May I present: Leda and the Swan Princess! It's based on this post about a swan princess who refuses to go quietly in obscurity when cursed. (If you liked this one you will probably also like my other comics which you can find on my pinned post).
If you enjoyed and want to support a queer art student, you can tip me over on my Ko-fi! Tips help me out dramatically while I'm still in school!
Warnings: angst, mentions of a fight/argument, a lil fluff
It’s been seven days - one hundred sixty-eight hours - ten thousand and eighty minutes.
She steps inside the empty room and sits down on the ground. For a few moments, she sits there, looking left and right to find any trace of you.
“Alpine,” Bucky’s heart aches even more watching his cat sit in the empty room. “She’s gone, punk.”
Alpine stubbornly sits in the room. She lies down and meows loudly.
“Alpine…” Bucky tries to get his cat to leave the room. He places a bowl with Alpine’s favorite food next to his cat. “You need to eat something.”
His cat ignores Bucky. The white furball lies on the ground, still meowing.
“She won’t come back,” Bucky murmurs as he slowly sits beside his cat. He pats Alpine’s head, feeling even sorrier for his cat. “It’s all my fault.”
It was a moment of anger driving you away. He doesn’t remember how the fight began, only the end of it.
“If you are unhappy, maybe you should leave and never return. I didn’t ask you to love me or take care of me. You knew that I’m damaged goods.”
He sighs deeply making Alpine meow even louder. The cat jumps back up to nuzzle Bucky’s hand. It’s like Alpine can feel Bucky’s pain.
“I don’t deserve her, never deserved her. I should’ve stayed away from her. I knew that sooner than later she’d find out that I was not the man she wanted. If only I wasn’t so ruined.”
The cat sits next to Bucky, curling in his side to get more pats. “Did you ever believe that I was good enough for her?” He drops his head, shaking it slightly. “I guess not. Everyone told her to not fall for me. I heard her friends talk about me more than once. She was too nice to tell me the truth.”
Bucky buries his face in his hands. He chokes out a sob as the words he threw in your direction echo in his mind.
“I can’t give you what you want, and I don’t want to. Why drag things out? Let’s just face reality.”
He sniffles silently. “She will find someone better, Alpine. It’s better this way, believe me, punk. We shouldn’t have asked her to move in with us.”
Alpine lifts her head, she looks at her owner and meows loudly before running out of the empty room.
“You too, Alpine?” Bucky huffs. “Of course, you’d love to live with her. I’d be the same if I was you. She always bought the best snacks and toys for you.”
He looks over his shoulder when Alpine begins to meow louder. Bucky slowly gets back up. He doesn’t want Alpine to suffer only because he fucked things up between the two of you.
“Punk, what’s wrong?” He calls for his cat. Bucky wipes his wet eyes to look around the apartment. “Alpine?”
He can hear his cat in the bedroom. Alpine purrs low in her throat, a sound Bucky only ever heard when you patted his cat. The white cat is a little bratty and believes she’s a queen most of the time, but he loves her.
“Alpine?” Bucky tiptoes inside the bedroom. He stares at the bed, eyes wetting with fresh tears.
“Aw, your fur is less shiny, baby kitten,” you coo while patting Alpine. The cat is currently curled in your lap and purrs loudly. “Did he forget to brush you daily? I bet he did.” You conclude. “I’m away for seven days and your fur looks awful.”
“I brushed her daily,” Bucky murmurs. He steps closer to the bed to watch you groom his cat. He smiles because you placed a bag filled with new toys and snacks for the cat on the bed. “She’s a little sassy lately.”
You look at the cat, not Bucky as he steps closer, and closer. “I was looking for a new apartment, a place to call home.”
“Okay,” he whispers.
“I went from one end of town to the other, searching for a perfect place but,” you shake your head and sniffle, “my home is where you and Alpine are and…” You get something out of the bag, pressing it to your heart. “I don’t know if you wanted to know or not but…”
Bucky sits on the bed. He holds out his hand for whatever you want to show him. He inhales sharply when you place a pregnancy test in his hand. “I…I thought…they said I can’t… they said I’m sterile…”
“Obviously, you can give me what I want,” you dip your head to glance at Bucky. “I just don’t know if you want to be part of this wonder.”
He chokes on his tears while pressing the test to his heart. Bucky got so mad because he believed that he couldn’t give you a baby. Now everything changed and he doesn’t know if you will forgive him.
“You’re my wonder,” he sniffles. Bucky moves closer to take your hand in his hand. “Always were.”
“So…can we turn the room into a nursery?” You look at him, tears in your eyes. “If you don’t—”
He cups your face with both hands to kiss you softly. “I want to. More than anything…”
Harrington!reader who struck up a friendship with Billy after finding him crying. It wasn’t long until she developed a crush on the older boy. But she knew she was the least attractive girl in school, and on the cheerleading squad. Every girl was all over him, she never thought he’d see her that way.
Movie Night
I'm so sorry, I got carried away, and I made it super long, SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY AND I HOPE EVERYONE ELSE DOES
this has: fluff, angst, mean brother persona on Steve's behalf, OOC Billy Hargrove, soft side.
wc: 8k (i got a lil inspired, no one requests Billy and I love to write him 😭)
You understand, you get it, the fucking sister of Steve Harrington should be the perfect girl, perfect as her idiotic brother. If only they knew that being in every single sport isn’t what Steve wants, it isn’t what he desires, it isn’t what he always dreamed about.
But it’s not that perfection they want from you, oh no. It’s not your fault you have bad eye sight so you have to wear glasses, and for some reason that made you fucking undesirable. Just because you are wearing glasses, and you’ve been wearing them ever since middle school, where there were minimum problems with it, and now in high school when you just want to be able to date someone, or even kiss, it’s almost impossible because of them.
So yes, you knew people didn’t want to be with you, and you knew that it was all because of the idealization of the Harrington girl not meeting their expectations. Jokes on them, every single fucking guy in school looks like stepped on shit.
When you finally got into freshmen year, you already knew Steve was the most popular guy in school, always boosting about it at the dinner table, father always saying how proud he is for Steve being the captain of almost every fucking imaginable sport. You looked up to Steve, you really did look up to your brother… Until you crossed those forsaken high school doors, and the only face your brother sent you was that of disgust and turned his back on you.
And that sets your fate.
Now as a Junior, your brother finally graduates this year. Ever since he started dating Nancy who is in the same year as you, he has relatively changed. At home, he now tries to invite you to hang with him at the mall, or tell you to have dinner together when your parents aren’t home… You declined his invitation every time. You prefer to eat dinner in your bed, alone, while he drives away to be with Nancy. Just you, your books, and some good music. You are fine.
It doesn’t help the fact that you have just one friend at school, and she’s not even always with you because she is Nancy’s Best Friend. Barb was always nice to you, and it’s the only one you talked to in class, because then in cheerleading practice, which you had to enter because you needed extracurricular credit because your parents said so, you were given the cold shoulder by every teammate there. You didn’t participate in the cheers really, you just wear the uniform every now and then and pass them bottles of water.
You just have to survive one year, just one more year and you can go to college, probably start anew, meet people, meet someone. You fixed your glasses on the bridge of your nose as you took notes while sitting at the bleachers, hearing the squeak of the tennis shoes of all the boys in the basketball team just going around. You hear a thump, making your eyes look up to see your brother laying on the floor, making you frown.
Then it made sense, as Billy Hargrove smirked, helping your brother stand up again.
You knew that he wanted to take Steve’s position as the most popular guy at school, getting prom king and all that shit. You have heard your brother complaining about him on the phone sometimes, maybe to Nancy or to one of his friends. From what you’ve seen, Billy looked like a tough and irritating guy, and there is no need for you to get close to him at all, and you really could care less about what he does to your brother.
And that is basically your everyday life. Invisible, and you’re fine with that.
You’re fine.
“Hey, can you believe that guy?” Your head snapped up to see your brother at your door, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. You raised your eyebrow at him, looking back down at your book. “If he takes away my captainship in the team, I will– Dad will fucking cut my head off.”
“That’s what you get for following his dreams from day one.” You mumble in a low tone, but he caught onto it, frowning at you.
“I have my own dreams. I don’t follow his.” You nodded at that while still not looking at him. You really could care two shits about all of this.
“Maybe Nancy can help you with this kinda stuff. I'm busy.” You heard shuffling at the door and then a sigh. You heard steps and you raised your head to hear him slam his door shut, and you knew he was probably getting ready to go to a party or something because of the music he started playing on his radio. Not once you were invited to one of those, not even by your own brother. He had hosted parties before, and you were commanded to stay in your room all night. The only time you came out of your room was to the bathroom to pee, and even then you had to wait because people were always making out inside.
You got up from bed, closed the biology book to then set it on your desk, looking over to your library of VHS’s tilting your head to check what to watch tonight. You picked Terms of Endearment and Sixteen Candles. Your collection was full of romance and dramatic movies because it’s just your favorite genre to watch. Same with your books, your favorite being Sense & Sensibility.
Steve left after a few minutes, and you made your way down to start your Friday movie night, and tomorrow will be the same, next weekend too. You should get more movies, you are on a roll of rewatching stuff by now. But it was at this moment, when you put the cassette into your player, and you finally sat down and started watching Sixteen Candles that it all simply fell apart.
Your rough facade crumbles down as you see the romance of the characters on screen, the friendship that is displayed in these movies, late calls with friends, kicking your feet because the guy you liked kissed you, or even called you to spend time with you. You stare absentmindedly at the screen as you see the kissing scene finally happening and your fingertips brush over your lips, just softly, tracing the shape of them.
After a few hours Steve finally returns home, completely sober and cursing under his breath. He sees the light of the living room turned on and some blue light shining on. He walked inside to find you asleep on the couch with the TV still on. He sighed, walking over to turn it off but then his eyes looked at your form, making his face completely fall down.
He bent over your figure to see the dried tears on your cheeks, falling down onto the couch. He looked over to the coffee table to look at what you were watching, getting hold of the case. You watch the same movie every Friday night… And every Saturday night. He rubbed his mouth with a frown to his face as he looked back at your frame. And he always repeats the same action every Friday night and every Saturday night.
He stands up to grab the blanket that’s over the couch to put it over your body, and with tears in his eyes he bends over to press a soft kiss at the top of your head with a quiet whisper that he always repeats and that you never hear, not that you would believe him anyway.
“I’m sorry.”
Monday came way faster than you expected, and the morning was even quicker. Your parents were still away on their business trip, but Steve and you knew they were just out on vacation by themselves. Why have children when you just push them aside?
You take out the lunch bag with your sandwiches in it, and you walk out of the school doors and into the football field which was deserted because it was lunch time, so it always gave you the best opportunity to head behind the bleachers to have some peaceful time for yourself, and that was until you almost dropped your bag as you screamed and flinched when you saw someone already there who snapped his head back at you.
Billy Hargrove.
Your breathing was heavy and your eyes were still trying to focus from the scare but as soon as they did you realized that Billy’s eyes were filled with tears, one or two might have escaped because you could see the glistening trail that they left behind on his cheeks. You were trying to talk to him, but then his eyebrows furrowed together, a tight angry look on his face.
“The fuck you looking at Harrington?” You flinched back at that, annoyance switching inside of you instead of fear. This guy was crying and has the audacity to sound threatening?
“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just seeing Billy Hargrove actually having feelings is a sight.” His eyes snapped wide at your response, surprise crossing his features while he stared at you this time. “Who’s staring now?”
“Oh, right, sorry, it’s just that hearing you fucking talk for once is a sight.” You were taken aback by his response, mimicking yours. You sucked on your right cheek in annoyance as he wiped his cheeks away.
“Well, off you go.” He snaps his head at you, a frown on his features to then letting a smirk spread on his lips.
“I came here first. You go.” You scoff at that, shaking your head at him.
“No, I always come here at lunchtime, it’s my place.”
“Well, that’s lonely as fuck.” You know that. You fucking know that, he doesn’t need to say it to your face, not the heartthrob of the school. Before your heart could turn in pain you nod at him.
“Fine, take it for today.” You turn to finally walk away. Maybe you can eat at the picnic table in the forest? But sometimes the stoner would go there to deal, and you weren’t judging Munson really, you gotta do what you gotta do to survive.
“Wait.” You stopped on your tracks and slowly turned around to see Billy slumping down on the ground, his back resting against a column of the bleachers while he rested his forearms on his bent knees. “You can stay here if you don’t tell anyone you saw me like this.”
Who would you even tell this to? He might be scared that you would tell Steve about it, but Billy seems to not know you don’t actually have a good relationship with your brother, and you have just one casual friend in this school. You look in between the bleachers and towards the woods and then you look back at Billy, giving a sigh and finally sitting down with your legs crossed.
It was silent between you two, almost uncomfortable but not quite. You were eating your sandwich and you took out a bottle of water out of your bag too. You glanced once at him, and he was looking at the distance, just breathing slowly. You wanted to know what happened to him, because he didn’t seem like the guy that would cry easily. He looked at you, raising an eyebrow up at you.
“Why do you eat here?” He asks and you clear your throat, taking a sip of your water.
“Why were you crying?”
“Touché.” You gave a nod in understanding. You weren’t going to talk to him if he wasn’t going to talk to you. You looked inside your bag to grab onto the other sandwich, and you handed it to him. He looked at it with a frown and then back at you.
“If you’re here it means you didn’t eat. Basketball players need food.” You calmly say to him and he looks down at the sandwich, taking it from your hands, and then taking a bite out of it, grimacing in disgust.
“What the fuck is in this?” He looks down into it and you smirk at him, finishing off your own.
“Mustard and pickle sandwich.”
He ate the sandwich anyway. It was nice to eat lunch with someone for once, even if that person was Billy Hargrove and it would be a one time thing in your life… Though, it wasn’t. Billy was back behind the bleachers almost everyday after that. He wasn’t at all that persona that he was with everyone else with you. The cocky insufferable bastard you knew was all a mask, and you could see it when he told you about how Tammy Thompson tried to hide a fart with her cough in class.
“You’re fucking kidding…” You were giggling, covering your mouth as you both sat in front of one another, and the closeness slowly shrinking as two weeks went by of eating lunch with him.
“I am not, she actually thought it was discreet, but I heard it. Not that I said anything about it, but it was a total boner killer.” You raised an eyebrow at that, swallowing your apple that you were having as dessert.
“What, girls can’t fart Hargrove?” He rolls his eyes at you and then raises his hand to flick your forehead, making you wince and rub the skin he left in a red state.
“I didn’t say that. When you trust someone enough to do it in their face, sure. Not in the middle of class, and much less when you are a chair in front of mine.” At that you let out a laugh, throwing your head back. He chuckled and took a swig of his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the side so it wouldn’t hit your face.
“God, I really don’t pay attention to shit like that.” You took another bite of your apple and Billy was still looking at you, clearing his throat, making you look up at him.
“What do you do on Friday nights? I mean, your brother is at every single party but you are nowhere to be found.” He asks you and you feel your cheeks flush slightly at that. You look down at your apple and swallow your bite.
“I often watch movies. Have my own movie nights, sometimes with popcorn, and if I am feeling fancy, S’mores.” You gave him a small smile as you took another sip of water but Billy was still looking at you with a frown to his eyebrows.
“By yourself?” And you suddenly felt embarrassment washing over you. How pathetic were you? He is a guy that has every student in this school eating at the palm of his hand, plans of going out somewhere almost everyday, a date every single night, and you just watched movies and read books for company.
“I– I have to go.” You suddenly blurt out, standing up abruptly to then wipe your jeans from the dirt of the floor. Billy was following suit, doing the same thing, and about to stop you, but you were already walking away. You didn’t need the reminder of how stupid all of your life sounded. You didn’t need it from him. You were always reminded of it by your father, saying that you should be more like his son. Your mother says that at her age she already dated someone and had tons of friends. Steve showing off his new relationship and friends to you, keeping you in the shadows from everyone.
You didn’t need more reminders.
So when you got home, and realized Steve was already out of sight, probably at Heather’s party, you took your time to shower, put on some comfy sweatpants, a white t-shirt and a gray hoodie, and you grabbed your movies and went downstairs. Maybe they will cheer you up from all the stuff that has happened with Billy today. It’s stupid, you both don’t talk to each other all day, yet at lunch you just talk non-stop.
Sweet popcorn was today’s choice and you were already salivating at the smell of it all. Once it was done you put it in a bowl and headed over to the living room, turning the TV on, and putting Pretty in Pink in your VHS. Steve must be getting drunk with his friends by now, dancing to Roxette or something like that. You popped a single popcorn in your mouth and you were about to press play but you were interrupted when glass knocking was heard from the sliding door to the garden.
You jumped up in fear, eyes widened as you quickly turned your head and saw Billy fucking Hargrove outside the doors. You blinked once, twice, three times. Wasn’t he at Heather’s party too? You stood up from your seat, blushing at your attire but he already saw you in it, no time to actually go change. You fixed your glasses at the bridge of your nose as you walked towards the doors to finally unlock them and open a side for him.
“What the fuck are you doing here Billy!” You almost screamed at him, but he raised his hands up in a surrender mode and chuckled at you.
“By that yelling I am assuming your parents are still gone. Let me in, I’m fucking freezing.” He walks past you and you scoff at the nerve of this man. You close the door and you see him looking around with his hands inside his black leather jacket. Your eyes trailed downwards for a second, taking in how tight his pants were, but you snapped out of it, walking around him so that you were facing him.
“What are you doing here?” You ask again and he simply shrugs, still looking all around your house.
“Party was lame as shit, and you said there was a movie night here tonight. That seemed far more interesting than Tommy trying to do a keg stand and falling onto it, breaking his nose.” He walks to the couch, sitting down on it and he immediately grabs the bowl of popcorn from the coffee table. Your mouth hangs open again at this, going to the couch and sitting down next to him.
“You– I don’t need your pity.” You say to him, looking down at your hands as you played with the hem of the sleeves of your hoodie. He chuckles at that and shakes his head.
“Sweetheart, I don’t pity anyone. The party was really fucking boring.” He takes a popcorn in his mouth and he hums at the sweetness. You raise an eyebrow to look at him. You never thought Billy Hargrove would be on the sweet side of stuff. “So, what are we watching?”
A smirk formed on your lips. He was gonna fucking hate it, that’s what he gets for barging in your house.
Yet–
“I fucking hated Duckie.” You were wide eyed at him. He had paid complete attention to the movie, even giving small commentary that he really liked the fact that the girl stood up for herself. He turns to look at you, a frown coming to his eyebrows. “What?”
“I just… I didn’t think you like this genre of movies.” You reply to him, a little bit nervous for some reason and he smiles at you and then looks back at the screen.
“I never watched one of these. They have a lot of plot, and they’re interesting.” Your eyes sparkled in excitement and you grabbed his shoulder, which made him look at you alarmingly.
“You’re in for a ride.”
Billy came back again the next day, taking the chance that Steve was out at Nancy’s for the night. He then sneaked into your room while Steve slept and you played Grease on your small TV and VHS that were on top of your dresser. He actually enjoyed it, but despised it because it was a musical. The next time, he actually came through the front door, and you both finally watched Sixteen Candles together. Now, Saturday Night, Steve was at Nancy’s for a family dinner and Billy was taking out two beers from the six pack he came with.
“I don’t drink…” You say to him and he raises an eyebrow up at you.
“Daily or weekly, but you have tried alcohol. One beer is not going to kill you Sweetheart.” You nodded at that and you grabbed onto the can, sitting back down on the couch. You opened it as Billy walked towards you and plopped down with a huff, already taking a swig out of his can. You grimaced at yours and you took a tentative sip, lowering the can to look at him, completely disgusted by the taste and he simply threw his head back in laughter.
“Disgusting.” You say to him and he shrugs at you, sending a smile your way.
“It’s an acquired taste baby, you just keep drinking it, if you feel fuzzy you can leave it.” You felt your heart accelerate at him, feeling the butterflies exploding in your stomach. You didn’t know when your relationship with Billy took a turn for the better, but he actually sends a smile your way this time when walking down the halls, he sometimes greets you when you pass by him in the hallways, like he is not making it seem like he doesn’t know you.
So it was hard not to fall for him. It was undeniable at this point, and even if he was strong and mean, and an ultimate bully to everyone else, he comes here to your house, watches romantic comedies with you, eats popcorn with you, and you two talk about nonsense all evening. Nobody knows about this, and you’re happy to have this secret between the two of you. You can live in the fantasy a little bit longer.
“What did you bring?” You look at the cassette he got and you look at the front of it. You grimaced again and showed it to him. “The terminator?”
“Classic sweetheart, it’s an action movie, you gotta expand your movie knowledge a bit.” You didn’t want to complain, it was the first time Billy suggested to watch something he likes, and in reality you were interested in knowing it, and hopefully like it the way he does.
News flash, you didn’t like it.
“Why are there so many guns?! It's unnecessary!” You complain, your beer gone and you do feel a little fuzzy but not too much. You just felt giddy. He laughed at your side and shook his head as he drank his second can.
“That’s what action movies are, baby, they are irrational, little to nothing of plot, and shooting everywhere.” He says and you sigh at that, shaking your head. The room filled with silence as Billy looked forward, his smile slowly disappearing. “You know why I come here often?”
You straightened at that, blinked with confusion as you turned to look at him. You frowned when you saw how serious he got, just out of nowhere, and your belly turned for him, not in a romantic way, but more of a worry kind of nervousness.
“Because parties now bore you?” You ask him and he gives you one chuckle and then shakes his head, resting it on the backrest of the couch, looking at the ceiling.
“You help me distract myself.” He took a deep breath in as you kept looking at him and you knew it was something he was having a hard time talking about. “The day you saw me crying… I was actually afraid.”
“What?”
“My father… Let’s just say he has– a rough hand. Any slip up I make, I just get a punch out of it… I’m just so angry all the time, so unlike my fucking self and who I actually am when I am at school. I just let out my anger towards people, because I cannot take it out on my own father.” You could see his Adam's apple bobbing up and down, and you knew he was trying to choke back tears as he talked. Your heart just knotted at seeing him like this, feeling helpless, not knowing what to actually tell him.
“Billy–”
“And you… I tried to be mean to you… And you actually had the guts that no one had at this school yet. Talk back to me.” His head turned to finally look at you again and your eyes burned at his confession. “I couldn’t be mean to you… With you I can— I can be calm, watch a movie, talk about how creepy that Creel house is and how we should sabotage it– I mean, the only thing I talk with the people from school? Chicks, sex, cars, alcohol.”
You couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on your lips, turning your whole body to face him, your legs coming to rest on top of the couch too, bending them and resting your side on the backrest.
“Well, I am glad I could help in some way… My house is always open for you Billy.” His eyes were just staring into yours now, the only thing being heard in the room were your breaths, until he finally talked.
“Can I kiss you?”
What?
There is no possible way you heard that from him. This is a dream, it has to be a dream. There is no way Billy Hargrove, your now friend, your crush, the guy you like has asked to actually kiss you. This only happens in movies, in books, and it never happens in real life, at least, not to you.
“W-Why would you want to kiss me?” And Billy’s features turned into saddened ones at your words. Don’t you realize how beautiful you are? He straightened up on the couch, his body turning to face you as well as both of your hearts jumped out of your chest.
“Why wouldn’t I want to kiss you?” was his short answer. Your belly turned in pure nervousness now as your body grew a cold sweat. You never kissed anyone, and Billy seemed to know how to do it, and you were just too inexperienced. A flush came over all of your body as you fixed the glasses on the bridge of your nose and you looked down to avoid his gaze.
“I– I never–” You gulped, not being able to finish the phrase from how stupid it sounded. A warm hand was pressed on your cheek, making you lift your head up to look at him again, and you didn’t realize how close he got to you, his blue eyes staring into yours.
“I ask you again… Can I kiss you?” And you finally give him a nod. You weren’t going to miss this chance, not for one second. He still wants to kiss you despite you not knowing what you were getting yourself into. He smiled at you and grabbed onto your glasses, pulling them off your face and setting them on the coffee table. “They were just going to get in the way.”
You took a shaky breath in, his hand still on your cheek as he slowly leaned down towards you. You closed your eyes and his remained open to remember your features as he finally does what he has been wanting to do for the past weeks. At first it was a simple attraction of course, but he knew it was more than that, and he was scared as shit about it… But he never wanted someone as much as he’s been wanting you.
His lips connected with yours in a soft peck, brief, and you let a breath go out of your lips, only for another peck to land. Then another, then another that lingered there a bit more, and then the next one he just stayed there, and suddenly started moving his lips, guiding you as your heartbeat made you deaf in your ears. How do people do this and not faint at the spot?
The lip smacking was heard in the room as your hands finally were brave enough to travel, one scanning his bicep, the other one moving towards the back of his neck, feeling his skin under your fingertips. His free hand landed on your waist, not pressing too hard so that you know that he is being mindful of you. At this point, Billy would already be inside someone, satisfying his needs, but with you… He wasn’t going to do that, at least not now, not yet, and that is if you let him.
He wants to take care of you.
He pulled away for a second, his lips touching yours still as your breathing mixed with one another’s in soft pants. You were feeling as if you were burning all over, not knowing what was happening with you. You never felt like this before, and maybe it has to do with the fact that not only was Billy good looking, but you also feel more than just friendship for him.
“You okay?” You nod frantically at him, wanting more, giving him a peck on the lips making him chuckle in a low tone. “Sorry baby, but I need more.”
He suddenly pushed you back on the couch, crawling over you and you didn’t even think, you just wrapped your arms around his shoulders, and he kept his bottom half away from yours, even if it pained him on his thighs from the strength he was doing to keep himself up. His lips connected with yours again, rougher this time, more desperate, the kiss suddenly turning into a very heated one as he suddenly licks your bottom lip a few times.
The butterflies in your belly explode as you open your mouth and his tongue finally slides in. You gasp at the feeling, your hands finding his biceps through his blouse, and you felt his chain hitting your neck at every movement. One hand was still gripping on your waist, while the other remained at your nape, pulling you deeper into the kiss.
You really can’t believe this is happening, not to you, not with Billy, it doesn’t make sense that he looked your way, it doesn’t make sense that he actually wants to kiss you, not when he has Heather on his tail all the time, or Carol even if she is dating Tommy. Or Janet. You always hear them talking about him in the bathroom, always planning their move on him, and this feels you with a sense of power, with a sense of accomplishment and pride in yourself.
Your hands ran through his hair and he groaned into the kiss, and that ignited so many things inside of you that you never felt in your life, and you wanted to hear more of it. Billy was trying his best to keep himself in a hovering position with you, but he was finding it harder and harder to do so. He can’t go on, at least not today when it was your first kiss. He didn’t want to scare you, even if your urges were the same as his, because he could feel your need to pull him even closer.
The door suddenly clicked and both of your eyes snapped wide open, pulling away, looking at one another, panting heavily. Best scenario, it's your parents, and they would be thrilled that you actually, and finally, have someone over at your house… Now, worst case scenario–
“What the ACTUAL FUCK?!” You both sat up on the couch to look over at Steve, who was standing there in the living room, wide eyed, and his face reddened bit by bit. Shit.
“Steve–” You started talking but he raised his hand at you, to then point a finger at Billy.
“Get the fuck off my sister.” You wanted to roll your eyes at this, because why is he acting all protective now? You finally got some action in your fucking life and he wants to take it away from you.
“I don’t think she wants me to leave.” Billy dares to say, glaring at your brother who took a look at the coffee table, seeing the cans of beer. His mind started racing, and Billy followed his gaze, his mouth opening to talk but Steve was running up the stairs already. Your eyes widened and you pushed Billy off, standing up quickly and urging him to do the same.
“You have to leave!” You were trying to push Billy towards the front door but his feet were still planted against the floor with a frown to his face, and your head snapped to the stairs to see Steve running back down with his baseball bat in his hands. Billy’s eyes widen when Steve starts to approach him with a swinging motion.
“Taking fucking advantage of my sister is something I won’t take from you Hargrove, so get the fuck out of my house before I crush your skull in!”
“Shit, Harrington– Fucking listen for a second–” Steve’s baseball bat hits the backrest of the couch, and you could see the dent of the wooden under it that he created. Billy ripped himself off you and gave you a look as if asking if you were okay.
“I’ll talk to him, you go.” You tell him and he gulps, looking back at Steve with a threatening look on his face which Steve only scoffed at.
“I’ll talk to you later.” Billy says with a small squeeze to your hand as he walks out of the house, passing by Steve. Your brother follows him to the front door and he doesn’t walk back inside until Billy drives away with his Camaro. After the roaring engine can be heard in the distance, Steve slams the door shut, throwing the bat at the floor and stomping back into the living room where you were standing there with a glare on your eyes as if you were about to kill him.
“When I saw his fucking car out in front of the house I thought it was a stupid coincidence, and I come in here to see you about to have sex with the sluttiest man in the goddamn school! What are you thinking!?” You frown in anger at that, stepping towards him.
“I am his friend! I wasn’t going to have sex with him, and he wasn’t taking fucking advantage of me! I drank ONE beer, ONE!” You yell back at him and he fake laughs as he runs his hand over his face.
“The first time you have a guy in this house, and it is Billy FUCKING Hargrove. The one guy that I am fighting with for Captain at our basketball team, the one guy that gives me the hardest fucking time of my life at the moment, and you want me to just accept that he wants to be with you because he WANTS TO?” Your chest hurt at those words, your own coming out in soft stutters at Steve’s blind rage.
“He even asked me if I wanted to, and I said yes–”
“God, you cannot be this fucking stupid! He hates me, makes my life a living hell, and you seriously think that he is a nice guy!? You really think there is no ulterior motive!?” He yelled at you and his words were stabbing you in every part of your body, your head already spinning from how harsh he was being with you.
“Why? Is it impossible that he actually wants to be with me?” You try to say loudly at him, even if your fingers start to feel numb. He scoffed at that, looking at you.
“Yes, and I don’t think you are dumb enough to not see that.” He was referring to so many other things, and it was regarding Billy’s persona, in Billy’s actions, in his rivalry with him… And when he saw your tear rolling down your face, his anger evaporated as if water was being thrown at him.
“Okay…” Was your defeated response. You turned around to retrieve your glasses from your coffee table and Steve winced, clenching his eyes tightly together as pain rushed through his body.
“That wasn’t what I meant– Hey, listen to me, I really didn’t mean it to sound like that–” But you weren’t listening, putting the cassettes back into their cases and turning off the TV. You grabbed them and walked past him, going up into your room. Steve stood there, knowing he hurt you once again, not knowing what to do but run a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath as he started pacing back and forth.
He didn’t mean it to sound like no guy would want you, he didn’t mean it at all like that, yet the words coming out of his mouth betrayed him, completely. He doesn’t know how to make it up to you, because if he had given you the chance to go to the parties with him when you asked in your freshman year, many times, and told you yes instead of no, you would have more experiences, you might even have friends. If only he had let you come out of your room at his own parties when you asked him, almost begged him to let you participate, but he declined each time. Then in your sophomore year, you didn’t ask anymore, just accepted that he wasn’t going to tell you anymore about them, and you automatically locked the door whenever he hosted a party.
This year, he tried to invite you, many times. You always declined. You didn’t even want to eat dinner with him, and he knows you want to leave the house as soon as possible thanks to him. Even with your parents. For the past two years he had been so blind because of his father’s approval and the one of all the students in Hawkins High that he didn’t notice how your parents didn’t ask you stuff at dinner. All questions were always directed to him. He noticed this year, and he tried to tell them you had nailed your exams, and the only thing you got from your father was ‘As she should.’
He was the cause of who you were now. Not at all the bubbly and animated girl that asked him to raise her up like an airplane in their backyard, not at all the small girl that put makeup on him pretending she was a stylist, not at all the middle school girl that got excited to see him whenever she got home from school to tell him about what she learned that day.
He walked up the stairs and raised his hand to knock on your door, only to hear soft sobs on the other side, muffled. He wonders if you had also cried when he denied you all those times. He doesn’t know how to even make it up to you. He doesn’t know if he even can.
So the next day, when you didn’t come out of your room, he let you have your alone time. Now on Monday he tried knocking on your door, only to receive the notice that you felt sick. He tried walking in but your door was completely locked. His eyebrows twitched and his mind had come up with a plan. A plan he will terribly hate. A plan that might end up badly for him. But it’s what he deserves for what he did to you.
Billy looked everywhere for you, and even asked Barbara Holland where you could be. She told him that she hadn’t seen her at Science that day either, so his best guess was that you had skipped school. His jaw clenched when he asked other people about you and some of them didn’t even know what you looked like. He waited for the bell to ring, and he was going to tumble Steve down if he had to in order to see you. He didn’t care.
But when he walked out of the school doors to rush to his Camaro, he was surprised to see Steve Harrington sitting on his trunk with his arms crossed. Billy’s eyes hardened at the sight, walking towards him, tilting his head in question at the brown haired boy who was looking at Billy with a mix of emotions behind his eyes.
“Harrington. Get off my fucking car.” He says and Steve gulps as he looks to the side.
“I fucked up.” At that Billy’s eyebrows turned into a frown, but his fists started clenching as Steve kept talking, telling him everything, everything he did to you, and what he had said to you that night when Billy left.
While this was happening, you were combing your hair after the shower you took while sitting on your bed. You had taken a shower because you were greasy from yesterday already, and you really didn't want to get up, but you didn’t have a choice. Ever since Steve said that, you didn’t have the guts to actually call Billy because at some far away place in your mind, it made sense.
You were invisible, and suddenly you were noticed? It doesn’t sound real.
So maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it really was to get into your pants to mess with your brother, and that was honestly the most reasonable explanation for it. You frowned when you heard the door open downstairs, your door was left open so you could hear some drawers being open, to then hear steps coming up the stairs. Your eyes widened when you saw Steve slamming himself against the door frame of your room.
His eye was completely inflamed from a punch received to the face, his nose was bleeding and he was holding some ice covered in a rug to soak the blood in it. From what you could see, his lip was busted as well and his breathing was coming out of his mouth, almost in a pant.
“Steve, what happened?” Even in your hatred for him, seeing him this way made your heart fill with worry, pushing all of the other feelings aside. You were about to rise from the bed until Steve raised his hand up at you.
“I deserved it.” He looked towards the hallway and your eyes widened when you saw Billy coming into view, a pack of frozen peas on his right hand, his eyes glaring at Steve as he passed by him and into your room. His eyes turned to yours and you couldn’t help but look up at him, completely stunned. Steve groans and closes the door for you two as he heads downstairs.
“What… Did you…?” You stutter as you sit back on your bed, seeing Billy’s injured hand as he sat on your bed too, nodding as he looked at you.
“I sure as hell did. Fucker deserved it. He told me everything, from the very beginning, and also what he said to you on Saturday night right after I left.” You feel your face flush with embarrassment and you look down at your hands again. You are not understanding what is going on, nor why Steve would go and tell your life story to Billy. “Though I have to say… Your brother does care for you.” You scoff at that.
“Right. Like he cared for me the past two years.” You reply with venom in your voice and you feel Billy scoot closer to you.
“He knows. He knows what he did to you. Your freshman year was the punch on the eye, your sophomore year was on his lip… And what he said on Saturday was the one on the nose.” He lets out a chuckle and you feel mixed emotions to that. You were happy that he defended your honor, but Steve was still your brother and you didn’t want physical harm to come to him.
“Don’t punch him again… Please.” You slowly looked up at Billy and his blue eyes were already looking at you. Your heart rate picked up the longer he stared at you.
“Do you really believe what he said to you that night?” He asks you, a small worried tone behind his voice. You feel yourself gulp and you look away in embarrassment or nervousness, you no longer know.
“I– After years of feeling this way, it was a very possible scenario.” You say to him in a low voice, your fingers playing with each other. You see him put the bag of peas away, and his hands look for yours. You look down to see his right hand completely bruised up, some skin completely chipped off on his knuckles. You gasp at that and his hold gets stronger on you, making you look up at him. He was closer now, making your breathing get stuck in your throat.
“How can I prove to you that I want you? How can I prove to you that I like you, that I like you very much that I drive myself insane with this fucking feeling, because god knows I am not good with relationships…” For the first time you see a blush come to his cheeks, and his gaze looks down at your connected hands, like how you do when you get nervous. “But I wanna try that with you.”
Your heart leapt out of your mouth almost, not truly believing what was happening, but the bruised knuckles made it more real, the blush on his cheeks made you realize it was no dream at all. This man in front of you wants you, despite it all, and you both have so many broken pieces to pick up inside one another, but you figure that you can help each other. You can mend his heart back, as he can mend yours.
“I think… The first step would be a date…” You say to him almost in a whisper and he chuckles as he looks up at you. He squints slightly at that as if in thought as your smile grows on your face while looking at him.
“I have an idea for it. I think they are showcasing the new Rambo movie.” He says to you with a smirk to his face and your mouth fell open at that, shaking your head.
“I am not watching an action movie on our first date!” He chuckles at that, his face coming closer to yours slowly, and you feel magnetized to him as you both leaned into one another.
“Oh, I bet you prefer the one where the bad boy goes for the intelligent and perfect girl, that genre, right?” You squint at him, pretending to be offended by his words.
“Don’t act like you don’t like those movies Hargrove.” At that he chuckles, his left hand snaking to the back of your neck to pull you closer to him, a soft breath hitting your lips as he talks.
“I might have a thing for romance.” His lips touched yours again, and you smiled through the kiss, your own hands resting on the back of his head to pull him deeper into the kiss, to taste him even better. Your lips moved along with his, taking in eachother’s breaths, bodies coming closer at each second.
“Don’t fuck my sister, I draw the line there. Not today, not with me here.” You both heard Steve’s voice behind the door, making Billy groan in annoyance and pull away from you to glare at the door as the steps could be heard and another door closes down the hallway.
“I am punching him again.” Billy says and you were glaring at the door too.
“My turn.”
A/N: Well shit, I hope you enjoyed. IT TURNED OUT TO BE A ONE SHOT.
maybe a bombshell!reader where she is OBSESSED with touching and making out with glasses!reid and he is so confused why she is always all over him. i think bc he never went thru that horny teenage phase, or even the "honeymoon" phase of a relationship, he doesnt quite understand why she is acting that way (not that he's complaining)
tysm for requesting ♡ fem, 1k
There's something soft under Spencer's cheek. His lashes brush against it like the wing of a trapped butterfly as he wakes, his fatigue a weight on his tongue. He wonders where he is for a worrying moment, hand stretched out to feel the couch cushions beneath him.
The sounds of you reach him from down the hall. The crinkling of your coat set up on a hook near the door, the squeak of your shoes on hardwood, and the familiar lilt of your voice as you sigh, speaking to yourself in quiet tones, "Unlucky."
He rubs his eyes and sits up. "What's unlucky?" he asks, his throat burning. He must've been sleeping open-mouthed, which is perfect. Attractive, he thinks scathingly. He's less annoyed and more disgusted when he feels the dried drool in the corner of his mouth.
You don't answer him. Spencer forces his tired eyes to work, sitting up on knees on the couch to try and get a look at you. He can't see into the kitchen from here, to his dismay, but he can hear the contents of your fridge door clinking together.
You turn the corner with a bottle of water in your hands. When you see him waiting for you your smile bumps up a notch, pretty to cataclysmic, world-ending and life-ruining, all manner of awful as you hurry down the hall in your socks to kiss him.
Why you'd want to is anyone's guess. He can imagine how he looks, curls matted at the back and frizzy at the sides. Spencer can't help cringing as your fingers weave into the hair at the nape of his neck, your lips a soft pressure against his for a few more blissful seconds.
You pull back concisely. "You fell asleep?" Your hand comes up, your thumb rubbing gently at his nose bridge. With your other hand, you press the bottle of water to his shoulder. "With your glasses on?"
He nods in defeat. If he didn't look like a mess, if he hadn't face planted into your fancy couch in his rumpled jeans, even if he were at his best, he's still hopeless, because they messed up his contacts again. You're vocally fond of them even if he hates them.
"I remember the first time I saw you without them," you say, your kind thumb moving to rub a fond quarter circle into his cheek. "You were," —you steal a kiss, your nose pressed to his, pulling back and pushing in between words— "chasing the tail of that movie star." Kiss, kiss. He loses his grip on the water in favour of your arm. "You looked," —your kisses turn melty warm and impossibly softer— "so, so shy."
You pull away to card his hair back. Not particularly gentle but never cruel, you rake his curls out of his face swiftly. "How come you never get shy with me?"
"Don't pretend I never did," he says. It's embarrassing but it happened.
"Fine, you did." You tuck his hair behind his ears. "Not as often as everyone thought you would."
"You were kidding. Or, I confidently thought you were kidding. I could write it off as a joke, pity–"
His timidity with you rose and fell and rose again. These days it simmers, waiting for you to surprise him or tease him or do as you're doing now, rounding the couch to push at him until he sits. You ease into his lap, mostly off of him, a knee to his right and a knee between his legs as your arms circle his back. He's quick to hug you rather than have you slip backward out of his arms.
"I never pitied you," you say, kissing him again, no signs of stopping. "Don't say that. It's not true. I saw you were a catch before anyone else did, that's all."
Spencer can't argue with you. He's honestly not interested, distracted by your weight and the heat of your lips as they part against his. To go back and tell the Spencer from a year ago that his bombshell of a coworker, the one who flirts with a sticky charmed smile, who sits on the lip of his desk making eyes at him, and who never takes the easy blows, wasn't joking? It would stunt his brain. It might send him into a cardiac episode.
To tell him that she's in his lap more often than not?
Spencer's lucky to be alive. He laughs as he thinks it, his stomach stirring while you scratch carefully at his scalp.
"What?" you ask, voice a stretched murmur, close enough to husky to wind him. "Tickles?"
"No," he says, "nothing, it's nice."
He's greedy and a total amateur, pulling your face back down to his in hopes of sparking another heavy kiss. You're enticed for a bit, but Spencer knows his laugh is bothering you, so he steals a last rough kiss before dropping his forehead into your cheek.
You pet his neck softly. "What, Spence?"
"It's just unreal, sometimes. It's weird." He can't hide, his glasses jabbing into his eye.
When he lifts his head, you breathe out a laugh and take the glasses from his nose. You fold them, set them carefully on the couch beside you, and meet his gaze fondly. Your lashes kiss in the corners with your smile, pretty lips a balmed pout. He can feel the waxy transfer your kisses have left on his own lips and the skin around them. You're enthusiastic.
"What's weird?" you ask.
"How much you like me."
"Have you ever heard of the honeymoon phase?"
"The romance feeling very intense at the start of a relationship until we're used to one another," he answers.
"Right. Well, I'm used to you. I intend on honeymooning with you until you die. And you're in your prime, sweetheart, so…" You lean in with your head tilted heavily to the side, pausing with your lips only just touching his. "You'll have to get used to it," you whisper, waiting.
Spencer kisses upward slowly. You sigh into his mouth, double when he paws at the small of your back and squeezes you close to his chest, thankful you took off his glasses.
deathbed confessions (eddie munson x fem!reader one-shot)
summary: cold and flu season hits you hard but luckily you have your best friend eddie to take care of you. If the cold medicine makes you admit a few things... eddie sure isn't complaining.
contents: 18+, best friends to lovers, r is dramatically sick with a cold (talks about dying but it's just drama), fluff idk
a/n: guys i am so sick help me i had to lay on the bathroom floor after braving a shower because i thought i was gonna die (but also i wrote this so maybe im ok)
wc: 4.4k+
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
“Holy shit, did Halloween come early?” Eddie snickers from the door of your room.
All you can muster up is a low groan and that alone makes you feel like your head is on the brink of explosion.
“Jesus, you’re really sick, huh?” he says with the huff of a laugh.
You answer with another groan. Yes. You are 'really sick'.
“Can I do something to help?” he replies, the first hint of empathy appearing in his voice.
“Put me out—” you interrupt yourself with a sniffle followed by a phlegmy cough. “—out of my misery.”
You were supposed to be seeing some double feature with Eddie tonight but yesterday, right before bed, you felt the slightest of tickles in your throat. By morning you were the living dead with everything from your big toe to your forehead aching in one way or another. You called Eddie and before you could even mention that you were sick, he knew from your stuffed up voice.
No matter how many times you told him you’d be fine he was strangely insistent in checking on you at the very least. By the end of the call he’d quickly worn you down and you told him that he has the spare key and he can do whatever he wants but if he gets sick that's his fault— a little mean but arguing was the last thing you felt like doing.
From the time you hung up to now— which has only been a handful of hours, you’ve gotten substantially worse. Earth shatteringly worse. So terribly worse that the simple task of opening your eyes has been too much effort. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and your lungs are just begging for salvation. That’s why when Eddie called twenty minutes ago letting you know he was on his way you told him no. It would have been wise if he listened to you but instead he replied ‘too bad’ and abruptly hung up the phone.
Cut to twenty minutes later he was at your door, letting himself in. He was willingly walking into his very own death sentence. He clearly thought it was more of a joke than anything.
You hear Eddie’s tell-tale gait as he walks further into your room. You assume that he’s standing over your bed, maybe a hand on the back of his neck, maybe a hand on his hip. Mustering the efforts to confirm your suspicions would take too much of your very limited energy so you continuing laying in your bed, not doing as much as opening an eye.
You hear the ruffle of his hair and he definitely is rubbing the back of his neck as he gauges what to do.
“So…do you want, like, medicine then?” he asks.
“A gun,” you croak, earning a deep belly laugh from Eddie.
“At least your humour’s still intact, that’s good to know,” he says, sitting down on the edge of your bed.
You try to shuffle over to make room for him, but that effort alone makes you wince.
“Call an ambulance,” you whine, sniffling pathetically.
“Really?” he asks, a genuine nervousness creeping into his voice. You feel his hand tug at the blanket you’ve cocooned yourself in, revealing your face for him to see. If you were more cognizant maybe you’d care about Eddie seeing you like this, but you’re too far gone to think about that.
“No,” you answer, nodding your head up and down in contrast to your answer, earning a huff of relief from Eddie.
The blanket slackens from his pull and the bed dips deeper as he leans in further to get a better look at you. Once again, if you were more cognizant you’d probably rather he didn’t, but you wouldn’t have the will to fight it anyways.
“Did you take anything?” he asks.
“It’s been a few hours.”
“Did you eat?”
“Yeah, whipped up a quick 4 course meal earlier, michelin approved of course,” you mumble. You contemplate cracking an eye open to see his reaction but you don’t.
“Right, so no food.”
“No, surprisingly not that hungry when you’re on your deathbed,” you say, sniffling.
“Tell me you’ve at least had water,” he says and from his tone you know that he already knows the answer.
“I had water until the bottle was empty, then I decided I’d rather succumb to death than get out of bed,”
“Funny, funny girl,” he says dryly, obviously not impressed by your answers.
“Tombstone quote,” you say weakly, hoping that Eddie gets what you mean. He laughs softly and you consider that enough of a success.
You hear the slightest bit of shuffling, not Eddie getting up but more like he’s looking around your room. Whatever state it’s in, you couldn’t even work up the courage to care.
“Do you want a movie on or something?” he asks, breaking the lull in conversation.
“Would you do that?” you ask, tilting your face towards him despite not opening your eyes.
“Oh yeah. I’m giving you the mortally ill special— the deathbed works, if you will,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. You do your best to smile back but it’s weak and probably looks more like a grimace.
You feel shuffling before the bed rises from Eddie standing.
“Okay, so I’m gonna get you medicine first. Then movie, food, and whatever else, deal?”
Your lower lip pouts out appreciatively for the boy you’ve called your best friend for forever now. If you weren’t deathly ill, you’d kiss him.
“Thank you, Eddie,” you whisper, voice getting caught in your throat for an entirely different reason than your cold this time.
He mumbles back some version of ‘don’t worry about it’ before he’s off, leaving you in the quiet of your room with only your breathing, coughing, and sniffling breaking the silence. It’s barely a few minutes before you hear his footsteps and the edge of your bed dips again.
“This is what you took right? The cold and flu medicine?”
“Mhm” you hum.
“You have nasal congestion?”
You sniffle loudly and nod.
“Right. Nasal pain, sinus congestion, and sinus pain?”
You hum again, catching onto the fact that he’s reading the symptoms off of the box.
“Chest congestion?”
Weakly you swat your hand out trying to find Eddie. When you do, you give him the weakest of taps. “Too many questions,” you muster.
“Well, I know you’re joking about dying but I don’t want to actually kill you,” he says. You hum again.
You hear him fumbling with the cardboard before fumbling with the plastic pill packaging.
“Do you wanna sit up?” he asks.
“I want to die,”
“Well you can’t do that so I’m gonna help you sit up, okay?”
Eddie starts tugging at the blanket and you let your weakened limbs go limp, undoubtedly making the task much harder for him but he doesn’t say anything. Eventually, he pulls you up by your underarms, propping you up against your headboard.
When you feel his cool hands on your forehead, pushing your hair back and out of your face, you open your eyes for the first time since Eddie got here.
“There she is,” he laughs lightly, still pushing back the disheveled mess that is your hair.
“Your hands feel nice,” you whisper, focusing on the coolness on your skin. Before you have a chance to really absorb the relief of his hands on your skin, he pulls away, grabbing for the water he had set down on your bedside table.
“Yeah, you’re really hot,” he replies, passing the water to you.
“Tombstone quote,” you say, catching his eye, making him laugh again. With a shaky hand, you take the water.
“Funny and hot, that’s a killer deal.” He hands you the little cold and flu pill and you place it in your mouth, swallowing it down with small sips of the cold water that feels like ice going down your throat.
You redirect your gaze to Eddie, “you’re gonna get sick, that’s the real killer here,” you say.
“I’ll be fine,”
“You don’t want this cold, trust me,” you say, taking another sip of water before holding it out to Eddie.
“I’ll be fine,” he repeats as he takes the water, putting it back on your bedside table.
You nod. You appreciate Eddie’s help more than anything. Fending for yourself wasn’t exactly going so well— clearly.
“You had this with your other stuff, do you want it?” he asks, holding up the vicks vapor rub.
When you felt the cold coming on you went to the pharmacy and picked up a few things just in case. The vapor rub was on sale and you bought it on a whim but haven’t tried it yet.
“Do you think it really works?”
“Wayne used to put it on me, I guess it does?”
“Where do you put it?”
“On your chest or back,” he answers, looking at the fine print of the packaging. “Yeah, it says chest, throat, and back.”
You open your mouth to reply but instead feel the creeping up of the tickling in your throat. Turning the other way, you do your best to not cough all over Eddie. Sucking in a deep breath, you only trigger another cough that divulges into one of many coughing attacks that you’ve had today. When you’re finally done, you drop your head to the back of the headboard in defeat.
“C’mon, let’s try it on your back for now,” he says, putting a hand on your shoulder encouraging you to lean forward. You move how he wants you without protest.
“I’m just gonna lift up your shirt a bit, okay?” he says, you nod but he pauses, fingers just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt.
“Eddie, with the way I’m feeling, you could see me butt ass naked right now and I could not care less,” you say.
He snorts a laugh before his cool fingers trail up your spine giving you tingles that make you shiver. “Sorry,” he hums but you shake your head. His hand makes contact with your upper back, rubbing the ointment on your skin and it honestly feels incredibly soothing. Whether it’s the rub or the physical contact, you’re not sure, but you’re not questioning it either.
The noise that comes out of you could have been a moan had you not been congested. Instead it comes out like a low, stuffed up groan— not unlike a movie zombie.
Eddie rubs a few more circles on your back before his hand travels back down your spine.
“How’s that feel?” he asks, helping you sit back up straight.
“So fucking good and like I need you to rub my back like that again,” you say, resting your head back against the headboard. Maybe you put a little too much conviction in your words but that truly felt amazing.
The room is silent and you blink open your eyes to see Eddie holding the tub of rub in his hands, paused halfway through closing it. It takes a moment for him to look up at you but when he does, he smiles softly.
“What movie do you wanna watch?”
Had you not been distracted by your sickness, you might have noticed the faintness of a blush spreading across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks. Coughing and forcing air back into your lungs takes up every ounce of your consciousness though, so you don’t notice.
You shrug your shoulder taking a deep breath, “anything, I’ll probably pass out from the medicine anyways,” you reply, turning away again to cough.
Eddie hums before he’s moving to your dresser opposite your bed, angling the TV for you to see it better.
“Sixteen Candles, Children of the Corn, Gremlins, Teen Wolf?” he says, listing off the titles of the different tapes you have sprawled next to the vcr.
“Any.”
“Gremlins seems kind of relevant,” he says, pulling open the clamshell box.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” you ask. Eddie turns to you, smirk spreading across his lips.
“Nothing,” he sings lightly. He turns away from you, pushing the tape into the player and then pressing the combination of buttons to get it working.
“You better not be implying that I look like a gremlin because—” you interrupt yourself with another cough that quickly divulges into yet another coughing fit— worse than the last.
With each cough being so strong it makes your head pound. You don’t notice Eddie crossing your room or him settling back on the edge of your bed. You only notice his presence when he’s encouraging you forward, hand rubbing your back again.
When your coughing finally calms down enough for you to take a good breath, Eddie brings the glass of water up for you to take a sip. You take the cup in your hands, guiding it to your mouth. At the same time, Eddie never fully lets go of the cup, making sure it doesn’t spill. You take a drink, nodding when you’re done and he sets it back down, hand still running up and down your back.
“It’s probably just the rub working, getting all that nasty stuff out,” he says softly.
You nod again, letting your head fall to rest on Eddie’s shoulder. It’s probably not the smartest idea to be so close to him because you're pretty much sentencing him to his demise, but with how terrible you feel you’re desperate for anything to make it better— and right now the only thing making anything better is Eddie.
“The medicine’ll kick in any minute and you’ll feel much better, okay? I’ll go get you something to eat and then I can rub your back some more. How’s that sound?” he says softly, brushing the edge of your face with his chin as he tilts his face downwards towards yours.
Your lower lip pouts out again and you feel your eyes water behind your closed lids. Maybe you were already hyper emotional from feeling so sick, but Eddie being so sweet is also doing a number on you.
“Sounds really nice,” you whisper, sucking in a breath.
“You’ll be okay,” Eddie whispers, hand switching from rubbing up and down your back to rubbing circles at the top of your back. “I’ll take care of you, I got you.”
Before the tears in your eyes have a chance to breach your waterline, Eddie’s shifting beside you, leaning you back against the headboard with the promise of being quick while he gets you food. Only once he’s gone and you’re left alone in your room do you notice Gremlins has already started playing. Opening your eyes, you spare a few glances at the screen that distract you from your teary eyed state.
As Eddie promised, he was pretty quick in his return. You could hear him the whole time, kitchen utensils clanking and cupboard doors closing. Maybe all concept of time is lost on you right now, but it seemed like barely any time had passed before he was taking slow, careful steps back towards your room.
“Alright— got that soup you like, got crackers, and got you some juice,” Eddie announces as he situates the dishware on your bedside table. “I even made sure not to warm the soup too much so you can eat it right away,” he says.
Eyes closed again, you don’t know what you expected him to do but him manhandling you took you by surprise. A hand slid behind your back and another under your upper thighs, he was sliding you right over on the mattress.
“Just giving myself some space here,” he says absentmindedly as he fixes your blanket around you. He quickly settles in next to you before grabbing the sleeve of crackers and settling them in front of you and grabbing the bowl of soup.
Sitting with his legs stretched out next to yours, you let your head dip to his shoulder again, this time like a silent thank you where you cozy your head against him, not unlike a cat.
“For the record, you’re more like Gizmo,” he says, a tease intruding in his voice.
“Hm?” you hum questioningly.
“You don’t look like a gremlin, you’re cute like Gizmo,” he says.
You sink your face further into the crook of Eddie's shoulder, lip jetting out once more. He’s done nothing more than call you a cute gremlin rather than an evil gremlin, yet you feel yourself turning misty eyed yet again. This time you squeeze your eyes shut, closing them on purpose, hiding your sickness induced emotions.
“Soups gonna get cold,” Eddie says, twisting his neck to look at you again. “C’mon, it’ll be better for you if you eat it warm,” he says, using his free arm to move you.
Once you’re finally propped up again in an appropriate position to eat, you feel Eddie’s hand on your cheek— no doubt becoming aware of your tears.
“You okay?” he asks softly, thumb rubbing under your cheek.
“You’re being so nice to me,” you explain, sniffling back your need to cry.
“Just taking care of you. Want you to feel better,” he replies, keeping his voice quiet.
“Thank you, Eddie.”
“You don’t gotta thank me, just gotta eat your soup, okay Gizmo?” Eddie says, making you snort out a snotty laugh before sucking it all back in with an apology that he quickly dismisses.
You take a few breaths, getting your tears under control. Shifting your focus to the soup, Eddie holds the bowl close to you while you slowly feed yourself spoonful after spoonful.
“Crackers?” Eddie offers.
“Maybe one.”
“How ‘bout two?” he replies, peeling back the plastic and pulling two out for you. You nod softly before taking them from him.
You feel yourself running out of energy and it’s exasperating that all it took was lifting a spoon to your lips a measly few times. When you let the crackers sit in your lap for too long, Eddie turns to look at you, resting the bowl of soup down in his lap.
“Y’okay?” he asks.
“Tired,” you answer.
“Just finish those and you can be done, okay?” he says, meeting your gaze. You shake your head.
“Can’t,” you reply.
“You can,” he says, turning his torso to put the bowl of soup on the table. He turns back around, reaching for the crackers in your hand. “Know you can,” he repeats, bringing the crackers to your lips.
“Eddie—” you try to protest.
“Bite,” he says, cutting you off and nudging the cracker into your mouth.
You bite, giving into him. It feels weird being hand fed. It’s probably even weirder when two bites in you close your eyes in an effort to conserve your energy. Regardless, Eddie doesn’t say anything besides positive affirmations about how good you’re doing which you really, really appreciate.
“How about you drink some of this,” he says, reaching for the glass of juice as you chew the last bite of cracker. “Then I’ll help you lay down and I can rub your back s’more?”
“You don’t have to if you wanna go home, you've been here a long time,” you say, swallowing the dryness of the cracker down.
Eddie lifts the cup of juice to your lips, tipping it back for you to sip at. When you take more than a few drinks, you lift a hand lightly pushing the cup away. Blinking your eyes open you look at Eddie as he returns the cup to sit with the other dishware on your bedside table.
“I’m serious, Eddie. You can go home if you want,”
“Don’t want to,”
“You’re gonna be— you interrupt yourself with a yawn this time. “—gonna be so sick,” you say groggily.
“Just let me cuddle you, you know you want it,” he says, a teasing tone hinting in his voice. You blink open your eyes again to see a genuine smile as he looks at you—one that shouldn’t be there considering how gross you feel and are sure you look. Despite that, it’s there and you do want cuddles so you nod softly, making a weak, sad attempt at getting closer to Eddie.
Eddie meets your attempt by gently pulling you down the mattress. He maneuvers you to have your head resting on his chest while his arm snakes around you, rubbing circles on your back. With the sleepiness settling in and your cold symptoms dialing back due to the medicine, you can’t help but hum happily.
“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he says quietly.
It feels beyond good. Good is an understatement. Having him take care of you like this is making you feel mushy and only highlights your feelings for Eddie. In combination with your partially delusionally, sleepy state the only thing on your mind is expressing your feelings, all of them true no matter how far out of it you are at this point.
“Eddie, if I die, just know that I love you,” you mutter into the fabric of his shirt.
“That’s just the cold medicine talking,” Eddie laughs softly. You find the energy to shake your head.
“Nuh-uh, love you,” you repeat. “Love you so much.”
It’s faint, maybe he whispered it or maybe it’s the fact that you were slipping into sleep but you heard it.
“I love you too,” he says quietly.
As if those words gave you a short lived second life, it had you perking up, desperately needing to clarify just in case he didn’t understand.
“But Eddie I love you as my best friend but also more than that— I love you so much.”
He leaves you in silence but you don’t have the clear consciousness to overthink it, you just keep talking.
“I don’t even care if you don’t like me like that, I love you Eddie.”
“I love you too. Love you a lot, but I think we should talk about this when you’re not tired and on cold medicine, okay?” he whispers softly.
As your thoughts start to drift, you focus on the first half of Eddie's sentiment. He loves you— and he loves you a lot. With that on your mind, intermixed with the comforting friction of his hand on your back, you fall into the deepest and most comfortable sleep of your life despite being so sick. Eddie loves you.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Arguably, the best thing that came out of your cold was your confession. It was bound to happen eventually and although it did sort of seem like a deathbed confession at the time, it was genuine— that of which you clarified for Eddie. To your fortune, he also clarified that his reply was true as well. Beyond that, you were still sick and neither of you had done much more than just sharing those little words that one night. So yes, arguably, that's the best thing that came out of your sickly state; however, in your opinion, you think the best thing that happened was that you got Eddie sick too.
It was less than a day after you started feeling normal again that Eddie was running a fever. He ended up staying at your place for the majority of your sickness but he had left once to get some things for himself. Since he had his stuff here already, you offered for him to stay over at yours while you returned the favor of playing doctor.
Eddie took on a much different position as a sick person than you did. Undeniably, you both were on the dramatic end of things but while your cynical humour came out during your time being sick, Eddie was much different in how expressed himself.
Normally, a very touchy feely person, his affectionate side heightened tenfold while he was sick. He was all grabby hands, wanting you closer to him. Maybe it was because the two of you had broken the touch barrier while you were sick or maybe Eddie just turned into a touch deprived baby when he was sick, you’ll never know, but you didn’t deny him of the cuddles that you so dearly appreciated while you were under the weather.
The most interesting part— which shouldn't have came as a surprise, was that not only did he appreciate holding you, but he intensely appreciated you holding him, whether that be hands scratching his head as he rested it on your stomach, or your arms wrapped around him from behind making him the little spoon. Additionally, he was also incredibly affectionate with his words, constantly telling you how grateful he was for you and how much he appreciated you.
Your favourite confession came late one night, probably at the peak of his sickness. Fairly similar to your deathbed confession, but a moment to remember regardless.
You had just finished helping him eat, similar to how he had done for you, and were cuddling with him, smoothing your hands over his side as he rested his head on your chest.
The medicine was kicking in, making him drowsy, eyes fluttering shut as he let sleep take him over. He had kept babbling random thoughts but as he got more and more tired he was eventually reduced to heavy breaths. That was, until he titled his face up to yours. You looked down at him, meeting his sleepy eyes.
“I love you,” he said. “Love you so much.”
“Love you too, Eddie,” you replied, smiling.
“But I love you so much,” he said, voice returning to its babbling cadence. “Love you so much I wanna kiss you and love you and—” his babbling started to slowly fade as his head got heavier on your chest. You couldn’t help but laugh softly as your heart swelled.
You smoothed a hand over his face, brushing back his hair as you stared at him with nothing but love for your very, very sick boy. Like you had given him a second wind, his babbling started up again.
“Wanna marry you. Love you so much wanna marry you,” he said, words slurring.
“Think you’ll have to ask me on a date first, cutie,” you replied quietly, partially under the impression that he was already asleep.
“I will. Love you so much, I will,” he mumbled and with that, he was out like a light.
From there, the rest was history. If curious minds were to inquire, you would say that Eddie’s always been very good at keeping his promises, and mindless babbling or not, he meant every word that he confessed in his sickly, drowsy state.
Summary: Eddie proclaims to theatre nerd!reader that musicals are too happy for him. You then tell him the tale of Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
Note: This is partially because Gaten is currently in the show on broadway, yes, but also because it is one of my favorite musicals of all time and I myself am a huge theatre nerd.
Warnings: spoilers for Sweeney Todd, which has dark themes including bloody violence, murder, and cannibalism.
Words: 2.3k
Hawkins High School likes conventional. It likes when things make sense. For instance, it made sense when Chrissy Cunningham was nominated for Prom Queen, and Jason Carver for Prom King. It made sense that Nancy Wheeler was on track to give the valedictorian speech at graduation at the end of the year. What didn’t make sense—at least from an outsider's perspective—is you and Eddie.
Eddie Munson was all metal, band t-shirts, chunky silver rings, long wild mane, and tattoos. You are not metal. You are costumes, makeup, rehearsing lines and practicing songs for an audition. A theatre nerd, essentially. At night, Eddie blasts Metallica in his room, while you’re playing Andrew Lloyd Webber and attempting to hit the high notes in Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. The two of you looked like opposite sides of the spectrum. But in reality, you were two sides of the same coin. Both passionate about the music that moves you, embodying the looks of your respective niches.
When you met, there was an initial clash between the two of you over use of the drama room. Yes, it was used for Hellfire meetings, but it was the drama room and Eddie shouldn’t have thrown a fuss if you had to come in and grab a costume that had been left in there earlier. Once the original ire cooled, the two of you found you gelled together quite nicely. Only someone else who has that deep appreciation for music can understand what it’s like to feel the music in your very soul, in every beat of your heart, and every breath you take.
Though there wasn’t a crossover appeal with each other’s music, both you and Eddie could appreciate and respect the other’s taste. Eddie would blast metal in the van on the way home from school, so you’d come to learn some of the songs and point out your favorites to your boyfriend. When the two of you were at your house, a Sondheim or a Rodgers & Hammerstein record would be playing in the background as you makeout on your bed.
Eddie had seen you in the last musical Hawkins High had put on—Into the Woods. The dark take on multiple fairy tales had drawn Eddie in more than he thought it would. Obviously, he had only gone to see you—dragging Dustin along because the curly haired boy was the only one willing to accompany him—but he ended up being honestly impressed by the talent and hard work it takes to put on a show. Hearing you sing as Cinderella had almost moved Eddie to tears, something he would never admit to a soul. But Dustin had noticed and told you when Eddie had gone to the bathroom after the show. You recognized the same dedication and effort in Eddie when you saw him performing with Corroded Coffin.
After you begged Eddie to play The Sound of Music cassette you just bought while you’re driving around one weekend, he comes up with a thought that astounds you.
“You know, musicals are just too happy for me. Everything is always okay in the end, and everyone sings and dances and it’s happily ever after.”
You’re staring at him for a good minute before he notices. He raises an eyebrow at you in question.
“That is so not true!”
“Babe,” Eddie says, knocking the rings of his right hand against the van’s radio. “We’re literally listening to a show that has singing nuns and nazis. And guess what? Everything ends tied up with a bow.”
“First of all,” you say, flopping back in your seat with a huff. “This is based on a true story. So, sorry that the real Von Trapp family escaped the nazis. Secondly, there are plenty of dark musicals. You saw Into the Woods!”
“Yeah, it was dark for fairy tales. I listen to metal. The witch cursing a family doesn’t quite cut it as ‘dark’ for me.”
“West Side Story? It’s tragic!”
“Tragedy and darkness aren’t really the same thing,” Eddie says with a shrug. “I mean, they can be. But they literally have gangs prancing down the street. Sad story, sure. But I wouldn’t say dark.”
You purse your lips in the way that Eddie finds adorable as you look out the window. A cheery song about favorite things playing isn’t helping you come up with any dark musicals.
“Aha! Phantom of the Opera,” you say, turning towards Eddie. “Kidnapping, murder, disfigured character. Dark enough for you?”
“Eh,” Eddie says with a shrug. “The opera part kinda cancels it out for me.”
Just as Eddie’s pulling into your driveway, your face lights up with an idea. Eddie notices it as he pulls the keys out of the ignition, the jingling of them breaking you out of your mini trance.
“Sweeney Todd.”
“Who?” Eddie asks.
“Sweeney Todd!” you repeat, as if just hearing it again will make everything clear to Eddie. Both of you get out of the car and you fumble to get your house keys out of your bag. “The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”
“Did we switch subjects, or…? Should I know this Todd dude?” Eddie asks as he follows you inside. He kicks his shoes off next to the door just as you do, and you toss your bag onto the closest chair.
“It’s a Stephen Sondheim musical,” you say. “Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street.”
“A demon barber?” Eddie asks with a laugh.
Spinning away from him and his dismissive chuckle, you stroll over to your collections of records. Nimble fingers pick through them until you find the one you’re looking for. Eddie just watches as you move to the record player and load up the album. The opening notes start slow at first, then gaining volume, with a haunting quality to the melody. It sounds eerily like music you would hear at a funeral. Then a piercing noise—a scream? a scrape? —slices through the air, startling Eddie. He won’t let you know it just yet, but this already has him intrigued.
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd
His skin was pale and his eye was odd
He shaved the faces of gentlemen
Who never thereafter were heard of again
“Hmm,” Eddie hums, a smile curling on his lips. “Okay, you’ve got my attention.”
“It’s bloody and gory,” you say, jumping onto your couch. Eddie chuckles as he watches your socked feet move over the gray overstuffed cushions. You hold your hands out in front of you, fingers splayed as you begin to summarize the show in a melodramatic voice. “Sweeney Todd—who is actually named Benjamin Barker—returns to London after being wronged by a judge many years ago. Judge Turpin stole his wife and daughter. Like, literally stole. Not like he seduced her or something, he straight up took her and had her husband sent away.”
Eddie wrinkles up his nose and crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s creepy as hell.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” you say with a devious smile. As you continue on with the tale, the music playing in the background, you keep walking across the couch, jumping to the adjacent couch as well when you come to the edge. Eddie watches you, an adoring look in his eyes. “So, Sweeney stays with this lady, Mrs. Lovett, who has a pie shop. And he starts up as a barber again, with the goal of getting the judge to come in so he can…” You run your finger across your neck, imitating the slitting of your throat.
“Does he stick the bastard?” Eddie asks, jumping up on the couch you just vacated.
“Hold on, hold on,” you say, shooting him a smirk. “This other dude comes in and recognizes Sweeney back from when he was Barker, so Sweeney kills him. When he and Mrs. Lovett are trying to figure out what to do with the body, she comes up with an idea! But is it too much? Never, for this twisted pair!”
Eddie laughs as he listens and watches. Your eyes are wide, a crazed look there as you describe the warped tale. Even if he wasn’t genuinely enjoying this debauched plot, he would’ve been thoroughly amused by your performance.
“They decide to get rid of the body by grinding him up and putting him in the meat pies!”
“Ugh,” Eddie groans, face full of disgust. “That’s morbid.”
“Told ya,” you say with a proud smirk. “But they don’t stop there. Every man who comes to Sweeney’s shop becomes the new flavor of the day. And the people love the meat pies. They keep selling out of them.”
“Okay, okay,” Eddie says, holding his hands up in front of him. “I concede. This is a dark musical.”
“Thank you,” you say, offering him a dramatic bow. “The dead bodies do not just come out tap dancing or some other cliche, cheesy shit you accuse musicals of. Although now that I’m thinking about that, it would’ve been cool.”
“So, how’s it end?” Eddie asks, jumping over to the couch you’re on.
“Oh, no, no, no,” you say, shaking your head and backing a step away from him. “You’ll have to listen. Wait! See! They’re about to tell you.” You hold your finger to your lips, telling Eddie to be silent so he can hear the final lyrics of the song.
Attend the tale of Sweeney Todd
He served a dark and a vengeful god
What happened then, well, that's the play
And he wouldn't want us to give it away
Not Sweeney
Not Sweeney Todd
The demon barber of Fleet street
Eddie steps forward and tugs on your waist until you’re flush up against him. “You seem to really enjoy this creepy shit.”
“I haven’t even told you the rest,” you say, cupping his face in your hands. “There’s the judge wanting to marry the daughter he stole as well. A beggar woman who goes around asking men if they wanna fuck her. And then there’s Antony and Toby who are precious boys.”
“Jesus,” Eddie says with a laugh. “Might just have to borrow this record.”
“I thought you’d like it,” you say, a satisfied smirk on your lips. “I know my boyfriend’s taste.”
“Yes, you do,” he mumbles as he leans in and presses his lips against yours. The two of you share lazy kisses for a few minutes, just standing there on your couch in the middle of your living room. When you finally break for air, Eddie rests his forehead against yours and lets out a small laugh. “Who would’ve thought I’d find a girlfriend who can match my theatrics?”
“I think I outdo your theatrics, thank you very much,” you say. “In private, anyway. I know I can be my true, authentic weird self with you.”
“I love your weird self,” Eddie says, hands roaming down to your ass.
“And I love you.”
Eddie grins and presses a few more kisses to your mouth.
“Are there any duets in the show?” Eddie asks. “Could learn it and we could sing it together.”
The way your eyes light up at his words has his heart stuttering in his chest. He’d never admit it, but he’d memorize all of Sondheim’s compositions if you wanted him to. Anything for you.
“Yeah,” you say, voice the quietest it’s been this whole time. Before continuing, you clear your throat and blink your eyes a few times. “My favorite song from it is a duet. It’s the one where they decide to put the men into the pies. It’s called A Little Priest.”
You quickly hop off the couch and stop the record. Carefully, you turn it over and place it back down. Your eyes scan the track list printed on the record’s jacket to find the right spot. Placing the needle back down, a surge of pride flows through you as you hear it start playing exactly where you want it to.
Seems a downright shame…
Turning back towards Eddie, you try to emulate Mrs. Lovett. Kind of crazy, but even crazier for the man in front of her. That part you have down perfectly. The fond look Eddie is giving you makes your tummy all fuzzy and your head all light. Knowing that not only can you be completely and unabashedly yourself around Eddie, but that he actually loves you like that still boggles your mind.
The song is funny, filled with puns and jokes, and you sing through the lyrics with ease. As the long song comes to its end, you step up on the coffee table and use it as your stage. Closing your eyes, you throw your arms in the air dramatically as if you’re riding a roller coaster.
We'll not discriminate great from small!
No, we'll serve anyone,
Meaning anyone,
And to anyone
At all!
Eddie claps as you finish belting the last note, and your face warms at his praise. A shy giggle escapes you as you curtsy on top of the table. Your boyfriend hops down from the couch and wraps both of his arms around your legs. He flops backwards so he’s lying on the couch, pulling you along so you’re on top of him.
“You’re so damn cute,” Eddie says.
“Takes one to know one, Munson,” you say, finger coming up to boop the tip of his nose.
“I feel like I’m gonna have to take you to Broadway as a graduation gift,” Eddie muses.
“Baby,” you whine, shaking your head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t wanna take a trip with me?” he asks, jutting out his bottom lip in his most adorable pout. The big cow eyes only add to it.
“Of course I do,” you say. “Not letting you buy me a trip for graduation, though!”
“Fine,” Eddie says with a sigh. “What if it’s a gift for both of us? We go up together over the summer? Huh?” He grins and tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. “You, me, whatever shows you want, then a nice big hotel bed at night. I won’t pay for everything, I promise.”
A giggle bubbles out of you and you rest your head in the crook of Eddie’s neck. “Sounds perfect, Eddie.”
um this is really embarrassing but if youre not too busy and it could be the shortest thing ever could you write a prompt within the signficant verse about maybe the din djarin like making food specially for pregnant reader to help with cravings or something
cant lie i dont even know the mandolrian like that so IDEK IF THEY EAT FOOD but yeh
thank you so much!!! and i hope you have a lovely weekend/week!!!
Din Djarin x pregnant!Reader + Din doing his best to get you something to eat.
"Din," you glance at the plate before you. "This is kinda making me sick."
He looks over at you across the table from him, Grogu in the crook of his arm gnawing on a piece of roasted meat.
You suspect if you could see his face, he'd be frowning at you. "What's wrong?"
"It's just so intense," you say weakly, the noise of the busy cantina not helping in the slightest to ease your nausea. "You know how my stomach has been."
Din glances away from you, apparently dismissive. "It will help, riduur."
You aren't sure how he can know that. "Din," you say again, more firmly this time, the spices radiating off the plate in front of you burning your nostrils. "I'm going to be sick."
You've eaten a variation of the dish before you countless times. The Mandalorians relished spicy food. Food so hot it made tears burn at the backs of your eyes on a normal day. Heturam, they called it. Mouth burn.
It's made worse by the knowledge that he'd made this for you, stored it, brought it along with you to this world. Din had made this for you, and you couldn't bare to eat it.
Ever since you'd discovered you were pregnant, your stomach had been incredibly sensitive. Smells made you sick, food with anything but the blandest flavors made your belly roil with sick.
Something about it makes the back of your throat tighten with tears - that you couldn't eat what he made for you, that he might be disappointed.
Din says your name and reaches across to you. "You don't have to eat it," he says gently, pulling the plate out of your way. "It's said to help with the sickness. Not make it worse."
You gift him a watery smile. "I know," you cover his gloved hand with your own. "And I'm sure it would, if I could get it down."
His head tips to the side. "What should I get you instead? You need to eat."
"Fruit?" Fruit has been safe so far, spared from your sensitive stomach.
"Fruit," he repeats, glancing around the cantina like some might appear. "Fruit," he says again and then passes Grogu to you.
You clutch the child in your lap, feeling wan and tired as Din gets up and abruptly leaves you in the cantina alone. "Well," you say, "either he's going to get fruit or he's leaving us here."
Grogu just coos and reaches for the plate Din had set aside. You sigh and take a breath before sliding it closer. The child didn't seem to have any reaction to heavy spices. You'd learned that when he got into some of it before and you'd nearly panicked.
Din returns sometime later, the tilt of his helmet irritated. You can tell without asking that he'd probably dealt with a particularly stubborn seller in the market.
You suppress a laugh when he dumps the woven bag at his hip that Grogu normally sat in onto the table, fruit spilling out. "I didn't know which you'd prefer," he says simply.
You pluck up one you recognize, one of your favorites, "Thank you, riduur, you didn't have to get so much."
"Yes, I did," he disagrees, before taking a seat, next to you this time. He holds out a hand, a blade already in his other hand, "Let me peel it for you."
Fuck I’m at a fencing tournament and literally a minute after I reblogged this my dad told me that he talked to the point people and I’m probably going to win a medal.
I need to follow up to say I reblogged this last night, and this morning I got some of the best news of my life, like, a life dream come true news thing.
FUCK, I though it was just another lucky meme but LISTEN. Since a week ago I was waiting a phone call to confirm me if I got a job or not in my university. I reblogged this yesterday’s night “just for fun and because I don’t want any bagel to be mad with me”, and today’s afternoon, while I was losing my time as always, the professor I was supposed to work with called me and asked me for my personal information to start working with her.
I don’t normally participate in these kinds of posts buuut I’m desperately trying to convince my folks to let me get a chinchilla so I’m gonna give this one a shot even if I typiodont believe in these things.
Summary: 5 times you wanted to kiss Joel, and 1 time it actually happened (or: your relationship with Joel over the years)
Tags: 5+1 babeyyy, VERY self-indulged (i just want this man to call me his babygirl 😫), FLUFF, tooth-rotting fluff even, a bit of angst, age gap, PINING, i could write several fics out of this but no we're doing 5+1! also reader has she/her pronouns (i tried not to but at some point it was getting difficult not to use any :( sorry guys)
Warnings: descriptions of violence and wounds, cursing, getting drunk, David (which is a warning in itself), allusions to SA (but nothing happens)
Word count: ~9.4K (jesus i really got carried away im not doing that again for at least some time)
A/N: i am baack!! i finally had time to finish this monster and i guess it's ready to post <3 i absolutely ADORE 5+1 fics and always wanted to write one on my own. so here it is!! hope you enjoy because i loved writing it
1. boston qz
You bit your forearm harder, trying to hold back the tears of pain. The man kneeling in front of you glanced up.
“Bite the sleeve of your jacket. Otherwise they’re gonna think you’re infected and shoot you on sight.”
You didn’t answer but nodded, knowing that he was right. Holding your breath for a moment, you took a handful of the material and bit down on it, shutting your eyes tightly. The excruciating pain in your leg was hard enough to endure, but for the first place with it competed an absolutely unbearable look of poorly concealed pity (which you initially took for irritation) on the face of Tess’ friend.
It was through her that you met Joel. At the beginning he wasn’t very keen about letting you work with them but slowly warmed up to your presence – at least as much as a man like Joel could. Most of the time he was grumbling and, in all fairness, looking slightly angry but you’ve soon understood that he’s actually a pretty good guy. Caring. Funny, if he lets you see this side of him. Also really fucking handsome, but that was beside the point.
The job was supposed to be an easy one – just meet with a couple of Zeke’s people, pick up the smuggled items and exchange them for some meds and ammunition. However, none of you expected some random rogue group to ambush you on your way back and attempt to steal the cargo.
Tess has managed to get away just before soldiers showed up, alerted by the sound of gunfire way past the curfew. Before they could spot any of you, Joel quickly pulled you into one of the nearby buildings after one of the strangers slashed your thigh, leaving you unable to run.
So now here you were. Bleeding from your leg and making a pathetic crybaby out of yourself before the very eyes of the man you respected and lowkey had a small crush on.
Speaking of whom, Joel gave you a look of sympathy before squeezing the stapler handle again, ejecting another staple into your skin. You tensed and a broken cry escaped your lips, your breathing rapid.
“It’s alright,” he murmured, putting his other hand on your knee and rubbing slightly. “Just two more and you’ll be good to go.”
You breathed out a humorless laugh and wiped your face, sniffling.
“Just get on with it. This is way more embarrassing than it should be.” In the corner of your eye you saw him look up. He didn’t move the hand in which he held the staple gun yet, so you took this moment to steady your breath and slumped against the wall. “You probably think it’s pretty pathetic, but in my defense I never had such a gash closed with staples like that.”
“M’not thinkin’ that,” he retorted and you blew a raspberry.
“Sure. Tess told me about some of your forays, you know? You could probably get run over by a damn tank and walk it off like it’s nothing.”
Joel was silent for some time. You wiped your cheeks and motioned for him to eject the last staples at the edge of the deep cut in your thigh. He mumbled to you to get ready and you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the pain.
It hurt like hell and you couldn’t help the tears flowing from your eyes, but soon enough it was over.
The sound of shouting from outside drew your attention from the pain in your leg for a couple of seconds. You tensed up, listening intently if the soldiers weren’t busting in the building you were in, but the noises soon went past you.
“Y’know, if my brother was here, he’d have told you about the first time I had a wound stitched outside of the controlled conditions,” Joel spoke up unexpectedly, unpacking his backpack in search of clean bandages. “I nearly bit off my thumb when he was tryin’ to sew my foot back together.”
You couldn’t help but snort at his confession and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye with a slight smirk.
“Is that true?”
Joel huffed with fake indignation and lifted his left hand to your eyes, twisting it so that the dim light from outside illuminated the side of it. Above and below the small bone at the base of his thumb appeared very light and irregular lines. You looked at his face with an unbelieving smile.
“When was that?”
“Ah… Just before the outbreak, I’d say.”
“And what happened to your foot?”
“Construction work. I don’t remember exactly what that was.”
“But how hard did you have to chomp down on your thumb for it to be still visible?” you asked, laughing, to which he chuckled and shrugged.
“Hey, don’t judge. If it was Tommy who was fixin’ your leg, you’d probably end up without a couple of fingers too, just for good measure.”
He found the bandage and motioned for you to straighten your leg at the knee. You watched him carefully as he looked over your bare thigh and the (not very pretty to look at) sutured wound. The leg of your pants was cut and tossed away earlier so that Joel could stitch you up freely.
“So you have a brother. Is he really that bad at treating wounds?” you asked to distract yourself from the awkwardness of the whole situation, though Joel seemed surprisingly calm.
“He got better with time,” your colleague answered and then looked up at you. “But I didn’t tell you this to bitch about Tommy’s skills.”
“Oh?” you nudged him with your other leg. “So what moral should I draw from this story?”
You clearly saw him suppressing a smile when he shook his head lightly.
“Don’t feel bad that it hurts,” he murmured and the snicker disappeared from your lips. “I’ve seen looks like the one on your face plenty before. It’s a fuckin’ big gash, I’d be worried if you didn’t show any signs of pain.”
You couldn’t come up with any snarky remarks and just blinked when Joel sent you a quick, if not a bit self-conscious, smile, like he wasn’t used to reassuring someone else.
“The fact that you let your tears flow doesn’t make you any weaker,” he said even quieter than before. You still weren’t answering and he cleared his throat, apparently growing uncomfortable with your silence, then grabbed the bottle of alcohol. “I’m gonna pour some of that shit over your wound again. It’ll sting a bit.”
You observed without a word how he cleansed the gash and started to wind the bandage around your thigh.
Weirdly enough, you also noticed that you couldn’t stop glancing at his lips.
*****
2. bill and frank’s
“No. I said no, come back here!”
Giggles erupted from you as Joel tried (and failed) to grab you when you jumped over the couch. He sighed deeply as you made eye contact with him and, with a provocative smile, drank up the rest of the bottle before putting it down on the nearby table. The man looked so disappointed and done with you, it only made you laugh louder in your drunken state.
You two were staying for a couple of days at Bill and Frank’s heavenly place, which you looked forward to for weeks now. Originally Tess was supposed to go with you but there was a last-minute change of plans, and you made the journey alone with Joel. Not counting a few infected you stumbled upon on your way here, your venture was quite nice and after a delightful dinner with your hosts, you sneaked into Joel’s room with the bottle of wine Frank gave you and the stuff you smuggled yourself.
Joel didn’t seem to be having as much fun as you, though.
“I’m never drinkin’ with you again,” he muttered, sitting heavily on the couch with a grunt. You faked a pout, leaning over his head upside down and almost losing your balance.
“You’re grouchy because the stuff you brought tasted like shit.”
“And yet you drank most of it.”
“I didn’t,” you slurred, waltzing round the couch and grinning. “I’m feelin’ great.”
“Be careful or you’ll pick up my accent you so like pokin’ fun of.”
You snorted and flopped on the seat next to him. “Mhm, m’feelin’ fine and dandy,” you grumbled in the deepest voice you could make, ridiculously imitating his Texas drawl. “Yee-haw.”
“You’re the fuckin’ worst,” sighed Joel with exasperation but you could see a crooked smile tugging on his lips. You beamed and plopped down, laying your head on his lap. He peeked at you with his brows raised. “What are you doin’ now, you little devil?”
“Just resting,” you answered. The lamp behind Joel was blinding you with its light, so you covered your eyes with your hand to shield them. “Is that uncomfy for you? Do you want me to get up?”
“Nah. You can stay for a minute.”
As if wanting to make sure you won’t try to stand up, he laid his hand on your hair, brushing some of it to the back. You hummed and shivered when he gently scratched one specific spot on your scalp, and instinctively tilted your head, chasing his touch.
Joel snorted.
“You look like a goddamn cat.”
“Shut up,” you murmured in response, a small smile adoring your face. “It feels nice.”
You opened your eyes and once again shielded them from the lamp. Joel moved his head slightly to the side to block out the bothersome stimulus, causing you to giggle again.
“It looks like you have a halo ’round your head.” You lifted your arm and made a circle, brushing the side of his face when your hand plopped back down limply on your stomach. The older man huffed a smile, looking away to glance around the room.
“I’ll be really surprised if you remember anythin’ of what you’re sayin’ tomorrow.”
“Gimme a break,” you grumbled with a smile, not taking your eyes off him. Your hand raised itself to his face again, as if on its own accord, and brushed lightly the corner of his mouth and the stubble on his cheek. “It looks pretty.”
His brown irises flickered to you before he averted his gaze. With a hum you withdrew your hand and closed your eyes, your mind getting woozy from alcohol and tiredness.
Joel’s fingers were still running through your hair gently and you really hoped you’d remember it in the morning.
*****
3. road, somewhere in missouri
You had no idea how long you had been driving.
Ellie was asleep in the back seat and Joel was getting some well-deserved shut-eye after you volunteered to sit behind the wheel several hours ago. The clock on the dashboard was showing 4:07 and you planned on driving until the sun started to rise, then switching places with Joel.
That is, if you manage to stay awake.
You tried to drink some of the coffee Joel prepared beforehand to wake yourself up but it tasted horrible, leaving a too bitter taste on your tongue. Once you catched yourself closing your eyes for a second longer than intended and the car started to veer off course before you corrected it.
Yes, you were aware driving in this kind of state was extremely stupid, but you knew Joel was anxious to find his brother and drop Ellie off with the Fireflies as soon as possible. And you knew that if you wake him up he’ll insist on driving for the rest of the way himself, ignoring his own needs and exhaustion.
You risked a look to the side at his sleeping form. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his head propped against the headrest. Honestly, it looked like the man was just pretending to nap – his body seemed uptight, as if he was ready to spring into action at any second.
And he looked beautiful with his face bathed in the gray light of early morning. Like a painting you’d gladly admire for hours.
You sighed and cracked your neck, focusing on the road ahead of you. Several more hours to go. There was a gas tank in the back of the car, so you didn’t have to worry about that, and if you remembered correctly the map you and Joel studied earlier, you should get close to some bigger city in the late afternoon. Joel wanted to take the side roads and you agreed, but your supplies… Did you have enough of them? And what was the name of that city again…?
A hand grabbed the wheel and gently straightened the course when without you noticing the car started to veer too much to the left again.
You emerged from your reverie immediately and looked to the right at Joel who was now wide awake.
“You alright?” he asked with concern, and his voice had this enticing, raspy drawl to it that told you he really dozed off for a while.
“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly but quietly, not wanting to wake Ellie up. “I’m fine, promise.”
He eyed the tiredness on your face and the tight grip you had on the wheel.
“If you need to get some rest–”
“No, no, no. I can go on. Sorry you had to wake up.”
Joel grunted and stretched in the small space in the front seat and you tried really hard not to stare at how he craned his neck or at the way his muscles tensed, or at the strip of his skin revealed when his shirt rolled up…
“Pull over.”
You snapped out of your thoughts. “No. I told you I’m fine.”
“C’mon, darlin’, don’t make me wrestle with you in a movin’ vehicle.”
Either he had a clue about what this nickname was doing to you, or he was still half-asleep and it simply slipped out; but whether it was intentional or not, you couldn’t dream of opposing him now and with a defeated sigh (and burning neck) you pulled over, slowly bringing the car to a halt. You glanced backwards, but miraculously Ellie hadn’t woken up yet.
Joel looked you over with concern and you shut your eyes, laying your forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “But I really can keep going, at least until the sun goes up.”
“We’re switchin’,” he just said, unfastening his seatbelt.
“Joel, no!” you hissed, but he ignored you and went around the hood of the car, stopping at your side and opening the door for you. “I’m not moving. You need to get some fucking rest.”
“I already did. Now scoot over.”
“No, I told you–”
“What’s going on? Are we there yet?”
Both of you looked back to see Ellie sitting up and rubbing her eyes. In a split second she went from half-awake to alert, and she eyed you and Joel suspiciously. “What’s going on?” she asked again.
“We’re switchin’ places,” Joel spoke up before you had a chance to answer the girl. “Our current driver is pretty tired.”
“I’m not!” you protested, glaring at him.
“You almost drove the car into a ditch.”
“Woah.” Ellie lifted her hands and puffed her cheeks in a nervous manner. “Just this time, I second Joel. I really don’t want to end up in a ditch, thank you very much.”
“You see?” Joel looked at you expectedly. “Outvoted.”
You squinted in the rearview mirror at the teen. “Traitor.”
Ellie just shrugged. With a heavy sigh you unfastened yourself and exited the car, but before you could go around it and take Joel’s previous place, he stuck his arm out, stopping you.
“Actually, Ellie, do you want to ride shotgun now?” he asked and nodded in your direction. “It’d do her good to lie down for a bit.”
“No,” you said firmly at the same time when Ellie agreed with an enthusiastic “hell yeah!”. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the pair. “You guys are in cahoots.”
“Boo-hoo,” Ellie had a mean smile on her face. “Get in the backseat and cry about it.”
“She’s so cheeky,” you murmured to Joel, trying to hide your smile, and by the look of it he had trouble doing that, too. You sighed and lifted your hands in surrender. “Alright, you two. You won.”
“Great.” Ellie grinned, then started walking off the street. “But give me a moment, dudes, I gotta pee,” she said before marching further into the field on the side of the road.
“Don’t go too far!” shouted Joel after her.
“Don’t drive off without me!”
With that Ellie disappeared behind a small hill and you turned back to your companion, scrunching your face at him. Joel shrugged and walked past you.
“C’mon. I’ll find you a blanket.”
You huffed but didn’t argue further, knowing nothing will change his mind. He could be stubborn as a mule sometimes.
You climbed into the backseat and waited for Joel to take out the blanket you took from Bill and Frank’s house from the back of the car. He opened the door next to your head and handed it over, waiting for you to unfurl it. You expected him to go take the driver’s seat right away, but he stayed in place. Only then you noticed the folded jacket he was holding in his hands.
He didn’t react at all to your raised eyebrows and questioning look, and just casually laid his jacket under your head to serve as a pillow. The gesture was so sweet it made you melt inside, and you just couldn’t stay mad at him.
“Promise me you’ll get some sleep.”
“Only if you and Ellie aren’t too loud,” you teased, trying to settle down the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “If you start arguing about some stupid shit again, I’m taking the wheel from you by force.”
He smirked and squatted next to your seat, looking down at you with an amused expression.
“I’d like to see you try.”
You had to be really fucking tired, because for a split second you thought that Joel has just flirted with you. You hid your face in his jacket to partially conceal your smile, but it only made your face hotter because the material smelled of him so much.
“I could. You’re lucky I’m deciding to show mercy.”
“How gracious of you. I’m honored.
“But we’re swapping places when I wake up,” you added, looking at him as sternly as you could. He raised his eyebrows with a half-smile when a yawn escaped you immediately after. “I’m serious, Joel.”
“Sure, darlin’.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead before standing up. “Now sleep.”
You could only stare into space as he carefully closed the door next to your head and walked around the vehicle with heavy steps. The spot on your head where his lips touched your skin was tingling and you inhaled deeply to calm yourself down before he entered the truck again and fastened the seatbelt.
Joel put some cassette into the tape deck and turned the volume down even before the song started to play.
You closed your eyes and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding the lower part of the face – and a blush spreading on your cheeks – under the cover.
*****
4. jackson
You looked out the window at the children pulling their sleds behind them and smiled at how happy and carefree they looked. Down the road you could just barely see the big Christmas tree in the square and for a moment it felt like the apocalypse had never happened.
“They’re pretty lucky to be growing up here,” you said quietly. Joel was closing and opening cabinets behind you, clearly looking for something.
“Not sure about it. But I guess it beats growin’ up in any of the QZ’s or Fedra’s barracks.”
After Joel’s sudden change of heart and Ellie’s confident decision that she’d rather travel with you both instead of Tommy, the younger Miller convinced his brother to stay one more day in Jackson. It was honestly a good idea because you doubted any of you three got any rest the previous night. You certainly didn’t, tossing and turning the entire time from worry.
Joel chuckled and the sound pulled you out of your thoughts.
“What did you find?” you asked. He was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, holding a small box.
“Old cassettes. You want to listen to some music?”
“Sure.” You stood up with a smile. “It’ll be pretty atmospheric.”
Joel gave you a dirty look.
“I’m not putting on Christmas carols.”
“I don’t want to listen to Christmas carols. Find something good.”
He sighed and took out a carton box from the cabinet, and then started to rummage through it. “Alright, so what do you want?”
“You can choose. Pick something you think I’d like.” A thought struck you and you glanced around the living room, furrowing your brows. “Is there even any tape player in here or something like that?”
“Upstairs,” Joel mumbled absent-mindedly. “In Ellie’s room. We can go see if it works.”
Ellie was out exploring Jackson and you doubted she’ll be back very soon. You knelt down next to Joel, looking at him with a grin as he inspected the box, pulling out and reading some of the cassettes before putting them back down. You rested your chin on your hands.
“Just get anything,” you ushered after some time, to which he chuckled.
“You said to pick somethin’ you’d like. Gimme some time.”
“Do you think I’m that picky?”
“Of course you are.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t have to wait much longer before Joel stood up with a grunt and held out his hand to you. In the other one he held a white cassette.
“C’mon. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love this one.”
You took his hand with excitement and let yourself be pulled to your feet. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to listen to some music – well, maybe not as long, but you missed it regardless – that you felt a bubbly joy at the thought of hearing something new.
And more than that, something that Joel has picked specifically for you. Doesn’t matter that you had to ask him.
You went upstairs to the room that was currently Ellie’s bedroom and Joel bent down, inserting the cassette into the tape player. He looked over his shoulder at you with a small smile and you beamed right back.
A loud, scratchy sound rang out.
You winced and Joel furrowed his brows. He took the cassette out, checked the empty slot and the cassette itself, and then made sure the power was on.
The first notes started to play, but they sounded distorted, like a scratched record. Joel cursed and tried again, but there must’ve been something wrong with the device, because no matter what he did, the music didn’t play right.
He tried again and again, and finally you decided to put a stop to it. You placed your hand on his shoulder.
“Leave it, Joel. It’s okay.”
“Just my fuckin’ luck,” he muttered, not turning around. “Of course Tommy gave us a place without a working cassette player.”
“It’s okay,” you repeated. You wanted to say something like ’the song probably isn’t even worth fussing over’, but the words got stuck in your throat. He picked it for you to listen to, of course it was worth it. “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to hear it.”
The man worried his lip and you quickly averted your gaze. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips, sighing.
“Nonsense,” he answered, looking intently at the device like he wanted to get it to work by sheer willpower. “You wanted to hear it.”
“Well, I did.” You got embarrassed for whatever reason, not knowing what to say. “But there’s not really anything we can do about that. It’s no big deal.”
Joel’s jaw twitched and he turned to look at you thoughtfully. You offered him a lopsided smile, but he didn’t move a muscle and you could almost imagine small gears turning in his head when he had this expression on his face.
“You okay?” you asked with a stifled laugh.
“I… have an idea,” he said slowly, almost hesitantly. Then he focused his eyes on you again. “Just… trust me for a moment.”
Your gaze softened and you took a step closer to him.
“Joel, of course I trust you. I trust you with my life.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed but his brown irises haven’t left yours for even a second.
“Close your eyes.”
“What?” you asked with a crooked smile, but he just shook his head.
“C’mon, close your eyes. And promise you won’t laugh.”
Confusion washed over you but you closed your eyes as requested. You heard Joel sighing and then he took your hand in his calloused and rough one, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your neck got way too hot but you tried not to tense or flinch in fear of making him back out.
“Promise you won’t laugh,” he repeated and you just now realized you haven’t answered him. He put his hand on your waist, very, very lightly, and your other hand was raised to shoulder height, cradled in his warm one.
“I swear I won’t,” you whispered, your heart beating so damn loud you were scared he was going to hear it with how close you two were.
Joel exhaled heavily and you felt his breath on your hair.
And then he started to hum quietly and sway you gently from side to side. You desperately tried to remain calm, but how were you supposed to do that when your body felt so hot and he was so close–
“I reached inside myself and found nothin’ there… to ease the pressure… of my ever-worrying mind, hmm…”
Joel’s voice was deep and harsh right in front of you, and it sounded more like he was purring than singing. You suspected he slowed down the pace of the song significantly to match his movements and your heart swelled with warmth and adoration. The smile on your face widened and you took a step to the left, then to the right, gradually engaging in your dance more and more. You wanted to make it less uncomfortable and awkward for him and it seemed to have worked a bit because the next lines were much more confident, and his voice steadier.
“All my power wasted ’way, fear the crazed and lonely looks the mirror’s sendin’ me these days, hmm…”
His hold on you tightened slightly and you held his hand a little more securely, unable to hold back a goofy smile on your face.
“Touch me… how can it be? Believe me… the sun always shines on TV.”
You were falling for him all over again and it was not fair that he made you promise to keep your eyes closed. Though if he didn’t, you’d probably end up doing something dumb.
Like kissing him.
Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so bad.
“Hold me… close to your heart. Touch me… Give all your love to me. To me…”
Did he just pull you closer or was it you that took a step forward? It was hard to tell without seeing where you step, but you suddenly were very aware of the material of his shirt under your chin and the smell of shampoo he used to wash his hair, the pressure of his hand on your lower back and his quiet, drawling voice right next to your ear.
You were positive you’re about to pass out.
And it felt blissful.
Joel kept humming the chorus of the song, his voice getting softer and lower with each word. You relished in the warmth of his embrace, begging any higher power that he won’t let go of you immediately once he stops singing.
He didn’t.
Instead you two kind of naturally came to a stop but neither of you moved, still standing chest to chest and breathing a bit shakily. Your palm – or maybe it was his – was sweaty, but you ignored the unpleasant feeling, wanting to stay like this as long as possible.
“The original is much more lively,” Joel spoke in a soft whisper after some time and you smiled lightly.
“Well, I really liked your version,” you answered just as quietly, not wanting to disturb the intimate atmosphere in the room. “Joel?”
“Yes, darlin’?”
“Can I open my eyes now?”
A moment of silence.
“Yeah.”
You did so, but didn’t move your head, still keeping it on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. “Thank you for that,” you whispered and you felt him nodding.
“Anytime.”
His fingers crept a bit higher up your spine, but still his touch was so light and unsure.
You realized with a flicker of hope that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was pulling you closer.
Careful not to move too abruptly, you lifted your head and turned it to look him in the eyes. They were already on you, so very close, warm and hesitant, but also not showing any signs of discomfort or regret.
“Joel?” you asked again and you were so close to each other, it came out less as a question and more like a quiet breath. He heard it, though.
“Yeah?”
“Can I–”
Suddenly the door downstairs slammed extremely loudly and you both jumped when the noise broke the heavy silence.
“Hello! Is anybody here?!”
Ellie came back.
Both of you automatically took a step backwards, letting go of each other. Your face was scorching hot and you couldn’t force yourself to look at Joel. With a deep (hopefully unnoticed by the man standing right in front of you) breath, you quickly tried to get a grip on yourself when you heard Ellie running up the stairs.
“I was calling you, guys!” she panted and looked from you to the older man. “What’s up?”
“We…” Joel cleared his throat. “Tried to put some music on. The darn thing isn’t workin’, though.”
“Ugh, that’s a bummer.” Ellie turned to you and tilted her head. “Were you out, too? Your face is all red and shit.”
Even if it wasn’t before, it certainly was now. All attention shifted to you in a second and it made you want to cry.
“Yes,” you uttered quickly, “and… I’m actually going out again. I wanted to ask Maria something.”
You didn’t wait for any of them to stop or question you further – you all but ran down the stairs and bolted outside without even taking a jacket or a hat.
Fuck…
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
*****
5. basement, somewhere in colorado
He was dying.
Joel was dying and there was nothing you could do to help him.
You tried your hardest, though, to take care of both him and Ellie. You went out hunting so she wouldn’t have to starve, you encouraged her to get as much rest as possible while you watched over the unconscious man during the night, and not once did you show any doubt that Joel will get better.
But you had a feeling she knew why you were so reluctant to stay behind while the girl took her turn looking for food. The truth was, you were starting to crack if you sat for too long at Joel’s side, letting the intrusive thoughts take root in your mind. You needed those moments outside, because they were the only ones when you let your tears flow.
So when it was only you and him in the basement, you spent this time brushing the hair out of his face and coaxing him to drink. You checked his wound every so often, trying to keep it as clean as possible. You held his hand, humming to him that one song he sang for you in Jackson, though you didn’t know the words.
It was painful, to just sit in place and be unable to do anything to help, but you tried not to break down. Not when both of them counted on you.
So you stayed strong, hoping it’ll all turn out alright.
But luck still wasn’t on your side.
The men Ellie encountered the day before were here now, looking for you and Joel, and hungry for blood. She told you all about her interaction with them and since yesterday you were ready for a fight in case they showed up, but somehow it still surprised you and made your heart hammer in your chest in fear.
There wasn’t anywhere you could run to, and Joel wasn’t even able to keep his eyes open, let alone walk. You didn’t really have any other options.
So there was only one thing you could do, and that was to protect those closest to you.
You quickly took your backpack and passed Ellie your gun, closing her fingers around the cold metal.
“I’ll barricade the door, but if anyone comes in here, you blast their skull open, you hear me?” you whispered urgently and the girl nodded. You took Joel’s rifle from the floor and hung it over your shoulder. “I’ll try to take them out and lead them away. I’ll be back.”
“You better come back,” Ellie muttered and you looked at her softly, nodding. Then your gaze involuntarily shifted to Joel.
You didn’t know how many people were outside – if there were three or four of them, you should be able to shoot most of them before they notice you. If you don’t miss, that is.
But if there were more…
Choking back a nervous sob, you knelt next to the mattress and took Joel’s head in your hands. His eyes were only half-open and his forehead covered in sweat. Your heart clenched painfully at how weak he looked.
Acting on impulse, you leaned down and softly kissed the place above the corner of his mouth.
“Wake up,” you said to him firmly, brushing his cheeks with your thumbs. “Please, Joel. Ellie and I need you.”
You knew you had to go. You had to go now and make sure those fuckers outside don’t find Ellie and him.
But you stayed just for a second longer to press your forehead to his.
“I love you,” you whispered, so quietly you barely heard yourself.
And then you pulled away and ran upstairs.
From then on it was all a blur. You managed to kill one of the men with a clean shot between his eyes, but the other one ducked out of the way when he noticed you. Turned out there were six of them – too many – and what’s worse, one of them came up behind you, forcing you to flee sooner than you’d planned.
It would probably be wiser to take the horse but you didn’t want to endanger the poor creature, so you ran on foot.
You didn’t get far. One of the men managed to shoot you in the leg, making you keel over onto the frozen ground with a scream of pain. You turned around and saw him lifting his gun again before another voice yelled that he wanted you alive.
No. No, no, you weren’t about to let them take you.
You crawled towards where your rifle lay in the snow but just before you could reach it, it was kicked away by a heavy boot which then dealt a severe blow to your stomach. You doubled over, wheezing and coughing for air. By the time you managed to somehow catch your breath, someone pressed their foot on the gunshot wound in your calf, forcing a scream of agony out of you.
“Now, stay calm. I don’t want to shoot you.”
You clutched at your leg, glaring up at the ginger man who you suspected was the same David Ellie has encountered.
The man grinned nastily at the state you were in, and you didn’t like his expression one bit. He must’ve noticed that you were ready to lunge at him at any moment because he swiftly lifted his gun to your head. You froze.
“Where is your friend and the girl?” he asked quietly. You sneered at him, baring your teeth.
“Fuck you. I ain’t telling you shit.”
“David, she killed Paul,” spat another, younger one, looking down at you with hatred. “If that bastard has already died, let’s at least kill his bitch.”
You tried to think of a way to get out of this situation, but both of the men had their guns pointed at you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough with the gunshot wound.
You tried to move slightly but David pressed his foot harder on your leg, causing more blood to flow from your wound and you cried out, the pain clouding your vision.
“Don’t try anything, sweetheart,” he murmured in a warning tone. “You might bleed out.”
Your eyes were full of hate and rage but you didn’t dare to move again just yet.
“Where are they?” David asked again and you huffed a humorless chuckle while trying not to show how much pain you were in.
“You know that it was me who killed that idiot?” you asked in the most mocking tone you could muster, in the meantime desperately thinking how the fuck you were going to get out of here, preferably alive. “And your friend over there.” You nodded in the direction of where the body of the man you shot was lying. “Which one of you stood next to him? Was it you?” you asked the younger man who shot you in the leg. “I hope I hadn’t splattered you too much with the remnants of his brain.”
“You little bitch,” the other man sneered, lifting his gun again despite David’s stern order to back off. “I’d love to see the face of your friend when I blast your–”
“Leave her alone, you fuckers!!”
All of you turned your heads and your stomach churned when you saw Ellie on the horse you borrowed from Tommy. More shots rang out in the air when she blindly fired at the two men standing above you, and then the rest of the strangers who emerged from between the trees.
“Alive!!” David yelled after his men when they started chasing Ellie who grabbed the reins and cantered in the opposite direction. Then the man turned back to you. “We will catch her. Then we will find your friend, and he’ll pay for his sins.”
You growled.
“I told you it wasn’t him who killed that man.” He shook his head and you fumed with anger. “You don’t think I’m capable of that?”
“Oh, I think you’re capable of a lot.” His stare slid down your body, from head to toe, and terror gripped your heart at the sadistic excitement in his eyes. “And I think you must really care about him if you’re ready to trade your life for his. Such loyalty is admirable, but your love is misplaced.”
The snow around you was getting more and more red and you really started to worry that the bullet might’ve hit an artery. David’s eyes shifted to your leg as well, and he hummed.
“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry. You’ll be well taken care of in our community.”
“I don’t want to be any part of your fucked up sect.”
“You will. You just need a father to lead you to the right path.” He leaned over you in such a manner that it made your blood run cold. “I’ll teach you personally.”
Suddenly a shot echoed in the air and you heard a distant neighing of a horse. Your head automatically turned in the direction of the noise and David took advantage of your moment of distraction to strike your temple with his gun, thus knocking you unconscious.
*****
+1. silver lake
Joel woke up.
And he felt like he was made out of pure adrenaline and rage.
You weren’t with Ellie when he found her staggering through the snow, the face of the teen terrified and covered in blood. He comforted her as best as he could, relief and fear fighting inside him as he held the girl in his arms.
But she didn’t know where you were held. If you were even alive.
And that was a thought that Joel couldn’t bear. He wouldn’t even allow for the possibility that you were no longer…
He vaguely remembered you stroking his cheek with slow and delicate touches, and your humming while he was laying on the mildewed mattress in the basement. Maybe it wasn’t even a memory, but a dream – it was hard to tell in his delirious state.
But he was pretty sure he wasn’t hallucinating when he felt soft, cold lips right next to his and heard your voice – he knew it was your voice, he’d recognize it anywhere – whispering the words he never let himself hope you’d say to him.
Words he would be damned if he didn’t say back to you.
And that’s why he was merciless with the men he encountered on his way to you and Ellie. His own tiredness and pain piercing his abdomen didn’t matter – nothing mattered when you two weren’t with him, when he didn’t know if you were hurt or even still breathing. The desire to help and protect his girls numbed the pain in his stomach so much that he almost forgot he could barely stand just a few hours ago.
Once he found Ellie and took her to a safe location, he went back to look for you. He didn’t want to leave the girl alone, but she seemed terrified at the prospect of going back and through the buildings, so he left her his gun, promising to be right back.
One of the bastards Joel ran across on his way back was helpful enough (after being shot in both knees and having his forearm broken) to direct him to the place where you were supposedly being held – a small building hidden behind the still burning dining room.
No one else stood in his way when he cautiously reached the structure. He went in and started checking every single room, getting more and more anxious every time he found them empty. At one point he was ready to tear the walls apart and go back to see if there was anyone left alive who could tell him where you were – but then spotted a hidden, smaller metal door, which apparently led to the basement.
It wasn’t locked and Joel didn’t hear anything on the other side so he opened it slowly, quickly walking down the stairs and scanning the room for any enemies, but there were none. Half of the room was enclosed by a chain-link fence and the entry to the cage was slightly open.
And inside sat you, with a cloth around your eyes and hands tied above your head.
His knees almost gave way under him from relief when you perked up at the sound of his footsteps. You were alive. You were–
“If you fucking try to touch me again, I’ll break more than your stupid jaw!” you yelled out of the blue, starting to struggle and kick haphazardly, though the placement of your wrists was forcing you to stay in a sitting position. “You motherfucker, don’t come any closer!”
The fear and desperation in your voice broke Joel’s heart in an instant and made him stop dead in his tracks.
“It’s me,” he hurried to say, but his voice was weak and the next words got stuck in his throat when he saw your bloodied nose, bruises on your face and neck, as well as a dirty bandage tied around your calf with a seizable crimson stain on it.
He ushered inside, opening the door to the cell wide open with a loud scraping. You started panicking even more, cursing and kicking when he crouched next to you, intending to untie your hands.
“I said don’t fucking touch me! I’ll kill you!” you screamed and Joel actually had to back away a little to avoid getting kicked in the ribs.
“It’s me!” he said louder, but it was clear you didn’t hear him. In a quick movement he reached out, yanking the blindfold off your eyes, and put his hands on both sides of your face. “It’s me. Joel.”
In the first moment his touch made you recoil and the look of fury deepened on your face while you continued to scream bloody murder. Your eyes were so wild and terrified, Joel wanted nothing more than to pull you close to his chest and never let go.
“Look at me, baby. It’s alright,” he whispered soothingly, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones like he vaguely remembered you doing when he was unconscious. “It’s me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Your eyes slowly started to focus on his face for the first time since he took the blindfold off, and Joel felt like something was tearing his chest apart at the sight of fear and disbelief on your face.
“It’s okay, darlin’,” he muttered in a strangled voice, trying not to show he was close to crying, too. “It’s me. You’re safe now.”
A broken sob issued from your throat when you took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his face and stomach where the wound was.
“...Joel?”
“I’m here,” he said softly, quickly cutting the ropes binding you to the indent in the wall and wincing when he saw the red and purple marks around your wrists. “It’s okay.”
It wasn’t okay, not for you and not for him. Your body was trembling when he finally cut your hands free and without hesitation gathered you in his arms. It seemed like all the bottled up stress was pouring out of you now with the tears as you cried into his jacket and he held you tighter.
“J-Joel…”
“I know, babygirl,” he whispered into your hair, rocking you both back and forth slightly. You were clinging to him almost desperately and it pained him physically to see how scared you’ve been this whole time, but you were safe now, you were back with him and you were alive… “I know. I’m so sorry.”
You pulled away abruptly and looked over his shoulder, your face crumpling in despair when you saw no one there.
“They took Ellie, I don’t know where–”
“She’s safe,” he quickly assured you. “She got out and I found her just before comin’ here.”
You nodded with a sigh of relief, and he shifted his gaze to your calf, gently laying his hand just above the bandage.
“How’s your leg? Can you walk?”
“One of those fuckers shot me,” you murmured, not moving or attempting to stand up, which concerned Joel. “I didn’t really have a chance to see if I’ll be able to stand on my own but they sewed it up provisionally.” Your eyes flickered to his and you smiled softly, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. “Not as well as you, though.” Then your smile disappeared and your hand grabbed his in a firm grip, like you wanted to make sure he was really here. “How are you, though? I was… Shit, I was so afraid I’d lose you.”
Joel could only stare at you, having no clue what to say.
He was not good at talking. He knew what he should do, though – he should examine your leg and make sure it was alright, he should go back to Ellie and get you two out of here, he should calm down his goddamn pounding heart so that he doesn’t pass out and cause you any more trouble.
But he couldn’t will his muscles to move. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t think about anything at all – not when you were sitting in front of him, looking at him with those tearful, gorgeous eyes of yours, holding his hand so tenderly but firmly, your touch so soothing, so familiar, and he remembered vaguely the same fingertips caressing his face.
And your voice, those words…
You said his name haltingly, but he didn’t register any of that, instead letting the overwhelming feelings of relief and fear, and – and adoration – take hold over his body, and he affectionately took your beautiful face in his hands.
Your eyes widened slightly but then these irises he dreamt about so often flickered to his lips and your own parted slightly, and that was all he needed before he leaned in and kissed you deeply.
There was a moment of hesitation on your part during which Joel began to worry that he didn’t read the situation right after all, but then you cupped his cheeks, too, and pressed yourself closer to him, letting him envelop your form in his arms with a quiet sigh.
It was better than he could have ever imagined. He could taste a hint of blood on your lips and hot, blinding rage surged through his veins at the thought of those bastards hurting you. His kiss turned harder and more desperate – he needed to make sure you were really here with him, he wanted to feel your every breath in his own lungs. You didn’t pull away, only tangling your fingers in his short hair, and the small noises you were making were driving Joel crazy with lust and relief. He felt dizzy, like he was going to faint again but he pushed through it, keeping his attention solely on you.
The second you two parted, even before you had a chance to catch your breath, the words started spilling out of his mouth fumblingly.
“Listen, I… I heard you,” he whispered, panting like he just ran a mile – and his heart certainly acted like he did. “M’pretty sure I wasn’t halucinatin’, but even if– doesn’t matter, I want… no, I need to tell you this, I…”
He exhaled nervously and shook his head, avoiding eye contact with you because he was damn sure he'd burst into flames if you looked at him like that again.
Fuck, he was really not good at this.
He cursed under his breath, missing a concerned look you gave him, and felt your hand covering his where it was still situated on your cheek. He knew that with this gesture you wanted to make it easier for him somehow, but it only caused his chest to get even warmer and tighter. “Joel, slow down–”
“I… I love you,” he finally choked out, softly brushing your cheekbones with his thumbs. And damn his old, faulty heart, he wanted to gaze into your eyes again, even if it was going to kill him, so that’s exactly what he did. “I loved you for so long, darlin’, and I got so fuckin’ scared that I won’t be able to tell you and, and it’s okay if I only imagined you saying that and you don’t feel that way, but I needed to tell you, I…”
All strength left him when he paused to draw a breath. His vision was becoming blurry and for a second he was certain he’s losing consciousness again, but it turned out they were only tears filling his eyes, blurring your form before him.
Which was even worse, somehow.
“I’m sorry.” He intended to sound reassuring and strong but it came out more like a broken whisper and he hated himself for feeling so weak and helpless when you and Ellie needed comfort and strength. He couldn’t help it though – all this time when he was looking for his girls the only things that kept him going were anger, terror and regret. Now there was relief, yes, but… he felt so very tired and old.
You turned your head slightly to plant a soft kiss on the inside of his palm, and Joel’s head snapped up. Tears were filling your eyes and he immediately scanned your body for other injuries, any signs of damage or pain, but then this gorgeous smile he so loved illuminated your face, and it put all of his anxieties at ease.
“You weren’t hallucinating,” you said quietly. “I did say that. And I love you, too, Joel.”
He couldn’t help a short, breathless and broken laugh that escaped him when he really heard you speaking those words, this time as clearly as day.
You sniffled and mirrored his smile, and in the next second Joel was kissing you again.
He knew you two had to go, had to get back to Ellie and leave this god-forsaken place, so he tried to be quick, but you – your smile, your touch, all of you – were so distracting and not eager to help him pull away in the slightest.
“I love you too, babygirl, love you so much.” He peppered your face with kisses, ignoring tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard and under your hands. “So fuckin’ much… Don’t ever scare me like that again.”
“Because your old heart can’t handle it?” you teased and he huffed a laugh. A damn tease in every situation, he wanted to say, but before he had a chance to chide you, you pulled him in for another deep kiss. Joel decided you’re off the hook this time.
“Exactly, darlin’. Now hold onto my arm, we’re gonna see if you can stand, and then we’re goin’ back to Ellie.”
A hiss and a grunt of pain escaped you when he attempted to pull you to your feet, but you gritted your teeth and shook your head quickly when he froze, worry evident on his face. Turned out you could stand on your own and even slowly limp forward, but clearly had to push through intense pain to do so. Joel offered you his shoulder (against which his tired body protested immediately) but it made walking easier for you, so he sucked it up.
“I got you,” he whispered when he helped you up the stairs, keeping an arm around your waist for support. You whimpered every time you had to climb up a step, and Joel took hold of your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin lovingly. “That’s a good girl. Just a couple more.”
You didn’t let go of his hand even after these ‘couple more’ steps.
He kept his hand on your shoulder when you finally got reunited with Ellie and tears of relief spilled out of your eyes.
You tangled your fingers with his when the three of you were leaving this cursed, cruel place.
You all held each other when Ellie broke down and you both hugged her tightly, trying to make her feel safe again.
He hooked his little finger over yours, not wanting to drag you down when he started to lean on you, getting significantly weaker from how far he traveled and how hard he fought in the state he was in.
You grasped his hand again that night when you laid down next to him in his sleeping bag while Ellie was curled close to the two of you on Joel’s other side.
He didn’t let go when he leaned in to kiss you again, keeping his touch soft and gentle, and pulled you as close as he could, murmuring words of love and sweet promises into your hair.
Both of you knew you had a lot to talk about in the upcoming days – and probably even weeks. All three of you needed time to heal, physically as well as mentally.
But just for this moment, Joel couldn’t be happier and more relieved as it was slowly dawning on him that after this horrible, hellish nightmare, he had both of you right next to him, breathing and alive, and not chased by anyone for now. Two persons he loved in very different ways, but who were his entire world, whether he was ready to admit it or not.
As if reading his thoughts, you shifted slightly and kissed the edge of his jaw sleepily. His eyes closed, hiding the wetness in them.
summary: tess has a proposition for you.
warnings: E; smut (PIV, MFF dynamics, f masturbation, oral f receiving, squirting, rough-ish sex, everyone's a little switchy), a little angst but not much, POV switch, reader is described as curvy
wc: ~4.1k
a/n: thank u to @haylzcyon for looking this over!! i don't know, i am very bisexual and i love tess very much. sorry for using the word soft approximately 600 times.
masterlist
~
The first time you meet Tess she smiles at you and asks what you need like she's a cashier at some department store that hasn’t existed in twenty years. Joel doesn’t say a word. He stands to Tess’s side, slightly in front of her like a guard dog, his gaze so heavy you pull your jacket a little tighter.
“Magazines?” She asks, one eyebrow arched. It’s hard to explain it—they give you a little bit of normality, whatever that means anymore. “We can do that.”
“Really?” You ask. You hadn’t expected her to say yes.
“Be surprised what people left lying around.” She doesn’t pry any further than what you can trade for them.
Every few weeks you stop by to see if there’s anything new. The relationship is cordial, and Joel even starts nodding his head at you after a time. You’d even go so far as to call Tess a friendly acquaintance.
Joel’s presence lightens over time. He stands behind Tess now, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, one foot pressed against the brick. He drags his eyes over your body shamelessly, and you don’t know if you’re special or if he looks at all of his clients like that.
You also have a suspicion that he and Tess are…well, something. And you don’t know how to compete with Tess—not that you want to compete with her. Unless it’s to see who can get Joel’s dick in their mouth the fastest.
Something tells you she wouldn’t be totally opposed to that.
Every time you leave those brief meetings you race to your shabby studio apartment and lock the door. It’s a very specific fantasy—rub yourself against that thick, muscled thigh of his. In reality, the closest you get is cupping yourself and grinding, head resting on your forearm as your hips make slow, firm circles against your hand. In your fantasy he’s holding you up with big, rough fingers digging into your soft hips, whispering depravity in your ear as you thrust onto him.
“Look so good like that,” he’d grunt.
And sometimes it’s Tess’s leg you hump like a desperate animal. She’d tease you for it, in a sweet way, still encouraging you as you lay your head on her shoulder. She’d say less and kiss you more.
Both of them always swim in your mind when you cum, your cunt spasming hard around your fingers.
It’s never enough.
Then you’d go about your day, pretending nothing happened. The arrangement isn’t ideal, but you have something to look forward to a couple of times a month, at least.
And then Tess shows up at your door.
~
It takes a moment to recognize her.
She’s out of place—she’s only supposed to be at the drop points, or maybe the seedy excuses for bars that pop up every now and then. She is not supposed to be in your apartment, standing six feet from the couch where you touch yourself thinking of her and her business partner.
How does she even know where you live?
“Tess?”
“That’s me,” she says. She’s cleaned herself up. Usually, she’s in days-old button-ups and ratty jeans, her face smudged with the ash that permeates the QZ. But not today. Today her face is glowing and she’s swept her hair back in a makeshift bun, and for the first time, you notice she has bright green eyes.
Her clothes fit too well; her jeans hug her hips, and her t-shirt accentuates her breasts. You haven’t had clothes that fit properly since you were a teenager.
Perks of being a smuggler, you suppose.
“Can I come in? I thought I’d bring these by. Got them a little early,” she says, holding up an issue of Better Homes & Gardens and Ebony, slipping by you in the doorway before you can answer.
“Oh, sure, but I don’t have the cards just yet,” you explain.
“That’s okay. These are on the house,” she says.
That, however, triggers alarm bells. You don’t know her well, but you know her reputation well enough to know that Tess Servopoulos didn’t get that kind of notoriety from giving shit away. Your guard goes up.
“Why?” You ask, not taking the magazines.
She smiles.
“Smart girl,” she says.
You knew it. “What do you want?”
She takes a deep breath. “I need a favor.”
**
Tess fucking hates asking for favors. She doesn’t like to be in anyone’s debt for any length of time, she doesn’t want to owe anyone anything. She wants equal trade immediately.
And this is a stupid fucking thing to be in someone’s debt over. They agreed—they agreed a long time ago that they would come back to each other, and that was it. And he always came back. He protected and provided, regardless of whether she needed him to, and he, of all the people in this world, understood her.
For a long time, she really thought he’d love her, too.
She never asked him to, but she thought he would. Sometimes when he laced his fingers through hers in the middle of the night, or when they were both in a good mood, not completely exhausted from trying to survive the world around them and he slow danced with her to no music, she thought he might love her anyway.
He’d always come back, and she knew that. But did he need to be so fucking brazen about drooling over magazine girl? Sure, obviously she's younger and sweeter and prettier and somehow the world hadn’t taken her ability to smile at strangers, but staring the woman down in front of her?
Jesus Christ.
You look even softer here, though, surrounded by all your things, and you’re suspicious of her immediately. Her respect for you triples with that skepticism. At least he wants to fuck someone with a good head on her shoulders.
“So?” You ask.
“Joel wants to fuck you,” she says, getting the point. You open your mouth to say something, shaking your head like that’ll make it make more sense in your brain.
“He what?”
“You heard me,” Tess says. “He wants to fuck you and he won’t admit—”
“And what do you care who he wants to fuck?” You interrupt.
“He’s my—he’s mine,” she explains, shockingly patient about it. She steps close to you, and you stand your ground. She likes that, too.
“Oh—uh, look, I’m not interested in him like that—”
“You’re not a good liar,” she says. She actually has no idea whether you’re telling the truth, but just saying that works ninety-five percent of the time.
“I’m not! I would never try that with someone’s—someone’s person.”
“But you would? If he wasn’t ‘someone’s person’?”
You swallow, and Tess puts herself in your space. You’re about to crack.
“I mean—yes, okay?”
She smiles, satisfied. “Good,” she says. She cups both sides of your face with her hands and draws your eyes to hers. “And what about me? If I wasn’t someone’s person?”
Tess ignores the small pang of concern in her gut, the tiny flare of panic that you might say no to that. Definitely because it would ruin her plan, and not at all because she thinks about you sometimes, even when Joel’s pounding into her. She wonders what it would be like if you were there with them.
She bets you taste sweet.
But to her immense relief (because of the plan) you nod, looking up at her through your eyelashes. She explains it all, and you don’t ask any questions, and you don’t even ask what’s in it for yourself.
You do ask one thing, though, as she’s on her way out of the door. “Did you get all dressed up for me?”
Tess smiles a little. “Do you want me to have gotten dressed up for you?”
“You look really nice,” you murmur. “But whenever I think about you you have a little smudge of dirt on your nose.”
Tess fights to keep her smile from wavering. “How often are you thinking about me?”
You shoot a wicked little grin at her, and she steps back into your apartment, pressing her lips against yours and relishing the surprised squeak of a moan that escapes from you.
She pulls back and you’re wild-eyed, gazing at her lips with hunger. She flips you around and pushes you against the door, running her fingers down your cheek, her thigh slotted between your legs. You move, almost imperceptibly, against her leg.
“Be good to do a test run, huh?” She asks.
“Always good to be prepared,” you say, before sliding your tongue across her lips.
She’s right. You taste very sweet.
You tell her she does, too.
**
Joel presses his left ear to the old, paint-stripped front door of the apartment he’s shared with Tess for years, sure he’s mistaken. Muffled moans—not Tess’s, with which he’s more than well acquainted—confirm his original suspicions. He doesn’t bother with a knock, just opens the door to find Tess on her knees in front of the couch, hands grazing supple, bare thighs, her head moving in a steady rhythm between them.
The woman on the couch in front of her is fully exposed, pretty, curvy—she gasps at his appearance and snatches the blanket to cover herself. He doesn’t give her a second look.
“The fuck is this?” He asks. Tess has already pulled her head away from the other woman’s cunt—he can’t help it as his eyes drop to it, glossy with slick and Tess’s saliva. He swallows and looks away as the woman draws her legs together. Tess stands to look at him, not bothering to wipe her mouth.
“What’s what?” Tess asks. Her shirt’s unbuttoned, her long hair pulled into a messy ponytail, lips swollen and shiny. “Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see our guest?”
Joel’s eyes land on the woman’s face and his mouth parts in surprise. She looks away, still wrapped in the blanket. He knows her.
He knows you.
“Yeah?” Tess asks. He looks back at her with his eyebrows pinched together. You’re the regular—the pretty one with the magazines.
It clicks.
Is that what this is about?
“What are you doing?” It’s more of a demand, a little harsher than he means it.
Tess looks into his eyes, and they sparkle with a kind of mischief he doesn’t recognize. He likes it, though.
“Do you need me to draw you a diagram?” She rolls her eyes, sparkle gone. There’s the Tess he knows.
He glances at you over her shoulder. You’re still covered in the blanket, eyes darting around for what he assumes are your clothes. You’re moving quickly, hands shaking a little—you’re scared.
Tess follows his gaze, now aware of the commotion behind her. She goes to you, lays her hands on your shoulders, and whispers something in your ear. The way she trails her fingers down the side of your face makes his cock jump, all of his blood rushing to his groin at once. He wants to touch you like that—he wants to touch you both like that.
You nod, the blanket still clutched around you as she guides you back to the couch.
“You watch,” she says, pulling the blanket off. “You watch first, and I’ll decide when and if you can touch her.” Tess shoots him a look over her shoulder. “Like I know you wanted to.”
Ah.
So it is about that, then.
He stifles an eye roll of his own. He isn’t an idiot—not in this regard, anyway. The way she talks about you when you’re not around; gets excited—as excited as she got for anything, at least—when she comes up on something that looks like you’d enjoy?
He’s not the only one with wandering eyes. And all of them are focused on you right now.
If he knows her—and at this point, if he didn’t, who did—then there would be some unspoken rule to this game. She would win, either way, but she’ll be happier with him if he guesses what she wants.
He pulls out a chair from the breakfast table and sits with his legs spread, leaning back with his hands behind his head.
No touching.
No moving.
No noise.
It was one of those. He could pass them all. Unless he isn’t supposed to get hard because he’d failed that test the minute he looked into your eyes.
Tess spreads your legs open again, and you’re still as wet as you were before. She presses a soft kiss to your pussy and tilts her head like she does when she’s making a decision.
“Move over a sec, pretty,” she says in a low, throaty purr. You listen to her, nodding the way he does when she gives him an order. But she’s never that delicate with him.
She always had that ability to nurture. He just doesn’t bring that out of her.
Tess spreads her legs wide and pulls you between them, shucking off her shirt and kissing your neck and shoulders as her hand trails down your soft tummy. You whimper as she reaches your pussy, pulling your lips open, the mess she’d made earlier fully on display for him. Joel bites back a groan.
You’re fucking gorgeous.
She whispers something in your ear—and she knows good and goddamn well he can’t hear it even if he tried to—and you whine, tilting your head back onto her shoulder as she rubs firm, fluid circles over your clit, playing with your nipples with her free hand.
He wants her to put her fucking fingers inside of you.
She looks up and smiles at him like she’s read his mind, gathering your slick on her fingers and pushing two of her slender digits inside of you. You moan at the intrusion, and she thrusts in and out softly.
Delicately.
And all Joel can think about is ruining your pussy. He’s dizzy imagining his cock inside of you, fucking you hard until you scream and Tess cradles your pretty face in her hands, cooing to you.
Brutal.
Delicate.
Brutal.
Joel wants that. And he can’t have shit right now. He clutches the back of his head, teeth bared as Tess pulls these noises out of you, all as she stares him down in a silent challenge. Her cheeks burn red, and he knows exactly how wet she is right now. She pinches your nipple, hard and bruising, and you arch your back, crying out her name.
Brutal.
She murmurs in your ear and you relax again, a sweet smile lighting up your face.
Delicate.
“I’m—I’m gonna—Tess—I’m gonna—”
“That’s right, pretty, you are. You’re gonna cum right here for us, right here. Let him see. Let him see what your pussy looks like—”
But you cry out, and he watches your whole body shudder, your pussy clenches so hard you almost push Tess’s fingers out as she fucks you through it. “Good,” she murmurs, kissing your temple. “So good.”
Delicate.
Tess looks at him again, a half smile on her face. Approved. He passed.
“Clean her up,” Tess orders and something roars inside of him as he closes the gap between the two of you, dropping to his knees right there. He stops and looks up at your heavy-lidded eyes, searching for permission.
“This okay, darlin’?” He asks. Tess is nipping at your shoulder, hiding another smile.
Delicate.
“Please,” you beg. He doesn’t need anything else; he dives into your messy cunt held open by Tess’s middle and forefingers. His tongue laves over both of you, and he can hear her kissing you above him.
He still hasn’t touched himself—he’s bordering on painfully hard now—but he’s plenty distracted as he throws your thighs over his shoulders and fucks your pussy with his tongue.
Your hips move against his face, and he runs his nose through your folds, nuzzling your sensitive clit. He pushes himself against his jeans, desperate for some kind of friction. The two of you are going to kill him like this.
Someone—he thinks it’s Tess—runs a hand through his hair and tugs, and he moans into your hot cunt. She tugs again, sharply this time, hard enough to hurt, and pulls his head back to look at both of you.
Brutal.
“She asked you a question,” Tess says. He raises his eyebrows.
“I…I want you to fuck me,” you say. “Please?”
How are you so damn shy about it when you’ve just been fucking his face like that?
“Bed,” he grunts. He’s not staying on his knees for that.
You stand awkwardly, wobbly on your legs as you find your way to the mattress.
Tess slips off her jeans and lays next to you. Your eyes wander down to her pussy, and you surge forward to capture her lips in a sweet kiss, surprising her and softening her face in a way that makes Joel’s chest ache.
You want to touch her, too.
Your hand wanders, too, cupping her small breasts and massaging her nipples, and she leans into it. She thrusts into your hand as you cup her mound, your fingers sliding through the soft blonde curls and between her lips.
For a moment he doesn’t exist as you work Tess expertly, seeking to return that pleasure she’d given you. Tess looks into your eyes with her mouth open, and for once she gives no direction. She lays there and takes what you give her. He doesn’t move an inch, too fascinated by the scene in front of him, afraid to break it. He’s never seen her let go like that, back arching, hair falling in her face as she moans and squirms. Joel watches, entranced.
Delicate.
You turn to him, your clever fingers not missing a beat. “Undress,” you murmur, and he obeys. He crawls behind you, his cock aching, leaking pre-cum as it presses against the cleft of your ass and he hisses at the sensation. He could cum right there if he isn’t careful, rocking himself against you like this.
Tess whimpers your name, and jealousy flares unbidden in his chest.
As long as they came back to each other, they’d said. To whatever this was between them.
So why had she brought you here? What did she care if he wanted to fuck you? And what did he care that you wanted to fuck her?
Her eyes roll back, and she lets out broken chants of your name as your fingers thrust into her, your palm flat against her clit.
“Cum for me,” you murmur. “Please, baby.”
You’re so much softer than either of them.
She whines as you talk her through it. “Shit,” she whimpers, and he can’t stop looking at either of you.
You pull your fingers out and lick them clean, and he could swear that Tess blushes, but she’ll never admit it and he’ll never say it to her face.
“Your turn,” Tess teases.
He looks at your body for a second too long, and your playful smile turns into uncertainty—he doesn’t like that at all.
“C’mere, let me look at you,” he says. Tess rolls her eyes, but the smirk stays. He did this to her, too, before he learned all the secrets of her body. Or he thought he had, anyway.
He’s never heard some of those noises you pulled from her.
Joel grabs at you, jiggling your ample ass in his hands and groaning through his teeth. One day, maybe he’d get to fuck you there, too. He rolls you over and opens your legs. You’re a goddamn waterfall.
“Playing with your food,” you giggle, and he can’t help but huff a laugh at that as he plays with your tits. You’re not so nervous over here.
“You ready for me?” He asks. Tess reaches down and pushes her fingers into you, slow enough to make your eyes roll back as she does.
“Go slow,” Tess advises. Joel’s not one to brag, but he’s aware of his own attributes.
He isn’t a small man anywhere, and he needs you open for him because he’s not a gentle man, either. He wants to fuck you so hard you’ll feel him tomorrow.
He positions himself between your legs and your eyes widen when you finally see his cock bobbing between his legs.
Tess runs her hand over your sternum, cupping your jaw and gazing at him.
“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”
He’d have thought that was a challenge an hour ago, but now he thinks she just wants him to agree.
“Beautiful,” he says, and you look down, fluttering your eyelashes.
Delicate, delicate, delicate.
“S’all right, sweetheart. Tell me if it hurts,” he says, and you nod, biting your lip and pulling him to you.
“Can you kiss me?” You ask, and he realizes he’s put his mouth everywhere but against yours. He leans down and slots his lips with yours, inhaling as your tongue pokes out and slides across his bottom lip. He opens up and lets you in; he wants to make it soft for you first, open you up good for him, but he’s losing control of himself.
His kisses are sloppy and hard, but you respond to him, while Tess watches through hooded eyes.
Eventually, he breaks away and the lost look on your face might have broken his heart in another life.
He lines himself up, notching his cock against your soaked entrance, and slides in.
Tess wasn’t wrong to tell him to take it slow.
You hiss as he presses into you.
“Relax, baby, relax. So fucking tight,” he says, gritting his teeth to keep himself from fucking into you the way he wants to. Tess whispers to you and you relax as she catches your lips with hers, your tongues lazily massaging each other’s. You blossom around him, legs splaying wider as he sheaths himself completely.
“Fuuuuuck,” he groans. “Goddammit, pretty little thing, pretty little pussy—”
He babbles as he starts to rock in and out, watching your face for any signs of discomfort, but your eyes are closed, mouth open in a gorgeous sigh. Tess wraps herself around you, playing with your tits, pinching and nipping as he picks up his pace.
“Harder,” you whimper, opening your eyes, and he doesn’t know if you mean him or Tess but he obeys, regardless.
He tries to commit everything about this moment to memory—the look on your face, the obscene squelch of your cunt every time he fucks back into you. If this is the only time, he wants to remember. If this is the only time he gets to watch Tess glow, he’ll make himself remember it.
He does everything he can to keep himself from cumming—he doesn’t want this to end—but his body doesn’t care. Joel sits up on his knees and yanks you forward, spreading you across his thighs and setting the almost-violent pace he’d been holding off on. His hips snap into you, the slap of your skin on his thighs spurring him on as he bares his teeth.
Brutal.
Joel doesn’t see Tess’s hand slip between your body and his, giving you just the right amount of pleasure to send you over the edge again. This time his cock rubs against the perfect spot inside of you, too, and you wail as you cum around him. He thrusts into you and stops, waiting as you squeeze his cock with your pussy, something hot and liquid spurting onto him as you all but scream. Tess swallows your cries with her lips, soothing your shaking form as he looks down and sees you all over his belly.
He drags a finger through it and shoves it in his mouth. It tastes like musk and salt, and he groans. You’re rambling an apology—that’s never happened before, you insist—and he leans down to kiss your neck and lick your sweaty skin.
He doesn’t give a fuck what it was. He just knows he has to make you do it again soon. But now he needs to cum, now he needs to be selfish and take from you. He starts again—brutal, brutal, brutal, brutal—watching the way you cling to his arms while Tess caresses every bit of your bare skin.
Joel gives his only order of the night, right before he pulls out of you to finish himself.
“Look at me,” he growls, fucking into you until the last possible second. “Both of you, look at me.”
You and Tess watch him pull out, jerking himself onto your belly as he sears you both into his memory, just like this. He leans down breathing hard, and spreads his mess all over you, rubbing over your tits and up to your neck.
Tess grins.
“You do that with everyone, I guess?” She asks, leaning across you to lick it up. She doesn’t sound upset, simply curious. He shifts forward and pulls her face to his, licking himself off her lips.
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