. "Come on, song bird. Let me walk you." He was worried his confident demeanor would scare you off, but when your tearful eyes met his, while you nodded your head, that fear dissipated.

-Hawks made it his new routine to lead you home after that.

-Hawks had many daydreams of holding you close in his wings, even considered gifting you one of his feathers after you two had grown closer. By now, you often had early morning coffee breaks together, when he had the time. He knew your order by heart, and without fail, would offer to order for you.

-Hawks knew you were shy, and often nervous. He also knew you were starting to warm up to him. It made him feel special. He wanted to make you feel special.

-Hawks soon asked you on your first date. He understood then, how all your nerves felt. His heart was in his throat when he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, if you wanted to join him for dinner that night.

-Hawks was overjoyed as you nodded your head, he knew it had to be perfect for you. He reserved a table in a beautiful restaurant, complete with your favorite cuisine. Even brought his own centerpiece and candles for the table. He made certain it was in his own private corner of the place.

-Hawks lead you gingerly towards your seat, his feathers covering your eyes. As soon as he released his grip on you, you gasped amazed at the romantic gesture.

-Hawks, however, did a double take when you mumbled that you weren't aware it was a date date.

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fairsweetlonging · 3 months ago

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Okay but Mocking bird demon SY (has shapeshifting powers) pretending to be SQQ to help LBH. No system, SJ lives, just SY will not let his protagonist be miserable. He optionally also wife beams LQG who is extremely confused and horny as to why SQQ is playing hot and cold with him

i LOVE that idea oh my goodneeees!!! all the shen yuan bird aus are a GIFT that keeps on GIVING!!

as a bird he can easily live on mount cang qiong and get around unnoticed, because what peak lord or disciple is going to look twice at a small, grey silver bird? it allows him to stay close to luo binghe and help him in every way he can, from giving him food he carries in his little talons or beak, singing to him when he's down, keeping him company in the forest, to making silly mimic sounds to make him laugh.

i looked up a little about mockingbirds and apparently they're extremely territorial when raising hatchlings and their nest (attacking even cats, hawks and humans), which is perfect because luo binghe is (definitely!) a helpless hatchling in need of protecting, i mean, technically his wings haven't even properly grown in yet, he can't fly! so cue ming fang and other bullies getting relentlessly attacked when they try to come near binghe.

and then the shapeshifting: from what i've gathered, mockingbirds sing regularely at night, so i can imagine shen yuan waiting until nightfall and shen jiu goes to bed when he makes his move. he dons the master's form, goes to the woodshed, and takes binghe out to train in the forest with a real manual. of course, binghe is immediately enamoured with the man shen qingqiu becomes when night falls, maybe he even starts to think it's a "werewolf" thing where he changes when the moon comes up, because there isn't really any explanation to why the soft words, gentle touches and kind eyes turn into sneers, violence and glares as soon as the sun is up!

bc he does have the protagonist halo, and even in canon binghe knew something was up, i think he figures it out eventually when he starts alluding to certain events that never happened but that his "shizun" plays along with. also the bird has the exact same way of petting his head/ruffling his hair as his night-shizun does. one and one equals two, after all.

and liu qingge yeeeessss!! if in this au shen yuan saved him in the caves as well, he's probably getting such a headache from the complete 180s shen qingqiu keeps making!! one moment everything is great, shen qingqiu is tending to his wounds with such gentleness and a kind smile, and when liu qingge runs into him at night (when shen qingqiu always looks kind of... hurried, for some reason, almost a little nervous), they share a smile and a laugh and one time shen qingqiu even hugged him; but then when liu qingge tries to sit next to him at the meetings suddenly he's getting snarled at, called a dumb dirty beast and to sit elsewhere?? hello??? never mind getting invited into the bamboo house, or shen qingqiu accepting his (dead animal) gifts.

i also think it'd be so really funny if shen yuan ended up not caring about continuation errors or consistent character behavior, and just goes all out on the OCC by being kind to everyone in shen qingqiu's form; flirting with liu qingge, cuddling with yue qingyuan, spoiling luo binghe rotten, gifting mu qingfang all kinds of rare herbs that he can find easily in his demon bird form, and generally being a moon-saint that everyone comes to realize isn't actually shen qingqiu, but since he's doing good for the community and not harming anyone, they kind of just..... leave it. the peak lords have a meeting about it (sans shen jiu of course), and they decide the night-qingqiu can stay.

tho i do think yue qingyuan would ask shen yuan to don a different form.

also also, shen yuan getting up to all kinds of mischief by mimicking other peak lords' voices: calling to disciples with their shizun's voice, watching them get all confused because no one's there?? or making shang qinghua go around in circles because he keeps saying "this way, shang qinghua, hurry up!" in an angry liu qingge voice. and also making shen jiu open the door to no one when he mimics yue qingyuan's voice. there's a LOT he can do with it🤭

#ahhh this was SO GOOD #the bird aus are popping off this is great #I LOVE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH MY FREND #hed get up to so much mischief with those mimic calls #itd be hilarious #mockingbirdyuan au #demon shen yuan #bird demon shen yuan #demon shen yuan au #svsss au #liushen #luo binghe #shen yuan #shen qingqiu #liu qingge #shen jiu

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bbymunsonx · 5 months ago

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birds of a feather

eddie munson x fem reader

summary: eddie munson was your best friend and you were hopelessly in love with him. it was starting to get embarrassing how much you were in love with him. the only problem was that you don't want your boyfriend, steve harrington, to find out.

warnings: MINORS DNI 18+, smut, angst, cheating, attempted SA, oral (f receiving), nipple play, piv (protected), masturbation, sex toys, wet dreams, aftercare, death, no happy ending

word count: 8.1k

notes: sorry!

Ever since you had moved to Hawkins, your life had been a nonstop nightmare. Life before Hawkins wasn’t all that great either, but at least California has sunlight, beaches, great weather… Hawkins was just, Hawkins. Your little sister, Max, and your stepbrother, Billy, were just as excited about this new beginning as you were.

You remember the first day of school like it was yesterday. Stumbling to your locker, you tried the combination five times and your locker wouldn’t open.

“Goddamn it,” you mutter to yourself under your breath. As you tried to open your locker one last time, all your books suddenly slipped out of your hands onto the dirty high school floor causing you to sigh.

“Are you alright?” A voice came up from behind you. Your head whipped around revealing a boy standing right behind you. He had shoulder length hair that was slightly frizzy, tattoos covering his arms and deep chocolate brown eyes. He started to crouch down to pick up the books that slipped from your hands.

“Yeah, yeah I’m okay. I just can’t get this fucking thing open.” You groaned, causing the boy to display a slight smile on his face.

“I think it might be because this is my locker. I’m 748. You’re 747.” The boy pointed to the locker directly next to the one that you were trying. You could feel heat rising up your neck onto your cheeks as you were completely embarrassed.

“Oh my god, I feel completely stupid. Thank you…” You waited for him to give you his name.

“Eddie,” He smiled and reached out his hand. You gave Eddie your name and shook his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you Eddie.” You smiled at him before shoving your books in your locker and walking away. Little did you know, since your last names were Mayfield and Munson, Eddie sat next to you in homeroom and the two of you shared a couple classes together. Throughout your first year at Hawkins High, and Eddie’s second year, the two of you became best friends.

***

As you got closer with Eddie, you started to feel something towards him. You started to feel a bit nervous when you saw him. Your palms would get sweaty when he would call you the pet names he usually calls you. Your stomach would flip flop whenever he took a hit of the joint that you two shared. You would feel your heart shatter into a million pieces whenever Eddie would tell you about his latest one night stand. Even though you became extremely close with Eddie during your freshman year, you also became close to the King of Hawkins High, Steve Harrington. You started hanging out with Nancy Wheeler and by association, became friends with Steve. Steve was the most popular guy in school but he wasn’t Eddie.

It wasn’t unusual for you to spend your free time at Eddie’s. Billy was usually having sex with a different girl in his room and there’s only so many sex sounds a person can take before they explode.

You and Eddie both lay on his bed in your pajamas with a scary movie on in the background. Again, nothing unusual. As you take a hit of your joint and pass it to Eddie, you say, “What do you think about Steve Harrington?”

That caused Eddie to start choking on the smoke he had just inhaled. “Jesus, Munson, breathe,” you laughed at him.

“Why do you wanna know how I feel about Harrington?” Eddie scoffed.

“Nancy told me he wants to ask me out,” You looked over at Eddie to try to catch his reaction. You looked down at his hands to see him clenched his fists. “You’re my best friend and I just wanted to see what you thought.”

Eddie took your hand in his. “I want you to be happy, sweetheart. If Harrington makes you happy, then I think you need to have a talk with him.” He smiled at me which made me smile back.

“I have an idea.” You sat up, trying to get Eddie to feel excited about your idea. “Steve’s having a party tomorrow night. Nancy’ll be there, Barb, Robin, Chrissy… a whole bunch of us. Why don’t you come?”

“Princess, I know for a fact that Steve isn’t gonna want me at his party.” Eddie sounded doubtful in your idea.

“He will if you bring this.” I shook Eddie’s bag filled with weed in his face. Eddie rolled his eyes at you.

“You’re lucky I love you.” He responded and placed a wet kiss right on the top of your forehead.

Your stomach sank again.

You and Eddie arrive at Steve’s house a little after the party started and the two of you stuck out like a sore thumb. As you looked around, it seemed like half of the high school was there.

“Hey!” Steve noticed you across the room and walked right over to you. “Thanks for coming! You look… wow!”

“Thanks, Steve,” you blushed. “You know Eddie, right?” You tried to introduce them to one another.

“Yeah, yeah. Hey, Munson.” Steve barely looked at Eddie as he said that.

“Harrington.” Eddie responded coldly. Suddenly, the room was filled with so much tension.

“Alright, I’m gonna go grab a drink.” You said as you were walking away, trying to break the tension.

“Come out back when you’re ready. We’re all hanging by the pool.” Steve yelled at you while walking over to the back door.

As you walk over to the kitchen, you run into your stepbrother, Billy, walking in the opposite direction.

“What are you doing here?” He questions rudely.

“Um, I was invited. What are you doing here? You still obsessed with showing Steve how much of a big boy you are?” You smirked at Billy and continued walking.

“Watch it!” He yelled at you, to which you replied by throwing up your middle finger behind your back.

Steve’s fridge was filled with beer so you took two, one for you and another for Eddie, and headed out to the backyard.

There were a bunch of chairs set up outside with a fire pit in the middle of them. Sitting there was Steve, Nancy, Robin, Barb, Chrissy, Tommy, Carol, and lastly, Eddie. “Hi, guys!” You greeted the group before handing Eddie his beer. You took the empty seat between Eddie and Steve and gazed into the fire.

One beer quickly became two and two beers quickly became three. The night was going pretty smoothly and it seemed as though even Eddie was having a great time. He spent a majority of the time making small talk with Chrissy Cunningham, who was seated next to him. After the conversation began to die down a bit, Robin exclaimed, “Let’s play a game!”

Steve initially groaned, “Games, Robin? How old are we? Ten?”

“Games could be fun,” you smirked over at Steve.

“What kind of games do you want to play?” Steve caved in, seeing your eyes light up.

“Let’s play truth or dare,” Robin smirked. You sighed internally. Truth or dare never ends well.

“Alright, let’s do it.” Steve agreed.

After a few rounds, it was Eddie’s turn. So far, Robin and Nancy kissed, Chrissy had to choose somebody to flash (luckily for her she chose Robin), and Steve told us all the last time he had sex… which was right before he had met me.

“Truth or dare, Munson?” Steve looked over at Eddie.

“Dare,” he responded coldly.

“I dare you to kiss Chrissy.” Steve laughed. “The freak kissing the prettiest girl at Hawkins High.” Your stomach dropped when you heard Steve call Chrissy the prettiest girl in school.

You looked over at Eddie with wide eyes, not anticipating him to actually do it.

“It’s okay, Eddie. It’s a game,” Chrissy consented as Eddie shifted over to get closer to her. He reached his hand out to grip her neck, ever so slightly. They both closed their eyes and leaned into one another. All you could hear was Chrissy gasp into the kiss, so you could only guess that Eddie had slipped his tongue into her mouth. A classic Munson move.

“Alright, Munson. I told you to kiss her, not eat her face.” Steve laughed. You could feel Steve look over at you as your eyes were glued to the fire sitting in front of you. You were trying not to let the tears that were glossing your eyes fall down your cheeks. Eddie was your best friend. That’s all.

“Mayfield, it's your turn, babe.” Steve started. Your stomach flipped as that was the first time Steve had called you babe. “Truth or dare?”

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or your emotions from watching Eddie and Chrissy make out, but suddenly, you had other plans. You whispered over to Steve, “Follow me. I have another idea.” You got up off the chair and took his hand in yours, slowly dragging him up.

“Sorry, folks! Gotta go!” Steve laughed to the group as you dragged him into the house. You had looked back at the group, who were already back to playing the game, but not Eddie. He was staring daggers into you and Steve. You loved every second of it.

You had dragged Steve through his filled house, up his stairs and into his bedroom. After the two of you were in the bedroom, you slammed the door shut and immediately connected his lips to yours.

“What do you have up your sleeves, Mayfield?” Steve whispered in between kisses.

“Nancy told me that you liked me. Is that true?” You suddenly gained the confidence to ask him.

“I do.” Steve said while batting his eyelashes at you. “I thought you liked Munson?”

You pulled away from Steve to look at him completely, “Why…why would you say that?”

“It’s just that everyone thought you guys were a couple. You are always together so I just figured you were screwing or something.”

“I’m all yours, Steve.” You had connected your lips back to his, deepening the kiss while nudging him towards the bed. You laid back on the bed as he laid on top of you, ravishing you. As he kissed his way down your neck, you involuntarily groaned.

“Steve,” you whimpered. Just as Steve lifted your shirt over your head, his bedroom door immediately swung open, ricocheting off the wall. Eddie was at the door eating Chrissy’s face with his hands cupping her breasts through her shirt.

“Fuck, Eddie! Get out!” You threw your shirt at him to get him to leave.

“Oh sorry! Thought this was the spare!” Eddie exclaimed as he and Chrissy left. Chrissy gently closed the door behind them.

“Where were we?” Steve cocked an eyebrow at you while kissing down your neck. Steve really took his time with you, but it was very obvious that Eddie was not taking his time with Chrissy. Her moans were already filling the entirety of Steve’s upstairs.

“Fuck, Eddie!” Just the way you had yelled at Eddie earlier. “You’re so good! Yeah…yeah right there!”

You hadn’t even noticed that Steve was pumping in and out of you, his cock splitting you open. All you could focus on was your best friend having sex in the next room, and your heart was split in two because he wasn’t having sex with you.

***

It’s been two months since you and Steve have been official, and you’ve never been happier. After a couple of dates, Eddie and Chrissy figured out that they just weren’t compatible. Not the way you and Steve were. Though you and Steve were together, you still spent a majority of your time with Eddie. You wanted to be anywhere that wasn’t home. Steve understood the dynamic of your friendship and he was completely fine with it. Or so you thought.

After a long night of smoking and watching horror movies, the two of you fell asleep in Eddie’s bed. Something woke you up out of your sleep. The sound of your name being spoken, or rather whimpered. As you started to regain consciousness, you felt Eddie behind you, deep asleep, rutting his clothed crotch into your clothed ass, while whimpering your name. You debated letting him finish, but the thought of Steve popped into your head, causing you to wake Eddie.

“Eds, get up!” you nudged him, causing him to jump awake.

“What! What is it?” He seemed genuinely confused. You pointed down to his very obvious boner. “Was I…”

“Just a little,” you cringed.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, Mayfield.” Eddie covered his face with his hands, obviously very embarrassed.

“Eds, it’s fine. We can’t control our bodies and what they do.” Who were you to judge Eddie with the obvious wetness pooling at your center. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” You started to get up before Eddie quickly grabbed your hand.

“Please don’t go. I can just go to the bathroom real quick and take care of this and then we can start another movie. Just please. Stay.” Eddie pleaded with you. You sighed and shook your head.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds.” You rubbed his hand with your thumb before letting go. The feeling of his hand on yours felt more like cheating than waking up to him grinding into your ass.

The last thing you could hear before walking out of Eddie’s room was him softly cursing at himself under his breath. A part of you felt awful for leaving him, but another part of you would have taken things to another level if you’d stayed, and you couldn’t hurt Steve like that.

As you walked into your room, you plopped on your bed and let out a huge groan. Thankfully, it was the middle of the night meaning everyone was asleep. The silence of the house only caused the thoughts in your head to get louder and louder. The feeling of Eddie’s cock rutting against your ass. This has never happened before, but you would have chalked it up to Eddie having a wet dream about a cheerleader or something. But he was whimpering your name. Desperate whimpers as his grinding became more desperate. More needy.

The more you thought about it, the more you were aware of every single part of your body. Your heartbeat was too loud. You could feel the beads of sweat dripping between your breasts. You could feel your clit begin to pulsate as it was desperate to be touched. You bit your lip as you quietly reached over to your nightstand, pulling out your trusty vibrator. Because of how worked up you were, you knew it wasn’t going to take much to make you orgasm.

You teased yourself at first. Trailing your finger around your neck and down to your tits. Luckily, you weren’t wearing a bra, and your arousal caused your nipples to become rock hard. Your fingers slowly started to circle around your clothed nipple. You softly exhale at the contact. You were planning on teasing yourself for a lot longer but you couldn’t take it anymore.

In one swift movement, your shorts and panties were laying at the foot of your bed with your vibrator making contact with your clit. Fuck, you groaned at the contact. Your brain kept picturing Eddie and what he was doing earlier in the evening. You loved Steve. Steve treated you so well and made you so happy. But there was nothing you wanted more in the world than for Eddie to have kept going. For him to wake up to realize what he was doing and keep going. For him to climb on top of you and fuck you.

When you turned the vibrator up to the higher setting, you were already close. Eddie was in your head egging you on. Telling you how girl of a girl you are and how needy you are for him.

As your orgasm washed over you, your hand fell to your mouth to stop you from screaming his name. The name of the guy who wasn’t even your boyfriend.

The next day, you didn’t see Eddie at all in the morning. Since you’re always locker neighbors, he usually waits at your locker for you, but this morning he was a no show. You were at your locker gathering your books when all of a sudden, someone came up behind you and wrapped his hands around you, lifting you up. Automatically thinking it’s Eddie, you screamed, “Eds! What are you doing?!”

The arms put you down, causing you to turn around. Steve was standing behind you with a confused look painted on his face. “Eddie?”

“Shit, Steve! I’m sorry!” You pecked him on the lips. “I’m just used to meeting Eddie here. Creature of habit, I guess.”

Steve let out a fake sounding chuckle as he smiled down at you. “Hey, where were you last night? I called your house and got an earful of Hargrove.” Steve scoffed.

“Oh, Eddie and I were having one of our movie nights.” You smiled innocently. Steve doesn’t need to know specifics.

Steve reached out to your hands while whispering your name, “I think we need to talk.” The bell rang for classes to start but classes were the last thing you were interested in at the moment.

“What’s up, babe?” You questioned.

“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you're not in love with him.” Steve said sternly. Your throat began to feel dry as you found it difficult to look at Steve.

“I…Steve…” You began.

“I know how close you are with Munson. I know you two are best friends. But you are my girlfriend. Not his. I really hate to do this to you, but I need you to choose. Me or him.” Steve said sternly. He was actually serious.

Behind Steve, you noticed the entire reason why Eddie didn’t meet you at your locker this morning. All you could see was him leaning against a locker while talking to a girl in a cheerleader uniform. You could hear the way she chuckled all the way over here.

“I’m yours, Steve. Only yours.” You grabbed his face and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips before heading to class.

It’s been a couple days since you stopped talking to Eddie cold turkey. A part of you felt extremely guilty, watching him slowly pull away, but the other part of you didn’t feel bad at all. Eddie was a player, plain and simple. You and Steve had something special and you wouldn't jeopardize your relationship over something that wasn’t real.

Since you stopped talking to Eddie, you spent more and more time at Steve’s house. It was really great being able to spend time with him like this. On this particular night, you told Steve you wouldn't be able to spend the night because you had a drama club meeting.

When you arrived at the Drama Room, you noticed Eddie in the room, setting up the table for his Hellfire Club meeting. Unfortunately, you were way too loud opening the door so you couldn’t slowly back away. You and Eddie had just stared at each other for a few moments in silence before you let out, “I’m sorry. I thought I had drama practice tonight.”

“Oh, sorry. They’re in the cafeteria tonight.” Eddie replied sorrowfully.

“Thanks.” You quickly turned around to run out of the room. Eddie tried to call after you, but you had already made it halfway down the hallway.

Drama practice ran quite late tonight, as the parking lot was completely empty by the time you left the school. You sort of expected Eddie’s van to still be here but Hellfire Club must’ve let out early tonight.

Not feeling like walking all the way home, you decided to stop at Steve’s house since it was closer. After five minutes of walking, you arrived at the Harrington house. You reached down and took the spare key from underneath the welcome mat and let yourself in.

“Steve!” You yelled. Silence.

Music blasted from up the stairs so you decided to follow the noise. The music was coming from Steve’s room. That wasn’t the only noise coming from Steve’s room.

As you opened the door, you were greeted with Nancy on top of Steve, completely naked. She was rocking back and forth on his cock making him whimper, in a way you’ve never heard.

“Steve?” You choked. Steve and Nancy both stopped dead in their tracks and looked over at you.

“Shit!” They yelled at the same time. “I can explain!” Steve yelled after you. You burst into tears as you ran out of Steve’s room, down the stairs, and out of his house, into the pouring rain.

Your house was a ten minute walk and Eddie’s was a twenty minute walk, yet you chose to run to Eddie’s house. You just wanted to be in the arms of your best friend.

Extremely out of breath from running and sobbing, you finally made it to Eddie’s trailer. Your hands started banging on the door waiting for him to answer. You could barely see from the rain dripping down your forehead and the tears falling from your eyes.

After a minute, Eddie arrived at the door with wide eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He questioned.

“I went to Steve’s and he was fucking Nancy.” You whispered, but Eddie heard you loud and clear.

Eddie whispered your name under his breath before you grabbed his face in your hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. The two of you melted into the kiss for a few seconds. The butterflies in your stomach were relentless as you always wanted to know what it would feel like to have his lips on yours. Though, you wished it would be under better circumstances. You let go as soon as you heard someone’s voice coming from inside the trailer.

“Eds! Who is it?” A girl’s voice called. The girl who he was flirting with this morning..

Eddie whispered your name before your hands covered your mouth.

“I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’m sorry, I have to go.” You ran away back into the rain, slowly making your way home.

***

It’s been six months since you and Steve inevitably broke up. Believe it or not, you two started to become good friends. You had hated him for a little bit in the beginning, but even though he was physically cheating on you, you had mentally been cheating on him for a lot longer.

After the night you and Eddie kissed, you two hadn’t kissed again. You haven't even talked about it. The only thing he asked was if you were okay after everything with Steve. He continued to date other girls and you continued to date other guys.

That was until one night you had gone out with Jason Carver. The two of you had a great time seeing a movie, but when you had gotten back into the car, he had tried to force himself on you. Tried to get you to do things you did not want to do. He grabbed your shirt so hard it tore. You’re favorite shirt. Funny enough, it was the shirt you were wearing the first time you met Eddie. You were finally able to push yourself off of him and run. Every time you need to run somewhere, you find yourself running right to Eddie Musnon.

This time, you didn’t care if there was another woman in there, you were going to burst right in. As soon as you burst in the door, you ran all the way down to Eddie’s room, where he was laying in his bed in his pajamas, strumming at his guitar with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He instantly put his guitar on the ground and his cigarette on his ashtray before jumping out of bed.

He grabbed the fabric of your torn shirt and traced it in his fingers. His hands grabbed onto your shoulders before looking you right into the eyes. “Who did this to you?” His voice was almost so deep it sounded as though he was growling.

“Jason Carver.” You whispered.

“I’m gonna kill him.” Eddie grabbed the keys to his van before gently pushing you aside. You grabbed onto his arm, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“No. Don’t go. I need you.” You pleaded with him, almost sounding completely desperate.

“Okay, princess. I’ll stay.” He walked back towards you. Eddie reached into his drawer to grab you a pair of sweatpants, a t- shirt, and a towel. “How about you shower tonight off, yeah?”

“Thanks, Eds.” You whispered. You’ve showered at his house mutual times but this time felt more personal. As soon as you got into the shower, you immediately lost it and started sobbing into your hands.

After about twenty minutes in the shower, you put on Eddie’s clothes and gazed at yourself in the mirror. There was just something that looked so right about you wearing his baggy clothes. You slowly brought up the collar of the t-shirt and inhaled it. It smelled just like him, and that brought you a tiny amount of comfort. You exited the bathroom and went back into Eddie’s room to see him still laying on his bed watching a movie on the television. He looked over and saw you standing there, patting on the side of the bed next to him. Your side.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone out with him.” You groaned as you plopped down on the bed.

“Did he…” Eddie began before you quickly cut him off.

“No. No. I got away before anything else could happen.” You sounded relieved, as did Eddie. “Eddie…” You whispered, turning your head to the side to look at him.

“Hm?” He whispered back, looking back at you.

“Remember when Steve and I broke up and I came here and kissed you?”

“I do.” Eddie nodded.

“I should’ve done that sooner.” You whispered, not even sure if Eddie could hear you. “I’ve gone out with all these bullshit guys, just to try to get over you.”

“Over me?” Eddie questioned, to which you nodded. “You like me?”

“Of course I do, Eddie,” You scoffed, feeling stupid. “I’ve literally been in love with you since the first time I saw you. I can’t pretend anymore. My heart beats for you and only you. Pretending that I’m not in love with you… it’s killing me.”

Eddie’s hand slowly slid over to your side of the bed, on top of your hand that was lying by your side. You turn your hand over to invite his fingers to interlock with yours, which he does. He gazes at you with loving eyes as his fingers begin to play with yours.

“Please say something.” You whispered.

“You’re my best friend, Mayfield. You are… everything. I was a pussy for not saying anything but I just loved you too much, I was scared. I was scared to lose you. I love you in every sense of the word. I don’t think I can love you any more than I already do. My beautiful girl” Eddie smiled down at you while caressing your cheek.

“You love me?” A tear escaped your eye.

“Don’t be so surprised.” Eddie chucked at you before leaning down and planting a gentle kiss on your lips. You didn’t hesitate to immediately kiss him back. You haven’t felt his kiss in so long but it immediately felt like home.

As things became more heated, you whimpered as he slipped his tongue in your mouth. A classic Munson move.

“You alright, baby?” Eddie questioned because of your reaction.

“I’m more than okay,” You smiled into the kiss. Eddie readjusted himself as he climbed on top of you, to get better leverage while kissing you. You whimpered to yourself as Eddie’s lips left yours. His lips were all over your face. All over your cheeks, your forehead, even your nose. He couldn’t get enough of your face.

When he was pleased with the work he did on your face, his lips began to travel south. He licked and sucked on your neck, obviously leaving hickeys. You were Eddie’s and everyone was going to know it.

“Fuck, Eds,” you groaned as he continued to mark his territory. You began to squirm under his touch, everything on your body becoming way too sensitive. He had barely touched you and you were already coming undone underneath him.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” Eddie taunted above you, knowing exactly what you needed. He lifted his shirt off your body and lucky enough, you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Need you to touch me.” You gasped as his warm mouth made contact with your nipple.

“Christ, Mayfield. You were hiding these from me this whole time?” Eddie continued to taunt. He was repeating the licking and sucking he had performed on your neck but on both of your nipples. While his mouth was attached to one nipple, he was rolling the other one with his thumb and forefinger. He wanted to make sure they were getting the same amount of attention. As he licked, sucked, and bit, you were trying your hardest to grind into him to relieve your throbbing clit. Everytime your hips bucked up, Eddie would back away slightly leaving him out of touch.

“Tsk tsk,” Eddie smirked. “You gotta be patient, baby. I’ll take care of you.” His hand returned to your face and cupped your cheeks as he gave you a filthy kiss filled with lust.

Eddie continued to kiss down your body until he reached the band of his sweatpants. He placed a wet kiss right above the band of his sweatpants and used his fingers to play with the band.

“Can I?” Eddie asked to which you nodded. “I need you to talk, princess.”

“Yes, please take them off.” You groaned in frustration. Eddie took the band of his sweatpants in his teeth and slowly dragged them down exposing the lacey pair of underwear you had worn for your date tonight. You didn’t even wear the underwear for Jason. You just wanted to wear them for yourself.

“Fuck,” you heard Eddie groan under his breath over your clothed cunt. Eddie lazily dragged his fingers down your clothed slit, smirking at the sight of you squirming. He lowered his face near your core when your breath hitched.

“I’ve never-” you began, watching Eddie slowly raise his head.

“You’re telling me that Steve never ate you out?” Eddie asked, almost angrily. You shook your head no. “That’s just not gonna do, princess. Do you trust me?”

“With my life, Eds.” You whispered. As soon as those words left your mouth, Eddie leaned down and planted a light kiss right over your clothed clit. If you weren’t so turned on, you may not have been able to feel it.

You bucked your hips as Eddie reached for the band of your underwear and slowly shimmed them down your body and he placed them right into the pocket of his pajama pants. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned to himself at the sight of your bare pussy. “You’re so wet. All this for me?” Eddie taunted.

“I’m always this wet for you, Munson.” You moaned. That’s all it took for Eddie to lay back down on the bed and start kissing up your thighs. The feeling of his rings wrapped around your upper thighs were enough to make you shiver. After he had kissed his way up your thighs, he flattened his tongue against your hole and licked from your hole to your throbbing clit. The initial contact between his tongue and your clit was enough to make you moan, the loudest you’ve ever moaned.

“God you taste so good, baby.” Eddie moaned into your cunt. “I could eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner.” He continued to swirl his tongue around your clit as he slowly slid a finger inside of you, pumping it in and out. Your back immediately lifted off the bed as you began to grind on Eddie’s face.

“I’ve waited so long to hear you moan for me, baby.” Eddie groaned. The vibrations of him talking added to the pressure he was already applying to your clit.

“Just like that, fuck, you feel so good inside me, Eds.” You were able to gasp through your moans. If you listened closely enough, you were able to hear Eddie moaning too, desperately. The sounds of Eddie moaning mixed with the feeling of his tongue and his fingers were enough to push you over the edge. Eddie could feel you clench around his fingers, a sign that you were close. As his one hand was busy working you towards an orgasm, his other hand slowly reached up and interlaced his fingers with yours.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna-” you cried out before the cord in your lower belly snapped, causing you to orgasm all over Eddie’s face.

“Atta girl.” Eddie coached you as you continued to ride out your high on your face. When he lifted his face, his lips and nose were shiny, covered in you. “That was the fucking hottest thing I’ve ever done.” Eddie quickly moved back up the bed and showered you in kisses. The taste of cigarettes plus the faint taste of you on his tongue was enough to make you cum again.

You reached down and briefly touched Eddie’s throbbing cock through his sweatpants. “Your turn, my love.”

“I’m not one to turn down a blowjob, but if I don’t get to fuck you right now, I’m actually going to lose my mind.” Eddie laughed as he continued kissing you. You laid back in the bed as you watched him take off his sweatpants and his boxers. Your eyes almost fell out of your head because of how big he was.

“Fuck, Eddie.” You had to stop yourself from drooling at the sight of him. His throbbing cock was dripping with beads of precum, anxiously waiting to be inside of you. Eddie reached to his nightstand and brought out a condom before rolling it on his cock.

He leaned over you and placed a sloppy kiss on your lips. He took his cock in his hands and started lazily trailing it up your slit and resting the tip right on your clit, causing you to whimper.

“Eddie if you don’t fuck me right now I’m gonna hit you,” you groaned frustrated. You felt so empty and all you wanted was to feel him slam into you.

“Such a dirty girl. You just can’t wait for my cock, huh?” Eddie teased.

“I just want you so bad. I’ve always wanted you.” You grabbed his face and roughly kissed him, and he took that as the opportunity to slowly push himself into you. Your open mouth kiss quickly turned into a moan as you felt yourself trying to adjust to his length.

“You alright, princess?” Eddie whispered.

“Yes. God, you’re so big. Biggest cock in Hawkins.” You kissed him more as he continued to push into you. Eddie continued to push into you as you cried out.

“Alright, sweetheart. You’ve got all of me.” Eddie groaned as he started to slowly move in and out. As he started to move out, you wrapped your legs around his waist, not wanting him to go anywhere.

“Christ, Eddie. Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” you groaned as you started to leave scratches up and down his back. Every time your nails would scrape his skin, he would filthily moan into your mouth. You whimpered every time his guitar necklace would dangle and tickle your neck. The two of you just kept making the dirtiest noises, and neither of you could get enough.

“This is so fucking embarassing, but I’m not gonna last much longer.” Eddie moaned into your mouth as his pace began to quicken.

“It’s okay, Eds. Me too.” You whimpered as Eddie continuously hit your g-spot. As he got closer, he reached down and started rubbing circles around your clit, causing you to tightly clench around his length.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” Eddie groaned and at the same exact time, you came around his cock. As he was still inside you, his forehead gently laid on top of yours. His bangs stuck to the sweat that was dripping down your forehead.

“That was…” You started.

“Incredible.” He finished. He slowly pulled himself out of you, causing you to shiver because of how sensitive you were. Eddie rolled next to you to catch his breath for a moment. “I’ll be right back.” He kissed you on the forehead before rolling out of bed and grabbing you a change of clothes and a wet washcloth.

“Here… let me,” Eddie softly said while spreading your legs open and cleaning you off with the wash cloth. No man has ever done this for you before and it makes your heart feel so full. “I left your change of clothes in the bathroom. Go get changed and I’ll get us a snack.” He placed a kiss on your lips before leaving the room to go to the kitchen.

All you could do was lay in his bed and smile like a fucking idiot.

***

It’s been three years since you and Eddie professed your love for one another. You expected these years to go differently, but every year was another challenge. Hawkins had become cursed. Monsters roamed the town that you called home. Your friend, Barb, was killed. You watched as Billy was impaled by a gigantic monster in the middle of the mall. And now your sister was being targeted by a powerful wizard, whom we cannot see. Max was only being targeted after Vecna had killed Chrissy.

Chrissy was truly struggling, so you offered for her to come over Eddie’s house to smoke and help get her mind off of everything. Since you and Eddie became a couple, you were able to mend your relationships with Chrissy, Steve and even Nancy. All that mattered was that you and Eddie had each other. But now that Chrissy was killed in Eddie’s trailer, the entire town of Hawkins had labeled Eddie as a “Satanic Murderer”.

You had spent the entire week in hiding with Eddie. You’d rather the town label you as a Satanic Murderer than leave Eddie alone. It had been an exhausting week, but you had been hopeful that the group would find a solution.

The two of you spent the week reminiscing on your years together, even when you two were just friends. The nights you would spend over at his trailer, sprawled out on Eddie’s bed looking at him with nothing but pure love in your eyes as he strummed on his guitar. The time the two of you volunteered at the Snowball dance for the kids. The Christmases you would spend at the Munson trailer with Eddie and Wayne where it would end with Eddie mercilessly beating you in a snowball fight.

The only solution anyone could come up with was that you all had to go to the Upside Down yourselves to kill Vecna. There was no other way.

You kissed Max on the forehead as she made her way into the Creel House. “I love you, Max. I’ll see you soon, alright?” You had to stop the tears from escaping your eyes. “Lucas… take care of her.” You hugged Lucas as they left the RV that Eddie stole.

The plan was that Steve, Robin, and Nancy were to go to the Creel House in the Upside Down to kill Vecna. You stuck with Eddie and Dustin, as you were all tasked with creating a diversion for the demobats.

Eddie and Dustin set up an amp on the top of Eddie’s trailer so he could play his guitar to lure the bats right to us. As he played, you sat next to Dustin with tears in your eyes. A part of you was completely fucking terrified. In the distance, you saw the bats start to fly towards the trailer.

“Let’s go!” You yelled at Dustin and Eddie as you jumped off the top of the trailer. Dustin and Eddie followed right after you. As the three of you were safely in the trailer, the group of you jumped up and down, celebrating how badass that was.

You hugged Dustin and then latched your arms around Eddie’s neck, tightly. Never wanting to let him go.

“Alright, let’s get out of here.” Dustin said, grabbing on to the rope before stopping. There was a weird noise coming from the back of the trailer.

“What’s that?” You questioned, before bats started letting themselves into the trailer one by one. The three of you must’ve missed something while you were protecting the trailer.

“Shit! Dustin, go!” You screamed at Dustin as he climbed up the rope and flipped upside down on Eddie’s bed.

“Go, baby! I’m right behind you!” Eddie handed you the rope and rubbed the bottom of your back as he nudged you up the rope. Your muscles burned as you pulled yourself up but then you flipped over on Eddie’s bed, right next to Dustin. You pushed yourself up to see Eddie just standing there, his gaze moving from the gate to the bats.

“Eddie?” You whimpered, unsure what he was doing.

“EDDIE! COME ON!” Dustin yelled, his hands on his head in distress.

Eddie looked us through the gate before making direct eye contact with me, “I’m sorry.” He lifted his makeshift weapon and used it to cut the rope down, destroying the tether from our world to the Upside Down.

“Eddie, no.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You didn’t know what he was doing.

“EDDIE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NO!” Dustin continued to yell.

“I’m buying more time.” Eddie said before moving the other mattress out of the way and running out of the trailer. Your blood had run cold, your eyes unable to focus on what was happening. Dustin was trying to find a ladder or something he could use to jump through the gate.

“Dustin, you need to hoist me up there. And then you need to go.” You grabbed Dustin by the shoulders, trying to get him to pay attention.

“No,” Dustin whimpered.

“DUSTIN! You need to get me up there!” You raised your voice, immediately feeling guilty. You had never raised your voice at Dustin. He was like your little brother.

“Okay, okay. On three.” Dustin sadly shook his head and began to count up to three.

One…Two…Three…

You jumped on Dustin’s hands as they pushed you up to the gate. Your hands had grabbed onto the gate, enough for you to push yourself through. After mustering up the strength, you were able to push yourself enough that you fell right through, right onto the hard floor of Eddie’s trailer.

“FUCK,” you screamed in pain. You had clearly landed on your ankle wrong, but that didn’t matter to you. You needed to find Eddie. Dustin was shouting your name from the other side but you paid no attention to him as you ran out of the trailer and into the Upside Down.

You burst through the doors and looked all around, about half a mile away, a herd of demobats surrounded Eddie. He was laying on the ground, trying to fight them off but obviously failing.

“HEY! OVER HERE! COME AND GET ME!” You screamed loud enough to get the bats attention. You started banging on every gate you could to get them to get off of Eddie. As the bats started to fly towards you, all you could see was that Eddie wasn’t moving.

Just as the bats were about to get to you, they suddenly stopped in their path just to turn around and fly in the completely opposite direction. Most likely towards the Creel House. Towards Steve, Nancy, and Robin, but you didn’t care right now.

It took you a minute to limp over to Eddie, who still wasn’t moving.

“Eddie?” You whimpered, as you knelt down to him. His chest was moving up and down very slightly.

“There’s my beautiful girl.” He coughed out. Spurts of blood dribbled on his chin as he coughed.

“We have to get you out of here, Eds.” You tried to stay calm and lift him up. He was completely limp and you weren’t strong enough to lift him on your own. “Can you move?” All he did was shake his head.

“I…I didn’t run away, right? I just wanted to help.” He asked with tears in his eyes causing you to almost lose it.

“No, sweetheart. You didn't run.” You caressed his cheeks in your hands and wiped his tears with your thumb.

“I love you so much. I’m gonna miss you,” Eddie whimpered before turning his head slightly to kiss your hand. This is when you just let your tears come out. There’s no point in trying to fight them anymore.

“I will love you for the rest of my life, Eddie Munson.” You closed your eyes and knelt down to plant a soft kiss on Eddie’s lips. When you lifted your head, you noticed he wasn’t moving. He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t Eddie, not anymore.

“Eddie?” You whispered, as you started to shake him slightly. He still wasn’t moving. Sobs started to escape your mouth as you didn’t have the strength to hold them in anymore. You held his head in your hands, slightly closing his eyes to make it look like he was sleeping. Eddie was always so pretty when he slept.

Steve, Nancy, and Robin started running towards you screaming that you had to go. They stopped dead in their tracks as they realized what had happened.

Nancy and Robin stood there with their hands covering their mouths. Steve came running over to you and crouched next to you and whispered your name, “We have to go.”

“I can’t leave him here. I can’t leave him here!” You sobbed onto Eddie’s shirt. Steve didn’t have the choice but to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder as you screamed and cried.

“NO! STEVE! PUT ME DOWN! NO! EDDIE!” You screamed and sobbed and choked. As Steve walked back to the trailer, the vision of Eddie laying in the middle of the trailer park became more and more faint. You had just left him there. The love of your life. The bane of your existence.

***

The worst part about mourning Eddie is that you couldn’t mourn him. Though most of Hawkins was in ruins, everyone was celebrating the fact that Eddie Munson was presumed dead. The town was relieved to know that such a scary man had perished in the “earthquake” that shook the town. No one knew that Eddie had died for them. He died to give Hawkins a chance at a better future.

You sat outside on a park bench in silence with Wayne Munson. Dustin had told him what happened a few days prior, but this was the first time you saw Wayne since Eddie died. As soon as he laid eyes on you, the two of you completely fell apart. You melted in his arms as you started to sob.

After your sobs started to subside, the two of you just sat in each other's presence. You started to reminisce on times you and Eddie shared together. Times you’ll never get back.

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’ve only been friends for like, six months? I feel like we’ve been friends longer than that.” Eddie laughed after taking a hit of his joint. The two of you were extremely high and at this point, you would just say stupid shit to one another.

“It’s because we’re birds of a feather, Munson.” You laughed while looking over at him, eyes full of love, but he didn’t notice. Not yet.

“What the fuck is that?” He said, dumbfounded.

“It means we’re kind of like the same person. Platonic soulmates, if you will.” You smiled up at him.

“That’s really profound. I like that. But birds are annoying,” Eddie smiled, getting higher by the second. “Wait, that’s even better. If you see a bird outside, that’ll just be…like… an extension of me. They can annoy you when I’m not around.”

You laughed, “What do you mean ‘when you’re not around’? You’re up my ass 24/7.”

“You never know, sweetheart. I gotta keep you on your toes.” Eddie took another hit of his joint.

You snapped back into reality with a sad smile on your face. You’ll miss those small conversations with Eddie more than anything. Just as you focused back on the present, a small bird, a baby finch, landed right next to you on the bench. All it did was look up at you for a moment before it flew away. Eddie.

#eddiemunson #Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Joseph quinn #steve harrignton #Steve Harrington x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #Eddie Munson angst #Eddie Munson smut

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vanteguccir · 7 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗬𝗢𝗨 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt love each other, but don't seem to have the courage to declare themselves; OR, where Matt belongs to Y/N but can't seem to understand it.

WARNING: Crying, unrequited love, angst (with a happy ending).

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @freshsturns

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

It was a typical fall morning in Boston, with golden leaves dancing in the wind and the fresh scent of coffee wafting through the air. Y/N walked down the familiar street, her steps synchronized with the rapid beat of her heart, her mind full of possibilities of how to break the news; she would spend three months at her father's house, as her mother needed to travel for work continuously during that short period.

Her eyes fell on the Sturniolo's house, where the triplets, Matt, Nick, and Chris, had lived since they were teenagers.

A mixture of feelings invaded her whenever she passed by.

She and the triplets have been inseparable since childhood. They grew up together, shared secrets, laughs, and unforgettable moments. But there was something deeper between Y/N and Matt, something she held deep in her heart and feared revealing.

Matt was the middle brother out of the three, with his dark hair and piercing dead blue eyes that seemed to read her soul. He was Y/N's confidant, the one with whom she shared her most intimate dreams and her deepest fears. But there was a secret she never dared to confess: her love for him.

As Y/N walked towards the Sturniolo's house, she felt her heart beating wildly. She knew she would see Matt soon, and that thought made her nervous and excited at the same time. They saw each other every day, but each meeting was like a new chapter in an endless book.

Upon entering the cozy home, Y/N was greeted with warm smiles and affectionate hugs from Jimmy and Mary Lou. Matt, with his captivating gaze and worn-out jeans, stared at her eyes for a brief moment. A shiver ran down Y/N's spine, but she quickly looked away, fearing he might read her feelings in her gaze.

Throughout that day, Y/N and Matt shared conversations like they always did while spending time together, lost in their own bubble of happiness. The sound of their laughter echoed through the cold streets, filling the air with a contagious energy, enjoying the last minutes together before the girl had to go far away.

Matt's hair was messed up by the wind, attracting her attention, who glanced at him, lost in her thoughts. She wondered if he could hear her frantic heartbeat every time he smiled when his hair got in his mouth.

But there was a palpable tension between the two, an invisible elephant in the room that neither dared to address.

At night, when Y/N finally returned home, she sat on her bed and let the tears fall silently while preparing herself to pack her bags. She wondered if she would ever have the courage to confess her feelings to Matt or if she would continue hiding them forever.

Meanwhile, across the street, Matt was lying in his own bed, lost in thoughts about Y/N. He wondered if she could ever feel the same way about him. If she could look at him with the same love-filled eyes that he always cast her way. But the fear of ruining their friendship prevented him from taking any action.

Thus, the two friends remained trapped in a painful impasse, their hearts connected by invisible strings that neither of them dared to break.

Y/N hoped that the next three months would do something good for her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Time had passed too fast, and soon, Y/N was back in Boston. The sun shone high in the summer sky as the girl left her house that morning, leaving her unopened suitcase to organize later, the birds chirped happily along with the frantic beats of her heart, yearning to see her best friends again.

For some reason, she knew something was different, that something had changed, but she wasn't prepared for what she would find when she met with him that afternoon.

Upon arriving at the brothers' house, Y/N was greeted by a strange silence, even with the cheerful voice of Mary Lou - who greeted her happily at the front door.

Y/N quickly found Matt sitting on the couch, next to a blonde girl, with long straight hair and an artificial smile on her lips. She was the complete opposite of Y/N in every possible way.

She felt a pang of discomfort when she saw Matt so close to that girl, her heart clenching when she noticed the brunette's arm around her shoulders, knowing the inevitable; Matt had met his perfect - or not - match.

She tried to push those feelings away and tried to convince herself that she was happy for him, but the truth was that a wave of sadness washed over her and found home in her heart.

Matt's new girlfriend, who introduced herself as Tiffany, looked at Y/N with a look of superiority, as if she was sizing her up and down. She emanated an aura of arrogance and pretension that made Y/N feel out of place and inadequate almost instantly.

Her slender and tall body was shaped by a mini skirt and a tank top that hugged her tiny waist perfectly, her feet covered in sparkling high heels - too much for a normal day in Boston -, Y/N feeling suddenly uncomfortable about the large t-shirt that covered her entire upper body.

As she watched Matt and Tiffany together, Y/N felt a tumultuous mix of emotions. The sounds of the video game coming from the television and Nick and Chris' excited screams echoing muffledly into her ears as she noticed how Matt hadn't looked directly at her eyes, not even once.

She wondered if he had really forgotten her so easily, if their friendship no longer meant anything to him. She felt betrayed and abandoned, as if a piece of her heart had been ripped out without warning.

As the day progressed, Y/N tried to keep herself occupied with the other two brothers, trying to push away the painful thoughts that threatened to consume her. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the vision of Matt and Tiffany together, acting like they were the perfect couple.

She was so different from what Y/N imagined Matt's type to be.

When it was finally time to go home, Y/N said goodbye to Matt with a forced smile on her lips. She tried to hide the pain in her eyes, trying to appear indifferent to the fact that he had found someone new. But deep down, she knew that it had changed everything between them both, and nothing would ever be the same as it was.

As she walked home, Y/N felt tears streaming down her face. She felt lost and confused, not knowing how to deal with the new reality that was opening up before her.

She wondered if Matt would ever see that she was the right girl for him, that he belonged with her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The restaurant was buzzing with the sound of excited voices and cutlery clattering against plates. Matt, Y/N, Nick, and Chris were sitting at a table in the corner, enjoying a quiet lunch together after weeks of not hanging out as a group.

"Matt, can we talk?" Y/N began as she noticed Chris and Nick immersed in a random topic. Her voice was soft but filled with concern, her eyes trying to decipher the storm of emotions that seemed to cross the brunette's face.

"Of course, Y/N. What do you want to talk about?" Matt nodded, his gaze meeting hers momentarily, before lowering it back to his plate, a fake smile resting on his face.

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express what she was feeling.

"I couldn't help but notice how things have changed between us lately. Ever since you started... dating Tiffany, it seems like we're more distant."

"I know, Y/N. I'm sorry that I've been distant. It's just... Tiffany is complicated. She's very different from... Well, it doesn't matter." Matt spoke in a low tone, looking embarrassed as his hands nervously played with the metal cutlery.

Before Y/N could respond, Matt's phone started ringing, interrupting the conversation, and catching the attention of Nick and Chris, who stopped what they were saying and looked at them with interest. Matt huffed out an apology before looking at his cell screen, frowning as he read Tiffany's flashing name.

"Sorry, Y/N. I really need to take this." Matt said, quickly getting up from the table and taking a few steps away to answer the call, ignoring the worried looks his brothers were sending him.

Y/N watched as Matt spoke on the phone, his face tense and worried. She could hear Tiffany's muffled screams on the other end of the line, and a knot formed in her stomach as she realized the argument was about her, her name escaping the boy's lips more times than expected.

She could feel Nick and Chris's gazes burning into the side of her head, and she knew they wanted to say something, but her attention was too focused on Matt to try and get information out of the pair.

As the argument continued, Y/N observed in detail Matt's reactions, the lines of tension on his t the clenched fists at his side. She could feel the anguish he was experiencing.

When Matt finally hung up the phone, he returned to the table with a tired look in his eyes, his teeth biting down hard on his bottom lip, as if he was in an internal struggle between what to do and what not to do. He looked at Y/N, as if he was about to say something, but then looked away, unable to find the words.

Y/N quickly reached out to touch his hand, a small show of silent support, a frown full of worry taking her expression.

"Matt, hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just..." Matt nodded, a weak smile playing on his lips, the same one that Y/N saw every day since he started dating Tiffany, but so different from the one that was directed to her three months before. "I just need to sort some things out with Tiffany." He cleared his throat quickly, tearing his eyes away from her and focusing them on his brothers. "Can you guys keep going without me? I really need to go."

"If I say no, it won't change what you think, so do whatever you want, Matt." Chris shrugged, his gaze rigid like never seen before by Y/N.

She tried to meet Nick's eyes, searching for some kind of explanation, but all she saw was sadness and worry.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Night was falling over Boston when Matt left Tiffany's house, his heart heavy and his mind turbulent. The rain, like a perfect background actor, fell in torrents, mixing with the tears that ran down his face as he walked aimlessly through the wet streets, having left his car in the hands of Chris - the one who knew most about driving after himself.

The boy allowed his feet to take him where they wanted to go, his vision blurred, and his mind too confused to decide anything at that moment, his heart screaming for refuge.

And that's how he found himself standing in front of Y/N's house, his safe haven in the midst of the storm that had been his life since he could remember.

With a heavy heart, the brunette walked to the side wall outside of the two-story house, his blue eyes only seeing the window that he already knew very well. Agilely, Matt quickly climbed the expanse of concrete, the lighting from the girl's room helping and guiding him.

The sound of light knocks against the closed glass echoed through the room, and it was and understandment to say that Y/N was surprised to see Matt outside her room, hanging from her window, drenched from the rain and with eyes red from crying.

The girl quickly shot up from her seat on her pretty made-up bed, running towards him and opening the window in seconds, her hands working on pulling him inside the cozy and warm room, wrapping him in a comforting hug, ignoring the feeling of his wet clothes against her dry and warm pajamas.

"Matt, what happened? Why are you here like this? What...?" Y/N asked frantically, worried. She pulled back a few inches, rubbing her left hand over Matt's cold arm, while her right worked on brushing away the soggy strands of hair that stuck to his forehead and cheeks.

"I broke up with Tiffany." His voice sounded choked and hoarse from crying, his lips trembling without a pause. "I finally realized how toxic she was being, and I couldn't go on like this anymore. I didn't-" A sob broke through his throat, his eyes closing tightly as his hands gripped Y/N's bent elbow, seeking some stability.

Y/N watched him with compassion, stroking the cold skin of his face gently with the tip of her right fingers. She felt like screaming from seeing him in such a state, her heart hurting as if someone was squeezing it with their bare hands.

She wondered how he couldn't see that she was the right one for him, not Tiffany. She knew all his favorite songs, the movies he loved, the places he dreamed of visiting. She was the only one who truly understood him, who knew his deepest dreams, fears, and hopes.

Over the years, Y/N has been by Matt's side through every important moment in his life. She watched him grow, face challenges, and overcome obstacles. She was the person he went to in the middle of the night when he needed someone to talk to, the voice that made him laugh when he was about to cry.

And yet, even with all this intimacy and deep connection, Matt didn't seem to realize what was right in front of him. He continued to seek love and validation elsewhere, ignoring the fact that Y/N was always there, waiting for him with an open heart.

And because of that, he got hurt. Again.

"Oh darling, I'm so sorry. Come here, sweet boy." Y/N asked in a gentle whisper, guiding him to her bed in slow steps.

"N-no, I'm going to wet your whole bed." Matt muttered between sniffles, his right hand gripping her arm gently while his left one rubbed his eyes angrily, trying to stop the tears from continuing to flow.

"It's okay, I don't mind, honey." The girl insisted, helping him sit on the edge of the mattress next to her pillow while moving his hand away from his face, preventing him from hurting himself. "Stay here, I'll go get a towel. I think I still have some of your clothes too."

While Matt vented between sobs about his problematic relationship with Tiffany, Y/N listened attentively, moving around the room behind her hairdryer, clean towels and pieces of clothing that the brunette had left there when he visited her house.

She could feel the pain and anguish he was feeling, and she was determined to be there for him, no matter how much her heart burned to see him suffer for another girl.

The girl quickly found everything she needed, beginning the task of wiping Matt's wet, dark hair with the fluffy towel and wiping away the raindrops from his skin, her body standing stiffly between the boy's legs, being careful not to cross any barrier he had placed between the two of them.

As Matt spoke and Y/N advised him, she could feel his blue eyes fixed on her face, his hands too close to her legs as she finished drying him, feeling her cheeks burn like fire, knowing for sure that they were as red as the color itself.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you." Matt whispered, his tone low - as if he didn't want to burst the bubble that seemed to surround them - but still echoing throughout the room with force. "I only started dating Tiffany because... because I was trying to get you out of my mind."

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her hands stopping their movements abruptly, the wet towel feeling heavy on her skin. The girl stared at the wall behind Matt for a few seconds, processing what he had said before finally looking at him, all the words caught in her throat as tears glistened in her eyes.

What?

"I know it was wrong, and I'm so sorry." Matt continued, his voice strained as his eyes seemed to search hers desperately. “But I realized that no matter how hard I tried, I could never forget you. Because... because I love you, Y/N. Since the first day I met you, I have loved you. Every time I close my eyes, it's your face that I see. You're always in my thoughts, in my dreams, everywhere, and nothing I tried could make you disappear."

Y/N's heart raced in her chest a mile a minute as Matt's words echoed in her mind. An overwhelming mix of happiness and relief filling her veins at finally hearing the words she had waited for so many years.

"Matt, this is..." Y/N shook her head as an easy smile spread across her face automatically. "I love you too." She confessed, her voice almost a whisper, lowering her face, her eyes finally meeting his electrifying ones, feeling as if they were piercing her soul, which now, exposed, no longer had a barrier to hide her true feelings. "I love you more than I ever thought possible to love anyone."

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ew-selfish-art · 1 year ago

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Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management ship #anger management #jazz fenton #jason #long post #your honor there is no way in my mind that these two aren't bangin within 24 hours of meeting #the chemistry is there #jazz was being followed by the giw and jason saves her #jazz is literally in love from that point forward #she has a type and he checks all her boxes your honor #danny just wants his sister safe but he will shovel talk the zombie later

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nosyrobin · 9 days ago

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Ok but, what if TTG Robin got teleported to TT Robins universe and met his other self with super reader and both instantly try to fight for his attention until TTG super reader also got teleported and both Robins agree on a truce that both of them can spend time with their super reader

“Truce? Truce.”

Pair: TT!ROBIN X SUPERBOY!READER & TTG!ROBIN X SUPERBOY!READER

Summary: ttg!robin gets teleported to his other version’s universe. Meeting his other version and a hotter version of his boyfriend teammate?

“AAAAAAH!!” Robin yells when hitting the ground. He just gotten teleported through a portal. He groans holding his stomach when out of nowhere he gets lifted up by his leg. “Let me go!” Robin immediately tries to swing at the person, sadly the person was taller, real taller than him.

“Omg….” The voice says, Robin stopped trying to fight the person. The voice sounding familiar when he looks up seeing the familiar face of his super. But it wasn’t really his super when he sees another version of himself glaring at him. “Y/N, what did you find.” TT!Robin says as he stands close to HIS super. “I found a mini you Robin!” Y/N says smiling, holding up TTG!Robin like a cat. “And he’s so cute.” TTG!Robin blushes hearing the compliment he had gotten. But that blush soon ended when he seen TT!Robin’s glare hardened.

“If someone wanted to clone me, they failed. Miserably.” He says harshly. The super frowned, “Cmon man, maybe he can stay??…” the superboy gave TT!robin a puppy like pout. TT!Robin immediately crossed his arms as he stands his ground. The more that TT!Robin looked at the super, the more his glare faltered. “Fine.” TT!Robin groaned before pointing a finger at his smaller version. “But you, I want to know what you are, and who you are.” TTG!Robin nodded quickly, for another version of himself. He sure was intimidating.

After TTG!Robin explained what happened, TT!superboy!reader felt sad for the poor version of his Robin. So the super started to hang out with the small Robin. TT!Robin couldn’t have felt more jealous in his life. Seeing the super of HIS universe just coddle TTG!Robin made him sick.

TT!Robin had walked in seeing TTG!Robin sitting on his, HIS BOYFRIEND’s LAP?! Smiling like a damn gremlin, giggling even. TT!Robin wanted to strangle the little version of himself but walked past his super and the Robin. Grumbling in disgust. The next day TTG!Robin was walking around, strutting with a grin so he can hang out with this superboy in the universe to only see TT!Robin leaning against superboy who was watching cartoons. TTG!Robin’s eyes widen seeing superboy wrap his arm around TT!robin. The Robin looked back at the TTG version of himself and smirked. Going even further to cuddle the kryptonian boy. TTG!Robin growled before walking out of the living room.

Next day, TT!Robin sees TTG!Robin all over the super who was making omelettes. The super fed the TTG!Robin the delicious omelette, and as the plan was going well. The Robin turns to TT!Robin, smirking as he chews obnoxiously loud. Mouth wide open at the taller version of himself. The Robin was lucky to have starfire in the same room holding TT!Robin back. Cause if starfire wasn’t in that room, TTG!Robin would’ve been flung out of the windows.

The super started to realize the competition for his attention when the two birds asked to hang out with him. The super got nervous enough around his own boyfriend starting to show a lot of affection more than usual. But with a little bit of dwelling, the super made time to hang out with the two birds on different days. Although the super’s Robin was definitely getting more jealous as Robin bursted into the super’s room and slept in his bed for the rest of the night.

Then finally a miracle came. TTG!Superboy comes crashing down by the titans tower. The titans run out, ready to fight whoever crashed by their home. TTG!Robin stands by as well, but he drops his staff seeing his superboy. “Y/N!!” TTG!Superboy shakes his head and smile seeing his Robin. “ROBIN!!!!” The two boys hugged each other passionately. With TTG!Robin jumping onto the TTG!Super, wrapping his legs around the waist of the super. The Teen titans looked at their own version of Robin and superboy who looked away from each other. Obviously never told the team that the two heroes are dating.

“Is there something you guys like to say?” Cyborg says teasingly before Robin immediately shuts it down. The other titans go back to the tower. Leaving the two versions of Robin and superboy in front of the tower. TT!Robin coughed into his hand to bring the attention to him, since the TTG version of himself was practically having hearts popping out of his head as he clinged to the super of TTG universe.

TTG!Robin got off his super, smiling at his other version. He soon walked up the TT!Robin who had crossed arms.

“Truce?” TTG!Robin says, holding his hand out. TT!Robin stayed quiet before smiling and shaking TTG version of himself. “Truce.” And the two boys started to hang out with their own superboy.

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dinogoofymutated · 5 months ago

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Wolverine/Fem!Reader - Masterlist link

You've met Logan Howlett in every life you've lived since the 1900s. And in every lifetime, fate rips you from him just as cruelly as it forces the two of you to meet. How many lives will it take for the two of you to finally have your happily ever after?

General TWs: Reincarnation, death, Major character death (multiple times), Angst with a happy ending. Controlling familiail behavior, descriptions of wounds, descriptions of war, descriptions of violence/death, childhood trauma. Possible historical inaccuracies.

Here's the first chapter!! I waassss gonna wait until I finished part two and post both at once but TBH I was desperate to get this out! I hope yall enjoy this, and I would like to remind everyone that I am not a nurse or any kind of medical personnel, and I kinda struggled to find out about the procedures of ww1 nurses, so take most of the nurse stuff with a grain of salt! like watching a dumbed down version of grey's anatomy lol. I'd also like to say that I decided to make Logan's healing factor slower during ww1 and ww2, as he hadn't gone through the Weapon X program yet. Chapter TWs: Blood, injury, childhood injuries in the prologue scene, war n shit, ww1 canada is a tw on it's own.

October 22, 1900.

“Andy!!” Your brother rolls his eyes at the sound of your high-pitched voice calling his name, turning around with a frown. He always had been faster than you, and today was no different. He had gone running into the woods when your mother had called the two of you in for lunch, and ever the devoted little sister, you had chased after him before she could notice what the two of you were doing. You’re panting when you finally catch up to him, your skirts scrunched up in your fists as you try your best to keep them from catching on bushes and vines.

“Where are you going? Mama’s calling us for lunch!” Neither of you was supposed to be on this side of the woods, past the fence that marked your family’s property. It made you nervous to be so far past the boundary. Your older brother scoffs at you, turning away once again as he continues to march further.

“Father told me that he had set bear traps out to keep the animals away from the house. I’m going to see if he’s caught anything.” Andrew says stubbornly. You rush ahead to try and keep up with him, staying close and looking around anxiously. You never had been a rule breaker, and this was just a little more adventurous than you were comfortable with.

“Bears? You don’t think we’ll find any, do you? I don't want to see anything be hurt.” You whine, tears forming in your eyes. Your brother laughs at you, the same way did the time you brought some a dying bird, or the time you had begged father to spare the rabbit that had been digging in the garden. He never understood why you were so soft-hearted.

“You’re going to need to be more brave if you’re going to be an adult one day. Cowards get killed.” Andrews teases, cackling wickedly as he steps on a branch and the sound of it snapping causes you to flinch and cry out, rushing forward to grab hold of his arm.

“That’s not true!” You cry.

“Yeah, it is!” Andrew argues. There’s a bit of a ditch in front of the two of you, and he shakes you off before he hops down. He holds his hand out to help you navigate the drop, and you take it eagerly as you carefully get down, making sure not to dirty your skirts any more than they had been.

“No, it’s not! It’s not true! It’s not true because I have you, remember? Big brothers are supposed to protect their little sisters!” You persist once you’re finished. Andrew sighs again, but you don’t doubt his answer for a second. He rolls his eyes at you before he begins to walk on.

“Of course I am. But you can’t expect me to get to you every time.” Andrew says. You’re about to refute that when the two of you hear a rustling in the bushes up ahead. Andrew holds out a hand to keep you behind him, stopping both of you in your tracks. The birds have stopped singing, and you know that it means something scary is about to happen. Dad calls it a bad oh-men or something along those lines, but you didn’t usually listen to him. Now you’re starting to wish you had.

“Stay here. I think I hear something up ahead.” Andrew whispers to you. You try to grab for his arms as he leaves you, but he’s too far away, and you find your feet rooted to the spot. You’re too scared to move, holding your hands anxiously as you watch Andrew begin to stumble through the bushes cautiously. You don’t like this. You don’t like it at all. You can only see his head through once he’s through the thick of it, and you hear him huff in disappointment when he doesn’t find anything on the other side.

“Never mind. There’s not even-” There’s a sound of a mechanical snap before Andrew falls to the ground with a scream.

“Andy!” You cry out, immediately bolting through the bush. Branches and briars get caught on your skirt and tear at your skin as you push through to get to him. Your brother is shouting and grunting in pain when you see him, tears dotting his eyes as he stares down at the sight of his ankle caught firmly between the teeth of a bear trap.

“Stupid trap!” He cries out, his hands shaking from adrenaline. You don’t know what to do, standing frozen at the bloody sight before you, mind going back and forth between whether or not you should go to your brother or run home to get your parents.

“Help me get it off!” Andrew shouts, and it’s enough to finally bring you back to the situation. You can only nod frantically as you kneel by his side. Hands shaking as you help your brother try and open the trap and get it off of him. The metal digs into your fingers as you try to pry it open, your brother grunting and crying with the effort to do so. You can only think of what your parents will say, what Andrew will do. What if it got infected? What if he lost his foot completely? You realize you’re crying as you and Andrew try with all your might to pull the trap open, grip beginning to slip on the contraption right as Andrew tugs his leg out of the trap. It snaps closed violently after, barely missing both of your fingertips as Andrew rolls away from it.

“What- What do we do? Andy?” You ask, unable to do much but stare as your brother writes in pain. It’s all happening so fast, but god did everything feel so slow. Andrew manages to make out something about stopping the bleeding, and you’re right on it as you press your small hands to the bloody, mangled, flesh. You squeeze tightly as you pray and pray and pray for him to stop bleeding, shutting your eyes tightly as you sob and cry and wish you could do something, anything more to help your big brother.

There’s a buzzy feeling in your hands, like pins and needles without the pain. You don’t see it happening as you sit there and bawl for your brother, his warm blood on your hands all you can manage to feel in the moment. The blood begins to slow, and slow, and you don't even realize it has stopped until everything seems to be just as quiet as before. You realize that Andrew isn’t crying anymore, and find yourself brave enough to cautiously open your eyes.

To your surprise, you don’t see anything.

All there is is Andrew’s blood staining his ripped pants and both of your hands- but the strangest part of all was that there was no more wound. Not even a bruise remained of the bone-deep cuts that had been there just a moment before. Your tears begin to dry up as your eyebrows furrow, still hiccuping as you look on at the scene in confusion. When you look up at your brother, he’s wide-eyed. Staring at you in complete shock.

“Was that you that did that?” He asks. You don’t know what to say. You don't know. You begin to notice a soreness in your leg as the two of you sit there, simply staring at each other in shock. Eventually, Andrew swallows, before he tries to stand up, doing so effortlessly and without pain. He stretches and flexes his leg, moving it back and forth like his brain is still playing catch up. You try to follow his lead, only to cry out in pain and stumble. There's a deep purple bruise circling your leg when you raise your skirt, one that perfectly mimicked the bloody hole in Andrew’s pants where his own wound once had been.

He carried you back home that day.

The Great War began on July 28th, 1914. The archduke of Austria, Franz Ferdinand, had been assassinated, thus causing a series of events that spiraled into the worst war that the world had ever seen until that point. Your brother was quickly whisked away into the battle once the fight had started. He quickly advanced through the ranks, his ever-present charm and intelligence being a boon to him, and an asset to many others. He had always been the fighter. Your bother Andrew, your protector, and keeper of your secrets, now a general in the Canadian army. You could hardly believe it.

You, on the other hand, had begun to educate yourself at your brother’s behest. You became a nurse, finding yourself drawn to the field in the absence of the many men who had left mainland hospitals to go to war. You loved it. You loved helping people heal and survive, thrive even, but even so, you had become rather secretive about your natural gifts. Andrew, as supportive as he was, knew that the world would never accept powers like yours. As guilty as you felt every time a patient had slipped through the doctor’s fingers, you knew better. Your healing abilities took from you a fraction of what it gave to others, and using it was just not possible in large doses. You knew that and knew to listen to your brother’s warnings. Still, it did not stop you completely. Healing a wound or broken bone now and then in the shadows, where there was no one there to see. Miracles became your specialty, but your medical knowledge had become your backbone.

At the end of April, you were surprised to receive a letter from your brother, the contents of it being a plea for you to join him in the war efforts. They needed nurses, trained, knowledgeable, nurses. You would be by his side as much as possible, but you were needed across the sea. And well, if it was your brother asking, who were you to refuse?

Novemver 2nd, 1917

"You are to keep your medical supplies cleanly and well maintained. I understand that you aren't exactly green in this line of work, but let me tell you, you haven't seen war yet." The senior nurse in front of you has no time for fools, you have only known her for a moment, and yet you know this for a fact. Her pace is fast and purposeful. Her skirt is muddied and stained, and yet her boots do not seem to sink or stick in the mud like yours do as you try your best to keep up with her. Nurse Mary is strict in personality and pace, and you're careful to follow directly behind her throughout the busy encampment.

Everyone seems to have something urgent to attend to, soldiers and nurses and medics alike all running about through the mud and dirt. There are many hospital tents, many more than you had originally anticipated. You begin to realize exactly why your brother had been so firm in instructing you to refrain from assisting any wounded beyond what help lies within sutures and gauze.

“How often do the wounded arrive?” You ask, following her into a rather large hospital tent and passing by various cots with wounded men.

“You should expect them to arrive every day. The wounded are many, but the dead are more, god rest their souls.” She tells you, one of her hands clutching the cross around her neck for a moment. There are many things you have learned throughout your schooling, and many gruesome sights you know to expect, but the one thing that still gave you chills was the death toll. You try not to think about it too hard, knowing that it’s just the truth of war that good men go to die. But that doesn’t mean you will ever be forced to be comfortable with it. You pass many rows of wounded soldiers as you follow her through, many being gravely injured with missing and mangled limbs, and shrapnel in places where it should never be. You keep your bedside manner in check, but you know half of those men won’t make it through the night.

“We should be grateful for the men who return to our care, but please keep in mind that we are the only buffer between them and god. You must understand that losing these men isn’t an if, it’s a when.” You nod solemnly in response to her, quelling the anxiety in your heart. You knew very well that she was right. You casually look around the hospital tent, doing your best to help familiarise yourself with the surroundings when a puff of smoke catches your eye.

You don’t know where to laugh or scold the man, brown eyes meeting your own as he quickly tries to hide the cigar. Nurse Mary clearly had not seen him, but you certainly did. You can’t help but smile in a baffled sort of way, and the soldier- the quite handsome soldier- smirks, shrugging his shoulders at you. You try not to laugh, choosing to simply shake your head instead of pointing it out to Nurse Mary. It’s something he clearly appreciates, and he tips his head at you, winking as you finally pass him by. You hope you’re not blushing, quickly looking away from him with a smile on your face that you couldn’t fight off.

“Are you paying attention, Miss? Your brother spoke very highly of your skills, it would be a shame if it were all to be lies.” The nurse ahead of you says, a strict tone in her voice. It almost startles you, bringing you back to earth after the solid minute of distraction the brown-eyed soldier had caused.

“I- yes. I apologize. Please, continue.” You reply quickly. You can tell she’s not quite convinced but doesn’t have the time to care, reminding you that there would be little to no time to dally once you had been given decent instruction about the facilities. You’re eager to get to work, and decide that there would be no more distractions today- no matter how charming or handsome they seem to be.

—-

You were assigned work the moment your walkthrough had been conducted. No downtime, no breaks. You wonder if you truly had any idea how bad things would be where you got here. Seeing the wounded was one thing, but reading their chart was another. You felt detached as you conducted physicals, changed bandages, and redressed wounds and cuts. You checked for infections in those with amputated limbs, knowing that death would soon come for those who were so unfortunate. The difference between any of the men was astounding- wounds from this war unlike any that you had ever seen before. You had heard of the new weapons, the horrors that geniuses had developed so that others would die. It pains you that someone could be so ignorant and cruel- and yet even you hope that you would never have to face those instruments of war.

Out of all the strange and unusual wounds and war-torn soldiers you met on that day, there was only one who you remembered in truly remarkable detail.

You see the puff of smoke before you see him, lounging on the backboard of his hospital cot without a care in the world. Besides some old bandages on his chest, you can tell that he’s not in any pain. To be honest, you start to wonder if he belongs in this infirmary at all. He’s distracted, cigar held up to his lips as he takes a deep inhale of the smoke, drowning out his senses with the nicotine.

“You must be feeling pretty confident to be breaking the only rule we have in here.” You say, raising an eyebrow at him. He chokes on the smoke rather suddenly, trying to recover as quickly as he can as he puts the cigar out. You give him a sweet smile, trying your best not to laugh. He smiles sort of unabashedly at you, shrugging.

“Can’t blame a man for tryin’.” He coughs. You shake your head at him, lifting some papers on your clipboard before you find the one assigned to his cot. Your eyes are immediately drawn to his list of past injuries and causes of infirmary visits. How is this man even alive?

“Logan Howlett, I presume? You’re pretty perky for a man who has such a long list of injuries.” You state, still reading it through. You’ve never seen this many on one chart before- all dating from the very start of the war to his current visit. Logan gives you a shrug of his shoulders, which isn’t exactly a response you would prefer, but he smiles at you in a charming sort of way that makes your heart flutter.

“They call me Lucky Logan for a reason,” Logan hums- causing you to huff a laugh. You shake your head at him, setting the clipboard down on the edge of the bed before you begin conducting a physical and checking on his “wounds.”- not that there really was any besides an odd, yellowed bruise or two that you could almost swear seemed to be lightening by the minute.

“ ‘You new here?” You glance up at him at the sound of his voice, smiling a bit out of politeness.

“Why, Is it that easy to tell?” You ask, knowing that he certainly knew so due to him seeing you earlier, but you wonder for a moment if you seemed to be any different from the other nurses. You always strived to be good at what you do, but part of you had a tendency to worry if you could keep up with the others here.

“Nah,” He says, bluntly. “I just think I’d remember if I had seen a pretty nurse like you before.” The words make you gape for a moment, that smile still showing as you shake your head at him and try not to laugh. He was a flirt- a rather smooth one too.

“Do you use that line on all the ladies?” You tease as you pull out your stethoscope to listen to his heart. You listen, and besides the fact that his heart rate is a little faster than the regular average, you don’t seem to notice anything too strange.

“Only the ones as pretty as you.” He says. You don’t hold back your laugh at that, and his genuine smile is definitely contagious. You check his eyesight and overall mobility one more time once you’re done, trying not to blush at the way he’s looking at you. You feel his gaze even when you step away to write on his chart, finishing things up.

“Well, Mr. Howlett, you seem to have a perfect bill of health,” Logan perks up a bit at that, moving to where he can sit on the side of the cot, his feet on the ground. “...but I can’t completely release you just yet. You’re free to wander around some, but you’ll have to wait for the doc to give you one last look-over before you can go back to the frontlines.” He lets out a dramatic sigh, frowning for only a minute before he stands, winking at you as he grabs his shirt from underneath the cot- the bloodied one they wheeled him in here with, no doubt, and puts it on.

“If that means I’ll be seeing you more often, I’ll take it.” He flirts. You laugh, knowing that you very well might have swooned if you had been any greener to this line of work. Instead, all you can really do is cringe at the sight of his shirt and lean down to the small table to his right, the one where his chart had been, and open the drawer, revealing a freshly clean set of clothes.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Smokey.” You joke, finding his surprised face rather endearing. It only takes a moment before he’s smirking again, taking the clothes from you and doing a mock toast to you with the cloth. You shake your head at him, trying to keep your smile contained as you walk away from him and over to your next patient.

You find yourself thinking about him throughout the day, both delighted and somewhat frustrated at yourself for swooning so easily over a soldier- on your first day, too. You had told yourself when you took this job that you would never do such a thing, knowing that so many romances in a time like this end in tragedy- but you certainly couldn’t seem to help it. You think about him when the other nurses talk about their personal soldiers, out there fighting the war, and think about him again before you go to bed. It was frustrating! You met a man and knew him a whole ten minutes before swooning like a schoolgirl. You suppose it felt nice to be wanted nonetheless and felt nice to be complemented by someone you found so handsome… But you didn’t need to be thinking so hard about this right now anyway. You roll over onto your side in your bed, hoping to fall asleep soon instead of spending time thinking about something that won’t happen.

Besides, there wasn’t a chance in hell that your brother would ever approve of any relationship you had with a soldier. You were sure that if he had his way, you would die as a spinster- forever reliant on the family. Your dreams that night are more like nightmares, dreaming of faces and growing old and rocking in a chair alone in your brother’s house, a burden to his finances, his wife, and children. But then there are some dreams where you see the face of one particular soldier, and wonder why you felt so compelled by him.

#x men #x men 97 #x men comics #x men headcannons #x men 97 x reader #wolverine #x men wolverine #wolverine x men #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett headcannons #marvel xmen #marvel fanart #marvel x reader #marvel #marvel reader insert

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ajortga · 8 months ago

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sweet pt.2

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

summary: jenna can't stop thinking about you, the coffee girl. she may or may not have asked you out on something her friends consider as a date.

word count: 3k+

read the other parts here! previous part: part 1 part 2 part 3

It became sort of a habit for Jenna.

It would be music, think about you, eat, think about you, sleep, think about you, film, yay Jenna gets to see you!

Maybe she’s over exaggerating it, but at the same time she’s really not.

Jenna wasn’t the regular person to be a love bird. Head over heels for someone was barely something she was used to. Well sure she would pass some guys in the city or notice them on set and think, “Oh his hair is perfect” or “He’s kind of cute.” She’s dated a few guys, broke them off because they weren’t for her.

All of the guys only hung out with her knowing she was a celebrity, or she would really think they were the one, until they lost interest and treated her like some toy. She hated when they did that. In fact, she was disgusted by it so much that she didn’t even want to think of having a lasting relationship at all. She just had to find someone right for her.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Melissa nudges Jenna as they’re both in their Tara and Sam outfits.

Jenna hums, looking at the taller latina with a small roll of her eyes while their makeup is getting patched up, “Just hungry, I guess.”

She shifts in her seat, her earbuds in and waiting for this day to be over, she forgot an umbrella. Of course the forecast would show as non-stop rain the whole day with thunderstorms, she literally checked the day before and it said sunny.

“Well, we only have to shoot like, 5 scenes. You wanna go with Jas and Mason to the Italian place you like? On me.”

Tempting.

But Jenna’s mind has other plans.

“I think I’m gonna drop by the coffee place next door, craving a latte you know?”

She sees the way Melissa’s face twitches upwards, almost as a confused yet searching look, “You don’t like coffee.”

“The shop changed my mind, Y/N recommended a latte that is actually really good.”

“Y/n you say?” And from Melissa’s sing-song voice, she knows what’s coming.

“Yes,” Jenna scoffs, she can feel her ears begin to heat up.

“I didn’t know you had a friend named Y/N.”

It’s a little quiet, the only noise is from Jenna’s half put in earbud, “I met her a couple days ago, she’s a barista that helps her parents run their coffee shop. Keeps the place cozy and organized.”

“So she’s a barista?”

“Yes,” Jenna replies, half distracted as she picks at her cuticles.

“Who helps run her parent’s coffee shop?”

“Yep.”

“Next door?”

“Uh huh.”

“You like her,” Melissa smirks, it’s not a question anymore.

“Yes-Wait what? No!” Jenna slaps Melissa’s arm, caught off guard.

Jenna hears her laugh, half-heartedly, “I’m just kidding, but you do seem out of it, are you thinking about her often?”

She shrugs, picking off skin that she just scratched.

“Well I think you are, you’re nervous.”

Now the daydreamer turns to face Melissa, “No I’m not, I just think she’s sweet and she’s someone that already brought me out of that introverted lookin’ shell when I first meet people.”

It was true. It’s like you two knew each other when you first met, she hopes you thought of her that way too. She hopes you’re thinking of her as much as she thinks about you everyday.

Melissa looks down at Jenna’s cuticles, then back up at her, “You’re thinking about her, you’ve been quiet today and don’t think I didn’t see what song you’re listening to. You never listen to love songs!”

“What?! I have not been listening to love songs!”

“Lover by Taylor Swift? Lingers by The Cranberries? About you by the 1975? Dark Red by Steve Lacy??”

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

“I just have taken interest in love songs I guess, it’s spring anyways right?”

“Spring my ass! That is bullshit!” Jasmine chimes in, making Jenna flinch and turn to the corner where Jas was hiding.”

“What the fuck Jas.. Are you eavesdropping?” Jenna shrieks.

“I know when a girl likes a girl,” Jas rolls her eyes and immediately stands up from her squatting position, “Don’t think me and Mason didn’t see you texting someone that you named mY y/N OOoO La lAAaAa..”

Jasmine shuts up with a slipper slapped into her face.

“Just go ask her out or something,” Mason says, popping behind Jasmine and getting the second pair of slippers thrown to his stomach, making him yelp.

“I barely even know her,”

“And there's no difference, you barely fall in love, girl, love at first sight for you means that she’s the one. You know your priorities and she checks all of them. If not, you wouldn’t be listening to those dumb love songs.”

“Gotta agree Jenna, what about this, we’ll go to the Italian restaurant first, then we’ll leave you alone with her in the coffee shop, you come out and tell us how it goes.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you love us.”

“Ugh.”

The alfredo pasta was twirled from the fork Jenna was holding, eating as the cast of scream 6 giggled and talked during their lunch break. It was a big bowl of pasta to say the least, she shared it with the whole cast but she was eating it up like there was no tomorrow. She knew around this time she came to your cafe, she only came around two times, but if you didn’t see her on a Thursday in the afternoon, she can almost feel the disappointment you might feel. Or hopes you feel, Jenna’s wondering to herself if you even think of her.

“Oh she’s falling hard for this silly Y/N girl,” Jasmine whispers to Melissa, to which she agrees almost immediately.

“No I’m not,” Jenna blurts, placing down her fork.

Everyone in the table clicks their tongue, a few, “Oh come on” and “Liar!”

“Well you wouldn’t have responded, we’ve been talking to you for the past 5 minutes and you only jerk your head when you hear anything about her!” Jasmine groans, showing her hands if they would somehow present something.

She signals for the check, she quickly pays, and as soon as that happens her real life core four push her out of the restaurant and to the outside of the coffee shop, like parents.

“Go,” Jenna’s shoulder was pushed into the door and it was too late to go back as she heard the familiar bell ring.

“I hate you Jas,” her hands flip the 3 people giggling behind the foggy window behind her as she hears the voice she’s been thinking about the whole day.

“Jenna!” Your tiny figure pops out from the coffee bean machine, waving to her happily.

Cute, she thinks to herself. You’re so cute.

“Almost thought you wouldn’t come today,” you murmur, making Jenna shake her head.

“Just had some lunch with friends, but I couldn't miss out on coffee on Thursdays though.”

“Ah,” you hum, your eyes focused on the latte art you were working on.

The only noise is the r&b music and the small chatter that keeps the environment comforting.

A small bunny was being created, pouring the creamer carefully.

“You’re almost looking as tiny and cute as that bunny,” your co-worker, Matteo says, a few feet away from you.

A soft laugh erupts in your throat, rolling your eyes from his compliment, but thanking him nonetheless. Jenna doesn’t know if she’s feeling a strong pit of jealousy that sizzles beneath the back of her mind. Her eyes train on the boy, hazel eyes, brunette hair.

“Okay okay, stop that,” you grumble, a small smile plastered on your face as you playfully nudge him to show your annoyance.

“Feisty,” he chides.

“The only thing I did differently today is that I curled my hair. You can barely see it in this ponytail,” one hand is pointing to your hair while the other keeps concentrating on the bunny.

“You’re also wearing a bow, your freckles are more visible, mmm,” he thinks for a moment, “Oh and,” he comes closer, whispering in your ear so only you can hear. Your body almost shivers from it, “You’re staring at a new coming regular and smiling like a weird teenager.”

You stop your latte art, groaning in frustration since you were caught by a coworker that also is a kind friend of yours.

“No I’m not, stop whispering in my ear and let me do my latte art,” you shove him away and continue to work on your bunny.

Jenna swallows the prickly feeling in her throat, feeling herself scowl at some guy who’s name tag seems to say, “Mat ear.” Maybe she should switch out acting with latte art for a day.

The bunny looks complete.

And perfect, you exhale a breath from pride, slide the latte and call out the person’s order with a warm smile.

Then Jenna feels like a fool standing there because she just realized that she’s been staring at you making another person’s latte. Then you feel stupid for not sending someone over to serve her since you’re assuming that she wanted something.

“Sorry!” You apologize, smacking the top of your head as you lean across the countertop, “Hi Jenna, did you want something?” Jenna looks down at your lips for a moment, your teeth tugged on your bottom lip, then trails back up to the menu.

“No worries, I should’ve sat down, I just wanted to visit I guess. Sure. Um,” She doesn’t know what to get.

“Confused again huh?” You tease, looking at the menu then at the lattes. It makes her almost fan herself to know that you know she wants a latte today.

It takes a moment for you to think, “I don’t even think I put this up on our menu, but the other day when I was closing I tried a hazelnut caramel, you down to try that today?”

“That sounds pleasing, sure I’ll take that.”

“Okay, one hazelnut caramel!”

“Dude, I swear your cafe sells at least every pastry known to mankind. Those brownies and chocolate chip cookies look like it could make society salivatate.”

You laugh, “Thanks silly, I just experiment and make sure everyone in NYC can have a taste of home if they are from somewhere else. Sometimes I take my recipes from a past generation baking book, other times I just try baking from eyeing measurements.”

Jenna smiles at that, touching your hand with hers and pressing it down to the counter, “Well trust me, this is probably why you get a hell load of customers every morning.”

A light-hearted, non-forced, soft giggle comes from you, not moving your hand that is pressed from hers.

“As long as it makes others happy and continues a legacy while doing other things I love, and meeting sweet people that mark my memory like you, I think that I wouldn’t trade it. Did you want anything else?”

“I think that’s it today,” Jenna breathes, moving her hand away from yours. Immediately your hand misses the warmth and just wants to pull her back.

She can’t help but notice the smile plastered on your face, “Okay, hazelnut caramel coffee, on the house.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Nuh uh, not on my watch,” Jenna insists, pulling out a 10 dollar bill and immediately you shoo her away.

“On me! Honest! I own this place anyways and it happens at least twice everyday, don’t worry about it love.”

She hears a small “aww” come from her phone and she freezes, her cheeks heating up in an instant.

“I’m paying you one day,”

“If it’s banterings and consistent times that I see you besides Tuesdays and Thursdays, then okay,” your voice echoes as you begin to prepare her latte.

Jenna smiles at you and as soon as she turns around she picks up her phone and curses into it, “What the hell Jas? How the hell did you manage to call me before I got into the shop and stalk into our conversation??”

Snorts and laughs come from the other line, she immediately plugs her earphones in.

“On the house, hmm??” Mason teases, everyone in unison going “ooh la la..”

“I’m going to chop your heads off-”

“And of course you place your hands on top of hers!! It’s like watching the corniest romance in front of my eyes!”

It had only been 5 minutes that Jenna had talked with you, and somehow she still got stuck and caught by her friends.

“Shut up,” Jenna says, her voice soft, but grumpily as she scoffs.

Melissa, Mason, and Mindy are shouting from outside, she can hear them screaming through the phone.

“Hey,” you say softly, bringing her latte with two wrapped pastries in hand and slide it to her front, “Try the brownies and cookies you were looking at and tell me what you think?”

Jenna wants to keep her cool and to smile politely, but the three crazy people outside that are listening in are making it hard. Especially with all the kissing noises she can hear, so she takes out her earbuds and tosses them in her hoodie’s pocket.

It takes her a while to realize she didn’t buy the pastries that made her hungry.

“Seriously?”

The way your cheeks curved upwards and your nose scrunched as you smiled made Jenna smile on the spot there, “Seriously,” you assured.

“I hate you for this,” she says playfully, sarcastically.

“Who can hate two free pastries? That’s a win for me,” you pull the chair out, sitting down as you take a small break, exhaling.

There was a cute cat design on the hazelnut caramel latte, the steaming, sweet bitterness scent that wafts in the air makes Jenna shiver. She plays with the wrapping of the chocolate chip cookie before mumbling a soft, “Thank you.”

“Mmmhm, no problem.”

There's a quiet pause, Jenna sips her latte, looking up at you and seeing you giggle. It’s sweet, light, bitter, and perfect.

You hand her a napkin, there's a small white foaming mustache from the creamer.

It takes a moment as she takes the napkin before you speak again, “So, filming mm? Is it stressful, you know, having to wake up early and doing stuff like that?”

“Honestly, there are days where it can be too much and I need to wind down a bit. But I love seeing cameras and doing something that I have the fortunate privilege of doing, I know a lot of people don’t have that and it makes me grateful.”

You hum in response, nodding, playing with the nape of your shirt.

“I used to want to act and direct,” you smile.

“Really? Why not now?”

Your shoulders shrug, “I still do small stuff, holding cameras, auditioning for stuff, it’s just a little harder since I’m working here and making sure I can continue doing, you know, this. But I love working here, it heals something in me.”

It makes Jenna feel almost bad, not in an overly guilty way. She just can’t fathom feeling pressured to do something instead of going the way you want.

“You have coworkers, you don’t have to be here everyday, you know?” She tilts her head.

Her eyes meet yours, and again she sees those doe eyes, with nothing but something to make her own self melt.

But I'm in so deep

You know, I'm such a fool for you

You got me wrapped around your finger

Do you have to let it linger?

“I know, sometimes I’m afraid this place will go haywire.”

She giggles at that, then thinks for a moment, “You know, I get on set tomorrow at 11, which is later than most days. Do you wanna, you know, just come and look around? The directors and producers are the sweetest people I know and they don’t mind a plus one. I would like, show you around and you can reach out to some people.”

It’s silent, your face is thoughtful as you’re processing what she said.

“I’ll stick by your side the whole time we’re not filming, introduce you to the cast, as long as you don’t do anything silly, which I highly doubt you might.”

“Okay, I’ll have to check in with Matteo, ask him to bring his sister that comes in on Saturdays and switch it to tomorrow.”

The brunette feels her heart flipping and she nods, burying her face in her hands to try and stop the redness that is invading her cheeks.

You come back soon later, beginning to talk about the plan of the coffee shop tomorrow, but Jenna gets distracted, it’s hard seeing Jasmine blowing her breath on the window, making hearts, then wiping the fog and seeing the way all her friends are making dreamy gestures to mock her. They’re all dancing and she wants to flip them off.

“I’ll be there tomorrow, could you by, um any chance, pick me up? I usually walk here and get my car repaired.”

Oh fuck, Jenna thinks, because she get’s picked up by Jasmine and tomorrow Melissa and Mason will be joining, like they do twice a week. She wants to face palm, she can almost picture the way when you make conversation with her in the car tomorrow, she’ll see in the corner of her eye Mason batting his eyelashes and sticking his tongue out.

“Sure, if you’re okay with some of my crazy friends.”

“Tomorrow it is,” you say, waving and ruffling your hair before waving and walking back to work.

Jenna looks down at her earbuds and she completely forgot she didn’t end the call, she just stashed it away, she’s bearing what is to come, putting her earbuds back in.

“SHE’S ASKING HER OUT ON A DATE” (Mason)

“NO WAY” (Jas)

“SHE’S A FOOL” (Jas)

“SHE’S GOING TO GET EMBARRASSED TOMORROW.” (Jas)

Not to mention the way they are waving their hands outside, she can almost hear the screaming from here.

“There’s no way in hell you asked this sweet pretty girl to come on set tomorrow,” Melissa sing-songs.

“Paws off,” she grumbles.

“She wants her for herself, of course.”

“Shut up!”

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega

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drgnflyteabox · 2 months ago

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lament [1]

part one -> honey || part two -> tbd

series masterlist

pairing: john price x fem reader summary: as you recover from prolonged illness, you meet a man on a hike in the woods just as strange things begin happening around you. tags/warnings: creepy / horror vibes, slowburn, phone sex, masturbation, injuries, mention of hospitals, pneumonia, mobility aids, softdom!price (for now), dubcon due to intoxication, tags will update as the story does w.c: 5.9k

The woods are a peaceful, meditative thing. You’ve been spending your mornings there walking with Diva, meandering through the local trails and venturing off for pictures of red mushrooms or Diva in her little yellow raincoat, sniffing something or other.

The trails were scarcely used and took a couple of hours to finish, a longer trek in taller trees that closed off the sunlight and created peace through insulation, like an echo chamber of wet pitter patter from rain the night before and the gentle calls of birds, broken only by the sounds of your hiking shoes crunching gently through pebbles and leaves.

Quiet. It’s just what you need, slowly erasing memories of bright fluorescent lights and the smell of antiseptics. The trail isn’t elevated, it’s long, but not elevated. That’s important for your recovery, two months spent in a hospital bed attached to breathing apparatus.

Relief, freedom, as slow as your steps are and as beleaguered is your breathing, it’s pure relief. You’re no longer breathing through a straw, building strength walk by walk, spending time with Diva and watching her little tail wiggle under her coat. This time is good for her, too. You could sink to your knees and praise a higher being for the time off and sick pay policies your job has - so could Diva.

The shaking continues, your limbs still weak, muscles unused to standing and walking. You often find yourself sitting, on a log or a rock, and taking time to breathe and recover. Sometimes a granola bar makes its way into the mix, sometimes a handful of trail mix.

The last few times, there’s been a man. Tall, imposing, walking much quicker than you even with a brace around his knee. His posture tells you he takes himself pretty seriously, or he’s military, if there’s any difference.

Mutton chops, mustache, cargo pants. He’s been coming up behind you with sure steps, barely a limp even with his knee, and going by you so fast there's a breeze, makes you a little nervous to get mowed down.

Diva is weary of him. Her hackles raise, though she doesn’t bark, and she tucks close to you when he goes by. You don't feel unsafe, just a little surprised at the break in monotony no matter how tiny it is.

Doesn’t help that it’s pretty nice watching him go, that broad back and tight shirt, those well sculpted legs. Hey, you’re still sick and weak, still recovering. Sue me, you think, leaning on a tree when your lungs start burning again a little too much.

He stops, a few feet in front of you.

“You broken?” His voice is just as you imagined, rough maybe from smoking, maybe from overuse.

“What?” Broken?

“You alright?” He repeats, turning then. The quiet is a little oppressive now, with your struggle. You’re wheezing.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine-” you cough, dryly. “Just asthmatic.” It’s an easy explanation, you’re trying to get him to move on. You’ve never felt in danger, but it’s still the middle of the woods and he’s still a strange man.

“Need a hand?” He has to look down at you, even from a distance. His head is tilted down, arms folding across his chest, biceps calling to you like sirens.

You shake your head, squatting down as best you can, taking the breaths learned from your doctor and pulling out your steroid inhaler. One puff, two puff.

The man looks at you skeptically, eyes small and narrowed, flitting once to Diva who would fail as a service dog, but tries her best at guarding you despite being so small. Her gaze is pinpointed to him, as stiff as he is.

”Right, then,” is all he says before he’s back to his soldiers march.

You imagine him with horse blinders on and pulling a sled behind him, wheezing a laugh into the empty air.

Recovery is not linear. That’s what your doctor tells you, what you were told before you left the ICU, before you were discharged all together. There’ll be ups and downs, moments where you feel you’ve backslid to the point of having to start all over.

You get it, really. It’s a mantra. Recovery is not linear.

What they don't warn you is that it’s different when you’re actually feeling it, waking up weaker than ever and coughing, burning in your chest. It’s jarring, every cell in your body crying for oxygen and yet you aren’t low enough that you need to go back to the ER, just sit up in bed and stare out the window to the fortress of green that surrounds your house.

Recovery is not linear. You watch comfort shows - animated Halloween specials, a couple months too early. They fit the cooling temperatures, the slow yellowing of the trees.

Food is hard when you can’t stand for long periods of time, so you order in. Soup, and an extra chicken crunch treat for Diva on her dinner.

It’s only when you turn Charlie Brown off that you hear it.

Tap tap tap. Deliberate, timed taps, like a mini hammer on a mini nail. Quiet enough that your ears strain, and yet you can just barely catch the sound. It’s coming from the side of your house, opposite to your bedroom and closest to the living room you were just in.

Tap tap tap. Maybe it’s the vibe you put yourself in, but you shiver with apprehension. Could be an animal, you do live fairly far out, and by the woods. Your driveway is long, separated from the highway just outside of town.

Diva is usually a false alarm - she raises her hackles at the stove, she’s not trustworthy when it comes to alerting you. And yet you look, and find her standing straight up and staring at the wall the sound is coming from, lips peeling back.

Only there's nothing you can do. You aren’t gonna go check, not with your weak limbs and thin breath. Theres a landline in the kitchen with a long cord, and your cellphone. The best you can do is lock the windows and doors, which you do, shuffling so as to make the least amount of noise possible.

Next the lights and curtains, drawn and shut. You tuck a knife under your mattress, more for reassurance than anything, and close your bedroom door behind Diva.

The only reason you’re able to sleep is the bedroom door locks. The handle has one, and there’s a chain above that. You tuck into bed under the covers like a child hiding from their closet, straining to hear the tap tap tap. Sometime between you locking all the entries and exits, it stopped, but you’re still unmoored.

Your lungs fare better the next morning, eased by rest. You’re back in the woods by late morning, driving up to the trailhead through the canopy of trees. It really is beautiful, part of the reason you moved here, other than peace and quiet.

There's another car as you pull up, a reliable model in a dark colour, a surprise since you’re usually the first one there.

You park away from it in an effort to not be creepy, but still sneak a peak while Diva does her post-car ride shakeout and pee.

It’s the man from before, sitting in the front seat, talking on a phone. He looks serious, frowning, talking in a measured way but you can still hear the volume as you pass by.

He waves, and you wave back, giving him a little smile.

Diva leads the way, prancing into the woods without fear even as the leaves start blocking out the sun. She inspires you - a little dog, brave, braver than you were last night.

God, it was probably a rabbit or a possum stuck somewhere. Maybe a mouse, and though you hope it isn’t it is the season for them. Cooler temperatures means creatures trying to enter your house. Means you have yet to drive down to town and pick up insulation supplies for your windows before fall really hits and you’re freezing.

Making a mental note of that, you lean heavily on your walking stick and pause. It’s one of those days, needing more aid than usual after yesterday and more breaks.

Crunch.

“Sorry, honey,” the army man holds his arms up, seeming sheepish as you flip around to face him. “Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

“Oh, no, it’s okay,” your cheeks burn in embarrassment. “Just jumpy today.”

“That’s alright,” his eyes crinkle at the corners, softening at the edges. He’s approachable today, not speed walking through the woods like there's a pot of gold at the end. “Mind if I join you?”

Unexpected, but with your eyes at pec-height it’s an easy yes. You deserve a handsome escort for the second half of the trail, and your emergency alarm is tucked in your front sweater pocket if you need it.

“Sure,” you nod. “I’m pretty slow, though, just to warn you. Recovering.”

“That’s fine, I should be taking it easier anyway. Make my physio happy for once,” he gestures to his knee with a chuckle. “John.”

You tell him your name. John. It suits him, the masculinity of it, the simpleness too. He gives the impression that he’s careful about how he presents himself, that outside of this sudden friendliness he’s very closed off - the way he was when you’d come across him before. Now he calls you honey, and touches his fingertips to your back as you navigate a patch of rough terrain warped by roots.

“I’m off until my knee is battle-ready, again,” he says it like it’s a joke, but there’s a steel edge beneath his words. You ask about his job: contract work, he says, not self-employed but with pockets of free time.

“Did you move here recently?” The wind shivers the trees, chillier than last week, as you meander.

“Ah, didn’t move here,” he scratches his thumb with his nose. “Staying with a friend. Needed the fresh air.”

“I get it,” your shoulder brushes his arm. “That’s why I moved here too.”

“Helps your asthma?”

You pause for a moment, confused. And then.

“Oh!” You’re a little embarrassed. “I don’t have asthma, actually. I mean I could have it, or develop it. But really I had pneumonia for a while, really wiped me out.”

“Ah, I see,” his voice says surprised, but his face stays the same. You wonder if he notices. “Terrible, that. My mum had a bad bout of it a couple years back, gave us a scare.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you aren’t sure how old John is, but you can assume it was dangerous for his mother to have caught such a bad infection. “How’s she doing now?”

“Much better. Healthy as a goat.”

“A goat?” You’re laughing, then. A giggle that has him smiling back at you. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

John hums when he doesn’t reply verbally, and nods like you’re giving a university lecture. The attentiveness is nice, but it makes you self conscious, unused to having so much attention so focused on you. And he is so focused, like you’re discussing nuclear launch codes or what a quark is or something important. Honestly, it makes you hide your face in an embarrassingly shy way, avoiding eye contact.

He walks with you slowly, patiently down the path, arms crossed behind his back. Every once in a while either or the two of you laugh, which seems to bother Diva, whose been looking back at John suspiciously or trying to get between you the whole time.

“So sorry about that,” you really don’t know what’s gotten into her. Sure, she’s a pro at finding innocuous things suspicious, but you’ve been walking for a while now and she usually warms up when she realizes you’re okay with the offensive person or item.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” honey again. He sure knows how to make a lady flustered. “She’s just looking out for her mama, right?”

If your pussy reacts to that, it’s no one’s business but your own.

The air chills, day by day. John has begun joining you on your walks every other day, and sometimes you catch him jogging to the trailhead from the road instead of driving it. It makes you wonder where he’s, whether it’s close or he’s really pushing his knee, and whether or not he’s flirting with you when he shows up all sweaty in a tight shirt.

Another anomaly is that the tapping has returned, nearly every night. You’re scared every time, won’t even let Diva out for a final pee and have stuck to walking up at the buttcrack of dawn to make sure she’s taken care of.

Tedious, is what it is. Ridiculous. And yet when those little taps come, in different places around the house now, different walls, you hide under the covers with Diva growling her little growl at the bedroom door and try to sleep.

When cabin fever starts to set in, anxiety and insane thoughts like, what if someone is trying to break into my house? You decide it’s past time for a visit to town.

The trip serves many purposes, anyways. Diva needs treats, kibble, and a new ball. You need groceries, tampons, new socks. Overall worth it outside of the fresh air and human interaction with more than just one person.

“Hey! Hey you!”

You’re in the bakery, weighing with your hands two loaves of artisanal bread. Just the one will do, since your freezer is small, but you want both. Pumpernickel or dark rye? Which will go better with the honey ham sandwich slices?

“Hello? Earth to-”

Your deliberation is interrupted by a waving in your face. You realize Jo, your only real friend in town, has run across the street to catch your attention.

“Oh gosh, my bad,” you look down at your shoes, then reach for a hug. She squeezes you.

“That’s okay, babe, off in your own world?” She’s dazzling, too cute for such a small town. Her ringlets bounce on her shoulders and her mouth, which is always smiling, is stretched wide with mirth. Makes you feel warm inside that she cares for you.

“Trying to make a hard decision. You know, end world hunger or stop all wars.” Stupid, but she laughs. You love making her laugh, and if you were lesbian you’d have made a move on her. Maybe you were, just a little.

“Why not both?” Her hands find your shoulders and squeeze. It’s then that you notice someone behind her, a much taller someone. At first the muscled chest and thick neck make you think it’s John, and a small squeeze of jealousy grips your stomach.

Then you see the mohawk, the difference in height. This man is looking at you with a similar intensity, though, all piercing blue eyes, thick furrowed brows, pin-straight posture.

“You’re right,” your laugh is more awkward, then, motioning with your eyes to the man.

“Oh, I’m so rude,” she turns to him. “This is Johnny, we met a few weeks ago.”

A wink. Ah, they met a few weeks ago. You picture them in the only bar in town, low lighting and Jo looking like Botticelli’s Venus, plump cheeks and red lips. And yeah, Johnny’s pretty good looking. You’d laugh about the mixup and the names if it wasn’t rude.

“Nice tae meet ya,” his accent is thick, palm warm and rough against yours. “Shall we, lass?”

He’s talking to Jo. They exchange glances, him looking at you once so fast you almost miss it. There’s something uncomfortably familiar about the look he gives you, but you shake it off. Nerves, you think. From the taps.

“Right,” Jo looks a little sheepish, then. “We’re off to the movies, but nice to see you!”

You raise a brow. You can’t help it, it’s 10am. Jo laughs and they leave.

You bake, sometimes. It’s a good hobby for someone on a leave of absence with nothing much else to do but read, walk and play with her dog.

The oven sometimes scares Diva, and she curls up in your room indignantly until you’re done using it. You’ve always wondered why, since she came to you as a puppy and hasn’t got a single reason to be upset with the appliance.

Oh well.

You decide to bring brown butter chocolate chip cookies on your hike, hoping to see John and give him one. Your interactions haven’t progressed past leisurely chatting and walking together, but he’s a handsome man and you're still a little stir-crazy. At least with work, it wasn’t just hours on hours of uninterrupted alone time.

Funny how that works, isn’t it? You spend every day at work wishing not to be at work, and once you have the opportunity you have no idea what to do with yourself.

John loves the cookies. He takes two right out of the Tupperware, flattering you by groaning as he eats. The recipe is that good, but you think he might be putting it on a bit anyway.

It’s sweet.

“Fantastic,” he says, licking his fingers. You try not to look. “You bake often?”

“Just something to do, keeps me busy.” Diva has growled at John again, her second offense. She’s being a real heel today, rude and fussy. You elect to schedule a vet visit for a checkup soon.

“No one to keep you company in that house?” He stops when you need to stop, takes the opportunity to stretch his bad leg.

“What?” You take a puff of the inhaler, frowning a little.

“Are you lonely?” A weird question, but you chalk it up to small town weirdness.

“A little, but that one over there keeps me company,” as if she knows, she turns and yips. “What do you mean, that house?”

“You mentioned you live in your grandfather's house, no? Inherited it.” He chuckles at Diva.

“Did I? I don’t think…” you fully frown, thinking back to your conversations. Did you mention that? You haven’t even thought of it yourself for a while, not wanting to revisit painful memories. Your grandpa did pass you his house, but you’re usually more private than offering more than surface-level information to strangers.

“I believe so,” he looks deep in thought himself, squinting up at the umbrella of trees above you. That comforts you, the fact that he’s trying to recall. You’ve been so anxious lately.

“I must have forgotten, sorry. I’ve just been so scrambled lately.” John perks up at that, turning towards you as you finally continue walking.

“Scrambled?” His palm finds the back of your arm, the meat of it. He squeezes you, and it fills you with warmth. “How so?”

“Ah, well, just some animals around my house. I think,” you meet eyes, and he gets the best of you, so you elect to stare between his brows.

“Want me to take a look?” His tone is very serious. You shiver.

“I don’t think it’s necessary… I think there’s just some mice making a home for winter. I gotta call an expert,” He slides his hand down to your elbow, holding it gently. You’re nearing the end of the trail, the woods getting brighter around you. Diva marks her territory here more than anywhere else and yips at John again.

“I could do it for free though, honey,” the air drops where you are, a gust of wind creating a symphony of sound all around you. A little romantic, you think. Ridiculous.

“Well,” far be it from you to pass up free help. “Only if you let me pay you back somehow.”

“You have already,” he holds up the cookie Tupperware, shaking it gently.

“Then let me make you dinner. Whatever you want!” The enthusiasm in which you say it has you cringing at yourself, but mentally you justify it; it’s completely normal to invite a friend over, especially to pay back a favour. You’re not being obvious that you’re attracted to him at all, no sir. Definitely not scared and in need of comfort, Mr John sir.

“Sounds like a plan. I’m free after 7 o’clock.”

You elect to be cliche and make British food. Good British food, a proper roast. Something you’d had a few times with friends in pubs or that time you’d visited London as an exchange student. Hot, smothered in gravy, salty and perfect with a mug of beer British food. You really hope he likes it, that he doesn't think you’re weird or making fun of him for his accent.

John is a proper gentleman, so punctual that he knocks on your door the very second it turns to 7:30 on your oven timer.

Diva has to battle her hatred of the stove with her need to announce a guest, staying in hallway purgatory barking at both.

The smell of garlicky roast beef, rosemary and thyme, salt and boiling potatoes is rife in the air, no doubt spilling into the woods through your badly insulated windows.

The moment it hits John, you can see it. Your door opens, creaking, and his eyes fix to you so quickly it’s almost physical.

“Hey! Thanks for coming,” you open it, motioning for him to come in. “Don’t mind Diva, she’s not a fan of the oven being on.”

He toes his boots off, still staring, like you’re a prize heifer and he’s set on buying you at the farm auction. A little sexy, mostly nerve wracking. Diva peeks around the corner at him and the sound of her little nails on the hardwood breaks the tension.

“Smells like home,” he leans closer to you to put his coat up on the rack. “You really went through all this trouble?”

“It’s the least I can do for your help.” At that moment, he seems to remember.

“Right, the mice. Want to show me where you heard them, or can I not steal you away from the stove?” His voice deepens as he talks, intensifying, grating hot coals and growling like a bear. Blue, focused eyes find the half-apron you’re wearing. You swear his pupils dilate, but he shakes his head before you’re sure.

“I can show you, there’s still a few minutes left for everything.”

The air is biting outside, cold with the evening breeze and dark already. So dark you equip your biggest, brightest flashlight and walk around the house with him, explaining the taps all around.

“I figure it’s them trying to dig holes so they can get in,” you hand the flashlight to him, feeling your fingers brush, and shivering in response. “I’ve been too chicken to check, to be honest. I keep thinking it’s a person walking around, not some animal.”

John nods as you speak, squatting by your little tool shed, looking diligently and moving items as he needs to. Then, he looks up, smiling a little.

“Why don’t you head inside, darling? Let me take care of this.”

“Sure,” you squeak. Squeak. Your stomach makes a knot and you scurry like one of the mice he’s looking for back into the house to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.

You are quite proud of this meal, not a proper cook by a long shot but it looks and smells pretty good. The Yorkshire puddings are alright, too, and that was the hardest part. Plus, you think, it’s free food. He’s gotta be happy with the effort, even if he winds up not liking it, right? That’s something your mother always told you. Someone’s put in a lot of effort for this meal, she’d say, pointing at you with a long nail. Better eat it.

“Think I found the little buggers,” John startles you just a little as he comes in, toeing his boots off again. You’re plating his plate, huge portions of mash potato and roast carrot and brussel sprouts nestled to the beef. His eyes look at the plate, then to you, then down to your apron, and you pretend you can’t see him adjusting his pants.

This isn’t what you think it is, you remind yourself. Two friends, one lending a hand and the other paying them back. You don’t even know his last name.

“Oh god, how bad was it?” You ladle gravy over his portion, then yours, pretending to be unaffected when he walks into your kitchen and takes a huge sniff.

“Not too bad. I’ll have to come back with some traps, if that’s alright.” You want to say John, you can come back anytime, but you don’t.

“Glad to know it was mice at least,” that’s the truth. A feeling you didn’t totally realize you had turns from paranoia into relief. “I was really scared it was some creep walking around my house, trying to get in.”

“Here,” John takes his plate when you hand it to him, but puts his phone into your hands before you can get yours. “Put your number in there, honey. Call me if anything like that happens.”

Honey. You fucking love that, so much it renders you temporarily mute as you punch in your number. He doesn't let you bring your own plate to the table, picks it up while you’re busy and comes back to shepherd you there with a palm on your lower back.

“Thank you,” you say, struck timid by his casual and yet firm guidance of you.

Diva makes an appearance for supper, summoned by the smell of beef and the oven being turned off. Her little claws tip tap against the hardwood as she circles your chair, tucks herself under the table looking for scraps, and whines at John while he’s trying to eat.

You nudge her away from him with a socked foot, stuttering that she isn’t usually like this, honest, only for him to brush it off kindly.

After supper, when you’re full and you can’t handle him looking at you with those half-lidded, well-fed bear eyes anymore, you move to pick up the dishes and bring them to the kitchen.

“Ah ah,” John cuts in front of you, stealing the plates and cutlery. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Useless to argue - he’s built like a brick shithouse. You’re forced to pack up the leftovers, one container for you and one for him to take home. For no reason other than you’re feeling especially soft and gooey, you wrap up a few homemade fig and date granola bars for him to take too.

“Thank you,” he gruffs, rolling his sleeves to his elbows, flexing his forearm muscles, making you hot again.

“It’s really the least I can-”

Snap. Fuck, the day that creepy noises don’t happen near your house is the day you convert to whatever religion that’ll make it happen. Both your heads turn to the living room window, where the sound came from, a crack in the otherwise quiet night air.

Anxiety curls in your stomach, sharp and dreadful. You try to remind yourself that you live in the woods for gods sake, there’s gonna be sounds, but that awful sense of danger is back and if you were Diva your hackles would be raised.

John frowns, wiping his hands on a towel. He doesn't seem as phased as you are, probably because he’s not worried over boogeymen haunting the forest like you are, but when he looks back at you and sees your fright he leans in and murmurs that he’ll go take a look.

“It’s okay, it’s probably one of my furry friends,” you try, but he shakes his head, putting a palm on your hip for a brief moment as reassurance and then he’s out the door.

God, you’re so nervous you whip out a bottle of wine, desperate for a little courage. The feeling is so strange, you’re used to feeling safe and cushioned by your home, by the forest. Even your little dog whimpers, tapping her way into the kitchen, rubbing her face on your leg like a cat. She’s a comfort still, something about there being a more nervous person (or animal) that inspires bravery. Still, you won't peek out the window.

The wine is good. A little too dry, but still good. A housewarming gift from your mother, even though she knew you didn’t drink unless it was social.

Or unless you were nervously waiting for some man to come back, having dealt with your problems for you. She’d weep to see you, aproned and wringing your hands and sipping red wine too quickly. Whatever, you think. There’s nothing wrong with letting him help.

John comes back in, maybe a few minutes later or maybe a half hour, you can’t tell. Your wine is half empty, and you feel awkward about it so you pour him one without asking.

“Think you’ve got more than one furry friend,” John says, laughter in his voice. In his fingers he’s got tufts of light brown hair, which he holds up. “Dinner, if you hunt.”

“Ah, I don’t,” and you wouldn’t. You’re fine eating meat or even purchasing it from a local hunter to eat, but there’s something in you that’s deeply uncomfortable with the idea. Maybe it’s cowardice, unable to do the dirty work and yet enjoying the fruits of someone else’s labour. Maybe you’re putting stock in something that really isn’t worth stressing over. Either way, you’re overthinking, and only stop when John steps into your space.

“Hey- you alright, darling?” You like darling too, just as much as honey.

“Yeah, sorry,” your hands find the wine glass you poured for him, and you hand it over. One thing about abstaining is that it hits you quickly, even with the big meal. “Want to sit? I’ve got a fireplace.”

You cringe at yourself, not meaning to sound so suggestive. Oh well, he doesn’t seem to mind, just nods and takes you by the elbow again to your living room.

“This all the heading you’ve got?” John asks.

“Er, no. I have to get my windows insulated for winter, then I can turn the heating on without it all going to waste. For now, I make do with the fireplace,” when you sit, Diva runs to you both and demands to be swaddled in her blanket. It’s an old knitted one, a college project finished between essay assignments and readings. There’s sentimental value there, especially with your pup who doesn’t even let the presence of a strange man come between her and her cozying up.

“I can help with that,” John says. Briefly, Westley pops into your head shouting As you wish! and it makes you smile.

“That’s okay,” you sip, tasting spice. Would’ve been good with dinner. “I owe you double now for helping me again.”

“Not at all, sweetheart.” Oh, he’s full of names - and getting bolder.

The conversation ebbs and flows naturally. Sometimes you both sit in silence, sipping, refilling glasses, staring at the fire. He’s easy to talk to, soothing, his confidence and sureness leaving you relaxed.

“I better get going,” he grunts as he stands, extending a palm to you.

“Are you okay to drive?” You’re half worried, half disappointed. There’s been a steadily building sense of heat between your legs the entire evening, brought on by his touches and his pet names and his taking care of you

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I live close-by.” That’s one mystery solved.

“Well, okay. But will you call when you get home?” If you weren’t three glasses in, you might be embarrassed. John crinkles his eyes at you while he puts his boots on.

“John?” You’re in your pajamas, face hastily cleaned with a makeup wipe. Your door is double locked again, anxiety beaten down by the wine.

“I’m home,” he sounds distant. You can’t really hear anything, just his breathing, the sounds of him taking off his coat and his boots. “You tucked in bed, sweetheart?”

“I am,” you breathe, eyes slipping, drunker than you thought you were. “Did you drive okay?”

“I did,” he laughs. His keys jingle and make a clamor as he tosses them. You imagine him in a house that fits him, a log cabin or a house built by hand, before remembering he’s talking with someone. Disappointment dampens you a little.

“I guess I should let you get to bed then,” you try to keep it out of your voice, but you’re curled on your side with a hand pressed against your clothed pussy and it’s hard not to be sad at the fact that you have no idea if he’s actually been flirting with you, or just being friendly.

“You sound disappointed,” either he’s perceptive, or you’re more obvious than you’re trying to be. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave you without saying goodnight.”

A pulse, between your legs. You rub with all four fingers, moving the phone away from your mouth.

“That’s okay, I don’t want to keep you,” you scrunch your eyes shut, trying to stop, not being able to. You’re starved, really, haven’t been touched or talked to like you’re desirable in quite some time and he makes you feel safe. Taken care of.

“You touching that wet little cunt, sweetheart?” A shockwave, from your nipples tightening to your toes tingling, curling. You stop hiding, breathing whines into the phone.

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble, biting your lips. It feels like permission, and maybe it is or maybe it isn’t, but you stuff your hand into your pants and start focusing on your needy clit. “I’m so-”

“Shh, sh, sh,” you hear a mattress creak, a grunt, and imagine him laying back. Maybe palming his cock. “That’s okay, baby, I could tell how needy you were.”

Panting, you stuff two fingers in your soft hole, grinding your palm into your clit. You hear him making sounds, quieter than you, but you’re straining to hear them.

He starts talking you through it, murmuring into your ear, calling you sweetheart and honey and baby, telling you to put three fingers in and to play with your tits.

“Go ahead and touch your nipples, sweetheart, go on,” his breath is growing laboured. “Needed to come so she could sleep, did she?”

For a moment, you think he’s talking about you.

“Poor little pussy needed some attention,” his voice gets rougher again, like when he walked in and saw that you had made him a roast. “Give it to her then, baby, go on, let her come.”

That’s all you need. You squeeze your nipples one last time, letting your tits out of your shirt and turning over to hump your hand unashamedly. Your clit drags against your palm still, hips desperately moving, listening to him grunting and groaning on the other side of the call, waiting to hear him come before you let go.

You shake, shiver, curl into yourself as your core tightens and explodes like an elastic band snapping. It’s great, just what you needed, and you’re half asleep by the end of it

“John..” you mumble into your pillow, just enough consciousness left to pull your hand out of your pajama pants.

“It’s alright, it’s time to sleep now, alright? Close your eyes.”

“Alright, John.”

“Good girl,” his voice is distant, sleep taking you, muscles more relaxed than they’ve been in so long.

You’ll deal with the rest in the morning.

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