#was moving to my new apartment all the last two days

[enviedear]

stay, little valentine, stay ｡𖦹° jason todd

🎧ྀི your roommate makes the fateful mistake of passing you, his roommate, off as his girlfriend to his boundary ignorant family. now the both of you are tasked with maintaining a faux romance for the entirety of a dinner at wayne manor—simple enough, right?

wc 4.2k | roommate!jason, lowercase intended, fem!reader, brief mention of booze, cursing, mutual pining, two idiots fake dating…truly what more can i say (a lot, so). please, enjoy my 'funny little valentines' day special ᯓᡣ𐭩

“there’s not enough room in the freezer for the ice trays. either move your booze or enjoy an ice free apartment,” your voice is tinged with annoyance as you stare down your long-term roommate.

he’s laid back on the shared couch, right cushion side, staring back at you with a impish grin on his face, “or, you could finally throw out that cake you bought for your ‘promotion’ party. since, the fuckin’ promotion never happened and it takes up half of my freezer.”

“our freezer.” you add. “and fuck you, i could still get that promotion any day now. i can always unfreeze it—good as new.”

jason seems to be beginning to tune you out as your eyes drift to a new letter on the fridge, stuck on with an ‘i hate gotham’ magnet. the print is fancy, cursive, bold black ink—YOU’RE INVITED—it reads.

“what are we invited to?” you ask, ice tray debacle not at all at the forefront of your mind now. not when you can tell your roommate’s got an invite from his estranged past guardian, none other than bruce wayne.

he hums a reply at first, still zeroed in to the rerun of some prison show. when he finally picks up on your question he sours, visibly, “some idiotic anniversary dinner for dick and kori. we’re not going, you weren’t even invited.”

you pout, “i want to go! why can’t we go?”

jason’s got a stern look on his face now, and you’ve always found it so unnerving how quickly he musters it up—usually so relaxed in your shared domain.

“we’re not going because i told a lie, and if we show up…everyone will know.” he groans, “just drop it, i need a little more time to ride this out.”

suddenly more intrigued, you prance over to him on the couch, flopping down beside him, “a lie?”

“don’t. just drop it.” he huffs at the obvious annoyance on your face, “it’s just stupid.”

“c’mon, we know all of each others ‘stupid’ shit. what was the lie, todd?” you’re being genuine, riddling your appeasement with a sweetly sardonic tone.

finally, after a good minute of staring at a very completive jason, he cracks, “i might have alluded to being in a relationship with you.”

your smile cracks before he even finishes his admission, oscillating between confusion and sheer giddiness—trying to halt the part of your brain that wants to imagine a life where a relationship isn’t such a laughable idea.

you curl your lips to stifle your last giggles before looking back up at him, “why?”

jason shifts in his seat, clearly uncomfortable with the question. his eyes dart away from yours, finding sudden interest in the television screen, "bruce kept...asking about my life here. if i was settling in, if i was happy." he runs a hand through his dark hair, "and then, all the others got involved, asking to set me up with people. i needed them to stop asking. and you-" he pauses, scratching the back of his neck, "you were the most believable option.”

you stare at him, unblinking, trying to process his words. "most believable option…” you repeat slowly, testing how the phrase feels on your tongue. a warmth spreads across your chest-whether from flattery or something else entirely, you're not quite sure. "so, what? think i can’t pretend to be your girlfriend for a dinner?" the idea sends an unwelcome flutter through your chest. you curse yourself.

jason's expression shifts, a mix of surprise and something else you can't quite read. "you'd do that?" he asks, his voice carrying an unusual note of vulnerability.

"of course," you reply, trying to keep your tone light and casual. "what are roommates for? plus, free fancy dinner at wayne manor? count me in." you're aiming for nonchalance, but your heart is racing at the prospect.

jason's jaw clenches, a tell-tale sign of him thinking too hard, "it's not that simple. they'll know it's fake. bruce especially—dick and tim too—they’re too observant for their own good.”

"oh please," you wave off his concern, settling deeper into the couch cushions, "we've lived together for what, two years now? we already act like an old married couple anyway. i know your coffee order, you know my work schedule. we share groceries, we fight about ice trays—“ you gesture broadly to the kitchen, "it's practically method acting at this point."

he looks at you then, really looks at you, with an expression you can't quite read. "you'd really do that? pretend to be with me in front of my entire family?"

"of course i would," you say softly, nudging his shoulder with yours. "what are friends for if not to fake date each other to avoid awkward family dinners?" you try to keep your tone light, ignoring the way your stomach flips when he smiles at you that rare, genuine smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

"fine." he finally concedes, shrugging his shoulders, "but we need to get our story straight. no holes, no gaps—i figured we'd keep it close to the truth. roommates who gradually realized there was something more." he pauses, then adds, "the best lies are built on truth or some shit, right?”

you nod, and start crafting the imagined romance with jason. over the next hour, you both piece together your relationship timeline—how you first bonded over late night takeout after his patrols, the way you'd patch him up after particularly rough nights, and how somewhere between shared grocery runs and movie marathons, faux you fell for him. or him for you—the both of you can't agree on that just yet.

you try not to focus on how easy it is to imagine, how some of these made-up memories feel more like documentation rather than fabrication.

"okay, and when did we actually get together?" you ask, pulling your knees up to your chest, trying to ignore how invested you're becoming in this alternate reality.

"three months ago." jason answers quickly, too quickly, like he's already thought about this. "after that night I came home really beaten up, remember? you were so pissed at me for being reckless."

you remember that night vividly—how he ever thinks you could forget, you’re unsure.

him stumbling through the window at three in the morning, blood seeping through his stupid jacket. how your hands shook as you stitched him up, how quiet he was, how close his blanched face was to yours. you’d attributed the racing of your heart to fear, but now…not so much.

"yeah," you say softly. "that works."

the rest of the week flies by in a blur of preparation and anxiety, until suddenly it's the night of the dinner, and you're standing in front of your mirror, wondering if you've made a terrible mistake.

you're wearing a deep red-toned dress that hits just above your knee—something you'd bought on a whim (a fifty percent off sale) months ago and never found the right occasion for. jason had given it an approving nod when you'd shown him, which somehow makes you feel more nervous than reassured as you stare yourself down.

"ready?" jason's voice comes from behind you, and you turn to find him adjusting his tie in the hallway mirror. he looks…different. good different. the suit fits him perfectly, and you wonder briefly if alfred had something to do with that. the older man has a penchant for doting over your overgrown battling ram of a roommate.

"as i'll ever be." you manage, trying to keep your voice steady. "but, um, how convincing do you think we need to be?"

jason's eyes meet yours in the mirror, "enough to fool the world's greatest detective," he sighs, "and his army of protégés." he turns to face you properly, and something in his expression softens, but he looks away too quickly for you to discern, "you look really pretty."

"thanks." you mumble, fiddling with your clutch. "so do you. very…boyfriend."

he laughs, but it sounds slightly strained. "that's the idea, isn't it?" he offers his arm to you, "shall we?"

the drive to wayne manor is muted. jason's knuckles are white on the shifter, and you find yourself reaching over to place your hand over his without thinking. he startles slightly, but he doesn't pull away—even keeps contact as he switches gears.

"hey." you start softly, "we've got this. we know each other better than anyone, we live together. besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

jason sighs, his hand tightening slightly under yours. "you clearly don’t know how bruce and tim get at these things. anniversary or not, they'll smell blood in the water if we slip up."

"relax," you assure him, glancing out at the looming trees lining the driveway. "i doubt they’ll care about your relationship timeline when they’re busy fawning over how happy dick and kori are."

jason shoots you a look that clearly says 'don't tempt fate', but his grip on the wheel loosens slightly. "just…follow my lead. and if it gets too weird, we can always fake a medical emergency."

"that...is always an option." you grin, trying to ignore the way your stomach flips when he smiles back.

the manor looms up ahead, and as jason pulls up to the gate, you feel his hand squeeze yours briefly, almost indecipherable.

"last chance to back out." he murmurs.

you intertwine your fingers with his, ignoring the voice in your head that whispers how right it feels. "not a chance, todd. you're stuck with me."

the gates open, and as you drive up the winding driveway, you're unable to shake the feeling that you're about to cross a line you can't come back from. but with jason's hand so warm and relaxed in yours, you're not sure you want to.

jason parks the car in front of the house at the partition, "in case we need a quick exit." he shrugs.

"i think you're too worried, jason. i doubt they'll even question it. you said they wanted you dating anyway, i bet they'll just be happy." your voice is quiet, hand hovering in front of the doorbell.

he sighs, "you don't know these people, they question everything."

before you can reply or try to alleviate his doubts, the double doors fly open. you grab jason's hand in your own and pull him closer, just as alfred sets eyes on the pair of you.

alfred's eyes visibly brighten at the sight of both of you, his normally reserved expression softening into something fonder, "master jason," he greets, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "and miss, how lovely for you to be joining tonight. everyone is very excited to meet you, i fear my few stories were not enough to quell them."

you smile, a real genuine one too, "it's nice to see you again alfred! i hope we're not too late—jason decided to change his tie last minute."

alfred hums and beckons you both inside, "fashionable tardiness, miss. i assure you."

jason, hand now sweaty in yours, chuckles, "he's being nice since you're with me. he's usually irate by my lateness."

you shoot jason a pointed look as alfred continues. "master richard and miss kori have been eagerly awaiting your arrival. their anniversary dinner is a rare occasion they’ve pulled out all the stops for, you see."

jason grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like, overachievers.

the sound of multiple voices echos through from a room, and you feel jason's grip tighten slightly. you've heard stories about his family for years now—mostly complaints, occasionally fond remembrances, and everything in between during late night conversations over takeout.

"master bruce insisted on formal dining tonight." alfred mentions, though his tone suggests mild disapproval. you've learned over your visits that alfred much prefers when the family dines in the kitchen.

jason scoffs quietly, "because god forbid we eat somewhere comfortable." you squeeze his hand again, a silent reminder of your emergency exit strategy. two years of living together has given you an extensive library of non-verbal communications.

the dining room, when you enter, is exactly as alfred has described it countless times—grandiose in a way that speaks to old money and older traditions. the table stretches long and elegant, set with what you recognize as the ‘good china’ alfred often mentions.

your muscles tense slightly as you finally notice all of the eyes on you—staring and studying—you have to think before you step.

bruce wayne rises first, and despite all of jason's stories, despite seeing him on tv and in newspapers, you're struck by his presence. "jason." he greets, then turns his attention to you. "we've all heard quite a bit about you from alfred, though significantly less from my son."

you feel jason's posture stiffen, but you're prepared for this. "oh, you know how jason is with sharing things." you say easily, the words flowing naturally after years of defending his privacy to nosy neighbors and concerned coworkers. "though, alfred's probably told you all my embarrassing stories by now."

dick grayson—exactly as handsome as the magazines suggest—breaks into a wide grin. "actually, alfred's been surprisingly tight lipped. just kept saying we should ask jason ourselves." his eyes sparkle with mischief. "which, of course, got us nowhere."

"some things don't need to be broadcast to the whole family." jason grumbles, but his thumb is mindlessly drawing small circles on your hand, a gesture you've learned means he's more comfortable than he's letting on. 

"oh, but this is so wonderful!" a melodic, cheerful voice chimes in, and you glance up to see koriand’r—kori to most—seated beside dick, her vibrant curly red hair catching the light as she smiles radiantly. "you must forgive us for prying, but jason does not often share such…delightful surprises."

"by 'us,' she means her." dick cuts in with a smirk, earning a playful nudge from kori.

"yes, and what of it?" she replies lightly, turning her attention fully to you. "you see, jason is like a tamaranian grisnek—so fierce and protective on the outside, but underneath, he is all kindness and loyalty. how could we not be curious about the person who has captured his heart?"

"great. glad we're all analyzing my personal life at the dinner table." jason mutters, though his hand stays on yours, his grip steady.

"do not be fooled," kori says in a whisper that is anything but subtle, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. "jason pretends to be irritated, but inside, i know he is glowing with happiness."

your lips twitch into a smile despite yourself, and jason sighs heavily, his shoulders sagging with mock defeat. "i think i'm gonna need another drink."

kori leans back, laughing softly, the sound warm and lilting, as she looks between you and jason once more. "you are lovely." she adds sincerely, her tone softening. "and jason could not have chosen better."

tim drake, who you've only seen in passing when he's stopped by your apartment to drop off miscellaneous ‘private’ documents, raises an eyebrow. "yes, it's all very sweet." he hums it almost, tone carefully neutral but eyes sharp, studying you.

"sweet indeed." you agree, letting some of your genuine fondness for jason color your voice. it's not hard to fake being in love with someone when you've spent two years memorizing their coffee order, patching up their wounds, and falling asleep on their shoulder during movie marathons. the hard part, you're starting to realize, might be pretending it's all pretend.

bruce barely looks up from his plate as he speaks again, cutting through your blissful thoughts of jason, “a shame i wasn’t aware you two were involved.”

jason tenses beside you, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “yeah, well. guess you don’t know everything, old man.”

bruce sets his fork down with deliberate slowness. his gaze flicks between the two of you, assessing, “i never said i did.” his voice is even, unreadable. “but you don’t bring people around often. that’s worth noting.”

jason scoffs, like he couldn’t care less, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—annoyance, unease, probably both.

jason’s hand finds yours under the table. it’s definitely not a calculated move, not a necessary nor obvious display for the act you’re putting on. it’s just—there. warm and solid, his fingers curling around yours like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

you don’t let go.

dinner progresses with a strange mix of tension and ease. You find yourself falling into natural conversation with dick about your work, while jason maintains a careful distance from bruce's attempts at engagement. still, his hand hasn't left yours, and you're starting to wonder if he's forgotten it's all for show.

"so—how did you two finally get together?" dick asks, leaning forward with genuine interest.

you exchange a quick glance with jason, settling into the story you've rehearsed. "it wasn't really some big dramatic moment," you say, the lie feeling uncomfortably close to the truth. "we just...realized we work."

jason picks up the thread smoothly, his thumb still tracing patterns on your hand. "she was patching me up after a rough night, mad at me for being so bruised," he says, and you can hear the genuine emotion in his voice. "and i just...i dont know—knew, i guess."

tim's watching you both with analytical eyes, and you wonder if he can see through the charade. "that tracks." he says finally. "you two have always been...close."

"speaking of close," dick interjects with a grin, "i think it's hilarious jason used to insist you were 'just roommates', and yet never went on any of the dates i set him up on. i should have known, really." there's a pout on his face, humourous.

you laugh, perhaps a bit too nervously, "well, we were. for a while." the irony of the statement isn't lost on you. you can see jason watching you from your peripheral, face stoic—but his eyes are soft. the way they watch over you, simply affectionate.

bruce, who's been quietly observing, finally speaks. "i'm glad jason has someone looking out for him," he says, and there's something in his tone that makes your heart ache. "he's always been...independent."

jason's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "yeah, well, some things change." he mutters, but there's less bite in his words than usual.

the conversation shifts to safer topics—work, current events, alfred's latest culinary experiments. you find yourself relaxing despite the pretense, falling into familiar patterns of banter with jason, finishing his sentences, and sharing knowing looks.

it's during dessert that damian, who's been suspiciously quiet, finally speaks up. "you're good for him," he declares with all the authority of a youngest sibling. "he's less annoying when you're around."

jason chokes on his tiramisu, and you pat his back automatically, the gesture so natural you don't even think about it. "thanks, damian!" you say, fighting back a smile. "i think."

as the evening winds down and dinner ends, you find yourself in the manor's vast library, having wandered away from the group for a moment of quiet. besides, you feel somewhat redundant against their coded phrases and stories. jason finds you, as he always does.

"hey." he speaks softly, coming to stand beside you. "you doing okay?"

you turn to face him, suddenly very aware of how close he is. "yeah, i'm good. your family's...intense, but nice. just like you said."

he laughs quietly, but there's something different in his eyes. "you're amazing, you know that? playing along with all this. you didn't have to."

"i wanted to." you admit, and it feels dangerous how true those words are. "besides, what are fake girlfriends for?"

jason's looking at you with an expression you can't quite read, and for a moment, you think he might say something more. but then dick's voice calls from somewhere far off in the house and the moment gaps.

"we should head back." jason says, but he doesn't move. "before they send a search party."

you nod, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. "yeah, we should."

but neither of you moves, caught in this strange liminal space where pretend and reality blur, and you're no longer sure which is which. even less sure if you hunger for dreams or waking existence—which is which? for a split second, you want to reach out. you desperately want to feel him—to possibly transfer the devotion you’re still too afraid to admit you harbor.

jason’s breath is staggered, coming out forced and shallow. his eyes, darker in the dim light, are flitting between you and the door—until he focuses in on you, fully. you’re too confused as to why he’s getting closer to you to react accordingly when his lips brush yours.

your first instinct is to furrow your brows, still confused. then, you kiss back. hungrily. confusion still fogs your mind, but nowhere near the way jason does. his lips are chapped, plump, and still tasting faintly of expensive dark liquor. his body cages you close him, hands respectfully at your shoulders. of course the only thing you can recognize is jason.

you err on the side respectfulness—opting to tug him closer by the tie. there’s a flash of the memory of him putting it on, and you can’t fight a small smirk from slipping onto your lips. jason must notice, because he finally breaks away to peer down at you.

“what?” he whispers, panting and staring down at your lips.

“what do you mean, what? we kissed.” you still feel giddy from his kiss, but reality begins to settle into you like a winter chill.

jason watches you closely, his expression a mix of smugness and unease, “hmmm—playing it dangerous.” he finally murmurs, shaking his head.

you arch a brow, feigning derision. “you say that to all the girls, todd?”

he exhales a laugh, raking a hand through his hair. “yeah,” he huffs. “that grand number of...you.”

before you can say anything, footsteps echo just outside the library's door. jason instinctively steps back, widening the space between you just as dick pokes his head in. “there you two are! we were about to send out a search party.”

you smile, pushing down the lingering tension. “sorry. just taking a little tour.”

dick’s gaze flickers between you and jason, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “right. well, come on. we're playing charades—and bruce is actually smiling. you don’t want to miss that.”

jason groans, but he follows you and dick back back toward the others. his hand brushes against yours in the hallway, and for a second, you think he’s going to take it again. but he doesn’t. 

charades is winding down by the time you return, alfred putting away various dry erase boards and markers with the kind of efficiency only a butler can possesses.

kori beams when she sees you, reaching out to squeeze your hand. “lovebrids! you have returned!" she gestures to herself and grayson, "thank you for coming—we would like to extend our support to your relationship.”

jason lets out a little breath, like he wasn’t expecting that—like he isn’t sure what to do with the sincerity. “thanks, kori.”

bruce, too, seems slightly less intimidating now. “thank you for coming—you’re welcome here anytime, both of you.” he tells you, and it sounds like a rare offering.

something about it all settles in your chest, warm and unexpected. you’ve spent so much time being jason’s person in private—patching him up, watching his back, making sure he gets home in one piece—that it’s almost startling to have it acknowledged in front of everyone else.

goodnights and goodbyes come soon after, and tim catches jason by the elbow before the pair of you can walk out the door, pulling him aside for a hushed conversation. you linger near the doorway, talking with kori and dick, but you can’t help the way your attention keeps flickering back to jason.

when he finally returns to your side, his expression is unreadable. “ready to go?”

you nod, murmuring your goodbyes as you both step back into the night air. jason doesn’t say anything as he leads you back to the car, but his hands flex at his sides.

the drive back is quieter than before, the easy banter from earlier replaced with something heavier, something neither of you seems willing to touch just yet. jason’s grip is tight on the wheel, his jaw set, eyes fixed on the road.

it isn’t until you’re pulling into the familiar streets near your apartment that he finally speaks. “they bought it.”

you huff a quiet laugh. “yeah? i told you so.”

jason’s eyes flick to you for a fraction of a second before he exhales. “thank you, seriously. you were great.”

you glance at him, something warm curling in your chest. “we just make a good team.”

something glints in his expression, something hesitant, something aching. “yeah,” he agrees, voice quieter. “we do.”

the silence stretches between you as he parks the car. you unbuckle your seatbelt, but neither of you make a move to get out. stuck stagnant.

“so, this is was fake...” you murmur, more to yourself than to him.

jason’s fingers drum against the steering wheel, knuckles red. “yeah.”

you should leave it at that. you should forget the kiss. you should revert back to just his roommate. you should laugh it off, make some joke about how convincing you both were—but you don't—instead you say, “does it still feel fake to you? us...tonight?”

jason’s breath catches. for a long moment, he doesn’t answer. you almost let doubt seep in.

then, he turns, his eyes dark and searching. “god, no.”

your heart stutters in your chest, and you swallow hard, pulse roaring in your ears. “good. me neither.”

for a second, he just looks at you, like he’s waiting for you to take it back, to laugh it off. but you don’t, you won't. and when he leans in—slow, hesitant, like he’s giving you every chance to pull away—you don’t.

you decide to meet him halfway, instead.

writer’s note .☘︎ ݁˖ all of my thanks to the helpful, @sunnie-angel for being my beta reader for this fic! thank you again for your services—and your sweet comments on this little story, very very happy to have a moot like you !!!

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

[daeniradraconis]

My Emergency Contact – William Nylander

Just a little short Valentine’s Day fluff—because nothing says romance like realizing your boyfriend is absolutely not qualified to be your emergency contact. (Yes, inspired by the TikTok trend!) BTW, this pic is literally my favourite of Willy. Like, sir—how are you this hot and this cute at the same time?! ---

Moving in together was supposed to be romantic. Cozy. A new chapter in your relationship.

Instead, you’re sitting on the couch in your new apartment, watching your shirtless boyfriend, William Nylander, struggle for his life against an IKEA bookshelf.

The shirtless part isn’t unusual. If anything, it’s his default state. The man has never met a fabric he liked.

And honestly? You’re not complaining.

His blond hair is tousled from running his hands through it in frustration, his cheeky grin flickering in and out as he mutters to himself in Swedish, clearly losing patience. His mustache and beard are in full force—an off-season indulgence, just like the sheer amount of cake he’s been consuming lately.

And it shows.

Willy is always strong, always an athlete, but off-season Willy? He’s soft. He still has muscle, but instead of his usual sculpted abs, there’s the faintest hint of a tummy, a little dad bod moment that somehow makes him look even hotter.

Unfortunately, all that raw, Swedish power is currently being humiliated by a simple bookshelf.

“IKEA is a scam,” Will mutters, glaring at the half-built monstrosity. “They make the instructions impossible on purpose.”

“You’re Swedish,” you remind him, sipping your coffee. “This should be, like, in your DNA.”

“Yeah, well, my ancestors built actual ships, not this bullshit.”

He picks up the hex key like it personally insulted his mother, then frowns down at the two pieces of wood he’s supposed to connect. His brows furrow, lips pressing together in deep concentration, and for a fleeting moment, you think—maybe—he’s finally figured it out.

But no. No, he has not.

With way too much confidence, he tightens one screw, nods to himself like a man who knows what he's doing, and then leans his full weight on the side panel—only for it to give out instantly, betraying him in the most dramatic fashion possible.

The entire bookshelf wobbles violently before crashing down in slow motion.

And so does Will.

You watch in horror as your six-foot, professional athlete boyfriend completely loses the battle. He stumbles backward, knocks into a chair, flails to catch himself—too late. His knee buckles, and before you can react, he fully wipes out.

A loud thud. A groan. Silence.

For a split second, your heart stops. You freeze, eyes wide, a sharp pang of panic in your chest. He’s completely motionless, just lying there, staring at the ceiling.

“Will?” you ask, rushing over, hovering a hand over his arm, not sure whether to touch him or call 911.

No response.

Then—he bursts out laughing.

Flat on his back, bare chest rising and falling with laughter, stomach shaking, cheeks flushed—he looks absurdly proud of himself. And you can’t help but laugh too—though only after you're sure he’s not actually injured.

And then it hits you. This man is your emergency contact.

The realization hits you slowly. This is the guy responsible for calling an ambulance if something happens to you. This one.

The same man who once set off the fire alarm trying to “improvise” a grilled cheese with a blowtorch because he thought it would be “faster.”

The same man who got his shoelace caught in an escalator last summer and had to be rescued by a mall employee.

The same man who confidently insisted he could fix a leaky faucet in your old apartment, only to somehow make it worse—so much worse—that you had to call an actual plumber, who took one look at the situation and just muttered, Jesus Christ.

You blink down at Will, still sprawled on the floor, grinning like an idiot, and a strange mix of affection, disbelief, and sheer terror floods through you.

You sigh, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you are my emergency contact.”

You look at him, grinning up from the floor like he just won a prize, and a mix of affection, disbelief, and helpless laughter washes over you.

Will, still sprawled out, turns his head to smirk at you. “Baby. I got you.”

“You just lost a fight to plywood.”

“It was a close fight.”

“In your dreams.”

He just shrugs, completely unbothered, propping himself up on one elbow. “Eh. I’m strong. I can take it.”

You stare at him, still processing the absolute chaos of it all. The lack of concern.

Will sees your expression and smirks, sitting up fully. “You’re thinking about it, huh?”

“I’m regretting it.”

He gasps, pressing a hand to his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “Wow. That’s ruthless.”

“Honest.”

Will squints, then rubs the back of his head. “Maybe. But too late, baby. We live together now. No take-backs.”

You roll your eyes, standing up to help his dumb ass off the floor. He lets you pull him to his feet, then immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Will—”

“Shhh,” he says, resting his chin on top of your head. “Let me hold you. I almost died, älskling.”

You snort. “You did not.”

He squeezes you tighter, grinning against your hair. “You were so worried about me.”

You groan, but his arms feel nice, and he smells like cedarwood and the vanilla latte he stole from you earlier. Despite everything—despite his complete incompetence at building furniture or being careful at all—you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You sigh into his chest. “Yeah. You are sometimes actually terrifying. You clumsy idiot.”

Willy laughs, pressing a lazy kiss to your forehead.

“Terrifyingly sexy, you mean.”

Well, he’s not wrong.

[starlightkyeom]

hit replay | x.mh

(where your ex moves into the empty unit in your apartment building and maybe the relationship isn't over after all)

pairing: xu minghao x afab!reader genre: exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers | fluff, romance, smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: 12.7k (this was less than 4k yesterday idk) warnings: mentions of food & drinks, talk of the previous relationship, massages (f. receiving), body worship, light nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), briefest hand job, protected sex, they're just very soft for each other, that's it, reader doesn't use gendered language but has female anatomy

a/n: thank you to the amazing @camandemstudios for hosting The Lonely Hearts Collab ❤️ make sure you check out all the amazing fics! this ended up much softer (and longer) than i thought it would, but i'm not mad at that. we all need soft hao for love day. i hope you enjoy it!

taglist: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @harry-the-pottypus, @pyeonghongrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @kaepjjangiya, @lostmembrane (join my svt taglist here)

Sometimes you think your life should come with one of those signs like they have in workplaces. You know, the ones that say how many days since the last accident? The ones that people always seem to use as memes? You think that might be appropriate in your case, too. Except, instead of days since the last accident, it would count days since you’d last seen your ex. The man who shattered your heart. The one you can’t seem to get over no matter how hard you try. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396

You’re not sure why your brain counts the number. Not sure why you can’t just put it out of your mind. Move on, for real this time. Of course, that’s not the same number as the days since he broke your heart. No. Unfortunately, you’ve run into him a couple of times since then, despite him moving away. A consequence of you still having a number of friends in common. And you can’t even blame them for keeping in touch with him. He didn’t really do anything wrong. Not to them and not even really to you. The two of you just…grew apart. 

Thinking back on it, even years later, you still can’t really pinpoint where it all went wrong. You remember falling for him, entirely too hard. Back when you didn’t think he took much notice of you. Always too absorbed in his latest project. You were friends, kind of. More on the periphery of each other's circles. Until you went to an art show with some mutual friends. Until you saw yourself in several of his works. None of your friends seemed all that surprised. They just let you have your little moment. 

It all happened kind of fast from there. You learned that Minghao wasn’t always one for showing his feelings in words, but he showed them in a million other ways, as long as you knew where to look. He showed them in the little things he did to make your life easier. In the way he incorporated you into his art, sometimes without it even being obvious. In the way he quietly made space for you in his life. 

Things were great, until they weren’t. And it still feels sudden all these years later. Even if it maybe, possibly, wasn’t sudden at all. 

You remember finding a new job. The kind of job you never thought you would land. The kind that Minghao instantly encouraged you to follow. Except it meant much more normal hours where Minghao kept weird hours. Sometimes he wouldn’t come to bed until the sun rose and other times he had been at work for hours when you woke up. Something about inspiration and lighting and just letting it all come together. Neither of you notice when it starts getting harder to make time for each other. At least, you didn’t notice. Only focusing on making the most of the time you do have. 

So, when Minghao tells you that he thinks you need to talk, you’re completely caught off guard. Haven’t seen all the signs that may have been there. He tells you he’s got the opportunity of a lifetime to further his career and it means he’s going to be leaving your city. Leaving the country entirely. Tells you that it’s been great and he still loves you, but he’s got to do this. Tells you that he thinks it’ll be right for both of you because you’ve been growing apart, haven’t you? You’ve both been prioritizing other things like work and friends over each other. He’s going to take this chance and he hopes you’ll understand. 

Maybe you do actually remember it falling apart after all. 

But, it’s time to cast aside your walk down memory lane. Time to leave everything behind in the old year and get ready to ring in a new one. A feat you tried last year as well and seemingly didn’t succeed at. This is the year, though. New year, new me and all that. You take one last look at your outfit before rushing out the door. Your slightly eccentric (and totally loaded) neighbors are having a party up in the penthouse of your apartment building. And even though you normally hate anyone with that kind of money, they’re actually cool and incredibly kind. They go out of their way to understand their privilege and involve themselves directly in charity. You can’t even hate that they’re barely older than you and have it all. Plus, who are you to turn down a party like this for the new year. 

The party is in full swing when you get there. Soyoon always does an excellent job of setting up a party, too. She makes sure there’s an area for people to dance and for people who want things a little quieter. And she always stocks up on top shelf drinks with so many snacks you could make an entire meal out of it. It only takes her a second before she’s waving you over. You weave through the people to get to her, so focused on your friend that you don’t notice anything else. Though you should. 

“Hey! You finally made it!” she says and pulls you into a hug. 

“Worrying I wouldn’t show?” you joke back. 

“No,” she says, smiling her megawatt smile. She indicates to someone. “I wanted you to meet your new neighbor I mentioned, the artist…”

Something drops in your stomach when you register that she says artist and you slowly turn to see the person she’s indicating. Hoping against all hope that you don’t recognize them. Instead, you see the lean figure of someone you know well. Dressed all in black and still looking like one of the most fashionable in the room. The black also works well to offset his blond mullet. It’s not a color you’ve seen on him before, but you’d know him anywhere. 

Days since I last saw Minghao: 396 0

Fuck. 

“Minghao,” you say softly, immediately kicking yourself for the way it comes out. 

“Yeah, oh. I thought you hadn’t met yet,” Soyoon says with a slight frown of confusion. 

Minghao is quick to answer, casual as can be. “I hadn’t run into her yet but we knew each other once, years ago.”

“Oh, how fun! Shall I leave you two to catch up?” she asks. 

You say no just as Minghao says yes. Soyoon looks confused, but ends up leaving the two of you alone anyway. It’s the last thing you want and there’s nowhere to go. At this rate, you’re going to get a much different start to your year. 

When you wake up well into the first morning of the New Year, your brain feels a little fuzzy. Not hungover though, so you can thank past you for that. You cannot thank past you for anything else. Not when the night before comes rushing back to you and you remember. Remember kissing Minghao, not just at midnight. Remember admitting that you still think about him. Remember wondering if he was single. Don’t remember asking him why he’s back now and without a word to you. Not that he owes it to you. It’s been years, after all. You just can’t believe that the mysterious new resident two doors down from you is none other than the ex you can’t seem to forget. 

Thankfully New Year’s Day is really about recovering from the night before and getting ready to face the rest of the year. It also gives you time to figure out what you’re going to do about Minghao. You’re sure there’s something in there about second chances. About how people change as they grow. It’s not for you, though. The more time you spend thinking about the night before, the more you realize that things are better left alone. This isn’t some great sign to revisit a painful past. It’s a way of telling you that it’s okay to finally figure out a way to move forward in your life. 

You’re just going to ignore that the person you’re moving on from lives two doors down from you. Shouldn’t be a problem at all. 

As you’re considering what you want to do for food, the doorbell rings. You’re not expecting someone and your heart plunges a little. What if it’s Minghao stopping by to talk about the night before? You can’t exactly remember all of your conversation, so you’re not sure if there’s something else that you need to talk about. You’re not prepared for any of it. When you open the door, it’s not him. It’s just someone delivering from one of your favorite take-out places. 

“I didn’t order anything,” you say, confusion clear on your face. 

The delivery guy only shrugs and shows you his phone. It’s your name and address. “I just deliver the orders I get. The tip was nice, too.”

“Oh, well, thanks,” you say and accept the bag of food. 

You decide to eat it on your couch so that you can settle in and binge something truly awful on TV. As you ponder who could have sent it, you think about Soyoon and how she loves to do this kind of thing. Yes, that seems likely. You’ll have to send her your own little thank you and thank her in person the next time you see her. Sending a text wouldn’t do it because she always says that doesn’t feel as personal. Eccentric, but endlessly kind. She’s definitely the kind of person that would want to make sure her guests are taken care of after such a great party. All feels much more calm as you settle in and your mind stays firmly off Minghao. 

The whole idea of keeping your mind off Minghao works for a while. You see him around the building and he’s always perfectly polite, but never forces a conversation. Says hi in passing and smiles. That’s just kind of how he is. It’s not that he doesn’t have plenty to say, he just doesn’t chase after anyone for a chat. Doesn’t see the point in forcing something when both people aren’t interested. Honestly, it’s a bit disarming because as well as you knew him once, it’s not what you’re expecting. There are times when you even consider if you should strike up a conversation with him. At the very least, there are things left unsaid from New Year’s. Things you know that you should get out of the way. Especially when Soyoon asks for details on what’s going on and you’re not really sure how much to share. 

But, then life catches up with you, as it seems prone to do. Things pick up at work and you find that you’re back into your routine without a second thought. That’s always the thing about the new year. It starts and it’s kind of slim on holidays while you’re getting into it. It also seems unspoken that people just don’t take time off then. Not when so many take time off around the holidays. (Something you also did, taking off the two days after New Year’s so you wouldn’t have to go back for a short week. Best decision you’ve made in a long time.)

You blink and January fades into February. Your brain is somewhere else entirely when you rush into your favorite coffee shop by your office, running a little bit late because you’re heading in on the weekend. The shop is decorated for Valentine’s Day already, like it seems to be every year once the calendar hits February. Something in you fights rolling your eyes. It’s not that you hate the holiday, it’s just that you’re a little bitter for another one spent without a partner. As much as you may say it doesn’t matter, it feels like it would be nice to have someone. Even if all you did was stay in to have a nice meal or play a game or watch something on TV. Just a moment for the two of you in the midst of all the chaos. When the barista asks for your order, you shake away the thoughts and give it, pulling your phone out to tap and pay.

“Oh, it’s covered,” she says and your brow furrows. 

“What?” you ask.

“Someone already covered your order today,” she repeats.

“But how did…” you start to ask under your breath and trail off. 

“Did you need anything else?” she asks brightly. 

“No, I guess not,” you say and put away your phone.

As you head down to wait for your order, your brain whirs into action. Who is out here just somehow paying for your order? You cast your eyes around the shop and nobody looks familiar. Well, a few people do in that way that regulars stick out when you’re also a regular. Nobody seems to be paying attention to you, though, or giving you any indication that they paid for your order. It shows up on the counter before you can think any further about it. 

The rest of the week goes in a similar fashion. Your coffee order is taken care of any time you stop in and the barista only smiles when you ask her who’s doing it. The only answer she gives is that you’ll realize it if you think about it. Not entirely helpful. At work, you get a surprise lunch just as you’re on the verge of a breakdown over a project. Mingyu, one of your closest friends even outside of work, offers lunch as a break and you take it without question. After all, the two of you were friends before becoming coworkers so it’s not unexpected that he would realize you’re feeling burnt out. Another of your friends asks you to go with him to a show you’ve been wanting to see and won’t even let you pay him back for the ticket. There are other little things, too. Things that you wouldn’t normally notice, but it’s like everything is going your way. It makes you a little wary. Mostly, though, it just makes you grateful. It feels like such a good way to start the year.

It isn’t until the weekend that you finally put it all together. Saturday morning comes and you let yourself sleep in after being out a little later the night before to go to the show. There’s an unexpected knock at the door that gives you a little deja vu back to New Year’s Day. You yawn and stretch as you get out of bed and head to the door. This time, there’s no delivery person waiting for you. There’s just a basket, clearly put together very thoughtfully. You bring it inside and start to look through what’s in there. A calming tea. A bath bomb. Some chocolates. A candle. A book that you've never heard of and somehow know you’re going to love. It’s the perfect kit to have the best and most relaxing day. 

And that’s when it hits you. The coffee, the lunch, the show, all the little surprises. It’s all coming from one person. The one person who likes to let his actions speak louder than his words. The one person who clearly hasn’t just been letting you be since the party. This is Minghao all over. You’re a little surprised at how easily the realization clicks into place. Also a little surprised that it didn’t click sooner. Maybe you had forgotten more about him than you thought. Maybe he wasn’t the only person taking up residence in your mind anymore. 

There’s a lot to think about and you figure that you’ll use the time taking a bath to do just that. Well, you shower first to make sure you’re clean and because you didn’t do it after getting home the night before. But then, you’re ready to relax in the bath and just let your mind wander. Hope you’ll end up coming to a decision about what you want to do. There’s so much history. So many nights spent trying to figure out how things might have gone differently. Until it clicks. Minghao was right back then. You both needed that space. Needed the separation to go off and figure yourselves out. Needed to learn who you were as an adult before you could learn to make space for another person. When he left, it cleared a path for you to take chances you never would have otherwise. Maybe it did the same for him. 

That’s how you find yourself outside his door after the bath, the tea in hand because you know that it’s a brand he loves. Or, at least, he did once upon a time. He opens the door too quickly for you to second guess if this is a good idea. Or to wonder if he’s even home. His eyes seem to sparkle at the sight of you and at the tea in your hands.

“You got my care package,” he says, leaning against the doorframe. 

“And figured out who was behind all those wonderful things this past week,” you admit, causing his smile to slip into a more genuine one.

“About time,” he says under his breath.

“Can I come in for a cup of tea?” you ask and he regards you for a moment. That’s always been the hardest part about being around Minghao. He has a way of looking at you and peeling back all the layers. It’s like being naked in front of him. And you’re not as comfortable in front of him as you were once upon a time. It makes you shift on your feet and cast your eyes down.

He steps aside and you let out a sigh of relief at the movement. “Come on in.” 

Stepping inside his apartment almost feels like stepping back in time. Everything about the decoration feels familiar. There are a few things that you do recognize but mostly it’s just because it’s so inescapably him. Everything has a place and it looks like it could be featured in a magazine. But, it’s better than that. Better because it feels lived in, like a home even though it is straight from some aesthetic moodboard. You turn back to him when you recognize a figure that you gave him years ago. It makes your heart constrict that he kept it all this time.

“Did you want to share that tea with me?” he asks, noting the box in your hands.

“Oh,” you say, a little startled back into the present. You look down at your hands and then back to him. “Yeah. Well, if you still like it, that is.” 

“I do, yes,” he says and accepts the box from your hands. “You can go sit down and I’ll bring the tea out in a minute.” 

It’s so impossibly normal and also one of the most abnormal things in the world. The contradictions are making your head hurt, so you just do as Minghao suggests. Sit down on the couch in the living room and sigh. This is the most comfortable couch in the world. That’s another thing you remember about him. Everything fits his aesthetic and it’s never at the expense of comfort. None of that unusable furniture for him. Without even thinking about it, you pick an art magazine off the table. It’s the only thing that seems out of place and there’s a sticky note attached to it with an advanced copy for you to look over scrawled on it. That’s when the cover catches your eye, previously covered in part by the note. Minghao looks back at you, surrounded by some of his artwork. It seems like it’s a profile on him. He must be doing even better than you realized. 

“I hated posing for that,” he says softly as he appears with two cups of tea. 

You start a little in surprise at hearing his voice and drop the magazine back on the table. “I didn’t mean to…”

“There’s no need to be scared,” he says with a low chuckle as you accept the cup. “You can read it if you’d like.” 

“It seems like things are going well for you,” you comment, looking back at the magazine.

“Professionally, sure. Although I’m finding creating a little more difficult lately,” he says and you look at him. 

“Why’s that?” you ask and then shake your head.

“What?” he asks.

“We’re just…talking like no time has passed,” you say.

“I guess I thought that after that party and sending you the food the next day like we…” he starts.

“That was from you?” you ask, clearly surprised.

“Would…what?” he asks, shifting mid thought. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you sure?” you ask with a laugh.

“No, I’m sure. I just thought…well, we talked about it that night,” he says.

“I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I don’t remember exactly what we said that night,” you say and look down.

“Ah,” he says. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“Well, I figured we’d talk about everything when there weren’t people around and we could have time to ourselves. Then, I sent the food and just never heard from you,” he says. 

“You could have said something,” you tell him.

“I’m not always very good at that, the saying something part,” he says.

“You’re great at taking care of things I need, though. Everything the past week or so has been so thoughtful,” you say. 

“I know I should have talked to you. I just didn’t know how to start the conversation,” he admits. 

“It’s been a long time,” you say. 

Just as an awkward silence is about to fall over you, Minghao turns to face you. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything.” 

“Before we go down a path of talking about everything that happened back then and about how much I miss you now, do you think it’s worth it?”

You consider that for a long moment and miss the way Minghao seems to hold his breath. Miss the way he searches your face for a sign of the answer before you give it. Don’t realize how many ways your face has changed in the years since he really knew you. When you meet his eyes, you finally see that he looks unsure. All you can do at first is nod. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You take a deep breath. Ready yourself to jump in with both feet. “I think it’s at least worth having a conversation, yeah.” 

And so that’s what you do. You sit down and talk about all the things you wish you had said back when he left. All the things you could have done differently. All the ways you’ve changed since then. It feels good to say all the things that you’ve kept to yourself over the years. There’s something very open and honest about the way you talk. Somehow even more honest than back when you were in a relationship. Maybe because there’s no fear about the other person’s reaction or feelings. Or maybe it’s just because you’re much more mature now than you were back then. You’re not really sure. Not really sure it matters either. 

This is probably the most you’ve ever heard Minghao say at once. He even admits it’s because he knows that he’s going to have to do things that make him a little uncomfortable if he wants you to consider trying again. He’s also very understanding as he listens to everything. Not defensive when you point out how things could have gone differently. And you know you can’t be defensive when he points out the things you could have done, either. After all this time, you finally realize that it was very much both of you responsible for the way the relationship ended. Yes, Minghao’s the one that accepted a position that would take him far away from you. He’s the one that suggested that maybe the relationship needed to end. But, you also had your role in all of it. You also have to acknowledge that you got distant. Prioritizing other things in your life over him. No longer able to communicate as effectively as you had earlier in the relationship. Both of you had been growing at different rates and in different directions. 

Now, years later, you can realize that it’s something both of you needed. You had to separate to grow in ways you couldn’t do together. Had to be alone to learn the hard lessons, the scary things. To understand what you need and what you want and when to compromise. You’re no longer wearing the rose colored glasses of your early 20s. 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“What do you want?” you ask and he sighs a little. “I know, I can’t make you be the only one to talk.”

“I want to know if you still have any space for me in your life and…” he says, but trails off.

“In my heart?” you guess.

“Yeah,” he admits softly.

It’s another crossroads. One of those moments you’ll look back on. You know that you need to be a little brave. “I never really got over you. Not fully.”

Minghao’s face brightens at that and he meets your eye with your favorite smile. The soft one that you always felt like belonged only to you. “Me either. I’ve lived all over the world since we broke up and I still get my best inspiration from you.”

That one sentence pushes all the air out of your lungs. Has you entirely speechless. You hold out your hand and he intertwines his fingers through yours without a word. “So we try?” 

“We try,” he agrees. 

Trying is both intimidating and the most comforting thing in the world at the same time. A weird duality just like the man you fell in love with all those years ago. Going on a date with someone that you dated for years and then broke up with years ago is like starting well into the relationship. There are all sorts of things that you already know about each other. Yet, there are also things you can’t assume. Things you may have known once may not be true anymore. Or it’s possible that you remember something that wasn’t true at all, even then. 

So, you start with the most obvious date night activity: dinner. It gives you something to do without being too distracting from a conversation. Minghao surprises you a bit, too. He’s somehow more thoughtful and more open all at once. He still doesn’t always know how to say what he wants to all the time, but he’s trying harder to get his thoughts out. You’re also trying much harder to meet him where he is rather than expecting something that just isn’t who he is. Another byproduct of how much the two of you have grown in your time apart. You can appreciate how well the two of you fit together now. Can appreciate how your individual strengths complement each other. 

After dinner, Minghao starts to suggest going back to the apartment building. You have another suggestion, though. There’s this Art After Dark event that the local art museum runs on the second Saturday of every month that you’ve wanted to check out. Life has been too busy until now. And you also can admit that some part of going felt a little difficult. What if you saw something that Minghao created? Or something that reminded you of him? Or what if there was just a piece of art that you couldn’t understand? You’ve always appreciated the beauty in creation, but some things just went over your head. 

The suggestion makes Minghao’s face light up. He’s heard of the event and somehow hasn’t been since moving back. Not that he’s been back all that long. Still, it’s nice to know that you’ll be able to experience something that’s meaningful to him for the first time. 

The drive over is quiet, mostly only filled with the sounds of the playlist Minghao picked. It’s not uncomfortable, though, far from it. You’re thinking of how easy it is being in his presence again, especially given how long you spent thinking you needed to avoid him. In the passenger seat, Minghao scrolls what looks like the website for the museum. Probably seeing what installations are there currently on display. Or what special events they have for the evening. Either way, you’re happy to let him prepare before getting there. It’ll only help you on top of it because he’ll be able to walk you through everything. (If you think about how pretty his profile looks in the low light, then that’s your business.)

Once you get there, you insist on covering the admission because Minghao paid for dinner without giving you the chance to even offer. It’s nowhere near even, but it’s the least you can do for now. They also check your IDs on the way in because there’s an open bar, apparently. You each grab a drink off of the tray going around and then head into the first room. Live music drifts softly through from somewhere you can’t see. It adds something nice. Something that makes the whole setting somehow more intimate when combined with it being less busy than during normal hours. Minghao doesn’t wait for you to ask him to lead the way, he just knows. You follow close to him, not quite brushing your arm against him. 

This has always been one of your favorite things about Minghao. Watching him at a museum or an art gallery is just special. He walks through and talks about the different artists, the influences, and the history. He can tell you about different periods of an artist’s life and why they might have created the way that they did. There is so much living in his brain that it puts the plaques with each piece of art to shame. Occasionally, you notice someone standing in the area stop and listen to the way he speaks about a piece. It’s endearing to watch him when he’s passionate. Somehow softer and less guarded. Some people might find it sexy, and you do as well. It’s just that you find him cute first. There’s nothing about him that sounds like he’s bragging or talking down about his knowledge. Minghao has always believed that art should be accessible to everyone. That it’s a gift for all people to enjoy. When he speaks about it, that comes across. It’s something familiar, something you’re glad is the same. 

Minghao always wants to know the pieces you’re most drawn to. He wants to let you walk into some of the rooms first so he can watch you experience the art for the first time. Wants to know if you’re drawn to the pieces that he expects. You are, mostly. Usually, you wouldn’t want this much attention on you, especially in a place that isn’t your normal comfort zone. But, Minghao makes you feel at ease. At least, until he starts talking about which pieces of art remind him of you and why. It makes you turn away a little to hide the way your cheeks flush. It just feels so intimate. Feels like he’s baring his soul. Feels like too much for someone who’s been a stranger to you for years. Although, can you really say he’s a stranger? Yes, things change. People grow. You and him have certainly both grown. Maybe you’ve grown into the people you both imagined you’d be back when you figured you had the rest of forever together. 

It’s not until the last room of the museum that you realize Minghao picked the path deliberately. He motions for you to go ahead of him and you assume it’s just so he can see your reactions to the art, like he has in other rooms. And it is, in a way. Just not for the same reason as any other room. Your attention immediately falls on a piece you recognize immediately. Not because you’ve seen it before. It’s because it’s you. Or, you should say that you know it’s meant to be you. It’s that same style of abstract art that you know belongs to Minghao. The same style that feels as familiar as if it was a polaroid of you. That’s not why it takes your breath away. It’s the fact that he must have painted it after you broke up because you haven’t ever seen it before. And here it is, hanging as part of a long term installment in the museum less than 20 minutes from your apartment 

“You knew this was here,” you say. 

“I had to double check,” he says softly as he follows you. Your feet bring you right to the piece without any other thought. 

Minghao uses art as an expression. Says it’s easier for him to convey the hard things that way, like so many artists seem to. Says he’s not good with words, could never be the kind of creative that writes poems or novels with long scenes expressing intense emotions. It’s so clear looking at his art that he doesn’t need to. So clear that his work is the reason people say a picture is worth a thousand words. You think you could have ten thousand words and still need more with this piece. And most of his pieces, honestly. You yearn to reach out and run your fingers along the canvas, to trace the lines that he uses. Instead, you take in each color and each stroke. It causes conversations from when you were both younger to come flooding back. You remember lying in bed and listening to him talk about his process. About when he brought something to the foreground versus leaving it in the back. About the choice to use a vibrant palette or something more muted and neutral. About how he could play with the different colors to express each emotion. In saying all of that, you remember hearing what he couldn’t say. It’s funny, in hindsight, to think about how Minghao always said he struggled with emotions. He just says what he needs to in a different way.

His feelings are crystal clear to you in this piece. The representation of you is front and center. The first thing your eye lands on when you look at it. Everything else is in the background. Like he’s saying that you’re the center of the universe in this piece. The colors tell you just as much. They’re rich with his affection. With tenderness and forgiveness. With yearning. Like a hand reaching out to pull you in. You even think he might have put a version of himself in the background, muted to throw you into sharper relief. It’s beautiful and passionate and incredibly raw. You may need to know him to see the last bit. It’s only then that you see the date on the piece. Just over a year ago, probably after you had seen him the last time before he popped up at the party in your building. 

Finally, you turn to him and find his eyes on you. Studying you, looking for answers before you give them again. And you see the nerves there. He’s grown so much, but he knows you have too. Doesn’t presume to know everything about you anymore. Your mouth curves into the most genuine smile. “It’s amazing, Hao. I don’t even know what to say.” 

“You like it?” he asks, a little less sure of himself than you’re used to. 

“I love it,” you assure him and turn back to it. “It might be one of the most expressive pieces of yours I’ve ever seen.” 

“I know I shouldn’t have been drawing inspiration from you, but I couldn’t stop myself after I saw you that time a year ago,” he says, confirming what you thought. “I was halfway through the painting before I realized it.” 

“No matter what, I will always be honored to inspire you.” 

“That’s a relief.” 

“You know, you’re much better at expressing your feelings than you think,” you tell him, looking over to see his reaction. His face is soft. 

“Only if you remember how to read it,” he says. 

“It’s all coming back to me,” you say and delight in the way he smiles. 

Minghao is a study in contrasts. He’s every bit of what you think about when thinking of an artist. Introverted, intelligent in a way not everyone can appreciate, thoughtful, sometimes a little intimidating to approach. If you don’t know him, he could seem cold or detached. When you do know him, though, he’s anything but cold. Certainly not intimidating. Although he can be guarded, he’s an open book to the people closest to him. He’s incredibly soft and caring. Willing to let all his defenses fall away for the right person. 

He takes hold of your hand, even though he’s not always one to seek out physical touch in that way. Not in public. “I want to give this another try. We’ve both grown a lot over the past years. You don’t have to make a decision now. All I want to know now is if you’ll be my Valentine.”

The way he says it doesn’t really sound like a question. It’s also infinitely more direct than you’re used to. You can’t help the teasing look. “That’s so corny.” 

The smile you get in response is worth it. Minghao only shrugs. “Sometimes, it’s worth it.”

“Yes, Hao, I would love to be your Valentine,” you say, fighting a bit of the urge to say that you’ll just be his again. 

Even though you know that rushing back into something is the last thing you need to do, you’re still excited. Feel lighter than you have in ages. It’s kind of like autopilot for the rest of the time you spend at the museum. And if it’s the best date you’ve been on in years, well that’s your business. It’s also your business if you get back to your apartment that night and think about all the things that happened that day.

Sunday dawns and the first thought in your mind is Minghao. Not exactly surprising after spending a whole day with him instead of continuing to avoid him. Yet, it’s not quite what you’re expecting, either. After years of protecting your heart, it shouldn’t be this easy to open up to him again. That thought does make you pause, just for a second. Then, you think about all the things you managed to cover just in one day together. There’s still plenty to talk about, but you can’t deny the obvious. You’re both so willing to be open and vulnerable. Willing to accept your faults to make sure things are different if you give it another shot. There’s definitely something to be said that he’s the first thing on your mind when you wake up. (And the last thing you thought about before falling asleep.)

It’s time to do things differently. Time to not overthink everything. You’re older and wiser now. Feel like you can trust your gut and the vibes now with more life experience. Instead of giving yourself time to second guess, you send a text to Minghao to ask if he wants to come over. It’s one of those catch up days. You need to grocery shop and run some errands, do some laundry, and do a little cleaning. Minghao loves quality time, something still true now. It’s nothing exciting, though, and you give him plenty of space to say no without it being an issue. All he asks is what time he should come over and if he should eat breakfast first. 

Which is exactly how he ends up at your apartment barely 20 minutes later.

Plenty changes and just as much stays the same. Minghao can cook, he never starves. It’s just not his favorite thing to do if left to his own devices. You offer to make him breakfast if he’s going to keep you company during a bunch of errands. While you cook, he keeps himself busy making tea for himself and coffee for you. Doesn’t have to ask how you like it since he covered your coffees for the past week at the shop by your work. Since Minghao likes acts of service just as much as quality time, he empties your dishwasher while you’re finishing up breakfast and tidies up around the kitchen behind you. There’s so much comfort in falling into patterns like that, even though it feels entirely different than before. 

Breakfast passes quickly and Minghao helps motivate you out the door. Points out the sooner you get things out of the way, the sooner you can come back and relax. You’re not shy in telling him that he makes an excellent point. The praise falls easily from your lips and you delight in the way it causes him to smile shyly. Some things really never change and you’ll never tire of pulling that out of him. 

Several hours later, you’re done with all your errands (in record time, no less, even though you took care of getting things for him as well). Back at your apartment, Minghao unloads your groceries for you along with the light lunch he insisted that you pick up. It should be scary to see him making himself at home in your life again. It’s not, though. It just fills you with an endless amount of warmth. You can’t help the way your heart flutters at him setting your food out on the table and calling for you to come join him before it’s back to checking things off your little list for the day. He just seems so comfortable helping you and sharing in your space. Content to let you set the pace and clearly pleased you texted to invite him over. 

After lunch, Minghao shoos you off to get your laundry started while he tidies up in the kitchen and living area. He’s not a clean freak by any stretch. Although he does like for everything to be in its place. You know he’s only doing it now to help you because he doesn’t mind. The warmth is going to be too much at this rate. You let yourself have hearts in your eyes over him for a second before disappearing into your bedroom to gather your laundry. 

Once you have your clothes in the washing machine, Minghao says he needs to get something from his apartment and returns with his sketch pad. He’s got a few ideas that he wants to plan out and hopes it’s fine to do with in your living room. You agree as long as he doesn’t mind you rotting away with your TV obsession of the moment. It’s in those quiet moments that you get the most answers. The comfort of being in a space with him, not saying much and yet knowing you could. Sometimes you feel like you have to fill a silence to avoid any awkward pauses. There’s this sense of anxiety about what the other person is thinking, even if you know it’s probably not about you. It’s not the case with him. Which tells you all you really need to know, doesn’t it? No matter how hard you’ve tried over the years to find someone else, to date and have it something more, it’s never been like this with anyone but him. 

You’re scared of what comes next. Scared of being hurt. Yet, this feels like one of those chances you just have to take.

The next week goes something like the weekend. You spend a lot of your free time with Minghao. Sharing all the things that have happened over the years. It’s easy to talk about shared friends or new ones. Not quite as easy to talk about all the work updates, though it feels just as important. The two of you stay up late having hard conversations in the quiet hours of the night. Talking about everything that’s different. Neither of you even shy away from past relationships. It doesn’t even feel that difficult. You both had lives since you broke up and those lives shaped you into these people now. Twice, he even shows up for lunch to get you out of the building for a break. The looks from your coworkers are both knowing and happy. Everything feels like it’s going toward the obvious conclusion. 

Somewhere in between all the time spent with Minghao, you also carve out time for dinner with your best friend. Need to carve out the time, you think, to get her opinion. She’s been with you since just before the relationship ended. Even though you know that you can make decisions for yourself, it feels important to get an outside perspective. The last thing you want is to rush back into something and end up in the same place as the first time. If nothing else, you know she’ll ask you the difficult questions to make you think. Make you answer if you’ve really thought out what a second chance for the two of you looks like. If you’re doing this because you want this now, in 2025, for if you’re just holding onto a past that felt comfortable. It can be easy to just stay in a bubble without considering what that looks like when the bubble breaks. When you have to go exist together in public or with friends, not just in your own little world.

She does all those things and is adamant: this isn’t like before. Tells you that you don’t need her to tell you what you already know. Instead of justifying everything that happened years ago, you acknowledge. You don’t make excuses because there aren’t any to make. Sometimes things don’t work. You and Minghao are different people now than you were years ago. Somehow, against all odds, you’ve grown into different people that have even better compatibility than you did when you were younger. As cliche as it is, he seems like your right person at the wrong time and the universe is telling you to hit the replay button now. It’s all the confirmation you need. You’re going to dive in and feel confident he’ll be there to catch you. 

By the time Valentine’s Day comes around, you’re both completely at peace and nervous for the date itself. It’s been the theme of the last week. Another set of contrasts that somehow work. You trust Minghao, more than you expect. But, you haven’t had a date for Valentine’s since just after you and him broke up. And it was a disaster. So, you’re trying not to set your hopes to an unrealistic level. 

But, he quickly proves that you don’t have anything to worry about. Before work, he shows up with flowers, coffee, and a pastry from a shop nearby. It’s really difficult not to just call out from work and spend the day with him. Admitting that makes him laugh and press a gentle kiss to your temple. It’s so sweet that you want to melt. Sadly, you have to go to work and he’s got two different meetings that he can’t miss, one with a museum curator and another with a prospective client. So, he’ll see you after work as planned. 

Work seems to drag and more than once, you consider leaving early. Probably would too if Minghao hadn’t been adamant that you couldn’t come by his place until after work. It makes you pout a little, which, in turn, makes Mingyu laugh at you when he stops by your desk. He’s just happy he doesn’t have to avoid bringing up Minghao anymore since they’ve been in touch the whole time. You’re so happy looking forward to the date that you can’t even get mad at your friend. Besides, it can’t have been an easy spot to be in all this time. 

Minghao takes your breath away when you actually show up after work. 

After quickly changing out of work clothes, you’re on his doorstep, waiting for him to answer. The second you step inside, you see why he had you wait. He’s decorated the entire space in a way he knows you’ll love. All your favorite colors and little things that are cheesy, but also adorable. There are also several paintings, both old and newer, that you know you inspired displayed around the living area. It feels like the perfect space to celebrate with him. All you can do is wrap your arms around him. He’s quick to pull you tight against him. There’s so much emotion. 

“The food is already on the way,” he says when you pull away from him. “Thank you for paying, even though you didn’t need to.” 

“You’ve been paying for everything. It’s my turn,” you say and smile, looking around his apartment. “And thank you for this. I know it’s not usually your style.”

“You like it. That’s all that matters,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

“Can I say something that’s maybe too honest?” you ask.

Minghao’s gaze on you is soft. “To me? Always.”

“I do like it, but I think I would like anything because I just like you. A lot more than I realized,” you say and watch him. Every part of you wants to look away. You already feel naked with his gaze on you when you’re not confessing to your feelings. 

Minghao reaches for your hand to pull you into him again. Lets the silence settle around you for a moment. He speaks without releasing you. “That’s good because I’m very much in love with you. So I’m glad you like me so much.”

That makes you pull away, eyes wide. “You’re in love with me? You’re sure?” 

“Does that scare you?” he asks, studying your face the same way he studies his favorite artwork.

The answer is on the tip of your tongue before you even realize it. “No.” 

“You don’t have to know yet. You don’t have to love me back at all if it’s not right for you. But, I’m sure. It’s always been you for me and it’s always going to be you for me. I’m not going to waste a second chance by not telling you how I feel.” 

It’s overwhelming in so many ways. The Minghao you loved years ago couldn’t express himself this easily. It was you that had to be good at using your words and interpreting him through actions. At the time, you thought it was fine. Now, seeing him be strong for both of you, you realize that sometimes it’s nice to hear exactly what he’s thinking. It’s nice to just know without having to read his actions. It’s also his way of showing you that things are different. That he’s going to be the partner you need and he’s going to make sure both of you are the best versions of yourself. Somehow that simple statement, along with everything he’s done the past week, are the final piece. You know this is going to be a partnership and you know you’re in it. Whatever happens, happens. 

Dinner passes quickly and the food is great, like you know it will be. It’s also nice not to have to cook or clean anything up. Even nicer to have the space to enjoy each other’s company without going out to dinner like every other couple for the holiday. And Minghao clearly enjoyed setting his table just right for the two of you. After dinner, you suggest watching something. Minghao lets you pick and the two of you settle onto his couch. Without overthinking it, you adjust to put your legs over his lap. He lets you get comfortable before putting his own hands back down and absently tracing patterns into the fabric of your pants. For a fleeting moment, you imagine him using your body as a canvas. Shaking your head to clear the thought, you focus back on the TV.

After a while, you start to feel a little uncomfortable. Not with your legs in Minghao’s laps. That’s providing a lot of comfort. You’re stretching out your neck and rolling your shoulders without realizing it. It’s been a long week at work with too much time hunched over a computer. 

“Do you want a massage?” Minghao asks, interrupting the show. You look over at him with raised eyebrows. “You keep rubbing your neck and rolling your shoulders.”

“Of course you noticed,” you say with a chuckle. 

“Maybe a massage would help,” he offers again. 

You bite your lip in consideration. You haven’t so much as kissed Minghao since you started to spend time together again (since you’re ignoring any drunk kiss that happened at Soyoon’s party for New Year’s Eve). It’s only been a kiss to the cheek here or a temple kiss there. This is definitely more than that. You want to go slow, but you also miss the way he feels. You remember the massages after long nights of studying. 

“Yeah, that sounds great,” you say. 

The warmth in his eyes when you agree is familiar. Older and wiser, sure, but still familiar. He gets up off the couch and reaches a hand to you. “Come on, let’s go into the bedroom so it’s more comfortable.”

You place your hand into his and follow him. It’s the first time you’ve seen his bedroom and it’s so simple. A few pieces of his art sit in the corner. For the most part, you can tell he only uses the space to sleep.

“I’m going to get some lotion. You can get settled,” he says and places a soft kiss on your temple. 

Once he disappears, you make a decision. You remove your shirt and bra so that your back is bare when you lay down on his bed. You settle on the bed with your head up by the pillow so that you can collect part of his sheet around your chest. It’s a little awkward, being half-naked and wondering how to position yourself. It only takes Minghao a few moments before he’s coming back through the bedroom door. His breath catches when he sees you. 

“I hope this is okay,” you say, carefully turning to look at him. “My shoulders and neck are so tense that I wanted you to be able to reach them easily.”

He gathers himself quickly and crosses over to his bed. Sits down next to your hip and runs a hand gently across your back. Like he’s testing if you’re actually there. “As long as you’re comfortable, then I’m happy.” 

“I am, yeah,” you say softly. 

“Okay, then let me take care of you,” he says, just as soft.

Without another word, he moves to straddle your body, using his knees on either side of you to hold the majority of his weight. Gently, he brushes your hair off your neck and over to the side. It’s enough to make you sigh and close your eyes. You hear him open the lotion to put some into his hands. Always so thoughtful, he warms it before putting his hands on your back. He starts just below your shoulders and works his way up, feeling for knots and increasing the pressure as needed. Barely a minute passes and you already feel like you could melt into his mattress. It’s definitely not just the release of tension that has you so comfortable that you could drift into sleep. No, it’s the person with his hands on you. It’s the care he shows with each movement. 

Before long, you really are drifting in between the land of being fully awake and asleep. It’s not that you could fall asleep on him. You still feel each movement. You’re just incredibly relaxed. Each of your muscles melt under the gentle touch of his nimble fingers. Even when he digs into a knot, it still feels relaxing. Professionals should be thankful that he took up art instead because he could put them all to shame. Though, admittedly, you’re biased. And you haven’t ever found the thought of a stranger massaging you to be that relaxing. There’s always the initial awkwardness before settling in. None of that happens with the person you know you trust more than yourself. 

He bends down to your ear and his breath alerts you before he says anything. “Going to fall asleep on me, sweetheart?”

His tone is light, almost teasing. It’s also confident, but not in the cocky way. He’s proud of the way he can relax you so easily. Your brain is a little foggy and maybe that’s also a good thing. You turn towards his voice and wind your arm up so that you can place a hand on the back of his head. His eyes aren’t just filled with warmth when they meet yours anymore. There’s desire there now, too, the same desire building within you. You pull him towards you and kiss him. Slow, almost lazy, at first. It quickly deepens into something more. 

It’s an awkward position, though. Minghao moves off of your back and you take the chance to also reposition, turning over and sitting up. There’s no awkwardness anymore and you don’t bother pulling the sheet with you when you face him. He takes a second to drink you in. Swallows hard as his eyes travel over your chest. In the next moment, he pulls you toward him so that he can kiss you again. You position your legs on either side of his hips to allow you to press tight against him. His kiss is urgent, tongue tangling with your own as the two of you meld into one. You wind one of your hands into his hair, only playing with the ends of it at first, wrapping pieces around your fingers. 

Minghao pulls back like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Both of your chests rise and fall quickly to catch your breath. “Are you sure?”

“That I want this?” you clarify.

“That you want this with me,” he says, still a little breathless. 

“Yes,” you say. 

“Are you really sure?” he asks again. He’s checking for consent and also giving you an out.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” you confirm. 

You think that he’s leaning back in so that he can kiss you again. Until he uses a hand to tilt your head to one side and kisses along your jaw. He carries his kisses down your neck and across your collarbone. Like he’s mapping every inch of your body. Committing it to memory or maybe making up for the lost years. When you were younger, you found it difficult to accept this kind of attention. Always worrying there was some kind of imbalance. Now, all you can do is moan out your appreciation for the way Minghao worships every inch of your skin. You’re not in a rush and he’s clearly not either. You run your hands through his hair, allowing your nails to scrape lightly against his scalp and shudder at the way he moans into your skin. Do it again just to feel the way his lips vibrate. 

His hands find their way to your hips and he grips hard. Anchoring you in place and also checking to make sure it’s all real. That it’s all happening. That none of this is another one of his dreams. Every time you run your nails along his scalp, it’s a reminder that it is happening. That the two of you really have found your way back to something. In that moment, he knows that he’ll risk his heart to not spend the rest of his life wondering what could have happened. Be vulnerable now and hope it’ll work out. 

Spurred on by the soft sounds falling from your lips, Minghao moves from your collarbones down to the hollow between your breasts. You arch into his mouth and dig into his scalp, just for a second. It’s the only thing he needs to feel. Quickly, he moves his mouth over to your nipple, taking it into his mouth. Swirling around it and nipping it lightly. He moves one of his hands from your hip to take the other nipple between his fingers. Can’t have either feeling left out. It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, like you’re some kind of horny teenager. His fingers are so nimble, so intentional in the way they tease you that you can’t help it. He swaps his mouth to your other nipple, replacing his fingers. You’re not sure what you want more.

This time, you pull back. Still kind of breathing shallowly even though you hadn’t been kissing him. His eyes are wide, pupils blown, and a little concerned. You’re quick to reassure him, hands moving to the hem of his shirt. “Can I? I don’t want to be the only half naked one anymore?”

“Of course,” he says with a smile. 

You pull the shirt up and over his head, thankful that he’s not overdressed to make it more complicated. For a second, the sight of him renders you speechless. Gently, you run your finger along his chest and down the muscles of his stomach that weren’t there when you dated him last time. The way he shudders under your touch only spurs you on. There’s a scar along his side that you don’t remember. It’s smooth to the touch, just slightly raised.

“Beautiful,” you whisper confidently. 

He can’t stand it anymore. He takes your face in his hands and pulls you into him. Kisses you again, slowly but with so much intensity that it makes your heart skip several beats. You still fit in with him like you were made for each other. He uses the kiss to shift both of your bodies and disentangle your legs. Dips you backwards until your head hits the pillow without his lips leaving yours. Once you’re lying back, though, he breaks the kiss again. Resumes kissing down your body. Makes sure to kiss away any insecurities in the process. Whispers praise into your skin that feel like a salve. This is Minghao, your Minghao. You’re safe with him. Loved. Cherished. Supported. It’s overwhelming to feel all of that come rushing back after years spent apart looking for it in someone else. Of course it’s always been him. 

Normally you’re somewhat ticklish, and you do have to fight a little nervous laugh as he kisses down your stomach, especially when his face is so close that you can feel his eyelashes against your skin. But, there really isn’t anything funny about this. Not when Minghao looks up at you while kissing your body. Seems to be mapping your reactions just as much as your skin. He pauses with his hands on your pants, silently asking for permission. Checking in to make sure that you’re still okay with this. You nod and he kisses your stomach again before unbuttoning your pants. Pulls your pants and underwear down in one fluid motion. He takes a moment to appreciate you, laid out before him. Any remaining nerves disappear. You’ve never seen someone look at you with that much love in your life. It’s overwhelming in the best way. Until Minghao resumes kissing down your body and it’s a different kind of overwhelming. His breath ghosts across your core as he places slow, open mouthed kisses along your thighs. 

Nothing has really happened, but by the time he settles between your legs, you’re already worked up. Wound so tightly that you think he could have you coming with just a touch. You consider if that would be too fast for half a second before catching sight of Minghao. He looks up at you, hair falling into his eyes, and you don’t care what happens. Don’t care how fast anything happens because it’s him. Can hardly believe that this beautiful person wants to put your needs before his own. His eyes narrow like a siren, full of focus and desire, and it takes your breath away.

“I don’t want you to hold back,” he says. “I’ve been waiting years to taste you again.”

“You wha - fuck,” you hiss out. 

He effectively short circuits your brain with one move. He doesn’t bother teasing you, just goes straight to licking into your wet cunt. Uses two fingers to spread your lips open so that he has better access. There’s no concern for building up to something. He wants to taste you and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. When his nose hits your clit, it makes you groan out and snap your thighs around his face. His groan in response vibrates through your pussy. Makes him use his thumb to rub circles on your clit without slowing his speed licking into you. It’s entirely too overwhelming in the best way. In just moments, Minghao has you writhing underneath him, gripping onto anything within your reach. His hair. The sheets. The pillow. Anything. The tension builds entirely too fast and you’re not really ready for it to be over. Not ready to have it end. 

You’re not sure if he has the same thought or not, but Minghao pulls back to look at you. The moan at the sight of your wetness all over his lips and chin is immediate. Somehow it makes him even sexier and you can’t take your eyes off him. Can’t look away as he wipes the back of his hand over his mouth. With careful movements, he pulls himself up your body and lies next to you on his side to face you. Winds an arm under your neck. Places two of his fingers against your mouth and you suck them in without a thought. Swirl your tongue around his slender fingers with your eyes locked on his. Smile at the way it seems to be affecting him. With what looks like regret on his face, he pulls his fingers from your mouth and moves his hand down between your legs. Runs his middle finger up your still wet folds before inserting it. 

“Minghao, fuck, you can’t just…” you start, only to have your words cut off. 

You’re kissing again and it’s the most heated yet. The taste of you lingers on his lips. Seems to mark him as yours. You realize that maybe he’s not teasing you because he meant what he said. He’s been waiting too long for this to go slow with you. There’s plenty of time to slow down later. This is what both of you need now. He slides another finger into your pussy and pumps even faster. Doesn’t let you pull away from the kiss, catching every sound you make and adding his own sounds. The tension builds, even faster than before. In no time at all, you’re coming all over his fingers. Gasping for breath as you break the kiss and he gently pumps into you to guide you through the orgasm. 

When you can catch your breath, you look over at Minghao. Appreciate the way he just watches you. He gently brushes a piece of hair out of your face and then leans in for a soft kiss. You’re not letting him get away with that, though. Not now. Not when he just had you coming harder than you can remember in a long time. You knock the kiss up in intensity and he lets you lead. Lets you set the pace and meets every kiss with the exact right amount of pressure. Your hands are everywhere on him while you kiss, exploring all the lines and the muscles that feel a little foreign. The only obvious sign of the passage of time.

He pulls back just long enough so that he can pull his pants and briefs off. Doesn’t even look where he tosses them in the room. All he can think of is connecting his lips with yours again. About making up for all the years in between, even if you both know that you needed that time apart to find your way back. You wind your hand down between your bodies and grip his dick in your hand. Slowly run your thumb over the tip and find there’s already precum there. It fills you with so much satisfaction to know that he’s as turned on as you are. It’s a little diary, but you spit quickly in your hand. You run your hand up and down his cock a few times, twisting your fist around him. Checking to see what kind of pressure and speed he likes. 

“I just want…fuck, sweetheart,” he groans out as you run your thumb across his tip again.

“What do you want, Hao?” you ask, making your eyes as big and innocent as possible.

“I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me,” he says and your breath catches. “I don’t want to cum from a handjob like some teenager.”

“Fuck,” you say with a nod. “Yes, please, yes.”

He rolls away from you for a second to reach for his nightstand and returns with a condom and some lube. Rips the condom open with his teeth and then rolls it onto his cock. You’re about to ask him how he wants you when he pulls back and spreads your legs open. He looks at you as he lines himself up at your entrance. For a moment, he just looks at you. Then, he pours some of the lube onto the condom. Makes sure this is going to feel good for you.

“I want to watch you fall apart,” he says, voice thick with desire.

“Please,” you say softly. “I need to feel you, Hao.” 

Minghao lines himself up and presses his tip against your entrance. You’re a little sensitive from his tongue and his fingers. Still wet from that and from the intensity of the kisses afterwards. You wrap your legs around his waist as he angles into you. He leans forward, arms on either side of you so that you’re caged in. He’s sliding in so slowly, so carefully. It’s the first time he’s even come close to teasing you. Or maybe it’s just so that he can draw it out. Either way, you want him buried inside you. Can’t stop from wrapping your legs tighter around him. It’s hard to have him looking at you with so much intensity. So much eye contact. You catch the chuckle at your impatience with your lips. 

It works, though. He bottoms out with one final thrust and you would scream it if not for his lips on yours. You let him set the pace even though it’s just slower than you want. The sensitivity just makes everything feel more intense. Each time either of you breaks the kiss to catch a breath, your eyes are on each other. Uttering praise and promises into the space between the two of you. More Minghao than you, which is incredible. A steady stream of both coherent and incoherent thoughts. Somehow it all makes sense to both of you. All seems like it’s exactly right. And true to his word, when the tension builds in your body again, Minghao breaks the kiss entirely. Watches the way your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open. Appreciates every sound you make. Later he’ll tell you that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than you in that moment. For now, all he can do is watch and pick up his own pace. He wants to follow right behind you.

There’s less build up this time when you fall over the edge, toes curling and back arching. It’s even more intense too, something you didn’t think was possible. Hazily, you feel Minghao’s thrusts falter in their speed as he comes hard just after you. You try to take over the rhythm, but your body feels spent. After his final thrust, he offsets his weight so he’s not lying fully on top of you without pulling out either. Your breathing syncs up with his as you come back to the bedroom and the reality of what just happened. 

You can’t help yourself. His hair is a little wet with sweat and you reach out to brush it away. Think about how this may be your favorite hairstyle he’s ever had. He catches your hand before you even realize his eyes are on you and he kisses your palm. It makes you smile at the care in his eyes. When he releases your hand he props himself up to slowly ease out of you. You figure that you should get up as well before he presses your shoulder gently down.

“I’ve got you,” he says. 

And he does, doesn’t he? He’s shown you with his actions and even followed it up with his words. He does have you and you think he’ll probably always be there. You hear the water running from the attached bathroom and then watch him return with a wet washcloth. The bright light behind him highlights his silhouette like an angel. That’s not where it stops, though. Instead of letting you clean yourself up, he sits on the bed and runs the cloth carefully over your body. It makes your heart hurt to have him taking care of you like this, so tender and full of such pure affection. Once he finishes, he tosses the washcloth over to the nightstand. You pull him into you so that you can cuddle close. 

Even though you could probably stay like that for the rest of the night, you know that you either need to change the sheets or figure something out. You run a hand over his arm thoughtfully. That’s when it hits you and you turn your face to his. “Do you wanna go sleep in my bed with me and we can deal with your bed tomorrow?”

His laugh is light, easy. “Inviting me to bed on the second date, what will the neighbors say?” 

You swat at his arm without any real force. “That you’re incredibly lucky, I expect.”

“They’re right about that,” he says, any teasing gone in the completely honest statement. It’s a little too much for you, at least for a minute. Minghao, in his infinite wisdom, lets you have the moment. He moves from the bed and helps you up with him. Even helps you track down your clothing that’s gotten more scattered than you realize. 

It’s so easy to fall back into a rhythm with him even though it feels entirely different. Familiar and new. Fitting for the enigma that is the man before you. Which is when it hits you, just as he’s reaching the door to the hallway. Minghao stops to turn around and see why you’re not right behind him. 

“Are you coming? I don’t really want to have to break into your place,” he says with another light laugh.

“Been working on your cat burglar skills during the past few years, have you?” you joke back and he just shakes his head. Closes the space between you and collects you into his arms.

“I think that’s your wishful thinking about wanting a cat,” he says and you laugh.

“Could be,” you concede.

“Shall we?” he asks when he releases you.

“Just a second,” you say and he regards you with clear curiosity. “Earlier you told me that you loved me and…”

“It’s okay,” he says quickly. You mistake it for him thinking you don’t feel the same.

“No, I need to say something,” you say and he swallows anything else. “I love you, too.”

“I know,” he says with a smile that has you rolling your eyes. Of course he knows. You’re entirely smitten and once again, the last one to know. “And how lucky am I to have someone who loves me like you do as a Valentine? To be loved by someone that I love as much as I love you?” 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Hao.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day. Here’s to a lifetime more of these.”

“I can’t wait.”

[keeryhours]

please be gentle (when you’re tearing me apart)

Eddie Munson x female! reader, Steve Harrington x reader

Main Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Steve Harrington Masterlist

Summary:

You’re in love with Eddie, Eddie’s in love with someone else. Somehow, he accidentally ends up in a relationship with you anyway.

Warnings:

(18+), SERIOUS angst, there is only pain here, hurt/no comfort or hurt/a little comfort, cheating, pregnancy, pregnancy complications, birth/c section, Eddie is really out of character and is a total dick, Chrissy is out of character and she also sucks (sorry guys), smut, fingering, protected p in v, virgin!eddie, virgin!reader, really awkward first time!

Word Count: 14.6k

A/N:

WOW okay this was totally unexpected to write. The length especially. This is just something depressing for the anti-Valentine’s Day mood. I’ve been nervous to post so I hope you enjoy! Big giant thanks to @punkrockmlchael (who made my beautiful banner again and also beta read), @the-witty-pen-name , @fizzing-imagines, @losingmygrasponreality, @writhingg , and @lesservillain for bouncing ideas and beta reading! I couldn’t have written this without you. Also ignore that there’s only dividers for half the fic, apparently you can only add 10 images to a post 🙃

dividers by @/strangergraphics

Best friends.

That’s what you and Eddie were, and always had been. Growing up as neighbors in Forest Hills, you met when you were 8 and Eddie was 10, after he moved in with his uncle.

To be honest with yourself, you had had a crush on Eddie Munson since the first time you laid eyes on him. A silly childhood crush at first, he was so cute with his curls, short at the time, and it made your heart beat fast whenever you walked to the store together for snacks and he held your hand.

He would play you all kinds of music you’d never heard before, heavy stuff that was totally new to you. You weren’t sure about it at first, but you grew to love it. When he got into D&D, he would talk your ear off about his campaign plans for hours. You didn’t mind. You liked listening to him talk. When he started Hellfire, you were the first member to join. You didn’t know how to play an instrument, but you were Corroded Coffin’s biggest fan.

Eddie was everything to you. He was the first person you went to with any news, the only one you were excited to tell anything and everything to. He took you to see every new slasher movie, bought you your first dice set. He was the first thing you thought about in the morning and the last you thought of at night. At some point, it turned into more than a crush.

At some point, you fell in love.

Eddie was oblivious. He never dated in high school, but that didn’t seem to bother him. You didn’t, either, but it was mostly because you were so preoccupied with loving Eddie. You tried dropping hints, but he never seemed to figure it out. You were too scared to just get it over with and tell him outright.

So, you remained best friends. Just friends.

—

“Are you going to prom this year?” Wayne asked, sipping his beer as he sat relaxed in his recliner. Eddie nursed his own beer, feet up on the coffee table.

“Nah,” Eddie said. “You know that’s…not my thing.”

“You should go at least once,” Wayne said. “Might regret it.”

“I doubt it.”

“I had a great time at my senior prom,” Wayne reminisced, smiling at the memory. “You should give it a shot, Ed. Why don’t you take your little friend from next door?”

Eddie shook his head. “I don’t feel that way about her.”

“You can go as friends,” he pointed out. “I’m sure she’d like that. Girl adores you.”

“I’m pretty sure she has a crush on me,” Eddie winced, sipping his beer. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

“You don’t have to marry her, Ed. Just show her a good time. You two have been so close for so long, I’m sure she would understand.”

Eddie thought about it. He didn’t want to go to prom, like at all, but he wanted to make his uncle happy. And if he had to go with someone, it might as well be you, his only female friend, right?

So, he approached you at your locker the next day at school. “Hey.”

You turned to him, your face immediately lighting up with a huge smile. “Hey, Eds.”

“I, uh,” Eddie looked around awkwardly. “I just wanted to ask if you’d want to go to…prom with me?”

Your eyes went wide, but inside your heart was thundering out of your chest. Had Eddie really just asked you out? “Prom? Really? I thought you hated prom?”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s my last senior year. Hopefully, at least. I figured I might as well give it a shot. We can pre game and sneak in some alcohol. And if it’s lame, we can ditch.”

You couldn’t wipe the huge smile off your face. You were almost a little concerned at how hard your heart was beating in that moment, like it would give out. “I’d love to go with you.”

Eddie gave you a soft smile. “Cool. I’ll pick you up at 6 that night.”

You watched as Eddie left, heading in the direction of his next class of the day. You waited until he was out of sight before you went sprinting in the direction of Robin’s locker.

You found her there, taking her books out. She startled when you ran up on her, placing her hand over her chest. “Jesus. What’s up with you?”

“Eddie just asked me to prom,” you blurted out. Robin’s jaw dropped open.

“No way!” She exclaimed, her look of shock turning to one of pure excitement. “This is huge. I always knew he was into you.”

You blushed. “I don’t know. I had given up hope of him liking me back. This was so out of the blue. I didn’t even think he wanted to go to prom at all.”

“Maybe he’s just better at hiding his feelings,” Robin offered. “Either way, we’re going dress shopping. Prom is only two weeks away!”

That weekend, Robin convinced her mom to drive the two of you to Indianapolis to go shopping in the big city. You were both giddy with excitement - Robin wasn’t much of a dress girl, and she didn’t have a date. The only person she wanted to take, she couldn’t ask. You were pretty sure Vickie was into girls and Robin in particular, but Robin was still too scared to make the move. You didn’t blame her. It wasn’t like typical rejection if things went wrong. So, instead, Robin was going with a group of girls from the marching band as friends.

Her mom took you to the huge mall, which was much more impressive than Starcourt. It was huge, with a ton of different stores. You made a stop at Camelot Music first, where Robin got a new Blondie tape and you grabbed the new The Smiths record and a Metallica Master of Puppets tape for Eddie, since his had recently broken.

Next was the formal wear store. You were both immediately overwhelmed when you walked in, the racks and racks of fancy dresses as far as the eye could see. All different colors, lengths, and styles. It was…a lot.

“Well…I guess let’s get started,” Robin said, her voice unsure.

You probably tried on 50 dresses each. You and Robin giggled as you tried on the dresses her mom picked for you, big floofy pink and blue monstrosities.

“You look like a marshmallow. Like a big pink marshmallow,” Robin had commented.

“Yeah?” You laughed, gesturing towards her powder blue gown. “Well, you look like a wedding cake.”

An hour and a half into dress shopping, you were both getting tired and totally over it. You had the last gown you’d picked out in your hand, and you told yourself if you hated this one, too, you’d just say fuck it and go to prom in your ripped jeans.

You pulled the dress over your head, smoothing it down your body. When you turned and looked into the mirror, you gasped. You actually looked…beautiful.

The dark purple dress hugged your curves, pushing your breasts up and making them look much sexier (and perkier) than they really were. The skirt fell above your knees, showing off your legs. You did a little twirl, the skirt swishing around your thighs. You loved it, it was by far the best one you’d tried on.

“Are you alive in there?” Robin called from outside the dressing room, and you smiled to yourself.

“I think we have a winner,” you called back.

“Ooh!” Robin said just as you moved the curtain and walked out. You saw Robin standing in a dark blue dress that looked beautiful on her, the skirt long but flattering.

“Oh my god,” she said. “You look stunning! Eddie is going to lose his mind.”

You blushed at the mention of Eddie. “You do too!” And she did. Finally, you had both found something.

After you left the dress shop with your bags in hand, you were both feeling much happier. You made a stop at Afterthoughts, where you found some earrings and a necklace to match your dress.

You couldn’t believe you were going to prom, and with Eddie. It was a dream come true.

You couldn’t wait.

—

Prom night, you were shaking as you got ready. The dress was just as beautiful as you remembered. The jewelry you had picked out matched your dress even better than you’d hoped.

Eddie picked you up right on time. He smiled at you awkwardly when he picked you up, holding a corsage in his hand. “Hey.”

You beamed at him. “Hi. Is…that for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at it like he had forgotten he had it. “You look pretty,” he told you as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist. You blushed as you pinned the boutonnière to his black suit jacket.

“You look handsome yourself,” you told him shyly.

Eddie drove the two of you to the school. The parking lot was packed with students’ cars and even a few rented limousines. Just as you were about to get out of the van, Eddie stopped you. He reached into his glove compartment and pulled out two black flasks, handing one to you.

“This should make this night a lot more fun, yeah?” He smirked. You smiled back, before making a face as you took a sip of the burning liquid. Eddie laughed, which made you start giggling, too.

You took a photo together at the booth near the gym doors, which Eddie wasn’t super excited about. The next thing he did was head for the food, piling a tiny plate full of appetizers. You followed him, grabbing a cup of punch to help wash down the liquor in your purse.

Eddie wouldn’t dance with you until after he’d finished his flask, claiming it was stupid and he wouldn’t be caught dead dancing at prom. But by the time he finished it, he had enough of a buzz that he didn’t care. You were tipsy, too, and absolutely elated when he stood and took your hand, leading you to the floor just as a slow song came on.

Eddie playfully groaned, rolling his eyes, but he pulled you close to his body anyway. Butterflies took flight in your stomach as he placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped yours around his neck. The two of you swayed together in time to the music. You could not stop smiling. You laid your head on Eddie’s chest, tuning out the music as you listened to his heartbeat.

After prom, you headed back to the van. You’d had the best night of your life, one you would never forget. Yeah, you were both a little bit intoxicated, but you were floating on the clouds for a whole different reason.

“D’you want to come back to my place?” Eddie asked as he started the engine. “We could drink a little more, smoke a joint. Wayne’s working.”

You wanted nothing more. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

At the trailer, Eddie rolled up a thick joint as you gathered the bottles of liquor and shot glasses from the cabinet. Eddie was back in normal clothes, and you’d changed into one of Eddie’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that were too big on you.

Eddie sparked up the joint as you poured each of you two shots of tequila. You clinked your glasses together before downing them both. Eddie took the first drag on the joint, his eyes falling closed as he inhaled the thick smoke. He looked gorgeous like this, curls still tamed and framing his face. The smoke escaped through his perfect lips, trailing up and throughout the bedroom. He handed the joint to you, and you gratefully took it, bringing it to your painted lips. Some of your lipstick had rubbed off on the shot glasses, leaving a stain.

As the night went on, the two of you got progressively more drunk and high. By the time it was 2am, the two of you were giggling messes, listening to music over the stereo and talking about the latest campaign. Suddenly, in your drunkenly stoned haze, you remembered the gift stashed in your purse.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, jumping up to grab your small bag. “I forgot. I got you something.”

“You got me something?” Eddie asked, confused, his words slightly slurring together.

You reached into the purse and pulled out the bag from Camelot. You hoped he loved it, because now that it was in your hands, you were suddenly nervous. You turned, smiling softly as you handed Eddie the bag. “I just saw it while I was at the mall with Robin and I thought of you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at you as he took the bag. He reached inside and pulled out the Metallica tape, a huge grin spreading across his face immediately. “Shit! You didn’t have to do this. But it’s fuckin’ awesome you did.”

You giggled, flopping back onto the bed next to him. You laid with your head on his pillow, smiling up at Eddie from where he sat next to you. “I’m glad you like it. I know yours broke. Probably because you play it all the time.”

Eddie poked you in the side, making you laugh harder. “Shut up, Freak. You love Master of Puppets just as much as I do.”

“That’s true,” you conceded. You looked up at him, his chocolate brown eyes gazing down at you. They sparkled, like his personality was shining its way through. He had a strong nose, kissable lips. God, you wanted to kiss those lips.

Eddie had never realized how pretty you were. He always just saw you as his long time best friend, the girl who definitely crushed on him but he never saw that way. He still didn’t think he had feelings for you, but…you were pretty.

“Have you ever kissed a guy before?” He asked, pushing a section of hair off your shoulder.

You blushed at the question. You didn’t have much experience, your love life was nonexistent. But you had kissed someone, at least. “Yeah. Tommy Hagan in 7th grade.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “Tommy Hagan? That dickhead? You never told me that.”

You shrugged, your cheeks red and hot. “It didn’t mean anything. I got invited to Heather Holloway’s birthday party and he was there. We all played spin the bottle. It only lasted two seconds and we never really talked again.” Eddie hummed. “What about you?”

It was Eddie’s turn to look sheepish. “Uh, yeah. A girl at school, Chrissy, in 8th grade. We didn’t date or anything.”

Now it was your turn to be shocked. “Chrissy Cunningham? You didn’t tell me that, either!” He had never mentioned her. You knew it was stupid, but you were struck with jealousy at his words.

“It was nothing,” he said, brushing it off.

“Look at us,” you laughed. “18 and almost 20, and we’re still a couple of virgins.”

Eddie looked down at you, something unfamiliar swimming behind his eyes. He had never wanted to kiss you before this moment, but now... “I mean, we can change that.”

Your heart stopped in your chest. “What do you mean?”

Eddie thought about it for a moment. This could be a point of no return, a step in a direction he didn’t want to take. But in his drunk and high mind…he wanted it. He wanted you.

He leaned forward slowly, so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat right before his lips pressed against yours. They were just as soft as you always dreamed they were, and your mind went even more hazy from his kisses.

Neither of you were experienced at all and you were both pretty intoxicated, so the kiss was a little awkward and desperate. All tongues and teeth clashing together, hungry for one another. Eddie’s hand slid beneath your t-shirt - his Hellfire shirt - trailing up your smooth skin until he reached your breasts. You hadn’t worn a bra with your dress, so you were bare chested beneath the thin shirt. His calloused fingers delicately grazed your nipples, making you shiver. You’d never been touched there before, never felt anything like this. Being touched by Eddie was so much different than being touched by your own hand.

“I love your tits,” Eddie mumbled against your lips between kisses. You hummed, arching your back into his touch.

“Feels good, Ed,” you moaned quietly, body turning into pure electricity under his wandering touch. Your own hand tangled in the curls at the back of his neck, loving the way your bodies molded together, the feeling of his body finally pressed up against your own.

“Yeah?” He squeezed your breast one more time before his hand moved to your back, sliding down your body until he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. You gasped, feeling how hard he was through his own sweatpants. “You feel how hard I am?”

“Yeah,” you whispered back. You moved your hand to his chest, sliding it down his body until you reached the tent in his pants. He groaned as you felt him, squeezing his cock through the material.

Eddie sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You eyed his bare chest, the tattoos adorning his pale skin. You traced a finger over the design on the left side of his chest. God, he was so hot.

His hands slid up your shirt, pulling it up and off. His gaze dropped straight to your tits, he was practically drooling. He reached for the waistband of your sweatpants next, pulling them down your body slowly, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You were grateful you picked something pretty, red and lace.

“So sexy,” Eddie moaned. He leaned forward and kissed your stomach, which startled you a little. He trailed kisses up your body until he reached your breasts, where he ran his tongue over one of your nipples before wrapping his lips around it. You moaned as you arched into his touch, his mouth, whatever he would give you.

His hand slid down your body slowly, slowly, until it reached your panties. He slipped beneath them, fingers dipping between your folds. He could feel how insanely wet you were, and it only made his cock harder.

“So wet for me,” he said. “Bet you can’t wait for my cock.”

You whimpered as he pressed a finger against your entrance. Slowly, carefully he pushed it inside, stretching you for the first time. You gasped at the intrusion, but the pain faded quickly. Eddie slowly pumped his long finger in and out of your pussy, pressing against something deep inside that felt incredible as he curled his finger against it. He added a second finger shortly after, and the stretch was more intense, but from the feeling of the size of his cock in your hand, you knew it wouldn’t even be comparable.

Eddie fingered you a little longer, getting you nice and wet and ready for him, before he removed his hand and slipped your panties off. Now bare before him, he drank you in with his hungry eyes. His cock twitched in his pants.

You helped him push them down his hips, and he kicked them off onto the floor. He didn’t have boxers on underneath, and his dick was so much more impressive once fully revealed. It was big enough that it made you feel scared even through your mind haze.

“You can take it,” he assured you, his words still slightly slurred. “I know you can.”

He reached over you into the bedside table and pulled out an unopened box of condoms. “Finally get to use these,” he laughed, taking one out of the box and ripping it open. You watched as he slid the rubber over his hard cock, tip red and glistening. You wished you could have had a taste.

Eddie got in between your legs, kissing all over your neck before meeting your lips again. His tongue pressed into your mouth immediately, attempting to distract you from the pain where he was lining himself up and slowly beginning to push inside.

You whined as he began to fill you, inch by thick inch. When he was fully seated inside he pulled back and snapped his hips back into you, making you gasp. He set a quick pace, desperately rutting into you as he chased his pleasure, his drunken rhythm sloppy and uneven.

You held onto him tightly as he fucked into you, and he groaned into your neck where he had his face buried. “Feels so good,” he moaned, not exactly caring how you felt, only worried about his own quickly impending orgasm. It was his first time and he was not going to last.

“Eddie,” you whined, “you’re so big.”

He groaned at that. “Yeah, baby? You like it?”

“Mmhmm,” you moaned, and it did feel good, but he was also splitting you in half.

“Fuck,” he hissed, “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna fucking cum.”

He pumped into you just a couple more times before he was stilling, buried to the hilt inside you as he filled the condom. He moaned loudly, body trembling on top of you as he rode out his orgasm. You didn’t get to cum, but you were too drunk to care.

Eddie pulled out, removing the condom and tying it off before tossing it into the trash can. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his naked body sweaty, chest heaving.

“That was…good,” you said, not knowing if it was or not. You were happy to have lost your virginity to Eddie, and the whole night had been a dream. But he hadn’t exactly cared about your pleasure. You waited for Eddie to reply, to say anything, but nothing came.

He was already snoring.

—

The unbearably bright light shining through the window around his curtains is the first thing Eddie experienced the next morning. It woke him up, but he only squeezed his eyes shut tighter, groaning as the light made his pounding headache infinitely worse. Fuck, he drank way too much last night.

He barely even remembered it. He remembered the prom, he remembered drinking a lot, doing shots, and smoking a joint. He remembered you, but his memory was hazy. How did you get home anyway? He didn’t remember driving you home after prom.

Eddie stretched, his muscles stiff. He was naked beneath his blanket, which wasn’t entirely unusual. He probably just didn’t feel like changing once he got his suit off.

Eventually he figured he should get out of bed. He rolled over and stood with another old man groan. Fuck, he had to cut back on the drinking, because he definitely felt a lot older than 19 right now.

He pulled on some boxers and a pair of sweatpants he found on the floor, remaining shirtless. Wayne would be passed out in his own bedroom after a long night of work at the plant. But Eddie was starving, and he needed something for that headache.

When he stepped out of the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. Something delicious was wafting from the kitchen, the smell of bacon overpowering some other food scents. That was weird. Wayne didn’t cook breakfast, not the morning after a work night. He walked down the hall cautiously, brows furrowed as he neared the end of the hallway. He turned the corner, and froze.

You were there in the kitchen, expertly flipping a pancake in a pan. A plate sat on the counter next to you filled with bacon, and another pan on the next burner was cooking scrambled eggs. Oh, and you were dressed in nothing but Eddie’s oversized t-shirt and your underwear.

Oh shit, Eddie thought. What the fuck did I do?

The floor creaked as he stepped into the kitchen, and you turned around, a smile spreading across your lips at the sight of him. “Hey, sleepyhead. I made us some breakfast. Thought you could use something on your stomach.”

Eddie didn’t know what to say or do. Did he sleep with you? Oh god. He was going to be sick. “Uh, good morning. You, uh, didn’t have to do all this.”

He watched as you plated the finished pancakes and eggs. “I thought we could both use a big breakfast after last night,” you said, giving him a smirk. Oh, shit. He did sleep with you last night. He drunkenly lost his virginity after prom, to you.

Fuck. He was a fucking idiot.

You started making plates for the both of you. “I set out a water bottle and some Tylenol for you over there,” you said, nodding to the corner of the counter. Eddie took the medicine immediately, desperate for some relief from his unbearable headache. Now he wasn’t sure what was making it worse, the hangover or the knowledge of what he’d done.

He sat down across from you at the small table. He didn’t know what to say. Your friendship would never be the same after this. He knew you liked him, he didn’t like you, then he slept with you. Now he had to crush your heart. He really felt like he was going to be sick.

“Did you sleep okay?” You finally asked as the two of you ate, breaking the silence.

“Huh?” Eddie snapped back to reality. “Oh. Yeah.”

You smiled softly at him. You figured he was just still cloudy from the weed. “I had a good time last night.”

“Yeah…” Eddie said. “Me too.”

Your face lit up at that, and he could have slapped himself. He didn’t mean that. He didn’t even remember the sex. He was not doing a good job of not leading you on. “Listen,” he said, “about that-“

“It was really good,” you said. Eddie’s watched as your cheeks turned red and you looked down at your plate. “Sorry. I just meant…I enjoyed it. Being with you.”

Eddie had suspected, known even, that you had a crush on him, but this was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud. Eddie was really going to have to stomp on your heart to put an end to those thoughts, and it was all his fault. He never should have brought you home after prom. “Look, I-“

“I didn’t think you liked me back,” you continued, rambling nervously, excitedly. “I…to be honest with you I’ve had a crush on you for years, but I was always too scared to tell you. But you never seemed like you were into me…until last night.” You giggled, covering your mouth. “I can’t believe we’re together now.”

Together?

Oh, fuck. He couldn’t do this. He could not do this. He couldn’t crush your spirit, wipe that elated smile off your face. He’d never seen you look so happy. He felt like the biggest asshole.

“Oh, yeah,” he said instead. “Um, me either.”

“I can’t wait to tell Robin,” you continued. “She’s going to freak.”

—

Eddie couldn’t believe he had gotten himself into this situation.

Sure, you were his best friend so he liked your personality, and it’s not like you weren’t cute, but he just didn’t have feelings for you in the way you did for him. But now he had slept with you and you thought he liked you back. He had somehow, some way, become your actual boyfriend.

“I thought you didn’t like her like that?” Gareth asked the next school day after prom at lunch. You were sitting with Robin today. You often bounced between the marching band table and the Hellfire table.

“I don’t,” Eddie said simply.

Gareth, Jeff, and Grant looked at him like he was crazy. “Then how…why…?”

Eddie slammed his hand on the table. “Stop grilling me, okay?”

“Someone’s cranky,” Jeff muttered, turning back to his lunch tray in front of him.

“Yeah, you’re in a pretty shitty mood to be the only one of us to lose his virginity and get a girlfriend,” Grant commented. Gareth and Jeff agreed, nodding along.

“Yeah, well,” Eddie muttered. “Would be nice if it was with someone I’m actually into.”

“Harsh,” Gareth tsked. “You should be honest with her. You’re just leading her on.”

“I can’t.” Eddie buried his face in his hands, exasperated and stressed. “It’s gone too far. She thinks I’m her boyfriend. She thinks I like her back. I can’t crush her like that.”

The other three boys exchanged a look. “So…you’re just gonna marry her?” Grant asked.

Eddie froze. That is where this would eventually lead if he didn’t turn it around. But he was scared. He couldn’t bring himself to burst your bubble. “I’ll figure something out.”

As lunch was ending, Eddie jolted when you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Hey, babe,” you giggled. “How was lunch?”

“Good,” Eddie said, giving each Hellfire boy a look that said don’t say or do a damn thing.

“You guys are so cute,” Robin said, holding her hands over her chest as she tilted her head to the side with a smile. “I’m so happy you’re finally together.”

Eddie felt sick. Just like he had all weekend, since the morning after prom. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m a lucky guy.”

Your whole face lit up with a smile. “I was thinking maybe we could hang out after school. Do our homework and work on the Curse of Vecna.”

Eddie groaned internally. This was such a disaster. “Sure.”

That day after school Eddie drove you back to his place. He reluctantly did his homework with you, mostly copying your answers rather than actually learning anything. Then the two of you laid on his bed and made out.

Hey, if he was going to be stuck in this relationship with someone he didn’t actually care for, the least he could do was take advantage of the benefits.

—

You spent four years with Eddie before you started noticing something was off.

It was the scent you started noticing on his clothes at first, like flowers and vanilla. You lifted his shirt from the laundry, the unexpected smell hitting you. You didn’t own anything that smelled like this, and Eddie certainly didn’t. You knew the smell of his cheap cologne better than anything, the amount of times you’d laid your head on his chest and smelled that distinctly Eddie scent. Something was wrong.

When you confronted him about it, he brushed it off. “It’s this new girl at work. Her perfume is so strong, everyone smells like it.”

You accepted the answer for the time being. But then there were other things you began to notice. A scrunchie that definitely didn’t belong to you on the floor of the passenger side of his van. A condom wrapper in the bathroom trash after you’d been out of town for the weekend. And finally, a pair of pink panties stuffed into the back pocket of his jeans that were so clearly not yours it was nearly comical if it hadn’t made you want to die.

When you confronted him about it the next time, it was with tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. “Eddie,” you said, your voice cracking as you tossed the panties onto the floor in front of where he sat on the couch. “What are these?”

Eddie knew he had been caught. There was no getting out of it this time. You didn’t own any underwear like that, and it was the wrong size. How could he have been so stupid to have kept the panties? “I…”

“Really?” You sobbed. “You have nothing to say?”

“I’m not sure what you want me to say.” Eddie looked down at his hands. “Yeah, I’ve been sleeping with someone else.”

Even though you already knew his words were true, they still hit you right in the heart. You could feel it cracking, could feel the fault lines forming, the blood and life seeping out of it. “With who?” You asked, barely audible. You weren’t sure if you wanted the answer, but you needed it.

“That’s not important-“

“It is important,” you said. “It’s important to me.”

Eddie didn’t respond at first. He didn’t want to respond. “Chrissy Cunningham,” he answered reluctantly at last. “But don’t pull her into this, she doesn’t deserve to be-“

“Chrissy Cunningham?” You scoffed. “Eddie, we’ve been together for four years. Chrissy knows we’re together. So she was just fine sleeping with a guy she knew was taken?” You laughed humorlessly through the tears. “Wow. You guys are perfect for each other, then.”

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t do that, man, she-“

“‘Man’?” You couldn’t believe the conversation you were having. “Wow, I sure got demoted from baby fast, huh?”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Please. I don’t wanna do this. I don’t feel like doing this.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have cheated!” You yelled back. “Why would you do this? How could you do this to me? I thought you loved me.”

Eddie mumbled something under his breath, something you couldn’t catch.

“What?” You asked. “I can’t hear you. Just fucking tell me. Why would you do this to me?”

When Eddie looked up at you, his eyes were full of anger, flames flickering behind his normally sweet doe eyes. The ones you had gazed into, taken comfort in so many times. When he opened his mouth, nothing but poison seeped out.

“Because I never loved you!” Eddie yelled, hands running through his hair to the point he was practically pulling it out. You had never seen him so upset. “Fuck! I went out with you because we were friends and I felt bad, and by the time we’d been together for months it was too late. I never liked you back like that. That’s the truth, finally.”

His words hit you like a shot to the chest. You stared at him with your lips parted, staggering gasps being dragged into your lungs. You shook uncontrollably as if it were suddenly freezing. But the tears didn’t yet fall. You felt like you might be in shock. “How…”

“How did I pretend to be in love with you?” He scoffed. “I didn’t do a very good job of it, but it doesn’t seem like you ever noticed. You were so blinded by who you wanted me to be, you couldn’t see what was right in front of you. Hey, as long as I came home and fucked you before passing out next to you, you just took it.” He laughed, a cruel, sinister laugh. “You just let me treat you like shit. Like you have no respect for yourself, or were just that obsessed with me.”

You didn’t even know who this was in front of you right now. This person who looked like Eddie, sounded like Eddie, but was spewing such horrible, hurtful words that Eddie never would. You didn’t recognize him at all. You wanted to blame his words on his heightened emotions, but you could tell everything he said was true. Especially with the cheating to back it up.

That’s not how you treated someone you cared about.

“So you just led me on for four years instead of telling me?” You asked. There was no fight behind your voice like there was in his. Only hurt and defeat. “Eddie…even before all this, you were my best friend. How could you do this to me?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Because he was a selfish idiot coward? That was the truth. “Look, me and Chrissy- it just happened. It wasn’t supposed to, but it did. She came in to the Hideout, we got to talking-“

“And you fucked her?” You finished for him.

He just looked at you. “Yeah.”

The truth was, Eddie felt bad. He knew he had fucked up astronomically bad. He had led you on, used your body, betrayed you. Wasted four years of your life. He knew you thought he was the one, he knew you were waiting for a proposal that was never going to come. It was his fault things had gotten this far.

Maybe he thought he could fake it ‘til he made it. Maybe he thought if he pretended to be into you, eventually he would be. But that never happened.

And now you were crying, hard. His chest ached for some reason, even though he had no right to hurt for what he had done to you. He deserved to feel like shit.

He wasn’t prepared for the next words that came out of your mouth.

“I’m pregnant, Eddie,” you said, eyes squeezed shut as if that would stop the torrent of tears currently streaming down your face. There was no response. You had to force yourself to open your eyes and look, wondering if he was even still there.

He was. He stared at you, brown eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open. “You’re- no.”

“I am,” you said, voice hoarse from crying. “I…”

Eddie shook his head. “No. No, no, no. This is not happening. It’s not fucking happening.”

You only cried harder. The pregnancy hormones had nothing to do with this; this was pure devastation, pure heartbreak. Your heart felt like it had crumbled in your chest and there was nothing left to repair even if you could.

“Let me see the test,” he said, holding a hand out.

“Why would I lie?” You asked, voice weak. You were so emotionally worn out, you felt like you could sleep for weeks. Months. Years. You wanted to.

“Because you want me to stay with you?” He scoffed. “Look, I’m not saying you’re lying, but I want to see to be sure.”

You just stared at him. Finally, you said “Fine,” going into your shared bedroom and coming out with a piece of paper with your office visit report. “I went to the doctor. Here.”

Eddie took the paper from your hands, examining it carefully. Sure enough, under “Reason for Visit/Diagnosis”, it said “Pregnancy - 8 weeks”.

“Christ,” Eddie said. He rubbed his hands over his face, like he was trying to erase the information from his brain. He was panicked. He couldn’t be a dad. Not right now, maybe not ever. He didn’t even know if he wanted kids. And with you? His soon to be ex girlfriend who he had treated like shit and didn’t love? “I mean fuck, man. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” you said. Your voice was small, like all the fight had left you.

Eddie felt like he had ruined his life. For one thing, you were both still so young. That was without even mentioning the mess of a ‘relationship’ he had gotten himself involved in, the fact that it would never work out even if he wanted it to because he didn’t have feelings for you, and now he was standing here crushing his pregnant girlfriend’s heart. Like an asshole.

He was an asshole, and he knew it.

“Look,” he said finally. “If there’s really a kid-“

“There is.”

Eddie continued. “I’m not gonna abandon it. I’ll…be here. I’ll pay child support, I want to share custody, I want to be involved.”

You nodded. At least there was that, you supposed. As heart broken as you were, as much as you felt like going to sleep and never waking up again, you couldn’t bear the thought of Eddie leaving both of you. This baby deserved better.

“Look, I…I need some time. I’m gonna go stay with Wayne for a little while. Until I can get my own place.” Eddie looked at you with pity now, the news of the pregnancy dousing the fire of his earlier cruelty. “You can keep the apartment. We’ve got the guest room for the baby, unless you decide to move out.”

You just nodded again. “Okay, Eddie.”

The two of you looked at each other. This wasn’t just the end of your apparent farce of a relationship, but also of your nearly lifelong friendship. Things between you and Eddie would never be the same again. He had taken your heart you gave to him and stomped on it, spit on it.

That was the thing you couldn’t get past. He hadn’t just rejected you, he had destroyed you. The cheating, the lying. Playing you like a fucking game. Like you meant nothing not just to him, but at all. You didn’t know how you’d ever learn to trust again, or if you even wanted to. Eddie slept on the couch that night, too late at night to drive to Wayne’s.

When you woke up the next morning, he was gone.

—

Your pregnancy was difficult. You had severe morning sickness in the beginning - hyperemesis gravidarum, your doctor called it. You struggled to keep any food down, and ended up hospitalized for fluids multiple times. Your doctor was concerned and considered you a high risk pregnancy. You went from monthly doctor visits to weekly. You felt pretty sure your emotional devastation wasn’t helping your physical health whatsoever.

Eddie was helpful, at least. He called you every couple of days to see how you were doing and if you needed anything. He remembered your appointment days and called to ask what the doctor said. He shopped for your groceries for you and dropped them off at the house. It would have felt nice, if you didn’t know he was only doing it for the baby and not you, and if you didn’t know he was still sleeping with Chrissy.

You went through most of the pregnancy alone. At 16 weeks, you noticed a bump for the first time, standing in front of your full length mirror as you got ready for work. It took you by surprise, this little baby bump that seemed to have popped up overnight. You ran your hand over the skin there, surprised by how firm it felt. There was really a little baby in there.

You had an ultrasound that afternoon. You were thrilled to see the baby, one of the only things you looked forward to anymore. The technician showed you your baby, thriving and wiggling around in there. It made your heart swell. She measured the heartbeat and played it out loud, the little whoosh whoosh whoosh comforting.

Eddie came to the apartment that evening to bring you the baby swing he had bought. You were in the kitchen cooking yourself chicken alfredo for dinner, wearing a thin tank top and your short sleep shorts. Eddie let himself in, since he still had a key in case of emergencies. You weren’t surprised to hear him coming in since he’d told you he’d be over.

You heard his footsteps heading into the kitchen, then - “Woah.”

You turned from where you’d been stirring the sauce, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

He gestured towards your stomach. “You, uh…your…”

You laughed lightly. “The bump? Yeah, that’s new.”

Eddie walked over towards you, leaning against the counter next to the stove. He didn’t know how to feel about it. It was strange to see, and it made him feel weird in his chest. Something he’d never felt before. “It’s…it’s cute. You look cute.”

You laughed again. “I’m about to get a lot bigger.”

The two of you stood in silence for a minute. Then, finally, Eddie worked up the courage to ask - “Can I…can I feel?”

You were surprised by the question. Sure, Eddie had been pretty devoted to this baby during the pregnancy, but it still caught you off guard. “Oh. Sure.”

You turned and he walked up to you cautiously. He raised his hands, slowly moving them towards you as he looked up at you for confirmation it was still okay. Finally he placed his hands on your belly, feeling the firm bump beneath his hands. It was real. He knew it was real, but now it was real.

“Wow,” he said after a minute. “That’s…wow.” He gently rubbed the bump, in shock that that was his child beneath his hand.

“I got an ultrasound today,” you said. “Want to see?”

“Of course,” he answered immediately. He watched as you headed into the living room, already developing the slightest little waddle. He couldn’t help but smile.

You pulled the printed photos from your purse, bringing them over. Eddie gently took them from your hands. “Holy shit!” He said, laughing as he closely examined the photos. “It really looks like a little baby now instead of a blob.”

“Yeah,” you agreed with a smile. “They said we’d find out if it’s a boy or a girl at the next one. At 20 weeks.”

Eddie’s eyes darted up to you. “Really? Can I…go?”

You raised your eyebrows. “Really? You want to come with me to the appointment?”

“Yeah, of course. I want to know what we’re having. I want to be there myself.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, thinking about it. “How will Chrissy feel about that?”

Eddie’s expression hardened for the first time since he’d come over. “I can do whatever I want. And we’re not talking about her right now.”

You rolled your eyes, heading back into the kitchen to tend to your dinner. “I guess you can come, Eddie. It’s your baby too. But don’t bring her.”

“I’m not,” he assured you. You thought he’d have to be a fucking idiot to bring her, anyway. “I just want to be there.”

You felt like you couldn’t take that from him. If he wanted to be an involved father, he could. You encouraged that, in fact. This baby didn’t deserve to be born into the mess that was your relationship, or what used to be your relationship. Your issues with Eddie needed to be put aside for the sake of your child.

So, four weeks later, you waddled your 20 week pregnant self down the stairs of your apartment complex and into Eddie’s van where he sat idling, waiting to pick you up. He helped you climb in, and you waved him off when he tried to buckle you up. “I’ve got it, Eddie. I’m not totally helpless.”

“I know,” he said, “I just want to help.”

You rode to the doctor’s office without speaking, the only sounds being the heavy music playing over the stereo. You couldn’t stand it. Since the break up, you couldn’t listen to Eddie’s music anymore. Too many memories, too many associations.

When he pulled up at the office, he hopped out quickly to run around and offer you a hand as you carefully climbed down. The bump was significantly bigger already, it was in the way and threw off your center of balance. And Eddie was not about to let you fall and hurt yourself and the baby.

You had grown to know the staff at the office since you were there so often. They greeted you by name the second you walked in, looking pleased to see you. In the exam room, Eddie sat in the visitor’s chair, looking as awkward as he felt.

When the tech walked in, she barely managed to contain the surprise on her face to see Eddie with you. You had been to every appointment alone, and they knew you weren’t together with the father. But she quickly plastered a smile to her face, walking over to you.

“Are you excited?” She asked you. “It’s a big day!”

“So excited,” you giggled. “I’m ready to know.”

You laid back and lifted your shirt up and she squirted the cold gel onto your belly, your least favorite part. She placed the wand on your stomach and began moving it around. There was a screen only she could see, and a bigger screen facing you and Eddie that showed the baby.

The little wiggling baby popped up on the screen, moving all around. You smiled, relieved to see the little guy or girl was doing well. You always worried between ultrasounds that something would happen.

The two of you watched as the tech examined and measured the various body parts, making notes in your chart as she performed the exam. Then, finally, it was time.

“Okay,” she said. “Everything looks great! Do you want to know what you’re having?”

“Yes,” you and Eddie answered immediately at the same exact time. You glanced at each other, laughing lightly.

You were nervous. You weren’t sure why. You really didn’t have a preference for the baby’s sex, but this was a huge deal. This made it real, really real. The baby was about to go from “the baby” to your son or daughter. They would have a name, you would be able to shop more. This was a huge moment, and your heart thumped hard in your chest.

She moved the wand a little, looking where she needed to look. She smiled - “It’s a healthy baby girl.”

You choked out a light sob, hands moving up to cover your mouth. You couldn’t believe it. A baby girl, a daughter. Your daughter. Thoughts flashed through your mind of pink little dresses, playing dolls, dance recitals and late night dance parties. Or maybe she would be more of a tomboy, playing sports and getting dirty. You would love her no matter who she turned out to be.

Eddie stared at the screen in awe. A daughter. He was having a daughter. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t have a preference for the gender either, but hearing it was a girl, it just felt right. Like this was the child he was meant to have, this was the perfect outcome. His body overflowed with the love he felt for this tiny person already. He nearly reached over and grabbed your hand, but thought better of it. It wasn’t his hand to hold anymore.

You left the appointment in high spirits with a stack of ultrasound photos in your hand. You kept looking them over, amazed at how much the baby looked like a baby. Just as you were about to get back in the van, you felt something move that made you gasp and nearly drop your bag.

“What??” Eddie asked, immediately by your side. “Are you okay? Is it the baby?”

You looked up at him wide eyed. “I…” You were about to say something else when you felt the movement again. You quickly grabbed Eddie’s hand and placed it on your stomach, right where you felt it.

He looked at you strangely, but kept his hand there. Then, a second later - another kick, right where Eddie’s hand lay.

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, jerking his hand back out of instinct before putting it back. “Did she just kick?”

“I think so,” you said, an incredulous giggle in your voice.

“She’s strong,” Eddie commented with a smile. He gently rubbed his hand over the bump. “My girl. Gonna be a soccer player or something. Or just kick some serious ass.”

You laughed, your hand resting next to Eddie’s. “This has been the best day I’ve had in months.”

Eddie felt a pang of guilt at that. He knew he was the reason for your sadness, for your pain. And now here you were, giving him the greatest gift he could dream of, even if it’s one he didn’t expect. He couldn’t wait for this baby to be here.

Robin threw you a baby shower when you were 33 weeks pregnant. You were huge and uncomfortable, and still mentally a disaster. But Robin had put in so much work you were at least going to make an attempt to enjoy yourself.

She had taken you shopping for a dress, and you’d landed on a long, light pink one with a hem right beneath your breasts, the rest of the dress draped over your belly. It made you feel pretty, even if gigantic.

When you and Robin walked in, the party was already underway, your friends, family, and acquaintances mingling around, eating from the buffet table. There was a table surrounded and piled high with gifts, a rocking chair with a bow on it sitting next to it.

“Oh my god, Robs,” you said, tears springing to your eyes. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Of course I did,” she said, nudging your arm. “You deserve it, babes. You and her both.” She placed a hand over your belly, making you smile. “You’ve been put through hell this pregnancy, the least I can do is give you a good party.”

Robin led you over to the buffet table, where Steve Harrington was standing. You furrowed your brows at your best friend as you walked, and she gave you a sheepish smile and shrug.

“He’s different now,” she said. You couldn’t believe your ears. “He’s not King Steve anymore. And he helped me out a ton with this party. He’s kind of a dingus, but he’s cool.”

Steve gave you a kind smile as you approached. “Hey,” he said once you’d both reached him, standing up straight. “Congratulations. You look beautiful.”

You blushed, because you certainly didn’t expect him to say that. “I’m huge,” you said.

Steve chuckled. “Well, you’re growing a whole human. Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s hard work.”

You were completely shocked that Steve was being so nice to you. He had never been mean to you, but he definitely saw you and Eddie as Freaks in high school, and never gave you or Robin the time of day. He really did seem different.

“Come on,” Robin said, pulling gently on your arm. “Let’s get you and that baby something to eat. It’s gonna be a great party.”

And it was a good party. You were having a good time talking with your guests, everyone wanting to feel the baby and asking you questions. The food was good, too, you thought as you filled your third plate in 30 minutes. You were having a good time.

That is, until the door opened and two guests walked in late.

Eddie walked in, looking awkward, a gift bag in hand. He knew a good number of the people in attendance hated him, and for good reason. The fact that Eddie showed up to your party wasn’t the bad part. You were on okay terms. It was the fact that he walked in, hand in hand with Chrissy Cunningham.

Your heart stopped in your chest. You hated that you still weren’t over Eddie, but it was the truth. You felt like you would throw up at the sight.

“Oh, fuck no,” Robin muttered under her breath from next to you, before she stood tall and started walking over to them with purpose.

“Robs, wait!” You called, following after her, but Robin’s long strides were much faster than your 8 month pregnant waddle. Robin was already there when you reached the three, her finger pointed in Eddie’s face.

“And what do you think gives you the right to come marching into her party with your little girlfriend?” She was yelling, fury in her eyes like you’d never seen. “What the fuck is wrong with you??”

“Robin-“ you started, but she wasn’t even hearing you.

“You are the scum of the fucking earth,” she said to Eddie. “You don’t belong here. You don’t belong outside enjoying the day. You belong in a cave.”

Eddie was looking at her with an irritated expression on his face. Chrissy stood next to him, her big eyes wide as she held onto his arm. It made you feel so much worse.

“This is my daughter’s baby shower,” he said. “I have a right to be here.”

“No, this is her shower.” Robin gestured towards where you stood slightly behind her without even turning around. “This is for her. She has been through hell, and it’s entirely your fault. The only thing you did besides ruin her life is put the damn baby in her. Good job, Eddie!”

Eddie scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Down, guard dog, this has nothing to do with you. Get out of my face. I’m here to celebrate my daughter. Not yours.”

“And you had to bring your skank with you?”

Both you and Chrissy gasped. You had never heard her speak that way before. Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Don’t talk about her like that. She has nothing to do with this.”

“She slept with you multiple times while knowing you were in a relationship. So yeah, she’s a skank, and you’re a slut too. I guess you guys are made for each other.”

“Babe, why don’t we just go-“ Chrissy said softly.

“Babe,” Robin mocked. “How cute.”

“I’m not leaving,” Eddie said, looking from Chrissy to Robin, and finally to you. “I deserve to be here. So get over yourself.”

“I think you should leave, Eddie.”

You turned as you all looked behind you, where Steve had walked up. His expression was serious, and Eddie narrowed his eyes at him.

“This doesn’t concern you, Harrington.”

“Well, it kind of does,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “These are my friends. I helped organize the party. No one would have cared if you wanted to be here, but you had to go and bring your girlfriend to rub in her face?”

Eddie was taken aback. He couldn’t believe Steve Harrington was here and had the nerve to talk to him and his girlfriend this way. He was about to say something rude back when you spoke up.

“It’s okay,” you said, your voice timid. “They can stay.”

Steve and Robin looked at you with concern etched on both of their faces. “Are you sure?” Steve asked quietly. “Robin told me your pregnancy has been complicated. You don’t need any extra stress.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You weren’t entirely sure if you were really okay with it, but you didn’t want drama at your baby shower. At least, not any more drama than what had already been caused.

Steve looked at you, giving you any chance to change your mind, but you didn’t say anything else. Steve looked at Eddie and Chrissy. “She says you can stay, you can stay.”

The rest of the party was admittedly very awkward. Eddie kind of felt like shit - he knew he shouldn’t have brought Chrissy here. It was the wrong move. He thought maybe it would be alright, but the second he walked in the door he knew what a mistake it had been.

When it was time for gifts, you felt a little uncomfortable. Even as a child you had never enjoyed the whole “opening gifts in front of the whole guest list” part of parties, but you knew your older relatives would find it rude if you didn’t.

You got a lot of lovely gifts - lots of girly clothes and tiny dresses, bottles, burp cloths, a baby monitor, baby soap and towels, health stuff, toys, all kinds of things. You even got some bigger items, like a high chair, a car seat, and a stroller. You were so grateful you teared up multiple times. As a single mom, you had been worried sick about how you’d afford a lot of this stuff.

When you opened Eddie’s gift, it was just a piece of paper inside the bag. You were confused, until you took the paper out and saw the photo of the crib you had been eyeing on it, and a note that he had ordered it for you. Cue the waterworks.

Chrissy’s gift was probably the ugliest baby clothes you’d ever seen in size 24m and a toy she wouldn’t be able to play with for years. You wanted to throw the gift back in her face. She did that shit on purpose.

The rest of the party went well. You managed to avoid Chrissy, or maybe she was avoiding you. You gave each of your friends and family hugs as they left when the party was over, thanking them for coming and for their gifts.

Eddie gave you a nod as he and Chrissy left. He was always so much more pleasant when he wasn’t with her. You could always tell when she was in his ear, too, because he would start stupid arguments and stress you out. You were tired of Chrissy in your business. You never wanted to see her for the rest of your life.

But that was Eddie’s girlfriend, the girl he actually liked, and Eddie was this baby’s father. So you supposed you’d have to live with her.

At 33 weeks, days after the shower, you noticed horrible swelling in your hands and feet. More than the normal pregnancy swelling. You brought it up at your doctor’s appointment, and she was immediately concerned.

Your blood pressure was through the roof. You were diagnosed with pre eclampsia and told to head straight to the hospital to be admitted.

You cried on the way to the car. This whole pregnancy had been hell, and as excited as you were to meet the baby, you were miserable. And it wasn’t time for her to come yet. You were terrified.

You drove around the corner to the hospital’s main entrance, walking inside and giving the receptionist the paper from your doctor. They had you upstairs and set up in bed in no time, hooked up to monitors and put on strict bed rest.

The first thing you did once you were settled was grab the bedside phone. You dialed Robin’s number first, filling her in through tears. She promised to be over right after work with movies to watch, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible while you had to be in the hospital.

Next, you called Eddie.

“Hello?” He answered, a laugh in his voice, and you could hear Chrissy giggling in the background. It made you feel infinitely worse.

“Eddie. It’s me.” It was obvious in your voice that you’d been crying.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, suddenly serious. “Is it the baby? Is she coming? It’s too early!”

You sniffled. “Not yet. But I have pre eclampsia. They hospitalized me and put me on bed rest until the baby is born.”

“Shit,” Eddie hissed. “Do you, uh…do you need me?”

“Can you run by the apartment and grab my bag I packed?” You asked. “Maybe throw some extra stuff in there since I’m going to be here for a while?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

The next week in the hospital was a long one. You were bored to death, even with Robin and Steve coming by every day after work and on their days off. They would bring different movies from Family Video every day, and they had bought you a collection of board games to play together.

At 34 weeks, things took a turn for the worse.

Your water broke and labor began far too early. You were in a panic. Robin had been visiting at the time, and next thing you knew, doctors and nurses were rushing in, checking your vitals and fussing over you. The contractions started immediately, coming strong and fast.

“Call Eddie!” You called to a shocked Robin, who froze for only a few seconds before dashing for the phone.

By the time Eddie sprinted through the door, breathless and mercilessly alone, things were well underway. Labor had set in fast, and the baby’s vitals were dropping. They had to get her out as soon as possible.

“We’re going to be taking you back for a C section, okay?” The doctor told you kindly, but you could hear the seriousness of the situation in his tone. “We need to get this baby out right now.”

You had never been more terrified in your life. You could not lose this baby. You didn’t care much about your own well-being, but losing this baby would kill you.

“Can I come?” Eddie asked, his voice shaking. He was equally terrified. This baby, his daughter, meant the world to him already and she wasn’t even here yet. He needed both of you to be okay.

“Yes, you’ll just have to change into a pair of scrubs,” the doctor said. “One of the nurses will bring you some then bring you to the OR. We just need to get her in there and prepped immediately.”

Eddie watched as they wheeled you from the room quickly, disappearing down the hall with an urgency that made him sick to his stomach. Just as he’d been told, a nurse walked up with a pair of surgical scrubs and a hair cap, snapping him out of his internal panic.

He went into the bathroom and changed into the scrubs, pulling his hair up into a bun and putting the cap on. He slipped the shoe covers on last. He felt like he looked ridiculous, but he really didn’t have time to think about that right now.

Inside the operating room, you laid on a table with your arms strapped down out to the side. You also wore a cap over your hair, and a large drape curtained off everything below your chest.

“Hey,” you said, sounding nice and calm and a little out of it. “You came.”

“Of course I came,” Eddie said. He stood next to you as the doctor got to work. He did not want to think about what was going on behind that curtain.

It wasn’t long before the doctor said “Here she is!” and the next thing Eddie knew, he heard a shrill cry. It made his heart stutter in his chest, he lost his breath. Moments later one of the nurses came around with the tiniest baby Eddie had ever seen, wrapped in a hospital blanket. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His child.

You gazed at the tiny bundle in the nurse’s arms. You were so drugged up you couldn’t really comprehend the moment, but you knew that tiny bundle was your daughter. Here at last. And alive, healthy. Pink skin and a head full of brown hair.

“Would you like to hold her?” The nurse asked as the doctor went to work on stitching you up. “We have to get her to the NICU, so only for a moment. I’m sorry.”

The NICU. Eddie didn’t want to think too hard about that. “Yes, I want to hold her.” Eddie held out his arms and the nurse gently placed the tiny baby in them.

She was so small. She felt like glass, like the most fragile thing in the world. He took in every aspect of her appearance, from her hair that matched his, to her tiny button nose, her little pink lips. Her eyes were closed, so he didn’t get to see her eye color.

He moved over to you and held the baby down for you to see. “Here she is,” he whispered to you. “Our baby girl.”

You smiled a loopy smile, but you could feel the love practically bursting out of your chest. “Hi, Lottie,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. “Charlotte Mae.”

Charlotte did great, and had none of the problems common in premature babies. It was a miracle, and you were so grateful.

There was a knock at your door before it opened. Robin walked in, Steve trailing behind her. They both had smiles on their faces and held gift bags. Steve held a bouquet of beautiful flowers. He wore a yellow sweater and jeans, his long hair styled. You couldn’t help but notice how cute he was.

“Hey, mama, how are you feeling?” Robin greeted, coming over and giving you a kiss on the cheek. She looked down at the sleeping baby in your arms. “Hi, Lottie!”

“We’re doing good,” you said, a tired smile on your face. Eddie had been over earlier, but had to leave when Chrissy called the hospital phone, demanding he come home. It had made your chest ache, especially when he obeyed.

“Hey,” Steve said, moving to your other side. He held up the flowers. “I, uh, brought these for you.”

“Had the idea, picked them out, and bought them himself,” Robin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

The way Steve was looking at you did something to you, something felt deep in your chest. “Thank you,” you smiled at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“We also brought you these,” Robin said, placing both gift bags on your lap. One was purple with pink tissue paper, and the other was blue with yellow paper. “Can Auntie Robs hold her now?”

“Of course,” you replied, gently passing the tiny bundle into Robin’s waiting arms. She held the baby like a natural, gently rocking her.

You reached for the purple bag first. You pulled the paper out and found a comfy pair of pajamas for yourself, and a matching set for Charlotte. There was a card inside that read, I’m so proud of you. You’re going to be the best mom ever! Love, Auntie Robs.

You almost teared up, looking at Robin. “Thank you,” you said. “This means so much.”

“Of course,” she smiled. “Now open Steve’s!”

You laughed as you grabbed the blue bag and removed the paper. Inside you found an assortment of candy, and a small teddy bear. A card inside read Motherhood looks beautiful on you. You’re going to rock it. I’m glad we’ve become friends. Love, Steve.

“How did you know I have a sweet tooth?” You asked Steve with a laugh. You couldn’t focus on his note right now unless you really wanted to cry.

“Robin,” he laughed. “She filled me in.”

Robin and Steve visited for as long as they could, taking turns holding Charlotte and helping to take care of both her and you. You were so grateful to have such support, such amazing friends.

Custody was a whole other ordeal. You and Eddie had agreed that he would get Charlotte every other weekend, starting when she was 5 months old and could take a bottle when she was with Eddie since you were breastfeeding.

It worked out, Eddie didn’t argue with you much unless Chrissy started convincing him to, as she sometimes did. He started missing his scheduled weekends, claiming plans with Chrissy. The thing is that Chrissy knew what weekends Eddie had Charlotte, and she would do this on purpose. And he just let her.

It made you so mad. Lottie deserved better than this. She deserved a father who was excited to see her any chance he got. You began to resent Eddie more and more.

It was Saturday night, and Eddie had bailed for the weekend again. He was taking Chrissy to Indianapolis to spend the weekend and go shopping. Honestly, you were in the mood for a good cry.

Not only was Eddie bailing on his visitation, but he was also pushing for more. You didn’t understand it, but you knew who was behind it. Chrissy just liked stirring up shit between you and Eddie. You were convinced she got a kick out of it.

You figured the best way to get a good cry was to go rent a sappy movie. You were sure a good romance would have you sobbing within the hour. You packed Lottie’s diaper bag, strapped her in her car seat, and drove to Family Video.

You smiled when you saw Steve behind the counter through the glass doors. He was on the phone as you walked in, but he gave you a big smile and held up a finger to tell you to hold on a second. You started browsing the movies, seeing what was available.

Steve got off the phone as quickly as possible, rushing over to your side. “Hey, Lottie,” he greeted the baby on your hip, making her giggle and reach for him. You handed her off as Steve happily took her. “So, what brings you in today? Not that I’m not excited to see you.”

You couldn’t help but smile at Steve. “Rough weekend. I need a good cry.”

He frowned. “Why?”

You sighed. “Just Eddie and Chrissy stuff. The usual.”

Steve nodded in understanding, but it pissed him off. He hated the hell Eddie and his girlfriend put you through on a constant basis. He wished he could make it better. “So you need a sad movie?”

“Yeah. Any recommendations?”

He thought for a minute. He browsed the shelves as Lottie played with his name tag. “Hmm…oh!” He reached forward and plucked a VHS off the shelf. “This one will get you for sure.”

You took it from his hands. “Steel Magnolias. I haven’t seen it.”

“Oh, it’ll definitely make you cry,” Steve laughed as you examined the tape, reading the back synopsis.

“Do you know that because it made you cry?” You teased, a playful smile on your lips as you looked at him again.

Steve blushed bright red. “Maybe.”

You laughed, poking him in the side. “Who knew you were such a sap, Steve Harrington.”

“Hey,” he said, holding up his free hand in surrender. “Chicks dig a guy who’s in tune with his emotions.”

“Is that so?”

“It is so,” Steve confirmed with a grin. You could never wipe the smile off your face when Steve was around. He was just so fun, and kind, and funny. He was a great friend, and cute, too, if you let yourself admit it.

You exchanged the tape for Lottie then followed Steve back to the counter where he checked you out. “Just one movie tonight?”

“Yeah. I pass out too early now to watch more than one.”

Steve chuckled as he scanned the tape and pulled up your account. He clicked on his computer for a few seconds before a receipt began to print. “Alright, you’re all set.”

“Thanks,” you smiled as you took the tape and receipt from him. “I’ll see you around, Steve!” You turned and began walking to the front door, ready to get home, get Lottie comfy in bed, then watch your movie.

“Hey,” Steve said, stopping you. You turned around, confused.

“What’s up?”

“Um…” Steve cleared his throat. “Would you…want to go out sometime?” His voice was nervous, like you’d never heard it before.

His words caught you off guard. You raised your eyebrows, switching the baby to the other arm. “What?”

“Go out? Like, on a date?”

You blinked at him. “You want to go on a date…with me?”

“Yeah,” he smiled nervously at you. “I’ve…been wanting to ask you out for a while. But you just had so much going on, I didn’t want to add more stress to your plate…”

“Steve, you could never do anything but make my life better. I love spending time with you.”

He beamed at that. “Yeah? Well…would you want to go on a date with me?”

“Sure,” you smiled. “I would love that.”

You finished packing up Charlotte’s bag, making sure it was stocked with plenty of clothes and her favorite toys, including the teddy bear Steve had given her, which was her absolute favorite. Eddie had plenty of diapers and wipes at his house so you didn’t have to worry about that.

You had your date with Steve tonight. He was going to be picking you up shortly after Lottie left, so you had already gotten ready. You wore a short little dress that you’d been waiting for an excuse to wear forever, your hair hung perfectly, and you had done some light makeup. You hadn’t dressed up like this and gone on a date in…ever.

There was a knock at the door right on time. “There’s daddy!” You told Charlotte, who smiled big and clapped her little hands together. You scooped her up and headed for the front door, opening it to reveal Eddie.

Eddie smiled at Charlotte, but immediately took notice of your look. “Where are you going all dolled up? Got a hot date?” He asked, a sneer in his voice.

Your smile dropped. So he was going to be like this today. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

Eddie didn’t like that. The thought of it struck an unusual and unwelcome jealousy into his chest. “With who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said. You handed over Charlotte’s bag. “I can do whatever I want. You cheated on me, remember?”

He didn’t acknowledge your second comment. “It is my business if you’re bringing my daughter around some guy.”

You stared him down. “Well, you bring your mistress around our daughter, so I don’t think you have the right to say anything.”

Eddie’s eyes darkened. “Chrissy is my girlfriend.”

“Sure.” You turned to Charlotte, smiling at her. “I’ll see you Sunday, baby girl. I love you so much.” You gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek before handing her off to Eddie. “I’ll see you Sunday.”

Eddie left, and you sighed. You took some deep breaths, trying to calm yourself. You would not let Eddie ruin this night. This was your first time being asked on a date, and you were going to have a good time.

It was about 15 minutes later that Steve picked you up. He looked handsome, wearing a button up shirt and jeans. He held a beautiful bouquet of flowers that he handed you as you opened the door.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and you could tell from his voice that he truly meant it. You blushed deeply as you took the flowers.

“Thank you,” you smiled. Steve followed you into the apartment, stepping over toys as you walked into the kitchen. You grabbed a vase and filled it with water, placing the flowers inside.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you walked with Steve to his car. He held the passenger side door open for you, and you smiled at him as you slid in. He was such a gentleman.

“I was thinking, dinner and a movie is too lame, too cliche. We watch movies all the time. So,” he gestured into the backseat, “I packed us a picnic, and got us tickets to see David Bowie in the city tonight.”

You stared at him, blinking. “I…no you didn’t.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I did. I know you’re a big fan, and he was performing nearby, so…”

“Oh my god!” Your heart was beating out of your chest, you felt like it would explode. “Steve. Oh my god.”

Steve was very proud of himself for this one. He knew you’d freak out, but your reaction was even better than he hoped. “That’s why I asked you out tonight specifically. I, uh…already had the tickets.”

You quickly swiped a falling tear off your cheek before it could mess up your makeup. “Steve Harrington, I think I’m in love with you.”

That made Steve’s heart swell. Because he felt the same way about you.

Steve drove the two of you to the park, where you found a spot next to a large tree. He laid out the blanket and sat down the picnic basket he’d packed full of all kinds of foods. You ate together, laughing and joking and having the best time. But you couldn’t shake the buzzing excitement in your belly from the news of the concert.

It was a couple hour’s drive to the city, but it was worth it. The show was incredible, everything you dreamed seeing David Bowie would be. Steve held your hand, which sent electricity through both of your bodies.

When Steve brought you home, he walked you to your apartment door. Butterflies were flying in your stomach, still ecstatic from the most incredible date you ever could have imagined.

“I had a great time,” Steve said.

“Me too,” you agreed. “Truly. Do you…want to come in? The night doesn’t have to be over yet.”

A smile spread across Steve’s lips. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

Steve followed you in. As you turned to him, you saw something behind his eyes. Like he was thinking, considering something. He lifted a hand and caressed the side of your face with the back of his hand, thinking he had never seen someone as beautiful in his life. “Can I kiss you?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. “I…yes.”

Steve smiled lightly. Then he was leaning in, closer and closer, until his lips pressed to yours.

Sparks flew. You kissed him back eagerly, and he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body flush to his own. The kiss turned heated, Steve pressing your back up against the wall as he kissed you passionately. His hands began sliding up the skirt of your dress.

“Steve,” you said, breathless against his lips. “Take me to my room.”

The next morning, you woke up next to Steve. He had his arm around your waist, cuddling you close. You were both naked. As you awoke, Steve did, too, pulling you closer to him and nuzzling his face into your neck. “Don’t go,” he mumbled.

“I’m not,” you giggled. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve asked you to be his girlfriend that morning. It may have been a little soon, but you happily said yes. You knew Steve well, he was one of your best friends. You knew you wanted to be with him.

Robin was ecstatic when you told her the news. “About time!” She exclaimed, throwing her arms up. “Took you long enough, dingus.”

You knew you had to tell Eddie. As much as you dreaded it, he deserved to know as the father of your daughter. You waited a couple of weeks into the relationship, wanting to be sure things were going to work out before you brought it up. But your relationship with Steve was incredible, a kind of joy you never thought you could experience in a relationship.

Eddie came to the door to drop off Charlotte one Sunday evening. He was a little early, and Steve was over.

“Shit,” you hissed as he knocked at the door. “I guess it’s now or never.”

You answered the door, loving how Lottie’s face lit up at the sight of you. “Hi baby!”

“Mama!” She called, reaching for you. You took her from Eddie’s arms, sitting her on your hip. “Dada!” She exclaimed next, only she wasn’t looking at Eddie.

Steve had come up behind you, and Lottie was pointing at him. Your mouth dropped as Eddie’s face turned to one of pure anger. “What the fuck?” He said.

“I swear, I don’t know what that’s about. She’s never called him that before,” you explained quickly. Honestly Eddie deserved to have his feelings hurt, but you knew how destroyed you would be if Lottie called Chrissy Mama.

“What is he doing here anyway?” Eddie asked, gesturing towards Steve. “I don’t see Robin here. Do you have a life of your own, Harrington?”

You looked between Steve and Eddie. “Ed…me and Steve are…together.”

The words hit Eddie like a punch to the gut. He figured you would date eventually, but maybe he just got spoiled by you being single. He didn’t expect the pain of finding out you had moved on. And with Harrington? “What?”

You pursed your lips, knowing this had the potential to go badly. “We’re together. Steve is my boyfriend.”

Eddie just stared between the two of you. Then, he laughed, a sinister sounding chuckle. He knew he had no right to be pissed, but he was pissed. “Well, isn’t that just great.”

“Eddie-“

“No,” he said, holding a hand up. “You don’t owe me an explanation. You do whatever you want. Enjoy your life with Steve.”

And with that, he left. He didn’t even tell Charlotte goodbye.

Things with Steve were incredible. He was the best boyfriend you could ask for, and he was amazing with Lottie. She loved playing with him, and he could sit on the floor and play with her for hours without getting bored.

You had been together for a year and a half when he surprised you with a trip to the beach. You spent the weekend laying out in the sun, playing in the ocean, making love until the early morning in your suite.

On the last day there, you were walking down the beach hand in hand. As you were looking down at the sand for seashells, you noticed some writing in the sand. You let go of Steve’s hand to walk over and read it.

Will you marry me?

“Steve!” You exclaimed. “Look, someone proposed! How cute-“

You froze when you turned around to see Steve on one knee, holding a beautiful ring in a black velvet box. You gasped, tears immediately falling. You always were emotional.

“Will you make me the luckiest guy in the world and marry me?”

Eddie came home a little early from work one evening, and immediately knew something was wrong. He could feel it in the atmosphere before he even heard the noises. Those unmistakable noises.

He crept down the hallway, careful not to make any noise. Not that he thought he’d be noticed, anyway. Not with what he deeply suspected was going on.

He made it to the bedroom he shared with Chrissy. The door was slightly ajar, and he took a deep breath before pushing it open all the way.

Chrissy and her ex, Jason Carver, were in his bed, absolutely going at it. Eddie knew this was what was going on from the moment he walked into the apartment, but seeing it, he still felt like he’d be sick. Chrissy turned at the sound of the door opening and screamed, covering herself and Jason, who didn’t really seem to give a fuck at all.

After Jason left and Eddie was left alone with his girlfriend, he demanded the truth. She admitted she had been sleeping with Jason again for months.

Naturally, Eddie kicked her out. Then, he was alone.

Alone with only his thoughts, he had too much quiet time to think. And what he found himself thinking about was you. Far too often. He thought about your relationship, how he fucked everything up, including your lifelong friendship. Sure, he got his beautiful daughter out of it, but he could have treated you better. He should have treated you better.

He also thought about the way you’d treated him. The way you had loved him. How you were the only woman who had ever loved him, besides his mom all those years ago. How he had taken you for granted. He thought about how he would feel if some asshole treated Lottie the way he treated you. The thought itself made him furious.

Because now that Chrissy was gone and he was no longer blinded by his lifelong crush, he was realizing something:

Eddie loved you.

Not just as the mother of his child, or as a platonic friend, but love love. The kind he had been too blind to see back in high school, back during the days of your relationship.

He hated himself now. He had fucked up more than was even fathomable. He had thrown you away, for Chrissy. You were so much better than Chrissy in every way. Prettier, smarter, funnier, kinder. And you had treated him well.

Eddie dwelled on it for months. He grabbed his mail from the mailbox as he headed into his trailer one day, flipping through the various bills and junk mail - until he stopped at one with your name on it.

He dropped the other pieces of mail in his rush to open that one. He nearly ripped it in half getting it open, and as he pulled out the card inside, his blood ran cold.

You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mr. and Mrs Harrington.

It was too late.

tags

@ali-r3n @crispystarfishhottub

[toonice113]

Lover  ᥫ᭡ N.Hischier

part three of three of my valentine's series

part one: Paper rings - Q.Hughes

part two: False god - M.Barzal

Pairings: Nico Hischier x fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You and Nico being in love, that’s it

Warnings: mentions of alcohol

Word count: 1k

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚ Last part of the valentine’s series, this one’s shorter because I have a million things to do today, but it’s still sweet and I hope you enjoy it. Happy Valentine's day everyone! ᡣ𐭩

It’s just after the holidays, your first holidays in your new house with Nico, the one where you’re hoping you’ll raise your kids in one day. “Love I think it’s time for these to come down” He gestures to the christmas decorations around the living room 

“But we haven’t gotten any actual decoration” You pout, there obviously was some decor you had brought in from your shared apartment, things that you’d brought from your lives apart as well as things you had bought while living together, but that was in a small apartment and you felt like the house had looked pretty empty once you were fully moved in which resulted in you going a little overboard with the christmas decoration and Nico letting you because well, he couldn’t resist you 

“We have decoration, and we can buy more if you want but I’m afraid the holidays are over” He smiles pulling you into a hug “So the garlands and the lights have to come down”

“Says who?” You ask huffing, he chuckles kissing you “No, seriously, this is our place we make the rules” 

“Okay and what are your rules?” Nico asks, you smile up at him 

“We can keep light up for as long as we want” You move towards the decorations “I’ll reason with you, we can’t take the tree down and maybe box some of the obnoxiously christmas stuff” 

“Alright, let’s do that shall we?” You nod and he goes to get some boxes from the garage to store all your Christmas decorations away.

You sway in Nico’s arms to the music playing from the speakers, your friends laughter and chattering flowing through the walls, you were at a small party at Curtis’s house and after a few drinks the coffee table had been pushed to the corner and the living room had become an impromptu dance floor, Nico twirls you and you end up on Jack’s arms who as if on instinct takes your hands and starts dancing with you, Nico laughs deciding to take a break and leave you dancing with his friend while he gets a drink.

In the kitchen he pulls out a beer bottle opening it when someone approaches him, he recognizes the woman as one of Curtis’s wife’s friends, she asks if he can pass him a beer and open it for her, Nico does so and as she starts making conversation his attention is pulled away when you laugh loudly, Jack is apologizing profusely and you are shaking it off, excusing himself your boyfriend walks to check on you “You okay love?” He asks 

“Yeah, fine” You say in between laughs “But I think it’s time we cut Jacky here from drinking, he’s forgotten his left from right” 

“Shit that’s probably going to bruise I’m so sorry” Jack apologizes again 

“It’s okay, but I do think it’s time to go home, do you have a ride?” You ask knowing that Luke left earlier for a date when he shakes his head no you offer to take him home and then run into the problem of him not having his keys and Luke still being on a date which leads to him having to stay with you

“Hey bud, the guest room is just up the stairs” Nico tells Jack when he flops on the living room couch 

“Mmm no, this is okay” He mumbles, chuckling you pat Nico on the shoulder 

“It’s okay let him” You whisper, noticing your friend has fallen asleep on the sofa making sure that he is covered with the blanket you keep there before walking upstairs with Nico. Up in your room, cuddled up under the covers you relish on the warmth of your boyfriend’s body wishing that you could stay this close forever. “So, what were you and Lacy talking about?” 

Nico’s eyebrows raise in confusion thinking back on his night, he doesn’t think he knows a Lacy so he has no idea what you’re talking about “Lacy?” 

“Mhm, Reanne’s friend” You remind him “The one you were talking with when Jack confused left with right and smacked me against the table”

“Oh” Nico remembers now “Honestly? I have no idea, you kinda distracted me when you took that hit” He pulls away slightly and lifts up your pajama shirt to see where you hit yourself, a red patch slowly turning darker shows in your skin, he groans “Let me go get some ice for this” 

You assure him that you are okay but Nico being Nico ignores your words and still gets up to go downstairs and get an ice pack, passing a snoring Jack on the couch he smiles a little at his friend drooling while hugging a throw pillow tightly making a mental note to throw it on the wash tomorrow “She was so flirting with you by the way” You whisper at him going back to your previous conversation once he’s laying back with you holding the ice to your side making him chuckle lightly before giving you a forehead kiss and telling you a sweet i love you.

It’s during the summer, in Switzerland, shortly after your third year anniversary that you celebrate your wedding, the ceremony a beautiful yet simple affair, with only those closest to you, your family and good friends mixed with a slightly larger group of Nico’s family and friends. The whole thing happens at an outdoor venue that overlooks a beautiful swiss landscape of green, and it’s there looking at his now wife’s twinkling eyes, that Nico realizes how complete he finally feels, how nothing else will ever matter as much as you do to him, as he feels the scars in your hands, from that era you had as a teenager when you took it upon yourself to learn how to play guitar on your own and played so much that the strings eventually cut through your skin, he realizes he never wants to live a life without you and your dramatics, your laugh as he tells you dirty jokes at the most inappropriate times, such as at a fundraiser dinner when very important Devils investors were giving a serious speech, and knowing that the seat next to you will forever be reserved for him.

“I love you so much I can’t wait to spend the rest of my days with you” He whispers in your ear as you dance surrounded by friends and family.

“I love you, thank you for completing me” You say back.

[levanterhaze]

── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡  ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

“What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope. 

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table. 

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

♡ taglist ― @kenia4 @chrizrizz @meerabmalik @gnabnahcsworld @gncbnahc @jinniejjam @skzworldx @itsacatastrophe-xo @soonie1010 @4ng3l-ch1ld @justwonder113 @tsunderelino @eastjonowhere @lyracarvahall @akindaflora @victoriaaf @ebnabi @wickedbutlovely

[angstywaifu]

Black Dahlia - 36. The Only Mare In His Stable

Summary: With War Games and her first year over, Dahlia finally has the time to seek out Garrick. But maybe he just beats her to it.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

Of course Xaden had to pick the one spot to defend that had the longest flight there and back. My body was screaming at me to rest. We’d barely gotten time to sleep and fully rest. But it had been worth it. We’d successfully defended our outpost and taken over others in the area. I swear to gods we better have won this. Otherwise Xaden might need to hide for the next few days.

”It will get easier little flower.” Proth drawls in my head. But I can tell he’s just as exhausted as me through the bond.

”I know. And please don’t call me that anymore.” I tell him, my mind going back to when Garrick had used the name as he’d pulled a the first of many orgasms from me that night.

Proth chuckles in my head. “I have always called you that. The large one can find another name, or you can learn to separate the two.”

I can’t help but laugh at his nickname for Garrick. “You say that like it’s going to happen again.”

”I have spent the last five days listening to you think about him like a lovesick puppy even when you think you aren’t thinking about him.” He snaps at me. “So please do us both a favour and sort out whatever this is when we get back.”

Noted. And I’m sure my friends would be bugging me for updates as soon as I’d had time to shower and get back to normal. Damn Bodhi and his inability to keep his mouth shut. I sag with relief as the flight field comes into sight, only a few squads ahead of us as they make their way down to the Rotunda. I can’t see it from here, but I know it will be filled with the rest of the Quadrant waiting for the last of us to return so they can reveal the winner of War Games.

My feet barely touch the ground before Proth takes off, clearly wanting to rest after the long flight. We all fall into a comfortable silence as we follow Xaden through the field and down the stairs. All of us too exhausted to talk amongst each other. As we walk into the Rotunda I can’t help but scan the squads to find him. And due to his height he’s easy to spy down the back of tail section, his body sagging in relief as he sees me alive. I’d like to say unharmed, but I now sport a new scar on my right jaw that extends onto my neck from a well thrown dagger from second wing. And from what I can see he’s unharmed, just exhausted like the rest of us. His squad had been on the opposite end of our area, meaning we hadn’t crossed paths at all in the five days.

As soon as we take our spot Panchek steps forward. We must have been the last squad back. “Congratulations on surviving War Games. Just a small taste of what you will all do one day when you graduate. Tomorrow once all Squads have been accounted for, we will conduct the death roll and graduation. But for now, we must declare a winner.”

The quadrant buzzes with excitement, everyone mustering whatever energy they can. But as I scan the other squads I note a good number of them clearly showered and rested. Lucky bastards.

Markham walks forward, handing a scroll to Panchek who unrolls it, keeping his face void of any emotion as he reads it. His eyes raise to us, scanning the wings in front of him. Everyone going silent as they anxiously await the results.

”The winner of this years War Games after a very impressive battle this year, is Fourth Wing!” He calls out before the Quadrant is deafened by the cheers of our wing.

I’m immediately pulled into the arms of my Squad, Xaden begrudgingly joining us as Bodhi pulls him in. All of a sudden relaxing and a shower is the last thing on my mind, on any of our minds. We’d fucking won War Games. Guess I wouldn’t need to murder Xaden for picking the outpost that he did. Slowly we break apart, my other squad members moving away to congratulate the rest of our wing.

I can’t help but look over at Dain who looks thoroughly annoyed his wing hadn’t won. I’m sure Panchek had read out the placements of the other Wings, but I’d been too lost in the cheers of my Wing to hear it. Dain furrows his brow at me. No, not me. Something behind me. His eyes looking at something above me. I turn to see Garrick pushing his way over to me. My heart starts beating loudly in my chest as he gets closer.

I open my mouth to say something, but he rushes forward, grasping my face in his hands as he crushes his lips to mine. All I can register is the warmth of his hands, the firm pressure of his lips, and the way my pulse thrums like a drum in my ears. My hands instinctively rise, clutching at his flight jacket, half for balance, half in disbelief.

The cheers of my Wing morph into hoots and hollers, but they feel distant, like they belong to a world I’m no longer part of. When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, and his breath comes in shallow bursts. His eyes, bright and intense, search mine, as though he’s trying to find words but can’t quite manage them. The silence between us feels louder than the noise around us.

“You—” I start, but my voice catches, barely above a whisper. “What was that?”

Garrick smirks down at me. “Making what I want clear. This,” He says as he gestures between us, “Is not just sex. Not anymore. You made it clear what you wanted from me to even consider this being a thing. And I did it.” I swear I note a slight shake in his hand, but it’s hard to tell with how hard we’re both breathing.

”You barely know me.” I say as I look down at where my hands still grip his jacket.

”You know that isn’t true. We might have spent most of the year despising each other, but we both know more about each other than we care to admit.” Garrick puts a finger under my chin, guiding my eyes back to him. “So, what do you say to being the only mare in my stable?”

My heart pounds in my chest, drowning out everyone around us as I look up at Garrick. And after a few seconds where I swear Garrick looks scared, I nod up at him. And for the first time since I was a kid, I beam up at Garrick, unable to hold back the smile at the way he’s asked me. But with the amount of times I’d thrown that analogy at him, it was fitting.

”Imogen! I want my ten gold pieces!” Bodhi yells out, startling us both as he pushes past Austin and Liz, walking towards Imogen who shakes her head and tries to walk away from him.

”Did they-”

”Yeah, they placed a bet on us.” Garrick confirms with a shake of his head.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601  @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus

[fuctacles]

i was gonna cut it in half, but you get 2k for Valentine's Day <3

<< thirteen | 😺 | fifteen >>

Eddie asks Wayne where is a good place to make key copies, and drafts a plan. He'll go to Steph's salon, pick up her keys, make a copy for her, and drop them back before she leaves work. Just a tiny good deed from a friendly neighbour, so she doesn't have to juggle her one set between cat feeders and whatnot. 

Except Wayne sees through him immediately and throws a bucket of cold water on his enthusiasm.

"While I fully support whatever you two are doing..." He promptly raises his hand so Eddie would spare him any of the explanations brewing behind his lips. "I think this would be a little too much."

"How?" Eddie frowns, confused.

"Well, a bachelor she has just met is asking for her keys to make copies. It's a little too much too fast, don't you think?"

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it. Frowns.

"Maybe?"

"How would you feel if a new friend thought they know better how many keys you should own?" Wayne raises his eyebrows. "And took it upon themself to do it for you?"

"Okay, fine, I hear you!" Eddie groans, throwing his hands up. 

Wayne sips on his coffee, now calm enough that his nephew won't do something too stupid. 

"With that said, I too think it's silly to not have a spare."

"Thank you," Eddie murmurs, drumming his fingers against his cup. "So what do I do?"

"Buy her flowers, ever heard of it?" Wayne raises his eyebrow. 

Eddie twists his mouth, unconvinced with the idea. 

"I don't know, it sounds pretty forward..."

Wayne almost snorts his coffee out of his nose.

Eddie follows the blanket permission he got the last day and walks up to Steph's apartment around the same time. Since he felt that bringing her flowers would be too much, he settled on cookies from his favorite bakery. They could share them with coffee or tea, and it wouldn't be too weird. 

It's just...

He really hopes they could actually talk.

When he opens the doors labeled 54, he's hit with the smell of spices. Steph leans through the kitchen door to greet him.

"Hi! I'm making fried rice, do you want some?"

Eddie nods, curbing the desire to come over and kiss her.

"Yeah, it smells good." He steps into the kitchen, setting the cookies on the counter. "Can I help with something?"

Steph keeps stirring for a second, before she points to one of the cupboards.

"Take out two bowls, please?" she asks.

Eddie's been in the apartment all alone, and he's looked through Steph's stuff to some extent. Opening cupboards while she's cooking shouldn't feel as thrilling as it does. 

When she finishes the food, he grabs beers for the two of them, and they move to the the living room again, a movie already waiting to be played.

"Is Willow okay?" she asks, hovering over the play button, and Eddie's eyes couldn't go any wider. Only one lamp is left on in the room, and the TV is illuminating Steph like an angel offering him the finest pleasures in life. 

"Is the sky blue?" he shoots back. "It's one of my favorites." 

She smiles, all self satisfied and wide, like she already knew he'll love the movie. 

Eddie tilts his head, eyeing her suspiciously. 

"Did Wayne tell you?"

Steph shakes her head 'no'. 

"It was a lucky guess," she admits coyly. 

Oh, to be known like that by another human. Have someone with enough intimate knowledge of him to guess his thoughts, pick out things they know he'll like. She knows he'll like. 

Eddie does like the movie, but he wishes it was something boring so they could talk. Of course, he's also enjoying having Steph pressed against his shoulder, and the movie is a great excuse to just be in her presence, without the responsible adult communication thing. 

It's when she gets up asking if he wants another beer, when he realizes he's been too engrossed in the movie. 

"Uh, I'm not even halfway," he says, moving the bottle in his hand. 

"But are you gonna drink more?"

"Probably," he shrugs. 

She brings back another four beers, and as this time he's paying attention, he notices she's already drunk a fair amount of the one she's holding.

"Everything okay?" he asks gently. He doesn't remember Steph drinking this fast, or this much, during their previous hang-outs. And it's a weekday, too.

"Mhm, yep." She plops down next to him heavily, but even the weight of her body against him doesn't soothe his nerves. On the contrary. It's easy to tell she's already tipsy, and she's planning to have at least two more beers, including the one in her hand. 

"Not to be a buzzkill, you know..." Eddie licks his lips nervously. "But you're drinking more than usual."

She makes an amused sound, deep in her throat.

"Tell that to my high school self."

"Well, I'm telling it to my adult friend Stephanie, I don't know that other one."

Steph huffs, staring at the screen.

"Good."

At loss of what else to say, he leans back against the couch, hoping the press of their shoulders will bring her some comfort his words apparently can't. He's turning to the TV, when she speaks up.

"I have something to tell you."

Eddie's eyes immediately go back to her, but she's staring ahead. 

"Yeah?" he prompts.

"After the movie."

He's confused and worried, but since she wants him to stay, it can't be anything bad, right?

"Okay," he says, feeling anything but. All the possible confessions are going through his mind, movie forgotten. The only things he's aware of are Steph's movements when she brings up the bottle to her lips, and her muscles flex against his arm, and his own racing thoughts. 

She's going to tell him she's a lesbian just like Robin. Maybe they're secretly a long distance couple, or she has a thing with Joyce. Or she has a man in another state. A secret family, a husband? What if she has a kid? Eddie would make a good step-dad, but he wasn't planning for that any time soon. Or maybe it's way simpler than that, and she'll finally tell him to stop, that she's not interested, never was. That Eddie, a metal musician still in college, isn't worth it. 

"I wasn't born a woman."

The credits are rolling on the screen, letters forming Eddie's miserable scenarios, and he's so focused on them he barely hears Steph's words. But finally, he turns his head towards her. She's slumped next to him, picking on the label of her empty beer bottle. He's so relieved he doesn't understand what's going on.

"I know." Not his best reaction but he can't believe she's been worried about it all this time, drinking just to tell him something he's already figured out.

Steph frowns, before turning to him with glassy eyes. 

"You know?"

He points to the collage on her wall.

"You have your old photos right there?"

She stares at the display like she's seeing it for the first time in her life. Her eyes widen with the realization and she makes a sound between a snort and a groan, head falling back. 

"Of course I fucking do."

Eddie drums his fingers against his beer bottle. He still has a couple of swings left. 

"Is that what you were so worried about?"

"Of course!" She throws out her hands angrily, startling him. "It's always 'do you not want me, Steph?' and then 'ew, you have a what?' or 'i always wanted to fuck someone like that' and honestly? At this point I don't know which one is worse. So yes, I was fucking worried!" 

Steph stands up angrily, swaying a little, but she quickly catches her balance. She starts gathering the empty bottles and Eddie rushes to help before she drops any and makes a mess, but she gathers them petulantly in her arms. 

"You can go, I got this," she says dismissively. 

"I want to help," he protests, hands held out uselessly. Steph marches to the kitchen, all the bottles pressed close to her chest. Eddie quickly follows, but she safely deposits them all in the sink and stares at them, expression hidden by her hair. 

"Stop sucking up to me. I'm not something to be scratched off a bucket list."

"What?" Eddie frowns. 

Steph finally turns towards him, and now he wishes she didn't. Her eyes are sad and angry and he doesn't like them directed at him like that. 

"Is that why you kissed me? Because you knew?"

'I always wanted to fuck someone like that.'

"No. No," he protests firmly. "I liked you before that, it doesn't matter to me."

"Are you sure?" she scoffs. "You might change your mind when I get undressed."

"I highly doubt that." He crosses his arms over his chest. "I've told you I'm not deterred by d—" His eyes widen momentarily, the word lodging in his throat, but Steph only rolls her eyes with annoyance. 

"You can say 'dick'. I have a dick. I am a woman with a dick."

That's a lot of dicks for just a few words. And Eddie is trying to prove that he's into them but not in a weird way. Which is difficult when you're rarely normal about anything. 

"Yeah, that, and I've had close encounters with those, though never on a woman before," he admits. "I would operate whatever genitals you have because they're yours, not because I'm hoping they're a certain way. I don't care. Well, I care because they're yours, but if you told me I can never touch or look, that's okay." Though what a travesty that would be. What about all the orgasms he promised her in his head? But she still has a prostate, right? He probably could—

"Say it," Steph interrupts his futuristic plans.

"Huh?"

"Say I have a dick." She crosses her arms tightly over her chest. 

Eddie inhales deeply. 

"You have a dick. It doesn't matter to me either way. You could have a pussy, a dick, or a cacti, and I would accommodate. Though we probably would have to get rid of the thorns on the last one. Or get me some protective gear."

She lets out a startled snort.

"Yeah, sure. We'll see about that."

It sounds like a challenge, and while Eddie might hate sports, he loves games. If it's up his alley, he can get competitive easily, and this one promises great treasures, if he wins. 

If only he knew the rules. 

"Tomorrow, same time. Wear something comfortable."

Eddie's eyes widen.

"For what?" His voice comes out higher than he'd like, but his mind quickly resurfaces from the gutter it found itself in, and he frowns, suddenly suspicious. "Will you make me exercise?"

Her features soften, and a playful smirk pulls on her lips. 

"You'll see."

Her smile is a good sign, even if it's at his expense, so he decides not to push his luck anymore and end the night here. 

"Well, I'm gonna..." He awkwardly motions to the door, hesitating. 

Steph is leaning against the bar counter, watching him knowingly. 

"You can get a goodnight kiss tonight," she says, resting her cheek against her palm. "Or get more tomorrow."

Eddie wonders, if the game has already started. He puts his quick Dungeon Master wits to work, and figures with how far he's come, he gets advantage on the Charisma check. 

"I could live off of goodnight kisses for forever," he says. "There's no need for anything more."

He almost feels bad at how fast her resolve crumbles, giving place to fiery red flush. 

"Fucking charmer," she scoffs almost angrily, before rounding the counter towards him. The energy coming off of her makes him take a step back, and he hits the front door. Steph's nails scratch the wooden surface right next to his ear. She tilts her head. 

"You're gonna put your money where your mouth is?" 

Eddie's been trying to get better at that, sometimes to his own demise—staying true to his words, keeping promises. So he reaches for her neck and pulls her in.

It's more like their first kiss than the last one. It's hungrier, the knowledge that they both want more seeping into their muscles, grasping at clothes, pulling and pushing. Eddie groans into Steph's hot mouth, happy to be pressed between her soft, strong body, and the cold door. She pushes even closer, gathering the sound with her tongue and claiming it for herself. 

They pull apart with a wet smack, and Steph laughs breathily at the dopey smile she finds directed at her. She pats Eddie's cheek affectionately and untangles herself from his grasp. The door clicks when she twists the lock, and it seems to bring Eddie back from his daze. 

"Goodnight, Eddie," she says pointedly. 

He blinks at her, before his soft smile comes back, and he reaches up again to place one last kiss on her lips. 

"Goodnight. See you tomorrow," he smiles, before slipping outside the door. 

Steph is terrible person, and also more smitten with this boy than she'd want to admit, so she looks through the peephole at the dimly lit corridor. She hopes Eddie can't hear her chuckle at the silly dance he does while walking away from her door.

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94 @tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman @madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson @hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets @bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore  @icecat @rootbeerandmusic @mollymawkwrites @milojames16

help me with rent

[ch33z3grits]

Crimson Obsessions | A Terry Richmond Vampire Series

pairing: Aaron Pierre as Terry Richmond x Justine Skye as Camille DeWaterson

summary: Camille attempts to return to her usual life in Houston, trying her best to forget the club owner that stays on her mind and in her heart. But a new member of her firm shows her that she won’t be forgetting that night anytime soon. Terry has used the time since the bachelorette party to find the best way to insert himself in Camille’s life. Taking advantage of a chance opportunity, fate if you will, he starts to put his plan into motion.

warnings: 18+ mdni, dark romance, manipulation, obsessiveness/possessiveness, mentions of sexual acts, mentions of BDSM, cyberstalking

word count: 6,624

a/n: thank you all for the feedback on the last part! This part is definitely less spicy... BUT, it does give a lot of background that's necessary for the rest of the story. Hope you all enjoy :)

Camille’s song: Can’t Get You Out of My Head-Kylie Minogue | Terry’s song: Excitement-Trippie Redd

Pt. Two

Camille

Camille was pulled out of her sleep by the soft harping of her alarm. Groggily, she blinked the remnants of her dream from her eyes. It was a dream similar to the ones she’s had every night since she had returned from New Orleans. The mysterious club owner, on his knees with her legs draped over his shoulders, slurping her dripping pussy like it was his last meal. Or he would be folding her like a pretzel, digging her out until she saw stars. Or he would press her into a wall, thrusting into her from behind. He would tell her she was being such a good girl for him. His eyes would bore into hers as he relentlessly sent her over the edge multiple times. She would be trapped in his gaze until her alarm came to her rescue every morning.

Like usual, her fiancé’s side of the bed was already empty. Aston McCoy was determined to make junior partner early at the law firm they both worked at. To show the leadership at Watkins & Grant that he was the perfect candidate for promotion, Aston would arrive at the office an hour and a half earlier than everyone else. His early arrival required that he leave the apartment they shared at 5:30 AM to get to the office by 6:00 AM.

Camille didn’t mind waking up to an empty bed every weekday morning. In fact, she looked forward to it. Don’t get her wrong, she enjoyed Aston’s company. But these quiet mornings were slowly becoming the only moments she had where she was away from him. After moving into his apartment three months ago, Camille realized that his presence consumed every part of her life. They worked together, lived together, ate together, shopped together, went to events together. And they always seemed to only do things he wanted to do. Camille couldn’t help but feel like she was losing her life and getting absorbed by his.

She threw off the comforter and stood from the bed, trudging towards the bathroom to begin her daily routine. After brushing her teeth and doing her skincare, she turned the shower on to let the water warm up as she walked into the closet to pick out her outfit for the day. Like her father, Aston was very concerned with image. Because of this, he always encouraged her to wear things that “whispered wealth.” He bought her expensive work dresses from brands that his old money friends mentioned. He encouraged her to keep her nails short and neutral. And he always wanted her makeup and hair to be feature enhancing, free from any distracting colors or textures. For the most part, Camille didn’t mind because she naturally went for the look that Aston wanted. But whenever she did drift outside of her comfort zone, it was always met with displeasure.

Camille reached for a black turtleneck sweater, a black maxi skirt, and nude pumps. The Houston weather had been all over the place. Even though it was mid February, the temperature climbed to 70 degrees some days then dropped into the 40s right after. Today was one of those 40 degree days, so Camille hoped her outfit was enough to keep her warm. She laid the clothes on the bed, then proceeded to strip and get in the shower. After washing up, she stepped out to apply her lotion and perfume. For her makeup, she took her sweet time at the vanity space, savoring the still morning. Once she applied the finishing touches, she returned to the bed to pull on her outfit. Lastly, she pulled her silk pressed hair into a sleek bun.

Same old same old, Camille thought, bracing herself for the somewhat stressful day. When she first took the paralegal job at Watkins & Grant that Aston helped her secure, she was beyond excited. She envisioned herself working with a diverse team of attorneys, diving into a variety of cases and tackling a wide range of legal issues. But Aston had other plans. He convinced his managers to funnel all his cases her way, effectively monopolizing her workload. Every once in a while, one of the other associates would pass along a case that sparked her interest—like something in Environmental Law—but those moments were rare. Most of the time, Camille was buried in Aston’s Property and Financial Assets portfolio. She appreciated the privilege of her position, she knew how fortunate she was. But working for her partner wasn’t easy. He ran a tight ship and his workload was more than average, meaning hers was more than average too.

After checking that everything was in her work bag, Camille moved towards the large apartment’s front door. I’ll get breakfast at the office, she decided as she rode the elevator down to the parking deck. She slid into her Lexus, placing her bag on the passenger seat. Aston preferred that she came to work with him in his Porsche Cayenne. But she loved the Lexus that her dad bought her after she graduated from college. Besides, she wasn’t waking up three hours early just so her coworkers didn’t see her older car.

Camille’s guilty pleasure, the NASA Curious Universe podcast, got her through her 30 minute commute to the office and her search for a parking spot in the packed deck. With a final sigh, she grabbed her bag and stepped out of her car.

“Good morning, Mr. Pat,” she waved to the security guard who watched the deck most days. Mr. Pat waved back, giving her a warm smile she didn’t know she needed. “Good morning Ms. Camille,” he replied. “Don’t work yourself too hard today!”

“I’ll try my best,” Camille called back with a giggle. But she knew that today would be like every other work day. Aston would pile on the work, she'd eat lunch at her desk, and stay late to finish it all. But she couldn’t complain. After their honeymoon, Aston wanted her to stay at home, which she didn’t mind at all. Though she dreamed of using her Economics degree to become a florist and open her own shop, staying home was still better than being Aston's glorified personal assistant.

“Good morning, Mr. Watkins. How was your weekend?” She said as she stepped into the elevator with one of her bosses. Camille always greeted the senior partner of the firm, Mr. Charles Watkins. He always extended kindness to her and often tried to get Aston to lighten her load. “Camille, how’re you doing?! My weekend was just perfect. The missus and I tried to go sledding in North Dakota with our grandkids. It was a disaster because of my bad knee,” he laughed. “But going anywhere with Mabel is always a great time for me.” Camille smiled brightly as he babbled on. Mr. Watkins always spoke highly of his wife of thirty-six years, Mabel. Maybe one day, if their love evolved beyond fulfilling their familial duties, Aston would talk about her like that. But for now, she settled for the mutual respect and attraction they had for each other.

In college, Camille had fallen deeply in love with Aston when they got together sophomore year. But two years into their relationship, she discovered he’d been cheating on her for eight months. The betrayal shattered her. They broke up, despite his protests, and Camille wasn’t swayed by his desperate attempts to win her back. Their fathers had to step in, reminding them that their relationship was never about love—it was a business arrangement. “We’re not here for love, Camille. We’re here to merge Texas oil with Louisiana oil refining,” her father had said. So, Camille and Aston reconciled in their senior year, but Camille kept her heart locked away, vowing to never to be as open with him, or anyone else, as she once had been.

“Oh Camille, by the way. Will you be in the office around 11:00 AM today? Grant and I have an announcement to make and we want to make sure the whole team is present.” Camille started to nod. Of course she would be, she never had time to leave the office.

“Yes sir, I’ll be there. Will the announcement be in the conference room?”

“It sure will be! You’re always one step ahead of me, Camille,” he chuckled as the elevator finally paused on their floor. “Well, I’ll see you then. Tell McCoy I said good morning.” With that, Mr. Watkins walked out of the elevator and rounded the corner towards his wing of the office.

Camille walked in the opposite direction towards Aston’s office, smiling politely at her coworkers along the way. The glass walls of Aston’s office showed him already hard at work. A coffee cup and an open Celsius sat on his desk, hinting as to why he had so much energy already. She knocked lightly on the glass door before letting herself in. He rose from his desk as a smile spread across his face.

“Morning baby!” He greeted with his Texas drawl. Camille couldn’t help but return his smile. Despite his past discrepancies, and some of his overbearing and superficial ways, he was a genuinely pleasant person. He maintained a positive attitude and he could always brighten up a room. He was like a golden retriever.

“Good morning,” Camille giggled back. “You seem to be in a really good mood. Did I miss something?” Camille said, placing her stuff on the desk in the corner of his office.

He bit his fist, laughing softly. “Baby… I think today’s the day. I think they’re going to announce that I’m the new junior partner!” Camille gave him a warm smile. “I’m so proud of you! Look at you, all of your hard work is paying off and ahead of schedule,” Camille stated, walking around his desk to give him a hug. He returned the hug with enthusiasm, rocking her back and forth in his arms. “Thank you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “You know what this means? No more early mornings! We’ll be able to come into the office together.”

Camille nodded, a pang of guilt going through her. She didn’t want to give up her mornings alone…

“Wow, I mean who would’ve thought that he would be making junior partner before his 35th birthday,” Aston sighed, looking at the picture of himself that sat on his desk. He was standing in the DKR stadium at their Alma mater, the University of Texas, his arm extended with his hand in a “hook ‘em Horns” gesture.

Camille smiled at his silliness and patted his torso before pulling away from their embrace. “Mr. Watkins or Mr. Grant hinted at it or something?” She asked.

“Yea, Grant was in the office early today and he swung by to tell me that they’re making a big announcement today that I’m going to be very pleased with.” Camille didn’t think his smile could get any wider, but it did. “Well I’ll be sure to be the first one in the conference room to get a good seat, so I can get a good picture of you,” Camille said, feeling a bit better about the day.

“Thanks for being so supportive, Millie,” Aston sighed happily. Camille inwardly cringed at the nickname she never had the heart to tell him that she hated. “But,” he continued, his tone getting more serious. “We gotta make sure this chapter of my career ends productively. You ready to do one final sprint, babe?” Camille nodded with a closed mouth smile as he dropped a thick stack of papers on her desk. She knew she would be glued to her desk until it was time to go to the conference. Bracing herself, she opened the file and got to work.

Two hours later, she sighed with relief as Aston’s watch went off, signaling that it was fifteen minutes until 11 AM. She rolled her wrist to bring her cramped hand back to life. Aston rose from his desk and began to pace between his office mirror and his coat hanger that held his suit jacket.

“What do you think baby? Should I wear the suit jacket or does it look too formal?” He asked, nervously looking at her through the mirror as he adjusted his tie. “The suit jacket,” she said. “It screams junior partner.” He smiled in agreement. He threw it on and gave himself one final look.

He opened the door for Camille and they headed down the hall to the grand conference room. Once inside, they sat near the head of the table, eagerly awaiting the good news.

Within the next five minutes, dozens of other employees began to file into the room. The early birds were able to grab seats at the long table, while those who dragged their feet had to find standing room. At around 10:57, Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant walked in, quieting the chatter that filled the space. Aston squeezed Camille’s thigh under the table with excitement.

“Thank you all for making it to this meeting! We've been excited to share this announcement for some time now, but we had some logistical issues we had to work out,” Mr. Watkins proceeded after clearing his throat. “Since we started this firm, Tom and I have always been careful in our selection of partners. As the face of the firm, they had to be exceptional. We wanted a partner who is disciplined, innovative, and exceeds expectations. And we are glad to say that we found that partner. From the moment we met him, we knew that this young man would go far, farther than either one of us.” Aston’s grip on Camille tightened. “He’s so promising, that even at his age, he’s going to be made a partner instead of a junior partner. But before we dive into his bio, let’s introduce you all to our newest member of the Watkins & Grant family, Mr. Terrence Richmond.” Both Camille and Aston stiffened, his hand slowly loosening from her thigh. Camille looked at Aston from the corner of her eye, seeing shock cross his face.

Oh no, she thought as she joined the resounding applause that filled the air. She hadn’t yet looked at the large figure entering the conference room, instead focusing on Aston’s shifting expression. And he was so excited… the poor thing.

“Oh my God,” Stephanie, Mr. Grant’s secretary, whispered to her friends. “I’d love to ride that pony!” That statement made Camille’s attention snap to the newcomer. As her eyes landed on his face, her applause faltered and her stomach dropped. It was him. The man who had been consuming her mind since Chloe's party. The man who haunted her every fantasy, lingering in her mind when she least wanted him to. The man she’d been desperately trying to forget, to quiet the guilt that gnawed at her every night as she laid next to Aston.

Even with subtle changes, he was unmistakable. His cornrows had been replaced by a low, curly fade. His face was now clean-shaven, except for a sharp goatee and thick, commanding eyebrows. The gold chains were gone, replaced by a sleek silver watch. Despite these shifts in appearance, he was undeniably the same man she had danced on with four weeks ago, the one who still burned in her memory.

If he recognized her, he didn’t show it. His eyes only lingered on hers for a second before shifting to another person. Camille quickly regained her composure and resumed clapping. Maybe he doesn’t remember me, she thought. He’s probably gone through enough women by now that he’s forgotten my face. Camille relaxed slightly. Yea, there’s no way he remembers me.

“Mr. Richmond is an excellent attorney who, after a lot of begging on our end, has agreed to a one year rotation as a partner with us,” Mr. Grant, who never speaks highly of anyone, chimed in. “His portfolio will cover intellectual property, government contracts, and impact investing. Some of our associates, like Aston McCoy, have been trying to get us to add intellectual property and impact investing to our services for years. Now that we have Terry, we’ll be able to expand our reach in the world of law, and interested associates will be able to work under him.” Mr. Grant nodded in Aston’s direction. Aston gave him a tight-lipped smile as he continued. “Prior to law, Mr. Richmond served in the United States Marine Corps for seven years, where he was a MCMAP instructor while simultaneously earning his bachelor’s in civil engineering. After exiting the service, he attended Florida A&M University’s College of Law where he graduated top of his class. Out of several offers, he chose to work with the prestigious Washington D.C. firm, Cravath. Under Cravath, he worked with clients like the Department of Defense and Microsoft with cases surrounding crypto, AI, and energy systems. Now, Cravath is letting us borrow him for the year as a part of a national attorney swap program.” Mr. Grant paused to lead everyone in another round of applause. “Mr. Richmond, is there anything else you’d like to share with us?” Mr. Grant asked.

Terrence Richmond smiled brightly. “Mr. Watkins and Mr. Grant, thank you for such a lovely and thorough introduction. And thank you all in advance for welcoming me to your team. I hope I’m able to learn a lot from you all and hope that you all find that my presence adds value here. Please feel free to drop by my office at any time, I’m always happy to chat. And please,” he added, the entire room hanging on his every word. “Just call me Terry.”

A fresh wave of enthusiastic applause rippled through the conference room, signaling the end of the formal meeting. The room buzzed with energy as people eagerly swarmed Terry to introduce themselves. Camille wished she could melt into the wall, desperate to slip out unnoticed. But before she could formulate a plan, Aston was already on his feet, pulling her toward a door on the opposite side of the room, away from Terry. As they made their escape, Camille couldn't resist a glance over her shoulder. Everyone was too absorbed in fawning over Terry and his impressive resume to notice them leaving, except for one person.

Terry.

His eyes locked onto her like a hawk and he flashed her a sly smile that sent a wave of heat through her. She quickly looked away, heart racing. She still wanted to believe he didn’t remember her, but that look left her uncertain.

Aston continued to drag her into his office, closing the door once they were inside. Camille watched as he paced the room, thinking of the best way to calm him down. She swallowed. “Bab–” he cut her off swiftly.

“What the hell was that?! Are they fucking kidding me,” he yelled, making Camille wince. “I’ve been busting my ass for the past three years here and they just let this new guy waltz in and become, not even junior partner, but partner?! Well, fuck me in the ass,” he grumbled.

“Language Aston, please,” Camille sighed.

“No Millie. This isn’t fucking fair. I mean, who even is this guy? Should’nt he still be in the fucking Marines! What the hell is he practicing civilian law for?” He continued to pace. “And what school is Florida A&M? I’ve never heard of it. I went to Yale for Christ’s sake! Did they really think I’d be happy about this? Just because he expands our portfolio in the way I suggested?!”

Camille placed her hands on his shoulders, attempting to soothe him. “Baby, please. I know you’re upset and disappointed, but you can’t react like this. At least not here.” Aston pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths. “What if someone sees you?” She whispered. He froze momentarily, glancing at the office’s transparent walls.

“You’re… you’re right, babe. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for cursing. Come on, let’s just get back to work,” he walked away from her and plopped down behind his desk. Camille released a breath she didn’t know she was holding. She knew he didn’t feel any better, but he put on a relaxed face anyway. That would have to be good enough for now. She slowly walked back to her desk, returning to the thick stack of documents. The office was silent except for the clacking of Aston’s keyboard and an occasional click of a mouse. But a few minutes later, Aston started back up again.

“I mean, where’d they even find this fucking guy!” He quipped. Camille groaned, dropping the highlighter in her hand.

“He’s on the goddamn MCMAP Wikipedia page. Watkins & Grant can’t let some damn jiu-jitsu instructor represent them. They–”

He was cut off by a knock. Camille and Aston’s head snapped to the door. Behind it stood Mr. Watkins… and the devil himself. Aston plastered on a fake smile and waved them in enthusiastically. “Come on in!”

“McCoy, Camille. You both rushed out of that meeting like two bats running out of hell. But I know how y’all like to keep yourselves busy. Just wanted to stop by so Mr. Richmond could meet you two,” Mr. Watkins explained as they stepped inside. Terry let out a deep chuckle, sending a ripple of pleasure through Camille.

“Please, just call me Terry.” He said, extending his hand to Aston. Aston’s fake smile twitched. “Great to meet you, Terry. Welcome to the firm!”

“I appreciate it,” Terry returned, his eyes settling on Camille’s. He licked his lips as his eyes swept over her figure, but the other two men didn’t notice. “Ms. Camille, a pleasure to meet you as well.” Camille gulped as she grasped his large, extended hand. She tried to pull away after a brief shake, but he gripped her hand just a little bit tighter, his thumb tracing light circles on the back of her hand. She shuddered. Shit, he does remember me. And he isn’t going to pretend like nothing happened between us.

“Nice to meet you too, Terry.” She looked away from his unyielding gaze.

“Now Terry, I told you plenty about McCoy on our walk over here. But not nearly enough about Camille! She’s the greatest paralegal that the associates have, but McCoy here likes to hog her. But I guess that’s to be expected of her future husband.”

“Future husband?” Terry interjected. “Y’all are engaged?” He asked casually, turning his attention to Aston.

Aston nodded vigorously. “Yep, for the past four months.”

Camille’s stomach sank as he looked back at her and gave her a predatory smile. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she squeaked, feeling like a lamb in the jaws of a wolf.

“But we’ve gotta split these two up eventually, it’s only fair.” Mr. Watkins chimed in. “Camille will start having more diversity in the cases she helps with. So if you ever need a hand, Terry, please feel free to reach out to her.”

“Oh, I will. Most definitely,” Terry purred, causing Camille’s face to heat up.

“Great! Well, we will leave you all to it. Don’t forget to take your lunch,” Mr. Watkins called out, holding the glass door open for Terry. Terry gave Camille one last heated stare, before turning to walk out of the office.

Terry

Terry chuckled to himself as he thought about how Camille reacted to him walking into the conference room. Her fine ass looked exactly how he wanted her to. A doe caught in the headlights. Her dark brown eyes widened and her mouth fell agape comically. He had to hold in his laugh so he could give the rest of her colleagues a polite introduction.

When Terry pulled up her LinkedIn the day after she left Crimson, a satisfied grin tugged at his lips when he saw her listed as a paralegal. Fate was definitely on his side. Over the years, Terry had cycled through countless careers and identities, always one step ahead of those who might start asking too many questions or notice that he doesn’t really age. While he was deeply involved with Crimson and other ventures catering to the supernatural, he had also kept a foot in the legal world, practicing law on and off for the past four decades. He would spend years establishing himself as a sought-after attorney, only to disappear and reinvent himself in a new city when the time was right. Currently, he was one of the most respected lawyers in Washington, D.C. Last year, he joined a nationwide network of top-tier lawyers, offering their expertise to other firms. Firms across the country had courted him, but none had been as persistent as Watkins & Grant. So when Terry saw that a particular paralegal worked there, he decided to finally accept their generous offer. A few weeks later he was sitting in an opulent executive suite with his name on the door and his beloved Camille only a stone’s throw away.

Of course, Terry didn’t stop at Camille’s LinkedIn. After much digging, he found her social media handles, as well as the ones that belonged to her friends and family. Hundreds of pictures, tweets, videos, and articles helped him piece together her life. Camille was the second child of Colin and Anastasia DeWaterson, a business executive turned oil refinery owner and a celebrity costume designer. While Anastasia came from wealth, Colin came from humble beginnings. A country boy from Alabama who climbed the ranks of Georgia Power after gaining a business degree from Morehouse. The couple married in their early twenties and welcomed their first child, Colin DeWaterson Jr., after two years of marriage. One year later, they had Camille. Three years after that, they had their second daughter, Chloe. Their fourth and final child, Cole, came almost eight years after. 

The DeWatersons main residence was originally in Jonesboro, Georgia. But the children were rarely there. Colin Jr. was overseas in a German boarding school specializing in math and technology. Camille and Chloe were a bit closer to home attending a boarding school in Virginia. And Cole was in California at a school with a top-ranked basketball program. But in Camille’s sophomore year of high school, Mr. DeWaterson relocated his family to Louisiana after a distant relative passed, unexpectedly leaving him ownership of a few oil refineries in the state. From then on, Mr. DeWaterson attached himself to every wealthy family he could. And his connections seemed to pay off. The DeWatersons grew in popularity and became pinnacles of Black excellence in Louisiana.

But as time went on, the family seemed to attract scandals at every turn. A few years ago, rumors began to circulate that DeWaterson Sr. had an affair with a secretary, resulting in a baby. Although he denied the claims, he supposedly refused to participate in a DNA test and gave his secretary an undisclosed amount of money. Mrs. DeWaterson, battling stage three breast cancer, refused to make public appearances with her husband for over a year. At the same time, the youngest DeWaterson daughter began acting out. She dropped out of her Ivy League school to run off to LA with her then-boyfriend, a rising fashion designer. She got into a physical altercation outside of a LA nightclub, which was highly publicized. And she decided to go skinny dipping in a fountain at a well attended charity event. The DeWaterson sons also made headlines. During a sermon at his great uncle’s church, Colin Jr. came out to the entire congregation with his boyfriend. And Cole was accused of arson at his high school in Louisiana shortly after he transferred.

The only person who remained blemish free since the DeWatersons rise to notoriety was Camille. No scandalous articles, messy drama, or embarrassing incidents about her came to the surface as Terry continued his thorough search. Only mentions of her various awards, philanthropic acts, and social outings. But one particular article really piqued Terry’s interest. “The McCoy and DeWaterson Ties are Binding in More Ways Than One: The Engagement of the South.” The webpage outlined how the children of business partners Richard McCoy and Colin DeWaterson Sr. were soon to be wed. The author also accused the couple of joining together not for love, but to secure another level of wealth for their families. And Terry couldn’t agree more. As he analyzed the relationship further, he concluded that this was all orchestrated by their fathers. Camille would do anything to please her father and protect her family’s name. Even if that meant she had to sign her life away to some entitled white boy.

Terry let out a pleased sigh when he finally ended his investigation into Camille DeWaterson. It appeared he had a sweet, obedient, good girl on his hands. Women like her were always the most satisfying challenges. He was going to enjoy stealing Camille away from her fiancé and turning her into his personal slut. Overstimulation, edging, sensory deprivation, primal play, shibari… he would introduce her to it all. He would ruin her over and over and over again, breaking her down until she was a slutted out, cock-drunk mess. And when she breaks, he will gladly put her back together again. He would nail her to the cross just to resurrect her so he could be at her beck and call. She’d be his pampered sex kitten that he would spoil rotten, happily giving her the life that she deserved and freeing her from the exhaustion of being Little Miss Perfect. A kept woman who wouldn't have to do anything but love him.

But accomplishing this would require more than just working at Watkins & Grant. Terry would have to do much more to reel Camillle in and push McCoy out of the way. And he had to start now.

He opened the new laptop on his desk that was provided to him earlier that morning. All of the necessary accounts and applications had been installed and downloaded by the IT department. He only cared about one app at the moment, though.

Teams.

Every employee was just one message away. He scrolled through the names until he found Camille’s. He let out a ‘hmmm’ when he saw the green dot next to her name. She was available and online, prompting Terry to send her a quick, straightforward message.

Camille

Camille’s heart thumped loudly at the message that flashed in the corner of her computer screen.

Come here. We need to talk.

The devil was beckoning her to his office, and she had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The man could easily reveal what they did a few weekends ago to Aston, and her life would go up in flames. He could dangle that night over her head for the next year if he wanted to. He wants to blackmail me, Camille thought as she chewed on her lip. Why else would he be giving me those taunting looks? What other reason would make him call me to his office?

Camille desperately wanted to decline, knowing that any interaction with him could only lead to trouble. But what choice did she have? Avoiding him might piss him off. And who knows what he’ll do if that happens.

OK.

She sent the response and immediately shut her laptop. He couldn’t make any more demands of her if she couldn’t see them. Aston paused briefly at the sound of her device closing. “You going to lunch now?” he asked. “Yep,” she responded. That’s the perfect excuse, she thought. “Where are you going?” he pushed further. Camille chewed her lip nervously. She was always a bad liar. “I’m not sure yet. I’m feeling a little spontaneous.” She grabbed her bag and moved towards the door to avoid more questions.

“Wherever you go, can you get me something with chicken?” She grimaced. Now, she actually had to leave the building. “Sure, babe. I’ll be back soon.” And with that, she began her journey to Terry’s office.

His office sat within the executive wing of the floor, where the top employees got to enjoy the best views, the sleekest offices, and their own personal bathrooms. Terry’s new office had sat vacant for months and was often visited by Aston when he made his rounds in the morning. “This’ll be mine one day,” he would tell Camille from time to time. She understood his admiration of the space.

The office featured twelve-foot ceilings with floor-to-ceiling windows offering an unobstructed view of the Houston skyline. The space was fully equipped with the latest technology: a sleek smart screen, a modern kitchenette, and remote-controlled blinds. While the walls were glass like the other offices, a simple press of a button gave the glass an opaque frost, instantly giving the occupant privacy. It even had a connecting room, dedicated for a personal assistant. All in all, the room exuded a sense of sophistication, making it a space where work and luxury effortlessly coexisted. Any other time, Camille would be excited to take a trip to the executive wing. But this time, she was terrified.

She softly knocked on the door bearing the plaque “Terrence Richmond,” still trying to think of a way to get out of this situation. But the butter smooth voice that said “Come in” on the other side of the door told her that there was no escaping. Camille quickly stepped inside and shut the door behind her. Tucking her hands nervously behind her back, she watched Terry lazily toss a mini Houston Rockets basketball up and down, up and down. One of his welcome gifts from Mr. Watkins, she assumed. She couldn’t help but admire the beautiful man for a moment. His perfectly chiseled face. His plump lips. The way his muscles flexed beneath his clothing. He was like a dream come true. But Camille knew she had to wake herself up, because he could easily make her reality a nightmare. She cleared her throat, snapping herself out of the trance.

“You wanted to see me?” She asked quickly, just wanting to get this over with. He gave her a cheeky smile, making her knees buckle momentarily. “Hello to you too, Camille.” Her cheeks heated up as she mentally chastised herself. That was a little passive aggressive. She let out the breath she had been holding and approached his desk. “Look Terry, I know you probably want to make this as torturous for me as possible. But can you make this little game of yours quick, I have to get to lunch.”

Terry’s smile faded into confusion, his tossing coming to a stop. “What are you talking about?” Camille forced herself not to roll her eyes as she sat in the plush leather seat across from him. “You have some leverage that you can use against me. So what do you want? Let’s not dance around this.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” He threw his hands up innocently. “Honestly Camille, I called you in to say that if you stay cool, I’ll stay cool. I don’t want to make any problems for you.”

Her chest tightened as she searched his eyes for any insincerity. She didn’t find any. Shit. Camille had completely miscalculated his intentions. And had the nerve to accuse him of messing with her head! That whole interaction they had in Aston’s office was probably meaningless. She was the pervert for thinking that the looks he gave her or the tone he had were sexually charged. She slumped in the chair, upset that she had jumped to conclusions. With a shaky sigh, she said, “Terry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come for you like that. It’s just that…when I saw your message, I-I panicked-”

“Camille.” He interrupted gently. “You don’t have to apologize. This is exactly why I wanted to talk. I don’t want you to think that I would try to hurt you or your career. I was serious when I said that what happened would stay between us.” Terry’s words soothed her frayed nerves, but intensified her guilt. She was the one who risked her relationship and made him out to be the bad guy, but he was handling her like an innocent puppy.

“So do we understand each other?” Terry asked, his voice soft with an authoritative edge. She nodded. “Yea…thanks for addressing this, Terry. Can we just start over?” His dazzling smile returned, and she swooned internally.

“Yes ma’am.” he chuckled. “You can start by telling me a little bit about yourself.”

Terry

Ignoring the erection painfully brushing against his boxers, Terry nodded politely as Camille gave him a brief, humble introduction. Her feisty little attack when she first came into his office almost made him lose his cool demeanor and devour her right then and there. Terry knew that his Teams message would get a reaction out of her. And he needed to see it to understand where her head was at. Did she feel guilty? Was she worried that he’d tell her business? Would she try to avoid him? The way she pounced on him told Terry that the answer to all of his questions was yes.

He swelled with pride as she attempted to put him in his place. Her face was all serious and she puffed her chest out a bit. It was absolutely adorable and a turn-on at the same time. Terry was glad to see that she wasn’t a doormat and could handle some confrontation.

Though she wasn’t sharing anything he didn’t already know, Terry couldn’t help but ask more about her life—why she moved to Houston, how she met Aston, what she enjoyed doing in her free time. He wanted to savor every moment with her, to stretch the time they had together. After all, it was the first time he had seen her in person since the incident at Crimson. For the past month, he had to survive off her pictures and videos to satisfy his need to see her face. But they only fueled the sexual dreams that have been plaguing him since their last encounter. Dreams where he would have her pressed into his bed with her ankles by her ears. Or she would be bent over his kitchen counter with his fangs in her neck. Or his tongue would be slipping through her folds and sucking on her sensitive bud. Each dream would end the same. With her wetting up his dick, those pretty brown eyes clouding over with pure ecstasy.

His fist and imagination hadn’t been enough to satisfy him most nights. So he would invite women who were more than happy to please him over to his place a few times a week. But still, they couldn’t fulfill his deepest desires. He knew he wouldn’t have what he truly needed until he was between the legs of the gorgeous, intelligent, and sweet woman who sat before him.

As they spoke, he couldn’t help but observe the little details that made her so captivating. The way her eyes lit up when she mentioned her family, the subtle shift in her gaze when their eyes lingered too long, the warmth of her voice that seemed to wrap around him. He even noticed the delicate crinkle of her eyes when she laughed. Each small gesture, every word she spoke, was seared into his memory. As she shared a story about her favorite class from undergrad, her gaze drifted to the clock on the wall of his office. Realizing the time, she jumped to her feet. It had been twenty minutes.

“Oh, I completely forgot I had to go get lunch,” she said, shooting Terry an apologetic smile. “I hate to cut this short, but…” she trailed off. Terry quickly concealed his displeasure at her leaving. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll find another time.” She gave him a small wave as she opened the door. “Bye, Terry.” He waved back, groaning slightly as his dick jumped from his name slipping off her tongue.

He sighed, leaning back in his chair. From his brief exchange with Aston, it was clear he’d have to tread carefully with Camille—at least for the next few months. Terry could tell that the motherfucker didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. But he would stay civil, for now. He couldn’t risk Aston getting pissed off and discouraging Camille from building a friendship with him.

His strategy would take longer than he liked, but Terry was willing to be patient. For Camille’s sake, everything had to feel effortless, natural, like it was always meant to be. He would play the long game, staying under the radar, making sure nothing disrupted her world. He would start subtle, appearing as nothing more than a friendly colleague. But slowly, he would weave himself into her life like a shadow she won’t be able to escape, but will eventually begin to crave. This next year, patience would be Terry’s virtue. Because there was no way he was returning to D.C. without Camille on his arm.

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

@nayaesworld @slvt4her @writingsbytee @notapradagurl7 @23jammy @kaylaahisthebestest- @theogbadbitch @wabi-sabi1090 @hotgyalaroad @nubiagurllll @lovedlover @dimepiece09 @lavaniiii @simplyzeeka @susanhill @next-bex-bet @sparklytemi @sonotlauryn @ranikyani @loveschrisbrown20 @daddyslittlevillain @blackchickinthedesert

i think i added everyone this time!

[strangedesired]

Bruce doesn’t know what to get Clark for Valentine’s Day so he just buys literally everything. Clark comes home to at least 100 gifts wrapped and scattered around his apartment, and they’re not cheap either. Jewelry of all kinds with every stone you can think of, real leather shoes and belts, silk ties, satin pajamas, every luxury item that exists is now owned by Clark Kent.

When he discovers all this, Clark peers through each package, unwilling to unwrap them all because he knows for a fact he’s not keeping them. He looked through them all, smiling widely at the fact that Bruce so clearly picked them all out very specifically. His favorite color blue, his birthstone, that shade of red that Bruce says flatters his skin tone, all of it is carefully tailored to Clark. The last present is different, though. It’s a necklace, the chain is shining silver and obviously new, but the pendant, a heart shaped locket, is clearly very old. It’s rusted a little at the hinge and the metal is dented. On the front is an ornate ‘B’. He moves to it, immediately carefully unwrapping the box and pulling out the locket. He wanted to open it to discover what’s inside, instead of just looking into it. When he cracks it open, his throat goes dry. Inside is two pictures, one is of Bruce and his parents, the same one hanging in the manor, and the other is a close up of Clark and Dick from the time Dick fell asleep during a piggy back ride, face smushed into Clark’s shoulder and a little drool on his cheek.

30 seconds later, Clark is standing in Bruce’s bedroom at the manor, hair wild from how fast he flew and civilian clothes still in place. Bruce has a hand over his heart, having whirled around from where he was standing over his dresser, “Jesus, Clark, a little warning, please.” Clark ignores that comment, rushing forward and grabbing Bruce’s face before he clashes their lips together, kissing Bruce as deeply as he can until Bruce has to push him away to get a breath. When they separate, Bruce is bright red, eyes blown wide and fidgeting with his hands, his gaze has already locked on the necklace around Clark’s throat. He clears his throat, “So, you like it then? I didn’t know if you would think it was weird to have a picture of my parents but they gave it to me all those years ago and it felt wrong to take their picture out but I wanted you to have this piece of me and for you to know that you are my family but if you don’t want it that’s okay no hard feelings I’ll just-“ Clark is kissing him again, softer now, hands gentle on Bruce’s cheeks. “I love it, baby. It’s perfect. Thank you.”

[tenebraevesper]

With Light In My Heart, Entry 5: Shattered Worlds and Storybook Adventures

''This is my escape! I'm running through this world and I'm not looking back! 'Cause I know I can go where no one's ever gone and I'm not looking back! But how will I know when I get there? And how will I know when to leave? We've all gotta start from somewhere and it's right there for me, the possibilities are never ending! I see it, I see it, and now it's all within my reach! (Endless possibility!) I see it, I see it now, it's always been inside of me! (And now I feel so free!) Endless possibility!''

…

''Like the sun (the sun) , I run (I run) into the heat of day! Like a knight (like a knight) , I'll fight (I'll fight) until the fight is won! In a rage (s rage) , I'll save (I'll save) each and every, each and every, each and every one until this war is won! And I live to rule by the sword, slashing through the every inch of the power, the power in you! As I sit, as I stand by the table, I command my kingdom! I'm the Knight of the Wind!''

– Endless Possibility by Sonic Unleashed (NateWantsToBattle Cover) & Knight of The Wind by Sonic and The Black Knight (NateWantsToBattle Cover)

xXxXxXx

There was a sudden flash of light, with two hedgehogs emerging from it on the street, much to a few passersby's surprise. Shadow put the Chaos Emerald back in his quills, taking note of them being in the middle of a city, the architecture being dominated by building like apartments, shops and cathedrals. The streets were cobblestone-laid, with bushes and trees planted alongside the paths. Overall, the city had a rather old and archaic, but culturally rich feeling to it.

''I love that Old World charm,'' Sonic said, happy that he and Shadow finally made it to Spagonia and excited to show his rival, who was already looking around and taking in all of the city's architecture, all the sights he knew about.

Shadow was intrigued when Sonic suggested that they visit Spagonia. He couldn't recall ever visiting it, so this was a new experience for him. He had been told by Maria that she and her family did visit Spagonia before she got sick and that she liked the food there. His expression fell as he remembered their conversation, falling silent.

''Hey, Shadow, where do you- huh?'' Sonic's bright smile disappeared in an instant when he saw Shadow's somber expression. Sonic stared at his rival, his ears pinned down. ''Shadow….''

The dark hedgehog didn't appear to hear him, seemingly lost in his own thoughts. After learning about Black Doom's return, Shadow had focused completely on destroying him before he could fulfill his plans, but that didn't mean that he didn't take short breaks in-between missions to talk to the other people stuck in the White Space, mainly Maria and Professor Gerald Robotnik. However, looking back, he wished he could talk longer to them, especially Maria and hear more about her experiences and desires. He had his chance and he made the most of it. He couldn't go back to the past anymore, not when he promised to himself that he would move on.

He steadied himself, trying to push away this sense of longing and telling himself that he should use this precious memory and perhaps try to experience what Maria experienced. Even if she wasn't with him, she still roamed through all of those streets and visited the city's shops and restaurants, so he could try to honor her memory that way. They may not be able to experience this together, but he knew that she would approve of this decision.

''Shadow? You okay, buddy?''

Shadow turned to Sonic, who gave him a look of concern. ''I am. We should go.''

''Okay, then… Let's see,'' Sonic hummed as he thought about all the landmarks Spagonia offered. ''To think about it, the last time I've been here was to show Blaze around. Now, where to go first…''

''Do you know any good restaurants?'' Shadow asked, his question surprising Sonic. The cobalt hedgehog then beamed.

''Of course I know! I'll take you to the best one in the city,'' Sonic said, turning on his heel. ''Follow me!''

''Is it a chili dog stand?'' Shadow asked, arms folded across his chest. Sonic nearly stumbled over his own feet.

''N-No, it's not!'' he responded in a somewhat annoyed tone. Admittedly, while he knew exactly where to find the best chili dogs, he wasn't going to lead Shadow to those. Well, maybe later, but that wasn't the point. His annoyance turned to exasperation and slight amusement when he saw a teasing smirk on Shadow's lips. The dark hedgehog knew him too well and he clearly enjoyed seeing Sonic so flustered. ''You'll be eating some local cuisine. This way!''

He disappeared in a flash of blue, with Shadow closely following him. Despite the sense of tension he felt earlier, he allowed himself to relax and just take in the sights.

xXx

Sonic was excited when Shadow took initiative by asking him about the restaurants, making sure to show him every location he knew about or had visited previously, with the two ending up having lunch together. He was pleased to see that Shadow enjoyed the taste of the food, even with his usual serious look. Sonic kept them occupied by talking about the other landmarks that he wanted to show to Shadow.

''We should also visit Spagonia University. I've been there with Tails and Chip to ask Professor Pickle for help when Dark Gaia…'' Sonic trailed off when he saw Shadow raising an eyebrow. It appeared that this was an event the latter remembered well. ''Speaking of which, I don't remember seeing you anywhere. What have you been doing when Dark Gaia had been unleashed?''

''I've been fighting the Dark Gaia monsters just like you. However, I believe the reason that we've never come across each other was because I've been stuck on one continental landmass and I had no Chaos Emerald that would allow me to Chaos Control to another location,'' Shadow explained, narrowing his eyes. ''I assume that's because a certain someone took all of them.''

Sonic froze, giving Shadow an sheepish smile, knowing well that he had been caught. ''Well, I had to use them to go stop Eggman's newest weapon.''

''But, you didn't succeed,'' Shadow stated the obvious in a deadpan tone. Sonic's ears were pinned back and he didn't respond, with Shadow continuing. ''Considering how his weapon managed to destroy the Earth's surface, I assume he used the Chaos Emeralds to power it up.'' Shadow leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. ''He lured you into a trap.''

''Heh… Maybe you're right, but that didn't stop me from defeating Eggman and Dark Gaia,'' Sonic said, deciding to not tell Shadow that he was also in his Super Form when Eggman caught him. He knew that he wouldn't hear the end of it if his rival knew about it. After all, Shadow was observant and smart enough to figure most things out of the clues left behind. Sonic had to admit that it was quite admirable.

''Of course not. I don't believe that even death could stop you from saving the world…'' Shadow trailed off, only to furrow a brow when Sonic gave him a sheepish look. He sighed, resuming in a deadpan tone, ''I believe that you want to tell me that had happened at some point.''

''Actually, I'm not sure about it. I mean, I have a vague feeling that something like that may have happened at some point, but I don't really remember anything,'' Sonic explained, only to shrug.

''That's another point to add to my list of reasons why I should keep an eye on you,'' Shadow told him in a dry tone, while Sonic just gave him a cheeky smile.

''Says the guy who also almost died while trying to save the world,'' Sonic responded, only to fall silent for a moment. Shadow tilted his head, noting a subtle change in Sonic's expression, as if he was remembering something unpleasant, something that brought him great pain, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Instead, Sonic just continued in his typical carefree tone. ''What actually happened with Dark Gaia was that I got a transformation that gave me new powers.'' He had to chuckle at Shadow's expression, who wasn't even anymore surprised to hear something like that happen to Sonic. ''I became the Werehog and traded my speed for strength and stretchy limbs. It was really cool once I got used to that form, especially since the transformation only happened at night. If I remember correctly, it had to do something with Dark Gaia and the dark energy it released, which was also what kept people going bonkers.''

''I remember that. I had no idea why everyone was going berserk until Rouge gave me some intel about Dark Gaia,'' Shadow replied. At first, he believed that the people were just irritable and afraid because of the ongoing crisis, but he soon learned that the dark energy and the minions created by Dark Gaia were responsible for that behavior. He made sure to avoid getting exposed to it, but it wasn't easy. ''What about you? Since the Werehog seems to be another consequence of Dark Gaia's power, it should've been hard for you to control that form.''

''Actually, I didn't have much of a problem with it,'' Sonic replied. ''I wasn't sure why, and I thought it as because of Chip's presence, but he told me that it was my own will that kept me pure, even with the Werehog condition.''

''That makes sense,'' Shadow commented. ''At this point, it might be outright impossible to corrupt you in any way.''

''Heh, I like the confidence, but I'm still just a guy who likes to run around and beat up people who cause trouble. The way you're describing me sounds like I'm some kind of being with special powers that keep me pure,'' Sonic said, rubbing his nose and giving Shadow a bashful look.

''I'm simply pointing out the obvious,'' Shadow replied in a matter-of-fact tone, only to raise an eyebrow. ''Also, since when were you the type to downplay your accomplishments?''

''I don't think that this is such a big deal,'' Sonic replied, only to give Shadow a cocky smirk. ''But, I would never downplay my superiority when it comes to beating you in a race or a battle.''

Shadow snorted, looking rather amused by the response. Or rather, it was something he had expected to hear from Sonic. Nevertheless, there was still one more question on his mind that kept him occupied. ''Who is Chip? You keep mentioning him.''

''Oh, I guess I forgot to mention. Chip was a friend I met right after I became the Werehog. He actually had no memories of who he was, so I named him Chip and agreed to help him recover his memories. We later found out that he was actually Light Gaia and once we defeated Dark Gaia, he had to leave, getting sealed back within Earth together with Dark Gaia,'' Sonic explained, a fond smile forming on his lips as he recalled his adventure with Chip. ''He did leave his necklace behind for me as a gift and I still have it. He also promised me that he would never forget me and be always part of the earth I tread on.''

Both of them fell silent, with Shadow thinking about what Sonic had told him. It must've been hard for the hedgehog to say goodbye to a new friend, especially if the departure happened abruptly, which Shadow assumed it did. His rival was easily capable of making friends left and right, whether they were allies or enemies, but he had to wonder how he felt never being able to seeing them again. Shadow personally knew how much it hurt being forcibly torn away from the people he cared about without even giving him time to process his own feelings on the matter. In fact, it still hurt like hell every time he thought about it, but at this point he knew better than to push them away.

Shadow knew that, if he continued to act like that, they would just break through, flooding his mind and breaking his will. Unlike Sonic, it was much easier to corrupt him whenever he gave into his own dark desires, just as Black Doom had proven him during their last encounter. Even if there wasn't someone capable of corrupting him, he would still get overwhelmed by his negative emotions and choose a path that would put the people around him in danger, which was what had happened during the Metal Virus Incident. He may have been the Ultimate Lifeform, but could he really wield such title if he could easily get corrupted.

A shadow fell over his expression as another thought intruded his mind, that of him being not only created as a cure, but also as a weapon. It was possible that this was the reason why he could be so easily corrupted in comparison to Sonic, especially when he considered the fact that the two people who had a hand in him almost destroying the world were his own creators – Prof. Gerald Robotnik and Black Doom. After all, Black Doom even stated that he was created to be a warrior of destruction, and while Shadow responded that he would only destroy Black Doom, he knew that his words were still true. He had access to a power that could not only annihilate this planet, but even the universe, and if he ever decided to fully embrace that corruption. If that ever happened, Dr. Eggman and Infinite taking over Earth would be nothing in comparison to what Shadow was capable of doing.

Deep inside, Shadow sincerely hoped that he would never be brought to that point, and even if he did, that Sonic would be there to stop him for good.

''Shadow?'' Shadow lifted his head, only to see Sonic giving him a look of concern. ''Are you okay?''

''I'll be fine. I was just thinking about something,'' Shadow muttered. He knew that acting as if he wasn't affected by any of this would do him no good, but he didn't really want to talk to Sonic about it, at least not yet.

''I hope what you were thinking about was which flavour of your ice-cream sundae you want to choose,'' Sonic said in a chipper tone, his cheerfulness being quite infectious. ''Because that's where I'm taking you next. Or if you don't like ice-cream, we could get a dessert you like.''

''I'd prefer tiramisu over ice-cream, but I wouldn't mind the latter,'' Shadow replied.

''We could get both,'' Sonic said as he stood up, having finished his lunch, with Shadow joining him. ''I know exactly the place. Com'n!''

Shadow followed the eager hedgehog, feeling a sense of relief that Sonic didn't further question him about what he was going through. He hated being put on the spot and trying to explain himself, preferring to do it on his own terms, which was usually never. However, he did consider opening up to Sonic about the issue, especially since they did manage to have a productive conversation earlier. He knew that he needed Sonic to know about this possibility and to prepare him for when, not if, it happens.

xXx

Sonic hummed contently as he ate his ice-cream, while next to him, Shadow was eating the tiramisu he had bought at a cake shop. Both of them were sitting on a bench, admiring the view of the city's architecture. ''Over there is the Spagonia University. Once we're done, we can go visit it.''

''Are they really going to let us in?'' Shadow asked curiously. Sonic shrugged.

''I dunno. I guess they will,'' he replied in a carefree tone, with Shadow sighing in exasperation. Sonic grinned, focusing back on his ice-cream. Frankly, he had been enjoying himself so far, getting to visit all kinds of places in Spagonia together with Shadow. Not only that, but he had taken note of Shadow being much more interested in this trip, even if he never told him about his reasons. It didn't matter to Sonic, since he wanted his rival to have fun on this trip as much as possible before he returned back to his grumpy old self. Sonic cared about Shadow either way, but seeing him being happy and content for once was always a special treat.

Once they were done, Sonic led Shadow to the Spagonia University, both of them spotting many students and visitors coming in and out of the institute, including one old man Sonic was all too familiar with, currently struggling with carrying a stack of books.

''Hello, Professor Pickle! Nice to see you again!'' Sonic waved, with the old scholar perking up when he saw a familiar face.

''My, my, Sonic the Hedgehog! You came just in time. Could you please help me with all of these books? I need to bring them to the library,'' Prof. Pickle asked politely, with Sonic grabbing the large stack of books and dividing it between himself and Shadow. ''How is your friend, Tails? I haven't seen him for a while.''

''Oh, Tails is on a journey,'' Sonic replied, with the the two hedgehogs following the elderly man into the building.

''I see.'' Prof. Pickle's attention turned to Shadow. ''Who is your friend?''

''This is Shadow the Hedgehog, my rival,'' Sonic introduced the dark hedgehog, turning to Shadow. ''Shadow, this is Professor Pickle. He is an expert in ancient literature and sandwiches.''

''Sandwiches?'' Shadow gave him a confused look, only to realize a moment later that this was a sign for Prof. Pickle to go on a rant.

''Indeed I am! I have not only tried every kind of sandwich available, but also came up with my own culinary concoctions. I cherish my cucumber sandwiches, but just the other day, I have tried a sandwich with a pizza crust-like bread with soppressata, salami, a few cubes of cheese and a crisp crunch of lettuce, onions and tomatoes. It was quite delicious, but I wish they added cucumber to it. Definitely better than the sandwiches I tried at the conference a month ago. I'm telling you, that one was too sloppy made. The bread was too thickly sliced and the vegetables were too mushy…'' Prof. Pickle kept ranting as he led the two hedgehogs through the hallways towards the library. Shadow was completely exasperated, tuning the old man's rantings out at some point as he wasn't here to listen to what was basically How To Make a Perfect Sandwich 101. He glanced at Sonic, who didn't pay too much attention either, but looked quite amused about this whole thing. It was obvious that he was already used to it. Fortunately, they managed to arrive to the library after a few minutes of walking.

''…and that's why you need to need to be careful how much of pepper you use. That sandwich was only good for burning my mouth,'' Prof. Pickle ended his rant as the hedgehogs placed the books at the reception desk, with the librarian thanking them, as well as giving them a look of pity when she realized that the scholar roped them into one of his sandwich conversations.

''We'll keep that in mind,'' Sonic said, with the old man nodding.

''I'm sorry, but I haven't even asked why you're here,'' Prof. Pickle noted.

''I was showing Shadow around Spagonia and the university was one of the places we wanted to visit,'' Sonic explained.

''Is that so? Well, if you're ever interested in ancient scripts and lore, you can always ask me for help. I'd gladly tell you everything over a plate of cucumber sandwiches,'' Prof. Pickle said. Shadow just nodded politely. ''I need to return to my office now. Please, excuse me.''

As the scholar left, Sonic and Shadow exchanged glances, with Shadow commenting, ''He's quite… eccentric.''

''He's good at what he's doing and he helped me, Tails and Chip a lot during the whole Dark Gaia crisis,'' Sonic replied, then turning his attention to the rows and rows of shelves and books. ''Speaking of which, didn't we also agree to visit a library?''

''We did.''

''Great! Because I know exactly which books we could read,'' Sonic replied, beckoning to Shadow to follow him. The two were walking between the rows of shelves, reading the signs that informed them in which section they were. It took a while, since they weren't too familiar with the layout of the place, but Sonic eventually managed to locate two books, showing them to Shadow.

''1001 Nights and King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table,'' Shadow read the titles, glancing back at Sonic. ''Those are the books you wanted me to read?''

''Yeah! Well, either read them or get transported into them by Shahra or Merlina to go on an adventure,'' Sonic explained, only to take note of Shadow's puzzled look. He rubbed the back of his head, giving him a nervous laugh. ''Heh, I guess I should explain that one in more detail.''

Both went to the reading section of the library, sitting on the cushy armchairs, with Sonic dragging his next to Shadow so they both could read the books together, as well as talk without bothering other visitors.

''So, what did you do this time to get yourself into trouble?'' Shadow asked.

''First of all, I didn't do anything. In my first adventure, a genie named Shahra appeared to ask me for help because an evil genie named Erazor Djinn wanted to destroy not only the world of 1001 Nights by making it disappear, but also do the same to the real world. I tried to stop him, but he then shot me in the chest with a flaming arrow that would kill me if I didn't find the seven World Rings…'' Sonic trailed off when Shadow gave him a stunned look the moment he mentioned the arrow, only to quickly added. ''But, as you can see, I managed to defeat him. Oh, and I also met Ali Baba, Sinbad and King Shahryar, who for some reason looked like Tails, Knuckles and Eggman.''

''I wonder if there is a reason why the characters from a storybook looked like people you knew,'' Shadow mused. Sonic shrugged.

''Beats me, but it was weird having to save the life of someone who looked like Eggman after Erazor Djinn tried to assassinate him. In fact, King Shahryar had just as a nasty personality as Eggman, albeit without the whole murderous robots thing,'' Sonic replied, then smiled. ''Ali Baba and Sinbad were much more fun to hang out with. Not to mention, that wasn't the last time I saw a storybook counterpart of either of them.'' Sonic then tapped on the King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table book. ''For this one, I was actually supposed to meet up with Amy for a date when Merlina, a young wizard of the royal court, suddenly summoned me to defeat an evil version of King Arthur, who had become corrupted because of the magic of Excalibur's scabbard. After I pulled out the sword Caliburn out of stone, we set to off to see Nimue, since she was supposed to know how to defeat King Arthur.'' Sonic narrowed his eyes, sighing. ''Caliburn could be a bit handful, and we had a rocky start, with him calling me knave and a fool, and constantly doubting my skills…'' He took note of the amused smile on Shadow's lips, deciding not to comment on the fact that the dark hedgehog agreed with the talking sword. ''But we eventually became friends, and we both learned a lot from each other. It is also thanks to him that I met the Blacksmith, or rather, Tails' counterpart in that world. Also, Nimue was a more serene, wise and composed Amy, and she told me that she would help me if I became a true knight by completing three tests, which I obviously did.''

''I would've been quite disappointed to hear that you had actually failed,'' Shadow said in a serious tone.

''Thanks for the encouragement, Shadow,'' Sonic replied in a sarcastic tone, even though he knew that this was Shadow's way of supporting him. He then perked up ''In any case, I got the title 'Knight of the Wind' and was confronted by King Arthur's knights, those being Sir Lancelot, Sir Gawain and Sir Percival. Gawain looked just like Knuckles and Percival looked like Blaze, so guess who resembles Lancelot.''

Sonic gave Shadow a knowing smile, waiting for a response, only for the dark hedgehog to give him a solemn stare.

''Silver?''

''What? No. That was Sir Galahad.''

''Jet?''

''Nope. That's Sir Lamorak,'' Sonic responded in an exasperated tone, wondering if Shadow really had no clue, or if he was just messing with him. To his annoyance, it was the latter. ''Seriously, the dude called himself The Ultimate Knight. That should ring a bell.''

''That sounds like a fitting title,'' Shadow said with an arrogant smile, confirming Sonic's assumptions.

''Yeah, and he was just as brooding and arrogant as you can be,'' Sonic said, only to smirk. ''That's why I defeated him during our first encounter, because he got careless.'' Shadow furrowed a brow, with Sonic continuing, ''After I defeated all the knights and took their Sacred Swords, I ended up fighting King Arthur, who turned out to be an illusion created by Merlina, who actually wanted to use Excalibur's scabbard to rule the kingdom. I ended up teaming up with Lancelot, Gawain and Percival to use the Sacred Swords to put up a barrier to protect the kingdom and then confronted Merlina. She had told me that she wanted to preserve the kingdom as it is, forever, because she knew that it would eventually fall.''

''So, you were willing to let a kingdom fall into ruin instead of allowing it to be preserved?'' Shadow asked, but his tone of voice showed no accusation, just mild curiosity.

''Shadow, I know what it sounds like, but keeping Camelot and its people in an eternal stasis of darkness wasn't right. Merlina was risking everyone's lives so she could escape her own sorrow. Besides, every story has its end, no matter how sad it is. Still, one shouldn't just sit there and waste their precious time. When you want to do something, do it right away. Do it when you can. It's the only way to live a life without regrets,'' Sonic responded, his tone slightly serious, only to turn gentle. ''That's what I had told Merlina after I had defeated her, and she understood. I think she always knew that she would hurt many people if she went through with her plan, but still did it because of her own despair.''

''I understand what you mean,'' Shadow said in a quiet tone, recalling his own despair when the White Space started to vanish alongside Maria and Prof. Gerald Robotnik. ''I also had once a choice in whether I would preserve someone I cared about in a timeless stasis or let go of them… and I went with the latter. As you had mentioned it earlier, every story has its end.''

''Shadow…'' Despite keeping his tone as neutral as possible, Sonic knew that Shadow was in great emotional pain, and while he didn't know who this 'someone' was, he had his assumptions. ''You know, just because a story has its end, it doesn't mean that it's the end of the whole adventure. You can always start a new story.''

Shadow nodded firmly, and Sonic felt happy to see him cheer up a little. He then added, ''Oh, and before I forget- It turns out that Caliburn was Excalibur all along and he told me that I was the true King Arthur and ruler of Camelot.''

''…What?'' Sonic almost laughed at Shadow's flat response, the latter being stunned to hear that one. The dark hedgehog shook his head. ''What was that sword thinking?''

''I guess it was because I saved everyone and proved myself as the Knight of the Wind? Not to mention, it seemed like everyone forgot that a true knight doesn't just serve just the king, but the people of the kingdom and I had to remind them of that,'' Sonic explained, shrugging. ''Admittedly, I did end up stuck there for a while, mostly to help rebuild the kingdom while insisting that I wasn't going stay and rule it as their king. I also ended up going on a few adventures, mainly with Lancelot, who insisted that as the most loyal knight to the king, he should stick by my side.''

Shadow took note of the fond smile on Sonic's lips, his own gaze falling. ''You miss them, don't you?''

''I do, but I couldn't stay there forever,'' Sonic replied, only for his expression to sour. ''Besides, I had a date with Amy, but when I returned and tried to explain to her what had happened, she took out the Piko Piko Hammer and chased after me because she thought I made that whole thing up. I don't believe we ever went on another date after that.'' He sighed, only to smile in a cheerful manner. ''That's why I'm so glad that you believe me.''

''I have seen you doing many kinds of things that shouldn't be possible, so not taking your word for granted would go against all I know about you,'' Shadow replied, with Sonic feeling relieved, only to get blindsided by the next sentence. ''Should I refer to you from now on as King Arthur? Or maybe King Sonic?''

''Dude, I told you already that I don't want to be a king of anything. I wasn't born to rule, but to go on adventures,'' Sonic responded in an annoyed tone, pouting when Shadow kept that serious look.

''Are you certain, Sire?'' Shadow asked, doing his best not to smile. Typically, Sonic was the one who got on his nerves, so them switching positions was rather amusing, especially since Shadow had finally allowed himself to have some respite. Not to mention, if Sonic claimed that Lancelot, Shadow's counterpart, was his most loyal knight, he could try to get into that role just to mess with Sonic. That and there was a certain tone with which Sonic spoke about Lancelot that Shadow couldn't quite put a finger on. ''Perhaps a proper challenge would help you relieve yourself of your stress.''

''Do you even know how to wield a sword?'' Sonic asked, raising an eyebrow.

''I believe you should question whether you have the skill to defeat me, Knave of the Wind,'' Shadow replied. Sonic snorted, giving Shadow a confident smirk.

''That's Knight of the Wind to you, Shadow,'' Sonic replied, clenching his fist in his resolve as he suddenly stood up, only to blink in surprise. ''Uhhh, where do we even find a pair of swords?''

Shadow just rolled his eyes at his rival once again not thinking ahead, with Sonic giving him a sheepish smile. Obviously, the sword fight wouldn't happen unless they got their hands on them. ''Maybe we should go back to reading. We're at the library, not on a battlefield.''

''Yeah, you're right,'' Sonic chuckled, sitting next to Shadow, who opened the King Arthur book. ''You know, if I ever end up having another Storybook Adventure, I'd love for you to come along.''

Shadow gave him a surprised look, only to see Sonic giving him a fond smile, the kind that warmed his own heart. He then smiled back, turning his attention back to the book. ''Then, you better give me a call if that ever happens.''

''Don't worry, I will.''

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[heavendraven]

it's the 31st of may somewhere, right?

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent misc pictures

[beeapocalypse]

haunted once more by a dumb character idea

[drev-the-procrastinator]

love waking up to my mom giving me an ultimatum and ordering that i have to give up my (admittedly expensive) apartment 1n 2 weeks and move back home for good. i had stuff to do today but i guess being gripped by dread and anxiety works too

[miesozernacma]

the way sharing a home with no real corridors, with not a single room Just For You, where you can sit in all day without SOMEONE coming in, will litterally drive you to insanity