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eddiemunsonscheckeredboxers · 1 year

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pspspsps eddie girlies, come get y'all juice

eddie munson x female!reader

summary: after dating eddie for a little while now, you're ready to amp up the intimacy a bit. since your parents are out of town, it's the perfect opportunity for eddie to come over so you can make your move.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: MDNI, 18+ only, smut, fingering, reader has female anatomy

a/n: reader is 19 yrs eddie is 20 yrs; I don't know how in love with this i am, but this is a practice in writing smut so that's ok. hope you enjoy parts of it anyway! i literally didn't know what to call this; i suck at proofreading sorry

MASTERLIST

Comfortable

The peaceful silence that fills that time of day where the late evening bleeds into the quiet calm of the night was one of your favourite simple pleasures in life. The expectation to do anything or be anyone has vanished, and you become free to give into whatever selfish cravings your tired mind needed. With your parents being away for the weekend, the freedom that tonight brought tasted more nectarous than usual. It meant that you could leave a key under one of the big rocks in the front garden. It meant that Eddie could turn that stone over to find said key. He could let himself in through the front door, wander his way up to your room, and find his favourite girl waiting for him, patiently. The romantic side of your relationship is still relatively new. You'd met a while ago through your mutual friend, Robin, and were relieved to feel a mutual adoration for each other. In the beginning, your relationship mostly consisted of deep conversations about each of your passions, whether it be while driving down back roads lit by the setting sun, at the play ground in the trailer park at dusk, or in the back of his van, doors open to Lovers Lake glistening under the cover of night. That night at the lake was the first time he kissed you. Slow and sweet; a delicate, whispered promise of love.

Since then, every late night tryst was infused with the underlying need for intimate touch. The light brush of your finger nails through his curls, the repeated pattern of his thumb circling your exposed ankle. The lustrous trail of hungry kisses lovingly placed from your jaw to your collarbone after he snuck in through your window for the first time one night after your parents fell asleep. It hasn't escalated beyond that yet, but you feel ready to move things along. So, tonight you plugged in some warm white holiday lights and draped them over your headboard to create a comfortable, dimly lit atmosphere. You donned an oversized sleep shirt and slipped on a new pair of lacey underwear. You spent a bit of effort making your hair look effortless in a bun atop your head with a few stray pieces pulled out in a attempt to give off a sexy-librarian vibe. You huff and give up. Eddie has always made you feel beautiful no matter what state your appearance is in, there was no reason to believe tonight would be any different. Nevertheless, there was a nervous flutter beginning to form in your stomach. But it was the good kind of nervous, like waiting in line for a rollercoaster.

There was still some time to kill before Eddie would be done with his Hellfire meeting. You walked over to your bed and absent mindedly fluffed the pillow and pulled the corners of your comforter taut. You skim your fingers over the bedding thinking about the nights that you've laid with Eddie on this bed talking about anything and everything that came to mind. His fingers would draw circles on your back as you were tucked up on his side. He'd have the other hand behind his head as he would ramble on about whatever topic you guys had landed on, while you memorized the spots where his dimples would sporadically appear whenever he laughed or smiled while recalling something amusing. Glancing around the already tidied room, you spot the book you've been reading for the past few weeks. That should be enough to keep your mind occupied until Eddie gets here. Picking it up, you plop yourself across the top half of your bed near the pillows with your feet facing the door. You tilt the book toward the light coming from the holidays lights on the headboard to your right and begin reading were you left off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eddie throws the transmission into park and takes the keys out of the ignition. He loves his Friday Hellfire sessions with his friends, but he always feels a deep itch somewhere in the back of his mind for time to pass by a little faster when he knows he will be seeing you later. He fights the smile that begins to spread thinking about you as he hops out of his van and makes his way to the front garden to snag the key. "Gotcha," he whispers as he straightens up, key in hand, and heads for the front door. After hearing the deadbolt release the door, he twists the knob and lets himself into your house. "Sweetheart, you here?" he offers as he peers around the main floor of the home. All the lights were off; there was no sign of life down here. Turning his gaze to the top of the stairwell, the warmth from the glow of dim light flooding into the hallway from your room upstairs reaches him. He feels himself relax, taking in a deep breath as he toes off his shoes. Climbing the staircase softly, he feels the tension leave his body as he thinks of climbing into your embrace to unwind after a long week. He slows to a stop just outside your door to peer in as he raises his hand to knock on the slightly ajar door. His hand stills and breath gets lost somewhere in his throat as his eyes find you.

You're laying on your stomach reading a book facing away from him. Immediately, his eyes are drawn to the cheeky view of the round of your ass peaking out from where your sleeping shirt has risen up and settled on your lower back, adorned with black lace. The sight of the fold where your cheeks meet the back of your thighs is enough to make his mouth water. His eyes flit to the sudden movement of your ankles rubbing together as they meet suspended in the air above you due to the bend in your knees. Not wanting to feel like a pervert for much longer, he slowly drags his eyes up to the curve in your arched back before settling on the back of your head. He breaks the silence by managing a timid knock on your bedroom door. Your head whips around in surprise and a soft smile pulls at your lips once you realize it's him. Realizing he is staring with his mouth agape, he quickly corrects himself to return your smile and mutters a quiet, "Hey, doll."

You make no effort to move from your position. Seeing the hardly hidden internal battle Eddie is fighting to not stare at your ass as he makes his way toward your bed, you figured this serendipitous position would hopefully provide the spark you needed to turn up the intimacy of your relationship. Feigning innocence, you smile sweetly and ask, "How was Hellfire?" while turning your head to place your book back on the night table in front of you.

"Was good, definitely had them on their toes tonight," he responded, trying to act as casually as he could but his distracted state of mind was obvious. It was in the way he stared nearly unblinking at you when you turned your head back to him, as if thinking of something else entirely, lost in a slight trance. You suppress a giggle. He comes to sit facing you, slightly more toward your lower half. He leans toward you on his left arm and cocks his head toward your face. He inhales slightly and flicks an eyebrow up. "You uhh... you getting ready to go to bed?" he asks, as his pointer finger gestures to trace up and down your torso to the swell of your ass (where he steals a small glance again) to indicate his interest in your current attire.

"Not yet," you offer slyly, studying his face. "Just wanted to feel comfortable while I was reading."

"Are you comfortable?" he asks with raised eyebrows. Bringing your fist to your right cheek to rest your head while you give him your full attention, you give him a small nod. He presses his lips together slightly and returns a small nod of acknowledgment as he turns his head to stare down at your feet. He hesitates for only a second before he reaches his right arm out to gently grab ahold of your ankle to draw circles there with his finger, as he normally would when he's this close to you. He returns his gaze to you, his curtain of curls swaying along with him, and smiles sweetly, "How has your week been, sweetheart?"

"Oh, you know. Just living the dream, one nightmare at a time," you joke. You then get into telling him about the mostly minor inconveniences that seemingly came one after another this week at work. He listened intently offering sympathetic looks or a short snort laugh when the occasion called for it. All the while, his finger traced patterns across your skin. It started at the elevated ankle, but he moved his hand down to your shin, the ghost of his invisible drawings left on the soft skin there. You kept track of where his hand was moving, waiting to see where it would wander next. As you finished up airing the last of your grievances, you felt his hand shift to your calf. Instead of fingers, you felt him softly stroking your skin with the back of his hand. Steeling your nerves in the name of not wasting this opportunity, you folded your leg so that your calf met the back of your thigh, with Eddie's hand imprisoned gently in between. He flicked his eyes down to where he was touching you as you lifted your calf, leaving Eddie's hand splayed against the back of your thigh. He hesitates a moment before he turns back to look at your face, his heart rate begins to pick up some speed. He feels a warmth spread from his chest, up his neck as the room starts to feel a bit warmer suddenly.

"You still comfortable?" he almost whispers, searching your face for any hint of disagreement. But he only finds you smiling back at him.

Likely boldened by the same heat that bleeds through Eddie's hand and wanders upward, now hitting the core between your legs, you surprise yourself by saying, "Eddie, I-I want you to... I want you to touch me." Any concern that was present on his face is rapidly replaced by a much deeper feeling, one that darkens his eyes and flushes his cheeks.

Eddie had always intended to be as patient as you needed him to be when it came to sex in your relationship. He had some experience from drunken nights at high school parties in his first senior year, or random girls from the Hideout from before he met you. But this was different for him. You meant so much more to him than that. He'd gladly wait on thousand years for you to ask.

"Of course, baby. But if at any point you want to, just say the word and we stop, no objections," he states firmly, wanting to reassure you that he wants to respect any boundary you might have before he begins. You weren't worried, Eddie was constantly checking in with you to make sure you were relaxed with him. He always wants enthusiastic consent or nothing. It's part of what made this decision for you so easy. You grant him permission with a shy 'yes' and he begins to massage the dough of your thigh that his hand rests on. Turning his attention back down to your lower half, he starts to slowly run his right hand up the back of your leg with this finger skimming along the inside of your leg and his thumb gently caressing the outer edge. He pauses at the conjunction of where your leg meets the cheek of your ass. He slowly traces his thumb along the crease there until it reaches his pointer finger and then runs it back along the same path again. His fingers were now sitting dangerously close to your heat. Rhythmically, he rubs his thumb back and forth for a few moments. His middle finger ever so slightly reaches forward to softly run along the material of where your underwear was covering your entrance. You shutter at the feeling and drop your head to the bed beneath you while your eyes closed. Eddie shifts focus to what he can see of the side of your face. The heat in your chest radiates against the lower half of your face. You turn to angle your face toward Eddie and open your eyes to plead to him with heavily, hooded eyes.

"Please," you whine breathlessly. Pathetically.

"Please what, baby? Use your words, pretty girl," he whispers softly, afraid the tenderness of this moment will collapse in on itself if he speaks too loudly.

"I want to feel your fingers there, Eddie. Inside me."

Eddie nearly whimpers at the confession. Such filthy words falling from your plush lips, words he only ever fantasied about hearing late at night when he's tugging at himself under the cover of his tattered quilt. But this is happening in real life now. He hopes he's the only person who will ever see you like this for the rest of your life. He allows himself to admire your flushed cheeks and loving stare for one more small moment before that cocky smirk you love dons his face. "How could I say no when my girl is being so sweet?" he coos.

He swipes his fingers along your clothed entrance again, all the while watching your face for any signs of discomfort. Your face relaxes more as you huff out a sigh, so he proceeds to move up to the waistband of the lacey piece. He raises his eyebrows to you and mutters a small 'may I?' before slowly pulling them down your legs at your permission. Once they are discarded somewhere on the floor, he returns to lean back on his left arm again, eye flicking between your face and where he is preparing to caress with his fingers. He slowly runs his hand over the round of your backside before letting his three fingers dip in between your legs to trace firmly over your weeping hole to gather some of your wetness before he moves down toward your clit. You gasp slightly when he reaches the bundle of nerves. Empowered, he rubs a few languid circles there and takes in the breathy moans that escape your lips. His brain almost goes fuzzy at the sounds, losing his hearing slightly and eyes rolling back in his head. A shiver runs down his torso and gathers low in his abdomen where he can feel his length hardening. After basking in your small whimpers for a few more moments, Eddie moves his hand back toward your entrance. With his attention turned to your face, he slips in a ringed finger. Instantly, the heat from your core that had been rising, skyrockets. You can feel the splotches of red forming on your chest, neck and jaw. You let out a pitiful moan, louder than any other you've already involuntarily made tonight. You close your eyes as you give in to the feeling of Eddie's finger as it begins to curl slowly in a come hither motion deep inside of you in a way that you can never replicate.

"Nuh uh. Eyes open for me, princess," Eddie interjects as he simultaneously haults his movements. You comply and peer at him through hazy eyes. The sight elicits a primitive groan from him. He pulls out his finger slowly only to add another to the mix and slowly enters them back into you again and continues to curl his fingers rhythmically once again. This time it was your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. He continues curling his fingers deliciously into that perfect spongy spot without remorse. Your pleasure continues to rise in such intensity that you can hardly care about the lude sound mix of moaning and squelching filling your room. Sounds that were quickly becoming like his own personal gospel. As your breathing quickens and your panting becomes more shallow, he moves to place his thumb over your clit again to draw firm, even-paced strokes over it again. The combination of the two is enough to send you over the edge. Breaking his rule, you close your eyes and tuck your chin to your chest, giving in as the waves cascading through your body, legs shaking, while your orgasm unleashes upon you.

You feel Eddie remove his fingers but continue to rub slow, concentrated circles over your clit as you come down. Once you recover, you turn your head to face him again and find him already smiling sweetly at you. "There's my girl," he softly whispers. A small giggle tumbles out from behind your lips as you turn to sit up to face Eddie. You can't help but reach up and place your hand on the side of his face to run your thumb across his cheek. You lean into him a press a sweet kiss to his lips. He hungrily accepts it, which causes you to slowly pull away and glance down to his lap in realization. Seeing the bulge straining against his jeans and you can't help but let your mouth water. You can smell his musk clearly now that you're sitting this close to him.

"You don't have to, you know. If that's all that happens tonight, I will still drift off to sleep a happy man," he says after following your gaze.

"What kind of host would I be if I didn't make sure you sleep comfortably?" you say with a smirk.

MASTERLIST for more :) thanks for reading

I do not consent to my work being copied onto other platforms, I do not have other fanfic platforms as of yet

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x female!reader #eddie x reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x female!reader #eddie x female reader #if you saw this yesterday no you didn't #tues writes

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cakesunflower · 4 years

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Just My Kind [Teacher!Calum AU] Part 8

A/N: sorry for the long wait!! just so you know, this is the penultimate chapter, so the next one will be the last in this mini series!! happy reading!

Odessa was stalling. She knew she was, and she knew she wasn’t doing anyone any favors by putting off a conversation that needed to happen sooner rather than later. But for all her love of books and the written word, Odessa herself couldn’t quite find the words she needed to say in order to tell Paige what exactly was going on. She had days to figure it out, and yet Odessa hadn’t been able to do it.

It wasn’t until New Years that Odessa was finally among all of her friends once again. Michael and Crystal had decided to throw a party at their beach house, where everyone would gather to watch the fireworks go off at midnight. Odessa tried to tell herself it wasn’t really her fault that she couldn’t talk to Paige yet—everyone had been so busy during Christmas and Odessa wasn’t too fond of being the reason to potentially ruin someone else’s holiday. It wasn’t as though she could have this conversation with Paige over the phone—though, the more Odessa thought about it, the more favorable that idea seemed.

And now it was New Years Eve and Odessa still hadn’t talked to Paige about her relationship.

Truthfully, Calum hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to Paige, either, but he only recently just got back from New Zealand, so at least he had a valid enough reason.

Odessa was just being a bit of a coward, despite boosting herself up multiple times to finally get this done.

“You know the party’s going on down there, right?”

Odessa glanced over her shoulder to see Luke step out onto the small balcony of the house, which faced the beach where all of Michael and Crystal’s guests were buzzing about. Music was loudly playing, courtesy of Michael in his DJ set, mixing with the sounds of people’s chatter and the waves crashing along the shore ahead. The air smelt of salt and smoke, thanks to the tiki torches that were set up to provide some light since the sun had long since set.

“I know,” Odessa answered with him with a small chuckle as he approached her towards the railing, a drink in his hand. She faced forward again, looking at the people below. “I was just—”

“Hiding?”

She raised her eyebrows, almost startled, as she looked up at the tall blonde. “Who would I be hiding from?”

Luke threw her a look that said really? before rolling his blue eyes, luminous under the moonlight. “Paige, maybe? You know, since you tend to hide from her a lot.”

Odessa tried not to cringe—both at her predictability and how Luke’s words kind of made her sound like the coward she had called herself. Still, she defended, “I’m not hiding. I’m just. . . Mentally preparing myself.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “To tell her about you and Cal so the two of you can kiss at midnight without giving her too much of an aneurism?”

Odessa blinked. Once then twice as her gaze swung back to Luke, gaping up at him. But Luke looked back at her evenly, knowingly, and Odessa’s heart jumped. Had Calum told him about them? They’d agreed they wouldn’t tell anyone until Paige was handled. “How did you—?”

Luke scoffed after taking a sip of his drink, lips quirking up in a smirk. “You two aren’t nearly as subtle as you think,” he told her as Odessa straightened. “Everyone saw it coming, Odessa. It’s obvious in the way you two look at each other.” She continued gaping at him as he sipped his drink before adding, “You aren’t fooling anyone—except maybe Paige, who’s genuinely ignorant about it because she has her head so far up her ass, or she knows and doesn’t care. Neither would surprise me.”

If anyone had to match Odessa’s dislike for Paige, it would be Luke, she knew.

Odessa let out a long sigh, arms folding on top of the bannister. She watched as people danced and chatted and ate down below, eyes absently searching for her not-so-secret boyfriend. “She’s got a thing for Calum and I don’t know how to tell her about us. It’s going to be awkward and I know for a fact she’s going to—”

“Make you feel like shit?” Luke finished knowingly, and Odessa nodded tiredly with another sigh. She appreciated his bluntness.

“Ugh,” Odessa groaned, ducking her head to press her hand against her forehead. They were silent for a few moments, and maybe she was seeking some kind of reassurance from Luke, or seeking for his opinion, but she lifted her head and asked him, “Do you think I’m. . . In the wrong?” Luke shot her a quizzical look and Odessa cleared her throat. “I mean, Paige all but told me to back off when it came to Calum.” She tried to keep the distaste off her face at Paige’s territorial behavior. “But I obviously didn’t listen. Did I do a fucked up thing?”

A wry smile tilted at Luke’s lips, just barely hinting at a dimple. “Are you asking because I’m an unbiased party?” he asked, the sarcasm in his tone making her smile slightly. Luke’s expression became thoughtful, serious. “No, I don’t think you did. Honestly, Essa, Paige acted like her and Cal were together sometimes, but the reality of the situation was that they were both single, free to be with whoever they want. Just because Paige wanted to be with Calum, doesn’t mean he felt the same. Obviously,” he added, shooting her a pointed look that warmed Odessa’s cheeks. With a light laugh, Luke added, “It worked out for Calum that you felt the same way about him. It sucks for Paige, but it’s not her call. And you shouldn’t feel guilty that you’re happy with someone who’s just as happy to be with you.”

Wasn’t that what both her mom and Grams and Calum had told her, more or less? Maybe Odessa just needed that same reassurance from multiple people before she talked to Paige.

Or maybe she was just waiting for someone to tell her the exact opposite. She was a masochist that way.

“Anyways, if you wanna talk to her, you better do it sooner rather than later.” At that, Odessa glanced at Luke with a raised eyebrow, and he merely jerked his chin a bit towards the left, and she followed his gaze until it landed on a small group of people chattering down below. She easily recognized Calum, chatting and drinking with a bunch of people—and Paige standing right next to him as she conversed with some girl Odessa didn’t recognize.

The sight was innocent enough, but Odessa knew when it came to Calum, Paige was unlikely to be innocent.

The inside of the house was mostly stranded, Odessa noticed, as she headed downstairs, a few minutes after Luke had left her, as everyone was gathered outside. Odessa entered the wide hall that would lead towards the back door, but just as she turned around the corner from the stairs, she gasped in startlement when a body appeared in front of her.

“Shit—oh, hey, Odessa.” She felt her muscles go rigid as she looked at Paige. “Where’ve you been hiding?”

Odessa’s already forced smile strained. “Nowhere—I was just in the bathroom,” she lied easily. Oh, God, was this it? Was she going to have this conversation with Paige in the middle of the hall in Michael and Crystal’s house? “Paige—”

“Have you found a someone to kiss at midnight?” the other girl interrupted her, a glint in her eyes that made Odessa’s stomach clench uneasily. Paige twirled the end of her ponytail around her finger, her hair tightly sleeked back. A corner of her lip curved up into a smirk as she held Odessa’s gaze. “Trick is to find someone single and cute and stand next to them when the clock strikes midnight.” She laughed then. “At least, that’s what I plan to do with Calum.”

At the sound of his name—at the sound of her boyfriend’s name—Odessa felt her blood turn into ice, teeth clenching together as the music playing outside become muffled in her ears. Her throat was tight, yet somehow she managed to get out a gritted, “You can’t.”

Paige stared at her, raising her eyebrows before scoffing out a laugh. “What do you mean, I can’t?” She gave an amused shake of her head, her ponytail swinging back and forth with the movement. “What, do you plan on kissing him?”

The way she asked that—it was like it was a joke, the thought of Odessa kissing Calum. And it only served to irritate Odessa more, that feeling growing more intense than whatever hesitance she may have had in having this conversation. So Odessa lifted her chin, gaze never wavering as she shot back, “What if I did?”

Any signs of amusement slipped from Paige’s face upon Odessa’s challenging tone, her back straightening and eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Wait, are you kidding?”

It was now or never. Odessa’s neck tensed as she inhaled sharply, finally finding the words. “Look, Paige, I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now—”

“Tell me what?”

Odessa licked her lips, Paige’s stare penetrating and demanding, but she refused to let her nerves become known. She might as well get it over with, get it done so she could go outside and stand by Calum without worrying about Paige figuring something out on her own. Paige’s gaze was heated, eyebrows already subtly knitting together like she knew she was about to hear something she wouldn’t like. Odessa had the unfortunate luck of being the one to deliver the news to her.

But if it meant being with Calum without feeling as though something was holding her back, Odessa would see it through.

“Calum and I—we’re together,” Odessa announced, her voice surprisingly steady. “We’ve been together for a few weeks now and I just—I thought you should know.”

Okay, so she didn’t stumble over her words as much as she thought.

“I’m sorry—what?” Paige laughed, and Odessa tried not to cringe at the expression on her face, at the disbelief that coated her tone. “You and Calum?” She raised an eyebrow, doubtful in its perfect arch. “Is that a joke?”

Odessa’s eyebrows furrowed together, irritation that was reserved just for Paige sparking through her veins as she crossed her arms over her chest, wishing she wasn’t so obvious in her defensiveness as she asked evenly, “Why would that be a joke?”

“Because—” Paige cut herself off with a laugh, that same disbelieving scoff of a laugh that grated at Odessa’s nerves. “I just can’t believe that you would go after him even after I made it clear I have a thing for him.”

A thing. Odessa had half a mind to ask Paige what, exactly, this thing she had for Calum meant. Did Paige genuinely have feelings for him? Or was it just a physical attraction for her? The former had cause to make Odessa genuinely feel bad—but not entirely regretful—and the latter didn’t sprout an ounce of guilt on her part. But then Odessa felt as though it would just be insensitive to Paige to literally ask her what she meant, so she kept her mouth shut despite wanting to do the opposite.

I sincerely hope you’re not going to apologize to the girl for being in a relationship.

Her mom’s words echoed in her mind just as she parted her lips, and Odessa paused. No—she wasn’t going to apologize. Not when Paige, with her subtle yet digging comments and fake smiles, made Odessa feel less than. She did it back in college, and she still did it now. Odessa. . . She owed her nothing.

“Paige, I didn’t go after him with any shady intentions,” Odessa told her. “It just happened. We both like each other—a lot. Everything just happened on its own.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed, clearly not liking what she was hearing as Odessa mentally braced herself. She knew all of this was coming, knew Paige wouldn’t let this go quietly, but that didn’t mean Odessa wanted this conversation to drag out more than it needed to be. “We’re supposed to be friends, Odessa. You’re not even sorry for screwing me over like this? For going after the one guy I wanted?”

Odessa wanted to laugh. She really did. They were friends? In what fucking universe were they friends? Odessa recognized Paige’s tactics of trying to make her feel guilty, to get her to apologize, but Odessa steeled herself. She wasn’t going to tell Paige what she wanted to hear, she wasn’t going to quiet herself and submit to a woman who always tried to get her way without any regard for others. Paige wasn’t allowed to pull the friend card—not with Odessa.

“I didn’t screw you over,” Odessa returned, an edge creeping into her voice as her gaze hardened. Behind Paige, Odessa could just barely see everyone out on the beach through the open French doors, and she desperately wanted to go back out there. “And I’m not going to apologize for liking a guy who feels the same way about me.” With a shake of her head, Odessa challenged, “So why bother paying attention to someone who’s in a relationship? You can move on to someone else.”

“Oh, thanks so much for making that decision for me,” Paige snapped, a sarcastic, unkind smile on her face as she glared at Odessa, who, to her credit, didn’t flinch. “You seriously don’t see how fucked up this is?”

Odessa’s teeth hurt from how tightly they had been pressed together without her realization until she loosened her jaw. She could see the anger in Paige’s gaze, the disbelief—but nowhere in her eyes did Odessa see any kind of hurt or heartbreak. If Odessa had to take a guess, she’d say Paige was more pissed about the fact that Odessa was with Calum rather than truly upset or heartbroken over it. It made her believe that Paige’s attraction to him was only physical. And although Odessa had no right to deduce what Paige did or didn’t feel, she knew the girl well enough. She knew her guess was most likely the truth.

“Maybe it is fucked up,” Odessa said, chin lifting and arms still crossed. “But I’m still not going to apologize for my relationship. I just wanted you to know the truth about us so you’re not unknowingly flirting with someone’s boyfriend.” And making even more of a fool out of yourself.

A cruel smirk lifted Paige’s lips, raising her eyebrows as she challenged, “Jealous?”

Odessa was tempted to shake her head at the almost sad display of ill-placed confidence—or bitchiness. Instead, she offered a small smile. “No,” she said truthfully. “I know how Calum feels about me. As new as it is, I’m confident in our relationship to know I have nothing to worry about.”

It was a dig because Odessa couldn’t help herself, and she saw it hit its mark when Paige’s gaze hardened and her jaw popped. The indignant incredulity was clear on her face, and Odessa would be lying if satisfaction didn’t dance proudly throughout her veins. Despite being a well placed dig, Odessa’s words were true. Her and Calum’s relationship was built on the friendship they developed and trust, and she didn’t for a second doubt that what he felt for her matched in what she felt for him. Odessa knew she didn’t have anything to worry about, knew Calum was as in their relationship as she was.

Paige’s lips curled into a sneer, her hostility shining brightly as she spat, “You’re a shit friend, Odessa.”

Ah, there was that word again. Friend.

Odessa lifted her shoulder, Paige’s words having little to no effect on her. And that, Odessa realized, was something she loved. “I learned from the best,” was her simple response before she moved past her, done with the conversation. Maybe even done with her.

Paige’s affronted expression made Odessa’s satisfaction swell all the more as she walked past her and towards the beach, easily ignoring the glare she could feel Paige throwing at her back.

The salt in the air was a welcome reprieve as Odessa stepped outside, smiling over at Michael in his DJ booth, who waved at her with a grin, headphones on and tattooed fingers scrolling down his laptop. She found her way to Crystal by the drink table, and the blonde fixed Odessa a margarita before Odessa went to find Calum.

She found him easily enough, and Odessa felt relaxed when a smile quirked at Calum’s lips at the sight of her. And maybe he saw the easy going expression on her face, realized that being together wasn’t something they needed to hide—or maybe he was just on the same page as her, as always—because once she neared him, Calum held out his arm for her to step into his side. Odessa reveled in the feeling of his warmth seeping into hers, absently listening to the conversation he was part of as his cologne wrapped around her. He looked down at her, voice lowering as he asked, “All good?”

Odessa’s arm wrapped around his waist, hand rubbing at his upper back as she hummed quietly. “Yeah,” she answered just as softly, their hushed conversation drowned out by everyone’s chatter and the music playing. “Talked to Paige.”

Calum’s eyebrows shot up, brown eyes meeting her blue as his body turned towards her slightly. “How’d that go?”

She smiled wryly. “About as well as you’d expect. I think she wanted to actually fight me.”

Calum, who’d raised his can of White Claw to his mouth, pressed his lips together to suppress the startled laugh that was threatening to escape him, and Odessa’s smile widened in amusement. Now that her conversation with Paige was over, it was easier to smile about it—especially with Calum. It was easier to stand next to him, his arm around her, talking with people and just simply being there together.

She didn’t miss the looks the rest of their friends shot their way—knowing and grinning and suggestive—which only made Odessa both blush and laugh under her breath. It seemed as though none of them were surprised by her and Calum’s relationship, but they were clearly happy for them, and it warmed Odessa’s heart. It was a reminder that she really was surrounded by genuine friends, and she focused on that rather than the dark cloud Paige tried to cast over her.

Fortunately, Odessa didn’t see much of Paige as it neared midnight, which she was perfectly fine by. She enjoyed her time drinking and chatting with her friends—and more than admiring Calum while he and the boys decided to entertain the crowd for a bit by playing some music. Paige seemed to be lost in the crowd of people gathered, not that Odessa minded. She was all too focused on spending time with her friends—with Calum.

“Five minutes, guys!” Michael’s voice rang out, using the microphone connected to the speaker to amplify his voice, catching everyone’s attention.

There was an excited murmur following his words, and everyone joined together to towards the middle of where they were gathered, more so collectively in Michael and Crystal’s backyard rather than the beach it led towards. Calum and Odessa stood among their friends, her gaze snagging on Paige, who’d finally made an appearance and was standing a good distance away, several people in between them.

Odessa’s jaw clenched when Paige’s gaze met hers, and even in the night with people separating them, Odessa could make out the scowl Paige wore. And yet. . . She didn’t care. Her chest didn’t tighten in apprehension and her jaw didn’t clench in annoyance. Odessa simply didn’t care. Not when Calum was holding her close, his arm around her and hand on her hip. Odessa wouldn’t worry herself over stupid, petty things anymore. Especially not with Paige.

“Ten!” The countdown began, everyone around them buzzing with a new, excited energy, ready to welcome the new year.

“You know, you never told me what your New Year’s resolution was,” Calum mused as she stood next to him, his arm around her waist keeping her close.

Odessa blinked, realizing he was right. Calum’s own resolution, for this year, had been simple: he merely wanted to learn how to play drums and was going to ask Ashton to teach him. He’d told Odessa this as if it were no big deal, but he was a musician and Odessa liked how he was expanding his own abilities and skills in that field. It wasn’t something to brush off. “My resolution is. . .” Odessa trailed off, thinking of the last few months, a wry scoff escaping her. She looked up at Calum, the countdown around them continuing. “My resolution is to only view myself from my own eyes, and to not give other people the power to control who I am and how I act—or feel.”

It was a long time coming, this realization and applying it to who she was. Whether in big ways or subtle, Odessa had found herself viewing her self worth through the eyes of others, and it was about time she stopped doing that. From her father walking out on her and her mom to even the way Paige dismissively treated her—and all the little interactions she had with anyone else in between—Odessa had used those moments of her life as templates of how she should be treated. And it was wrong—she hated that she let others have that kind of power over her. She knew she didn’t deserve that—no one did. And with the coming year, Odessa was determined to be as uncaring of other people’s opinions, as confident in herself, as she could be.

Her confrontation with her dad, her little chat with Paige—those were just stepping stones in the right direction. Odessa refused to backtrack.

Calum looked down at her, a light shining in his dark eyes and a smile on his lips. Odessa could see the pride glimmering in his gaze and she smiled back. He wasn’t ever someone who made her feel like anything less than she was. “That’s a damn good one, Ms. Kline.”

She chuckled softly as everyone around her yelled, “Three. . . Two. . . One!”

Both Odessa and Calum raised their drinks along with everyone else, their voices melding together as they cheered, “Happy New Year!”

Odessa tilted her head up just as Calum leaned down, their smiling lips meeting for a kiss that Odessa instantly melted into. For the first time in a while, there was no weight pressing on Odessa’s chest, nothing holding her back from the person she wanted to be. For a brief moment, Odessa regretted not reaching this kind of attitude earlier, but she didn’t hold onto it as Calum pulled away with one last kiss before he pressed his lips to her temple and over the roar of the celebrating crowd, murmured a soft, “Happy New Year, Essa.”

She pressed close to him, taking his warmth and comfort for as long as she could before they broke away to hug and cheer with their friends. Odessa’s eyes closed, not wanting to see anyone in that moment except for hear Calum’s heart beating steadily under her ear, his familiar scent overpowering the salt of the air.

He hugged her close and Odessa smiled. Yes, it was a happy new year because in this moment, the smile came easily to her lips and everything felt right, something Odessa didn’t think she would completely feel when she moved to Los Angeles. But despite everything, there was contentment that settled over Odessa. And she had no intentions of losing it any time soon.

*****

“When are you getting here? Paige’s been giving me the stink eye for the past fifteen minutes.”

Odessa scoffed out a laugh at Calum’s complaint, shutting the door behind her before heading towards her car. “I’m literally getting into the car now. Just give her a nasty look of your own. You’ve got a solid bitch resting face.”

“Uh, thank you?” Calum responded warily, which only Odessa laugh as she got into her car. Honestly, the idea of Paige looking at Calum in any way other than the way she used to was welcome to Odessa, but she didn’t like that he was feeling uncomfortable. Sometimes Paige just didn’t know when to stop, it seemed.

“I’ll be there soon,” she said, hoping to keep that promise, though unsure if she would be able to given Los Angeles traffic. Calum was already at Ashton’s, seeing as he had been hanging out with Luke and he ended up getting a ride from the blonde. “Besides, you really think my presence is gonna make her stop? If anything, she’d glare even harder,” Odessa pointed out as she dropped her bag into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, but at least then we’ll be together,” Calum cheekily responded, and although Odessa rolled her eyes, she still felt a warmth spread across her cheeks.

She started the car. “Alright, alright, I’m on my way.”

She could hear his smile. “See you soon, sweetheart.”

The flutter in her chest was familiar as Odessa hung up the phone, but just as she went to lock the device and put it away, she stopped when a forgotten name popped up from her Facebook Messenger app. Her eyebrows pulled together as she remained seated in the driveway, the air conditioner cooling her skin as she clicked on the app.

The message was from her college ex-boyfriend, a guy she dated during the last seven months of her last year. Her relationship with Will had been enjoyable and there was definitely a time where Odessa had thought she could love him for a long time. And she had loved him for the time they’d dated, but things hadn’t worked out, and he had broken up with her. It had hurt, no doubt, but Will had been nice about it, gentle almost, like he truly hadn’t wanted to hurt her, and although Odessa had mourned the end of their relationship, she was glad he hadn’t been an asshole about it like some of her past boyfriends tend to be.

But why the hell was he messaging her now? Odessa used Facebook every now and again—mostly to upload pictures because her mom always told her to—and she’d forgotten that she and Will were still friends on it. She hadn’t spoken to him since they’d broken up, and that was, what, over three years ago?

Still in the driveway of her house, Odessa opened the message and read what Will had to say.

Will: Hey, Odessa. I know it’s been a while since we talked and this probably caught you off guard. But I saw that you were back in LA and as cryptic as this may sound, I really need to talk to you. It’s important and I don’t think it’s something I can just tell you through a text. Do you think we could meet? Like, today?

Odessa blinked once. Then twice. She stared at the message beneath lowered brows, bewildered over what he was saying. What the hell could he need to tell her that he couldn’t through a text? What was so important that he needed to see her right away?

Despite her reservations, Odessa glanced at the time. She was meant to be at Ashton’s house, given that he was throwing—an albeit casual—dinner party. She was already going to be the last one to arrive, and Calum was expecting her. Odessa rolled her lips into her mouth. Curiosity itched at her, wondering what Will had to say. She had no reason to be wary of him; he was a nice guy, from what she knew and experienced. Chewing on her lip, she typed a response.

Odessa: Hi, Will. Yeah, been a long time. I’m actually on my way to the valley to a friend’s house, if you’re anywhere around there? If not, you can just tell me through here or we can meet tomorrow?

His response was quick, surprising Odessa by telling her that he was actually already in the valley, in a café that Odessa realized was literally on her way to Ashton’s house. Will said he’d wait for her and she let out a breath, pulling out of the driveway and calling Calum, putting him on speaker as she drove.

“Are you here yet?” was how Calum chose to greet her.

She smiled briefly. “No—and I think I’m gonna be a little later than I thought.”

“Everything okay?”

Odessa took a breath before quickly telling Calum about Will and the message he sent, and how she was going to meet up with him really quickly before getting to Ashton’s. When she finished, Odessa realized that Calum was as curious as her to find out about Will’s message. “What do you think he has to tell you?”

“No clue,” Odessa said, huffing out a breath. “But I’ll fill you in once I know. Sorry you’re gonna have to deal with Paige by yourself for a little while longer.”

Calum let out a long, dramatic sigh. “I’ll try to survive,” he answered sagely, prompting Odessa to laugh. “Just find out what Will wants and then, if you can, spill the tea.”

Odessa’s nose wrinkled, another laugh bubbling out of her as she stopped at a red light. “Spill the tea?” she repeated. “You realize you’re totally playing into every teacher stereotype of trying to stay cool with the kids,” Odessa teased.

“Fuck you, I am cool,” Calum said, the sounds of their friends in the background just barely heard. “I’m the coolest teacher in that entire school.”

Odessa raised an eyebrow, though she knew he couldn’t see her. “Excuse me?”

A pause. Then Calum said, “After you, of course, sweetheart.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, nice save,” Odessa scoffed. “Anyways, I’ll see you at Ash’s and fill you in.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Odessa turned on the radio to keep herself distracted instead of wondering about what Will, after three years of seeing each other, could have to say to her. She genuinely couldn’t think of any reason, and wondered if she should be worried or not as she headed towards the café he’d told her he’d meet her at. Odessa recognized it as one that Ashton said he often went to on his morning walks, and realized his place wasn’t too far from the café as she parked her car in an open space.

Taking a breath, Odessa got out and walked into the somewhat busy café, and it took her a second to recognize Will, sitting at a table for two by the window. His blonde hair was a lot shorter, but he was still handsome. Her stomach didn’t flutter at the sight of him like it had once long ago as she walked towards him, catching the moment he looked up from his cup of coffee and recognized her as well.

“Hey, Odessa, you look good,” he greeted kindly, a small—almost nervous—smile on his face as Odessa took the seat across from him.

“Thank you—you do, too,” she answered truthfully, gaze involuntarily dropping to his hand. Her eyebrows shot up, a small smile on her lips. “You got married?”

Will glanced down at the silver band before nodding, a smile on his face. “A year ago, yeah.”

“Congratulations,” Odessa said, feeling a bit stiff backed as she held her purse on her lap. Cutting to the chase as her curiosity got to her, she asked, “What was so important that you had to see me right away, Will, after so long?”

A hesitant shadow crossed over Will’s face. “What I want to tell you. . . You’re probably—actually, definitely—going to hate me for it and, although you don’t have any reason to trust me, you need to know I hate that I waited so long to tell you.”

His words had Odessa frowning in even deeper confusion. She had no reason to trust him? What was he talking about?

“Do you remember when we broke up?” Odessa blinked at his question, feeling her shoulders tense as her blue eyes met his own. “I told you it was because I didn’t see us working out in the long run but the truth is. . .” Will’s grip on his mug tightened, knuckles whitening as his eyebrows drew together. One look at him, and Odessa knew whatever he needed to say seemed to pain him. “The truth is, I fucked up. And I needed to end our relationship before I hurt you any more than I already had.”

Odessa was frowning, feeling an unfamiliar tightness in her chest, lips parting as she started, confused, “Will. . .”

“I saw your pictures on Facebook,” he continued quickly, as though if he didn’t say what he needed to now, he wouldn’t be able to get it out otherwise. “And I saw that you were hanging out with Paige again, and knowing her, she didn’t tell you what happened.” Odessa’s breath caught at the mention of her, and her mind quickly began making deductions, was coming to a quick realization of what Will could have to say. “When you and I were still together—Paige and I. . . We hooked up a couple of times.” No. “It was towards the end of our relationship, but that doesn’t matter because it shouldn’t have happened at all. And I’m really sorry, Odessa, for disrespecting you like that. I was stupid and I hate that I did that. But I thought you deserved to know the truth, especially since you’re always around Paige without knowing the truth.”

The noise of the café was nothing but a background ringing in Odessa’s ears as she stared at Will, parted lips and unblinking eyes, his words settling into her heavily. He had cheated on her. And maybe something was wrong with Odessa, but she didn’t feel the sting she knew she for sure would have had she found this out at the moment it happened. And although it was innately wrong that she was finding out years later—innately wrong that it happened at all—Odessa found her anger not entirely directed towards Will, but towards Paige.

That hypocritical bitch.

Will was definitely in the wrong and Odessa understood that. Their relationship may not have been perfect, but that didn’t give him the right to find comfort and pleasure in someone else while he was still her boyfriend. But Odessa had run out of any grief she had over the end of their relationship. It hurt, of course, knowing that she had been cheated on, and she felt a bit like a fool for being oblivious to the fact for three years. But Will was her past, there was no room for him in her life anymore, and she knew it was mutual. His betrayal didn’t sting as much anymore.

Not the way Paige’s did. Because even though they weren’t close or good friends by any means, even though Paige had her faults and flaws and bothered Odessa to no end, Odessa hadn’t expected this from her.

What boiled her blood the most was that Paige had the fucking nerve to bitch out Odessa for being with Calum—someone Paige had no relationship with other than a tentative friendship—while she had been the one to hook up with Odessa’s boyfriend in the past.

What in the ever-loving fuck?

Odessa wasn’t sure what happened next, how she ended up from being in the café to being in her car. She vaguely recalled Will saying he didn’t expect her forgiveness, not that Odessa was jumping at the opportunity to hand it to him, and she kind of remembered just sort of. . . Numbly thanking Will for telling her the truth, at least.

She got into her car and, God, she was angry. She was hurt and she was embarrassed, but she wasn’t sad—no, she was just pissed the hell off that Paige had been belittling her in far more severe ways than Odessa could’ve ever imagined. She was outraged that this woman, who constantly played the friend card against Odessa, had been doing so while giving a big fuck you to Odessa and her relationship with Will.

Odessa’s skin felt hot, the anger boiling her blood as she drove to Ashton’s house, teeth aching from how hard she was clenching them, knuckles whitening from her grip on the steering wheel. More than anything, Odessa wanted to scream at Paige, to tell her how fucking sick and tired of her she was, because even though this shit with Will happened years ago, Odessa has had enough. Paige wasn’t her friend. She never had been. And Odessa was itching to get rid of her from her life for good.

She was done being nice to people who didn’t deserve it.

When Odessa parked her car in front of Ashton’s house, she took a minute before going inside, trying to relax her breathing. She wasn’t about to create a scene in front of all of her friends at Ashton’s place. It would take a tremendous amount of willpower, but Odessa was going to try and hold off confronting Paige until they were alone. Although, the idea of letting everyone in that house know what kind of person Paige was, was highly tempting.

Finally, after pulling herself together, Odessa walked into the house, hearing the sounds of everyone’s lively chatter come from the living room as she entered. “Hey, guys, sorry I’m late,” she said by way of greeting, catching all of their attention.

She was answered with everyone greeting their hello’s and Ashton saying, “Don’t worry about it. You’re right on time.”

It seemed that food was just being served, and as everyone got up to fill up their plates, a comforting presence was by Odessa’s side as Calum said, “Hi, doll.”

Some of the weight on her chest lifted as he smiled down at her, and Odessa relaxed enough to tilt her head back and welcome his greeting kiss. But Calum must’ve felt that something was off because he pulled away, everyone already moving towards the dining room as he asked her with a gentle frown, “You okay?”

She wasn’t going to lie to him. “Not really,” she answered and as soon as those words were uttered, Odessa’s gaze snagged with Paige’s, who was standing in the entryway that joined the dining room and living room chatting with Michael. Her hazel eyes met Odessa’s blue, and she watched as Paige unapologetically glared at her. The sight renewed the fire in Odessa’s blood, her own scowl forming, unafraid of sending her a dirty look back. It deepened Paige’s frown, as though she hadn’t expected it, before looking away.

Calum, who never missed anything, raised his eyebrows as he kept his gaze on Odessa. “Whoa, that was a little murderous. What’s up, Odessa?”

She needed food. It wouldn’t calm her down, but it may keep her distracted for now. “I’ll tell you later,” she promised, blue eyes meeting his concerned brown. “I’m hungry.”

Odessa could feel Calum’s gaze on her, but he didn’t persist as they gathered around the table to get food. Ashton wasn’t much of a cook, so he’d ordered food from a pizza place and a Thai place, and Odessa found herself filling her plate up with some noodles and rice and chicken. After swiping up a beer, Odessa found a place on the ground next to Calum, most of the couches and chairs occupied, not that she minded.

For the most part, Odessa stayed quiet as she ate and everyone around her chatted, keeping her attention on her plate because she knew if she looked up, she’d see Paige sitting on the recliner opposite of her. And then if she saw her, Odessa wasn’t entirely sure if she could stop herself from dumping her plate atop Paige’s head.

But they barely got five minutes into eating their food when Paige’s voice broke through the conversations going on among them. “Ugh, I need to heat up my food,” she grunted, getting up from the recliner, gaze briefly yet patronizingly meeting Odessa’s. “It’s cold since we had to wait to eat.”

The comment was unnecessary and solely for baiting, but Odessa was waiting for Paige to open her mouth. She saw the exasperated look Luke shot Paige, but Odessa kept her gaze on the other woman as she coldly said, “At least you learned to wait. You didn’t seem to care much about it when you hooked up with my boyfriend in college.”

Silence. Absolute silence fell around them as Odessa felt Calum stiffen next to her, but she kept her gaze on Paige, who froze where she stood. Odessa could feel everyone’s gaze on them, but she didn’t care. She merely, coolly, looked on at Paige, pettily eager to see her try to get out of this one. Unable to say anything, Paige settled for a pathetic, “Excuse me?”

“Do I need to refresh your memory?” Odessa asked, getting up to her feet, raising an eyebrow. “You need to be reminded how you slept with Will, who was my boyfriend at the time?”

Paige’s nostrils flared, clearly not liking the fact all of the attention was on her because of this topic. Her grip on her plate tightened as she said through clenched teeth, “That was years ago, Odessa.”

Was she kidding? “That’s not the point,” Odessa snapped, no longer caring for putting a leash on her anger. The idea of not losing her control of her outrage in front of her friends, of not creating a scene, was out the window. And if doing this right here, right now, meant that her friends would get to see what kind of a person Paige was, Odessa was fine with that. She was done cowering because of that woman. “The point is that you’ve been acting like we’re friends from the moment we met and you’ve used that to push me around—and I’ve been an idiot to let you until now.” With a scoff, Odessa added, “You were never my friend to begin with.”

Everyone was silent—it was as if they weren’t even in the room. Paige glared at Odessa as she said, “What’re you crying about it now for? You’re not that great of a friend either, Odessa.” With a sharp gesture towards Calum, she snapped, “You won.”

If possible, Odessa was even more pissed. Although Calum and Will had something to do with the situation overall, they were not the main cause of it. The main cause was Paige—it always had been. “Everything’s a fucking game with you, isn’t it?” Odessa retorted sharply, eyes narrowing as she walked around the table, feeling everyone’s eyes tracking her movements. God, Odessa couldn’t even be embarrassed about creating a scene—she was too angry. “Relationships aren’t something to win or lose at. Putting others down to make yourself seem more important isn’t something to be proud of, Paige. When are you going to grow up?” Her blood was boiling and her skin was hot, throat burning from the raging fire that brewed. “I’m not ashamed to admit that you’ve made me feel like shit ever since I’ve known you, but I’m telling you—I’m done with you. You go around calling people your friends, but the truth of the matter is, your so-called friendships only exist to heighten your own sense of self-worth. And you’re not going to find that with me.”

Her words—her rant, really—was followed by a deafening silence, not even the sound of anyone’s breathing interrupting the tense air that seemed to suffocate them all. Odessa’s sharp, heated eyes remained fixated on Paige, and as disappointing as it was, it was also unsurprising to see a lack of regret or apology in Paige’s gaze. No, of course she wasn’t sorry. Owning up to her mistakes would be out of character for Paige, wouldn’t it?

Some people just never changed.

And Paige, with her hard eyes and down curled lips, ignoring everyone’s troubled and disturbed looks, wasn’t about to prove Odessa otherwise.

tags: @irwinkitten @loveroflrh @meetashthere @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @loverofhood @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbabiesss @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @malumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @miss-saltwatercowgirl @pastelpapermoons @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @neigcthood @ohhmuke @mindkaleidoscope @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysidesblog @miahelizaaabeth @dramallamawithsparkles @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @tpwkcalum @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @wildflower-cth @wildflowergrae @bloodmoonashton @vxidhood @gosh-im-short @notinthesameguey @mycollectionofnuts @cthwldflwr @everyscarisahealingplace @socorroann @talkfastromance4 @calumftduke @musichoney @treatallwithkindness @partlysunnycal @dead-and-golden @kaeleykaeley @harrys-sun-flower @br-hoe @spaceshipsmixtape @zhangyixingxing1

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rons-hermiones · 3 years

Text

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Three

The train was leaving at eleven.

That gave Ron breakfast to do what he needed to do. More than enough time if you ask him. He wasn’t exactly planning on reminiscing with Lavender.

“Good morning Harry.” Ron said a little too chipper, making the green eyed boy groan. He’d been up for sometime packing his trunk.

“Beautiful day to chuck Lavender Brown, isn’t it?” He said, despite his demeanor his voice was a bit shaky.

“Today’s as good as ever.” Harry added, slightly amused at the new air around Ron.

With a fierce determination he headed down to the great hall and for once was anticipating something unrelated to food when he entered.

He was ready to do this.

Until he was attacked the moment he opened the doors.

“Won-Won!” Lavender explained, rushing over and draping her arms around his shoulders, “I was so worried. Why didn’t you walk me to breakfast?” She questioned, pulling away with a pout.

He shucked her off as gently as he could, “look Lavender, I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

Surprisingly, she doesn’t look upset, instead excited, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you too! Should we step outside?” She suggested, but before he could agree she was tugging on his sleeve.

Once they took residence on a bench in the hallway, they turned to each other and spoke at the same time.

“You go first.” He told her with a nod.

Eagerly she starts, “I know what you’re going to say, you’ve been trying to tell me for weeks, haven’t you?” She questions.

Again, he nods.

“Well,” she pauses, eyes almost shyly meeting his before she breaks out into a smile.

Do all girls smile while being broken up with?

“I love you too!”

He didn’t even have time to retort or process how delusional the blonde truly was, because just his luck, Hermione walked by at this very moment.

And the look of pain that came over her features didn’t even measure up to that night in the Astronomy Tower. In fact, comparing the two expressions made it seem like the night of the match was her wedding day.

And probably not his brightest idea, but without a thought, Ron calls for her, “Hermione!”

In his wake is a confused Lavender as a mass of brown hair disappears around a corner and toward the Great Hall.

Thank Merlin for his long legs because he’s able to catch up to her in no time. Grasping her wrist lightly and halting her to a stop.

She snatches his hand from hers like she’s been burned. He drops them awkwardly, the ginger didn’t think of what he was actually going to say.

“I have to eat.” She announces rather loudly, and too stiffly for Ron’s liking. When had things become this way?

“Look, I just wanted to tell you,” that I’m really sorry about your grandma. I know we haven’t really talked but I’m always here for you. Also about what you just saw, I don’t love Lavender. I was trying to chuck her, please believe me. I wanna spend holiday with you!

And just like so many conversations he had with Lavender, the words never left his lips. Instead, someone he loathed almost as much as his current girlfriend appeared.

“Ah! Lovers tiff!” Malfoy exclaimed, the most lively he’s seemed in weeks. Not that anyone missed this from him.

Instinctively he moved closer to Hermione as she spared him a glance.

“You know, when I heard you were sucking face with Lavender Brown I will not lie I was a bit shocked!” He exclaimed dramatically, “I just wouldn’t think you’d go for a pure-blood, thought you fancied mudblood scum!” He cackled.

His brow twitched as he stepped closer to Malfoy, not caring if Snape saw him pound Draco into the floor.

“But then again, who would touch that thing.” The blonde whispered loud enough for Hermione to hear.

Angrily, Ron pulled his fist back, and shockingly, Malfoy looked as if he was going to welcome the punch.

(Unbeknownst to anyone, he knew he’d get this kind of reaction from Weasley and he was so determined to feel something rather than the dread consuming him as of late.)

But before his fist could connect with the Slytherin’s nose, the slamming of a door was heard as Hermione hurried into the grand hall.

With a pained look he flicked his glance between Draco and where Hermione just stood.

Reluctantly releasing his robes, he made his choice to finally do the right thing and go after her.

He spotted her next to Ginny, the seat he hadn’t occupied in months, absently forking around some eggs while her nose was stuck in some old looking book. She wasn’t crying, but the distant look in her eyes was evident. Hermione hadn’t even acknowledged him as he walked over.

(And normally something, Malfoy, of all people, says wouldn’t bother, but the past twenty four hours haven’t exactly been a picnic.)

As he lurched closer he and Ginny locked eyes. His sister just shook her head, telling him not now, her expression wasn’t sour, but more sad than anything.

Promising himself he’d truly sort this out on the train ride home, he ventured again to set Lavender straight.

...

He was a coward. The ruddiest bloodiest one of them all.

After his run-ins with Lavender, Malfoy, and Hermione, he sought out to find the first girl. However, his attempts were failed as she had holed up in the girls dormitory to finish packing her things.

And just his luck, when the blonde finally emerged, she was joined at the hip with Parvati. He wasn’t cruel enough to break up with her in front of her best friend.

On top of it all, Lavender seemed completely unfazed by the events that occurred this morning. You’d honestly think that after saying those three words to someone, it’s a red flag if they run off to see another girl moments after.

But no, instead, he was boarding the train sans Lavender, sans Ginny, Harry, or Hermione as well. Alone.

Reaching the narrow corridor and lines of compartments, he knew he had a few choices to make. Breaking up with Lavender was at the top of list. He would hopefully have the next month to let Hermione know how sorry he is about her grandmother and to amend their fractured relationship.

First, he had to put his trunk down.

Sauntering down to the compartment that he, Harry, and Hermione always occupied, Ron hadn’t considered the fact that the bushy haired witch might be in there, warranting for an awkward confrontation. He really wanted to get it all sorted with Lavender as a way to show Hermione he’s serious about all this, about her.

Someone else.

The phrase Ginny had reiterated on behalf of Hermione had been ringing his head for the past twenty four hours. There was still hope, even if just a little.

Shoving the sliding door aside he didn’t see Harry in sight, who he did see, was Hermione.

At first she didn’t notice as she absently took notes on that same book he’s seen attached to her hands for weeks. He’s itching to ask her about, just to get her to talk about something, anything.

“Hello.” He was surprised she spoke first. She sounded awkward and stiff, a little shaky, but it was something. Small victories.

“Hi, uh, I’m just putting this away.” He commented in return as he shoved the thing over head.

Ron wanted to wait until he had chucked Lavender, but his morals were screaming to say something.

“I’m really sorry about your grandma Hermione. I know you two were close.” He told her genuinely sorry.

For a moment her face softens from the stoic expression, but he blinks, she snaps her book shut, and the look, it’s gone.

“Yes we were close, but I suppose people grow apart,” and just like that they weren’t talking about her ill grandmother, “sometimes something more interesting, better, comes along and you can’t find time anymore.” She’s spitting venom. Any sadness replaced by pure rage.

“Hermione,” he didn’t wanna row with her, though he surely deserved whatever she had to throw at him.

“It makes you think maybe you never meant that much to them. That you’ll always be the fallback plan. Second best.” Though still sounding furious, her voice rocks over the last sentence.

As soon as the words left her lips, she looked horrified.

“I’m sorry.” She says quickly, stuffing her hands onto her lap and clasping them. A nervous habit he knows she has.

What in the bloody hell is she sorry for?

“Look Ron,” it’s the first time she’d spoken to him in weeks, it evokes a chill, “I don’t want to argue with you.”

“I don’t either.” He agrees quickly.

She ignores that, “I think we both should just put this all behind us and do what’s best.”

Suddenly excited, he nods his head. If Hermione was saying all this now then maybe she’d jump into his arms when rumors of the breakup hit her!

“Good, I’m glad you agree,” her eyes are watering, her lips are a thin line, “I’ll stay out of your way at the Burrow, won’t bother you. Wouldn’t want to ruin your holiday, after all it is your house, I’m intruding.”

That is certainly not what he agreed to!

For the brightest witch of her age she could be so daft, Hermione would never be a burden to him or his family.

The ginger quickly shakes his head, “what? Hermione, no, I,”

And luck, as usual, isn’t on his side because Harry decides to enter at this very moment.

“Hello.” He announces, far too chipper for both Ron and Hermione’s taste.

At this she stands, needing to get away from what just transpired.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Harry questions, eyes flicking momentarily to Ron worried they might’ve rowed.

Now he wishes they did. Passionate fiery Hermione was easier to watch then this version of her. Quiet and sad.

“Loo.” She mumbled, scrambling for the text.

The second the door shut Ron groaned, beside himself.

“How’d it go?” The chosen one asked as he plopped across from Weasley.

Ron scoffed, “how do you think it went?”

Harry nodded awkwardly, “right...”

“Didn't even think things could get worse, she was going on about how she’ll stay out my way, some bollocks about how she’s intruding.”

There’s a pause, “have you chucked Lavender?”

The ginger just grunts.

And like it’s the world's biggest secret Harry speaks quickly, “you’ve got to sort that out. You and Lavender make Cho and I look as in love as your parents!” He exclaims recalling his disaster relationship in fifth year.

Ron let’s put a butter laugh, “I’m daft Harry, but not that daft, I know that!” His anger sizzles, he drops his tone, “why haven’t you said anything until now?”

Harry sighs, he doesn’t even know what to say. A stiff silence falls upon them before he can manage anything, “I didn’t want anyone to think I had been picking sides or anything. It’s not like Hermione said much about you or you were saying much about her. There wasn’t much to tell the other.” He drops his head, “I reckon some of this is my fault.”

Ron’s taken aback, “what?” if anyone’s at fault it’s him.

“You’ve been walking around for months miserable. Hermione, she barely has anything to say these days unless it’s about You-Know-Who.” He doesn’t say the name for Ron’s sake, “you two clearly haven’t been great communicators with each other but I could’ve done more. We could’ve talked about it sooner, I could’ve helped to cheer Hermione up.”

The ginger doesn’t have time to assure Harry, not yet anyway, “is she... is she sad?” He feels stupid asking.

“She’s Hermione you know, she does her best to not let it show, but I can tell it’s gotten harder for her. I haven’t seen her cry since the night it happened then yesterday with her Gran. You know she never likes to show anything ever bothers her, but she let it slip sometimes. Everyone’s noticed.” Harry states awkwardly.

Ron feels like his throat is closing. He never wanted to cause this type of pain. Between her clear distance from everyone, Harry being torn, Lavender following his every move, his own sister disappointed in him, along with most of Gryffindor, and a war bubbling, well he feels awful. No one needed this on top of everything else.

“Don’t blame yourself, alright Harry, that’s the last thing I need.” He says with what he hopes is a convincing tone.

The chosen one leans forward and pats his friends knee, “you too Ron. You’re in this situation because you don’t want anyone to get hurt.” He points out. Ron’s reluctance to chuck Lavender was because he didn’t want to hurt her feelings, no matter how irritating she may be. However, in the process he had been hurting Hermione.

“Look how that worked out? Our best friend doesn’t think I give two farts about her.” He says bitterly.

“Ron,”

“She sleeps on the common room couch every night because my girlfriend taunts her! Cormac McLaggen thinks it’s alright to force himself onto her and she probably thinks I think it’s alright too considering I did nothing!” He booms.

No one speaks for a moment, it’s a little tense.

“Okay, so you didn’t know, but you do now! You know and you care. You care so much so that you’re planning to break up with your girlfriend, sort this all out over holiday, and probably punch McLaggen along the way. So you do care, you just were late to the party. Better late than never, alright?” The dark haired boy rambles.

Ron digs the heels of his palms into his now watering blue eyes, “I think I might love her, but I’m not sure.” He admits hoarsely.

“Why not?” Harry whispers a little taken aback at the admission, but not surprised.

The ginger peels out from behind his hands, “how can you love someone so much and hurt them so bad?”

In response, Harry does nothing but leans forward and places a box of Bertie Blotts Bean’s he bought on the way in.

A small smile manages its way on Ron’s face. Harry has never been great with words, neither has the red head. It’s usually Hermione's thing. This gesture shows everything they don’t need to say.

That Harry’s here for Ron no matter what and he’ll do whatever he can to help him fix is.

“Cheers.” Ron mutters opening the cardboard.

“Hey, maybe if you eat a vomit Lavender won’t try and snog you whenever you speak.” The green eyed boy jokes lightly.

His friend manages a small chuckle at this before turning serious, “I should probably go handle that right?”

Cringing, Harry nods as Ron stands and wipes his jeans.

“Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, you’ll need it.” The chosen one says as Ron groans and the compartment door slides shut.

Sauntering like a man being sent to death, Ron eyes each of the compartments looking for a head of blonde hair probably adorned with a vibrant colored headband.

After about five minutes, he finds Lavender chatting animatedly with Parvati as the pair look over a Witch Weekly. Before he can announce his presence, it seems as if the girl has noticed, jumping up and squealing.

“Won-Won!” He hears her yell through the door as she throws it open, throwing her arms around her as she does.

“Vati isn’t it so sweet he’s come to see me!” She brags turning to her friend who looks like she’d rather be anywhere else.

“Sure Lav.” Parvati says dryly as she stands up and gathers her things.

It seems as if the twin can sense she should be anywhere else but Ron wants to make it clear, “could I talk to you alone Lavender?” His voice comes out firmer than he thought.

“It’s all yours.” Lavender’s best friend says as she motions to the seats and stalks down the trains corridors.

“Oh she’s so sweet!” The blonde gushes, “come in.” She instructs as she begins to drag his hand behind her.

Lavender takes the liberty to fall onto one of the cushions folding her legs in what seems to be an attempt at a seductive matter.

Ron just slides the door close and sits across from her. As far as he can manage.

“Why don’t you come over here?” She pouts.

He shakes his head, “I need to talk to you. I think it’s best I do from here.” Part of him is absolutely babbled. She's not upset about this morning.

“Well alright silly!” The girl giggles.

Ron clears his throat, “Alright Lavender look,”

“Is this about this morning?” She soon cuts in, “I can understand it might’ve made you nervous but that’s okay, I’ll wait.” Lavender smiles, it seems genuine.

Oh wow she was delusional.

“No, Lavender I just needed to,”

“I already told you Won-Won I can’t come to your house for holiday. Next time I promise.” She begins to lean forward as he presses himself back into the seat.

“That’s not it,” he sees her open her mouth to say something else before he stops her, “please Lavender, please don’t interrupt me.” He says a little forcefully, not not enough to come off as rude. Though at this point, the situation may warrant it.

“I’m all yours.” She says batting her eyelashes and tucking her hair behind her ears for emphasis.

“This isn’t working. I really can’t see you anymore.” Finally he gets the words out.

“Oh,” she breathed a little shocked before the expression left her face, “no.”

“No?” He says scrunching his brow.

Lavender nods vigorously, “No.” she repeats.

“Lavender you can’t say no, I’m breaking up with you.”

She shakes her head slowly, “no you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” His voice grows louder, it’s becoming very hard to remain calm.

“No you’re not,” her voice is turning shrill, desperate, “this is about her isn’t it? That cow, that freak,”

“Don’t you dare!” Now he’s mad.

“Well it’s true! She’s useless in just about all aspects. When will you ever need to recite Hogwarts History, or whatever it’s called.” She says airily.

Doing his best not to correct her he goes on, “were you ever gonna tell me she doesn’t stay in your dorm anymore because you make fun of her?” He’s doing his best to level his voice.

“Oh, so this is about her?” Lavender jabs.

For a moment he doesn’t know what to say, “yes, yes it is!” He’s yelling now, “I can’t be with someone who’d say such horrible things and about my friend no less.”

The blonde scoffs, “it’s not like she doesn’t deserve it! Practically throwing herself at you like, like a little,”

“Don’t you dare finish that.” He bites out above a whisper, “I haven’t even spoken to her since I started seeing you. She hasn’t even looked my way.” He points out, not liking the insinuation.

She rolls her eyes, “so you have been watching have you?”

“That’s besides the point! I’m through having this conversation, me and you, we’re done.”

Lavender is wearing a hurt expression. Ron really can’t find himself to care after what just transpired. He thinks she’s going to concede, call it quits, but nothings ever that easy.

“No, we’re not. Merry Christmas sweetheart.” Her sickly baby voice is back as she leans forward and kisses his cheek before disappearing from the cabin.

Too shocked to even go after her, he sits there and tugs at his hair fiercely.

How were things so fucked up?

#rons-hermiones come find me #ron x hermione #ron weasley #hermione granger #ron and hermione #6th year #romione fanfic #hp

9 notes · View notes

zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hello!! Feel free to ignore this but I Was always interested in how a triangle between Dib, female!reader and Gaz would play out. Like if the Reader was a family friend of Dib and Gaz and they both developed a crush on her? I love your stuff btw, keep it up!!

This ask was a pleasure to write for, Anon!! I would never ignore it, I had such a good time with it. I hope I did okay :)

"Thank you ever so much again, Membrane. It truly means a lot. I'll bring her by Tuesday at one." Your father's voice rang out through the hall to reach your ears where you stood peeking around the corner, more or less spying on the man in an oversized lab coat. Your fingers tightened their grip on the doorframe, digging into the wood.

On one hand, you were able to spend time with your friends that you hadn't seen in a while. On the other, you were hoping to spend some time with your father over the summer. In fact, just this next week you were supposed to go out camping for a couple days. It seemed that would be rescheduled for next year...again. You loved your father deeply, and you were so very proud of him and his science that aided the world, but sometimes you just wished he would be a father. At the very least, it seemed like you would be able to spend some quality time with the two other kids who felt your pain.

"Y/n, honey? Would you come in here for a moment?" Your father called out much louder than needed, but he assumed you were holed up in your room instead of eavesdropping. Putting a smile on your face, you wandered into his office. You had perfected that smile. The one you used to mask whatever disappointment would be brought on by the countless cancelled plans. You had become so skilled in the craft that you were able to hide your tears with a genuine-looking grin when your father declared he was unable to attend your 17th birthday. That had not even been two months ago.

"What's up?" Your voice was as light as a feather, almost as if you had no care in the world. You didn't wish to pick a fight. It wasn't worth it. You barely got to see him as it was, so you wanted every interaction to be as smooth and pleasant as possible.

"I'm really sorry about this, but I'll have to postpone our camping trip to next year." He strode over to you, placing a large hand on your shoulder. You couldn't see his eyes through the strands of unkempt h/c hair that fell in his face, but he sounded as if he was truly upset.

"Oh..." You threw in some slight disappointment, as it was what he expected. Despite killing all of your emotions, you were a master at manipulating them to keep your father satisfied. In response to your attitude shift, he patted your shoulder steadily and pulled his lips back in a goofy grin.

"But don't worry! Despite having to go away for a few weeks on some important science business, I've made some arrangements I think you'll be satisfied with." That smile not once ghosting from his lips, he continued on. "Now I know you'd like to come with me, but this is a project where I can't have any distractions. So, I called up Professor Membrane and asked if you could stay with them for the time being. He agreed!" He looked to you expectantly, waiting for your excitement.

"That's great, dad!" This statement was more genuine, as you were truly looking forward to seeing your friends.

"I know you haven't seen Dib and Gazlene in almost three years, so I'm sure this will give you kids ample time to catch up." Fishing a hand into his pocket, he pulled out a small wallet-sized photo for you to see. It was a picture from years ago, probably one of the first times you met the Membrane kids at some science convention. The three of you stood together, all smiles, even Gaz. Everyone had to be no older than eight then. "Gosh, you were all so young. How old is everyone now? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Dib just turned eighteen, Gaz is sixteen. You signed his birthday card, remember?" You couldn't stop your tone from falling at your father's lapse of memory.

"You're right. I apologize." Rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly, he pushed you towards the door that led into the hallway. "Now, you better get packing. We leave early tomorrow morning." You nodded, shuffling out and into the carpeted hallway. You couldn't help having mixed emotions about the whole ordeal. It was very bittersweet. A little nerve-racking as well. You hadn't seen these two in quite a long time, so you were worried whether or not you could pick up where you left off. Sure, you messaged them often and sent each other gifts on holidays and birthdays, but you vaguely wondered if you could last three or so weeks in the Membrane household without things getting awkward.

Clutching your bag tightly in your hands, you couldn't help being livid. You were hoping that, maybe, just maybe, you would be able to spend some quality time with your father on your drive to the Membrane house. But, no. Alas, your father needed to leave almost immediately. To his credit, he did drive you to the airport closest to the town your friends lived in, but instead of taking you all the way there, he pressed enough cash for a cab in your hands and sent you on your merry way. And so there you sat, in the back of a cab on your own, winding through streets that were mostly unfamiliar.

"This neighborhood look right?" The cabby asked as he pulled into the beginning of a vaguely familiar looking neighborhood.

"Um, I think so." You hoped it was right. Worst case scenario you figured you could call Dib and see if he could come pick you up. Staring out the window and watching houses pass by, you drifted into your thoughts. Both your father and Professor Membrane were prestigious scientists who were constantly busy, and when you had moved closer to the Membrane family, you often found yourself playing with the kids while your fathers worked on their science things. As you grew up, you continued to have things in common. Gaz became obsessed with video games, which you enjoyed, although you were never very good at them. Dib became invested in the paranormal, which you had an interest in. You remembered that when he was twelve, a supposed alien moved into his neighborhood and was scheming to conquer the earth or something. Dib talked about him less, but would still bring him up from time to time. You had never seen this alien, but coincidentally, every time you came to visit (which had diminished to about once a year, to eventually once every blue moon with both your father's and your own hellish schedule), this alien kid had always been absent. You were never sure if Dib was just trying to impress you with this tale of an actual alien, or to give you something to talk about, but you supposed it didn't matter.

"We're here, miss." The cab skidded to a halt at the curb in front of a very familiar unique-looking house. You knew you were in the right place. Placing your cash in the payment slot, you stepped out onto the sidewalk with your bag as the cab pulled away and vanished from sight. You thought it was a bit odd that no one was outside. Normally when you would come, the kids would wait on the porch, eager for your arrival. The house looked quiet, and you felt your stomach sink. If this set the tone for the rest of the visit, you were in for a long few weeks. Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth you pressed the doorbell. After a moment of nothing, you felt your stomach churning as every muscle tensed. You were beyond uneasy. Just as you were about to turn around and walk to the nearest motel, the front door swung open to reveal a young man who you thought was most likely Dib.

"Y/n?" You felt a grin split your face as you dropped your bag, practically jumping into his arms. He wrapped you in a hug, arms tight around you. After a moment he released you, setting you back on the ground. A silence was still hovering over you, however it was not uncomfortable. You took the opportunity to rake your eyes down his form, absolutely stunned by the difference three years makes.

"Wow, Dib...you're tall." You almost had to crane your neck up to meet his eyes. He probably stood a good few inches above six feet, which was a large jump from the last time you saw him. He had probably only been 5'10'', if that. His dark hair was virtually the same, if anything it had only gotten longer. You couldn't help but let out a chuckle at his classic trench coat and large glasses that took up a majority of his face. "The piercings are new." You pointed a finger to his ears, where black gauges rested in his earlobes.

"I mean, kind of? I've had them for probably a year now."

"Oh." Your eyes fell to the concrete of the porch. Scuffling your feet, you just wanted to skip past the awkward reunion phase and get back into having a good time.

"You can come in, you know." He laughed, the sound relaxing you instantly. You scooped up your bag on the ground, following him inside. The house hadn't changed much, if at all. Dib gestured towards the couch, and the next thing you knew both of you were sitting down. You dropped your bag at your feet, and Dib couldn't help but eye it. "So, what's with the bag?" He jabbed it lightly with his foot, and you couldn't stop your jaw from clenching as you cringed. You were always unable to mask your emotions around these kids. You were never sure what it was about them, but they were the only ones you couldn't put on a face for. Maybe it was because they truly understood the things you were going through, so there was no need. You would never know.

"You don't know...? My dad has some important foreign business so I'm staying with you guys for a few weeks. Did your dad not tell you?" You wrung your hands together, gripping the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "If that's not okay, I can always use my card at a motel or something..."

"Of course it's okay. I was just caught of guard is all." Dib pulled you into another hug, trying his best to reassure you that he wanted you there more than anything. "Besides, it's not like we're strangers. We still talk. I, um, appreciate that more than you know." A chuckle spilled from his lips as his voice grew quieter with every word. "I didn't think we'd see you again." You thought you caught a faint blush settling on his cheeks, although it could have been a trick of the light.

"Yeah, me either. Shit got busy."

"I hear that." Dib let out a sigh, sinking back into the couch. Just as a silence began to take hold, the front door was thrown open.

"Dib, god damnit I called your phone like five times but you didn't pick up-" Gaz entered the room, but cut her own words off as she caught sight of your figure sitting next to her brother on the couch. "Y/n?" The usually gloomy girl perked up, setting the grocery bags she was holding down onto the floor. A smile crept onto your face as you rose from your seat on the couch, bringing her into a hug. You expected her to resist like she usually did, but she defied your expectation. "Ugh, no need to get all mushy." Gaz grumbled, but you had known her long enough to know that based on her tone, she was genuinely happy to see you.

"Nice to see you too, Gazzie."

"Well, you're still annoying as ever." Huffing, she picked up the bags and walked towards the kitchen. "You going to help me, or do I have to drag you over here by your toes, Dib?" She called sharply, Dib silently groaning as he slid further into the couch, almost falling off.

"I got it." Following your friend into the kitchen, you began to help her put away groceries. Most of it was soda, chips, and other junk food, however there were some healthy items in there.

"We haven't seen you in years." Her tone was much softer with you, unlike the razor sharp tongue she saved for her brother. You took a look at her, she had changed a bit too. Her fashion was still the same goth aesthetic, completed by chokers and heavy combat boots, but like Dib, she had gotten taller. She hadn't grown nearly as much, but enough to be a noticeable difference. The one striking thing about her was that her once long hair had been chopped quite short, and you noticed that it was in that awkward stage where it was long enough to where it repeatedly fell in her eyes, but too short to be tucked behind her ear. She was constantly brushing purple locks out of her face as she worked.

"I know. Like I told Dib, things just got busy." Placing the last can of soda in the fridge, you wandered back over to her, smiling despite her straight face. "I like your hair by the way. It suits you." Taking a chunk between your fingers, you twirled the strands, shocked when she didn't swat your hand away.

"Thanks..." Her face became painted in red, and after a moment you took your hand away.

"I'm surprised you haven't tried to hit me yet...absence really does make the heart grow fonder." Before any other words could be exchanged, the front door slammed open yet again. This time, Professor Membrane himself stepped in with several meals from the local Krazy Taco and a big container of ice cream.

"Hello, kids! I have brought dinner!" His voice was filled with excitement as he brought the food into the kitchen where you stood at the counter with Gaz.

"It's like, two in the afternoon?" Dib called from the living room, pushing himself off the couch to wander into the kitchen as well.

"Hush now, boy-child. I wanted to eat with you since it's a special occasion, and this is the only time in my schedule available. So dinner is now!" He hummed in delight as he placed the food in their spots at the table. "It's great to see you, Y/n."

"You too." You took your seat, digging into the food without complaint. The Membrane kids followed suit, each taking a chair on your side. You all ate together, giving life updates, listening to the Professor talk about his current projects, cracking jokes. All the while, you felt yourself slip back into the dynamic you had missed so much. You couldn't ignore the glances both Dib and Gaz would send your way, and any time you would catch their eyes, they would both very quickly drop their gaze to their food. However, you chopped it up to something that would stop after a day or so. After all, you were doing the same thing, unable to believe how much they had changed in the past three years.

After a half hour or so, Professor Membrane stood up, throwing his trash away and cleaning up his area. "I have to go back to work. Y/n, you can share Gaz's room if you'd like." You nodded, clearing your own spot as his kids said their goodbyes.

"Could we please watch something else?" Gaz groaned as she continued to stare at her Game Slave on her side of the couch, fingers flying across the controls faster than you could track.

"Hey, it's a new episode! Besides, Y/n likes Mysterious Mysteries." Dib countered, keeping the controller close to him. He sat on your other side, and you were caught smack dab in the middle of their bickering. It wouldn't have been the first time that night. They seemed to be worse together than you remembered.

"Do you really?" Gaz looked up from her game for the first time in the past hour.

"Well, yeah, sure." You shrank back into the couch, not liking how you had been put on the spot. You just wanted to spend time with both of them without them picking fights with one another. Was that too much to ask?

"Fine. But after this, I'm changing the channel. There's supposed to be some good horror movies on tonight." Gaz turned her attention back to her Game Slave, only backing down for your sake. Otherwise, she would have taken that controller by force.

The Mysterious Mysteries episode began, although halfway through, you began to get bored. You didn't remember the show segments being so terrible, but you didn't think you could listen to any more of the legend of Goat Man, a man who supposedly had supernatural abilities to control the minds of goats (in reality it was just some hippie who fed his goats so many treats that they followed him everywhere).

"Was Mysterious Mysteries always so...bad?" Your eyes drifted to Dib, who without protest, surrendered the remote to you.

"No. But this is why paranormal investigators get a bad rep." Crossing his arms, Dib puffed out his cheeks, pouting. You couldn't help but crack a grin. He had been making that pouty face for years. Some things never change. You passed the remote to Gaz, who finally put down her Game Slave to put on a horror movie.

"Finally, some good tv." Gaz set the remote next to her, relaxing into the cushions of the couch.

As the movie went on, you realized that you didn't like horror movies as much as you thought you did. One particularly loud jumpscare caused every muscle in your body to tense, and subconsciously, you sidled up next to Dib, grabbing at the fabric of his coat with your hands as you leaned into him. He felt grateful that the room was dark, or else you would have seen the mad blush on his face. You weren't really looking at anything anymore, rather you had your face buried in Dib's side. He put an arm around you, trying to rub comforting circles into your arm, despite his stomach feeling as if it was tied in ten thousand knots.

"Gaz, maybe we should watch something else." Dib suggested, using maximum effort to keep his voice steady. All he had wanted for the past year or so was to hold you like this, but now he couldn't even feel good about it since you were uncomfortable and scared. Truth was, he had fallen hard for you after you had began texting all the time the past couple years. Well, he guessed that he had probably been harboring these feelings for much longer than that, but he only realized it when he hadn't been able to see you.

"But it's almost over." Gaz whined, glaring daggers at Dib all the while. Without another word, she laid her head in your lap, not liking Dib getting all of your attention. Your hand reached out to find hers, taking it in your own and gripping it as if it were a lifeline.

"Gaz-"

"It's fine. I'll be fine." You interrupted Dib, face still buried in his side. Gaz would still try and glare in Dib's direction. She normally would bicker with him on the regular, but this animosity she felt towards him in that moment was of a new sort. She felt your legs tense underneath her every time there was a loud noise, and whenever that happened, she would feel a pang of guilt for putting you through this. She decided to focus on the way your hand felt in her own. It felt almost natural, and she admittedly never wanted to let go. While your face was still avoiding seeing anything until the film was over, Dib glanced down at his sister, and saw that look in her eyes. He knew his sister like he knew every corner of Zim's base (which by this point, was very well). Enough to know that she was in love. For probably the first, and possibly only time in her life. Under different circumstances, he would encourage her in her romantic endeavors, but of course, the one she had to like was coincidentally also the girl he had feelings for.

Dib had no more time to think on the matter, as the movie finally drew to a close, and Gaz turned off the tv. You untucked yourself from Dib, Gaz sitting up to allow you to stretch.

"Sorry. You both probably think I'm a little bitch." You laughed half-heartedly, just wanting to go to sleep and forget that ever happened.

"Don't worry about it." Dib's lips quirked up in a slight smile, hoping to come off as comforting.

"Yeah, Dib's done plenty of embarrassing things anyway." Gaz smirked, elbowing you gently in the side.

"Hey!"

"Besides, I still think you're cool." Gaz's words were quiet, and her face was dusted in pink, though you were unable to tell due to the darkness of the room.

"Thanks, Gazzie."

As if by freak accident, something in the kitchen fell from the counter, making a loud noise that echoed through the house as it collided with the floor. You just about jumped out of your skin, yelping as you did so.

Your face in your hands to hide your cringing, your words came out muffled. "Do you mind if we sleep out here for tonight? All of us?"

"Sure." The Membrane kids spoke together, shuffling off to grab blankets and pillows while you sat on the couch, cursing yourself for your irrational fears. You knew it was just a movie, but you were still terrified regardless. They came back quickly, throwing their stuff down on the floor.

"I brought you a pillow and a blanket." Gaz pushed a fluffy blanket and a pillow over to you. Opening your mouth to give your thanks, you were stopped by Dib.

"But I brought you that too." The two glared at each other, fists and teeth clenched, seemingly caught in some deadlock that you had been left out of.

"She doesn't want your gross blanket, Dib! If it came from your room, it's definitely disgusting!" Gaz shoved her brother, Dib stumbling backwards a few steps. His eyes narrowed, he shoved her back, harder. She fell into the couch, all but growling at him.

"Guys! I'll just use both!" You waved your hands frantically, barring them from each other with your arms. "Thank you, both of you." Your words seemed to deescalate the situation for the meantime, though even you could still feel the electric tension that was in the room. You knew this was much more than typical sibling rivalry, and were worried that you would get caught in the middle. What you didn't know is that you were already caught in the web, that you had been from the moment you stepped foot inside the Membrane household. "Is something going on that I should be aware of?" You asked as you laid out your blankets and pillows, sitting down on your spot on the floor.

"It's nothing!" The siblings blurted at the same time, prepping their sleep space as well. Shaking your head in bewilderment, you laid down, the pair following suit, one on either side of you. You let your eyes flutter closed, feeling much safer with Dib and Gaz by your side.

With one final staredown with Gaz, Dib scooted as close to you as he dared. What he wanted most was to reach out and hold your hand, but was too afraid to do so. Gaz was much more bold, cuddling right up to you and intertwining her fingers with yours. You peeled an eye open and looked to her, but didn't pull away. Dib muttered a curse under his breath, screwing his eyes shut and keeping his frustrations with his sister to himself.

You had all drifted into a heavy sleep rather quickly, Gaz and Dib's expressions softening from irritated to peaceful. At about two thirty in the morning, Professor Membrane had come back from the lab, much, much later than he had intended, dead tired. He almost stumbled over the three teenagers deep in slumber on the living room floor. That snapped him to his senses, and his normally serious expression ebbed away to one that was more loving at the sight.

You were wedged in the middle, Gaz tucked cutely into your side, hand still in yours. Dib had drifted closer to you in his sleep, his head on your chest, legs tangled in your own, hand laid across you protectively.

Professor Membrane chuckled to himself quietly, snapping a quick picture with his phone before he retreated to his own room to get as many hours of sleep as his schedule would allow.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #dib membrane #gaz membrane #dib x reader #gaz x reader #invader zim oneshot #invader zim one shot #request

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jrctolkien · 4 years

Text

don't blame me for falling iv

read part one, two and three first!!

pairing: tom holland x reader

he comes back after years and years and the press are just eating it up and you're falling too hard, too fast

an; this is the last full part, but I'm p sure that I'm going to write an epilogue to tie up all the ends as I cut this off at a pretty blunt point 🥺 I'd also like to apologise in the delay of uploading and I'm really sorry it took so long!! more at the bottom :))

the crisp autumn air was a welcome change to the stiflingly hot summer days that had cling to you with warm, clammy hugs a mere few weeks ago. the leaves were turning oranges and yellows and browns and the ones you walked past on your way to work swayed in the breeze, a few feet above your head.

the tension that you weren't ready to admit to was like a third person between you and tom, the kind that popped up all the time and was just so annoyingly constant. his work was keeping him busy and, in turn, it was keeping you busy, bustling around and making calls, filling out paperwork and overseeing every little detail there could possibly be.

you and tom were scheduled to take a short trip back to your home, where there were dirt roads and bad chinese and memories filling every crack in the pavement and being posted like signs up in every shop you could think of. the only reason you were back was for the big rosh hashanah feast your mum was hosting, and your entire family was going, bar your sister. it had been a long time since you felt at home, since you felt safe and warm and cozy and so very not in london and your excitement was buzzing beneath your skin like a swarm of friendly bees.

rosh hashanah had been a major part in your childhood, and tom's and stacey's and harrison's. the warm autumn days spent with your friends when you were little, guiding them through practices you didn't know how to do and running around the back garden while the adults had their own time inside and the overall innocence of it was something you yearned for, and you heart bubbled with it in the dark of the night, when god was asleep too and when your soul ached for things and people you could never have back. your childhood seemed otherworldly, in your big adult body as you laid in your bed without hearing someone snoring over in the next room or listening to a sister bumping around in the dark in the toilet, the concept of the joy you had so foreign.

tom. he was always by your side, and you were glad that he was pressed up against you in the bustling bus station. "why can't we just drive?" he grumbled, frown on his face as a woman sneezed too close to him, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

"because you never offered." you snapped. "and I cant so. suck it."

"bitch."

"I'll tell mum not to make a bloody trifle if you keep going on like this" you pursed your lips, but could feel the playfulness dancing in your eyes, and laughed when tom shook his head furiously.

the train station was loud but so were your smiles, and the warmth they held told of love that was old and new, strong and weak but that would hold a thousand lifetimes, in whatever way it needed to. your hearts were destined for each other, and the world seemed to know about it before you caught up, brain sharp and heart guarded and with a man that had broken it a few too many times, but who was trying as hard as he could to fix it again.

your mother was a loud, joyful woman, all round edges and warm hugs that smelled of flower, and full, rosy cheeks. your father was a hard man with a soft, squidgy center that was easily gooped out after a glass of wine. he was stern, and the roughness of his jumpers and his voice was something you became accustomed to as you grew up.

"my dear child!" your mother smelled of flour and her hair was frizzy and wild as she clutched your face inbetween her hands, planting kisses all over your skin. "why you keep leaving, huh?"

you groaned at her, not pulling away and leaning into her soft hands. the months away from home had been a harsh change and you were thankful for the warmth and familiarity that your home held, with its creaky floorboards and roaring fireplaces and the people and memories it had. over your mother's shoulders you could see your sister esther, her ginger head poking out the window with a wave. your soul was swarming with a hundred happy bees, buzzing with happiness.

"ok mama," you sighed, taking her hands from your face and holding them with a smile, "that's enough."

"alright, alright." she relented. "oh, the cold! bloody hell, did you come by train? how was it, did it smell?"

"no." you denied, tom saying "yes" at the same time. you shot him a glare as your mother started to ramble about london hygiene, heading back inside.

"god, I've missed this." tom said wistfully, quietly, staring at you as if you had all the time in the world. his brown eyes were warm and full of emotion, and you nodded, thinking of an entirely different thing, of fast love held long ago and passionate, soft spoken love that hid under the surface now, unspoken but still there.

"yeah." and your voice floated in the air between you and around you, along with everything you were feeling.

your mother cleared her throat from the doorway, and you could see your grandad hovering behind her in a checked shirt and his good blue jumper, your dad next to him. nothing had changed. the wallpaper was the same, the carpets were the same, the stains on every bloody surface were the same. you could see your yellow wellies underneath the kitchen window and smiled, soul happy. it felt like a decade since you'd been back home.

"don't rush her." your sister rebecca said, her hands pressed together.

"she's hardly flipping mo farah, is she?" your dad said. "if she goes any slower she'll start moonwalking."

"the moon landings are fake, honey." your mother said absently, hand waving.

and then esther was there, dragging you up the steps with a humph. "you're turning us into a ruddy freakshow, yn, hurry up."

esther glares at the neighbours peeking around their curtains, her eyebrows raised as if to say really?. "bunch of bloody cunts. anyway, hurry up, you too tom, I promised ben he'd get to smell the city on you. god, you've lost a lot of weight, your boobs must feel like two tangerines in a sock."

rebecca hugged you briefly, saying, "sorry, we redecorated your room while you were away. sure you won't mind a bit of megatron on your walls, benny loves him."

"I had worms in my bottom." ben piped up, trying to stick his fist in his mouth. "mum says im not to talk about it outside the house. or shove my fingers up my-"

"ben!" esther snapped covering his mouth. she'd had him during college, and had had her future plans foiled, and was now a single mother, still living at home. "good lord."

"don't the lord's name in vain!" your mother snapped from the kitchen.

your dad rolled his eyes, clapping tom on the shoulder, "I think she can take the lord's name down to butlins in a flipping wheelbarrow if we have to fast for him."

"allan!" your mum shrieked and you laugh, leaning into tom.

"welcome home, love." he sighed, a grin on his face as your mum starts off into a rant about religion.

"benny, don't touch that!" esther scolded, pulling her son's arm away from the candle he was trying to eat. "mama has to bless us with it."

"aye, the power of the lord is going to cast out of her into our souls and fuc-"

"allan!" your mother walked behind him with a lighter in one hand and wooden spoon in the other, rapping him upside the head with it. "the lord will be inside me."

"I thought dad was the one married to you, mum?" you quipped, the grin on your face disappearing as she glared at you. you could hear tom hiding his laugh with coughs from beside you and you kicked his ankle under the table.

"ok, ok, that's enough," your dad giggled, waving a hand for your mum to sit down. she did so, reaching for esther and your dad's hands.

tom's hand was warm in yours and you squeezed it when your mother started the blessing. it was an uncommon thing, for your family to practice religion too much. you had grown up in a relaxed household, only praying during holidays and in times of need. nevertheless, your mother wouldn't let a single word against the lord be said in her small house, faithful to him at all times.

"are we done?" your dad's voice broke a moment of silence and your mother sighed, closing her eyes.

"allan, im blessing you. I still have to light the candles."

"oh, sod it, love." your dad said. "im sure god can light a candle for us, wherever he is."

"god is watching us right now!" your mother slapped your dad's straying hand, reaching forward to light the nine candles in the centre of the table.

"a moment of silence for frankie." you said, and your dad nodded, bowing his head. his candle was flickering with light in the middle of the table, and you spied your dad caressing your mother's hand when she let out a sniffle. you longed to have a love like theirs one day, together through thick and thin and fitting together in a way that ended in hilarious jokes and tender forehead kissed while tucked away in the kitchen. to have someone hold your hand always.

a hand nudged yours, and you turned to tom with a sigh. he was smiling a forlorn smile as he curled his fingers around yours, the warmth traveling through your body. it had been a long, tiring day, and you were more than happy to curl up on the sofa in front of the fire after the meal, it's heat never holding a candle to that which tom gave you.

"alright, eat." your mum finally said, and tom ripped his eyes away from yours to grab the roast potatoes before esther could, remembering how she always nicked them out from under everyone's noses. the meal passed with laughter and the odd shouting, ben trying to shove a brussel sprout up his nose disrupting it all.

the next few days passed in a blurred bliss, like the few warm days after christmas. the house was warm and cozy, with joy seeping out the wallpapers and the floorboards into everyone's skin.

the day yom kippur came, your dad was a grumbly mess, having eaten all the yule log the day before to 'stock up his starch store' so he could 'be a plant' and promptly being shouted at by your mother.

"that was for later, you fat pig!" she had shrieked and you'd heard it from upstairs.

"bloody hell." tom chuckled from where he was sat curled up beside you, squashed in your tiny bed. you would never admit it, but the last few days had been heaven on earth because of him, and the way he made you happy, warm. you felt young again, like your soul was running through the fields all day and coming back home to your mother's warm hugs and your father's jokes.

"wait, no, we have to listen." you said through a giggle, sliding out of your bed and tiptoeing out to the landing, where esther was stood leaning over the banister already. you snorted, bumping her up with your hip, "dang, what you doing out here with all this ass?"

esther rolled her eyes, stepping on your toes as your mother started up again. "religion, allan!" she shouted and you wheezed. "it is the most important thing in this marriage-"

"what about our relationship?" your dad's voice was warbly, like he was trying not to laugh. you could imagine his red neck and creased cheeks, the way his foot would turn inwards before he started laughing.

"god-" your mother began, her voice equally high pitched and warbly, "-comes first, always. as does the cake you ate last night. how are we ever going to get a cake that good again?"

your dad's voice echoed up the large staircase as he said, "I mean, wait a bit love, and you could probably scoop it out the other end."

"allan!" your mother squealed and you had to press your face into tom's cardigan to stop yourself from being too loud. your mother burst into a tangent again, your dad sneaking off when she disappeared back into the kitchen, muttering.

his balding head poked up at you from the stairs, a grin on his face. "wahey, am I right?"

"waheyy!" the three of you replied, you sticking your thumb up at him.

you hated yom kippur, you really did. the hungerness in your body seemed to follow you like a black cloud, making you scowl. esther never left her room during the day of fasting, and your father drank protein drinks -'you have to stay hydrated, could kill, you know?'- whilst your mother forced rebecca to supervise her whilst she was cooking at the end of it all, so as not to give in to the temptation.

you were squashed into the small twin bed your room could hold, tom pressed up against you as you watched downton abbey, not bothering to skip the parts in the kitchen. "elizabethan food is dutty." you had said when you propsed the idea.

"thought it was victorian."

"no, they had the same queen as us."

despite the stupidness the lack of food seemed to give the two of you, you were intent on finishing the fifth season before the sun set, bringing with it the rainbow and all the colours you cared about, but also the promise of food.

"it's so pretty." you sighed when the sun began to dip below the hills rolling around your town, all the houses situated in the little dip in the centre. most of the houses had kitchens on the second floor as well, for when the sandbags got pulled out the garages and the doors got reinforced and the downstairs began to smell a little bit of dampness, of the showers in the summer camp you used to be forced to every year.

"you're a pretty munch." tom said, patting your leg with his hand. his words were cheap, and his hand was careless but his eyes were loving, and showed all you needed to see.

"what are we doing?" you muttered, eyes trailing over his face to the features you had known for so long, that had become ingrained in your memory.

tom inched his head closer to yours, "dancing."

"we're not too good at it."

"we can teach each other." tom said softly. "until we're old, and grey, and I have to help you climb up the stairs."

his voice was strained and it took a few seconds to pick up on the want in it, the way he pleaded like a dead man come back, the way his eyebrows were furrowed in anticipation. in fear.

"don't lie to yourself, holland," you smirked, eyes fluttering close as you lips touched his. it was soft, but with the hunger and heat of a starved bull, and perhaps you were in love and maybe it had taken too long. his lips moved against yours in a dance your own knew so well, slotting together in every way they knew how. you were connected by your hands, his on your hip and elbow, yours on the broadness of his arm, the other holding you up.

you separated with a sweet, welcome ease, lovesick smiles a couple on your lips. "don’t lie to yourself, holland," you repeated, "I'd help you up the stairs."

"bungalows are pretty cool." he whispered, grinning.

"holy shit." ben's small voice came from the door and you groaned before snapping your head to him.

"benjamin! where'd you learn that language?"

"aunty annie." he replied, words coming out of the gaps in his teeth. your sister, anne, had disappeared to the next country over, or perhaps the next, you had no clue anymore, sending photos of anything and everything to the family groupchat. the other day she had sent a photo of a candle, the caption 'ughhh uwu hashem' tainting your brain for god knows how long.

"of course she did." you smiled a harsh smile that made your lips purse.

"am I going to get a cousin?"

"no, sweetie, now go to mummy and shut the door please."

ben smiled another toothless grin, a hand that was sure to be sticky waving in the air as he pulled the door shut behind him.

"well," you laughed, turning your head to tom, "how about we do that ag-"

the door slammed open to a head of ginger hair and you saw esther for the first time that day, hair a mess atop her head and legs bare sans an entirely too small pair of undies. the hello kitties on it were a faded link and you would've laughed if you didn't want to kiss someone so badly.

"y'all fucking?" she asked after a stunned silence. her eyes were wide and crazed, and the edges of her lips were pulling up.

"get out!" you shouted after a second, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at her. "don't tell mama!"

and the moment was ruined, but it wasn't. the arm snaked around you seemed so belonging all of a sudden and the wheezy breaths that told of an upcoming cold didn't annoy you anymore and the rhythmic bouncing of his socked foot against your leg was suddenly endearing and you felt whole again, completely and utterly whole, for the first time in years. your hearts were finally bonded and you souls were finally dancing their dance in their own way, clumsy and uncoordinated but knowing where the other was going to step and melding into each other's bodies. whole was a nice feeling to have, however late it arrived

fin

an; rosh hashana is one of the best jewish holidays, its new years! it's followed by a horrible day of fasting, yom kippur. I've based the readers religious practises on my childhood ones, as I had a very religiously relaxed household, and the family aspect of the holidays came above the religious ones. also, reader's mother's view on religion is used as a comedic value and wasn't meant to be offensive at all.

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland fic #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland fanfiction #mine #masterlist #dbmff

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greenishbucket · 4 years

Text

good vibez only

Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight gets delayed.

nursey/dex, tindering in an airport au, 1.6k. For @ellienchanted! thanks for the help with this and happy new year :D on ao3

Perhaps it’s not in like, the festive spirit or whatever, but Dex refuses to feel shame in reactivating and skimming through his array of dating apps the second his flight back to New York gets delayed. What else is he going to do? Read a book? Talk to the people around him? Not likely.

And like, he’s just maybe been feeling slightly more desperately alone than usual, after the holiday period spent with family. His parents were his parents and even his shithead brother had been lovey-dovey with his admittedly very nice girlfriend, not to even mention the bloodbath that was social media.

It’s only midday on New Year’s Eve, but Dex can sense in his old-man bones that it’s already ramping back up again after a few days of quiet after Christmas. Picturesque, loving content as far as a guy can scroll, most likely.

Not that Dex is bitter. He has friends, has love in his life and shit. He’s on his way home to show his face at Ford's party, after all. Except the plan is to prove he didn’t die en route, get smashed as efficiently as possible, then probably get kissed platonically by six people at midnight because his friends are like that, before ultimately heading home alone and passing out alone.

Dex is, in short, just acutely fucking aware of his singleness right now.

In the heart sense and in the dick sense, unfortunately. Whatever. He’s got a few boring hours stretching ahead of him; even if he doesn’t match with or message any of the many dudes he can swipe through, at least a good twenty percent of them are hot enough to pause for a whole second.

One guy, after some fifteen minutes of mindless, semi-horny swiping, warrants more time than that.

He has a tattoo. It wraps around his very nice bicep and Dex’s mouth goes dry. His name is Derek, and he has a couple shirtless pics, a hockey one, a few ones Dex figures are trying to convey culture – museums and art and like, sweeping landscapes – and ends it with a meme.

Which is like. It’s kind of funny, and this dude is super hot, but really? But also he is so, so hot. In like, a hot way, and in a beautiful way, so Dex can at least entertain the idea of their boning. Then Dex reads Derek’s bio:

‘what i want is what i’ve always wanted. what i want is to be changed.’ im pretty and my meat is huge. good vibez only, no haters ✌️

Dex doesn’t smile a little. He doesn’t. He definitely just rolls his eyes hard and swipes left. That quote. He doesn’t have the patience, not even for someone that looks like that.

“Ouch,” says a voice from over his shoulder. “Hard no for that one?”

Because of course, because his flight is delayed and the drive to the airport had been shit anyway, because of course – it’s the dude. He’s not just nearby, he’s literally right there. Derek. Sitting in the row of seats backed up against Dex’s, twisted round to watch over Dex’s shoulder in a flagrant disregard of like, normal fucking behaviour, and somehow even hotter in the gross airport lighting. He’s doing some kind of smirk thing that Dex isn’t into at all.

His voice is like– It’s nice. Dude has a nice voice.

And of course, instinctively, result of being a grumpy fuck since birth and years in the big city, Dex’s immediate response is, “Fuck off, asshole.” Then, back up instinct, result of his mom’s loving care and years in a small town, he adds, “Shit, sorry, that was- I didn’t mean- um.”

Derek’s smirk solidifies. Something natural rather than an expression he’s holding there, not that Dex would’ve recognised it wasn’t completely assured and legit until then. “No worries, man. It’s chill. Sexy pic with the lobster, though.”

Nursey absolutely, completely, fucking two thousand percent should not have said anything. He’d almost be surprised at himself, watching this whole thing happen out of body, except this is the least surprising behaviour from him ever. Like he’s ever been able to let a minor hurt pass without poking at it until it’s something unbearable and he has to nope out like that’d been his plan all along.

Whatever. It’s chill. He’s got this. They’re in an airport, so Nursey can nope out whenever he likes, and more effectively than usual. It’s going to be fun.

“Excuse me?” says Will.

Will, who Nursey had first noticed for his massive ears and exhausted vibes, then absently clocked as attractive, and then clocked some minutes later as the same dude whose profile he’d just come across. Will who Nursey had just swiped right on, though not before screencapping his profile and sending it to Chowder, captioned ‘a straight???’

Like. Okay. Nursey doesn’t want to stereotype, or whatever, tries really hard not to, but when a dude sees a bio like I'm Will. I like hockey and lobster-fishing and good beer. We should get to know each other? He's not proud of it but questions start arising.

“Sexy pic with the lobster,” Nursey repeats. It had been, honestly, in a kind of weird display-of-masculinity way that Nursey doesn’t want to unpack right then but definitely would with some weed.

“Thank you?” says Will. A pause. “Are you making fun of me?”

“No,” Nursey replies honestly. But that feels like some kind of defeat, because this guy is cute and freckly and like, certainly has hands, but he also just dismissed Nursey’s careful construction of self while Nursey watched, so he continues, “I mean, I’m a vegetarian? So I kind of do disagree with the concept of trapping and killing an innocent animal for your own consumption, or whatever.”

Will snorts. “Of course.”

Nursey’s stomach sinks. He should’ve known. Pretty eyes or not, it wasn’t going to be fun with a guy who is a self-proclaimed hockey and good beer fan. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” says Will.

Nursey doesn’t want to get into a full-blown argument in the middle of an airport, so he lets it drop. But he also doesn’t want to sit here in awkward silence or have to get up and haul all his shit over to somewhere else. “So, while we're both sitting here, any pointers for improvement?” he asks instead.

“What?”

“For my profile, dude. Gotta up my game, clearly.”

"Why?"

"Self-improvement is my new year's resolution," Nursey replies easily, only half-lying; it's been his new year's resolution for like, five years straight, whatever. "I'll start: you need a better bio, or just scrap the whole thing. You're just about cute enough to pull it off, but it does you zero favours, dude. Bland as fuck."

Will goes pale, then red, then says, "What the fuck? Who asked?" Nursey waits, unsure if he should keep pushing or if he's maybe crossed a line, and after a long moment or two Will sighs. “Okay, fine, I hate doing description things and I'm shit at it. But yours also sucks. You could try with less of the pretentious quote shit, for one thing.”

“Less Mary Szybist?” Nursey asks, only having to up his aghastness a little. “Mine does not suck. I’m trying to convey an inner sensitivity, bro. Poetry is a window to the soul.”

Will frowns. “I thought that was eyes.”

His frown is cute. Shit. “First, a little thing called poetic license? Second, you said I was pretentious.”

“It’s Shakespeare,” Will says, unimpressed. “You didn’t do Shakespeare in high school?”

“Sure,” Nursey agrees, “but clearly it didn’t stick,” which is a lie. “Haiku, though. That’s the good shit.”

“What?”

“In my bio. It’s a haiku, five-seven-five syllables?”

Will visibly goes through Nursey’s bio, mouthing out the words, which, hey. It left an impression, at least. “That’s not five-seven-five,” he says.

“I’m pretty and my / meat is huge. Chill vibez only / no haters. Peace sign,” Nursey recites easily, clapping the syllables out like they taught in elementary school.

Will snorts out a laugh and can’t quite seem to reign his face back into looking unimpressed. Nursey smiles back and can’t quite reign that in either. The bitterness from watching Will swipe past him seeps almost entirely away at last, Nursey finally able to unfold his arm from around his stomach; Will’s shoulders come down from around his ears, too.

“Um. I did actually like your photos,” he says after a moment, almost hesitant, those same ears flaming. “Like, a lot."

"Ditto," says Nursey, as casual as he can. Will is pretty great in pics, if unfortunately blind to his angles, and even better plus assholeish irl, which is a beauty of a combination.

"But you’re cheating your syllables with that peace sign bit, pretty sure,” Will adds.

Nursey rolls his eyes, ignores the warm glow. Not a straight, definitely. And Will thinks his pics are good, at least, which is a success of sorts. He doesn't know what flight Will is getting, but his own back to NYC has been delayed by a few hours, so maybe he should try and shoot his shot one last time.

He chucks his stuff over to Will's side of the chair-row, then hauls himself over. Pulls his sweater back down. Fuck this twisting around in his seat nonsense.

Will blinks, face pink. "Hi," he says, a little hoarse.

“I think you mean bye. I said no haters, didn't I?”

Will laughs again, full and warm this time. “Fuck off, asshole,” he says, and this time Nursey laughs with him.

#my writing #omgcp fic #nurseydex

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lostinforeverness · 4 years

Text

Everything I meant

You’ll never ever ever see this; you won’t read it, you won’t think about it, you won’t care about it or mull it over or assault it. So I can say everything, all that I ever meant to.

The timeline is incoherent, ironically. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, I just have a load of junk and hearts.

1) You were hands down my favourite sexual partner ever, and I’m unlikely to ever find anyone as good. I’m coming to terms with that.

2) I used to tremble at night because I knew I couldn’t pleasure you, and threw up a few times at the thought of what that might make you do. I just wanted to be better, so I used to speak to you about it, like a grown up - you told me it didn’t matter, and I knew you were lying.

3) I believe that you truly loved me; I believe that you felt truly loved and adored BY me, but you had no idea what to do with all of those roses. You were neither prepared nor comfortable with it, right?

4) You were the only person I could reveal my tortured soul to.

5) You were the only person who could ever torture my soul by simply being absent.

6) Your family intimidated me, I’m not sure why - maybe because they seemed so stable and comfortable, which may have been their coping mechanism for dealing with past hardships. All I know is, it made me feel so unworthy for being so broken.

7) I knew you had cheated on me long before you told me. I could feel it, sense it, smell it. I used to cry rivers while I wondered how you’d tell me; how pathetic.

8) I hated it when he brought you gifts at work.

9) I hated it when he’d pick you up from work.

10) I hated it when you showed off your engagement ring at work.

11) I hated him, and he hadn’t even hurt me. I felt like a monster.

12) I cried out your name whilst screwing 3 different women, on separate occasions. I only got called out on it once, which I thought was kinda weird.

13) I hated that I was your emotional cushion, but you still preferred his cock. I felt like I had to escape from that, the image used to keep me awake at night.

14) I used to tell everyone that we loved each other, that you were having a rough patch, but it was only a matter of time. They told me to stop being stupid.

15) My friends wrote me genuine, hand-written apologies when you came back.

16) When you left again, they rolled their eyes and reverted to type.

17) I only went to see you at the restaurant, where you and big dick worked together, because I wanted you to remember that you loved me. I’m not sure if it ever worked.

18) I bought the ring because I wanted to propose to you; I’d never been so sure of anything in my life.

19) I still have the ring. It’s engraved, and so worthless

20) When I spent all my money on gambling, booze, and drugs, I contemplated selling the ring. I remembered it was worthless and opted not to.

21) I wanted to raise the coolest motherfucking kids on the planet, I wanted to do so with you by my side.

22) When you said you had been pregnant, and lost it, my heart was overwhelmed with both sadness and joy. You told me it was impossible, and I had resigned to it; suddenly there was such possibility, and yet such overbearing heartbreak.

23) When I wanted you to watch Love Actually, it was because I believe in true love, and I believed we truly loved each other - I actually thought having you watch a goofy film might have made you pick up on it too.

24) I never understood why you wouldn’t leave your fiancee for me.

25) I never had the courage to ask.

26) I left my first job because i couldn’t handle anymore the reality of loving you so much and you seeming not to care. I spoke to my doctor at the time about the stress this was causing.

27) Since you came back into my life, I have never once slept in the bed without you being present.

28) I’ve fucked people in the bed, but I’d sleep downstairs instead.

29) Being alone on a couch is easier than being alone on a bed.

30) I didn’t like that you’d put a bit of weight on, but you seemed intent on pizza and wine, so I thought it better not to say much about it.

31) It kind of turned me off, honestly. Until we actually got to it, then I remembered how great you were in bed, and I got over it. (cause it’s the type of thing that only matters ‘physically’)

32) One night, I climbed on that garage roof next to the White Lion. I stayed there for like 6 whole hours. I watched you from afar, there were lots of reasons why:

32A) I wanted to see if you looked like you missed me.

32B) I wanted to see if he would turn up.

32C) I wanted to see if you would leave for his house.

32D) I wanted to see if you were happy, so that I could hate you if you were, to give my brokenness some kind of legitimacy.

33) I felt terrible about it and like I’d done a really awful, creepy thing. I had.

34) I left you to have my house key because I thought you were coming back.

35) The night I came to collect it, I had been drinking heavily - I saw you and he were back together, and I cried all the way to your house.

36) When you didn’t answer my calls and texts that night, I thought you had some weird kind of vendetta against me, that it was your way of getting back at me.

37) My favourite holiday ever was the one we had together.

38) I hated the last part of that holiday, when it became clear you didn’t want sex with me and were desperate to fall out with me. I now know that’s because you’d already cheated and hate yourself, but I couldn’t understand at the time why it felt like you hated ME.

39) I love you.

40) I like you.

41) I love your company.

42) I love being serious with you.

43) I love being silly with you.

44) I miss you every day.

45) I love you.

46) I love your style, I love your attitude.

47) I love you.

48) I never felt worthy of you; you’re kickass, and you’re a straight up babe - I’m a loser with stained teeth, no future, and bad habits.

49) I begged every night that you’d forgive me for being shit in bed.

50) I wanted to spend time through the day with you more cause I felt like I sucked at being your nighttime companion.

51) I considered asking if you wanted me to watch other men fuck you because I couldn’t do it right. I decided against it.

52) I love the way you are with strangers.

53) I love the way you were with Lily.

54) I love the way you were with my mum.

55) You always seemed to know what to say.

56) I hated you being drunk when I wasn’t. Usually, the reason was that I was skint, but I didn’t want to tell you that; I already considered myself a bottom-dwelling male who didn’t deserve you, I didn’t need more of it to deal with in my head. So I just pretended i didn’t want a drink. I wanted to get pissed and have fun with you, just like we always had. But I’m always skint.

57) I wanted to see all the really cool places in the world with you, places nobody else would ever bother going to with me - Peru, India, New Zealand. I don’t know how I intended to pay for it.

58) I still love you.

59) I still miss you.

60) I used to dream about our little baby, and what might have been.

61) In the dreams, we were fucking great parents. You never listened to your parents, and I never listened to mine - instead, we raised them in our own way, and it was the most beautiful glorious thing ever.

62) The kid always loved you more than me. I don’t know if that means anything.

63) I forgave you for everything.

64) I didn’t know how to forgive you and also make you realise how hurt I HAD been.

65) I see now that your drinking and abuse was your guilt. At the time, I thought it was you pretending that nothing was wrong, and I felt violated.

66) I regret not sweeping you off your feet sooner.

67) I also felt incapable.

68) I just want to spend some time with you, watch a stupid movie, go for a stupid long walk, smoke some stupid cigarettes, have embarrassing stupid sex, and hear your stupid laugh.

69) I told all my family in Ireland about you, how much I loved you. They still ask me about you, which is why I haven’t spoken to them - I don’t know how to explain to them that such powerful amazing love could end in such failure.

70) I feel like a massive failure.

71) I don’t know what it is about me that could make you love me.

72) Yet I do believe you love me. It’s really weird.

73) I just wish we could go back in time, be simple again, and work our way up from there.

74) We’d have a house and a family by now, our own space, our own freedom, our own life.

75) I fucked up just as much as you did, and I never knew how to get that across.

I just want you back in my life again. I want to hold you, laugh with you, travel with you, feel you, fuck you.

I’m resigned to the fact that I can’t do any of that, or have any of that. And it will never feel okay, it will always feel like a huge, unnecessary, depressing failure.

I’m so sorry I couldn’t be the man you needed me to be. But hear me, honestly - I’m still fucking desperate to be him. But I can’t be, can I?

I’m just not good enough.

Not good enough.

Not enough.

Not.

#kellston #junkofhearts #regret #i miss it #i miss them #i miss you

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fullvoidmoon · 5 years

Text

Sleepless Nights

Pairing/s: bayverse!Donatello x fem!reader

Setting/Timeline: Halloween, a few years after the Krang invasion, TMNT x The 13th Ghost crossover

Warning(s)/Genre(s): I honestly don’t know :))))

Word Count: 1,456

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Donatello, Leonardo and Master Splinter (mentioned) © Kevin Eastman, Peter Laird Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (2014/2016 film) © Michael Bay THIR13EN Ghosts © Steve Beck, Robb White Context © me

A/N: This is an entry for @sdavid09’s Tale Teller’s Fright Night 2019, and I got the movie THIR13EN Ghosts.

So yeah, I haven’t wrote anything in almost 2 years. That’s because I still don’t have a laptop to have my writings properly done (using my phone sucks), and life outside of Tumblr keeps me super busy. And I still have some pending things that I need to finish.

But anyway, I decided to finish this one first because Halloween is just about a month away, and it’s my first time writing anything TMNT. So please go easy on me, and I’ve become rusty with my writing!

Masterlist: HERE

Halloween was, and has never been, your favorite holiday.

It’s not because it is the odd one among the known holidays you get to celebrate every year.

It’s also not because of you knowing it’s original purpose before Trick or Treating was introduced; remember the people who came before and molded the world that you live in today.

“You’re really not telling me anything, (Y/N),” the tallest among the turtle brothers spoke to you, his golden hues couldn’t hide his worry when he took a glance at you from his work table, “it’s about that nightmare, isn’t it?”

“I really couldn’t hide anything from you, can I Donnie?” You exasperated as you turn you gaze towards your favorite turtle before forcing yourself to smile and try to ease his worry.

You are okay celebrating Halloween, especially if you’ll be getting free sweets that you can use in making cakes and pastries. However, there’s only one thing that has been keeping you from celebrating the said holiday.

“You really can’t hide anything from me,” Donnie slightly chuckled, leaving his unfinished project and making his way towards you, “you know you can always tell me anything. I’m your favorite turtle, and you’re my favorite human.”

Some say it’s just a nightmare you’ve always had ever since that you can remember. But you know, deep down, it’s not just a mere nightmare.

To you, it’s more like a memory. A memory that is only haunting you ever Halloween.

“I’ve been having this dream, Donnie,” you sighed, unknowingly reaching out for the terrapin’s hands and holding it like your life depends on it, “and it feels so real, that every time I wake up I could still feel that eerie feeling whenever I tried remembering that glass house-”

“Wait (Y/N), did you say glass house?” Donnie interjects, his voice sounded kind of off his usual tone while ignoring the butterflies that invaded his stomach upon feeling your soft hands holding onto his own.

“Yeah, a glass house with Latin writings that filled up most of its walls,” you said, eyeing Donnie as if he knows something that you don’t.

“I just remember a story sensei told us when we were kids,” Donnie somewhat forced a smile to try and ease your worry, “it made us not go up the surface and join the neighborhood’s kids while trick or treating.”

“What was the story about?” You asked after giggling for a few moments, somehow forgetting the question you initially wanted to ask the purple-banded genius, “surely it’s not scary if you’re going to think about it now, right?”

Donnie suddenly became quiet, the humor that once was obvious in his eyes was replaced with apprehension and worry, and it became obvious to you when he turned his attention back to his work bench. You could feel it, that slight tension that built up whenever he became quiet, and you’re worried it might’ve something that you’ve said just moments ago

“Donnie,” you softly called him, placing you hand carefully on his well sculpted arm that you’ve silently wished to hold onto since that faithful night on the rooftop with your childhood friend, April. “I’m sorry if I offended you or anything.”

Donnie let out a shaky sigh, turning his attention back to you as he gave your hand a gently squeeze. “Do you really wanna know?” He asked.

“Yes, Donnie,” you reassured him, giving of a smile that he secretly loved so much, “and if you’re worried, you know that I can’t be scared that easily.” ___

“We’re here, (Y/N).”

Anticipation and nervousness is a bit of an understatement to what you’re currently feeling.

Ever since Donnie told you about the story Splinter had told them years ago, the feeling that you’re having towards your nightmare has started to become stronger.

That there’s more to it than what it seems.

“Sensei said this is the place,” Donnie said as he helped out get of the Shellraiser, making sure he has his gear ready for anything, “and based on the address he gave us, and with the matching coordinates when I searched for the place, this is where the house should be located.”

You wouldn’t be expecting that Donnie would drive you all the way from New York to British Columbia in Canada. You told him and Master Splinter that either you’ll let your nightmarish memories be and hope that you’ll not be dreaming of it in the next couple of months, or you’ll just visit the place whenever you’re not busy.

“The place does look and feel familiar,“ you replied while Donnie helped you get off the Shellraiser, “but I didn’t expect for you to have me come here as soon as Master Splinter gave us the address.“

Donnie rolled his eyes as he gave out a chuckle with a hint of that cute snort that you’ve come to adore, “if it’ll help your nightmares diminish in anyway, it’s better to come here as soon as we can.“

“Even if you’ll get a scolding from Leo?“ You playfully smirked as Donnie then gave you a hearty laugh in return, “you know he would like having one of his brothers absent for your daily midnight patrols.“

“This is more important than patrolling New York City, (Y/N),“ he replied, lightly sighing as he knows deep down that he’ll be in trouble with his older brother once both of you return home, “you know I would do anything for you.“

You’ve reached out and hold onto Donnie’s hands, lightly brushing both of your thumbs over his big knuckles as you gave him a grateful smile. And seeing the light shade of pink that dusted over his cheeks, you kind of guessed that he might’ve also feel the same way as what you’re feeling towards him.

Both of you would’ve loved the moment that’s being shared, if only the circumstances were a bit different than the one you’re having.

“Why don’t we finish what we’ve came here for,“ you chuckled as you slowly let go of Donnie’s hands, “this place is honestly giving me the chills.“

“Y-yeah, you’re right,“ he replied, kind of disappointed that the feeling of your hands holding onto his didn’t last the way he would wanted, “let me go check on my scanners and see if there’s anything that I can find about this place.“

You hoped that Donnie would find at least a bit more information about the place, but seeing that there’s no glass house in sight as what you both expecting to find when you arrived, you felt that driving all the way to Canada was only a waste of effort.

No house, no signs that a house was even built on the place. Just a wide piece of land in the middle off a some sort of a clearing.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N).” Donnie said has he sadly led you back to the Shellraiser. “I’ve tried looking for anything about the glass house, but all that my scanners can pick up is that there was indeed a house built here.”

“But it was demolished or something?” You asked as Donnie got back on the driver’s seat and started the engine.

“I was hoping that it was,” he sighed, taking a look back at the spot where the house was supposed to be standing, “however, there are no signs that it was demolished. I didn’t even find a couple of tiny pieces that should’ve been the remnants of the glass house.“

“So it just vanished.” You said, disbelief clearly obvious in your voice.

“It seems to be, if you’re just simply going to look at it,” Donnie replied, giving you an encouraging smile as he started to drive, “but I promise that I will find out more about the mystery of the house no matter what it takes.”

Halloween was, and has never been, your favorite holiday. No matter how hard you tried liking it, the nightmares have only hindered you from ever appreciating the holiday.

“I sure hope so, Donnie,” you sighed, trying to get a bit more comfortable on you sit for another long hours of driving is ahead of you.

You only hope that this year will be the last of you having many of those sleepless nights. The possibilities may seem bleak, but you know that nothing is impossible if your purple-clad terrapin is there to help you.

Even if a glass house, with Latin texts inscribed on its walls, was standing all this time, looming over the whole clearing as you broth drive away.

And an ominous presence, filled with evil and hatred in all of humanity as it carried its torn straight jacket with a torn cubic head cage, looking right at the leaving Shellraiser.

#Tale Teller's Fright Night 2019 #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #FVMfanfics #tmnt bayverse #tmnt crossover

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coeurdastronaute · 5 years

Text

Essays in Existentialism: Footie 5

Previously on Footie

Under the covers, the cold couldn’t find anyone. In the bed, the world would pass by and not even notice. Through the dark, with the quiet and small little hums and thumps of the early hour, the pile of blankets finally moved as an alarm went off and was quickly silenced. A chorus of complaints growled from beneath the depths of the warmth and bodies tangled in the big bed. With an absent kiss on a bare shoulder, one side dipped slightly as legs were tossed over the side. A shadow gripped the side of the bed, rolled its neck before stretching arms toward the sky in a way to wake up tired muscles. And then it moved toward the hall without a hesitation or look back at the comfort it just left.

Somehow, Lexa was able to extricate herself from precious sleep next to a precious body that she was going to miss. She did it to not wake the teacher who was a week back in classes after break, and already exhausted by her kids and their boundless energy. It was the same teacher who still, despite the commute and long hours and work, made her way over the evening before to spend a final few hours together before someone’s departure for a few weeks of travel matches and training at home before friendlies.

So Lexa let Clarke sleep a little bit longer as she snuck into the hall, careful to close the door quietly behind herself.

Freshly back from the holidays with her sister, Lexa stretched a little more as she made her way down the hall, testing out her body and preparing it for the day ahead. She still had a few hours before her flight, and she desperately needed to go for a run or something, but she couldn’t make herself want to rush. There’d be enough of that soon enough.

While she measured out the coffee, going through the motions without any focus on it, she thought about her schedule, repeating it to herself so as to pin it to the forefront of her memory, but such vigilance was not to count down the days until she was back with Clarke. It simply wasn’t. There was no way she’d think like that.

Her shoulders strained and held as she moved her head around to stretch her neck while the coffeemaker gurgled to life. There was something to the way she was allowing herself to feel about the teacher in her bed that felt so natural and unexpected, she hadn’t realized how it got so strong, so quickly.

In just a few months, her sister would visit, and Lexa wanted to introduce them. She wanted to share Clarke with her sister, and she wanted them to know that they were the most important people to her. That was a thought that Lexa caught herself having, and it made her confused and terrified and fate was suddenly a dangerous thing to encounter.

She gave herself up to it, and now look where it got her; on the verge of happiness. And if she had happiness, than she would have the capacity to lose it, because you can’t lose something you don’t have. And what if her happiness pushed away the sadness. The sadness had been the defining factor in her determination and drive. The grief and the pain fueled her, lit her engines, kept her burning, and if it was pushed aside, then what would make her never lose sight of the plan, the future, her goals.

The coffee percolated, and Lexa spun out in a matter of minutes, all because there was a girl in her bed, and she was going to miss her quite dearly. Being awake was a terrible thing.

“Hey,” Clarke greeted her, trudging along and squinting against the light as she yawned and rubbed an eye.

Hair a wavy mess, lips slightly puffy, eyes unable to adjust to the light quick enough, Lexa felt her brain lose all train of thought when Clarke appeared. She’d have those thoughts again, she was sure. It was impossible to not be afraid of the idea of a future.

“Hey, morning,” Lexa rushed.

“I need coffee or I’ll die.”

“A tad dramatic first thing in the morning, aren’t you?” she teased as Clarke took a seat at the stool across from her at the counter.

With a face, Clarke flopped down, draping herself across the concrete top, propping herself up on her arm, unable to keep herself up on her own accord.

“I’m far from dramatic.”

“Not that far.”

“Says the girl that was almost sad I said I might not make it last night.”

“I was sad, but I understood.”

Lexa shrugged and pulled two mugs, carefully preparing Clarke’s the way she liked it. She only filled hers up slightly, still not a fan of the taste, but needing it to survive the day.

“I’m just saying that you’re equally as dramatic, if not more. I’ve seen you play. You get bumped and you flop around.”

Not even the smell of the coffee roused Clarke. She still leaned against her hand and cupped the mug to suck its warmth to herself.

“She broke my nose!” Lexa yelped. “I was pouring blood onto the field! From my face!”

“See?” Clarke yawned again and finally sipped. “So dramatic.”

There was nothing she could do to fight it, so Lexa just rolled her eyes and shook her head before setting her mug down and leaning her hip against the counter. The windows were all dark, and the city outside was twinkling even more, shimmering in the cold of the late winter frost that seemed perpetually set.

“The car will be here in about an hour,” Lexa muttered finally.

“And then you’re going to tour the world.”

“Just a few weeks.”

“I’m glad though. You really need to train,” Clarke nodded slightly. “You’re leading the league in goals and assists and wins and time played, but I’m just not seeing the drive.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you were such a critic.”

“You should hear my dad.”

“The Griffins are hard to impress.”

“We are.”

Despite herself, Lexa grinned and put her mug down before looking at Clarke and feeling the little part of her chest start to glow.

“And what should I do to impress you?”

“Hm,” she mulled and sipped her coffee. “Don’t come back if you don’t get at least one hat trick, and I would like ten goals.”

“Just ten?”

“If you can.”

“Tall order.”

“Maybe I’ll find another soccer player who doesn’t think it’s that hard,” Clarke shrugged, the mischievous grin appearing despite the tired she tried to fight still.

“I thought you quit footballers.”

“I have. Sworn them off completely.”

“Good. You’ll be waiting when I get back then,” Lexa decided, sighing with mock-relief as if she’d won the battle of the wits and trapped the teacher.

“I guess we’ll see what fate has in store for us.”

But it was fate, and Lexa trusted it for some reason, even if it was the scariest thing she’d ever done, because her mother believed in fate, and Lexa wanted to believe that she was still around, helping out as best she could.

For the fourth Sunday in a row, Clarke found herself stretched out lethargically on her parent’s couch, while the rain drizzled outside, and the cold tried to seep in beneath the doorways. It was no match for the fire that crackled and was attended to dutifully by her father between games and snacks, and the living room was oppressively warm, the same kind of warm that made it a little difficult to breathe, and was conducive to napping.

Eyes growing heavy, Clarke’s head bobbed slightly before catching herself, and yawning.

“You look worse than I do,” her father muttered with a grin as his daughter adjusted slightly on the couch. “Close your eyes. You work too hard.”

“I’m fine,” she lied with another yawn that failed to be contained behind the back of her hand.

“You aren’t getting enough sleep. Those kids are running you ragged.”

“My kids are great.”

“I just watched a news report about overcrowding in schools,” he explained. “Teachers with classes of thirty or more kids. It’s untenable.”

“My class is just fine, I promise,” Clarke smiled and got even cozier. “You should read a book instead of watching so much TV.”

“I feel like I’ve read every book. I’m so bored here anymore. The worst part about getting better, is that I’m still too sick to do anything. It’s a prison.”

“Wow, I’m sorry that you’re inconvenienced with recovering.”

From the couch, Clarke tilted her head back to look at her father’s eye roll and she smiled to herself.

She still didn’t have the heart to admit that perhaps Lexa going away for a few weeks was a blessing in disguise. It meant she was less distracted and able to spend more time with her parents, and somehow Clarke was able to self-delude herself into thinking she was actually helping her father feel better.

However, on the flip side, Clarke also wasn’t able to admit that she was yawning and tired and unable to fight off the need for a npa because she was up until dawn talking to a girl across the planet who regaled her with stories of being home and practicing and planning and training. Somewhere between ‘hey’ and ‘sleep well,’ there were those conversations that go best over the phone on the other side of the planet; the talks of fears and hopes and dreams and guilts and sins and plans-- the things that truly define a person, and as such, are the most difficult to say, and when said, to be spoken with whole honesty.

Clarke didn’t really know how to explain that, and so she adjusted on the couch and prepared to take her father up on the offer for a short nap between games.

It was a short nap, but Clarke woke to the window being a little bit more grey than before, and the rain tapping its familiar song on the panes. The noise of her father shuffling back into his chair with a new round of medications was an alarm Clarke was not used to hearing, but was comforting nonetheless.

Quietly, Clarke rolled over and faced the television. The smell of dinner wafted and added to the heat in the room until her cheeks were flush, but she didn’t care. The television drew her attention.

“Have a good rest?” Jake asked between pills and gulps.

“Mmm, I guess I did need it,” Clarke acquiesced. “Somehow naps feel better on this couch than my own. I’m not sure how.”

“Home.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“It’s been nice having you here the past few weekends. I look forward to it.”

“Me too.”

“But isn’t it a little boring?” Jake prodded. “Hanging with your old man? You’re young. You should be out having fun.”

“I don’t think I’ve had more fun than that nap, to be honest.”

“Who raised you?” he shook his head in mock disapproval.

With another yawn Clarke just smiled and sat up slightly as the program shifted to the international friendly coverage. Almost immediately, talk shifted to Lexa, and Clarke held her breath without even noticing.

Face blank and focused, the camera shifted to Lexa as she stretched and began her warm ups with a info box about her stats for the year. The announcers were in awe, celebrating her play and growth and recovery from her injury a few years before, while soon a montage of her greatest feats rolled.

“Hey, Dad, when do you have your next appointment?” Clarke asked, barely turning her head from the screen.

“Hmm, I think on the third of next month. I’d have to check with your mother. Why?”

“I have someone I want you to meet.”

“So your mother was right,” he sighed. “You are dating someone.”

“I am. I hav-- Wait, what?”

“She’s always right. It’s ridiculous,” her father lamented. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s spot on, all the time.”

“It’s kind of complicated.”

“If it’s that stupid kid that had the worst instincts on a player I’d ever seen, I swear, you’ll kill me, Clarke. You will.”

“Please stop saying that,” she groaned and shook her head as he chuckled to himself, always happy to make light of his situation.

“When do I get to meet the lucky lad then? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

Clarke tugged at the collar of her shirt and swallowed the words that seemed to sit in her mouth and not want to do anything but tie themselves into knots and sit in her throat.

“There’s a match on the tenth of next month I want to take you to, if you’re feeling up to it.”

“ have to watch him play, too? Can’t we just have him for dinner and I pretend to have an episode and he leaves early and I get cake?” Jake grumbled. “You know I hate soccer players. They just want to talk about the game, and not you.”

“Finn was a douchebag, I get it,” Clarke relented. “But that was the only boyfriend I let you meet.”

“I’m scarred for life, you know.”

“I made a no soccer player rule after him, but I can’t explain it--”

“Do I know them?”

Interest mildly peaked, Jake Griffin watched his daughter debate how to answer the questions. And while it was true that he hadn’t endured too many crushes and boyfriends or girlfriends, as his daughter was apt to remind him, the last one did a number on his daughter, and as wary as she was, he felt it ten times as much. He’d take cancer toe-to-toe sixteen times over than endure the pain of knowing his daughter is aching and being unable to immediately fix it.

“Kind of. You’ve heard of her.”

“A girl footy player? Okay.”

Clarke took a deep breath and looked back at the screen before deciding it was finally time to tell her parents. It was getting serious, and she was certain that six months from this moment, she’d regret not sharing it. She wanted her father to know her, to be part of her life even more now. She needed it.

“Lexa Woods.”

For a moment, even the television was silent, as if it was shocked and not just delayed between advertisements. From his chair, Jake Griffin mulled over the name, complete in his disbelief.

“Like, best in the world, Lexa Woods?” he asked for clarification, asi if there was another. His daughter nodded. “Has a billboard twenty stories high downtown, Lexa Woods?” She nodded again. “Her?” he yelped, pointing at the screen as it showed the player in question.

“Yeah.”

“Are you kidding me? How?”

“It just happened. A bit of fate. I can’t explain it.”

Heart beating in his ears, Clarke’s father furrowed and watched his favorite player juggle the ball and send it across the pitch with such precision, it seemed impossible.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, Dad, I’m positive,” Clarke smiled and shook her head.

“Prove it.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“It’s Lexa Woods!”

“What is all the yelling!” Abby entered a few seconds later, wiping her hands in a towel as she put them on her hips. “If you’re going to over-exert yourself, I’ll turn off the television.”

“Your daughter said she’s dating Lexa Woods.”

“Who?”

“The soccer player,” Jake informed his wife as he looked at the screen. “She’s trying to kill me.”

“Stop saying that,” Abby groaned at the dramatics her husband seemed incapable of forgetting despite his retirement. “And so what? She dated that other soccer player. The weird guy.”

“He wasn’t weird,” Clarke tried to defend herself.

“He was so weird,” Abby explained persistently. “The no-players rule was yours.”

“To be fair, I did agree to it,” Clarke interjected.

“Prove it’s Lexa Woods,” Jake shook his head. “You can’t just show up here and take a nap and then drop that on me.”

“I didn’t plan on telling you, but it came out.”

“I just want to know how it happened?”

“We ran into each other a few times, and she asked me out,” Clarke shrugged, smiling at her father's disbelief. “It’s not that good of a story. I’ve never seen you so star-struck. You’ve coached Golden Boot winners. You’ve won Olympic medals!”

“I’m just surprised is all,” Jake sighed as he sat back in his chair and shook his head, eyes looking far off as his mind raced.

Clarke looked at Lexa on the screen once again before digging through her pocket to find her phone. She flipped to a picture and leaned forward for her father to see it.

“She’s your biggest fan, and I mean really. She admired you when you played, and even more when you coached. She hounds me about the great Jake Griffin. It’s oddly annoying sometimes.”

“That’s--- that’s you and… and that’s Lexa Woods,” Jake furrowed as he looked at the picture. “How in the world--?”

“So, the game on the tenth?”

“I’ll be there.”

“Cool. You’ll meet my girlfriend then.”

“Serious?”

“Yeah, I think it is,” Clarke nodded.

The camera followed Lexa as she dribbled the ball, moving gracefully through the defenders. Clarke and her father watched with different kinds of observations, but each with a separate appreciation for her gifts.

It was all a bit of fate, really.

288 notes · View notes

coffee-obsessed-writer · 6 years

Text

You Called?

Dean Winchester x Reader, Sam, Castiel

A/N: A silly, angsty little one-shot story that popped into my head after obsessively listening to this song and this song. Dean is drunk and missing the woman he loves around the holidays. Sam and Cas try to come up with something nice to do for him so he's not so sad.

Warnings: Language, drinking, angst, fluff,

Word Count: 3392

“I should never have left her,” Dean said as he slid to the floor. “I shoulda… I shoulda made her come.”

“Dean, don’t do this to yourself,” Sam furrowed his brow and extended a hand to his brother. “Please, it’s kind of pathetic.”

“I blew it,” Dean lifted the bottle to his lips and winced when the whiskey touched the cut on his lip. “I’m so stupid Sam.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a discussion for another day. C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Sam tried to maneuver Dean to his feet, but the eldest Winchester resisted.

“Jus… Just leave me Sam. I wanna sit here. I wanna get drunk and forget about her,” Dean disregarded his lip and drank greedily from the bottle.

Sam sighed and leaned against the wall where Dean once stood. Sliding down until he was on the floor, Sam reached over and grabbed the bottle from his brother.

Surprised by the action, Dean looked at him curiously through drunken eyes and shook his head. “Mmm, nope. No way, little brother, this is my bottle.”

“Bite me, dude,” Sam took the bottle and swigged it, scrunching face at the straight shot of brown liquor. “Alright, talk. What makes this one so special?” he handed the bottle back to Dean reluctantly.

“Have you seen her?” Dean mused wistfully, a dreamy smile on his lips, causing the crinkles to form around his eyes.

“Yeah, but, Dean… you’ve been with a lot of beautiful women in your life. I’ve never seen you like this. Not once since you hit puberty.”

Dean scoffed and took another shot. He licked the whiskey from his lip, and when his tongue hit the tender spot near the cut, he brought a hand to it and touched it gently. Grunting at the sharp pain, he closed his eyes and sighed.

“Well, we can start with the fact that she’s got a hell of a right hook…” Dean snorted a laugh and looked at Sam. When he didn’t laugh, Dean rolled his eyes and let his thoughts roll back to her. “I don’t know Sam, I just like her, alright?” Dean grumbled, trying to dismiss the question. Talking about all the things that made her perfect for him certainly wouldn’t help his current situation.

Sam reached for the bottle and this time Dean passed it willingly. “Its just funny to see you, of all people, so hung up on some girl.”

“She’s not just some girl, Sam,” Dean leaned his head back against the wall and exhaled deeply. Sam knew his brother was hurting and really just wanted to sit and wallow in what he thought he had lost.

Sam stood up from the ground and handed Dean back the bottle. “I’m sorry man, I wish it had gone differently.”

As he started walking down the hallway back towards the war room, he heard Dean mumble under his breath…. “she was THE girl…”

When Sam left, Dean pulled out his cell phone and brought her name up on the screen. He promised that he wouldn’t call her. He had sworn that after she asked him to give her space to figure out what she wanted. She was struggling to rectify falling in love with a hunter and getting deeper into the life than she already was. Dean was struggling with the notion of giving her what she needed when all he wanted to do was be with her.

Leaving her at the end of the last hunt had been hell, but when she finally hit him, he got the message. She begged him to go without her, even though she was in no condition to be alone. It was getting close to Christmas and he knew that was a hard time for her. He begged her to come back to the bunker with him and Sam, but she refused over and over. Finally resulting in her taking a swing and connecting with his lip.

Dean hit dial on her number. It rang straight through till voice mail. The phone momentarily slipped from his hand and he swallowed hard at the sound of her voice on the recording.

“Y/N… it’s me. I know I said I wouldn’t call. But, uh, I guess I’m a dick. I miss you and I’m really drunk. I really don’t know what to say other then I’m sorry. I should’ve tried harder to get you to come. It’s been a few days and not knowing where you are… I promised I wouldn’t call, but…” Dean paused and cursed to himself, God dammit, “…I need you. Please…”

The voicemail beeped, cutting him off. Sighing, he put his phone back in his pocket and took another long pull from the bottle of whiskey.

About twenty minutes after leaving Dean in the hallway, Sam found Cas standing in the war room absently staring at one of the books left open on the desk.

“Cas, you alright?” Sam asked.

“Sam… hello. Yes, I’m fine. I was listening to a prayer,” Cas replied though his focus was still on listening.

Sam sat at the table and began closing up the book scattered about. Realizing that the room felt emptier than usual, Sam turned and saw that Cas had already left, leaving only a slight breeze of his wings as he disappeared from the bunker.

Shaking his head and sighing he looked back down the hallway to where he had left his brother sad and heartbroken. Reaching for the laptop, Sam’s mind started racing with ways he could try and make Dean feel a little better.

Knowing Christmas was around the corner, he thought maybe if he brought a little of the holiday spirit, along with several pies, maybe Dean’s mood would improve… slightly. After surfing through some different websites, Sam grinned to himself as he worked to put his “Bring Dean Christmas Cheer” mission into motion.

Hours later, Sam finally pushed back from the desk and wandered back down the hallway where he’d left Dean earlier. Dean was gone but the empty whiskey bottled still laid tipped over on its side. He walked further down the hallway and saw Dean’s bedroom door slightly ajar. Pushing it open cautiously, he saw Dean, still dressed and in his boots, passed out face first on his bed. His cell phone was near his ear and Sam could hear soft music playing.

Carefully walking in as not to disturb him, Sam picked up Dean’s phone and turned the music off, but not before noticing that Air Supply’s I’m All Out of Love was set to play on repeat. A pang of regret ripped through Sam and he suddenly realized just how much Dean really did love this girl.

Quietly placing the phone back and leaving the room, Sam took his own cell out in the hallway and opened it up, navigating to Castiel’s number. He hit dial and waited for the angel to answer. When he reached the voicemail, Sam sighed and squeezed his eyes shut at the eventual frustration that this message would ultimately cause.

“Cas, it’s Sam. Can you get back to the bunker as soon as possible? I need your help with something.”

You let the phone buzz next to you until it finally stopped. Assuming the voice mail picked it up, you turned over in your bed trying your best to not think about who was calling. Deep down you knew it was Dean. You always knew when it was him that called.

Closing your eyes to try and sleep, his face kept coming to mind. Rolling onto your back, you covered your face with one arm and heard the buzz of the phone again signaling that you had a message.

Unable to let your curiosity slide, you grabbed the phone and decided to listen to the message. Hearing Dean’s voice caused your stomach to lurch and tears to stab at the corners of your eyes. You listened to his inebriated rambling and though it should’ve infuriated you, you found yourself missing him desperately. You had been the one to ask for space, and while he agreed, you could feel yourself starting to miss him.

Dean had been a bit surprised when he unexpectedly popped into your life. Six months earlier on a random hunt, you had bumped into him and his brother and ended up working with them to out a bunch of ghouls.

You never expected to fall in love with Dean Winchester. It happened quickly. Within days the two of you had spent nearly every waking hour together. A week later, you were spending every night together. After a month, you were fairly certain that he was the one you were meant to be with forever.

Problem was, forever could end and that scared the shit out of you. A hunt went wrong almost got Dean dead and it was more than you could handle, watching the man you were falling in love with die wasn’t something you ever agreed to. That part of you that feared losing everything kicked in and ignited a fight or flight response. You decided to fly.

Taking a deep breath, your mind began to reach out and pray. To whom, you weren’t exactly sure, but you could feel your inner thoughts fueled by a deep longing for some sort of guidance.

I don’t really know what I am doing here, but if anyone is listening… God, Cas, hell… I’ll even take Gabriel… one of you… please. What do I do? Dean is so important to me. But this life sucks you dry. I don’t know if I can be more of anything to anyone. He deserves the world… I’m so afraid I can’t be that for him. But, fuck. I love him, and I miss him… Please, tell me what to do. Anyone listening… maybe throw a girl a sign…

When nothing came, you sighed and reached for the phone again. Grabbing it with the intention of calling Dean, you chastised yourself immediately and navigated to the calendar and realized that Christmas was less than a week away. For normal people, that would mean thinking about buying gifts, decorating, planning parties and sending cards. For hunters, it meant being on high alert for a wide variety of creatures that liked to pray on the sad and lonely, or feed off the Christmas spirit, or lack thereof.

Frustrated and sad, you put the phone back down on the table just as a bright white light engulfed your bedroom. Shielding your eyes from the illumination, you took two pillows and buried your head so you didn’t lose your eyesight completely.

When the light finally began to fade, you uncovered your eyes and instinctively drew the blankets up to cover your chest. At the end of your bed stood the angel in a trench coat, his face soft and concerned.

“You called?” he mused, a slight smiling formed on his face.

Dean woke the next morning with a raging headache and the melody to Air Supply stuck in his head. Despite the pain ringing in his ears, he shuffled down the hallway towards the kitchen mumbling to himself.

“I’m all out of love, I’m so lost without you…” he sang to himself as he slowly moved through the kitchen towards the coffee that was already perked. “I know you were right, believing for sooo long…”

He poured the steaming liquid into his cup and inhaled deeply. His head pounded terribly, but somehow, he didn’t mind. The pain in his head was distracting from the hollowness in his chest and right then he was grateful for that.

Making his way back down the hallway, Dean had planned to go straight back to bed. The sound of music playing softly from the war room stopped him and made him turn in the other direction.

“Really Sam?” he mumbled to himself as he recognized the melody of Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree playing over the PA system throughout the bunker. Rolling his eyes, he shambled his way into the room and stopped in his tracks the second he breached the entryway.

Off to the right was an eight-foot high Christmas tree completely decorated with lights and ornaments. Beneath it was several wrapped packages and stockings stuffed to overflowing. Dean scanned the rest of the room and was taken aback by the number of decorations and holiday fare spread throughout.

Sam was standing near the tree, adding a few last touches to the top and adjusting the star. Castiel was sitting at the table with several unwrapped packages in front of him, two tubes of wrapping paper and a dozen pieces of scotch tape stuck to his fingers.

“Sam… I don’t know how to wrap presents. Please, can’t I do something else to help?”

Laughing, Sam waved him to stand up and Cas began peeling the tape off. They both noticed Dean at the same time and smiled with a nod.

“Hey. So, what’dya think?” Sam asked,smiling and extending his arms out wide.

“Well, it looks like Santa threw up in here,” Dean mocked and sipped his coffee. “What’s all this for anyway?”

“We can’t celebrate our first Christmas together without a tree dummy,” a familiar voice called from behind him.

You were standing in the entryway behind him with an armload of tinsel and garland. Walking into the room slowly, you placed the decorations on the end of the table and turned your attention to Dean.

“Hey,” you said delicately, chewing on the inside of your lip as you locked with his brilliant green eyes.

His expression softened and he smiled at the sight of you. “What are you doing here?” he asked in surprise, nearly choking on the last word as he pushed it out of his mouth.

“I got your message,” taking a small step closer to Dean, you leaned on one of the chairs and looked back over your shoulder at Sam and Cas. “Castiel here was nice enough to give me a lift over.”

Sam cleared his throat and looked over to Cas. “C’mon man, I have some more stuff down in storage. Let’s go grab it.”

Looking between you and Dean, and back to Sam, he got the hint and quickly stood to follow Sam out of the war room.

Turning back to Dean, you suddenly felt nervous and more than a little guilty.

“Look, I know what I said, and I’m sorry. Your message—”

Dean cut you off as he wrapped a hand around your neck and pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours with little warning, causing you to smile into his kiss. Without hesitation, your arms curled up around his neck as you kissed him back without indecision.

His hands cupped each side of your face and gently pulled you back from him. Running his fingers lightly through your hair with one hand, he sighed and rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess you’re happy to see me?” you teased, earning a chuckle from the eldest Winchester.

“You have no fucking idea,” he said and kissed your head. “What changed your mind?”

“After I heard your message, I prayed. I didn’t know what to say or who to address, so I just sorta named everyone I could think of that wasn’t a dick.”

“Small list,” Dean laughed.

“Right? What the hell… But anyway, then Cas was there. He heard me,” you said and nuzzled into Dean’s chest as he enfolded his arms around your shoulders and rested his chin on your head. “He helped me realize that it doesn’t matter what happens tomorrow. All we can control is right now, and right now, I want to be with you and have as normal a Christmas as we can possibly have. If… that’s what you want too.”

Dean ran his hands down your shoulders and traced the frame of your body down to your hips. His fingers dug into the flesh there, drawing you as close to himself as he could. Leaning in, he ghosted your lips with his.

“It’s the only thing I could ever ask for,” he whispered before leaving a soft kiss on your lips.

Allowing his fingers to slip beneath the hem of your shirt, you felt a wave of goosebumps shiver across your skin at the contact.

“The only thing, huh?” you teased and kissed him again.

Dean looked up for a second of consideration before running his fingers through your hair again. “Maybe a few other things…” he smirked, allowing his eyes to gaze down the length of your neck to your chest and the partially exposed cleavage.

Pretending to be offended you grabbed his shirt and pulled him down towards you for a kiss. Your lips parted upon touching his, allowing him to take as much of you as he could. He didn’t disappoint. Dean kissed you deeply, and with each passing second, your ache for each other was growing to a point of necessity.

His hands were back on your hips, and you could feel him lifting you off the ground initiating you to wrap your legs around his waist. Draping your arms around his neck, you couldn’t help but grin as he continued to kiss you as though you’d not seen each other in years.

Being so wrapped up in each other, you didn’t hear the footsteps trail into the room.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” Cas said loud enough to disrupt yours and Dean’s reconnection as he quickly but gently put you back down. “I guess the good news is that you are clearly in the correct place to be acting out a scene from that movie we watched… what was it called Dean?”

“Um, Cas now’s not really the time,” Dean said and motioned for Cas to stop talking.

“Alright, well. I just meant that you are standing under the mistletoe, so you were in the right place.”

You and Dean looked up simultaneously and snickered a laugh. All over the ceiling above you hung sprigs of the decoration a foot or so apart, all the way through the room.

“Overkill maybe?” Dean asked with a smirk.

“Just wanted to be sure you didn’t miss your chance to kiss her,” Cas said before grabbing a box off the table. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Once he was gone, you and Dean couldn’t help but laugh. He caught your gaze and the smile slowly faded from his face.

“You being here is really the best gift I could’ve gotten,” Dean said, lightly brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“But you haven’t opened my gift yet,” you said playfully as you bit down on your lip. “Come with me…”

Walking over towards the Christmas tree, you motioned for him to sit at the table and he did as asked. From under the tree, you grabbed one of the larger boxes and placed it down in front of him.

Dean furrowed his brow and looked up at you. “What is it?”

“Just open it, but be careful… its delicate,” you warned and rested a hand on his shoulder.

Dean tore off the paper and when he lifted the top of the large white box. You couldn’t help but grin like an idiot as his emerald green eyes grew wide with excitement. Inside were two large, home cooked pies.

“Are these from where I think they’re from?” Dean’s voice quivered with anticipation as he drew in a deep scent of them, “that little place… uh… Annie’s Shack in Bloomington?”

When he saw you nodding, he smiled larger than you’d ever seen him smile. He grabbed you by the waist and pulled you down onto his lap, causing you to squeal with surprise. Dean kissed you again and this time when he pulled away, you could see the feelings he had for you written all over his face.

“Seriously, this will go down as the best Christmas ever. Got my best girl and got the World’s Best Pies, what more could I want?”

Smiling, you reached into your shirt pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. “How about the recipes to make the pies?”

“No…” he exclaimed breathlessly, “Really?”

“Mhm, I convinced her to hand it over when I told her they were for you. She still says you paid for the new roof for that place with the amount of pie you ate that week.”

“Worth every scent,” Dean mused and passed a glance at the apple pie.

“Dean…” you used your fingers to gently turn his head towards yours, “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he pulled you into another kiss and somehow forgot all about the pies on the table in front of him.

Tags: @soythedemonqueen @aquivercactus @kazosa @reedusgif @sorenmarie87 @lucifer-in-leather @hyphymanatee @lefthologramdeer @see-you-then-winchester @somanyfandomstochoosefrom

#dean winchester x you #fanfic #Supernatural fiction #supernatural christmas #supernatural #fan fiction

188 notes · View notes

builder051 · 7 years

Note

Okay, so you know your series with Bucky/Steve where Bucky is recovering and you write the fics set during different holidays? I'm really curious how Bucky would deal with Steve getting food poisoning... Like maybe a bit further on in his recovery? I'd love to see a fic for this if you're willing and up for it!!

This is quite long, so brace yourself… And it’s fairly plotless too. :)

We are in Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure.

_____________________________

Steve leans back into the couch, hands behind his head, and watches the Minnesota Vikings make a touchdown.

“Yes!” Clint practically jumps out of his seat, pumping his fist in the air. His son Cooper, who’s sitting on the couch between Clint and Steve, glances at his father and follows suit.

“Why are they your team, again?” Bucky asks, peering around Steve and Cooper to address Clint.

“I don’t know. Thor likes them, so I figured I’d adopt them as my team too.”

“For not being that into them, you’re really into them,” Steve observes with a hint of friendly judgmental incoherence.

“Yeah, well, what can I say. Sunday is football day. And just to throw it back at ya, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two dudes less into a game,” Clint throws back.

“It would be different if the Giants were playing,” Bucky provides with a bit of a yawn.

Steve reaches over to pat Bucky’s knee. “Tired already?” He asks quietly. Bucky’s been doing better lately, but that doesn’t mean the nightmares are completely gone. The jumbled sleepy groaning had turned to shouting around 4, and they’ve both been awake since then.

“I don’t know. I’m ok,” Bucky replies.

“This game’s almost over, if you’re ready to split,” Steve suggests.

Bucky shrugs. “I’m ok,” he repeats.

Laura swoops in from the kitchen, picking up bowls of snacks from the coffee table and carting them away.

“You could at least wait until a commercial break,” Clint playfully snipes at his wife as she momentarily stands between him and the TV.

“Yeah, yeah, suck it up,” she teases back, rolling her eyes and dancing in place as she loads a bowl of potato chip crumbs under her arm.

“Here, let me help you with that,” Steve offers. He jumps up and grabs the bowl of onion dip and a plate of baby carrots and celery.

“I got it,” Laura tries to say.

“No, really, you’ve been waiting on us all day,” Steve says.

“Now you’re really blocking the view,” Clint complains. He sticks out his foot to trip Steve as he carries the dishes into the kitchen, but Steve easily sidesteps the obstacle.

“I’ll get dinner served in a few minutes, here,” Laura says, gesturing to the potatoes in the oven and crock pot of chili on the counter.

“Thanks for the offer,” Steve replies, “But we should be getting home. You’ve fed us enough already, and we’ve got a long drive home. Gotta be up for work tomorrow. You know the drill.”

“Yeah, sure do. He doing ok?” She glances at Bucky, still watching the TV in the living room.

“Oh, yeah, he’s doing great,” Steve explains. “You’ve seen how far he’s come getting back to his old self.” Steve paws in the bowl of chips for a couple sizeable crumbs, swipes them in the onion dip, and throws them into his mouth. “We just had kind of a long night, if you know what I mean. The nightmares still bug him sometimes.”

“I bet they still bug you, too,” Laura says with a sympathetic eyebrow raise.

Steve half-shrugs and dips another chip.

“You know, that’s been sitting out for over 6 hours. I’m not sure you want to eat it now.” Laura snags the bowl of dip from under Steve’s hand and dumps it into the sink.

Steve swallows the chip anyway. “I’ll be fine.” He tries to help stack up a few more dishes. “I think I amgonna drag Bucky home now. Thanks for everything. All the hospitality.”

“Sure. You know you’re welcome anytime.” Laura dries her hands on the seat of her jeans and hurries to find their coats.

Steve meanders up to the back of the couch and starts massaging Bucky’s shoulders from behind. “Ready to run?” He asks. “I gotta be up early tomorrow.” He doesn’t really, but it’s an easy out.

“Yeah, sure.” Bucky stands up and claps Clint and Cooper on the shoulder before donning his jacket and following Steve out to the car.

They’re on the highway before either of them speak.

“How’s it going?” Steve’s used to Bucky’s long silences; he just sometimes feels the need to check in to ensure they’re contented stretches of quiet instead of depressed ones.

“Fine. ��Good. I’m good,” Bucky says. “I’m just, I just wonder… I think I like the Giants, since they’re a New York team, but I don’t really remember seeing a lot of football before the war…”

Steve shifts slightly in his seat and replies, “Yeah, I don’t think we paid a lot of attention to football… If you decide you don’t like the Giants, you can always go for the Jets…” Steve stifles a belch behind his hand.

“You drink too much coke or something?”

“I’m fine,” Steve automatically replies. He’s sure he is. He can’t remember the last time he was sick with anything, not even a sniffle. The slight grumble in his stomach has to be from an afternoon of munching junk food and ignoring the need for physical activity. Though even as he commits to the thought, the unsettledness takes a dip toward pain.

Dusk is falling. Steve can see the edges of orange sunset peeking in the corners of his rear view mirror as they sail from the beautiful stuck-in-time Virginia countryside back toward the concrete bustle of the DC suburbs. He wishes they were travelling west so the beautiful sight could be in front, like a paradise to travel toward.

“Maybe we should move to the country,” Steve dreamily suggests. “Get a farm house like Clint.”

“Could,” Bucky says in a doubtful tone. “But I think we’re city kids. We could go back to Brooklyn…”

They dissolve into a stretch of silence again. The sun continues to plummet, and the harvest gold glow glints off the car mirrors in a harsher manner, making Steve squint against the assault on his eyeballs. It’s beginning to make his head hurt, which isn’t coupling well with the tumult in his stomach. Wave motion is creating white-capped froth against the sides of his abdomen, and it feels as though it’s splashing up into his chest. Steve tries to stealthily let out another burp, and he tastes the sourness of acid reflux.

Then Bucky’s saying something, and Steve’s completely missed it.

“Huh?”

“Are you ok?” It’s definitely not what Bucky said the first time.

“Sure. Yeah,” Steve replies.

“I think, maybe, you’re not,” Bucky says, his eyes trained on Steve’s face. “Your stomach hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Buck, really, I’m ok,” Steve says. But internally, he admits to himself that he’s definitely uncomfortable. The first flecks of nausea are starting to materialize under his tongue.

“No, you’re not feeling good,” Bucky insists. “It’s been a long time, but I used to take care of you. I remember how you’d look when you felt sick.”

“That attractive, huh?” Steve asks, attempting to chuckle and swallow at the same time.

“If you feel bad, pull over,” Bucky says.

“It’s not that bad.” Steve realizes what he’s let slip as soon as the words leave his mouth.

“But you do feel kinda bad.”

“Eh. Kinda.” It’s not worth disagreeing, now that there’s something like an invisible boa constrictor simultaneously squeezing his stomach and esophagus.

“You want me to drive?” Bucky suggests.

“You can’t,” Steve says, swallowing a mouthful of bitter saliva.

“I can drive,” Bucky says, somewhat defensively.

“Yeah, but you don’t have a license,” Steve reminds him. “I’m gonna be fine. Let’s just…get home.”

The sensation stretching from his stomach to the back of his throat has reached the point of definite illness. It’s been such a long time since he’s felt sick like this; it brings back flashes of being a weaker version of himself, laid up in bed before the war. But with Bucky still by his side.

He pushes on for five rough minutes. When the flips of his stomach bring sleepy heaviness to his jaw and vertigo to his forehead, Steve knows he’s screwed. Sickness is imminent. A disgustingly wet belch works its way up his throat, and it’s all Steve can do to swallow down what’s quickly becoming the urge to gag.

“You should pull over.”

“Yeah, yeah, give me a second…” Steve mutters in a choked whisper. He takes the next exit without knowing exactly where it leads. He gulps against a surge of bile and speeds through a yellow light to quickly merge from the off ramp to the main road. There’s a gas station about a hundred yards down, and Steve pulls into the parking lot. He sloppily stops the car across two parking spaces and throws the door open just in time to heave onto the dirty cracked asphalt.

“Hey, alright,” Bucky murmurs from behind him. There’s a click as Bucky releases his seatbelt, then a shuffle as he clambers to his knees to balance his stump arm against Steve’s seat.

Steve feels the warm pressure of Bucky’s hand on the back of his neck. It has the essence of comfort, but also the sensation of pushing him forward into the choking sling of his seatbelt as his stomach continues to evacuate.

He retches hard again, and a torrent of undigested food and soft drinks erupts, splashing over Steve’s knee and the edge of the door frame. The seatbelt has him bound too far into the vehicle, and he fumbles his trembling fingers over the mechanism to unbuckle himself.

“I’m coming around to your side, ok?” Bucky pats Steve’s shoulder and scrambles up. He produces a dizzying ricochet when he slams the passenger side door.

In barely a second, he’s around the front end of the car and hovering face to face with Steve. He quickly leaps backward a step as Steve lets out another flood of vomit onto the toes of Bucky’s boots.

“God. Sorry,” Steve croaks, dabbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’re tired; we should be home…”

“It’s ok, you’re just all messed up,” Bucky says, squatting by Steve’s left shoulder.

Steve nods absently in agreement as he tries and fails to suppress another gag that ends up delivering a thin stream of liquid.

“You want to go inside?” Bucky jerks his head in the direction of the gas station’s convenience store. “Try to get in a bathroom?”

“Nah, I’m…I don’t want to move.” Steve’s hands shake visibly as he rests his face in his palms.

“But you’re, I mean, everything else is doing ok?”

“I’m not shitting myself, if that’s what you’re asking,” Steve embarrassment coming out in an edge in his voice.

“Hey, whatever’s going on, no problem. I’m just here to help.” Bucky says. He uses a Kleenex from his pocket to swipe a few chunks of sick from Steve’s knee, then keeps his hand comfortingly on his thigh.

“Yeah…” He retches agonizingly, then spits onto the ground as his body continues to force out air and fluid in painful belches. “Jesus fucking Christ…”

Bucky’s inexplicable lover’s radar seems to inform him that the filthier the curses, the more excruciating Steve’s condition. His hand finds Steve’s, and he squeezes as tightly as he can. “Do you think you’ll be ok for a minute? I’ll grab you some water. Maybe some antacids. Or some ginger ale? I don’t know what’sgonna help the most…”

“I’m ok,” Steve gasps through a cough. He means in general, though he also knows he’s blatantly mistaken.

“Ok. Breathe, alright? I’ll be right back.” Bucky forces the Kleenex into Steve’s hand and lovingly strokes the back of his knuckles with his thumb.

Bucky’s gone for all of five minutes, but Steve can’t stop his body from contracting forward again. Twice he heaves, and twice white-tinged stomach acid falls into what’s becoming an ocean of puke running across the concrete and under the car.

In his peripheral vision, Steve sees Bucky’s strapping one-armed form exiting the store’s glass doors. He has a plastic shopping bag in the crook of his elbow and his phone pressed between his cheek and his shoulder.

“Yeah…” Steve hears Bucky muttering as he approaches the car. “Ok, I’ll let you know if anything changes. Ok. Thanks. Bye.” He slaps the shopping bag around his hips as he fumbles the phone back into his pocket, then he bends over Steve’s back again.

“Alright, how’s it going,” Bucky asks.

“Oh, god,” Steve groans, fighting a hiccup. “Just…so nauseous.” He takes a stabilizing breath. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just Laura,” Bucky says. “I wanted to let her know, in case someone else was getting sick.”

Steve gives a thick swallow. “’S nice of you…”

“And I, well, you know I’m kind of rusty on this,” Bucky admits quietly. “I mean, you’ve been doing so much for me, but it’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I want to make sure I’m, you know, doing it right.”

“I don’t think there’s a lot you can do,” Steve murmurs, bringing a fist to his mouth. “What did Laura say?”

“To push fluids. Get you home. Go to the ER or call Sam to start an IV if it gets too bad.” Bucky sets the shopping bag on top of the car and starts rummaging in it. “And to remind you to not eat something if she tells you not to eat it.”

Steve glances up and sees Bucky’s smile.

“Yeah. Point taken,” Steve says.

Bucky squats down to face him again, squeezing a bottle of water between his knees as he screws off the cap. “How long’s it been since you brought anything up?”

“I don’t know. A few minutes,” Steve gauges. “But feels like I could go again any second.”

“Here.” Bucky offers the water bottle.

Steve eyes him doubtfully and gives a small shake of his head.

“Better to puke up water than just acid.”

Steve has the slightly nostalgic feeling that he’d told Bucky the same thing not many months ago. The full scope of the role-reversed scenario suddenly hits him, and Steve’s struck with the desire to be cooperative, though his body still seems to have other ideas. He accepts the water bottle from Bucky and loosely grips it in his sweaty, shaky hand.

“Yeah. Ok,” he sighs. “Just…not really appealing.”

“Take a couple sips and I’ll drive you home,” Bucky encourages.

“You still can’t drive.” Steve brings the bottle to his lips, the condensation beading on its surface making it slick in his hand and against his mouth. The water is refreshing, but swallowing gives him the distinct impression he’s forcing his system to work in the opposite direction of its current preference.

“I can drive. It’s a medical emergency, and I won’t get pulled over,” Bucky insists.

The water immediately hits Steve’s stomach, and the bubbling reaction it seems to set off is less than pleasant feeling. He burps under his breath.

“Ok?”

“Maybe,” Steve says. “It’s not setting that great.”

“Well, you seem ok for now. You think maybe you’re ready to get going?” Bucky rescues the plastic bag from the top of the car and stoops to offer Steve his stump shoulder as support. With difficulty, Steve accepts the handhold and pulls himself to standing, remaining slightly bent at the waist with one arm protectively draped around his middle.

They sidle around the large splash of vomit on the ground and somehow maneuver to the passenger side. Steve can barely concentrate on moving his feet as he trembles around the front of the car. He sinks into the plush seat as soon as Bucky guides him to bend his knees. He swallows hard as the water he swallowed threatens to come back up.

“Here,” Bucky says, reading Steve’s panicked expression. He reaches over Steve to place a container of Tums in the cup holder, then hands over the empty plastic bag.

Steve imagines the car’s tires streaking through the lake of sick as Bucky reverses out of Steve’s awful parking job. He doesn’t look to confirm his prediction. With his palm pressed firmly into the steering wheel’s 12 o’clock position, Bucky steers them easily back onto the highway.

It’s only 25 minutes or so before they reach the exit for Falls Church, but Steve still can’t handle the smooth motion of the car on the road. He leans his head into the window for as long as he can, but ends up hanging over his own lap as saliva trails from his lower lip into the crinkly plastic bag.

“You’re good,” Bucky says, shooting Steve a sympathetic glance. Steve nods and belches out a mouthful of acidic water. Hardly anything more comes up, but he stays hunched, not trusting himself to move. At the first stoplight they get to, Bucky takes his hand off the wheel to stroke his fingers down Steve’s back.

Once they’re safely parked in the garage, Bucky unlocks the front door and Steve immediately slips past him to set up camp in the downstairs bathroom. He kneels in front of the toilet and buries his face in the bowl, folding his arms over his aching head.

“What do you need?” Bucky asks from the doorway.

“Nothing, I don’t know,” Steve says around the threat of a gag. “If you just want to come sit…”

“Yeah. Of course. With ya till the end of the line, remember?”

#sickfic #fanfic #marvel #mcu #captain america #powers/no powers choose-your-own-adventure #stucky #steve rogers #bucky barnes #laura barton #clint barton #emeto #emetophilia #food poisoning #football

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hollymartinswrites · 4 years

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Chapters: 15/? Fandom: IT - Stephen King, IT (Movies - Muschietti), Doctor Sleep - Stephen King, Doctor Sleep (2019) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh Characters: Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier, Ben Hanscom, Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough, Mike Hanlon, Original Child Character(s), Dan “Danny” Torrance, Abra Stone Additional Tags: Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-IT Chapter Two (2019), Domestic, Light Angst, Family Feels, Childhood Trauma, Adoption, Kid Fic, Adopted Children, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Marriage, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier Are Parents, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Minor Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier Are Best Friends, Catholicism, Richie Tozier Has Issues, Extended Tozier Family, Medical Examinations, Stephen King References, The Shining References, Doctor Sleep References, References to Depression, Depression, Mentioned Sonia Kaspbrak

Summary:

Eddie and Richie embark on the most terrifying experience of all—parenthood. Or, the author desperately needed a domestic, family fix-it for Richie and Eddie and it turned into a much longer, angstier exploration than I expected.

Chapter XV: Growing up isn’t easy but Eddie and Richie are determined to help their daughters along the way.

The next couple of days went by in a blur. The rest of the Losers arrived, were just as shocked as Richie and Eddie at Bev and Ben’s surprise baby, and spent the remainder of the trip hugging, kissing, laughing, and fawning over Tess and Lydia and of course, baby Ida. Even though both men had insisted on no gifts for their daughters, none of the Losers had listened, and their daughters were delighted with their latest Christmas presents (Eddie even had to run out and purchase a new tote bag to lug them home).

But, soon enough, it was time to head back and face reality. The holiday season was over and the girls had school. Eddie, secretly, was looking forward to returning home and by the looks from his husband, he knew Richie felt the same way.

The girls cried when they left for the airport—even shy Tess. Clearly, Ben and Bev’s kindness and patience (and the new addition of an adorable, happy baby) had finally worked their magic on their daughter. Yet, by the time the family pulled into their own driveway, they were all more than relieved.

Together, Eddie and Richie helped the girls unpack, bathe, and get ready for their first day back to school after the break. Both men were grateful that they were raising children who truly enjoyed school and were too busy discussing which new outfits they would wear and what toys to tell their friends about to fret. Soon enough, it was time for bed and both girls, exhausted from their trip, dropped off to sleep easily. Now, it was time for just them.

“We did it,” Richie said, stretching after they walked into their bedroom. “We survived.”

“And the girls did great,” Eddie replied, yawning.

“Yeah, beyond what I expected,” Richie answered. “Guess we can start planning more family trips.”

Eddie nodded and leaned against the doorframe, gazing at his husband, a tender smile on his face. Richie yawned and reached for his dresser drawer before noticing.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Eddie replied, shrugging. “Just...I need to take a shower.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Be quicker if we take one together.”

Richie blinked and Eddie smirked as he watched his husband’s face go slack. After all these years, he still enjoyed shocking him.

“Together?” Richie repeated, his voice unnaturally high. “We haven’t done this since...since…”

“Come on,” Eddie grinned, taking his hand.

“But...what if this kids wake up and need us?”

“Ten minutes,” Eddie replied. “They’ll be fine for ten minutes.”

Richie grinned.

“Baby, when I’m this hard for you, I only need two minutes,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows in a poor imitation of seduction.

Eddie laughed and dragged him into the bathroom.

Work sucked.

He had been looking forward to getting back into the regular routine of things but, as he sat at his desk and stared at the hundreds of emails in his inbox, Eddie realized he would’ve been much happier at home. Rubbing at his eyes in frustration, Eddie sighed and tried to focus. He deleted as many unnecessary emails as possible, responded when necessary, and glanced up to the time. Two minutes had passed. Great.

His phone buzzed. Eddie quickly grabbed it and swiped it open. A text from Richie.

Just picked up Tess. She has her first loose tooth!

Eddie smiled, his heart suddenly light.

Send me a pic, he texted back and waited. And waited. And waited some more. He swallowed nervously but tried to remind himself that Richie was probably driving and shouldn’t he be glad that Richie never texted while driving?

Eddie looked back at his emails and tried to get through a few more, but he noticed he was nervously bouncing his leg. He clenched his free hand and took a deep, calming breath. It did not calm him.

His phone began ringing. He answered it immediately and winced at the sound of his daughter wailing.

“Hey, sorry,” Richie said, sounding breathless. “We had a bit of a meltdown in the car.”

“What happened?” Eddie asked quickly. “Is she alright? Are you alright?”

“We’re fine,” Richie answered. “We—Tess, it’s okay, I’m talking to Daddy, you can talk to him next—we just got home. And we’re a little freaked out by the whole loose tooth thing.”

Eddie’s heart twisted painfully.

“Let me speak with her,” he said gently.

“Okay, hang on,” Richie said and Eddie could hear him turn away from the phone and say, “Tess, baby, it’s Daddy. He wants to talk to you. Here, lemme wipe your nose. Okay, here you go.”

“Daddy?” whimpered a little wet voice.

“Sweetheart,” Eddie replied, his eyes closing briefly as he tried to keep calm, “are you okay? What’s wrong? Tell me.”

“I...I…” Tess broke down again and Eddie heard Richie gently calming her, “I’m scared!”

Eddie’s heart cracked a bit and he glanced down at his free hand, once again clenched tightly.

“What are you scared of?” he asked softly.

“I don’t wanna lose my tooth,” she wept. “I don’t want the Tooth Fairy to come. It’s gonna hurt.”

“Sweetheart, it’s not going to hurt,” he said quickly before changing tactics, “and it’s okay to be scared. We all get scared sometimes but you know you’re very brave, right?”

Tess was too busy crying to respond.

“Eddie?” Richie said as he got back on the phone.

“Do you need me to come home?”

“No, I think I can get it under control. Besides, it’s your first day back at work.”

Eddie glanced back at his computer screen and frowned. He absently rubbed at his chest, a deep pull nearly taking his breath away.

“I’m coming home,” he said firmly. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Alright, but only if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure, Richie.”

Eddie ended the call and stood from his desk, the only thought in his mind that he wanted to be with his family.

He was home in less than half an hour. Richie opened the door before he even had a chance to unlock it, his husband smiling tiredly at him.

“Where’s Tess?” Eddie asked immediately, stepping inside.

“Down for a nap,” Richie answered, closing the door behind him. “I’m sorry, you really didn’t need to come home early.”

“I wanted to,” Eddie sighed, putting down his briefcase. “I couldn’t focus at work anyway. And I couldn’t… not with her upset like that.”

Richie nodded and ran a hand through his unruly hair.

“She calmed down a bit after talking to you,” he said. “She’s still spooked by the whole thing. I don’t know, I guess it’s scary the first time but I wasn’t prepared for a freakout like this. Lydia had only been excited.”

“I know,” Eddie replied. He gazed up at his husband and reached out to squeeze his shoulder. “How are you doing?”

Richie offered a gentle smile and shrugged.

“I’m alright,” he sighed. “I guess I was just...thrown off by her meltdown. Tess has been so good lately, so confident.” He shrugged again. “I hate seeing her upset.”

Eddie nodded and leaned up to peck him gently on the lips when they were interrupted by the sound of Tess crying out for her papa. Both men raced to her bedroom and threw open her door, only to see her sitting up in bed, her face hidden in her hands as she cried.

“Tess, Tess,” Eddie gasped, rushing up to her bed with Richie right behind him, “Tess, it’s alright, you’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about. Your papa and I are here.”

She immediately hid her face in his chest, muffling her sobs. Eddie looked up at Richie helplessly, but he looked as troubled as he felt. Surely this was a lot more than merely being scared of a loose tooth.

“Talk to us, kiddo,” Richie offered. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

Tess sniffled and wiped at her eyes before slowly sitting back.

“I knew...I knew my tooth was loose...loose last night,” she hiccuped through the tears. “It’s scary.”

“I know it’s a bit scary but it’s really nothing to fret over,” Eddie promised. “It’s just a part of growing up and it doesn’t hurt, it just feels weird.”

“Yeah, and you get money from the Tooth Fairy,” Richie reminded her.

Tess sniffled again before looking down at her lap.

“I...when I get scared...the bad things come back,” she admitted, her voice thick.

“What bad things?” Eddie asked, cold fear gripping his heart.

“The bad things I see,” she explained. “When I’m scared...they come back. The scary things. Like Papa floating and the mean lady who gave you yucky medicine when you was little, Daddy. I can’t make them go away.”

See, Eddie-Bear? I knew you couldn’t protect her, his mother laughed from the grave. A wave of dizziness overwhelmed him, and Eddie briefly wondered which way to fall in case he collapsed.

“Tess, those are…” Richie swallowed before taking her hands, “those aren’t real. They’re like bad dreams. They can’t hurt you.”

Tess shook her head.

“Abracadabra showed me how to stop them,” she murmured. “But it’s hard when I’m scared.”

Eddie blinked and was suddenly aware of Richie’s arms around him and their daughter. An intense desire to give way to tears overwhelmed him but for Tess’s sake, he remained quiet. He closed his eyes as he felt Richie kissing the top of both of their heads.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, “it’s alright, Tess.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said gently, “your Papa is right. They can’t hurt you. I know they’re scary but they can’t hurt you. They’re like memories or something.”

Tess nodded, tears still streaming down her face.

“And we’d never let anything hurt you,” Richie insisted. “Your daddy and I both promise you that.”

“I know,” Tess murmured.

“Just remember how brave you are,” Eddie whispered. “You and Lydia can do anything.”

“And a loose tooth has nothing on you,” Richie reminded her.

She nodded again and snuggled closer to her dads. Eddie closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, allowing his husband and daughter to center him.

“We need to talk to Abra,” Eddie declared later that night.

Richie looked up and nodded once.

“I suppose so,” he sighed.

“Her classes probably started up again,” Eddie considered. “What did she say? She’s a junior?”

“Sophomore, I think,” Richie answered.

“Well, I don’t want to take her away from her classes,” Eddie replied. “I just want her to...like...reassure Tess.”

Richie gazed off into the middle of the room and a sad smile appeared on his face.

“She doesn’t like change, poor thing,” he whispered. He turned towards Eddie. “Reminds me of you.”

Eddie sighed and shook his head.

“Maybe I’m overreacting,” he muttered. “Maybe we just need to take her to the therapist again.”

“We can do both,” Richie offered. He leaned back to lay on their bed. “At least Lydia was able to calm her down a bit about losing a tooth.” He sighed. “I’m not crazy about it either.”

Eddie furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Not crazy about what?” he asked.

Richie hesitated before admitting, “Tess losing a tooth means that she’s growing up.”

Eddie smiled and shook his head before stepping up to the bed and laying beside his husband. He rested an arm over his chest and sighed deeply.

“Our kids have to grow up,” he said gently.

“I know that,” Richie shot back. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Eddie leaned in to kiss his cheek. Richie turned his head to catch Eddie’s lips with his own, his own hands reaching to card through Eddie’s hair.

“Maybe…” he murmured against Eddie’s lips, “maybe if we had a baby…”

Eddie burst out laughing.

“You ass,” he insisted. “I knew that was coming soon.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did, you’re not very subtle, Richie.”

Richie sighed and gazed up at the ceiling.

“But…”

“And what if we had a baby?” Eddie asked, leaning up on his elbows. “That baby will grow up, too. And what then? We get another baby?”

Richie shrugged.

“That’s a possibility,” he admitted.

Eddie rolled his eyes and, with his fingers, gently turned Richie’s face towards him. He smiled down at his husband, love filling him so completely that, for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re a ridiculous man, Richard Tozier,” he murmured. “And I love you for it. But maybe let’s not discuss having another kid while our current one is in the middle of a crisis.”

Richie’s eyes grew brighter.

“You mean, you’d be up to discussing having another kid later?” he asked tentatively.

Eddie smiled again and nodded. Richie grinned and reached up, bringing his husband down to meet his lips once again. His hands carded through Eddie’s hair and, for the second time that day, Eddie felt dizzyingly weak. This time was much better.

“Where are we going?” Lydia asked for the upteenth time, swinging her and her father’s arms as she held his hand.

“We told you, the park,” Richie reminded her, squeezing her hand in reply.

“Bu it’s cold out,” she pointed out.

“It’s not that cold,” Richie answered. “And after the park, we’ll go get lunch.”

“Can we go to the American Girl store?” she asked.

“No, we have other plans.”

“What about the Museum of Natural History?”

Richie opened his mouth to refuse but immediately thought better of it and gazed at Eddie imploringly. Eddie shook his head. Nearly every trip to New York City resulted in Richie trying to convince Eddie to go to that museum again and though Eddie loved it, too, they had plans today.

“We’re nearly there,” Eddie said gently, “and if there’s enough time, we may be able to get to the zoo.”

Both girls cheered excitedly and Eddie hoped he wasn’t promising something he couldn’t come through with. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint his daughters...and Richie.

“I’m tired of walking,” Tess declared suddenly, pulling on his arm.

“Oh yeah?” Eddie replied. “Should we get you a stroller? Like baby Ida?”

Tess nodded solemnly and Eddie ran his hand through her hair.

“You’re far too grown up for that,” he observed. “I think you can handle another block or so.”

She gazed up at him with wide, plaintive eyes, and Eddie heard Richie sigh beside him.

“She learned that puppy dog look from you, you know,” Richie insisted.

Eddie was about to shoot back a snarky response when Lydia suddenly asked if they were finally at the park. The two men looked up.

“Yep,” Richie said. “Come on, let’s go find a bench to sit down for a minute.”

“What are we doing here, anyway?” Lydia asked. “We’re not seeing a play, are we?”

“No,” Richie sighed. “Did anyone ever tell you you ask a ton of questions?”

Lydia nodded.

“You did,” she pointed out, “but you said that was good and it shows I’m clever.”

“I did, didn’t I?”

Eddie sat down on a bench with Tess on his lap, his husband and other daughter following behind him.

“Your comeuppance for talking so much as a kid, Rich,” he observed. “At least, Lydia asks questions and not just spews nonsense like you did.”

Richie tried to glare but ended up smiling. Lydia began explaining what clever things she had recently done in school as the family rested on the bench, observing the people going about their day in the park. Eddie took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, wrapping his arms around Tess. This was nice. He could sit here all day with his family.

“Hey,” Richie said suddenly, his voice light, “who’s that over there, Tess?”

Eddie followed Richie’s pointing finger and a wave of nervousness washed over him. He prayed, not for the first time, that this wasn’t a big mistake. He needed Tess to be okay with it. He squeezed her in his arms again and watched her look, as well. When she spotted who her father was pointing to, she froze.

“Who’s that?” Lydia asked.

Before anyone could answer, Tess shrieked, “Abracadabra!” and launched herself out of Eddie’s arms. Stunned, he watched her race to the approaching young woman—a wide smile on her face—and throw her arms around her excitedly. They hugged for a long moment before Tess released her, took her hand and all but dragged her to her family.

“Daddy, Papa,” she cried, “this is Abracadabra! She’s real. I told you!”

“I know,” Eddie said, smiling as he glanced at his husband. Richie was also smiling and his eyes were shining brightly. “We always believed you, sweetheart.”

It was dark before they finally decided it was time to head home. Tess cried. Lydia pouted. Even Abra seemed upset but both men promised to visit again soon and plan more get togethers during the summer break.

“Good,” Abra insisted, “maybe I can come down by you guys at one point. The city is intolerable in the summer.”

“Oh, I remember,” Eddie agreed. “Tess, Lydia, say thank you to Abra for hanging out with us today.”

“Thank you,” Lydia declared, smiling.

Tess hesitated before throwing her arms around her again and hugging her tightly.

“Thank you, Abracadabra,” she whispered.

“Aw, you’re welcome,” Abra replied. “Are you feeling better now? Not so scared anymore, right?”

Tess nodded and wiped at her eyes before stepping back and taking her father’s hand.

“Thank you, Abra,” Richie said, his voice surprisingly serious, “for everything. For helping our daughter so much.” He swallowed and seemed at a loss for words. Abra merely smiled again and nodded.

Eddie cleared his throat and extended his hand. Abra took it.

“Yes, thank you,” he said softly. “I...we...thank you.”

Abra sniffed and shrugged.

“It was nothing,” she said quickly. “I just hope she does better now. No more getting scared, right, Tess?”

“Right,” Tess agreed.

The two men looked at the young woman and both felt compelled to do more than merely take her out for lunch and dinner. Still, to a college student, free food was better than gold, Eddie reasoned. He sighed and shook his head.

“Get home safe,” he said firmly.

“Don’t talk to strangers,” Lydia reminded her and Abra laughed.

“Okay, I promise,” she said and with one last quick hug to Tess, headed towards the subway.

Richie turned to gaze at his husband before looking down at their youngest daughter.

“Tess,” he asked, “was this a good thing? Was it good to see Abracadabra in person?”

Tess looked up at her father, her eyes bright and clear. She nodded vigorously.

“Yes, Papa,” she said, “I like seeing my friend.”

“It’s good to have friends,” Richie smiled, taking her other hand. “Your Daddy and I know that better than anyone.”

#reddie #reddie fanfic #it chapter 2 #abra stone #doctor sleep

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