#Will probably add to ao3 tomorrow

[oddberryshortcake]

Unnamed Diasomnia angst fic because I'm sad

Lilia didn't know a thing about love. 

Attachments came to him slowly and were so painfully ripped away from him. 

Even as he witnessed Malleus reaching his milestones as he grew up, thinking fondly of what his departed friends would think of their child…He still left the palace alone, slept alone, roamed alone…

It wasn't until he returned to those old ruins, that he found that baby…That he truly settled down and played house. 

But it was all pretend, wasn't it? 

He did everything a human parent would do. He witnessed how quickly this human child grew, as if it happened in the blink of an eye. 

He went through the motions and delighted in all of the child's charm. 

But at the end of the day, he wasn't this child's father. 

…So why couldn't he tell Silver that? Why did he hate the idea of making Silver sad?

Why did he delight in hearing Silver call him 'father' even when he wasn't meant to? Why did that little acorn necklace make his heart stir? 

It was his intent to foster a better relationship between humans and fae, but that was it…

When his magic finally runs out, he'll leave. There'd be nothing for him left in Briar Valley. 

Silver would live his short human life to the fullest. Malleus would be a fair and understanding king. All would be well. 

Stemming from his earliest memories of being alone in the wilderness…Scavenging for rats to eat and a tree to sleep under…Alone is where he belonged. 

He might have loved once before, but it was better this way. To leave, to be unbound, to be…

…

Once the dust had settled on Malleus's plot, when those who found the strength and wisdom to rise against him pulled him out of his overblotted state, Lilia saw a sight very similar to that he experienced during Malleus's youth. 

Distressed faces all around him, all victims of another one of Malleus's torrential magic outbursts. 

These humans were not as hardy as the fae who had fallen victim to his whims in the past. These humans were groggy, ragged, and struggling to climb up to their feet. But as was well, as it usually turned out, thankfully…

Lilia stood to give Malleus a stern scolding, but then paused in place, feeling a dreadful sense of unease. 

Something was not right, and he knew it the moment he woke up. 

He fought through his muddled memories, all mere impressions of his lived past…He remembered breaking through the fog, desperately trying to protect someone, urging them to rise against the darkness. 

"Silver?" Lilia asks, and he quickly finds him…Right at his side. 

Silver was collapsed on the floor, arm outstretched as if trying to reach the aurora ring that had fallen from his grasp, lying still beside him. 

Lilia kneels beside him and turns him over, watching as his head lolls limply to the side. Lilia places a hand on his hair, "Silver." He tries to speak louder, but his voice is abnormally small and fearful. 

He already knew what was happening, but every fiber of his being wanted to reject the very notion. He pulled Silver into his arms and held him tight, feeling the throes of a familiar magic claiming him once again. 

But Lilia knew this tale. 

The prince would wake up if someone truly loved him. 

"Wake up, I love you." Lilia whispered to him with a voice so small that not even the onlookers could hear. 

Nothing. 

His blood ran cold. 

"Silver, I love you, wake up." He spoke more forcefully, as if the magic itself hadn't heard him. 

His son remained so still in his arms that it was as if he was already dead. Even with how lax his limbs had become, how despairingly peaceful his expression was, Lilia knew that reality was far worse. 

"Silver, please," Lilia began to beg, growing louder. "Please believe me. I love you, I really do, and I'm sorry I didn't say it enough. I will tell you every day how much I love you s-so please…"

As urgency grew, so did his desperation. He was clutching Silver for dear life, hugging him tighter than he ever had in his entire life, and shouted. 

"I love you! I love you Silver, so wake up! Please don't leave me!" 

Sebek looked like he wanted to intervene, but Malleus stopped him. Whatever Sebek wanted to respond with manifested itself in quiet, angry tears and gritted teeth. 

Malleus tried to offer his sympathies all too late, and it completely went over Lilia's head, "Lilia-"

"I love you, Silver! I swear I always have! So come back! Come back to me!" Lilia screamed in his son's face. 

Tears he didn't even know he was capable of fell from his eyes onto Silver's face. He didn't even stir, not even a little bit. 

Lilia's fatherly panic finally reached its crescendo, and he screams loudly in grief, echoing off of Diasomnia's stone walls.

He hadn't noticed how quickly Malleus appeared at his side, extending a hand to touch Silver. Lilia quickly slapped it away and growled angrily, pressing Silver against his chest. 

"Don't you dare touch him." He hissed. 

"I want to help." Malleus insisted. 

"You can't!" Lilia cried, "Only I can, and it's not-"

It's not working. 

It's not enough. 

He is to blame for that.

Silver grew up to be a kind young man, worthy of his former princely title. He was compassionate beyond words, gifting Lilia with heartfelt presents and showering him with expressions of love, all of which he never felt able to reciprocate. 

How could he? Not when this was all an experiment to see if he truly cared or not. Not when he had every intention of leaving this boy behind to spend the rest of his days alone. Not when he saw Silver as a sad and frightened baby that had just escaped a centuries-long sleep without the comfort of a parent and thought of killing him right then and there. 

The love he felt didn't matter, because he felt it too late. 

Now Silver had been punished for his failure. Once again, those he loved so easily slipped through his grasp. 

Malleus is speaking again. He expresses his guilt over this being his fault. That he tormented Silver in the realm of dreams, that he fought against Silver's tireless efforts to save him from himself. 

Sebek appears at some point, still wanting to help but being unable to remove Silver from Lilia's hold. He speaks of Silver's bravery, how well he held it together, how much he cared for everyone else…

Silver learned the truth of his origins in Malleus's spell. 

He despaired in ways that were so predictable for his son. Who else would feel such personal guilt over something his biological parents did, even after they also perished in such a pointless and bloody conflict? 

Who else would be delusional enough to believe that Lilia of all people deserved better than the sweetest boy he had ever known. 

His self-hatred kept him tethered away from the waking world, trapped because he did not believe in what the good fairies wished for him. He didn't believe he was loved. 

He was so, so wrong. 

Decidedly, Lilia discovered a new purpose, a new way to redeem himself that might someday bring his son back to him. 

"I'm sorry I didn't make you feel loved enough. I tried my hardest, but it wasn't enough. I kept making mistakes, and you paid the price for them. I swear to you, no harm will come to you as long as I live. And not a day shall pass that I don't miss your smile."

Sebek hugged them both, and Malleus stretched his arm around all three of them. 

They weren't a perfect family, but they were real nonetheless.

And for whatever mistakes they all made, they knew one thing was always certain;

Silver loved them. 

[presumenothing]

so we all know the drill, yeah? my keyboard slipped etc etc and thus i present: 吉祥纹莲花楼 aka LOTUS CASEBOOK (the novel) CHAPTER ONE: TASTER EDITION further aka "the first chapter, but minus the Case Exposition bit because wow noooope". note also that this is not as serious nor thoroughly-edited as some of my other TLs (nif fandom alumni may remember me from known, unknown aka this absolute unit/research spiral of a post-canon fic; this is Not That and also, hi!!). and now with that out of the way, enjoy! ETA: fixed some missing bits that got eaten while posting to tumblr + only maybe 30% on-topic footnotes over here

PART THE FIRST: A GHOST, MURDER, IN THE GREEN GAUZE WINDOW

Changzhou City, Xiaomian Inn.

The seventeenth of the sixth month, just around midnight.

It had been two days since Cheng Yunhe, the head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company, started escorting these sixteen boxes of precious goods. Though all had been well so far, he felt tight-strung with exhaustion, and despite having fallen asleep he woke up without quite knowing why.

Silence permeated the dark room.

Outside the window… there was singing.

Faint waves of sound, barely discernible, as if someone was singing; and apparently quite in earnest, too, but in an incredibly odd tone… just as if… someone was singing with their tongue cut out. 

He opened his eyes, and looked at the window directly across from his bed.

Amidst the darkness, green flecks flickered dim and sudden across that window, now far then near, and only on this one window across from him.

Outside the window, the faraway song continued, that broken tongue singing a tragic melody that no-one living could possibly understand…

He’d already practised almost forty years of martial arts, and though his hearing and sight might not be the top in the jianghu, it could hardly be weak either, but he… could not make out the sound of anything human.

As the wind whistled through the slightly-ajar window, he stared at that window with its flickering green shadows – and for the very first time in his life, he thought of a word – ghosts?

–

ONE: LUCKY PATTERN LOTUS PARLOUR

The broad daylight of a sunny day.

Bingshan Town was not a remarkable place by any means; it had neither rare treasure nor great legends, and just like the vast majority of places in the jianghu, its denizens were a little boring, its crops a tad skinny, its rivers a tinge dirty, and its post-meal conversational topics a touch lacking… far too lacking, actually, so whenever there was something everyone had to delight in it for the longest time – not to mention how that recent happening was an odd one indeed.

The tale so far: on this day, the eighteenth of the month, when the people of Bingshan Town opened their doors to sweep their stoops, they abruptly found that their only-too-familiar main street had suddenly sprouted a two-storey wooden building. This building was hardly a short one, either, fully capable of housing people inside, and in spacious lodgings no less; it was made fully of wood, and engraved with patterns unusually fine and ornate, that even a blind person could recognise by touch – none other than lotus flowers and auspicious clouds.

After a good half-day’s worth of discussion, some eagle-eyed people recognised at last how this building had “suddenly appeared”: though its structure was that of a building, it turned out that it was not connected to the ground… at any rate, this building had been pulled by someone with a cart, here to the main street of their Bingshan Town, and put it there. Everyone expressed their amazement at this, but nobody could comprehend why anyone would bother dragging over such a large building in the dead of night just to leave it on the street, or what it could possibly be for. Perhaps as a shrine for their town god? Though speaking of which, their local shrine had indeed fallen into disrepair and gone unworshipped for many years now…

Such debate continued for three days straight, up until an express convoy working at some company who happened to be coming home was struck dumbfounded upon seeing it, screeched “The Lucky Parlour!” and there and then turned to run madly away without even returning home, still yelling “Lucky Parlour!” along the way – and thus the building abruptly became a haunted house, that would drive anyone who saw it right mad.

Only seven days later, when that express convoy suddenly brought the entire convoy company back to Bingshan Town, did the masses discover that said building was not in fact some haunted house. 

Not only was it not a haunted house, it was actually an auspicious building, a super-duper auspicious building. 

The “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” was a medical clinic.

Its master was of surname Li, named Lianhua.

What kind of a person was Li Lianhua? As a matter of fact, nobody in the jianghu knew either. Whether his master, his background, the level of his martial arts, his age, or even the matter of his looks: all of it was unknown. Six years had passed since this person appeared in the jianghu, and in total he’d done only two things, but just these two things alone had been enough to turn the “Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour” into the single most fascinating legend in the jianghu.

The two things Li Lianhua had done: the first was bringing back to life the martial scholar “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, who’d been buried for many days after dying from major injuries after a decisive duel. The second was bringing back to life “Ironflute Hero” He Lantie, who’d also been buried for many days with all his bones broken after dying from a cliff fall.

Just these two incidents alone had already made Li Lianhua the one figure in the jianghu that people most wanted to acquaint themselves with, but there was also the matter of his strange house that he always brought along with him – this only made Li Lianhua more of a legend amongst legends.

The head convoy of Hexing Convoy Company led every last one of his men on swift horseback to Bingshan Town, and after three days of clean baths and devout incense, finally delivered on great tenterhooks a letter of greeting to that building carved of precious softwood: Cheng Yunhe of Hexing Convoy Company wishes to consult on an important matter.

Said letter was pushed in via a window gap.

All forty-odd men of the company waited alongside Cheng Yunhe, as if it was the King of Hell inside of that building, passing judgement––

Soon after, that building that had been so silent as to seem unoccupied let out the faintest of creaking sounds. All of Hexing Convoy held their breath, and even the rubbernecking passers-by caught theirs, too, widening their eyes to better await whatever creature could possibly emerge from this building.

The door swung swiftly open, and not in the slow swing of everyone’s imagination.

A large cloud of dust burst forth with a bang, blowing all over Cheng Yunhe, and the figure in the door made a sound of dismay, saying with great apology: “I was tidying up odds and ends, and didn’t even realise I had guests, my apologies, apologies indeed.”

All of Hexing Convoy, now covered in dust and sawdust, stared in astonishment at the one who’d opened the door with a broom in one hand; the very same broom where that bright red greeting letter was now stuck on. He looked very young, no older than twenty-seven or twenty-eight, and perhaps even a little younger than that if not for the much-mended grey robes he was wearing; his skin was fair and his looks refined, but neither was he so beautifully handsome as to be unforgettable from a glance. He held the broom in his right hand and a dustpan in his left, and looked out at the dozens-strong line outside his door with a face full of apology.

Cheng Yunhe gave a heavy cough, and saluted in greeting: “I, “Thousand-Mile Crane” Cheng Yunhe, humbly greet Li-xiansheng of the Lucky Parlour; may I perhaps request that you pass a message to him that there is a matter I wish to consult him on?”

“Ah,” said the grey-robed young man. “A message?”

Cheng Yunhe spoke gravely: “I fear we must meet with Li Lianhua, Li-xiansheng himself, for there is crucial business to discuss.”

The young man set down the broom. “I am indeed Li Lianhua.”

Cheng Yunhe’s eyes widened abruptly, mouth falling open, and in that moment every last bystander wanted nothing more than to toss three or five eggs into his mouth. Very swiftly he shut it again, and gave another heavy cough. “Your good reputation precedes you, Li-xiansheng…” 

And then he found himself at a loss on how to continue, for he had already detailed the ins and outs of the matter on the greeting letter, but that same letter was now stuck on Li Lianhua’s broom.

Li Lianhua said: “Apologies, apologies… my residence is covered in clutter at the moment…”

He raised a hand to invite Cheng Yunhe inside.

The Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour was indeed covered in assorted junk; from nails to hammer, saw to axe, dustcloths to broom, sawdust and dust everywhere, and a few boxes holding who-knew-what. The front room held only one table and chair each, both made of bamboo and not worth even twenty bronze coins. Cheng Yunhe felt heavy doubt in his heart, but what with the sheer reputation of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, and this grey-robed man to be sitting in it, he dared not to suspect him to be a fake, either; and thus he was left with no choice but to sit respectfully across from Li Lianhua and recount every part of those fearsome events he’d encountered a half-month ago.

[––CASE EXPOSITION CUT FOR SANITY––]

Such was the tale of the “Green Window Ghost Murder” that had thrown the martial world into heated debate over the last half a month. Yu Mulan, heartbroken over the senseless death of his beloved daughter, flew into a rage and commanded the death of all the swordsmen who had been escorting Yu Qiushuang that night, alongside a kill order for the entirety of Hexing Convoy Company. Cheng Yunhe, pushed to his wits’ end, had been about to bring his family and disband the company for a scattered escape when he heard the news of the Lucky Parlour.

Li Lianhua could bring the dead back to life – and so Cheng Yunhe suddenly thought: if Li Lianhua could resurrect Yu Qiushuang, wouldn’t that resolve everything? Resurrection was not something he would have ever believed in, just a half-month ago, but with matters the way they were now he could only work with what he had, dead or otherwise, and since the heavens had seen fit to let him come across Li Lianhua, why not give it a try? After all… if the legends were true, all could not but be well.

But even until he’d finished recounting the “Green Window Ghost Murder” incident, he hadn’t heard any startling insights out of Li Lianhua, only an ah and a nod of his head.

After finishing his tea, Cheng Yunhe had no choice but to leave. He truly could not think of any good reason to remain any longer in that empty building of Li Lianhua’s, full of assorted junk and Li Lianhua’s expression full of gentle incomprehension. 

Cheng Yunhe departed.

From the second storey of the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, someone said, leisurely: “Even five years later, you’re still plenty famous, aren’t you…”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, drinking tea. “Ah…”

Who even knew what he was ah-ing about.

“Actually I’ve never been able to figure it out.” That figure descended slowly from the second storey. He was thin and pale, all skin and bones, and perhaps if he gained twenty pounds he’d be a elegantly beautiful young man, but as it stood he mostly just resembled a victim of starvation. Yet this particular hungry corpse also happened to be wearing a set of rich white robes of particularly meticulous workmanship, with the tassel and jade ornaments favoured only by those fine young masters untouched by worldly troubles, and a long sword with an unusually elegant shape to its hilt. “How could anyone in this world possibly believe in something like resurrection? It’s been five whole years, and yet nobody has forgotten those two scandals of yours…”

“Because none of them are as smart as you.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly, stood up to stretch, then picked up his broom and resumed sweeping the floor.

“Can you not sweep the floor?” The hungry corpse from the upper storey suddenly glared. “How can you possibly keep sweeping when I, the great Fang-dagongzi, am here right in front of you? Do you realise that if Cheng Yunhe had known I was in here just now, he’d definitely kneel down and beg me too ask that old geezer Yu not to slaughter his entire family? You have a young master of my handsome looks and eminent status in front of you, and yet you’ve been doing nothing but sweep the floor?"

“I can’t.” Li Lianhua said: “I haven’t cleaned and repaired this building in too long. It’s very dirty, and leaks when it rains, too.”

The white-robed corpse kept up the wide-eyed glaring for many moments longer, before suddenly letting out a sigh. “Someone like you who can’t fight and can’t treat diseases, who doesn’t plant crops or commit theft either – how have you even managed to survive all these years in such fame? I really don’t get it.” 

This white-robed hungry corpse was “Melancholic Young Master” Fang Duobing, the eldest son of the of the Fang martial family. He’d known Li Lianhua for an entire six years, long enough that he even knew exactly how this same person had come to fame – Shi Wenjue had suffered major injuries in his duel and used the Turtle’s Breath method to close his qi and recover, the local villagers had taken him for dead and buried him, Li Lianhua had gone to dig him up, and thus Shi Wenjue had naturally come back to life; He Lantie, on the other hand, had staged an entire cliff jump after failing in his pursuit of a wife, played dead and buried himself in the ground, and Li Lianhua who’d just happened to be passing by dug him out yet again. The whole world was wondering how Li Lianhua had managed to bring the dead back to life, while all Fang Duobing wanted to know was how he knew where on earth (or under it) there’d be a live person to dig up.

“I did still have some silver coins, a while ago.” Li Lianhua carefully swept the front room, then put away the dustpan. “As long as you plan well, you can still make do.”

Fang Duobing rolled his eyes. “And how much silver do you have now?”

“Fifty taels.” Li Lianhua smiled faintly. “That’s enough to use for a lifetime, to me.”

Fang Duobing tsked. “To think that there’s losers like you in the martial world, who only plan to spend fifty taels in their whole life, it’s practically a shame upon the jianghu. Had Cheng Yunhe known what kind of person you are, I’d like to see whether he still would’ve come asking for help… heh, asking a ‘miracle doctor’ who doesn’t know a drop of medicine and has to go everywhere with his house on his back because he’s too stingy to stay in an inn, to go treat the dead, I can’t believe he thought of that.” Fang Duobing rolled his eyes again for good measure, and eyed Li Lianhua up and down. “Though I can’t actually tell whether you are going to help him go treat the dead or not.”

Li Lianhua sat on the chair, fingers still meticulously fiddling away with the interlocking joint on that squeaky bamboo table of his, and gave a small smile upon hearing this. “Why wouldn’t I go? After all, I don’t know how to plant crops, or sell vegetables, and I’m not in want of coin. Wouldn’t life be incredibly boring if I didn’t have something to do?”

“When that old geezer Yu finds out that you’re a fake miracle doctor and decides to kill your entire family, Fang-dagongzi is absolutely not going to save you,” Fang Duobing said, leisurely. “Go on then, don’t expect this young master here to see you off.”

And so it was that Li Lianhua spent a whole three days tidying up inside the Lucky Pattern Lotus Parlour, packing who-knows-what into that small parcel of his, and after meticulously writing a lengthy missive temporarily entrusting the parlour to the care of “Lifelong Learner” Shi Wenjue, he set off at last.

He was headed to Yu Fortress, to see the corpse of Yu Qiushuang.

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (Pt. 4)

—

Tw: descriptions of body horror, Dr. Crane has PTSD and Does Not Realize, Crane has an actual panic attack and just doesn’t care, the Riddler makes one (1) sex joke about Batman

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) (Prev here) - (Pt. 5 here)

(Masterlist here)

—

Dr. Jonathan Crane is in his lab, the acrid scent of chemicals filling the air, and his hands are shaking.

Danny’s health, for the first week that he had him, had been steadily improving at an extremely quick rate. However, his healing had begun to stagnate. Danny said that it was because his body had run out of ectoplasm, and that while there was a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham, he needed a stronger type in order to heal.

And so, that led Dr. Crane here.

He had stolen the research notes from the Penguin years ago regarding his experimentation on him.

(He quite vividly remembers the sound of bone creaking and groaning as it twisted, lengthened. The squelching of shifting tendons and muscles, the strange fabric-like tightening of skin. The feeling of going from man to monster, of losing all claim to his humanity.)

Danny had called him Liminal, part ghost. He had said that he was transformed by, among other things, a kind of synthetic ectoplasm.

Danny needed ectoplasm.

Crane had the research notes. He had every ingredient necessary. And yet, attempt after attempt failed.

The chemical smell burns his nose. His hands tremble.

Dr. Crane is not afraid.

He doesn’t feel fear anymore. He’s tried to, many, many times, but nothing has worked. And yet, his hands are shaking still.

(The horrifying sensation of vertebrae pop-pop-popping along his spine, growing and lengthening. The unbearable itching beneath his skin as toxin glands begin to form. The feeling of his teeth sharpening and elongating, of his skull growing, of his vision changing and brightening. The awful stench of chemicals. The awful stench of ectoplasm.)

Jonathan takes careful note of his shaking hands, his blurring vision, his accelerated heart-rate and shallow breathing.

(Human hands. Human vision. Human heart and lungs and organs.)

He takes note of them, but he does not let that distract him from the task at hand. Danny is not a chemist, but Jonathan is.

The boy knows enough about chemistry in theory, but he won’t go anywhere near Crane’s equipment. He seems to have some sort of intense fear of laboratory settings, probably developed during his stay with the GiW, and Crane is willing to respect that, if only because he cannot afford to lose him.

As such, Crane is the only one qualified to do this. And, unfortunately, if he isn’t successful the boy may very well die.

He heats the chemicals to precisely the right temperatures, adding each one to its correct container.

Dr. Crane thinks of the Scarebeast, that creature born of cruelty and greed and a sense of superiority. That creature which he tries to ignore is a part of him, that can never be removed. A damage which cannot be undone.

He pours the contents of a small beaker into a larger flask, watching the liquids swirl together. The stench in the air is becoming closer and closer to the one burned into his memory.

Crane’s whole body is wracked with unpleasant sensations. It’s truly unfortunate, he thinks, that despite his mind’s lack of fear, his body still reacts so harshly.

Jonathan’s eyes wander, eventually settling on a purple and green card sitting innocently on the corner of the table.

Right.

Even if they wiped out the GiW tomorrow, and even if Danny could survive without ectoplasm, he would still be in danger.

Crane has to get him back to good health. It’s the only way he can be sure that the boy can defend himself properly.

The solution in the flask begins to foam, and Jonathan does not hesitate as he adds the final ingredient. He pours the mixture into a new container, capping it and placing it into a freezer set to -40 degrees.

Hopefully this time he got the timing right.

Jonathan tries to relax, the ventilation in the room slowly but surely clearing the familiar smell from the air.

He thinks of the letter.

Surely, he thinks, that man can come up with some better material for his jokes. Or, at least something new.

Same old threats, same old attempted poisoning.

Aiming his threats at Danny, though, that was new. New and utterly unacceptable.

Scarecrow did what he had to.

He doubted that his solution would last forever, of course, as with that man it never did. As such, he would prepare both himself and Danny for the inevitable moment that his choices came back to bite them.

However, for the moment, they were safe. Danny could rest and recover, and Jonathan could figure out a plan to minimize possible damages.

Jonathan is no longer shaking.

He’s exhausted. This is his fifth attempt today, and each one leaves an unfortunate strain on his mind and body.

With a sigh, he settles himself into his seat at a nearby desk, opening up his computer and logging his most recent attempt. He still has to wait for it to chill to know if it was successful, but he can always update the logs later.

Once he’s done, he stretches, joints popping loudly as he walks to the freezer.

When he sees the results of his tireless work, the ghost of a smile flits across his face.

Success.

Jonathan picks up the jug of ectoplasm and leaves the lab, which is in all actuality the basement of the new apartment that he moved himself and Danny into after receiving the note. The scrappy old woman who was his landlord had told him that as long as he paid her five hundred dollars up front, she would let him set up in the basement without any questions or cop calls.

And so, the most expensive apartment in the Narrows was his.

At least, he thought, the distance between the basement and the apartment was short enough that Danny didn’t have to sit in while he was doing his labwork.

Jonathan knew that he didn’t exactly have a strong grasp on the concept of ‘lab safety,’ proven by his built-up immunity to almost every toxic chemical he’d ever encountered, and he doubted that Danny should be around such an environment.

He was back to the apartment quickly, not bothering to hide the self-satisfied smile on his face. Danny is sitting in his armchair, trying to read one of his books. Danny looks up, ready to greet him, when he sees the jug in his hands and pauses.

“Is that..?”

“Synthetic ectoplasm,” Jonathan says proudly, “I found the Penguin’s research notes and decided to recreate it, since you said that you needed it to heal properly. I’m not sure if it’ll work the same as what you usually have, but I hope it’s helpful all the same.”

Danny is standing, now, and looking at Jonathan with a strange look in his eyes. He looks, Jon thinks, like he’s about to cry.

Then Danny is rushing forward and wrapping his arms around Jonathan, his scrawny form shaking.

Jonathan is, for a moment, horrified. Did he do something wrong somehow? Why is this child, who’s so afraid of touch, hugging him?

And then he hears Danny’s voice, and he knows that it was all worth it.

“Thank you,” he’s mumbling, over and over, “thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says softly, because what else can he say?

The boy cries in his arms for a while, and Jonathan briefly wonders what his life must have been like before, if a person like him can be seen as a comforting figure.

Then, Danny pours himself a small glass of the synthetic ectoplasm, putting the rest into the small fridge which had come with the apartment, and he settles back down, sitting in the armchair once again.

Jonathan sits opposite of him, and they chat with one another as Danny drinks.

Danny talks to him about the stars and tells him about different spaceships, and Jonathan makes sure to pay attention and ask the boy questions.

He doesn’t miss the way that Danny lights up every time he asks him something about his interests. He’s so passionate, so smart, a trait that he seldom sees outside of his fellow rogues, and Jonathan wants to encourage that.

It’s…nice. Peaceful, almost.

And then the front door flies open, because Jonathan isn’t allowed to have nice things.

“Jon,” a familiar voice rings out, “what the hell?!”

Danny is frozen in place, clearly terrified.

Jonathan heaves a sigh, turning to face the nuisance who’s entered his apartment.

“Eddie,” he drawls, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Edward’s face is red with anger as he invades Jonathan’s apartment.

“Oh, I don’t know! Maybe it’s the fact that you sent a bunch of rogues a cryptic message and then dropped off the face of the earth for two weeks! I was worried, Jon!”

Jonathan hums in acknowledgement.

“I didn’t think it was that cryptic,” he says, picking up a book in order to pointedly ignore the Riddler.

“Oh, of course you didn’t, you straw-stuffed hickory dickory dickhead. I swear, you’re always—” he pauses, finally having noticed Danny sitting opposite of Jonathan, “—who is this?”

“My apprentice,” Jonathan replies, dreading the upcoming headache he was no doubt going to develop from Edward’s company, “he’s helping me hunt down the GiW. His name is Danny.”

Edward gasps dramatically.

“You—an apprentice?! And you’re letting him sit in the old man chair?! You don’t even let me sit in the old man chair,” he wails, draping himself over the headrest of the couch with a flourish, “Jonathan, I thought I knew you!”

“Edward,” Jonathan says, “get out of my apartment.”

“Oh my goodness, this is incredible. You’re becoming the bat!”

“I am not becoming the bat, Eddie, now get out.”

Edward has a shit-eating grin on his face as he waltzes over to Danny. Danny, who seemed terrified when he first appeared, is now looking at him with obvious amusement written all over his face.

“I mean, look at him! The hair, the eyes, the scrappy build. If you put him in one of those traffic light vigilante costumes, he could easily pass as a Robin!”

“I’m not doing this with you today, Eddie.”

“Riddle me this, Jon: I am a treasure hidden inside of a chest. You can break me, or steal me, or give me a rest. I can flutter, or pound, or attack, or drop, but if you don’t have me, you’re certainly fucked. What am I?”

Jonathan pauses for a moment before he groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Eddie.”

Danny sits still, a confused look on his face as he repeats the riddle silently. Then, his face lights up in delight.

“A heart!”

“Jon, I like this one,” Edward says with a smile, ruffling Danny’s hair, “you are correct! A heart, something that I wasn’t aware that our dear Jonathan had!”

“Eddie, stop.”

“No, no,” Edward says, “I was worried about you, you deserve this. I mean, you even missed girls night! You never miss girls night!”

“Girls night?” Danny asks, absolutely delighted.

“Oh, of course,” Edward says, sprawling over on the couch, dangerously close to just laying in Jonathan’s lap, “we have it once a week. I’m invited because of Selina and Jon’s invited because Harley likes him.”

“And what does girls night entail, exactly?”

“Eddie,” Jonathan groans, “please.”

“Well,” Edward hums, “we usually paint our nails, or watch a movie, or gossip about the other rogues, and occasionally, we tell each other about any ‘encounters’ we have with Batman,” he says, raising his eyebrows up and down.

Danny’s jaw drops.

“Edward, shut up,” Jonathan says, an irritated tone in his voice that wasn’t there before.

“No way,” Danny says, “I thought that Batman, like, hated you guys or something. You mean he actually..?”

“Oh, the Bat is much like a bottle of liquor or a cheap cigarette, in that he was made to be passed around.”

Danny chokes on air.

“Edward Nygma,” Jonathan hisses, getting out of his seat and looming over the man, “get the hell out.”

Edward pales.

“Leaving, leaving!” Edward says, dashing away from Jonathan. He pauses, turning to flash Danny a quick smile.

“Remember Danny, I’m your favorite uncle! Not any of the other rogues, me!”

With that, he leaves, the room falling completely silent.

And, as per usual, that silence does not last.

“You full-named him?” Danny asks gleefully, “and it worked?”

Jonathan just sighs, sitting down on the couch and rubbing at his temples.

“Please, don’t take anything Eddie says seriously. He’s a moron.”

“Dr. Crane, please let me come to girls night with you,” Danny pleads, his eyes sparkling, “I promise I won’t embarrass you.”

Jonathan groans.

“Of course you won’t, Eddie will do it for you.”

“Come on, please?”

“I think we’re a bit busy with the GiW at the moment,” Jonathan snaps. He pauses as he notices the crestfallen expression on Danny’s face.

This boy is going to be the death of him.

“Perhaps, though, when all that is taken care of…”

Danny cheers, grinning wildly, and Jonathan is not at all relieved to see him happy again. Certainly not.

The rest of the day is relatively normal.

Danny works on trying to get information from the GiW database while Crane refines his his fear toxin, both preparing for a raid on the GiW base they located in Gotham.

It was only a temporary base, nothing of note, but there was a chance of discovering more bases through it, and that wasn’t something either of them were willing to give up.

Still, something like this would take time. Rushing would only lead to failure.

…

Late in the night, long after Danny is fast asleep in his room, Jonathan pauses.

The GiW are not the only threat out there. They aren’t the only threat to him or to Danny. Perhaps it could be helpful to reach out to someone with greater resources than himself.

He sends a quick message to Red Hood.

Hopefully, he thinks, everything will go smoothly.

—

[trippedandfell]

stop the world just to stop the feeling

The night before Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck and Eddie talk on a balcony. | 1.5k | buddie | ao3

Eddie’s just uncapped his second beer when he hears footsteps behind him, so familiar he recognizes who it is by sound alone.

“Hey,” he says, as Buck sidles into view, arms coming to rest on the balcony railing beside him. He’s got a drink in his hand, too - one of those fruity vodka seltzers that Eddie’s reluctantly started stocking in the bottom drawer of his fridge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Buck fiddles with the tab on his can, the silver of it reflecting in the moonlight. “Something like that.”

His shirt is slightly too big, slipping down just enough to expose the sharp jut of his collarbone, the dark bruise forming on the edge of it. Eddie’s eyes fly to it without permission, and Buck flushes red. 

“It’ll be covered by the suit tomorrow, promise.”

“Mm.” Eddie takes another sip of his beer, ignoring the sour way it curdles in his stomach. “Good. Think Chim’s one incident away from going full groomzilla.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Not at all,” Eddie admits, and Buck huffs a laugh. “You should have been me the night before Shannon and I got married. I was a wreck.”

He’d been alone, in the shitty little apartment they’d rented once they learned about Christopher, Shannon spending the night at her mom’s across town to help them cling to some ragged sense of propriety that neither of them truly believed in. It had been one of the most awful, stomachache-inducing nights he’d ever had up to that point in his life, and it wasn’t until he saw Shannon in the church the next day, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the bump hidden under the folds of her white dress, that everything had finally clicked into place.

“Hi,” she had said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and Eddie had let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Buck’s staring at him now, as if he can sense the myriad emotions playing out in Eddie’s head. “It’s so weird,” he says. “Maddie and Chimney have basically been married for a while now. But all of this just makes it feel so real.” He gestures a hand at the expansive hotel grounds, the ocean beyond. “I mean, my parents are here.”

Eddie knows. Eddie had done an exceptional job at ignoring them at the rehearsal dinner that night, tucked in the corner by himself, Marisol having gone to their room earlier with a headache.

He feels a brief, guilty flash about leaving her alone now, although she’d been snoring when he’d crept past Chris on the sofa bed and out into the light of the hallway. He wonders, idly, if he should have left a note.

“They seem to be behaving,” he offers, which is about all of the goodwill he’s able to give the Buckley parents at any given time. Buck makes a face at him, and he adds, half-teasing, “for now.”

As far as he knows, they haven’t said a word so far to Buck about Tommy. He should probably ask, but somehow he can’t make his mouth form the words.

Buck drums his fingers against the balcony, quiet. “Do you ever think about it?”

What, fighting your parents? Eddie almost jokes, but he knows that’s not what Buck’s asking. “About getting married again?”

“Or getting married at all,” Buck says, and there’s something in his face, something suspiciously like longing, that has Eddie taking another gulp of his beer. “Like, big reception, flowers. The whole nine yards.”

“I wouldn’t do a big reception,” Eddie says, shuddering. “Just in the backyard, or something.”

Buck cracks a smile. “You do have a nice backyard.”

“You’re just saying that because you did all the landscaping,” Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together. “I had to weed it the other day though, so I should at least get partial credit.”

Buck looks sheepish at that, which wasn’t what Eddie was going for, but also wasn’t not what he wanted to happen. “I meant to come do it this week, I’ve just been -”

“Busy,” Eddie finishes for him, which isn’t fair, not really. Not when Buck is still over at his house most days, not when he hasn’t missed a single one of his afternoons out with Christopher. It’s just that there’s now a new purple marker in his kitchen, carefully outlining Buck’s availability on the calendar.

Eddie’s never had to schedule Buck in before. Not with Taylor, or Natalia, or even Ali, way back when. 

Combine that with the fact that Buck’s now asking about marriage…

Eddie drains the last of his beer. “You should get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, but stays where he is, shoulder still pressed against Eddie’s. “Hey - uh. We’re good, right?”

“Buck, you’ve already apologized.” And grovelled, and apologized again, until Eddie was back from medical leave and working with the 118 again.

“Not about that.” Buck shakes his head, the movement bringing him closer to Eddie still, their forearms nearly overlapping on the railing. “I mean - about me. And Tommy, I guess.”

And Eddie - Eddie will be the first to admit it took him a second to come to terms with it, to fully wrap his head around the idea of Buck with a man and, more specifically, Buck with Tommy. But he’d hugged Buck, and stumbled his way through some approximation of support, and then gone home and researched until his eyes were burning and he’d bookmarked every tab he could find about bisexuality and being a good ally - so. He thinks he’s been doing okay, overall. Certainly not poorly enough to make Buck question if he’s been harbouring secret homophobic tendencies all this time.

“You know I’m good with that,” he says, and means it. “And you and Tommy seem - really good. So if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Buck’s eyebrows crinkle together, and Eddie has to resist the fanatical urge to reach over and smooth them out. “I know. I know you are. But something else just seems - wrong.”

“With me?”

“With us,” Buck says, voice veering toward frustration. “Come on, Eddie. You know you feel it too.”

Something thumps in Eddie’s chest, like his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest. “Buck, I promise nothing’s changed-”

“But something has,” Buck says. “And I don’t know what, and it’s driving me insane, and every time I’m at work or at the gym or even with Tommy-” Wait, what? Eddie thinks, panicked -  “I’m lost in my own head, wondering how the fuck I managed to mess up the most important relationship in my life.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Eddie says, honest. “No one did. It’s just - growing pains. You’re in a relationship, I’m in a relationship - it’s natural that we maybe don’t come first for each other anymore.”

Buck stares at him, the corner of his eyes suspiciously red. “We both know you don’t actually believe that.”

He doesn’t, but they’re veering into dangerous territory now. “Buck-”

“Why is it different now?” Buck says. “We’ve both dated people at the same time before. Taylor and Ana, Marisol and Natalia. Why is this different?”

Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s capable of breathing. “Buck-”

“It’s not because I’m with Tommy,” Buck says, raking a hand through his hair. “Or that I’m bi. It’s not actually any of it, is it, Eddie?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just - resigned. Tired. The beer bottle is clammy against Eddie’s palm. 

“You never answered my question earlier,” Buck says. “About if you would get married again.”

When Eddie speaks, his voice feels like sandpaper. “Maybe. If it was the right person.”

“Is Marisol the right person?”

“Is Tommy?”

Buck flinches, minuscule. “I asked first.”

“You know what my answer is, Buck,” Eddie says, and he’s tired, so tired. 

“You know mine too,” Buck says, soft.

He does know. Just like he knows Buck’s favourite song, favourite dinner, favourite feel-good rom-com. Just like he knows that Buck will spend all of tomorrow night dancing with Tommy, but he’ll save one dance for Christopher, spinning him around the middle of the room while Eddie watches. Just like how he knows -

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie realizes how close they are now, facing each other with the moon still high overhead, lips a hairsbreadth apart. “We can’t.”

Eddie can feel Buck’s exhale against his lips. “I know,” he says. Taking a step back feels like swimming against a riptide, but he manages to get his limbs to cooperate eventually. “We should head back in.”

Buck swallows, chin bobbing as he nods. “Yeah. I’ll - uh. See you tomorrow?”

There’s something here, slipping out of Eddie’s grasp. He doesn’t think either of them knows quite how to cling on to it. 

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes, and then Buck’s turning toward the door, back to the hallway that’ll lead him to his room, to Tommy in his bed.

Eddie waits until he’s fully out of sight before he follows.

also on ao3!

---

tags: @leothil @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @deformed-globule @cantyouseethatyouresmotheringme @silassstingy

[justagalwhowrites]

Halcyon - Ch. 5: I've Never Been a Bad Influence a Day in My Life

You and Joel get closer as you put together your lists. A continuation of Halcyon from the prologue through Ch. 4, a modern no outbreak AU TLOU fic found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings: Masturbation, fantasy about P in V sex. Modern No Outbreak AU, No use of Y/N, Slow burn, 18+ only, Minors DNI

Length: 5K

AO3 | Main Master List | Prologue | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

October, 2022

“Why can’t I add to your list?” You pouted a little, can of hard seltzer in your hand as your float drifted to the middle of Joel’s pool. 

“Because you’re gonna just use that power for evil, not good,” Joel replied. 

“Would not!” You shoved off the side of the pool with your foot, floating back toward the middle of the water. 

“Am I allowed to put shit on your list?” He asked, sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water and a beer in his hand. 

You scoffed. 

“Absolutely not.” 

“Well, there you go,” he shrugged. “Goes both ways.” 

“You’d be a dick about it!” You kicked the water in his direction but the spray of it fell short and you watched him try to not laugh. “You’d put things on there like ‘buy Joel beer for the rest of his life’ or ‘speak in a bad British accent for a week…’”

“Can you do a good British accent?” He asked, brows raised. 

“That is beside the point.” 

“What are you gonna add to my list, hm?” There was a teasing edge in his voice as he took a sip of beer. “Get a new wardrobe? Get Sarah a dog?” 

“OK, both of those are good additions,” you said, defensive. “But no, not what I was thinking.” 

“Then what, Goldie?” 

“Put in a hot tub,” you said, chin raised. 

He barked a laugh. 

“A hot tub?” 

“A hot tub,” you nodded. “How can I come over to your house and float in the water if it’s too cold to go in the pool? Which it will be in like… a few weeks. You need a hot tub.” 

“It’s already too cold,” he said. “That water’s below 70 degrees, couldn’t pay me to get in there now. Lucky I’m in this far as it is.” 

“See?” You said. “Hot tub.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” he shook his head. 

“If your list is shitty can I add to it?” 

“If you actually think my list is shitty we can discuss it,” he said. Your float drifted close to him and you were afraid, for a moment, that he was going to splash you. Instead, he just pushed the edge of it with his foot, sending you drifting back toward the middle of the water. “Still down to compare tomorrow night?” 

“Think so,” you said, taking a sip of your seltzer. “As long as you don’t mock me relentlessly for it.” 

“When do I not mock you relentlessly?” 

“Excellent point,” you said. “I should get better friends.” 

“Probably so.” 

“At least now you come with Sarah,” you sighed dramatically. “So I guess I’ll keep bugging you…” 

“God, you two are gonna kill me,” he said, trying to look serious but a hint of a smile on his lips. “Worst idea I ever had, lettin’ you two get to know each other…” 

You giggled a little at that. You and Sarah had become thick as thieves since you and Joel had reconnected now two weeks ago.

It was hard to believe that he’d only been back in your life less than a month. But then, it was hard to believe he’d ever been out of your life at all. You’d only gone a few days without seeing him since that night at the bar and, on those days, the two of you were almost constantly texting. It was the most natural thing in the world, having your life fall into step alongside Joel’s. It reminded you so much of high school even though you were in your 30s now, your lives moving in parallel until they collided at the end of the day and you came over for dinner or went and cheered on Sarah at her soccer game or Joel showed up at your door with beer. Even after all this time, he just knew you and you just knew him. You could read his posture as easily as a book, instantly knowing the kind of day he had by the way he opened the door or flopped on your couch. He seemed to be able to peer inside your mind on command, just a raised eyebrow or a sigh telling him everything he needed to know about how you were feeling and how to make it better. 

There was one day where you hadn’t intended to see him at all but it’d turned shitty and he just somehow picked up on it from the tone of your texts. New paperwork had come over from Gale’s attorney and you resigned yourself to spending the evening picking over the bones of your marriage with a bottle of wine and a wilted salad - because you definitely didn’t have the emotional energy to go by the grocery store - when Joel texted. It was a meme that you responded to with just an lol before going back to the paperwork. He FaceTimed just 30 seconds later and you frowned, answering it. 

“Hi?” You said brows raised. 

He nodded sagely. 

“What I thought,” he said. “You look like shit.” 

“Gee thanks.” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“For you you look like shit. What’s wrong.” 

You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. 

“What?” He asked

“How can you just tell?” You replied. “It’s weird.” 

“Come over,” he said instead of answering. He flipped his camera around and Sarah made a face, sticking her tongue out, her hair in two springy buns on the top of her head. 

You frowned. 

“Where are you?”

He turned the camera back around.

“Picking up pizza,” he said. “I’ll grab an extra cheese bread, come over.” 

“I’ve been drinking…” 

“We’ll pick you up,” he said. “Come over.” 

“Please?” Sarah jumped to try to get in the frame and Joel laughed, tilting the camera so she was visible. “It’ll be fun! OH! Spend the night! Come sleep over again, please?” 

Joel tilted the camera so he was back in the frame. 

“You really wanna disappoint my kid?” He asked. “C’mon.” 

“Yeah!” Sarah said, bouncing just out of frame again, just a bit of her bun appearing in the bottom corner as she jumped. “Don’t let down the kid, that’s just shitty.” 

“Hey,” Joel said but you could tell he was trying not to smile. She stopped bouncing. “Language.” 

“Sorry.” 

He turned his attention back to you. 

“Be there in 10,” he said. “Can’t let you just sit and wallow. Need pizza for that.” 

He and Sarah picked you up and Sarah insisted on cranking Taylor Swift in the car, signing Look What You Made Me Do into her water bottle in the back seat while you balanced warm pizza boxes on your lap, trying not to laugh when you and Joel exchanged glances at red lights. 

At dinner, you pulled a pepperoni off your slice of pizza and stuck it on the end of your nose and held very serious eye contact with Joel and Sarah as they spoke, nodding along carefully so as to not disturb the topping dangling from your face. Sarah tried very hard not to laugh and did a pretty good job of it until you made a face at her from across the table when Joel’s back was turned and she cackled, laughing so hard she almost knocked over her soda can.

“You bein’ a bad influence on my kid?” He asked when he handed you the paper towel you’d requested.

“Joel,” you said, deathly serious, pepperoni slice still on the tip of your nose. “I’ve never been a bad influence a day in my life.” 

 After dinner, as Joel did the dishes, you sat on the couch with Sarah and listened as she told you about one of her friends at school who hadn’t been as kind lately. You nodded along until Sarah seemed to run out of steam, slumping down against the cushion with a slightly tired look on her face. 

“Well,” you said. “Have you told her that you’ve been feeling hurt by how she’s been treating you lately?” 

She scrunched her face a little. 

“No,” she said. “But I thought that’d be pretty obvious…” 

You shrugged. 

“Sometimes it’s not. She may not even know she’s doing it. If I were you, I’d tell her that you’ve been feeling hurt and ask if she’s doing OK because it sounds like this is a change for her. If she’s hurting you that might be because her feelings are getting hurt somewhere else.” 

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she nodded a little. “That’s a good idea.”

“I do have those occasionally,” you said and she smiled a little at you. 

The three of you watched part of a movie before Sarah went to get ready for bed and you eavesdropped from the living room as Joel read to her in her room, the door opened just enough to hear when his voice changed with the characters. 

“Peeta sighs,” Joel said like Joel before his voice shifted to something that sounded more boyish but still strong and deep, almost what you remembered from when you first met him. You smiled. “'Well, there is this one girl. I’ve had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I’m pretty sure she didn’t know I was alive until the reaping…’”

Joel flopped next to you on the couch when he was done and you held out your glass of wine. He took it, taking a big sip before handing it back. 

“You look tired,” you said, holding the glass. 

He shrugged. 

“No days off from this whole dad thing. Don’t really want a day off but still… get tired after a bit.” He looked over at you and smiled a little. “Thanks for talking with her. Think she needs someone like you around.” 

“Oh, someone who managed to tank her relationship and got stuck starting over in her 30s?” You asked. “That kind of someone?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“A woman…” 

“Oh, is that all?”

He glared at you. 

“A woman,” he said again. “But one who’s lived some life, knows how to navigate the hard shit. One who’s willing to listen to her problems. She’s got me and Tommy for that but can’t help but feel like I’ve let her down by not giving her some kind of… I don’t fuckin’ know, feminine influence.” 

“Ahh yes, the mysterious feminine,” you nodded sagely. Joel picked up a pillow and smacked you in the stomach with it, making you laugh as you caught it and held it to yourself. “Joel, you’re doing great with her.” 

“Yeah?” He asked, serious now. 

“Yeah,” you said, serious, too. “You really are. She’s so lucky to have you, Joel. You have no idea.” 

“I’m lucky to have her,” he said, looking toward Sarah’s room for a moment before turning back to you. “So, you have the kind of bad day that you want to talk about it or the kind of bad day that you want to get fucked up about it?” 

“The latter.” 

“Then chug that wine,” he said, shoving himself off the couch. “And maybe change into your pajamas, I’m getting the tequila.” 

You swapped numbers with Sarah at breakfast the next day. You and Joel were both hung over and trying to pretend like you hadn’t been up until 2:30 on a work night getting hammered until you passed out in a heap on his couch only to be roused by a groggy Sarah at 7 in the morning. 

She’d taken to texting you then, sometimes just silly selfies, sometimes memes you didn’t really get, sometimes with questions about friends at school. You were pretty sure your heart melted the first time she called you Aunt Goldie, a sense of belonging wrapping around you that you’d never really known before. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Joel asked, eyes following the slow, lazy path your float was making across his pool. “Make a night out of this whole project, kick things off right.” 

“Hell yeah,” you said, drifting back to Joel. He didn’t shove you back out to the water this time. “Did I tell you I’m seeing Anna for lunch? I cannot just go into that blind, I’ll need an out…” 

“She’s doin’ that well, huh?” Joel asked. 

“I don’t know,” you sighed. “She’s supposedly sticking with her program but… I feel like I should be a better sister and try to check in more but then it just feels like babysitting and that doesn’t seem right, either.” 

“At a certain point, she’s gotta do it on her own,” Joel said. “You’re her sister, not her mom.” 

“I know,” you nodded. “But I feel like I should have checked in on her more after our mom died. She was a teenager and I just left her alone…” 

“You were 20 years old,” Joel said gently. “Not like you were equipped for that shit.” 

You shrugged and took another drink. 

“Hey,” he said, nudging your float gently, just enough to make you look up at him. “Don’t be hard on yourself for that. You were handed a shit situation and you did what you could with it. Trust me, I know.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Ended up in a similar boat with Tommy. Spent years - literal years - bailing his ass out of jail and begging him to get his shit together. Eventually he did a stint in the army and got it figured out. At least a bit. She’ll get there. But it’s not your job to get her there.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “You’re probably right.” 

“Who, me?” He asked, mocking. “Right? Never thought I’d see the day…” 

“Shove it,” you splashed at him, the water dripping down his face and soaking his t-shirt. You snorted as you watched him fight the urge to laugh. 

“Gonna pay for that,” he said, setting his beer down on the side of the pool and grabbing your float as you tried to paddle away. 

“No!” You shrieked and laughed, shoving your seltzer into the cupholder as more of you ended up in the cold pool water than you really wanted in your rush to escape. 

“You started it!” Joel was leaning precariously over the water now, trying to splash you again while keeping you from retreating. “Shoulda just kept those little hands to yourself…” 

“They’re not little!” 

He yanked your float back toward the side of the pool and nodded down at one of your hands.

“Freakishly small…” 

“Yours are just freakishly big you mutant!” You grabbed a fistful of his shirt and watched as he realized a second too late what was about to happen. 

“Oh shit,” his eyes went wide and you laughed in victory before you pulled him all the way into the pool, jeans and all. He brought you down as he went, the float capsizing and sending you and your mostly empty drink can into the cold water with a sharp yelp. 

You went under, the chlorine stinging your eyes as you twisted and tried to right yourself below the water. You and Joel surfaced at the same time, not even a foot apart and gasping for breath, laughing as you tried to brush your soaked hair back from your face. 

“It’s so cold!” You shivered and splashed at him before crossing your arms tightly over yourself. 

“Why are you complainin’ to me?” He shivered back. “You’re the one who wanted to be in the damn pool…” 

“In the floatie!” You said. “I was mostly dry until you got involved!” 

“Got justice you mean,” he said, reaching for your can and pulling it out of the water, dumping it out before setting it on the side of the pool. “You’re the one who put us in here…” 

“You’re the one who was being mean,” you said, reaching out for him and pressing your cold fingers to his chest, the heat of him still apparent even in the water. You sighed contentedly. “That’s better…” 

“Jesus, what are you, ice?” He griped, tugging you against him with a little yelp. “Gonna fuckin’ freeze to death if you’re not careful… ridiculous…” 

You giggled once but pressed yourself closer to him, soaking up his heat and pressing your cold fingers to his exposed skin. 

“OK, you could be less mean about it,” he said, pulling back from you just enough to scowl down at you. “Frozen fuckin’ hands…” 

You laughed and realized, very suddenly, how close you were to him. You weren’t sure the last time you’d been quite this close to him, the last time you could feel every line of him through his clothes, the last time his mouth had been that close to your own. Your heart sped up. His eyes searched yours and you could feel his breath on your skin and suddenly, you weren’t close enough to him. Not close enough at all. 

“Dad?” Sarah’s groggy voice called from the sliding glass door, making you jump, both of your heads turning toward her. Her face was scrunched and a curl had broken free of its braid, sticking straight out from the side of her head. “Is everything OK?” 

“Course it is, baby girl,” Joel frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be? What are you doin’ out of bed?”  

“You’re being loud,” she groaned. “You’re never loud.”  

“M’sorry kiddo,” Joel said, separating from you and working his way to the edge of the pool, pulling himself out of the water and dripping on the stone edge. “Gimme just a second to get Goldie out of the water before she freezes to death and dry her off, I’ll come tuck you in again in just a minute…” 

“Can I get another chapter?” She said it fast, the words all strung together, her eyes big. “Please? They just got into the arena and…” 

“We’ll see,” he said. “But only because it’s Friday and you’re sleeping over at Emma’s tomorrow so you won’t get one then. Inside, go on.” 

He watched her go and then went to the lounge chair at the side of the pool, getting the only towel he’d brought outside and holding it away from his body, spread open wide. 

“Hurry up, before I change my mind,” he said. 

“Such a gentleman,” you said, trying not to let your teeth chatter and trying to shove the ache that was still growing all hollow and wanting inside you down deep. You got out of the water and he wrapped you tightly in the towel, his arms going tightly around you. 

“Not really,” he said, pulling you back against his broad chest and squeezing you so the water from him soaked into the towel before he shook his shaggy curls over you so drops of water got all over your face as you laughed. “There, cured you of THAT notion…” 

“Thanks so much,” you said wryly as he released you. You turned to face him as he ran his fingers through his soaked hair and his shirt pulled up just enough that you caught a glimpse of the smooth flesh around his hips and you found yourself drifting closer to him again before you stopped yourself. Joel put his arms down and seemed to notice exactly where you were, just looking at you for a moment before he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I should go tuck Sarah back in,” he said. “Get into something dry so I don’t get her all soaked…” 

“Right,” you said, stepping back from him. “Sorry we woke your kid up because you just couldn’t leave well enough alone…” 

“I will throw your ass back in that pool,” he said, going to open the door for you. “Don’t try me.” 

“Oh don’t worry Miller,” you teased. “I know just what you’re capable of.” 

He started toward the stairs, a little trail of water in his wake as he went, and you watched the pull of the wet fabric of his shirt over his shoulders. You swallowed, hard.

“I’m just going to head out,” you said and he stopped, turning to frown at you. 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah,” you said. “Really should go wash this chlorine out of my hair. But see you tomorrow?” 

“With the list?” Joel asked. 

“With the list,” you answered. 

“Lookin’ forward to it,” he said, turning to go up the stairs again before looking back over his shoulder. “Drive safe, Goldie.” 

He didn’t wait for a response, just heading for his room. 

Your heart was still racing. 

You left the towel draped over the banister and just pulled on the oversized t-shirt you’d put in your bag before going to your car. 

You tried not to think about Joel as you drove home. 

It didn’t do you any good to think about him that way. It was Joel. He didn’t see you that way, drifting in that direction was what had ruined things so many years before. You’d just gotten him back, things were so good again, you felt like you belonged again, you couldn’t fuck that up, not because you’d never been able to move past a school girl crush. 

But you wanted to kiss him. Fuck, you wanted to kiss him. 

You tried not to think about kissing him. You tried not to think about what happened after the last time you’d kissed him. How quickly everything had dissolved, how you’d gone from picturing a future with Joel - a different one than you’d held in your mind outside of fantasy before - to running as far and as fast as you could in a matter of hours. 

It’s Goldie, he’d said then. It’s the worst thing that could happen, I wish it was anybody else…

You flinched at the memory, shoving it away. No, you didn’t think about that, not when you could help it. Just like you didn’t think about the way Joel’s lips felt against your skin, how his fingers - warm and think - had traced over you, how he made you feel so clearly seen and adored in a way that no one else had before, in a way your husband had never really seemed to. How he still made you feel that way. 

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself as you parked, dropping your head to your steering wheel with a groan before you went in your house, closing your car door with a little too much force. 

You showered and forced yourself to keep your hands away from your aching slit. You were not going to fuck yourself in your bathroom to the idea of sleeping with your best friend. You weren’t. You weren’t a teenager anymore and you weren’t going to act like one. You were better than this.

Your hair was still damp when you gave up on getting any writing or grading done and went to bed, an almost frustrating, throbbing ache between your thighs. You stared at the ceiling in the dark for a while before you all but threw the covers off and rifled through your nightstand for the discreet little pink vibrator you’d bought years ago when you’d first figured out that, while your husband had many talents, making you come wasn’t one of them. 

You went to your usual fallback for porn but didn’t find anything that was really working for you, the ache of longing just getting worse as you gently toyed with your clit under the covers in the dark. Your cunt was slick, your wetness seeping down to your nightie and coating your fingers. It felt like forever that you’d been touching yourself and getting nowhere when the batteries on your vibrator died and you whimpered, kicking your legs down into your mattress in frustration. 

“Goddammit,” you moaned into your pillow, tossing your phone and vibrator aside, the ache in you worse than you’d ever really remembered it being before. There was no way you were going to be able to sleep like this, your whole body drawn tight and needy. You fumbled in your drawer for the charging cable and plugged the vibrator in before sighing and staring up at the ceiling again. 

Your thoughts drifted to Joel again. You couldn’t help it, he’d felt so good against you in the pool. He knew you so well, even after all this time. He kept your favorite snacks at his house and draped a blanket over you when you started getting cold when watching a movie. He was so funny and so handsome it hurt to look at him and he’d felt so fucking good.

Your fingers slipped between your legs again without really thinking about it, brushing against your swollen, sensitive clit. You resisted it for a moment, the idea of falling into the fantasy of you with Joel, but the need drawing everything inside you all tight and molten won. 

It swallowed you quickly once you gave in. 

The memory of him was there at the fore so fast, the way his lips had felt on you so many years ago. How you thought they’d feel against you now. His hands ranged over you, around your waist, down to your hips, his fingers twisting and knotting in the fabric there as he bunched it up to hold you firmer, reach you better. You moaned and rocked into your hand, sliding lower, your palm pressed against your sensitive nub as you slipped a finger inside yourself with a moan. You worked yourself open slowly, your slick making easy work of it, as you imagined it was his hand between your legs, his fingers sinking into you. How he’d take your swimsuit off and line his cock up with your entrance and push inside of you as he moaned your name. How his fingers would grip your flesh, prying at you as though he was trying to take you apart to keep pieces of you for himself. How he’d work himself so deep into you that you were certain no one else had ever come quite so close to climbing into another person’s skin before.  

You rocked your hips against your hand to the thought of him, not sure where memory ended and fantasy began, the fingers not plunging needily into your hole finding their way to your breast, grasping at the soft swell there, your own hand so unsatisfyingly small compared to his. You remembered the way his voice trembled as he breathed your name - his mouth against the tender skin at the base of your ear - as his cock filled you, the whole of him buried inside like he belonged there as he came. 

“Joel!” You gasped as your own orgasm hit, tight channel throbbing around the three fingers you’d managed to fit inside yourself, slick pooling in your palm and your tit filling your other hand. 

You came harder than you had in years, let alone from only using your hand and not your toy. It took you a few minutes to come down from the high of it, indulging in the fantasy of him in a way you hadn’t done since your freshman year of college. He last time you gave into it was back when you’d first started dating Gale but you’d felt so desperately alone, like no one had ever bothered to learn you at all. So you’d let yourself pretend that your best friend was still your best friend, that he loved you the way you loved him and that fucking you hadn’t been some mistake he’d made on prom night. It had seemed the most supreme extravagance, pretending that Joel would have wanted you to come like that with him. It still did. 

You put a stop to all that when Gale proposed, solidifying your relationship in an entirely new way. You tucked the memory of Joel and his body on and within yours away then. You’d never intended to think about him that way again. But then, you’d never intended to get divorced, either. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, shoving yourself out of bed to pee and clean up the mess you’d made of yourself. Before you lay back down, you opened the golden notebook on your bedside table and found the page with the list. You went to the bottom and tried to add another line but the pen in the elastic loop wouldn’t write. You groaned before fishing out the red pen you’d left in your nightstand from a night you were editing in bed from the top drawer. You added two words to the bottom of your list - trying to ignore the way the diamond of your engagement ring caught the light from your lamp, casting little rainbows on the paper - and circled them, pressing the pen into the paper harder than you really needed to. 

“There,” you said, capping the pen and dropping it on the notebook you hadn’t bothered to close. The pen rolled until it came to a stop, the red cap almost pointing to the newly added words as though they needed any more attention. 

That, you thought, was the solution. If you could just figure out how to accomplish that, you could put Joel back in that little box and keep this stupid crush from blowing up your whole life a second time, as long as you weren’t an idiot about it. 

You switched off the lamp and pulled your blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ignore the feeling that the words were glaring at you from their perch on your night stand. They blinked at you like neon behind your eyelids and you tried not to see them in the same way you tried not to think about Joel’s body on yours in the pool as you drifted off to sleep.

Get laid.

Next Chapter

A/N: I just adore these two. Honestly, they keep getting away from me, their conversations are so fun to write and explore that I get lost in what I'm trying to accomplish with a chapter. But that's OK! The ride is the point of this whole fic thing, right?

Thank you for being patient with this chapter! I got a bit sidetracked with another project but I think I'm in a good place to get back to my once a week updates here for a while. I hope it was at least somewhat worth the wait!

Thank you for being here! Love you!!

[twinklelilstarkey]

Tutor: Control

Words: 5.6k+ Type: Angst & Smut Summary: It's the day after the fight, and you've been avoiding Rafe, so, he decides to take matters into his hands. Warnings: Fem!Reader. Arguing/fighting. A lot of crying. Overthinking. SMUT [risk of getting caught, as always, and kind of teasing each other for it; piv; no protection (she takes the pill); on the softer side; fluffy at the end].

Tutor Masterlist

I do NOT give you permission to repost my work. If you’d like to read my stories on other platforms, you can find them on my Wattpad and AO3.

“So, you think we should talk to her now?” One of the girls asks.

The girls all sit around in the living room comfortably. Some are on the couch, others on the floor to make a perfect circle. Kristy holds her mug close, warming her hands while listening to their words and questions.

“Not now.” She says.

“Why not now?” Another one of them asks.

“Well, for starters,” Kristy checks her phone mid-sentence, “It is past 10 PM, and I am not about to wake up her parents to go over and talk about this.”

The girls contemplate her words in silence. They stop sitting upright, acting like Kristy destroyed their whole mission of saving you instead of simply delaying it. They look around each other as the TV stays in a soft murmur that fills the room in times like this.

All of the girls are dressed in their pajamas, as tonight had been a plan to sleep over at Kristy’s home since her parents are off the island. It used to be something that all of them always did as a group, including you.

They could’ve gone to a party instead, and some wished to. Yet, after much talking to the avid partygoers of the island, the girls didn’t exactly like their options for this weekend, especially after hearing what happened yesterday.

“I’m worried for her.” One of the girls breaks the silence.

“We all are.” Kristy tells her.

They contemplate their hypothetical reality, making horrible images pass through them. Those same images always prove every warning they gave you regarding him, and they all end with you hurt in some way - physical or emotional.

“Do you guys know the details of yesterday?” Kristy asks out of nowhere.

They all look around each other in silence until one of them speaks.

“I only heard that it was near the end of the party.” She says, getting the attention of everyone.

Everyone on the island knows how yesterday's party ended and who got taken to the hospital. But truly only a handful of people know what actually happened. Or, better, no one is actually giving out any details about what happened, only the outcome.

“Has anyone talked about how long Aiden needs to stay in the hospital?”

“I don’t think his parents have said anything.”

A little more silence.

“Do you think they’ll press charges?”

“Not if Ward Cameron hears of it. You know how it is…”

Kristy looks at the girls in silence as they speak.

“Nothing happens to people like them.”

“And to think she probably watched the whole thing…” One of them whispers in realization.

“She could’ve been home when it happened.” One of the girls tries to ease the tension. “She never liked parties.”

Kristy doesn’t believe that, but she doesn’t say anything.

On another note, one of the girls does seem to be the most worried of everyone else. She looks around at the gloomy faces, all of them imagining what happened at a kook party, and she can't but feel the same.

“He wouldn’t do anything to hurt…” Another one of the girls whispers but fails to say it out loud, “Right?”

They all look at each other in silence, fearing to answer. Not wanting to seem too negative or too positive. As they all just want to be wrong.

“We’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Kristy says. “As soon as we see her coming into school.”

“But she has been getting in late.”

“Then at lunch.” 

“If she wants to have lunch with us.” Another one of them adds bitterly.

Kristy bites her tongue to not say anything, as she seems to be the only one in the group who sees the true reason why you have grown quieter and more distant.

This whole plan was supposed to lead you to them and to talk to them, not the opposite. Not this. The plan wasn't for you to be mistreated by your own friends when you could be in such a sensitive situation.

“We’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Kristy ends the conversation.

(...)

You sigh while turning off the lights in your bathroom and stepping into your room. The room has grown colder than you remember when you stepped out, but you do have your wet hair to blame for the chills.

You go over to your bed, throw your phone onto the covers and turn on the light on your bedside table, illuminating your room ever so slightly. Your phone lights up with a notification, and you stare at it in the distance, not daring to reach for it and simply letting the call go to voicemail.

Letting out a long breath as you walk, you look over at your bookstand, scanning through the options of your night read. Your finger traces the spine of a book as your eyes stay on the next.

A few seconds go by and all you can hear in your bedroom is the whistling of the wind outside, as tonight has to be one of the coldest nights in the past few days.

You cannot choose between two books after much looking around, and as you're about to give up something grabs your attention. It was a sound, a soft one. You look away from your books to look around your empty room. It could’ve been the wood of the furniture cracking, but it sounded like something else.

It could’ve been your parents if only they were awake. They have been asleep for the past hour after telling you about how exhausted they felt. All of it was due to running around about something you did not care to ask about. They were so tired, they didn’t even annoy you too much about spending your Sunday in bed. They just let you do it.

You look back at your books and finally choose a random one. You eye the cover while walking over to your bed, and suddenly freeze when hearing that sound again.

It was a light sound, nothing too loud. And it was something you’ve heard before but can’t exactly understand from where.

As you’re about to take a seat on your bed and ignore it once more, your window opens, startling you.

Your curtains fly with the strong wind, and a figure gets inside your dark room with absolutely no struggle.

He doesn’t say anything when he gets in, he simply turns around to close the window without making much of a sound. You watch your curtains hide him from you as they fly gracefully, and your heart drops.

You do not want to see him, let alone talk to him. But you cannot bring yourself to even open your mouth.

You should’ve expected this. You had been ignoring his calls and his texts all day, especially last night after the party. How had you not seen this coming?

The curtains fall back to the sides of your window as it closes, and he is completely visible to you now. You look at him up and down, watching as his body could move towards you at any second.

His hair is messy and falling into his eyes, and he's wearing a simple striped t-shirt and gray pants. His eyes take a bit to find you, but when they eventually do, he doesn’t move.

You snap awake from whatever trance you were in and shake your head at him.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You tell him in a whisper, so soft he almost didn’t hear you.

Rafe looks at you entirely, not missing an inch of you. He turns, and you can tell that he is upset. He isn’t smiling like he usually is when he sees you. His face is not serious either. It is something different.

“Just give me-”

“No.” You interrupt him. “Leave.”

You two stand quietly, staring at one another in complete silence. Rafe attempts to reach for you, but that only leads you to move further away from him.

“You have to listen to me-” He whispers with you.

“Rafe, I am serious.” You tell him, already feeling your eyes pathetically begin to sting.

“So am I, please,” He pleads, his voice becoming breathier than before. “Just let me talk to you.”

You shake your head at him, and he takes a step towards you.

“You can’t be here.” You tell him. Your voice, in a whisper, sounds shakier, and you hate every bit of it.

He comes closer, and you step back. 

“You aren’t picking up my calls-” He starts.

“Because I do not want to talk to you.” You interrupt him, backing away yet again.

Rafe moves closer to you, and you refuse to be near him by taking another step. His face is hidden from your only light, and he continues to move, closing the distance between the two of you.

“Do not do this.” You whisper shakingly at him. “I do not want to see you. And I do not want to talk to you.”

Rafe pauses, faceless due to the lack of light, and you simply stare at him, waiting for him to give up and just abandon your room, leaving you to be in your silence and peace. But he does none of that. He just stands there, watching you with the advantage of the light still lighting your face.

He can see your saddened eyes, and how you are holding yourself back to not cry. He does not wish to leave, nor does he wish to let the silence between the two of you go longer than a day. This is fixable, he knows it is.

“I just want to explain-”

“There is nothing to explain.” You tell him with the most heartbreaking tone on the planet. You stare at him in complete distress, “Nothing could explain yesterday.”

“I’m sorry.” Rafe says quickly.

“I do not want you to apologize, Rafe.” You whisper at him, letting your eyes fill with tears. “He’s in the hospital… Everyone knows about it. Everyone knows how horrible you hurt him.”

“I-”

“Do not say anything.” You plead to him, voice shaking, “I am begging you, don’t.” 

He does what you ask him to but he does stay near you. Your tears begin to fall down your cheeks while images of the prior night hit your mind from every direction. Your heart is beginning to race, and you struggle to calm it down.

“God, you can go to jail for this.”

“I won’t.” He tells you, awaiting you to silence him, but you don’t.

You sniffle and bring your hands to your cheeks, cleaning your face of the tears that have been repeatedly wetting your face for the past day. He notices the way you are shaking but stays quiet.

“Just... Why did you have to do it?” You whisper to him, as your eyes come back to his faceless figure.

Rafe hesitates to answer you.

“I get that he is a bad person and that he shouldn’t have said what he did, but you went beyond every… every limit,” You tell him.

Rafe tries to reach for you, but you simply move aside and walk away from him before he can corner you.

“I know,” He tells you while turning around. His face is illuminated now, and it just makes everything so much harder for you. “I’m sorry.”

“I am not the one that you should be apologizing to, Rafe,” You practically sob out your words.

His face twists as if you struck him. He tries to reach for you again, and, this time, you do not move.

“I am not apologizing to him,” He whispers to you.

You stare up at him in disbelief and try to pull away from him, but he is too close to let you escape his space. You breathe out a long breath, and another tear slides down your cheek.

“I lost control. You shouldn’t have seen it-”

“It shouldn’t have happened, Rafe,” You tell him with impatience thick in your tone. Your frown worsens, and you know that you are seconds away from crying your eyes out as you look at him. “You went too far.”

Rafe isn't sure why, but he grows defensive at your words as he says softly, “What he said-”

You send him a glare of pure betrayal, making him tense up and shut up.

“Do not try to justify what you did.” You say, even when lost in tears, with a harsh tone.

“I was trying to protect you… I only fought him because of what he said to you,” He lays his hands on his chest, sounding and looking sincere with his words.

“Aiden’s in the hospital,” Your breath hits his face as you are so close to one another.

He tells you, “I know. But what he did-”

“Do you hear yourself?” You whisper out a yell at him while mentally cursing at the tears that keep on falling. “Rafe, you could’ve killed him! This isn't normal.”

Rafe stares at you in silence, his face beginning to twist with sadness. His eyes stay on you and bites his tongue or tenses his jaw to try and get a hold of himself.

“Was there nothing else you could’ve done?” You ask.

He lets some seconds go by in silence and decides to not answer you. Your eyes disconnect from his and look around the room, trying to find something to ground yourself with. Rafe continues to look down at you, watching you get more and more hurt by the conversation.

“You could’ve ignored him.” You say with a shrug, faking a smile to emphasize your point of how easy the other options were. “You could have simply walked away with me.”

He doesn't answer you, so you continue, “You only proved him right by fighting him. He wanted to piss you off, and you did exactly what he wanted.”

Rafe's eyes fall to the ground, feeling as if he was back to being a small child. And he almost felt like one as he spoke, “He insulted you.”

“You think I don't know that?” You sigh the words. “I just didn’t take much offense to what he said because he was drunk and practically failing to stand straight.”

Rafe looks up and answers you. “I didn't know he was that drunk.”

“You...” You let out a breath, “You shouldn't have fought him...” You await his answer, but he clenches his jaw.

You shake your head at him and try to move away, but he does not let you. He follows your movements, never reaching for you, but stepping to the side and not letting you move. You take a step back again and sigh. He stares down at you.

“You are uncontrollable, Rafe.” You tell him, “You do not fight like a-”

“A normal person?”

“Yes,” You nod. “You fight as if you want to kill a person. And that is not normal. That is… terrifying.”

He watches you closely as your eyes tear up again at the last word. He knows you do not like to be mad at him, but he cannot bring himself to lie to you and say that he understands, because he still does not.

You let out a breath, and it’s so shaky, Rafe could hear it clearly, making him question it to himself. He does not wish to make you afraid of him, of course not. What happened on the night before had been reckless, yes, but he did not... he did not think it had been this bad.

Your cheerless eyes stay on him, and it hurts him to see it. You, someone who is always so sweet and caring towards him, have seen him in a completely different way than what he had always tried to be. He hurt you, of course, he did. Rafe had always promised you that whatever he showed you or wherever he brought you to, you would be safe. Because he would keep you safe. And, after all this time, he was the first person that made you feel unsafe. Not Aiden. Rafe.

All because he could not handle seconds of arguing with a drunk. And in those seconds, he went from being loving towards you to pushing you to the side to fight someone you know. And the only justification he could think of was how Aiden had offended you. He beat him up, and from the flashes of last night, he can't blame you from feeling this way.

Rafe hurt you, and now you are standing before him with shaking hands and a face covered with tears. It is his fault. His own fault. No one else's.

“I'm sorry.” He tells you, even when he knows that you do not wish to hear it. You simply look at him, and your hands come back to wipe away your tears. “You're afraid of me,” He concludes, making you pause.

You scan his face and notice how he tenses up as you stay silent.

“You-” He goes to repeat himself, but you stop him.

“No. I am afraid of what you will do,” You say. “To whoever else crosses you…”

Rafe looks at you, watching as yet another tear falls. 

“I can't do it, Rafe.”

His eyes study you as if the words didn't make any sense to him. Your hands wipe the tears away again angrily, and you sniffle before speaking again.

“We can't-” You whisper to him, so, so softly, and with a voice so broken.

“Don't,” He whispers back to you.

You shake your head, feeling the tears come up again. Rafe moves his hand to come closer to you, and you practically jump when it lays over your waist, holding you like he usually does.

“I can't.” You tell him.

“No.” He whispers back at you once more.

“I need to, Rafe.” You tell him, watching as his face changes expression. “I can’t be with you.”

His eyes scan you in a panic, and his mouth opens to say something, failing repeatedly. Only after a few seconds is he able to say something.

“I’ll try-”

You look him in the eyes, pausing him.

“I don’t believe you.” You say to him, voice above a whisper, hurting him further.

Rafe stays silent, and you try to calm down with a very shaky deep breath. He comes closer to you, and you watch him as his face twists in further sadness. “Let me try.” You shake your head, and you see the growing glistening of his eyes, “Please.”

“You will hurt someone else.”

He shakes his head to emphasize his words, “Please, let me try.”

Rafe pulls you close to him as you watch him, and your heart squeezes tightly. You hate this.

“Please.” He whispers breathily. “Please. Just one more chance.” His thumbs caress you over your shirt as he awaits your answer.

“I don’t know.”

“I promise,” He tears up further, and you watch him. “I promise I will do my best, just… Please don’t leave, okay? Please.”

Your hand comes up and lays over his cheek. His skin is familiar, and his warmth is more than inviting. You stare into his eyes and think, even when you know which one would be the right answer for you.

His arms wrap around you, and he pulls you close to him. And for a few seconds, everything pauses, and you aren’t sure what to do.

Your heart is still rapidly beating in your chest, knocking against your rib cage in some sort of panicked song, afraid of what could come next. Not that you don’t trust him. You trust Rafe. But everything in you feels uncertain after yesterday. After what he did. How much he seemed out of his own body, and seeming as someone completely different from who you know as him.

Your fingers caress his cheek as he holds you, and your mind never stops. You have no clue if what you'll do the right thing. Everything tends to feel better with him. But your gut is beginning to tell you otherwise.

How strong can his words of promise be if he gets drunk or high? It isn’t that you even condone him of being any of those things, and you can't help but feel uncertain.

Rafe looks at you, quickly noticing the hesitation and the slight agitation. He knows you aren’t comfortable, and he isn’t sure how to feel about it.

“Tell me.” he whispers softly.

You don’t speak at first, but Rafe doesn’t back away, he simply scans your face for answers.

“I’m scared that you don’t mean it.” Your voice comes in such a faint whisper, you’re scared you might have to repeat the words because he couldn’t hear you.

“I mean it.” He whispers close to your face.

There are some seconds of silence.

“I mean it.” He repeats.

“Swear it.” You whisper, and he nods before saying it.

“I swear it.”

“You promise.”

“I promise.” He repeats after you, leaning close to your touch.

“I’m serious, Rafe,” you pause, and he nods, his eyes still filled with tears.

“I know.”

Your heart squeezes at his tone, and you scan his face for anything that could mean something else. You won’t find it.

“You’ll have to talk to him.” You whisper faintly, eyes half closed. “You’ll make sure everything is fixed with him. You’ll apologize.”

Rafe hesitates, but you hold the back of his head softly.

“You will apologize. Even if he doesn’t accept it…” You whisper to his lips, “Which is fair if he doesn’t.”

“Apologizing won’t do anything.” Rafe whispers back to you, holding you tightly and closer to him.

“It might not.” You shrug, “But it will matter to me.”

Rafe does not say or do anything for a bit, and you know he is fighting it in his head due to how much he does not want to do it. You watch him closely as he stays quiet, practically already knowing the answer that you’ll get just by the way he is looking at you. 

Your hand moves over his cheek, which now you notice has a small bruise at the top, and Rafe then finally nods.

“I’ll do it.”

You slowly reach up and kiss him. The kiss is so soft and so loving that Rafe swears that it pulled all the air from his lungs. His arms tighten around you, and you melt against him, missing his touch and his kiss as if you had been separated for longer than a day.

You are led by Rafe to bed, and he takes a seat, bringing you to his lap. His arms let go of you, but his hands grab onto you. He grabs at your exposed thighs, at your waist or hips. And only after some moments, do his hands travel into the inside of your shirt, holding onto your skin and touching it as if it is the first time.

You separate from the kiss, and Rafe pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the ground. He then helps you take off yours, which also ends up on the floor. Your lips reconnect, and you’re pulled to lean in closer to him.

The bedroom is so silent, yet, with the new buzzing in your ears, you can’t hear the wind whistling anymore.

The kiss is slowly becoming rougher, and with a simple movement made from your hips, controlled by Rafe’s hands, a small moan comes out of your mouth. Rafe, with it, kisses you harder, and you’re left to try and tell your own body to shut up, due to how risky all of it is.

You two separate again, and Rafe’s lips lift from yours to lay on your neck, leaving a trail of kisses that leads to your shoulders and eventually to your chest. Your long breaths and breathy moans make Rafe’s body react instantly, from his hands grasping onto you tightly to the growing tightness in his pants. All from sounds.

Your hands move from Rafe’s hair to his wide shoulders, grabbing onto him as his warm kisses continue to be displayed all throughout your skin. 

With your fingers back through his hair, you pull his head back up and bring your lips back together. The gesture alone made Rafe take hold of your hips again and move you on his lap, causing yet another sound leave your lips.

In the midst of the kiss, you feel Rafe touch the fabric of your underwear on your hips, and you bring your hands down to his lap. He grabs onto you tightly again, and you undo the button and zipper of his pants. With a swift move and with one of his hands away from your hips, Rafe pulls your underwear to the side and touches you.

A sound begins to leave your lips as his finger touches you, and Rafe brings his other hand to the back of your head to make sure you won’t pull away from the kiss, muffling your noises. His wet digits begin to move and reach your clit, worsening the fire beginning to burn at the bottom of your stomach.

Your hands, now laying over his chest, remain agitated, and your hips begin to involuntarily move against Rafe’s fingers. You forcefully pull away from the kiss, and your hands move over to Rafe’s pants again.

He doesn’t stop you, if anything he helps you push down his pants and boxers just enough.

“Come here.” He whispers at you while bringing his hand back to your hip and pulling you upwards on his lap.

You don’t answer verbally, but do it by doing as told. Rafe moves his hand away from your pussy, and helps you align perfectly before you begin to sink into his lap again. Both of you seem to stop breathing, and his cock slides inside you. Your eyes stay on his, as your mouth stays slightly open and his lenched shut.

You sit down, and Rafe can’t help but let out a small groan. Your breathing is heavy and is the only thing you can actually hear now. You peck Rafe’s lips softly, and his arms wrap around you as you do it. The next kiss is the same but longer and impossibly more loving than the one before.

When pulling away, Rafe kisses your neck once and then your shoulder, and his arms relax around you. With your knees on the bed as you straddle him, you begin to move upwards and downwards slowly and, as you do it, Rafe swears he will go insane with the speed you’re choosing to go at. But he remains quiet.

You begin to gain speed after a few movements, and Rafe lets go of you, bringing his arms behind himself to lean back and hold his torso upright. His eyes stay on you, watching as his cock disappears inside of you, and he can see, even in the dim lighting of the room, how wet you are.

Your hands move to his torso, and you feel like you cannot keep looking at Rafe, as his stare is way too intense for a moment where you need to be so quiet. Your nails on his skin bring chills to Rafe, yet all he could do was tense his jaw and stay silent.

As you keep on going, Rafe watches you without ever reaching for you and observes as you grow wetter and wetter with each movement. And the burning at the bottom of your stomachs seems even more intense at the sight of each other.

You can now see how your nails are leaving reddened trails on his skin. Nothing that would leave much of a mark, but, still, something that is getting a reaction from him - much to your amusement.

Rafe lifts one arm as he holds himself with the other, and his hand reaches for your hand on his stomach. He pulls you towards him and that pauses your movements for just a bit. Your lips touch again, and you let out a small sigh. Rafe’s hand moves in between your bodies, and, while in the midst of the kiss, his fingers find your clit.

Caught off guard, you moan against his lips due to how sensitive your body feels, and Rafe smiles at you, ending the kiss. Your hips begin to lift from his lap again, and his hand does not stop, only making it harder for you to keep quiet.

Your eyes are closed, and your faces are still so close to each other, you could practically feel each other's breathing.

The fire of pleasure is beginning to spread all throughout your body, making it harder and harder for you. And all Rafe does as a response is to shush you with his mouth against your own lips. 

With it, you try to pull his hand away from you to make this position more doable without a risk of you moaning, but he doesn’t let you. In fact, he puts down more pressure into your clit while he circles it, making you pull away from his face and sit back down.

“You want to switch?” Rafe whispers at you as you do so, and you can only shake your head as a response, knowing that if you dare to whisper, the risk of sound doubles.

Your hips continue moving up and down, seeming to take his dick deeper and deeper with absolute no sense. You bite your own lips whenever the pleasure increases due to him hitting a certain spot, and Rafe is left to watch without doing close to nothing.

His finger keeps circling your clit watching as it affects the way you move on top of him. You never seem to leave your rhythm, even when he speeds up as a test. He is sick.

Your thighs begin to burn at the movements, but you refuse to ask to switch positions, even when it sounds like an amazing idea. So, you speed up. Rafe’s fingers stop for just a bit as you do so, and you watch as that seems to affect him now. He can feel the way your pussy clenches around his dick, and he's the one that struggles to not make a sound this time.

He reopens his eyes, and the look he gives you just tells you everything. You just started an entire game.

You know this isn’t ideal given your circumstances and fear of making a sound, but you have to admit, it feels good to do it.

Rafe responds by speeding up his fingers, and that sure does make you pause for a second. Again, you try to pull his hand off, and the fucker thrusts upwards, causing you to let out a quick high pitched squeak. And that does make Rafe stop, probably remembering how much he should not make you moan.

After some seconds to breathe, you lean towards him and push down his chest, making him lay down on the bed. You hover over him, and his other hand is now free to roam your body.

He kisses you as his hand pulls away from your pussy, and both of his hands go over to your ass, squeezing it hard and causing you to whimper against his mouth. 

“You need to be quiet, baby. Come on.” He whispers against your lips, holding back his laughter.

And as he says it, he holds you in place and thrusts up into you once. Whatever words you were about to say to him were lost in your mouth, and, for your safety, your hands come up to his chest to you pull yourself upwards.

Whatever teasing smile Rafe had quickly fell due the view he gained from his joking around. As you begin to ride him all over again, Rafe feels the absolute need concentrate.

Your movements are quick right as you start, and Rafe’s hands stay on your thighs as you move. You do your best at not making any sounds, even with possible smacking of skin. Gosh, but it does feel good, even when your thighs are already burning.

Up and down, you continue, and you slide your hands over to your legs, holding onto Rafe’s hands and making sure he does not do anything.

The burning of your body worsens by the seconds, and Rafe’s hands squeezing your flesh is just an indicator that he too is close. You look down as your hands smooth over his muscled arms, starting with his forearms, and you continue to do your best at not moaning.

Your movements get slightly quicker, and Rafe hears you whisper out some sort of curse word as you do it. He wishes he could tease you for it, but he knows damn well that he is no place to do it. With your soft hands over his, gripping onto each other as his dick slides inside of you with ease due to how wet you are, yet so tight at the same time. Rafe swears that he has never focused so hard on a task as this one.

When getting so close to finally coming, you let go of one of Rafe’s hands, and he automatically knows what you want from him. His hand moves over to your clit and does the last needed movements. And your orgasm feels stronger than you would ever expect it to.

Rafe helps you ride it out. Your movements are sloppier as you continue to move, and you finally let yourself breathe. Your breathing is shaky and Rafe could hear the very small whimper after that breath.

When it ends, you slowly lay back down onto Rafe’s chest for a break. He brings the hand he had on your hip to your face, moving your hair back as your hands stay on his arms.

After seconds of silence, you look up at Rafe, lifting a bit off his body and still with him inside you. You know he hasn’t come yet, therefore, your night is nowhere near complete.

You pull at his other hand, the one that had played with your clit all this time, and he watches you as you bring it up to your face to lick a finger at a time. Your eyes stay on his as you do it, and the look he gives you only makes you smile as one of his wet fingers slides over your tongue.

“Fuck you.” He whispers at you before pulling his hand away from you and kissing your smiling mouth, muffling your giggles as he does so.

As you holds you tightly and flips you around, your smile disappears as you know he won't gloss over what you just did.

IT IS FINALLY POSTEEED!!! I PROMISE THAT I AM BACK NOW, I DO. I FINALLY WILL FINISH THIS GOD DAMN STORYYYY.

Hope you liked it <3

[cherryskyies]

Changes

Bo Sinclair x reader

Word count: 600

This is probably shitty ngl not proofread or nuffin but it’s all i got this writers block is out of control.

Masterlist || Navigation || Ao3

Your eyes glance over the familiar scenery, nothing has changed on the outside, but you’re sure their wax collection has grown.

The whole drive to Ambrose you were worried they may have left, more specifically he had left, but one look around told you the three of them were still here — the fresh tire tracks leading to Bo’s old truck giving it away.

It’s an odd feeling you notice, standing so uncomfortably in the place you once called home so confidently.

His voice comes out of nowhere, direct and full of shock. “What are you doin’ here?” he asks, standing a foot behind you with a look of desiderium — not that you notice when you turn to face him. “You swore you’d never come back.” he reminds, sounding more stern.

You feel foolish in your response as regret begins to pool in your chest. “Came to see old friends.”

It sounds silly now that you’ve said it out loud and you can’t help but to step back in response to Bo’s rapid strides. “You didn’t bring the police on over with ya? If you did I swear“ he threatens, finger pointed in your face as his eyes bore into your own. “Tell me right now woman!”

You stumble over your words, this isn’t the Bo you know; or should say knew, reminding yourself you don’t know him anymore. “I didn’t — I swear I’d never do something like that.” you respond, hands shaking. But you can see he is still on edge, seemingly no trust in you or your words.

Bo steps back with a grunt, his voice much rougher when he speaks. “Guess time will tell.” but the look of pure hate doesn’t leave his eyes and it makes you uncomfortable; all of this anger was once love and the man standing before you is a stranger you knew so well.

“Would it be better if I left?” you ask, wondering why you showed up at all. “I didn’t think this through.”

He sighs, running his hands through his hair. “You never really do,” he responds, voice calmer as he watches your face heat up. “I’m sure Lester and Vincent would love to see you.” he adds, gesturing to you to follow him towards the house.

The house has remained a picture perfect copy of the last time you saw it which you found cute but unsurprising. None of the boys liked change. “They wouldn’t admit it to me, but I know they’ve missed you.” and in a way it feels as though he is admitting he missed you too and he curses himself for being so open with you. “It’s been quiet.”

You smile, moving from the entry towards the worn couch. “Not much has changed” you note, eyes landing on a polaroid picture sitting on the coffee table. The four of you were standing in it smiling, your arms around Bo’s waist. “I shouldn’t have come” you mutter apologetically, eyes tearing away from the photo and to the man in front of you.

But he’s glad to see you and he knows the others would be as well; he’d never admit that though. “You’re right,” he agrees, words betraying thoughts. “But you can leave tomorrow, you can’t drive in the dark.”

Bo remembers the two times he ever let you drive at night and neither ended well — one truck later he swore to never let you drive in the dark again.

You’re hesitant to accept his offer, nervous for what it would mean. “I’ll be fine, I’ve gotten better y’know.” It’s a lie and he doesn’t need to know that, but somehow he sees right through you and snorts at the slim possibility.

“Like I said,” he begins, eyes locking on to your own, “You can leave tomorrow.” and you nod.

[astr0exe]

K9 [COD MEN (POLY??) X M!READER] CH1

Ch.1 , Ch.2 , Ch.3

CAS’ MASTERLIST !!

reader is transmac and autistic cause i said so :)

AO3 VERSION : K9

SUMMARY: The boys meet someone new. He seems cool but his dog seems to enjoy ripping people apart.// The boys meet the K9 trainer

(first time transferring my AO3 work to tumblr so)

(my writing is also quite shit but hey ho)

( i project so so bad with this character)

(pls give me feed back)

CHAPTER 1

Soap's POV :

The Captain dragged us into a meeting and we have no idea why. I was busy watching Princess And The Frog after working out for ages, I just wanted to relax after so many back-to-back missions.

"Thank you all for showing up I do appreciate it, I know we are all probably tired, however I thought this was important to discuss before you saw them around the base." Huh saw who around base? Is someone new joining? I glanced around the room and caught Gaz's confused eyes.

"See who sir?" I asked cautiously, "___ they are the K9 trainer and his callsign is K9 because of this. He has a fully-grown perfectly trained cane corso who is with ___ at all times. If any of you are scared of big dogs then I am sorry because Bucky is huge. There will be a meeting introducing you all do not worry but I thought I should give you a heads up. Dismissed." Answered Price.

Whilst walking next to Ghost in the hallway I couldn't help thinking about what Price said. I don't even know what a cane corso looks like. Oh well, when I get to my room I'll find out cause Google is my friend. "Hey, Lt. Do you know what a cane corso looks like?" I questioned, "I think I have an idea, pretty sure they grow up to 70 cm (27.5 inches) ish and weigh up to 50 kgs (110 pounds) They are massive dogs." Ghost murmured.

I could feel my eyes bulging out of my sockets at the thought of a dog that big.As I finally got to my room, I instantly looked up what a cane corso looked like and I think I shit myself. I have to meet one of those tomorrow.

Time skip : meeting K9 and Bucky

We all sat in the common room for our introductions. Me and Gaz were playing uno whilst Ghost was just watching us like a babysitter would with two children whilst we were waiting for Price and ___. Slowly we heard footsteps, they sounded heavy like platform boots, you could hear heavy breathing coming from Bucky and mumbling muffled talking from K9 and Price. The footsteps gradually increased in volume until Price walked in along with an awkward-looking guy. He wore large combat boots which had to add at least 3 inches to his height, and a large leather jacket with lots of patches on ranging from band patches to quotes. Oh and a trans flag. Nice. His belt was studded like he bought it in the 2000s with added chains which actually looked heavy, he had black eyeliner on and a face mask. If he wasn't like 5"7 with his boots on I'd say he was terrifying.

After I finally stopped staring at this Greek god of an emo boy and got my shit together I noticed his dog, Bucky, who was eyeing everyone wearily as if at any point we would attack him or ___. With how intimidating they both look I think they suit each other.

"Um hi I'm ___ or K9 and I'll be training dogs you take on missions and sometimes taking the dogs on the missions myself. Nice to meet you all. As you all know, this is Bucky, he won't hurt you." He giggled towards the end and oh my god it's like I heard heaven gates open and when I gazed around the room I knew everyone felt the same with all the wide eyes and stuttering introductions.

"Well these are my boys, Lt. Ghost Riley , Sergeant Soap Mactavish and Sergeant Gaz Garrick. Boys this is Sergeant K9 he will be working with you as he described he will also be living on base and training with you lads so I expect them to come back to me feeling welcomed into the Taskforce is that clear?" Demanded Price. "Yes Sir." We all responded in unison.

As I observe K9 and Bucky I cant help but smile at how at ease he seems with his dog. I think he is gonna fit in perfectly.

[rmd-writes]

a love note (and some fics)

Sometimes I wonder if there's really anything bigger out there - the universe, some kind of higher power, fate - and then I think about how extremely lucky I am that I became obsessed with a certain tv show and its characters at just the right time so that I could befriend someone who then introduced me to a particular book at exactly the right time to fall in love with those characters as well. And then, because of my need to have more of those characters, I went looking for more stories about them at exactly the right time to meet a group of people (some of them together, some of them later, but that doesn't matter) who would go on to become my friends.

There must be something, right? To bring together a group of people who live in five to seven different time zones depending on the time of year. To create my safest spaces on the internet. To share not just our love for a book and its characters, but parts of our lives with each other. To have them all wedge themselves into the soft spaces of my heart and never leave.

I've been thinking about this a lot over the last two weeks, because those people conspired and collaborated to gift me a collection of 10 incredible fics for a milestone birthday (tomorrow!) - even though some of them haven't written fic for months and months, or don't write for this fandom at all anymore, or have recently been finding it hard to make words work and finish fics, or are just plain busy with other projects and life. That they took the time to find and make words for me means everything and more 💖💖

I've been absolutely overwhelmed with love these past 10 days (probably to the surprise of no one, I have cried at every single fic drop and I'm crying writing this now). So, I want to share the wonderful fics that they've written for me with you all because it's the least I can do to pay it forward and they're objectively stellar fics. If you haven't come across them already then you should definitely add them to your to read lists/open tabs/MFL. Please show my friends some love and read their work.

The Rae of Sunshine! collection, in order of publication (with my very short summaries):

Take It Back (4.2K) by @three-drink-amy

Henry is the head chef at a French restaurant and there's one patron who keeps sending his dishes back. How can they resolve this?

Dick, Dick Dick (You Down) (10.2K) by @everwitch-magiks

Alex runs the craft services trailer on the set of actor!Henry's latest movie. Is he the only person who sees behind the façade?

A deceptively soft story, given the title.

Precious Love (1.3K) by floatingaway4

The fluffiest follow up to one of my favourite AUs Amigos y Migas (aka the food truck au).

Midnight ice cream (5.8K) by @the-amber-fox

Emotional support Cornettos? More likely than you think.

Make it Right (5.3K) by @three-drink-amy (that's right, Ally wrote me TWO FICS)

A rogue little Tarlos fic in amongst the firstprince - a post-season 1 canon divergence that sees TK working in a taco truck while he finds his feet.

a taste of life (7.4K) by @indomitable-love

A journey through Henry's life, told through food. (This one is not my summary, indomitablelove already summed it up perfectly)

Risotto + Melanzane + Dolce (a love story) (16.8K) by @villiageidiot

Alex starts working at an Italian restaurant and is terrible at his job. Somehow, Henry doesn't seem to mind.

Cursed is a State of Mind (WIP) by @welcometololaland & @dustratcentral

A 5 + 1 treatise on cursed coffee consumption.

12 Year Starter (6.6K) by @clottedcreamfudge

When Pez can't make it to Henry's Michelin-star birthday dinner, he arranges for Henry's friend, Alex, to take his place. Featuring CCF's signature banter and fun, and a menu that I wish was real.

Pour Your He(art) Out (WIP) by @athousandrooms

A 5+1 ode to latte art (featuring actual art!)

You can find the entire collection here on Ao3.

[unclewaynemunson]

Wingman Wayne AU pt4 is here! | AO3 link

Eddie comes back home from his not-a-date with Steve much later than planned; the two of them ended up spending the whole afternoon at the cafe together, sharing stories, getting to know each other, laughing at weird passersby... Eddie hadn't even noticed how much time had passed until it was already getting dark outside.

Wayne is about ready to head out for his night shift when Eddie gets to the trailer, and shoots him a way too smug look.

'So your date went well, huh?'

Eddie makes a face at him. ‘Don’t jump to conclusions too quickly, old man,’ he says. ‘In all honesty, I do have to admit that Steve’s actually a good guy - but that’s the only credit you’ll be gettin’ here. We merely had a fun time bonding over some queer stuff. I can assure you that there was completely no attraction whatsoever.’

Wayne's face drops. 'That's too bad, Ed.'

'No, it's not,' Eddie replies. 'I'm perfectly happy being single, you do know that, right?'

'Yeah, of course.' But it doesn't quite sound like he means it.

'Seriously, don't worry about me. I'm fine,’ Eddie says. He gives Wayne an affectionate pat on his near-bald head. ‘And you should go to work now, before they fire you for being a sentimental old man.'

As soon as Wayne’s truck drives off, Eddie finds himself at the phone, the gross note with Steve's number on it clenched in his hand again.

'Hey, um, just wanted to let you know that uncle was very disappointed there was no spark between us,' Eddie reports when Steve picks up the phone.

'Well, let's hope he finally learned his lesson not to mingle in your love life, then,' Steve answers with a light chuckle.

'He's the worst,' Eddie says, but then immediately feels bad about it, so he adds, 'He actually means well. I think he worries. Not that he needs to, I decided I'm better off single anyway.'

'Really?' Steve sounds surprised.

'Yeah, I guess I'm not exactly a relationship type of guy, you know.'

'You've never been in a relationship?' There's no judgment behind the question, only curiosity.

'Uhh...' Eddie hesitates. But Steve's queer too, he'd understand, right?

'I don't know,' he settles on saying. 'I mean, I've been someone's dirty secret a couple times. Turns out that my definition of a relationship doesn't always align with that of closeted Chads. So that’s why I decided I'm better off alone.'

There's a silence at the other end of the line, and Eddie wonders if he overshared again. He knows he shouldn't do that, but sometimes he just can't help himself. He had been so excited about having met a fellow queer guy, someone who'd understand him... Maybe he misjudged Steve after all.

'You do know there are options out there that aren't closeted Chads, right?' Steve finally says. It sounds genuinely empathetic, putting a halt to Eddie's spiraling thoughts and reminding him that he doesn't need to worry, that Steve's a good guy, that he indeed understands.

Eddie laughs. 'Sorry, Stevie, you're still not my type.'

'I'm not – that's wasn't – I didn't mean it like that,' Steve splutters at the other end of the line. 'I just meant, you know, it’s not completely impossible that there could be someone out there for you. Someone who won't treat you like some dirty secret, who will love you as much as you deserve, you know?'

Eddie feels his cheeks heat up at those words. He clears his throat, suddenly feeling nervous but not exactly knowing why. 'You're starting to sound like my uncle,' he tries to joke.

Steve chuckles. 'Maybe your uncle is wiser than you give him credit for.'

'Are you calling yourself wise, Steve?'

'No, I'm calling your uncle wise. You should probably listen to him more.'

'If I listened to him more, we'd be going on another date tomorrow and get married this summer. Is that what you want, Stevie?'

'Well, the getting married this summer sounds a bit rushed,' Steve says, 'but I wouldn't mind seeing you again.'

Eddie's heart drops to his stomach. 'Steve...' he starts, all the jokey undertones having disappeared from his voice. 'I told you that it's not like that, for me.' He thought he had been more than clear about that right from the start, in fact.

'No! Oh, God, no, I didn't mean it like that,' Steve immediately says. 'I just meant, like, if you ever wanna hang out or something... As friends, you know. It's um – it'd be nice to have a – another queer friend.'

Eddie releases a relieved breath. 'Okay, got it,' he says. 'Good. Perfect. Yeah, we should definitely hang out another time. As friends.'

Pt5

Jesus H Christ I’m honestly blown away by the response to this silly au, it means so much to me <333 I’m reading all your lovely comments and hilarious tags with the biggest smile on my face, makes me sooo happy!!

(Update: apparently there was something wrong with the taglist but I think I fixed it, sorry!! Please lemme know if the tags are still not coming through)

Taglist: @phantypurple @love-kurdt @eddiemunsonswife @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @swimmingbirdrunningrock @paintsplatteredandimperfect @stevesbipanic @momotonescreaming @yourebuckingkiddingme @th3-r4t-k1ng @messrs-weasley @moonshadows-13 @im-sam-fucking-winchester @xjessicafaithx @yournowheregirl @henderdads @lwhoscribbles @courtjestermunson @steveisabicon @rainydays35  @cassaloopa @skeliiix @thesuninyaface @silversnaffles @jestyzesty @4nemo1egend @ace-of-foxes @harringtonsgother @thegingervulcan @snapshotmaestro @thereindeerlady @jillfriend @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @gamerdano @spectrum-spectre @zerokrox-blog @00biscuit @mixsethaddams @steve-the-hairrington @episcogoth @caligularib @gaydrieeen @winterbuckwild @bookbinderbitch @daysarestranger @nonbinary-eddie-munson @fangirltofangod @solalasoforth @obsessivlyme @slit-wrist @fxndom-hoe @lifeisnotsobadonceyoustopcaring @joruni @roastingdragon @lenore1232 @princessstevemunson @cuips-not-cute @munsonsuccubus @justalittlefungi @cherrycolas-things @nitrilexam @thepainisspicy @hopefulslothcollecter @whatisreggieshortfor @doctorqueensanatomy @fandemonium-takes-its-toll @sadcanadianwinter @iamsotiredman @orangeandthefairroadkill @anything-thats-rock-and-roll @b-icetea @freddykicksasses @faery-god @poleaxed-aloe @mamaclownhunter @paperbackribs @blvckwidow @mightbeasleep @butuglypeoplefucktoo @lolawon @angryavocadofrog @iwouldsail @livelaughlexa @magpiemuseum @shushuac  @ravnlinn @homohomohoe @kissaphobic-kas @cmackz93 @your-greatest-queen @alltheweirdkidsinoneplace @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @ceaselessly-watching @anaibis @enchantedlandcoffee @fluffy-alpaca-of-darkness @nelotegreitic @mollymawkwrites @evix-syne666 @redfreckledwolf @ajamlessbaby @connected-dots @nothisisntmyname @steddieassheg0es @anxiouseds

[steddiealltheway]

Part Three of Not-So-Secret Secret Admirer!!! Part One. Part Two. AO3 Link.

Eddie doesn’t know what to get Steve next. Well, he knows what he wants to give Steve, but he’s pretty sure a mixtape would be a dead giveaway. But it’s four days after the second gift, and he needs one for tomorrow. 

He groans and flops down on his bed. What’s vague enough that doesn’t scream Eddie Munson is your fake secret admirer? He could get cupcakes or something, but that’s kind of dumb and not personal enough. Plus, he wants to see Steve get flustered again. It feels nice to know that he can do that to Steve Harrington. 

Because it’s Steve, and he doesn’t seem easily wooed, as he’s always the one doing the wooing. Eddie is glad to be giving Steve a break for once because he’s a great friend. A great friend who happens to get butterflies when he sees his other friend get giddy from his anonymous gifts. 

Eddie flails his arm out to grab his pillow and scream into it – instead, he hits his bedside table and hears a large clattering noise. The universe is against him tonight. 

Eddie groans and rolls to the side of his mattress to check if anything important fell besides his deodorant. He sees a few abandoned hair ties and an empty soda can but nothing of value. Until he’s slightly blinded by a gleam of silver. 

He reaches out and grabs the small object, fingers wrapping around the cool metal. It’s the ring he keeps on his nightstand, far too large for any of his fingers but also with a simple design carved into the metal that is almost too pretty for Eddie to be putting it on a chain to wear around his neck. 

It’s not anything too sentimental besides the fact that Eddie has had it for years now after spotting it at some yard sale and immediately swiping it – blame his father for teaching him that trick. He stares at it for the first time in a long time fully taking it in. He has the absurd thought that it would look pretty on Steve. 

It would look pretty on Steve. He’s scared he’d hate it and wear it only when Eddie is around to see it. But if it’s from his secret admirer, Eddie doesn’t have to worry about Steve’s politeness. He laughs and clutches the ring to his chest thinking of a cheesy note to write Steve as he drifts off. 

-:-:-:-:-:- 

He parks in the parking lot, ring in a small cardboard box with a horribly wrapped bow on top trapping a note underneath it. Every five days is a nice schedule, but maybe he should add some variation in it. But there’s no way that Steve is going to guess today is the day after only two gifts. 

At least, that’s what he thinks until Eddie sets the box on the top of Steve’s tire and hears someone yell, “Eddie! You’re Steve’s secret admirer?!” Dustin of all people pops out from behind the corner of the store. 

“Dustin... this isn’t what you think...” 

Dustin runs up to him and grabs him by the arm. “I’ve been waiting out here for days for some girl, and it’s just been you! Are you kidding me?” Eddie finds that Dustin is a lot stronger than he thinks as he drags him inside the store and yells, “Steve! I found your secret admirer!” 

Steve and Robin whip their heads around. Robin’s eyes go wide, and Steve’s eyebrows pinch together. “Well, where is she?” Steve questions.  

“Nu uh uh. Where is he?” Dustin corrects him excitedly pointing to Eddie. 

Steve takes a moment to process it, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Eddie cuts him off. “I’m not his secret admirer! I’m just... the messenger! Okay? I caught them the first time, and I promised to deliver the rest so they wouldn’t get caught.” He holds his hands up, pretty proud of his ability to make shit up on the spot. But he’s also dug himself into a way deeper hole. 

He glances towards Steve, trying his best not to look guilty or suspicious. Oddly enough, Steve seems a bit... disappointed by the news. Probably just because he was excited to solve the mystery of E.R. and no other reason. “So, you know them?” Steve questions. 

“Better than you think,” Eddie says, and tries not to cringe as Robin signals at him to cut it out. 

“Sworn to secrecy?” 

“The secretest,” Eddie replies lamely but Steve doesn’t laugh for once, just smiles tightly. 

“Are you kidding me?” Dustin says again. “You’re our friend first! Whoever this is can forget about whatever promise you made.” 

“Why don’t we talk about this outside while grabbing Steve’s gift?” Eddie says already grabbing Dustin’s shoulder and pulling him out the door. 

“Who is it? Who could possibly be so important that they-”  

The door closes behind them, and Eddie finally starts talking, “It’s me, okay? But not like me.” Eddie sighs and runs a hand over his face. 

“You have like two seconds to explain to me before I tell Steve,” Dustin says, full attitude in his tone. 

“Steve couldn’t stop saying he was hopeless, so I came up with a plan to give him hope.” 

Dustin narrows his eyes at him. “So, you made Steve an imaginary admirer to stop his whining.” Eddie cringes at that description, but... it’s true. “That’s perfect!” 

Eddie shoots the kid a look. “It is?” 

“Well, we don’t have to worry about a random person trying to butt into the group, and now we’re sure that Steve will be occupied until someone else comes along.” 

Someone else. Yeah, that’s a good plan. All part of the plan. Speaking of that... Eddie grabs the small box off the top of Steve’s wheel and walks back into Family Video to find Steve staring at him. “What was that all about?” 

“Had to convince Henderson that the admirer was worthy enough for his second favorite babysitter.” 

“The first being?” 

“Me of course. Right Dustin?” Eddie asks ruffling his hair. 

Steve points at the kid. “Don’t answer that.” 

Dustin holds his hands up and changes the subject, “I’m just here to see what’s in the box.” 

With that, Eddie tosses it to Steve who catches it easily. He smiles down at the gift. “I don’t want to undo the bow it’s so cute.” 

Robin gives him a look filled with confused disgust. “Just open the box.” 

Steve reluctantly unties the bow and stares at the note. Dustin and Robin scoot closer to him and read along. Eddie joins them. You and me... that has a nice ring to it. Robin groans and Dustin laughs. 

Okay, maybe it doesn’t make total sense, but it’s the best Eddie could come up with. It has the effect Eddie wanted – Steve's cheeks flush a wonderful shade of pink. He opens up the box on the counter and removes the ring carefully. He slowly spins it around to look at every detail. 

Robin and Dustin look over at Eddie with wide eyes. “Looks like your secret admirer is proposing,” Robin breathes out. 

“No I-” Eddie trails off as Steve looks up at him. “I... don’t think that was their intention. Besides, I doubt it fits his ring finger.” 

Steve slides the ring over his ring finger. It fits perfectly. Steve smiles. 

“Okay, I think it’s a little too soon for a marriage proposal,” Eddie says, sweating at the image of Steve wearing his ring for some reason. 

“Not if he’s known the person for a long time,” Dustin supplies unhelpfully. Telling him was a bad idea. 

Luckily, Steve seems too distracted by his gift to really process what the kid has said. Eddie takes the moment to shoot Dustin a warning look. He decides it’s better to take him out of the situation entirely. “So, Dustin, your duty is done, so let me give you a ride home.” 

“To the arcade,” Dustin corrects. 

“Fine, the arcade. Let's go,” Eddie says as he starts heading out the door. 

“Wait!” Steve says, finally breaking out of his thoughts. Eddie turns around. “Just... give me a minute,” Steve says and runs to the break room. 

Robin rushes forward. “You told Dustin?” 

“Big mistake, I know.” 

“Hey! I’m great at keeping secrets.” Robin and Eddie give him a blank stare. Dustin sighs, “Fine, I’ll just wait in the car.” Eddie watches as Dustin mutters something under his breath as he walks out the door. 

“You’re really getting into this whole gift thing, aren’t you?” Robin teases him with a knowing smile. What she knows, Eddie doesn’t want to think about. 

“Just helping a friend out.” 

“A friend,” Robin says sarcastically. 

The break room door opens before Eddie can defend himself. Steve rushes over to Eddie with a folded-up piece of paper.  “Can you give this to them? And just... promise not to read it.” 

“Of course,” Eddie lies, stomach churning unpleasantly. “What do you think of the ring?” he asks nervously, changing the subject. 

Steve looks down at it and smiles. “I love it.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a big grin. 

“Yeah,” Steve replies with a soft look. Eddie tries not to trick himself into think that Steve would respond the same way if Eddie had given it to him without the false pretense of the secret admirer. 

“I’m glad.” Eddie’s eyes flicker to Robin who is staring at him while making a gagging gesture. 

A car horn saves him from any cruder gestures she could make. “Looks like it’s time for me to go and deliver a boy and a letter. Farewell!” Eddie says dramatically, waving at the pair. 

He tries not to think of why the image of Steve waving with the ring glistening on his finger stays stuck in his head. 

After Eddie drops Dustin off, he immediately unfolds the note from Steve.   

Dear E.R.,  

Thank you for the kind gifts. Would be so kind as to tell me something about yourself? Something that makes you smile the way you’ve made me smile.  

I can’t wait to hear from you, 

Steve 

It’s cheesy and romantic, and Eddie’s unable to convince himself that he doesn’t wish the note was truly for him. This was not part of the plan. 

Part Four

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[renecdote]

I and love and you

Set post In Another Life so y'know. Spoilers ahead.

[Read on AO3]

The first SOS text comes two days after Buck is released from the hospital: help they’re driving me crazy. Eddie squints at it, waiting for more, and when it doesn’t come, he skips replying and hits call.

“Hey,” Buck answers, and he’s trying so hard to sound upbeat, but Eddie knows him well enough to hear the cracks.

“Hey,” he echoes, and it comes out softer than he means it to. “Your parents?”

The snick of a door closing—the balcony, Eddie guesses—and the scrape of a chair before Buck says, “Ugh. My parents.”

Eddie pours himself a fresh cup of coffee, then pulls out his own chair, making himself comfortable at the kitchen table while they talk.

“It was nice,” Buck adds, before Eddie can prompt him. “At first, I mean. They were… concerned, I guess. I mean, I know they were.”

Eddie hums. He thinks this is the part where he’s supposed to say, “of course they were concerned, they’re your parents,” but he doesn’t. They both know he wouldn’t really mean it.

“Buying me a couch is one thing,” Buck goes on, and Eddie gets halfway to wait, what— but he’s already moving on. “But I woke up this morning and mom was rearranging my closet? She said she wanted the clothes to be easier for me to reach, but it’s a closet, Eddie, isn’t the whole point that the clothes are already in reach?”

It’s too easy to picture Buck when he has just woken up, bleary eyed and fluffy haired, squinting against the morning sunlight because he always forgets to close the blinds. Probably pillow creases on his face too, whatever hoodie he wore to bed twisted up around him, one sock lost somewhere down the end of the bed. That little scrunch between his eyebrows that Eddie used to imagine reaching across the pillow to smooth away in those long months of quarantine. That he still imagines smoothing away some mornings, when he gets up and finds Buck still asleep on the couch because he didn’t want to drive home the night before.

“Rearranging your closet does seem a little overkill,” he agrees, probably a beat too late.

“It’s not just that,” Buck complains. “It’s everything. My meds, the food I eat—even when I got up to go to the bathroom earlier, they both tried to help me, like I can’t walk across my own apartment without collapsing or something.”

It’s too easy to picture that too: Buck collapsing. Buck not breathing. Buck’s heart not beating. Eddie swallows, then swallows again, holding his coffee mug tight against a rush of cold that makes him shiver.

“Why don’t I come pick you up?” he offers, and he doesn’t care if it’s selfish. “I’m sure Chris would love to see you when he gets home from school.”

There’s a smile breaking through the tiredness in Buck’s voice when he asks, “Just Chris?”

They used to joke like this. Eddie knows what his line is supposed to be, knows how he’s supposed to carry the joke, but that was before. Before Buck got struck by lightning, before his heart stopped beating, before Eddie cried over his hospital bed while Chris begged him to wake up.

“I’d love to see you too,” he says, and it feels like too much truth and not enough at the same time. It’s I and love and you, but they’re not fit together the way he wants them to be. The way he means them but can’t bring himself to say.

He wonders if Buck hears it anyway, with the way his voice catches before he replies, “I’d love to see you too.”

They stood on top of the fire engine together once, braced against wind and speed as they tried to catch a man hanging from a plane. Eddie still remembers the way the adrenaline tasted, the way they grinned at each other, the way he knew that Buck would catch him if he fell. He could fall now, he thinks, and Buck would catch him. Buck will always catch him.

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either. They still have time.

Eddie stands and pours his mostly untouched coffee down the sink.

“I can be there in twenty,” he says. “You can tell your parents you’ve got a better offer for the afternoon.”

Buck laughs, then groans. “Ouch. Don’t make me laugh.”

“It’s not my fault you think I’m funny,” Eddie answers, and it’s easier this time, to joke the way they always have. To hear Buck breathing on the other end of the line and take his own breath to match.

“I never said you were funny,” Buck protests, but he’s still smiling. Grinning, probably.

Eddie takes a second to close his eyes and picture it—Buck grinning, Buck breathing, Buck alive—then he grabs his keys and heads for the door.

He doesn’t hang up.

Buck doesn’t hang up either, even when he gets too tired to talk.

For the twenty minutes across town, Eddie listens to the sound of his best friend breathing, and the muted sounds of LA traffic in the background, and something else. Something that might be the sound of the wind whistling four stories up, or might be nothing at all.

“I’m here,” he says when he is pulling into a parking spot.

And Buck says, “okay, see you in a minute,” but he still doesn’t hang up the phone until Eddie is knocking on the apartment door. He’s pretty sure that doesn’t mean nothing. He’s pretty sure that, if he asked, it might mean everything.

(I and love and you, fit together in all the ways he wants them to be.)

But not today. Probably not tomorrow either.

They still have time.

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 7 - Trust

You help Mohawk give the crew their annual medical checkups.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth

Apparently the Kid Pirates took their health more seriously than Yin would have guessed, because during dinner it was decided that tomorrow Yin would start her new job in the infirmary by assisting with annual medical checkups. Apparently Mohawk was adamant that the crew have regular health assessments, though to be honest only the top dogs ever usually made it through more than one annual checkup. Henchmen and cabin boys didn't often survive that long. Regardless, he kept well organized records of everyone currently on the ship, with manila folders containing sheets of information, from medical history to blood types to work he'd done himself. They were all kept in careful alphabetical order in filing cabinets that sat in the infirmary, organized by first name since many of the ship's occupants didn't have a surname.

With the addition of Yin's skills he was determined to add a new sheet of paper to each file, documenting old bone breaks, as well as any current internal issues that he might not have been able to catch without scanning equipment. The crew wasn't due for their annuals for another month or so, but he was excited to test out her abilities, so he'd convinced Kid to bring it forward.

She followed him to the infirmary after breakfast, where he gave her a quick tour of the room before performing her own checkup. He usually liked to do an initial interview when a new crewmate came on board but there hadn't really been the opportunity to do it till now. Anytime she'd been free, he'd been busy.

She gave him the short version of her life, he wasn't shocked to hear how the marines had treated her. They discussed contraceptives for a short while, but in truth he didn't really know much about them, since he was used to working for a crew of only men. She told him she had some sort of implant the commodore had forced on to her, so he made a note to look in to it, but left it be at that. The entire female reproductive system was something he was going to need to study now. He at least didn't need to inquire about her last cycle, or how irregular her period was, since he'd heard from Heat what happened during her initiation. He'd been unsurprised to discover the slave mark burned in to her skin in the middle of her back, it was long healed since it had been probably twenty years since she was branded.

“Any old injuries to note?” He asked, pulling out the new page he'd whipped up yesterday and photocopied a million times. It had a simple outline of a human, duplicated and labeled ‘front’ and ‘back’, with space around the edges so he could make notes and draw arrows to mark notable injuries.

“I broke my left ankle when I was learning to moon step, when I was about fourteen,” she said, tapping her lip with her index finger while she tried to recall past injuries, “oh and I dislocated my right hip when I was eight”

“How'd you do that?” He asked, making quick notes on the page.

“Got raped by a man too big for me,” she said plainly. He paused and put down his pen, letting out a heavy sigh. She seemed indifferent, like she'd just told him she'd fallen from a tree or something. You know, something normal for an eight year old to have done. He didn't pry further, she'd already given him her life story, he didn't need more information.

“I just need to check your eyes and ears and we can start calling the crew in for their checks,” he said, wheeling his stool over to sit in front of her. She was sitting over the side of the examination table. The infirmary wasn't large, but it was big enough for a decent size desk, an examination table, and a couple of more comfortable beds for those who needed a quiet place to recover, or required observation. The walls were lined with cabinets, many of them under lock and key, bookcases containing medical journals, and several tall filing cabinets. The room didn't have any windows, since it was smack in the middle of the building that sat above deck towards the back of the ship, and it smelt heavily of medical grade disinfectant.

“Can you remove your mask for me?” He asked politely, otoscope in hand.

“I can but you have to be quick, did Killer explain how my mask works to you?” She asked.

“He did, you won't be able to hear or see me properly, correct?” He said, “I'll be quick, just look straight ahead and stay still, I'll put your mask back on as soon as I'm done”

“Okay then, I think I trust you,” she slid her mask off and placed it on the bed beside her, sitting as still as she could, “okay, go ahead,” she couldn't make out her own voice, but she hoped she was speaking.

He gasped as he looked at her eyes and saw the grey-pink, no whites or iris or discernable pupil visible on them. He pushed it aside for now, he had to check her ears first. He moved quickly, knowing that every second he took was another second for her to become overwhelmed. Killer had warned that in the past she'd been known to become feral when she was without her mask, and he didn't feel like getting bitten today.

Her ears looked healthy, so he swapped his otoscope for his ophthalmoscope, rolling his stool to be directly in front of her and gently pulling her eyelids away to see more of her eyeballs. It was useless, he couldn't make out anything remotely human on her eyes other than the shape - whatever was going on with them was outside of his skillset. He sighed and gave up, putting the tool down and picking her mask up to slide carefully over her head. She felt it starting to touch her, so she quickly took over and shimmied it into its usual comfortable position.

“All done?” She asked.

“All done, thanks for not biting me,” he half laughed as he scribbled notes in her chart.

“I only do that to men who ask nicely,” he assumed she winked after that but he couldn't tell past the visor.

“Right,” he tried to brush it off, he wasn't one who was comfortable or who knew how to react to open flirting, “so, with the others. I'll do all my usual examinations, and when I'm done I'll have you scan them. I want to hear about any current or old injuries, and any abnormalities you see. I've never had access to scanning equipment so it'll be mostly new information for me.”

“Okay, can do doc!” She replied, moving from the exam table to the desk, sitting on the edge and kicking her feet.

“One last thing,” Mohawk said as he stood to go find his first patient. Most of the crew thought medical checks were for pussies and would no doubt be unwilling victims, “everything in this room comes under doctor-patient confidentiality okay? You're my nurse now, everything you hear is to be kept private. And keep it professional, you may be surprised how many of these men have STIs. If I hear a single laugh while I'm looking at someone's dick I'll have Killer drown you, got it?”

“Genitals don't phase me, most of the showers in the marines were mixed gender,” she shrugged, “you may be surprised to hear how many dicks I've come face first with to check for UTIs”

“Okay, good, we should have no issues then,” he said, “get off the desk, it's not professional. Sit in my chair till I need your assistance. I'll be mostly on the stool anyway”

“Roger that, doc,” she gave a mock salute and slid off the desk as he left.

Yin really was surprised at how many henchmen had STIs, and by the time they were done she was sure she could recite Mohawk's safe sex spiel of the top of her head, word for word. A few henchmen had been suffering in silence with bad constipation, and one had a badly broken toe. The cabin boys were all relatively healthy, but Mohawk gave them all the safe sex talk anyway, since it wouldn't be long before they started getting curious about the women, and he desperately hoped he could keep them from turning in to disease-ridden henchmen. Some of them were already partaking, but had been lucky enough to not catch anything.

It was well in to the afternoon when they got to the officers and commanders. The officers were all healthy, being that they'd been on the ship long enough to have regular checkups and knew well to follow Mohawk's advice. Yin had to stand on the examination table to check Wire's head, since he was just so damn tall.

She was surprised to find during Heat's examination that he actually had several hidden piercings that she could see through his clothes while she scanned him. She didn't ask why his dick was pierced, it didn't seem like an appropriate medical question. Kid wasn't happy about being examined, and complained the whole time that he was too busy for this shit. Mohawk gave him a long, stern talking to about drinking less beer and more water, if he didn't want a repeat of yesterday. She hadn't realised that the metal arm didn't have a real arm inside, she'd just assumed it was some sort of cover. She bit back a gasp when he removed it so Mohawk could check the stump of what used to be an arm. The base had metal embedded in to it, assumedly to help the prosthetic stick. She did her best to not gawk.

Last up was Killer, who they had to wait quite long for since he had been busy with some new recipe he had wanted to try that required being cooked slowly for many hours. He smelled of freshly cut herbs and bread when he entered, mixed with his usual scent of musk and spices. He locked the door as he entered, and Yin came to the jarring realisation that he was probably going to need to remove his mask. Mohawk went through his usual line of questioning before standing in front of Killer, he was too tall to examine from the stool. He did the same flexibility and grip strength tests he'd done for everyone else, and tapped his knees with a little hammer to check reaction times, before picking up his otoscope and turning to Yin expectantly.

“Right, sorry,” she said, turning and facing the wall. She heard something click and hair rustling as Killer removed his mask. “Hey um.. should I examine his head while the mask is off? I can't see his face if I'm scanning him, I promise”

“My head is fine,” Killer said flatly.

“I'm making notes of old injuries as well though, its important for my records,” Mohawk explained, “she's fast, it'll only take her a moment to check your head if nothing is wrong”

“Fine,” he sighed, “as long as she can't see”

“If my visor is dark green or red, I can't see you, just your insides,” she said, “to be honest I can only make out faces when its purple or like a neon green”

“Neon green is what you had when you killed the seaking right?” Killer asked, “is that some sort of night vision?”

“Yeah,” she explained, still awkwardly facing the wall, “and I can see pretty deep in the water as well, thats how I saw the seaking. I'm gonna turn around now, okay? I'll only be able to see your bones”

“Okay,” he replied. Mohawk finished checking Killer's eyes and stepped aside for her. She couldn't see well, but she'd spent all day in the room so she knew there was no furniture between them, and she could see their skeletons, the metal base of the examination bed, and Killer's mask sitting on the bed bedside him. She used what she could see as a guide to carefully make her way over, but she couldn't see the floor so her steps were awkward and she tripped.

“Woah, careful,” Mohawk said as he caught her, “what's wrong with you?”

“Can't see the floor,” she laughed, “I can only really see your bones and the metal things in the room, like Killer's mask and the base of the bed. Hard to walk without a floor”

She righted herself and stood carefully in front of Killer, who was definitely too tall. “You're too big, I'm gonna need to get on the table,” she climbed up on the side of him that didn't hold his mask, thankful that the base was metal and the mattress was thin so she could even see what she was doing. In her mind she was adding thickness to all the things she could see to account for what she couldn't.

“Ah- my hair-” Killer growled and pulled away, she'd unknowingly knelt on his long blond locks that had been resting against the bed.

“Fuck, sorry Kil,” she said, kneeling behind him, “I couldn't see it”

“It's fine, just get it over with,” he muttered, pulling his hair over his shoulder to the front so she couldn't catch it again.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” She asked as professionally as she could, “I need to turn your head”

“That's fine,” he replied.

She put her hands gently on either side of his head, carefully turning it and moving her hands around as she examined. It felt like he had thick bangs over his forehead, which definitely surprised her.

“Fuck you have a lot of old fractures for someone who wears a helmet,” she noted, “I can see… seven, Mohawk, if you want to note that down”

“Got it,” he replied, scribbling in his notes.

She turned Killer's face to look at her, her thumbs tracing his cheeks as she inspected them. She didn't even realise how intimate she was being, it was a natural process for her. His jawline seemed strong and his cheekbones looked prominent, if she had to guess she'd say he must have a sharp, attractive face. It looked symmetrical at the bone level, but who knows what kind of scars or deformities he might have on top that caused him to wear a mask.

“Old fracture on the left cheek as well,” she said, “I'd bet good money Kid did that”

“It'd be a winning bet,” he replied, suppressing a smile. Mohawk was busy with his notes, and she couldn't actually see his face, but he felt exposed anyway, and he didn't want anyone to see his ugly smile - the real reason he wore a mask.

“I'm gonna switch to red now okay?” She said, removing one of her hands from his face to fiddle with her mask. The visor turned red and her hand returned to his face, “Nothing of note on the front, eyes look healthy, frontal lobe looks fine,” she turned his head and made her way around, checking the side, then the back, then the other side. She paused, holding his head firmly in place. “Mohawk?”

“Mmm?” He looked up from his notes.

“There's something here, on the outside, towards the base of the neck,” she said, running her hand through Killer's hair and pulling it gently aside to clear the area she wanted Mohawk to check, “right here,” she pointed as she saw the bag of organs and veins that formed Mohawk stand beside the bed.

“It looks like a small cyst,” he said, prodding it with a gloved hand, “Killer I thought I told you to let me know if your mask did shit like this, it looks like it's about where the edge would rub”

“It's nothing,” he pulled Yin's hand out of his hair, entirely ignoring how nice her delicate hands felt woven through his locks, “I was just gonna deal with it myself”

Mohawk sighed and returned to his desk, “you're staying when she's done checking you over, so I can deal with that. It needs draining”

“I have shit to do,” Killer grumbled.

“Will you stop being a baby and let him do his job?” Yin scowled as she slid off the bed carefully, “now stand up so I can finish the scan, you can put your mask back on but I still have to check the rest of you”

He sighed and put his mask back in place before unwillingly standing, she tugged his arm to pull him further from the bed so she could walk all the way around him and quickly went about her scan, checking his bones first, then switching back to the red mode. She lifted his left arm as she checked his side.

“Your heart is beating a little fast Kil, you okay?” She noted.

“His heart rate was fine before,” Mohawk mused, quirking an eyebrow at Killer, who scowled under his mask at the clear insinuation.

“I'm just pissed off, now hurry the fuck up and quit touching me,” he growled.

“Anddd mister grumpymask is back,” she smiled, “relax, I'm done. He's all clear, doc, fit as a fiddle”

“Good, thats everyone then,” Mohawk said as he made a few last notes and stood to start collecting the supplies he needed for Killer's cyst, “you can go, Yin, thank you for your help. It won't always be this much work, I promise”

“Its fine,” she replied, unlocking the door to leave, “this was fun, I was happy to help. See you two at dinner,” she sung as she left. Mohawk gave her a weak goodbye, and Killer remained quiet.

Dinner wasn't far off, in fact by the time Mohawk was done with Killer it was time to head to the dining hall. Everyone else was already there, and Killer quickly finished off the special recipe of slow cooked beef and beer stew that he'd been working on earlier, with several fresh loaves of sourdough he'd made earlier to go with it.

“Anything of importance to report from the annuals?” Kid asked Mohawk as he dipped his bread in the hearty stew.

“Just that your henchmen need to keep it in their pants if they can't learn to use a rubber,” Mohawk sighed.

“The usual then,” Kid laughed, “dirty cunts”

“Oi, Yin,” Wire interjected, “I've got a question for you”

“Hit me,” she replied with a smile, inhaling another mouthful of the delicious stew - Killer's cooking really was the best she'd ever had.

“How did you know anything about us or our reputation if you've been locked away for the last five years?” He asked in a serious tone. It felt like an integration, like he was about to crack open that everything she'd told them was a lie, “you knew who Heat and I were, you knew the Captain and Killer, you said you knew you'd fit in here. But you've been in a cell for the last five years, and we only got our first bounties a few years ago”

Eveyone else turned and stared at her, and Kid stopped eating entirely, mulling it over in his head and coming to the same realisation Wire had, that the dots didn't connect. “How did you know about us?” Kid was almost growling, it felt like a threat.

She sighed and put down her spoon, looking across the table at Killer's expressionless mask, like he could offer some sort of support. “You really want to know? You're not gonna like the answer”

“Answer the fucking question,” Kid said sternly, grinding his teeth.

“Okay, fuck, don't bite my fucking head off. I'd been with the commodore you found me with for most of my imprisonment, and I guess you could say he was a fan of yours,” she explained, careful to speak to Kid directly, so as not to incur any further wrath from him, “when you came on to the grandline he started getting a bit obsessed. Every time he came to… visit me… he would tell me about your crew, and the big promotion he was gonna get when he took you down. Which is ironic, in hindsight. Anyway at some point he started bringing in your bounty posters, the four of you, mostly Kid's, and he'd use them against me if I wasn't obediently letting him have his way with me. He'd say shit like ‘you're so lucky you have me here to protect you and make you feel so good’ and then he'd wave Kid's poster in my face and say ‘this cunt would rip your legs off just so he could fuck the bloody holes left behind, he'd rape you to death and then he'd keep going. His whole crew would rape your dead body till you were nothing but a pile of rotting bones’. Sometimes he'd leave the posters in the cell with me, to remind me of my place, so I got familiar with your faces. Of course I never believed that shit, it wasn't hard for me to see that the marines are the bad people in this world, I've seen pirates as the good guys for a long time now. The second Kid let me go the day you found me, I knew I was right and the commodore was full of shit. Not that I think there aren't pirates that rape, I just knew for sure that you guys didn't. Anyway, yeah. That's how.”

Kid was visibly angry, not at her but at the commodore, as he tore a huge chunk of bread from an untouched loaf and dipped it with a little too much force in to his stew, making liquid spill out around the edges of the bowl, “Fucker…” he said through a full mouth.

“I did say you wouldn't like it,” she grumbled, looking mournfully at her stew. She no longer had any appetite but forced herself to keep eating anyway. She didn't want to offend Killer by not finishing the food he'd made them.

“Sorry,” Wire said solemnly, “I shouldn't have pried”

“It's okay Wire,” she forced a smile for him, “I get it. I'm a stranger, you don't trust me, and things didn't add up. You were just protecting the crew. I hope you'll come to trust me, in time, like I'm trying my best to learn to trust all of you”

“Trust is hard earned,” Killer added plainly.

“You think I don't know that?” She almost yelled in clear annoyance. Heat spooked a little as she slammed a closed fist on the table, “You think its easy for me to be sitting here on a ship full of men when every man who has every touched me has raped me? You think I don't know how hard it is to learn to trust someone? Cut me some fucking slack, Killer”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“I'm not very hungry anymore,” she said, frustrated and angry. She felt like she was being treated like the enemy, and she'd done nothing to deserve it. She'd been working hard every day to earn their trust, and she felt brushed off. “Sorry, the food was delicious Killer, I'm just… not hungry anymore”

“Leave the bowl, I'll finish it,” Kid told her. He grabbed her hand before she left, “you'll have our trust, Killer's is just a little harder to earn. You're doing good work here, just give it time. I hope I can earn your trust as well, as your Captain”

“Thanks, Kid,” she sighed as he let her hand go. She didn't say anything more, and they watched as she quickly disappeared out of the galley and the doors swung shut behind her.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 48

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Y/n goes a little apeshit at JojaMart lmao

Author’s Note: *Crawls out of a pit covered in dirt and blood. Slaps this chapter down in front of you, on a SUNDAY no less!*

My health situation hasn’t improved whatsoever, but I will prevail, damnit!!

I wrote most of this and posted to ao3 early this morning, and haven't had a chance to proofread really. I'll do my best to get that done soon ^.^ Sorry if there are any weird wordings. Also sorry for the complete lack of Seb and Magnus in this one, I hope the shenanigans make up for it <3

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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I hate that stupid, cryptic, blue note I got.

Ever since it came, I think about it every time I check the mailbox, without fail. I don’t want to, I kinda just want to forget it exists, but I just… I dunno. I have a bad feeling about it. A gut feeling. Like, something’s totally up with it. It’s just been sitting in my closet for safekeeping until I decide what to do, though.

For some reason, I’ve been too nervous to bring it back up to Magnus. He’s forgotten it exists, from what I can tell. I think I’ll do my best to keep it that way for now. It feels more like my burden to bear than his, and besides, he’s already got the whole region to take care of.

After today’s confirmation that I don’t have bills or anything important like that, I head inside to get ready to leave the farm. Reeeally hoping my routine will shake out my heebiejeebies.

I got the OK from Magnus to use his fancy shrine for Spirit’s Eve. Got an idea of what I think I want to make myself look like, too. Maybe a tiefling or something. If tieflings don’t really exist, I’m sure some sort of succubi, or imps, or some sort of creature that looks like one’s gotta, no? I suppose I could always fall back on just pretending I’m an elf… man, a tail and horns would be so fun though. 

Either way, tomorrow is the big day and I am so ready for it.

I mean, like, almost ready. Whatever.

Today I’m going to Magnus’ place to get some practice in. Just a precautionary measure to try not to, like, blow myself up or something.

I’m gonna keep my outfit cozy and easy to move around in, but I have half a mind to make sure I wouldn’t mind losing these clothes in particular if something goes wrong with the transformation. Just some leggings, some crew-cut socks, an old hoodie, and my favorite boots, since I won’t have my shoes on in the shrine anyway. All of it is in black. Sebastian cosplay. 

I’ll pop my red studs in too, gotta commit to the bit. I haven’t had time to talk to The Emo and see if he actually did get his shit pierced last night, but assuming he did, and assuming he was able to use these for it, I wanna go all out, baby.

Now, before I head to the tower, I’ve got some errands to run around town. I woke up a bit late so there’s gonna be more people out than I’m looking forward to, but hopefully I have no creepy Alex encounters or awkward conversations with Shane again.

I promised Sam I’d visit him at work sometime soon, so I might as well head there first. He hates it there, and it’s been a while since we’ve caught up, so I’ll hopefully be a welcome distraction. I’ll bring him a coffee too to keep his spirits high.

After it’s done brewing, I grab two foam cups and pour the coffee in. Knowing Sam, he probably needs this stuff sweet, and I’m in the mood for sweet too, so I pour in a bunch of vanilla-flavored creamer. To make the beverages ~gourmet,~ I add a little whipped cream to each, as well as a light drizzle of chocolate syrup. After securing the plastic lids and giving Cannoli some well-deserved love, I head out.

While I pass by the bus stop, I make eye contact with Pam. I’ve never spoken to her, but… I dunno. I can’t tell if I like her or not. She gives me a nasty stink eye and I can only further assume she’s as mean as she outwardly appears. Unless she was just cursed with an intense resting bitch face...

I smile Pam’s way anyway. She doesn’t smile back, but that’s okay. It doesn’t benefit anyone to be so judgemental of her.

I pass a few local moms once I make it to the town square. None really mind me, which could mean they either didn’t notice, or they don’t care. Either is fine by me. I don’t hear what they’re saying, but Caroline talks very animatedly just before the rest of the group bursts into laughter.

I turn my attention back ahead as I pass by Pierre’s and nearly bump into Marnie as she’s leaving the shop.

We both squeak out a little “Oh!” before apologizing in unison.

“I wasn’t really paying attention,” I double down. 

“Oh, that’s fine. I rarely ever am!” She then motions to the two cups in my hands and adds, laughing, “At least the coffee’s safe!”

I awkwardly nod in agreement. Then, a brief flash of myself actually spilling coffee somewhere down the road raids my mind, my necklace tingling against my skin and my fingers practically buzzing.

Great.

“Everything alright, sweetie?”

That probably looked weird. “Yeah, sorry,” I try to recover, “just sleepy today!”

I take a sip of coffee to emphasize my point. Plus, I might as well drink what I can before these puppies go down. Hopefully I’ll be able to save at least one of them when the time comes.

“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that!” She puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I need to get back to the shop, but take it easy and don’t overwork yourself, you hear?” 

I nod, thanking her and waving her off with a shy grin before I continue moving. Once I get closer to the spot I’m supposed to be spilling these drinks — just before that little bridge over the river by JojaMart — I begin to walk more cautiously. If I can just keep these steady and focus on the ground… 

A sneeze creeps up on me. Oh god. Oh god oh fuck oh no.

Just as I’m beginning to carefully place one of the cups on the side of the bridge for safe keeping, the sneeze forces its way out of me. Luckily, one beverage — the one I hadn’t drank from yet — stays safely in my hand. Unluckily, the one I was working on trying to keep safe fell to the stones at my feet, opening up and dispersing its contents fucking everywhere.

God damnit. 

“Nice one.”

God fucking damnit.

I look up to the voice. It turns out Shane’s outside having a smoke. He’s at the opposite end of the bridge watching my clumsiness unfold with an aloof look about him. He’s bent over to lean on the stone wall, his right elbow propped up and his corresponding cheek in his palm. His left forearm is flat against the structure while his left hand lazily dangles his cigarette between two fingers.

Is that pink nail polish on one of them? I wonder if that’s Jas’ doing. 

I merely groan back my response, picking up the now-empty cup to discard in the trash bin near the store. As I proceed on my walk of shame past Shane, I point out, “At least my clothes stayed safe.”

Shane follows and asks, “How many ants do you think you murdered with that accident?” 

I grin a little at his dry humor. “Oh it was a massacre,” I bounce back. “The war in Gotoro pales in comparison.”

“Ha!” Oh my god, I made Shane — the grumpiest fuck I’ve ever met — laugh?! “Right on. Seems like pointless violence anyway.” 

I turn to see if I can catch him smiling for the first time, like, ever. It’s not there anymore, but there’s a residual brightness in his features.

Shane snuffs out his cig on the ashtray built into the garbage’s lid, abandoning it there before shoving his hands in the pockets of his bright blue shorts.

“Those sons’a bitches,” he nods in the direction of my carnage, “they had it coming.”

My nose scrunches as I laugh a little, giving him a funny look. “Damn, what’d they do to you?”

There’s a playful glint in his eye, as he deadpans me. “Exist.”

I shrug and nod — I get it, they can be pretty annoying! — and follow the man as he makes his way through the white-rimmed, glass-centered automatic doors. I try not to cringe outwardly at how many self-righteous pro-Joja fliers are on them.

Shane stops a few steps into the store. Turns around. I stop too and look up, tilting my head. What’re you looking at, punk? I think to myself. Dunno if I’d be pushing my limits by trying to say it out loud. Better not.

Shane gives me a weird look too, but I can barely see it. My senses are taking their damn time getting used to the obnoxiously fluorescent lighting.

“Don’t you shop at Pierre’s?” Shane wonders out loud.

I blink a few times as I adjust to the environment and then nod. “Visiting Sam,” I explain.

“Ah.” He nods too, in understanding, and then looking the other way he continues, “Enjoy.”

Shane makes his way towards a door to the right of the manager’s office. Says “Employee’s only,” so I’m assuming it’s a break room or something. I don’t miss the incorrect apostrophe, but choose not to linger on it either.

“You too.” He looks back over his shoulder, so I pair my well wishes with a lazy salute.

“Buh.”

…Buh?

I smile. I think he’s warming up to me!

Feeling a tad lost now that I’m alone, I look around before making any advances. Should’ve asked Shane if he knew where Sam would be around now. I dunno how the shifts work around here.

The cashiers to my left — a visibly exhausted red headed woman, probably in her late 30s or early 40s; and a scrawny, scruffy looking teenager, with thick-framed glasses sitting atop his freckled nose — both look miserable.

The boy is boredly leaning against the counter, zoned out on the ground in front of it. The woman looks totally spaced out on nothing in particular. It almost seems like she’s fighting off sleep, too. Poor lady. 

The woman and I lock onto each other. She looks away from my face before I can even register it, but I notice her eyes flicker longingly to the coffee cup in my hand a few times after the fact. I peer between her and the beverage twice before I all but scurry away into the aisles. I’m too awkward for this. My only option is to retreat. Never said I wasn’t a coward.

While I venture past the boatloads of boxed, bagged and canned foods in search of the resident dog boy, I observe some of the products. Some don’t look safe for consumption, while others seem like they’d be fun to try as a one-off sort of deal. It overlaps a few times as well. I mean, why wouldn’t I want to try this cereal which very explicitly states on the box that it’s more sugar than grains? It makes me stifle a giggle. I like the brutal honesty. 

I stop and stare at it for a sec. Gnawing my lip. Wondering if I should just…

No. I shan’t.

I break away from temptation and trek on. As I reach the end of the aisle, I pan across the back of the store. More shelf-stable products, a small produce section… ah!

Sam looks like he’s supposed to be mopping the floor near the freezers. To be fair, he is holding a mop, and it is touching the floor! But instead of cleaning, he uses the tool as a microphone; singing against the end of the brown wooden handle, both hands passionately gripping it as he bends his torso to quietly belt one part in particular. Sam’s eyes are shut, his bulky black headphones are secured over his ears, and he has not a single worry in the world. 

Holding his coffee in both hands now, I stop walking and lean against a nearby shelf. Observing. Waiting. Eventually he’ll have to see me.

He does a little spin move and carelessly bumps into the bucket of soapy water he’s working with, causing it to slosh around a little. Some of it lands on the floor, and some on the pants of Sam’s jumpsuit. Doesn’t faze him in the slightest. 

He does another spin the opposite way and nearly knocks over the conveniently placed display of sprinkles that are situated right in front of the ice cream freezer.

I feel like I should probably stop him before something bad happens, but he looks so damn content and so stinkin’ cute that I can’t be assed. 

Just as I’m thinking this, he opens his eyes, completely avoiding my direction while he immediately peers over his shoulder. Sam scans around, getting a full view of the proximate areas. It seems like he’s just making sure he’s not about to get caught by his boss or something, if I had to guess.

Eventually he lands on me. We both smile wide, and I triumphantly hold up his (unspilled!!) coffee in one hand, presenting it with a small flourish of the other and a bow of my head.

“For you, my good sir.” I make sure to sound extra fancy, dropping my voice an octave and annunciating my words a bit too much.

He looks around again before meeting me in the middle with a fist bump, completely ignoring my bit. Aw man.

“Hell yeah, thanks dude!” 

I shoot some awkward finger guns at him, “You got it, bud.”

“You didn’t make yourself one?”

I sigh, lamenting, “I did…”

Sam scans my face as we share a short silence. Then, the lightbulb almost visibly goes off in his noggin. “You spilled it, didn’t you?”

Pursing my lips, I nod. “I spilled it, yeah.” 

“Buuummer, dude.” He pats my head and I sigh, leaning into his touch. I’ll be damned if I don’t still love head-pats, even if it’s been a while since I’ve gotten one. “Wanna split this one then?” he offers, palm still on my crown. At this point he’s just trying to messy me up.

“No thanks, I’ll just grab another later if I’m really craving it.” Not having noticed the trance I’ve been in as my hair gets slowly and steadily ruined — it feels nice, okay? — I finally look up at him, cheekily glaring as I manually remove his large hand from me. I add on as I try to repair the frizzy aftermath, “Sick performance, by the way!” 

“You think so?” he beams. Makes me laugh.

“Of course! It looked like you were having a lot of fun.”

Sam’s face is a bit flushed as he takes the compliment, not even trying to hide it; he has a big goofy grin on his face, too.

It drops and Sam looks behind him as a deep voice with a bit of a southern twang booms from one of the aisles nearby. “Samson?”

“Shit, here.”

Sam hurriedly places his coffee into my hand and rushes back near his water bucket, looking around for his manager as he moves. I try to make things less suspicious by pretending to look at some nearby end caps. 

I take a peek over when I hear Sam greet the man, “Hiya! What’s up, Morris?”

Crossing his arms and puffing out his chest to try and make himself look mighty, a man in a navy blue suit, a bright red bow tie, and a poorly-applied black toupee corrects him. “That’s Mr. Saxton, son.” 

I roll my eyes. Awesome to know the guy running this Joja is just as insufferable as the dudes who work on the corporate side.

Sam puts an anxious hand on the back of his neck, and halfheartedly smiles as he apologizes, his speaking patterns much more formal than before. Poor guy… it hurts to see him having to tone it down so much for this dipshit.

I turn my attention back in front of me so as to give him some privacy. Not sure he’d want me to hear him getting his ear talked off.

This display is full of holiday cards... I might as well waste some time with these bad boys. I pick up one with a cartoon beagle wearing a birthday hat on it, stealing a sip of Sam’s coffee as I read the pun on the front: “Have a doggone good birthday!” Alright, nice and cheesy start…

I flip the card open. It starts blaring Baha Men’s “Who Let The Dogs Out.” Fucking hell. Jumpscare me, why doncha! I shudder at how tinny the music sounds — likely made worse by its volume — then close the card and place it back in its spot, not bothering to read more.

“Excuse me, miss?”

I peer over my left shoulder, and see that Mr. Saxton is making his way towards me. A vein is popping in his forehead, but he has a toothy smile on his face that screams customer service. Not sure what’s going on and feeling a little anxious about the situation, I don’t answer with words — I just turn my body to him and watch him expectantly. 

My eyes flicker to Sam real quick, who’s closer to the opposite end of the freezers now. He’s looking over here though, and when his eyes catch mine, he mouths “Go!” and motions his arm towards the front end of the store. Maybe he got caught socializing or something… wouldn’t doubt that there’s probably heavy surveillance in here. Man.

I look back at Sam’s boss as he says, “I’m going to need you to discard your beverage.”

My brows furrow and I tilt my head. “Why?”

Ah, he’s the asking-questions-is-talking-back type: He huffs a deep breath and tilts his head as if to mimic me, clasping his fingers together in front of his ribs. The smile and vein are both still on his face.

“It is not only unacceptable to bring your own food into a grocery store,” he strains, “but I cannot have you spilling your drink all over our products.”

…I haven’t spilled anything. What does he think I am, some crusty little kid? 

Damn, this is bringing out a rage that I haven’t experienced since working behind a Joja desk. I didn’t know I was even capable of it anymore. Must be something about the overstimulatingly bright blues, or the blindingly white strips of lights. Same ones we had above each cubicle in the office.

My anxiety is rapidly replaced with a petty yearn to cause a ruckus as I realize that I don’t work for Joja anymore. I never have to even come here again, actually.

I don’t answer to this fucko! I don’t answer to anyone!

Screw this guy!

Feeling courageous, I put on my own customer service mask as I inquire, “Do you want me to spill this on your products?”

“E-excuse me?!”

I hover the cup near the cards, tilting it a little. Doing a little eyebrow wiggle too for good measure. “It feels like you dooo.”

“I— w-what are you doing?”

Seb would be so proud if he were here. Not sure how Magnus would react, but I’d like to imagine he’d support me too.

Completely on impulse, I bring the cup in front of me and splash a little coffee in the man’s direction instead of the cards’. The now-lukewarm liquid splatters onto the white button-down beneath his jacket and rapidly seeps into the fabric, leaving a light brown, unsightly splotch.

Sick, got him where it hurts and none got on the floor! Less work for Sam!

Making sure my voice is just as cheery as Morris was trying to keep his, I cap this off, “Stop treating your employees like crap and stop treating complete strangers like children, asshole.”

This feels so good. My heart is racing and my pits feel a little moist and I might just end up an anxious mess the second I walk away, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t cool as fuck in the moment. When Leah asked me last week if Magnus ever wanted to go apeshit, it didn’t even occur to me how badly I wanted to go apeshit.

I walk down the nearest aisle as Morris continues sputtering something about me leaving, paying for this, whatever.

Shane’s kneeled down in the middle of the aisle stocking shelves. He faces me for a moment and grins slyly. “That was cool as hell.” Why does this feel so validating? “A woman after my own heart.” 

HUH?

I blink that fucking flashbang away — seriously, the last time I saw him he was still being a dick, and today he’s treating every interaction like we’re fully acquainted, if not more, what the heck — as he turns away to scan items onto the shelf again.

“I really didn’t do much…” I really didn’t. Just kinda caused a minor inconvenience for the guy. 

My hands are shaking though, so it must be catching up to me.

“That still took some balls.” He glimpses at me briefly and adds, “Y’look like you might cry, though. Get outta here before I change my mind about you.”

I huff out a quiet laugh and steady Sam’s — well, my, now — coffee in both hands. “On it, boss.”

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

i'm outta my head over you Pt. 6

prologue (Pt. 1) | Pt. 2 | Pt. 3 | Pt. 4 | Pt. 5 | AO3 | playlist

ok, i really love this one; i hope you guys do too!

today's @steddie-week prompts are: together and Hold the Line - TOTO

C’mon, Munson, get your shit together. You’re the music guy here!’ He tells himself. Okay yeah, that’s true, but that doesn’t mean he’s great about expressing feelings. ‘ That’s what the music’s for, dumbass. ’

Eddie spends the rest of the night and into the next morning pouring over what other songs he could add to the B side of Steve’s tape (and what songs he’s gonna use for the Party Tape…he’s gotta have a blank tape around here somewhere…).

He has a couple contenders, he just doesn’t quite know how they fit yet. Steve had a reason or an explanation for each song on his side, so Eddie wants to do the same. Only problem is that the songs that already do remind him of Steve, are ones Steve’s already put onto the A side.

Fuck, has he been telling him his feelings all this time? The first half of Steve’s side of the tape were his go-to songs whenever they’ve hung out together, while Eddie was recovering at his house.

He goes to sleep that morning with a handful of possibilities, but nothing concrete, then is awoken just before lunch by his phone ringing. 

“Shit,” Eddie hops up groggy and disoriented with sleep, but scrabbles down the hall to the phone so Wayne doesn’t wake up.

“Munson residence, the fuck d’ya want?”

“Eddie! Ste– Ok, rude.”

“Rob? What’s up, Birdie?” Eddie scrubs his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Steve’s coming back a day early!” Eddie’s hand freezes. “Do you have the tape done??”

“N-no, no I only have three fuckin songs on it! Damn it, I thought you said he was coming back tomorrow!”

“Hence the call telling you he’s coming back early. He’s landing in Indy at noon, will be here by 3, and somehow Dustin’s already found out so now I’m roping you into ferrying Steve’s children to the arcade with us after he’s back.”

“Hey, they’re my children too!” Wait, what? “Wait, I didn’t say that. Why’d I say that? I don’t even want kids.”

“Nope, too bad. You already said it. You and Steve have joint custody of the shitheads.”

“We’re divorced now?”

“You were married in the first place?” Robin snarks back then mumbles, “Didn’t I just have this conversation?”

“What?”

“Nothing. You coming with or what?”

“No, Buck, I gotta finish his tape now!”

“Too bad, you’re coming. And I’m going to tell Henderson you are so he won’t let you back out.”

“Robin don’t you dare-”

What is with her and hanging up on him??

He’d just gotten back to his bedroom door when the phone rings again. Just barely stopping himself from screaming, he goes back to the handset.

“Hello..?”

“Dude. Would it kill you to sound excited?.”

“Henderson, your sarcasm is not appreciated this early in the morning. And why would I be excited about being volun told to pickup you hellions for the arcade?”

“‘Cause you like spending time with your friends, maybe? Now, do you and Max wanna come pick up me and Lucas? Steve will pick up Will and El at theirs, and pick up Robin and Mike on his way.”

“Sounds like you’ve already got everything planned out, Dusty.”

“Your exasperation is not appreciated this late in the morning.”

“...I don’t have to come, you know.”

“But you know you wanna.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. See you at 2:30.”

Just once , Eddie’d like to be the one hanging up on someone else.

Whatever. Looks like he’s got plans this afternoon.

Eddie looks at the clock on the wall above the fridge. Four hours. Now, does he nap, or does he eat and start getting ready?

They’ll probably grab pizza while they’re at the arcade…nap it is.

Eddie wanders back to his room and is out as soon as his head hits his pillow.

—

Miraculously, he wakes up exactly two and half hours later; just enough time for a shower and to get ready before picking up his half the goblins.

He showers, scrunches a majority of the water out of his curls (Steve’d shown him that little trick, would start on about “Eddie, we went over this! You gotta take care of your curls!" and, "They’re so gorgeous and you’re soooo handsome and hot and I totally wanna pull that hair when I fuc—” OKAY maybe that last part was just wishful thinking, but Steve’d definitely have a conniption if he shows up today with flat hair), and gets dressed.

From the extra spluttering their feeble A/C is doing, and the not-at-all refreshing breeze that crawls through his window when opened, Eddie can confirm that it’s definitely too fuckin’ hot out.

He pulls on his most ripped, well loved pair of black jeans, the holes in the knees long since flayed mid-thigh to mid-shin, a sleeveless cropped Metallica shirt, and his vest.

Grabbing up his rings and chain, he leaves a note for Wayne as to where he’s gone, slides his feet into his reeboks, and heads out the door, keys in hand.

He’s just got the back end of his chain hooked around his hip when he makes it to Max’s door.

“Y’ready Red?”

“Just a minute! It’s unlocked!” she calls back through the door (and slightly cracked window over her sink)

“Need any help?” he asks, closing the front door behind him.

“Nope, just gotta get my other shoe on and I’ll be good. Did you bring the van over?”

“I…did not. That’d probably be a good idea, huh?”

Whoops. He spins back around and jogs back across the street to hop in his van. By time he’s parked outside the Mayfield trailer, Max is hopping her wheels over the threshold onto the tiny step outside the door.

“Whatcha want me to do?” He’d learned real quick not to just start doing things for her, no matter how much he assumes they’d help. Max did not like anyone thinking they have to help her with every little thing, so now they all make sure to ask what it is she’d like them to help with before doing it.

“I just need to lock the door and you can help me into the van. You’ll probably have to come back for the chair though.”

“Of course, your highness.” he gives her a low bow while she locks her front door. “Your hand please, m’lady.” 

She rolls her eyes, but takes his hand. 

Max is able to walk across flat areas pretty well and for an OK amount of distance before getting too tired, but the breaks to her leg really did a number on her. 

She’s got steel pins all through her leg, and has just gotten out of her cast so she wants (and needs) to walk more often to get her strength back up, but has her chair to get around much easier.

So until she gets stronger, she needs help going up and down stairs, and will need help getting up into Eddie’s van, but should be okay for a while once at the arcade.

Once she’s settled, Eddie goes back for her chair, loads it into the back of his van, and they’re off to Henderson’s.

He and Lucas are already waiting out front when he pulls up.

“About time.”

“Dustin. It’s literally 2:31. Calm the fuck down.”

“You guys better get all your swearing out before you see Steve again, you know he’ll go all mom on you.” Lucas laughs. “Here, I’ll start. Hey Max, how the fuck are ya?”

They’re all in so Eddie starts off towards the arcade.

“Hey, show some fuckin’ respect for your mother, Sinclair.”

“Shit Eddie, didn’t know you were our goddamn father.”

“Of course he didn’t fuckin know, Steve hasn’t gotten his shit together enough to propose.”

“Damn, alright, calm down”

“Don’t fuckin’ tell me to calm down! I swear, I’ll put my foot straight up your ass.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuckfuckfuck.”

All four bust out laughing at that, not quite able to catch their breath before one of them is saying some random curse. 

They’re all red in the face from laughing so hard by time they pull into the parking lot between Steve’s beemer and Nancy’s station wagon.

Dustin runs in immediately after the van stops, and Eddie slyly leaves his keys with Lucas so he can lock up after helping Max, heading inside himself

Now, up until the exact moment he saw Steve (2 whole seconds ago), Eddie thought he was taking the whole “Steve Harrington has big sappy feelings for you” thing really well. Perfectly, in fact! 

No freak out, no huge feelings of doubt, just full focus on ‘responding’ to him.

But now, seeing him again after finding this out…It’s a wonder he doesn’t collapse. 

This beautiful, perfect, amazing man standing in front of a whole herd of teens (two of whom are at eye level or taller than he is now) with a scolding glare, hands on his hips, and flanked by the two most badass ladies he knows…wants him.

Eddie Munson.

It still doesn’t seem real.

Eddie immediately wants to be simultaneously on the other side of the planet, and wedged so close to him that they’re basically the same person.

“Pizza in an hour and a half!” Steve yells after the herd as they disperse. Even Robin and Nancy head off toward the skee-ball machines.

“You okay big boy? You look like that trip took a lot outta you.” 

‘Wow, nice one. You just got here and you’re asking him why he looks gross? Great job, Doofus.’ Why does his inner voice sound like Robin?

He looks over, and Eddie sees his face light up. “Eddie!” he breathes, pulling him into a tight hug.

Steve lets him go, and reaches up to rake through his travel-mussed hair. “And yeah, it was fine, always nice to see my grandparents.”

“Yeah, Robin mentioned you needing to go over their will or something? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re—“ he cuts himself off with a half-hearted chuckle, “They wanted to meet with my parents and I to let them know that their estate is being split 50/50 between us when they pass. Like, half to me and half to both of them.”

“Damn. It’s nice to know I’m marrying into money.” Eddie jokes, leaning into Steve’s side to whisper: “Max spilled your secret on the way here; I promise to act surprised when you finally get the guts to propose.” he whispers with a wink.

Steve’s face turns bright red, but he smiles all goofy. Fuck, he’s cute.

“Aw shit, I really wanted it to be a surprise.” He says, his voice getting gravelly with how low he’s speaking. 

It most definitely does not make Eddie flush red himself, nor do his jeans start feeling tighter, thank you.

Steve gently pushes Eddie back, his hand lingering on the back of his arm a moment too long before his fingers trail down and off his elbow. He starts again, back at a normal volume. “But yeah, Richard and Denise were not happy; I was surprised, though. I’m really appreciative that my grandparents would do that for me.”

“Okay, so it was good news! Why the…” Eddie gestures to all of him. “…glum.”

“It was just the plane ride man, I flew from Cali to Indy with a screaming baby next to me. It was hell let me tell you.”

“I bet.” Eddie winces.

“Plus, Robin stole my favorite tape while I was gone so I couldn't even listen to it on the way here. And that’s been like, the soundtrack to my life lately. Felt weird coming home and then not having it in my car already.” he shakes his head “I dunno, it's dumb, but they are my favorite songs.”

“I know what you mean,” Eddie nods, his heart in his throat. “Can't you just like, go get it back from her house?”

“She’s ‘gotta find it’.” He sighs, throwing up air quotes around Robin’s flimsy excuse. “Which for her, is code for ‘I lost it.’. It's no big deal though, it’s just music.”

“Nah man, music is important, you can communicate a lot with it.”

Steve just shrugs again, a good ol’ ‘What can ya do?’ , so Eddie pats Steve’s shoulder sympathetically and walks over to the far wall of machines. He leans up against the one that Max is bashing away at and looks around the side, like he’s watching what she’s doing.

“What’re you doing over here? You’re not gonna beat my score, Munson.” she snarks from her perch on one of the arcade’s few padded stools.

“Huh?” He looks at the cabinet. Dig Dug. “Oh. Wouldn’t dream of it, Mad Max, just came over to try and look cool, scope out the scene,” ‘Scope out the scene’?? WHO ARE YOU?? “Don’t mind me.”

She just rolls her eyes, “For some reason, Steve already thinks you’re like the coolest guy in the world. You don’t need to fake it.”

Eddie blinks down at her. “OK, seriously, how do you know so much?”

“I dunno; something about losing one of my senses? Or maybe my brush with death left me wise beyond my years…” she sighs wistfully.

He snorts, “Oh yeah? Then I should be way smarter.”

“Yeah, you should be.” She fights to keep a straight face after that one. Damn that was slick.

“Good one, Red.” he pats her once on the shoulder, then goes back to watching her play. It’s actually pretty impressive being that she’s got brand new coke-bottle glasses she should be wearing.

“I’m not gonna wear ‘em. I look like a doofus when I do.”

“Aw, I thought you just said I was cool!” he pouts.

Her mouth twitches up at that. “No, I said Steve thinks you’re cool. I think you’re a Doofus.”

“Exactly! And if the big man himself thinks I’m cool, then you’d definitely be cool.” He leans in and looks around conspiratorially, “and I have it on good authority that the rest of these goblins think whatever he thinks is cool, is cool too.”

She smiles, and her game bleeps to an end. “Yeah, they all do think he’s like, the greatest ever.”

“And you don’t?”

Her face blushes a soft pink. “Shut up, Munson. How do you know so much?”

He stands up straight and grabs hold of his vest lapels like some stuffy professor. “I’m smart ‘cause I died,” he says in a haughty tone “...or something.”

A couple of unhinged barks of laughter burst out of her. “I’m gonna go with ‘or something’.”

Eddie spends the next hour trying to mess up the other shitheads’ games. 

Smack a wrong button here, a poke under Dustin’s armpit there, general fuckery. 

And every time he and Steve pass one another, there’s some sort of touch. 

He didn’t notice it the first time, thinking Steve really did need to hold onto him while passing behind him. A classic midwestern “Ope, lemme just sneak by ya” just to get close to him.

When he looked back, there was no one at the cabinet behind him.

So Eddie gave it back tenfold the next time he encountered the party’s beloved babysitter.

Walked behind him on his way to where Mike and Lucas were now trying their hand at DigDug, and gently squeezed his hip.

Steve jumped about five feet, but it was worth it when Steve came up to his side later and wrapped his arm around Eddie’s lower back, settling his large palm briefly on the exposed skin of his hip and stomach where it peeked out from under the cropped shirt.

Eddie immediately felt the need to pull his hair up; Fuck is it hot in here?

Bun secured, and Steve gone off to bother Robin and Nancy at the air hockey table, Eddie knew what he was going to do next. 

He left Wheeler and Sinclair to continue to lose to Max, heading toward the water fountain. 

Steve’s standing with his back to Eddie’s path so when he passes, it’s just too easy to reach out, grab a lock of hair, and pull .

He’s rewarded with the sound of a poorly muffled moan (that he’ll be thinking about forever, thanks), and Steve is gifted an unobstructed view of his ass while he bends over to get a drink.

Eddie stands when he hears Steve’s panicked “Robin, can I talk to you a second?”

He comes back to take Robin’s place next to Nancy where they’d been playing two on one with Steve.

After a beat, Nancy says, “I hope you’re ready to have Robin as a permanent third wheel.” She’s still looking forward at the other end of the table.

Hah! That’s hilarious. “Won’t be as bad since you’re the fourth.” Eddie shrugs, then puts his fist out towards her, also looking off to where he can see Steve panicking at Robin.

Nancy’s knuckles knock into his, and he’s never felt closer to anyone in his life.

Only one half of the Harrington-Buckley twins come back, coming up to her girlfriend and linking their fingers behind the folds of Nancy’s skirt.

“Mama Harrington is getting the pizzas now; we’ll go get some tables pushed together, will you herd the cattle?”

“I feel like they’re more like cats. Especially that Max one, she’s got her claws out like, all the time.” Eddie says, half over his shoulder, as he heads off, hunting down the gremlins.

Mike and the elder Sinclair are still nowhere near Max’s high score, Dustin’s getting berated by baby Sinclair over how bad he’s doing at Donkey Kong, Will and El are together at the Polybius cabinet, Max in her chair now at El’s side.

‘ That’s all of them right? ’ Eddie counts them in his head while he looks around. Yep, that’s all of them.

He heads back to the little arcade pizzeria area, freezing in his tracks as he rounds the corner into the open arched doorway.

Every little thing he’s ever noticed about Steve Harrington over the last however many years feels like they’ve just been building to this moment.

Every damn day spent thinking he was the most beautiful person to ever grace the halls of Hawkins High (he is), every story he never believed about how badass he was from the mouth of his oldest adopted kid, every moment he spent shielding each of these people that have become so beloved in Eddie’s life.

Every painful scar, every dreadful day spent healing with Steve at his side, every. Single. Thing. Has built up to this one.

The most mundane of them all. 

The nine most important people in his life, the biggest family he never wanted but now can’t even think about a life without them, sitting around three tiny tables and clamoring over one another for a slice of the pizzas in the middle of them all, being hovered over by Steeeeeve Harrington.

“Careful Mike, don’t put your elbow in Dustin’s face! That thing’s sharp…Max, do you want me to grab you some? What kind do you want? No, Ellie, sweetie, I’ll hand it to her, no powers needed today, okay? Will, which pop do you want, bud, you gotta speak up so Dustin doesn’t drink all the Vernors. Lucas, will you grab some more napkins—no arguments you little shits, everyone needs napkins. Erica, are you good? Okay, good. Ed—where’s Eddie, he needs to eat too…”

Oh.

Oh.

Part 7 here!

yes, i did have the wonder twins playing Polybius.

also, mayfield/munson sibling vibes are so important to meeeeee.

also also, i love max getting adopted by steddie just as much as dustin BUT you cannot tell me she doesn't also have just a lil' crush on steeb.

tagging the lovelies: @hellomynameismoo, @messrs-weasley, and @manda-panda-monium

[ask-repeatedreincarnation]

(The art is not mine, the lovely fan art is from @spookuzm 💜)

Hii- as you already probably know from my description and name probably, this is a ask blog of my fanfic Repeated Reincarnation! Please ask any questions that your curious about with the fic as I'll answer them myself!

The only character/person I'll accept you asking is me and the MC, aka Palin, as no other character are important.

Unless I add in Palin's future partner, Genesis, but him as a whole is quite the spoilers for the fanfic...

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Bye bye little starlings...💜💜