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#fake marriage
magiccath · 4 months
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The Ring
tenth doctor x f!reader
Summary: In which the only way for you and the Doctor to get out of this one is a fake marriage. But how fake is it really?
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You keeled over, your breath coming out in short pants. You weren't as good at this running thing as the Doctor was. 
Sensing you weren’t behind him, the Doctor turned to check on you. You threw your thumb up, signaling that you were okay. You didn’t like the Doctor worrying about you. 
“I’m sure we’ve lost them for now,” he assured, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was a nervous tick that he had.
“What are we going to do?” You asked once you had caught your breath. You allowed your legs to fold underneath you, sitting in the grass. The Doctor crouched down next to you. 
It was supposed to be a nice vacation, a break from the hustle and bustle of time traveling. You had explicitly asked for a relaxing trip, one where you didn’t have to save the world or run for your life. You should have known that was never how it was with the Doctor. 
Everything was fine at first. The alien town the Doctor had selected for your trip was throwing an elaborate festival. You were more than happy to partake in the dancing and sample the foreign foods. What you failed to notice was the ritual behind the festival. The village selected an unmarried woman each year to sacrifice to their gods. In retrospect, it wasn’t the weirdest ritual you had encountered over the years. What made it so uncomfortable was the fact they had selected you. 
“I would rather not be a blood sacrifice,” you admitted, pushing your wayward hair out of your face. 
“I won’t let that happen,” The Doctor said seriously, taking your hand gently. He had the duty of care, something that he didn’t take lightly. 
“I’m not sure how much good we are against a whole village of bloodthirsty aliens,” you laughed, burying your head in your hands. You should have been scared, upset even. Instead, you found the whole thing funny. You supposed that was a side effect of traveling with the Doctor. Everything could always be worse, and everything in front of you could always be funny. You just had to frame it the right way.
“I have an idea,” the Doctor murmured. You looked up at him, confused. He only whispered things when he knew you wouldn’t like them. 
“They only want to sacrifice you because you’re unmarried,” he stated. You stared at him, unsure of the point he was trying to make. 
He groaned, running a hand down his face in frustration. 
“I’m gonna need you to spell this one out for me,” you laughed lightly.
The Doctor swallowed anxiously, his Adam’s apple bobbing aggressively. “We could get married,” he said matter-of-factly, with the same tone he used to ask if you wanted tea or coffee in the morning. 
“What?” you asked, wide-eyed. The Doctor swallowed again, his eyes diverting from yours. 
You loved the Doctor, in every sense of the word. He was your home, your comfort. He was everything and more to you. But he only loved you as a friend, and you were more than willing to accept that love. It was better to love him like this than not at all. 
“They can’t sacrifice you if we get married.” 
“No, I got that part,” you rushed out, waving your hands about anxiously.
“You,” you sighed, pausing before continuing, “marry me?” 
“To save your life, yes,” the Doctor said like it was the simplest thing in the world. He would walk to the ends of the universe for you. He had.
“Can we do that?” you laughed, squeezing your eyes shut. The whole thing felt too good to be true. 
“I can’t think of anyone else I would rather fake-marry,” he smiled, taking your hands in his again. 
You grinned, the smile taking over your whole face. The Doctor loved it when you smiled like that. He loved it even more when he made you smile like that. 
“Let’s get fake married!” you laughed, jumping up from the grass. The Doctor nodded in agreement, standing up next to you. 
“How exactly…” you trailed off. “Are we going to get fake married?” The Doctor had a habit of making plans without a way to execute them. 
It wasn’t like you could just walk into the village church and get married. You certainly couldn’t go back to the TARDIS, or that would have been the plan before suggesting a falsified marriage.
“There was a little cottage on the outskirts of town, we can hope that there’s an inhabitant there who can serve as a witness?” He suggested. 
You couldn’t come up with a better idea so you agreed, following the Doctor as he walked off into the distance. 
You tried not to read too much into the whole marriage thing. The Doctor was doing it to save your life, nothing more. Still, the mere idea of it left your skin tingling and your heart racing. 
You were so lost in thought you hardly noticed the cottage creeping up on you until you were standing on the front steps. 
The Doctor rapped his knuckles against the wood softly before stepping back. You waited in silence for a few moments. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears. What if this didn’t work? 
The door flung open, revealing an old woman. 
“What do you want?” She barked, clearly disturbed by the visit. 
The Doctor cleared his throat, searching for his words. You frowned, he usually didn’t have any trouble talking to strangers. 
“This is a bit of a strange request,” he laughed lightly, his hand drifting towards the back of his neck subconsciously. 
“Spit it out, young man.” 
You bit back a giggle. The Doctor was far from young, even if this face was youthful. 
“We need a witness for our wedding,” he rushed, his words coming out in hurried clusters. 
The woman remained silent for a moment, her eyes darting between the two of you. You could see hundreds of questions forming in her mind before she shook them away. 
“I don’t want to know,” she murmured as she opened the door. 
You exchanged a look of relief with the Time Lord before following her inside. 
She bustled about her cottage, sorting things out while the two of you fiddled anxiously in the corner. 
“Well, let's get on with it,” she finally sighed. 
The Doctor nodded timidly, holding out his hand for you to take. You slipped your hand into his, your fingers interlocking instantaneously. You had held hands hundreds of times, yet it felt different.
With his other hand, the Doctor rifled about in the pockets of his coat. You frowned, wondering what could possibly be in there. Did he really need a jammy dodger from the depths of his pocket right now? Finally, his hand slipped out of the pocket holding two silver rings. 
“Why, on Earth, are you carrying around wedding bands?” you laughed. He only shrugged, handing the simple rings over to the old woman. She examined the objects in her hand wistfully, turning them over in her hand. 
“I can’t say I’m a professional at this,” she warned. It didn’t really matter to either of you.
The Doctor took your other hand in his, standing face-to-face with you. You laughed at the domesticity of it. 
“Do you,” the woman paused, looking at the Doctor. 
“John Smith,” The Doctor smiled. You shook your head at his fake name. You had told him hundreds of times that he should change it. No one was really named John Smith, that's the kind of name you only ever found in books. 
“Alright,” the woman said, not even blinking. “Do you, John Smith, take this woman to love and hold blah, blah, blah?” She finished, looking back to the Doctor. He wasn’t even looking at her. His eyes were glued to you, studying every single aspect of your face. He never wanted to forget this moment. From your end of things, you were left with a sickly feeling that you had food on your face. 
“I do,” He smiled brightly. 
“And you?” she turned to you, repeating the process. 
“Absolutely,” you grinned. 
The woman handed you each a ring, which you placed on the other’s hand. You noted the slight shake in the Doctor’s hands as he slipped the silver band onto your finger.
You had always wanted to get married. Sure, you never imagined it like this. Standing in some random cottage in a pair of worn-out jeans exchanging wedding bands in order to save your life was never your plan. Even still, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.
“You may kiss the bride,” The old woman chided, looking at you two disapprovingly. You were so busy looking into the Doctor’s eyes that you completely forgot about the whole kissing part of getting married. 
A scarlet flush overtook your face, but the Doctor pretended not to notice. Instead, he cupped your face in his hands gently, angling it upwards towards his. Slowly, he dipped his way down until his lips were inches away from yours. 
You could feel his breath on your mouth, you noted each and every twitch of his lips. Your eyes fluttered closed as he eliminated the gap, his mouth crashing into yours. 
He very well could have given you a chaste kiss, the kind you give your gran on Christmas Eve. Instead, he kissed you like his life depended on it. Like he had been thinking about kissing you for eons. 
His mouth fit against yours perfectly. There was no other way to describe it. 
He pulled away slowly, leaving you stunned and breathless. Your eyes remained closed for a moment, taking it all in. When they finally opened, you saw him. Your Doctor. The impossible, magnificent, loving creature in front of you. It was foolish to claim that such a being was yours alone, but you couldn’t see it any other way. 
“Congratulations,” the old woman smiled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 
“Thank you,” you smiled meekly, pushing your hair out of your face. 
-
You didn’t keep the ring on long. A few days after your wedding it came off with the rest of your jewelry before bed. You just never put it back on. It was a fake wedding after all. 
That didn’t mean that you threw it away though. Quite the opposite. The ring sat on your bedside table, occasionally glimmering in the light. 
Sometimes, you would run your fingers over it before bed. You relished the idea of it all. The memory of his hands holding yours, the feeling of his lips on yours. It haunted you.
The Doctor, however, never took it off. Not after the wedding. Not before bed. Not when he fiddled with the wires under the TARDIS console. 
You noticed this one evening, the dimmed lights of the control room catching on the polished metal. 
“Why do you still wear that?” you asked, gesturing to the Doctor’s left hand. His eyes traveled to the band on his finger that he had been idly spinning. 
“It’s my wedding band,” he shrugged as if it was as simple as that. 
“I’m not sure you can call it that,” you laughed, “I’m not even sure our wedding was legal.” 
“It doesn’t have to be,” he frowned, still looking at the ring. 
“I can take it off if it bothers you,” he suggested. He didn’t want to take it off, not ever. But if you wanted him to, he would. 
“It doesn’t,” you whispered, staring at the space where your own ring used to be. The feeling of his lips came back to you, and you had to push it to the side. 
“Did it mean nothing to you?” He asked, his voice hardly above a whisper. If you hadn’t been listening you might have missed it. 
“Not at all,” you said, refusing to meet his eyes. 
“You don’t wear yours,” he commented, taking your left hand in his. You stared at your interlocked hands, not trusting yourself to meet his eye. 
“You married me to save my life,” you stated. 
“And?” 
“It was a fake marriage.” 
“Not to me,” he whispered, running his thumb over the back of your hand. Your eyes drifted up to his face. He was looking at your hand with a pained expression. For the first time, it occurred to you that perhaps the absence of your ring was upsetting to him. For so long, you had assumed that he just wanted to forget the whole thing. 
“I love you,” he whispered, “I always wanted you to be my wife.” 
You didn’t know what to say. For a minute, you hardly believed the words coming from his mouth. 
“I always wanted you to be my husband,” you whispered, leaning in towards him. You paused, your breath bouncing off of his lips. It reminded you of your first kiss, the familiarity of it shocking. 
You learned in and kissed him gently, a tender kiss to test the waters. You pulled away, unsure if this was what he wanted. The Doctor gripped your face, crashing his lips against yours in a much more urgent matter. You smiled against his mouth, melting into the kiss. 
“My wife,” he chuckled between the kisses he planted all over your face. 
“My husband.”
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iraprince · 2 years
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hi! i just published my first ever ttrpg, EYES ON THE PRIZE!
dream up a fake-married couple, wield their fraudulent union to achieve your shared goals, and do your best not to blow your cover -- or fall in love for real. for 2 or 4 players (1 or 2 pairs), played with 8-sided dice and standard playing cards.
thank you so much for checking this out, i'm so so excited to share it!
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letters-unsending · 2 months
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No. 50
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Hero and Villain, fake relationship
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“How are you feeling, dear?”
“My ears keep ringing,” Hero sighed, tucking his icepack further into his neck, “and don’t call me dear. There’s not a soul who needs to hear that anymore. It’s just us.”
“Oh, it’s just us, isn’t it?” Villain smiled and leaned back their head, as if in bliss. The movement exposed a dark cleft of red. A cut ran like spilled wine down from their lips and to the gully of their clavicle, and it gleamed with a satin sheen, obscenely fresh. Hero averted his eyes.
“Yes, just us,” Hero agreed, indulging in Villain’s cryptic mood, “unless we’ve got ourselves a visitor you’re not telling me about.”
“I would tell you. I’ll always tell you,” Villain turned their head back down, leveling Hero with a stare, “this is our home after all.”
Hero stared back and wondered if his ears were ringing Villain’s words into nonsense. Beneath his gaze, Villain sprawled, languid and liquid as a cat, in their armchair.
They’d bought the chair–a chaise so high-backed it looked like it’d grown wings–the first week of their contract and displaced the original furniture that had come with the pre-furnished house. Quickly thereafter, they’d taken to redecorating the rest of their temporary rooms with utmost fervor. Decor spilled out, the chair its center point: fur rugs, velvet throws, glass-shaded lamps.
“You can keep the house,” Hero blurted, “it's not ours anymore. Contract’s over.”
“My, how generous,” Villain smiled wider, snake-like, and Hero feared they would bleed from the strain, “would you really leave this all to me?”
“Sure, you seem comfortable here,” Hero shrugged, “you put a lot of time into the place. I don’t want to get in the way.”
“You’ve decorated over the past year as well. Don’t give me all the credit, darling.” Villain waved their hand, nails flashing in the light. Following their fingers, Hero recognized his coat tossed over the back of Villain’s chair. Pens and papers, which he’d sworn to clean up, lay sprawled over the oil-dark coffee table.
“I only left a mess. That’s hardly decor.”
“It could never be a mess.” Villain reached a hand back and rested their palm over Hero’s coat. “I enjoy your additions. They make the place feel lived in.”
“Lived in,” Hero echoed, “guess it helped with our cover. Probably made this whole sham marriage look real enough.”
Villain’s face turned flat. The curl of their smile snapped like elastic, pinching into a terse line, and a bead of blood rounded their chin as they spoke.
“Why are you still wearing the ring?”
Hero let go of the icepack and it tumbled into a heap in his lap. “If it bothers you, I’ll just go on and take it off.”
“It does not.” Villain drawled, sweeping out their hand. “I am far from bothered.”
Their ring and its exquisite gem fluoresced upon their finger, a beacon casting its gleam over the mountain of their knuckles.
“It just, you know, feels wrong to take it off after so long.” Hero muttered, squeezing at his wrist. “I even have tanline from it.”
Villain smiled again, soft, but their skin still broke. Blood slipped along the underside of their jaw and Hero swallowed; he could almost feel it roll down his own throat.
“You shouldn’t have taken the bandage off.”
Hero glanced once more at his ring, before pushing himself off his chair. Pain shot like a bolt through his wrist. Staggering, he snagged a tissue from a box on the coffee table and then shuffled toward Villain, who met his approach with gleam in their eye.
“I don’t like being restricted.” Villain explained as Hero propped his hip into the chair arm and leaned over. “I couldn’t speak or move my head with that infernal contraption on.”
“Must’ve been hard for you to be so quiet.” Hero grabbed Villain’s chin and tilted their head back. “You had a long time for reflection in that hospital, didn’t you? Might be why you’re being so odd.”
“I didn’t need time to reflect,” Villain murmured, suddenly quiet, “I have considered this for a long time.”
“And what have you considered?” Hero set the tissue upon Villain’s skin, feigning focus, avoiding Villain’s gaze crawling shamelessly over his face.
“You.”
“Me?” Hero dabbed their throat, careful of the scab. He moved his steadying hand to the side of Villain’s neck.
“The both of us, [Hero].” Villain grabbed Hero’s wrist, draping their fingers and the gleaming ring over his arm, trapping Hero’s touch to his throat. Their carotid pulse drummed against his fingertips. “You see, my dear, I want to keep living in this house. I want to keep my ring. You must understand what I mean when I say this.”
“[Villain], you couldn’t possibly–”
“Will you stay?”
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boomhauer · 5 months
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Disjointed: Thirty-Two
Summary: Chicago
Word count: 11.7k
What to expect: Mild Smut/Lemon. (-18 kindly dni) Money talk.
A/N: Sorry I took off again for a minute there. It's been a hell of a ride the last couple of months. I really do thank you for your patience and for sticking by me and this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed this Chapter! Your comments, love, and support keep me writing because it lets me know y'all are still interested in our favorite couple. :')
Bless @hellfiredarling & @eddiemunsonspantschain for putting up a me and making this possible. ❤️
If you haven't already, please check out Curse of the Munsons: A Disjointed Ficlet.
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Eddie wasn’t a liar, but he was quite crafty with bending the truth.
He did fully intend to never sell anything that may trace back to you should he be caught, and he stayed true to that. Per Se. 
Eddie had champagne taste with a beer pocketbook, and he wanted to remedy it quickly. Part-time hours at the shop were okay, but it didn’t pull in what he wanted: amps, tattoos, brand name cereal, the shit he would need to do prom properly, gas, and anything else he wanted on top of the red numbers in the back of your checkbook. 
So he did what he could to fix that. He started charging damn near criminal prices for weed from the kids at school and the stragglers at Hawkins Community College. It turned out that the college kids really had a need for speed, and what kind of dealer would Eddie be if he couldn’t meet his customer’s needs? So he devised a plan with Gareth to get his hands on his mother’s rainbow diet pills to keep the customers happy. Quaaludes weren’t as easy to come by, but when he did have a sizable amount, he was sure to get more than a fair trade of cash for them. 
Speed, Quaaludes, shrooms, acid, weed—none of those were his pain pills so he technically wasn’t lying about that. Briefly possessed by greed, Eddie had the thought to get some rock and make a real fortune, but dismissed it with a fearful shudder. The problem with slinging crack was dealing with the crackheads, and there was no way he would survive whatever hell you’d put him through if you ever found out about that. 
His original plan was to save up as much as he could, only dip into it from time to time when his craving for something new and exciting became too much to resist, and pay off the remaining debts in full. That would leave him with absolutely nothing. No money in the proverbial bank, but no outstanding balances either. 
But things kept cropping up. The transmission in his van was slipping. He had his eye on a candy red and black amp that perfectly matched his beloved guitar, which needed some new strings now that he was wearing them down as often as he could. He needed something nice to wear for prom and Steve said something about needing a croissant for whatever reason, and he said the nice ones were on the pricier side. Eddie was waiting for the day you called him to tell him another dent appeared on your poor Nissan, and he was glad he set some money aside for when you managed to shatter your taillight. He wanted to believe the story you spun about it “just being that way” when you walked out of the hospital, but the burnt orange paint streaked across the back end of his van told another tale.
So when Steve sold him on going to Chicago for the day, Eddie decided fuck it and to go all out. This trip would be the honeymoon that you didn’t get to go on, and Eddie would treat himself to something he’s wanted since you gifted him those pictures for Valentine’s Day. 
Those fucking pictures. It was a wonder Eddie hadn’t dehydrated himself to the point of death. And now that he had the funds to do what he wanted with them, he’d never have to worry about being without them.
Eddie did have a problem with Steve’s payment plan. The hotel he wanted to get was far out of Eddie’s budget. He kept trying to redirect Steve to some cheaper options, but Harrington kept insisting on a place near the pier. When Eddie finally revealed the embarrassing limitations of his wallet, Steve shrugged it off.
“So I’ll pay for it,” he said simply. “We’ll get two rooms. Me and Robin have a shift to get back to on Saturday anyway so we will just stay the one night. Leave Friday evening. You guys can stay till what? Sunday?”
Eddie was very uncomfortable with accepting even a penny of Steve’s money. “No, We’ll leave with you guys.”
Steve threw an M&M into the air and missed his mouth completely. “Why? Just stay there for the weekend.”
Eddie didn’t know how to get it through Steve’s head. He didn’t want to have an all expense paid trip to Chicago on someone else’s dime. Wayne taught him better than that. 
Another thought occurred to Eddie as he watched Steve try to fish the missing M&M from the folds of his shirt. 
“You know you don’t have to buy us, right?” Eddie frowned. “We’re already friends.”
Steve abandoned the search for the circular candy. “I’m not trying to buy you,” he said quizzically. “You guys just deserve it.”
Eddie found that hard to believe. Steve was a friend, sure, but that didn’t entitle Eddie to nay of his money.
“Why?” he questioned. “We don’t do anything but eat your food and drink your booze.”
Steve pinched his nostrils a couple of times before answering. “Look, when Henderson said he was hanging out with you, I thought for sure he’d be committing social suicide. Don’t take it the wrong way, man, but you know how everyone feels about you. I was worried for him. He’s already a nerd, he didn’t need help becoming a target and I wouldn’t be there to stop anyone from getting on his case.”
Eddie’s agitation increased. He always had an issue with people who judged him based on the thoughts and feelings of others. He’d do anything for that little but head Henderson, annoying as he may be. 
Dustin Henderson and Mike Wheeler looked like lost little lambs when he first laid eyes on them. Eddie wasn’t much for fashion, but Dustin’s Weird Al Yankovich t-shirt was like wearing a sign saying “Please bully me”. Eddie intervened before anyone could try to stomp the fresh meat, and found out that the Weird Al fan and his Baby Gap wearing friend were actually pretty cool.
So for Steve to imply that Eddie would further tarnish the young Freshman just by being friends with him…hurt. 
“But I dunno. You’ve taken good care of him and I feel bad for thinking you wouldn’t,” Steve finished. “You’re not bad, Munson.”
Eddie nodded slowly, taking in Steve’s words. Guilt wasn’t any better than a handout. Before he could protest and rip Steve a new one for being so wrong about him, Steve continued. 
“Besides, don’t you think you two need a break after all the shit that’s been going on? Ran over, married, had your arm reattached, nearly pulverized by your dad. I mean, Y/N karate chopped her boss--”
As soon as you were brought into the mix, Eddie knew he was beat. Between the long hours, dealing with surgeons (which you aptly referred to as “Baby Sitting”), having to be separated from that old biddy who was hellbent on making your life miserable, Fisher’s black eye, and now Beatrice’s betrayal…there was no way he could refuse Steve’s offer.
There was also the matter of his dad’s return that caused quite a bit of grief for the both of you. Eddie tried time and time again to reassure you that Wyatt Munson wasn’t going to be making any more surprise visits, but you still refused to believe him. You no longer felt safe at home, and it pained Eddie to see the lengths you would go to avoid being home alone. You tried to brush it off as wanting to spend more time with Wayne, catch up on the dumb daytime TV shows you both liked, and to ‘spruce up the place’, but Eddie knew full well Wayne wasn’t always home when you were there. It was another way to ensure you weren’t in the house by yourself. 
Time away from the cursed trailer and a little vacation with some friends could be just what you needed to get out of the rut. 
Defeated, Eddie waved his hand to signal Steve to stop. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay. I get it. You’re right. If any of us deserve a vacation it’s her. But, only one extra night in the hotel.”
Steve huffed and opened his mouth to argue, but Eddie insisted the only way he would agree to an overnight trip fueled Steve’s money was if they kept it fair. 
Steve reluctantly agreed and threw another M&M into the air, this time actually catching it in his mouth. “Don’t sweat it, man. I’ve been right so far, right?”
Eddie’s expression further soured—annoyed that Steve wasn’t incorrect.
The tailor appointment Steve fibbed about was actually a quick stop to Sears for suitable prom apparel. Steve insisted on some fancy store on Michigan Avenue, but Eddie had no interest in spending that kind of money on clothing. He also wanted to get this over with as soon as possible so he could move on to his other appointment. So, much to Steve’s displeasure, Sears was the spot to be. 
Contrary to popular belief, Eddie liked to look good. The problem was that what style he liked wasn’t adored by many. Steve proved to be one of the naysayers as they approached the racks.
“You can’t wear jeans,” Steve huffed. “Even if they’re black. It's supposed to be formal wear. You know—slacks. A shirt with buttons. Heaven forbid a tie.”
Eddie wrinkled his nose at the pair of pinstriped dress pants Steve held against his hips. He wasn’t against the idea of formal clothing, but he wanted to at least pick what he liked, and Steve Harrington’s taste in clothing was not that. 
“I’m not an idiot. I know what I’m supposed to wear,” Eddie grumbled. “This stuff just looks…lame.” He grabbed a shirt that he was certain should have been in the women’s section with the amount of ruffles it had on the front of it. “Prince is the only person who can pull this kind of shit off.”
Steve grimaced and snatched the frilly collared abomination from Eddie. “You’re making this harder than it is, Munson. Just go in a room and I’ll bring you something to put on.”
Eddie scoffed. “I don’t even get to pick?”
Steve was already zooming between steel racks. “You’re a 32 inch waist and you like black. It’s not rocket science.”
Grumbling to himself, Eddie found the musty smelling dimly lit fitting room. The way the overhead light flickered, Eddie felt he was seconds away from being abducted by some alien and dragged off to another realm. This was Chicago after all.
Eddie decided to be productive and strip down to his boxers in the small cubicle. As he looked over his form in the mirror, the red dashes on his shoulder stuck out to him. Running his fingertips over the scarred skin, Eddie hummed to himself. 
Life was a funny thing. This time last year he was dreading telling Wayne that unless he made perfect scores on every single assignment until May, he wouldn’t walk the stage. Again. He wasn’t doing anything but smoking, selling, and feeling sorry for himself. Accepting that he’d never be anything of value. That he would probably die in the same corner of the earth he was born in--in a town that hated his guts without knowing a single thing about him besides his name.
Then Jason tried to turn him into roadkill over something that didn’t even happen and Eddie ended up running into you again.
The last half a year really whipped him into shape. His shoulder was taken care of, on track to school this time, got a job, a wife, a home. As he looked himself over in the mirror, he took notice at how much better he looked. The edges of his ribs no longer poked beneath his pale skin. He had actual definition of muscles and a pinch of fat at his navel that he didn’t even think he was capable of growing. His biceps were bigger and though he couldn’t move his arm like he used to (his own fault for being complacent with his exercises), he felt good.
Eddie took the opportunity to flex his new muscles and admire the way they bulged beneath his skin. Who would have thought that the hungry kid who once weighed 50 pounds soaking wet  at ten years old was now being fed well enough to have a line showing the difference between a bicep and a tricep? 
“Nice,” he smirked to himself, admiring the definition of his abdomen with each postural change.
His self-gawking was cut short as Steve began to throw his picks over the graffitied door. Though he hated to admit it, Steve did actually pull through with some nice duds. But he drew the line at the leather loafers Steve insisted he try on. He’d consent to try the pants that flared out too much for his liking, but those god awful shoes? Eddie refused.
After a good half hour of bickering, Steve finally did relent and confessed that the black and white high top vans Eddie insisted on did in fact make his outfit look cool and very Munson-esque. 
Even though the two men had grown closer in the last few months, Eddie still found it hard to believe he could count Steve Harrington of all people among his friends. He’d always been a certified douchebag for the entire decade Eddie had known him. Though Steve wasn’t a dick to Eddie directly, it seemed to be because Eddie wasn’t even worth the former jock’s time while they were in school together. Too much of a nobody to be a blip on Harrington’s radar. He ranked even lower than Byers in that regard. 
And yet, Steve managed to be on the short list of people Eddie could count on. While the title of “best friend” still belonged to Jeff, Harrington wasn’t too far off. There were things that he could trust Steve with more than his Hellfire friends. Those guys had at least one parent to dote on them and implicate rules while Steve had been fending for himself in a lonely home for a long time, much like Eddie. 
Steve happened to be in the background of some of Eddie’s more important life events lately. His wedding reception, holding him up during his low point at Christmas, playing quarters with the freshmen, teasing the shit out of Henderson and the young Wheeler, helping Eddie buy a damn prom costume, and most importantly, being the guy Eddie went to when Wyatt turned his world upside down. 
Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson. Friends. Good friends. Who’d have ever thought?
“Why don’t you get another pair so you don’t scuff them up before the dance?” Steve suggested as he watched Eddie tie the laces to his new shoes. 
“Gotta break them in,” he answered with a shrug. “And because she’ll kill me if I come back without new kicks on.”
Steve was just as happy as you were to see the Reeboks get tossed into the trash after a dramatic goodbye and salute from their former owner. He was starting to worry that the reek of them would seep into his leather before too long, and was relieved that the smell aired out by the time they returned to the parking lot. 
Two decimated Chicago dogs and a short car ride later, Eddie and Steve pulled into Sinz on Skinz for the real appointment. 
Eddie had never been to a professional shop for his own ink before. Rick and his lifelong buddy TJ were the ones who gave Eddie every piece of art on his body thus far, all done while messing around at Rick’s house and bored out of their minds. The buzzing of the proper tattoo guns, the smell of bleach and ink, the crazy art covering every inch of the walls around him--it was all exhilarating and Eddie was nearly vibrating with excitement. 
“Can’t believe you’re doing this, man,” Steve chuckled, taking a closer look at the clay penis atop the counter displaying various piercings. 
Eddie nudged his friend with his elbow. “You should get one, too.”
Steve snorted. “No, thanks.”
“Or get a piercing. I’m sure the chicks would dig a sweet set of barbels on King Steve’s nipples.”
Steve winced at the thought and instinctively covered his chest with his arms, setting the small Polaroid camera that dangled from his neck askew. “No way! If I was gonna do something like that I’d just do the ear. Like George Michael.” Steve furrowed his brow as he concentrated on the thought brewing in his head. “Chicks love George Michael.”
“So I hear,” Eddie agreed. “C’mon, Harrington. We’re in the big city!”
Steve peered at himself in the mirror behind the counter, slowly rotating his head to observe both ears. “I dunno. Probably can’t even see it with my hair this long.”
“Pussy,” Eddie huffed. “Just do it!”
“That’s the spirit!” an older man exclaimed as he approached the counter. He was huge in both height and stature, had a brown and gray speckled beard so long that a few strands of it tangled around his Motörhead belt buckle, arms and neck covered in colorful ink, and a bald head tattooed to look like snake scales. He looked cool, and Eddie was envious. 
The guy pointed a heavily inked finger at Eddie “Are you my 2:30?”
“I am if you’re Puppet,” Eddie answered with a sideways smirk. He pulled a few pictures out of the pocket of his jacket and spread them out over the countertop. 
Puppet let out a low whistle. “Hot damn! Who’s this sweet thing?”
“My wife,” Eddie beamed proudly. “I’m thinking of taking how she’s standing in this one, but put the face she’s making in this one, and put it all together in a style like this…”
Puppet took Eddie’s beloved photos and his ideas towards the light box behind him and got to work. It took a few sketches to get Eddie’s vision exactly how he wanted it, and Steve seemed to hold his breath and flinch every time Eddie dared to make a correction. 
“That guy looks like he would use your bones for toothpicks. Stop telling him he’s wrong,” Steve hissed. 
“Will you relax?” Eddie chastised. “It’s gonna be on my body forever. It needs to be absolutely perfect.”
When Puppet did bring Eddie’s vision to life, the young guitarist was so giddy he nearly burst into a jig. 
“That’s it. That’s fucking it!” Eddie exclaimed with a hop and a clap. “Yes! I want it right here.” He patted his left forearm excitedly and had to be told more than once to stay still when Puppet tried to apply the stencil to the area
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Steve frowned. “You’ll have to hide it if you go to work with my dad.” 
Steve had to repeat himself because Eddie was too preoccupied admiring the animated pin-up version of you on his skin to hear him the first two times. 
Eddie eyed his friend through the reflection of the mirror and frowned. “Wait—you were serious about that?”
Steve stared at his friend incredulously. “Yeah? I was going to talk to him about it after graduation. He won’t want you when you’re still in school.”
When Eddie quipped his brow, Steve continued. “He won’t want someone who’s not able to work full time, and he won’t like customers being able to see your tattoos.”
Eddie shrugged his shoulders. He hadn’t really thought about others being able to see it, much too excited about how it would look to consider anyone else’s opinion beside yours. He knew you would be shocked at first, but eventually love it like most things he did. He’d also have a copy of his favorite material for certain solo activities at all times, and that’s really all he cared about. Not if anyone was able to see it. 
Even if this tattoo did affect any chance he had at working for the Senior Hair, he has two visible tattoos on his other arm already. If Mr. Harrington was going to base Eddie’s employment status on tattoos instead of his skills, then this set of ink wouldn’t make a difference. When he shared this point of view with Steve, Steve shook his head and laughed humorlessly. 
“You don’t know my dad,” Steve said sadly.
Eddie sighed. When the initial offer was made after Eddie had the brakes beat off him, he wanted to say no. Pity from Steve Harrington was not what he needed at any time in his life. But the more he thought about what Wayne said, the more he reluctantly agreed with the old man. Principles didn’t put food on the table or a roof overhead.
But then it wasn’t brought up again. Eddie figured it had been forgotten, and he wasn’t going to sound like a beggar by asking about it. 
“How do you know your dad will even hire me anyway? He won’t even hire you.”
“I told you, that’s different,” Steve argued. “He wants me to work with him. I’m the one that’s saying no.”
Eddie snorted. “Bit assbackwards, isn’t it?”
Steve frowned. “I don’t wanna be like my dad. And working for him…I know I’ll turn into John Harrington Junior the second I step into that office.”
Eddie knew the feeling all too well--the fear of turning into his dad. It’s all he ever heard growing up. His dad would say it proudly, “Boy, you’re a Munson,” while teachers and the parents of kids at school would hear that name and gag in disgust just at the sight of him. All he would ever be good at was being a petty criminal with no future. 
But you changed his mind about that. Back in school he didn’t want to believe he was worth a damn and disagreed with you profusely when you tried to prove otherwise. Now? You made him see he could be more than just another shitty Munson. 
Eddie echoed your wise words. “Alls you’ve got is his name. Nothing else. Well--except maybe that square ass head of yours.”
Steve let out a bark of laughter, elbowing Eddie harshly in the ribs at the remark. 
Eddie instructed Steve to take pictures with the Polaroid from home. Eddie held up devil horns with one hand, tongue sticking out like Gene Simmons, and showing the violet stencil on his pale forearm. 
Eddie obeyed Puppet’s command, sitting in the black leather chair with his arm extended atop of the adjacent table. An odd sense of nervousness washed over him when the buzzing of the tattoo gun started. It sounded more powerful than the sorry excuse of a machine Rick and TJ put together with the motor from a set of hair clippers and the inkwell from ballpoint pens. 
It hurt more, too. Eddie winced at the first drag of the needles across his sensitive skin. He compared the sensation to a series of bee stings in one spot. Puppet told Eddie to grow a pair and quit bitching, and for a split second, Eddie wanted to reach over and yank Puppet’s beard and reveal Wayne's face from beneath the mask like a Scooby-Doo villain.  
The pain did lessen within a half hour, and eventually, it started to feel good. Eddie’s muscles began to relax the longer he sat, enjoying Motohead blaring from the boombox behind him. 
But when it was time to add the color onto his already raw skin, Eddie was trying hard not to squirm or wince. 
“Rub some dirt on it later. You’ll be alright,” Puppet chuckled. “S’figure of speech, kid. Don’t actually rub dirt on it,” he added seriously.
Another employee, a woman named Sheikh in her fifties with hair teased to the heavens, kept trying to talk Steve into getting a tattoo. He politely declined and stated he’d only go as far as a pierced ear. 
“Sug, I can do that for you in the blink of an eye!” she exclaimed happily. 
Steve tried to politely decline, but Sheikh was having none of it. She bustled around her station for a tray and the materials she needed, paying no mind to Steve’s meek protests. 
“C’mon, Harrington,” Eddie teased with a shit-eating grin. “Want me to hold your hand? Make you feel better?”
“Get Bent, Munson,” Steve sneered with his middle finger up.
Sheikh instructed Steve to sit up straight. She combed her fingers through his hair to move it out of the way and swabbed the lobe of his ear with rubbing alcohol. 
“I got you a dagger to go in it,” she beamed, dotting his ear with a blue marker. “At first I thought a feather would do it, but decided the dagger would be sexier.”
“I don’t get to pick?” Steve questioned with a frown.
“Nope,” she answered simply. “Trust me, Sug.”
Eddie was well amused that Steve didn’t get to pick his body jewelry, much like Eddie was forbidden to pick his own prom clothes. He went to extend his hand towards Steve in an attempt to tease his friend again about needing a hand to hold, but Puppet barked at him to quit moving.
“Ready?” Sheikh proposed. “One, two--”
She sunk the needle into the lobe.
“--OW!” Steve wailed, trying to cup his sore ear. Sheikh swatted it away and placed the silver dangling earring. “I thought you were gonna do it on ‘three’!” he shouted. 
She smiled deviously. “I know. But looky there! You lived! Wanna take a look?”
Steve glowered at her before snatching the handheld mirror. Eddie nearly died laughing watching Steve’s face go from annoyed to almost smitten with himself. Turning his head from side to side, tussling his long honeyed locks to ensure the new silver jewelry was visible from every angle. He was clearly in love. 
Eddie couldn’t help himself. “You remind me of that peckerhead Hargrove. Didn’t he have a little knife in his ear like that?”
Steve’s smolder melted into horror. “I’m kicking your ass as soon as we get out of here.”
Eddie cackled. “Sure thing, King Steve.”
----
Shopping had never been your favorite thing to do. Shucking through racks of clothes that didn’t fit right or didn’t come in a flattering color was nothing short of torture. You had gotten used to wearing your nursing uniform, jeans and a couple of different blouses that served you faithfully for the last year. It turned out you had gone up a dress size since you last went shopping, which immediately dampened your mood, but Robin was quick to try and cheer you up.
“You said no taffeta, right?” she questioned from some far off corner in the store. “What about sequins?”
“And be confused for the disco ball?” you muttered miserably. “No thank you.”
Nancy rolled her eyes at you. “That wouldn’t happen. Here--what do you think of this?” She held up a dress that wasn’t too bad. Amethyst in color with a handkerchief hemline that would flow mid calf with long sheer sleeves. 
You looked at the tag attached to the inside seam and frowned. “Wrong size.”
Robin didn’t have much luck finding something for you either. Both girls were met with increasingly snarky comments. “I really don’t want to wear taffeta again.That looks like a rumpled napkin. Too many ruffles. Didn’t realize I was auditioning for Gone with the Wind.”
By the second store you were near tears and tried to focus on something for Nancy instead since Robin freely forfeited her night to pick up a shift at Family Video instead of going to the dance. 
Seething with jealousy, you watched Nancy try on multitudes of different dresses. She looked great in them all, never having a problem finding her size, and each silhouette seemed to flatter her figure perfectly. It pained you to sit there next to Robin and praise her on her looks, realizing that Nancy was not at all privy to the ugly feelings consuming you. 
It was the same when you went with Emily and her mother your senior year. You sought refuge at your friend’s house after a particularly heinous fight with your mom, and Emily insisted that it would be fun and get your mind off of things. But all it did was rub in your face the things you were lacking. Never would your mother be selfless and stable enough to take you to do something that wasn’t about her. You wouldn’t be able to afford a nice dress since any money you came across was immediately confiscated and, though she invited you to go with her, neither Emily nor her mother offered to buy you a dress either. You didn’t have a date since Eddie blew you off again, and though it happened more and more often, it still hurt. Emily had everything. Parents, a car, money, a boyfriend—even if Ryan Peters was a giant piece of shit. 
As you watched Nancy, the same bitter resentment returned. The circumstances were different now—you could afford what you wanted. You had a date this time and it was actually the same boy you hoped to go with the first time. You had friends to go with and cheer you on, but failing to find a style and size that you liked was the final missing piece. It felt wrong to be so hateful towards Nancy, someone you considered a friend, but nevertheless, it was difficult refraining from strangling her as the three of you made down the shopping strip, watching as the perfectly permed princess had the whole world at her fingertips.
Nancy had found a beautiful lavender off the shoulder maxi dress with a slit that went mid thigh to give it just a little edge in the third store, and then focused her efforts on finding you something. You politely declined, saying that the same royal blue dress you wore for your wedding would just have to do. If it still fit. 
Nancy huffed out your name with impatience. “It’s a big city. There has got to be a dress you like somewhere and I will not rest until we find something.”
Your instinct was to sneer, spit venom at her, sulk, brush her off, maybe even headbutt her and blacken those stupid doe eyes of hers, but the longer she stared at you with a raised brow—challenging you to argue with her, the quicker your envy melted into shame. She was only trying to help, and finding an outfit was the entire point of this trip anyway. 
So you relented with a small nod and found your way into another goddamn store. 
They all started to blur by this point. You couldn’t tell one from the other—all having the same nightmarish floor plan and squeaky tile floors. This one didn’t seem as gaudy as the previous, which was certainly aimed at debutants and beauty queens.
You peaked through hangers and hangers of dresses. There were a few that were okay, but nothing that justified the price listed on the tag. Within a few minutes, your heart sank further and further until Robin came biting towards you.
“I have it!” She exclaimed, holding up a gown and shaking it excitedly in front of her. “It’s perfect! Your size, Eddie’s color, and not taffeta or sequins!”
You didn’t have much hope for the pick having been disappointed by so many ones now, but you abandoned the rack before you to give Robin’s offering a once over.
It wasn’t…bad. The bodice was black lace with a red satin beneath it that flared out into a knee length skirt amplified by black tulle. You checked the size to make sure it was accurate and gave the price tag a glance as well. It looked okay except for one thing—
“It’s sleeveless,” you frowned.
Robin stared at you blankly. “So? Try it on!”
You toyed with the skirt of the fabric, swishing your lips to the side in thought. Robin had had enough by then, shoving the garment into your chest and losing all patience.
“If your only qualm is sleeves, I’ll sew some on myself!” she huffed.
Nancy placed a hand on your shoulder. “I won’t let her do that. If you like it, I’ll do the sewing.”
You looked between both girls who were staring at you with raised brows. Though Nancy was better at hiding it, they both seemed peeved. It stung a little, knowing that they were probably getting frustrated with you even though you suffered through supporting Nancy the whole afternoon.
Still, it was time to get on with it, and you were certainly glad you did. 
The bodice pushed your boobs up to form perfect globes, yet accentuated the curve of your waist without being too tight. The red was muted by the black lace over it, but still left enough color peeking through to combat any monochrome. The tulle added length to make you feel confident in being able to bend without showing the word your goodies, but wasn’t too long to where it hid the shape of your legs. You didn’t like the way your arms looked, though. You squished them by your sides to see how they would look if you kept your arms down and frowned. You’d think with your job they would have a little more definition than pudge, but the mirror told another story.
Twirling from side to side, taking a look at yourself from all angles, you contemplated what would look best. Probably tights to smooth out your legs, and you could use those satin red heels you got for the photoshoot so you didn't have to buy another pair of shoes. Maybe you could bum Eddie’s guitar pick necklace for the evening. It would look quite nice settled atop your exaggerated cleavage. How would you style your hair? Updo? Down and curled? Braids? 
The longer you stared into the mirror and planned your outfit, the more you fell in love with the dress. If Nancy was serious about finding a way to create sleeves, then it would be absolutely perfect. 
Eager to show your friends, you stepped from the curtain of the fitting room. A terrible bout of nervousness clenched your stomach as you waited for their reactions. Would they like it? Would they frown and say maybe you should look for something else? Suddenly their approval meant far more than anything else since you knew Eddie would still want to tackle you in nothing but a trash bag if you let him. But getting the okay from other girls annoyingly felt like the only thing that mattered. 
It wasn’t as dramatic as you anticipated. No one threw rotten fruit or passed out from your ethereal beauty, but relief washed over you all the same.
“I knew it!” Robin cheered, slapping her thigh repeatedly. “I told you!”
Nancy smiled brightly, her round eyes squinting into almost nothing. “I think we have a winner!”
——
It was nearing late evening when you were finally reunited with Eddie at a crowded pizzeria. Nancy wanted to hit the road, but Steve insisted that everyone eat first. 
“We’re in Chicago. We have to get a deep dish,” he demanded. “It’s criminal not to.”
You supposed it didn’t matter anyway since you didn't have to go to work—a thought that filled you both with guilt and relief—so you didn’t argue. Besides, anything sounded better than eating gas station food.
The pizzeria wasn’t anything like what you had seen in Hawkins or Terra Heute. The smoking section was on the other side of the restaurant where it had the bar and enough jumbo screen TVs to show all four channels at once. There were booths, tables, high top chairs, and even lounge couches where people could sit and eat. It was cool and definitely somewhere you’d want to go with Eddie on date nights despite the alarming amount of people scattered about. 
Steve and Robin argued over a booth or a couch, but ultimately decided a table would have to do since there was no wait for it. 
You took a seat next to Eddie and tucked in. You battled with yourself on if he should see the dress, but you couldn't decide. You wanted to surprise him, but you also wanted to gush about prom. But when you turned to tell him you at least found something to wear, Eddie looked quite green around the gills. His shoulders drooped and his face sagged, staring unseeingly at the checkered table. 
“Are you okay?” You asked..
Eddie nodded slowly. “I’m just really tired,” he said softly. 
You weren’t buying it. You had seen enough illness to know that the pouty expression on his face was something more than exhaustion. You gently touched his forehead with the back of your wrist to see if he felt feverish. He was a bit clammy, but not enough to cause concern
“Take off your coat,” you instructed, reaching for the sleeve of his leather jacket to help him pull it off. “That’ll help—“
Eddie nearly jumped out of his skin when you touched his forearm, letting out a loud hiss and flinching away from your hand. 
You jumped away from him in shock, “What was that?”
“Nothing, I’m fine,” he answered breathily, yanking the leather sleeve farther down his wrist. “Shocked me I guess.”
With your brow furrowed in concentration, you looked him over. Once. Twice. Thrice. He avoided your eyes, opting to find interest in the plastic menu instead.
“Oh my—Tell me you didn’t!” Robin gasped.
You looked away from Eddie to see Robin practically ripping Steve’s ear from the side of his head, revealing a small silver dagger dangling from the flesh of his reddened lobe.
Steve smacked the top of her hand in rapid succession until she freed him from her grip. “Don’t touch it!” he scolded, cradling the top of his wounded cartilage. “You’ll infect it!”
Robin made no effort to contain her cackles as she took in the sight of her best friend. Nancy raised her brows at him, too stunned to really respond.
“Wow, Steve,” you smiled. “It actually looks really good.”
It was true. Steve was a decent looking guy, especially now that he ditched the khakis and striped polos. The messy locks in combination with his new jewelry was quite flattering for him. If Eddie ever decided to be the one to take Steve shopping, you were certain Steve could easily rock his own leather jacket and fitted raglan shirts.
Steve frowned. “Why do you sound surprised?”
You shrugged lightly. “It’s not something I would expect for you, that’s all. But it’s…nice. Fitting. You look like George Michael. Almost.”
Steve sat up straighter in his seat, grinning smugly at Robin. “Hear that? George Michael. George freakin’ Michael!”
Robin scoffed. “If you look like George Michael then I’m Patti Labelle. Where’d you even get that? Claire’s?”
That was a good question. Where else could they have gone? As humorous as the thought of Eddie and Steve in the overly feminine store, you knew exactly where they were able to do such a thing. Unless, of course, Eddie decided to stab Steve in the ear with a straight pin but you doubted that was the case. They wouldn’t need to come all the way out here to do that. 
“No, Einstein I went to a—“
“—tattoo shop,” you blurted. 
Connecting the dots, you turned your attention to Eddie who was giving Steve the most murderous look you’d only seen across his face once before.
Steve shrank in his seat, cheeks heating to a medium pink. “Sorry, man.”
Eddie didn’t move a muscle—still keeping his rage directed at his friend across the table.
Steve scrambled to defend himself. “Hey, it‘s not like it was gonna be a secret forever! She was gonna find out about it tonight anyway.”
Eddie continued to glower. “I had a plan!”
“Well—“ Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes flickering between you and Eddie before he muttered, “Sorry.”
An awkward silence fell over the table as you and Eddie stared each other down.
An ugly prickling of mistrust spread through your nerves. Eddie gave you well over two hundred dollars for a dress. How much did he keep for himself for his own clothes? Did he even get an outfit, or did he spend the whole time in some seedy tattoo parlor? How much did that stupid thing on his arm cost anyhow? How much money did he actually have?
And why was he hiding it from you?
Tongue in cheek, Eddie mumbled for you to follow him outside. He looked worse for wear, legs trembling beneath him and body swaying as he tried to stand to his feet.
“Feel like you’re gonna pass out again?” Steve asked cautiously.
You gaped at Eddie. “Again? What’s he talking about?”
“Harrington, if you don’t shut the fuck up—“ Eddie seethed, his face draining of all color once he reached his full height. “I’m fine. Let’s go outside for a minute.”
Begrudgingly, you did as he said and held his hand in case he dropped like a box of rocks on the way out of the crowded entry way. Thankfully he waited until you made it outside amongst the chilly march air to collapse on one of the benches in front of the pizzeria. 
Eddie didn’t give you a chance to decide what question you wanted to ask first. “Stop worrying about the money, Y/N. We’re here to have a good time and we can’t do that if you’re trying to account for every penny.”
The use of your government in place of ‘Babe’ irritated you more than it should have. “I’m not,” you lied bitterly. “I just don’t understand where it’s coming from and why you’re hiding it from me.”
“I’m not hiding it,” he answered flatly. “I’ve been saving it. Setting it aside for something special for us and this just happened to be it.”
Perhaps he thought that admitting to a nest egg would make you feel better, but it didn’t.
“Eddie, you realize how much money we owe, right?” You scoffed. “We can’t exactly afford to do anything—“
He cut you off with a growl of frustration and leaned forward, placing both elbows atop his knees. “Babe, we’re always gonna be in fucking debt. It’s the American Way. We can’t put our lives on hold just because we owe money. We’re always gonna be in the red. No matter what. That’s just life.”
You couldn’t believe what you were hearing from him. Did he not understand? Why stay in debt in such a vast amount when there was a way to live without that dark cloud hanging over the both of you? Always looming and casting a shadow over everything he wanted to do. “So you just want to rack up the numbers as high as you can? Interest will kill us. We can’t do that. I don’t want to do that—“
“I know,” he interrupted again. “You want to work work work until it’s all gone and then we can do what we want, right? That’s never going to fucking happen, Y/N. Shit always gets in the way. Someone’s car is gonna break down or that leak in the roof is gonna get bigger. Christmas will be around the corner and we gotta set money aside for that. One of us will catch a cold and need to drop some ungodly amount on medicine. We’re never gonna catch up enough to do what we want if we do it your way. If you don’t work yourself to death first.”
“We can still pay off as much as we can and get the total down to at least four digits by the end of the year,” you argued. “Just because it’s always going to be there doesn’t mean we should just ignore it. It’s not pinball where we want the highest score, Eddie.”
He shook his head and chuckled darkly. “I never said we ignore it. My idea is we keep paying the same amount as we are. That doesn’t change. But for god’s sake, let's have some fun every now and then. Whatever I have left outside of the rainy day fund can be for us to do shit like this. Get out of town for the weekend. Live a little.”
Your frown increased. You thought the last month or so was a lot of fun. Going roller skating, go-karting, the batting cages. Since when was that not enough? 
When you asked this aloud, Eddie sighed and said your name in exasperation. “Almost every time we’ve gone out, I’ve had to lie for you to get out of work—just like when I told that nurse you had the runs so we could go to Enzo’s. You don’t ever take a freakin break and that’s what this is—a break. For both of us. To get out of the fuckin house. Get away from all that shit with my dad and the dicks you work with. We need this.”
You returned the intensity of his gaze, prepared to argue with him on why nearly every cent earned going towards the mountain of debt like an offering would put your mind at ease. Somehow, using your earnings to do other things when the funds already had claim to them felt like stealing from an unseen yet powerful dragon. How could you enjoy yourself if you felt like you were seconds away from being bar-b-qued for thievery? When you expressed this to Eddie, metaphors and all in an attempt to get him to understand your meaning, he snorted. 
“What’s with this sudden fear of karma? Steve said it earlier—you do all kinds of miracles for people you don’t even know. And you certainly don’t get thanked for it. The universe isn’t going to explode because you take a step back, Y/N. The bill always comes due and it’ll be fuckin paid but—-fuck, man—let’s have a life together while we’re at it.”
Eddie’s eyes looked glossier as he kept them on you. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he was on the verge of tears. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat and wiped his nose with the back of his hand that you realized he was. 
He was begging you, verbally and with those big brown eyes, to be present. To be with him in the here and now in the middle of downtown Chicago. Rescued from your miserable job. In front of a pizza joint. 
He was right about one thing—every time you relented and took a breather was by his doing. If he wasn’t there to pull you out of the hell hole of the hospital by your ankles, who knows if you’d ever had time outside of the house with him. Enzo’s, the skating rink, and now having to go bury a fictional family member, Eddie did what he could to help you relax when things got too much. If this was his way of taking care of you, perhaps you should let him. 
Still, the idea of hiding money from you stung, but the longer you thought about it, you had done the same to him, hadn’t you? Elected to have your checks garnished and pay for his surgery in secret because you knew he’d lose his mind and forbid you to do it if you asked. 
Wayne’s comment about both of you being stubborn mules rang through your head. Both you and Eddie were trying to take care of each other in the way the other thought would be helpful--knowing it would be hard to accept since neither were used to someone else caring enough to bat for them. 
Eddie’s plan wasn’t fool proof. Interest and late-fees were certainly something to fear. But the look in his pitiful eyes as he stared at the cracked skin of his hands was all you needed to make up your mind. 
Taking a few deep breaths in preparation to let go of what felt like a lot of control, you let out a long exhale and nodded your head. “Okay. Your way.”
Eddie eyed your skeptically. “No bellyaching?”
“No bellyaching.”
He still wasn’t convinced. “Even when I tell you we’re going to stay the night in a hotel by the pier?”
Your jaw dropped. Exactly how much did you miss for all of this planning to have occurred right under your nose? “Are you serious?”
“As a heart attack. Packed up our stuff this morning. Harrington made the reservation.” Eddie stared at you unnervingly, waiting to see a crack in your armor as you let the information sink in. 
It was hard. So freaking hard not to let your mind blast off like a rocket with a series of questions—affordability being the number one concern (on the pier?!!)—but you held strong by sheer stubbornness and will. 
The words were stuck in your throat as you tried to choke them out. “Sounds great.”
He knew you were struggling, but let up on his scrutiny and gave a weak smile. “I’m gonna hold you to it. Even Wonderwoman takes a vacation in the invisible plane.” 
You agreed with a nod, desperate to change the subject and shake the feeling of anxiety that came with letting go. “What did Steve mean when he said pass out again?”
Eddie’s victory grin quickly turned into an eyeroll. “The tattoo took a lot out of me I guess. When I stood up to leave, I fainted. Puppet—the guy who did it—said I probably didn’t eat enough to sit through a five hour session like that.”
“Five hours?” You repeated with bewilderment. “What the hell did you get?”
Eddie shrugged slightly, not giving anything away. 
“Well are you going to show it to me?”
Eddie swished his mouth to the side and nibbled his cheek in exaggerated thought. “Mmm,” he hummed. “I wanted to wait and to show you at the hotel, but Harrington ruined that surprise. I could torture you just a little bit longer and leave you guessing but—“ He laughed when you saw you grimacing at him, growing increasingly impatient.
“Alright, I’ll show you,” he grinned brightly. “Hold onto your ass because your mind is about to be blown.”
You rolled your eyes playfully at him, unsure what sort of thing he could have come up with to take that much time. The possibilities were endless. Eddie was always sketching in the margins of every sheet of paper or desk corner he could get his hands on. If it wasn’t something out of the Monster Manuals, it was likely Metallica related given his renewed love for the band. 
What you didn’t expect to see when he removed the squares of gauze taped to him was you. 
From the crook of his elbow to the hinge of his wrist was an animated pin-up version of you modeling the altered nursing outfit from Valentine’s Day. While most of his tattoos were black, this one was colored in to match the skimpy threads and the shade of your hair and eyes. It was quite the sight. The tattooed version of you bent over slightly with a heart shaped lollipop on the edge of her lips, wearing a sultry and devious look. The other hand was on the edge of her short skirt, flipping up the hem for a peek of the red lace thong and the cute curve of a cheek. While suggestive with the exposed undergarments and half an ass, the tattoo was in good taste and not pornographic. It was akin to the Tattoo Jerry pin-ups you had seen on bikers in the ER, except this one didn’t have any exposed nipples.
“Is this real?” you gasped, stretching his arm towards your face for a closer look. You knew it had to be. His skin was red and irritated, swollen in some spots and had a syrupy fluid leaking in others. 
“Yes, indeed,” he beamed. “That’s my wife. Hot, right?”
Hot didn’t even begin to describe it. This cartoon version of you looked…sexy. Full puckered lips, cute twinkling eyes, and a shapely body that was accentuated by the burlesque style clothing was stunning. If it didn’t have your face, you’d be boiling over with jealousy at this bitch on his arm. 
“Is this how you see me?” you asked with disbelief.
Eddie smacked your forehead with an exaggerated loud and sloppy kiss, sure to leave behind a wet glob of spit for you to wipe off. “Of course it is. Always will be. Every day of my life.”
Unable to articulate what you were feeling into words, you grabbed his face to try and explain it all in a heated kiss. 
Of all the things Eddie had ever done for you, this had to take the cake. Tattooing your likeness on his skin? In a spot that any and everyone could see? It’s not like they could miss it with the size of it. You had a permanent spot on his body. There was no erasing it unless he had some sort of accident that rid him of his arm. You would be there with him when he was in the shower, at work, sitting at the table on his fiftieth birthday. You were going to be with him forever—in every meaning of the word, and he marked himself with that as his full intention.
What had you done to deserve such a man?
He returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, but pulled away far too quickly. “I really need to eat something or else I might not wake up this time.”
If you had brought the van, you would have suggested he get a coke to go and you’d cheer him up in another way, but your little Nissan didn’t have the room for such a task and you were certain Steve would never forgive you if you had your way with Eddie in the back of his car. 
You didn’t want him to cover up his new tattoo, but he insisted he needed to so it stayed clean and didn’t ooze bodily fluids near the food. He promised to let you clean and bandage it once you were at the hotel and nurse his blood sugar back to a suitable level as compensation.
“Watch this,” Eddie smirked. He made a fist and relaxed it rapidly, making the cartoon tits jiggle. 
You couldn’t help but chortle at the stupidity of your husband. “You are so ridiculous!”
Brimming with pride, Eddie laced his fingers with yours once he was bandaged up and went back inside. 
Nancy, Robin, and Steve all looked relieved when you returned with a smile so big it made your cheeks sore, hand in hand with Eddie.
“Thank god,” Steve sighed, reaching for the steaming pizza pie in front of him. “I wasn’t going to wait a second longer for you guys to show up.”
It took a few minutes to warm back up to the group, but Steve certainly relieved any lingering tension by burning the roof of his mouth after biting into the molten cheese, and before you knew it, you were fully enjoying the company of your friends in a way you hadn’t really before. When the younger Hellfire members were around, you took on the role of being the one to serve drinks, snacks, and help clean up the destruction they caused even if you weren’t hosting. When you were around Corroded Coffin, you were the only girl and felt out of place amongst the testosterone fueled bickering, though Berry kept you company while the other three ignored your presence most of the time. 
But here in a crowded restaurant where you weren’t expected to clean up after everyone, with other girls present, and permission to relax, it was easy to have fun. It wasn’t like you were doing anything extravagant. Just talking about plans for prom, graduation, and the itinerary for tomorrow filled up most of the evening as the second and third pizza was demolished. It was nice to be in a new place with new people. It wasn’t like Hawkins where everyone knew Eddie by a false reputation or his bizarre sense of style, or you by association. You were both anonymous and blended into the crowd, which honestly held people who looked far stranger than Eddie did. You didn’t have to worry about nasty glares or murmurs about you or your husband here.
Eddie started to perk up after a few cokes and half a dozen slices, but he still looked like he could do well with a nap. You kept your fingers interlaced with his beneath the table, and felt your cheeks heat up as he dragged his thumb higher and higher beneath your skirt. Leave it to him to still be horny despite being in pain and barely able to stand. 
By ten o’clock, all four TVs and the entirety of the restaurant chimed in loudly to recite the public service announcement. 
“IT’S 10PM,” the entire crowd shouted simultaneously. “DO YOU KNOW WHERE YOUR CHILDREN ARE?”
“Where do your parents think you are?” you asked Robin and Nancy.
“At her house,” they answered in unison, motioning to the other. 
It took you by surprise that their parents were so trusting of them. Instead of being at a sleepover down the street, both girls were out of the state, far from home, and in the company of tattooed and now pierced boys with plans to stay overnight in a hotel. It was funny in a way, the things they could get away with. Another small bubble of jealousy bloomed within your chest. You would have never been able to do such a thing while in your mother’s house. 
But you had something the girls didn’t: Eddie. A man to love and take care of you, even though you weren’t quite sure how to fully let him yet. And there was nothing in the world you would trade for it. 
---
While ‘hotel by the pier’ sounded fancy, it was actually the ugliest one the strip had to offer. You didn’t mind though. The bed didn’t show any signs of bedbugs upon strict inspection and had crisp and clean sheets stretched across it. Eddie took great pleasure in lowering the thermostat without the consequence reflected on the light bill and retreated to the balcony as soon he dumped the two duffle bags from the car onto the floor. 
As you washed the long day off in a shower that had better water pressure than your own and no crack in the laminate, you took more time to think about what led you here. Yesterday you were ready to strangle Eddie with the strap of his guitar for leaving the house a disaster and for keeping you up half the night. Now? You were swooning. How long had he and Steve been cooking this idea up? It had to be in the works for a while for Eddie to save up the funds for it like this and design the tattoo he had plastered on his arm. Do some research on where to get it and schedule an appointment. With how much thought and work it must have taken, all while you were on the verge of another mental breakdown, just made the love you had for him grow exponentially--something you didn’t think possible.  
Since Eddie was in charge of packing, he seemed to have purposely forgotten your underwear or anything to sleep in. Wrapping yourself in the top sheet of the bed, you joined him on the balcony. 
“My, my, my,” he chirped from the corner. “What do we have here?”
“A very naked lady since you didn’t pack me any clothes. Why don’t you move the chair?” you commented, taking notice of its crooked placement. 
With a joint pinched between his lips, Eddie wiggled in the iron seat to show that it didn’t budge. “Bolted down. Probably so no one steals it or chucks it over the rail.”
You batted his arm out of the way so you crawl in his lap and snuggle your back into his chest without bothering his left arm. 
He was careful not to blow smoke into your face as he spoke. “What’s a man gotta do for a peak?”
You hummed loudly and pretended to think on it. Truthfully with his new tattoo he could have anything he wanted. 
There was one thing you wanted to try with him though, and there wouldn’t be any doubt that you were serious about chilling out and making the most of the weekend once you did it. 
You leaned your head back against his collarbone and reached for the smoldering joint in his hand. “Give me that.” 
He snorted. “Don’t think so, love. It’s for my arm. It does hurt you know?”
“I’m not gonna put it out. Just give it here,” you huffed. 
Eddie extended his annoyingly long arm to keep the refer out of your reach, citing that he needed it after suffering for hours at the hand of an old biker to show his undying love for you.
“Give me the goddamn--!” you hissed, finally snatching the funky cigarette and bringing it to your lips before he could yank it back from you. 
Eddie’s brows disappeared beneath his bangs, his eyes wide and jaw hanging open in astonishment as he watched you inhale.
It’s not like you hadn’t smoked before. You did go to college and Emily had been getting high since the eighth grade. You did it with her every once in a while, but never liked the way it made you feel. One time in the apartment you got too dizzy and ended up falling down the stairs and spraining your ankle, too high to move for at least forty minutes. 
Eddie knew this, though. You told him the first few times he tried to coax you into smoking with him. You always refused, stating you didn’t want that dreaded feeling you always got afterwards, or the horrible taste in your mouth, or heaven forbid HR decide to follow up on the random drug tests. Eddie took each ‘no’ personally and wallowed, always quoting that couples that smoked together stayed together. 
The burning in the back of your throat and lungs was unpleasant. The dirty taste of earth littered the surface of your tongue. You knew you would cough--you always did. Eddie didn’t laugh as he hammered your back while you gasped for air, for which you were thankful.
“Easy there, tiger,” he grinned. “What’s gotten into you?”
It took a few beats for you to regain your ability to breathe. Wheezing, you answered, “You told me to relax. I’m relaxing.”
Eddie’s grin turned into a full blown smile. “Right on, babe. Proud of you.”
The compliment shouldn’t have meant as much as it did, but Eddie being proud of you for something so simple  warmed your body. 
Well. The weed probably had a lot to do with that, too.
The second hit didn’t make you cough nearly as bad, and by the third, you were utterly baked. You refused the next time he attempted to pass the rapidly depleting joint, content with the buzz. It wasn’t the same wretched feeling of incapacity that you felt with Emily, or the overwhelming sleepiness that made you feel hungover later. Your skin felt hot, but the chilly March air kept you cool. You felt light as a feather but also heavy as an anvil at the same time. It was a peculiar sensation, but you didn’t hate it. 
Sitting in Eddie’s lap sure did help. The heat of his body was like a warm blanket draped behind your back. You sunk into him like a beloved sofa as your eyelids grew heavy. His hot hands made their way beneath the thin sheet you wore, and a sigh of content fell through your lips when found purchase on your breasts. His palms were rougher now that he had been working more steadily, and you relished in the way they scratched over the now overly sensitive skin. 
“So fuckin hot,” he breathed into your ear. 
Suddenly speaking seemed to be too difficult a task. Eddie’s hot breath on your neck, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, the growing bulge of his cock beneath your ass, and the way he rolled your peaked nippled between his thumb and forefinger was creating a need for him stronger than you ever felt before.
You put your hand atop his, letting the sheet fall from your shoulder and redirected his touch to your aching slit. 
“Feeling a bit adventurous, are we?” Eddie teased, tracing the sticky seam of your cunt.
Head fuzzy, it didn’t occur to you that anyone could see you if they looked at the very visible balcony. If you were more coherent, you would have suggested this be taken inside to avoid onlookers, but now? You didn’t care. It was Chicago after all. Surely stranger things had happened here than seeing someone get off in front of their hotel room.
Eddie was having way too much fun with you being at his mercy. His mischievous smirk and devilish glint in his eye told you as much. He took his time, nibbling gently at your neck and carefully avoiding your needy clit as he slid his fingers far too delicately over your center. A whine erupted from your throat in lieu of command for him to touch you in the way he knew you liked, and that time Eddie did laugh. 
“Is there something you want?” he cooed. 
Another meek whimper passed your lips as you moved your hips to chase his annoyingly evasive hand. When you did that, your ass put more pressure on his growing erection, causing him to gasp.
“Right here? Where anyone can see?” he breathed, finally pressing his fingertips to your throbbing button. 
It didn’t feel how you thought it would. With your skin so sensitive and reactive to his touch, you thought your cunt would be just as receptive. However, his touch felt like it was barely there--far away and not at all at the intensity you wanted it. 
He sensed your frustration as you tried to smash his hand as close to you as possible, but it still felt…light. Growing increasingly agitated with the lack of pressure, you let out a groan.
“Alright, alright, hang on,” he chuckled. “I got you.”
Even when he slipped his fingers inside of you and kept you clutched to his chest, burying the heel of his palm right where you needed him, it took a while for you to find that familiar sensation. It was if your senses were dulled in the one spot you wished they were increased like they were within the rest of your body. 
You rocked against him relentlessly, trying to subdue the gnawing in your abdomen that so viciously made its presence known. Between your mewls and Eddie’s encouraging words, you were certain at least one of the neighboring rooms were aware of what you were doing, but you didn’t care. Before long, the hot tingling you longed for returned and spread through the tendrils of your nerves and you rode Eddie’s hand with reckless abandon--ignoring the cramp in both your thighs and Eddie’s palm.
Eddie covered your mouth with his other hand when you came with a cry. 
“Shhh!” he hissed through chuckles of disbelief. “Someone will come lookin’.”
Breathing heavily through your nose, you let the high from your well deserved orgasm and the weed claim the rest of your inhibitions. Your muscles relaxed and you went completely limp in Eddie’s grasp. Whatever hesitancy and tension remained in your body had certainly been eradicated. 
When he was sure you were done riding the shockwaves, he removed his hand from your mouth. “Ho-lee fuck, babe,” he cackled. “I can’t believe we just did that!” He quickly removed his other hand from inside of you, much to your displeasure, and quickly covered up the parts of you that were exposed to the elements.
He patted your thigh and gave you a harsh kiss on the cheek. “C’mon. Let’s go inside.”
You wanted to move, but between lead limbs and jelly legs, you weren’t fit to do so. You grumbled into Eddie’s neck that you were tired and didn’t want to, and offered to just sleep outside in the night air. 
“My ass cheeks are numb from this horrid chair,” he announced. Wrapping his arms more firmly around your waist, he heaved you up and half carried/half dragged you back into the small hotel room. 
It wasn’t until much later when you were redressing Eddie’s new tattoo that the reality set in that you had done something so brash in public. Bless the sight of whoever had the sudden idea to peak out of the edge of the neighboring balcony. 
What if someone did see? That would be gross, right? To be watched by a stranger. Were you that loud? Were your tits out for long? Oh god, What if Steve was walking on the sidewalk at the same time--
Eddie watched your face change as the anxiety set in. He tapped the end of your nose and held an accusatory index finger in your face. “I can hear you thinking. Stop it. It’s one of my favorite memories and once you get some sleep, it’ll be yours too.”
Ending the thoughts wasn’t as easy as he made it sound, but he did have a point. Once you were old and gray, reminiscing about the crazy things you did in your youth, you could look back on this day and think that your crazy husband lied to get you out of work, took you to Chicago, got you tattooed on his skin, and finger fucked you on the balcony of a third story hotel on the pier.
“You might be onto something,” you agreed.
————————————————————
Part 33
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saltwaterburns · 8 months
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Hey, would you write Anthony Lockwood x reader,in which for the cause they have to pretend to be married? Lockwood gives her an engagement ring and his mother's wedding ring, and he wears his father's wedding ring. Thanks in advance😊
two times you kissed him and the one time he kissed you
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warnings: the usage of y/n a few times, i apologise
pairing: anthony lockwood x fem!reader
a/n: i loved writing this. that's all i have to say
"So while Lockwood and Y/N distract Penelope, Lucy swoops into the Black Library and snatches the "Book of Death". Meanwhile I'll be downstairs on the lookout! Isn't it just the most brilliant plan?" George exclaims excitedly, but he's met with silence. It's suffocating, and you could almost hear a needle drop to the ground.
"So...me and Lockwood have to pretend to be married?" You ask after a bit, emphasising the marriage part. "How on Earth can we pull that off convincingly?"
"You really do wound me, love. You don't think we could pull it off?" Lockwood chimes in, your cheeks heating up at the pet name that rolls off his tongue so ridiculously well.
"No, no that! Just, we're quite young, aren't we? How are we going to explain our reasoning to, conjoin?"
"She does have a fair point." Lucy adds thoughtfully, and you smile at the red haired girl. This could be your ticket out of this. "You could tell anyone who asks that the ghost hunting field is life threatening and you wanted get married in case one of you won't make it past the age of 25?"
Before you can even get a word in to object, maybe think of another way, both of the boys agree. You sigh defeatedly.
"So, that's settled then! The ball is in a few hours so we should go and get outselves ready. Y/N, come with me."
You tell Lucy you'll be up in a few minutes to help her do her hair and follow Lockwood upstairs to his room. You've only been there a couple of times to tend to his injuries after particularly hard cases, so going in there without a proper purpose made the butterflies in your tummy go wild.
He opens the door for you and you step in, your eyes trailing over the bookshelves, his messy bed, clothes that are scattered everywhere. It looks messy, but feels organized in a sense.
He shuts the door with a soft click and motions for you to go and sit on the bed. You do so and he disappears for a few seconds, coming back with something in his hand. It's a soft looking velvety case and it reminds you of those ring holding boxes.
Oh.
Oh.
The mattress dips as he sits down next to you, heat emitting from his body, making your heart flutter. Even while sitting down, he's a head taller than you.
He opens the small case and between the cushions, you spot two rings. One of them is a golden wedding band, decorated by a small diamond thats glimmering in the sunlight shining through the window. The second one is more dainty, thinner and blessed with a matching diamond. Your breath catches in your throat.
"These belonged to my parents. I don't think I ever saw them without wearing these. They've got engravings inside as well, 'Forever Yours'. I got them back after they.." he trails off, not wanting to finish the sentence. You understand and grab his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
"All of this is only for the case, Lockwood. We don't have to use these. I know they mean the world to you. What if something happens to them?" You murmur, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles. He shakes his head and takes the dainty ring out, gently taking ahold of your left hand and sliding it onto your ring finger. You could've sworn your heart skipped a beat.
"Want to do the honours?" He asks and chuckles, offering you the case. You grin and take the second ring, sliding it onto his ring finger. In a moment of boldness, you bring his hand up to your mouth and press a kiss onto the ring. The metal is cool against your lips.
"They're beautiful, Lockwood. Thank you for trusting me with this." You say, and he smiles.
"You're welcome. We have to act convincingly, don't we? You should go and get ready now, we don't have a lot of time."
You leave his room and walk upstairs, buzzing with excitement. But when Lucy asks what you two were up to as you're doing her hair, you can't help but shrug it off.
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Your hand is tightly clasped together with his as you're making your way through the crowd, Lucy having disappeared already and George nowhere to be seen. People are stopping to congratulate you and you feel like your cheeks are permanently painted red, aching from smiling so much.
The chattering that's coming from every corner of the huge room quietens down as miss Penelope Fittes makes her appearance, the silver sequins on her dress glimmering like a mirrorball. She stands on the edge of the balcony a few floors above you, looking around the room of prey, her being the only hunter.
Lockwood squeezes your hand and pulls you against his chest, his hands falling to your hips. You can feel Penelope's gaze burning into the back of your head and knowing that she's watching, you stand up to the tips of your toes and press your lips against Anthony's.
For a second, you forget why you're doing this, where you are, and who's watching. Him and his soft lips are the only thing on your mind, the way he tastes like mint and peach driving you crazy, leaving you addicted.
He's the first one to pull away. You almost frown but manage to keep your expression light, turning back around. She's begun her ascent down the main marble staircase, her sharp heels clicking. Now you can only hope she'll come to congratulate you.
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"Mr. Lockwood, Ms. Y/L/N! What a lovely surprise to see you here. Oh my, are those wedding rings I spot?" She asks sweetly, Lockwood giving her one of his signature smiles.
"Yes actually, Ms. Fittes. Me and Y/N got married a few weeks ago. We just thought that in this line of work, we never know if we'll make it out alive."
You hear what he's saying, but you dont listen. Your hands are clasped together and the light is hitting his face so perfectly, his sharp features in harmony with his softer ones. He's like an angel sculpted by Michelangelo.
Penelope bids you farewell and with a polite smile moves on to another group, their dresses and suits much more expensive looking and their laughs much more fake. You really hope Lucy has gotten the book.
As if on cue, you spot her hastily walking down the stairs, a hoard of security guards following her. Lockwood sees her as well and pulls you with him, apologies spilling from your lips whenever you bump into someone.
He grabs your hips and pushes you against a pillar, your breath hitching in your throat. He's panting a little, his intense eyes looking straight into yours.
"I'm going to pull the fire alarm that's right next to your head, but I'm going to be kissing you while I do it so it's not as suspicious. Is that okay?" He asks quietly, his breath tickling your neck. You nod silently, unable to get a word out.
He pulls away, lips mere inches from yours. You're looking up at him, doe eyes wide and curious. His heart skips a beat, his stomach fluttering. He offers you a breathless chuckle and cups your cheek, kissing you for the second time that night. Fireworks burst into flames all around your body, a soft whimper coming from the back of your throat. You grip the front of his jacket, pulling him downwards and closer to you.
Suddenly, a shrill noise pierces through your ears. He pulls away and apologises with a smile, motioning for you to cover your ears. You and him manage to escape before the sprinklers go on, the crispy cold night air embracing you outside.
The plan said to head home in case any of you got separated, so you wave for a Night Cab, the smooth ride home lulling you asleep. Lockwood pays the driver a few pounds and gently shakes you awake, guiding you out of the car. As the engine sounds fade off into the night, you stand in the middle of the street with him, suddenly feeling bare under his gaze.
"Um, I'm not really sure if you know, but married couples kiss from time to time. And I was wondering since our last kiss was quite a while ago and not under ideal circumstances, we could do it again?"
You can't help but giggle at his words, tucking a loose curl behind your ear. "Oh really? I suppose so. We've got to act the part, haven't we?"
"I'm not really sure I want to act anymore." He grins sheepishly, taking a small step closer to you. "I really, really like you. And if you're up for it, we could make kissing a regular thing."
You know he's about to add something more to it but you dont let him finish, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands and slamming your lips on his. This kiss is more intense than others, no rush or reasoning behind it. It keeps going on going, getting better and better until your lungs are screaming at the lack of oxygen. You pull away, resting your forehead against his, both of your eyes shut with lovesick smiles on your faces.
"I like you too, Lockwood. In case you haven't noticed."
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"You guys are NOT going to believe this! Outrageous! While I was out there risking my life, staling a book from freaking Penelope Fittes' personal library, GEORGE was out there trying to seduce a GIRL." Lucy shouts as you and Lockwood enter Portland Row,
"You guys had everything under control!! I wasn't even needed!"
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stopthatbluecat · 7 months
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Fake Marriage - Kira x Jadzia
In order to get Kira out of an accidental engagement, Jadzia offers to pretend to marry her. The idea seemed so simple at first...
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pascaloverx · 1 month
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OUR SECRET — MYG
chapter six
Summary: You and Yoongi are having an affair. No, you are not being his lover. But the world is not ready to know that an idol is dating someone. So you two were doing your best to make sure no one found out. Until he breaks up with you. His mistake.
Author's note: This fanfic will contain inappropriate language and intimate moments between some characters. Be warned. I will let you know if anything becomes inappropriate. Please enjoy this Yoongi fanfic.
PREVIOUS
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The baby shower was fantastic. You didn't even miss the baby's father that much. Then you decided to go to bed early. But before you got it falling asleep, you heard the doorbell ring.
"I am going." You say as you walk towards the door, coming face to face with Yoongi. He has a visible bruise, very close to his eyebrow.
"Before you want me to leave, could you take care of that wound?" He asks, looking very downcast. You step back so he can enter his apartment.
"You and I are going to be parents to the same child. Obviously I'm going to take care of you." You say before closing the door and going directly to the bathroom to get the first aid kit. Yoongi sat on the sofa in your living room and stood there muttering words that you didn't quite know what they were.
"I know you're going to want to know what happened..." He says as soon as you sit down in front of him on the couch. You start to apply a product that will clean his wound and he lets out a groan of pain.
"If you don't want to tell me, that's fine. But stay still. Show our daughter that her father is strong enough to withstand this pain." And so you continue bandaging him, while he tries to bear the pain. He doesn't say anything, nor do you. It's frustrating.
"The woman I went out with had a controlling ex-boyfriend. He just showed up at our date and punched me. I defended myself, and when he realized I was famous, he ran off. So, I paid the bill and came here." Yoongi explained as you finished helping him with his wound.
"I'm sorry for you. And for her. No one deserves to go through these things." You say as you put away your first aid kit in the bathroom. When you return to the living room, Yoongi is almost lying down on the couch as if he's exhausted. You sit down beside him, gently stroking his head.
"Do you think I deserve this for what I did to you?" Yoongi speaks with his eyes still closed as you continue to stroke his head.
"No, I don't think so. Yoongi, I don't think you're a bad person. You make questionable choices and you're terrible at both breaking up with someone and proposing, but you're a good guy. You don't deserve to get hit by some ridiculous man who can't get over a breakup. Rest assured." You say reassuringly as you continue to stroke his head.
"I broke up with you against my will. The truth is, a gossip page found out about us. My company asked me to take action to fix it, and I took that step, which is pretty stupid, I know, but it wasn't an easy decision. And in the end, it didn't even matter. Soon, everyone will know that you and I are going to be parents, and personally, I don't care if it disappoints my fans." He says, gently opening his eyes to look at you. As for you, you were a bit emotional, perhaps realizing how fragile your relationship with Yoongi was.
"Do you think your fame would be alright if you were married to the mother of your child for a while and then you separated?" You ask, distancing yourself slightly from Yoongi. He looks at you, confused.
We get married, you announce to the world that you're starting a family. After a year of marriage, we divorce. We'll tell everyone it was the best thing for our family." You propose. Yoongi's eyes widen in surprise, processing your suggestion.
"Are you serious? You'd be willing to do that for me? For us?"He speaks surprised. You know he had proposed something similar before, but now this situation will be on your terms.
"I'm willing to do this for the future of this baby. A fake marriage to sort things out and move on. No feelings involved." You say seriously, and he seems to understand what you're proposing. Honestly, you don't want to get romantically involved with Yoongi again.
"No feelings involved, then." He reaches out his hand towards you, and you shake his hand, as if sealing a deal. You just hope you won't regret this.
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Fake It Till You Make It
Arthur Curry x plus size reader
Never pair two borderline insane superheroes together on a mission.
Warnings: black eyes, some injuries, fluff, fake marriage
WC: 716
Minors DNI
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Picking up strange undercover missions was your specialty. You couldn’t even count the number of times you had to wear some crazy disguise and sneak into a drug running ring or a mobster dinner party. You have been in outfits ranging from heels taller than your will to live, covered in makeup and wearing jewels worth more than your life, to oil stained coveralls who had last been owned by Superman himself.
But this, this tops the lot. 
“Let me get this straight, you want me to pretend to be married to Aquaman so we can infiltrate a wildlife sanctuary which has been using great white sharks to smuggle drugs and guns over international borders.” Batman’s face remained stoic, as always.
“Yes.”
“And you actually expect this to work.”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, fine I guess. I’ll do it but I expect appropriate compensation.”
“You can’t drive the batmobile.”
“Five minutes.”
“No.”
“I sit in the passenger seat and you drive but I pick the music.”
“…..Fine.”
“Hell yeah! I guess the only thing left to do is to actually meet this fish man.” His eyes narrowed at you from behind his cowl.
“Don’t call him fish man.” You rolled your eyes and huffed.
“Jesus Christ, old man. Lighten up a bit.” His scowl deepened. But before he could reprimand you, there came a mighty yell from down the hall, causing both of you to turn and look at the source. A man, who could only be described as a giant, was barrelling down the corridor, long curly hair flowing behind him wildly as he ran. He was topless, which you greatly appreciated, considering the fact that he was built like a linebacker with tattoos covering every inch of his copper skin.
“Wifey!” And the next thing you knew, his broad shoulder was firmly planted in your soft stomach and you were moving backwards. Your back met the cold floor of the tower and a huge weight settled on top of you. It took you a second to realise what had happened.
“Did you just rugby tackle me?” His head tilted as if to say ‘duh’. He straddled your plump thighs, keeping you pinned to the ground, his hands were planted firmly by your head. Dark curls framed his face as he leaned forward, your noses almost brushing.
“Hi there wifey.” And he smiled brightly. Maybe this mission wouldn’t be too bad.
——————
You were soaked from head to toe, one eye swollen shut from a particularly good punch, your body completely sore from running and a chill that settled on your bones. Arthur wasn’t much better off than you; a few cuts along his arms and stomach, a dark bruise on his jaw.
But you were both smiling widely, still holding hands, your wedding bands glittering in the low light of the batplane.
Batman looked thoroughly exhausted. “What do you mean you’re married for real?”
Arthur shrugged. “We had to make it believable.” You nodded, backing up his point.
“He’s right, we would’ve been caught otherwise.”
“That’s what the forged documents are for!” You glanced at your counterpart, both of you trembled trying to contain your laughter.
“But those are fake, you could tell that from a mile away.”
“So your solution was to get legally married?!” 
“Yep.” “Pretty much.” You spoke at the same time. The older hero collapsed into one of the many seats on the plane, rubbing at his temples.
“I’ll have Alfred draw up the paperwork to get your marriage annulled.”
“No can do pal!” Bruce glanced at Aquaman, already dreading what was about to come out of his mouth next. “We’re married in Atlantean culture too and divorce is not an option.” 
Bruce sat there for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as his brain attempted to comprehend the sheer stupidity of the two people in front of him. And yet, he could only blame himself. Then, he said something he thought he would never have to say: “I should’ve listened to Superman.”
“Yeah you really should have.” You agreed, giving Arthur’s large hand a squeeze as you glanced up at him. “But hey! Now we’re permanent partners and we work really well together!”
“You blew up the wildlife sanctuary.”
“We got all of the animals out first!”
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alexxxaloy · 1 month
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New chapter of The Sweet Escape - The Nora is out for Valentine's Day. And finally brings what our favorite blorbos deserved... some LOVE !!
Thank you to my lovely @chib95 for this beautiful illustration of the last chapter. Aloy in need of support during a tattoo session....
The Sweet Escape - The Nora - Chapter 14 - AlexxxAloy - Horizon (Video Games) [Archive of Our Own]
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how-very-superbat · 1 month
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Hei just saw you recommend Batnesia by Qui on a post about amnesiac Bruce assuming he is hooking up with Clark,
I read it in a day and I loved it do you have more recommendations ?
Here's some Amnesia Superbat:
running backwards (the only way forward) by soetry (8k) Bruce gets hit in battle, forgets everything about being Batman, and adopts the entire personality and characteristics of his idiotic playboy persona. To get his memories back, someone has to get rather intimate with him.  And really, Clark is the only one for the task.
I Would I Might Forget That I Am I by susiecarter (24k) Clark Kent woke up, ate breakfast, went to work—the same way he did every day. Ordinary. Except for the part where Superman hadn't been seen in at least a week and nobody knew why, Lois was acting kind of weird, and Bruce Wayne was insisting that Clark was the only reporter he'd allow to run a feature on the crashed alien ship in the park, since Wayne Enterprises had been granted control of the site. And the way Clark felt every time Wayne looked at him a little too long definitely wasn't helping. But it was fine. Clark was normal, there was nothing wrong with him, and everything was fine.
A Week Of Rain by Mithen (18k) Clark Kent seeks out Bruce Wayne when he is resurrected, but he has no memory of his time as Superman and no powers. Bruce has to deal with an unexpected visitor to his lake house--and his own grief, guilt, and attraction.
And then I thought I'd throw in some Fake Dating fics too because they fit in with the vibe. I'll probably also make an extended list of these later.
A Common Misconception by rotasha (91k) When Bruce Wayne comes out, he accidentally becomes the poster child of bisexuality and realizes his lifestyle of sleeping around needs to come to an end. Clark, being the supportive friend that he is, volunteers to pretend to date him for a year. You know the rest.
over this threshold by orphean (59k) Bruce asks Clark to marry him for tax reasons. Clark, against his better judgment, agrees.
I hope these help, please let me know if there's anything else I can find for you or you want anything more specific x
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corvase · 1 year
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when in doubt fake a marriage! prompts
feel free to use:)
“let’s get married.” “… ok…” “OK????”
character a kneeling down like “will you ma—“ and character b like “get up.”
rather than strangers to fake lovers, best friends to fake lovers or coworkers (!!!) to fake lovers
what if one of them just put up a tinder account solely for attracting someone to beg them to be in a fake relationship with them
“we need a reason, though. my parents won’t be too approving of us living together if—“ “what if we got married?”
“what’s the timeline?” “let’s say we met.. nine months ago.” “woah… suspicious.”
how well do they work together? do they like each other? hate each other? indifferent? and if so, what makes them begin to see the other in a new light?
they’re at an event together and one offers the other food not knowing they’re allergic so now they have to explain why their spouse wouldn’t know their allergies
they choose to get married because both their families are pressuring them
they choose to get married because they need that requirement for a certain benefit, etc
“why do you keep looking at me like that?” “no reason… the dress is just.. you’re just…” “i mean, it was from party city, but thank you.”
“thank you for thinking of me… even if this isn’t real.”
a sudden “what if we got married?” and a “…… it scares me that that was the first solution you could think of.” response
the first time their called by the others’ last name
“oh my gosh i just lied to your parents. i never lie to parents. i feel sick. they were so kind.” “breathe.”
“oh. you got me flowers. wow.” “you are my spouse, aren’t you?”
“does this mean anything to you like… truly, at all?”
the moment they walk down the aisle and neither are in love just yet so they’re both thinking “i can’t believe this is my life🙁”
“let’s pretend to be married.” “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND????”
a confession like “i love you.” and a blank stare in response so they go “no like, for real. like actually. like i genuinely love you.”
“sorry… my family can be a bit much.” “no, i love them.”
“ok but how do i explain to my fake husband that i want him to be his real wife who got married with real vows and stuff?”
one character whispering to the other while they’re asleep, “i want this so badly to be real.”
the wedding night… i won’t elaborate
the first time they kiss and why… how is it explained away? is it even acknowledged?
“i want to marry you, for real.”
“i think you’re the most radiant person i’ve seen ever. i’m glad i married you.” “the first or second time?”
a scene where they discuss the logistics; are they actually legally getting married? if so are they living together? splitting bills? what about transportation? consider all these things :)
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bjurnberg · 6 months
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New AU just dropped
It’s got everything! Fake marriage! Social pressure! Inescapable location! Drunken shenanigans! Only one bed! First kiss in front of cheering crowd!!
Just add blorbos!!!!
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thepalaceofharuhime · 4 months
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Hmmm…
Looking at your fandoms, I can’t help but think some sort of Bingqiu in Spy X Family (or a SxF Xianxia fusion) could be super fun!
The question is… what would their roles be.
Assassin Luo Binghe, or spy Luo Binghe… and which of them gets gender swapped. 🤔
Oh!! Maybe Shen Yuan was meant to be an ally of the female half of the main duo, Liu Mingyan, but through shenanigans he somehow ends up with her role instead, and the System demands he fake marry Binghe anyway. 😂
This is exactly the kind of prompt i was hoping for! TY!!! 🙏
The way i see it Binghe would definitely be the assassin, Shen Yuan is too big of a softie not to mention one who so easily put on the mask of another man before so he would definitely be the spy.
But also being oblivious to feelings yet a capable badass, bad in the kitchen, feeling inadequate as a partner? All Shen Yuan. Binghe with his protagonist Halo meanwhile would fit better with Mr. All around perfect Husband. So i guess it'd be a little like Yor and Loyd had switched professions.
Shen Yuan's over protective brother in a position of power? I wonder who that would be? Enter Shen Jiu haha. Rather than secret police he'd be a detective looking in to all the murders rather than keeping state secrets from spies though. To keep that rivalry between him Binghe. The family member Binghe became an assassin to provide for? His mom. The gardener AKA the guy who hired him and hands him his missions? Meng Mo. Franky,the spy's funny informant and gadget supplier, occasional babysitter and not to mention bestfriend? Shang Qinghua.
I dont know if i should replace Fiona with Liu Quinge as Fiona's character really would fit Binghe better. But Liushen is a weakness of mine even if onesided and those two were just made for coworker romances. Maybe I should give Binge someone trying to woe him too? Sha hualing? Then if i dont go with your other idea of having SY transmigrate in to Liu Mingyan (which i am saving up in my head because i absolutely love the idea) then i can add something in the background with her and Sha hualing. I'm positive i could find a way to write in Mobei for SQH or i could go with Scumplane and have him end up Shen Jiu and actually yeah that would work, need to distract SJ long enough for Bingyuan to get it on afterall. Oh what about SQH x SJ x LQG? Or should Shen Yuan get a second husbandafterall? Alternatively imagine LQG crying over a bowl of icecream.
Next question is if SY didnt transmigrate into LMY then who is he? What about Ning Yingying? Who could be SJ's little sister in this world? Or he couldve just been put in there as a female version of himself. Or like it was with Shen quingiu a character who vaguely resembles him and has a similar name. She just happens to be a woman though. Or maybe go with the mulan aproach and have him crossdress? But then how does he explain to his brother that he's suddenly - he could say that he's in love with binghe and the only way to marry him was fake his papers to pretend to be a woman since queer marriage isnt yet allowed in their fictional country. Like no one cares if they date its just they havent gotten to the legalisation of marriage yet. And if SJ asks why they had to get married so suddenly anyway (cuz no way in hell is SY getting away with saying he forgot to tell him for a year) he could say that they had to so they could adopt their daughter. Who in this case scenario could be Ning Yingying, should she still have Anyas powers? damian could be Ming fan or the little palace girl or whatever (im not yet far enough in the books to now her and the old man that well so id have to check the wiki) and i could make the palace master donovan desmond and have SY and LBH team up to take him down in the end.
Anyways yeah these are just some ideas, and again thanks for the prompt! I can't wait to write this! Maybe i'll draw something for it later too. ❤️
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the-l00ker · 30 days
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Alastor and Rosie getting fake (platonically) married just so people will leave the poor dear man alone is everything to me-
"OH yeah we're a couple! Couple of bestieeeeessss!" vibes tbh
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boomhauer · 2 years
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Disjointed Masterlist
Summary: Nurse!Reader is reunited with her high school crush in the emergency room. Faced with a lifetime worth of debt, she helps Eddie Munson in the only way she can.
What to expect: Fake marriage. Friends to lovers. Medical trauma. Lemon/Smut. Angst. No Vecna/canon divergent bc I’m in denial.
A/N: Fusing my obsession with Eddie and the need to process the absurdity of working in American Medicine. I’m quite proud of this one. Hope you enjoy! ❤️
Series playlist ✤ Fan Art
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* contains smut
(# of parts and smut in future chapters subject to change until completion.)
1 ✤ 2 ✤ 3 ✤ 4 ✤ 5 ✤ 6 ✤ *7 ✤ *8 ✤ *9
10 ✤ 11 ✤ *12 ✤ 13 ✤ 14 ✤ *15 ✤ *16 ✤ 17
*18 ✤ *19 ✤ *20 ✤ *21 ✤ *22 ✤ 23 ✤ *24
*25 ✤ *26 ✤ 27 ✤ *28 ✤ 29 ✤ *30 ✤ *31
*32 ✤ *33 ✤ 34 ✤ *35 ✤ *Epilogue
Disjointed: The Later Years: 1 ✤ 2 ✤ 3
Extras:
✤ Curse of the Munsons: Origin Story
✤ Blurb: Seeing Eddie for the First Time
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letters-unsending · 1 year
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No. 30
////
“I told Superhero we were married so he would help fight against Supervillain.”
////
Villain takes Hero’s hand into his lap and worries his thumb over the ring—their fake wedding ring—like he knows each arc of metal, each facet by heart, like he’s known the ring for years. Even as a participant in this charade, Hero thinks he could be convinced that Villain cares. He thinks, as Villain’s fingers wander and trace the scars across his knuckles, that this could all easily be real.
“Darling,” Villain calls, shaking him out of his reverie, “why don’t you tell him? About how it began.”
Darling. Villain has jeered that name throughout many of their fights, but the word has never been soft, never been breathed over the shell of his ear. Hero twitches. He hides the flinch with a smile and turn of his hand. Taking his cue, Villain slides his palm over his own, and Hero sighs, leaning into Villain’s side, looking lovesick as he ought to be.
////
“Finally!” Sidekick teases when Hero shows them the ring.
“No,” Hero sighs and takes the ring off, setting it on the table, “it’s not like that. It can never be like that.”
“Oh,” Sidekick whispers as Hero slumps into his chair, “you’re actually really torn up about this. I knew you liked that white-picket, married life shit, but you look like the dry cleaner ruined another one of your capes.” Sidekick sits in the chair opposite of Hero and pauses. The silence is long, condemning. “Oh, you poor thing. You actually like him, don’t you?”
Hero lifts his head from the cradle of his arms. “I can’t do this. I can’t have him acting like he actually cares for me.”
“…like he actually cares for you,” Sidekick repeats slowly.
“Yes?”
“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, you know.” Sidekick pats the ring and smiles when Hero’s hand flinches toward it. “Because I really thought you were smarter than this.”
////
Villain’s had a hand on Hero’s back all night. Hero almost tripped forward the first time his palm pushed against his spine, leading him further into the finery of the gala hall, but it soon became a comforting weight. When Villain spoke to another attendee for too long, Hero leaned back into the touch. Villain would thrum his fingers and murmur ‘patience darling’ before leading Hero off to the next businessperson or reporter.
After coming back from the bar, Hero decides to return the favor. Smiling, he sidles up beside Villain and slings an arm behind him, resting his fingers over the edge of his waist coat. He settles a thumb on the curve of Villain’s hip as her proffers a flute of something fizzy and pink forward.
He doesn’t register Villain has stopped mid sentence in his conversation till both Villain and his conversation partner—holy shit that’s Superhero—turn toward him.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Hero flusters, about to withdraw his hand.
“It’s fine, darling.” Villain reaches down and flattens his hand over Hero’s, holding it still against his hip, “I just wasn’t expecting you so soon.” Sending a reassuring grin to the both of them, Villain takes the drink and continues the conversation, “now, where were we?”
////
“You’re not wearing your ring.” Villain observes, sagging against the wall beside Hero.
“We’re in battle. Of course I’m not going to wear it.” Hero retorts and fingers around his collar until he hooks something—a necklace—and drags it out. “Anyways, I do have it.” The ring hangs from the chain, glittering like firelight in the dark, and Hero squeezes it in his hand. “I keep it like this so I don’t break it.”
Villain stares at the ring, at the ash and blood on Hero’s fingers. He laughs and pulls out a necklace from beneath his own collar. His ring hangs just the same. Sighing, he folds it into his hand and rests his forehead on the tense line of his knuckles.
“I wish we had more time to pick these out. We picked the first pair they showed us in the store because we were in such a rush.”
“I like them.” Hero holds his ring tighter. The gem cuts into his palm. “They’re a good memory—they’ll be a good memory, after this is all over, but you’re right, I would’ve gotten you something different. Something sleeker and dark, like your suit.”
“You would’ve gotten me-”
“Say, how bout once this is over and Supervillain is dealt with, we get new ones? I mean, not that soon. There’s no rush, but-”
Before Villain could string out a response, a crash sounds from behind them. Dust plumes over the wall they’ve sheltered behind and Villain lunges at Hero, yanking him up by the collar. His smile is feral and he grabs Hero’s hand, the one with the ring.
“Darling, your timing is terrible.”
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