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sillymercury · 2 months

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Hey Lucien!

Lucien x Musical!Reader

Warnings: slight suggestiveness and some angst :p

Word count: 4.5k

Summary: You’ve been trying so long to make Lucien understand that he doesn’t have to try so hard for someone who doesn’t want him - not when you already love everything about him. When you decide to sing all the things you’ve been too scared to say, your mind can’t help but drift back to all the special moments that inspire you.

Based off ‘Hey Stephen’ by Taylor Swift

“Hey Lucien, I know looks can be deceiving

But I know I saw a light in you

And as we walked we would talk

And I didn't say half the things I wanted to”

The wind gently blew my hair carrying the salty smell of the Sidra with it. The lights of the city were dancing on the water and I felt an ease fall over me as we walked through the city that was winding down.

“I would’ve moved here ages ago if I knew how beautiful this city was,” Lucien spoke gently as he basked in the peaceful air. At his words I couldn’t help but steal a glanced over and at that moment all of my breath was stolen from me. He looked majestic in the soft light from the setting sun, the tranquillity that rested on his features had my heart doing flips.

His face looked as if it had been carved from marble with a gentle, steady hand. His strong jaw that contoured into perfectly high cheekbones. His pointed nose that rested above perfect plump lips that looked ever so inviting. I saw his russet eye whirl as he took in his surroundings and in my imagination my fingers danced over his scars. The tanned skin on his face was painted with freckles and I wanted to kiss every one. And his hair, gods, his hair. It flowed down his back in gentle curls with the top half tied back; his bangs framed his face like a curtain flowing in the wind.

I let my eyes roam his entire body, his lean and muscled frame. His classic navy blue and gold tunic cut to fit him perfectly and the dark long sleeves that showed off the muscles lightly flexing in his arm.

“If I even knew it existed,” he laughed and the ariose melody knocked me out of my trance. I shook my head and laughed as well, bringing a hand to my mouth to make sure I wasn’t actively drooling.

“Well you’re here now,” I beamed up at him as I looped my arm through his. “And thank goodness, I’ve been in desperate need of a friend.”

He looked down at me and smiled and for the second time my breath was gone. I’ve never seen someone lit from the inside, but Lucien, he glowed.

“Of all the girls tossing rocks at your window

I'll be the one waiting there even when it's cold

Hey Lucien, boy, you might have me believing

I don't always have to be alone”

I sighed as I turned around and motioned for the bartender to bring me another one. Lucien was chatting up a pretty blonde female who found him very funny. He was charming and ladies flocked to his flame like moths, I just happened to be the one he never noticed.

I couldn’t help but wonder if he would go home with her as I threw back what was left of my stiff drink. He very seldom did, he was serious about courting Elain but she had evaded him for years now so he indulged when he “couldn’t help himself.” Most females only lasted a night, either not wanting more or running when they learned of his mate. He always thought it was fair, “Who would want me when my mate doesn’t even want me” he would joke in a sad tone. ‘Me!’ I would chant in my mind.

I didn’t care about Elain, and I would never admit to my dark fantasies of making her pay for the pain she put him through by stringing him along. I waited for the day she would finally reject him and I could pick up the pieces but it seemed she enjoyed taking her time deciding.

Perhaps one day she will choose him and I’ll remain the same, an after thought in the background of beautiful picture. I slumped forward resting my chin in my hand with another sigh. I spaced out while staring down the cup at the swishing the brown liquor, not noticing the presence behind me until warm hands met my shoulders.

“Put your nose any further in that cup and you’ll drown.”

I whirled around at the voice, “Lucien,” I breathed more to myself. Quickly scanning the floor behind him I didn’t see the blonde female anywhere. Looking back up into his eyes I gave him a small smile that mirrored his, “What happened, did you scare her off?”

Lucien just laughed as he took the stool next to me, motioning to the bartender for a drink of his own. “Nah,” he shook his head, his hair was down today and it swished around his face. He looked to me and his smile got wider, “I just would rather be with you.”

He nudged my shoulder as he spoke and I had to look away to hide my blush, how I wished that were really true.

“Hey Lucien, I've been holding back this feeling

So I've got some things to say to you (ha)

I've seen it all, so I thought

But I never seen nobody shine the way you do

The way you walk, way you talk, way you say my name”

“Thanks,” I smile as I accept the champagne from the tray, the store assistant only smiles in response.

I sip the expensive drink as I take in the scene of the small boutique. There were only 2 other shoppers in the hidden store, both are touchy couples searching for matching sets. I wonder briefly on the events they’re attending, balls, dates, or dinner parties. For a brief moment I let myself pretend I’m waiting for my partner, in my fantasy he’s looking for the perfect Tux to meet my father.

The fantasy dies when my rational mind cohorts with my insecurities and reminds me of reality. In reality Lucien is preparing for a dinner party at the river house, his carefulness and precision is for his mate, not me.

He was so excited at the invitation, dragging me out of my apartment saying he “absolutely needs the female opinion.” My heart broke every time he brought her up, “should I bring her flowers?” “I wish I knew what color she was wearing so I could match” “I hope she lets me sit next to her” and “I’m going to try sending something down the bond. Love? No. Adoration? Maybe she’ll like that.”

I know I have no room to be jealous, my jealousy is unfair to every party. I just hate how much he has to overthink with her, every interaction is like a chess move. With me… he could be himself. It would be natural and easy, no forcing interactions or twisting arms for conversations.

I’m pulled out of my mind when the door to the changing station opens and Lucien strolls out. His walk is lax, with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing his jaw. He’s clearly stressed but he looks so damn good, the view has me pressing my thighs together and shifting awkwardly.

He stops in front of me and the way he looks down has me biting my lip trying to control my bodies reaction. I couldn’t think of anything more horrific than flooding the intimate boutique with my arousal. In all my time I’ve never seen a male that can stop time, not like Lucien Vanserra. The world could catch fire and I would stop to stare, unaware.

He’s wearing a maroon suite with a white undershirt and he has his jacket pulled up, leaving every vein in his arms on full display. With his hair in a tight bun he looks positively divine. I look him over multiple times, greedily drinking in every detail.

“Y/N,” his smooth voice meets my ears and the way he says my name, low and methodical. I bite back the involuntary moan when it’s half way up my throat, leaving just an awkward grunt in response.

His face twists lightly displaying confusion before he continues, “I asked what you thought.”

I take the opportunity to inspect him one more time, and want to kick myself. The naughty thoughts invading my brain are shoved into a box with the promise of being delt with later.

“You’re beautiful,” I breathe out before I can conjure up a more appropriate response, a response fit to be given to a friend. “It’s beautiful, you look great.”

A light blush touches his cheeks and the butterflies in my stomach move with the force of a hurricane. The smile he gives me sets that hurricane on fire. He leans down and grabs both of my hands, pulling me into a standing position. Lucien’s lips connect with the skin on my knuckles and I lock my legs to keep them from giving out.

Just friends. Just friends. Just friends.

As if sensing what I need to hear he speaks, “Your such and amazing friend. Thank you.” He pulls me into a quick hug that I don’t return. I remain slack in his arms as I fight the tears away, giving them the promise of release later as well. He pulls back and smiles one last time before heading back to the changing room.

I fall back to the couch lamely and my hand presses to my mouth, as if that would keep all the grief from spilling out.

I remember hearing later that Elain also wore a maroon dress that night.

“It's beautiful, wonderful, don't you ever change

Hey Lucien, why are people always leaving?

I think you and I should stay the same”

“I think I’m going to cut my hair,” Lucien states casually and the book that was inches from my face falls to my lap, completely forgotten.

“What?” I respond not being able to hide the pure shock. Lucien’s hair was my favorite feature and I know he loved it too.

“I’m just thinking of trying something different,” he shrugs and my mouth falls open at his blaśe attitude.

“But you love your hair?” The statement turned to a question as it left my mouth. I think over all the times he’s gushed about his hair, his products, styles, and accessories. He loves his hair more than a lot of females I’ve met.

Yeah, I do but-“ his hesitation tells me everything and I know exactly where this is coming from. An involuntary sigh leaves my lips as he goes on, “it’s been long for so long, hundreds of years at this point. I’m ready to try something new. Plus it’s hair, it’ll always grow back.”

My lips fell into a thin line and I looked away briefly while shaking my head. I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep the anger from shining through. Anger that he felt he hand to change for someone, anger that he was willing to do it, anger that it was for his ungrateful mate. I knew Elain didn’t ask or insinuate that he should cut his hair, but she made him feel like he should. That thought alone had my blood boiling.

“You don’t have to change anything,” I finally turned to him with pleading eyes. I hoped my convincing would be enough as I went on, “Just stay the same Lucien.”

“I’ll still be Lucien,” his words were softer, he knew I knew. He leaned in and placed a strong hand over mine, “I’ll always be your friend.”

Not having the strength for words, my eyes fell to the book in my lap as I just nodded.

The next time I saw him he had a low taper fade and I couldn’t help but recall a certain shadowsinger.

“They're dimming the street lights

You're perfect for me

Why aren't you here tonight?

I'm waiting alone now

So come on and come out

And pull me near

And shine, shine, shine”

I walk alone tugging my jacket tighter around my frame, every piece of exposed skin burns from the frigid air. Winter had come no holds barred, ice had taken the Sidra and snow coated everything. Winter in Velaris was breathtaking and I had no problem with the cold, but tonight it felt like my heart had froze.

I watched bitterly from the bridge as couple skated around the Sidra. Some held onto each other, helping whichever person had fallen. Some danced around each other, making lovely patterns in the ice. Some played a game of cat and mouse, skating in circles trying to catch each other. There were a plethora of couples on the bank that had taken to indulging in snowball fights, snow angles, and snowmen. The sun was sinking low in the sky and the dim fae lights cast a gentle glow across the city.

Love seemed to permeate the air, everywhere I looked I saw people happily enjoying the snow with their partners. People avoided coming near me, probably due to the resentful way I watched them. My heart ached to join, to enjoy the snow with the person I loved. But the person I loved wasn’t here.

Lucien had offered to take Elain dog sledding, much to everyone’s surprise she said yes. Her yes turned into multiple invitations so Lucien was spending the evening with most of the inner circle, being pulled through the mountains by groups of dogs. My frown deepened at the thought, my brain conjuring up images of all the fun he was having.

I was the one who told him about the activity, having mentioned going with my brother on many occasions as a child. My brother had since moved to Summer, opting to live with his mate and help run the apothecary she inherited from her mother. So I was alone, achingly alone.

A laugh pulled my attention, loud and boisterous, it echoed through the air. It was a man, his lover who was clearly a day court immigrant was using his powers to light up the snowflakes as they fell. The tiny flakes glowed as they swirled beautifully around the couple and they danced under it like no one was watching. The day court man pulled the other in suddenly and held his face, whispered something that earned him smile before sharing a passionate kiss.

Everything shone around them, the flakes falling, the piles of snow around them, and their lips as they met. The Velarian man pulled away first, smiling to his lover before pulling him in and dancing slowly as the glittering flakes continued to fall.

I looked away clutching my heart, I didn’t hide the tears or try to fight them. I let them fall. How I wished to be pulled in like that. How I wished to shine like that. How I wish it was all with him.

“Hey Lucien, I could give you 50 reasons

Why I should be the one you choose

And that girl, well, she’s beautiful

But would she write a song for you? (Ha-ha)”

Today was a good day, I didn’t feel like crying or raging while I sat across from Lucien. Today I was just numb, able to listen to Lucien rant and rave about the wonders of his mate. Our little friendly lunch day had only lasted 20 minutes before he brought her up.

“She’s just so beautiful,” he spoke wistfully with his eyes looking past me, imagining her. I just sipped the tea silently, ‘beautiful but inconsiderate, she doesn’t care to know you like I do.’

“I need to get this right. I have to fight for her.” I offer a small nod, ‘I’m the one fighting, your every insecurity, every fear, every tear. I fight for you everyday.’

“She’s everything I’ve ever wanted,” I have to actively hold back a scoff ‘Even though she doesn’t get your humor? Even though she won’t share a drink with you? Even though she won’t step out in the rain that you love to walk through? Even though she can’t stand the smell of the mirthroot you often indulge in? Even though-‘

“I’d do anything for her,” his words halted my thought and I just looked at him. I forced myself to smile as my soul screamed, ‘She wouldn’t even write a song for you’

“I can't help it if you look like an angel

Can't help it if I wanna kiss you in the rain, so

Come feel this magic I've been feeling since I met you”

I placed my six string on its stand and moved to the front of the sage, making a grateful gesture with my hand, I bowed lightly. I held out my hands for the rest of the band to take and when they moved forward to grab it we all did a full bow together. I smiled at the crowd as they cheered. Performing filled the aches that came from the crushing loneliness.

I had many friends once upon a time, ones that knew me backward and forward and cheered me on the loudest. All of that changed in the attack on Velaris. I was meant to meet them in the park that day, to enjoy the monthly group picnic we all carved time for. A fight with my neighbor over something I can’t remember now had me running late. I stepped outside only to be shoved to the ground and told to take cover, Hybren was brutally assaulting our peaceful city. I hid cowardly, tucked under a cabbage stall as I watched my city be torn to shreds. It was hours after the smoke cleared that I learned the park, our park, was one of the first places to be attacked. None of my friends were able to seek cover.

That was over a year ago, I was doing better. I finally left my apartment, I finally sang again, I finally decided to act like a person. Granted, it was still hard but I was at least functioning.

I had gotten used to the new cheers, they were loud but somehow still quiet compared to when my friends would flood the hall with whoops and yells. But tonight was different, there was loud whooping coming from the back and my eyes caught the culprit. It was a lean redheaded male with his hands cupped around his mouth to increase his volume. It felt like a fire had started in my heart, like a small flower had bloomed in a barren land. He was beautiful and he was all I saw, I was half convinced a spotlight was shining on him drowning everyone else in darkness.

He came to me when I was giving pleasantries to the regulars. It felt like the world around us was moving in slow motion when he spoke, “That last song was amazing.” I scanned the entirety of his gorgeous face, he looked like heaven personified. An angel taking fae form to come and drag me from my comfortable hell.

I forced myself to speak after a couple awkward beats of silence, “Thank you,” I bowed lightly, hiding my blush with my tipped head.

“You wrote it,” his tone was somewhere between a statement and a question and his eye shone with intrigue while the other whirled rapidly.

“Yea- yeah I did,” I couldn’t hide my smile as pride shone through my heart. This beautiful man liked my song.

“It was amazing, and your voice- perfect!”

The blush returned and I couldn’t help but beam, “Thank you…” I drew out the last word as I cocked an eyebrow.

“Lucien,” Lucien. In that moment I never wanted to say another name again. His large hand extended in between us and when I took it I felt pure electricity. Literally it seems as in that moment lightning struck outside, the light rain was slowly unraveling into a storm.

“I’m Y/n, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before,” I looked him over audaciously under the guise of trying to recognize him. I knew he was new in town, I would’ve remembered a face like that.

“Yea,” he smacked his hands together as he looked around the crowded hall, “I’m new around here.”

I smiled at that as I spoke boldly for the first time in over a year, “Well let me buy you a drink, as a welcome gift.” He smiled at that and I led him to a table to sit down.

One drink turned into six and soon we were laughing loudly in the now quiet hall. People had filtered out slowly over the last few hours and there were only a few tables left. The drinks help lower our guard and after some idle chit chat we shared our life stories as well as our most embarrassing ones. I felt an ease that had been evading me for so long, this Lucien was like magic, returning something I thought was lost.

He had mentioned his mate and that things weren’t going so well but if was so brief I almost forgot about it. I told him about my late parents, my brother’s departure, and the loss of my friends. He listened intently but didn’t respond pitifully, just a few tragic stories of his own.

After our last drink he offered to see me home which I gratefully accepted, stepping outside we were faced with the downpour we had been avoiding. I tried to tell him he didn’t have to walk me all the way to my apartment but he insisted, he also insisted on carrying my guitar case.

When we finally stepped out from under the awning I began to run only to be stopped by his hand around my wrist. Whipping around I yelled over the sound of the rain, “What are you doing?!”

“Oh come one!” He laughed, “Your not going to melt are you?”

It was my turn to laugh, “No.”

“Then let’s enjoy this,” his hand that was still around my wrist moved up to twirl me around earning a drunken giggle as I stumbled. “I love the rain.”

“Me too,” I breathed maybe a bit to softly for him to hear. That was never true before but seeing him with his head tilted back, smiling as water slipped down perfect cheekbones; I never loved anything more.

We danced some more, jumping around like children. He kicked a puddle in my direction earning a small scream, the devilish curve of his lips snapped something in me. His lips, I wanted nothing more than to grab his face and kiss him passionately. In my head it was playing out like some sappy romance but when I stepped towards him he took off laughing.

“Hey!” I yelled broken up by laughs as I took off after him. He was going into the opposite direction of my apartment but I didn’t tell him that.

“Can't help it if there's no one else

Mmm I can't help myself

Mmm-mm, mm-mm, mm-mm

Mmm-mm, mm-mm”

I strummed one last time after I finished humming. I didn’t have the nerve to look up so I just stared at my six string until I heard a small sniffle. Snapping my head up I saw Lucien sitting across from me, he was letting his tears fall freely as he stared.

He had asked me to a picnic and at first I hesitated, I never thought I would have another but the idea of doing it with him encouraged me to be brave. I decided to take advantage of that bravery when I grabbed my guitar on the way out.

Today was the day I would sing to Lucien, just Lucien, with the song I wrote for him. I spent weeks working on it, feeling it should reflect the perfection of the person it was for. I never thought I would be singing it to him, too afraid it would ruin this beautiful friendship. Looking in the mirror this morning, ready to send for Lucien and cancel on the picnic I whispered to myself, “Be brave.” I chanted it over and over in my head until I was walking out with my journal and guitar case.

“Lucien-“ I whispered, feeling my own eyes prickle at his brazen display of emotion.

“You wrote that song for me?” He whispered back, cutting me off from saying anything else. I just nodded slowly and in response he screwed his eyes shut forcing more tears out. When he opened them he was turning his head, staring at the fields of the park working on controlling his breaths. After a few minutes of him not saying anything I started to panic, my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach and my hands were clammy as they gripped my instrument.

I felt the impending heartbreak, he was trying to find a way to let me down gently, crying because he was about to lose a friend. “Lucien I’m sorry. I shouldn’t-“

“I was beautiful,” he cut me off again, his eyes finally coming to mine as they swam with something I couldn’t place. “I loved it. I loved all of it.” I just stared mouth opening and closing like a lame fish, not knowing what to say. He grabbed my hand, and pulled it close to him, “I’ve never had anyone write me a song before,” his other hand slipped to my cup my cheek and my heart jumped at the action. “I’m so glad it was you.”

I moved the instrument off my lap and dove to wrap my arm around his neck. I cried, letting all the emotions I’ve been holding in for years out. His arms wrapped around me tightly as he cried into my neck. We sat like that for a few minutes before he pulled back, both hands grabbing my cheeks as his forehead pressed to mine.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed, the proximity causing his breath to fan across my face. I went to disagree but he just shook his head again before continuing, “No. I’ve been chasing a daydream- a fantasy- when everything I’ve ever wanted was right in front of me. It took me so long, too long, to see it and I’m sorry.”

I pulled back to look into his eyes and I couldn’t stop the tears, I let them fall freely and I probably looked crazy as I smiled widely at him. “Don’t apologize, I would do it for another two years. For you.”

He shook his head and a small chuckle slipped out, “Well now you don’t have too.” His smiled too before bringing his lips to mine.

The world exploded. Stars came to earth and burst, spraying everything with their technicolor dust. I pulled him to me tightly as I finally felt what I’ve been waiting-seemingly my whole life- for. Our lips moved in perfect sync and neither of us could help the chuckles and the smiles that slipped through.

When he finally pulled away he stared at me with a wide smile, “Think you could sing that song for me one more time?”

I laughed and kissed him once more before leaning back and grabbing my six string.

A/N: Okay this one was soooooo much fun to write, and my baby LUCIENNN he deserves a love like this. Taylor Swift is mother and every time I hear her songs I envision beautiful stories. So big shout out to my sister who told me to write for this song specifically.

If you made it this far I LOVE YOUUUU and my asks are always open for requests <3

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whotf-atemywaffles · 8 months

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Through Thick and Thin

Pairing: Stephenxreader

Summary: Stephen is hopelessly in love with Y/N, but she only sees him as a friend… or so he thinks. One day, Y/N surprises him with a kiss and they spend the summer together. They start dating officially the following year and fall even more in love. They face challenges, including a long-distance relationship when Y/N moves to New York for a job, but they never lose sight of their love for each other. After three years, Y/N moves back to Pennsylvania and they walk towards the future, hand in hand, ready to face anything together.

Stephen looked out at the beach in front of him, the waves crashing onto the shore in a steady rhythm. He sighed deeply, his heart heavy with the burden of his unexpressed feelings. He was hopelessly in love with Y/N, the girl he had grown up with, the girl who had always been a part of his life, but who had never seen him as anything more than a friend.

As he watched her in the water with Conrad, he felt a pang of jealousy and sadness wash over him. He knew that he could never compete with Conrad's good looks and easy charm. But he couldn't help wishing that Y/N would see him in a different light.

Lost in his thoughts, Stephen didn't notice when Y/N came up behind him. "Hey," she said softly, her voice carrying on the breeze.

Startled, Stephen turned to face her, his eyes locking onto hers. In that moment, he saw something in her eyes that he had never seen before. Was it... could it be... could she feel the same way he did?

Before he could say anything, Y/N leaned in and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was soft and tentative at first, but soon it grew more passionate and urgent. Stephen felt like he was flying as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.

As they broke apart, Y/N looked up at him with a shy smile. "I've been waiting for you to make a move," she said, her eyes sparkling.

Stephen couldn't believe it. All this time, she had felt the same way he did. They spent the rest of the summer lost in each other's arms, walking along the beach, watching the stars, and dreaming of a future together.

When the summer finally came to an end, Stephen knew that he would never forget the magical moments he had shared with Y/N. As they said their goodbyes, he promised her that they would be together again one day.

And he meant it.

The following year, Stephen and Y/N started dating officially. They were inseparable, also according to belly insufferable because spent every moment they could together. Stephen couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found someone like Y/N. She was smart, funny, beautiful, and kind. He felt like he could tell her anything and she would understand.

One day, while they were walking on the beach, Stephen took Y/N's hand and stopped her. "I have something to tell you," he said, his heart beating fast.

Y/N looked at him with a curious expression. "What is it?"

Stephen took a deep breath. "I love you," he said, looking into her eyes.

Y/N's face lit up with a smile. "I love you too," she said, throwing her arms around him.

From that moment on, Stephen and Y/N were even more in love than before. They talked about their future together and made plans to travel the world, explore new places, and try new things. Stephen felt like he had found his soulmate, his other half.

But as much as they loved each other, life wasn't always easy. They had their fair share of ups and downs, arguments and misunderstandings. But they always found a way to work through their problems and come out stronger on the other side.

One summer, Stephen and Y/N took a trip to Europe together. They visited Paris, Rome, and Barcelona, soaking up the culture and enjoying each other's company. But on the last night of their trip, something unexpected happened.

As they sat on a bench in a park in Barcelona, watching the sunset, Y/N turned to Stephen with a serious expression. "There's something I need to tell you," she said.

Stephen looked at her, concerned. "What is it?"

Y/N took a deep breath. "I got a job offer in New York," she said. "It's a really great opportunity, but it means I'll have to move there."

Stephen felt his heart sink. He couldn't imagine being without Y/N, even for a short time. "What does this mean for us?" he asked, his voice trembling.

Y/N took his hand in hers. "I don't know," she said. "But I want to try and make it work. I love you, Stephen, and I don't want to lose you."

Stephen knew that he felt the same way. He didn't want to lose Y/N either. They spent the rest of the night talking about their options and how they could make a long-distance relationship work.

In the end, Y/N took the job in New York and moved there. Stephen stayed behind in Pennsylvania eventually moved to New Jersey to attend Princeton although she was in New York they never really had time to see each other in person but they tried, and they talked on the phone every day and visited each other as often as they could. It wasn't easy, but they were determined to make it work.

Months turned into years, but they never lost sight of what was most important to them: each other.

Finally, after three long years of living on long-distance, Y/N decided to move back to Pennsylvania. Stephen was overjoyed and couldn't wait to be with her again.

As Y/N stepped out of her car after the 5 hour long drive she found herself In Stephen's waiting arms, he knew that he had made the right choice. He had followed his heart, and it had led him to the love of his life.

Together, Stephen and Y/N walked towards the future, hand in hand, ready to face whatever challenges and adventures lay ahead.

And they knew that as long as they had each other, they could conquer anything.

#steven conklin x reader #the summer i turned pretty #jeremiah fisher x reader #tsitp conrad #tsitp s2 #tsitp belly #tsitp steven #x reader

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vickiee-mcmuffin · 9 months

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A helping hand

Word count: 1.1k

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Female Reader

Trope: Fluff

A/N: This is another idea that suddenly came to me. I had a little thought and wondered if Stephen had ever silently cried because the pain in his hands was unbearable. So here's a little fic about it.

Summary: You are awoken by the soft sound of someone crying, and you realise Stephen is in pain.

You had been sleeping peacefully, wrapped up in Stephen’s arms, your head resting on his chest. But you were soon disrupted from your sleep when you were certain you heard the soft sound of someone crying. You opened your eyes, adjusting to the darkness around you as you lay there still, trying to listen for the noise again.

But there was nothing but silence, and you just thought to yourself that you were hearing things. You closed your eyes, ready to go back to sleep, but that’s when you heard the noise again. This time it was much clearer and you knew someone had to be crying, and if it wasn’t you, there was only one other person in the room who it could possibly be.

Stephen.

Was Stephen crying? You hoped he wasn’t seriously hurt.

Desperate to find out if Stephen was okay, you moved, shifting so you could look up at him.

“Stephen?” you whispered. “Are you okay?”

You heard Stephen sniffle before he moved his arm to wipe at his nose. “I’m okay,” Stephen told you in a soft voice, and you knew he wasn’t okay just by hearing his voice.

You moved, leaning over Stephen to turn on the bedside light, your eyes squinting as the light hit your face. You quickly turned your attention back to Stephen, looking at him with sad eyes as soon as you saw his face. His cheeks were stained with tears, and his eyes were swollen, evidence he had been crying.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” you asked in a sad voice. You hated to see Stephen cry, the sight breaking your heart.

“I don’t want to bother you with my problems, Y/N.”

You took Stephen’s face in your hands, staring at him sweetly before you gave his lips a soft kiss. “You can never bother me, Stephen. I’m always here for you. Please tell me.”

But Stephen kept his lips pressed tightly together as more silent tears fell from his eyes. You sent him a sad smile before using your thumb to wipe away his tears.

“Did something happen at Kamar Taj?” you wondered, but Stephen shook his head at you, leaving you to guess what could be bothering him. “Is it your hands? Are they hurting?” You knew Stephen’s hands did hurt most of the time, the pain being so severe sometimes that he wouldn't be able to pick anything up.

This time Stephen nodded at you, and you sent him a sweet smile. “Do you want me to massage your hands?” you suggested.

“Are you sure? It’s late and I know you have to be up in the morning for work,” Stephen said, worried his problems would make you late.

You sent Stephen another smile. “You’re more important to me than my job. So yes, I’m sure.”

Your heart soared when Stephen sent you a teary smile. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You then moved, pulling back the covers and getting out of bed. Once Stephen was up on his feet, you grabbed one of his scarred hands gently, noticing the tremble in his hand as you led him over to the bathroom. You turned on the light before quickly moving over to the sink.

You grabbed the plug and placed it in the sink before filling it up with warm water. Once the sink was full, you grabbed Stephen’s hands, placing them into the warm water softly. You heard Stephen groan when his hands made contact with the water, the sound deep and loud.

You then placed one of your own hands in the water to grab at Stephen’s. You worked on one hand at a time, gently massaging them and tracing each and every scar, being oh so careful not to hurt him. This wasn’t the first time you had given him a massage to help with the pain in his hands, but you made sure to work on his hands gently and carefully every time, watching his face for any signs of pain.

After leaving his hands to soak for a good five minutes, you gently removed them and dried them off with a towel. You then grabbed the almost empty bottle of massage oil and poured the remainder onto your hand. You then rubbed your hands together before grabbing one of Stephen’s hands again.

You worked on each hand gingerly, and you noticed how the tremble you had felt earlier had settled a little. You hoped the pain had too.

“How are you feeling?” you asked Stephen as you continued working on his hands.

“So much better. The pain isn’t as severe anymore,” Stephen confessed, and that made you smile.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

You were just finishing up on Stephen’s left hand, gently massaging at his fingers, and that’s when Stephen spoke up again.

“Thank you for always doing this, Y/N. For always putting up with me and my hands.”

You looked up at him and smiled. “You don’t need to thank me, Stephen. You know how much I love you and how much I love taking care of you and your hands.”

Your words seemed to get to Stephen because you watched as his face changed, tears filling his eyes again. This time not because he was in pain, but because he never thought he could get this lucky.

“I love you so much. How did I get this lucky finding you?” he smiled, his eyes glossy with tears.

You felt your own eyes well up with tears. You let go of Stephen’s hand and stood on your tiptoes, kissing him softly and sweetly.

“I love you, too. So much,” you told him after pulling away from his lips. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

Stephen let out a laugh, the sound echoing throughout the tiny bathroom before he kissed you. You stood there kissing for a good five minutes before Stephen pulled away, letting out a yawn.

“I think we should get back to bed,” Stephen smiled and you nodded at the idea.

“Agreed.”

You emptied the sink and turned off the bathroom light before returning to your bed. You let Stephen get comfortable first before you jumped back into bed. You reached over and turned off the bedside light. You then moved, cuddling up to Stephen as you felt one of his strong arms wrapping around you.

“Goodnight, Stephen,” you whispered, shutting your eyes, ready to let sleep take over.

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Stephen replied, placing a gentle kiss on your hair.

Stephen fell asleep first, the soft sound of his snores filling the bedroom. You smiled, happy that Stephen had managed to fall asleep again so quickly after he had been in pain earlier. You hoped the pain wouldn’t come back again anytime soon.

You then found yourself falling asleep in Stephen’s arms soon after, glad you had managed to help him feel better.

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foxcantswim · 2 years

Text

Who Are You? Chapter 2 || F!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

I didn't expect the first part to do so well... I'm speechless at the feedback/responses. I love you all so much.

Enjoy!

Y/N is in love with Wanda... But Wanda is in love with Spider Noir. The thing is, Y/N and Spider Noir are the same person - But Wanda doesn't know that. Y/N has a secret identity to uphold.

(Everyone lives AU - Set after DS:MoM)

F!Spider!Avenger!Reader x Wanda Maximoff/Scarlet Witch

Chapter 1

Chapter 3

Words: 3.4k

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Slight Angst, Alcohol Consumption, Slight Jealousy, Stephen and America being chaotic idiots, Wanda and Y/N being clueless idiots-

You stopped in your path as your nerves started to surface once you finally saw her. You hadn't seen Wanda since she was injured a couple weeks ago, she had been locked up in her room within the compound away from everyone else. You hoped that she was okay.

"H-Hello, Miss Maximoff," you gulped as you saw her sitting down on a chair in the break room.

"I've told you to call me Wanda, dear," she let out a small laugh, "How have things been? Work is going smoothly, I hope?"

Nodding, you replied, "As smooth as things could be. Clint has been a good help. I'm sure you've heard, but Thor had to leave for New Asgard because of some daily crimes over there. Infinity Conez has been a target for a lot of theft lately. Other than that, apart from two or three crimes I- the Avengers had to deal with, nothing has really happened..." you trailed off, taking in her features as she blew her coffee before sipping it. You leaned against a nearby counter and cleared your throat before continuing, "How erm... How are you feeling? I heard that something happened to you when you were sent out by Steve." You prayed that she wouldn’t catch onto your lies.

She motioned down towards her foot, "Sprained ankle. Severe damage apparently, according to doctors. I'd say I came out okay considering everything that happened, though. My magic is slowly helping me with the healing process at least," she held up a hand, you watched the red magic swirl through her fingers. Darkened fingers. You bit your lip to stop yourself from asking her about them, thinking that it was an extremely personal question and you really didn't want to overstep any boundaries. A soft smile appeared on her lips, a whisper soon escaped her, “Spider Noir saved me. She was incredible.”

You couldn’t help but look away, "I'm glad you're okay, Miss Ma- Wanda. Will you... be out on the field again soon?" you asked, secretly hoping that she would. You missed fighting side by side, you had also been assigned to go on patrols with a number of different Avengers as Spider Noir and you prayed that she would be your partner for at least one day.

She nodded, "I expect so."

"I'll see if I can get Steve to give you a longer break," you smiled up at her.

"Good luck with that," she laughed before taking another sip of coffee, "Sam could probably be swayed... But Steve? Now, that's a challenge."

You couldn't help but admire her laugh, you had to shake your head to break you away from your trance - you quickly opened a cupboard and began to make a drink, anything to distract yourself from the other woman in the room. Clearing your throat as you started to pour a drink, you spoke, "I'll get out of your hair. I've got a couple things to do, what with work and all."

"Hmm..." you couldn't help but notice how deep in thought she was, "Good luck. I'll be around a lot more if you need any help."

"Th-Thanks," you turned your head to hide your blush as you walked past her seat.

As you were about to leave the room, Wanda quickly called, "Y/N?" you turned to look at her, hoping that your cheeks had returned to a somewhat normal color, "Since you are starting to assign the Avengers for specific missions... Perhaps you could have a chat with Sam and Steve about assigning Avengers for... patrols, too?"

"O-Oh?" you hoped that she didn't hear the sadness in your voice. The thought of her wanting to spend some time with someone other than you...

"If that's not too much to ask, of course?"

"N-No! Not at all," you assured, "Who did you...?"

"Spider Noir, if possible," her eyes looked down towards the cup of coffee in her hands.

That was when your heart started to beat rapidly, "S-Spider Noir? The newbie?"

She nodded, "Yes. Although I wouldn't really class her as a newbie anymore, it has been a couple months. I just wanted to get to know her more, I guess? I still feel awful for knocking her out of the sky when we first met," she let out a disappointed sigh.

"Yes!" you said, a little too enthusiastically, "I will speak to Sam and Steve."

"Thank you," she looked up and nodded towards you.

That was when you took your leave, your heart continued to beat fast.

"Go on! Give it a try!"

You scoffed, "You're just mocking me."

"I'm not mocking you! What if deep down you are worthy?!"

Jane, or Mighty Thor as she preferred to go by, had called you to come over to the Avengers compound for a little get-together. The problem was, she was calling Spider Noir. So as soon as you left the building as Y/N, you immediately swung back in as Spider Noir.

You lifted your mask to knock back a shot of alcohol before slamming the glass down on the coffee table, you quickly lowered your mask to hide your mouth once again.

"I'm getting a huge sense of deja vu," Steve chuckled as he leaned back in his seat, "Go on, kid. Give it a try," he encouraged you.

"Oh, this I gotta see," Bucky laughed as he folded his arms and stood behind you, waiting for you to pick up Mjölnir.

"I'll do it as long as everyone else tries," you decided.

Steve shrugged, "I mean, I don't need to try."

"What? Why?" you questioned, slightly confused.

"Steve has already proved to be worthy," Tony said as he approached.

"Really?" shock laced your words.

"Yup," Steve smirked towards you.

Jane placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, "Come on. Give it a shot."

Of course, you couldn't say no.

That obviously didn't go well.

Everyone started to laugh as each Avenger took turns to try and pick up Mjölnir. Clint, Tony, Bucky- Even Natasha and Sam came over to have a go. The final Avenger to take the stand was Steve, and of course he picked it up with ease, "Still not used to that feeling," he chuckled before handing it back to Jane.

"Maybe one day, guys!" Jane smirked before taking a sip of her drink.

The people around you started to chat, that was when you cocked your head and spoke to Jane, "Sooo..." you took a seat in between Jane and Clint, "You go by Thor. But... Thor also goes by Thor. Right?"

"Yes?"

"So what happens when you're both in the same room? What do people call Thor?"

"Thor."

"And what do people call you?"

"Thor."

Confusion. Nothing but confusion.

"You've lost me," you held your head in your hands.

"Just call her Jane," Clint nudged your shoulder with a smile on his lips.

Jane glared at you and him, "Call me Mighty Thor at least."

Holding your hands up in defence and looking back up at her, you replied, "Okay, okay. Mighty Thor, it is," a laugh escaped you. This was the first time you had had a proper conversation with Jane since being here. You had exchanged hellos here and there, but nothing too concrete.

A much as you were enjoying the company of a number of different Avengers you still glanced around the room, hoping to find a certain witch.

Your eyes quickly locked onto her. She was sitting down by the bar, a pained expression crossing her face as she slowly drank from her cup. She occasionally glared towards Jane who was still seated next to you. Your senses tingled slightly at the sight. You excused yourself before standing.

You pointed your wrists up towards the ceiling and latched on, pulling yourself up.

"I swear, if I find any footprints up there!" Tony exclaimed from below.

"No promises!" you called back with a laugh as you crawled along the ceiling.

Wanda couldn't stop the smile from appearing on her face as she watched you lower yourself down next to her, "Nice of you to swing by," she said as you took a seat next to her.

You laughed at her attempt of a joke, "I sensed that something was up. Just wanted to make sure you were okay."

Her smile turned sad before she turned to lean her arms down against the bar, turning her glass in her hands, "It's my ankle. Again. I hoped that my magic would help heal it. I'm just slightly worried that it won't."

"With or without magic, it will heal on its own," you did your best to reassure her.

"I know... I just would've liked to be back out there on the field sooner."

"Oh?" you wondered, "Any particular reason?"

She sighed heavily, taking another gulp of her drink, "I... Did some things I'm not proud of. I've been doing my best to go out there on every possible mission to try and help as many people as I can to hopefully make up for the things I did. I hate just sitting here and doing nothing, I have to be out there as soon as possible to continue making up for my mistakes."

"Sounds like you're being a bit too hard on yourself, Wanda."

"If you knew the things that I did..." she muttered.

"I'd still support you," you reassured, "You deserve a break here and there. You'll be back on your feet in no time, though. Just gotta get as much rest in as you can for now," you placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezed it slightly.

Wanda downed the rest of her drink in response, "I also wanted to get back out there so... So I could go on patrols with you."

You dropped your hand before letting out a shaky breath, "With me?" your turned your head away slightly, as if you were trying to hide your blush despite having a mask.

"I'm so grateful that you saved me, Noir. I want to be with you as much as possible so I can return the favour."

"I would do it again, Wanda," you shook your head, "You don't need to return the favour at all. I wasn't just going to leave you there."

"I still remain thankful. You deserve to have someone watching your back at all times."

You let out a small laugh, "You're welcome, Wanda," your voice was soft.

A peaceful atmosphere surrounded you and Wanda. You drank together, with you lifting your mask up every now and then to take a sip. You missed the subtle glances that Wanda took towards your lips, she hoped that she would find out who you were one day. The two of you joked together, a couple other Avengers came and went - joining in with your conversation. They were happily welcomed by the two of you.

“Y/N even said she would speak to Steve and Sam about letting us go out together. I hope she can get through to them.

You couldn’t help but bite your lip.

"We have to go back to training again. I miss those first few weeks with you... a-and Peter," you admitted.

"But you've already come so far?" Wanda questioned, "You've already mastered your powers by the looks of things."

"Couldn't hurt to have another session anyways?"

Wanda wasn't able to resist, "No. I guess not. Once this thing has healed up," she nodded down towards her ankle, "I'll ask Peter to join us."

"Or... We could just train together?"

"J-Just the two of us?" Wanda's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yeah! I-If you'd like that of course! We can have Peter join if that's too uncomfortable-"

"No, it's fine!" she quickly replied, "I... I would like to train with you."

"You would make a worthy opponent," you nudged her, "Don't you dare hold back."

Wanda smirked, her trademark head tilt made your body stiffen, "Careful what you wish for."

You couldn't wait until her foot healed.

Wanda had reluctantly let you go off to talk to some of the others before the night was officially over. She couldn't help but tense up as she watched a certain someone approach you.

"Well well well..." a voice behind you caught your attention, "If it isn't the one and only Spider Noir."

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor as you finally saw who it was, "D-Doctor Strange, sir!" you hadn't met him yet due to classified business that he and his partner 'Clea' had been getting up to. You firmly took his hand and shook it, "It's a pleasure meeting you, honestly. I've heard so much about you."

He chuckled at your greeting, "It's a pleasure to meet you, too. I'm quite impressed with how you've been handling things around here. According to the other Avengers, you've been doing well."

"Th-Thanks!" you exclaimed before finally let his hand go. Before you could get another word in, someone else interrupted.

"Stephen!" a girl shouted, clearly excited as she approached, "You're back! I'm kind of offended that you didn't call," she smirked, folding her arms.

"I only just got back, kiddo," he smiled down at her before he looked back towards you, "Oh! Spider Noir, this is America Chavez. She can erm... Travel the multiverse."

"By choice?" you questioned, slightly shocked, "That's... pretty cool."

America shrugged, "It's okay, I guess."

"'Okay'?!" you scoffed, "Anyone would kill to have powers like that." Unbeknownst to you, Wanda was listening in - a shiver ran down her spine as she heard your words.

The girl laughed, "Yeah, you're right. It's pretty awesome," she then held out her hand, "It's nice to meet you... Sorry, who are you, again?"

"Everyone has seemed to adopt the name 'Noir' for me so... Call me that, or whatever you feel like," you shook her hand, "And I'm already doing a much better job at keeping my identity a secret unlike another certain spider!" you raised your voice slightly, catching the attention of Peter Parker.

"Hey!" he called over, "I-It's not my fault!"

You and America smiled before releasing each other's hands.

"I'm yet again impressed with how well you're handling this secret identity business," Stephen nodded.

The three of you talked, enjoying each other's company. You briefly glanced towards Wanda every now and then. The final time you looked at her, the red glow within her eyes caught your attention.

The get together was going swimmingly, everyone was having a good time just chatting amongst themselves. But in the corner of the room, a certain darkness loomed. Wanda, the Scarlet Witch, was tensing her body as her eyes caught yours.

Stephen and America seemed to notice the shift of tension too, "Has Wanda been okay since I left?" the sorcerer asked America.

"Y-Yeah," she gulped in response, quickly averting her gaze away from the witch.

"What?" you suddenly asked, "Did something happen, or...?"

The other two gave eachother a concerned glance, "I don't think it's right for us to speak of this," Stephen admitted. A certain sadness glossed over his eyes as he briefly looked towards Wanda, "Lets just say, the three of us didn't exactly have the best encounter when I was last here."

"If it's any consolation, she's been doing great since I've been here. What with her saving the city time and time again," you stuck up for her in an instant, despite not knowing the true destruction she had created in the past.

"I don't doubt that she has grown and become a great help to this team. But it still doesn't make up for the pain she caused to numerous amounts of people, America included," Stephen was clearly agitated by the thoughts within his head.

You held up your hands in defence, "Okay. Sorry for prying. I just... It's hard to even imagine Wanda causing any sort of damage, and yet you say different..."

"Don't let us change how you think of her," America quickly inputted, "Please? It's nice to know that she has someone who cares about her."

"Wh-What? Cares?" you questioned.

The girl shrugged, "Yeah. I get that you care about your girlfriend so don't let us stop you-"

"G-Girlfriend?!" you questioned yet again, "Y-You're mistaken, America!" a nervous laugh escaped you.

"Ohhhh..." America laughed, "Okay. I get that you care about your soon-to-be-girlfriend, then."

"And on that note, I'm leaving," you scoffed as you felt the familiar burn of blush cross your cheeks, you headed away before calling over your shoulder, "It was nice to meet you both!"

Stephen couldn't help but laugh along with the young girl.

Wanda's breathing was laboured.

"And I'm already doing a much better job at keeping my identity a secret unlike another certain spider!"

"Anyone would kill to have powers like that."

She wished that she knew who you were. You had already wiggled your way into her heart and there was no way you would be leaving it anytime soon. The determination to keep your identity a secret is what drew her in to begin with, she made it her mission to find out who you truly were. And that had slowly turned into something more. Despite the constant noise and whispers in her head telling her that you didn't care about her, she still held onto a sliver of hope. Anything to keep her grounded.

When she knocked you out of the sky a little too harshly, her head had been sent into a frenzy. Thoughts of her losing control in the past and hurting America and others across the multiverse surfaced once again.

That was when her fist clenched hard around her glass as she looked through the corner of her eye towards you.

And Stephen Strange.

And America Chavez.

The girl she did indeed try to kill for her powers.

Despite trying to block out what you and the others were saying, she couldn't stop herself from listening in the end.

Of course Wanda still had 'dreams' about her other selves and her children. But the Avengers had welcomed her back to her surprise, and now she was on the path to becoming better and learning from her mistakes. She still donned the Scarlet Witch persona whilst out on the battlefield, however.

Upon meeting you, the 'dreams' had slowly died down. She thought that it was perhaps she was losing her focus on what she originally wanted... A new want was slowly surfacing within her.

"I get that you care about your soon-to-be-girlfriend, then."

Wanda almost laughed at that comment, but then she remembered that it was America Chavez who said it. The poor girl who she had most likely traumatized for life. The poor girl who she would forever be sorry towards.

"Hey there, little witch," you quickly came into view, "Everything alright over here? Your eyes were doing that freaky glowy thingy."

Wanda shook her head, her eyes returned to their normal color in no time, "Ah, yes. Just deep in thought, I suppose," she made up a quick lie, it was clearly effective against you.

"Good, good," you nodded.

That was when Wanda remained silent, she tapped her glass on the bar causing a bartender to head over and fill it for her. The woman downed it in one go.

You weren't about to question whether or not she was actually okay. But by the looks of things, she definitely wasn't.

There was still quite a lot you didn't know about the Scarlet Witch, it seemed. But you sure as hell wanted to find out.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #scarlet witch x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x reader #doctor strange #thor #avengers

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blueywrites · 1 year

Text

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, mutual pining

chapter six: hey girl (18k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #17-#23. All songs are mentioned by name with the exception of the last song, which is Gato de Noche. The Spanish lyrics mentioned in the text may hold some significance.

Wrapped up in her again

I was starting to spin

A record I can't pause

Hey Girl — Stephen Sanchez

You click in your lap belt, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the screen of your Switch balanced on your thighs. Your villager is seated on a mushroom log, her little head bobbing as she waits for you. She has many choices for how she can occupy her day. Perhaps you'll have her fish in the pond near her log cabin. Or maybe she'll start by checking out Tom Nook's shop for the daily selection of new furniture. You know for sure she'll be visiting her neighbors to see what new recipe she can learn to craft today.

Yes, your little Animal Crossing girl is waiting for you, and you try to focus on only that as the rumble beneath you intensifies, and the engine's roar turns nearly deafening. You don't look around the cabin, and you don't look out the tiny window to your right. But you do look at the girl to your left when her powdery-soft hand covers yours. You peer nervously into bright blue eyes and a megawatt smile that reveals slightly crooked teeth which only serve to make her look more charming.

"It's okay," Chrissy whispers, working her fingers between yours and squeezing comfortingly. "I'm right here."

You squeeze her back as the plane taxis on the runway. A hazel eye suddenly peeks at you from between the seats, concerned beneath a tousled head of brown hair. "You okay, baby?" Steve asks, and you nod, head bobbing extra hard as if to convince yourself. "It's only three hours. We'll be there before you know it. Want me to switch with Chris and sit with you?"

Chrissy, looks at you encouragingly. "Whatever you want," she says.

"...No," you reply, voice small. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

You feel the nerves intensify as the plane starts to rumble forward, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Your breath begins to quicken as the acceleration pushes you back against the plasticky cushions—

Suddenly, a head of wild curls pops above the seat in front of you, brown eyes gleaming over a wide grin as Eddie plants his chin against the seatback. Anatomically, that would be impossible if he was following proper safety protocol; he must be breaking at least three rules of etiquette during takeoff.

"Eddie!" You hiss, gaze darting around the cabin to see if anyone has noticed. "Sit down!" You glance at Chrissy, but she's eyeing her boyfriend with a flat, resigned stare, clearly used to being unable to control him.

"I am sitting down," he replies with a cheeky tilt to those full lips. His arms join his chin as he folds them casually against the seatback. "Well, I'm half-sitting, half-kneeling, but still—"

"It's not safe!"

Eddie scoffs lightly, expression rife with mischief. "I'm perfectly safe, sweetheart. Car accidents kill far more people every year than plane crashes. I'm safer here than I would be driving my van."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Chrissy mutters to herself. Eddie merely smiles widely.

"See that? Chris agrees with me."

The force of your outraged glare only makes him chuckle. You sputter, "Eddie… if we get kicked off this flight because you don't know how to sit still for three hours—"

"Oh, I can sit still." Eddie cuts you off, glancing toward the nearby cabin wall before his eyes return to you, expression smug. "And you may want to look out the window."

You realize the scenery outside now looks like a circuit board— darkness cut by hundreds of tiny glittering lights in hues of white, red, and yellow, arranged in lines and grids far beneath you now.

You let out a slow breath, hand unclenching from Chrissy's. Eddie smiles again, pleased this time. "Ya see? The worst is over." His head disappears as he flops back into his seat; you exchange a pointed glance with Chrissy as you hear him say, "Don't worry. I'll be back for the landing."

After Chrissy and Eddie had left the night of the rule break back in early May, you'd fully expected things to be awkward between you despite Steve's assurances that he wasn't angry. You'd figured that, at the very least, Steve would be distant or cold to you or Eddie, or that he might decide he wants to pause your arrangement. But it seems that Steve has made every effort to convince everyone things are entirely normal. In doing so, somehow, they are.

At home, Steve is attentive and cheerful. He began a new habit of making dinner for you both on Thursday nights. He texts you whenever he's going to be home late, as well as throughout the day when you’re apart— sending you pictures that remind him of you, checking in on your work day, responding to your Tiktoks, or sometimes just leaving you cute little messages that make you giggle in the staff room while you eat your lunch. And when Steve’s hazel eyes shine as he holds you close and kisses your forehead, you feel a low flutter in your belly. You nuzzle into his chest, inhaling citrus and sea salt as he tells you he loves you.

He says it all the time.

Group play still occurs at least once a week, and you can't detect any tension between Steve and Eddie. You figure they must have spoken privately soon after what happened, and you're relieved that Steve is full of broad grins, affectionate back claps, and friendly banter whenever they're together. You know that must put Eddie at ease. Though he hadn't breathed a word about it since you'd texted that night, you're sure he'd been upset to have angered his friend.

When your phone had buzzed the morning after the incident, your first instinct was confusion, thinking that Eddie was texting you again; he never texts you during the day. But you'd been even more confused— even nervous— to see it wasn’t Eddie. Your heart hammered at the sight of Chrissy’s name, and you'd swipe open her message before even turning your alarm off. You were expecting the worst— accusations, bitterness, anger, something— but you were left floored at what she'd actually said.

'Hey, hon! Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing today. I hope you're not still upset and that Steve's okay, too. Just know I'm here for you.' She'd followed it up with a few sparkly pink hearts.

Chrissy's thoughtfulness struck you hard, and you found your eyes pricking with the sting of guilty tears at the utter lack of sourness in her message. 'I'm okay,' you'd replied. 'Steve and I talked last night, and he's okay, too. I really appreciate you texting.' You pause, lips twisting with remorse, shame sinking in your chest until you add, 'I feel like I owe you an apology. If I'd moved faster, this all could've been avoided. I'm sorry.'

You bite your thumbnail as you wait for Chrissy's response, but it comes quickly enough to stop your doubt from spiraling. 'Oh, babes, don't apologize!! It totally happens, and I'm not mad at all! Maybe next time, try squatting instead, so you have more leverage to push off when you need to. With more practice, you'll get used to it. You'll be a pro in no time." She'd sent a few kissy faces and heart emojis, enough that the guilt inside settled quickly, quelled with the force of her bubbly kindness.

'Thanks, Chrissy.' You'd sent her a heart too.

And, by some act of fortune, that had been that. You hadn't spoken of the rule break since, nor had you noticed any lasting repercussions on your group dynamic. Chrissy is still insistent on constant attention, but not any more so than she had been before. Eddie is still attentive but happy to go with the flow, as usual. And even Steve has continued to behave exactly the same. He isn't possessive when you go to Eddie, and Eddie goes to you. And, in fact, Steve shocks you even more when he suggests you all take a mini-vacation together: a weekend getaway to Miami in early June.

It's a much-needed respite from the drollness of your weekly routine working at the pediatrician's office; a lovely way to kick off the start of warm weather. You've never been to Miami, and you're eager to share in the new experience with Steve and your friends.

You're half-expecting the other shoe to drop when Steve sits you down at the kitchen table a couple of days later, regarding you seriously. But the conversation isn't a rehashing of the rule-break you'd feared it would be. Instead, Steve calmly and quietly explains that he wants to pay for Eddie and Chrissy's half of the shared hotel room and their plane tickets. You think of the text message Chrissy received from her mother, sympathy churning as the understanding passes between you— that you both have some knowledge of your friends' financial troubles but won't discuss it. You take Steve's hand, squeezing it tight as you tell him you admire his generosity, that it's one of the things you love most about him. Though he protests, you insist on paying for your share of the trip, wanting to do something to contribute. Steve's hazel eyes shine as he kisses your hand, and the way you move together that night, just the two of you, is more tender than it's been in quite some time.

Ahead of your trip, you and Chrissy spend an afternoon at the mall, and it's just as delightful as your first girls' trip had been. The mini-vacation is short— just a weekend— and because Eddie can't take off from work, you’ll be flying on Friday night after his shift. This means you only have two days and one night to plan for, and you decide to purchase a new bathing suit and an outfit for Saturday evening. Chrissy doesn't want anything, though you offer to pay; she insists that she has plenty in her closet she still hasn't worn from last year, and it would be wasteful to get something new. You suspect it's an excuse, but you kindly let her hide behind it anyway. Just like last time, Chrissy encourages you to step out of your comfort zone, and you end up leaving the mall giddy with your daring new purchases.

Soon enough, the first week of June arrives. The days zip to Friday, you zip to the airport, and now here you are, Switch balanced on the armrest between you and Chrissy as she coos and squeals over how cute Animal Crossing is. She's adorably attentive, and you find yourself both grateful and endeared as she lets you show her every inch of your island: all the fish and bugs you've caught, now displayed in the museum; all the rooms of your heavily-decorated log cabin; all the flowers and landscaping around your villagers' houses. Between playing and explaining to Chrissy what you're doing as you do it, the three hours pass by almost absurdly quickly.

True to his word, Eddie pops back around for the landing once the flight attendants have strapped in out of sight, grinning down at you from above the seatback like the Cheshire cat as you eye him flatly.

"Does he never listen?" You ask Chrissy, and you share a long-suffering glance, crossing your arms in a nearly synchronized show of exasperation.

"No," Chrissy replies flatly at the same time that Eddie protests,

"Yes!" He pouts, gaze darting between you both. "I listen—"

"When it suits you," Chrissy interjects, and you roll your eyes at the wolfish grin that splits Eddie's face.

"Precisely," he says, sounding utterly pleased with himself as you feel the skid-thunk of the plane landing on the tarmac.

Between your long night of packing on Thursday, your half day at the pediatrician's office, the long lines at the TSA, and the long-ish flight, you're now left thoroughly exhausted, swaying on your feet in front of the hotel check-in desk. Eddie is the only person who looks more tired than you— there are deep, dark circles under his squinty eyes as he leans his hands against the counter, elbows locked to keep himself upright. When you get your room, it's with silent agreement that you all prepare for bed. The guys strip down to underwear, you change into your pajamas, and Chrissy sheds all her layers to sleep nude. You don't even take a moment to examine your surroundings before you collapse into the bed furthest from the door, legs stretching against the luxurious sheets as Steve cuddles up behind you. He wraps you in warmth and the familiar scent of citrus and sea salt cologne that still clings to his skin.

You're asleep within seconds, and the pleased smile that kisses your lips lingers the entire night you spend in Steve's arms.

–

You wake to a balmy breeze and luminous sunshine flowing through the gauzy curtains. It's much earlier than you'd normally rise on a Saturday— early for everyone, you figure, especially Eddie, who looks like the walking dead with that nest of tangled curls around his head as he shuffles off to the bathroom.

As tired as you were last night, you have yet to examine your hotel room. You know the sheets are crisp and smell pleasantly like fresh laundry, and the tile floor is pleasantly cool under your bare toes, but that’s about it. Now, you can see that the room isn't too big, but it has two full beds, a closet and a dresser, and a fairly sizeable bathroom. You’re glad Steve decided to spend up for the location as opposed to the size of the room— it’s clean and seems to have high-quality linens, which, in your opinion, is all that really matters, especially since you’re only staying here for two nights. There is also a balcony facing the ocean, only a block away. You catch peeks of the water from the sliding glass door when the long curtains billow, and you smile when you consider how nice it'll be to sit out there with a glass of wine or, perhaps, with a coffee on Sunday morning.

It's morning now, but you don't have time to indulge in a lazy morning coffee. You'd all decided to make the most of your two days by jamming as much as possible into this one and then leaving tomorrow open to relax a little after an expected late night tonight. First order of business: get to the beach soon to snag a good spot.

You glance towards the other bed to see Chrissy still nude as she riffles in her suitcase. You do the same, digging for your bathing suit: a bikini the deep yellow-orange of a ripe sunflower, bottoms cut high on your waist to show off your wide hips, and top constructed of simple, delicate triangles that reveal more than they conceal. It's much skimpier than you're used to, and you feel a flash of doubt now that you're actually here, thinking about wearing it in public. That self-consciousness had been quelled by Chrissy's eager enthusiasm when you'd picked it out together, but it resurges now. You quickly retrieve your coverup: a long flowy dress, loose but cinched with a dainty tie at the waist. It drapes over you sumptuously, reminding you a little of a Grecian goddess— light, cool, something you can both feel comfortable and half-hide in. Your compromise to yourself when you'd packed, which you're intensely grateful for now.

You'd gotten used to these people seeing your body— Steve, who's donning navy swim shorts with little sailboats on them, messing with his hair in the full-length mirror; Chrissy, who's laid her even skimpier white string bikini out on the bed, ready for her once she finishes applying her suntan oil; and Eddie, who's rubbing sunscreen into his inky tattoos with care that seems out of place coming from him, pink tongue peeking between his lips in concentration. You may be used to them seeing you, but with that discomfort now wriggling in your belly, you don't follow Chrissy's lead; you duck instead into the bathroom to get changed.

Steve pokes his head past the half-closed door to find you with your foot up on the tub's rim, rubbing the white of your sunscreen away. You see him in the mirror, and he returns your smile.

"Want me to do your back?"

"Yes, please," you reply. He moves close behind you, fingers warm as he thoroughly rubs the lotion into your back, careful not to miss any spots. When he's done, you offer to reciprocate.

"Nah, I'm fine," Steve says, grinning at you. "I'm trying to work on my tan."

You eye him with fond exasperation. "You know you can still get tan with sunscreen," you point out, careful to avoid getting sunscreen on your dress as you lift it over your head.

You can hear the smile in Steve's voice behind you while you watch yourself tie the string beneath your breasts, adjusting the fabric til it drapes how you want it to. "It's not as good, though," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"If you say so," you say dryly, emerging to find Chrissy with her hair now in a springy ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head, beach bag slung over her shoulder.

"Ready?" she asks brightly, and you notice she isn't really wearing a coverup— just an entirely sheer skirt slung low on her hips, meant to entice more than anything else. She must be serious about her tan, you think, watching as she drops the bottle of suntan oil into her oversized bag. You grab your own tote and slip on your sandals, glancing at Eddie as he says, still sleep-hoarse,

"As I'll ever be at this godforsaken hour." He's facing away from you, hair pulled into a low messy bun at the nape of his neck, and your face crumples in amusement as you notice that, despite how fastidious he'd been about his tattoos, the sunscreen applied to the rest of his body seemed to be slapped on haphazardly— streaky, still white on his shoulders and the backs of his calves. You suspect that if you were to touch the middle of his back where he can't reach, it would be completely dry.

"Hold on," you sigh. Eddie half-turns, eyeing you curiously as you approach him determinedly.

"What're you doin'?" He mumbles, brown eyes still hazy with sleep. You press your fingers to his shoulders to straighten them again, so he's facing away from you.

Brisky, you squeeze sunscreen into your hands, replying with amusement, "How could you be so careful with your tattoos and so sloppy with the rest of you? Unacceptable."

Eddie huffs but holds still as you rub sunscreen into his shoulders, using the back of your hand to push up his bun so you can get his neck too. "D'you know how much pain I endured to get these bad boys? No way am I lettin' 'em fade."

"Well, you should pay the rest of your skin the same respect. With how pale you are, you would absolutely burn to a crisp out there." You work quickly and clinically, smoothing your hands over Eddie's sides and the small of his back before kneeling so you can get his knees and calves where they're exposed beneath the black trunks slung low on his hips. When your cold fingers sneak up under the hem to cover the bottom inch or so of his thighs, Eddie yelps, leg twitching away from your touch.

You twist your lips against a smile as he grumbles, "Your fingers are cold."

"Oh, don't be a baby," you retort lightly, patting him on the back of his calf when you're done. "There. Now you won't get skin cancer." He huffs again, brown eyes flashing as he twists to regard you flatly when you straighten. You beam at him. "Thank you, y/n," you prompt him, exaggeratedly cheeky.

Despite himself, a corner of Eddie's lips quirks then. "Thanks, I guess," he says, as you don your tote again. Steve slings his arm around your shoulders, and you smile up at him as he tugs you close.

"Now we're ready," you announce— and with that, you all set off for the gleaming sands of Miami's beaches.

–

The nearby lifeguard stand— which is more a full structure with a spiraling staircase than a stand— is bright pink, orange, and green, the gaudiest you've ever seen as you all traipse over the sand onto South Beach. Despite the early hour, it’s already teeming with people setting up their chairs and umbrellas and towels, preparing for a day rife with the promise of summer fun. You all settle on a spot not too far from that flashy landmark, and you gaze out at the water as the breeze ruffles your dress and hair. Your eyes are fixed on the clear turquoise of the water, the line where it meets the periwinkle of the sky dusted with fluffy clouds. A perfect beach day.

Despite the alluring color of the water, you sink into one of the two folding beach chairs Steve sets up, supplied by the hotel. In front of you, Eddie flops stomach-down onto the towel he's laid haphazardly against the sand; beside him, Chrissy sits much more gracefully, leaning back on her palms as she stretches her bare legs, sheer skirt abandoned as soon as you'd chosen your spot. "Oh, this is so nice!" she exclaims, and you can't help but wholeheartedly agree as you reach into your tote bag for your beach essentials: a new book and your AirPods.

The sea breeze is balmy, and the sun plays between the shifting clouds, bathing you in relaxing warmth as you dig your toes contentedly into the sand. Despite the many strangers around you, the beach is not yet too loud. Everything feels subdued, dream-like almost, so you keep your earbuds out and instead listen to the chorus of the rhythmic waves and the distant cries of seagulls, letting them become your soundtrack for now. Steve's broad hand rests comfortably upon your knee, nearly hot through the light fabric of your dress, and his thumb traces a random pattern. Your head tilts as you sigh, a smile playing on your lips, eyes heavy with the peace of this moment as you glance at each of your companions: Chrissy stretched out to soak up the rays, skin glistening with suntan oil; Eddie with his curly head pillowed face-down on his arms, body so slack you suspect he's probably fallen back asleep; and Steve at your side, hazel eyes affectionate as you smile wider at him. His expression softens as he regards you before murmuring, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," you answer quietly. Sincerely. "I'm very happy."

Steve seems pleased at your answer, and when you brush his hair back out of his eye, he catches your hand gently to press a tender kiss to your wrist. "Good," he murmurs against your skin, another kiss lingering until he releases your hand. Fondness bubbling up inside, you lean over towards your boyfriend; when you kiss him, Steve tastes salty from the breeze on his lips.

This is how you spend the first couple of hours or so: absorbed in your book as Steve alternates between scrolling on his phone, resting with heavy, contented sighs, and occasionally pressing kisses to your fingers as you keep reading, ensuring that you feel steadily more full with hazy contentment as he pays you unobtrusive attention. At one point, he decides to dip into the water after asking if any of you want to join him. But Eddie is asleep, Chrissy is sunbathing, and the book has just gotten good, so he goes by himself without complaint. He wanders back soon enough, noting that the water is too cold for him to venture in past his ankles.

Around eleven, you crack open the tiny cooler Steve had packed, pulling out water bottles and cans of High Noon and Corona, then snacking on chips, salsa, and orange slices. You sit with Chrissy on her blanket as she peels the flesh from her orange rinds, and Steve nudges Eddie's leg out of the way so he can join in too. Eddie wakes up then, crossing his legs as he leans forward eagerly to peer into the container. "No strawberries?" he asks, pouting lightly, and you feel affection well up as you pass him the chip you'd just loaded with salsa in recompense. He seems adequately satisfied with the substitute, and you continue to indulge in salty chips, savory salsa, and sweet fruit until you're content.

Not long after you've returned to reading, a flurry of activity some distance away draws your attention. By the green edge at the top of the beach, some men and women around your age are mingling in a clump near a portable volleyball net.

You notice Steve eyeing the activity with interest; you smile as you see his enthusiasm. "I think I'm gonna go over there," he says, neck craning to see better. "Doesn't look like they have enough people yet."

"What's— ooh!" Chrissy's blue eyes brighten as she twists to look. "I love volleyball!"

"Wanna get in on it with me?"

"Oh, hell yes!" Chrissy exclaims, popping up without hesitation. Steve glances at you again, brows perked behind his bangs as if he's checking for your approval.

"Go for it," you say, chuckling as he scrambles up immediately, brushing the sand from his legs as he and Chrissy jog over toward the group. You watch them exchange words with one of them, pleased when Steve's face lights up with a broad grin, and he claps the guy on the shoulder.

You feel your left side suddenly dip as the sand shifts when Eddie tumbles into the chair beside you, drawing your attention from Steve as you flash a smile at him. You go back to watching as Steve and Chrissy choose their spots around the net, book forgotten as you follow Steve's movements with interest— the broad muscles on his back, his tanned arms stretching as he volleys the ball easily before falling into a slight crouch, coiled and poised to move wherever he needs to. When he sets up a teammate and they score the first point, you can hear Chrissy's delighted shriek from across the sand. Steve and Chrissy exchange an enthusiastic double high-five before he glances back, hand dragging through his hair as his eyes dart. And when you wave your hand high in the air, so Steve knows that you saw his set-up, the broadness of his brilliant smile warms you inside.

Beside you, that smoke voice curls against your ear. "You make him really happy, you know." You glance at Eddie to see him looking past you, brown eyes still fixed on the makeshift volleyball court, gleaming with fondness. "He'd dated around a bit since Nancy, but you're the first girl he was ever really serious about. He's been much happier these last few years since you came around."

Though the sentiment settles comfortably behind your sternum, you can't help but also feel confused. "Thanks, I'm really glad he's happy," you say sincerely before adding, "Who's Nancy?"

Eddie's eyes had drifted back toward the game, but they snap to you then, suddenly wide. "Steve never mentioned…?" Eddie's voice is a little weak before he trails off, and when you shake your head, you watch his expression go a little panicked and sheepish. "Ah… shit," he finally says, face contorting in a wince. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

You frown. Eddie’s behavior reveals that not only had he expected you to know about this— which means it's something Steve is keeping from you— but that he considers it to be touchy enough that he regrets mentioning it. As your book slides on your lap when you lean toward him, you close it without looking, dropping it impatiently to the sand. "Well, now you have to tell me, Eddie." You stare at him as his eyes narrow hesitantly, but your expression is unwavering. "You can't just leave me hanging after saying something like that."

Eddie sighs heavily, hands rubbing against his thighs as he looks out at the ocean. He tugs absently on a lock of his hair as he talks. "Steve dated this girl, Nancy, for almost all of high school. She's the same age as you and Chris." Your eyes are rapt to Eddie's face as he glances at you. "They got together when she was a freshman. They became really close." He shifts, facing you more directly. "You know, a lot of couples break up when they graduate, especially if one person is still in high school and one is going on to college. But Steve was committed despite things being long-distance. He even got close with her family. Went on vacations with them, shared holidays, that kind of thing."

Eddie's eyes soften with sympathy for his friend as they dart between yours, and he adds quietly, "You know what things are like with his parents, so..." You nod, somber as you remember Steve confiding in you the broken state of his relationship with his mother and father. He tries to pretend it doesn't bother him, but you know it's still a wound, especially around the holidays. It's why you always make sure those times are busy for him and full of cheer. It helps that your parents and older sister love Steve, and he fits in seamlessly with your family.

Eddie's voice snaps you out of your musing. "Nancy's younger brother was in D&D club with me in school, so that's how Steve and I got better acquainted. And, uh… that's kind of the basics." He pauses, and you feel your stomach sink with the expression on his face. Eddie speaks slowly, carefully, as if he's treading lightly for the first time in his recounting of this story. "And then they broke up. 'Cause she… well, she cheated on him." You glance at your lap, weighed down with the seriousness apparent in Eddie's voice, how he lapses into somber silence. Clearly, this event was defining in Steve's life. Quietly, Eddie adds, "He was upset about it for… a long time." He shrugs a little helplessly, contrite. "And that's probably about as much as I should say. You could ask him about it if you wanna know more."

You nod slowly, chest heavy with sympathetic sorrow for your boyfriend. But your mind is swirling with all you've learned, all you'd never known. "Yeah," you say, unsure whether you will. Because even though you'd told Steve everything— about the two boyfriends you'd had before him; about how you'd done stuff with them but hadn’t gone all the way before him; about how he'd been the first guy you'd ever said 'I love you' to— even though you'd told him all of that, not once had Steve ever mentioned anything about Nancy. And you feel foreboding pang deep in the pit of your stomach, mixing with the weight of your sorrow until you're too uncomfortable to dwell anymore.

You ask quickly, "Did you and Chrissy start dating in high school?"

Eddie is clearly relieved that you've dropped the subject and won't press him for more. "Yep," he replies, "she almost got away— we started dating when she was a senior."

Desperate for the distraction of a story told with typical Eddie-level theatrics, you lean your elbow on the arm of the chair and plant your chin there, tilting towards him as you ask eagerly, "How'd you get together? Don't spare the details; I wanna hear it all."

"All right," he grins, flashing eye teeth as his eyes brighten at the promise of weaving his tale. Short curls sway around his pale quartz face as he gestures dramatically. "So, picture this: Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, cute as a button. The sweetest, most popular girl in school; the queen—" Eddie's voice goes all breathy with dramatic awe, "—of Hawkins High." When you giggle at his antics, his expression falls into a broad grin. "And she's dating this bible thumpin' golden boy, head of the basketball team, personal torturer of nerds and outcasts everywhere. He's the king to Chrissy's queen, the supreme douche himself... Jason Carver."

You stifle your amused smile in an effort to say seriously, "I take it you and he didn't get along."

"Oh," Eddie says easily, "hated each other's fuckin' guts. Anyway…" he plants his elbow on his own chair arm to mirror your posture, leaning in and affecting his voice like you're two girlfriends gossiping. "So what had happened was, Chrissy was getting a little sick and tired of all the pressure to be perfect all the time. Perfect looks, perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect future. So she started lookin' for ways to, ah… take the edge off. Let loose a little bit." He eyes you cautiously, letting his voice trail into implication. "You know…"

You assume Eddie is probably talking about drugs, though he seems to be reluctant to acknowledge it outright. "I get it," you say dryly, though not unkindly, and his lips tilt in a little smile before he continues.

"So that's how we started talking. And what began as a little bit of business turned to some steamy meetings at the picnic bench in the woods outside school, and, ya know… this lead to that, and the rest is history." He smiles broadly. "So the queen of Hawkins High left the king and started dating the freak."

Eddie says the word 'freak' with the utmost lightness, but the word strikes you immediately. You frown, nose wrinkling as you repeat him incredulously. "Freak?"

"Yeah," he replies casually, lounging back, stretching his lanky legs comfortably. "That's what they called me."

You blink rapidly as you're left reeling with the absurdity of it— that someone could look at the gorgeous man sitting beside you and call him a freak. You scoff, mouth working soundlessly until you can finally speak, unable to keep from sounding appalled. "What, 'cause you… you were into heavy metal and, like, had your ears pierced?"

Eddie chuckles a little weakly, brown eyes darting from your stare, which is fierce with offense for him. "Well, I mean, it wasn't just that," he replies, shifting in his seat.

You swallow, leaning back and reigning in the vehemence of your reaction when you see how you're making Eddie uncomfortable. You want to question him more, to force him to tell you what else there could be to justify them calling him something like that. But Eddie's brown eyes are clouded, a little frown creasing between his dark brows as he taps his fingers against his thigh. You decide not to pry. "That just seems so… bizarre," you say. "That people would still think like that."

Eddie chuckles again, a little wry but not as weak this time. "Small-town Indiana, you know? It's like they're stuck in the fifties. Everybody's gotta be a certain way, or else."

"Well," you reply, smiling gently as he looks at you again when you say sincerely, "I'm glad Chrissy didn't fall into that stupid trap. You guys seem really good together." Fondness blooms in your chest when Eddie smiles back.

"It's been five years now. Moved in together near the end of last year, actually. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, but it's been good."

Your eyes glint with mischievousness then, and you can't help but tease, "Wait, let me guess: you're a roll-under instead of a roll-over toilet paper guy, aren't you?"

Eddie feigns a gasp, pressing a hand to his inked chest. "How dare you accuse me of such wretchedness."

You giggle, and he breaks the affronted act quickly, the husky sound of his genuine laughter warming you inside, fluttering low in your belly. You eye Eddie for a moment, realizing that this is the longest and most open conversation you've probably ever had with him. And there's something that's been nagging at you, especially since Chrissy had checked in so kindly with you after that night Steve got mad. It's something you were never going to bring up to Chrissy, but considering how forthcoming Eddie's been this morning, maybe he'll be receptive to you asking. "So, when we went to see Avatar back in May, I accidentally saw this text from her mom. Is Chrissy, like… okay?"

Eddie sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his hair as his expression falls slightly. "Yeah, she's… she's okay." He glances away again. "She has a rough relationship with her parents, especially with her mom. 'Member how I said she had all that pressure, and that's why we started talking?" He glances briefly at you to see you nod. "They had all these expectations for what they wanted her to do with her life— go to church every Sunday, train hard for cheer while also getting perfect grades, go to the best college, marry Jason, all so she can become just like them. Look this way, say that thing. Be their perfect little… robot. And she just got sick of it. She didn't wanna do it anymore."

After a brief pause, Eddie slumps a little lower in the chair, rubbing at his knuckles. And his voice, when he says this, is so casual— but the way it affects you is anything but. "You know, sometimes, I think Chris wanted to stick it to her parents, and that's why she started dating me: Mr. Bad Reputation. But it's been five years, and she hasn't left me yet," he jokes, lips stretching with a grin even as you frown, retorting immediately,

"I don't see why she would ever leave you, Eddie. I mean, what's not to like?"

For a long moment, Eddie is quiet. Those brown eyes, normally so bright and lively, stay stuck on his hands as he fidgets with his fingers and ruddy knuckles. You figure he must be missing his typical rings, left back in the room to remain untarnished by salt water. He doesn't look at you, but your eyes are riveted on Eddie's downturned face, pale quartz framed by dark ink curls.

And then Eddie finally meets your gaze, face a mask of bland indifference. "I sold drugs all throughout high school. I failed senior year three times and only passed by the skin of my teeth. Obviously, I never went to college." You blink, almost wanting to look away at the baldness, the flatness of his words. The utter lack of feeling that feels so wrong coming from Eddie. "I grew up in a trailer park. I lived in low-income housing 'til I was twenty-three. And now, I'm a mechanic who can't afford to take one day off for a vacation." He huffs a humorless chuckle, quirking a sardonic brow as he stares at you. "Need I go on?"

Speaking can often be difficult for you. You usually fight to find the right words to say.

But looking into Eddie's eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you've ever seen, you don't need to fight now. Not with these words. These words surge straight up from the bottom of you, from that hidden place grown lush with deep roots and slowly blooming greenery that now strains from the soil, leaves quivering, bending toward the man at your side. They burst from your mouth, and you don't even have to think about them. "Eddie. First of all, you're ridiculously talented and so passionate. It's like… electric to watch you perform. And you're funny. When we went to get ice cream that first time we met, I was nervous it would be awkward 'cause I usually don't know what to say around people I don't know. But you just have this way of making people laugh and feel at ease. You pretend you're all mean and scary because you listen to metal, but you're actually so incredibly kind. Plus, you're probably the realest person I know. Totally authentic and unapologetically an absolute weirdo." And your eyes, which once had darted from the intensity of this man beside you, from the light that shines within him— they don't flit away, not even once. Fiercely, determinedly, you finish your speech. "So. Like I said. What's not to like?"

There is another long pause as Eddie stares back at you, expression unreadable, blank aside from a little crease between his brows. You regard him calmly, patiently; you refrain from pressing him for a response, letting Eddie take his time to consider what you said. And you think, as the moment lingers, that perhaps you'll see it again: that pink on Eddie's black and white, the gentleness blooming out from his eyes, maybe now beginning to soften his features. Tentative hope builds as he holds your gaze, eyes darting between yours. And when Eddie's eyes dart to your lips, your heart thumps hard, moths fluttering; you scarcely dare to breathe.

But when Eddie's eyes meet yours again, he just shrugs one shoulder, letting it fall sharply as he looks away. When Eddie turns from you, he leans his chin in his palm, hunching forward; your stomach swoops with disappointment at his lackluster response, brow crumpling until you notice his knee bouncing erratically, hand fisted against his leg, knuckles white with the force of his grip. Your disappointment transforms to empathy as you watch him— tense, nostrils flared, brow tugged low over his brown eyes.

You realize that Eddie just doesn't know what to do with what you said about him. He doesn't know how to react to you hearing all the negative things he revealed about himself and excusing them entirely, focusing plainly on his good qualities. The ones you suspect that, maybe, Eddie has trouble seeing in himself. And you think about all the times Eddie has helped you through your own hesitance and anxiety, reassuring you in that calm way that almost seems like it would be unnatural coming from Eddie Munson, but has always felt right, just felt like a part of him.

Here is an opportunity for you to return Eddie's consistent kindness.

You move to stand in front of him, blocking Eddie's view of the ocean with your body. His brow crinkles as he looks up at you, fingers still curled over his mouth. "All right, you," you say brightly. "We're going for a walk on the beach. Maybe if you're lucky, we can get your pasty ass a tan."

Eddie's frown softens fractionally when you grin at him, but he doesn't move, expression a little skeptical. You hold out your hands expectantly, wiggling your fingers until Eddie, rather reluctantly, puts his hands in yours. "Come on, then—" your voice goes tight as you haul him up. "Holy— you're heavier than I thought you'd be," you pant, shaking out your arms dramatically as Eddie finds his footing. Those brown eyes are no longer as flat now, instead twinkling with slight amusement as you grab your phone and your AirPods case, presenting one earbud to him with a flourish. When Eddie doesn't reach out to take your offering, you snatch his hand, pressing it into his palm.

"What's this for?" he asks, staring down at the white bud.

You navigate to the Spotify app on your phone. "Have you never gone on a beach walk listening to music like you're in an indie teen movie?"

"Uh—" Eddie huffs a chuckle. "Can't say I have."

"Oh, you're missing out." When you see him eyeing you with skepticism, you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. "Look, I'll put my Spotify on shuffle. It'll be, like, seventy percent me, thirty percent you."

Eddie's laugh is genuine again, and you bask in the sound. "Somehow, I doubt that percentage," he retorts, though he gamely acquiesces, fitting the bud into his ear.

"Oh, ye of little faith!" You drop the case and your phone into your deep dress pocket and lead the way; they bounce against your thigh as Eddie falls into step with you. The first song begins with an eerie tinkling of bells before the guitar comes in, harsh and aggressive. You tilt your head as you eye him, saying smugly, "See?"

Eddie raises his hands, a grin tugging at his full lips. "I eat my words, sweetheart," he concedes, and your heads bob in time to the beat as you walk along the beach listening to The Summoning by Sleep Token. It strikes you as exceedingly amusing that, while everyone around you is casually lounging around on the beach in sunny Florida, you and Eddie are listening to eerie wailing and a heavy-metal singer husking, 'You've got my body, flesh and bone…' You giggle as Eddie gets really into it while he walks, strumming his invisible guitar and tossing his head until some more curls fall loose from his bun.

You walk in silence, soaking in the instrumentals until the dreamy soundscape interlude subsides into a funk breakdown, and the singer croons, 'Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God?' "This is my favorite part!" You tell Eddie, eyes bright with enthusiasm as you turn to him.

You read his expression as both amused and impressed. "Okay, y/n. I see you. This part is sexy."

Eddie grins wolfishly as you flush, cheeks heating as you purse your lips; you walk a little faster, so he has to lope with longer steps to keep up. You hear him chuckling to himself but choose to ignore it.

The next song is Slow Mover by Angie McMahon, and within the first ten seconds of hearing her drawling voice, Eddie remarks, "Now I feel like I'm in an indie teen movie." You aren't sure whether he's being critical, but his expression is only slightly wry as he twists to walk backward in front of you instead of by your side. "Feel like I'm the main girl who's recklessly hitched a ride on a train, runnin' away from home towards the inevitable homelessness waiting for me in the city."

It takes considerable effort to keep your expression neutral while you say this, but by some miracle, you manage it. "Well, you certainly have the hair for it."

Eddie's eyes widen in delight even as his mouth falls open in outrage. "You sayin' I have hobo hair?" He makes to grab your waist, but you dodge him with a shrill shout, giggling. "Might have to rescind your nickname if you keep criticizing me. You'll be sweet girl no longer."

"No!" You whine softly, pouting up at him as you let him snatch you around the middle. "Anything but that." You're joking, but you're also not, though you giggle again as Eddie shimmies you playfully back and forth.

"Then be nice," he says warningly, and you nod your obedience quickly, eyes wide and beseeching. "'Kay then. I'll trust you," he says, releasing you so you can continue your wandering path along the beach.

As Angie sings, 'Friend, oh friend, I am a slow, slow girl,' you catch Eddie's brown eyes twinkling. "You are a slow girl," he says cheekily. "You're walking slow."

You pout, protesting his unfair assessment. "It's hard to walk on dry sand!"

"Then let's walk down there," Eddie offers, and you dip down to the water's edge, sand wet and pliant between your toes as you squish along much more easily. As a wave recedes, you see a sudden small object scuttling away from you.

"Look! A crab!" You exclaim, grabbing Eddie's forearm. Excitement surges as you trace its frantic path with your eyes until it disappears into the surf. You turn to Eddie, eyes shiny with innocent delight. His arm is warm under your fingers, and the breadth of his answering smile— the way it dimples his cheek and crinkles his brown eyes like the sun itself is shining in them— makes those wings flutter low in your stomach again.

You suddenly realize that you've wandered far enough that the pink and green and orange lifeguard structure is no longer visible; you and Eddie are alone, surrounded only by strangers. The only other time you've ever been truly alone was when you'd gone to get ice cream the first time you'd met him. The flutters surge a little harder at the realization, but you don't have any time to process as Eddie says suddenly, "Let's go in the water."

Your hand falls from his arm, eyes darting to take in just how many strangers surround you. The answer is very many; the beach, by this time, is quite crowded. And while you aren't afraid of Eddie seeing you in your new bathing suit, that self-consciousness from the hotel room resurges at the idea of baring yourself to the possibility of stares and flickering expressions.

Your hesitance softens as Eddie moves closer, and suddenly all you see is that face you treasure: strong jaw, soft nose, full lips, wide brown eyes framed by long lashes. Dark curls that tumble around his shoulders when he pulls the band from his hair, slipping it onto his wrist instead. "Come in the water with me," he coaxes you, smoke voice quiet and gentle. And as you breathe it in, it soothes the discomfort, settling full and rich in your belly.

You nod, retrieving your phone and AirPod case from your deep dress pocket and putting away your earbuds. You let Eddie's nimble fingers pull the bow from the tie at your waist, and carefully, he gathers the flowy fabric, lifting it until your sunflower-yellow bikini is revealed. The bathing suit is more daring than anything you've worn in public before, and you feel like every inch of your softness is exposed, each vulnerable part of you on display. You take the dress quickly from Eddie's hands, folding it to give you something to occupy yourself with. You drop it to the sand beside you, gritting your teeth as you bend to tuck your phone and AirPods beneath the fabric, trying not to think about how crunching over probably makes your body look unattractive.

But when you straighten, your eyes widen to see how Eddie's looking at you. His gaze is milder, more controlled than usual, but you still respond to the heat behind his dark eyes as they caress your body silently. He swallows thickly when your breathing quickens, eyes drawn to your breasts as they rise and fall visibly. Though the way Eddie is looking at you has dispelled your discomfort about strangers' judgments, this moment is quickly becoming tense and loaded. You feel a stirring of conflicting emotions: attraction, trepidation, and excitement mixing into a jumbled mess behind your sternum, underpinned with sluggish guilt oozing anew in your gut.

Because you're alone with Eddie. And though a thrill races through you at the thought, you know you should not be thinking about kissing him right now.

Rule number one, you remind yourself, shifting subtly backward and speaking in an attempt to break the tension between you. "I don't wanna go in all the way," you tell him.

Eddie blinks as if he's suddenly just come back to himself. "And why is that?" he asks, sounding elaborately casual.

You eye him cautiously, alarmed by the sudden twinkle in his eye, the growing tilt to his wide mouth. "Because Steve said it's cold—"

He moves so fast you have no time to react, and you yelp as you find yourself suddenly hoisted into Eddie's arms. "Eddie!" You squeak, face flaming and stomach swooping in intense embarrassment as he holds you bridal-style. "You can't carry me!"

There's a reason why you've never asked any of your boyfriends to carry you, why Steve has never even attempted to pick you up beyond a quick lift a couple of inches from the ground. The words I'm too heavy hang unsaid on your lips, and your brow crinkles pleadingly; you're silently begging Eddie not to make you say it.

"Can't I?" He challenges, and your arms wrap desperately around his neck as you scrunch your eyes shut, prepared for Eddie to concede or to halt halfway or for his arms to simply give out due to his sheer stubbornness. But when you hear splashing, you peek to see him already calf-deep in the water. "Shit," he huffs, and you feel his chuckles rumbling in his chest where you're pressed against it. "All right, I'll admit it's kinda cold."

Eddie doesn't even seem to struggle as he carries you into the ocean, and you can't pretend you aren't surprised. I guess he's stronger than he looks, you acknowledge, shoulders relaxing fractionally as he eases into the water. "Told you it was cold," you mumble sourly, and you feel him laugh again, flutters stirring as you realize suddenly how Eddie's arms are wrapped around you, supporting you solidly; how warm his sun-kissed skin is against yours; how your nose is nearly pressed to the base of his throat—

"Fuck—!"

Your yelp is cut off as Eddie stumbles on a sandbar; together, you collapse into the water.

The shock of cold nearly steals your breath until, almost as quickly, Eddie hauls you up out of the water. "Holy shit," he gasps, hands tight against your upper arms as you sputter, trying to find your footing. The sand dips down right past the bar, nearly too far to stand, but Eddie steadies you before his palms find your face, messily pushing your wet hair back where it's covering your eyes. Eddie sounds so upset as he stammers, "Shit, y/n, I am so sorry—"

But you're laughing, head tilting back as Eddie tries desperately to fix your hair, though his attempts are clumsy at best. You take over for him, dipping into the water so you can slick the length of your hair back. "It's fine," you say through leftover chuckles, eyes widening suddenly in alarm as you register the wave heading straight for you behind Eddie's back.

He registers your reaction a second before you're hit, and you both somehow manage to duck in time for the wave to pass without jostling you too much. Still, Eddie's body drifts toward yours with its force, and when you pop from the water, his arms close around your middle, holding you up higher than you could reach yourself. Almost automatically, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and your legs do the same around his hips. You cling to him, buoyant, letting him hold you in the waves.

Eddie seems relieved that you aren't mad and, even more so, delighted that you'd laughed off getting unexpectedly dunked under the cold water. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he says, playfully tightening his arms. "I've got you. I'll fight off every rip current and seagull that tries to snatch you with my bare hands."

You giggle, matching his energy with your reply. "Thank you, oh mighty bard, for keeping me safe from the terrors of the sea."

"Any time." Eddie smiles broadly again, looking utterly pleased that you'd played along.

And as your gaze runs over Eddie's dark hair plastered to his cheeks and neck, his long lashes beaded with saltwater, his lips so full and pink and his brown eyes so utterly alive, longing strikes you, swift and potent. Longing that begs you to bury your fingers in those wet curls. To taste the salt on Eddie's mouth. To hold him close, bury your nose in the crook of his neck, and never let him go.

It's so powerful, the impulse, that it zips straight down to pulse hard in your pussy, fluttering the moth wings wildly on the way. You feel your face sway instinctually toward him, your eyes dipping beyond your control to his lips. And as you register the dawning realization in Eddie’s eyes when your gaze darts back to beautiful brown, you remember, suddenly, Steve's anger and sadness, the distress he'd felt at the first rule you and Eddie had broken.

And that had been an accident. What you want to do is entirely intentional.

Trepidation and guilt win out.

As you loosen your arms and legs, Eddie releases his grip immediately to let you put some distance between you. His brow is a little pinched, eyes almost worried until you splash him lightly, lips quirking with a small playful smile. When he smiles back, splashing you boldly, you internally sag with relief.

You and Eddie spend some time playing around in the waves, but it doesn't take long for the appeal of the sun's warm rays to draw you out of the sea. You squeeze the water from your hair as Eddie shakes his like a dog; you're half-amused and half-exasperated as he sprays you with droplets. You'd neglected to bring any towels, so you slick the water off your skin with your hands as best you can; you dry your ears with the hem of your dress, offering it to Eddie so you can both listen to music on the walk back. After, you drop your phone and your AirPod case into your dress pocket without wearing it. You figure you can just carry it for now, and by the time you return to your belongings, your body will be dry enough to put it back on.

The first song on your walk back starts strong.

'You say I want to be your girlfriend—'

The playful affectation and cheery pop beat of Hemlock Springs' Girlfriend conjure opposing reactions in you and Eddie. While your mouth falls open in a delighted smile, Eddie's nose crinkles, head shaking as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, gesturing sharply. "No. Nope. No way," he says firmly, brow crooked in dismay as you skip ahead of him, entirely unbothered by his vehement rejection of the song.

"It's really catchy!" You protest, head bopping as the synths drop in. "Give it a chance."

Eddie grumbles as he catches up to you, eyeing your swaying shoulders begrudgingly. You walk together briefly before he falls behind, and when you notice he's no longer by your side, you turn, already frowning in anticipation of more complaints about the music. But Eddie's just bending to pick something up in the sand, hand wagging in the water before he straightens and jogs to you. He shows you that he's found a small scallop shell, banded bright red and white. He offers it to you, and you take it from him delicately, happiness blooming along with your brilliant smile. "Thanks, Eddie!" you say, shoulders back to swaying as you start to dance as you walk. You stare down at your scallop shell for another moment before slipping it carefully into the other pocket of your dress.

When the song's bridge hits, you spin to face Eddie, shoulders shaking jauntily, hips wiggling as you sing along: 'Secretly, I'm aiming for a rhythm that exceeds my expectations. Am I ever gonna get it?' You affect an attitude for the second line, rubbing your shoulder against his arm as you pretend to pout before smiling widely, dancing away.

And you aren't thinking about the people around you as your feet play in the water, the breeze tickles against your bare stomach, and your ass wobbles when you sway your hips. You're not thinking about any of that. You're just in the moment— listening to a treasured song, dancing along the beach beside a treasured person.

By the song's end, you even catch a glimpse of Eddie bobbing his head, though he stops as soon as he sees you looking. Your shit-eating grin makes him huff, but it's too late for him to pretend he wasn't getting into it. You're just about to rib on him when the next song begins— the tonal shift strikes you, and your mirth fades as the acoustic guitar introduces Stephen Sanchez's Hey Girl.

This song is very different from Girlfriend. It's introspective and sentimental. You can feel the longing in his voice when he sings, 'Hey girl, with your head in the clouds: I wanna love you, I wanna love you—'

After the poignancy of earlier when Eddie held you in the waves, this song strikes you as too raw and vulnerable. Overwhelmed, you dig your phone out of your pocket to skip to the next one, but calloused fingers on your arm stop you. "Don't change it. I like this one," Eddie says quietly, voice husky like smoke; you glance to see his eyes fixed on your hand, and you're suddenly grateful he isn't looking at your face.

Hesitantly, you obey, throat thick with the sentiment of the song. And where there'd been a comfortable gap between your bodies, slowly, by degrees, you feel yourself drifting closer as Eddie does the same, drawn together like you're being pulled in by some invisible force. The longing inside you transforms, sharpening, turning wistful as Eddie's hand brushes yours lightly, light enough to be incidental. But when Eddie's calloused fingers nudge against yours tentatively, you know the brush is deliberate. And though you keep staring straight ahead, you weave your fingers together, holding Eddie's hand as you walk back down the beach together.

You suppose, to all those strangers watching from their towels and beach chairs, that you and Eddie look like an average couple holding hands. But you're not. You're not that at all— not average, and not a couple. Yet when Stephen sings, 'Oh good God, I'm tongue-tied, I'm a landslide when you move,' and you feel Eddie's fingers squeeze yours gently, deliberately, you can't help the tremble of your chin, the slight sting of your eyes as your green quivers, growing taller. The leaves fan, full and plush and soft with downy fuzz. And as small white flowers, tiny and delicate, open their petals, you squeeze Eddie's fingers back. Gently, deliberately.

A tiny smile blooms on your lips as you feel his thumb rasp slowly across your skin. And all the rest of what you feel— the trepidation, the anxiety, the guilt— it all falls away as you flutter with the tender affection of Eddie's touch.

All too soon, that gaudy lifeguard stand juts ugly into the sky, and as you spot the distant yet familiar forms now sitting in those beach chairs— a hairy man in navy trunks and a petite blonde woman in a bright white string bikini— you feel Eddie's fingers slide from yours.

The loss of Eddie's hand is acute. It pangs within you hollowly, but you school your features as you approach your boyfriend and friend, whose expressions perk as they spot you and Eddie. And just like your feet sink into the sand, you let your feelings sink down until they're concealed beneath a layer of soft, protective dirt.

"You went in the water?" Steve asks as you approach his side, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Wasn't it cold?" Chrissy adds, though she's quickly distracted as she pops up to wrap Eddie in a tight hug.

"Yup," you reply, pulling your lips into a small smile as Chrissy giggles when Eddie bonks her cheek lightly with his nose. "It was."

–

The afternoon crawls by in snapshots of moments. Chrissy hops on Eddie's back so he can carry her to the beach's exit. You eat lunch at a local Italian restaurant called Crust and split a honey-truffle pizza and some small plates. Chrissy feeds Eddie tiny bites of burrata and prosciutto; Steve leans into you, hand landing comfortably on your knee. You browse the shops at Bayside Marketplace. Steve offers to buy you whatever you want, and he doesn't question when you choose only a dainty gold chain— plain, with nothing hanging from it. Chrissy swings Eddie's hand as they walk ahead of you down the sandstone. Later, you and Steve diverge from them and find yourselves wandering toward the Ferris wheel.

And as you ride it— gazing out at Miami city, at its tall silver skyscrapers and its turquoise blue waters— you sit across from your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. He's lounging back, toes wiggling in his boat shoes, hair mussed artfully from salt and wind. He is handsome. His nose is alkaline, his brows are thick and dark, and his jaw is strong, dusted by stubble. Steve works at a bank and makes a lot of money. He is athletic, and he loves basketball. He has always been attentive and generous; he gives of himself to you and his friends alike. He has an ex-girlfriend named Nancy, whom he loved and who cheated on him. You've been dating for three years. You lost your virginity to him, and you share an apartment. He's been perfect on this trip. He's made you feel so loved. You love him.

And yet, Steve Harrington doesn't make your wings flutter like Eddie Munson does.

He never has.

And yet…

As Steve clambers over to your side, you shift on the seat to make room for him. When his arm wraps around your shoulders, you lean into his side. You drag your nails lightly over his abdomen and the fur on his chest until he sighs, humming contentedly. And when Steve ducks his head toward you, you use that hand to cup his cheek as you kiss him.

Because Steve Harrington is your boyfriend, not Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson is Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend. And you are not Chrissy.

So it doesn't matter how Eddie makes your wings flutter.

It doesn't matter.

If you think it enough, maybe you'll start to believe it.

–

Throwing yourself into your preparations for clubbing wasn't just a welcome distraction— it was a necessary one. Thankfully, lounging on your bed with Chrissy, hair and bodies wrapped in fluffy hotel towels as you scroll Tiktok together, you'd managed to bury your emotions and revelations under a healthy mound of peat. It’s not enough to stifle them, but enough to keep them from surfacing when Eddie emerges from the bathroom in a puff of steam, curls dripping water down his chest to catch on the low-slung towel around his hips.

Thank goodness for this hotel's overabundance of linens.

About an hour and a half before you plan to leave, you and Chrissy decisively oust the men from the shared bathroom. It transforms into a battleground of razors, toner, and eyeshadow palettes as you arm yourselves for your night out, meticulously readying every inch of your body. After your hair has been texturized, styled, and set, you apply your makeup side-by-side.

It never ceases to fascinate you how Chrissy can so dramatically transform herself. Where normally she looks so young and innocent, with makeup, she becomes so fierce and sensual— almost like a different person, though you know by now that, really, it's just an extension of her inner self. Today she's opted for sharp black liner in the inner corners that extends out in a thin wing, with a swipe of metallic color on her lids and false eyelashes. Her brows are sharp, too, and she's highlighted her cheekbones to accentuate the angles and contours of her face. Bold, foxy. Totally Chrissy.

You apply more makeup than you usually do, but you prefer something a little more subtle on yourself. You've tried bold eye makeup before, and while you are trying to step outside your comfort zone lately, you just… don't feel like yourself with it. You opt instead for a slick, nearly nude hue on your lids and plenty of mascara to accentuate the length of your lashes. You spend more time on your skin— you want to achieve a dewy, healthy flush, so you focus on blush and subtle highlight and shadow to add depth, plus a mauve, lush lipgloss that's slightly darker than your natural color. You're thrilled with the final result: it still feels like you, as if you're glowing from the inside. More ethereal.

You fawn over each other's makeup, and as you drop your towels to dress, you notice that Chrissy's efforts to get tan didn't go unrealized. Her skin looks a little more golden than it did this morning, and it accentuates the color of the mini-dress she's chosen for the night. It's a bright orange, not typical for Chrissy but entirely appropriate for the tropical location. Chrissy's dress is strapless, with large triangular cutouts at the ribs that point inwards and give the illusion she has an even smaller waist. She twists to look at herself in the mirror, and you can't help but admire her. She looks gorgeous, and you tell her so.

"Aw, thank you, babes!" She cups your face lightly in her hands and gives you a butterfly kiss with her eyelashes so as not to mess up your makeup. You carefully step into your dress, and Chrissy helps you zipper it; you feel a little sheepish as you look in the mirror, especially with just a tiny, lacy pair of underwear and no bra underneath, but Chrissy squeezes your shoulders reassuringly. "You look so amazing, y/n. This dress is incredible. I'm honestly a little jealous."

"Chris!" you exclaim, spinning to face her incredulously. "Don't even. You are a stone-cold fox. I'm serious— that dress was, like, made for you."

Chrissy beams, blue eyes shining as you flatter her. She drops a quick kiss on your bare shoulder as you examine yourself in the mirror, a small smile blooming as you accept the truth of your friend's words, truly believing them.

You do look amazing.

Your dress is satin, mid-length, with a long slit high up the side to the top of your thigh, revealing a sensual glimpse of your leg. The straps are tiny and thin, and there's a cutout beneath the bust, so it doesn't look right if you wear a bra. But your breasts sit nicely in it; there's enough support to keep you from sagging, and they look plump and natural. The color is a rich cream, like indulgent milk and honey. And, best of all, the dress fits you right— it drapes across your tummy and hips, hugging without clinging. There's no mistaking the wideness of your hips or the softness of your belly in this, but you don't feel fat.

You feel like Aphrodite. You feel like a goddess.

And you feel even more like one when you and Chrissy emerge from the bathroom, and you come face-to-face with Steve as he turns, futzing with the hem of his short-sleeved blue linen shirt. He's wearing tailored khakis, and his hair is coiffed nicely, but what pleases you the most is how you see the moment his pupils dilate when he lifts his head to see your new dress for the first time.

His eyes drag over the length of your body, lingering in all the right spots, and you feel a little smug as he stutters hoarse nonsense before he can gather himself.

"See?" Chrissy says sweetly, and you glance to see her stepping into her stilettos, leaning on Eddie's shoulder for support. "Told you you look hot."

You don't let your eyes linger on black and white, but a flash is all you need to have your heart thumping. Because, even in Miami, Eddie just can't help himself: he's dressed in another white shirt, though this one is looser and thinner, unbuttoned halfway down his torso to reveal his guitar pick necklace and the dark ink of his chest. His black jeans are tight, his dark boots are chunky, and his rings, bracelet, and chains are the same as they always are. But his hair is, again, pulled into that ponytail. The one you'd told him you found sexy.

Considering whether Eddie had styled his hair this way because of you— or even for you— threatens to disturb the peat you'd so carefully mounded around your growth to protect it, so you pointedly avoid the thought.

Steve's hands find your waist, and you look up into his hazel eyes as he murmurs, "Baby, you look so fucking hot right now. Like…" he chuckles almost incredulously. "Holy fuck. Are you sure we have to go out tonight? Can't I just keep you here and fuck you senseless instead?"

"Steve!" you whisper, slapping his arm and flushing as your eyes dart to the couple beside you. Steve isn't talking very loudly, but for some reason, the idea of them overhearing his lascivious commentary makes you feel squirmy. But Chrissy just chuckles, hooking her thumb through the belt loop on Eddie's black jeans.

"I mean," she says lowly, eyebrow tugging up suggestively. "We don't have to—"

"No," you interrupt firmly, though your expression is more entreating than commanding. "This is our one night in Miami. We're going."

"All right, all right," Steve chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. "We'll go." He grins at you.

"I was promised dancing," you remind him, not quite pouting.

Eddie chimes in then, for the first time this evening. "Then dancing you will have," he says, and when your eyes dart to his and his mouth tilts in a little crooked grin, you smile back.

And if some of the dirt shifts to reveal a bit of green or a peek of white flowers, well, could it really be helped?

The club Steve and Chrissy chose— picked while they were waiting for you and Eddie to return from your beach walk— seems to provide all the best Miami offers. It's saturated with fractal lighting in modern shapes and colors, deep purples, mauves, and bright golds that crisscross the floors. The effect is nearly dizzying but also entirely stunning, like you've been transported into a cocaine-laden dream. You see that the dance floor is teeming with motion as you shuffle past the bouncers, daisy-chained by your hands to carve a path to the bar. Steve hands you a vodka soda before you've even asked, and you and Chrissy start to suck your drinks down while Eddie and Steve retrieve theirs, eyes scanning the writhing crowd. The bass is pumping, and even without any alcohol yet to hit your bloodstream, you're feeling amped up by the atmosphere of the place. You and Chrissy half-shout your conversation into each others' ears as you wait for the guys to get their drinks.

When Steve's hand finds its place on your hip, you and Chrissy enact your plan: you drag the men to the edge of the dance floor, hips wiggling to a mix of standard club beats interspersed with some hip hop and Urbano. The place is packed, but you form a little four-square together, holding your own against the crowds as you dance and drink. Well, that is, you and Chrissy dance, and Steve does some approximation of dancing, and Eddie mostly stands still, head bobbing as he sips his bourbon.

Chrissy seems used to Eddie's lack of movement; she dances around him, wiggling her ass against him or drawing her hand across his shoulder as she struts in the tiny square you've formed between you. You are perfectly content to dance alone or with your other two partners; you throw your hands up, sway together with Steve, or dance closely with Chrissy when she saunters your way. You feel buoyant and gleeful as you and Chrissy squeal, joining hands during Maneater by Nelly Furtado, singing it to each other as your men watch you with affection and amusement. This moment— surrounded by your close friends and your boyfriend, loose from drinks, effusive from dancing, comfortable in the knowledge that you look amazing— is what you'd been looking for when you first thought about taking this vacation.

It feels just as good as you'd hoped it would be.

It doesn't take long for you to feel both a little drunk and a little hot; though the club is indoors, it's humid from the climate and the press of bodies around you, and you feel yourself growing dewy with sweat. When Steve notices you fanning your neck, he offers to take you back to the bar. Chrissy and Eddie follow, too, happy for the respite and a chance for another drink.

As you sip on a small cup of water, Chrissy's sudden exclamation nearly startles you. "Oh, my God! I can't believe I almost forgot— see that spot over there? Kind of close to the staircase, where the rope is?" You all crane your necks to see where she's pointing. When you look back, she's nearly vibrating with excitement. "I saw on Instagram that if you hang over there, the club promoters may invite you to dance on the stage behind the DJ! And then we could end up in their photos or videos! Can you imagine?!"

You glance over to the spot she's indicated again as Steve replies. "That is pretty sick, Chris. Are you saying you wanna go over there?"

She shrugs, blue eyes wide and shiny. "I mean, it couldn't hurt, right?" She looks around the group, and when her eyes catch yours, you nod your agreement. The idea of dancing on stage does intimidate you a little. But if you're surrounded by Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie, then that might be fun. It would certainly be an experience you've never had before, and then you could say you danced on stage at a Miami nightclub. You catch some of Chrissy's excitement as she beams widely, clutching Eddie and Steve's forearms in eagerness as she taps her stilettos on the ground. "Ah! Okay! Let's go!"

Chrissy's dainty fingers close around your wrist, pulling you forward. You reach back blindly for the next person in the chain, fingers stretching until they make contact with a broad palm. But where you expect softness, you instead encounter roughness, and a quick wide-eyed glance back has you realizing that the hand you've grabbed is pale, wrist adorned with a silver chain bracelet.

You suppress the flutters that threaten to burst when you realize that you're again holding Eddie's hand. His fingers tighten around yours, gripping a little harder as Chrissy carves a determined path through the crowd on the dancefloor, heading in a diagonal for the spot near the stairs. You remind yourself that his grip is tight to ensure you don't get separated— and, plus, his girlfriend, your friend, has your other wrist in her grasp. Get ahold of yourself. You suppress a sigh of relief when you finally reach the stairs and you can pull gently from both of their grips.

You can't deny that despite being somewhat excited about the prospect of dancing on the DJ stage, you are skeptical that it will actually happen. Yet Chrissy is gorgeous, eye-catching in her sharp eyeliner and her bright orange dress; Steve is handsome, broad and tan with artfully-tousled hair and a charming smile; and Eddie is captivating, statuesque with his pale quartz skin, alluring with those dark eyes, the roguish ponytail, and his inky body armor.

So, really, you should have known better.

You've only been dancing in Chrissy's chosen spot for about twenty minutes when a man with a shaved head, wearing a black blazer fitted with a leopard-print pocket square, approaches your group. He's quite a bit shorter than Steve and Eddie, but he exudes top-dog energy as he smirks at Chrissy. "Hey," he says smoothly, eyes darting around the group, landing briefly on all of you. Well, almost all of you. Your stomach swoops slightly as that familiar feeling creeps up your neck, prickling hot along your skin. Because you can't help but notice that the promoter's eyes skip you over, almost as if you aren't even standing there.

His gaze lands, somewhat unsurprisingly, on Chrissy. He nods his chin toward the staircase, smirking slightly. "You interested in dancing on stage?"

Despite the squirmy feeling building low in your belly, you can't help but smile at the radiant enthusiasm that fills Chrissy's face, shining in her bright blue eyes. "Oh, my gosh! Really?" Her voice is powdery-soft, and the way she beams when he nods is so sweet that you feel genuinely happy for her. Her eager eyes dart to Eddie next, and the promoter's gaze follows.

"How about you, guy?" He asks, but Eddie shakes his head, falling back onto one hip.

"Nah, man," he replies, lips quirked in a small sardonic grin. "I don't dance." He glances at Chrissy. "You should go, though, Chris."

You see Chrissy pout for the briefest second, but she gets over it quickly, too excited to dwell on Eddie's denial. The promoter unhooks and lifts the velvet rope at the base of the staircase, holding out a hand so Chrissy can climb up onto the bottom step.

That prickling heat, that low squirm of self-consciousness in your belly, is nearly gone as you anticipate the moment being over. But the promoter doesn't replace the rope. Instead, for the first time, you watch his eyes quickly flick you up and down.

You try to suppress the self-consciousness that rises automatically— try to keep yourself from reading the promoter's face to quickly assess his reaction. But you can't help it; you read it anyway. You always do.

And there is no reaction that you can discern— no twitch of a brow or a lip, no change to the glint of his eyes. But what this man does is almost worse than if he'd made a face. After glancing you up and down, the promoter turns immediately to Steve on your left, asking, "You wanna join her?"

His utter dismissal couldn't be any more obvious to you than if he'd spit in your face.

Entirely oblivious to the subtext of the promoter's interaction— or lack thereof— with you, Steve grins broadly, running a hand through the length of his tousled brown hair. "Yeah, sure," he says smoothly, beginning to join Chrissy on the stairs. On the second step, Steve glances back, frowning as he notices you aren't following. "Wait—"

You cut him off quickly, desperate to avoid any risk of Steve asking why you aren't coming with him. Though the promoter utterly ignoring you is bad enough, forcing a conversation about it would be unbearable. "No, it's okay, Steve. I'll stay with Eddie." You're firm but not tense; you smile brightly to show you're not upset.

And Steve, God love him… in this moment, you're grateful that your boyfriend is such an uncomplicated man. "Are you sure?" Steve's hazel eyes are still hesitant, but you can tell he's on the cusp of conceding. You just need to sell it— that you're not in any way sore about him going to dance on the DJ stage without you.

"Yes!" you exclaim, smile widening, voice earnest. "Go have fun!"

"Okay, babe." Steve smiles back— lopsided, relieved. He walks back down to the two steps so he can say goodbye. "See you in, like, an hour?"

"Sounds perfect," you say decisively, leaning in so Steve can kiss you briefly. You hear the click of the fastener and feel the brush of the velvet against your belly as the promoter replaces the rope then, separating you and Steve.

You wave as you watch him and Chrissy ascend the stairs, eyes deliberately avoiding the promoter as he settles into the corner against the wall. But once they disappear, there's nothing to distract you from the reminder of his dismissal. And you feel it threatening again— that prickling self-consciousness, the low squirm of something approaching shame.

Quickly, you turn to Eddie. "Can we get another drink?" you ask him, and as he nods mutely, you lead the way back to the bar.

You skirt along the edge of the dance floor rather than cutting through the middle as Chrissy had, trusting Eddie to keep up with you. When you hover at the corner of the floor closest to the bar, unwilling to elbow your way to the counter, you look for Eddie then. His features are even more intense than usual in the dramatic lighting; his shoulders are set, and so is his jaw as he stops a short distance from you, staring down into your face. As the lighting shifts, you realize Eddie's brow is lightly furrowed, and his dark eyes are unreadable, not warm like they usually are.

Something is off with Eddie. He hadn't been overjoyed when you were all dancing together, but he'd seemed content. Nothing like he is now— coiled tight as if he's reigning something in. It makes you worried.

When your eyes dart away and return to see his stare hasn't wavered, you ask quietly, "Hey, are you… are you mad or something?"

"No, I'm not mad." There is no hesitation in Eddie's quiet answer, and some of your worry eases. But when he glances away and you see a muscle in his jaw twitching, you realize he isn't done speaking. It takes him a moment, but Eddie eventually looks back at you, voice carefully neutral. "He should have stayed with you."

You frown. "I told him to go," you point out, more puzzled as Eddie's expression doesn't change.

"I know," Eddie says quietly. And the way his intense gaze is piercing you… for the first time in a long time, you have to look away from him.

You hear him sigh as you distract yourself by watching people dance, eyes running over writhing bodies. "You want a drink, right?"

You glance back to find the intensity in Eddie's stare has softened now. "Yeah," you reply, grateful for the change of subject.

"What do you want me to get you?"

You consider another vodka soda, but find you're in the mood for something different. "Um… Sex on the Beach?" you ask, blinking innocently as you watch a smirk curl at the edges of Eddie's full lips.

His smoke voice is smooth and exaggeratedly sensual as Eddie sways toward you, eyes locked on yours. "I mean, sure, sweet girl. But what do you want to drink?"

"Eddie!" Your face flushes bright red, heat prickling in your cheeks as he laughs huskily. You slap his chest lightly before crossing your arms under your breasts; you're squirming from his teasing, but you can't help the low flutters that awaken at the thought of having sex with Eddie on the beach. Or even in the ocean, in that position he'd held you in this morning— arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his narrow hips, no swim trunks or bikini bottoms separating his warm skin from yours…

Stop it! You chastise yourself, huffing, glaring until Eddie stops laughing. "Sorry," he says wolfishly, not looking the least bit sorry about it. "Couldn't resist."

"Hmph." You level him with one last unimpressed look before he gently takes your wrist.

"Come on," he says, lips tilting fondly. "Stay close to me."

You follow Eddie closer to the bar, hovering near his back as he orders you the drink you'd requested and another bourbon for himself. You carry your drinks to the edge of the dance floor, standing near one another as you sip the fruity alcohol. After just the first sip, it's already so much better than your typical vodka sodas that you question why you'd never tried it before. In fact, you may never go back to vodka sodas now that you've tasted the allure of orange and cranberry with your vodka.

When your drink is half-gone, and your head is starting to get a little fuzzy, and the sight of bodies dancing is no longer an adequate distraction, you find your thoughts drifting back to what Eddie had said. But… you made Steve go without you. You'd basically forced him to. Right? You find yourself lightly chewing on your lower lip, thumb rubbing absently against the cold glass cradled in your hands. Eddie was there. He'd heard the whole conversation, and when you pointed out that you'd told Steve to go, he'd just said, 'I know.' What was he implying? That you should've asked Steve to stay with you, to give up his fun just because you weren't going with him?

Is that really fair of you to expect Steve to sacrifice his chance on stage for you? The idea that you could have forced the issue— pouted or begged Steve to stay— makes you feel selfish.

But maybe that's not Eddie's point. He hadn't said, 'You should have asked him to stay with you;' he'd said, "He should have stayed with you." You suddenly realize what Eddie was really trying to communicate: that Steve should have chosen to stay with you. A crease forms between your brows as that realization settles heavily upon you. It begins to coil around your ribcage, squeezing you tight as you find yourself considering a dangerous question.

Would Eddie have stayed with me?

And you find, as the thought pops into your head, that you already know the answer.

You haven't quite noticed the tension overtaking your body until Eddie's hand brushes lightly against your upper back; you flinch, wide eyes darting to his face. "Sorry," he says, withdrawing his hand immediately, and you reassure him quickly.

"No, it's fine. I was just…" you don't have an adequate explanation for what you were doing, so you just trail off, eyes darting back to your drink.

"Do you wanna go dance?"

You purse your lips as you look out at the undulating crowd, the crush of unfamiliar bodies. "Um…" you hedge, but finally admit, "Not really. I don't really wanna dance by myself."

Your eyes flash to Eddie's face as he replies, "I'll dance with you."

"Really?" you blurt. "I thought you said you don't dance."

Eddie chuckles lightly. "I don't. Not usually. But the Latin stuff is pretty good."

You assess his pleasantly neutral expression, the warmth that has returned to his brown eyes. And you read something there— in the way his gaze flicks away and back to yours, brows tugging up, mouth tilting a little further. You could be wrong, but you get the impression that despite Eddie's reasoning, he's only offering to dance because he'd noticed you were in your head.

He's only doing it for you.

Your smile is genuine, blooming tiny on your face. "Okay," you say softly, and Eddie grins in earnest, leading the way into the crowd.

Luckily for Eddie, the set seems to be leaning more Urbano now, and the quick mambo beat of Rosalia's Despacha is the perfect remedy for that heaviness shrouding you. You face Eddie, swaying your shoulders and hips, dancing in some approximation of a mambo as you step forward and back to the beat. Eddie gamely starts to sway, too, and you beam as you watch him make an attempt. A little self-conscious flush blooms high on his cheeks as you watch him.

"What?" he questions you defiantly, though it's softened by the self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. "Didn't you promise to be nice? Remember, your nickname is on the line—"

"I am being nice!" you protest, voice high and giddy with mirth and excitement that Eddie is actually dancing with you. "I'm just happy. Am I not allowed to be happy?" you add plainly.

Eddie's wide grin transforms. "Of course you are," he replies, and the gentle smoke of his voice has you taking a deep, bracing breath to ward off the flutters.

"Good," you huff teasingly, trying to keep the mood between you light. "Then let me watch you dance."

He laughs, husky and full. "All right," he concedes.

And you do— you watch Eddie dance for a while, secretly delighted as he starts to move his shoulders and hips, a little tentatively at first, and then more boldly once his bourbon and your Sex on the Beach are gone. Briefly, you leave your spot to discard them on a nearby table before heading back to the dance floor together.

But when you resume your positions— facing each other with a respectful distance in between— you feel a sudden presence behind you, different from the slight brush of other dancing people. This person is facing you directly; pants rasp against your ass as his broad warmth presses boldly to you, and you're washed by the unfamiliar scent of cheap cologne as hands grasp at your body, one landing high on your waist and the other low on your hip.

You freeze immediately, heart racing, wide eyes darting helplessly to Eddie's face as his gaze flickers between you and whoever this stranger is behind you. In a split second, he's closing the gap between you, face contorted in a frown as you tug from the stranger's grasp to meet him. Eddie's arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you against him, and your instant panic eases. You breathe in smoke and apples, letting Eddie’s scent comfort you, distract you from the unexpected violation of a stranger's unwanted hands on your body. Eddie is clearly uneasy, muscles corded and taut as he stands still, holding you against him for a tense moment until you feel him start to relax.

"Is he gone?" you ask timidly, nose skimming Eddie's throat as you peek at his face.

"Yeah, he's gone." His chest rumbles against yours, and you sigh, relief flooding you as you relax into Eddie's grip. "Um…" You can see him swallow, eyes locked on the pale column of his throat as he pauses before saying haltingly, "Maybe I should, like, stay closer to you. I don't want that to happen to you again."

You shudder a breath, wings fluttering at the thought of dancing— really dancing— with Eddie. "Yeah," you say, voice small. "Yeah, I agree."

His arm loosens so you can turn. The warmth of Eddie's body radiates against your back, brushing just slightly as you start to dance again. As the club beat eases into another Latin hip-hop song, and the relaxed fuzz from the alcohol settles again in your limbs, you sway your hips, feeling Eddie move against you with little teasing brushes of his rough jeans and his loose white shirt. You shift a little closer, pressing lightly back to feel more of him— not too much, just enough to keep constant contact between you. It grounds you, offering comfort in the form of his presence. And he seems to be adapting much better like this— without your eyes on him, he moves more fluidly, and he seems to have more rhythm with these Latin songs than he did with his striptease to Pony . Maybe he was telling the truth about liking the Latin songs more, you think, a tiny smile crossing your lips as you settle into the music again.

And as you dance with Eddie, you grow used to the feeling of his body moving behind you, so that your mind starts to wander. And turned away from him, without his face to look at, your eyes drift to the people around you. To all the women in their tiny mini-dresses, their tanned legs so thin and shapely in their giant heels. To their little waists and their lithe arms, just like Chrissy. You don't want to, but you go there, back to when the club promoter's eyes flicked over you, assessing your body and finding it lacking.

Not trim enough. Not thin enough. Not pretty enough.

It's not what you want to be thinking about right now. You want to be enjoying yourself, dancing in a Miami nightclub with a treasured person. But once the thought wriggles back into your brain, there's no shaking it; you can't stop dwelling on it.

You can never help yourself when it comes to this.

Your rhythm falters; you lose the beat, and Eddie's smoky voice is quick in your ear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

You stop dancing to turn in Eddie's arms and face him. Almost as if it's automatic, his hands settle lightly on your waist, and you drape your arms over his shoulders— not holding tight, just resting there. Your mouth twists as you consider how the memory of that man's appraisal has begun to eat you up inside, devouring all the happiness you'd found here tonight. And Eddie's brown eyes are warm, and his expression is receptive. He never judges you; he's so kind. And he always tries to help you. He always does.

So you tell him what's wrong.

"I just… was thinking about the club promoter," you say quietly, speaking to Eddie's chest; you can't quite meet his eyes. "How he barely even looked at me, almost like I didn't exist to him. Well," you chuckle breathlessly, a little uncomfortable. "I obviously know why he didn't, like, ask me to go on stage. I mean—" You glance down your body before your eyes land back on Eddie's chest. "I'm not exactly… you know…" You swallow against the lump in your throat, pushing the words out, hoping that by voicing them, they'll have less power. "I'm not as small as the other girls—"

Eddie cuts you off, and your eyes snap to his face to see his brown eyes wide and incredulous. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He sounds utterly baffled. Utterly disbelieving. "You're… you're so beautiful. Sexy as hell, I swear to Christ." He chuckles his disbelief as you look up at him hesitantly, face still angled down. When he sees you haven’t responded, Eddie frowns; his hand leaves your waist to gently but firmly lift your chin. "Listen, sweetheart. Don't worry about that guy. That guy's probably never been with a beautiful woman in his life. Never even touched one, I bet. Probably has a shriveled little baby carrot dick."

You wrinkle your nose, half-amused, half-disgusted by the crudeness of his final remark. Eddie laughs at himself, shaking his head slightly as he ducks closer to your ear to mutter, "Sorry, but if I'm totally honest, I'm only half-checked in to what I'm saying right now 'cause I'm distracted."

You try not to think about how warm his breath is against your ear. "Distracted by what?"

"By trying not to pop a boner with you dancing on me, sweetheart."

You pull your head back to stare at him incredulously, a little awkward giggle escaping your lips. And it must be clear that you don't believe him because Eddie's eyebrows flick up, and his expression shifts slightly.

"I'm serious," Eddie argues through a chuckle. "What, you think I'm joking?" Carefully, he presses his hips closer so you can feel him. And your eyes widen slightly as you do, proving how Eddie really wasn't kidding. How he's a little stiff behind the thick black denim of his jeans.

"Oh, my God," you mutter, cheeks flushing as you purse your lips against a bashful smile.

"See?" Eddie says, lightly teasing, but quieter now. "Told you."

And now that his point has been made, it's the right time for Eddie to move away. But Eddie doesn't move away. And the press of Eddie's pelvis against you feels good. And he just told you that you're beautiful and sexy, and the smoke of those words is settling inside you, filling you rich and heady. And the song that's just begun is slower, more sensual than the ones before. Alluring, drawing you in, just like the brown of those beautiful eyes, the dark curls framing his pale quartz face.

Gradually, Eddie's black and his white draw you in until, almost by instinct, you start to sway your hips against his.

You feel Eddie's chest expand in a deep breath as you move against him. But, though he tenses for a split second, he still doesn't draw back. Instead, Eddie's leg shifts, slotting between yours as he starts to move with you.

The feeling of Eddie's warm body is even more tantalizing like this, facing him. You relish the feeling of his hands on your hips, fingers resting lightly as you sway together, hips rocking in rhythm with the music. You notice the tickle of his loose shirt against your chest, your breasts brushing against the fabric through sheer satin as you dance. You listen to the song: ‘Pasa el día con él, yo soy tu gato de noche.’ You don't know what it means, but your blood is heating, belly fluttering low as Eddie presses close to you— a novel feeling through your clothes and his, out here in public rather than in the security of your bedroom. And you can feel the other people around you, bodies moving, grazing lightly against yours as the space packs in. You release a breath and wonder if it tickled the sliver of his bare chest when you feel Eddie's fingers twitch on your hips.

His voice is hoarse as he mutters against your forehead. "Can I touch you more?"

"Please," you breathe, and the word is nearly a sigh of relief as Eddie's hands drag across the satin of your dress, smoothing over the small of your back. Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you press yourself closer, breasts now tight to his chest, skin sticking together where his shirt is open. The thought strikes you suddenly that Eddie is a little sweaty— you can see his hairline is damp, and his hands feel warmer than usual, damp as they drag up silk to find the skin of your back. And the impulse strikes you suddenly: the desire to lick up the center of Eddie’s chest, to drag your tongue along the ink of his armor and taste the salt on his skin. Your pussy pulses, moth wings fluttering low as you imagine it.

As you do, inevitably, the other emotions reemerge. Trepidation. Fear. Concern for Steve's anger. Guilt over the intentionality of breaking another rule. But Eddie's hands are so tender as they rasp over your skin, and you feel so safe in his arms. And you're in the middle of this writhing crowd, cloaked in anonymity and alcohol and neon lights and sensual music. And when you press your hands to Eddie's back, dragging them up his neck until your fingers tease at the edge of his hairline— the green reemerges from your protective mound of soil, flowers quivering, moth wings fluttering with a deep and powerful yearning. One that can no longer be suppressed.

One that surges up from the bottom of you.

Your face draws back, angling up at the same moment that Eddie's tips down. And you get only a glimpse of those brown eyes burnished to deep amber, a flash of white teeth behind full pink lips as he begins to rasp, "Can I k—?"

His words are cut off as you pull him by the back of his neck into a desperate kiss.

Eddie deepens the kiss immediately, and the brush of his tongue into your open mouth is sheer blissful relief. You moan against his lips, a little pathetic mewl that makes you rush hot with embarrassment that you'd make that sound in public. But it just spurs Eddie on; his arms haul you flush against his body as his tongue dips insistently past your lips. You taste him back, lips pressing hard as bourbon and spice fill your mouth. And somewhere in the midst of this, you've stopped dancing, and so has he, though his hands are still roving over your back, grasping at you with a desperation that matches your own.

As you lick into his mouth, the little sound Eddie makes has you shuddering, goosebumps rushing over your skin despite the heat of the dance floor. Your heart is pounding, pussy throbbing in time; and it's so utterly wanton, but Eddie's leg is still between yours, so purely by instinct, your hips twitch, dragging yourself in a little jerk against the roughness of his jeans.

Flutters burst low, mixing with arousal as Eddie bends you back, hands dragging firmly down to grab your ass and press your hips against him. And that— your hips twitching, Eddie's hands on your ass— is what brings you back to yourself. You become suddenly cognizant that you're currently in public, basically dry-humping this man who is not your boyfriend on the dance floor.

The realization douses you like ice water, and you pull your mouth from Eddie's with a little gasp, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Your chest is still heaving into his, and the breath that puffs against your lips still makes you flutter, but your face is creased with hesitance now. Eddie registers the shift immediately, pulling you out of the bend, though his arms still hold you close. He's breathing hard, cheeks lightly flushed as the warm brown of his eyes meets your gaze.

"Eddie," you whisper, voice soft and regretful. "We shouldn't. Not while we're alone."

And you half–expect a bit of Eddie's black to show, for him to guard himself in a wolfish grin and joke to break the tension.

But Eddie shudders a deep breath, almost a sigh, and you see his adam's apple bob in a thick swallow. "You're right," he says quietly. "I'm sorry."

And you hate to see how those beautiful brown eyes cloud, how those full pink lips, now swollen from your kisses, turn down at the corners. Your brow tugs up as you soothe your hand softly against Eddie's cheek. "Don't be sorry," you say softly, tenderly tucking some of the short curls that brush his jaw behind his ear.

Eddie's eyes are molten as he leans in, and your lashes flutter as he kisses your cheek, lips warm as they linger there. And though it's long been there, the growth at the bottom of you, it's the first time that you truly feel it— the unfurling of your petals, the quivering of your leaves as Eddie holds you close and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

And you admit now that it's fruitless to try to convince yourself it doesn't matter how you feel about Eddie. Because you know it does. You know it.

–

You're on the beach. The sand is cold now, and the ocean is a black, churning mass, nearly indistinguishable from the night sky. The breeze is no longer balmy; instead, it chills you, cutting straight through your milk and honey satin. Arms cradle you from behind, partially shielding you from the sting as they hold you against a firm body. Your hands rest perfunctorily on the forearms encircling your waist, and your head is tipped back against the chest behind you. Citrus and sea salt lingers in your nose.

You're waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Chrissy's stilettos are loose. One of them tipped over when she dug her toes into the fine sand, and you stare at them to avoid looking at the couple beside you. You feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he breathes behind you. You feel the warmth from his body along the length of your spine.

You feel the tilt of your green as it strives, reaching, searching for smoke and ink.

Your eyes are drawn to the sky with the first whistle and pop. Big and small, circular and narrow, red, pink, and orange arches— colors burst against the darkness in a rain of sparks that fizzle toward the water. It's enchanting, a stunning display of corporeal magic.

You're no longer watching it.

Instead, your eyes are fixed on black and white.

Chrissy's arms are around his waist, clinging to him tightly, her back turned to you as she rests her cheek against his chest. Eddie's chin is on top of Chrissy's head, and his eyes are turned up to the sky. You can see the reflection of the fireworks in Eddie's eyes, and this is how you watch the show.

You can't help but notice that Eddie looks pensive. Melancholy, almost, as he watches the magic show. You think of his fingers squeezing yours gently, deliberately, as you listened to that song, walking together along the beach. You think of the tightness in his jaw when he told you Steve should have stayed with you at the club. You think of the dullness in his brown eyes when he apologized for kissing you, for breaking the first rule.

A flick and Eddie's dark eyes no longer reflect the colors in the sky. Instead, they're caught on yours, staring back as you watch him. And when you see it— the intensity of his gaze, the same intensity that your eyes had darted from earlier— you no longer look away.

The light show ends. A smooth voice behind your head asks, "Do you guys wanna head back to the hotel now?"

You are the first to speak. "Yes."

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #chrissy cunningham

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lokisprettygirl · 10 months

Text

Under his influence (Post Avengers! Loki x female reader)

Read chapter 24 here //Series Masterlist

Chapter 25

Summary : Your lives turns upside down again when it's revealed why you were never supposed to meet Loki in this timeline.

Warning: 18+, HUGE Canon divergence(Just me making shit up) This is a long chapter, 6k words, Gets very sad, mention of stalking, mention of psychological torture, angst, insecurities, ptsd, self deprecating behaviour, panic attack, soft precious bean loki,

"Carbon monoxide poisoning symptoms" you typed the term in your phone to see if hallucinations were one of the symptoms but it wasn't the case. "Schizophrenia symptoms" as you mumbled in your mouth you heard Stephen- no wait, a weird looking Stephen in a costume clearing his throat so you looked at him. He wasn't real, the other Loki wasn't real either, none of this was happening and you were just sick or something.

"You are a neurosurgeon right? Hallucinations are the symptom of Schizophrenia huh?" You asked him so he rolled his eyes, you were sitting on the sofa while those two were standing in front of the tv.

"I cannot believe this, why is she annoying in every fucking universe? Every bloody timeline she's the same" you gasped as Stephen said that.

"Mind your language that is my wife you are addressing such audaciously"

"This one is not your wife, and I'm talking about my ex wife"

"Ex for a reason, you will show her respect from this moment onwards you hear me?" Other Loki raised his voice so weird as fuck Strange groaned and then they both looked at you, you had called Loki, your Loki, but his number was unavailable, you sent him a message and you were hoping he'd be there as soon as possible.

"Did you say wife?" You asked Other Loki so he sighed.

"Well.." he walked towards you so you crouched against the sofa and that immediately made him halt in his step.

"Don't be afraid my dear, I will never hurt you" his brows furrowed and the gesture immediately made you feel calm but then you started to cry because you felt absolutely crazy. What was all of this about? What was happening?

"Please don't cry, i know I am.." he sighed and took a deep breath so you looked at him "I am not the Loki you love, and my y/n she is ..at home waiting for me and I need to return to her as soon as I can, she worries so much" his voice sounded sincere, he seemed just like your Loki but how was that even possible? His y/n? Who was she?

"I just feel that I'm going crazy, what is happening?" You sniffled again so he sat down on the sofa but he was careful to maintain a respectable distance.

"You are not crazy, I know this seems as if you're losing your mind but trust me y/n this is all real" he said softly

"Who are you guys?" You glared at both of them.

"I am Loki, this is Doctor Stephen Strange, we came here from another timeline for a crucial discussion" he told you so you tried to process his words. Loki wasn't wrong, those dreams weren't just dreams afterall.

"Another timeline?" Your eyes widened at the revelation,

"Yes, there are multiple universes y/n" you rubbed your head with your forefingers as you tried to process what did this even mean for you and Loki? Why were they here?

"You said you are here for a discussion? What discussion? And why on earth he's dressed that way?" Stephen rolled his eyes as you glared at him again.

"Where is your Loki?" Stephen asked you

"He's on a mission"

"Mission?" Other Loki questioned, his voice sounded curious,

"He's an Avenger "

Other Loki chuckled as you said that.

"They really did make me an Avenger?" you nodded and you noticed his eyes softening.

"Are you guys from other universe or something, Loki said something about other realities and i didn't believe him" you mumbled nervously.

"Yes, actually no, but it is an exceptionally complicated matter"

When Loki found your message he immediately asked Thor to drop him to your apartment. You ran into his arms as soon as he came, but unlike you he didn't seem as shocked with their presence. At first he thought they were Thano's mules but when they revealed the same thing they told you he had an inkling, he knew those dreams were not just coincidences.

"What is happening lo?" He kissed your forehead and hugged you again as you asked him that.

"I don't know darling but let us find that alright?" You nodded as he said that.

He looked at his own reflection as his eyes met with Other Loki.

"What happened to us?" Other Loki smiled and looked down as your Loki questioned him. He sighed and looked at Stephen before he spoke again.

"Well in my timeline we never picked the tesseract, never ended up in here like you did"

"They took me to asgard, what happened to me there?"

"I am afraid I cannot divulge any more information than that"

"Then why are you both here?" Loki asked him.

"You all are wasting my precious time"

All of you glared at Strange collectively as he said that

"Did I really marry you?" You crossed your arms as you questioned him.

"Unfortunately yes, we both made some awfully wrong decisions "

"I don't understand our first meeting was horrible..I was late, you were so rude to me"

"Not in my timeline..you were never late in my timeline, why were you late in this one? What were you doing? Do you remember?" Ofcourse you remembered, you were talking to Loki and had lost the track of time. Oh god.

Your eyes widened at the realisation.

"Ohh God I was late because I was talking to you" you looked at Loki and his eyes teared up.

"Exactly and you two weren't together at the time, hadn't even met, so you were never late for the meeting. It wasn't anything special but it wasn't a disaster either and you agreed with everything I had to say about the battle of New York and Loki" Stephen said so you looked at your Loki.

"You hated me, in our timeline when you met Strange you had no reason to defend me because you didn't even know me at the time because we hadn't even met yet" your eyes teared up as Other loki said that.

"Then you got into the accident and I had to take care of you and then you were stalked by that Ronald guy..the friendship between us grew and that led to a forced loveless marriage" Strange said and all of a sudden it made sense, you had no hope of finding true love so you must have compromised or succumbed to the pressure of your mother.

"Ofcourse it was loveless..how did you become this?" You gestured towards his attire.

"I can not tell you anything more then you need to know"

"Why are you two here then?" Loki asked them both so they looked at each other.

"To warn you of the danger that is ahead of us" Stephen said

"Thanos?" Loki asked

"No apparently as I have come to learn he will die a brutal death and his blood will be on our hands. He's no threat to us in my timeline, someone much more diabolical will emerge, much more powerful than Thanos or any other entity" Other Loki responded.

"Someone more powerful than Thanos?" Loki looked at him confused.

"Yes"

"Who is that??" You asked him

"You"

Your eyes widened as other Loki said that, at first you thought he meant you but he was looking behind you, he was looking at Loki.

"What do you mean?" You asked him.

"In this timeline you and the Avengers sure defeated the army of Thanos but it came with a huge sacrifice, they took her and she sacrificed her life for you" Stephen answered instead,

"Nooo–" Loki whispered as he took a step back so you grabbed onto his arms. He can't even imagine losing you, he had vowed to protect you.

"That is true," Other loki whispered.

"Her demise drove you to the ruins, the long pointless life felt like a curse and you knew you won't survive without her and without her by your side no one was there to bring you back from the edge of the insanity" you looked at Loki and for some reason he didn't seem surprised by the revelation.

"What did i do then?" His eyes remained firm as he asked that.

"You threw yourself into the art of dark magic and you summoned the goddess of death, she granted you a wish, she told you that she will resurrect the one person you so badly needed to be alive again but she needed several sacrifices" Other Loki said to him.

"Sacrifices?"

"In order to bring your y/n back to life she needed the souls of every variant of her that exists in every other universe out there"

Stephen said and you shook your head at the revelation. No he would never hurt you, not in any universe, that wasn't possible.

"You will kill my y/n" Other Loki's voice trembled as he spoke

"I would never do that, i would never hurt her" Loki's voice choked on his tears as he spoke,

"But you did, you killed all those other variants of her from multiple universes that exists and you got them all Loki because nobody could defeat you, not one single entity in the universe held powers that excelled or even matched yours.. every time you killed one of her variant and her Lokis who were there to defend her, their powers were absorbed within you and that only made you stronger. When Frigga our mother, tried to stop this madness you killed her first, then you killed Odin and then our brother Thor, and anyone who came in between you and your quest to resurrect your y/n, you got rid of them all with no qualms or remorse. Everytime you hurt someone you lost a fraction of your soul Loki"

"Did I find her again? Did I find my y/n?" Loki asked Other Loki and you felt his hand in yours

"Yes you did find her again but when she realised what you had done to get her back she couldn't live with that truth, she left the man she loved the most, she died for you but she came back to a monster that she knew she'll never able to love again, a monster she didn't even recognise"

"He'd never do that, he'd never hurt anyone like that..he'd not kill innocent people just to get me back " you defended him because you couldn't believe your Loki was capable of such monstrosity.

"I will" you looked at him shocked as he said that "I have known madness y/n and i have lived it, you're the only one to bring a semblance of normalcy in my life, losing you would kill me and I am afraid I'll die the day you will"

"Nooo loki..no" you hugged him tightly and he wrapped his arms around yours. The Other Loki stepped closer to you both, it was strange for him to be able to see his other self this way.

He really did love you madly in every universe.

"Is there a way to prevent her death?" Your Loki asked Doctor Strange. You both just wanted to get things back to how they were. You just wanted to love him and be loved by him. Why had your life turned upside down again?

"No, your presence is an anomaly Loki, that is why I am here, you weren't supposed to exist, your future self is standing right in front of you" Loki looked at his Other self and the other one nodded..

"That's how it was meant to happen but by choosing to pick the tesseract you have caused a diversion in the timeline, this other Loki is you, he's not from other universe, he's from your earth, he is you Loki" You looked at them shocked as Stephen revealed that. The Other Loki wasn't from other universe he was the Loki you had seen in your dreams once.

"So what does that mean? Are you telling me the lives we have been living here, none of this was ever meant to exist?" You asked Stephen, your heartbeat sped at the thought of having this life being taken away from you.

"None of this was meant to happen, it's a diversion that will cause the multiversal war and you know who is going to impose that war? You. This version of you, saddened by the unbearable grief you will lose your way again Loki, there will be no redemption this time"

"Go away, both of you, this discussion is over" Loki glared at both of them so the Other Loki walked towards you.

"Y/n i know it's going to be difficult but we will be together someday, i already have you in the future but for us to live together forever this timeline will have to be erased"

"Nooo you're not my Loki..he is"

"I am..we are the same darling" your eyes teared up as he said that.

"What does this even mean for us?" Loki asked Stephen.

"There's a ritual to fix the timeline, Loki will have to return to Asgard the way it was intended for him"

"No no noooo" you collapsed on your knees as strange said that so your loki immediately went down on his knees and hugged you tightly. This life felt too good to be true, now you knew why. It wasn't even real, it wasn't supposed to happen. Just when you had begun to love the life you were given, it was going to be taken away from you.

"There must be another way" Loki said, his eyes brimming with hope that you knew will never come.

"No there's not Loki, there's no other way" Stephen answered

"This is our life now and I'm not willing to throw it away and why should I even believe you, maybe you both are just lying to us for your own selfish gains"

Other Loki sighed as Loki said that.

"Frustrating isn't it?" Stephen scoffed at Loki's stubbornness.

"What about the past, we met at the fair, where are those two?" You asked them

"That never happened y/n because you were always destined to meet me at that party..the meeting at the fair was never supposed to happen and this few months that you have spent with each other were definitely never meant for us, it's merely a diversion"

"But I can't let go, so many memories and we love each other so much" you cried out and Loki was barely holding onto his own tears.

"We do and we will love each other more than anything" Other Loki said but you clutched onto yours as tightly as you could.

You cried, he cried and it never seemed to cease, you weren't ready to let go of this life, you weren't ready to accept that this was never meant to be yours. You knew you both had to make a decision, a cruel decision, a huge sacrifice just so your other selves will be safe from your Loki but you didn't think you'd ever be ready to let go of the love you have shared with him in the past few months. When the headache set in and the tears stopped coming you got up and went to the kitchen to make tea for everyone.

"So will we really get married in the future?" You asked the Other loki as he had followed you in the kitchen but you had your eyes on your own sweet baby who was discussing something with Stephen Strange. He wanted to know everything before the ritual tomorrow.

"In six months of meeting each other" your eyes flickered as he said that.

"How did that happen, in our timeline we have broken up twice already"

"Hmmm that must have been heartbreaking darling" you looked at him as he used the petname.

"It was"

"Well i can not tell you what will happen to us in the future, though the ritual will erase everything that has happened in this timeline, it's still a risk to divulge that information"

"You have no idea how hard it is..look at him, you have no idea how cruel it is for you two to ask us to give this all up" you but on your cheek to stop yourself from crying again but just the thought of what you two had to do was enough to break you.

"I do, i absolutely understand what you are going through, you want to know why?" He asked you as you wiped your tears.

"Because I'm giving up my memories too, it won't happen the same way that it did before, maybe things will change, I'm risking it all for us because I cannot sit idly by and wait for our eternal doom, I can't lose you forever, this way at least there will always be hope for us and deep down i know that i will find you sweet y/n, I will always find you, we will find each other i promise"

Your eyes teared up as he said that.

He was your loki. He was the same man you were in love with, just a few years older and perhaps wiser.

"Ummm am I the same as your y/n ?"

"Mmm yes but mine is very naughty"

"You have no idea how naughty I am"

"Trust me I do" you smiled as he said that. He grabbed the two tea cups as you both stepped out of the kitchenette.

"Does Frigga hates me in the future as well?" You asked the Other Loki and Loki looked at his other self as well for an answer. His eyes were teary and you didn't understand why.

"She never hated you y/n, she just knew the reality of your existence, she just wanted to seperate you both for the greater good" Stephen answered you.

"Ohhhh"

"How's the relationship between us and Thor?" Loki questioned his other self.

"It's not the worst"

"So that's it, you'll do some magic stuff and both of us will go back to our shitty lives where we didn't know each other?" You scoffed and crossed your arms together as you glared at Stephen.

"It does seem horrifying when you put it that way"

"I need to know more about the multiverse" Loki asked Stephen.

"Nothing to know really, there are multiple universes that is similar to ours"

"So in every universe there's a Loki and y/n?" You asked Stephen and Other loki answered instead.

"Yes, in one of them we meet at a grocery store" you smiled as he said that "That is cute"

"And in another one, we trick her into releasing us from a cell in the Avengers towers" Other Loki smiled as he said that.

"Ahhh y/n you are definitely lucky you're not living that version of yourself" Stephen said and it made you curious.

"Why?"

"Just count your blessings.. that's it, she has literally been through hell on earth"

"What else is out there, what versions of us?" Loki asked Stephen.

"Well there are several yous out there, you're a wrestler, a doctor, a bodyguard even-infact that is one of the few rare versions of you that is a mortal, in one universe you actually get cursed by a witch and go on doing some Phantom of the Opera shit, and oh in several of your realities you are pretty much yourself, the God Loki as you were destined to be" Stephen chuckled as he revealed the information. How was he sane after having so much of information in his head?

"But we find her everywhere, in every universe we find a version of her that is meant for us for life"

Loki looked at you as Other Loki said that "If you are worrying that we are going to lose her then it's simply just untrue, it will take much longer to find her perhaps but once we do we will never lose her again. However that will only happen if this timeline is reversed to the day when you had picked the tesseract because this life that you are living right now is going to end every one of us in every other universe" Loki nodded as Other Loki said that.

"We need some time to think" you told them so they collectively sighed again. Maybe you'll wake up tomorrow and all of this would be nothing but a nightmare, you hoped for that because you couldn't imagine a life where he never ended up in your apartment that day, you couldn't imagine not having him live with you for those two months, you couldn't bear the thought of losing your friendship that had brewed so delicately in those times.

You couldn't imagine not falling in love with him the way you did.

You also couldn't imagine losing Thor's brotherly care or Jane's friendship, you couldn't bear the thought of losing your mother's affection again or marrying Strange, that was the worst of all.

As they left, Loki picked you up and laid you down on the bed then he snuggled into you as he usually did, your fingers caressed his scalp softly and then you heard him crying, that made you cry even harder.

"Loki what are we going to do..I don't want to let go of our life here"

He cupped your cheeks and got on top of you as you said that, you felt his lips on yours as he kissed you tenderly.

"Neither do I darling but I can't live without you either and knowing that someday I will lose you to death in this life and will go on a killing rampage is something to think about isn't it?" He laid down next to you so you wrapped your arms around him.

You wanted to tell him to move on, to find someone else but then you put yourself in his shoes and realised how hard it was, just a few months and it was unbearable to stay away from him so you couldn't imagine his plight when you'd leave him after years of togetherness. He'd go insane and you won't be there to bring him back to you.

"Do you think ..do you think those other Lokis and me in different universes, do you think they love each other as much as we do?" He smiled as you said that.

"Perhaps they do, if they're anything like us, they must be madly in love with each other and I will take it away, i will ruin their paradise, I will become the monster that has always been there in me" his eyes welled up again so you kissed him again.

"You're not a monster Loki and you could never be, you're the noblest man there ever was or will be, no other man would have agreed to fix this the way you did, you deserved to be selfish this time but I know you'd never want to hurt anyone like that" he pulled you into his arms as you said that, his sweet princess always believed in him, no wonder he went crazy in this timeline and crossed all the limits just to have you back.

"Can't we just prevent me from dying here?" You asked him as you caressed his cheek with your fingers.

"If the sorcerer supreme believes that it is impossible to prevent your death then I'm inclined to believe him"

"Why?"

"He's the sole protector of time stone darling, he sees it all, every outcome, every possibility, every reality"

You both knew you had to do this, you knew this was the right thing to do but losing these memories with him was killing you, more so as you knew you won't even get a chance to grieve the loss. Because you won't even remember this time, this life will be erased in a flash as if it never existed, but you had to do this now, the longer you halt the process the more painful it will get.

You spend the night making love to him because you didn't want to waste a second of your time with him even though the time itself made no sense to you anymore, you were living a life not meant or written for you.

"Hey mom" you smiled as you called her the next morning, you had already been to the tower to meet Jane and Thor, their realities will change too. You never even thought about that but at least they won't even know or suffer the way you both were suffering and your gut told you that they will find each other as well.

"I just wanted to tell you that I love you and that I'll be okay" you mumbled but your voice choked up.

"Y/n what's going on" you noticed the worry in her voice.

"Nothing I just miss you"

"Well I'm seeing you next month" your eyes teared up more as she said that.

"Yeah.. okay mom i have to go now I'll talk to you later" when you hung up you both went to see Mrs Geller, you didn't say anything but just hugged her as tightly as you could before you came back to the apartment again and you both sat down on the couch. You had the knife he had gifted you as well as the blanket.

"I just realised that you gave me such nice gifts but i never gave you anything" you mumbled softly so he smiled,

"My princess you have given me everything..you don't even know what you have done for me" you hugged him tightly as he said that and then you cried some more.

When Strange arrived, this time Loki wasn't with him, you figured he was spending his last moments with the future you before his reality will shift again.

"Just remember, both of you will be sent to right where you were that day when Loki had picked the tesseract, there's 99.99 percent chance that none of you will remember this" you and Loki looked at each other as he said that.

"So there's a 0.1 percent chance that we will?" He asked Stephen. You knew you weren't that lucky, if you were actually that lucky none of this would have been happening in the first place.

"Even if somehow that does happen, just don't say anything to anyone" Strange warned you both.

"What will happen if we do?" You asked him.

"You can not tell anyone about this, just remember that"

"So whatever decisions we make in that timeline will be our future, am i correct? There will be no more diversions right" you said

"Yes, now don't say anything during the ritual, i wouldn't want to lose my concentration" Stephen told you so you scoffed.

"Are you an asshole in every universe?

He didn't respond but rolled his eyes instead. You kissed Loki one more time before Strange commenced the ritual and all the memories you had made with him came to the surface of your mind.

"What I'm saying is that our paths were meant to collide, perhaps you were born to become mine someday precious y/n"

"You are my only woman my darling, you're my best friend and you're the only person I see whenever I close my eyes and envision the future that is ahead of us, my only fear is that you will not be there with me and I would go to any length to prevent that from happening"

"I love you and just so you know, nothing will ever ruin our friendship, you will always be my best friend in the whole nine realms and I be yours"

"Godd i would die for you…I love you so much"

"And i will kill for you my princess"

You squeezed his hands tightly as your eyes welled up, you could just feel the memories slipping by you more and more.

"So we just, ummm, go back to being friends who kiss sometimes and do other stuff, you are going to be all mine and I..well we will be patient with each other as we figure out how we are going to deal with these problems that we have and we won't leave each other no matter what happens okay?"

"I love you Princess, I have never nor will I ever love again so deeply the way I love you"

"I can't stop obsessing over the moments we have spent with each other, I can't stop thinking that I'd never get to kiss you again and I haven't slept in a month because all I think of as soon as I hit the bed is you. I stay awake all night just wishing for you to hold me again"

"Ten years from now I don't want to look back at my life and regret losing a precious person like you, ten years down the line I still want to have you by my side"

"I want to run to you and touch you whenever I want. I want to see you smile and hear your laughter, watch you dance and kiss you until our souls are intertwined with each other. I want to snuggle with you after making love to you but I can't do any of those things if you are not even here. If you're dead because of me. I'd never ever move on from that, just the mere thought of living in a world where I can't find you and look at your precious face terrifies me to my very being"

"I love you lo, I know I do, for once in my life i know that I am in love and i love you.. so much and it scares me because I don't think I'll ever be able to fall in love again with someone who is not you, I always dreamt of a man like you and I found you, it's nothing less than a miracle for me"

"Perhaps i was searching for the heat myself, all I had to do was find you..right place at the right time"

"My love, no matter where in the world we are, eventually we will cross each other's path in one way or another and we will do so when our timing is aligned perfectly, a moment so absolute where we would be eager and desperate to fall so deeply in love with each other..just like this, you were made for me darling and I'll find you anywhere, anytime..i promise "

"I love being your friend"

"Okay..ummm so..we can be friends who kiss sometimes and they cuddle"

"And friends who don't see other people"

"If you ever find yourself trapped by the twisted paths of uncertainties, remember that you can always cut through and make a new one"

"Maybe my perception of love has been skewed because of those romantic movies but I have never felt that intense type of love in my life..like ever. Never felt the chemistry..that bubbling scorching heat

"Any man would be fortunate to have a woman like you, but you do not deserve just any other man..you deserve the noblest of them all.. perhaps the reason you haven't found one yet "

"You're very kind my lady, thank you, i won't disappoint you i promise"

"Wash your hair..you look like a pine tree"

You felt a sharp pain in your head and everything spinned around you both.

"Okay come soon, I love you pretty boy"

See you soon my beloved..never forget that I love you"

..........................

"Y/n? Y/n? Are you listening" your mom raised her voice so you placed your hand on the door in order to brace yourself. You felt dizzy. You felt nauseous and sick. You had just came back from work, you stared at your apartment door for a minute before you stepped inside.

"Yes mom I'm here" your apartment was empty, too empty.

"God that Asgardian terrorist Loki is shameless, he got no remorse, he's refusing to leave our planet" She rambled on so you hummed in response.

"Mom I just got home..I'll talk to you later okay? I am hungry so I'm going to eat" You looked at yourself in the mirror, you had a white shirt on with a blue jeans. You immediately walked towards the tv, turned it on and then you put the news channel on,

"Breaking news, The war criminal responsible for the battle of New York, the Asgardian terrorist Loki has apparently refused to return to Asgard along with his brother" The screen changed and you saw the media hoarding outside the Avengers tower. And then you saw him begging Thor to not take him back, Thor definitely seemed confused by the sudden change in his behavior, as Loki charged towards the people in the media, they all took a step back in fear.

"Please don't be afraid..I am not going to hurt anyone" the fear in his own voice made your eyes tear up.

"What the hell is wrong with you brother?" Thor grabbed Loki by the arm and you noticed tears in his eyes.

"I need to stay…i need to stay here" he mumbled over and over again, men in black suits then came forward to take him inside but he looked at all the cameras he could spot before they can drag him away.

"I remember, i remember, I need to stay please, i remember, i remember everything"

You took a few steps behind you until you hit the sofa and then you sat down.You let out a huge cry as you realised what that meant. The crying was bittersweet because you had spent the day feeling sicker then ever.

He remembered. And you felt lucky because you sure as hell remembered him.

😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶😶

Note : Pheeww this is the most difficulty I have ever had while writing a chapter. Their story is not finished yet though 👀😏💚

Also little easter eggs for the people who have read my other stories 🥹

@annoyingsweetsstranger @mcufan72 @nixymarvelkins @stupidthoughtsinwriting @fictive-sl0th @eleniblue @violethaze @anukulee @ladymischief11 @12-pm-510 @wolfsmom1 @whylokiissocute @pics-and-fanfics @daddylokisqueen @olivertwistrabbit @blog-the-lilly @prettylittlepluviophile @vanilla-daydreaming @somewiseguy @yaaamadaa-blog @dragonmurray @elthreetimes @gruftiela @thenotoriouserg @greep215 @yallgotkik @obscureenigmatic @janineb86 @sflame15-blog @nyxlaufeyson @lokidokieokie @purplekitten30 @sunnixart @nikkig496-blog @frozenhuntress67 @qardasngan @rosecentury @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @hrefna-the-raven @jennyggggrrr

#loki x female reader #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki x reader #loki x reader insert #loki x reader fic #loki x you #loki x reader angst #post avengers loki #canon divergent au #soft loki

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

Text

ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

Stephen Strange x Surgeon!Reader

summary: YN had been struggling with a cold for as long as she could remember – well, for a week. But being her restless and (kinda) workaholic self, this minor cold morphed into something that benched her definitively. And who could be a better caretaker than her loving boyfriend, who happens to be a doctor himself?

word count: 7.3k

warnings: a tiny bit drama, medical stuff, surgery stuff, mentions of sick people, surgery, mentions of blood, reader has pneumonia, passing out, hospital environment, Stephen kinda freaks out because he is always thinking the worst, protective!Stephen, soft!Stephen (but only for reader), slight suggestive bits, so much fluff, talk about future, short mentions of the Avengers

author’s note: I had so much fun writing this request! Finally something where I could pour my Grey’s Anatomy knowledge into :D I really hope you like the direction in which this one went @colewritess :3 I needed some angsty drama in my life, so I put that in :x

Waking up in the middle of the night was something very common in the Strange-LN household ever since the two doctors had acquired their white coats and had graduated with honors. Usually, YN was the first one to wake up to the vibration of her pager, followed by the usual soft ring of her phone because one of her interns would update her on the incoming case beforehand. Stephen would follow close behind, throwing one arm lazily over her waist at first to nuzzle his face back into the warmth of her neck - it helped him to shrug the deep slumber off his hardworking mind - before the blanket would get thrown away to relieve the world of the sadness of not seeing his toned, utterly gorgeous body.

YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend.

But this early morning, almost still the depth of the night, things were differently: Instead of hearing the tired voice of his girlfriend softly speaking into the phone and waking him up with that, so he could check his already vibrating pager too, the only sounds heard in the dark bedroom was YN's shallow breath and the never-ending sounds of both pagers and her almost barely ringing phone. Confusion settled into the doctor, even more so after he had propped himself up on one of his arms, letting the mattress dip in the process of it, and still, YN did not start to stir even slightly. But before he could process her strange behavior, he had to accept the call.

"Yes?"

He never was a fan of greetings, especially not in the face of interns - and he kind of enjoyed messing around with those tiny ducklings, barely out of their mother's homes, who still had to learn a lot. Even now, Stephen could almost grab the perplexity radiating through his girlfriend's phone at the sound of his voice.

"Uhm... This is Doctor LN's number. You are not Doctor LN," a hesitant voice started to speak, and Stephen had to roll his eyes in amusement before they settled atop the still sleeping form of the woman he not only shared this bed with on a few occasions. "A wonder how you earned that place in Harvard, Jones," the Strange scoffed while he reached out for his bedside lamp to let the soft light invade the dark bedroom, only illuminated by the streetlights and passing cars outside the window front. Blinking against the new light source, he took a closer look at the gorgeous woman next to him, his eyebrows starting to furrow at the sight of her puffy eyes, the red nose resembling one of the stuffed Rudolphs they had seen only a week ago while doing their annual Christmas shopping, and not to mention her breathing of which he obviously wasn't a huge fan. "Hold on a second..." The seemingly simpleminded intern mumbled before he clearly put the phone a few inches away from his face to shout over the entire floor, "You were right, Macy! Doctor LN and Strange are a thing!" And then, the voice returned, louder now.

This day hadn't even begun, and Stephen wanted to strangle the first one already.

"I am sorry, sir. The coffee still has to kick in, I guess... Nevermind. There is a GSW incoming: a bullet in his brain and several in his thorax. He was stable, so we decided to do a CT. I'll send the images to Doctor LN's tablet as soon as I have them." At least Jones wasn't a total incompetent fool, so Stephen didn't have to rip his head off entirely. "Send them to mine; she will look at them on our way to the hospital. Don't let him die because your coffee addiction gets in the way of saving lives." And with that, he ended the call, and the phone landed on his pillow before Stephen slowly scooted closer to the sleeping woman, and now he finally had room for his over-boarding worries etching themselves into his mind.

Gently, his hand caressed her cheek before his flat palm made contact with her forehead to feel her temperature. Maybe slightly raised, Stephen thought before bending down and pressing whisper of kisses all over her face. Now, she seemed to wake up - scrunching her nose, twisting her lips, and the coughs started almost immediately. They were his constant companion as soon as he stepped into the apartment ever since they began to occur one and a half weeks ago, and by now, the cold should've calmed down. Instead, it seemed worse than yesterday. His idea to grab dinner on their way home wasn't probably his best idea of the week, but YN had seemed fine enough to agree.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Stephen mumbled with his lips pressed against her cheek, and YN slowly turned her head with a groan. "What time is it?" Even her voice sounded horrible. "Something around three. There is a GSW coming in, but you can stay home if you like. I'm handling it." The next cough made the man almost flinch, and he was sure he felt the aching pain in his lungs and throat as bad as YN obviously did, judging by her scrunched-up face and her hand that had settled atop her burning throat. She looked back at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Thorax?"

He nodded while her eyebrow wandered even further up. "Who is in charge this night? Forgot to check before we headed out." Stephen didn't have to think twice.

"Hamilton."

"And you want me to stay home when this imbecile of a cardiothoracic surgeon is unsupervised in my department? Your sense of humor definitely wasn't the thing I found so charming, that's for sure..."

She had already started to climb out of the comforting warmth of their shared bed, and instantly YN missed its soft embrace.

"Touché," the man scoffed while following her into the now brightly lit bathroom and watched her from the doorframe, where he leaned with his arms crossed over his chest. She seemed not doing all too well, but at least she could stand on both feet, so he talked himself into believing that everything would be just fine, even though if it meant for her standing in the OR for at least five hours. "You will drive back home after the surgery is done, do you understand me? No post-op check-up, no sneaking around me to dodge the inevitable, no rounds this morning, and no teaching lab with your little ducklings." Her, by the toothbrush muffled, Whatever was very audible for Stephen because he knew this woman better than himself. So he pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped right behind her; their eyes met through the mirror while his hands settled on top of her shoulders, where his thumbs started to massage the stiff muscles around the back of her neck. "I mean it, darling. You're not doing well, and I want you to relax and treat yourself to some hot soup and that fluffy blanket we got last week. Catch up on those shows, and I'm gonna try to get home early so I can prep you the perfect bath and cook you something nice."

He stopped for a second, but after no reaction on her behalf, Stephen bent his head to nibble at the side of her neck and found all her favorite spots before humming softly but raspy because he knew what his morning voice did to this woman. "I asked you a question, darling. Should I repeat myself for you?" Chuckling at the sight and feeling of her quick nod - the toothbrush rested pointlessly in the corner of her mouth - Stephen rested his lips just above her ear and watched her through the mirror again. "I asked," he started in his raspiest of morning voices, "if you understand me." Her deep sigh and mumbled "Okay, yes" sounded more like a tiny moan, and the doctor chuckled for another time before pressing a kiss to her temple and starting to brush his teeth as well; his arm closely wrapped around her waist and her body settling against his side, just as every morning they start together.

And just as every morning, Stephen couldn't get enough of their reflection together. Maybe he had to finally thank Christine for the hard work she had invested into playing matchmaker for them.

;

"Doctor LN!" The excited voice turned a bit hesitant as both arriving doctors turned around, and Jones had to face the embarrassment from earlier. "Doctor Strange, sir." And with that, the intern held two cups of to-go coffees in hand, stretching them out to his two supervisors. "I asked Doctor Palmer how you like your coffee, sir," he quickly spoke at the doubting look manifesting on Stephen's face, and YN rolled her still tired eyes. They stung a bit as well, as she now realized. "Deep breaths, Jones, he won't bite your head off." The man closely next to her scoffed before taking the first sip. "I wouldn't go this far as to promise things like that." YN hit him with her tablet but didn't wait for his reaction before turning her attention back to the intern while giving the labs of their GSW another once-over. She looked at Jones with a questioning expression after she had evaluated the patient's current constitution. They had worked so many hours together that she didn't even need to ask the question out loud. "Doctor Russel is preparing the anesthesia, and the team has prepped OR two, just the way you both prefer, Doctor LN, Doctor Strange."

Stephen had to raise both his eyebrows this time and had to admit that Jones wasn't a total catastrophe - he had to give him that at least.

YN nodded as they waited for the elevator to reach the operation room floor. As the doors opened to let them inside the metal coffin, as she loved to call this vicious transportation method, she gulped down the entirety of her coffee because she felt she needed every single drop of caffeine to withstand the upcoming hours of work. Her head had started to pound right after they had left the chic apartment Stephen and she called her own ever since they had finally moved together after three years of tedious dating, and it had gotten worse during the drive over here.

She hadn't told her over-worrying boyfriend a single word, of course. She would do this surgery, she would check up on some patients, and then - maybe - she would gift herself an early leave as a pre-Christmas kind of gift and get some good food on her way home. Perhaps she could start looking at those recipes she discovered while watching some stupid cooking show - which wasn't so stupid at all, seemingly.

Christmas dinner wouldn't cook itself after all, and she had promised Christine and her fiancé Marc that they could come over. Christmas was much more relaxed if there wasn't a family to celebrate it with.

But her confused thoughts, who chased themselves over the past couple of days since the first symptoms had begun, were interrupted abruptly as her throat acted up again. It started with a tingle, morphing into an annoying scratch before it would turn into a violent coughing fit. And it did, worse than ever. It got even worse after the first couple of nastily wet and deep-sounding coughs, and YN felt as if she couldn't get enough air into her overworking lungs. Her lungs constricted to relieve themselves of all the fluid which wasn't supposed to be in there, and every single breath burned like hell in her chest.

With one hand pressed against the elevator wall, the surgeon steadied herself, head buried in the crook of her arm, while cough after cough crept out of her throat and shook her entire body. Tears started to prickle in her stinging eyes, and the throbbing pain inside her skull increased tremendously within seconds.

Stephen was right at her side, one of his warm hands stroking over her entire back, up and down, while the familiar frown etched itself onto his forehead and in the space between his brows. Jones didn't know what to do, so he just stood there and hoped for a fast end of his favorite supervisor's misery. "Hey," the neurosurgeon mumbled softly as the coughing fit finally ceased, hand still rubbing over her back. "YN, listen," he began as the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a happy ding. “It’s nothing. Just a drop of coffee going in the wrong direction.” And with that, she pushed herself from the wall, fastened the grip around the tablet still in hand, and followed Jones, who himself had a worried expression on his face, but he didn't dare to say something. Especially not in front of Stephen Strange, who could end his barely started career right on this very spot. Instead, he took the personal belongings of both surgeons and nodded to the small changing room in this part of the hospital. "Your scrubs are already in there, straight from dry-cleaning. OR two will be fully prepped as soon as you're ready," he said before scurrying away.

Stephen watched his girlfriend with eagle eyes as he followed her into the changing room, and while she had already slipped out of her coat, he pushed the door close and just stood there. His eyes moved over her pale face - even more so than usual - and he noticed the constant frown engraved in her beautiful but tired-looking face. He even realized that she moved slower than normal, and everything took a tad longer. "YN...," he started again but was faced with a raised hand while she hurried to get into the dark blue scrubs.

The air condition in this part of the building was what she dreaded most since that cold had made its first appearance with a scratchy throat. Now all she wanted was to get back into that warm, thick coat she just had folded and wanted to wrap herself into the thick scarf Stephen had gotten her for Christmas two years ago, but all she got was thin blue scrubs and her comfy Nike sneakers.

"I am fine," she told him finally while popping another cough drop between her lips and starting to braid her hair. Stephen had, at last, made an effort to change as well, and YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend again. She knew that sex was off the table until she got better, so she took what she could get very willingly, even if it were only tiny bread crumbs in the form of the sight of toned abs, biceps, and back. "Yeah... Wonder why that's so hard to believe after that coughing fit you threw in that elevator," he returned almost sourly, and YN understood it. She really did because she would be just as on edge as he was if it was Stephen who had gotten sick.

Sighing, the surgeon tied the end of her braid together before starting to secure it with bobby pins around her head. Stephen sighed as well and came over to her after lacing his sneakers and helped her just like every time they had the pleasure to operate together. He didn't say a single word, and YN let him sulk in silence for the time being. The Strange would soon open his mouth again because he wasn't the sulking-in-silent type of guy, and she was very thankful for this trade of his. How she hated to guess what wrong was and why the guy felt insulted. Stephen was surprisingly easy.

The entire world would question her sanity if they would ever hear her saying that out loud.

Upon entering the scrubbing area, she tied his recently preferred cap - she had gotten him that for his birthday because this man owned way too many ties - before he did the same for her. He pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder after his long and fast-working fingers were done and took the sink next to hers, where YN already had started to scrub in after putting on the face mask.

Stephen soon broke the silence, and again, she had been right: this man wasn't able to sulk on his own for long.

"As soon as your part is done, I want you to get an x-ray. I don't like the sound of that cough. You're happy that I don't have my stethoscope with me, otherwise, you wouldn't scrub in right now because I would hear something I really don't wanna hear, and I would send you straight up to Chamberlain." At the mention of the one cardiothoracic surgeon Stephen trusted most of the time, YN scrunched up her face. "I told you before, and I will tell you again, that I am fine. It's a nasty cold, nothing more. You're over-exaggerating." He stopped in the middle of scrubbing, head jerking in her direction. At this moment, she was glad that she only was able to see his eyes and the play of his eyebrows, but it was still as bad as she had anticipated. "Excuse me for worrying about my workaholic girlfriend who seemingly doesn't possess any kind of sense of self-preservation." Her eyes widened at that, and after rinsing off the soap residue on her arms, she threw the used bar of soap into the metal sink and turned to Stephen, arms raised so she wouldn't touch anything in the not sterile environment. "Look who's talking about lacking a sense of self-preservation. Do I have to remind you of that little episode of yours standing in a thirteen-hour surgery with a broken ankle? You're a fucking hypocrite, Stephen, and I am a grown woman who knows her boundaries very well, thank you very fucking much."

And with that, she passed him and entered the operation room, where the patient was already put under, and two of the residents prepared the last few instruments to their surgeon's liking. She instantly regretted every single word she had spoken out loud back in the scrubbing room and wanted to run back to apologize profusely, but she knew that she had to stand her point, even though it hurt her heart.

One of the nurses held open the light blue gown, and YN entered arms first before pushing her hands into the open-held gloves, sighing softly. Those steps were always almost meditative for her and her mind, always putting her at ease, no matter how severe the case was.

The OR was her safe place when other places weren't available - just like now because the safe place that Stephen represented wasn't available, not until the steam wore off and their sights weren't as red-tinted as they were now. Sometimes it was hard to love a person that was so similar to oneself, but YN had chosen, and she never regretted choosing Stephen as her partner in every moment that life offered her.

Stepping at the operating table, YN nodded in everyone's direction to greet them, and she pushed every thought about their little fight out of her mind. "Good morning, everybody. Long time no see, June." The OR nurse chuckled. "I thought we would get at least a day and a half before being back in here together." YN grinned behind her mask and softly shrugged. "Hope you had a good coffee because judging by those scans, we will be here for quite some time. Is your son at daycare? Do you need to go and call someone to pick him up later?"

Stephen had entered quietly - he preferred it that way, unlike his girlfriend - but watched her closely because it always left him speechless what a welcoming and open-hearted nature this woman had who had chosen to live with him. He still asked himself why she had decided that he was the one person worthy enough of her love and attention.

"He is upstairs at the emergency daycare, no worries, Doctor LN. We prepared a bottle of water for you, by the way. Doctor Jones said you could use a sip here and there." Nodding her head, YN stepped closer and opened her gloved hand. "Thanks, June. Ten blade, please."

Stephen had already started with the incision and worked through the brain's tissue while always having an eye on the cardiothoracic surgeon just a few feet further down to him.

;

Dabbing with a clean towel over the recently repaired aorta, YN slowly nodded, satisfied with her work. No one would suspect this artery was a shredded mess three hours ago. "Okay... Those stitches look good. Suction." The resident, Doctor Peterson, moved the tube slowly through the chest cavity. "Over here?" His question was unanswered for an unusual amount of time, so he looked up to see his supervisor's face. "Doctor LN?" Blinking, YN raised her head and watched Peterson before turning her attention back to the open chest in front of her. Her brain had difficulties following everything after standing for six hours straight. "Yes... Yes, sorry. Right over there."

Stephen had stopped working as the question arose and yet again watched the woman with eagle eyes.

She turned her head to cough softly into her mask while pressing her face against the sterile OR gown at her shoulder. Clearing her throat, YN nodded as one of the not scrubbed-in nurses raised the half-emptied water bottle and waited until one took off the light of her head, pulled down the mask, and finally put the straw right in front of her lips. YN's team was the best a surgeon could find, she was sure of that. "Thanks, Helen," she mumbled after everything was back at its place, and she stepped back at the table.

"What's happening next?" She asked Peterson now, her voice scratchier than ever, and her lungs started to protest again. Taking a deep breath - well, as deep as it was possible with a lower lung capacity - YN tried to shake off that strange feeling as if her head was wrapped in cotton and as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs and much-needed oxygen into her bloodstream. "We will follow the aorta up to the left ventricle, check the three branches - brachiocephalic artery, left common carotid artery, and the left subclavian artery - before taking him off the cardiopulmonary bypa-... Doctor YN? Are you alright?"

She barely could understand his words, but the sound of the scalpel hitting the ground next to her right foot was all-consuming. YN didn't even realize that it had fallen out of her strangely numb fingers at which she stared now, unmoving. Everything seemed so far gone in front of her eyes, especially as the room started to spin around her.

"YN? YN, talk to me. What is wrong?"

Stephen. His voice was as calm as ever, but she couldn't push herself to move her head and look into his handsome face. Everything was spinning too much.

"I... I don't feel so well..."

It was barely a whisper, and if the operation room weren't deadly silent, except for the monitors and the oxygenator, no one would've understood it. But Stephen's mind switched focus between the open brain in front of him and his girlfriend only two feet away. The constant switch was as smooth as it had always been, even though his brain screamed to stop working and to rush over to her. But he couldn't let go, not with the DeBakey forceps in this man's brain and near the last splinter of the broken bullet. Instead, his hand didn't move a single inch while he raised his gaze to stare over at YN.

"Keep on talking, darling. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

He needed to keep her conscious, and it always helped when he was calm and asked her questions she could easily answer. Just as he would do during one of her anxiety or panic attacks. He could see her blinking slowly, almost in slow-motion while her brain tried to keep up with his words, even though it would love to just blink out.

"Chest's hurting. My head... Everything's spinning. I... Stephen..."

And with that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed onto the sterile floor. He could hear instruments clattering on the floor, and Stephen didn't want to think about the possibility that her head had hit the instrument's tray.

"YN?!"

"Doctor LN!"

"Oh gosh, Doctor LN?"

"Get her some oxygen, god damn it!"

Suddenly, pure chaos dominated the operation room, and Stephen worked as fast as he could while shouting questions.

"Could somebody talk to me?!" He needed to know if she was okay. "Somebody needs to say something, or this entire room gets fired!" Stephen didn't care if he sounded like a maniac. "85/50. It's a wonder she held up for this long. Open wound at her right forehead, probably needs stitching. Doctor LN? YN, can you hear me?" The sound of snapping fingers was heard, but no answer. One of the nurses looked back at him, kneeing on the ground next to YN. "We'll bring her upstairs, Doctor Strange." He quickly looked up, straight into the nurse's face. "Make an x-ray of her lungs, a head CT to clear her of a concussion, and don't you dare let anyone other than Henderson stitch that. Page Doctor Palmer, she will see through with everything. And someone needs to page Chamberlain; we still have an open chest here." Shuffling was heard before the anesthesiologist spoke up right next to him. "Hamilton is on duty, sir," he reminded the neurosurgeon, but Stephen scoffed while slowly grabbing the bullet with the forceps. "I don't care if that accident of a surgeon is the fucking president of the United States. Get. Me. Chamberlain." YN would decapitate him with her bare hands if she learned about the fact that Hamilton had ruined hours of her hard, perfect work.

And with that, he returned to his job, mind still a bit out of tune with an unconscious YN being put on a gurney and pushed out of the room only several feet away from him.

He had never felt more helpless in his life.

Do your job, and you can look after her. Do your job, and you can sit next to her and wait for her to wake up. Everything will be okay, Stephen. Stop spiraling.

;

The familiar sounds of the hospital surrounded him, but Stephen almost didn't hear them, not since he had gotten the x-ray scans of YN's lungs and the CT of her head. His eyes were practically glued to the tablet screen in his hands, forearms resting on his knees and supporting the weight of his upper body. He couldn't sit straight anymore, nor could he stand, not since they had been left alone in the room YN now occupied in the cardiothoracic unit.

It had taken a long time until he got some peace and quietness minus the beeping sounds of the machines hooked up to his girlfriend because she always had been admired and loved by her colleagues. Everyone had wanted to come by and leave little cards full of Get well soon. If flowers were allowed, the room would probably be filled with them by now.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Stephen scanned the images of the CT another time - he had stopped counting an hour ago - and as all the times before that, he stared at the mild concussion caused by the metal table full of surgical instruments and the hit on the floor right after that. He had scheduled a second CT in about an hour because he had to be sure there wasn't any bleeding, as minor as it could be. He couldn't allow himself to miss it - it would not only end her career, but it could steal the love of his life right from under his eyes in the worst case.

And Stephen always measured in worst-case scenarios if it involved his girlfriend.

A nurse entered the room silently to replace the drip of antibiotics her body would've needed days ago, but better late than never, he guessed. He didn't acknowledge his presence at all - he wasn't in the mood for small talk or reassurances - so he left after checking his supervisor's vitals, and they were alone again.

Typing on the glass screen, the neurosurgeon made sure that the second head CT was indeed booked, even thinking about changing it to a CT with contrast indication, but Christine would probably kill him if she saw how he spiraled and put the tablet on the bedside table. Everything will be alright, he told himself, his hands rubbing over his face and through his now messy hair.

He just had rested his face in the palm of his hands as the sound of movements under the blanket pushed Stephen to look up again. A hoarse groan followed close, and instantly, the man raised from the chair and sat on the edge of the comfortable bed. His eyes took her face in, scanned it for any indication of a stroke everyone had missed out on, and gently held the hand who wasn't hooked up to the drip and heart monitor. Finally, YN's eyes opened slowly, and she blinked; another groan escaped her at the blinding light.

"YN," Stephen almost whispered and scooted a bit closer. A soft but questioning "Hm" was all he got for now, and his heart started to race in his chest; every stimulant responsible for the emotions of fear and panic distributed into his bloodstream, and his usually barely rising anxiety had its peak season with all the adrenaline rushing through is body. He couldn't think straight when it came to her. Never. So he started to caress her face with the tips of his fingers - starting right above her brow, down over her temples, and over her cheeks because he knew that it almost always tickled her, and she would scrunch up her nose. She did exactly that, but only barely noticeable. "YN, I need you to focus, darling. Can you squeeze my hands?" Stephen already held both her hands, and she squeezed them; softly at first, but with every passing second, her grip became tighter. "Okay. Good job, love. Can you feel this?" Stephen's hand had slipped under the blanket to stroke his fingertips over the soles of her feet, and her toes wiggled at the ticklish feeling.

A cough shook her body again before YN could open her mouth. "Could you please stop tickling a barely awake woman? That's socially considered as rude as fuck," her hoarse voice whispered, and Stephen instantly took her hand between his and pressed it against his still rapidly beating heart. "YN." Seemingly, his brain had lost its capacity because Stephen could only mumble her name. Relief rushed through him and counterattacked the adrenaline.

The woman opened her eyes, blinking, to look up at him. "Yeah, s'still my name." Her head throbbed, and she didn't want to know what had happened after her brain had decided to quit his job entirely. "Stop freaking out, Stephen, I'm alright." She tenderly squeezed one of his hands and had to sneeze as she realized the feeling of oxygen tickling the insides of her nose. "Y'all really went all out on me." Amusement was evident in her small voice, but Stephen couldn't laugh about it - and probably would never do.

"You scared the hell out of me, YNN."

Suddenly, she turned serious and beckoned him closer. The tired man obliged but wasn't prepared for her pulling his head onto her chest, but he didn't mind. It had always been his most favorite spot in the world. He felt safe. And cherished. And loved. YN's fingers carded through his hair, which just started to turn grey at his temples, but differently to him, she didn't want him to dye it, so he didn't get the at-home dye while getting the groceries last week.

It was strange what he would do for this woman. But at the same time, it wasn't, especially with the thought about that black velvety box hidden in his locker lingering in the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered into his soft strands and kissed his head. "Wasn't my intention, really. Thought I'd be strong enough. Strong enough for my patient and strong enough for you." Now, he had to prop himself up on his arm to stare incredulously at the woman he loved more than anything. "I am sorry, but what?" YN shrugged and felt pitiful. "Y'know, you're this incredible man and surgeon, always perfect, always giving his entire being for his patients, and I need to keep up with that, so you won't leave me because you'd find a better, more perfect woman, and-..." He interrupted her nonsense by starting to pepper kisses over her face, except her lips. They didn't need another pneumonia in just a week or two. "Wherever those thoughts came from, you can send them back there, darling. Okay?" Slowly, YN nodded and closed her eyes with a sigh as Stephen pressed a lingering kiss to her still warm forehead.

"Can you show me the scans?"

He stayed close to her as his hand grabbed the tablet and opened her file. Stephen watched her as her eyes darted over every lab they had run, every x-ray image (which looked even worse than she had anticipated, but she couldn't change that anymore), and at last, she scanned the CT. "There is probably a second one coming, am I right?" He shrugged while she softly laughed under her breath and let the tablet sink onto the thickest blanket this hospital owned. "How long will you keep me locked away at our place, Doctor?" The Strange was still propped up on his arms, as close to her as possible without crashing her with his weight or putting too much pressure on her already hard-working lungs, and hummed, deep in thought. "With that much fluid and inflammation in your lungs and larynx? Not to mention the concussion?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please, it's a baby concussion."

Stephen cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, so now you're the world's best neurosurgeon?"

"Don't flatter yourself." She rolled her eyes. "That title can earn anyone, even you." YN hit his shoulder playfully, and a small grin tucked at her lips. An unbelieving but humored "Hmpf" escaped the surgeon before he turned serious again. "Back to the topic at hand. Until you're discharged, you will do whatever the staff is saying. You won't discharge yourself or medicate yourself." YN had already opened her mouth to say something, but Stephen only had to shake his head in one direction, and she closed it again. "Don't try to talk me out of it because I know you, YN LN." Now it was her turn to "Hmpf" in annoyance. "Anyway. After you're discharged, you will stay at home, catch up on all of your movies and shows, bake to your heart's desire, and recover. I don't have to tell you what pneumonia does to your lungs in the long run. You will have to strengthen them again, and that's exactly what you're gonna do, darling. Looking after yourself and taking care of your health and body because I need you a few more years longer."

A loving smile settled upon her tired face, and YN tenderly caressed his cheek with her knuckles. "So... You won't get tired of me just yet?" Stephen chuckled before pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand. "I am not quite sure if that's even a possibility, darling," he returned and kissed her palm a second and a third time, his mind always wandering back to his locker and the box he intended to show her on Christmas Eve because it was one of her favorite days of the entire year. Now, he would have to postpone everything he had planned.

It may be a small throwback, but it would still be perfect.

A soft knock at the doorframe moved the couple to look over and see a smiling Christine standing there. "Sleeping Beauty is awake and obviously fine, perfect. He drove me crazy in the last couple of hours." Stephen rose from his comfortable position and turned his head to his friend. "I wasn't that bad," he tried to defend himself, but now it was YN who scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, love." Then, looking at Christine, she continued: "He went all neurosurgeon-mode because I didn't jump on the bed right after the first blink. Thought my brain would be mush, and I'd be a lost cause." He never stood a chance against these two women, always calling him out and letting him face his flaws - which he never liked much.

"Whatever," he mumbled at the chuckle of his friend before turning back to the redhead. "Is the CT ready?" Christine nodded in approval, and right after that, a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room.

With the most neutral expression on her face, which looked kind of pissed, YN changed looks with both doctors.

"I'm not gonna sit in that thing."

–

She arrived at the CT in said thing.

;

She felt soft pecks of even softer lips on her face, and she woke up to that feeling. Yawning, YN blinked up, and both arms fought a way out of the fluffy blanket cocoon she had wrapped herself into to circle them around Stephen's neck.

Ever since her discharge two weeks ago, she had been a good patient, an excellent one, to be quite honest. She never overdid it, always respecting the new boundaries her still recovering lungs had set for her and always listening to the doctors. Well, more like listening to Stephen because he was the one doctor she trusted the most.

"You're early again," the woman mumbled against the skin of his neck, where her face was securely tucked away, and YN could feel his lips on her skin once again. "I told you how this would go. Do my promises mean so little to you?" Grinning, she shrugged and let him sit her up on the comfortable couch she fell asleep on while watching a random news channel.

Apparently, the Avengers were back in the city, and YN desperately hoped she didn't need to drive detours on end just because they thought it would be a great idea to stroll around town, so idiotic humans could form crowds at the glimpse of one of them.

Shaking her head, the woman pushed her fingers through his hair that had acquired a few more grey patches, which she secretly admired every day. "It's just that I know you, Stephen, and I know your workaholic tendencies are just as bad as mine." YN kissed the cold tip of his nose and accepted the cup of tea he had grabbed from the coffee table. "Did you take your meds?" She nodded proudly. "Yup. And the throbbing is finally gone without an Advil." That concussion had been a constant pain in her ass.

Stephen smiled one of his satisfied smiles and kissed her forehead while standing up again. "Well, with that out of the way..." He scooped her up into his arms, and YN squealed-laughing the entire way into the open kitchen, where the Strange sat her on top of the kitchen island. The delicious smell of her favorite food and restaurant wafted through the air, and she took a deep breath without feeling the urge to cough her lungs out. "You seriously drove through the entire city to get me Don Angie's?"

Usually, the expensive Italian restaurant located in Greenwich Village didn't do take-out, but for a selected group of people - people with the right numbers on their checks - they tend to loosen their rules. But well, this very household had a reservation minimum once a month, so they probably were already considered family.

Stephen smiled at the joy he brought into his girlfriend's eyes and started to unpack the containers full of food and dessert. "For you, darling? Always." Scooting over the marble countertop, YN grabbed Stephen's wrist to pull him between her sweatpants-clad legs - his sweatpants, to be precise - and cupped his handsome face with both hands. Her nose softly brushed against his, and Stephen sighed, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning his forehead against hers. "Can I marry you? Will you marry me?" Her question was nothing but a soft whisper, and he had to tear open his eyes to stare into her face, with that knowing smile he almost dreaded to see in such a context. "You really thought it would be a great idea to hide it here when I have almost the whole day to myself?"

He seriously didn't think about that before he took the black velvety box out of his locker because he only had thought about the practicability of it staying at their apartment. He wouldn't have to drive to the hospital to get it if he would've decided to propose to YN spontaneously. And now, he had ruined the surprise with his own hands.

Great.

Scrunching up his face, Stephen groaned and let his forehead sink back against hers as he felt both of her hands carding through his hair again, trying to soothe him. "I didn't open it if that takes something off that disappointment, love," YN whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You didn't?" He had to be sure that at least something of that surprise was still viable. Her head shake was answer enough, and he took a deep breath. "Well, it wasn't a total surprise, now, was it? I think the direction this relationship took off after we moved in together was almost painfully clear or is it just me?"

Maybe it was all in his head, and YN never had the intention to settle down with him, being the smartest couple in medicine, maybe starting a family, growing old together. Maybe it was all just his silly little idea, but never hers.

YN sighed softly at the look on his face, and she could almost feel his spiraling thoughts running havoc inside his overthinking mind. That's why she took his chin between her fingers and forced him to open his eyes again. "It's not only in your head, Stephen. It never was. We may have never talked about it in detail, but the allusion was always there. Our conversation about looking for something more... comfortable, less statement? I would have never brought up the topic of this-", she pointed from her to him, "-wouldn't be a one-way ticket for me. And it is a one-way ticket because I don't need a return ticket. Kids, pets, a life just with the two of us - I don't care as long as you're in it, Stephen Vincent Strange."

He needed to blink in order to keep those foolish tears at bay. Instead, he dove for a deep kiss, so full of love, respect, and adoration that it almost blew his mind.

"You’ll get a proper proposal, darling," he promised, lips still connected and words muffled by it, but YN understood him clear as day. "I hope so because you're the overachiever in this relationship and need to outdo Marc." Grinning at the thought of Stephen's future victorious smile, she kissed him again before squinting over to the food. "I love your kisses, but I'm hungry. Could we do dessert first? On the couch? I'd love some cuddles after five long hours without my personal doctor to fulfill every single of my needs and wishes." One last time, Stephen bent down to kiss her before opening the containers with almost every dessert on the menu and her strolling back to the couch to make space for him between all the pillows and blankets.

"I am not your butler."

But he shouted the words with a smile on his face and one thought on his mind: Life could never turn to the worst with her in it.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

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