#PREV. CACKLING. YEAH | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ghosttotheparty · 6 months

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a mess of holy things 11 also on ao3 // prev // next cw: slight dumbification; brief gagging/choking; they’re both Kinda Weird

“No, I’m telling you it’s not something I can tell you about in public.”

“I’m aware,” Robin retorts, keys jingling as she leads Steve down the hallway. “I just think you could lower your voice if you tried really hard.”

“It’s not my volume I’m worried about,” Steve says, scoffing. “I just know you’re going to scream or something.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m so calm. All the time.”

“Lies.”

She makes a noise that means she’s sticking her tongue out at him as she unlocks her door, and he follows her inside, looking around. There are two beds on the opposite end of the room, facing opposite directions, and Steve doesn’t even have to ask to know which side of the room is Robin’s.

Her bed is unmade, a colourful quilt folded back to reveal white and yellow striped sheets. Her pillowcases are mismatched, one dark blue and the other spotted with bumblebees. There are posters on the wall above her bed, but Steve doesn’t recognize any of the people on them. His eyes skim the words, the letters all bold, loud. Sonic Youth, Green Day, Sex Pistols.

Robin kicks off her shoes and nudges them toward her desk, where they join her other shoes, scuffed and dirty Converse All-Stars and worn leather boots with mismatched laces, one shoe yellow and the other purple. Steve copies her as they drop their backs, looking at her desk. It’s a little cluttered, pens scattered across it, an origami bird on a small stack of books. There are post-its on the wall in front of her desk, colorful and vibrant. Her handwriting is messy.

Robin throws herself onto her bed as Steve takes off his jacket, looking at the other side of the room. There are a few posters but nowhere near as many as Robin has. One is of a handsome man, smiling softly, and when Steve looks closer, he finds text on the corner of it that reads Tom Cruise. Another is of a few teenagers all posing together with The Breakfast Club at the bottom.

The bed is made neatly, the blanket soft pink and tucked in. The pillows have matching pillowcases, also pink with lacy frills, and there’s a teddy bear resting against them.

“Steve,” Robin says sharply from her bed. “Stop looking around like you’re in a museum and tell me what’s up.”

Steve exhales heavily and goes to her bed, tossing his jacket to land on her desk chair as he falls onto his back in front of her.

“I don’t know how to say it.”

“Words would be preferable.”

He scoffs and sits up, moving to sit cross-legged, tugging at the quilt so it’s not folded against his leg.

“Okay, I…”

His face is already hot, and Robin is already grinning, and he hates this.

“Did you fuck?” she says excitedly, and he groans loudly.

“Okay, we— No, we didn’t have sex, we…” He pauses, face hot, cheeks sore from smiling so widely. Robin’s eyes are wide and shining as she grins at him, shifting so she’s kneeling across from him, bouncing up and down. “We did… something. It wasn’t sex. It was…”

“Tell me,” she says giddily. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

“Okay, I…” He covers his face, sighing heavily. “I was— I was curious. So I asked if he… does it.”

“Masturbates,” Robin says pointedly, and he rolls his eyes, letting his head fall back.

“Yes. That.”

“Okay,” she says, eyebrows raised.

“And he said he does. So I…” He winces, looking away, squishing his cheeks between his palms. She reaches out and pokes him. “I asked if I could see.”

She stares at him, jaw dropped, grinning widely.

“So he jerked off in front of you?”

“…Yeah?”

She claps a hand over her mouth, staring and staring and staring, and he waits, still wincing.

“Oh my God,” Robin says brightly when she drops her hand. “You’re kinky.”

“…I don’t know what that means.”

She lets out a loud squeal, covering her face before she falls onto her back, cackling. She kicks her legs out, and Steve dodges them, laughing.

“God, I am so glad I get to be your sex ed teacher,” she says when she finally calms down, sitting up.

“I’ve had sex ed,” he says. “I just… I’m just inexperienced.”

“Oh, I know,” she says. “Look. Kinks are things that people especially like during sexy times. If you can think of anything, someone’s got a kink for it.”

Steve pauses.

“Okay.”

“So your man— Wait, what’s his name again?”

“Eddie,” Steve says bashfully, suppressing a smile.

“Eddie…” Robin coos. “So Eddie jerkin’ it while you watch is called voyeurism, and it's a whole thing.”

Steve blinks. Processes.

“Are… Are kinks only sexual?” he asks hesitantly.

“Generally,” Robin says, tilting her head. “They can be non-sexual, I guess. Why?”

Steve looks at her, pausing.

“We, uhm…”

Her eyes somehow widen even more, and she leans forward, bouncing up and down again.

“Tell me.”

“He spits in my mouth.”

She gawks, and his face flushes with heat again. There’s a long stretch of silence as Robin’s mouth stretches into a slow smile.

“You’re kinky,” she says again.

“Oh my God—”

He shoves at her, but she catches his arm, tugging him so he falls against her, and their limbs tangle as they laugh. Her mouth is right by his ear, and it’s so loud it hurts, but he’s never laughed like this with anyone before. He laughs so hard his stomach hurts and his cheeks are sore, and the two of them roll over so Robin is on top of him. She tries to sit up by pushing on his face, and he squeezes his eyes shut so her fingers don’t poke them.

It takes a long while for them to finally calm down and separate, untangling their legs and pushing each other away as they catch their breath. But every time their eyes meet, they burst into giggles again. They’re both red-faced, and Steve’s stomach hurts, but he feels light, like he doesn’t have to worry about anything at all.

And they keep giggling as they talk, sitting against the wall, hugging Robin’s pillows to themselves. Robin talks him through a lot, stumbling through words and definitions and hypothetical scenarios, which makes Steve kind of want to die, but she’s so casual about it all that he can’t really even be embarrassed.

“Okay, look,” she says finally, her knees drawn to her chest, looking at him intently. “The point is, it doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not, right? As long as everything is cool with both of you, it’s all fine. There’s nothing wrong with anything you like.”

Steve nods, looking down.

“Steve,” Robin says, leaning toward him. Their shoulders touch. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I know,” Steve says softly, eyes still downcast.

“Do you?”

Steve is quiet, pausing. His fingers twist in his lap, and he squeezes, forcing his knuckles to crack.

“I do,” he says quietly. “I just… It’s hard sometimes.”

Robin sighs softly, and she lets her head fall to rest on his shoulder. No one’s ever laid on Steve’s shoulder before.

He lays his head on Robin’s, closing his eyes.

He can smell her shampoo. It’s sweet and citrusy, and it somehow smells more like home than the hallway of his parents’ house.

“Eddie knows about it,” Steve says after a few quiet moments. “That I… I don’t know. Struggle with it. He actually noticed first.”

“How?” Robin asks, almost whispering, her head shifting so she can sit closer.

“He, uhm…” He hesitates. “We were kissing, and I just… I don’t know. Panicked.”

“What happened?”

Somehow he knows her eyes are closed too.

“He kind of noticed I was freaking out first, and he… asked if I was okay. So we stopped, and I… I couldn’t really breathe, and I just felt so… Bad.” He pauses, and Robin is quiet, waiting patiently. “He helped me calm down and then he… said to take my time.”

“He sounds really great,” Robin says softly after a moment.

“God, he is.”

“You love him?”

Steve scoffs. His throat is suddenly tight.

“Fuck, maybe.”

Robin coos, poking him in the side, and he giggles, slumping over and trying to dodge her as she pokes at him again, and again, and again, until he’s laughing so hard his eyes are squeezed shut and he’s falling onto his side. Robin climbs on top of him, digging her fingers into his ribs. He tries to push her off, but her legs are tight around him, pinning him in place.

He snatches one of her pillows and swings it at her, but she grabs it and shoves it in his face, muffling his laughter.

He finally manages to sit up when she cackles, and he pushes her onto her back. Steve smacks her hands away, his face hot as they jostle on the mattress, and neither of them hear the door open until there’s a gasp before it slams shut.

Robin tilts her head back to look at the door upside down, and she laughs loudly.

“We’re not fucking, Nance!” she calls loudly, and Steve bursts into laughter again, rolling off of her and leaning against the wall again as the door opens again.

“Well I didn’t look long enough to know,” a girl says as she comes inside, making a face at Robin, who sits up and tosses her hair out of her face. The girl looks like Robin’s polar opposite: her hair is styled perfectly, curls into neat spirals, bangs spread across her forehead, and she’s wearing a plaid skirt that reaches her knees with a loose, fluffy-looking cardigan. She’s carrying some books in her arms.

“Steve, Nancy, Nancy, Steve,” Robin says. “Roommate. Best friend.”

“I’m your best friend?” Steve says, looking at her as Nancy toes her shoes off with a scoff. She sets her books on her desk, watching them.

“Unfortunately, yeah.”

“That’s sad.”

They’re distracted by someone else coming through the door after Nancy, and Robin lights up.

“Jonny boy!”

“Robin,” he says dryly, his voice smooth and calm. He doesn’t look like someone that would be hanging out with Nancy, his hair falling in his face, his shirt unbuttoned and dishevelled, but he kicks his shoes off without sorting them neatly like Steve did, and then he goes to Nancy’s bed and flops onto his back, sighing heavily. Nancy rolls her eyes.

“Steve, that’s Jonathan,” Robin says, pointing at him like Steve can’t find him.

“Hi, Jonathan.”

“Hi, Steve.”

Robin rolls onto her stomach, looking across the room as Nancy takes off her cardigan and drapes it over the back of her desk chair. Steve clicks his tongue and smacks her leg when she kicks him.

“Robin,” a voice sings from the doorway, and Robin gasps as another boy comes in, his long hair billowing behind him. He looks nothing like Nancy or Jonathan; he’s wearing vibrant, tie-dyed pants and a teal and blue striped hoodie, and his pants are rolled up to reveal colorful socks that are spotted with smiley faces.

“Argyle,” Robin sings back, tilting her head back to look at him upside down, and Steve cracks a smile, watching, amused. She attempts to wave at Argyle, but she ends up waving at Steve, disoriented from being upside down.

Argyle tosses something to her with a bright, cartoonish whistle, and it lands on her stomach as she gasps, sitting up to look at it and look at it. It’s a package of gummy bears, and Robin lets out an excited noise like she’s a little kid.

“Ugh, Argyle, you’re the love of my life.”

Argyle lets out a wry laugh and he plops himself onto the ground, grinning up at Robin.

“I love you, too, broski.” His eyes look at Steve, brightening even more somehow, even though his eyes still seem to be at half-mast. “Are you Steve?”

“I am,” Steve says lightly.

“You’re so cool, man.”

“…Thanks?”

“I talk about you a lot,” Robin says, already ripping open the gummy bear bag.

“Is that a good thing?”

“Only heard good things so far, my guy,” Argyle says, his voice slow and sage.

“Are you guys already high?” Robin asks, glancing up at Jonathan, tugging the head of a red gummy bear off with her teeth. She holds the bag out to Steve, who takes a few after looking. Jonathan just giggles at the ceiling. “Oh, that’s a yes.”

“I drove,” Nancy says dryly, rummaging through a drawer. “Don’t worry— Jon, where did you put the edibles?”

“I don’t remember.”

Nancy huffs and rolls her eyes.

“You need to stop keeping your shit in my room.”

“They search the guys’ dorms more often than they search the girls’.”

“Not my problem.”

“It would be, because then you wouldn’t have weed.”

“…’S true.”

Steve watches them all curiously, how easily they exchange their words, leaning against the wall, drawing his knees to his chest, nibbling one of the gummy bears in his hand. Jonathan keeps giggling at the ceiling, splayed out like a starfish over Nancy’s bed, his worn and ragged flannel contrasting the soft shades of pink of her bedspread. Nancy sits on her desk chair as they talk, her skirt primly draping over her legs before she gradually leans back, relaxing, swinging her feet in the air. Argyle leans against the side of Nancy’s bed, and he gets distracted by Jonathan’s hand dangling over the side of the bed. He tangles his own fingers with Jonathan’s, smiling softly, playing with his hand quietly.

Nancy is a journalism major, Steve learns after a while.

She complains about one of her teachers, who keeps contradicting his own instructions, telling them to do one thing and then demonstrating by doing the opposite. She groans in frustration, looking up at the ceiling, letting her head fall back, and then she gets up and goes over to her bed. Steve watches curiously as she flops on top of Jonathan, who catches her with a startled Oof! before he wraps his arm around her, keeping his other hand down to hold Argyle’s.

“What do you study, Jonathan?” Steve asks, watching the way he runs his hand over Nancy’s curls and then down her back absently. Her face is hidden in his shoulder.

“Film and photography,” Jonathan says, his eyes visible over Nancy’s hair.

“Like movies and stuff?”

“Mmhmm.”

“God, that sounds so much more interesting than business.”

“You study business?” Argyle says like he’s aghast.

“Yeah?”

“Nah, man,” he says disappointedly, shaking his head in a way that makes it look like he’s dancing, swaying his hair back and forth. “You’re an artist, dude.”

“Am I?” Steve says, tossing a gummy bear in his mouth as Robin snorts.

“Oh, yeah,” Argyle says seriously, nodding. “I can feel it. There’s art in your heart.”

Steve hums thoughtfully.

“That’s nice,” he says lightly. Argyle nods in agreement. Robin snickers into Steve’s shoulder.

─────────────────

Eddie’s fingers drag through Steve’s hair slowly, catching on tangles and undoing them.

His other hand is on Steve’s throat, holding him loosely, lazily, his thumb stroking over Steve’s Adam’s apple, and he smiles when Steve hums softly.

Steve’s legs are across his lap, his hands tucked between the two of them. His fingers are curled into the fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt, pulling him back every time they part for breath. He feels like he’s floating, like the inside of his head is full of cotton, shivering from the slick sounds of their mouths.

“Alright?” Eddie whispers softly when they part with simultaneous gasps. Steve nods, tugging at his shirt, and he’s probably stretching the collar out, but Eddie doesn’t complain.

“Yes,” Steve breathes. “Feels good.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.”

Eddie’s thumb strokes his throat again, and his nose nudges against Steve’s.

“Like making you feel good,” he murmurs. “My sweet boy.”

Steve nods even though Eddie didn’t ask him a question, and Eddie’s hand tightens on his throat. Steve keens, his head falling back a little bit, his lips parting to let out a weak noise.

“So beautiful,” Eddie breathes, and Steve’s eyes flutter open. His vision is blurry as he finds Eddie in front of him, and his lips curve into a smile. Eddie grins, jostling him back and forth gently by his neck. Steve’s smile grows.

Eddie’s lips are reddened and shining. His hair is a little tousled, and his cheeks are pink, and Steve’s stomach flutters.

“What are you thinking?” Eddie asks, touching their foreheads together, playing with Steve’s hair. Steve shrugs a little bit, closing his eyes, and he sighs, breathing Eddie in. He had a cigarette on the way home from work. Steve can smell it, but he doesn’t hate it the way he used to.

He sighs again, his hands shifting on Eddie’s shirt. When he tugs the collar down a little bit, he can see the edges of the tattoos on his chest.

His lips part to speak, but he stops himself.

“What is it?” Eddie whispers, because he doesn't miss anything.

“I…” He hesitates, cheeks flushing with heat, and he fidgets with Eddie’s shirt, tugging it down until he can see the head of the crow. “I touched myself. Thinking about you.”

He hesitates again before he meets Eddie’s eyes, head still ducked, bashful, and Eddie is smiling, head tilted like he’s fond.

“Did you like it?” he asks softly.

Steve nods.

He runs his fingertip over the top of the crow’s head, traces the feathers, and he bites his lip.

“It felt good,” he says quietly.

Eddie hums, running his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“Did you come?”

Steve shakes his head, meeting his eyes again. Eddie holds the back of his head and leans in to kiss him gently. Steve sighs as Eddie lingers there, kissing him slowly, nudging their noses together.

“Why?” Eddie whispers, and Steve shrugs again, running his finger over the crow again, touching Eddie’s chest. He’s so soft.

“Started freaking out,” he says softly. “Panicking.”

Eddie hums quietly, kissing him again, and Steve moves closer, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue, pulling at his shirt. Eddie tilts his head, fingers pressing into the side of Steve’s neck, squeezing gently, like he’s trying to reassure him that he’s there.

“Do you want to?” he whispers against Steve’s mouth. Steve exhales.

And nods.

Eddie kisses him harder, deeper, holding the back of his head, pushing his fingers into his hair, and Steve lets out a weak whine.

“I don’t know how,” Steve says when they part, gasping for breath. His lips brush Eddie’s.

“Got an idea,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s stomach flutters. “You know your colors?”

“Yes,” Steve breathes.

“Come sit on my lap, baby.” Eddie pulls away, leaning against the back of the sofa, and Steve is helpless to follow, stumbling over himself as he untangles his limbs from Eddie’s so he can find his place on his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Eddie’s hands find his waist, squeezing. “Okay?”

“Mhmm,” Steve hums softly. “Like sitting here.”

“I know,” Eddie says, smiling. “Me too.”

Steve lowers his head and kisses him, sighing, relaxing against his chest, tugging at the collar of his shirt again before he pulls away.

“Eddie?”

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie says softly, almost purring. Steve could swoon.

“Can you… Can you take your shirt off?”

Eddie smiles, his eyes dark and shining.

“Yeah, ‘course.”

He has to lean toward Steve to get his shirt off, tugging it out from where it’s caught between his back and the sofa, and Steve waits, heart pounding in his chest as Eddie’s skin is revealed.

He’s paler than Steve is, and in the dim light of the lamp and the shifting lights of the city outside, he looks like he’s glowing. His skin is marked with dark ink, and Steve gazes, in awe, tracing it with light, tentative fingertips. Eddie waits patiently, looking up at him.

There’s a dragon across his stomach, its wings stretching over to his waist, its tail dipping into the hair that’s sneaking up from under the waistband of his sweatpants. Its scales look delicate somehow, despite the bold, black lines it’s drawn in.

“His name is Dorian,” Eddie says, watching Steve stare, and a laugh bursts out of Steve. He looks up at Eddie, whose eyes are sparkling at him.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm. Isn’t he pretty?”

“Yeah,” Steve says, pressing his hand over Dorian, spreading his fingers to take up as much space as possible, watching Eddie’s eyelashes flutter. “Pretty.”

He kisses Eddie, sucking on his lower lip, and Eddie hums affirmatively, a hand pressing into the small of his back. Steve’s breath catches in his throat as he slides his hands up Eddie’s chest to his shoulders, but his skin is smooth and soft and it feels so good that Steve’s hands can’t stay in place for long, sliding across his chest again.

“Tell me about it,” Eddie whispers between kisses. Steve’s breath catches again. “What’d you think about?”

“You,” Steve says breathlessly, hands finally coming to rest on the sides of Eddie’s neck. He can feel his heartbeat under his skin. It’s fast. “How you— How you touched yourself. How you touch me. How you talk to me.”

“How do I talk to you?” Eddie asks, like he doesn’t know, like he’s not doing it right now.

“Like I’m stupid,” Steve whispers.

“You know I don’t think you’re stupid,” Eddie says lightly, running his hands over his waist.

“You make me feel stupid,” Steve says weakly, looking at him. “Can’t even think— Fuck.”

Eddie smiles at him, and Steve feels like he’s overheating, his stomach fluttering. He closes his eyes, dropping his head, letting out a weak sound.

“Tell me what else, honey,” Eddie says softly, squeezing his waist, leaning in and tilting his head to kiss the side of his neck. Steve lets his head fall to the side, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s neck, shifting on his lap. “Come on, baby.”

Steve whines.

“I…”

“You…” Eddie teases against his neck, tongue brushing over his skin. “Hm?”

“Wanna be good for you,” Steve says weakly, lightheaded, his throat tight suddenly, holding the back of Eddie’s head, his other arm wrapped around him tightly. “Wanna be your good boy.”

Eddie groans quietly into Steve’s neck.

“You are,” he whispers, his voice right by Steve’s ear, his breath against his skin, cooling his own spit. “My good boy, my baby.”

Steve moans softly, shivering.

“Oh, shit.”

Eddie pulls back and looks down, gazing at where Steve’s dick is now tenting his sweatpants, and he smiles brightly, looking back up at him.

“Good boy,” he whispers, like Steve is in control of this, like he did it on purpose. He holds Steve’s cheek and guides him into a kiss. Steve kisses him desperately, messily, pushing a hand into Eddie’s curls, holding him tightly. “Go ‘head, baby,” Eddie breathes into his mouth.

“I don’t— I don’t know what I’m doing,” Steve confesses, even though he knows it’s obvious. It makes Eddie smile.

“Just do what feels good,” he whispers. He holding Steve’s hips and tugs, gently forcing him to press down against Eddie, and Eddie is hard too, and he’s pressing right against Steve, and—

“Oh, god—”

“Alright?” Eddie asks, and when Steve doesn’t respond, he squeezes his hips. “What’s your color, Stevie?”

“Green,” Steve gasps, shifting on Eddie’s lap again, rubbing against him, and he hugs Eddie’s neck. “Fuck, Eddie.”

“That’s it,” Eddie praises softly. “Feel good?”

“Mmhmm,” Steve hums, his voice too high, nodding. He’s desperate, hands shaking as they slide over Eddie’s chest, running over the soft hair on his skin. “Feels so good, Eddie.”

“Go a little harder,” Eddie instructs gently, pulling at Steve’s hips, his voice sweet and kind, and Steve is helpless. He follows directions blindly, his vision blurring, and he closes his eyes, rolling his hips harder, more confidently, because it feels good. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. “There you go, good boy.”

Steve lets out a soft moan, rocking against him, humming when Eddie’s hand slides to the small of his back.

“Eddie,” he whines, and he doesn’t even recognize his own voice. Eddie nods, rubbing his back.

“You’re okay,” he says softly.

“‘M okay,” he says weakly, mumbling, breathless.

“‘S right, baby boy, I got you,” Eddie whispers. Steve whines again, shifting against him, eyes fluttering, his mouth falling open, and he’s going to start drooling again, he just knows it. But he’s barely in his own head right now, and he can’t think, and Eddie is making him fucking stupid. His hands pressing against his back, his tattoos, his skin, his hair, his voice, his dick—

“Eddie,” he chokes, flushing with heat, rolling his hips hard and staying down, pressing against Eddie, feeling how hard he is, feeling how much he wants Steve, and he lets out a noise he’s never made before. It rips its way out of his throat, and he’s embarrassed in spite of the grin that spreads across Eddie’s face.

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes before he lets out a quiet moan. “You’re okay, you’re doing so well, baby, I’m so proud of you.”

Steve’s eyes sting, and his lip quivers. Eddie nods, lifting a hand to touch his face, caressing his cheek, cradling him, and Steve feels delicate in a way only Eddie has ever made him feel. His eyes flutter shut, letting a tear fall down his cheek as his hips press to Eddie’s, slowly, rhythmically, steadily. Eddie’s thumb swipes over his chin, and Steve whimpers as he processes how slick it is.

Eddie smiles at him fondly, his other hand spread against the small of his back, tilting his head. His thumb, wet with Steve’s spit, brushes against his lower lip.

Steve’s jaw drops and he lowers his head, pressing his hands against Eddie’s chest, covering his tattoos with his palms, and Eddie’s smile widens. He presses his thumb into Steve’s mouth, nodding.

Steve lets his eyes fall shut, closing his mouth around Eddie’s thumb, sucking gently. Eddie’s fingers curl around his chin, holding him, nodding as Steve whines, grinding against him, almost rolling his body against Eddie’s. Eddie slides his thumb out a little bit before he presses it back in, sliding it over Steve’s tongue, and Steve’s eyes roll into his head.

Eddie laughs lightly, almost giggling, pressing his thumb into Steve’s tongue until it pushes his mouth open, and Steve lets out a guttural groan, hands sliding to Eddie’s waist. His fingertips press into his flesh.

“That feel good, baby?” Eddie says sweetly. Steve moans weakly, groaning a pathetic Yeah around his thumb. “You want more?”

Steve nods desperately.

“Go a little faster for me, sweetheart,” Eddie murmurs, slipping his hand under the hem of Steve’s shirt. His hand is cold against Steve’s skin, but it still feels like it’s burning through him. Steve shifts his weight to his knees, lifting himself up to move faster, desperately. “Fuck, that’s good. Open your mouth for me.”

He’s breathless, and Steve whines, listening closely, opening his mouth, groaning as Eddie presses his index and middle fingers into his mouth. He’s so gentle, watching like he’s in awe as Steve sucks on them, holding Eddie’s waist tightly. Eddie presses them in and out, smiling proudly.

Steve catches his wrist as he starts to pull his fingers out, leaning forward so they slide back into place.

“Alright?” Eddie asks softly, whispering. Steve looks into his eyes, pulling his wrist, tilting his head down, forcing Eddie’s fingers in deeper until they’re nudging at his throat. And he sees stars.

His back arches as he suppresses a gag, and he closes his eyes, moaning loudly.

“Jesus fuck, Steve.”

“Mm.”

Steve’s spit is dripping over Eddie’s hand, and he briefly wishes Eddie was wearing his rings.

“You like that?” Eddie asks breathlessly, leaning up to kiss the side of Steve’s neck, biting gently. “You like my fingers in your throat, baby?”

“Yeah,” Steve gasps, and he feels debauched. Fully dressed and so hot he feels like he might die. Eddie’s fingers in his mouth, his dick pressed against Steve’s. His voice is muffled by Eddie’s fingers, slurred and mumbled. “Feels so good, Eds, I— I love your hands s’much.”

“Baby,” Eddie breathes. He slides his tongue up the side of his neck, slowly, lingering at his jaw, and Steve keens, whining, his head falling back, and he knows he’s being noisy, knows he hasn’t stopped making noises this entire time, desperate, weak, pathetic noises, but he can’t stop. Can’t shut himself up.

“Fuck, I— I need more.”

“Take it,” Eddie says, biting him. “Take what you need, Stevie, make yourself feel good.”

“Oh, God.”

“I got you, baby, you’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” Steve says breathlessly as Eddie’s hand falls from his mouth. Eddie nods, lifting his fingers to his own mouth, sucking Steve’s spit off. Steve whines, leaning back and looking down at where they’re pressed together. The front of his sweatpants is tented, and there’s a damp spot. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” Eddie tells him, reaching to hold his hips. “I got you, babydoll, you’re doing so good for me.”

Steve shivers, pressing against him harder, biting his lip, whining again, and he knows it sounds like he hates it, but he doesn’t, he fucking wants it, so, so so, badly. He sounds pathetic, whimpering and whining and crying as he uses Eddie’s body, as Eddie lets him. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s neck, hugging him tightly, moving against him desperately, whining loudly, his voice high in his throat.

“Eddie—”

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie gasps, pressing a hand into the arch of his back.

“Fuck, it’s so much, it’s so much, Eddie, I—”

“What’s your color, Stevie?” Eddie checks, pulling back to look into his eyes.

“Green,” Steve gasps, grabbing at Eddie’s hair. “Green, don’t fucking stop, baby, please, it— it feels so good.”

“Jesus.”

Steve sobs, pressing his forehead to Eddie’s, gasping for breath, trembling.

“You’re so close,” Eddie says softly, encouragingly. “You’re gonna come, baby boy, don’t stop.”

“Fuck, I don’t wanna stop,” Steve cries. “I don’t wanna stop, I wanna come for you, Eddie, please, please—”

“Come for me, baby,” Eddie whispers, nipping at his earlobe. “Come on, Stevie, baby, you got it.”

Steve whines, hugging Eddie’s neck, hiding his face, but Eddie pushes him back, lifting his chin and pulling him into a messy kiss. Steve groans low in his throat, clutching at him, breathing hard, letting out another sob.

He presses down harder, reaching back, his hand landing on Eddie’s knee, and he leans back, using it as a sort of leverage as he moves against Eddie. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment as he swirls his hips, groaning as Eddie’s hand finds his neck, holding him gently.

“Fuck,” Eddie says breathlessly, watching, eyes wide and dark. “‘S my boy, good job.”

“Eddie, fuck—”

“Come for me, baby.”

Steve moans, his eyes rolling into his head as his body flushes with heat, and it’s like the sky is opening up above him, like the stars are bathing him in their light, and Eddie’s hands are holding him, fingers wrapped around his throat. And Steve kind of feels like he might be dying, like this is it, like this is all he’s been waiting for. Like everything in his life has been leading to this moment.

He knows this isn’t it, that he has days coming after this, that the sun will rise in the morning, and as his head falls to Eddie’s shoulder, the thought wraps around him in the form of Eddie’s arms. And then he’s smiling into Eddie’s neck, humming weakly, his voice breaking.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks softly, running a hand over his back, voice painted with worry. And Steve’s head feels like it’s filled with cotton and dust, but he does his best to respond, nodding.

“‘M okay.”

“God, Steve.”

Steve whines, pressing closer, sliding his hands over Eddie’s chest. He still feels warm, and he’s still squirming in Eddie’s lap, shifting his hips against Eddie, who’s still hard. It feels nice, even though it’s a little overwhelming to Steve, and he doesn’t stop, even as Eddie’s hands find his hips, holding him gently.

“You’re amazing,” Eddie whispers. Steve’s smile widens, and he rubs his nose against the side of Eddie’s neck, making him giggle.

“I’m so…”

Steve trails off, exhaling heavily, shifting again, and Eddie hugs him.

“So…”

“…I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m like… Tired. But ’s good.”

“You feel good?”

“Mm. Feels good.”

He hears Eddie laugh softly, running a hand across the small of his back.

“‘S sticky,” Steve mumbles absently, and Eddie laughs again, turning his head to kiss Steve’s temple. “Cold.”

“Wanna show me?”

Steve suppresses a sleepy smile and sits up, pausing briefly to press a kiss to Eddie’s jaw, and he hums when he sits up straight, arching his back to stretch it. Eddie watches, eyes shining with something Steve is starting to understand. Something he doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to.

He looks down at the darkened spot on the front of his sweatpants, and he hesitates for just a moment before he hooks his thumbs on the waistband and tugs it out of the way,

Eddie tilts his head to look, and Steve’s cheeks are lit aflame by humiliation as he reaches to tug at the front of his waistband. Steve’s come is sticking to his boxers, messy and gross, but Eddie just smiles, looking up at Steve, who’s looking away, embarrassed.

“Good boy,” Eddie says quietly, whispering, lifting his chin to prompt Steve to lower his head close enough to kiss him, and Steve does, exhaling and closing his eyes, letting his lips part for Eddie’s tongue to slip between them. “Baby.”

“Mm.”

Eddie lets go of the waistband, letting it snap against his skin, and Steve snorts, cheeks warm.

“Wanna go take a shower and clean up?” Eddie asks softly.

Steve hesitates, his head ducked shyly. He does want to take a shower. He feels kind of gross (in a way that he finds he doesn’t completely mind), and a shower would be nice, but the idea of being away from Eddie, of a door between them, makes him feel cold.

“…Will you come with me?” he asks quietly, looking to meet Eddie’s eyes. Eddie’s head is tilted like he’s curious, and he lifts a hand to touch his face.

“You sure?” he whispers.

Steve nods. He’s sure. He wants it.

To stand under the spray of water with Eddie, their skin bare and exposed, wet and sliding across each other, their hair tangling.

He wants to see all of Eddie. Wants Eddie to see all of him.

Every bruise and faint scar, every shift of his muscles beneath his skin, every freckle and mole. He wants to see each of Eddie’s tattoos, wants to memorize them all, to see them every time he closes his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says softly. “Please.”

Eddie smiles up at him, eyes squinting as his cheeks rise, and it’s like he’s glowing. Steve’s chest aches.

Steve is wobbly when he stands, holding Eddie’s hands tightly, head fuzzy as he follows him slowly to the bedroom. He watches, leaning against a wall, as Eddie collects fresh clothes, and he knows Eddie is just grabbing clothes from his unorganized drawers, but he’s gazing, watching like he’s in awe, because Eddie’s just Eddie, just a man, just flesh and bone, but Steve feels like he’s on the verge of tears, watching him.

He’s so beautiful Steve’s whole body aches. He makes existing look so easy, tossing a freshly cleaned pair of boxers in the air and catching it with a silly flourish that makes Steve giggle, looking over his shoulder to smile at Steve with an ease that Steve longs for.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Eddie says as he takes Steve’s hand to lead him to the bathroom, his other arm holding their clothes, and Steve clings to his wrist, following him helplessly. Eddie’s hair shifts in the air as he walks, and Steve suddenly feels sick, and he needs to shut himself up before he says it—

He tugs at Eddie’s hand, and Eddie turns, lips already parted to speak, but Steve leans in to kiss him before he can say anything. Eddie hums, smiling against Steve’s mouth, fingers tightening on Steve’s. Steve doesn’t let him go far when they part for a breath, leaning in and catching Eddie’s lips again, because he needs to keep his mouth busy until the urge passes.

Because he knows it’s too soon.

Ridiculously, insanely too soon. He would be stupid to say it, especially now, making out with Eddie in the bathroom after coming in his pants so pathetically. (Eddie didn’t seem to mind, obviously.) But Eddie always makes Steve feel kind of stupid.

Steve groans into the kiss, stepping closer, tilting his head, letting his lips part. Eddie grins, opening his mouth, and Steve licks across his teeth, reaching to wrap his arms around his neck. Eddie drops the clothes onto the counter, and then his hands are pushing under Steve’s shirt, his fingertips cold, his palms warm, and Steve whines. He pushes Eddie toward the counter, and Eddie giggles when his back hits the edge of it, pressing a hand into the small of Steve’s back.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he tilts his head, burying a hand in Eddie’s hair and pulling as Eddie’s tongue slides into his mouth. Eddie lets out a soft sound, humming into Steve’s mouth, fingers pressing into Steve’s flesh in a way that would make Steve self conscious were it anyone else touching him, but Eddie’s hands make him feel beautiful.

He moves closer to Eddie, shifting so their bodies are locked, pressed together completely, and Steve’s breath catches in his throat when he realizes that Eddie is still hard, straining against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Eds,” he mumbles, tugging at his hair again.

“Mm,” Eddie hums breathlessly. “Yeah, baby.”

“Can I touch you?”

Eddie kisses him again, nibbling on his lower lip, dragging his hand up and then down Steve’s back, his nails tracing his spine.

“You don’t have to,” he says softly. “‘S okay.”

“Wanna,” Steve says petulantly, licking into Eddie’s mouth. “Wanna make you come.”

“Fuck.”

Steve hums.

“May I?” he whispers between kisses.

“Go for it, honey.”

Steve grins into the kiss, biting his lip briefly before he pulls away and bites his own lip as their foreheads press. He looks down, reaching for the drawstring of Eddie’s sweatpants. He tugs them down, tracing the hem of his underwear hesitantly. The dragon’s tail dips under it, winding around the trail of hair that Steve pauses to pet, stroking gently.

“Alright?” Eddie whispers. Steve nods, slipping his fingertips under the waistband.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes.

“So are you,” Eddie whispers, kissing Steve’s forehead. “We’re a good-lookin’ couple, aren’t we?”

Steve giggles, looking up at Eddie shyly as he tugs his underwear down.

Eddie exhales when Steve touches him, and Steve gazes at him, sliding his hand over Eddie’s dick slowly, carefully. Eddie’s eyes close, his head falling back, when Steve tightens his hand. Steve smiles, tilting his head curiously.

“Does it feel good?” he asks softly after a while.

“Yeah, baby,” Eddie breathes. “Feels good. Love how you touch me.”

“I like touching you.”

Eddie lets out a soft noise, and Steve bites his lip, rubbing his thumb over the slit, looking at the way his own skin looks against Eddie’s. They are beautiful together.

He quickens his hand, squeezing, watching Eddie’s face, watching his lips part as he lets out a soft groan. His brows furrow and he grits his teeth like he’s wincing, like it hurts, but Steve knows it doesn’t. Because Eddie’s cheeks are flushed pink and he reaches to hold Steve’s neck, his palm to Steve’s throat.

Steve moans softly, letting his eyes flutter shut before he looks at him again.

Eddie is breathing heavily. He’s leaning back against the counter, and Steve watches his chest rise and fall with every breath. He looks down again, watches his hand shift up and down, watches Eddie’s skin become slick, and then he wants to taste it, wants Eddie’s dick in his mouth—

Which is a thing, he learned recently. Robin told him. Which could have been weird, but it was mostly just fun, sitting in Robin’s bed with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, chewing on gummy bears and giggling and gasping at everything she said. He learned lots of new words.

“Eddie,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Eddie says breathlessly.

“Can I use my mouth?”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open, and it takes a moment for his vision to focus.

“You want to?” he asks softly.

“Desperately.”

Eddie snorts, and he pulls Steve into a kiss by his throat, manhandling him forward, and Steve keens, melting against him, his hand pausing. Eddie’s teeth catch on Steve’s lip, tugging at it. Steve is breathless when they separate, and Eddie’s lips brush his when he speaks.

“Get on your knees.”

Steve’s stomach does a somersault. He moans.

He lowers to his knees slowly, mourning the loss of Eddie’s hand in his throat, but then he’s smiling because Eddie is pushing his underwear farther down, and Steve gazes at the safety pin on Eddie’s thigh.

“Pretty.”

“Thank you, baby.”

Steve leans forward and nuzzles against him, burying his nose in the hair at the base of Eddie’s dick, inhaling, sighing when Eddie’s fingers twist into his hair.

“You don’t have to,” Eddie whispers.

“Wanna.”

Eddie snorts, tugging at Steve’s hair gently, and Steve hums, finally lifting his hands to touch him, sliding his hands over his thighs, rubbing, squeezing, before he reaches for Eddie’s dick again, leaning his head back a little to look. When he squeezes, a bead of liquid appears, and he’s leaning in to lick it before he can even think.

“Shit,” Eddie breathes. “Mm.”

Steve hums, doing it again, closing his eyes. He listens to Eddie’s breathing become heavier, lingering close before he takes him into his mouth.

“Fuck, Steve,” Eddie says sharply. “So warm.”

Steve hums, sucking gently, and his head goes quiet. He reaches to hold Eddie’s hip, bobbing his head, humming weakly at the soft wet sounds that fill the air. His blood rushes, and his dick is filling out again. He pushes closer, longing for the feeling of Eddie’s dick sliding over the back of his tongue, for it to nudge too far down, where it shouldn’t go, where Steve wants it most.

He pulls away with a gasp, breathless, his chin slick with drool, his eyes half-shut like he’s sleepy.

“Want it in my throat,” he says absently, looking up at Eddie.

Eddie opens his eyes, looking at him. His cheeks are red, and he looks holy.

Steve melts, and he wants to cry. He falls to the side, legs folded under him like a mermaid basking in the sun, and he holds Eddie’s leg, looking up at him longingly. He wants to beg, to plead, and Eddie must see it on his face. He caresses his cheek, brushing his thumb under his eyes, and Steve turns into his palm, his lips parting to slide his tongue over Eddie’s skin.

“You sure?” Eddie whispers.

“Please,” Steve begs weakly, his voice cracking.

“Oh, baby,” Eddie breathes.

Steve moans quietly, arching his back, absently searching for friction.

“Take it slow,” Eddie says gently, running his hand into Steve’s hair again. “Okay? Don’t force it.”

Steve nods up at him, his heart pounding.

“Go ‘head, baby.”

Steve hums, opening his mouth again, sticking his tongue out, taking Eddie into his mouth again, sliding his tongue over the underside, tracing the vein that somehow tastes like the sky. Steve’s eyes roll into his head as he clutches at Eddie’s leg.

“Fuck, there you go, baby,” Eddie murmurs. “That’s it.”

Steve stiffens as Eddie’s dick nudges his throat, arching his back, furrowing his eyebrows.

Fuck.

“God, Stevie,” Eddie gasps. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Steve’s cheeks flush with heat, and he squeezes Eddie’s thigh, inhaling deeply before he relaxes, moving closer, letting Eddie’s dick push deeper, and his eyes sting as they fill with tears, and the ground is hard beneath him, pressing against his ankles and his hip, and it hurts but he doesn’t care.

He feels filthy.

He feels beautiful.

“Baby,” Eddie gasps, and his other hand finds Steve’s hair, pushing into his hair and gripping it tightly. Steve groans, pulling away to gasp for breath before he pushes in again. “Oh, fuck, Steve, fuck—”

Eddie tugs at his hair, hissing as Steve grips his thigh tightly.

“You like that, baby?” Eddie asks breathlessly, and Steve lets out a garbled yeah. “Yeah, you do. Fuck, you like my cock down your throat—”

Steve lets out a guttural groan, sliding his hands up to Eddie’s ass, pulling so Eddie’s dick pushes deeper, and Eddie lets out a moan, his head falling forward.

“‘S my boy,” Eddie says, groaning. “So good for me, babydoll, you’re so perfect.”

Steve whines, blinking tears out of his eyes. They’re hot as they roll down his cheeks, and he knows he’s pathetic, crying with Eddie’s dick down his throat, but Eddie’s fingertips are light on his cheeks as he wipes them away, carefully, lovingly.

“Fuck,” Eddie gasps. “You’re so beautiful, Stevie, my beautiful boy.”

Steve groans.

He only wants to hear Eddie’s voice for the rest of his life, just like this. Gentle and sweet and tender, echoing off the tile walls, covering him like a warm blanket, like an umbrella in the pouring rain.

He lets out a soft moan when Eddie pulls his head back by his hair, his shoulders slumping. Strings of spit fall from his mouth to his legs, darkening the fabric of his sweatpants.

“Breathe for me,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve does, panting, his chest rising and falling as he holds onto Eddie’s leg. “You okay?”

“Yes,” Steve gasps, looking up at him. “I like it, I like it so much, please—”

“Okay,” Eddie breathes. “I got you, sweetheart, you want it that bad?”

Steve nods pathetically, breathing hard.

“Want it,” he says absently, weakly, and he can’t say anything else because his mouth doesn’t seem to be connected to his brain.

“You want me to fuck your face, baby?” Eddie asks condescendingly, his voice sweet, and Steve’s stomach flips over. He whines, nodding, tears slipping down his face. “Sweet boy.”

“Please,” Steve breathes.

“Please what?”

“Eddie,” Steve whines, crying, hugging his leg, lifting his chin, but Eddie doesn’t let him, his fingers shifting to move his dick away from Steve’s mouth. “Please, baby.”

“Please what, sweetheart?” Eddie asks again, smiling, and Steve wants to pout. “What do you want, Stevie?”

“Eddie,” Steve whimpers, looking up at him. “Fuck my face. Please. Want your cock in my throat.”

“Jesus fuck, Steve,” Eddie says.

“Fuck me,” Steve says again, setting his chin on Eddie’s leg to look up at him. “Please, baby.”

Eddie’s dick jumps, and Steve grins, rubbing Eddie’s thigh gently, humming suggestively, whining when Eddie tugs his hair again.

“Take a deep breath for me,” Eddie says softly. Steve nods, inhaling, shifting onto his knees. “Ready?”

“Yes—” Steve says, just barely stopping himself from adding a soft sir at the end of the word. Which he knows is weird. Eddie is only a few years older than him, and they haven't even really talked about the way Eddie always takes charge, the way he talks to Steve like he can’t think for himself. Or the way it makes Steve melt into a human puddle, the way it makes him feel like he’s falling in love.

Other things make him feel like that too.

The way Eddie touches his waist when he’s passing by him in the kitchen, the way he glances at Steve when Steve glances at him, suppressing a shy smile.

The way Eddie’s voice sounds in the morning, all rough and gravelly and sexy, right in Steve’s ear as he says Good morning, beautiful because he knows it makes Steve shivers.

The way Eddie’s fingers feel in his mouth.

The way Eddie’s sweatshirts and bedsheets smell.

The way Eddie absently presses his fingertips into the soft flesh of Steve’s stomach and hips like he wants to pull him apart.

A lot of things about Eddie make Steve feel like that.

Eddie guides his dick into Steve’s mouth, one hand gripping his hair, and Steve moans softly, his eyes fluttering shut. He wraps his arms around Eddie’s legs as he takes him deeper, shifting to sit on his bottom again, holding Eddie’s legs tightly.

It’s gross, the way Eddie’s dick slides down his throat and then comes back out a little bit, the way Eddie grips his hair and guides his head up and down slowly, murmuring quietly. Steve chokes. He gags. His knees are sore from the ground. And he loves it.

His throat makes a clicking sound around Eddie’s dick, and he lets go of Eddie’s leg, reaching to his own lap, rubbing himself over his sweatpants. He moans, gasping when Eddie pulls out for a moment.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans. “That’s good, baby, you’re doing so good for me.”

Steve whines, lifting his chin to beg for more. Eddie gives it to him, moaning loudly. It echoes.

Steve’s hand pushes under his sweatpants, rubbing quickly as he clutches at Eddie’s thigh. His dick is already slick with come, and he groans.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself?” Eddie asks breathlessly. Steve whines, pulling away and gasping for breath, nodding, crying.

“Yeah,” he chokes. “Fuck, it feels so good, Eddie.”

“God, Steve.”

“Please,” Steve says weakly. “Gimme more, baby, please.”

“Open your mouth, baby.”

He does, sticking his tongue out, looking up at him, and it’s like he’s waiting for communion, like he’s waiting for Eddie to bless him.

And that’s exactly what Eddie does.

He presses his thumb to Steve’s tongue, pushing his jaw down. Steve keens, closing his mouth around it and sucking. Eddie smiles softly, curling his fingers under Steve’s chin. Steve squeezes his dick, whining.

“Open,” Eddie says softly. Steve lets his jaw drop. Spit falls down his chin. And then Eddie is sliding three fingers into his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Steve groans, closing his eyes. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” Steve says weakly, his voice muffled by Eddie’s hand. Eddie grins, pushing his fingers deeper, stretching Steve’s mouth open. Steve whines, letting out a weak sob.

“That’s my boy,” Eddie says fondly. “Sweet baby.”

He pulls his fingers away, and Steve sticks his tongue out to catch the strings of spit that connect them.

“You want my dick, sweetheart?”

Steve nods, gazing up at him.

“Please,” he breathes.

─────────────────

Steve lets his head fall back as Eddie kisses down his neck, biting his lip. Eddie pushes his hair out of the way, sliding it across his wet skin, and Steve shivers.

He slides his hands over Eddie’s waist, and when Eddie’s teeth press into his skin, he drags his fingernails across his back, humming. He isn’t sure if Eddie hears it over the spray of the shower, but he doesn’t care.

The steam from the shower smells like Eddie’s shampoo, like home, and Eddie’s skin sliding against his feels like heaven.

Steve’s cross is pressing into his chest, but he doesn’t mind. It’s warm from the water, and from Eddie’s skin and his breath, and Steve isn’t even hard anymore (he hardly knew he was capable of having an orgasm, but less two in less than two hours), but he feels so fucking good.

Eddie’s hair slips between his fingers easily, and Steve wraps it around his fingers, pulling so Eddie pulls away. He does, smiling lazily, his tongue teasing his teeth, and Steve lets out a quiet moan.

There are drops of water caught in his eyelashes. His cheeks are pink. His piercings are shining.

“You’re so beautiful,” Steve breathes.

Eddie tilts his head, smiling softly. His hair is sticking to his neck, perfectly swirled over his skin, the dark color contrasting beautifully against his pale skin. Steve reaches out and pushes it away, leaning in to kiss his neck. Eddie laughs softly, letting him.

Steve sucks on his skin, humming quietly, letting Eddie tug at his hair. He bites gently, teasingly, smiling against his skin when Eddie grips his hair and holds him close as his other hand presses against the small of his back. Their bodies press together, their legs entwining, and Steve moans softly, hugging him tightly.

“Sweet lamb,” Eddie murmurs. Steve smiles again.

His cheeks are warm every time Eddie looks at his body.

He’s shy, even though Eddie whispered that he doesn’t have to be as they were undressing. His eyes linger on Steve’s chest, and Steve is self-conscious of how hairy he is, but Eddie is smiling the whole time. He murmurs into Steve’s ear that he’s beautiful, and Steve believes him.

Steve’s skin misses Eddie’s as they part, and he bites his lip to hold back a whine as he watches him turn to get the soap. His hair is stuck to his skin, but it’s parted just enough that Steve can see ink under the nape of his neck.

He reaches up before he can even think, dragging his fingertips across Eddie’s shoulders to gather his hair out of the way, and Eddie lets him, his head turning a little bit like he wants to turn and look at him. He doesn’t, and Steve pushes his hair away enough to see the tattoo.

It’s an eye. Looking back at Steve, shining. It kind of looks like it’s been etched into Eddie’s skin, the lines uneven and a little shaky like it’s a carving. There are lines around the eye like rays of light.

Steve traces it lightly, his fingertips just ghosting over the ink, and then he leans in and presses his lips to it. Eddie hums softly.

“Thank you,” Steve whispers, setting his chin on Eddie’s shoulder. Eddie’s head turns a little bit.

“For what?”

Steve sighs, closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist. Eddie’s hands slide over his forearms, and Steve kind of wishes they could absorb one another, that they could melt together.

“Taking care of me.’

Eddie hums again.

“Love taking care of you.” His voice is gentle, breathy, like he knows Steve feels like he’s about to fall asleep. Steve sighs again, tucking his face into the side of Eddie’s, shivering as Eddie drags his nails across his forearms lightly. “My sweet boy.”

♡ permanent taglist: @estrellami-1 @theplantscientist @spectrum-spectrum @carlprocastinator1000 @starman-jpg @romantiklen @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme ♡ holy things taglist: @stevesbipanic @pearynice @ao3whore @slowandsteddie @swordsandflowercrowns @dragonmama76 @mikeys-thoughts @sofadofax @cyranyx @kazalohiku @lostonceandneverfound @strangerfreaks @bitchysteveharrington @nailbatanddungeon @newtstabber (comment to be added/removed to/from either list!!)

♡ art of steve and eddie ♡ pinboard // playlist ♡ buy me a coffee

#!!!#sorry this is late ive been Having A Time #but im back!!#also ignore this if you want obv no pressure but if anyone is thinking ab donating to my kofi i would rly rly rly appreciate it #i have an exhibition coming up and i need to get some supplies #anyway #drink some water #take your meds #eat something yummy #love you love you love you #steddie #steddie fanfic #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #a mess of holy things

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claymorexpunisher · 2 months

Text

Liberación (Ch.10/?) (Rewritten) (18+ Fic)

Disclaimer/Warning: If you've been keeping up with this fic, no you're not losing your minds. I decided to rewrite this chapter because I felt like I had previously sped things up a bit too much between Harper and Damian. Sooo, please don't fight me? lmao! Fight fictional!Damian for being stupid instead... This is purely a work of fiction. I try to do proper research whenever I write pieces that have to do with BDSM/Kink, but alas, I am not perfect. For fiction's sake, some aspects of BDSM and Kink will be a bit unrealistic and maybe even rushed, though I know that the foundation for these types of connections and dynamics to function properly, takes time... Feel free to leave me any feedback on areas of improvement. And if you wish to be untagged, please let me know. If this isn’t your kinda story, scroll on by. This is a long chapter so, happy reading! 🖤

Summary: Harper and Drew started Liberacion as a way to heal. And it slowly became bigger than they could've have ever imagined...

Main Pairings: Damian Priest/OFC, Drew McIntyre/OFC, Roman Reigns/OFC, Finn Bálor/OFC, Liv Morgan/Rhea Ripley

Side Characters: Mercedes Mone, Liv Morgan, Seth Rollins, Becky Lynch, and more.

Tags: 18+, praise kink, daddy kink, size kink, kink negotiation, consensual kink, consensual non-consent, BDSM, knife play, light blood play, bratting, hair-pulling, breeding kink, and more.

Chapter Word Count: 3,051

Prev. Chapter

~Harper's POV~

~PAST~

“ Fuck…” I whimpered as Liv’s relentless tongue worked my clit.

She swirled and swirled it around before she took my clit into her mouth and sucked with just the right amount of pressure.

Just as my hips flew off the bed, I heard the blow dryer cut off in the bathroom.

“Seriously?” Rhea called out; one brow cocked as she peeked into the suite.

“I leave you girls on your own for two fucking seconds…” Rhea chuckled, and she shook her head as my body writhed with every stroke of Liv’s mouth on those most sensitive parts between my legs.

“It was way more than two seconds, Ripl- oh my fucking god do that again please!” I moaned as Liv’s fingers stroked my sweet spot as her mouth continued its sweet assault on my clit.

“No. Don’t do that again. Liv, Harper has a meeting to go to.” Rhea scolded the lump underneath the sheets that was Liv, but I could hear her strict tone waning as she watched the sheets slowly slide off my bare breasts as my hands clenched the sheets.

I watched her leer hungrily at my chest and I smirked at her in a silent invitation.

Still, much to my dismay, Rhea stalked over to the side of the bed, and she pulled the sheets fully off of us.

I whimpered in protest and glared at her grumpily.

“It’ll just take two seconds, Mommy. I promise.” Liv purred as she smiled up at Rhea’s amused features before her mouth went back to work.

I nodded. “Yeah. Don’t be such a party pooper- mierda!” My words broke off an orgasm ripped through me exactly two seconds later and my back arched off the bed once again.

Liv looked mighty pleased with herself as she swiped a hand across her mouth, her tempting and plump lips now the color of crushed strawberries.

“See?” She giggled, smiling from ear to ear.

“Yeah, okay, smartass… I’m next.” Rhea grumbled as she side-eyed Liv as the two of us cackled.

~PRESENT~

Distracted didn’t even begin to describe how I’d been the last few days.

Thoughts of Damian fucking Priest and what could be, consumed my every waking second and… well, I was beginning to get on my own nerves.

I found myself once again drowning myself in my work- even work I could have easily handed over to Tammie, Cat, or any other staff.

Anything to distract myself from the alarming emptiness I was starting to feel whenever Damian wasn’t around at the club.

Or anything to stop me from doing something really fucking stupid like- calling Damian or texting him and telling him I missed him.

As much as I didn’t want to, we just always seemed to gravitate toward one another.

Whenever he was here; and he was here more often than not these days, we were never too far apart and we’d either eat lunch at the club’s dining hall, my office, or we went out for dinner if it was a particularly long day of being cooped inside the club.

It was so fucking stupid.

We were just messing around.

Just jokes.

And yes, he made me feel at ease.

Safe, even.

Like my every thought mattered- fuck’s sake, if that doesn’t let me know what a number Jason did on me, I don’t know what does.

‘Like my every thought mattered’?... No jodas, Harper… the bar is so fucking low.

Which is reason #224256364 as to why I had no business pursuing anything with anyone.

At least not for the time being.

Yet still, anytime Damian so much as laid those playful and warm eyes on me and the more we got to know each other I…

I wanted to sink into him and see where things could go.

God, just the sound of his voice filled my chest with feelings that I was way too fucking afraid to put my finger on.

And it didn’t help that he never pushed farther than I was willing to let him.

But there was no way I’d let myself go there again.

As warm and kind and attentive and gentle as Damian was, I couldn’t bring myself to voice what I wanted from him.

What I needed.

Voicing those thoughts would be like betraying myself and the promise I made to keep myself safe whenever Jason and everything he put me through weaseled their way back into my head.

And yeah, maybe it made me a hypocrite, considering the advice that I would give day in and day out to the patrons at my club about how trusting someone wholeheartedly is one of the most important and most beautiful things on planet Earth and how sometimes you just have to let go.

But I just. couldn’t.

Besides, I could absolutely be misinterpreting his attention for more than what it was.

The Lord knows he could probably have his pick of anyone he wanted at any given time.

And after one of our many late-night talks, Damian made his thoughts on serious relationships crystal clear.

And while I told myself that I wasn’t looking for anything serious myself, the thought of being just one of many on Damian’s list just didn’t sit right with me.

And hell, for all I knew, all he felt for me was sympathy.

Sympathy for what Jason had done.

And for me not really having a single reliable male figure in my life…

I was a walking advertisement for daddy issues, and I knew that.

So much so that I almost didn’t blame Damian if he just felt sorry for me.

And yet my mind couldn’t help but wander back to those moments of close proximity between us.

Even just thinking about it all, I could already feel the delicious phantom pressure of his hand wrapped around my throat.

I could feel the warmth that would spread throughout my body every time he’d make it a point to come help out at the club.

He’d come bright and early, even though he wasn’t exactly a morning person.

A few times, his soft eyes would land on me swimming in one of his softest hoodies, not bothering to question the fact that I had very clearly begun to steal them from him at some point.

I always replaced them, though.

Ugh!

My mind was a fucking tangled web of conflicting thoughts and memories…

So, I decided to use my job in order to continue avoiding the problem- the problem of course being Damian- as the only solution I could come up with.

I was supposed to be getting ready for one of our monthly themed nights at Liberacion.

Tonight, it was Lace or Leather Night, which, you probably guessed it, means that everyone could arrive dressed in their best lace or leather outfits.

I chose a gorgeous sapphire blue and black number and despite my scattered brain, I was super excited to see what the rest of my girlfriends and coworkers would choose for tonight.

I forced thoughts of Damian away long enough to get dolled up before the patrons would start trickling out of their rented rooms and other patrons would start showing up for the night’s festivities.

Themed nights weren’t much different to the rest of the nights except for the dress code being mandatory.

The drinking limit if people were planning to play was still 2 drinks max and no sex was allowed, neither were scenes outside of the closed off/rented areas.

The soundproof dance floor was to the right of the dining hall so that the patrons could talk and just be at peace away from the loudness of the thumping music if they wanted to.

But of course, security was packed throughout the club in case anybody tried to skirt around the club’s rules.

“Well, holy shit. You look hot!” Tammie exclaimed and I smiled as I took my spot next to her up at the top, looking down at the patrons laughing and mingling as I nursed a glass of ginger ale.

Cat was dealing with check-ins and check-outs tonight.

“So do you!” I replied as we clinked our glasses together.

I just knew Tammie’s husband Johnny was salivating for her in her skintight leather outfit.

Underneath the dim lighting I couldn’t tell if it was blue or black, but it looked like a second skin on her curvy body.

This was what I loved most about nights and environments like these- we could literally be anything we wanted, go out of our comfort zone without fear of what others would think and we could just play and be whoever and whatever we wanted to be.

Not just with our clothes, but there were tons of people with their fangs, wings and claws out.

Some fully shifted werewolves and hybrids letting their hair down and just having a good time.

Zero judgements.

This was home to me.

(not my photo)

I watched in my peripheral as Tammie softly sniffed the air.

“Is that… chocolate chip cookies?” she asked, bewildered, as if we didn’t serve snacks to the patrons as per their request.

“Harper… are yo- “Tammie broke into a fit of laughter at my guilty expression.

“Could you be any more obvious? Smelling like his favorite snack?” She exclaimed, laughing harder the redder my face got.

“Okay, relax, pendeja. I love chocolate chip cookies with milk too. He ain’t special.” I scoffed and rolled my eyes as I took another sip of ginger ale to avoid her knowing smirk.

“Sure… anyway, he’s on the third floor. I know ya don’t care or whatever, but I just thought I’d let you know.” Tammie said, her tone lifting with amusement as my eyes flashed towards her.

“He didn’t come say hi?” I whispered, but of course she heard me.

She looked at me with such pity that I had to look back towards the dance floor, away from her sad eyes.

“What do you expect, muchacha?” Tammie said softly in her lilting Texan accent, leaning in slightly so that only I could hear her words of advice.

“Look, I don’t wanna pressure you. And neither does he, that much is obvious. And it’s okay that you’re unsure of what you want. But you can’t play this hot and cold game and then get upset when he backs off. Talk to him and tell him that you’re confused and unsure. Then take the time apart to actual figure yourself out and to figure out what it is that you’re really after. ‘I’m not sure,’ is a good enough answer sometimes, babe. At least it’s an answer.” Tammie shrugged.

“Tamara, it’s not like he hasn’t been giving off mixed signals too.” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Maybe so. But it’s all the more reason for you to plant yourself in front of him and tell him that you’re done playing games. One of you’s gotta cut the crap, honey.” she said.

And goddamn her for being so persuasive…

I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.

The voyeur floor consisted of about 12 rooms with a plexiglass separating voyeurs from the person giving them a show.

Each window was about 1 foot apart to give the group of 5 people max, enough room to sit and watch and a curtain was inside the room for whenever the person inside decided they didn’t want to be watched anymore.

As I walked through the hall of the voyeur floor, my heart rate spiked as the lustful vibe that this floor always carried hit me like a freight train.

Oftentimes I came to watch people play and sometimes I even gave them a show myself.

It helped that I couldn’t really see them behind the tinted plexiglass, but I knew they could see me.

It somehow heightened the excitement of being watched while calming the nerves of it simultaneously.

I sometimes thought of Damian joining the group, watching me as I played with mys-

“Oof!” I grunted as I walked right into a very large and very apologetic brick wall that quickly shot out to hold me up before I could sprawl to the ground.

“Cono, I’m sorry- I didn’t watch where I was going and-… Harper.”

I looked up… and up, and up as the familiar voice sunk into my brain and made my limbs almost melt into nothing.

“Damian… Hii.” I said softly, a giggle wanting to escape my lips as I held onto Damian’s very, very large biceps and his own lips curled into a sly smirk.

I was not prepared for how scrumptious he’d look decked out in leather.

I was used to seeing this on tv but in person… god damn.

The snug material hugged him in all the right places and my mouth started to water before my eyes slowly reached back up to his.

God, I was worse than a fucking 13-year-old schoolgirl.

Get a grip, cabrona.

“Hi. You here to watch?” Damian asked and we moved closer towards a more secluded part of the hallway to let other people pass through.

“Um… no, not tonight. I’m… I was looking for you, actually.” I replied, blushing bright red as Damian tilted his head.

He leaned against the wall and so did I, just to have something sturdy to hold me up as my brain began to get a bit fuzzy as he leaned in closer.

The action was so… almost intimate and I couldn’t help myself.

His broad body seemed to almost wrap around me, his massive build making my stomach flip-flop.

That was all I could blame for what I did next.

Not taking my hands away from his biceps, I used our physical contact to my advantage, and I began to show him.

I wanted to show him the things I thought of every time he was near.

Every time his hands were on me for one of those damn demos everyone enjoyed watching and we enjoyed doing.

Through my magic, I fed him visions of me on my knees at his feet, staring up at him in adoration.

I showed him vivid images of how hard I’d come if I just let go and let him squeeze my throat just a little harder as he fucked me into oblivion.

I showed him more PG visions of casual handholding and introductions to strangers that left no doubt what we were to one another.

That left no doubt that the other was completely off-limits.

I showed him all the things I wanted with him but that I couldn’t quite let myself have just yet.

And with those visions came the very real and very visceral feelings of want.

Desire.

Lust.

Complete and utter devotion…

All of those feelings transferred from me to Damian and next thing I knew, Damian had moved us and picked me up and pressed me up against the wall, away from any prying eyes and crowding me and urging my legs to wrap around his waist.

I moaned as Damian’s hand gripped my thigh underneath my skirt, pressing me closer to him, and I was brought back down as I felt him harden between my legs.

Our lips were inches apart as our breaths came out in shuddery puffs as the searing passion flowing from my magic flowed through our own bodies, causing us to not have control over ourselves, going on pure primal instinct.

The tip of my tongue snaked out and lapped at his bottom lip, daring him to devour me and I drank in the almost guttural groan Damian gave in response.

I felt the sound right down to my very core, soaking in the powerful feeling of pulling apart his usually calm and collected nature.

And then the rug of desire was pulled from underneath as I felt Damian lower me back to the ground, my heels hitting the floor with a soft click.

We panted hard, trying to catch our breath despite the fact that not much occurred.

“Sorry… I should’ve asked before I…” I said, my breath coming out in tiny, rapid puffs as I willed my heart rate to slow down.

Damian shook his head before his features melted into a guilty expression.

“Its… it’s okay, Harper.” He started, and I sensed a “but” coming…

“But…” he continued, confirming my sinking suspicion. “We can’t. Look, I know I… I’ve been sending mixed messages; I know I have and I’m sorry for that. But you’re just much too young for me. And I think you know how I feel about- “Damian said and suddenly I didn’t want to hear him speak.

“Yeah.” I interrupted a little more forcefully than I intended. “No, yeah. I know. That was… dumb of me. Um- it’s fine. We could totally just pretend this never happened. Shit, I could even wipe your memory of this. I just thought…” I trailed off, frowning as my mind once again played through damn near every moment together.

Not to mention the very noticeable sign of arousal I could still almost feel pressing against me.

“No hay problema, Dami.” I said after a few seconds of awkward silence.

The nickname slipped out easily, only this time it felt like poison on my tongue.

Damian shook his head again, silently waving off my offer.

I couldn’t stand the guilt pouring from his eyes.

The pity was even worse, and I turned my back on him, so I no longer had to see it.

I was thanking the high heavens that were in a much more secluded part of the club, because try as I might’ve, there was no way no one would be able to tell that my heart and ego were both crushed to oblivion- my heart more so.

“I’m sorry, muñe-… I’m sorry, H.” Damian amended, and that crushing feeling traveled from my heart and right into my gut.

“No! You’re fine.” I spoke.

The knot in my throat expanded as I forced a casual cheeriness into my voice that my heart couldn’t mirror.

Before Damian could say anything more, I forced my heavy limbs to move and I took myself to my office, away from the noise and away from any prying eyes.

But clearly fate had other plans...

@theworldofotps @alyyaanna @southerngirl41 @harmshake @mzv11 @letsgivethisonemoreshot @theundertakeriscoming @ladyshipwildrose @slutfortheeclaymore @auraravenora77 @niknakattack @babiidee28 @thesamoanqueen @omegasshyghuleh6661ghosts @xndalynch @84reedsy @romanstheory @kianaleani @elefrog25-blog @motherknuckers @phantasmacabre @wandering-fox @lxndonorris @girlnred @yo-yo89 @smile1318 @sassginaswanmills @exhaustedclown @aritannahrocks1300 @superlove167 @ayeeitsali @queencherryberry @truefant4sy @codyswhitebelt @blackmeetsworld @salirophiliac @kayfabebabe @rhea-the-eradicator @moonwolfdemonprincess21 @souleatermia @bittersweetastoria

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sungbeam · 9 months

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𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 — act I, scene iv

nonidol!hwang intak x f!reader

when summit poster boy hwang intak's car breaks down in the school parking lot, it sets off a chain of events that leads to you, someone he was perhaps always meant to find. the only problem is that the two of you are far from the ideal couple, and your peers are apt to keep that status quo.

▷ genre, chapter warnings. s2f2l, classism and discrimination, forbidden romance au, minimal swearing, angst, humor, honestly a very uncomfortable situation bc of rich people privileges (jerk alert)

▷ word count. 2.5k

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SUMMER (RISING JUNIORS).

INTAK'S eyelids stuck together like glue, but the sharp morning light beaming into his face pried them open. The heavy embroidered curtains on either side of his bed were violently ripped open and a large weight launched onto the bed beside him, practically sending his body flying into the air.

"What the fu—?" Intak cursed, sitting up in bed and trying to get a grasp of reality. His room erupted into delighted cackles—hyenas, if you would—and he dug the soles of his palms into his eyes with a groan. "I hate you guys."

A hand clapped down on his shoulder with a warm squeeze. "If it weren't for us, you'd be sleeping the day away," came Taeyang's voice. Of course, he had been the one to invade Intak's bed space.

"That was the idea," Intak whined, lips forming a pout as he rested up against the headboard.

Keeho chuckled from the foot of the bed. "Yeah, yeah. Well get up! We're gonna get dim sum."

Intak rolled his head to rest on Taeyang's shoulder. "The dim sum place doesn't start serving until 11, assholes."

Jiung appeared from the other side of the room where he had been tying the curtain back with the cord into a neat bow. His face was twisted into a distasteful frown as he surveyed the clothes hanging off of almost every piece of furniture in the room. "Okay and? It's 10:30, sleeping beauty."

"I was gonna put those away," Intak said through a yawn, blindly gesturing toward the three different jackets hanging on the bedpost. Jiung's frown deepened, nose wrinkled, as he plucked the jackets up and dutifully headed for the closet.

"Why are you so tired anyway, dude?" Keeho asked. He had pulled his phone out from his pocket, most likely replying to his parents to tell them he wouldn't be headed to the company building today. "We literally ended our movie marathon early yesterday because you said you wanted to sleep or something."

That triggered something in the back of Intak's mind, and he removed his head from Taeyang's shoulder to feel around the blankets, sheets, pillows, for his—bingo. He snatched his phone up, molten hot from overuse, and powered it on. Luckily, it hung onto life at just 6% battery; goddamn, he must have fallen asleep while on call with Yn last night.

…while on call with Yn last night. The thought brought a smile to his face, one that Taeyang definitely noticed.

The older Choi cousin poked the small divot in Intak's cheek from his smile. "Aye, what're you smiling about?"

Intak cleared his throat and busied himself with finding his charging cable and letting his phone charge on the nightstand. "The thought of eating all your har gow!" he giggled, abruptly leaping out of bed and heading for the closet that Jiung was busy organizing.

Taeyang squawked after him. "Hey, punk! You better not—"

Intak shooed Jiung out of the closet space before closing the door behind him. He exhaled sharply, fingers massaging his crusty eyes. The smile had yet to disappear from his face.

jae's phone: maaaaan did i fall asleep on u last night ?? 😩🤕

yer a wizard yn!: yup

yer a wizard yn!: did u know that u snore 😗

jae's phone: that's a lil embarrassing

yer a wizard yn!: it's okay it was cute

"I'm hungry."

Yn rolled her eyes, the back of her hand dabbing the sweat from her forehead. "Then get food."

Jongseob groaned melodramatically with his head craned backward at an uncomfortable angle, sweat dripping from his damp orange bangs onto the cement floor of the garage. "But I want ramen."

"I don't understand the problem," she sighed, "there's hot water and packets in—"

"I could use some ramen." Soul perked up from his station. He had his blond hair held by a gray bandana tied cutely at the front.

Now both kids were gazing at her with big, brown puppy eyes and pouts, all practically begging the same thing: they wanted real ramen. Not something out of a plastic bag that could be made in two minutes. They wanted something sit-down, steam-rising, creamy, authentic, expensive. Well, it didn't necessarily have to be expensive. It just had to not be 'instant.'

Yn reached for her phone to check for the time, noting the new notification on the lock screen, as well.

tak!: ln's auto repair has a cute little kid on their facebook page

Suppressing the smile on her face into a smirk, she decided that the three of them had been working far too long to be considering this as summer break. And as much as they needed the money and time, they also desperately needed down time. Her mom would be able to reopen the shop later in the afternoon; business had been slow anyway.

"Okay, fine!" She said, which was immediately followed by cheers and the clinking of tools falling to concrete. "But you both stink, so go home and freshen up while I close up here, okay?"

They didn't need to be told twice. Soul was already wrestling his bicycle out from the corner of the garage, and Jongseob passed by her with a large grin on his face to get to the inner office. "Thanks, Yn!"

Yn let her smile come out completely as she hummed her acknowledgement.

yn's phone: r u stalking our fb page lmao we haven't posted anything there since i was a fetus

tak!: bet ur even cuter now than u were then

Yn could only sit there and grin down at her phone screen for a moment. In the background, Soul and Jongseob were arguing about who got to use the shower at Yn's place first, since it was the closest house to the shop. Their sounds faded the further they rode away from the shop, and Yn typed her reply.

yn's phone: avoiding my accusation w flattery i see 🤔

tak!: is my curiosity a crime snookums :l

tak!: y haven't u guys updated pics anyway :0

yn's phone: hm idk ? ig just w lots of things happening these past few years, we forgot to maintain that form of community presence

tak!: ahh i see

tak!: u were a really cute kid tho yn fr

yn's phone: lol thanks >< i think everyone looks cute when they're young tho

tak!: that's tru

yn's phone: hey if u send me a pic for ur contact pfp, i'll send u one back

Then she powered her phone off and tucked it into the back pocket of her cargo pants, skipping around the garage to close the shop down. If Jongseob and Soul were here, she would most definitely get an earful. But good thing they weren't here, right?

When she finally got back home, she found Jongseob nose-deep in his phone game on the couch, his orange hair dampened over his forehead and a towel wrapped around his shoulders. Shota was just strolling out of the bathroom, steam trailing after him, while running a towel through his own hair. She quickly found a fresh set of clothes in her room before hopping into the shower herself.

As she clipped her wet hair up and out of the way, she saw the flicker of something across her phone screen on the bathroom counter. Again, and again, and—

Knock knock knock knock knock— "I'M HUNGRYYYY," Jongseob whined from outside the bathroom door.

Yn rolled her eyes and tucked her phone into her back pocket before ripping the bathroom door open. She sent a firm look at him that said 'Really?'

Jongseob beamed sheepishly. "Haha?"

She deadpanned. "Not haha. C'mon now; is Shota ready to go?"

"Mhm," he piped up, skipping toward the front door. He thumped the back of the couch where Soul had replaced him. "Let's go, let's go!"

Yn could only wonder why the kid was so pumped to finally get lunch, but at the same time, she understood that he probably hadn't had something "restaurant"-level in awhile. This was a luxury that could only be afforded to them during moments where time was infinite. And during summer, time seemed to flow like the milky way.

The three of them began the brief trek to the bus stop, since Yn's mom had taken the family car out to run some errands. It wasn't too bad of a walk anyway, and there seemed to always be a bus coming by every ten minutes down in the Hollows.

They would hop off at the stop in the Crossroads shopping center, aiming for the small, yet upscale ramen shop in the corner. Passing through the open doorway, the three friends chorused their greetings to the chef behind the counter before perching on the stools at the bar.

"Man, oxtail sounds so good right now," Soul pouted to himself, hand against his cheek.

Yn glanced at him before turning her own gaze back to the menu in front of her. The oxtail did sound good, but it was a lot more expensive than everything else. Today wasn't even a special occasion either… she'd probably wait until another day. She passed Soul another look, and at his slight frown, she understood that he was under the same mental crisis as she was.

"Shota-yah," she said to him over Jongseob's head. "If you want the oxtail, you should get it. I can help cover for you."

Soul's eyes widened at this. "Oh, no, no, noona! I couldn't do that; no way! I can get it some other time."

"I insist," she said. If she paid for her bowl and the extra for Soul's… it wouldn't be too bad. No, it definitely wouldn't be bad. This was doable.

Guilt flashed across Shota's face, but she could see the yearning there as well. "I dunno…"

Yn nudged Jongseob as an attempt to switch the subject. "What're you thinking of, Seob?"

He cocked a brow at her. "Don't think you're gonna pay for my lunch, too."

"Who said I would pay for your lunch?"

"Hey!"

She laughed, her lips pursing into an amused smile at Jongseob's pinched brows and annoyed expression. "Only kidding… kind of."

Jongseob opened his mouth to say something, but his eyes flickered to something behind Yn, towards the entrance. Yn heard the chatter and laughter pouring in as a large group of teenagers filed into the shop. There were maybe twelve of them in total, all of whom decked out in designer brands and handbags and shoes and fresh manicures. Their hair was silky and styled, bodies adorned in shiny pieces of jewelry.

Summit kids. Well fuck.

They were loud, boisterous. Yn could feel the shift in her friends' demeanors as Jongseob sent the group nasty looks over his shoulder and Soul kept his back firmly toward them. She prayed to whoever was watching her that they wouldn't do anything to ruin their lunch.

The ramen shop was suddenly ten times smaller now.

Yn heard the group's chatter dull down when they realized just who exactly they were to share the shop with. The chatter became louder, laughter became sharper. She didn't need to strain her ears to hear what they were saying, rather, she was putting more energy in trying to tune them out than anything.

"Do you think we can pay the uncle there to kick them out?"

"I don't even think they could afford to tip. Buying this place out shouldn't be difficult."

Buying out a ramen shop? Just because they were in the midst of a couple of Hollows kids… dramatic much?

Yn stilled as she heard the crisp click, click, click of a pair of new shoes approach the bar where she and her friends sat. From her peripheral vision, she caught a slim, smooth hand adorned in tasteful silver rings and a jade bracelet, motioning to the chef behind the counter.

"Excuse me, uncle! I was wondering if my friends and I could… have the room."

A flash of bills. Actually—Yn couldn't even estimate how much was in that girl's hand, but at the sight of it, the uncle immediately began to wave Yn, Jongseob, and Soul off their stools.

Yn gaped at him, and took her first full glimpse of the girl. She looked familiar, no doubt someone from the academy. The girl looked upon the three of them with a blank stare, pretty, manicured hand waving goodbye to them and nodding toward the door.

"We're paying customers, too!" Yn protested to the chef, who only shrugged. She huffed. "You've got to be shitting me."

A loud laugh from behind them—it was from the larger group. She whirled around, nostrils flared. A boy from the group sneered, "You literally have grease stains on your neck. Don't you think you should be cleaner before thinking you could come and dirty a respectable establishment?"

Respectable establishment, my ass, Yn thought. She suppressed the urge to reach up to feel the back of her neck for any lingering stains from earlier while Jongseob ushered both her and Soul out of the door.

They were halfway back down the hill before Yn could even think to say anything. The anger boiling in her blood had simmered down to something akin to disappointment rather than anger. Part of it, she reasoned, that the uncle was only looking out for his best interests. The Summit kids could fund his shop for life if they really wanted to, but her and her friends? Not a chance.

But… she glanced over at Jongseob and Soul who remained quiet as well. It was odd to see Jongseob so quiet, but perhaps he was fuming as she was and trying not to throw a fit.

The sun beat down above them as they walked down the hill, sweat already beginning to drip down the back of her neck. She finally reached behind her neck, on the shirt collar, then caught a glimpse of the car grease staining her fingertips. She felt her neck and cheeks grow hotter in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry guys," she finally said softly, the words too difficult to put power behind. She didn't know how she managed to choke them out. Guilt pooled in her gut, guilt for not being able to stand up for them better and to be able to get her two best friends fed and treated well.

Both Jongseob and Soul hummed their replies incoherently.

She swallowed, holding a hand up over her eyes as she looked up from the ground. "It's okay. I'll just make some ramen at home. It's not oxtail, but…" But what?

Jongseob glared straight ahead. "I hate those fucking entitled little pricks."

Ah, there it was.

Yn pursed her lips together with a nod. "Yeah."

"And don't apologize, Yn," Soul said. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

She swallowed again, but it was a little more difficult this time. "I just wanted you guys to have a good time and to eat well."

Her friends both looked over at her with something glistening in their eyes. "We know," said Jongseob. "Thanks though."

The disappointment fell from them like waves, and Yn couldn't seem to brace for impact quite as well as she hoped she could.

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sherifftillman · 1 year

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busy streets and busy lives • ralph penbury x reader

A strange day at work gets even stranger when you meet a man who claims he's from 1926. With no certainty as to when he can get back, you decide to take him in until that time arrives.

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Tags: Timewasters (series), modern!au, slow burn, mutual pining, idiots in love™, fluff, some angst, swearing and mentions of adult themes throughout, eventual adult content, alcohol content, drug content, penbury is a fanon surname

Word count: 8.8k

A/N: Here it is, folks. The one you've all been waiting for. Enjoy. <3

I might have been a tiny wee bit self indulgent at one point in particular. Bet you can't tell where.

You frown as you swipe to answer the call from Scott. "Who died?"

"Woooow," a very familiar sarcastic response rings through your ear. "Can't a friend just call up another in this day and age?" You let the silence linger just long enough for him to then add, "Yeah, I'm chatting shit. No, I was going to ask, are you running late?"

You frown, "No, I'm not long about to close up now. Why'd you ask?"

"Well, Ralph texted me." He puts on a voice, the way you all do when talking about your flatmate. "Good afternoon, Scott. I hope you have been keeping well, and that the snow hasn't interrupted your daily life. I would like to request your assistance, I am aware that we have been tasked with making dessert for the Pal Valentine's Day meal later, but unfortunately I have noticed that we are severely lacking in eggs. I was simply wondering if, by chance you could bring some up to the flat? I would be most grateful, and willing to more than compensate you financially! Regards, Ralph."

You groan, "I asked him to get eggs this morning, he didn't want to because there were kids throwing snowballs and he was scared he'd get caught up in it. I told him to suck it up, because they can smell fear, but he's clearly too chicken-shit to go out there."

"Aww, he's never even had a snowball fight before? What even was his childhood?!" You rasp, hoping to quickly evade that topic. "Oh my god, you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You grin, “I think I am. You wanna rally the troops?”

“On it.”

You look up from your phone, still giggling, to see two of your sales assistants watching you, looking at each other and waggling their eyebrows at each other. You shake your head, “At this point, you’re well beyond barking up the wrong tree! My friend Scott and I are planning something,” you flash your eyes mischievously, and they tut back at you.

“Well, at this point, it’s not like we were expecting you to have some hot date on the other end of the line, is it?” One of them jokes, nudging the other as they run off and busy themselves at the other end of the store, still cackling.

“You two are lucky you’re my favourites!” You shout after them with a laugh. “Can I trust you to close up tonight?”

“Nah, we’re gonna loot the place,” one answers with a false sincerity.

“You poor sods won’t find much here,” you point out. “But thank you, you’re the best!” You singsong as you head past them to the back room.

“Then pay us more!” Another jokes.

“If I had control over who earns what, d’you not think I’d have done that by now? You wound me,” you dramatically push your hand to your chest as you walk backwards through the door out of the main shop floor. Once you’ve collected all your belongings, and put on all your layers, it’s pretty much time to close anyway. You salute your colleagues with a, “Godspeed getting home tonight,” and brave the cold.

Since the roads hadn’t been salted by the time you needed to get to work, you’d walked there, and while you would much rather be sitting in a heated car than feeling your cheekbones freeze over, it’s quite nice to walk through the streets of Croydon, watching the thick snow fall with the slightest bit of sun still peeking through. A gentle little reminder that longer, warmer days are just around the corner, and that winter’s soon at an end.

You’re greeted in front of your tower block by all your friends, all with varying expressions. Scott and Connor are eagerly plotting, Anna still looks a little unsure, and Grace just looks like she’s fed up of the cold. “So, what’s the plan, who’s getting him to come downstairs?” you ask once you’re with them.

“That’s what we were just deciding,” Scott replies.

“My suggestion was that Anna would be the least suspicious, but she wants no part of this,” Connor pulls a face and Anna slaps his arm.

“Shut up! I still think it’s mean,” she frowns, and you hold her arm comfortingly.

“Listen, who’d you rather be the first people to engage Ralph in any kind of snow fight, us or those little pricks up there?” You jerk your head over to where a group of middle school-age boys are playing around together.

She sighs, “Fine, but I’m aiming for his feet, okay?”

“Aw, but it’s fifty points if you hit his face,” Scott teases.

“Okay, okay, before Grace gets hypothermia, let’s just get this over and done with, shall we?” You ask, and Grace nods from somewhere beneath her fluffy hood. “Scott, he asked you to pick up those eggs, didn’t he? Just make up some guff about how they’ve locked the front doors so he needs to come push the button to let you in.”

Scott nods, texts something, and within a few minutes pumps his fist with excitement. “Okay, he says he’ll do it! I told him to wrap up and let me know when he’s on his way down.”

“Tell him you’ve had to step away from the doors so it doesn’t look like you’re loitering,” Connor adds, “so he can’t just run back.”

“Okay, this does feel a little mean, now,” you admit, and Anna looks at you incredulously.

“No, no, you don’t get to back out now! Not after all that talking me round!”

“Yeah, c’mon, you two have been smooth sailing for ages now, surely there’s something that you can only get off your chest by a one-time snowball pelting?” Scott asks, and you think for a moment.

“He did watch the rest of that new show we were watching without me and then spoiled the ending,” you ponder.

“Jail.” Grace pulls her hood back momentarily to stare at you with wide, serious eyes.

You nod, “Yeah. Or a snowball to the shoulder. Both are the same punishment, I think.”

“Totally,” Connor sneers, and you and Grace both flip him off - or you assume that’s why she’s holding the back of her hand up to him, it’s hard to tell with her wearing mittens, but it does put everyone into a heap of laughter.

Connor’s phone beeps, and he gasps as he looks at his screen. “Alright, gang, he’s on his way down! Lock and load.”

You all get into position, snowballs in gloved hands, as you watch Ralph push the door open with ease, walk through it and look back with a frown. He tentatively moves forward one cautious step at a time, his big baby-cow eyes darting around all the while. You all hide a little further back each time until he’s inevitably in line with you all. He looks at Scott first, then his hand, then around at all of you. “Oh, fiddlesticks,” he whispers.

“This is for your own good, mate,” Connor grimaces as you all throw your missiles at him. With a half-scream, half-squawk sound, Ralph tensely curls himself up in self-defence, holding that position long after he’s been hit. “See, mate, that wasn’t so bad, was it? And that was all of us!”

“I thought you were all my friends,” he glares indignantly at you all, and you nod.

“Yeah, which is why we did it knowing you wouldn’t get hurt,” you point out. “You’re alright now, aren’t you?” He nods tentatively. “See? And the best bit, is now it’s your turn, and you get pick of the lot as to who you hit first.”

“Just hit me first, if you like, I won’t mind, and I won’t hit you again, either,” Anna shrugs, but Ralph studies all of you.

“Who’s idea was this?” He eventually asks Anna, who quickly points to you and Scott.

“Wooooow,” Scott shakes his head, but Anna simply flips him off.

Ralph bends down, eyes still flitting between all of you, as he grabs two handfuls of snow and immediately flings them both at the two of you. While you get a tiny little lump that just grazes your chest, at least he landed it with Scott, as that one flew out of his grip and straight into Scott’s mouth. A laugh bubbles out of Ralph’s lips and you all grin back at him.

“Okay, that was good, but a good snowball is two handfuls, smushed together into, yeah, that’s it, just like- ack!” Connor is silenced and humbled by Ralph throwing his third and far bigger snowball, straight into his stomach. “Prick,” he laughs as he scoops another one up to toss at Ralph again, who manages to evade it this time. “Mine was way bigger than theirs!” He makes another, adding, “Although, while I’m here, if you’re not retaliating…” Before extending himself to standing and throwing one at Anna with an almost evil cackle.

Anna gasps, “Only not to Ralph, asshole!” And throws one back at him with a giggle.

Before long, you’re all running around, including Ralph, throwing snowballs at each other and laughing like you were kids again. You’d never had thought, at your big age, that this is how you’d be spending a snowy day, but it brings back good memories of you and your four oldest friends, knocking at each other’s doors after the local news had announced that your school was closed, taking old bin lids up the steepest hills you could climb to slide down again. You look over at Ralph, with the apples of his cheeks glowing as red as his ears and the tip of his nose from all the cold, his whole face lit up as he catapults snowballs in the strangest fashion, and wonder what snow days must have been like for him. Obviously, he wasn’t sledding down hills on bin lids, but you’d have thought he and Victoria and their friends would have had friendly snowball fights. Though, you remember, from what you’ve learned of Victoria and her friends, perhaps those weren’t so friendly when aimed at Ralph.

Your thoughts are interrupted when another snowball hits Ralph, though not from any direction that any of you are standing. You all look over to the gang of young boys, snickering at each other for having landed one on “one of the oldies”, especially commending the offender for “getting the posh one”.

Though rage boils through all of you, it’s Grace, already warmed up from running around, who pushes her hood back to give them all a death stare and tell them, “You’ll regret that.”

As though called to arms, the five of you form a protective wall in front of Ralph and start hurling snowballs at the group of pre-teens at top speed until one of them yells, “Alright, alright, truce! Mercy! Whatever word gets you to stop!”

Just as you all stop, one more snowball flies up above all of you. Over your heads, down, down, and lands perfectly on top of the head of the kid that the others were praising for hitting Ralph. All your friends spin around on the spot so that all of you, as well as the boys, could stare in disbelief at Ralph, who has a small but very proud smile on his face. “Oi, that was sick!” One of the boys yells out. You mouth to Ralph that that’s a good thing as the other boys start laughing and cheering for him, too.

“Okay, alright, we’ve all had our fun,” you start holding your hands up in the air, “but this isn’t getting Palentine’s dinner ready, is it?”

“Isn’t it Valentine’s? That’s tomorrow, innit?” One of the boys answers.

“Nah, isn’t Pal-a-tine the wrinkly geezer from Star Wars?” Another asks.

“I thought it was that place that’s always fighting with Israel,” another comments.

“Maybe pay more attention to your teachers, yeah?” You ask them with a slight nod. You turn to the others. “Still meeting at Anna’s?” You ask, and they all non-verbally confirm. “Cool, see you guys in a bit. Ralphie!” You shout for him and he springs to attention, practically jumping to stand next to you. You smirk, “Ready to go get those eggs I asked for this morning?” He nods sadly and you nudge him towards the row of shops.

As you walk away, Ralph mutters, “I know I’m not supposed to interfere with knowledge about those world wars, but have there really already been ones in space, too?”

Had the snowball incident not already happened, you’d have absolutely messed with Ralph by convincing him that Star Wars were actual battles that took place in outer space. However, enough guilt consumes you that you correct him by trying to explain the entire movie franchise to him as you buy the eggs you need. Though he listens intently and nods attentively, you can tell from the vacant look in his eyes that nothing’s really going in, but at least he’s trying.

Baking with Ralph sounds like a nightmare, but he’s a diligent little helper when he’s trying. He measures your ingredients for you and he’s quick to wash up your equipment once you’re done with it. You’d only planned to go for the safe option of a simple sponge cake, predicting disaster, but the speed at which you’re all done leaves you pleasantly surprised. You’re even able to snap a little photo for Ralph’s instagram without him noticing. Once you’re all dolled up, he suggests you both take one to “show” his instagram and twitter accounts, but you opt to keep that one for just the camera roll. You’ve not seen or heard any speculation about your potential love life revolving around Ralph, and you’d like to keep it that way.

Once you finally get to Anna’s, after explaining that the boys outside of your flats had since decided to gather all the snow in the street to make one giant snowball, and had recruited you and Ralph to roll it when it got too big for them to, until you two couldn’t either. “Perfectly understandable reason,” Connor nods in understanding, and the others agree.

Once all the food is laid out, you’re glad that you all a) worked up an appetite and b) ended up pushing dinner back on top of that, because everybody preparing separate dishes has definitely overestimated what six portions of each part should be. Regardless, it’s another night of eating food, chatting away and ending with dancing around Anna’s living room, much like Ralph’s second night with you.

Another morning of February 14th, another empty bed to wake up in. You sit up, stretching out your arms, and grab your phone to look through the folder in your phone labelled “shitty mspaint valentines” to send to your friends and some of your coworkers, to make them laugh. You’re met with some laughing reactions, some rebuttals and a couple of reactions that you can tell were written with a sarcastic eye roll, which only spurs you on more.

You also post a photo you took yesterday to Ralph’s instagram, to keep his brand alive:

You’re about to drag yourself out of bed when the door opens to reveal Ralph, holding out a tray with two plates piled with waffles, two glasses of fruit juice and two mugs of tea. You watch him carefully set it at the foot of the bed and then sit next to you with your lower lip out in an affectionate pout. “Aww, Ralphie, what’s all this about?”

“Well, usually tradition would have it that Father and I would take Mother and Victoria breakfast in bed on St Valentine’s Day morning, as a tradition, and so Victoria insisted that tradition still be upheld even after our parents… Well, let’s not already put a dampener on the day before it starts! You’ll have to forgive the absence of flowers, I used to have the luxury of picking them out of the garden, but none of the plants in the flat are flowering, and it would be criminal of me to steal from others’ gardens, and all the florists were specifically selling bundles that were far too big for such a gesture, an-”

“Deep breath,” you coach him as you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “It’s sweet that you still wanted to uphold your little tradition. You know, my dad used to leave me and Mum Valentine’s cards on the doormat, each from “a secret admirer”, though it used to terrify me at first because I didn’t realise it was him!” You pull a face as you take a bite out of a waffle, and Ralph laughs softly. “’Course, after a while, it’d get a bit embarrassing having your dad be your Valentine, but hey, it was one more than I’ve been getting these past few years!” You finish your mouthful and wave the rest of the waffle at him. “These are pushing the boat out for you! Get you!”

“Yes, my dear American friend recommended them to me! And I managed to successfully cook them in the toaster oven!” Ralph chimes gleefully.

“Look at you go!” You beam proudly. “Soon enough, you won’t even need me!”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous,” he mutters under his breath just before taking a big sip of his tea. “Any plans for the day?”

“You mean, other than beating the hoards of men waiting for me outside that door with a stick?” You joke, and Ralph chuckles lightly. You shake your head. “Might just do another self-care day. Be my own Valentine, as if things weren’t sad enough!”

“Well, perhaps I could join you, and we would be our own ones together,” Ralph offers. He awaits your reaction with bated breath. If that goes well, perhaps he could segue into asking you to be his actual Valentine, and that would be at least one more step above simply being housemates, over being bedmates, even.

You take a deep breath in. Maybe you could ask Ralph if he’s willing to take it the slightest step further and be each other’s Valentines. It’s just an arbitrary title, really, but at least you’d have one this year. And, whenever Ralph finally leaves, at least you can remember him as more than just your flatmate who you platonically shared a bed with. Wistfully reminiscing over a Valentine does sound more romantic.

But, you have to respect his boundaries. If he felt comfortable enough to make you breakfast in bed, he would have accompanied it with a request for you to be his, but he didn’t. He’s offering to be his own Valentine, parallel to you. Message received. “That’d be nice!” You put all your effort into trying not to sound disappointed.

It works, as Ralph reads your reaction as being very happy with that idea, and he daren’t tread over that line. “Very well. So, what does being your own Valentine mean?”

“For me? Junk food, junk TV, and in this weather, wearing at least two blankets at all times,” you count off on your fingers, making Ralph laugh. “Though I better head out and get you some of your favourites, too.”

He frowns, “There’s no need, you’ll catch your death of cold out there!”

“I mean, obviously I’d get dressed first,” you pull a face. “But yeah, you deserve to get spoiled a little, too. I mean, you did all this for me,” you gesture to the tray, but Ralph rasps flippantly. “Plus,” you add with a smirk, “don’t want you hoarding all my favourite snacks.”

“There it is!” Ralph grins, pointing a finger to you and leaning in so it hovers close to your nose, making you laugh.

“You caught me!” You hold your hands up in mock guilt. “I’ll head out in a bit, okay?”

Once breakfast is over, and you’ve washed up after you both despite Ralph insisting he would do it and trying to get in - which resulted in some rather creative ways of blocking him out of the kitchen - you get dressed ready to brave yet another cold front.

You know what Ralph’s most favourite sweets are. Jelly Babies. But the ones he loves the most aren't the kind you can get from any shop - of course not, that would be too easy, and this is Ralph. No, his favourites come from an old fashioned sweet shop that lives on the same street as the shop he works in. You remember its location vividly. as you'd made a point to think about memorising it and nothing else the day you'd dropped off a treat to Ralph while at work and seen his latest idea in action - an immersive display where he dresses up to fit in with it too. But you'd firmly blocked that mental image out of your head. Of him surrounded by Wild West imagery while wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt and very well-fitting jeans. You definitely hadn’t focused on that at all.

The trek to the old high street is a long one, especially since the snow that wasn’t quite gritted over had formed a barrier of sludge along the roadside that was creeping into the remnants of yesterday’s clean, soft, crunchy snowfall. You make the most of the childlike wonder that comes from stomping through it while you can, before it inevitably ices over into a deathly lumpy terrain.

You spot someone ahead hobbling through the snow, walking in your direction. You watch them carefully, unsure whether to try and help, casually walk past or actively avoid them, when an unmistakably pungent aroma precedes them. You study them a little closer and shout in recognition, “Homeless Pete!”

The man looks up and grunts at you. “How‘ve you been? Not seen you in ages!” He shrugs. Heart sinking, you note, “You were walking with quite a purpose there. Headed anywhere in particular?” Your fears are confirmed when he points over to the block of flats Ralph showed you that he’d emerged from almost half a year ago. “Oh… Today? It’s working?!” You ask, feeling your heart hurl through the ground. He nods, then gestures to you and flashes you a hopeful look. “What?! No! Not me! No, d’you remember, you brought a guy back with you from the 20s? Well, not these 20s, the nineteen-twenties.”

He looks blankly at you. You groan, “Please don’t tell me you’re some kind of past Pete who doesn’t know about Ralph, I don’t need a migraine today.” The name seems to resonate with Pete, which is promising. “Yes! Ralph! You remember! He was all dressed up like he was in the army! And he ended up coming back with you! And then he ended up with me! S’pose I better… Could you hold off on using it until I can get him there, too?” Your words hang heavy with sadness, but you knew this day was coming.

Pete stands there in silence for a moment, thinking. He traces the air from time to time, then claps his hands, making you jump. He mimes scratching at a beard along his own stubble-covered jaw. “You mean, you’ve seen Ralph with a beard now?” He nods, pointing downwards in front of himself. “You’ve spoken to him?” Another nod. Pete looks up at the tower block, then at you, gestures with two hands towards the building, then makes an X shape with his arms, waving them down.

“Please just fucking speak, mate.” You sigh, but he just repeats his actions. As you look lost again, he holds his two hands out again, but stops, looking at you in waiting. “So, that’s you and Ralph?” You guess, and he nods. He moves his hands up towards the building. “You and Ralph went to the place with the… Time machine.” Saying it out loud still sounds insane, even after all this time. He holds one hand close to him, and waves the other one out at you. “Is that one meant to be him?” Another nods, and then the crossed-arms gesture. You frown. “Ralph… Didn’t go in with you?” He shakes his head. “Why not?” He shrugs.

The sorrow and confusion you’ve been feeling this whole conversation start to curdle into all kinds of other feelings. There’s still some confusion there, but mostly it’s anger, frustration, disbelief. He knew how cautious you were about this day finally arriving. He knew of all the countless sleepless nights you’d spent trying to figure out things like how to hide him from your landlord, what to do if he ever falls ill. He knew that every time you picked up your post, you feared a letter from the government with big red letters asking to confirm the identity of the man who’s been claiming to live there despite not being legally registered to. He knows that you’ve been up until all hours some nights searching desperately for some kind of explanation for this phenomenon, since it can’t just be something that only Homeless Pete knows about.

Things had been going so well, especially since Christmas. You’d made peace with the fact that the clock was very much ticking with how long you’d have left with Ralph, and especially after Brighton, you had been telling yourself over and over to not sweat the small stuff, and to just enjoy having him around. You’d figured that with your feelings for him growing stronger the more that he’s around, it’s better for everyone if, instead of constantly counteracting them with the negatives, you’d just let yourself get over him quietly.

Maybe you should have been more forceful. Created more boundaries. Made it more obvious that he can’t just cheat his own fate, who knows what kind of damage he’s done to… Literally the entire universe, anything could be possible! You’d thought you’d always made it so clear to Ralph to always be preparing for the day he goes back. That no matter how great the life is he’s made for himself here, at the end of the day, all this is, is a learning experience for him to take this level of confidence back with him to his own time.

Forgoing the sweet shop, and any other shop for that matter, you make a beeline home, your steps far more deliberate and angry than the gentle march you had been taking through the snow. Even the sight of the lift in your building angers you, so you push your way up the stairs up until the ninth floor, storming through your front door.

Ralph looks over at you from where he sits on the sofa, delight on his face, which quickly falls when he sees your expression. “Is everything alright?”

“Is it?!” You screech. “Have a guess who I saw out there.”

He frowns. “I’m not sure, I didn’t quite think there was anyone out there who upset you to that degree. Would you like some tea or something to calm down?”

“Don’t you dare tell me to ‘calm down’ when you are the reason I haven’t felt ‘calm’ for almost six months now!” You hold your forehead, and Ralph looks back at you, confused, sad and a little scared.

“I - I quite apologise, is there something I’ve done that’s brought this -”

“Don’t you go giving me the ‘oh, yes, quite’ spiel,” you mock his tone, “not when you’ve been lying to me under my own roof! I trusted you!” You stop yourself when you hear your voice crack at that last sentiment.

He swallows hard. “In what respect have I been dishon-”

“I saw H.P. while I was out, didn’t I?! Going towards that block of flats. So I tell him, I say, oh hang about, Pete, let me go grab Ralph so he can go back. And what do you think he told me?!” You ask, now stood next to the couch, squatting down to get eye level with Ralph.

His eyes dart as he wrings his hands, his eyes squeezing shut and open over and over again. “Yes, well, you see, that -”

“Right, all this umm-ing and ahh-ing is just… Annoying me even more,” you state, rubbing your temples. “I just want the facts, Ralph.”

“You said not to talk about anything from that weekend,” he mutters, and you look at him in disbelief.

“You’ve been holding out on me about this since November?!” You ask incredulously.

“You said! Not to talk! About anything! From that weekend!” Ralph jumps to his feet, punctuating every gap in his sentence with a chop to his palm.

You stand back up to level with him. “Yeah, as in all the shit about - God, are we really gonna drag all of that into light again, now?!”

“Well, if we could just talk about it, calmly,” Ralph gesticulates, but you scoff.

“You gave up all rights to that the moment you started lying to me,” your voice shakes. “It’s you, Ralph. You’re the one person I don’t expect to lie to me, since I don’t lie to you.”

He rasps in disbelief. “That’s not entirely true, now, is it? Or else you wouldn’t react so harshly. There’s something you’re hiding from me, isn’t there? Has your sense of charity finally worn, is that it?” He speaks with the venom in his tone that you’ve only ever heard whenever he’s talking about himself. “What, have you been counting the days down until you could throw me back out? Is that why you’re up until the ungodly hours, researching how to get rid of me sooner?”

You groan, pressing your fingers into your eyelids. “You can’t keep doing this, you can’t just keep making yourself the victim here when that obviously isn’t what I want!”

“Ah, yes, well, you must forgive me for not realising sooner that everything here is exactly as it always has been for my entire life,” Ralph spits. “People pretending to care about me to then use me for my money, or my social status, is one thing, but I have nothing here. Nothing but… Being a pitiful little man.”

“How many more times are we going to have this argument, Ralph? Everybody loves you here!” You punctuate every syllable of the first word with claps. “It’s not just because they pity you, because they don’t know you! They don’t know how you got here, or anything about your shitty family, people just like you! You have to stop being so narrow-minded and start seeing how this,” you gesture in circles in front of him, “affects the rest of us! Especially me, I’m out here having to - to keep track of what secrets I’m keeping and what lies I’m telling to who.”

“Yes, well. Nobody asked you to,” he mutters, looking at the floor.

Your blood now boiling, and all rationality out of the window, you scoff, “Oh, so now you’re ungrateful?!” His eyes snap to yours, but you carry on before he can interrupt you again. “I put my job on the line every time I have to leave early for you. I put my entire livelihood on the line harbouring a fugitive that doesn’t legally exist anywhere, not to mention that I have no clue what to do if you ever need urgent medical attention, if my landlord suddenly decides to kick me out, I don’t know how I’m going to keep them from finding out about you and potentially charging me a fuckton extra, I just - You can’t just think about everything I risk for you even once, can you?”

He frowns, “How dare you say that I don’t care?! I keep a healthy diet, despite all the times you decide we’ll just take away food instead, I keep to myself as much as possible other than the things that you have me do, and whenever I do leave the flat, I leave no trace that I was ever here!”

“Look, we’re getting away from the main problem, here, and I’m not skirting around it any more,” you shake your head. “Why did you lie to me?”

“Strictly speaking, I’ve never told a lie, merely omitted my meeting with Peter from any conversation between you and I,” he points out, and you scowl at him. He sighs, “But you don’t understand. If I told you that, you’d want to know why. And I can’t - there are far bigger things at play here,” he shakes his head.

You look at him in disbelief, “Like what?! Are you some kind of time-travelling spy? An intergalactic detective?”

“Clearly not,” Ralph scoffs.

“Then what, Ralph?” You raise your voice. “What possible reason do you have for - for causing me all that grief all those months ago, just to then go against the one thing you were supposed to do, putting the fate of whatever’s out there at risk all while only living the life of half a person, hm? Why would you choose to stay here like this?!”

“Because I’m in love with you, obviously!”

You and Ralph stare at each other for what feels like hours of silence. His wide, terrified eyes boring into yours as his whole face turns red. His lip quivers and then, suddenly, he pushes past you as you’re still frozen on the spot. You just about turn around to see the last of him rush out of the door, carrying his shoes in his hand.

His coat still hangs on the door, and you can see the snow is falling again. Not realising you’d been holding a breath in the whole time, you groan it out as you grab his coat, wrapping it around your arm to avoid it dragging on the floor, and head out to follow him. You see the display above the lift counting down and curse yourself for having worn yourself out on the way up here earlier.

You huff your way back down the stairs and try to find any trace of where Ralph could have gone. You study the footprints in the snow, vaguely recognising some in the shape of Ralph’s shoes, and decide that it’s as good a lead as any to try and follow them, though they quickly disappear once you get to the main street area. You notice someone loitering and decide it’s worth a shot.

Running across the road to meet them, you ask, “I know this sounds strange, but have you seen a guy go past? Had on a fuzzy blue jumper and no coat, I mean like -”

“Like he was wearing the Cookie Monster’s skin?” They ask with amusement. You sigh with relief, nodding hurriedly and they point, “Went towards the old high street, looked like he was tweaking.”

You thank them and start running as quickly as the resistance from the snow will allow you. It doesn’t help that the wind happens to be blowing the snowfall directly into your face, causing you to constantly stop to rub your eyes or sputter at whatever lands on your mouth.

Once you get back to the street you’d just been to moments before, you sigh with exhaustion as there doesn’t seem to be any trace of him. You still begin pacing the street, looking in every shop window that you pass. You wonder whether he’s hiding at his work, where you wouldn’t be able to get near him, and whether it would be worth asking in there. You’re on good enough terms with his colleague now, and perhaps the eclectic owner of the store might lift your spirits a little. There’s an awful lot of emotional weights on your chest right now, and you’re not sure which ones you’re supposed to be holding. You’re not entirely sure of anything right now, other than that you need to find Ralph.

Not paying attention to what’s in front of you at all, you end up almost vaulting over some poor baby’s stroller as their mother tries to get past you. “Oh my god, I am so sorry!” You apologise hurriedly, and she looks at you with a weirdly knowing smile.

“You looking for the guy who��s been cutting about in just his jumper?” She asks, gesturing to the coat in your arms.

Your eyes widen, “Yes! Oh my god! Have you seen him?!”

“Nice fella, helped me get the little’un across the road amongst all the snow. Really posh?” You nod again, hoping to egg her along. She eventually tells you, “Yeah, I told him to hurry up and get inside, he’ll catch his death! He went over there, towards them flats.” You don’t even need to look in the direction she’s pointing to know where she means.

You thank her profusely, adding a, “Cute baby!” over your shoulder as you quickly make your way down to your next clue.

Thankfully, it’s more than just that, as you find Ralph leaning against the wall of the building just next to the front door, squatting not far from the ground, his arms crossed over his torso and his head sunk low.

He doesn’t look at you as you walk over to him, but you hold his coat out in front of him. “At least put this on, yeah? That mum’ll have your throat, otherwise.” He silently reaches out for it and stands to put it on.

“He’s not here,” he mutters quietly. “Peter, I mean.”

“So, that was your answer to all of this?” You ask, your voice strangely calm considering how tumultuous your internal monologue is. “To just run back to your old life and leave this one all unanswered and up in arms? No care as to how it’d affect anyone else?”

“Of course I care about - well, I suppose the cat's out of the bag. Of course I care about you. It’s why I thought I shan’t burden you any further. I’ve already insulted your generosity by assuming you hadn’t the agency to tell me that you didn’t want me, without taking into account that perhaps you were being genuine. It’s what caused all that trouble when we were in Brighton. And I didn’t want you to feel any more obligated to do anything more out of - I can’t describe it as anything other than pity, but I never wanted you to feel as though you had to pity me, either.”

You sigh, “Look, I get it. It’s complicated as all fuck. Trust me, I’ve been trying to work out all the ins and outs and ups and downs of it all for months, now. But anything here, it just - we don’t know what it’s gonna do, you know? There’s far bigger forces at play here, you literally travelled through time, surely that’s cocked the universe up cosmically somehow? I don’t even know,” you groan in frustration.

“Well, obviously, I wouldn’t have agreed to stay unless I absolutely knew it wasn’t going to put you at any risk. But Peter stated that… Lauren and the rest, they’ve yet to make any sort of return. And since they could have chosen any time, they surely would have by now. I think… I think they stayed, in the past. And it’s not as though the sky’s turned upside down as a result, or that the world is being run by lizard people, now.”

“Depends on who you ask,” you mutter to yourself with a smirk, before looking over at Ralph. “I’m just hurt that you didn’t think to tell me. I know, I know, it was that weekend, but still. You could have told me that you’d thought it safe to stay, regardless of when you’d figured it out.”

“Would you have still been mad at me?” He asks quietly.

“Honestly? Probably,” you shrug. “I’d probably have argued the toss with you over every single possibility that things could still go wrong. But I’d never, ever force you to come here. Haven’t I been saying it all along? I don’t want you to leave. I’ve been dreading the day that you’re not in my bed anymore, that the flat becomes too quiet again, that I’ll have to spend my evenings watching TV alone without your constant nagging.”

“I thought that rather bothered you,” the hint of a soft smile just about tugs at the corners of Ralph’s lips.

“Oh, it does,” you admit, laughing softly, “but I don’t even want to think about a life where I won’t hear any of that, again. You know, and - and just being reminded of you all the time. All our friends always asking after you, and talking about you, never letting me get over you. I’d stay up at night, staring at the bedroom door from the sofa, wondering what’d be worse; that, or you living your old life meaning that you’d never have existed in mine, meaning I’d have no memory of you at all.”

“I’d always perished the thought of leaving - well, all of you, but especially you,” Ralph’s voice is still quiet. “You’d always - always tell me to tell my sister and Lauren to shove it, but honestly, I don’t think I could ever do that without you there with me. Even if they were to throw me out and I had to find my own way around, nobody else would hold a candle to…” He takes a deep sigh. “I always… I know I’ve always been the hopeless romantic, it’s one of my biggest flaws. And after falling for Lauren as soon as I’d seen her, and everything that happened thereafter, I swore to myself that I’d never let myself do that, again. That’s why I joined the French Foreign Legion, so I could focus on the task at hand, and learning how to build a camaraderie with my fellow soldiers. Except none of them wanted to do that. And so I left, and I ended up right here, and it was only a few streets away that -”

“That some dickhead spilled coffee all over you,” you finish his sentence with a smirk.

“I told you then as well, didn’t I, you’re far from one of those,” Ralph looks at you softly. “But I felt it all come back again. Everything I felt when I first saw Lauren. And before Lauren, when it was Maggie. And before Maggie, when it was - oh, heavens, you don’t need to hear about all my failings. But every time, I acted too quickly, and I only caused myself shame and heartbreak. And when I ended up here, I needed - well, something or someone, anything to anchor me, I had no clue what was happening to me. But you were so kind to me, from the very beginning. And I didn’t want to jeopardise your generosity by ruining it the same way I ruin most other things. So I kept my feelings to myself, for once, hoping that the time to leave would catch up before I let my feelings grow. But here we are,” he sighs. “I suppose I shall have to come clean to the others, and seek refuge with one of them. Though not one of your friends as well, I would never put you in that position. I’d have to perhaps tell Loz, out of all of those…”

You frown, “But why would you have to?” He opens his mouth to answer, but you interrupt him, “You’ve not once asked me how I feel about you.”

“Yes, well, you made some things rather obvious in the flat,” he replies coolly.

“Fair enough,” you nod, “but don’t you think I’d only overreact like that if I was really upset? And that I’d only be that upset if I cared about you so much that it’d break my heart to think you could have lied to me? You’ve yet to ask me how I feel about all of this.”

Ralph wrings his hands together, wincing as though bracing for a physical impact as he asks, “Of course, my apologies. So… How do you feel?”

“It’s hard to say,” you admit, trying not to laugh at his offended face. “Okay, I know, I’m being a dick again. I’m just… I dunno, even though, like, I know now that I can say it, it’s still not easy to just, say out loud for the first time.” You let out a long and shaky breath. “I think that… I’ve never been in love before. But if feeling safer being around you, and always wanting to share my life with you, and dreading the day I never see you again, and my heart soaring every time your face lights up with happiness… I think all of those things are the kind of guff people talk about in those romance films. And I didn’t think those kinds of feelings happened in real life, but… I think I know it, now.” You hold his face in your hands and finally say the words that have been dying to leave you all this time. “I love you, Ralph.”

He looks awestruck back at you. You study his face for any other reaction at all, and after a few beats, any sign of life since he remains unmoving, but he soon gleefully grins, leaning in to kiss you. You meet him halfway, moving your arms to wrap around his neck as you press peck after peck against his lips. His arms wrap around your waist as you just kiss him, and nothing else, because nothing else matters. You only break away from each other for air, and to turn your heads to then resume kissing each other as the snow falls around you both.

It’s only when someone clears their throat to get your attention, commenting, “I know it’s Valentine’s Day, but Christ on a bike,” as they push past you, that you actually step away from each other for more than a split second.

You catch Ralph’s eye and hold your hand out to him, “Wanna go get some jelly babies, put on those face masks that make you look like you’re glowing and curl up watching crappy movies and stuffing our faces?”

“I could enjoy watching paint dry in your company, my love,” Ralph smiles warmly at you as he takes your hand, and you take a step back, aghast, but still intertwined with him.

“And where was Ralph the smooth-talker hiding this whole time?!” You ask incredulously, laughing as you fall into step with him.

“Oh, that’s nothing, darling,” he comments, and your heart flies into your throat. You’d heard him call you that in your dreams a hundred times over, but actually hearing it drives you wild. “As I said, I’ve always been quite the hopeless romantic. I’m afraid you’re going to be seeing that at full throttle, now.”

You cackle so hard you bend double. “Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m gonna see Full Throttle Ralph,” you just about manage to choke out the name through your laughter, and he frowns at you.

“I’m simply warning you that, in agreeing to our courtship, you understand that Ralph Penbury does nothing by halves.”

“Oh god, I’m gonna have to do a lot of catching up, then!” You joke, but he squeezes your hand.

“Oh, good gracious, no, you certainly don’t have to do that! You already do more than enough for me, and I don’t show love just to receive it back, anyway,” he shakes his head.

The journey back to your flat takes the best part of an hour, mostly because you keep interrupting your walk to pull Ralph in for more kisses on the way. You can’t help it, the way his face blushes with the cold just makes him look so adorable, who wouldn’t want to kiss him?!

Plus, when you’d gone to pick his sweets up, he’d told you he had somewhere else to be, run out of the shop, and returned minutes later just as you were leaving, with a bunch of flowers. “I’m cutting it a little short, I know, but would you like to be my Valentine?” He asks as he offers you them.

You take them as you exchange the bag of his sweets into his hands, gasping, “How did you find these so last minute?!”

“Well, they were in our window display,” he admits bashfully, and you laugh.

“Wait, these are from your shop?!”

Ralph nods. “Yes, but I don’t think they mind, too much. Babs was punching the air and telling me to ‘Get in, my son’, but I couldn’t leave you outside and I was technically born in time to be her father, let alone son,” he shakes his head, causing you to laugh even more.

“Shit, I forgot to answer you, didn’t I?!” You look over at Ralph adoringly. “I’d love to be your Valentine, Ralphie. D’you wanna be mine? I’m afraid the sweets won’t last nearly as long as these, as an offering, but -”

“They’re perfect. As is my Valentine this year,” he beams, kissing the part of your forehead not obscured by your hat.

Once you get home, you change out of your snow-soaked clothes and decide to wear the pyjamas you’d both gotten for Christmas from your parents. You wonder whether to tell your friends right off the bat what’s happened today. You know Ralph can keep a secret, but ever since you’d said those four words to him, he’s been practically shouting his devotion to you from the rooftops. As much as you can’t wait to share in this big milestone of yours with your best friends, you just want nothing more than some uninterrupted time to spend catching up with all the affection you’ve been so desperately wanting to give to Ralph this whole time, and vice versa. Besides, they’ve all got dates tonight, too. You don’t want to interrupt their evenings. That’s what you’ll tell them when they inevitably find out.

Instead, you spend the afternoon and well into the evening pampering yourself and your - Boyfriend? What would you even call Ralph? Although that remains short lived as he realises that face masks are just a barrier preventing more kissing from happening, and he pouts until he’s got full access once again. Every peck comes with its own sweet nothing - a declaration of love, a compliment, a comment of gratitude. Although he’d told you it wasn’t necessary, you do try to match his energy - but it just becomes exhaustive after a while.

You had your heart set on ordering from your favourite Chinese takeaway from this morning, before the day's events had transpired, but Ralph is more than happy to eat from there, as well. You even go so far as to try and teach him how to hold chopsticks, though his adorable attempts to keep interlocking your fingers to pull your hand to his lips to to kiss it instead are far more adorable.

After watching some cheesy rom-coms - or rather, spending the night cuddling and constantly kissing Ralph some more while Sandra Bullock tries to find love over and over on the TV - you eventually retire to bed. As you do, your phone chimes its specific tone to tell you the group chat has updated. Laying in bed, you unlock your phone to see a photo of Scott and his partner, on their sofa with a glass of wine each, which is then followed by Grace sharing a snap of her and her boyfriend wearing face masks together in her bathroom. Anna sends a mysterious snap of two fancy-looking meals and two glasses being clicked together, one certainly in her own hand but the other is held by a mystery man, and Connor shares a very sweet photo of him and Ralph's friend Lauren in a restaurant booth together.

Ralph's head rests on top of yours as you show him the photos, and you can feel his smile getting wider at the photo of his two friends from different parts of his life here sitting so closely together. You lean your head up to grin at him, "Should we?”

He smiles back at you as you switch to your camera app. You aim it at you and Ralph and look back over at him, for him to press a kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes, smiling into it, and tap at the screen, your muscle memory still knowing exactly where the shutter is without having to see the screen. You type “happy vday from me and my valentine, too 😘”, hit send, laugh loudly with Ralph as you see all four speech bubbles show up at once, and then put your phone on silent and lay it face-down on your nightstand.

You roll back over to snuggle up against his chest, and he wraps his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin as he embraces you. “Goodnight, my love,” you hear him whisper in your ear. “Pleasant dreams.”

“Night, Ralphie. Love you,” you mutter back, holding him tight and breathing in deeply, finally free to indulge all you want in the prospect of having a relationship with the man you’ve been in love with for the last five months.

next chapter

#ralph timewasters #ralph timewasters x reader #ralph timewasters x you #ralph timewasters fanfic #ralph timewasters imagine #ralph penbury #ralph penbury x reader #ralph penbury x you #ralph penbury fanfic #ralph penbury imagine #ralph timewasters fluff #ralph penbury fluff #bsbl #fic: bsbl #*myfics #fic: ralph

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coffeehighallthetime-blog · 5 months

Text

I Am Kind not Complacent Chpt 8

chpt 8

word count: 6K

pairing: gow heimdall x reader, young

A/N: hello, again. it's been a minute. I'm sorry this is late, I have been going through it 👉👈 again! just busy end of the year craziness. also everytime I opened this document it made me want to scream. I still don't love it???? but I guess that's ok. this is for fun and I need to remember that. thank you as usual to everyone who likes and comments and thank you for your patience, I hope you enjoy it <3

P.S: I named our reader for this chapter. Her name is Yen, it's close to YN for ppl who still want to read it that way but is also more of a name for people who have an easier time with that. let me know how you guys feel about it and I can change it or not. i just wanted to test out a "name" to make the writing feel a little less clunky but idk :\

@engardeitsme I'm back!! i missed you :..) i hope you enjoy and thank you for talking with me a couple weeks ago!

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“Why are your teeth gold?”

Heimdall turned his head to look at the girl, a brow raised.

“What?”

“Why are your teeth gold?” The girl repeated, tapping her incisor with her nail. He snorted, shaking his head.

“ I heard you. It’s just a stupid question, so I was allowing you the opportunity to change it.”

“ Oh,” she took a moment to ponder and spoke again, “Are they solid gold, or are they just gold plated?” She smirked at him. Heimdall rolled his eyes, folding his arms behind his head.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to say things about a person’s appearance they can’t change?...oh, wait! I guess she couldn’t.” Yen’s mischievous smile quickly pulled into a pout.

“Hey!” Heimdall cackled as a hand came down to smack his chest, and he grabbed the girl’s wrist to stop another blow.

“I let you get one in out of pity.” she pulled her wrist free.

“Yeah well, didn’t your precious All-Father ever tell you-... oh wait, that’s right he’s too busy ignoring you to teach you any manners.” Heimdall frowned, looking up at the girl. Yen sighed, shaking her head. “Poor poor Heimdall. You have all the training in the world on how to be a spoiled prince and a warlord, but you don’t know the first thing about how not to be a prick-!”

The wind was knocked out of her as she suddenly hit the grassy floor, and the two were rolling to the bottom of the hill, a jumble of loose limbs and shouting. Their bodies settle at the bottom, and Heimdall and Yen lay sprawled out next to each other. Heimdall looked at the girl, grass in her hair and a smear of mud across her right cheek. She had green stains on her shoulders and pebbles bunched up in the folds of her shirt. He did not look better, with dandelion seeds in his braids and rocks digging into his back. His pristine white shirt was covered in yellow, green, and brown. Their chests heaved and giggles started to bubble before they were both aware. Heimdall heard Yen’s first, her laugh bounding out of her head and out her mouth, between fits of snorts and chuckles. Heimdall found himself mirroring her, his laughter thrumming in his ears as they looked at each other.

“ They’re solid gold,” Heimdall mumbled through a laugh. Yen calmed her own giggles and nodded. They looked up at the sky, watching the clouds shift past their vision. On slow days they had started sparing together, then stopped to talk, sometimes about how bad the other was, sometimes about how they had slept. Yen would offer a walk into the surrounding wood and the boy would refuse, ending their meetings. At some point, however, he started to say yes, despite the idea of stumbling together in twigs and bushes. At some point in the passing days, when the leaves had started to fall and the air had gotten cooler, they would meet at dawn, walk through the woods into a clearing, lay in the tall grass, and talk for as long as they could before their guardians would look for them. Yen would talk endlessly about her different plants and collect cuttings as they walked. Heimdall had somehow found himself holding her pack for her collected specimens.

Yen grabbed her bag and sifted through the plants they had found, humming as she sorted them by type.

“Do you know what those all do?” the boy asked, leaning up on his elbows.

“Vaguely. I’ve learned about some of them. But I also see what the animals in this area are eating and take them home to test them!”

“Test them?”

“Mhm,”

“Like what, you eat them and see what happens?”

“Sometimes,” Yen shrugged, looking over to see Heimdall glaring at her, “What?”

“That’s idiotic! You could get sick, eating random things from the forest floor,” he shivered at the thought, grabbing the pack. Yen frowned and held it farther away from him.

“A little late to be worried, Weasel. Besides, I only test what I’ve seen other animals use. Worse case, I induce regurgitation.” The girl explained that this is how she’s been able to make new medicines and learn the toxicity of poisons to develop antidotes. She let him read her notes and the extent of her research on the Asgardian flora. She was very passionate about her findings, though Heimdall could not stop the sinking feeling of worry. How many times she had gone into the woods alone before he started coming with her.

“ You know we already had a lot of good Asgardian medicine right? There is no reason for you to be doing this.”

“Well that’s not true, “ she smiled softly, pointing to her older notes, “ I’ve had to do this since I lived alone in Vanaheim. It’s important I know myself. When you are alone, who is going to help you?” she shrugged, “ sure it’s a little risky, but to be able to depend on myself? That’s not something I want to give up.”

“But-”

“Besides,” she held a hand up, urging him to let her finish, “ We will be working together in the future, right? If we end up in the middle of nowhere and you get hurt, I want to be able to help you when we don’t have access to Asgardian medicine.” He faltered. She surely couldn’t know more than their medics. Heimdall swallowed a shallow breath and looked away.

“Well… now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“How do you mean?”

“Obviously by the time we will be old enough to go on missions, no enemy will be able to lay a hand on me. So I’ll never be hurt.” Heimdall smirked and Yen snorted, shoving his shoulder lightly. Heimdall pushed his shoulder back against her hand and she giggled shaking her head. There was silence, and he could hear her thoughts swimming. She wanted to show him everything from the past week, but she felt nervous after their conversation on the medicine.

“Right then, show me what you’ve learned,” Heimdall sat up, a small smirk on his lips. Yen frowned, sitting up on her elbows. Heimdall rolled his eyes. “Come off it, you’ve wanted to show off your little trick since we got here.” She bashfully sat the rest of the way up, fiddling with her hands. He looked at her expectantly, hearing her nervousness spinning as she siked herself up. “Any day now.”

“Okay, okay!” She grunted more to herself, shaking her hands to loosen up. She slowed her breath, holding her hands over the grass. “Rót,” she whispered, her palms glowing a violet light, the earth rippled apart as a single vine sprouted slowly, winding up and curling around the girl’s wrist and out. Heimdall’s smirk fell and he just stared as the vine wound around on itself. Leaves and small purple blossoms sprouted from it as it grew thicker. Yen let out a final breath, relaxing her shoulders as the glowing stopped and she looked at her creation, smiling as it flexed and relaxed in the cool breeze. Heimdall leaned forward, getting a better look at the plant.

“ A root?” he asked, reaching to touch it, and had to hold back a laugh when it seemed to reach back out to him. Yen nodded with a small smile.

“Yeah, cool right?” Heimdall shrugged, his lip once again quirked as he teased.

“Eh, sure. Would be better if it did something though. Is it for you to make flower crowns for everyone while they sign peace treaties.” He raised a brow as the girl matched his grin, raising a hand.

“Not exactly. “Rót,” She repeated, snapping her fingers. Heimdall barely took in a breath by the time the vine had darted at him, winding around his leg and lifting him into the air. His body spun stiffly in the air as the root suspended him. A hand reached up to his shoulder, stopping the motion, and his magenta eyes met hers. He looked like a carp out of water, trying to come up with something to say. Yen giggled at the boy’s speechlessness. “You shouldn’t judge things at face value, Heimdall. You of all people should know that.”

“Put me down.”

“Oh, but aren’t you having fun up there?”

“Watch yourself, Songbird,” There was no venom in his words. Nonetheless, she put her hands under him, helping him lower back down into the grass. As he brushed himself off, her magic dissipated and the vine shrank back into the dirt. Yen rocked on her heels, a nervous grin pulling at her cheeks. Heimdall shook his head with a snort. “Okay, yes. That was fairly impressive, and can actually be useful.”

“Even though it's Vanir magic?” she shifted her weight, looking at him nervously. Heimdall’s face softened slightly. He had so many preconceptions before the two had met. How they were savage warriors. Stupid, tricky, untrustworthy. She wasn’t like the Vanir people his father had spoken to him about, and Odin wouldn’t lie to him, right? So that meant the girl must have just been different from them. An exception.

“Don’t make me compliment you again. Once was enough.” Yen knew it was reassurance in his own way, and let it go. Heimdall nudged her shoulder, already starting to walk. “Come on, let’s start heading back.” She smiled and nodded, falling in step with the boy. Heimdall swallowed, his shoulders stiff. “So…what else have you learned?” “Well,” The girl pondered for a moment, thinking through her past lessons. “ Freya showed me how to leave markers to amplify magic, which is pretty neat. But I still need to work on my aim for it. I also know how to grab small objects without touching them now, and I can hopefully do bigger things soon…” She trailed off.

“What?”

“I just… feel like she doesn't want to teach me anymore. She keeps me at basics, but I know I understand it already… I just don’t know if she’s grown tired of it or if I’m just not getting it like I should…” Heimdall frowned. This was not the first time Yen had brought this up.

“She’s always been a stiff. It’s not you.”

“It’s not just her though…” Yen rubbed the back of her neck, looking away as the boy stared.” Don’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you stopped and just told me what was bugging you… I didn’t know the old goat had started shutting you out too.” Yen swallowed a shallow breath and nodded.

“He’s just… He won’t tell me much more about the other realms when I ask anymore. It’s like they gave me a hobby and dangled it like a carrot for a horse so they could take me away from some bigger picture…when he and Freya started teaching me about plant life and then left me to my own devices… “Yen plucked handfuls of grass from next to her and dropped it just as fast, over and over until there was dirt under her nails as she spoke. “ I wanted to be useful… I drowned myself in it… I wanted to see if it could help me in some way…Odin came to me, congratulating me on my new ‘goddesshood in medicine” she scoffed as she repeated the words. “...I could just tell he was filled with disappointment… at my uselessness. And who can blame him!”Heimdall rolled his eyes.

“You are not useless. Those two are just holding you back. Don’t blame that on the All-Father.”

“I’m not! I just-” She groaned, raking her fingers through the dirt, “Mimir says there’s a lot I don’t know still…but he’s also not showing me things. he says I’m doing well at controlling my powers but I’m just worried that even if I’m not trying… it’s hard wanting to talk to people and not knowing if they agree with you or being nice to you because they want to or because…” she trailed off, looked at the boy next to her, “I don’t want to be… I want…” she struggled to find her words for a moment, “ I want to earn trust, not take it.” She spoke finally, after trying to catch her words. Hiemdall looked at her for a moment, before shrugging.

“I trust you.”

“You do?” she asked, caught off guard by the response. “I guess…I just am worried that-”

“That my change of opinion was your doing? Don’t flatter yourself, Songbird.” Heimdall snorted, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Maybe you can control those braindead Einjhar to do your bidding and treat you like a princess, but I’m a god.”

“So?” Yen frowned, glaring weakly at the boy.

“So?” So, I am the god of foresight. I cannot be swayed by petty tricks. I can sense intention, and since the beginning, I have never felt… uh..” his face grew a light pink as he realized his point. She stared at him, a brow raised, waiting for the end of his thought. Heimdall coughed into his hand, feeling the warmth radiating off his cheek, “I’ve… never felt uneasy around you…I trust you… we were using each other, and we still are,” he looked at her, his lips lifting into a shy grin, “But I don’t mind it anymore…”

Yen’s cheeks started to grow red, her eyes widening slightly and she looked away, feeling herself warm up despite the fall air. Heimdall swallowed, walking faster ahead of the girl.

“Come on, you have your lesson with the old goat and I have a meeting with the All-Father.” Yen grinned. She quickly recovered, coughing and starting a chuckle.

“Oho! So you aren’t being ignored.” She teased, hands crossing behind her back. Heimdall sighed, his hands squeezing at his sides. Odin had wanted to talk to Heimdall about how Yen had progressed, and when she would be of use to him. She caught up the the boy, softening her posture, and nudged him with her elbow. “It’ll be fine. You’ll see. I’m sure he just wants to tell you how well you’re doing!”

“Well of course, I’ve been doing well in my assignments, it’s just a regular report. Nothing to worry about.” Yen chuckled, reaching into a pouch on her belt.

“Hey, I know you may not want to. But I’ve been working on this medicine for your migraines.” she held out the little leather sack to him. He hesitated looking to her for some kind of reassurance. Her thoughts were full of nothing but the want to help. “Don’t worry, it’s just Feverfew and Butterbur mixed with some mint and juniper. Steep it and drink a cup before bed.” He sighed and took the pouch, tucking it into his pocket.

“ You’re pushing this “trust” envelope, and I’ve just admitted to it. I shouldn’t have to take anything for help. I just need to get through it until it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Humor me. Try it once, and only if you really can’t handle it yourself. Oh, and if you could maybe tell the All-Father how hard I’ve been working… I would appreciate it…”

‘I don’t want to be left behind.’

Her voice echoed in his head. Heimdall looked at the girl as they split ways in the large cabin

“I will.”

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“It’s been eight months!” Odin’s voice rattled through his study. Mimir stood still, hands behind his back as Odin paced to and fro. Hugin and Munin sat in the rafters, their eyes glowing as they peered down at the men. “ Eight months! And you tell me nothing is progressing with the little thing?”

“Apologies, All-Father, but it appears she is still having a hard time adjusting to Asgard.”

“Pah!” Odin grunted, leaning on his desk. “I’ve seen her, Mimir. She must be holding out on you, or something! Being extra clever. Hiding her powers. Munin has seen her in the woods a few weeks back, using magic. And we know what she is capable of. The question is why is she hiding from us all of a sudden,” Odin paced towards his desk, uncorking a pot of mead. he poured a goblet at held it out to the Goodfellow.

“Ah, no thank you, All-Father,” Mimir waved a hand. Odin huffed and slammed the bottle onto his desk, taking a deep gulp from the goblet.

“She was doing so well before. I offer her safety, offer her family, I offer her trust! And then her progression just halts.”

“Freya has been teaching her, and she has been practicing. We have both encouraged her not to use any magic until she can control herself.” Mimir tried to reassure him without bringing too much attention to the fact the girl was gifted enough to use magic without help. The two had done their best to hide the progression of her gifts to stop the All-Father’s advances from using the girl. But with how strong she was already getting, it was getting more difficult to hide, especially while keeping her in the dark about the fact she couldn’t show her true potential. It had gotten to the point even Mimir and Freya could not keep up with the pace of the girl’s learning. As though she spent hours outside of lessons practicing the control of her magic.

“Well, it’s not working. If anything she’s become stir-crazy. I don’t care if she loses control. I can do damage control! What I can’t do, is use a scared little girl that’s too afraid to use her powers, to help me gain control of the realms! She tried to use it against me! To get me to, what, compliment my son? useless! Don’t you see? We need to get this under control so we can use her, and so that she will not be a threat. It’s already starting to get out of hand. If only we had tracked her down sooner,” Odin’s voice was rough with frustration as he pulled at the ends of his beard. “ She doesn’t even know the extent of what she is. She’s a silly little child, who sees the world as back and white. And I’d like to keep it that way until she fully trusts us. Then we can finally-” Mimir was about to interject when the door to the study opened.

“ I’m here for my report, All-Father,” Heimdall spoke with a short bow. Mimir stiffened and looked at the boy from the corner of his eye. The two gods turned to Heimdall, their figures dark and towering in the candlelight of the darkened amber of the study. They knew. They knew he had heard, how could he not? Heimdall stood ridged at the door, his eyes glowing in the darkened doorway.

‘ The boy will ruin everything,’ Heimdall heard Mimir’s thoughts rattle into his skull. The Goodfellow’s anxiety came off in waves. ‘protect Yen… keep her safe… the lad will say too much…’

Heimdall looked up at Mimir, his brow cocked. Keep Yen safe from what? What wasn’t the old goat sharing with the All-Father? His father would be the one who knows best how to protect the girl if she was in danger. Odin straightened, rolling his shoulder back and nodding his head to his son.

“Come in, Heimdall. Mimir, my friend, we will talk more later. You may leave. You have a lesson with the girl now, don’t you?

“Yes, All-Father,” Mimir bowed, ready to take his leave. As he started to shut the door on his way out, Odin called out.

“And Mimir, please try to push the girl further. I’d like for her to be able to aid in the Jötunheim treaties. It's either that, “He sighed, “ or we may have to call the whole thing off… put her back where she came from.” Mimir nodded, hoping that he could keep the visage of the girl’s powers useless just long enough for Odin to lose interest. Odin however knew something was amiss. He knew just from the small passings with the child that she was brighter than his allies claimed. And he knew exactly who to ask to get the feast of information he craved. Anyone would need to be blind to not see that the two children had grown close. The whisperings from Hunin and Mugin of the two sneaking off to the others’ room in the night, to being spotted in the woods. Odin was pleased, thinking his son finally stepped up to the title of his spy and learning all he could about the Vanir creature. Still, he was worried that the girl may have also tricked his son as well, so he needed to make Heimdall give any information willingly. He picked up a scroll and licked the tip of his quill before dipping it into a pot of ink, scribbling away as he spoke to his son.

“I’m sorry, Heimdall, but it seems I’ve called you here for nothing. Mimir has shared with me how our guest has been doing and it seems the lessons aren’t going anywhere.” Odin rubbed his temple, taking a seat in his chair, “their reports say she is unable to grasp basic concepts, her understanding of both Vanir and Asir magic is only basic, and she seems to be causing more trouble than the entire debacle is worth. I think you were right before, my son. She’s truly better off back home.”

“That’s not true!” Heimdall’s voice carried through the room with an echo. He composed himself, swallowing. Odin looked up from his reports, staring at Heimdall with his good eye, head tilted.

“Not true?” Well, I will say she has been improving her skills of manipulation. What with trying to use them on me? I wouldn’t be surprised if she’d gotten to you, boy. She’s just not worthy to be among us.”

Heimdall swallowed. “She has been doing remarkably well, All-Father. I’ve seen it.”

“Seen it?’ Odin replied, pushing himself from his chair. “Tell me, Heimdall. What Mimir and Freya refuse to.”

“I have gained her trust, All-Father. Mimir and Freya are not being fully honest with you…” The boy’s eyes glinted as he looked at his father across the room, “But I’m not sure why, yet.”

“You are suggesting that my most trusted allies are not being truthful with me, Heimdall? This is a very serious accusation, you understand.” Odin sauntered over to the boy, making him take a step back on instinct. He swallowed, pushing himself back forward, hands behind his back.

“I simply believe she may be… too anxious to show them what she can do. But I have heard from her myself that she is eager to serve Asgard, father. She wants to be of use to you.” Heimdall urged, taking another step closer to his father. Odin hummed, his hand tightening around his staff. Why was the old goat not telling him any of this?

“Heimdall,” Odin started, stalking closer to the boy. “Have you noticed anything in peculiar about the child?” he circled the boy, never looking him in the eye. “Has she shown you things behind closed doors? Anything of use?” Heimdall swallowed, concentrating on his heartbeat.

“ She is… she is able to quiet the mind, All-Father…” Odin halted his steps behind the boy, glancing down at him from the corner of his eye. Heimdall continued. “I’ve seen her… calm people, quiet unruly thoughts… I… she’s done it to me, before.” Odin scoffs.

“I don’t need my soldiers softened.”

“I think it can be of use to you, All-Father.” Heimdall spoke quickly, turning to face the man. “To… to manipulate the other side?” Odin hummed, tilting his staff the boy to urge him to continue. “She also… She also has been studying Asgardian and Vanir magic and has been able to start creating hybrid potions.” Heimdall pulled the medicinal tea from his pocket, turning to hand it to Odin. “She made this, just today… she said it’s for headaches. It’s made from things she studied herself in the woods with the help of Queen Freya’s knowledge. With help… She could use her medicines to strengthen Asgard and weaken enemy forces. I do not know why your allies are hiding this from you, All-Father, but I assure you she is worthy of staying here.” Odin’s lip curled into a grin and he hummed, reaching out to grab the pouch. He took a whiff of the tea. What else were his dear wife and friend hiding? And was it truly even their fault, or was this girl able to weasel her way into their heads?

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“Mimir, did you know that if you mix yarrow with the inner bark of birch trees, it will cure nearly any stomach ailment.”

“Oh? And did the queen teach you that?”

“Well, sort of. She taught me about yarrow but then while I was with Heimdall in the woods we found some rabbits scratching at birch trees,”

“What were you two doing in the woods?” Mimir interjected, a brow raised. The girl frowned, as she thought this unimportant to her explanation.

“We were brambling,” Yen said, as though this were a normal thing for two twelve-year-old gods. “So anyway, I told him, “Wonder why they’re doing that” but he didn’t seem to care. But I kept watching them and they were licking at the inner bark! so then I collected a sample and see what it could be used for, and guess what!”

“Wait wait, you tested this on yourself?”

“Well I didn’t want to poison anyone,” she shrugged, then pointed at her findings. “look see? I tested it with different plant combinations and by itself.” she rolled her sleeves up to reveal some light scares. “I tested to see if it could used for physical injuries, but it didn’t do much. So then I thought, “Maybe it’s for internal problems?” so then I ate some nightshade berries-”

“You did what?!”

“It’s ok, it was just a couple-”

“Lass, lass…” Mimir rubbed his face, trying hard not to shout with frustration. She truly had turned into quite the little scientist, and though most of the time Mimir found her brilliant, it was not hard to also easily find himself drowning with worry. Like when she had measured the amount of toxicity needed to be consumed from said nightshades to cause death and even made some medicines from the poisonous plant as well. All this to say, this was not a special occurrence, but it worried the Goodfellow just the same every time. “You are… quite the little toxicologist,” he chucked through his nervousness, reading the girl’s findings while wringing his hands together. “I thought we talked about this. About being more careful about-” he sighed, “About not using yourself as an experiment. We have all the medicine you would need here, why go and try to make more, hurting yourself in the process?” Yen’s excitement wilted as she wrang her own hands out, a tick she had picked up from the man, gods forbid he ever lost his hands.

“Well… what if we don’t have anymore? What if someone gets hurt and the medicine we have doesn’t work? What if someone accidentally eats nightshade?... I just want to be prepared. Help people…be useful…”

“You are useful, Sweet girl.” Mimir assured, “ And despite my points… you are right… you have found many interesting findings and new medicines for Asgard.

“ Then why won’t the All-Father show any interest in me? Has he forgotten about me?” She looked up at the man, her eyes pleading. “ Does he not see I’m willing to sacrifice myself to be of use, here? You tell him everything I’ve done right?” Mimir swallowed and nodded.

“Of course, Daughter. I tell him all the time about how much you’re progressing.” his lies stung his throat, but not as much as knowing what Odin would use her for if he knew her actual potential.

“Then… I’m just not good enough, then…” She whispered to herself. Mimir shook his head, unable to hold in his utter disbelief.

“Not good enough? That’s not even a funny joke, Lass!” she looked up at the puck, confused.”

“But I’m not-”

“Nope! Surely you’re mistaken. It must have been a joke. Because I’m sitting in front of a child goddess who’s been here less than a year and already knows more about medicine than most of our damn medics! A girl, who can command the attention of an entire room! A girl who put that little brat prince in his place and even became his friend!”

“I-I wouldn’t say we’re-”

“That boy would not bother walking into the woods and waiting, albit annoyed at your birch bark notes if you weren’t friends.” she shut her mouth, a flush on her face. Mimir chuckled, crouching down to her level. “ You are fiercely kind in the face of the strange and taxing, you are sharp as a blade and undeniably brilliant. And the All-Father will see so soon enough.”

The girl left after her lesson and Mimir dropped his hopefulness, falling into his chair and grabbing his book of observations. A list of words describing his little companion. his face faded as he read down the list after a few months of teaching the girl. his hand trembled as he wrote down his recent evaluation. Odin had been right. She saw the world as black and white, and truly wanted to be good. But the truth was simply not that simple. Nothing ever was. Mimir had wanted to keep her in the dark for just a day longer. Let her see herself in the sun for one more day. But that was dangerous and he knew it. Mimir moved to the margin, where he had her goddesshoods marked, on the first day, he had written her base abilities and what they thought she was at first. “Goddess of peace, goddess of logic…goddess of medicine…” goddess of…

He needed to speak to Freya. She would be better at giving Yen the news. Tell her that everything has a shadow.

⋆⭒˚｡⋆☾⋆⭒˚｡⋆

“I need to show you something,” Yen looked up from her notes to see Freya standing in front of her. Her face was stone, and the shadows of the sun through the window fanned over her face, painting her worry marks. Yen frowned, sitting up a bit straighter and setting her pencil down.

“Show me what?”

“ Just come with me, and we'll talk, alright?” Freya offered a steady hand, and Yen took it, her little fingers enveloped fully in the Valkyrie’s gloved hand. She ushered her tenderly towards the fireplace and they sat down on the bundle of furs and tapestries on the floor. Yen sat across from Freya and watched as she pulled some research journals, illustrations, and scrolls. “When you are ready,” Freya spoke, sliding the scrolls to Yen. There was not another word between the two, just the crackle and pop of wood splintering in the fire. As Yen stared at the pages, Freya was patient, watching and waiting for the girl to start reading when she was ready. Yen finally picked up the journals and did not finish reading until she had gone through every document.

The day her village had burned to the ground.

The first time she told Freya she should have died, were she mortal, but didn’t.

The resources of different towns and villages, of a girl wandering into their domain and leaving without a trace. Some spoke of her kind words and the peace she brought to them. But in the timeline, soon it was nothing but stories of ruin. Of villages filled with nothing but drones. shells of what were once beautiful towns and cultures reduced to nothingness. What was once left to be peaceful and logic-built structures soon dissolved into a spiral of selfish behaviors. Stealing instead of trading, abandoning children, and killing people to take their land. How was a child to know such loose rules would lead mortals to find twisted loopholes? Then again isn’t that what mortals are best at?

“Why are you showing me this?” Yen whispered, rubbing at her eyes as her vision got blurry. “I know all this already, I know that I made a mistake b-because I was stupid, why are you doing this to me?” she spoke, her voice harsher this time as she finally looked up at Freya, who sat still, keeping her eyes cast down.

“Because you need to know why you can do these things,” Freya spoke, sifting through the journals, bringing one up and flipping through to a page. “Here. this one. What did you say to this village before you left them?”

“I don’t want to do this-”

“What did you say.” Freya’s voice boomed against the walls of books surrounding them, and Yen squeezed her hands against the knobs of her knees.

“I said…” she mumbled, trying to remember her last commands, “I told them to walk away from the battlefield….to take care of themselves…”

“And they did…” Freya spoke softly now, “And when they take care of themselves, they stop taking care of their community. They left each other for dead.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Yen’s voice crumbled into sobs, her shoulders shaking, “I-I didn’t want them to-”

“Breath, Yen…breath,” Freya rested a hand on the girl’s head, letting her take her time to ground herself. “Your words have power, but so do your intentions. If we can practice properly, we will be able to give simple demands without worrying how they will be interpreted. On the other hand…” Freya continued, pointing at a different passage. “It almost seems as though your powers currently default to pushing people towards disarray… which means I believe we have found for certain the two sides of your coin.” she grabbed the girl’s shoulders, squeezing just slightly. Yen looked up, her tears slowing. Freya sighed, calming her heartbeat. “Yen, ever since you came to Asgard,…even before we met, I have seen you. You are the goddess of peace and logic and that can be seen from your ability to defuse altercations and to calm even the most ill-tempered…but I’ve also seen how out of sorts your own temper can get…how angry you are inside…”

“I’m not angry,” Yen whispered, but Freya shook her head, shushing the girl.

“You are angry, and in pain and uncertain. You use logic at one turn and act on impulse at the other. You are a paradox, sweet girl.” Freya held the girl’s face in her calloused hands. “ And I know you know…you are a smart girl, and you’ve been putting the pieces together yourself.” Yen placed her hands over Freya's, and she could feel her little fingers tremble over her own.

“I don’t know what to do…”

“Chaos is not something to be afraid of…” Freya smiled just a bit, holding the girl’s face tighter. “It is the order of the world. It is an order of all things. And it is also not all that you are. Do you remember what I said before? About how we were going to find all your sides and help you put them together?” Yen could barely nod with her face trapped in the woman’s hands. The Valkeryie laughed, pressing their heads together. “You will be ok, goddess of peace, goddess of logic… goddess of medicine and healing…” She offered, to soften this very blow, “goddess of chaos, goddess of discord.”

A Cocauphany. That’s all you could call it. As sobs reverberated through the room, thrumming between the two until there was nothing left.

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#gow x you #heimdall gow #heimdall x reader #god of war ragnarok #god of war x reader #gow heimdall #heimdall x you #i am kind not complacent #god of war ragnarok x reader #coffeehighallthetime blog #this chapter was so hard for no reason #i still hate her #but i'm trying to not care and have fun

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radioactivepeasant · 6 months

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Snippet Monday Week 2: Blackmail au

First

(Last time, Sig was preparing to go back to Haven with Jak to retrieve Mar and deal with Krew)

It wasn't hard to give Kleiver the slip once they were out of the air train. Sure, they'd probably be paying for it later, judging by the irate yell behind them, but Damas would understand. And if he didn't, Sig would. Jak needed to be seen running -- apparently for his life -- from Wastelanders. Nobody could know that what was about to happen was premeditated.

"Down!" Daxter hollered from Jak's back, and he dropped into a slide under two bewildered men carrying a crate.

"You little devil-!" Kleiver bellowed, puffing for air, "ohhh you're gonna regret it when I catch up to you!"

"You mean if you catch up to us," Daxter taunted.

"Giddyup, Jak! We're free!"

He cackled like a madman, shaking Jak's scarf like reins.

"Don't overdo it, Dax."

Jak caught a passing driver by the ankle and yanked them down.

"Sorry, man. Need to borrow this."

It was second nature to zip between traffic lanes, under bridges and scant inches above pedestrians' heads. For having had to learn to drive by trial and error, Jak was pretty good at not hurting anyone but himself in his more reckless moments. There was a reason KG Patrol Cars 9, 13, and 4 would actively refuse to initiate high speed chases if they spotted him. Unlike most of their fellow attack dogs, some of Praxis's men actually had senses of self-preservation.

"Slow down, Jak, we're losing him!" Daxter urged.

They couldn't "accidentally" lead Spargus to the Underground's door if they actually outran their pursuers.

Daxter shaded his eyes and squinted, looking for Kleiver. He squeaked and turned to thump Jak’s shoulders.

"Speed up, Jak!"

"Speed up, slow down- pick one!" Jak grumbled.

"Speed up! He brought friends!" Daxter pointed behind him as if Jak could actually look. "It's the grabby lady in yellow!"

Jak ditched the zoomer at the mouth of the alley and ran, silently praying that Mar would actually be in the hideout and not one of the safehouses Kor preferred. If Mar wasn't there, this whole impulsive plan was for nothing, and the Wastelanders would probably lock him in the hold to keep him from making a second attempt.

Please, please, please-

Jak burst through the door, disheveled and out of breath. Come on, come on-

A small, innocent face peeked out from underneath one of the bunks, and Jak almost collapsed in relief.

"Jak! About time you showed up!"

The bizarrely young Samos barely looked up from the map he was studying.

"Tess said something about you running off with Wastelanders! Dragged Torn out to go look for you and everything. You better have a heck of a good reason for that, or else we're never going to hear the end of it once he gets back."

"No time," Jak said brusquely. "I gotta get the kid out of here. It's not safe."

Samos stopped and actually looked up this time. "Not safe? Is it KG? Have they found us?!"

Daxter dropped from Jak's back and rolled his eyes. "The resistance symbol is on the door, genius! How long do you think you people have before someone actually looks at the door? We're not taking any chances!"

Samos relaxed. "Oh, that. Yeah that's why I'm only here when I have to be. But eh-" he shrugged. "If you want to get the kid and that blasted crocadog out of my hair for the day, you won't hear me complain!"

Jak stared at him for a moment, then curled his lip. "Boy," he said in a low voice, "You're really something."

Then he turned his back and knelt to hold his arms out to Mar.

"Mar, c'mere. It's okay, s'okay, we're gonna be okay, but you have to come with me. Alright? I promise, it's okay."

The little boy frowned. Then he patted the puppy's side and crawled out to meet Jak. Immediately the teenager scooped him into his arms and held him tight against his chest.

"I got you, I got you."

He was okay.

"Did you see him?"

"He went this way!"

"Check every door. The ankle-biter can't have got far!"

Jak froze. "Rot. They found me. Samos, are there any other exits?"

Now noticeably nervous, the resistance leader looked around. "Er...no, no I don't think- who's out there?!"

"Wastelanders," Jak answered shortly. "I gave em the slip on the waterfront and I don't think they're real happy about that."

Samos scowled. "What'd you go and piss off a bunch of Wastelanders for?! We can't risk that much attention when we're this close to finding the Tomb!"

He started to reach for Mar.

"Gimme the kid. We'll hide in here while you deal with your mess!"

"Back off!" Jak snarled, pulling away. "I'm sick of you people acting like I'm expendable as long as you have my baby brother as a backup. What's wrong with you?! He's a kid! We're kids!"

"Brother?!" Samos sputtered, "Now look, kid, I know you're fond of him and all, but he's got a destiny you can't even begin to understa-"

The door slammed open behind them, and Samos turned and looked up to find himself eye to navel with a huge one-eyed man covered in the skulls of dead metalheads.

"Boy," Sig growled, "You are in a heap of trouble."

He reached down to pull Jak to his feet, then froze when a pair of frightened indigo eyes peeped up at him from over Jak’s shoulder.

Jak curled tighter around the toddler, glaring at everyone. "So? I made you work for it," he hissed.

Sig took a step back. "Yeah," he murmured, "...yeah, you did. I'll give you that."

Mar's eyes suddenly widened and he gasped. He pointed at Sig and made a small trilling sound. In response, the crocadog's ears perked up and it barked in curiosity. Sig handed his gun to the woman next to him and crouched.

"Hey, lil man," he whispered to Mar. He inhaled sharply and let the air out slow.

"Do…do you remember me?"

Mar pointed at him again with a worried expression. "Eye?" He signed, "Ba's eye is weird now?"

Faced with the toddler he'd helped raise since his cousin's death during a hunt, Sig choked on conflicted emotions. He wanted to sob over how big Mar had gotten, but all he could do was laugh.

"Yeah, yeah Ba's eye is weird now," he signed back.

"Ba is mad at big brother?"

"No baby, it's just pretend. He ran off without telling his grownups. Ba was worried," Sig assured him.

"Ohhh. I did that too."

Mar pulled away from Jak's chest and patted his face.

"Don't be scared Jakky, Ba's not really mad."

"Omigods." Daxter covered a smirk. If they all made it through this in one piece, he was never going to let Jak live down being reassured by a toddler.

"Up you get." Kleiver stumped past Sig and hauled Jak roughly to his feet by the back of his tunic. "What'd I tell 'im, I said I ain't no babysitter! You're goin' back to the Wastes, little man, and good luck gettin' another chance to run for it. Heh. You'll be lucky if they don't put a baby leash on you for this."

"Hey rot you," Jak snapped. Still, he let himself be manhandled out the door while Samos panicked. Probably cruel, but if Damas was right about there being a leak in their intel, then appearances needed to be kept up.

Once outside, he jerked his chin to the left. "There's a hatch down there that goes out to Dead Town. See if the air train will make a pickup out there."

The Wastelanders turned to stare at him. He'd stopped fighting. Stopped hissing and snarling like a stray cat. It was like a switch had flipped. Daxter rode the crocadog up beside him like a Flut Flut and smirked.

"Told ya we knew what we were doing."

First

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #jak and daxter au #dadmas #king damas #dad sig #blackmail au #damas and sig are platonic life partners in this one #Sig stepped in when his cousin didn't make it back from a hunt #when Mar started calling him Ba he and Damas just rolled with it #jak and mar are separate people au #Jak gave multiple people stress headaches that day and he isn't sorry

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qcomicsy · 1 year

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If the batkids had a podcast. Part. XV

Spoiler: Do you know there's fanfics about y'all.

Nightwing:

Nightwing: Yeah.

Redhood: There's fanfic about us?

Red Robin: You didn't know?

Redhood: What do you mea- No! Hold on- Do I look like someone who reads...

Red Robin: What are you doing?

Redhood: I'm getting my- Oh my god there is.

Laughs in the back.

Redhood: Holy shi– What the fuck??

Spoiler: What (laugh) What do you think?

Nightwing: Share with the rest of the class.

Redhood: I don't think– Wow okay. I don't think can read that out loud. (pause) Okay that's flattering.

Jason: And anatomically incorrect.

Red Robin: Oh– (disgusted noises)

Jason: No, look at this–

Red Robin: I DON'T WANT– (laughs) Back off–

Nightwing: What you want to say to your fans?

Spoiler: That's a good one– What do you want to say to you fans?

Redhood: Therapy.

Nightwing: (cackles)

Redhood: Lo– Do these people know?– I'm a criminal.

Nightwing: I think that's the appeal for them pal.

Redhood: God– (laughs) Loads of therapy. Loads, and loads of therapy.

Spoiler: I don't think that's the lo–

Redhood: (chuckling) Don't you dare.

Prev post // Next post

#batkids podcast #batfamily shenaningans #Batfamily #batfam #dc Spoiler #Stephanie Brown #RedHood #Jason Todd #Nightwing #Dick Grayson #Red Robin #Tim Drake #there's no batcest fics in this universe because I don't want to address this cane of worms ever in my entire life writing them

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eternal-star-rogue · 30 days

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Prev Post<== @comms-exe

“Wait wha-“ Zipper didn’t even get to finish that thought as Comms seemingly turned himself off and Zim’s body slumped over. Zipper and Ellie stared at him for a moment and then shared a look.

“Is he like… okayyyy??? He’s not dead right?” Ellie asked, nervously scratching the back of her neck in confusion.

“I don’t think he ever was ok to begin with, ah but no. He’s not dead. I’m not sure if he’s conscious or not though. One things for sure, he’s technically not a person. Zim probably didn’t have the time to make him into one, but I’m gonna change that reeeaaal quick.” Zipper said as she rolled the sleeves of her hoodie up.

“Riiiight.” Ellie said, somewhat lost on what Zipper meant entirely. She started rifling through the case of medical supplies and pulled out a wound-disinfectant and some cotton balls and began cleaning Comms/Zim’s wounds.

Zipper set herself to work, unbuckling Comms and laying Zim’s body gingerly down on the floor on his stomach. It was then she realized how much she’d grown in comparison to Zim. She was taller than him now, by at least a half foot or so. He wouldn’t like that very much….

Zipper shook her head and got out her tools and began carefully taking what was technically Comms themself apart piece by piece. Processors and cables and computer chips and wires and plugs and all sorts of little data crystals and usbs all strung together and held in place by a couple shabby outer-shell pieces of scrap metal, with… wait what the-

“Ellie holy fuck there’s a load bearing juice box in the middle of all this mess. If I pull it out he’s all just gonna fall to pieces.” Zipper said, pointing at the box with a mini extendable flashlight.

Ellie stopped stitching together the gash on the back of Comms/Zim’s head and glanced over. “Is it… is it even like doing anything other than holding stuff together?”

“No it’s not it’s- wait oh my god look. There’s a message written on it. It’s in Morse code.” Zipper exclaimed.

“Oh shit what’s it say?” Ellie said, going back to stitching Comms up, not taking her eye off her work for a second.

Zipper squinted as she tried to read the juice box through the tangled mess and was silent for a few moments until she burst out laughing and cackling, almost scaring Ellie into messing up her stitches.

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAHH, It says, ahahah, it say “pieces of shit all they’ve given me is expired prune juice, fuck them and fuck their juice.” Zipper had to put her tools down for a minute as she laughed. “Oh man, yup. Yeah that’s Zim alright.”

Ellie rolled her eyes and shook her head, but she was smiling ever so slightly. It was good to hear Zipper laugh at least.

“Alright, let’s get you fixed up Comms.” Zipper said, carefully removing the juice box and beginning to piece together a more solidly built “pak” for him. She worked tirelessly for hours, even pulling out a few components of her own pak that she didn’t desperately need just to help Comms be more efficient. She felt bad for the circumstances of his “birth” and the lack of personhood he had. Perhaps when this was all over, she could make a robotic body for him to inhabit, or perhaps Zim would clone an Irken body for him. Anything that is given even the resemblance of life, deserves to live it in full. That’s what Zipper believed anyways.

Zipper sighed, wiping the sweat off her forehead and wiping her oily scuffed up hands on her hoodie. She turned the pain sensing inhibitor all the way down to 2%. Any higher and Comms would wake up screaming in agony from the amount of pain he’d be in. Especially with those wounds that were now very VERY slowly healing and regenerating. Thank goodness Ellie had used the dissolvable stitching wire, otherwise those sutures would fuse into Zim’s skin and he’d have to rip them out.

“Ok now how do we uh… turn you back on… I actually didn’t see a button of any kind so I’m really hoping you have an automatic startup system.” Zipper said more to herself than anyone.

#Putting it under a read more cause this one is long af #[rescue arc]#[comms]

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moonchildreads · 11 months

Text

small town

Chapter 17 - Girls Just Want to Have Fun

IN THIS CHAPTER: A short roadtrip, blackmailing a jock, and Lady Di sends a signal [7.7k]

WARNINGS: andy the bully makes an appearance but nothing serious happens! lots of foreshadowing tho lol

A/N: shout out to my beloved @justahappycloud for vibechecking andy and dot's conversation for me! you're absolutely wonderful and i honest to god cannot believe i'm gonna hug you in a couple of days. i love you so so much, and i can't wait to tell you that in person. having said that, i'm gonna take a break from posting because i'm going on holiday! i'll still be around if you want to talk and i might leave... a couple of extras for you... you'll have to see! regular updates will return on friday, june 30th!

masterlist - prev - next | main playlist - chapter playlist

Oh, daddy dear, you know you're still number one But girls, they wanna have fun

Friday, May 23rd - 1986

Dorothy Burke couldn’t remember being this fucking angry in her entire goddamn life. She was pretty sure that if she were a cartoon character, steam would have been coming out of her ears the minute she heard Andy fucking Humphrey brag about getting an A in his latest AP Spanish pop quiz. She’d been watching him all week, eyes always stuck to his back during class, ears perking up when she heard his obnoxious cackle in the cafeteria, hands turning into fists when he’d “accidentally” tripped a quiet sophomore on his way to the bathroom. So when Mr. Lorenzo returned last week’s pop quizzes to them on Wednesday and praised him for “finally deciding to take his studies seriously” after she saw him cheat on the entire test, Dottie began plotting for revenge. Not because of the test, she didn’t give two shits about that and, of course, snitches get stitches. No, this one was for Gareth, and Dustin, and Donny, and Jeff, and any of the times he thought being Hawkins High royalty absolved him from sin. She’d make him pay. Not right now, but eventually he’d get what was coming to him. And it all began that Friday before finals week.

Her last class on Fridays was, thankfully, AP Spanish. Dottie planned everything to perfection, tested her escape route on Wednesday in case she needed a quick getaway, and asked her friends to wait until her Dad came to pick her up so she wouldn’t be caught alone in the parking lot if everything went to shit. Hellfire had been canceled because the boys had tickets to see Poltergeist II: The Other Side at 6 pm, but the props room they used as headquarters was unlocked in case she needed a place to hide for a bit. When the final bell of the day rang, she hurried to get her things in her bag and approached Andy’s desk with a sweet smile and shy act that she’d successfully tried on Fred earlier that week. Nancy had, of course, asked her what that had been about, but Dottie had simply told her that the less she knew, the better. The blue eyed girl had grinned with a weird sense of pride and left her to her devices without any more questions.

“Hi! Andy, right?” Dottie asked, carefully crafted honey dripping from her tongue.

“Who’s asking?” he said without looking up, still gathering his things.

“We’re in this class together, I sit over there,” she said, waiting until his eyes landed on her to point to her desk. She could feel his confused eyes scanning her: cute little dress, frilly socks, no Hellfire shirt, pearls in her ears. He has no idea who I am.

“Yeah, of course! I’ve seen you around,” he said, trying to hide the fact that he actually did not know who the fuck Dottie was. Sadly for him, it wasn’t working.

“I saw you did really well on the last pop quiz and I was wondering if you could help me out,” she widened her eyes a little bit to look more innocent and saw the corner of his mouth lift into a half smirk. God, men are so easy, she thought, remembering how Fred had rapidly blinked three times in a row when she pulled that move on him. “Can I see your answers, please?”

“Uh, sure, yeah,” Andy stammered, extremely confused but not about to complain if a pretty girl was making goo-goo eyes at him. Dottie wasn’t the type he usually went for; he liked them better skinny, tall and tanned, but there was a certain kind of charm to the girl-next-door type. “I could, y’know- I could help you study for the final, if you want.”

“Really? Wow, you’re so nice,” she pretended to fawn over him until he got the test out of his binder and gave it to her. The classroom was empty now. “Actually, there was something I wanted to ask you about…”

“Go on,” he said, sitting on his desk to flirt back with her. “Ask me whatever you want, babe.”

Babe. Oh, he was gonna get it now. She had him right where she wanted, and all she had to do was reel him in. Channeling her inner devil, she came up to where he was sitting to stand between his open legs, hand resting on his knee.

“Anything I want?” she smiled, and he nodded. “Well, how about… you leave my friends alone for the rest of the year and I don’t tell Mr. Lorenzo you cheated on this?” she waved the test in the air.

“What?”

“See, you might not know who I am, but I know you, Andy,” she dropped the sweet act instantly, hard eyes on his. He looked so confused. “And last Wednesday, you made the mistake of letting me see you cheat. You even smiled at me while you did it. I gotta admit, it was the first time I saw someone write down the answers on the inside of a water bottle sticker, that shit was clever.”

“Who put you up to this?” he asked, rage beginning to catch up to his bewilderment. She had to get out of there, fast.

“I know you egged Gareth Coleman on Thursday after class. It would be a shame if Mr. Lorenzo found out about your little water bottle trick, don’t you think? You really need this A if you’re gonna keep that Division II scholarship you got to, where was it? Indiana Central?”

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he got up from his desk, getting in her face. He was barely an inch shorter than Eddie, and while the metalhead’s height had always been comforting for her, Andy’s was downright intimidating.

“And you’re a lousy cheater,” she retorted, grabbing the strap of her bag, ready to bolt out into the packed hallway.

“You have no proof.”

“Don’t I?” she said, pressing on her backpack where she’d tucked in an empty plastic bottle. It wasn’t even the correct brand, but he didn’t know that, and his eyes burned when he heard the crackling noise. “Stay away from the boys in the Hellfire Club. This is your only warning.”

And with that, she bolted straight to the girls’ bathroom at the end of the hallway before he could even think about reacting. This particular bathroom had two exits, and she took advantage of that knowledge to sprint across to the other door, past the labs, turning the corner to the Art room and out into the parking lot, where she immediately clocked her friends hanging out between Eddie’s van and Donny’s car, Dustin and Mike leaning onto their bikes while they talked. All the way across the parking lot, was Jason Carver’s car, where its owner and his friends were clearly waiting for one Andy Humphrey to arrive.

“Eddie!” she yelled through gritted teeth, trying to get his attention. “For the love of God, Eddie!”

“Hey, what’s- woah!” she threw herself on him and stuck her hand in his front jean pocket, getting his keys out and opening the van’s back doors before jumping inside with the haste of a madwoman. “Dot, what’s wrong?”

“I fucked up- close the fucking doors! If Andy sees me, we’re all dead!”

“Wait, what? What did Andy do now?” Donny asked, climbing into the back of the van behind her. The rest of the boys looked at each other before they too got in and closed the doors, separating themselves from the rest of the student body.

“He didn’t do anything, I just- I threatened to tell a teacher that he cheated on a test if he bothered you guys again.”

“You did what?!” Eddie asked, eyebrows raising to his hairline.

“I know! I know I fucked up, I was just so fucking angry! He thinks he’s untouchable and it’s about time someone showed him he’s not!”

“Okay, back up. What exactly did you do?” Dustin asked.

Dottie took a deep breath and began retelling the week’s events to the six boys that were surrounding her in the back of the van. The parking lot began to empty and only a few cars remained by the time she had finished but her Dad was still nowhere to be found. An uncomfortable silence settled between them while they took in the situation at hand.

“She can’t be alone anymore,” Mike said, looking at Eddie for guidance.

“You really think he’s gonna hit her?” Gareth asked with worried eyes.

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Dustin said. “Do you think he’s gonna tell the rest of the team?”

“I didn’t tell him my name,” Dottie remembered. “They might not even know who I am, I mean, he didn’t and we’ve been in the same class for months.”

“You told him to leave Hellfire alone, it doesn’t matter if they don’t know you. They know us.”

“Shit, do you think we’re all gonna be targets now?” Jeff looked scared.

“You say that like we weren’t before,” Mike argued.

“We have to move in groups, we can’t let them catch us alone,” Donny said.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough!” Eddie raised his voice, cutting the chatter short. “You good, darling?”

“I didn’t mean to make them come after you,” she put her head in her hands. She’d been so angry that she didn’t stop to think how she might be making things worse with her well-intentioned actions. “God, I’m such an idiot.”

“You’re so not an idiot, come here,” he tucked her under his arm, squeezing her protectively. “You meant well but that’s not how these guys work. They are meatheads, you can’t reason with them.”

“So what do we do?” Jeff asked him.

“Donny’s right, we move in groups from now on. No one goes anywhere alone for the rest of the school year. We’ve got three more weeks and we’re done. Avoid the basketball team, keep your heads down,” Eddie turned to Mike and Dustin. “If anyone does anything to you, you come to me. You think Sinclair can help you two out?”

“We haven’t talked to Lucas in months,” Dustin admitted, looking a little ashamed.

“We don’t need him,” Mike dismissed his friend quickly. “We’ll stick with you guys.”

“Carver’s car is gone,” Gareth announced, peeking through a side window.

“Get home now, take the backroads,” Eddie opened the doors and heaved Dustin’s bike up from the concrete for him. “We’ll figure out pairs on Monday.”

“I’m sorry,” Dottie tried apologizing again, but Dustin went in for a hug.

“It’s okay. We’ve been through worse, I promise,” the younger boy smiled reassuringly.

“Besides, this means you’re officially one of the freaks now,” Mike said, successfully getting a low snort from her.

They said their goodbyes and Dustin and Mike climbed onto their bikes, speeding off the parking lot with impressive alacrity. Donny and Jeff sat themselves on the back of Eddie’s van, surveying the area. Only a couple of cars remained, mostly belonging to teachers. Gareth’s bus had already left, and Eddie offered to give him a ride before turning to Dottie.

“You sure your Dad’s coming?”

“Yeah, he said he was gonna get off early so we could go to Indy. Maybe he got held up at the office?”

“What are you going to Indy for?” Jeff asked.

“Prom’s in two weeks and I still don’t have a dress so hopefully I’ll find something there today or else I’m going naked.”

“Auditioning for Playboy at prom? That’s bold,” Gareth joked, and she immediately kicked his leg.

“Don’t get cute with me, Gareth, I know where you keep your porn.”

“We all know,” Donny said, leaning back on his arms. “He’s not very good at hiding it.”

“I bet his Mom knows too, she just pretends she hasn’t seen it,” Eddie snickered.

“Shut up!” Gareth jumped on Eddie, trying to wrestle him down to the dirty floor.

“Hey, whose car is that?” Jeff asked Donny and Dottie, completely ignoring the other boys yelping while play fighting between their rides. “It’s been there for like twenty minutes.”

“Must be a teacher’s,” Donny guessed. “I saw a pregnant lady come out of it earlier.”

“There aren’t any pregnant teachers.”

“Yeah? Then who’s that?” Donny pointed to the school doors where there was, indeed, a pregnant woman waddling towards the mystery car, another lady behind her searching through her big purse, probably trying to find her car keys.

Nothing could have prepared Dottie for what she was about to see when she turned, because never in her wildest dreams had she imagined she’d see two of her aunts casually strolling through the Hawkins High School parking lot towards a car neither of them owned, as evidenced by its Indiana “Wander” license plate. What on Earth-

“Auntie Rachel?” Dottie raised her voice, and the woman going through her purse looked up instantly, keys finally in her hand.

“Hey, there you are! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” the woman now known as Rachel said, quickly changing paths and power walking towards them, heels clicking on the concrete. “Your Dad said you get off at two!”

“I do, I just got held up,” Dottie hurried to wrap her arms around her Auntie. “What are you doing here?”

“Your Dad called for backup and we honestly needed a girly weekend,” the pregnant woman said, one hand resting on her belly and the other one at her back, her flowy floral dress swishing around her ankles as she waddled closer to them.

“It’s the last time Mary Elizabeth’s gonna be able to get on a plane until Rose arrives so we spent all my miles and we’re taking you to Indianapolis for a shopping trip.”

“You came all the way to Hawkins to help me buy a prom dress?” Dottie said, disbelief painted all over her face.

“It’s your senior prom, baby,” Mary Elizabeth said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Did you really think we were gonna miss it?”

“Are these your friends?” Rachel asked, directing her attention to the gaggle of boys that were staring up at them.

Gareth still had Eddie in a loose headlock, both letting go of each other instantly when the women approached with curious smiles and mischievous eyes on their faces. Auntie Rachel was a tall severe looking woman with thick rimmed glasses and a classy bob. Her lips were painted a deep burgundy, and she wore stylish pants and low heels - she looked as sophisticated as she was independent and open-minded. She was an accountant and many of her clients included investors that dabbled in the theater sphere, making her the one responsible for Dottie’s intense love of Broadway and musicals. She’d gone through a messy divorce around a year ago, had two boys (Nicky and Peter, ages 14 and 10), and had recently realized that maybe all those times Dottie had begged her to go see Rocky Horror together had been more enlightening than she had assumed they had been at the time.

Aunt Mary Elizabeth - not Mary, not Elizabeth, Mary Elizabeth - on other hand was the poster child for the 70’s hippie movement. What Rachel gave off in casual formality, Mary Elizabeth matched in cozy comfort with her sleeveless prairie style dress and sandals, baby bump proudly on display under the soft flowery pattern. She was married to Uncle Johnny, the same Uncle that Dottie had gone to for advice regarding Eddie’s moldy ceiling, and Rose, who was currently softly kicking her, was their first baby. She hadn’t been born yet but was very much expected and hard fought for.

“This is Hellfire! Guys, these are my Aunts: Rachel and Mary Elizabeth. Plus Rosie,” Dottie said, excited as always whenever her worlds collided.

“Which one of you is giving my niece latkes with applesauce?” Rachel asked, looking at them over the rim of her glasses.

“Uh, that- that’d be me. I’m Gareth,” the curly haired boy said, nervously.

“You’re my fave kid,” Rachel declared, nodding once.

“She’s Jewish,” Dottie said, like that explained everything and to Gareth, it did. “She’s never cooked for me though.”

“You know I can’t cook, my kids don’t even let me make toast,” she laughed, and the boys smiled. So Rachel is the fun aunt.

“Okay, then who is the one that makes those great mixtapes you were talking about the other day?” Mary Elizabeth wondered.

“I guess that’s me?” Donny chuckled, the tips of his ears red. “I’m Donny. Congrats on the baby!”

“Oh, aren’t you a sweetheart,” she said. “He’s my fave.”

“Which one’s yours then, bug?” Rachel joked.

“Definitely Jeff,” Dottie said and the boy beamed.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Eddie complained dramatically.

“You’re Eddie, right?” Mary Elizabeth said; he nodded. “I wouldn’t worry too much if I were you, you’re my husband’s favorite.”

“I am?”

“Yes! My husband was our DM, he thinks you’re very creative.”

“She’s married to Uncle Johnny,” Dottie told him. “The one that was in the bathroom picture from when I was a baby?”

“Ah, yes! Your Dad’s brother from a different father!” Eddie clapped once, knowing he got it right. “He knows about me?”

“Dorothy tells him about all your sessions,” Mary Elizabeth said. “Half of our friends don’t live in New York anymore so we haven’t played as much lately, he’s living vicariously through you guys at this point.”

“It’s great to meet you boys, but we should get going. We’re never gonna get to the shops in time if we keep dilly dallying,” Rachel said, ushering the girls towards the car.

“Okay, let me say goodbye first, damn,” Dottie got away from her insistent palms and headed straight into Donny’s arms. “I’m sorry about today.”

“Stop worrying about it. We’ll take care of each other.”

“You’re one of us, Dot. We got you,” Jeff said, joining the hug too. Gareth and Eddie looked at each other, shrugged once, and joined too.

“Go get your princess dress,” Eddie said, pulling away, not wanting to be clingy in front of her Aunts.

“Call when you get back?” Gareth asked as she walked away. “I wanna know what you got to see if we match!”

“When are you gonna be home?”

“Uhhh, around 8:30 maybe?”

“Gotcha. I’ll call around that time. Have fun, guys!”

“We’re still on for tomorrow, right?” Eddie wondered.

“Of course! Final stretch, Ed, you got this!”

Dottie got into the backseat of her Aunts’ rented car and waved to her friends as they sped away, Pat Benatar’s Invincible filling the air with girlish excitement. Andy fucking Humphrey didn’t matter anymore, not when Mary Elizabeth was singing along to the radio without a single care in the world and Rachel laughed like they were in their 20s again heading down to the beach in her brother’s old Jeep. All that was left, was to find the perfect dress and Dottie could finally convince herself that despite her major fuck up, everything would turn out fine.

They could not, in fact, find the perfect dress. They couldn't find any dress, actually, because if they were the right color, the size was wrong, and if the size was right, then it didn't come in Hellfire colors. Auntie Rachel had announced she was paying for the dress, and Aunt Mary Elizabeth and Uncle Johnny were paying for the shoes. But without the dress, there were no shoes, and without dress and shoes, Dottie couldn't spend the money her Dad had given her on accessories, and every minute that ticked on, she was closer and closer to auditioning for a Playboy centerfold at prom like Gareth had joked about.

Everyone was aware that prom was a sensitive topic for Dottie, and there wasn’t a single reason as to why it was that way. Past bad experiences coupled with the knowledge of yet another milestone she wasn’t sharing with her mother were bound to make anyone’s heart feel tender, so after Rachel noticed the decline in her niece's mood, she declared that they were taking a break from the prom-related shopping and instead let Dottie pick any shop in the immediate commercial area to explore. This wasn't an unusual activity for the girls; they had spent many afternoons browsing weird stores and open air markets, gathering silly little trinkets and handmade goods to bring back to their homes with tired feet and satisfied smiles. Dottie looked around mildly interested and clocked a big thrift shop with what looked like a comfy red couch in the middle of the store to her right, deciding to go in so Mary Elizabeth could rest her swollen ankles for a bit.

The shop was quirky, to say the least. Dottie loved thrift shops, having spent most of her early childhood browsing through rows and rows of clothes picking new tops and bottoms for the school year. Mary Elizabeth knew how to sew, and she'd taught Dottie basic skills like how to hem pants or how to tighten up the waistband on a too-big-skirt - a thrift shop was a treasure trove for creative and resourceful eyes. Rachel was distracted showing Mary Elizabeth baby clothes while the latter rubbed her growing belly on the couch when Dottie saw it. Red glittering chiffon, sweetheart neckline with delicate ruffles at the top and the bottom, and a full skirt that looked straight out of a fairytale.

A few years ago, back in 1982 when she was barely a freshman in high school, Dottie had seen in one of her Auntie Rachel's magazines a picture of one of the prettiest women she had ever laid eyes on. The woman was Lady Diana Spencer, Princess of Wales, and the magazine had run a full issue about her style and fashion choices, calling her an icon and praising her usage of patterns and bold colors. She remembered that in one of the pictures, Lady Diana had been wearing a red Bellville Sassoon dress during a night out at Covent Garden, and that she'd found it so beautiful she'd asked Rachel if she could keep the magazine because she wanted to wear a dress like that one day. That same dress, or one that looked very much like it, was currently staring back at Dottie from the very back of a rack full of poofier and tackier formal dresses.

"Found something you like, bug?" Rachel asked, coming to stand behind her with her hands on her niece's shoulders.

"I think... I think Lady Di is sending me a signal," she muttered breathlessly.

"What?"

Dottie walked up to the rack, almost scared to touch the dress in case it disappeared, but when her fingers buried themselves into fine chiffon, she pulled the dress off the hanger and pressed it to her body in awe.

"It's the dress, Auntie Rach. Remember? The Lady Di Covent Garden gown! With the black cape and silver shoes!"

"I can't say I remember, bug, but you like this one? Do you want to try it on?"

"I can't see a tag," Dottie said, frowning. "I don't know if it's my size."

"Go try it on anyway, we'll find an employee," Mary Elizabeth said, getting excited at the prospect of having found a miracle dress.

It was mere minutes later when both Aunts and an older lady that worked at the store wearing khaki pants and a name tag that said Cynthia heard a soft "holy shit" coming from behind one of the changing booth's curtains. It opened to reveal a dumbfounded Dottie, looking like a princess herself in the floor-length glittery gown.

"How does it fit, sweetie?" asked Cynthia.

"It's... it's perfect? The skirt is a little bit long but everything else is... yeah, it's perfect."

"Never mind the skirt, I can hem that for you in a couple of hours. And it's red, just how you wanted, right?" Mary Elizabeth said.

"Yeah, it's the shade of red I wanted," Dottie said. The dress was the exact same shade of Eddie's tie. "How much is it?"

"I don't think we put a price on this one yet," Cynthia said. "It came in late yesterday and I haven't gotten around to it. This woman came in and dropped three boxes full of stuff on us, said she was moving away and couldn't take everything with her. You’re a really lucky girl!”

“I think I am,” Dottie mumbled, looking at herself in the mirror while she lifted the skirt up to fit her better.

“Okay, how about we go see if there’s anything else you like while Rachel gets this sorted out for you, huh? Maybe we can find some cute shoes to go with it!” said Mary Elizabeth, staring pointedly at Rachel with a clear message: Get her the dress before she can overthink it and convince herself she doesn’t deserve it because the price isn’t right.

With the help of Mary Elizabeth (and Rosie, who was being very active today), a full outfit was put together rather quickly. A gold round sparkly handbag was added to the pile, along with gold kitten heels and a dainty gold necklace with a single white glittery stone. Dottie knew exactly what other pieces from her own jewelry box she was gonna wear: her Mom’s wedding ring and earrings, simple, classy, and meaningful. A way to keep Margaret close on a very special moment. Also on their checkout pile were a handful of baby clothes for Rosie, a Spider-Man backpack for Rachel’s youngest son, a couple of 70s loose dresses for Mary Elizabeth’s growing belly, and a pair of jean shorts and two new shirts for Dottie. She saved a bit of the money James had given her to buy more yarn for the blanket she was knitting for Rose, and after all that shopping, the three girls were hungry and desperately in need of a place to sit down. Rachel pointed to a nearby pub that looked fairly empty, and they made their way towards the building with happy hearts and spirits thoroughly lifted.

While Dottie was on her girls’ day out, Eddie was fidgeting in his theater seat. He knew that he was gonna have to share her with her Aunts all weekend, and he was scared about what they’d think of him constantly invading her personal space. They looked nice enough, and he was aware that Rachel herself was a bit of a freak - she had, after all, seen Rocky Horror live as many times as Dottie herself had - but there was still some part of him that kept waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things were going entirely too well for him, and he wasn’t used to that.

During the week, he’d tested out a few more theories he had about Dot and was now more certain than ever that he had an opening with her. It had been rainy and cold on Monday, and he’d slipped the flannel he had tied around his hip on her shoulders before second period began; she’d worn it all day and he’d caught her burrowing into it during lunch while she waited for him to get his tray. On Tuesday, she’d brought Wayne homemade banana bread, and on Thursday, she’d asked Eddie to hang out in their spot at Lover’s Lake for a bit before bringing her home, saying she needed to clear her head. They’d sat side by side with legs dangling off the back of his van, and he’d tried teaching her to skip stones to no success. She’d snorted every time the rock sank into the water, and leaned into him when he stepped behind her and grabbed her hand to guide her through the correct motions. He would have kissed her right there and then, but he was convinced she deserved more than a lousy confession in a deserted clearing in the middle of the woods. So Eddie waited, knowing that graduation was only three Fridays away, and he was gonna sweep her off her feet while they wore their ugly black and green gowns and make her feel like the princess he thought he was.

Truth be told, he shouldn’t have been so worried, not when 45 minutes away Dottie sat in that Indianapolis pub, eyes glued to the small menu in her hands but mind in Hawkins, wondering what Eddie was gonna wear for prom besides the gorgeous tie Chrissy had gifted him. She was comparing pros and cons of him wearing a white or a black shirt when Rachel tapped the top of the laminated paper and brought her attention back to the table.

“Can’t decide?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Dottie said, sheepishly. “Which one do you think is better, the cheeseburger with bacon or the chicken stripes with BBQ sauce?”

“The cheeseburger sounds good. I’m getting the buffalo wings,” Mary Elizabeth said, rubbing her stomach. “Believe it or not, this girlie likes spicy things.”

“She’s gonna run circles around all of us,” Rachel said fondly. “I’m gonna get the Reuben. And a glass of wine.”

“Okay, I’ll go order then. Lemonade?” Dottie asked Mary Elizabeth, getting up to head into the bar area.

“Oooh, please!”

Dottie left her Aunts at the table with their shopping bags, and got in line at the register behind a middle aged man while she glanced around the pub. It was a good size, probably even a bit bigger than The Hideaway where she’d gone to play pool with her Dad and Uncles Rob and Joe while they were in town for her birthday. There was a jukebox near the entrance, and a low small stage to the right with a lone mic and stool. A tired looking young man was putting up a poster advertising the weekend’s shows near the bar area. It was a cozy place, probably a cheap hangout spot for college students to relax at after a long week of studying and working. Behind the bar counter was an attractive young woman with wild, crimped raven hair and bold makeup.

“What can I get for you?”

“Hi! Can I get a cheeseburger with bacon, a Reuben, buffalo wings, two lemonades and a glass of wine? Red, please.”

“Uh, you’re not over 21, are you?”

“No, I’m 18, but it’s not for me. It’s for my Aunt, we’re sitting over there,” Dottie pointed at the two older women.

“Good. I’ll get a server to bring you your order when it’s done. Normally I wouldn’t care about the age thing, but it’s still kinda early, y’know?” the girl said, punching a few buttons on the till. “Gotta wait until the sun goes down to start ignoring IDs.”

“I imagine most college kids around here are grateful for that, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, it gets busy after 8. You don’t go to IUPUI?”

“No, I’m not from Indy. I’m going to Michigan next year.”

“State?”

“UMich. You?”

“Final year at Purdue. Forensic science,” she shrugged. “You look like an English major.”

“That was my second choice, actually. Decided on being an elementary school teacher.”

“Yikes. Good luck with that,” the girl laughed. “I’m the oldest of six so kids… not my jam.”

“I’m an only child so, kids? Totally my jam.”

“Figures. I’m Jessie,” the girl said, putting out her hand for a shake. Her dark apron moved revealing half of a logo on the front of her shirt Dottie would recognize anywhere: Metallica.

“I’m Dottie. I’ve got a question for you, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I get a really cool band up on that stage?”

“You in a band, teach?” Jessie grinned.

“No, my friends are. They’ve got a regular gig in our town, I think you might like them.”

“Yeah? What’s their name?”

“Corroded Coffin. They play metal covers mostly, but they’ve got a few originals too.”

“You their manager or something?”

“Maybe,” Dottie smiled. “I know next week’s setlist if that helps convince you.”

“Go for it.”

Dottie began ratting off the list she’d heard them put together on Wednesday, which included Black Sabbath, Mötorhead, Judas Priest, Dio, and the lone Anthrax song Gareth had insisted on for ten minutes before they relented and said yes. She mentioned how they also played Metallica and Iron Maiden regularly, and were known to crank out a Mötley Crüe song or two upon request without admitting that she was the one doing the requesting, much to Eddie’s chagrin. Jessie listened, nodding approvingly with her arms crossed. She had a snake tattooed around her left upper arm peeking out from her black t-shirt, and Dottie thought it might be the coolest tattoo she’d seen in her entire life.

“Okay, teach. I’m convinced. Let me see when we’ve got an opening.”

Jessie grabbed a battered notebook from under the counter and pulled a pen out of her apron, quietly muttering to herself as she flicked pages. Dottie turned to her Aunts who were eyeing her with interest. The Dorothy they knew didn’t talk to strangers, at least not willingly. She hated small talk, only engaging in it if an old lady started it in order to not come across as rude, but had developed the ability to quickly direct the conversation to non-personal topics like the weather or the price of the bag of oranges the old lady was purchasing. Seeing their niece chit chatting like it was something common she did all the time was downright strange, even if it was a welcome sight. How much had living in Hawkins truly changed her? Did it have anything to do with the boys hanging out with her in the school’s parking lot?

“Earliest spot we’ve got is at the end of June,” Jessie said, grimacing.

“Oh, that’s perfect! That’s after graduation, we’re totally free during June.”

“Friday, June 27th is okay then?”

“Absolutely, yes!”

“We can pay $25 per performer and you can have free drinks all night, but we’ll cut you off if anyone gets too drunk. How many are there in the band?” she asked, writing Corroded Coffin under the aforementioned date.

“Just four. Two guitarists, one drummer, one bassist. We have to bring our own equipment, right?”

“Yeah, all that’s on you. Are you all under 21?”

“Yes, lead guitar is the oldest and he’s 20.”

“They’ve got one hour divided into two chunks with a ten minute break in the middle, shows start at 9:30 usually. You’re coming with them? We can pay you after the set’s done, I’ll keep a free table for you guys at the front. You can watch them from there, we don’t have a green room.”

“That sounds wonderful, thank you, Jessie.”

“Here,” Jessie gave her a napkin with the bar’s info. “Call that number if you need to cancel or reschedule. If they tell you I’m not around, ask for Mark, he’s the day shift manager.”

“Okay, I will. See you in a month then! They won’t disappoint you, I promise!”

“I’m counting on it, teach!”

She came back to the table with an unprecedented giddiness, or at least, nothing her Aunts had ever seen in a long time. Dottie explained her conversation with Jessie the night shift manager while they waited for their food, and when it had arrived, her Aunts grilled her for more information about her friends and their band. She explained what each of them did within Corroded Coffin, taking the time to praise them separately for their skills, mentioning Eddie’s recent songwriting knack and Gareth’s future career as a trained percussionist. She told them in confidence that Jeff was thinking of joining a choral ensemble in West Virginia, excited about the prospect of traveling to perform around the States. Her Aunts let her talk as much as she wanted until the sun had gone down, the college students started showing up, and after a quick bathroom visit, it was finally time for them to leave. They were walking back to the car when Dottie spotted a payphone and began rummaging through her backpack.

“Hold on, let me- I gotta make a phone call!” she told her Aunts, speeding away towards the cabin with her coin purse in her hand.

“Do you get the feeling someone exchanged our Dorothy for a new one?” Rachel asked, following her niece at a much slower pace.

“She’s happy here,” Mary Elizabeth simply said.

“Did you ever notice she was that unhappy back in New York? What was going on under our noses? How couldn’t we tell?”

“That doesn’t matter now. Let her have this. She deserves it.”

“Hello, Mrs. Coleman? It’s Dottie!” the teen said into the phone, both Aunts trying to eavesdrop from outside the cabin. “I know Gareth is still at The Hawk, but could you tell him to come to my house as soon as he arrives? Everything’s okay, I just have good news I want to share with him. Yes, thank you! And could you please tell him to bring the guys around too? I think I’ll be home at around 9 probably, so- okay. Okay, thank you! Sorry to have bothered you at this hour, have a good night!”

“Your friends are coming over?” Rachel asked when she hung up.

“Yeah,” Dottie grinned, and for a brief second, they could have sworn it wasn’t her but Margaret the one who was smiling at them.

A girl’s road trip was never complete without gossiping, and Rachel was showing an incredible amount of restraint when she waited until they had passed the "Leaving Indianapolis - Come Again Soon" sign to lower the radio's volume; Mary Elizabeth looked at her with confusion in her eyes when Madonna’s Angel was cut short halfway into the song.

"So. We've got 45 minutes until we’re back in Hawkins. Gonna tell us what's going on with that Gareth kid or what?"

"Rachel!" Mary Elizabeth chastised.

"There's literally nothing going on. I don't know why you're even asking."

"You called last week to tell me all about the little sleepover you two had and you expect me to not be curious? You’ve been talking about him all day, bug."

"As you know, because I told you about it, we worked on a science project during that sleepover, which we got an A+ on. That's it, I don't see him like that," Dottie said. "Besides, we'd kill each other if we decided to date. He made me see The Exorcist last weekend, I would have murdered him if I didn’t fear prison."

"Hey, that's a good movie!" Mary Elizabeth said, and Rachel looked at her like she was insane. "What? Okay, yes, it's disturbing, but it's a good movie. It's well done."

"You worry me sometimes," Rachel told her before looking at Dottie through the rearview mirror. "You two had a movie night and he picked a horror flick?"

"It wasn't just us. Everyone else was there too, it was Eddie's birthday."

"Aw, that sounds fun. Did you have a good time?" Mary Elizabeth asked, turning in her seat to watch her niece's face.

"Yeah! I mean, the movie sucked and I think I had a panic attack for two hours straight, but we had ice cream later and saw Rocky Horror. That part was good,” she had a wistful look on her face as she looked out the window, remembering Eddie’s birthday.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Actually, everything's been really nice," Dottie laughed. "I just… I didn't know having friends was supposed to make you feel this good."

"Oh, baby," Mary Elizabeth reached out to grab her hand. "You really love those boys, don't you?"

"I do. And I really think they love me too. I don't feel lonely anymore when I’m with them."

"That's good, baby. I'm so happy for you. We were so scared after what happened last year, that awful girl was just-"

"It doesn't matter anymore,” Dottie shook her head. “I don't want to talk about that."

"So nothing's going on?" Rachel asked, but this time her tone was much more soft. “With any of them?”

"They are my friends. Best ones I've ever had," Dottie smiled. “I’d tell you if something was happening with Gareth, but there’s nothing there. I promise.”

“If you say so, bug,” Rachel said. “Johnny was once Mary Elizabeth’s best friend too, you know.”

“Oh, drop it, you nosy old lady,” Mary Elizabeth poked her.

“Who are you calling old?! We’re the same age, flower power!”

During the short trip back to Hawkins, somewhere between being grilled about one of her best friends and Rachel missing the correct exit, Dottie had dozed off in the back of the car while Sade’s Smooth Operator played in the background. Mary Elizabeth had taken off her sandals and propped her feet up on the dashboard, looking out at the quaint little houses and quiet downtown area, wondering if Rosie would like growing up in a place like this instead in the busy city she was so fond of. Rachel pulled into Dottie’s street and saw a familiar old van parked outside her home, four boys hanging out in the front lawn and James leaning onto the front door frame, all engaged in friendly conversation.

“Baby?” Mary Elizabeth called, rousing Dottie. “Your friends are here.”

Dottie opened her eyes, expression caught between drowsiness and excitement when they parked outside the house, all five men turning to look at them when they got out.

“Shopping went well, I see,” James smiled, looking at their bags dangling from their arms.

“Told you to leave it to us, Jamie-boy,” Rachel said, coming to hug her old friend.

“Everything okay?” Gareth asked, anxious. “My Mom didn’t tell me what was going on, just that you called from Indy.”

“Everything’s fine, something really cool happened and I didn’t want to wait until Monday to tell you about it,” Dottie yawned, locking arms with him and Donny. “Let’s go inside and I’ll tell you.”

The boys walked in behind her towards the living room where she motioned for them to sit. The adults headed towards the kitchen for a nightcap, keeping an eye and an ear on the kids. James had no idea what was going on, but Rachel had simply shaken her head when he lifted his eyebrow in inquiry and pointed at the teens. Mary Elizabeth busied herself making coffee for her two friends and tea for herself, smiling in anticipation.

“Okay, so. We went to this pub to get dinner,” Dottie began, taking the napkin Jessie had given her out of her pocket and giving it to Jeff. “It’s a really cool place, not too big, but I really liked it and the food was great.”

“What did you have?”

“Cheeseburger with bacon. They cut their own fries and leave the skin on them.”

“Sick,” Jeff nodded.

“I was thinking we should all go together soon. Maybe on Friday, June 27th.”

“Why?” said Gareth suspiciously. “What’s happening on Friday, June 27th?”

“There’s this awesome band that’s gonna play there. You might have heard of it, it’s called Corroded Coffin.”

The room was filled with an awkward silence for a few seconds while they processed what they just heard before all of them erupted in questions and screams at the same time. Dottie laughed, and held up her palms trying to contain the situation, but the cat was out of the bag and she was all too happy to share all the details with her friends.

“You got us a gig?” Donny asked, coming up to her in disbelief.

“I got you a gig!” she confirmed, and Gareth began hollering. “You’ve got an hour-long set, divided in two chunks. Drinks are free the whole night but you can’t drunk, and they’re gonna pay you guys $25 each-”

“They are paying us?!” Jeff asked while Gareth shook him. “They never pay us at The Hideout!”

“You’re the fucking best!” Donny declared, lifting Dottie up and swinging her in the air, making her laugh.

“That’s so cool,” James said in the kitchen, browsing his pantry for sugar to add to his coffee. “I’m happy for them, they are good kids.”

Rachel and Mary Elizabeth didn’t reply; they were locked onto the scene in front of them. When Donny put Dottie down, Jeff and Gareth immediately came to hug her too, each on one side. They all began talking at the same time, shouting songs they wanted to include in the set, things they needed to do before the big day arrived, planning how they were gonna go, who was gonna drive, how much money they needed to pool to pay for the gas. None of that was as interesting as what happened when it was Eddie’s turn to hug their niece.

He was so quiet as he came up to her, it almost looked like he was choking back tears. Without words exchanged, his arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her towards his chest where she instantly tucked her head into, her own hands ghosting upwards from his waist to the middle of his back where she clung to his shirt. This wasn’t an excited, celebratory hug. This was so much more, and yet none of the boys paid them any attention, like this was common enough for it to not be something to look at anymore. Eddie’s hand came up to cradle her head, and they pulled away for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes with matching elated smiles pulling at the corners of their mouths. For a single heartbeat, Dottie’s Aunts thought Eddie was going to pull her into a kiss but his lips collided with her forehead instead and stayed there like it was their rightful place. Dottie exhaled, melting into the rugged boy’s arms, their eyes closed, both of them savoring the moment. His hand moved from the back of her head to the side of her jaw, foreheads coming together and they saw her hand wrap around his wrist before the boy mouthed a quiet “thank you”.

Like nothing had happened, they unentangled themselves from each other and joined the festivities, him excitedly patting Donny’s back before they embraced with boyish roughness, her plopping onto the same armchair Jeff was sitting on to help brainstorm the setlist. Rachel turned to Mary Elizabeth only to find her friend already staring at her.

“Oh,” Mary Elizabeth said, lifting an eyebrow.

“Oh, indeed,” said Rachel, and they both silently agreed to not speak of it in front of James until they’d gotten their chance to debrief later that night.

taglist (comment below or shoot me a dm if you want to be added!): @munsonology @kurdtbean

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nuttytani · 4 months

Text

Farewell, My Dear Boomer Lord

Fandom: Genshin Impact

Pairing: Tartaglia | Childe x Zhongli and Xiao x Aether

Premise: Genshin Impact is back with a new addition to their movie franchise, with a talented and an exciting cast. What are you waiting for? Come find out who they are!

A/N: This is a social media au fic, except in text form… Just crossposting it from my ao3 (which you can read it here if you’d like!!) and this is the final chapter :DD

prev chapter

Ch 2 interview and behind the scenes

Spiral Abyss ✓ . @ abyssalmoon

Farewell Archaic Lord : Zhongli, Aether, Xiao and Ajax talk

1.9 M views

Watch now

—

( The screen brightens up, Xiao, Ajax, Aether and Zhongli can be seen sitting on black studio chairs. They wave at the camera )

Aether

So, how shall we begin ?

Charlotte

Hello hello! Hmm, now that I’m facing all of you, I have no idea what to ask- (looks at the camera sheepishly)

Ajax (gets ready to leave)

Alright, that’s the end of the interview! Thank you everyone for watching–

Zhongli (interrupts him by placing a hand on his shoulder and chuckles)

Not so fast, I’m afraid.

Charlotte

Very funny, Ajax. We’re not letting you go until all the tea is spilled!

Hmmm.. Oh right! This reminds me, where is the Liyue trio? I had thought Ms. Ganyu and the others would be attending?

(Charlotte looks somewhere off camera, as if to confirm something. Some rustling and muffled noises of people talking can be heard)

Xiao

Ah yes, unfortunately they got caught up in some other work and couldn’t make it. It was last minute and they couldn’t inform you in time.

Zhongli

Mmh, that is correct.

Charlotte

Awe,how unfortunate! We were quite excited to meet up with the bona fide Liyue Qixing. Next time, I suppose!

Okay, let’s start off now. Who among you guys messed up your dialogues the most?

(Camera zooms in at Aether’s face, who looks quite embarrassed as everyone stares pointedly at him)

Aether

It was me, ‘m sorry. Are spoilers allowed?

Xiao

Obviously, go on.

Aether

Ahem so- I might have gotten super annoyed by the side quests that the uhh… Traveler received from Mr. Morax. Such stupid side quests! I felt annoyed on behalf of Traveler, I mean– going all the way to Mondstadt to BOIL A FREAKING STONE? ARE YOU KIDDING ME!?? And then walking all the way back to Liyue. Also, don’t forget about spending absurd amounts of money on FLOWERS– FLOWERS I TELL YOU!

(Aether does the jazz hands to express his frustration. Meanwhile, Zhongli observes bemusedly)

So I may have said some things extremely off the script and we had to redo scenes. Multiple times. I’m so sorry guys! Blame Morax, he’s the problem.

Ajax

Yeah! We basically played “take a shot every time Aether says OH FUCK YOU”. I think it’s best to say we all got drunk, really really bad.

Xiao

Hmph. You just can't hold your liquor. I was sober, thank you very much.

Zhongli

Oh? Really now? Ajax, where did that recording of him singing “My heart will go on” go? He did the entire Titanic ship pose and all.

(The camera zooms in again, now at a very red Xiao, who looks like he’s about to burst. To make it worse, Aether and Ajax are wheezing, trying to hold their laughs in but failing miserably)

Charlotte

Is that so? I’d love to see that.

Xiao (looks at Zhongli in horror)

NO.

Zhongli

Aha, so you do remember!

Charlotte

Sounds like you all had a fun time during the shooting. Any interesting moments that you’d like to share?

Xiao

Oh yes definitely, I’m sure you all remember seeing a clip in which Morax stares at Tartaglia’s butt.

For those wondering, no, it was not part of the script. It was just Zhongli. All him, I swear.

(Ajax visibly chokes on air and hides his face at Xiao’s comment, grumbling indistinctly)

Zhongli (clears his throat)

Well I– it wasn’t on purpose… I was… Lost in… thoughts. Yes.

Aether

Lost in a daydream, you mean to say.

Charlotte (cackles and almost falls off of her chair)

Interesting! Well, let’s change the subject otherwise a few people might die from embarrassment here. Not that they haven't already.

We can all agree that the scenes in the movie were absolutely epic! Such a beautiful landscape. And the sunset skies! Was it all CGI or did you all actually go to those gorgeous places?

Ajax

It was mostly real, a few things were CGI but honestly you could say 85% of it was the real deal. Acting in these areas was super difficult though. I mean, you can’t really control weather and most of the time, since we did a lot of shooting around mountain areas, it was WINDY and all the hair would keep going in my mouth, the hanfu wouldn’t stay in place… A nightmare honestly.

Aether

It wasn’t that bad though.

Ajax

Yes, it was that bad and you can’t change my mind!

Charlotte

Well Mr. Ajax, despite all your struggles, I must say your acting was superb. You had me gripping the edge of my seat! How thrilling! It’s hard to believe such a bubbly personality such as yours could act as a villain. I’ve heard that the directors saw you and called it.

Ajax

Oh yeah. Umm, I’m surprised as well! This is my first acting experience honestly and sure, I’ve done concerts with Rosaline and Kabuki, but acting? Way above my paygrade. But they were super adamant I must audition for the role of Tartaglia. Next thing I know, I said a few lines and they picked me.

Aether

He was absolutely nuts, I swear. Super in character! Directors made the right choice, he looks and feels like THE living breathing Tartaglia. That one scene where he pulls out his water blades and does the cheeky toothy smile? That was all impromptu, off script. Ajax did all that and he didn't even realise it.

Charlotte

Impressive! Also back to the hanfu and hair. Oh my god, you all looked stunning! The costumes were gorgeous and the hair! Looked so real.

Zhongli

Mmhm, the costumes were all designed and made by Menogias. It’s always a pleasure to wear his hanfus, they really take your breath away.

Xiao

Yes, and it’s always a pleasant experience too. Which is rare, for such heavily embellished attire. You’d think they’d be heavy and itchy to wear but for some reason, Menogias makes only the best. It feels like you’re wearing pajamas. They're that comfortable.

Aether

Agreed! Oh and by the way, we actually needed to grow our hair out for this movie. I mean, mainly me, Xiao and Ajax. Since Zhongli does a lot of historical movies and dramas, his hair is almost always long. I’m sure you must have noticed.

Ajax (nods along)

Yeah, it was all our hair. We had extensions in a few scenes but it was mostly just… us. Honestly, I didn't think I’d like long hair, since it seems to be quite a hassle to take care of, but I kinda enjoyed it.

Xiao

Mmhm. It wasn’t bad. Plus, the kids had fun braiding it. Mostly Qiqi, she’d see us and immediately give us those sparkly puppy dog eyes. She’d have fun braiding and we’d get a free hairstyle so, win win.

Charlotte

I can totally imagine the kids having fun, this is giving that tangled scene vibes right now.

(Someone off camera comes and whispers into Charlotte’s ear and she looks surprised)

Oh dear! Time sure flies when in good company! I didn’t even notice that we’re almost about to go over your schedule.

Zhongli

Oh don’t worry about it, we can spare a few more minutes. This has been quite enjoyable.

Charlotte

Alright, let’s go through a few more questions then! I’ll go rapid fire speed, alright?

(Everyone says “yes ma'am!”)

Any scenes that made you feel like you were in actual danger?

Aether

Oh yeah, that one scene where I had to do the free fall and Xiao caught me. My heart almost jumped out of my chest!!

(The others nod)

Xiao

That scene was a bit scary. We had those rope contraption things holding us up, no idea what they’re called. Still, it felt awful.

Charlotte

Mhmm, the fans call it the moment “conqueror of demons falls in love with the traveler”. You were both gazing at each other quite intensely.

Aether

Trust me, it was the fear of falling. Nothing deep.

(“Whatever you say bro,” Ajax adds sneakily)

Charlotte

Any personal favourite scenes?

Zhongli

Hmm if I had to choose, it’d definitely be the Osial part. From its release and battle, it was all incredible.

Aether

Definitely the Osial scene, but also the scene where Morax just sits… while drinking his oolong tea IN THE MIDDLE OF A TSUNAMI.

OH MY GOD. That was insane. Like dude– run for your life– then you remember he’s immortal. And also a bit wrong in the head. Rex Lapis apparently does not know how to behave like a human, even after living for thousands of years.

Ajax

Oh preach. It was funny as hell. Zhongli came back looking like a wet rat too.

Xiao

We all looked like wet rats. Keqing took a picture of it too, she must have posted it somewhere.

Charlotte

Well now I’m curious! Gotta look into Keqing’s skygram for that, huh? And thank you all for your precious time. I really enjoyed talking with you, it was lovely!

Aether (grins at Charlotte)

Awee, thanks for having us!

Ajax (waves at the camera)

Let’s hope we meet again for another interview!

Zhongli

Soon. Hopefully. Thank you, and have a good day everyone.

Xiao

Mmh, bye.

(screen fades out for a few seconds as the cast wave at the camera smiling, before you can hear someone talk in the background)

Xiao

Ajax, you better delete that singing video, otherwise you’re dead meat–

Bonus behind the scenes (leaked by yours truly, Keqing <3)

—

[ Attached : a picture of Zhongli, Aether, Ninnguang, Ajax, and Ganyu looking like soaked and pitiful wet rats as they throw up a peace sign at the camera. All looking beyond exhausted ]

Caption : How come I wasn’t invited for that anime beach scene? I feel sad and left out — Keqing:3

—

Aether and Zhongli

“Ah it seems I do not have mora.. Traveler would you be kind enough to–”

“Fuck off, get your fatuus wallet to get you mora.”

“That wasn't part of the script.”

“CUT! AETHER PLEASE, THIS IS THE 4TH TIME IN A ROW.”

“Sorry….”

—

Ajax and Zhongli

“I can't believe I was betrayed by someone whom I thought of as a friend. Was everything just a lie?”

“Hmm.”

“Xiansheng?”

“Hmmm.”

“Hello?? Earth to Zhongli??? Did you just zone out?”

“CUT! Zhongli, you can stare at Ajax’s ass, chest, waist, all you want but later. Please.”

“What–”

—

Xiao and Aether

“Madame Ping gave me a teapot. Umm..”

“Ah yes.. So I heard.”

“I’d like it if you’d come over once, maybe tonight– for dinner y’know?”

“Of course, you just need to call out my name.”

Someone yells off camera

“WHY DON’T YOU JUST STAY FOREVER?”

“Hu Tao, please be quiet!!!”

“Boohoo, I just wanted to do that Mulan scene. You’re no fun, fatui boy.”

“CUTTTTTTTTT!!! You rascals, go away!!! It’s not even your scene right now.”

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spicysix · 10 months

Text

「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

2.7k words | prev | next | masterlist | ao3 warnings: trauma bonding! mentions of violence, of torture and of near-death experiences. also, they're both kinda in a bad mood. a nightmare will do that to ya songs of the chapter: ambrosia - carole king • move on - david bowie • i wanna be somebody (and the entire self titled album) - W.A.S.P.

Friday, July 25

Eddie Munson was a hard-headed prick.

Not completely, no, you’d find out already he could be convinced at some point, but it took a while. And you figured the morning after your night in Sioux Falls that he was actually being really nice until then. Because on topics that were more important to him, the man was tougher to break than a brick wall.

One of those topics? His van.

Because Eddie’s back was still not completely recovered from the night he’d spent on the front bench of the van, and because of his nightmare that had kinda ruined his night, you told him you should drive the van to your next stop so he could get some more rest.

And, oh boy, was he relentless about that.

He wasn’t like Steve and the Bimmer, it wasn’t about jealousy or fear of you breaking something or getting something dirty. No, it had to do with the mechanics.

You had both woken up early, thankfully, for he had spent almost an entire hour speeching and groaning and basically throwing a tantrum about how the van was old, bratty, difficult, damaged, faulty. And how the van needed certain specific things to engage, to accelerate, to break, to park. And how the van had tricks and wiles and gimmicks to work.

You heard it all silently, nodding, not doubting him for a second even though his dramatics were off the charts. Only after his show was over and he had thoroughly explained everything about the van’s problems more than once, only then you asked him to show you, and if you could try. He showed you, also complaining the whole time, and then you tried.

And managed it just fine.

“Shouldn’t doubt my expertise, Eddie,” you winked at him — your grandma would call you smug — and he grimaced with a blush to his ears while you left the parking lot you were practicing on and headed for the road. You were cackling the whole time.

You took the I-90 and headed east, as Eddie had been doing since Chicago — on purpose or not, you didn’t know. Leaving the prairies behind and welcoming the great plains’ monotony, the beauty of the Missouri River once you crossed it again, the sun high and almost oppressive above you.

You were still a little tired yourself, but Eddie let you choose the music once again, bobbed his head to Bowie’s voice and hid a wide grin behind his hand as he stared at the window’s landscape, took a nap after two or three songs, and it was all right.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

“You ever been to Yellowstone?” he asked, reading a pamphlet while you gathered some food supplies into your basket.

You had stopped around midday in a town right by the border to Wyoming for a bathroom break and to get some snacks for lunch and for the rest of the road. The mid-summer brought its peak, and so the little town was unusually full of people going and coming from all kinds of nature adventures and travels.

“Do I look like someone who has ever been to Yellowstone National Park on a family vay-cay, Eddie?” you answered without sparing him a look, an abnormal tone of sarcasm in your voice because, yeah, maybe family vay-cays were a triggering topic to you. And you were a little hungry, which in turn got you a little over-annoyed.

Eddie didn’t know any of that, though, and you instantly regretted the way you said it.

“I don’t know you very well, sweetie,” he retorted just as ironically, the nickname raised in pure poison, and it hurt more than you cared to think about in depth. “All I know is that you’ve probably worked at every single retail job in Hawkins, that you go to mine’s to buy… stuff every four months or so without much small talk, that you, Harrington and Buckley are glued at the hip and that we’ve stopped the world from ending together. Nothing else.”

You stopped your strolling through the market’s aisle and turned to him, sighing.

“I’m sorry, Eddie, that wasn’t nice of me. No, I’ve never been to Yellowstone. I’d really like to, though.”

He seemed to be caught off-guard by your sudden sincerity and stuttered some words that he couldn’t completely form.

“And I’m sorry if I never stopped for a conversation when I went to buy stuff from you. I should have.” You took a step further, getting closer to him, and he looked truly startled. Was he really this unfamiliar with apologies?

“Yeah, no, I-” He closed his eyes and sighed loudly, “You’re alright. I was just thinking about it…” He went back to the initial topic, maybe not wanting to linger on the emotional aspect of the conversation since he’d been enough emotionally vulnerable the night before, and waved the pamphlet about tourist spots in Wyoming right in your face.

You caught the pamphlet in your hands, handing Eddie the shopping basket for him to hold instead, and examined it. You went through its pages quickly but with enough attention to catch the most important pieces of information.

“We could give it a call and see if we can make a reservation? It’s unlikely since we’re in high season, but we can give it a try?” you asked, looking at him again and he was still looking at you as if you were a hard puzzle to solve.

He cleaned his throat, “Yeah, sure, we can do that.”

“Not like we have anywhere specific to be or a deadline to meet, right?” You winked, handed him the pamphlet and took the basket back, continuing on your shopping spree, back with your enthusiasm. “We gotta stop by the camping supply store!”

His laugh reverberated through the isle and into a little warm space between your ribs as he went after you with a muttered ‘Fucking Yellowstone, man’ under his breath; following your plans once again, giving you his trust so openly, and you wondered if you even deserved it. Probably not, but you’d take it either way.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

Everything fell into place perfectly in a summer miracle as you used a payphone to call the reservations number for a camping ground on Grant Village, a last-minute cancellation from a couple that had given you and Eddie the opportunity of a lifetime — you were also able to make a reservation for dinner on the Grant Village Dining Room for your first night. And as it seemed, the entirety of South Dakota’s population had decided to go camping all at once and left you and Eddie the final tent to buy at the store. You also bought other basic camping supplies that you didn’t have and deemed important. That government hush money was making itself very useful.

Eddie assured you he was fine to drive and so he took the wheel for the rest of your trip for that day — it was too early to stop yet, but Yellowstone was too far away still, so you’d find another place to spend another night. Your reservation in the National Park also didn’t start until the next day, so you’d have to wait anyway.

You were once again delegated to co-pilot duties, reading the map and giving Eddie directions. You also picked a tape of his own for the soundtrack this time.

Not even an hour in, something caught your eye on the map in your hands. “Eddie, what do you think about a lake day?” He chuckled and shrugged in response. “Look, there’s a lake less than ten miles from here.”

“Let’s go, then.” He didn’t take his eyes off the road to check where you were pointing at the map, just followed your instructions.

You drove for just a little while until you reached an exit with a plaque that read ‘Pine Haven’. In about 20 minutes, after a few more turns, some decision-making about which way to go, and the payment of a fee for entering the State Park, you were the closest you could get to the lake, in what looked like a growing little town with a few houses built. Eddie parked the van a little further away from the road and you both left it, you stretching your arms and legs as he went around to meet you on your side.

A man approached you, introduced himself as Coop, pointed at his house — told you to knock if you needed anything — and then pointed to the best way to the lake (actually a reservoir). He told you all about the region, the State Park, the reservoir, his family; and you and Eddie were enchanted by his hospitality, the fact that he barely batted an eye about the weird combination that the two of you were. So when he invited you to stop by later for a shower and dinner, you didn’t hesitate to say yes.

After that, you and Eddie changed clothes to more appropriate ones in the back of the van and walked a few more minutes until you were finally facing the reservoir waters. Eddie found the nearest tree and rested under its shadow in no time, taking his notebook and a pack of cigarettes from his jeans pocket. You came to leave your supplies by his side and looked around. There were a few families, not many, it was very quiet and you were glad. On the other margin, though, you could see a few more people — Coop had told you the roads were more accessible and the state park was first established there, making it more popular. But you liked that you were on a more recluse part of the reservoir.

You stripped to the top and sports shorts you had changed into — intuitively, subconsciously, somehow you had brought many useful clothes so far — and covered yourself in sunscreen. Eddie had sunglasses on and seemed to be invested in whatever he was scribing in his notebook, but you felt his eyes burning on you from time to time as you turned your back to him. It made you smile for some reason (your grandma would call it wishful thinking).

He was still wearing dark jeans, they seemed more ripped, but less tight than the ones you had seen him using before, and so he rolled the hems up, took off his Reeboks, and buried his feet in the rocky sand. On his torso, he had a white tank — a surprisingly bright color, but you guessed an all-black look would make it unbearably hot for him. The scars on his neck that went up the left side of his jaw to his cheek were pink in the sunlight, but he didn’t seem to mind showing them off.

You approached him and offered the sunscreen: “You should take care of those battle scars, Eddie. They’ll likely be more sensible.”

He looked up at you, eyes still hidden behind the sunglasses (unfortunately, for he had pretty eyes you’d like to be seeing) but he accepted your offer and protected his scars and uncovered arms.

“How come you don’t have any battle scars yourself, soldier?” he asked, still spreading cream while you stretched your limbs.

“Mine are just covered.” You pulled up the hem of your shorts on your left leg and showed him the bite marks you had received from the bats on your first encounter with them when you all went after Steve into Lovers Lake. Turned around and pulled the fabric of your top that covered the bites on your right shoulder blade as well. “I was the one who got Dustin and Erica out back in Starcourt, so. No Russian torture for me as well, luckily.”

You draped a towel on the sand and lied down on it, ready to catch a tan. Your sun marks wouldn’t look pretty, but you weren’t so worried about that.

“If you hadn’t cut the rope, maybe we would be matching,” you said finally, before closing your eyes and enjoying the burning on your skin.

Eddie didn’t answer you. You didn’t intend for it to come out in a mean way, but maybe that’s how he interpreted it. And maybe you weren’t sorry for that — he could use a little snarl.

You were on his team with Dustin in the final battle. You were there because you had been able to protect Dustin once before, and you were trusted to do it again.

Which you did. You kept Dustin safe.

But you couldn’t keep Eddie safe, because he had cut the rope made of sheets after you fell through the portal, and left you and Dustin in the Rightside Up as he went back and faced those demonic bats all by himself in the Upside Down. If he hadn’t acted so impulsively, maybe you could have gone with him. Maybe the two of you would have been a more fair fight against the swarm of bats. Maybe he wouldn’t have almost died, maybe you wouldn’t have to see Dustin crying over his limp bloody body, maybe you wouldn’t have your own nightmares about that night.

You tried not to dwell on it.

You tried not to blame Eddie for it.

You tried not to blame yourself for it.

“You slept on my bed last night?” he chose to ask after a little while in silence, his voice a little shaky, and you bit your lip to stop your own eyes from tearing up before answering. You didn’t like talking about it, and maybe neither did he.

“No, I waited until you slept and went back to mine.”

You left out the part that you watched him sleep for hours, he didn’t need to know. You didn’t need to scare him like that. To make him aware that you were afraid he would stop breathing at any second, that his skin would go cold and his heart would stop beating. Like it had happened before.

No, he didn’t need to know that his worse nightmare was the same as your own.

He made a noise in acknowledgment and you took a deep breath and focused on the sun kissing your skin and the laughter of the kids playing in the water a few feet away. He focused on whatever he was doing, and you kept it to yourselves whatever was plaguing your thoughts. The air was crisp with tension, and you hated it, but you tuned it out. You could talk about it later.

── ⇌ • ○ • ⇋ ──

You didn’t talk about it later.

You didn’t talk about how neither of you dared to go diving in the lake, how you lingered on the margins, only going as further as to where the water reached your knees.

You didn’t talk about how Eddie didn’t take off his tank top.

You didn’t talk about how a couple walked past the two of you and stared too openly and too rudely at Eddie’s facial scars.

You didn’t talk about how you asked just as rudely what the hell they were staring at. But he smiled gratefully at you for it.

You didn’t have to talk about it. You knew how each other felt.

So he dragged you to a more hidden part among the trees and shared a joint with you. You laughed about nonsense together and went back to Coop’s house still giggling. You shared a towel for your showers because Betty (Coop’s wife) only had one to spare and you didn’t mind. You shared a couch during dinner because the table was already filled with Coop’s family and some other welcomed tourists, and you both received tight hugs from Betty before you went back to the van for the night.

You thought it best not to take the tent out of its package, both of you too high and afraid you wouldn’t be able to put it back later — and forgetting about the entirely available back of the van. Oh, well.

You both agreed to sleep on the same mattress, as much space between you as possible, backs turned to each other. After what felt like enough time, after you noticed that he was already asleep, you turned slowly not to wake him and stared at his back for a while. The repetitive movement of his muscles was soothing, and you matched your breath to his. The warmth of his skin still radiated and reached you somehow, even with the distance still fairly big between you two. And his calm, even breathing rhythm scared away your fears.

None of you had bad dreams that night.

end notes: i've made way too much research about this area of Wyoming for this chapter. Pine Haven was actually only Incorporated as a town by december of '86. I have no idea how the town looked months before that, so I didn't describe it a lot, made it vague on purpose. fun fact: Coop is the actual name of the guy who, alongside his wife Betty, founded Pine Haven back in the 50s - at least that’s what the town’s official website told me lmao. i obviously have no idea if they were actually this nice, but i wanted them to be a very wholesome and welcoming couple for the sake of the fic. also! let's suspend our disbelief, i know the chances of them being able to get a last minute reservation on what's probably the most popular national park in the US was very unlikely if not completely impossible. but everything is doable in a fic-world, right? right. to yellowstone we go, then

taglist (is open!): @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #lui writes #ifligh

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ohforficsakelibrary · 7 months

Text

You Brought Me Poison Flowers

Chapter 2: Yarrow - It draws the attention of those you most want to see.

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Series Summary: Joel and Ellie settle into life in Jackson, one more easily than the other, until Joel is reminded of what normal feels like. The kind of normal that he perhaps never had. A series of one-shot glimpses into a relationship (no true plot here, people.) Soft!Joel. Two touch-starved babes. Slow-ish burn.

Chapter subtitles taken from Cunningham’s Encyclopedia of Magical Herbs by Scott Cunningham. Although herbal preparations are consistent with historic uses, nothing herein is to be construed as medical advice.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Herbalist!OFC (age-appropriate age gap)

Word Count: ~4.1K

Rating: Eventually explicit 18+ / Minors DNI.

A/N: Joel fucks up a plant ID. Lennie feels him up and has him hang out for three.

Thanks very much to everyone who read and left some love on the first chapter of this little adventure. I honestly love these two, and I hope you all will come to as well.

Lennie’s processing comfrey for drying when Joel returns a week later. The shop is empty this time, he figures probably because they’re serving lunch down at the Mess Hall.

“Hey, Lennie,” he glances over at where she’s splitting stalks, “I brought you yarrow.”

Lennie casts her eyes up momentarily and the sight of him very nearly makes her cackle.

He’s freshly washed, having just returned from a morning patrol shift, silvered hair raked wet off of his face. Brow knitted. Mouth frozen in that scowl that he never quite realizes is perpetually plastered to his face. But he’s got a massive bouquet of white flowers clutched to his chest.

And not a moment after she looks away her eyes cut back to him.

The comfrey is hastily abandoned.

“Yeah, just, go ahead and lay that down on the table there.” Joel obliges as she wipes her hands on the edge of her apron and quickly swings around the bar. “How long ago did you pick those?”

“Uh, dunno, an hour, hour and a half maybe, sorry, I know they wilted a bit…”

She considers his face carefully before glancing at up the clock that hangs above the door as she closes the distance between them. “Did you eat lunch before or after you picked those?”

“Haven’t eaten lunch yet.” Suddenly she’s in his space, toe to toe. Immediately his back goes rigid.

“Ok, good,” she starts calmly before grabbing his face in her hands to hold him in place, staring intently into big brown eyes that have flown wide.

And now he’s been struck stupid.

“And you didn’t eat any part of those plants?”

“What? No.”

Her hands are quick yet determined as she lays the back of one across his forehead for a moment. He’d daresay he’s amused.

Bringing a woman flowers seems to go much farther these days.

“Open your mouth.” It’s a command. He does and she stands on tiptoes.

He finds himself enough to very nearly reach up to stop her the second she thumbs his bottom lip to get a better look.

And he would have. If he wasn’t starved.

The kind of hungry you don’t realize until the scent of food wafts in on a breeze.

“Did you happen to touch your face at all after you picked them? Rub your eyes, your nose, touch your mouth?”

“Uh, no? I dunno.”

“Are your eyes burning? Numb?”

“No.”

“Nose?”

“No.”

“Mouth?”

Yes.

“No.”

“Shortness of breath?” Her left hand is on his neck now, eyes on the clock, fingers gently applying pressure and readjusting until she finds his pulse and he swallows hard.

You mean not from this? What even is this?

His mouth drops open and “no” falls out. In response to her question, nothing else.

Christ, Miller. Like a fuckin sixteen year old.

“Sorry, what are you…” He finally finds his words, but she makes a soft noise to shush him.

A few seconds later “good” comes out on a breath that’s meant more for herself than for him.

“Do you feel nauseous?” Her small hands take both of his by wrists she can’t fully encircle, carefully poring over his palms.

“No.”

"And you haven't thrown up."

"No."

“Headache?”

“No.”

The backs of his hands fall under her scrutiny before she carefully examines his fingers.

“Sorry, may I?” She points at his chest and then at her ear. He nods before the thought finishes processing and in an instant she’s popped another button on his flannel and pressed her ear against his naked heart.

“You feel dizzy?” Her head is still on his chest and he realizes that his hands are poised in space, hovering just above her shoulders.

Yup.

“No.”

“You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

The fuck does that mean. Good sense is back.

“Lennie, what is going on.” He takes a step, hands held up before his chest in surrender. “Is this from that plant? You didn’t tell me yarrow was dangerous.”

“It’s not,” she finally vacates his space but instead of relief he registers loss of warmth.

“It’s actually incredibly safe outside of pregnancy and it’s one of the few things I can freely recommend for children, but you didn’t bring me yarrow.” She’s over at her bookshelf now, scanning quickly before slipping a text out of line.

“You brought me poison hemlock.”

Means you’re a fuckin’ idiot.

He glances down at the flowers. “What.”

“Poison hemlock,” she returns to him and perches on the edge of the table, feet on the bench. “Of Socrates fame. Take a seat.” He obeys her, mostly because he’s in a daze. “Hey, look at me.” He does. “It’s actually an incredibly honest mistake. You got any plans in the next three?”

“What the fuck Lennie, did I just…” big brown eyes are wide and he goes to scrub a hand down his face.

“Don’t touch your face,” she’s fast and grabs his elbow before he can make contact. “And no, you didn’t.” She stops meets his stare. “You’re more than likely going to be fine.”

“More than likely,” he nearly mocks, “how the fuck do you know? I thought you couldn’t touch that stuff.”

I know because its my fucking job to know, don’t test me, Miller.

“That’s a myth, all but the most sensitive people won’t have a reaction to just touching it and even then it’s just contact dermatitis, it has to get into your blood to do any harm.” She lets loose his arm as her words come fast and easy. “You didn’t eat it, so we’re good there, and you don’t have any fresh cuts on your hands, but you’re not sure if you touched your nose, mouth, or eyes, so that’s an open question.” She’s gone back to flipping pages, searching for something as she rattles this off. “Your pulse is strong, pupils a normal size, your heart is in normal rhythm, body temperature seems normal if a little warm, but we’re…”

“I run warm.” He’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify in this moment of all things.

“…concerned about cold here.” She finishes simultaneously. “You’re not sweating or salivating, no dizziness, nausea, or vomiting, no tremors, and finally, here we go.”

She appears to have found what she’s looking for.

“You’re staying here for the next three hours though.”

Ah. A finally a fuckin’ unit.

“You said I’m fine.”

“Symptoms can appear anywhere from 30 minutes to three hours after exposure.” Lennie reads out and clamps the book shut with one hand. “You haven’t touched your face since you’ve been in here, meaning the absolute last time any sap and therefore toxin could have made it into your system is right before you walked in that door. I figure give it three hours max for you to be completely in the clear.” She drops the book behind her on the table.

Somehow, he actually does follow her math.

“And if I do show symptoms…I assume you have an antidote?” “There is no antidote.” Lennie leans over her knees so her face is level with his. “It works by paralyzing your neuro-musculatory junctions…”

The dazed look is back.

“Where your nerves control your muscles,” she rephrases, “and causes paralysis, which is a problem when it comes to, you know, breathing. But that’s not going to happen.”

Lennie springs from the table and moves behind the bar.

“Me not being able to breathe is not going to happen, but I have to stay here for three hours and you have no antidote.” He’s not quite yelling but he’s not calm either.

“There is no antidote, and don’t touch YOUR FUCKING FACE,” she is though, seeing that he’s nearly gone to rub his eyes in frustration. “If you start to show any symptoms at all, I will notice, and I can get you over to Jane at the hospital sooner rather than later. She can treat the symptoms until it processes out of your system.” She drops down, disappearing for an instant before popping back up and dropping a pair of black rubber gloves on the bar top.

“I need your knife.” Lennie crosses the distance to stand in front of him, hand outstretched. Joel weakly reaches back for the pocket knife he used to cut the blooms.

She tosses it on the table next to the flowers.

“Come,” Lennie takes both of his hands in hers and he allows himself to be led to the sink. He’s not in shock, not by a long shot, but he’s not all here right now either.

These past few months here in Jackson have been the first time in the last twenty years that he didn’t want to. You know.

He has a house. His brother back. He isn’t tossing fucking bodies onto a burn pile.

He has Ellie.

And now here he might have actually gone and done it to himself. Finally.

Unless he missed again.

The water runs cool and then warm against his skin before Lennie soaps up her own hands and massages the suds into his skin, idly taking note that his hands are massive. Strong square palms and thick fingers.

Earth hands.

She continues in silence for a full minute before reaching for a nail brush. It takes him another minute of her scrubbing before he speaks.

“I know how to wash my hands, Lennie.”

“Well, that’s good,” she guides them under the water until they run clean and then some. “Your face now.”

Joel looks down at her with an expression she doesn’t bother to unpack. Instead she holds the bar of soap up between them and he takes it.

“Wash everything around your eyes and mouth first, keep ‘em shut tight.” Lennie calls over her shoulder as she heads back to the bar top. “Rinse for 30, repeat that once, and then gently take the soap over your eyes and mouth. Scrub that beard. And your neck too.”

She slips the rubber gloves on and grabs the Reaper’s bouquet that’s resting on the table. “Keep going till I get back,” she calls, passing him on her way through the door to the left. He hears the creaking of something heavy and the click of a screen door and two full wash cycles later hears the sequence in reverse.

“You should be good now,” moments later a gentle hand rests on his back and a washcloth is pressed into his palm before she turns the water off. Joel dries his face first, then his hands and finally opens his eyes as he steps back from the sink. All he can manage right now is to slump down at the table. Face in his hands.

Behind him, Lennie is at the bar, pouring soap into a metal bowl. She fills it with hot water and drops it off near him, slipping the rubber gloves on again. She washes the table carefully, starting with areas she knows are clean, before moving in to where he was sitting before, anywhere he could have touched with sap-sticky hands. She’s so thorough that she wipes the cover of whatever text she was flipping through too.

Joel watches her while she works.

He’s not really sure what else to do.

Faded jeans are rolled up at the cuffs and at some point she had taken off her sweatshirt. Underneath she’s wearing a yellow t-shirt upon which Smokey the Bear urges him to help prevent forest fires.

What if you are a fucking forest fire?

He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed before but her left arm is adorned in a black and grey sleeve of foliage and bones.

She has the arms of someone used to throwing heavy stuff around all day. He likes that about her.

What a fucking thought process.

He’s hungry and delusional from nearly having poisoned himself, he figures. Or potentially having lightly poisoned himself.

“Elbows up,” she says gently from across heavy oak. She’s quick with the cloth and allows him to get back to sulking in no time at all.

Lennie spends at least five minutes on the spot where the flowers were before his knife is flipped open and dropped into the soapy water. She’s careful to clean that spot too. She takes the whole bowl to the sink and deposits it into the basin to soak before dropping the rubber gloves into the bowl too. Lennie then moves to the front of the shop, flips the “Open” sign to “Closed” and pulls dark blue curtains over the front windows.

“Alright,” she turns around, resting her hands on her hips before pointing at him. He has no idea what she means, but knows it wasn’t meant for him. The kettle is filled and placed on the hot plate and she disappears again, this time through a door to the right, returning in five with a fork and a plate of thickly sliced ham, cheese, bread, and salad greens dressed lightly in oil.

“Sorry it’s not very cohesive, but it’s the quickest thing I have.”

“It’s fine,” Joel tears into the ham, honey-sweetness on his tongue reminding him of his manners.

“Thank you.”

Ten minutes later there’s weird coffee in front of him and he could not be more grateful. She finally comes to rest opposite him with her own cup, and rakes a hand through her hair as he shoves a bite of crumbly bread into his mouth.

“I’m sorry for all of this,” he says as he swallows.

“Don’t apologize, Joel. It’s an honest mistake. And I probably should have made it more clear.”

A few moments pass in silence before he mumbles, “a thousand leaves.”

“What’s that?”

“You said the leaves were the key. Soft and lacy. Thousand leaves.” He downs the last bite of greens, staring idly at a knot in the wood. “The leaves were different, that thing had carrot leaves.”

“It’s a member of the same family, yeah. Which is actually how most poisonings happen,” she takes another sip from her mug and rests a cheek in her hand. “Good observation.”

“What did you do with them?” He asks between bites of cheese.

“They’re in a lock box out back until I can process them.”

“Process?”

“Even poison plants have their uses.”

He’s curious but not ready to know.

“So what now?” He finally meets her eyes.

“Well, when you’re finished there I’m going to check you again for symptoms, and I’ll keep doing that every thirty until we’re clear.”

“And what do you want me to do?”

“Whatever you want Joel.” She stands and makes her way back to the bar. “You can read a book, tell me your life story, take a nap, sit there and scowl.”

At this, he throws a scowl back over his shoulder at her.

And for the first time today she grins.

She runs through her checks again after he’s through, and much to her surprise, he opts to help her finish processing the comfrey, portioning and binding bundles for drying. After that he pulls a book from the shelf and takes a seat at the table facing her as she sets to work straining tinctures.

Lennie smirks when she sees what he’s chosen. The Third Policeman by Flann O’Brien.

_____

They continue like this, in silence save for the clinking of mason jars and the metallic scrape of lids, speaking only for her to run her checks.

And yet discomfort remains at bay.

She catches him occasionally, dark eyes angled at her up over Flann’s pages. She can’t see his mouth but from the knit of his brow she knows the scowl is there. He doesn’t dwell long each time, but each time he dwells longer than the last.

He likes how she looks with her wild curls pulled back. Likes the rebellion of the errant ones at the nape of her neck. She isn’t a frail thing, whether from conscious nurturing of strength or what life has seen fit to deal. And yet the promise of softness in all the right places shows through baggy denim. Under the yellow cotton of her shirt. That gold against tawny skin. He clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

A sip of water helps.

Lennie isn’t innocent here. She’s just sneakier. His hair has dried by now, accentuating the silver streaks in ashen brown. The way his massive hands make the novel look small. It’s impossible not to notice the way brown and red flannel clings to his shoulders, stretching around his biceps when he brings the glass of water to his lips.

Those lips. Far more plush than they have any right to be.

Man walks in with big hands and broad shoulders and you’re fuckin’ nineteen again.

Just the hands will do these days, apparently.

She takes it out on chicory root with a cleaver.

_____

About ten minutes after a third round of checks Joel pipes up again.

“Hey uh, you got a bathroom?” His bladder is protesting the coffee. Tea. Whatever the fuck that thing is, and the glass of water that she’s been keeping full for him.

Lennie is a good host even in a shit situation.

“Yup,” he watches as she looks up from where she’s splitting roots of god knows what and points her cleaver at the woodstove in the corner. “Left and then another left.”

He follows her instructions, seeing that there’s a mudroom to the right after the first left. He can’t help but take quick stock. A door to the back garden. Jackets for all seasons hung on cast iron hooks. An array of practical shoes lined up neatly in a tray. He idly notices the pair of rain boots far larger than its companions before he slips into the tiny wood-paneled bathroom.

“Soap you’ve got in there smells nice.” This when he returns.

She smirks as he walks back in, amused that this broad, rugged thing likes scented soap.

“Oh so it does know how to wash its hands.” She grins up at him before answering in earnest. “Thanks. Think I’ve got…ponderosa? In there?” She reaches out a hand.

It takes him a moment to realize she’s asking for his hand to confirm. He obliges, and a corner of his mouth twitches in amusement when she takes a quick whiff.

“Ponderosa. You want a bar? Give me a sec.”

She wipes her hands on her apron and turns behind her where small wooden crates are stacked nearest the window. She shuffles through a few boxes before selecting a bar for him.

“I don’t have anything to trade.”

“What are you talking about, you brought me poison flowers. Those are my favorite.” She returns to her chopping with a smile.

He very nearly laughs. Instead, he returns to his seat and his book, absently pressing the bar of soap to his nose as he reads.

It’s funny how when everything went away, smells went with them. The good ones at least. Replaced with decay and dry rot. Gunpowder and shitty whiskey. Burning bodies. You stop paying attention.

To register is to be repulsed.

It apparently takes scented soap to make you want to inhale again. Warm vanilla without sticky sweetness. Earth. Barely there lavender.

“How’d you do this?”

“Uhm,” she takes a moment to simplify down to component parts. “Soap is some kind of fat and a base. A few years ago I started using whatever was left over from the prior year’s infused oils and tallow as the fat and some janky steam distilling equipment to eek out a bit of essential oil from fresh plants to boost the scent. It takes a lot of material and it’s not a particularly productive process but I figure everyone deserves a little frivolity. Something normal like before.”

“But there’s benefit to the plants being in there?” He still has the bar idly pressed up under his nose in a way that makes something jump in the pit of Lennie's stomach.

“Great question, there’s more benefit to the infused fat than the essential oil, but the essential oils carry the smell.”

“Hmm.”

Is he learning?

He finally pops the bar into the front pocket of his flannel.

Thank god flits across her mind.

The way that pleasure registered on his face every time he took a whiff didn’t go unnoticed.

It sets something long-dormant to churning.

Twenty minutes later he says, “I think it’s time for you to feel me up again.”

She snorts and glances at the clock seeing that it is indeed.

Paying attention and learning. What a guy.

“If I didn’t know better I’d say you’re beginning to enjoy this, Joel.”

She washes her hands and he stands up, smoothing the front of his shirt for a reason he can’t explain.

“Any shortness of breath?” Lennie starts, taking his face in her hands, studying his eyes in the late afternoon light. She can see easily that his pupils are a completely normal size, but now she notes softness in the brown. A subtle shade of gratitude.

She doesn’t bother with his mouth this time, leaving lips to tingle in unfulfilled anticipation.

She sees something flit across his eyes for a moment but doesn’t dwell. Instead, her fingers brush over his stubble to fit under his jaw. She’s learned by now that his pulse jumps just behind the bare patches in his beard. A handy shortcut that a part of her perhaps didn’t actually ask for.

Lennie breaks his stare to hold the clock’s gaze, and for a few seconds, Joel takes the opportunity to really look at her. He had noticed a round ago that her brown eyes are flecked with gold. But he can’t for his life figure out how old she is. Long strands of aggregated silver curl from her widow’s peak and temples. Faint lines in the corners of her eyes belie that perhaps at least she was able to find some joy in this hell.

Her mouth was impossible not to notice, but up close it strikes him that her lips aren’t chapped. They look—soft.

Soft? An adjective that fell to the wayside.

“Alright, good,” she breaks his reverie. “A little faster, but still within a completely normal range.” She steps back instead of leaning in.

“You’re not gonna listen?” He points loosely at his chest.

“Do feel out of breath?”

Gasping.

“No.”

“Like it’s skipping?”

Fuckin hopscotch.

“No.”

“Racing?”

A mile a minute.

“No.”

“Do you want me to?”

He takes too long to answer and she takes it as a “no.”

She returns to the bar top and her roots and Joel sits back down and finds his last-read page.

_____

The next thing he remembers is the hand resting lightly on his shoulder.

“Joel?”

“Yeah?” He sniffs as his eyes pop open. The shop is filled with pink light.

“You’re free to go.”

“It’s three hours?”

“It’s a little over four, but you looked like you could use the rest. You’ve been asleep for about two. It’s getting to dinner time and I figured Ellie would be looking for you.”

He scrubs his eyes with the heels of his palms before lightly scratching his beard.

“You didn’t wake me up to check.”

“I checked your breathing every fifteen until you started snoring, so I just listened for any change.” She slips him a scrap of paper on which is scribbled a few time entries and numbers next to them ranging from twelve to fourteen.

“Every fifteen?”

He lets it go without units.

“Well, you weren’t awake to tell me if anything started feeling off.”

“You really do care," he snarks.

“I mean, I try.” Lennie smiles and rakes a hand through curls that she’s freed from the scrap of fabric she had tied them with.

He stares at her for a second, hair wild from what she’s just done. Her sweatshirt is on again and she’s got her hands stuffed in the back pockets of her jeans.

“Yeah. Yeah, I should head out.” Not because of the time, though. He stands and tentatively stretches his back. “Can I borrow this?” Joel asks, holding the book up.

“Yeah, of course.”

“You comin’ to Mess?” He slips his clean knife into his back pocket.

“I’ve actually got some leftovers from a rabbit I trapped the other day, so.”

“Yeah. Yeah ok,” Joel starts for the door and turns back. “Hey, thank you, Lennie. For today.”

He sticks out his hand again and it makes her want to scream.

He does that. His reserve. Makes her want to scream.

“Yeah, of course,” she gives it a firm shake instead. “Anytime you uh, feel like you’re dying. Hit me up.” She grins.

He returns it. With teeth.

“Have a good night, Joel.”

“Goodnight, Lennie.”

She latches the door behind him and presses her back against it before sliding down to the floor.

Heavy breath hisses from her lungs.

“Not what I needed.”

Exactly what she needed.

“Fuck.”

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