#done with this bullshit you guys took it too fucking far

[afewproblems]

Eddie downs the last of his beer and tosses the empty red cup into the kitchen sink, right between a couple who were clearly gearing up to claim one of the spare rooms upstairs. 

Eddie snickers and winks as the girl tells him to fuck off while her boyfriend flips him the bird, god he loves highschool parties, and this one is no exception.

It's Halloween and business is booming for Eddie Munson.

He imagines Dian Fossey felt similarly, wandering through the Congo studying the great apes' behavior patterns and social structure from within rather than observing from afar. 

So far Eddie's observations have paid off in spades and he's managed to sell out most of his stash by targeting the basketball team and their girlfriends. No one wants to get high all by themselves after all, it's almost too easy the way these sheep all flock together. 

Eddie leaves the kitchen behind him, but not before snagging a can of something cold from a nearby cooler of half melted ice. With a decent buzz going, what's one more? He's done working for the night after all. 

Eddie climbs the stairs, dodging drunk teens left and right as they make their way past him, shirts ruffled and hair messy. Eddie snorts, ignoring the wistful pull in his chest as a tall boy on the swim team pulls his girlfriend closer to press a chaste kiss to the top of her head before smoothing her curls away from her forehead. 

Unfortunately no one Eddie would be interested in would accept him brushing their hair like that without punching him in the face.

He shakes his head and continues forward, he's an observer, nothing more. 

Eddie passes a closed door on the second floor and pauses as a raised voice splits through the wood.

"It's bullshit, you're bullshit," the voice slurs out and Eddie feels a wide grin pull at the corner of his mouth. 

He takes a step closer, nearly pressing his ear to the flat of the door.

"Like we're in love?" Another voice says softly, a guy, "you don't love me?" 

A small part of Eddie knows he shouldn't be listening to this, he can hear the waiver in this guy's voice like his heart is slowly cracking in his chest. Shit, he almost feels bad for this guy. 

But the people that go to these stupid parties, the Hawkins elite, the gorillas in the mist, deserve their bullshit --to use this girls turn-of-phrase.

The only reason they didn't mess with Eddie was because he was these highschool shit-heads main source of weed. 

Its karma, plain and simple, Eddie reasons as he presses even closer now.

"It's. Bullshit". The girl hisses emphatically and for a second Eddie hears nothing.

It happens so quickly after that. 

The door swings inward, causing Eddie to stumble into a tall firm chest as the bathroom guy collides with him.

"What the fuck?" The guy says as he pushes Eddie away from himself and --no way.

"Harrington?"

Steve blinks once, his wide hazel eyes red rimmed and shiny in the dim light of the hallway, the tip of his nose is pink as he reaches up to pinch it roughly before swiping across his eyes as well.

Even though Eddie's fairly certain that he and Steve are the same height, he seems smaller like this, deflated, standing in the hallway while a party rages down below them both. 

A cheer rings out, startling Steve into action.

He steps widely around Eddie, enough that his shoulder connects with the wall in his haste to take the stairs down, two at a time, as though Hell is hot on his heels. 

And Eddie should leave it, go back to the party, see if there are any snacks left before calling it a night, but something pushes him to follow the path Steve took.

It's like he's possessed, the haunted look in those hazel eyes forcing him forward until he's outside on the lawn.

A few other teens are outside, including a couple making out on the porch, Eddie steps over them and jogs to the end of the driveway.

He spots Steve down the street sitting on a large rock at the end of another neighbor's lawn with his face in his hands.

He looks up as Eddie gets closer and curses softly.

"Seriously? It wasn't enough that you were listening, you're following me now?" His voice cracks on the last word as he wipes his eyes again, he can't quite hide the way the moonlight catches the tear tracks running down his cheek and neck though.  

"Oh come on Harrington," Eddie says, walking up to Steve. He sits on one of the other rocks and takes a crumpled pack of smokes out of his vest pocket, "it's no fun if you're sad".

"What is?" Steve mumbles after a beat, wiping his eyes again as he stares at the ground. 

"Making fun of you," Eddie shrugs as he takes a cigarette and puts it between his lips, he smiles at the startled bark of laughter from Steve.

"You're a prick," he huffs softly, the barest of smiles slowly blooming across his face.

Eddie can count the constellation of freckles and moles across his face, giving the blanket of stars above them a run for their money. His hand twitches at the thought of touching the ones on Steve's throat.

Eddie coughs once, mentally tallying the number of drinks he must have had for those kinds of  thoughts and shifts on the rock to adjust his pants. 

He holds out the pack to Steve who looks at the nearly empty sleeve before his eyes shift to the house behind Eddie. 

"Nance hated cigarettes," Steve murmurs as the corner of his mouth twitches into a terrible frown. It's gone in an instant as Steve blinks once and reaches out for the pack.

"I got something stronger if you want?" Eddie offers, he shrugs when Steve looks up at him with suspicious eyes. 

"Come on Harrington, I'm not gonna keep kicking you when you're down, you need a pick-me-up and then I can get back into it," Eddie stands up and without thinking, holds out a hand towards Steve, "what do you say?"

Steve stares up at him, his eyes flick once to the outstretched hand before he snorts dryly and slowly takes his hand. 

It's warm in Eddie's own. The fingers squeeze gently as Steve uses it to hoist himself up until he's once again eye level with Eddie. 

From this close Eddie can see the way his eyelashes have clumped together with leftover tears and the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes

Oh…this, this was a bad idea. Eddie swallows roughly as Steve finally nods.

"Lead the way Munson," Steve says with the barest of smirks as he wipes his face one last time, "and if you tell anyone about this, I'll slash your tires".

Eddie cackles at that, "there he is!"

He claps Steve on the back as he leads them towards where he parked his van down the road, "our chariot awaits!"

Eddie ignores the small voice that whispers in his ear, the one that sounds remarkably like his uncle, as it asks him just what the hell he thinks he's doing with Harrington of all people? 

It'll be fine, he tells himself.

Besides, what's the worst that could happen?

Part Two

[gisellaaa]

i never doubted your loyalty once; until you decided that being loyal meant hurting your lover

af11 | after many conversations with the fantilli family, you decided to make one last attempt to reach out to adam.

"Come on, Y/N." Luca pleaded, staring down at your in your dorm. "I don't know why you think it's a bad idea." Luca crossed his arms over his chest. Your uncertain gaze just stared at him, silence following his words. "Give me on good reason, then I'll leave it alone."

"He hates me, Luca." You stated, voice low. "Me and Adam are done, there's nothing left."

"Bullshit--dude I was the one who listened to him after you guys broke up--he doesn't hate you!" Luca quickly replied, his hands flailing up. "I'll give you my Bio notes for a whole month, even the rest of the semester."

"I don't want your notes, be so for real Luca." You cracked a smile, rolling your eyes. "What if I do it, right? Then he plays like shit on his first game, then he get's even more angry at me." You conjured up the false scenario.

"He's bound to play like shit anyways!" Luca retaliated, he was begging you at this point. "No one plays good on their debut."

"The answer is no, Luca. Now go, I know you have workouts in twenty." You got up from the desk chair, shooing Luca out of your dorm.

"But-"

"No, Luca! Go!" You pushed him gently out of your dorm. You shut the door in his face, avoiding anymore pleading from him. Once you heard his footsteps walk away from the door, you let out a deep breath, leaning your forehead against the door.

There was no way you were recording a video for this montage.

Your break up with Adam was far too fresh, still painful in your heart, and probably his. It wasn't a mutual breakup either, in fact, neither of you wanted to break up. Your last argument was one that couldn't leave your head. It didn't leave during the silent times in class, when you were trying to sleep, or in the warm afternoons where there was silent.

It racked your brain.

"So, Ohio?" You spoke, watching Adam tug at the roots of his hair. He had been pacing around the hotel room since you guys got back. "What are we going to do, Y/N?" Adam abruptly spoke, standing in front of you.

The question took you aback, shocked that he would ask that. "What do you mean?" You tilted your head in confusion. "I mean, we can barely go three hours without being around each other. Now we are going to be hundreds of miles away from each other."

You quickly stood from the bed, anxious nerves filling your brain. "Adam--what--no, what?" You stuttered out. "We'll be able to work it out, it's not like your in California!"

"I know, I know. But still, I don't want it to cause problems between us. It'll make being away from you worse." Adam sighed, attempting to reach out and grab you hand. You quickly pulled yours away. "The fuck-"

"Why does it seem like you've already made this decision?" You stated, glaring at Adam. "Why does it seem like you've made this decision before we came here? Have you been thinking about leaving me?"

"The way your saying it is making me look like a shitty guy." Adam rolled his eyes, taking a step back from you. "Then tell me, Adam! Enlighten me about how I'm supposed to be saying this!" You shouted, a hand running through your hair.

"I mean, Y/N, we thought I was going to Anaheim. That's across the fucking country. You are telling me that thought never crossed you mind? You are telling me that the thought of distance breaking us up didn't cross your mind?" Adam spoke, his voice laced with sadness.

"Did you really think I was going to leave and that we were going to be perfectly fine?" Adam added, his eyes staring into your watering ones.

"No, I guess not." You spoke softly, tears falling down your face. "But I didn't think it was going to cause us to break up, Adam. I thought we would figure out a way to work things out. I really thought that." You shook your head, anger filling your voice once more.

"Then I think you were being naive about this." Adam deadpanned, venom lacing his voice.

"Adam, god you can call me naive, you can say I was being selfish or stupid. But, sorry for truly thinking that a three year relationship wouldn't go down the drain because you were going into the NHL. I'm sorry I didn't spend my nights wondering how we were going to end like you did. Fuck you, I hope you are lonely in Columbus. I won't be here when you wake up." You seethed, grabbing your things to rush out of his hotel room. You didn't forget to slam the door on the way out.

That night, you slept in Luca's room, crying as hard as you could.

You weren't expecting for Luca to ask you to be in the montage, you especially weren't expecting for Julia Fantilli to call you up. She encouraged you to make a small video, even if it was five seconds, she knew it would resonate with him in the slightest bit.

So, here you sat on your bed. Your phone leaning against a filled water bottle on your nightstand. It took twenty-nine tries, to be exact. At try fifteen, you had to plan out what you were going to say on a index card.

You sent the clip off to Luca, adding a small message with it. Now you just had to wait the three days until October 12, hoping this video wouldn't cause Adam to play like shit in his debut.

Adam knew a few of his family members and old teammates were creating something for him to watch on his birthday. He did not know that your face would pop up on the screen.

After watching a video of him from when he was younger, then Brindley, then Seamus, then his grandparents, then his brother, then his parents, he figured the video was over.

Then your face popped onto the screen.

"Hi Adam!" You spoke, your voice quiet. He recognized the surroundings quickly. You were in your dorm room at Michigan, the familiar posters from last year were still hung up on your wall. Except this time, pictures of you and Adam were missing.

Adam already had tears in his eyes, especially after watching the video from his brother. You were the last person he was expecting to be in the montage.

"I wanted to say happy birthday, and congratulations on your NHL debut. I know you probably weren't expecting this from me, but here I am." It was like you knew exactly what would be flowing through Adam's mind when you created this video.

"I'm so proud at how far you've came. I knew when I met you a long time ago you would do big things. Now, I'm sure you'll do even greater things." Your voice pained Adam more than he ever imagined. You sounded different, your voice was more sad and quiet than usual.

"I miss having you around in Michigan. I have no one to rant to about BioChem and Taylor Swift. But I know you are doing great things in Columbus. Good luck Adam, I love you." Then the video cut off.

Adam ran his hands down his face, his body feeling empty and heavy. He wasn't sure what greater god did this to knock some sense into his brain, but Adam knew he needed to fix this.

Adam had to fix it all.

[neostrayteez]

PLAY MY WAY

PAIRING. mark lee x female reader

WORD COUNT. 5.9k

SUMMARY. you never met a guy you couldn’t score and church boy Mark is no exception, but he may end up surprising you.

WARNINGS. smut, profanity

PLAYLIST. “serial lover” by kehlani

ONLY WAKE ME UP IF YOU CAN TAKE THAT SHIT UNDERSTAND YOU’RE ENTERING AT YOUR OWN RISK

The moment you saw Mark, you knew you had to have him.

Not because he was cute, which he definitely was. And not because he laughed at all your jokes, even the bad ones. But because he was a good little Christian boy, yet there was something in his eyes that told you he would burn down everything he believed in for the right girl.

Mark thanked God for everything - the food his mother spent hours preparing, the clothes his father paid for, even the goddamn sunny weather when rain was expected. It was annoying and made your eyes roll back in your head.

You, on the other hand, despised everything about religion. Especially its misogynistic rules on what you could and couldn’t do with your own body. Sitting through a sermon on chastity (or any subject, for that matter) was far worse than sitting in hell beside the devil himself, you mused.

So, when you excitedly asked to go to church camp, your parents could hardly believe it. A whole week of preaching and bible thumping? Maybe one message would finally get through to you.

Little did they know, you were a girl on a mission.

First, you wanted to know if Mark actually believed the bullshit he so fervently said. Secondly, and much more importantly, you wanted to know if getting him between your thighs would be as much of a fun challenge as you hoped.

From the moment camp kicked off, you had every innocent excuse ready to be near Mark. You needed a prayer partner, because you weren’t very good at asking God for things. You needed a peer to counsel you, because you were struggling in your faith, but the older leaders were too intimidating.

Mark was all too happy to be everything you needed.

You were careful not to be too clingy, avoiding and ignoring Mark in between your moments together, creating a push and pull dynamic that definitely caught his attention, because Mark would start searching for you when you weren’t leaning on him for guidance.

And by day four, you had him.

Mark moaned as he slid inside you, fingers digging painfully into your hips.

You sucked in a breath, feeling yourself stretching around him, and tightened your fist in his hair, your arms around his shoulders. “Just like that, baby,” you purred, nibbling at his ear. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

Mark braced a hand on the wall behind you and groaned, “So good.”

If you had told Mark that morning he would be having sex in a tiny closet crammed full with craft materials and weird stuffed animals staring at him, he would have laughed in your face. But there was no resisting you.

Mark was hooked to the sound of your laugh, to the twinkle in your eye when you smiled at him. He knew deep down you didn’t give a shit about God, but he would eat up any opportunity to be near you, to feel even the slightest brush of your skin against his.

When you took him by the hand and asked him to follow you, Mark’s body was already moving before his brain could comprehend what it all meant.

You had kissed him with a passion Mark wasn’t familiar with, because he’d never known it. He’d kissed girls before, little pecks here and there, but this was something entirely different. You were kissing him like there would be nothing left of him when you were done.

Mark had groaned when you palmed him over his jeans and he didn’t stop you when you began unfastening his belt. The taste of you on his tongue was too addicting; he didn’t want it to end. The warmth of your body against his was more intoxicating than any alcohol he’d tried. Just the feeling of your breasts pushed against his chest as you kissed him was enough to get him hard.

The moment Mark sheathed himself to the hilt inside you, he knew he was fucked. Literally, but also in every other definition of the word.

You knew the chances of an orgasm on your part were slim, but you didn’t care. You were getting off in other ways. You wanted Mark to come and you wanted it to break him.

The closet was dimly lit. Your naked ass was propped on a cabinet against the wall, your skirt hiked around your waist as Mark tentatively thrust inside you again, your thighs hooked on his hips. You found purchase in his shoulders as you tucked your face in the crook of his neck and let a sound of pleasure escape you.

“Fuck,” Mark said, his voice low and raspy in your ear. The heat of your breath on his skin sent a shiver down his spine. He moved slowly inside you, drawing his hips back to push in again. He was trying to savor it, make it last.

You smiled, a little smug and even more surprised. You expected him to go hard and fast, too fucked out by the vice of your body. A pleasure he had never felt before.

Mark snapped his hips harder and liked the noise you made when he did. So he did it again and again, until the cabinet beneath you started to creak with his movements. He shifted his footing, cursing his pants pooled too snugly around his ankles that threw him off rhythm.

“Mark,” you whined, grazing your teeth at the base of his shoulder. You felt his body tensing under your hands and you smoothed them down his back to calm him.

Mark lifted his head and tossed the hair out of his eyes, staring into your face and wondering what the fuck someone as beautiful as you saw in him that you would let him be inside you like this.

“What’s wrong?” you asked softly. The look on his face was something you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t recognize it. It wasn’t the lust you’d come to expect from boys that got to touch you.

It was more like reverence.

Rather than get into all the feelings rushing through him with the same intensity his pulse was pounding through his body, Mark said, “You promise you’re on birth control?”

You snorted. “Mark, I would not be letting you hit it raw right now if I didn’t have an IUD inside me.”

“Does it hurt?”

“My doctor was nice enough to numb my cervix before putting it in.”

You assumed, since Mark was still sinking his cock in and out of you at a languid pace, that the sudden need for conversation was to distract himself from how close he was and you wouldn’t hold it against him.

Mark bottomed out inside your wet, tight sex and stilled. He wanted so badly to kiss you, but he was a coward. “No, I mean, me,” he said, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Am I hurting you?”

You blinked. Tilting your head, you asked, “Do you want it to hurt?”

Some boys did. You knew that. But Mark shook his head immediately.

You dragged your nails down his spine, getting ahold of his hips and drawing him flush against you, chest to chest, nose to nose. Kissing the corner of his mouth, you whispered, “It’s deep. And tight.”

“Fuck,” Mark huffed, smashing his lips on yours. He couldn’t resist anymore.

You closed your eyes and let yourself feel him, whimpering into his mouth when he started thrusting into you again, smooth but hard. Mark swallowed every sound you made, holding you to him so tightly it was almost painful.

This was what made life worth living - the toe-curling pleasure of him fitting so perfectly inside you, completing you and making you whole again. His cock dragging against your sweet spot almost rivaled the high that came with knowing you had conquered another boy.

Mark moaned into your mouth and broke from your kisses. His gaze fell to your swollen lips. They were parted, endless soft noises of pleasure rolling off your tongue with every stroke of his cock. He shivered at that, knowing he made you feel good.

You grabbed Mark’s arms for dear life when he began fucking into you like he would never get the chance again. A victorious grin spread across your lips when his groans pitched higher and higher, his pace jarring you on the cabinet as he lost himself to the euphoria that was your body.

“Come for me, baby,” you crooned in his ear and Mark shattered in your arms.

He released inside you with a mangled cry, a groan catching in his chest, hips smacking into you messily to empty his load until he was totally spent.

Mark’s mind went blank except for pleasure. He couldn’t think and he sure as hell couldn’t breathe. The high took over every inch of his body and ruined him, making him shake down to his very core.

You snickered quietly, tempted to tease him for how hard he came, but held your tongue. Mark slumped against you, burying his face in your breasts, hands braced on opposite sides of your hips as he panted for oxygen. You kept running your fingers over his hot skin, soothing him, and whispered, “My sweet little virgin no more.”

Mark was relieved you were still holding onto him, even as he went soft inside you. He wasn’t ready to be parted yet. From this feeling. From you.

Get it together, he told himself and finally staggered out of your arms to begin fixing his clothes.

Mark couldn’t meet your eyes, because he’d realized that thanks to the intensity of his climax, he wasn’t sure if you’d finished too. He did shyly ask if you were alright and you told him you were fine. He didn’t need to know you were fighting a giggle at his expense. The boy was so fucked out. Mark was seeing you - and probably his life - though brand new eyes.

It was all a lie. He didn’t get struck by a bolt of lighting from heaven for having sex. Though whether or not he would burst into flames when he walked into church remained to be seen.

After finding your panties on the floor, slipping them on and adjusting your skirt, you sauntered out of the closet without a word and went about your day. You didn’t like to linger and began the long walk to your cabin for a well-deserved shower.

You weren’t surprised that instead of afterglow, there was awkwardness on Mark’s part. It was to be expected for someone who had surrendered their precious virtue. What did surprise you, however, was that you kept thinking about Mark after you left him. That wasn’t like you. You assumed the attraction to him would go away once you’d gotten what you wanted, but no - you found yourself eyeing him from across the way.

Wanting him.

No one had ever looked at you the way Mark did. Other boys focused on your body and all its power, but Mark stared into your eyes. He kissed you recklessly, driven within an inch of madness. Like he was fighting for his life and only you could save him.

Get a grip, you told yourself, the low monotone of another preacher humming like static in your ears as you replayed the memory of Mark fucking you in your head. It made the evening sermon easier to get through.

Mark, despite being at the other end of the row of chairs, could hardly breathe with the heavy tension in his chest. He wanted to stand up and shout at the top of his lungs, “What are we?!”

But he already knew. Out of the two of you, he was the only one thinking about that closet and the secrets it kept inside. You had already moved on and Mark felt totally discarded. He fell asleep that night to a fantasy of you sleeping in his arms.

Ever a loner, you kept to yourself. You had two more days to get through of this stupid camp, but you were satisfied. You’d accomplished what you came there to do.

Sitting at one of the tables outside, the pages of your bible that you had never opened flapping in the wind, you played on your phone and nearly jumped out of your skin when someone slid unannounced into the spot beside you.

“Jesus Christ, Mark,” you exclaimed, setting down your phone. The anger swiftly left your face when you realized how close he was to you and goddamn, why did he smell so good? Your heart was dancing in your chest, much to your annoyance.

Mark had been watching you from afar, catching himself smiling at the way you tucked your hair behind your ear as it swept up in the breeze and how you kept nibbling on your lip as you concentrated on your phone. He decided, at the sight of you, that he wasn’t happy with being discarded.

And he didn’t like that he was falling apart at the seams while you went along like nothing happened.

“I think we should pray together,” Mark said under his breath. You didn’t come to him anymore, for prayer or guidance or advice. Mark felt invisible now and for someone that had been inside you, that seemed unfair.

The anger instantly returned to your face. You rolled your eyes and focused on your phone again. “I think you should suck my dick,” you deadpanned.

If you had one, Mark probably would. He’d never felt about anyone the way he felt about you, but he persisted. “What we did was wrong.”

Like hell it was, you wanted to say. If it was wrong, why did it feel so right? Why were you craving for it like an addict after a high?

You didn’t look up and said in the most disinterested tone you could muster, “Give me one non-religious reason that having sex with me was wrong.”

“We’re not married.”

“Marriage is a piece of paper used by the government for tax purposes.”

“We don’t even love each other.”

“Love and sex are two different things. They are not mutually exclusive.”

Mark knew he would lose this argument, if he hadn’t already. You would have an answer for everything, because you were a girl set in your ways after years of experience. You were the total opposite of him and yet, you were what Mark wanted.

And what he wanted to be - free.

“I’m thinking about you,” Mark confessed in a soft whisper, because it rebelled against everything he’d been taught. “Constantly and in very bad ways.”

That made you finally lift your head and look at him, lips pulling into a devilish grin. “Glad to be of service.”

Mark scowled. “This isn’t funny.”

“I think it’s fucking hilarious,” you shot back, turning toward him more directly. He was already wilting beside you. You knew exactly how a boy looked when he wanted to fuck you. “You’re having an existential crisis about getting your cherry popped, aren’t you?”

Rather than get angry or annoyed, Mark looked sad. His expression sank and he asked, “Didn’t you? Don’t you feel even the tiniest bit of shame?”

That made you bristle. They always resorted to shaming after they had their way with you. You wouldn’t relent. “No. Why should I?”

You expected him to quote the bible. You expected him to rant about purity. You fully believed he would chide you for stealing his virginity. You were prepared for that. It would bounce off you like arrows on a wall, because you’d heard it all before and you would never let a boy’s words hurt you.

Instead, Mark sighed, “Because it’s supposed to be a sacred thing between two people.”

Your eyes flickered. Your mind scrambled for a witty retort, but for the first time in your young adult life, you came up empty. That’s when you realized you were looking at Mark differently.

This wasn’t purity culture talking. It was just a boy wanting to be loved.

At your silence, Mark seemed to gather he had you on the ropes and he leaned in closer, close enough to kiss you, but he didn’t dare. Not out in the open like this. But he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to kiss you until you fell in love with him.

“I took advantage of you and I’m sorry,” Mark started.

Anger reared its ugly head again and you glared at him, snapping, “You did not take advantage of me, Mark. I’ve been trying to fuck you since the moment I met you.”

Mark’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide.

You smiled at getting the upper hand again. “What if I told you that after you filled me up, I got in the shower and touched myself to thoughts of you, and came so hard I screamed your name?”

Mark swallowed the lump in his throat. He really was an idiot to think he could ever beat you at your own game. “...Stop.”

“No,” you said, staring him down. “I’m trying to save you from a lifetime of being made to feel guilty about sex. About intimacy. They want you to feel guilty about being a goddamn human. Don’t you get that?”

Mark opened his mouth to answer. To tell you that you were winning. You were shaking him down to his foundation.

Something that felt so good couldn’t be bad.

“Mark!”

Both of you turned to see one of the youth leaders, his arms folded tightly across his chest. Given how close you and Mark were to each other, you should have known it would draw some unwanted attention.

“That’s my cue,” you said, packing up your stuff and leaving Mark alone with his thoughts.

Mark hung his head. Being close to you made him feel whole again. You’d taken a piece of him and it went with you whenever you parted.

“Jezebel,” the leader hissed as you walked by.

“In the flesh,” you retorted proudly.

But the moment you were hidden in your cabin and sitting on the edge of your bed, tears pricked at your eyes.

It’s supposed to be a sacred thing between two people, Mark said. You were thinking about the way he’d looked at you. It hadn’t left your mind since you left that damn closet with him.

For once, you felt like a thief. You’d stolen something precious from him. Mark just wanted a connection with you, a connection with the person he was intimate with.

But a connection was what you’d learned to avoid most, because boys always ended up changing their mind once you’d given all you had to give.

Except Mark. You’d given him your body and he still wanted more. Boys weren���t interested in your heart or your mind, but Mark was. You thought about all the times you talked with him. Even though you had ulterior motives for it, Mark listened to you. He never interrupted or spoke over you.

Mark cared.

I’m thinking about you - constantly. Mark had said that too. It would seem both of you were in the same boat about each other. Confused and lonely boats adrift at sea, passing in the night.

You skipped dinner and feigned stomach problems when the evening service rolled around, because you didn’t trust yourself to lay eyes on Mark and not burst into tears. You’d hurt a sweet boy that didn’t deserve it, who deserved much better than the likes of you.

The counselors didn’t argue. One look at you curled up in fetal position in your bunk and staring at the wall was enough for them to leave you alone.

It was nice being the only person outside while everyone was in church. You sat on the front steps of the cabin with your arms around your knees and watched the beautiful sunset, enjoying the quiet and trying not to think about Mark. To no avail.

You wondered if he noticed your absence and if he cared. If Mark came looking for you to ask if you were okay, you would probably crumble. It was hard accepting someone cared about you after all you’d ever done was take care of yourself.

Yes, Mark noticed. Yes, he felt like dying. He regretted confronting you that afternoon, but he’d wanted to apologize. It felt empty and worthless now, honestly. Like all he’d done was make things worse.

Mark asked one of the girls in your cabin about you and she told him you were refusing to get out of bed. That told Mark all he needed to know and it made hope spark in his chest that maybe you were down bad for him like he was for you.

The next morning, you were deemed well enough to attend the early service. Unfortunately, because you’d spent all night thinking about Mark - or trying desperately not to think about the feelings you were growing for him - you fell asleep barely ten minutes into it.

Turns out, youth leaders got really peeved when someone was caught either sleeping or playing on their phone during a sermon. If they only knew you’d had sex too. You sat through a stern scolding, which you gleefully ignored, and then you were sentenced to an hour of solitary time in the chapel.

Hurt me some more, you thought with a chuckle. So, you sat on the front row, leaned back and made yourself comfortable, and zoned out. Once again, enjoying the peace and quiet of being alone.

At this point, you wondered if they would hold a gun to your head to try and make you talk to God.

Toward the end of your delightful punishment, a familiar voice called your name.

You opened your eyes and sat up sharply, gathering your things. “What do you want, Mark?” Your tone had an edge. You weren’t in the mood for a lecture.

“You.”

You glanced up at him as he approached you, hinged on whatever he said next like your heart depended on it.

Mark looked like he hadn’t slept a wink either. “I just want you,” he whispered softly.

You smiled. The first real smile to grace your lips in years. “I’m all yours.”

Back in that same closet, you cried out when Mark shoved you against the wall and slipped his tongue into your mouth.

You liked this hungry, impatient side to him. The one that couldn’t go without you for one more second.

Maybe you were his god now.

Mark cradled your head, kissing you deeper, making you moan a little. You would have been content to kiss him for the rest of the day, but you knew time was of the essence. People would come looking eventually.

“Mark,” you stammered, sucking in a breath when he latched his lips to your neck, his hands now palming your breasts over your shirt. “We don’t have long.”

Mark seemed determined to kiss and suck every inch of your neck, in a silent competition with the boys that came before him, but he should have known he’d already won.

“I wanna make you feel good,” Mark growled in your ear. “Like you did for me.”

“Then fuck me.”

Mark spun you around roughly, crowding your back, and kneaded your breasts, kissing down the column of your throat. Your eyes fluttered closed and you moaned softly, rocking a little to brush your ass against his crotch. He was grinding against you, searching for friction, but stopped to unfasten his pants.

You bent over the cabinet, lifted your skirt and shimmied your panties down around your thighs, not getting a chance to take them off completely because Mark was on you again, wrapping his arms around your waist in a vice grip and spreading your legs with his knee.

Mark groaned when his hand cupped your sex, running his fingers between your slit and feeling your arousal. “Do you always get this wet?”

You chuckled at the shock in his voice and answered honestly, “Definitely not. This is all for you.”

“Fuck.”

Sweet little sounds fell from your lips as Mark played with your entrance with two fingers. His hard cock followed, having been rubbing eagerly against your ass. You gasped and grabbed the edges of the cabinet when he impaled you on his length, your pussy fluttering and stretching around him.

Mark had only a string of curses to say. Any other words escaped him. The heat of you knocked the wind out of him, just like the first time.

Your legs trembled as he bottomed out, immediately drawing back to sink into you again slowly. You bit your lip to hide a smile at how hard he was inside you, but how gently he moved.

Mark felt you relax once you’d adjusted, hyper aware of every little move you made. He slipped his hand into yours and said, “Put me on your clit.”

That was definitely unexpected, but you did as told. Steering him down, you helped his fingers find your bundle of nerves and he rubbed at it curiously.

“There?”

“Yes,” you sighed in pleasure.

Mark was salivating at how sensitive you were to his touches, thrusting into you eagerly for good measure. “It feels good?”

“So good.”

“It’s making you tighter,” he said, stroking his cock inside you deep.

You taunted, “If you really wanna feel how tight I get, make me come.”

Mark swallowed loudly. Pressing a kiss beneath your ear, he said, “Tell me how to do it,” with a tone that left no room for argument.

“When you feel close, slow down,” you told him, brushing your hands over his arms affectionately, coaxing him. “Edge yourself for me. Until we come together.”

With a nod, Mark kissed your cheek, which felt both intimate and possessive, and released your waist in favor of your hips.

You were too fucking tight and warm. Mark was humiliated at being so close to orgasm already when he’d only just begun and the sound of his hips colliding with your plump ass turned him on so bad he kept biting his lip to stifle a groan. He was ready to sell his soul to you just for the chance to empty himself inside you again, but he wanted to feel you come.

Mark stilled, body trembling a little with restraint. You smirked, knowing he was close to finishing.

You purred, “Good boy. That’s it.”

Mark’s jaw went slack and he moaned as you started rolling your hips, grinding back against him. You knew exactly what you were doing. There was no thrusting. You weren’t pushing him back to the edge. Your pace wasn’t fast enough. But your pussy clenched on his cock, so wet with arousal the insides of your thighs were slick with it.

You giggled when Mark reeled a hand back and slapped your ass. He just couldn’t resist. You wiggled your hips from side to side to make your ass bounce for him, working yourself on his stiff cock.

“You like being balls deep in me, baby?”

Mark groaned. Girls weren’t supposed to talk like that. But fuck, it turned him on.

“Say it,” you hissed, throwing yourself back on him, sending a loud, wet slap echoing through the tiny closet.

“It’s good,” Mark said hurriedly, wanting to please you. He squeezed your hips in his hands to the point of bruising and watched you take his cock. “You feel so fucking good. I can’t… fucking…”

That made you fuck him harder, arching your back.

“Fuck!” Mark snapped, folding himself over you, pinning you to the cabinet and throttling his cock into you, drilling your pussy at a brutal pace.

Your eyes rolled back, your toes curled and you moaned at the top of your lungs for him. The angle was just right. He was hitting your sweet spot, making you suck in a breath and beg him, “Don’t stop, Mark. Please, don’t stop.”

Unfortunately, hearing you moan like that and beg him to keep pounding you made Mark’s cock twitch with warning. Mark let out a mangled groan, stilling inside you abruptly, because he was there - again. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he stammered, kneading your clothed breasts. “I was close.”

You steered his fingers to your clit again and made circles with your hips with him sheathed inside, trying not to lose the edge he was bringing you toward. “I’m close too, baby,” you assured him. “Hang in there a little bit longer.”

Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He rolled your clit with his fingertips, peppering kisses on your neck, tasting the salt of your sweat on his tongue. He was pressed so tightly against you and locked inside you.

He could feel your labored breaths, just like his. He could feel your racing pulse beneath his fingers. It moved at the same furious pace as his own. Your skin was hot and sticky with sweat. His too. He could feel it running down his back.

It hit Mark like a ton of bricks. This was what intimacy felt like. Tangled together with another person, not knowing where he ended and you began.

And Mark knew then and there he didn’t want to live without it. Nor did he ever want to let someone tell him he couldn’t have it.

Mark lifted you up, your shoulders against his chest. He cradled your jaw in his hand, tilting your head so he could kiss your cheek and the corner of your mouth. You sighed at the affection, both of you still moving hungrily but gently in tandem with each other.

“You were right,” Mark said breathlessly. “There’s nothing wrong about this.”

You smiled. Not from victory this time, but acceptance. Maybe he was right too. Maybe sex could also be treated as a special thing between two people. There was a connection between you and Mark, and you were done fighting it.

Mark desperately wanted you to say something. Deep down, he hoped that he was more than another quick fuck for you. Though to his credit, there was nothing quick about this time.

“You were right too,” you finally whispered, making Mark’s eyes flicker. “Maybe it should be treated with more respect.”

Mark turned your head and smashed his lips on yours, kissing you with such intensity your heart stopped beating in your chest for a moment. At least you thought it did. It was rapturous and made your legs weak.

If not for Mark holding you to him, you would have fallen to your knees.

Mark broke from the kiss, but held you in place, making you stare into his eyes as he took you, as he started thrusting hard and deep again. Your mouth was open, panting for air, because you knew you weren’t in control anymore.

You had surrendered to him.

And Mark knew what to do now. His body followed instinct. He lost himself in your eyes, no thought in his head except how perfectly you wrapped around his cock and how he wouldn’t stop until you came for him. On him. With him.

You’d broken him. He was ready to break you back.

“Mark…,” you choked out, scraping your nails over the cabinet. “I’m coming.”

Music to Mark’s ears. He tightened his grip on your neck, making sure you knew that you were his now. His breath was hot on your cheek, rapid like the pace of his cock slamming into you. He pinched your clit with his fingers, feeling your walls pulse around his dick.

You squirmed. You couldn’t help it. Your body arched into him involuntarily, warmth spilling over between your legs. His touch on your bundle of nerves teetered dangerously toward overstimulation, but it was that perfect cock hitting your sweet spot that finished you.

“Come with me,” you barely managed to say before crying out in ecstasy, your core tightening and your legs shaking.

Mark kept burying his cock inside you to the very end, his hips smacking into your ass. You could hear him grunting and swearing past the ringing in your ears, his thrusts turning ragged with how tightly your cunt gripped him.

“Holy shit,” Mark growled, struggling to keep his hold on you as you writhed. Then with a shudder, Mark came, bottoming out and releasing with a moan that rivaled yours, painting your walls with his release.

As you drifted back down, you undulated as best you could, kneading every drop out of him. You let the cabinet support your weight, catching your breath while Mark went soft inside you.

Mark clung to you, but at this point, you weren’t surprised. And you kinda liked it.

Okay, you really liked it. Finally, you felt like you could belong somewhere. Tangled up with Mark.

With a kiss to your temple, Mark stepped back, his cock slipping out of you, and you sighed at the loss of him, feeling both of your releases dripping from your folds.

Mark’s eyes were on your sex and seeing his cum mingle with your juices made him want to kill any man that dared lay eyes on you. He tried not to think about how he would walk out of there like nothing happened, but you would be carrying the evidence between your legs.

It should not have turned him on the way it did.

The two of you dressed in silence, occasionally stealing glances of each other, but there was no awkwardness this time. Instead, tension settled over the room.

Where did you go from here?

Mark was the first boy you’d fucked a second time. You weren’t usually one for encore performances. He was also the first boy you couldn’t get off your mind. And given what Mark had said to you - to say nothing of how he looked at you - the feeling was mutual.

“What’s wrong?” you asked sweetly, though you had some idea.

Conflicted emotions were colliding in both of you for totally different reasons.

Mark had fully dressed, but made no moves to leave. He stared at you, wishing he could put into words how you made him feel.

“I want to hold you.”

You blinked and your heart clenched in your chest. For a moment, you studied him. Cautious. But you knew from the start it was a losing battle. “Hold me,” you said, reaching for him.

Mark closed the distance between you and swept you up in his arms. You closed your eyes and tucked your head beneath his chin, breathing him in. Mark’s hand was lost in your hair, the other resting at the small of your back.

You didn’t realize how hard you were holding onto him until it was too late to stop.

“Maybe we could see each other again,” Mark said in a low voice.

You fought the tears as they burned your eyes.

Mark tugged at your hair, searching your face. “You could teach me more about intimacy and being human.”

You allowed yourself to smile at him, appreciating his efforts to diffuse the tension. “Okay.”

“And I could teach you about trust and commitment?”

Two things you staunchly avoided, but you recognized the soft lilt in his voice, framing it as a request and not a demand. Too many people had tried to force you to see the error of your ways and they were met with resistance.

You would never let anyone conquer you, but maybe you could make a little window in the walls around your heart so Mark could sneak inside from time to time.

Maybe he’d make a home there.

Either way, you wanted to watch him try.

“Alright, Mark. You win this time,” you whispered, rising to your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

Mark grinned and kissed you back.

END.

[slowandsteddie]

Part Two is here

Steve likes to clean headstones at cemeteries.

CW: drug mentions, weed being smoked, glossed over panic attack (I didn’t want to write on it too much), and Steve is so incredibly lonely.

3018 words. Not edited but I was EXCITED.

Steve had always enjoyed going to the cemetery. He had family buried there, sure, but that wasn’t what he went for.

He was the kind of guy who went to clean off the older headstones that no one else did. There was just something so honest and relaxing in giving people their names back.

A water bottle, a soft bristle toothbrush, and an old credit card were all he took out of the car with him whenever he parked. Steve cleaned in sections, giving each stone the time and care it needed to get all of the dirt and grime off of it and out of the names. As soon as the names were clean, he’d gently place his fingers over them and smile.

“Hello, Clarence.” He said softly. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

The only answer was a slight breeze and a crow cawing.

“Hello, my love,” he said to the bird before carefully pushing himself to his feet.

His knees were sore. That headstone required a lot more precision as it was a lot older and one wrong move would probably leave it crumbling. He had told the front office a few times about it, but they wouldn’t take care of it.

“We can’t make money upkeeping stones of people who have no family left to mourn them.”

He lost track of how many times he had been told that. It didn’t stop him from cleaning the stones and letting whoever was the receptionist that day know.

When he was done for the evening, he’d allow himself to bask in the peace that came over him and warmed him. He’d have a smile on his face that lasted until he got home.

The contentment would leave as soon as he saw that big house that he lived in. His parents were never home and he had no siblings to help him fill the empty halls with noise.

Steve used to throw a lot of parties, just so he would have other people under his roof with him. He hadn’t done that since the night that Nancy called their relationship bullshit and then immediately got into one with Johnathan. It hurt him more deeply than he could express, but it was a much needed wake up call.

The Upside Down was another wake up call, but he tried to ignore that one.

Now, if he wasn’t at work or hanging out with The Party as they liked to call themselves, he was cleaning headstones until he had to leave. He thought it was ridiculous that the cemetery closed at night. If he could, he’d probably stay the night in the mausoleum just so that the people resting there would know that they weren’t forgotten about. Not while he still had air in his lungs.

Most people would tell him that there were healthier things to do with his time. Less morbid things in any case. But he felt so alive when he was alone with the stones and birds. It was better than being alone with half a house he wasn’t even supposed to go into.

His room, the kitchen, the bathroom. That was what his parents wanted him to confine himself to. Not even the living room because he wasn’t supposed to have guests over when they weren’t home. And they were never fucking home.

Steve parked the car in the driveway and stared at that stupid fucking door that had nothing behind it and sighed. Deeply. The car was still running and his fingers tapped on the steering wheel.

No.

He couldn’t do it. Not tonight. He couldn’t stand the thought of being so utterly alone right now.

So, he backed out of the driveway and started driving again. He wasn’t even really sure of where he was headed, just that he wasn’t going to that house right now. If he went too far, he was going to have to stop for gas at some point and he didn’t get paid for a few more days. That meant he might go hungry for a day. That was fine. He’d cross that bridge when he got to it.

Eventually, he found himself at the trailer park. Wayne’s truck wasn’t there, but the van was. A good sign that Eddie was home and that his uncle was at work.

This time, Steve did turn off the car when he parked. A moment of hyping himself up later, Steve got out of the car and went to knock on the front door. Thirty seconds after that, he heard someone tripping over something. Then the door opened.

The smell of cigarette smoke rolled out into the fresh air and he couldn’t help but to breathe a little deeper.

Eddie looked good, his long curly hair pulled into a messy bun and baggy sweats hanging a little low on his hips. Any other circumstance, and Steve was pretty sure he’d feel blessed that he got to see Munson without a shirt on. He might have been scrawny but those tattoos were a work of art. He was a work of art. Fuck.

Steve had to blink a few times to realize that the other male had been talking to him.

“Sorry. Rough night,” he explained. Though, it hadn’t been rough until he started thinking about being alone. Again.

“How can I help?” Eddie’s voice was smooth and Steve had to swallow before he could reply.

“Do you, uh, have anything left in that lunch pail?”

“Is Steve Harrington really at my door, asking to buy weed from me?”

“Is that a yes or a no answer, Eddie Munson?”

“It’s a get in here and give me a minute answer.”

Steve didn’t need to be told twice. He went inside as soon as Eddie moved out of the way before closing the door behind him. He ran a hand through his hair as he took another step, just so he wasn’t right against the door.

Eddie wandered off, back to his room probably, and Steve stayed where he was. He looked around the small place and realized that this was a home. A place that was lived in, a place where love resided. His house could never compare. It was bigger and in better condition, but that meant nothing to him.

“You’re in luck, I have a baggie with your name on it.”

“I swear to god if you just used that sharpie to write The Hair on that bag…”

Eddie tossed the sharpie away from himself and whistled innocently. Steve wanted to be annoyed, but he actually laughed.

“So. How much?”

Eddie tilted his head.

“For the stuff?” Steve continued.

“You’re going to buy and smoke it, but you draw the line at saying weed?”

It should be illegal for someone to look that good while being that condescending.

“How much for the weed, Eddie?” Steve gave in.

“For you? I’ll take ten bucks.”

“Damn,” He replied as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. “That’s highway robbery.” A sly smile tugged at his lips as he pulled out a Hamilton and held it out for the older male.

Eddie took it and put the baggy in Steve’s still outstretched hand. “Now get out of here. I have a reputation.”

“You? What reputation?” He teased.

Eddie grinned. “The one where I don’t hang out with jocks. See you tomorrow, Harrington.”

“Not if I see you first, Munson.”

Steve shook his head before heading toward the door. Their interaction kept him warm all the way home.

That time when he arrived in his driveway, he stayed there. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and locked the doors to the vehicle before walking around the side of the house to get to his backyard. He knew better than to get into the pool while home alone, even if he was on the swim team. But that wasn’t where he was headed. He kept walking until he was in the woods, at his usual haunt.

He had built himself a little structure that was barely big enough for two people. It was tight and comfortable. Very underwhelming compared to the house that constantly felt like Too Much. He sat down on the small pile of pillows and wrapped a blanket around himself in an attempt to get that warm feeling back from his interaction with Eddie.

He grabbed his bong, which was always in his little hut, and the nearby water bottle before setting it up. Next he grabbed the lighter and flicked it a few times to make sure that it still worked. He didn’t smoke weed a lot, a baggy could probably last him a few months, but sometimes he just needed to be under the influence in order to handle being in his room. With the hazy feeling, it was easier to pretend that there was someone in the other room. Or, at least easier to believe that it could be true.

One hit was all it took for him to realize that Eddie had given him the good stuff. A huge smile tugged at his lips. He’d make him some cookies or something to thank him. He’d have to come up with a good excuse to stop by that Hellfire table at school and drop off a plate, but he could figure it out later. When he got that far.

A second hit gave him the feeling that he was after. Steve felt so cool when he realized that he didn’t choke like he usually did. He took care of everything properly before hiding the weed under the pillows that he had been sitting on.

He wandered back to his house, feeling a little better about the whole Alone Situation, and went in through the backdoor so he wouldn’t have to walk around the house again. Steve got a few steps away before remembering to go back and make sure that the door was locked. That had him checking all of the rest of the doors and even the windows.

When he got to his room, he stripped down to his boxers before crawling between the sheets. He pulled the covers up to his chin and snuggled in before closing his eyes and letting his mind wander until he fell asleep.

—

It was five o’clock in the morning when Steve’s eyes flashed open. His heart was pounding as he worked on untangling himself from the sheets. Trapped. He felt trapped.

Somehow, he ended up on the floor with a solid thud that knocked the wind out of him. He was gasping, but at least he was free of the blanket that had him pinned in place before.

“F-fuck,” he groaned as the tears started to slide down his face.

He gave himself a few minutes before forcing himself to his feet and stumbling to the bathroom. Shower. He needed a shower. So that was exactly what he did.

One fifteen minute cold shower later, Steve was feeling more himself again. He dried off and got dressed before taking his time to make sure that his hair was perfect.

After all of that it was still too early to head to school, which meant that he found himself going to the kitchen and pulling out the ingredients to make some chocolate chip cookies. It was a safe choice. Everyone loved chocolate chips and there were no nuts in case someone had an allergy.

A double batch of cookies later, the phone was ringing.

“Hello?” Steve greeted, cradling the receiver between his ear and shoulder as he wiped his hands on the apron that he had put on before he started baking. He adjusted the phone onto his hand as he straightened up. “Hello?”

“Stevie!” His mother’s voice came across the line. “We’ll be home for a few weeks soon!”

“That’s great, mom. I can’t wait to hear about this adventure.” It was hard to sound excited.

All that complaining about an empty house and knowing his parents were coming back didn’t help. His mother would fuss for a day or two. His father would act like it hadn’t been months since they’ve seen each other. They’d probably even ignore him as usual, to be honest. His parents tended to think that making sure the bills were paid was more than enough. It wasn’t. Steve was done trying to convince them of that, though.

They talked for a few minutes, her words not really sinking in. Then he hung up and leaned against the wall, trying to convince himself to not cry. He took a deep breath and almost called Eddie before just hanging up the phone again and walking away from it.

Steve slid all of the cookies into a Tupperware container before grabbing his backpack and heading out to the car.

He was still going to be too early for school.

Which meant that he headed to the cemetery to clean a few headstones beforehand.

—

Steve was rolling through the motions, something that no one picked up on despite his reputation as King Steve. He was grateful for that.

His morning classes blurred together and then it was lunch time. He didn’t even have an excuse in mind when he walked over to Eddie’s table. If anyone told him anything, he ignored it. Instead, he set his bag down and unzipped it before pulling out the cookies and handing them to the older male who looked at him strangely.

“I didn’t poison them, Munson, jeez.”

Then he was zipping his bag back up and walking over to sit next to Tommy and Carol. Steve tried to focus, but he found himself looking toward the DND group a lot. Eddie was grinning as he wiped some cookie crumbs from his mouth.

Good.

The afternoon classes also passed in a blur, and then he found himself at the cemetery again.

It was a nice place to be, especially on a day like this. It was warm and sunny with a light breeze and some clouds in the sky. A crow was talking to him and he was talking back, saying things like “hello, my love” and “how is my pretty baby today” and “who should get their name back today, hmm?”

Eventually, he did find the headstone he wanted to clean. It was in a corner he hadn’t gotten to yet because of the beehive and swarms of the little stingy friends. Steve was allergic to bee stings, but he was calm and collected as he walked past them. He knelt down and gently brushed away what he could get with his hands before opening the bottle and splashing some water down. Then, he gently used the toothbrush to clean away dirt and moss.

Steve wasn’t sure how much time had passed, though he did look up when he saw a shadow. He was surprised to see Eddie looking down at him.

“Whatcha doing, Harrington?”

He leaned back so he was sitting on his feet and used the back of his hand to push his hair away from his face. There was no use trying to say that this was anything other than what it was.

“I like to give people their names back.” He shrugged. “It’s stupid, I know. But I think that they know they’re being remembered, or at least thought about, when someone can read their name.”

“It’s not stupid, Steve,” Eddie said softly before squatting down on the other side of the headstone.

They looked at each other for what felt like ages. It was probably only seconds. The older male pulled out his handkerchief and gently rubbed away enough that Steve could read the last name on the stone he decided to clean.

Munson.

“Who was she?” He asked softly.

“My aunt. Wayne’s wife.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I barely knew her. But sometimes I come out here because he can’t. And she deserves to be remembered.”

Steve felt like he was seeing Eddie in an all new light. He didn’t want to make the other male think about it too much. Besides, it seemed like he wanted to change the subject.

“I, uh… I come out here almost everyday. Clean different headstones based on who I feel could use it the most that day. I talk to the crows, too. Sometimes I let them pick for me.” He was blushing again.

“Did you bake those cookies?”

Steve was the one grateful for the subject change this time.

“Yeah. This morning. I realized how good of a deal you gave me last night and I just… wanted to thank you.”

“They were amazing.”

“Thank you. That recipe is the only thing I got from my grandma before she passed. She did make me promise to not tell anyone the secret ingredient, though.”

“Was it crack? It tasted like crack. I couldn’t stop eating them.”

Steve laughed at that before pushing himself to his feet and offering Eddie his hand.

“You caught me. I have a huge supply of crack for baking purposes.”

Eddie snorted. “I knew it.”

They released hands and Steve had a feeling that it was reluctantly on both sides, not just his.

“I’m glad you found me.”

“Yeah?” Eddie seemed surprised.

“Yeah. I’m actually highly allergic to bee stings and I might have needed some help with the epi-pen if one got me.”

They both laughed at that, though Steve did notice that he was being guided away from the stingy friends after that. The hand on the small of his back felt like friendship, though he’d never say it.

Once they were far enough from the bees that the older male stopped feeling the need to keep them walking, Steve met his gaze.

“What about your reputation?” He joked.

“What about it? Just because I don’t hang out with jocks doesn’t mean that I’m going to let one die because they wanted to give my aunt her name back.”

“I think you might have a soft spot for me,” Steve joked.

“Yeah,” Eddie murmured while glancing at Steve’s lips. Their eyes met again. “Maybe I do.”

Let me know if I should do a part two.

[matchadobo]

Can I request Kid x reader (established relationship) where he and the crew find out the reader is a run away princess beacuse she was arranged to get married to a prince who was awful? You can expand on this concept as much as u want!!

KIDD; runaway princess

wc: 2003

warning/s: none, very fluff, kidd's being violent tho

"snap at me when you've taken down more than half of what i had done, cutie." he taunted, pinning down enemies one after the other that almost got to you. "so i don't gotta watch your back all the time."

"i'll point the gun at you instead, numbskull."

once the lot of you had reached a quiet alley, you all settled down. some had got a hold of their knees, sat on the ground with their backs on the cold, bricked walls, or face flat on the asphalt trying to catch their breaths.

but you were too occupied with thinking if you should out yourself because you are overflowing with guilt. some of your men have been injured but thankfully enough no one died. while some of your mates tended to their wounds, you couldn't take all the guilt so you stepped up.

"why are you standin' like that?" kidd looked at you funny. he stood tall with his back against the wall, his arms crossed, a puzzled expression on his face.

"i... have something to confess to you guys." you said with your head hung low, fists balled up. the others figured that it was serious, so everyone stopped lousing around and had their eyes on you. you took your time gathering your thoughts and words and they anticipated patiently.

"out with it, love." kidd nudged you, placing his human arm on your shoulder. he donned a gentle smile which cheered you on. a smile only known to you and for you.

"the real reason why we're being chased by the royal guards of my village is not just because we're pirates. it's mostly because i-i'm the lost princess who ran away on her wedding day." you spat bitterly, bile rising across your throat.

you pulled out a bounty poster of you that you snatched from the pub you lot were drinking at earlier. "i colored and grew out my hair so i wouldn't be recognized." you placed the poster side by side. the utter astonishment in their eyes as even the littlest resemblance was not evident. you got too careless that your hair later grew out and your roots were showing. even with the make up, the people from your village were able to recognize you.

you took a look at them and they all had the same expression, jaws dropped on the floor. but you especially took a long glance at kidd, his face was unparalleled and you couldn't read him. was he angry? shocked? sad? amused?

he sucked in his teeth and tsked, "sounds like my little rockstar." he looked at you, eye-to-eye as he watched how tears pooled by your eyes. "kinda figured you're somewhat of a princess though, you're too damn pretty to be in my world."

"yeah?" you placed your hand above his which was clutching your cheeks. "i-i'm sorry i lied... i was... scared."

in a millisecond, kidd pulled you to his grasp by the back of your neck. he stroked at the back of your head, combing his fingers through your locks. "that ain't a problem, alright? i'm more than happy to take you away whatever reason you got going on." he pledged by your ear, his embrace tightening. "you better tell me all about it though, aye?"

"i'm really sorry, this is all my fault you guys got hurt." you sobbed silently yet you don't even think deserve to cry. "i-i'll just surrender so you guys can get off the hook-"

"name, no! what?!"

"now that's going too far, name!"

"don't even think about it, name! as if we'd let you!"

"what the hell do you think you're talking about?!" kidd fumed, eyes furious alternating between your glassy ones. "you do realize that when you became part of the crew, you're stuck with us, aye? whatever bullshit you're planning, get it the fuck outta your mind." he kicked a lone rock by the asphalt before turning his back to you. "don't go dropping shit like that like it's some normal fuckin' thing. think about what you really want, and maybe consider my goddamn feelings along the way, why don'tcha." kidd strutted deeper into the alley, with each click of his heel you felt guilt boring through your soul. you couldn't see it but his eyeliner was starting to fuck up because of the forming tears.

you fell to your knees, frustrated. some of the crew members gave you a hug as you started crying your heart out, remembering all the excruciating days of royalty. it was tormenting. but you wanted your crew to go free. if it means to save them, you'd do anything. so you made your way to consult your lover by the corner.

"if you want to surrender. you're just being selfish at this point, name." kidd said through gritted teeth, bitter words making your heart break. "you don't even think about what we want? what i fuckin' want? i know for goddamn sure that you don't want that, why else would you run away then? so let me ask you, what do you really want?" he looked you in the eye, both hands on your shoulders.

"i-i want to be with you. i feel the most free when i'm with you. i want you to be the one i marry. i don't want to be shackled by these posh shit, i want to sail the seas with you. i want to celebrate every birthday with the crew. i want to see everyone reach their dreams, especially you. i want to be with you every step along the way. i-i want to have that, b-but if this princess thing-"

"no buts, i heard you loud and clear, baby." he interrupted with a kiss on the forehead. "you wanna settle this the kidd pirate's way or what?" he suggested with the most manic grin against your ear. "i'm tempted to hunt down that moron prince who had the nerve to marry you. gotta teach 'em to not meddle with someone else's treasure."

"don't tell me you're burning the whole village down..." you looked up at him, though there was no shred of empathy in your eyes. seems like he and the crew had rubbed off on you.

"you bet i will."

hiii thanks for the request! very sporadic updates bc i'll have exams in a week 😞

[loganwritesprobably]

– Zoro with the 3° genre, prompt (n.) 🍺✨

Oof, Zoro has caused some problems in this one.. sheesh

Find the prompt list here

Content/Warnings: Zoro/GN!Reader, hurt/no comfort, intoxication, breaking up, argument, cheating, lots of cursing

You were so sick of Zoro's bullshit. Maybe he'd be the World's Greatest Swordsman, maybe he'd be the first mate of the Pirate King, maybe one day he'd be a good man - today, he was the single worst man you knew.

As usual, he was drinking, and just a little drunk. The only time he wasn't was if you were in the middle of a fight, and generally speaking that wasn't when you were trying to spend time with him. The drinking itself wasn't even the problem because he didn't often actually get drunk, though you were mildly worried about his health over it. No, it was the way he acted.

He'd drink, be abrupt, take a nap, wake up, and go somewhere else to drink. On the ship he'd sooner nap than spend time with you, and when you were on land he'd sooner be drinking in a bar than be with you.

But today it'd gone too far.

You were willing to discuss the neglect, and the drinking issue. They were problems that could be worked and improved on. But once a cheater, always a cheater. On another day you may have let it go, you may have told yourself that it was nothing or that it could be fixed but you were at the end of your rope with this man and it was about to destroy your relationship.

You stood on the deck of the Sunny, foul attitude obvious from over a dozen miles away, arms crossed over your chest. You were waiting for Zoro to come back. Nami had convinced you to go see Zoro, maybe you could pull him from the bar and do something together, and instead you'd found him chatting up some guy at the bar. They'd not been talking normally, just being friendly, no Zoro's hand had been on the dude's thigh and they'd barely been two inches apart. You knew what you were seeing - you were seeing the same moves he'd made with you just under a year ago.

It was well into the night when Zoro stumbled back to the ship with a grin, and when he spotted you his mood only improved, while yours managed to somehow sour further.

"Hey, I've not seen you all night, where were you?" He asked, moving as if to pull you into a hug, but you stepped cleanly out of his reach.

"That's what you have to say for yourself?" You asked, borderline incredulous.

"Huh?" He asked dumbly, lifting the bottle in his hand to his lips. Watching the action filled you with untold rage and you smacked the bottle from his hand.

"Oh I have had enough of you!" You yelled. Some part of you had wanted to keep this quiet, but a larger part had known just how unlikely that was.

"I've not seen you all night, what could I have done?" He asked, still playing the fool, and it took all your strength not to attack him just to take your anger out on him.

"You didn't see me - but I saw you! In that bar! With that guy!" And finally, he had the realisation that he really did have something to worry about.

"Shit I- I'm sorry, I just-" you didn't let him finish.

"No! Don't you dare try to come up with some bullshit! It's not just this, Zoro! It's all of it! When was the last time we had a fucking conversation, huh? The last time we spent any time together, just the two of us? Name one time in the last three months! You can't!" You stopped for a short moment to catch your breath and to see if he'd respond, but Zoro had nothing to say.

"I didn't think so. I cannot believe I let you get away with this for so long. This? Us? It's over. We're done. I'm not putting up with your shitty treatment anymore. I can do so much better, and I deserve that. And you, Roronoa Zoro, are pathetic." You spat, with all the venom you could muster, then spat on his shoes. He didn't say a word as you turned on your heel and strode away to go to bed, more than done with the interaction.

-—·-·—·—·-·—-

The next day, you went out of your way to avoid Zoro as much as possible. And the day after that. And the day after that. The crew iced him out a little on day one, but they stopped after that, and you didn't blame them. He'd been on the crew far longer than you had and it wasn't their fault he was a shitty boyfriend. Just Zoro's. Though, they clearly didn't approve of what he'd done so you took that victory.

Zoro, despite you avoiding him, seemed to be going out of his way to do things for you. He took your watch duty, helped with your chores, let you get first servings of food and drinks, even held open doors for you. As if that would fix what he'd done. Was he that stupid? Or did he just think that lowly of you?

After a week of his gentle treatment, you snapped again.

"Oh my seas, Zoro, would you back off?" You yelled at him over dinner, causing the room to go silent.

"I was just-"

"I don't care what you were doing. Cut it out. You never did it before, you're being nice to get back into my good books and it isn't going to work." Everyone awkwardly continued to eat, but Sanji pursed his lips and Nani nodded slightly. They'd noticed it too.

"Well fuck me for trying to be nice, I guess." He murdered, filling his own glass instead of your own like he'd intended.

"Yes! Exactly! Stop trying to make it up to me! You can't! There's no version of this where you fix it, and we go back to before! I meant it, we're done. Give up." You told him, then took your plate and glass and left the kitchen entirely so you could eat somewhere else and calm down.

"I was the bad guy for doing nothing, now I'm the bad guy for trying to do something. I can't win!" Zoro complained in your absence, and Nami rolled her eyes.

"It doesn't matter what you do now, Zoro," Robin said, giving him a pitiful expression, "it's because you didn't do it before. In fact, you only trying now that you've lost probably hurts more than you doing nothing."

He'd ruined it, it was irreversible, and he'd not even noticed he was doing it.

Requests are open! See below links for my other works, and how to leave requests. I write both canon/canon and canon/reader requests for your enjoyment

AO3 | Fanfic Masterlist | Request Rules | Fic Trades Guide | WIPs

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[prettygirls0nly]

Predictable - Henry Bowers

Word count = 939

"That is such bullshit. When I'm sticking it to a girl, I want her moaning as loud as possible."

"Well..." you sighed. "Have you ever really done it?"

Oh. It was almost scary how easily you saw right through him. Even for a guy like Henry who doesn't exactly have a hundred layers to peel back, you were fast.

"What are you talking about, God- yes, of course, I'm not a fucking loser." He spat out, his cheeks flushing when he finished. Henry had never really been the best liar, but speaking the truth would've taken much more courage than what he had left within him.

"Hmm." You weren't buying a second of it.

And he felt so damn ashamed. Was he really that fucking transparent?

After a short silence, Henry grabbed his drink and downed what was left of it. Feeling the quiet buzzing of heat streaming up to his cheeks, whispering courage into his veins.

"...I- I want to."

"Hmm." This time it felt more comforting. "It's nice," you said while smiling.

He thought about what you said for a second. Let his mind wander to all the places you may have been, to all the people you have been with, to all the ways you've done it. It made him happy, made him warm to his chest. Wherever, whoever, however, it made him happy that in whatever way it was, you enjoyed yourself.

You sighed while playing with the lacey hem of your dress, one, two, three cheap beers into the night you had slipped into a blissful state, just enjoying the moment of you and Henry alone in your living room. Sometimes, even though he was a year older than you, Henry would remind you of the guys of your past. So boyish, so crass, and completely clueless. You pitied him because of it sometimes, who was there for him to teach him what it meant to be a man? Who was there to teach him about life? Who was there to teach him how to treat a girl?

"You want another beer?" He asked, breaking the silence that had settled in.

"Yea sure." You smiled, watching him as he headed for your kitchen. You always found it quite charming how Henry could walk into any place and move around like he owned the damn place.

While in the kitchen Henry took a moment to light a cigarette, slowly inhaling the smoke as his thoughts raced. He felt so bare, wondered what other things you knew by just looking at him, wished he could ask you: "Am I really that predictable?". He wondered why it even mattered, nothing was supposed to matter.

He grabbed a few more beers from the fridge and walked back over to the living room with the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. God... He loved the way you looked tonight. The white lacey babydoll dress that loosely sprawled out over your thighs was his favorite, made you look like an angel. The whole night he had almost been scared to look at you, just talking and talking hoping it would distract you from the fact that he was flustered from just being around you.

"You know damn well my parents don't want cigarettes inside the house." You said, hoisting yourself up onto your knees on the couch and reaching up to grab Henry's cigarette from his lips.

Henry smiled, "Your way too much of a goody two shoes, you know that.".

You rolled your eyes and dropped the cigarette into an empty beer can. "Well maybe I like being a good girl, not everyone can be like you."

"Yeah, I'm glad you're nothing like me." Henry sat down on the couch, cracking open his beer before taking a large gulp. It was true, he loved all the ways in which you were opposite of him, loved all the ways in which you were starting to rub off on him.

You moved closer to Henry grabbing the beer from his hands and taking a sip. "Well, we're more alike than you'd think."

You weren't far away from him now, with your body completely turned towards him and your knee brushing against the side of his thigh, Henry wondered if you knew just how nervous you made him. With wide eyes, he looked at you, tentatively anticipating whatever word you would say next. Secretly hoping that you would say nothing at all and simply lean in.

"I want approval just as much as you do, I want- no need someone to look at me and say that I'm worth all the heartache and stress."

Henry thinks of how brave you are, saying something like that, laying something vulnerable like that out in the open. He thinks of how honored he feels, how special he feels in this moment, how connected he feels to you. Yet his body betrays him, there's not enough power in him that can muster the courage to say to you all the things he wants to say to you. He simply looks at you, swallowing hard as his hands reach forward and cup the back of your head, enjoying the way your eyes slip close at the sensation of his skin against yours. He takes another second, making sure to take in every detail of this moment before leaning in and finally connecting his lips to yours. Vulnerable and fragile, the moment plays out, there's no movement, no frantic fighting of tongues, just lips to lips, savoring all the ways your bodies react to this moment.

[slash-me-please]

HIHIHI I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM AND I SAW THAT YOUR WILLING TO WRITE FOR AMANDA YOUNG BUT IF YOU DONT FEEL LIKE IT THATS COMPLETELY OKAY ALSO!!

Can you do jealous Amanda x Fem reader? Somewhere around reader and Amanda having a complicated relationship and reader is an apprentice. Another apprentice flirts around with reader and Amanda doesn’t like it at all :$ Also some NSFW but if your not in the mood for it you don’t have to add it!

I hope you have an amazing day 😋😊

I love writing for Amanda!!!! I'm so happy to be getting more fem requests because I am a gay mf. Anyways on with the story.

-In the event that Michael Marks survived, he has became an apprentice. Michael Marks. Yknow, the key in the eyeball guy. So, let's begin.

A Deeper Understanding

Warnings: Literally nobody getting along, Jealous!Amanda, Cursing, Threatening, Fingering, Domish!Amanda, Getting Caught

John Kramer had collected quite the assortment of a team. He hoped at least one of you would continue his legacy perfectly. He'd make sure before he died that he'd live on through the lot of you. You were all currently at the workshop, bullshitting about random tests and other people you were interested in "helping". There was about four of you there, Dr. Gordon couldn't make it, like usual. Michael Marks had been your second choice, Gordon has always been your first.

His eyes traveled down your body, a look that made you feel a certain type of way, not a good way. He was your partner though, so you gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm glad everyone is here," John smiled a thin smile, Jill stood across from him, eyes trained on his every move. You knew that it'd been hard on her since his diagnosis. "I need your help with the scalping seat, I'm not sure it'll get done on time." He took a pause, "I've had some other things to tend to, my apologies."

He hadn't been looking at you, you weren't the mechanic of the group. John looked to you for ideas for traps. You had a knack at creating a symbolic test, one which would change the looks of the masses. Michael stepped forwards, eyes lingering on you for too long for someone who had just needed to build a trap. "I used to work as a car technician before Homeward Bound," He said, bending down and looking through the gears. "Unless Hoffman can do better." Hoffman wasn't much for Michael, he stayed silent.

"Nobody wants you to touch anything, you hardly beat your test. I don't know why John even wants you here because you're obviously not even serious about him." Amanda stood from her spot near John, she walked forwards and towered over Michael- only for Michael to size her up. "What are you even talking about?" He barked, his chest puffing. "Amanda calm down, we need to finish this trap. Brenda's test is what matters." John corrected her, his composure was always impenetrable. "No John! Have you seen this guy? He's been eye-fucking Y/N since we got here!"

Amanda's fists clenched as she yelled back at John. She seemed ready to blow a fuse, and you were thankful for it. "As far as I am concerned, He has not said anything to Y/N that has made her uncomfortable." "But-" "No, we'll deal with him later, we have to focus on the contraption now, we'll deal with him later. I need you to act level-headed if you're going to carry out my legacy." Amanda huffed, speeding past the group and into the hallway. "Amanda!" You yelled after her, jumping down from the table and following after her.

You found yourself in a grimy hallway, off to the side was an opening to what you presumed was where Amanda had went off to. You stepped forward, watching as the curtains to the archway swayed back and forth. "Amanda?" You called, and she opened the swaying curtains as you stood in front of them. "Finally got enough of Mr. Fuck-me eyes?" You shook your head. "We're not... doing anything." She nodded, stepping away to move back to a decaying workstation. You saw she had her reverse bear trap on the table, she seemed to be fixing something wrong with it.

"What are you doing to it?" You wondered, she glanced over at you for a moment. "John gave it to me to fix, fucking Hoffman took it somewhere and it broke." She gulped. "I hate this thing, but I'm about finished." Amanda was grumbling as she fixed her trap, she seemed elsewhere and you could tell that this was a coping mechanism for her. "What's wrong?"

She turned to you, and with a sigh she sneered. "I just don't understand why Michael is even here, he hardly completed his test and he's an asshole y'know?" Her voice elevated, and she turned towards you. "He's awful and I just don't understand why he can't leave you alone!" Your cheeks flushed, eyes widening as she stared right at you. "Uh-" But you cut her off, hands coming up to hold her face. It happened to turn out that she would be the one to press forward and kiss you. She only let it escalate from there when her hand moved to reach under your shirt and pull you flush against her chest.

Her nails dug into the plush of your stomach skin when she picked you up and placed you on the workbench, shoving the bear trap off to the side. Amanda placed kisses on your collarbone as you worked to pull your shirt off, and in the heat of the moment she found herself dizzy with lust. She had been dreaming about this moment since you joined the group, and she thought she might've entered her dreamworld when you finally got your shirt off. "You're fucking perfect," She mumbled, the androgynous tang of her voice flowed through your core and straight between your legs. You opened them right up.

Amanda leaned forward, tongue landing flat on your nipple and sucking at it until it pressed hard against the pad of her tongue. With her left hand, she groped you passionately, and she praised how you fit in her hand perfectly. You had leaned forward and pressed a kiss on the top of her head as she pushed your skirt up and over your ass, eager to get where she had wanted to touch most. You blessed her with it, gripping the edge of rotten wood when she hooked her long fingers inside your heat. "Shit..." She mumbled, her left hand dropping your tit to push you back by the stomach. You stumbled back against the wood with a whine, biting onto your left hand as the other gripped her wrist.

Amanda watched with an intense gaze as you moaned into your hand, she was more than interested, her left hand moving to rub circles on your clit as she fingered you. Your hips pushed against her fingers, desperate to feel more of her as she pleasured you- you knew her thoughts of Michael Marks were gone by now, her gaze enraptured by the way your cunt sucked her in. She felt herself becoming devoted as she listened to the gasps and whimpers you released of her name- you felt the same.

She began to kiss your hips as your legs shook around her fingers and your whines became more noticeable. Amanda gathered she had to be doing something right, her ego inflating as you rode her hand. "You're doing so well Y/N," She whispered, the fingers on your clit speeding up. You cried out, "I'm so close..." yelping when she pushed her fingers deeper and shushed you. You felt your insides clench and twitch, legs spreading wider as you held her wrist against your sex- whining out a flurry of "Thank yous," While you finished on her hand.

Finally, you leaned back down, huffing against your hand. You reached out to maybe grab her, and she reached to pull her shirt off. Unluckily, she didn't make it far when you heard Michael open the curtains, halfway through his sentence. "I'm sorry Amanda, I didn't- oh!" His eyes landed on you, and you yelped, flailing to cover your body as he stared.

Amanda's lip twitched in annoyance, pulling your skirt down with a little bit of attitude. You knew it wasn't directed at you though. "If you do not get the fuck out of my office, I will literally blow your brains out Michael."

And he turned around, scurrying down the hallway. Amanda turned back to you, giving you a happy kiss on the lips. "Maybe we can arrange a date this week?"

[antiwhores]

Sensitive - Bakugou x reader

Bakugou is almost 30 and he’s never gotten frisky. Hes been waiting for toy and now he finally gets you. But hes so damn sensitive and can’t last for shit!

Smut, virginity loss, sensitivity, over stimulation, masturbation, foreplay, not proof read - fuck yall, male moaning, handjobs, intercourse, multiple orgasms, creampie, established relationships.

The heavy breathing against your ear after you licked a stripe up his neck was hypnotizing to you. You had only made out with him prior and he was already a hot mess.

A sharp intake of breath was pulled out of him when you put your hand up his shirt. You giggled, “So sensitive Katsuki.” He clicked his tongue, turning his red face away. “Shut the hell up.” He forced through his teeth.

It wasn’t his fault he was so damn sensitive! He’s a virgin, this is all new.

And yeah, it sounds crazy but he is. The man who was voted one sexiest man alive, the number 2 hero has never gotten laid? He was sure if he were to tell the public they’d call bullshit. He was a sex symbol, built like a fucking god. He had several whole pages dedicated to “Dynamite x reader” posts. He knows, he had to read them as a dare during a party once!

Even crazier, he hasn’t even done anything with anyone - not even a quick handjob. Sure, he got desperate once or twice and made out with an irrelevant bitch from a party but he always felt wrong when they reached for his belt. He’d grab their hand and excuse himself.

He’s been waiting for you. The only thing thats lasted him this far is his hand and his love for you. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he’d find himself with his hand stroking his cock with a tab of your photos open. He would imagine that his hand was yours and he would finish all over your chest instead of his own.

Speaking of chest, when did his shirt come off? And his belt? Was it hot in here or was it just him? Your hands felt so fucking good as they touched along his abs. You leaned in for another kiss which he greedily accepted. His breath hitched when you’d touch too low.

You didn’t want him at first- well, you definitely did but you couldn’t. By the time he realized that he wanted to peruse a relationship and his 9th grade crush isn’t so seventh grade anymore, you you were in a committed relationship with some scumbag who did nothing but make you cry.

Then he got too involved with work and couldn’t check on you as often. You practically disappeared for 2 years. But he found you again and you were back to the childhood friends attitude you both originally had.

After another year you guys broke up. You were heartbroken and scared for another relationship for another 3 years. Then you disappeared for another 1 year. Then he found you again after patiently waiting. And for the last 3 years you two have been catching up until eventually he asked you out and you agreed.

It took you a while to involve sexual stuff into the relationship. You were scared, he could wait longer. He’d wait to the end for you.

But todays the day and his heart couldn’t be pounding any louder.

You traced your fingers along his v line, caressing the happy trail on your way. He couldn’t handle your soft touches, he was gonna cum just from that.

“Stop teasing me.” He groaned out through his gritted teeth. You giggled, music to his ears, “Sorry Katsuki, you’re just so pretty.”

You reached for his sweatpants, the already hard bulge catching your eye. “Wait,” He accidentally yelled. You flinched your hand back and looked up wt him. “What-“ “Take off your clothes too.”

It was a bold remark and you loved it. You smiled that smile that makes his knees buckle as you reached to take off your top. He practically drooled at the sight of your bra. “Can I feel them?” You took of the bra, letting the girls free so that he could see everything. You nodded, “Of course, my love.”

He was mesmerized by the look of them. Absolutely everything he imagined and more. Like a dream come true. He couldn’t wait to see your cunt and ass.

He lightly squeezed your chest, too scared of hurting you to go harder. Your face contorted into a look of pleasure. He squeezed harder then began to full on fondle your boobs.

You grabbed his hand as you cursed through a moan. You could feel yourself getting wetter by the moment. His hand slipped down your abdomen and hesitantly hung at your waistband. This isn’t how it was supposed to go!

You grab his hand and force it off you. He flinches like he just accidentally stabbed you. Before he could freak out too much you spoke. “No, I’m taking care of you tonight. Don’t.”

“I want to touch you too though!” He argued. You shook your head, he pouted. “Can you at least take off your pants? I don’t wanna be the only one only in underwear.” You snickered at his request but still pried your shorts off to reveal your black panties with white heart designs.

He didn’t get much time to oogle before he practically jumped out of his skin at the feeling of your fingers gracing his clothed cock. “Off.” You demanded.

He carefully took off his pants, revealing the plain black underwear he wore. His bulge was constricting hard against the fabric. He was fucking big. You could tell just by looking at it through the underwear. It squeezed around him in a way that couldn’t be anything less than painful.

“Stop starin’” He groaned. You gave him an apologetic look before moving your hand to lightly outline the bulge. He breathed sharply through his teeth, his abs twitching ever so slightly.

You felt bad for teasing him, he was being so nice. So you cut to the chance and palmed him hard.

It caught him so off guard that he couldn’t stop the moan that flew out of his mouth. His hand shot up to grab your arm to stable himself. You palmed at him again before trying to move your hand away. He kept it in place, trying to make contact once more to cure the raging heat he felt in his body.

You used the hand to pull down his boxers.

You were right, he was huge. Thick and long with prominent veins running down the sides. An angry red tip that leaked precum like a broken faucet. His balls hung tight, filled to the brim with his seed and desperate to share. You almost came just looking at it. How would that thing comfortably fit inside you?

You swallowed, wrapping your hands around it and doing your first test pump. “Fuccckk” He moaned, tilting his head back. His hips thrusted into your hand to prevent the stillness you obtained. “Move it y/n” Bakugou whined. So you did.

Sloppy noises filled the room as you fisted him up and down. You listened carefully to his directions of “faster” and “harder”. He had to put a hand around his mouth to cover his desperate whines and moans.

You couldn’t stop yourself from beginning to rub your clit at his noises and reactions. He was just so hot.

You were nearly 2 minutes in and he was ready to bust everywhere.

Your hands felt even better than he imagined. Your soft skin wrapped around his cock held him in chokehold. He wouldn’t last much longer.

You could tell he was close by the way he balls constricted, readying his load for you. His body tensed and untensed rapidly. His hips began to thrust up into your hands uncontrollably. His moans became silent and he dove into your mouth to indulge in a sloppy, aggressive kiss.

When he finally came he moaned loud into your mouth, “Nghhhuhnnnmmm” His cum shot up out of his cock in explosive groups. He tensed up so hard you were surprised he didn’t get a charley horse. His heads heated up against the bruising grip he hand on your waist. You winced from the combination of burn and bruise.

When he came down from his high he couldn’t breath steady. He was huffing on what looked like a limited supply of air. His elbow rested over his eyes to hide his look of relief and lust.

His cum was hot, hotter than normal. It burned the skin of your chest like hot wax.

You whispered praises for Katsuki as you reached for his already spent cock again. His whole body jerked when you grabbed him and started to jerk him awake. “What nghh the fufkknn?” He moaned. His nails dug into the skin of you thigh as you removed your panties.

“Did you think we were done?” You said as you climbed into his lap. He wasn’t looking at you so he didn’t see you line his cock up to your entrance. Just from a few strokes he was already rock hard.

You both practically screamed as you sunk yourself down onto his long, girthy cock.

You gave yourself a few seconds to prepare, you had to. You’d die if you didn’t. His hands shot to your hips, revealing his face. He was flushed a deep red, sweat dripping down his forehead. His eyes were blown so wide you had to really focus to see the red you’ve come to adore. You looked down at you with heart eyes, like you were a descendant of a god coming to bless him.

After you adjusted you began to bounce yourself on his cock. He whined and moaned against you with his mouth leaking saliva. “Haaauhhh, fuck, just like that baby nhghh.” He let out a high pitched whine when you squeezed around his girth.

He was hitting all the right spots inside you. You had never been this full before. He pushed himself into your cervix with each trust at this angle. You quickly became dunk off of him too.

Too drunk to notice that he was already prematurely cumming into you with a loud cry. His seed inside you burned at your walls in such a good way. You couldn’t be bothered to listen to his overstimulated pleads begging for a break. Tears started to bundle down his cheek as his mouth hung open. His moans were silent now, painful. The pleasure of your walls was unimaginable. He couldn’t handle it. It was too much.

You moaned loudly against him when you came. It was such an intense orgasm you couldn’t help but to force yourself into his neck and bite him hard enough to draw blood.

You squeezed so hard around Bakugou that he blanked out. Stars filling his vision to match yours. And as soon as you’re done riding out your high, he cums everything he has left into you.

He practically shoves you off of his cock after he’s freed from his painful orgasm. He still twitches and shakes. He mumbled curses under his breath to calm his racing heart.

You lay down under the covers of his bed, dragging him with you down. He snuggles into your neck, hugging you so tight it hurts.

“You’re perfect.” He mumbles through pants. You give a kiss to his swollen bite, “I love you too, Katsuki.”

[lightseoul]

asymptōtos

synopsis. you needed him to meet you halfway. he couldn't.

cw. fem!reader, student-turned-worker!reader, busy prohero!katsuki, aged-up (~22 yrs old), established relationship, fluff, hurt/(may or may not have) comfort

word count. 5.8k words

The first time it happens, it leaves you more in a state of awe and adoration than worry and disappointment.

In your defense, you never thought you’d end up dating anyone in college, let alone during your very busy senior year marred by senioritis and thesis woes, but the universe decided it has other plans for you.

And so here you are, on your first date with the #2 Pro Hero, no less.

Of course, credit must be given where it is due. All of this wouldn’t have happened without the notorious meddler and your elementary best friend Ashido Mina, who took it upon herself to be Bakugou’s wing-woman during her housewarming party two weeks ago.

Not only did she serve as the pesky glue that resisted all of your attempts to stray away from Bakugou’s immediate circle, but she also later on confessed to having begged him not to delete your number that she not-so-sneakily saved in the man’s phone.

You got so embarrassed when you received your first text from him, imagining him being held at gunpoint by Mina just to send the darned message. You contemplated not replying to save the poor guy but decided against it. You’re glad you did, though, because he ended up surprising you with his responsiveness and consistency, resulting in daily texts until he finally asked you out on a date.

In a very roundabout way, too:

Maybe we can find out what the hell your problem is over dinner sometime.

Which brings you to the present, post-said dinner, seated on one of the benches in a park you’ve never heard of until now, admiring the view.

“I’ve never done this before.”

Your head whips to look at Bakugou, surprised at his sudden statement. Things have been silent since you left the sushi restaurant.

Well, until now.

“What—go out on a date?” you joke, meaning to lighten the mood.

At that, he visibly reddens, and looks away.

“Dumbass,” he mutters under his breath.

Shit.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “I just thought—you being you—you’d have far more experience than I have.”

You can see him hesitating before looking you right in the eyes, “Wow.”

“What?”

He shrugs, “This is the first time someone’s referred to my being ‘me’ as a compliment.”

“Really?”

He merely gives you a firm nod. You can tell he’s trying to be cool about it, despite how much vulnerability this topic is requiring out of him.

You sigh, shaking your head, “Well, that’s bullshit.”

His voice is quiet when he replies. “...Ya think so?”

“Yeah,” you smile at him, “I mean, I like you. Being Bakugou Katsuki should make you proud.”

You don’t realize the carelessness of your comment until you see his eyes widen in shock. Yours follow suit upon realization, “I mean–”

“Yeah–”

“I didn’t–”

He interrupts, “Don’t worry. I get what ya mean.”

You could only stare at each other in astonishment until you look away in embarrassment.

Fuck.

You’re about to change the subject in the hopes of clearing the air and replacing the awkward silence that has befallen the two of you when you feel a feather of a touch graze your pinky.

You hold your breath in anticipation—willing your palm’s sweat glands to magically close in case Bakugou’s making a move to hold your hand—but that’s when it happens.

A piercing wail echoes throughout the park, and you both rip your hands away from each other.

Embarrassed (Bakugou), confused (you), and alarmed (both), you whip your heads towards the source, only to find a crying kid and who seems to be his father crouched down, frantically shushing him.

You narrow your eyes, trying to figure out what’s the matter from your spot on the bench.

“Kid’s dumb cat got stuck in that tree,” Bakugou points with his right hand, and sure enough, an orange Tabby cat is perched comfortably on the sakura tree near where the kid and his father are standing.

How he managed to figure out the problem in a millisecond is beyond you, but you couldn’t spare a single moment to marvel at his hero senses because Bakugou’s now standing up, palms cracking with mini-explosions.

He sighs heavily, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was annoyed.

Whatever scowl he might’ve had on his face is schooled into a neutral expression when he turns back to tell you to give him a second.

You nod, too stunned to speak, and the explosions on his palms begin to heighten in degree. He starts toward the direction of the civilians, before hesitating in his steps.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head, back still turned towards you.

“...For the record,” he looks up to the cat still balanced expertly on the tree’s branches, possibly to avoid your gaze for what he’s about to say next.

“I like you, too.”

The second time it happens…is a bit different. It wasn’t like you weren’t aware this sort of thing was coming. On the contrary, you anticipated it, knowing full well what you were getting yourself into the moment you agreed to become Bakugou’s girlfriend.

But expecting and dress-rehearsing for pain doesn’t make it any less wounding once the actual thing does roll around.

It was your graduation day, and everything was going swimmingly. Bakugou got to officially introduce himself as your boyfriend to your parents while you were waiting for the ceremony to begin.

He didn’t want to admit it, but just by his body language alone, you could tell he was fucking nervous.

(Later on, during dinner, he’d whisper to you how he barely got any sleep the night before. Who was the one graduating between the two of you, again?)

Your parents’ reception of him was favorable, thanks to the briefer you gave them about his media presence not at all being an accurate depiction of the real thing. Your father tossed you a somewhat withering look after the encounter, but you chose to let it go. You weren’t going to let anyone rain on your parade today.

By all accounts, everything was going great. At the end of the program, everyone who you wanted to be present was there congratulating you, giving you bouquets of flowers, and taking pictures for remembrance’s sake.

After bidding goodbye to your college peers, you then headed to your favorite high-end restaurant to celebrate, where you sit now, listening in amusement as Bakugou gets grilled by your family and friends.

“So, Bakugou-san,” your mother continues, “what do you like about our Y/N?”

“Mom!”

Needless to say, you didn’t expect to be dragged into the grilling session.

Your mother only looks at you like you’re the one who’s lost your marbles. To your left, you can hear Bakugou snicker under his breath. You elbow his side in retaliation.

“What? You can’t expect me not to ask him that.”

“Yeah,” your cousin chimes in from the end of the elongated table, “we’re curious.”

You glare at her, “Shut it, C/N.”

“Y/N!,” your mother exclaims, “Don’t be rude.”

You could only pout in response while Bakugou clears his throat beside you, and you find yourself anticipating his response despite the circumstances.

“Well, she’s the most caring person I know,” he eyes you, and you can’t help but look away, feeling bashful under his gaze. “And is incredibly sharp, and she makes me feel understood and appreciated.”

Squeals and cheers erupt from the table, and you laugh in embarrassment at his words and everyone else’s reactions.

Bakugou pinches your thigh to catch your attention, “What?”

You snort, “You’re so cheesy.”

He smirks, “Says the one blushing.”

You don’t have the heart to tell him he’s sporting redness on his cheeks the same way he’s saying you are. You can’t help but grin in response.

The noise dies down upon hearing your father clear his throat, “Bakugou-san, what do you do for a living, again?”

You internally roll your eyes. On the outside, though, you look at Bakugou, who straightens his posture at your father’s questioning.

“I’m a Pro Hero, sir.”

Your father hums in acknowledgment, “You’re Pro Hero…Dynamight?”

“Yes, sir.”

Everyone’s silent as you watch the tense conversation unfold before you.

“You face a lot of danger in your line of work, then?”

Bakugou remains unwavering as he goes through the kind of questioning that would otherwise annoy him, “Yes, sir. But we’ve undergone extensive training and immersions to be able to handle them accordingly.”

This time, your father only grunts in reply, returning to his plate of Grilled Akita Beef Sirloin as if he hadn’t just interrogated a guy. In the corner of your eye, you see Bakugou deflate, from relief or disappointment, you can’t tell.

“Anyway, Bakugou-san,” your mother interjects in an attempt to salvage the conversation, “what’s it like having a job of a Pro Hero? Nobody in our family took that career path, you see.”

“Well, I—”

He barely gets two words out when All Might’s voice comes booming throughout the entire restaurant, and you see Bakugou lose his cool and scramble for his phone to turn it off. Everyone’s eyes are bugged out, probably reeling from the fact that the #2 Pro Hero has such a corny ringtone.

“Sorry,” he blurts out. You chance a peek at the caller ID, which reads ‘Deku’, and you look up to see the frustration in Bakugou’s eyes.

Despite yourself, a sense of worry settles in your stomach. Midoriya never calls Bakugou unless it’s something important, and he’d already been informed about Bakugou being MIA for tonight. Surely he’s not calling for nothing…

“Who was that?” Your mother asks.

Bakugou presses the lock button on his phone and pockets it. “Sorry—it was just a colleague,” he frowns, “I don’t know why they’re contacting me, I already filed a leave for today.”

“Well, if it’s nothing important, I guess we–”

The ringtone, once again, floods the entire room, but this time you urge him to take it as he tosses you and everyone else an apologetic look.

“Sorry. Please excuse me.”

With that, he stands up and heads towards the corner of the restaurant, leaving you with the rest of your family and friends in silence.

“He seems nice,” your cousin offers, and you shoot them a look of gratitude.

“Are you sure about him, Y/N?” your other cousin asks, and you can’t help but freeze upon hearing the question. “Dating a Pro Hero doesn’t seem like easy business.”

“I bet it isn’t,” your father adds gruffly.

You’re about to spit out the best defense in history when Bakugou rushes toward your side, although he doesn’t sit back down. You brace yourself for what’s about to come next.

“That was Pro Hero Deku—there’s been a sighting in the Chofu district of this high-profile villain we’ve been tracking down for weeks,” he fixes his gaze onto you, “And they need both top heroes on the field, ASAP.”

You spring onto your feet with no hesitation, “Okay, but be careful, Katsuki.”

He nods, “Of course.”

With that, he faces everyone else and bows, “I apologize for having to leave early. I hope you enjoy the rest of your meal.”

He doesn’t wait for their responses, attention now shifted back to you.

“Congratulations again, Y/N. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, forcing a smile on your face in the hopes of easing his worries. He bends down to kiss your forehead, shooting you an apologetic look before excusing himself for the last time and heading for the exit.

You hold onto that congenial smile plastered across your face as your eyes trace his disappearing figure. Once he’s gone, you go back to your seat and will yourself to meet the eyes of those around you.

You see the all-too-familiar worried look on your mother’s face, while your cousins and friends have their eyes down on their plates. Your father, on the other hand, has the same withering look he’s been wearing around you and Bakugou the entire day.

“I bet it isn’t,” your father mutters under his breath, but you heard him clearly.

The third time it happens, it hits closer to home than you expect it to.

After a flurry of important firsts with Bakugou, as well as major life changes that have gotten you breaking down more often than you’d like to admit, your birthday finally rolls around.

As you’ve gotten older, birthdays have indubitably become more mundane. Nevertheless, you went ahead and took the day off of your new job as recruitment personnel in Mirko’s agency, not to celebrate it in crazy ways but in the hopes of spending the entirety of it at home with Bakugou.

Ever since you landed your first job, time spent with your boyfriend has become more and more negligible, with schedule conflicts and inflexibilities of work commitments barring you from seeing each other.

Today was no different.

You wake up to the scent of Bakugou and his citrus body soap, who, as per your request, spent the night prior in your apartment. When you reach out to his side of the bed, though, you’re met with cold emptiness, and your heart sinks in disappointment upon the realization that he’d left.

You at least wanted a good morning kiss for your birthday.

Half awake and reaching blindly for your phone, you bring it up to eye level and check your messages.

It’s only 9:07 AM and your inbox is already flooded with greetings, but none of them is Bakugou’s. Instead, the one text message from him reads:

Hey. Sorry I had to leave early, got some agency-wide meeting Shitty-hair and I are presiding today or something. See you when I get home.

Despite yourself, you deflate at his lack of acknowledgment of your birthday. You shake your head, feeling the ugly emotion of hurt creeping up your spine. Instead, you choose to focus on the fact that he just called your apartment home. Besides, he’s probably just busy right now, you think to yourself. He’ll remember later.

He didn’t remember.

At least, as of 11:45 PM, he hasn’t.

You were still optimistic about things when the day started, going around the house—cleaning to soothe your racing mind, as well as opening the gifts your friends and family had sent to your apartment. By the time lunch rolled around, you had food delivered from your favorite restaurant, which you happily devoured while rewatching a comfort film.

Now and then, you’d thumb at your phone to check if Bakugou’s messaged you a greeting or an update, only to be met with messages and notifications that were the least of your concern.

You lost count of how many times you’ve sighed in discontent, restless for the moment he comes home and proves to you that he absolutely, positively, certainly, hasn’t forgotten.

But before you know it, it’s already 11:45 PM and he still hasn’t walked through your doorway—the last you’ve heard of him being the one text message he left you this morning.

You’re staring blankly at the dinner you’ve prepared for the two of you, devoid of any more expectations, when the door finally clicks open at 11:47 PM and he stumbles in, decked out in his hero costume and visibly exhausted.

“Oh, you’re still awake.”

He seems stunned to see you.

“Patrol went overtime,” he curtly explains as he toes off his boots, “I’m fucking beat.”

You only stare at him from your position on the couch, eyes following his figure as he marches towards the bedroom, possibly to wash off the day’s dirt and grime, barely sparing you a second glance.

“Hey, babe,” Bakugou calls out from the bedroom, who, from the sounds and smell of it, has already come out of the shower.

You hear a rustling noise, “What’s with all these fuckin’ wrappers? Is it your birthday or some shi–”

He falls silent as realization dawns on him, and you shut your eyes in dreadful anticipation. Earlier, when you were still fired up with the day’s anger, you thought you could handle this confrontation (if he ever realized what day it was), but you might’ve overestimated yourself.

Because now, you’re on the couch, hugging your knees and feeling completely pathetic as you hear his footsteps get closer and louder.

Suddenly, your face to face with Bakugou Katsuki, who’s kneeling to peer at you.

And he looks absolutely guilty.

“Y/N, I am so sorry—”

You shake your head. That shuts him up.

“I’m not in the mood for apologies, Katsuki,” you start, “I’m—I’m not mad at you for not having prepared or set aside anything.”

Swallowing the ball in your throat, you press on, “I know you have a lot on your plate right now, and I understand.”

He eagerly nods. You sniff to help hold back the tears that are threatening to spill out, and Bakugou’s hand shoots up to cradle your face in response.

You let him.

“I’m just…” you look down, unable to meet his eye, “disappointed, Katsuki.”

You will yourself to look at him again, “I figured you’d at least remember what today was.”

“Fuck,” he warbles, and now you’re both crying, “I’m sorry, princess. I…”

He trails off, and some twisted part of you is thankful for it. You already know what was going to come out of his mouth—either their staff was a pain in the ass today and he had to step in, or a villain came around to stir shit up, resulting in overtime and him not having the time or energy for anything else.

This way, he could spare both of you the excuses that have seemed to etch themselves onto the tapestry that is your relationship.

“Let me make it up to you,” he says instead.

You don’t know how he plans to do that, but at this point, you’re too tired and hurt to ask or fight back. You gingerly nod your head in agreement.

And with that, he lifts you and carries you into the bedroom, all the while trailing soft, almost hesitant, kisses at the expanse of your neck.

He lays you down gently on the bed, and he climbs on top of you, hovering, until he has his forearms at both sides of your head.

You find yourself melting under the intensity of his loving, albeit guilty gaze.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Bakugou whispers, before diving in for a scalding kiss.

And make it up to you, he did.

The day after your birthday, he files for a leave in his agency, as well as cashes in Mirko’s favor from when he saved her ass in a past mission together, successfully giving you an extra paid leave for the day.

He ends up taking you out to a fancy soba restaurant recommended by Todoroki, and to an exhibit you’ve been wanting to see for the longest time, but haven’t gotten around to due to the ungodly wait (thanks to his Pro Hero card, though, you were able to get special passes).

And, it was at the end of that art exhibit when Bakugou pulls you into a private room and tells you he loves you for the first time.

Needless to say, you were over the moon.

But as a great author once said, one can’t undo the pain one caused. One can only atone for it.

Despite yourself, a seed of unease takes shelter and grows inside of you.

The fourth time it happens, it finally escalates into a full-blown fight.

It was a Saturday night, and you were enjoying a nice, stay-in dinner with Bakugou in his penthouse. By some miracle, he was able to take the night off despite the busyness that came with December and the looming holiday season.

“Stop staring at me,” he had said while expertly chopping the assortment of vegetables you bought fresh from the market earlier that day.

You grinned at him, “Not my fault you look sexy when you’re cooking.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” he retorted, but there was no bite to it. If you knew any better, you’d say he was blushing. “Now come help me with this.”

And that, you did. More like fumbled around his luxurious kitchen while he took the lead, but you tried your best. Which brings you to now: you, seated across from Bakugou at his corner coffee table, overlooking the city skyline.

“Eat,” he commands.

You happily indulge him.

Scooping a spoonful of the imoni stew he graciously prepared for you, you bring it to your mouth, all the while not breaking eye contact.

“Mmmm!” you exclaim the second the flavors explode in your mouth, “this is so good!”

He only smirks in response, but you can tell he’s pleased with himself with the way his chest puffs up with pride, “Don’t talk with your mouth full, idiot.”

You giggle at how his words juxtapose the way his tone sounds so smitten. Hastily chewing the cabbage, you regard him after you swallow, “Right, you said you wanted to tell me something?”

At that, he visibly stiffens, and your stomach drops, feeling a shot of dread replace the elation that’s been coursing through your blood ever since the night began.

“Yeah,” he starts, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Yes?” you mentally slap yourself at how nervous you sounded.

He looks you dead in the eye, “And I think it’s about time we move in together.”

You can’t believe your ears.

That’s not what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

“You heard me,” he places his utensils back on the table, “Think about it, we’ve been dating for almost a year now, and my place is closer to the agency and Mirko’s.”

He shrugs, “And we rarely see each other these days. I figured we can solve that by having you move in with me.”

You try to laugh, but it comes out stilted, “Don’t get me wrong—I’d love to move in with you, Katsuki.” At that, he deflates in what you think is relief.

“But I have to ask—what prompted this? We’ve never talked about living together before.”

He looks down at his clenched fists on the table, and you can’t help how your body tenses in anticipation of the worst.

“This has nothing to do with asking you to move in with me,” he starts, “but there’s another thing I have to tell you.”

Your voice comes out meek when you reply, “What is it?”

“I got chosen to go on a very important solo mission.”

What’s the caveat? your mind immediately conjures the thought. Instead, you say, “Really? That’s awesome, Kats. Congratulations!”

He flashes you a grim smile, “Thanks.”

You force yourself to smile back, chuckling, “But?”

At your utterance of the three-letter word, he sighs, smile now erased from his face, “It’s overseas. Estimated to take about two months.”

You stay silent, just staring at him. He takes this as a sign to drop the last bomb.

“It starts next week.”

At that, you spring onto your feet, “Seriously? Do you even know what you’re gonna miss?”

He follows suit, “Of course! Shit—I’m not a fucking idiot,” he looks to the side in frustration, “I know, and I’m sorry, but this isn’t something I can just pass up.”

The snarky rebut of ‘It actually is’ dies in your throat when the fact of how much being the best matters to Bakugou crosses your mind.

“...But you promised me you’d spend the holidays with my family.” Your tone is quiet now, in stark contrast to earlier. You don’t even get started on the two-month absence.

He huffs, “I know. But I—”

“I’m sorry Katsuki,” you look down in shame, unwilling to look him in the eye, “and I know this is unfair of me, but I just can’t help but feel like you’re choosing your career over me.”

“But this mission could possibly make me number one,” he pleads, “Over shitty Deku, Y/N.”

You can practically hear the pain in his voice when he murmurs the next few words: “Number one.”

You shake your head in resignation—you know where this is going. You’ve gone through the motions of these arguments a hundred times before.

You’re fighting a losing battle.

“I know.”

At your quiet affirmation of his reasoning, Bakugou circles the table and wraps his arms around you, albeit cautiously. Tightening his hold on you, he whispers a soft thank you, and you feel your heart clenching in pain at how awkward and distant he feels despite being so close to you.

You have the urge to ask him if he only asked you to move in with him to soften the blow of what he was going to say next, but you hold your tongue. The last thing you want is for you to go on your separate ways for two months while in the middle of a fight.

You did end up going back to your hometown for the holidays, although with one less companion. Having to answer your family about Bakugou’s whereabouts was a huge pain, with you eventually resorting to terse responses the more times the question got reiterated.

Your family got so involved in the state of your relationship, with your father dropping I told you so’s ever so often that you finally decided you’ve had enough on the night of Christmas, and resolved to leave for Tokyō the next day.

You were planning to just spend the rest of the holidays in your apartment (you never got around to moving into Katsuki’s home), and wallow in your sadness over your relationship, but fortunately (or unfortunately), you ended up going out of your unit to spend New Year’s at Mina’s instead.

You note the profound role her persistence has played in your life.

Fast forward to now, with you having stepped out of the crowded party in her living room and onto the balcony, grateful for the cool, night breeze.

You hear the sliding door creak open behind you, and you don’t need to look over your shoulder to see who it is.

Footsteps pitter-patter against the floor until you find Mina standing there at your right, uncharacteristically quiet.

You don’t want to hear any comforting words about Bakugou’s absence, so you speak ahead, “Thanks, Mina.”

Her head whips to look at you, and she smiles warmly, “For what?”

“For inviting me to celebrate here,” you will yourself to smile back, “I think I needed this.”

She wraps an arm around your shoulders and squeezes you, “Of course. I—uh,”

She pauses, and you look over at her expectantly, “You what?”

She slowly lets you go and fully turns towards you, the ledge supporting her body weight as she leans into it. A serious expression now adorns her face.

“Just that…I’m not the one you should be thanking.”

You mirror her stance, facing her and narrowing your eyes, “What do you mean?”

She sighs, “Don’t tell him, but Bakugou’s actually the one who told me to check in on you.”

You take a step back from her in surprise (or hurt, you’re not sure—the emotions you’ve been feeling these days have been nothing but complex), but Mina’s quick to step forward and grab your hands, holding it in hers.

“He sounded really sorry about having to leave you alone for the holidays, you know.”

You feel the pinprick of tears at Mina’s words, bringing you to look down at your feet as a means of hiding your sadness from your best friend, even if you know that barely conceals how you’re feeling.

“Come here,” she ushers you in for a gentle embrace.

And you do.

You both stand there for what feels like an eternity, with her rubbing small circles on your back and you crying silently on her shoulder.

“He really loves you, you know,” she whispers, after a long pause, “Eiji and I have talked about it with the rest of our friends—we all agree how it’s practically clear as day.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and allow yourself to bask in the gravity of Mina’s words.

“I know.”

The fifth time it happens, you astound yourself with your lack of resistance.

While Bakugou was out in the US for his solo mission, you decided it was the perfect time to put in the extra effort in your own work.

Whether it was to make something of yourself or to distract yourself from the loneliness that came with Bakugou’s absence, it didn’t matter. The bottom line was you finally had something to work towards, and it felt good.

You’ve been eyeing this promotion to be the Recruitment Lead in Mirko’s hero agency for over three months now, with the deliberation process taking longer than you’d like, only for it to end with you falling short of the other candidate.

You clench your fists at the thought of having received the news earlier that day.

Insecure and dismayed, you’ve been waiting for Bakugou to come home so you can tell him about it. It’s gonna have to be a long story, seeing as you haven’t even gotten around to telling him about wanting the promotion in the first place. In anticipation of the conversation, you stocked up on his favorite snacks and drinks.

Finally, at 8:54 PM, you hear the lock open with a click.

You rush to the entryway of your now-shared home, and flash him an inviting smile, “Welcome home.”

He’s in his regular clothes, having stripped himself of the grime and dirt back in the agency. Good, you think to yourself, you’ll have more time with him like this.

You’re about to ask him if he’s eaten dinner and if he can spend the night talking when he practically, and unceremoniously, collapses on top of you.

You’re agile enough with your arms shooting up to help carry his body weight, clutching his waist and arm to keep you both steady.

“Katsuki?” you squeak.

He only burrows his nose in your neck and huffs, “I’m fuckin’ exhausted. Let’s go to bed, please?”

You can’t help but ache at the sight and sound of you Katsuki beaten to exhaustion like this. So, like the good partner that you are, you nod in affirmation and assist him as you walk to the bedroom, and help him out of his clothes until he’s left in nothing but his boxers.

Now lying on the bed and under the covers, he holds his arm out open for you.

His voice is low and rough: “C’mere.”

And you do.

You climb into bed next to him, settling into his side as a muscled arm drapes across your waist.

You look up at his face, and a part of you hopes his eyes are still open and twinkling with invitation.

For conversation. For intimacy.

For anything.

But you’re only met with the peaceful, sleeping face of your lover.

That was the fifth time it happened.

And the last.

“Is there any reason you dragged me out of my pajamas to come here at–,” he checks his phone, “8:14 PM?”

You ignore Bakugou’s incredulous question, choosing instead to look around the view of the park from the bench where you’re both seated.

You glance at him, all in his bedhead and glasses-wearing glory. He had a long day, as per usual, having arrived home thirty minutes after 7 PM, but you had to have this conversation sooner than later.

“You seriously don’t remember this place?”

“‘Course I do,” he says in a heartbeat. “This is where I took you out on your best first fucking date ever.”

You snort, “That was yours.”

He sits up and scowls at you, offended, “Fuck that shit. That was both of ours.”

You laugh, unable to tease him any longer, “It was. You even flexed your hero skills to me and all.”

He slinks back into the bench, huffing as he crosses his arms over his chest, “Damn straight.”

You roll your eyes, “Show off.”

He snickers, “Simp.”

You shake your head, trying to fight off the grin that’s spreading across your face. Now was not the time for flirty banter. Not with what you’re about to tell him…

“But really, though,” Bakugou pipes up after a few minutes of silence, “what’s up?”

You can tell he’s trying to sound more playful than he usually does. Still, there’s an air of tense anticipation surrounding the both of you, and it’s been there since you asked two weeks ago if he could clear out tonight’s schedule, as you had something important to say.

Here goes nothing.

You exhale, albeit quite shakily, and close your eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, Katsuki. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes flutter open to see him holding his breath, visibly on guard.

Bakugou’s smart. You’re sure he knows what you’re talking about, if not because of his intelligence but of the way he gulps nervously, no matter how imperceptible that was.

But he still retorts with, “You can’t do what anymore?”

You gesture vaguely at the distance between the two of you. That’s only been growing in the past few months.

“This. Us.”

You heave in a deep, shaky breath, refusing to look at him. He takes your hand into his.

“I can’t bear it anymore. Forcing you to choose between your hero work and me.”

You chance a glance at your Katsuki, and he’s staring at you, eyes brimming with tears and with such intensity that knocks your breath away.

Still, you march on. You have to get this out of your system before you chicken out.

“It hurts me to make you choose. Especially knowing how much you love what you do and how much you’re needed by other people.”

You try to swallow the lump in your throat, but you still end up choking, “But I need you, too, Kats.”

“And, I can’t keep on getting disappointed and hurt like this every time I don’t get chosen.”

At that, you finally let the tears you’ve been holding onto fall down your cheeks, “It’s all too much.”

A part of you still hoped he’d hop onto his feet in protest and beg for you to stay with him and proclaim how he’ll try harder, despite knowing, more or less, that no objections will pour out of his mouth.

True enough, Bakugou remains silent, like the tears that quietly drip down onto his clenched fists.

Because deep down, he knew.

He knew, from the very beginning.

Before he even decided to keep your number. Before he plucked up the courage to send you that first text. Before he sucked it up and asked you out on that first date.

He knew—that no matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t meet you halfway.

tagging. @katsukis1wife

extra credits. katsuki's first date line (tweet). quote about atonement.

[minniesmutt]

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☾ ━━━ CONTENT: PARTIAL NON-SEXUALNUDITY, MENTION OF TATTOO GUNS, MENTION CHANGBIN TOUCHING READERS BOOBS, TALK ABOUT SEX, TOXIC MAN, CURSING, MENTION SOCIAL MEDIA STALKING, SLUT SHAMING ☾ ━━━ WC: 1.5K ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog ☾ ━━━ a repost from my old blog

     It only took Changbin a couple of days to develop the design for his receptionist. He’d texted her the workup and got the approval. The two talked about a few other things regarding the tattoo, then it was just a matter of getting it done. The two decided to just get it done after closing one night. 

      So while she cleaned up the front end, he set up in his room, ensuring he had all his inks and supplies and everything. “Do you want me to close the register now Bin or wait?” Y/n called from the front

     “You can close it now. Your tattoos on me tonight,” Bin called back

     “You sure?” She asked

     “Yes. Hurry up, I’m waiting for you.”

     Y/n chuckled at him closed up the register and put the money away in the safe. She grabbed her phone and her water before walking into his room. He still had his speaker on and his usual playlist still playing lowly in the background as she sat on the table.

     Changbin smiled at her as he finished prepping the tattoo gun and laying it on the tray. “Ready?”

     “Tell me what to do boss.”

     “It’s a sternum so,” Changbin handed her a couple of nipple covers, “Just unhook your bra and put those on then roll up your shirt, then lay back on the table. Are you okay with me having to roll it up more if I have to?”

     “Yeah.” Y/n agreed

     Changbin turned his back to her to let her do what he asked while he double-checked everything again. Once she okayed him to turn around he got back to work, prepping the area and then applying the stencil and letting it still on the skin for a few minutes before carefully peeling it back, a temporary version of the design being left behind.

     “I’ll do a quick line so you can get a feel for it.” Changbin turned the gun on and dipped it in the ink, “and if you need a break, let me know.”

     He did a quick line and looked at her for confirmation. Y/n nodded and he went to work. Tracing the lines he’d laid out on her skin. “Why’d you choose sternum? It’s one of the more painful places.”

     “I like how the placement looks mostly. Plus it’s easy to hide too.”

     “Why are you planning to hide it?”

     “Talking to a guy and he’s cute but isn’t super into tattoos.”

     “Fuck him then.” Changbin chuckled

     “Yeah. Cute is the only thing he has going for him.” Y/n sighed

     “Tell me about him.”

     “You sure?” 

     “Yeah. We’re gonna be here a while, might as well talk.”

     “You’re right,” Y/n agreed, “we met on Tinder and we’ve had one date so far and I didn’t feel anything. He’s been calling me pet names and shit since the date too.”

     “You don’t sound too happy about it.”

     “It was fine at first but I’m starting to think that he thinks we’re together. He asked for my location earlier today too.”

      “You should stop seeing him in my opinion,” Bin said as he went for more ink before coming back. “He sounds very possessive of someone that’s not his.”

     “I mean, some possessiveness is fine with me, but I just feel… uncomfortable with it.”

     “What else has he done?”     “Followed all my friends on social media, and requested to follow my family whom I barely talk to anyway. I’m sure he’s stalking mine. It was a hassle to even go on a date with him because he kept canceling the day off with bullshit.”

     “Do you know the amount of red flags you just told me?” Changbin pulled the gun away from her skin and looked up at her

     “That’s what my friends say,” Y/n sighed

     “They are right,” Changbin went back to work, “Did you tell him about your tattoo.”

     “Told him I was getting one. Didn’t say it was my boss.”

     “Don’t think he would take it well that you’re male boss was giving you a tattoo.”

     “Yeah, especially with my tits out.”

     The two took a moment to chuckle before the comfortable silence came over them again and Changbin worked. Y/n listened to the music and the sound of the gun as he finished the center of the piece and moved to the ribs.

     “Do you want a break before we go over the ribs?”

     “Yes.” Changbin helped her sit up and handed her the water she brought in.

     “Why’d you start talking to him.” as he leaned on his elbows against the table

     “Bored and horny and he was the first person I matched with.”

     “Valid reason I guess. Is he good in bed at least?”

     “Hell no.” Y/n sipped on her water, “He didn’t even try to get me off. Nor did it even feel good.”

     “Tell him it’s not working out and block him,” Changbin said before they got back to tattooing. Only for her phone to ring.

     “Speak of the devil.” Y/n sighed after looking at the caller ID

     “Put it on speaker.” Changbin smiled.

     Y/n answered the phone call and put it on speaker, letting it rest on her chest, “Hey.”     “Hey baby,” the man on the other end said making Y/n roll her eyes, “Are you done yet? Wanna come over?” There was hope in his voice and a hint of slyness Changbin caught on to

     “Now you wanna hang out? When I have stuff going on?” Y/n asked

     “It’s not like you need to tattoo. It’s just gonna make you look trashy.”

     Changbin’s head shot up and looked at her. Was this guy serious? 

     “Why should I give a shit what you think about it? It’s on my body not yours.”

     “I bet the girl who’s doing it has a shitty design anyways. Just stop the appointment and come over.”

     “Y/n, are you okay if I move your breasts up more?” Was it evil of Changbin to speak? Maybe. But he’d heard this guy talk for less than five minutes and he was over him and his way of trashing his work.

     “Yeah, that’s fine.” And he did need to move her boob out of the way for a couple of lines.

     “Was that a guy? You’re letting a guy do your tattoo?! And why the hell is he having to touch your tits for it?”

     “Because he’s my boss and he offered to do it and it’s a sternumn tattoo. The design goes under my boobs.”

     “Wow. Didn’t realize you were such a whore Y/n. He probably chose the placement too. He’s probably trying to fuck you.”

     “First of all, I chose the placement for my tattoo. Second—”

     “So you are a whore. Am I not enough or something?”

     “Actually, yeah. You’re barely anything for me quite honesty. And for you to just accuse me of being a whore for getting a tattoo in a certain place, says a lot about your character. So fuck you Yu-jun. Don’t fucking contact me again, asshole.” Y/n hung up the phone, “Sorry Bin.”

     “No, I told you to put it on speaker. Don’t apologize.”

     “Still feel bad for fighting with him in front of you.”

     “Show me a picture of him so if he comes here I can punch him in the face for dissing my work.” The two laughed at the comment before continuing to work and just talking. Random topics came up and it took a few hours for Changbin to finish but by the end of the night, it was done and both were fairly satisfied with the design and its outcome.

     “I still feel like I should give you something for the tattoo,” Y/n said as he cleaned up the studio and she waited with her things on a stool off the side

     “How about a date then?” Changbin suggested as he tied up a trash bag

     “Did you tell me to stop talking to Yu-jun just so you could ask me out?” 

     “No, he’s an actual piece of shit. But, I am an oppurtunist.”

     Y/n smiled and giggled to herself a bit, “Alright. A date for a tattoo.”

     “Let’s head home. It’s getting late.” Changbin smiled and the two quickly took the trash out before turning all the lights off and locking up for the night. 

     Since Changbin and Y/n were always the last to leave at night, they usually walked to their cars together. Changbin had offered it her first shift and they’d been doing it ever since. He went over a bit of the tattoo aftercare as he walked her over to her car before they turned to their usual conversations of whatever the hell popped into their head at that time, usually clients and walk-ins that came about and were pissed that the very busy tattoo shop didn’t have any openings and was by appointment only.

     “Text me when you get home?” Bin asked as he opened her driver-side door for her

     “I will. Thank you for, everything tonight.”

     “You’re welcome.”

     Y/n got in her car and Changbin closed the door and walked to his car, waving goodbye to her as she started her car.

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[not-freyja]

For the director's cut, I would love to hear more about Legend's thought process and motivations once he met Hyrule in Adjuration! 🥰

Thank you for an actual scene selection everyone else had me pulling out a random number generator. Fucks sake. Love you guys. Also sorry this took like… a month, writing is hard.

This is going to be long. And though it might be analysis for chapter two, it will contain spoilers for the whole story.

Key: [quoted text in brackets] my analysis out if brackets.

[Time to deal with the strange Hylian. The same strange Hylian who came out of a now-vanished portal that also spat out a monster.

Link did not get this far in life by being the trusting sort.] Okay this sets the tone. Legend is immediately suspicious. He knows something fucky just happened, and that this person is involved.

[“So…” he says to the figure now sitting up on the ground. “Who the hell are you?”

There’s a faint mumble from the Hylain shaped pile of dirt at his feet.

Link sighs. “You need to speak up a bit.”

“I’m…” the kid's voice is raspy, as if he hasn’t used it in a while. He coughs, trying again. It’s a bit better this time.] Crying in Rulie-loving sorrow. This boy has such a hard life. I wanted to make sure the readers understood that without rubbing it in. I also wanted to make it clear that Legend was noticing these things. [“I’m no one. Just a traveler.”] Nick name establishment. Also secret world-building. I have so many thoughts about the world-building of each of their eras. And I was holding myself back chomping at the bit not to pull a Tolkien and overshare.

[“Bullshit.”

The kid’s eyes go wide. “No, really!” There’s an almost raw edge of panic to his voice now, and Link almost feels bad. “I’m not anybody important, I’m just passing through. I’ll be on my way now, thank you for the help.] They have known each other for about two minutes and Legend is already aware of a few things. This kid is involved with some kind of Dark Magic, he’s on the run, and he does not want to reveal his identity. This is ringing some trauma bells for Leggy. He is seeing himself, and he is getting sympathetic.

[And before Link can so much as laugh at such a pathetic attempt at a lie (and it is a lie, he’s been on enough quests to be able to tell a nobody from a somebody) the traveler scrambles to his feet.] Little meta joke here. We the player, we the reader can tell an NPC from a main character. Legend, who thinks in meta terms, can too.

[The thing is, Link is retired. He’s put in the work, done his time. He’s spilled enough blood and lost enough of his life to goddesses and princesses and lost wayward souls that this is the point in the story where he wants to take the guy at his word.] So… Link. Not Legend. Link. He is so tired, and so done. Its been four lifetimes of misery and he is done, thank you. [Link wants to shrug, turn around, and continue on his way home. He wants to turn and run through the woods, back to his house and slide the bolt in the door and have Ravio tell anyone who comes calling that the hero] This is the only time that Legend thinks of “hero” in the general lowercase noun and not “Hero” as a proper noun. Why? Well because a hero would do such a thing as to hide from a quest. A Hero would not. [is not home because he is not going to be answering any more calls to greatness. There will not be one more quest.] oh buddy. *sobs* Rulie’s “got one more in me” later down the road as the direct foil to this thought. Rulie’s death is the catalyst for the rest of Legend’s character arc, like his entrance into Legend’s life is the catalyst for the plot.

[He’s retired, by the Three.] Yeah man keep telling yourself that.

[But right before he can do just what it is he wants, the stranger goes to leave first. And the poor thing takes one step, yelps like a kicked dog, and crumples back to the forest floor.

“Fuck.” Link can’t help the curse] The sympathy is now at a boiling point. Legend cannot help but care. Cannot help but try to help. [and he strides forward, towards the kid, away from home.] OKAY so the “away from home” bit is both directionally in the scene and narratively in the plot. [It’s only a few steps, but it’s the wrong way, and Link has done this enough times by now to know that it really is those first few steps that count.

Those are the ones that you can’t take back. The ones that all the rest come after.

Link takes them anyway.] I can’t even start with this part. The repeated theme of Legend “going the wrong way” of him doing the dangerothing anyway, despite his well-earned survival instincts. I… listen, Legend was suicidal. From day one. He knows he can’t undo this. He knows that another quest will probably get him killed. He does it anyway.

[“Hey, easy there,” he all but whispers, dropping to his knees next to the filthy kid. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay, Traveler?”

Big eyes stare up at him. They are full of fear and distrust, and a painful glint of hope. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Link sighs, takes another deep breath. “Is it your leg?”

That gets a weird combination of a nod and a shrug. “Ankle, actually.” The kid smiles at him. And it really is a nice smile, soft, and a bit shy. “I got my foot twisted under a tree root.”

He can’t help but wince because, yeah, been there. “Well that’s not too bad then.” Link grins. “A brace, a red potion, and a few days rest, and you’ll be good as new.”

The traveler nods, some of the stress seeming to bleed out of his shoulders. “That’s what I thought too. Thanks.” He pauses, gulps before continuing. “Thank you for handling the moblin for me. I… I’m not at my best right now.”] This whole section is about deepening the sympathy. He is looking at Rulie amd seeing his younger self (I have Rulie at 16 and Legend at 20) and he just wants to help. (Time: “Let me help.”)

[“No need to thank me.” Link’s smile, previously genuine, turns bitter. “That’s what heroes do.”

Just as he was starting to loosen up, the stranger tenses again, every muscle going taut as a bowstring.] So they have different reasons for the same action (getting tense). Legend is a ball of angst. Hyrule is afraid if being recognized.

[“You alright?”

“...What do you mean ‘hero?’”

And that tone of voice right there? Suspicious and untrusting? Waiting for the other shoe to drop? Link knows that tone of voice. He uses that tone of voice on the daily. He loves that tone of voice. But only when it’s coming from him. Out of another mouth, it just sounds sad.] Here Legend is an inch away from self awareness. So close. But more importantly, his recognition if the self in Rulie is getting even stronger. Every moment is another moment that they are more alike in Legend’s eyes.

[But hey, in for a green rupee, in for a gold.] LOL.

[“That would be me,” he says with his most winning smile. “Link, Hero of Legend, savior of Hyrule, chosen by the Goddess… you get the gist.”] Here I have Legend give the titles of three out of five Heroes that Link will be. Chosen, Legend, and Hyrule. This was foreshadowing no one noticed because why the fuck would you? What I did to this boy was unhinged no one saw that coming.

[And the kid just stares.

And stares.

And stares some more.] Me too buddy. Legend is so pretty.

[This is getting ridiculous. Link shakes his head. “Listen, I’m not really in the market for any missions, or quests, divine or otherwise. Firmly out of the whole kingdom-saving business. And the princess-saving gig as well. So why don’t you just tell me where you’re heading, and I’ll make sure you get to the nearest town in the right direction in one piece and we’ll call it even?”] Last attempt to avoid the situation, and he is still trying to help. What a dumb bitch.

[Those deep green eyes staring up at him suddenly roll back, and the boy goes limp.] Baby boy! Also the green here. Yes it is Rulie’s eye color. But it os also Ravio’s eye color, and every single detail Legend notices about this kid gets him more attached.

[“Well, shit.” Link grumbles, running a hand through his hair. What could have been an hour-long detour on his day is now a problem with a capital P. Because as much as he might want to, Link isn’t actually capable of abandoning some poor homeless-looking teenager in the middle of the woods. Especially not one who fainted at the sound of Link’s name.

That thought makes Link pause. Did he faint? A monster was chasing him, it could be blood loss. It could be more than just his ankle.] Standard worrying here. He feels responsible for this kid now.

[He reaches out tentatively with a small brush of magic and almost sighs in relief.] OKAY BIG MISTAKE. Rulie is the Triforce. Legend loves the Triforce. And the Triforce loves Legend. They magically harmonized here. Imprinted. Zinged. From this moment on they were both attached. [The issue is clear now. There’s an empty well where the kid’s natural magic should be, almost drained but nowhere near dangerously so. The fainting wasn’t about Link at all, it was the adrenaline fading off and the strain the poor kid’s body was under finally catching him.

The memory of that strange portal flares in his mind. That incident coupled with this guy being certifiably drained of magic after falling through makes Link realize a couple of things real quick.] Smart Leggy. Good Leggy.

[First, this kid probably made that portal. Second, he came through it as a last-ditch resort. He was running from something, or someone. Third, this poor Hylian has a lot of magic at his disposal (not only did he make a stable portal but he and a moblin went through it before it collapsed), magic that still pushes out in a wave, nauseatingly strong despite its low levels.] Bitch that’s the fucking Triforce.

[Link is almost afraid to learn how much the kid will have after he recharges.] Again, the Triforce.

Now to fast forward about three paragraphs, because while I like those paragraphs very much they can be entirely summarized as: Legend is so suicidal. How did none of you notice?

[One arm slides under bony knees, the other behind the prone Hylian’s back. Nayru’s tears, he won’t even need a power bracelet for this, he’s so thin.] So… I’m not crying, you’re crying. Their first moment together perfectly mirrors their last, and that is fine, that is so fine. Nothing is wrong here, I am okay.

[The Hero rises, an unconscious stranger held delicately in his arms.] Here we go. The pivot to Hero as a proper noun. The acceptance of the call. The attachment is personal and magical, and our journey begins with Legend carrying Rulie to safety, when he knows it will kill him. (And kind of hoping that it does.)

…this is a loop. The beginning is the end.

[heuhuewaves]

is it casual now?

this fic is for the @harringrovesummerbingo 2024 event!

prompt: B1 "sitting in the dark"

summary: billy is forced to stick next to steve during a storm.

content warnings: internalized homophobia, angst, mentions of smut, casual by chappel roan inspiration

word count: 1.3k

Not enough light. Not enough space. Too much to say.

That’s all Billy could think of. He didn’t really plan to be stuck in Scoops Ahoy. Especially not with the boy who he considered to have broken his heart. Steve was the last person he wanted to be stuck with. But it’s not like he could just get up and leave. The summer rain was no joke and didn’t look like it was stopping any time soon. So getting into the camaro and driving as far away as possible from this was out of the question. 

Somehow the brunette had convinced Billy to stay with him at the shop. Of course he had feelings for Steve, regardless of the fucked up shit he had done. 

So yes, Billy had agreed to huddle behind the ice cream counter with nothing but a flashlight pointed at the ceiling. At least it gave them some form of light.

“This thing should last us about an hour. We can go from there once it dies.” Steve announced as he took a seat next to Billy.  The blonde distanced himself, scooting over a few inches. Steve sighed out of irritation. It was almost a play by play of the night Steve called things off. Billy knew that they couldn’t be together. Especially not in the middle of nowhere, Indiana.

People just wouldn’t understand.

“Really?” Was all Steve said in response to Billy’s choice of personal space.

“Yes, really.”  Billy said as he continued to do anything but look at the other boy in the face. He couldn’t understand how Steve could be so nonchalant about what happened between them. They shared intimacy together. Billy met Steve’s parents the one time they were actually home, as a friend of course. It still counted to Billy as much as it would’ve been if Steve actually told his parents the truth.

“Yes mom and dad this is Billy. Sometimes I let him Fuck me on your guys’ couch. No big deal.”

In Billy’s mind, it didn’t feel that hard to have to admit. The other half of his mind was telling him the opposite. If he would’ve said something like that Neil, he would’ve gotten a black eye. He somewhat understood. If only that were enough to mend the heartbreak he had felt for the past few months. 

Steve sighed again before speaking once more. “This petty bullshit is dumb Billy. We graduated a month ago and you’re still acting like a little fucking kid. You can’t keep dealing with all your problems by shutting people out.” Steve would say that was one of the main reasons why he cut Billy off. Anytime he got mad and Harrington attempted to talk to him about it, it was impossible to hold a single conversation without Billy lashing out.

Ok, what the fuck do you know? Was all Billy could think of in response. Of course he didn’t say it out loud. Steve didn’t deserve a response in his mind anyway. 

A few moments passed with silence. The striking sound of thunder from the outside made Steve jump up from his slumped position. He hated loud noises. He could barely stand the sound of the engine of Billy’s camaro. 

Hargrove was laughing at the tensing of the brunette’s  body.

“What’s so fuckin’ funny?” Steve asked with frustration.

Billy continued to laugh as he swept some of his mullet out of his face.“There’s no one else in the store so… that only leaves one person left.” 

“Figures you’d only wanna talk to me when it’s to put me down.” Harrington rolled his eyes.

“You did the same shit to me dude. Don’t get mad about it now.” 

Both of the boys were now staring each other in the eyes. Anger filling both pairs. Neither of them planned on backing down from each other. 

The clash of the titans was imminent at this point.

“God you’re so sensitive hargrove.” 

“I'm sensitive? Yeah, ok.”

“Yeah you are.” Steve started up again, riled up. “You’re a crybaby who can’t take rejection, or reality for that matter! We had something casual once. That’s it. It meant nothing.” 

“Me making you cum on yourself isn’t casual Steve.” Billy said in a much calmer tone than the other boy. It even took him by surprise. He was the last person to be rational and keep his cool during situations like this.

Maybe the heartache was making him numb to all of this.

Steve ultimately knew that the blonde had a point. But there was no way they would survive together. Living a double life wasn’t for Steve. Hooking up with a guy behind his girlfriend’s back and then hooking up with said girlfriend right after was mentally draining.

He just wished Billy would understand that.

Steve ran his hands through his hair, forming the words and putting them together. “I can’t do this double life shit dude. My parents.” Harrington paused. When Steve said parents, he mostly meant his dad. He was pretty sure his mom couldn’t care less. His dad would never live with a queer as a son. 

His words, not Steve’s.

“My parents would kill me. I would lose everything.”

All Billy could hear was excuses. 

“We’re fucking 18 years old. You don’t have shit to lose.” Billy snapped back. Steve looked down to the floor they were sitting on. “You knew what you were getting into when you decided to kiss me for the first time. That was your choice Steve, not mine. Stop blaming the fact that you can’t accept who you are on me.” 

Then it went quiet. Billy crossed his arms and Steve began to scratch the back of his head. Both of them had seemingly spoken their minds. As if knowing this, the mall lights began to power back on. 

The buzz of the luminents began to surround the room. 

Billy could finally get up and set himself free.

But for whatever reason, he didn’t. He stayed put. 

Then there was the eye contact again. Both of the boys were diving into each other’s eyes. Just like how they used to at the beginning of the school year.

Billy ultimately knew he had to get away.

“I need to get going-” As he attempted to get up, Steve grabbed his arm. The grip was hard, but it had a different energy to it. He wanted the blonde to say.

“I don’t know what I’m so afraid of.” Was all Steve said before he pulled Billy back to the ground and into a kiss. 

It was unexpected and contradictory. Billy didn’t know how the brunette could tell him one thing and then do the exact opposite.

The kiss was passionate. Steve brushed the curls of Billy’s mullet as they continued to share saliva. 

Then it hit Hargrove. 

He shouldn’t be doing this. This is exactly how he got hurt the first time. Steve was brushing through his hair the same way he always did. Kissing him the same way he did after they made love. If he let him do this again, it was only imminent before his heart would be broken once more.

Billy broke the kiss and got up swiftly as he wiped his lips.

“We can’t. You know we can’t. I can’t get fucked over again.” Steve only looked at him with upturned brows and apologetic eyes. 

Billy let out a sigh and made his way from behind the counter to the exit of the store.

Steve sat in the same spot, running his hands through his hair again. 

Now that Hargrove was walking out of his life for good, there's nothing more he wanted than for him to be in his arms.

[hongtiddiez]

last twilight ep 10 thoughts, feelings, etc

back at it again at the krispy kreme friends. i cried this episode for so, so many different reasons. i'll also show you guys my raw reactions at the end of this, the insanity you guys don't see because i want you to respect me a little.

i didn't make one of these last week because i felt like that episode didn't need any words. some things you just need to feel and to talk about them cheapens what it truly is. that's not to say i didn't absolutely love everyone's posts and meta, i just thought anything i had to say could be felt in the episode itself and i didn't need to fumble my way through it.

Day is so at peace with what is going on and it's so beautiful to see, but the fact that he has to comfort his mother, that she's held onto this delusion that magically everything is going to be okay, is pretty irksome. she's had bare minimum a year, i think nearly two at this point, to accept the truth and she just hasn't and now it's biting her in the ass. but once again, this is something so realistic. i literally JUST dealt with this myself with my mother-in-law in October. once again P'Aof captures the truth of people and our natures.

and it's no wonder things have been so strained between Day and Night. she constantly forces Night to be Day's jailer, to escort him to his cell because the warden said so. it's a horrible position for her to put Night in and it's no wonder he feels so alone and abandoned by his family. it's no wonder Day resents him. Night is trying so hard to make them both love him again and he's been trapped in the middle of a war of attrition and paying penance for something that is in no way shape or form his fault. and then to later learn she HAS blamed Night? it's a horrible situation for him to be in, something he never deserved.

this was so sexy of Mhok, as most things are. you should have been there. it should have been you doing that for your SON. you should have taken the time to be there for him, to see that sight with him, to give him what he wants. but you weren't. you never are.

Day's mom stresses about Day's safety but safety is about so much more than a physical state of being. Mhok has done so much to ensure Day's mental safety and well being, he's done so much to improve Day's every day life. but that doesn't matter to her because she always refused to acknowledge things had gotten that bad. in another life Day never met Mhok and i wonder if things took a dark turn. i don't think Day was on a good trajectory.

here we reach bunn cries phase 1. i was so worried here that Mhok meant their entire relationship but i'm glad to see he just meant this chapter. they've started a new book together; no longer one about a caretaker and his charge but a man and his lover. what a gorgeous way to convey that journey. P'Aof i love you, do you know?

Night, i know i wasn't sure about you for a long time but you've really become one of my favorite people this episode. even Night can see his mom taking away Day's agency, can see her taking away everything Day has become this last year. he doesn't want his brother to disappear again, he just got him back.

god Day's bravery here. he's become so confident, so self assured, because Mhok taught him that he could be, that his blindness didn't make him weak. i know i say it every week lately but i'm so PROUD.

FINALLY SOMEONE SAYS IT. the way she took his phone away INFURIATED ME. you're taking away an important tool of freedom and agency from your FULL GROWN ADULT SON. where the fuck do you get off? and talking about doing things her way under her roof. if it was me i would be out of that house so fucking fast, staying with literally anyone else. the tragic thing is Day doesn't have that option. his disability has left him a victim of his mom's bullshit, given her a huge way to control him. it's disgusting, i'm sorry. i've tried to give her the benefit of the doubt for so long but she went way, way too far this episode.

even Night is sick of her shit and knows this is fucked up. Night once again i'm so sorry i doubted you. he knows how good Mhok is for Day and how good they are for each other. Mhok has only ever been kind to Night and i think that has gone a long way in Night's defense of him as well - not that i think he wouldn't have done it without that but i certainly think it has helped.

and what a fucking breakthrough this was. Day once again telling someone 'i see you.' Day is so good at seeing people once he lets go of his preconceived notions an biases. i can't imagine what a relief this was to Night to know it wasn't just his perception of the situation but something other people see and acknowledge. and he brushes it off, says it's because Day's a crying baby, but they both know that's not all of it.

bunn cries phase 2 is here. i BURST into ugly tears at this moment. it wouldn't be bunn meta if i didn't share a personal anecdote so here we go.

ANECDOTE START ->

i mentioned in my last post, prior to episode 9, that my dad was shit. i'm talking had me, an infant, in the middle of a meth den, in the middle of a raid level of bad. one of my earliest memories is a police officer kneeling down and talking to me while i colored in a coloring book and they searched the apartment. (my mom had no idea until a few years ago when a family friend shared this story. he protected me, thank fucking god.) my real dad went on to get clean (as far as i know) but was emotionally abusive among a whole slew of other issues.

when i was two years old my stepdad came into my life. he would've been just 27 at the time. he fell in love with my mom but wasn't sure if he wanted the responsibility of a kid. my mom said okay and broke up with him. they spent months miserable without each other (they've both told me their sides of this story) until my dad said okay, i can do this, and came back. and you know what? he was amazing. he didn't always get it right but he tried. he stayed up and read me The Hobbit and did silly voices for the dwarves and sang the songs and tucked me into bed and he loved me. (we have matching tattoos from that exact copy of The Hobbit, which i still have tucked away safe.)

we butt heads SO MUCH my teenage years. he had a temper and i was depressed and angry and dealing with so much teenage bullshit. but he still took me to breakfast every sunday, just the two of us, and we'd go see movies together. sundays were our day. he always called me his kid and people joked that somehow magically my mom had his kid before even meeting him. we even look alike. we have all the same tastes.

now as an adult we get along really well. (we still butt heads but it's bc we're exactly alike.) he and my mom have been together almost 30 years. he recently came into my office, a little tipsy, and hugged me and spent almost an entire hour telling me how much he loves me, how proud he is of me, how grateful he is that he had me as his kid, how having me is better than any blood child they could've had. (they tried for years but my parents were never able to have any kids.)

<- ANECDOTE END

some of the best family in the world is those that choose to be your family. i was never his responsibility, not really, but he put everything into being my dad. from just this little statement from Night i see so much of my dad in this moment and i couldn't fucking take it.

Night, i love you. i love you so much. he says it so effortlessly, so confidently. what a man.

so i acknowledge here that their mother is finally starting to get it. she's starting to get things right. she even makes Night's favorite food and makes sure he knows he's loved. she takes the time to try and understand Day, to blindfold herself like Mhok did, etc. and i acknowledge it takes people their own time to come to terms with things, to accept things, and maybe her journey of acceptance was a little longer than others.

however.

this scene shows that she always had the option to cancel. she could have always done this for Day. she could have been there. she could have taken him to the mountain and seen the sunset with him. i have to wonder if Mhok's comment really got to her, i have to believe it did. i think she finally realized that she can no longer be the one that's blind. she has to see reality. it's a big step for her and i'm happy but i'm still so annoyed it took this long for it to happen. but hey - parents fuck up. they do. they fuck us up, even if they don't mean to. once again it's something very, very real from P'Aof, even if i don't like it.

my first knee jerk reaction to this moment was wow, she's infantilizing Day again, but then i sat and really thought about it. in the context of this moment, i think this is okay. sometimes it's just nice to be cared for and Day seems completely receptive to it. fuck, i'm 31 and sometimes i just go curl up with my mom and let her pet my hair, sometimes she makes me my favorite food because she knows i had a bad day, sometimes she babies me a little because she knows i'm having a bad day with my disability.

not everything is infantilization. sometimes it's love and care, the only way they know how. sometimes all you want is a parent's familiar love from years ago. so in the context of everything, i think this was a really nice moment to see, Day taking comfort in his mom's love again.

and despite everything Day still managed to see Mhok, to show him he cares, he thought of him, and wouldn't leave him alone. and then he gives him an oven mitt he made himself, he painted himself, because Mhok took him to learn to paint without his sight. they're so fucking beautiful, so kind and gentle and loving to each other. they're so fucking considerate. Day says you're my sun, i believe in you, i'm proud of you, i support you all in one seemingly simple gift.

i'm reserving my thoughts from the preview for next week but i highly doubt things are going to turn out the way they seem to be teasing. i'll wait to see what happens.

as always thank you so much for reading my rambling bullshit. smooches, take care of yourselves, drink water, take your meds, eat something.

tag loves: @nutcasewithaknife @benkaaoi @callipigio @infinitelyprecious

oh yeah here are my raw reactions before i take the time to really think about everything i've watched.

[karahalloway]

Morally Grey - Part III: Russian Roulette

Fandom: TRR x Mission: Impossible II

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Morally Grey

Synopsis: Things continue to heat up between Harper and Drake...

Word count: 3,500

Rating/Warnings: E (swearing, multiple lemon-scented moments)

Chapter theme song:

A/N1: I know I haven't posted anything in over a month (life has been way too busy!) but in the few moments of spare time that I have managed to eek out, my brain decided that this is the series that it wants to focus on, so here is Part 3.

A/N2: Unlike previous parts, are no YouTube clips for this part - the movie skips over whatever happens between the car chase scene and Ethan and Nyah waking up in bed together the following evening, so I took Harper and Drake's lead to fill the time gap.

"I haven't...forgiven you," I gasp against his lips, even as I find myself yielding to the direction of his hands.

"This ain't an apology," he replies, tipping my head to the side so he can coast his tongue down my jaw.

My eyes shudder shut as the scrape of his stubble across the sensitive skin of my throat leaves me breathless.

Damn, he's an arrogant ass...

But I can't deny that I want to fuck him.

Whether it's because of my oh-so-close brush death... or because I'm still pissed at him and I need an outlet for the messy cocktail of emotions burning inside of me... or some kind of twisted combination of the two, the end result is the same. My brain is a mess and my body is on fire.

Which means I need to break this off now, before things become dangerously complicated between us.

"Good," I tell him, pulling abruptly away. "We're on the same page, then."

His eyes widen as I grab onto his shoulders to swing myself off his lap. "The hell—?"

"Nice knowing you, Walker," I throw over my shoulder as I shunt myself across to the other side of the car.

He grabs my wrist. "You said you'd listen."

"No," I correct. "I didn't."

He cusses under his breath as I twist away. "Look, will you just hold on, for one second, and—?"

"And what?" I interject testily, hoisting myself up onto the doorframe. "Give you yet another chance to con me? No thanks."

"You wanna be mad at me?" he grits. "Fine. Be mad. But don't pretend that's a good reason to walk away."

"Funny," I snark, swinging my legs into the Porsche. "It's working surprisingly well for me so far."

"Until you find yourself backed into a corner..."

I freeze mid-motion.

"You're on Interpol's wanted list," he reminds me. "And that kind of heat is hard to shake. Even if you decide to lie low for a while, or full-on retire, you're not getting a free pass. Not without help, anyway."

"Why should I believe you?" I snap through gritted teeth, hating the indecision raging inside of me.

"Honestly? 'Cause you ain't got a choice," he huffs. "And I know you got no reason to trust me right now. Hell, I wouldn't trust me either. But I'm in a bind, and my offer's legit. So, as far as get-out-of-jail-free cards go, you'll be hard-pressed to find a better one."

I glare out into the night. Damn it, why does he have to be so right?

On one hand, logic — and experience — tells me that I should steer clear of gift horses that seem too good to be true, as they invariably have rotten teeth.

And yet, in spite of every rational inclination, I want to trust him... I want to give into him.

As behind the somewhat gruff exterior and annoyingly pushy attitude, there is a certain frankness to him. I mean, he could've bullshitted me over the alarm, or even fed me to the wolves for kicks... but he didn't. Which makes me want to think that he has some measure of integrity.

But I've been wrong about guys before...

"Fine," I declare abrasively, wiping the wetness from my face. "I'll help you. But I want that offer in writing."

"Done," he accedes, the sudden warmth of his breath lapping the shell of my ear.

Whipping around, I find myself nose to nose with him, his hands splayed on the Mercedes' doorframe on either side of me, as if our renewed proximity somehow serves to seal the deal.

But he's wrong if he thinks he's won this round.

"And you owe me a necklace," I add, lifting my chin.

A scoff escapes him, tickling my lips. "Fuck me, you're demanding..."

I shrug up at him. "You wouldn't have chased after me if I wasn't."

He regards me for a long moment, his jaw working.

I force myself to hold his gaze, even as I feel the latent embers left by that kiss start to smoulder again under the weight of the prolonged contact.

He breaks off first. "I'll see what I can do."

A relieved breath rushes out of me.

I have no idea whether he'll come through for me on either front. But a long career in larceny has taught me to aim high, and always have a back-up plan in my pocket.

And of things don't work out...? Well, I guess I'll just have to pawn that expensive watch of his.

"Great...!" I chirp, fully conscious of the bare modicum of space between us. "So, what's the job?"

"No clue," he admits, finally backing off to slip past me into the Porsche.

My jaw drops. "What do you mean you don't know! You came all this way to set me up and you don't even—?"

"Trust me," he grumbles, sliding into the driver's seat. "I'm well aware. But my brief was to locate you first, and then report in to get the rest of the details."

"And you follow your assignments to the letter..." I surmise with a sidelong look as I plop down into the passenger seat next to him.

He scoffs wryly as he flips the engine over. "Very rarely."

Yanking the wheel hard to the right, he rams the gas pedal down to detach his car from mine with an ear-splitting screech of metal, taking the Mercedes' wing mirror off in the process.

Swerving out into the middle of the bridge, he guns the Porsche into the night, leaving the carnage behind us to dust.

"You always drive like a maniac?" I shout over the whip of the wind.

He slants me a deadpan look. "I'm not the one who almost ended up in the river..."

I roll my eyes at him. "Where are we meeting this guy?"

"Stormholt," he replies, punching some coordinates into the Spyder's navigation system. "But it ain't a joint exercise."

"Why?" I counter with an arched brow. "You don't trust me?"

"Not one bit," he grins.

I can't help but laugh. "How do you know I won't skip out on you, then?"

"I don't," he admits, meeting my eye across the width of the car. "But I'm hoping I've given you enough reason to stay."

I glance quickly away before he notices the sudden colour spreading across my cheeks. "But...umm... Why me?"

"You came highly recommended."

"By whom?"

"By my agency."

My brows furrow. "I didn't think the CIA kept tabs on common thieves."

"I don't work for the CIA."

"Then...?"

"I'm an agent with IMF."

I nearly choke. "IMF?"

"Impossible Missions Force," he clarifies.

"You can't be serious..." I blurt.

Luckily, he mistakes my disbelief for confusion as he says, "Hey, I didn't come up with the name. But at least it's accurate."

"If you say so," I mutter, sinking deeper into the seat and wrapping my arms around myself.

This can't be a coincidence... Can it?

"Here," he says, shrugging out of his suit jacket while managing to keep the Porsche tracking steady with just his knees against the steering wheel at over 80 mph.

I shake my head. "I don't—"

He cuts off my protest with an impeccably aimed toss, landing the jacket square in my lap. "It's a long drive. And the adrenaline will be wearing off now."

As if on cue, a shiver runs over my skin. Heaving a begrudging sigh, I set about pulling the jacket on. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," he murmurs, grabbing hold of the wheel again.

I can feel the heat of his mocha gaze on me, but I make a point of not meeting it as I busy myself with turning the lapels up and tugging the front closed around myself to keep the midnight chill at bay.

As regardless of the one too many ways we've found ourselves up close and personal over the past hour, this is now a transactional relationship — pure and simple. So, I'm not going to indulge him with anything beyond that. It's a bad idea to play Russian roulette, and I have no intention of becoming physically (...much less emotionally!) entangled with someone who holds the keys to my proverbial release.

Making myself comfortable — albeit at the expense of now being scent-marked by the lingering spice of his aftershave, which I force myself to ignore — I let my focus drift over the shadowy forms outside the car as they zip past us on our way back down to the capital, wondering if I've just backed myself into the very corner that he warned me about.

But, I must have dozed off at some point, for the next thing I know, I am being shaken gently awake.

"Harper..."

Opening my eyes groggily, I find Dallas — Drake — looking at me with that impenetrable gaze of his.

I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Where are we?"

"At a safe house," he replies, unclipping the seatbelt he had apparently pulled over me at some point while I was passed out. "Not far from the marina."

"What time is it?" I ask, stifling a yawn.

"Still early," he advises, exiting the Porsche, the slam of his door echoing across the exposed concrete of the underground garage he had parked us in.

Arriving at the other side of the car, he pulls the door open for me and holds out his hand.

Ignoring the offer of assistance, I swing my legs out to push myself up to standing on slightly wobbly feet, my body still in the process of shaking off the vestiges of sleep.

"You good?" he asks, peering down at me.

"Yeah," I affirm, slipping his jacket pointedly off and handing it back to him.

He doesn't look like he believes me, but he nods nevertheless. "This way," he prompts, tilting his head towards the back of the space.

Following behind, he leads me through a heavy-looking metal door and into an airy, white-washed hallway with terracotta flooring that opens up into a spacious, open-plan kitchen with vaulted ceilings and arched windows through which the dawn is just starting to peek through.

"Fridge should be fully stocked," he advises, striding past the large centre island. "And there's coffee, if you want it."

I nod silently, casting my eyes around the minimalist, but nevertheless welcoming interior... which definitely tends towards more executive Vrbo than run-of-the-mill safe house.

"Bedroom's this way," he advises, turning down a corridor. "Your clothes should be in there already."

I blink. "My clothes?"

"Figured you'd want to get changed," he shrugs. "So, I called ahead and got the bags from your rental moved up here."

"Of course you did..." I mutter, stepping after him.

This guy is nothing, if not thorough...

Entering the room, I am greeted by a four-poster bed, breezy white drapes that kiss the floor, and a cavernous en-suite... with no door.

Great...

"You hungry?"

His question catches me off guard. Twisting back 'round, I find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

I suddenly feel naked under the weight of his dark gaze. "I..."

"I can cook something up," he clarifies.

My discomposure evaporates in a blaze of disbelief. "You... cook?"

He cracks out a laugh — warm and rich, like a perfectly brewed macchiato. "Call it a hobby."

"Umm... Okay," I accede, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind my ear while I try... and fail once again to figure this guy out. "Surprise me."

"Yes, ma'am," he agrees with a lopsided smirk as he turns away.

I let out an explosive breath as he rounds the corner and disappears back down the corridor.

Who is this guy?

I shake my head. "It doesn't matter..."

I'm not planning to stick around long enough to find out, and I'm not interested in the answer anyway. This is a temporary set-up, and once I help him steal whatever it is that needs stealing, we'll go our separate ways.

Decision reaffirmed, I turn back into the room, where I find my bags stacked neatly against the foot of the bed.

Grabbing the larger of the two suitcases, I quickly extract an oversized t-shirt and a pair of boyshort undies. Since I fully expect to just hang around the safe house today, there's no need for anything fancier, and I'm definitely not going to be giving Drake any mixed signals by dressing up for him.

Locating my bag of toiletries as well, I make my way into the bathroom.

Stepping through the curved archway, I am greeted by an oasis of calm. Cream-coloured tiles lead to a claw-foot tub nestled under a large window, beyond which sits a waterfall cave shower complete with steam and pressure jets.

Four Seasons, eat your heart out.

Dropping my clothes on the floor, I quickly pull my heels off and shimmy out of my dress. Grabbing a fluffy Turkish cotton towel, I make a beeline towards the shower, eager to get under the spray and wash the night away.

Slapping the faucet onto its hottest setting, I step under the flow, and let out a sigh as the steam envelopes me, melting the tension that has built up inside of me over the past 24-hours out of me.

Once I'm sufficiently sous vide'd, I set about washing the hairspray out of my hair, and the make-up off of my face before turning the water off somewhat reluctantly.

The long soak had been a welcome reprieve, but as much as I may want to, I can't hide in here forever. Especially since I am now genuinely hungry.

Peeking out of the shower, I check to see that the coast is clear, before slipping out to quickly envelope myself in the towel.

I'm not shy about my body per se, but given the already delicate tightrope I'm having to navigate with the guy, I don't want to get caught in a — potentially even more! — compromising situation with Drake. Because as hot as he is, and as great as he is with his tongue, I can't afford to tip across that line with him... And him seeing me naked after that heated kiss on the bridge would only be adding fuel to the already dangerous fire simmering between us.

Which is why I make a special point to not doing anything with my hair apart from squeezing any excess water out of it, or even bothering to put on any make-up. As the fewer ideas I can put in his mind, the better — for both of us.

Dropping the towel, I quickly pull the fresh clothes on, before walking back out into the bedroom...

...and straight into a tell-tale smell wafting in from the kitchen.

I scoff. "He didn't..."

But the ambrosia emanating from the other end of the corridor leaves little room for doubt, and I feel my mouth start to water as I'm pulled almost unwittingly towards the source.

Poking my head around the corner, I can't help but gasp as my suspicions are confirmed. "Are you making... pancakes?"

"You told me to surprise you," he throws over his shoulder as he catches the crêpe he's just flipped into the air.

"When I said that, I wasn't expecting... this," I admit, taking in the rest of the spread jostling for space on the centre island with a slack-jawed expression.

While I'd been soaking myself in the shower, Drake had whipped up a pair of ham and cheese omelettes, a steaming pot of coffee, as well as a carafe of what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice. Not to mention the small tower of pancakes that he has just put the finishing touches on.

"Good," he grins, flipping the gas off on the cooktop, and stowing the pan. "Wouldn't want to disappoint on the first day, now, would I?"

"Technically, we're into day t—"

I very narrowly catch my jaw from smacking into the countertop as he turns to face me.

At some point during the prep process, he had thrown the buttons of his shirt open — whether to stop it from getting splattered, or whether to keep himself cool — with the result that the perfect ridges of his abs and the toned mounds of his pecs were now on full, unadulterated display... making my body crave a very different kind of meal.

I jerk my gaze away before he can realise that I'm staring.

Keep it together, Harper! Neither of you needs any encouragement, remember?

"So, umm..." I cough to clear my suddenly patched throat as I reach for the coffee. "Where did you learn to do all this?"

"My dad," he admits, placing the plate of pancakes down on the island. "He was an amazing cook."

"Was?" I ask, my gaze jumping upwards on its own accord to meet his in surprise.

"Was," he confirms, lowering himself onto a bar stool across from me, and tugging his shirt mercifully closed.

"I'm sorry," I say sincerely, passing him the caffeine. Having grown up without a family myself, I know the feeling of that particular pain all too well.

"Don't be," he replies, refilling his mug. "He died doing what he signed up for, which was protecting his country."

I reach for the pancakes. "Is that why you became a spy?"

"No," he scoffs, as if at some private joke, shunting some jam, lemons and sugar my way. "You don't apply to IMF. You get picked. Whether you want to be, or not."

I nearly spread jam all up my arm, instead of over my pancake. "What do you mean?"

"Let's just say that I ended up in a corner. And just like you, I wasn't really in a position to bargain my way out of it."

"Not a great feeling, is it?" I point out dryly, rolling my crêpe up.

"Nope," he affirms, taking a swig of his coffee. "But I got a second lease on life, so I ain't too sour."

I quirk a brow at him. "That's the third time you've done that."

"Done what?"

"Said 'ain't'," I tell him 'round a mouthful of pancake — which, I have to admit, tastes just as good as it smelt, and literally melts in my mouth.

"So?"

"So, which state are you from?" I press. "Kentucky? Georgia? Tennessee?"

"Texas," he replies tersely. "Not that it matters anymore."

"Why not?"

He heaves a low exhale. "I'm a ghost. I don't officially exist. I'm not in any government system and every passport I have is a fake."

I look upon him with new eyes. "You can never go back to your old life, can you?"

"No."

"Neither can I," I admit, stuffing the last of the crêpe into my mouth and reaching for an omelette.

He watches me silently for a long moment. "D'you want to?"

I shake my head. "You?"

"I'm not sure anymore."

My gaze lifts to meet his, and within those deep mocha depths, I am surprised to find specks of sadness, floating like lost leaves down a river.

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. "I'm sorry..."

"You don't need to keep apologising."

"I know, but—"

He lays a hand on my arm. "The choices I made were my own. No one else's."

The heat of his palm burns into my skin, and I suddenly realise I've made a huge mistake by engaging him. As in the course of our seemingly innocent conversation, we ended up straying out of the safety of the professional, and into the minefield of the personal.

Gulping down the final bite, I shoot out of my seat. "Thanks for cooking! This was—"

I barely make it half a step before his hand shoots out to intercept me.

Jerking my head across the counter, I find him staring at me with all the latent intensity of a wolf on the hunt.

"Wh-what?" I challenge, hoping he doesn't notice the slight tremble in my voice.

"You missed a spot."

"Wha—?"

He tugs me forward. "Just here."

I stumble to a stop before him, palm subconsciously flying out to seek purchase against his chest in a bid to steady myself.

He raises his free hand to wipe the lone smear of jam from my cheek.

I stand, rooted to the spot as our gazes meet against my better judgment... and I suddenly find myself falling into his cinnamon-flecked irises.

His thumb brushes against the corner of my lips. "Damn, you're beautiful..."

My mouth parts on its own volition...

...and the next thing I know, my lips are crushed against his.

Permatags

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Picture credits:

Drake - Kiss - Harper - Cooking

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

TOW Eddie wakes the fuck up

Summary: I love Eddie being Steve’s bisexual awakening, but there's not enough where it's the other way around. Here's Eddie waking the fuck up in middle of the spring break from hell. Long fic.

Eddie couldn't keep his eyes off of Steve Harrington since he slammed him against the wall of the boathouse. There was this feeling of guilt that he felt in his stomach, and he didn't know to apologize. He never knew how to apologize. That was the one thing his father taught him not to do. Apologizing was always a sign of weakness. Being sorry could never cut it. It wasn't enough for his father. This is why he was choking on his tongue now, why he always choked when he needed to apologize. He knew he needed to do that with Lucas because it was the kind of petty bullshit that his father would have done, and he would have done it without apologizing for it. He wasn't his father.

That was the reason why he couldn't keep his eyes off Steve, right? To apologize for nearly stabbing him in the throat? Eddie was also wrong about what he had originally thought about Steve Harrington, what he had thought about all jocks. To be honest, they never interacted. Steve had never even interacted with people like him the way jocks like Jason Carver did. Guys like Jason always needed to prove that he was better than others. Steve had just didn't care enough to harass others, or maybe he just didn't want to be like that. He watched him before, and he always believed the rumors about Steve, that he was a jerk because it was easier to believe, which made him like everyone else who believed the rumors about Eddie himself.

Now, here they were in the same boat. Literally. Steve was preparing to jump into the lake to find a gate into another world. Mr. Swim team, Mr. Lifeguard. . . Yeah, you couldn't pay Eddie enough to go down there. He couldn't stop watching Steve as he stripped, his eyes trailing over him. Steve took off his sweater and looked in his direction. Eddie could have sworn he saw a twinkle of mischief in his eyes before he threw the sweater at him. Wait. . .did he wink, or was that his imagination? Eddie couldn't stop staring at him at the moles on his back and at the muscles he had. Eddie wondered how far they went down, the moles, and he had a sudden urge to trace patterns into Steve’s skin. Wait, what? Eddie cleared his throat.

"Hey."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, turning to him and looking at Eddie with those damn eyes of his.

"Good luck."

"Thanks."

Eddie whipped out his cigarettes and popped one into his mouth. He didn't get to enjoy it before Robin had snatched it out of his mouth and threw it in the water. She's Steve’s best friend. She is Steve’s best friend. Of course, Eddie had to bite his tongue when Nancy had to say something to Steve, too. Really? Oh. . .was that jealousy? Then Steve jumped into the lake, leaving Eddie to his thoughts. He had wanted to touch Steve. Was he attracted to him? No, he always liked girls, right? He was particularly fond of cheerleaders and their skirts. He had been fond of Chrissy, and it wasn't just sexual attraction. Their little moment in the woods, there was something there. He remembered that balloon feeling in his chest that had expanded the more he talked with her. He had wanted to make her laugh forever. And now she. . .how quick he had forgotten her. This was about Chrissy, and he was having a goddamn sexuality crisis in the middle of a shitstorm. Nope. Nope! He nearly shrieked when Steve finally popped up.

"It's pretty wild. It's more a snack size gate than the mama gate, but still, it's pretty damn big," Steve said.

Eddie focused on what he was saying, trying to ignore the fact that he was all wet and beautiful. Suddenly, Steve was being dragged under the water by a force that they couldn't see. Fuck! Nancy immediately jumped in, and then Robin and Eddie had been left behind on the boat. He cursed before stumbling into the water after them, and then he was in another world. All the adventures he had imagined over the years, the lives he had yearned to live, and he wanted nothing more than to go back to that. . .to it just being imagination.

Eddie grabbed an oar and started to beat the bat like creatures off of Steve, feeling much like a knight saving a princess. Like all princesses that he imagined, they could also save themselves. They didn't always need a knight or a prince to save them. Steve pulled himself off the ground, furious. With his feet, he held the bat down and proceeded to rip the creature in half. Steve gasped, blood dripping from his mouth. Eddie gaped at him. Oh, yep. He wanted to fuck this guy. He wanted to tie him up and rail him into next year. Or let Steve tie him up. Either way, it was the hottest thing he had ever witnessed. Oh, no. . .now was NOT the time to get hard. Think other thoughts. Oh, no, Robin was staring at him. Does she know? She knows! He placed the oar in front of him and turned his hips away. She scoffed. Yeah, she knows.

Of course, getting back through the gate wouldn't be easy. Those fuckers had the gate surrounded and more were coming. They needed to get to Skull Rock. It was closet. Steve had stumbled, and Eddie caught him around the waist before he could collapse. Eddie felt a little victorious that he had caught him before Nancy could. Eddie half carried him to a rock and set him down, kneeling in front of him to check his wounds. He immediately began ripping his shirt to make bandages for Steve, effectively turning his Hellfire shirt into a crop top.

"Sorry, you had to do that," Steve winced.

"Nah, it's fine. I've been wanting to turn it into a crop top for a while now," Eddie grinned as he began to wrap the makeshift bandage around his middle. "I have been dying to show off my sexy belly button."

"Are belly buttons sexy?" Steve asked with a snort.

"Well, I know mine is," Eddie grinned. "And any part of the body is sexy if you try hard enough."

"What about elbows? Can you make elbows sexy?" Steve grinned.

"Oh, definitely, and I must say you've got some really sexy elbows there, Steve," Eddie replied and Steve giggled.

Wow, Eddie was really just swinging right into this.

"Oh. I get Steve because he lost blood. What's your excuse, Eddie?" Robin asked as she hovered over them. "Because that was really lame. Sexy belly buttons? Sexy elbows? Dinguses. Both of you."

Eddie winked at him before helping him up. They hadn't stood very long before the ground was shaking, and Eddie had fallen on his butt, catching Steve in his arms. Eddie's hands landed on Steve’s hips, gripping them tightly. Eventually, the ground stopped shaking, but Eddie didn't let him go. Steve looked up at him from between his legs. Their faces were pretty close together, Eddie realized. He sucked in a breath.

"Uh, the ground stopped shaking," Steve said.

"Right. Right!" Eddie cleared his throat and let him go.

They started walking towards Nancy's house to get her guns, which was still such a surprise to Eddie. Nancy Wheeler had guns? More than one? It was quiet for a minute until Steve awkwardly cleared his throat.

"I just want to think you for saving me back there," Steve said.

"Oh, you saved yourself, man. I just tended to your wounds like a dutiful nurse. What you did was very . . . " Don't say hot. Whatever you do, Munson, don't say hot. Say metal! " . . . hot. It was very hot. I mean, metal. Very metal of you, like when Ozzy bit the head off that bat."

"Ozzy?" Steve asked.

"You know. . . Ozzy Osbourne from Black Sabbath?" Eddie asked.

"I have no idea," Steve blushed. "Sorry. I really only know this one metal band. . . kind of."

"You know one, that's more than I thought you would have," Eddie grinned. "You're just full of surprises. So, tell me about this band that you know of."

"I don't know, have you heard of Metallica?" Steve asked.

"Have I heard of Metallica? I don't know. . . it sounds vaguely familiar," he said thoughtfully, trying not to laugh.

"Stop being an asshole. You know exactly what I'm talking about," Steve told him and shoved him.

"It's only like one of my favorite bands ever," Eddie said, leaning into his space. "So, how does Steve Harrington come to know about Metallica?"

"I was hanging with a friend and their cousin was around, watching a tape of one of their music videos," Steve said and shrugged. "It caught my attention."

"A friend, huh? You're telling me that your girlfriend has a cousin who's a metalhead?" Eddie asked.

"Well, actually, that's over," Steve blushed. "And it wasn't a girl."

"Oh. . .so, you're . . . gay?" Eddie asked. "I was not expecting that. I'm cool with it. I have a friend who's gay and for his sake, I'm not saying who it is."

"Bisexual, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Oh, right. . . that exists. See, I knew that. You know, because of Bowie but I never thought that it could apply to . . . you know. . . ," Eddie replied.

"Me?" Steve asked.

"No! Me!" Eddie said. "I swear, I'm so slow."

"Wait, I thought you just said you were gay," Steve said.

"No, I literally have a friend who's gay," Eddie laughed.

"Oh, so, how new are you to this?" Steve asked. "Because I swear that I thought with the hanky. . . "

"What? Oh, does that mean something? Because I just wore it because of James Hetfield," Eddie said. "What does it mean?"

Steve grinned and proceeded to tell him exactly what it meant. Eddie slapped a hand over his face. Sure, he thought about doing that sort of stuff. . . of being handcuffed and spanked. It was usually a beautiful woman who did it. Now, he was sure that it would Steve in her place or alongside Steve. Shit, both of them at the same time. . . okay, stop thinking dirty thoughts about Steve Harrington.

"Eddie, how new are you? Wait. . . you didn't realize in the middle of all this? Did you? . . . Shit, you did. What woke you up?" Steve said, and Eddie peaked through his hands, breathing heavily. "Oh. Boy, you're really going through it, huh?"

"Shut up, Steve," Eddie sighed. "I'm panicking just a little bit. Jesus H. Christ, have you always known?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I didn't know there was a name for it until a few years ago, but I've liked both for a long time," Steve said and placed his hands on Eddie's shoulders. "It's alright. Just breath with me, okay. We're going to get you out of this and then you can have a nice, long freak out if you need it."

"I don't think that's what's freaking me out, honestly. I am okay with that," Eddie said. "I just don't see how catching this guy might clear my name. It's all about proof, man, and it's hunting season for a freak like me. Even if you managed to clear my name, it's the court of public opinion that's the problem."

Steve pulled him into his arms, holding onto him tightly. Eddie's eyes flickered and he sighed when Steve began stroking his back.

"We're going to figure this, Eddie," Steve said. "Even if we have to leave town to Bonnie and Clyde our way up the Coast."

"I call dibs on being Bonnie," Eddie said and Steve laughed. "I think that I deserve this."

"What does that mean?" Steve asked.

"I'm such a screw up. I sell drugs -," Eddie said.

"So do pharmaceutical salesmen," Steve said.

"I am a third time senior," he replied.

"Everyone learns at their own pace, and everyone really needs to stop comparing each other," Steve said.

"Okay, I just left Chrissy there. I didn't do anything. . . I didn't even try to stop it," Eddie said, as he continued to cling to Steve.

"Can you think of anything that you could have done?" he asked.

"Well. . . no," he frowned.

"Then there's nothing that you could have done," Steve replied.

"I was such an asshole to Lucas," Eddie said.

"Well, I'm not even going to argue with that one because it's true," Steve said. "But you still don't deserve this. You're not responsible for all of this. This is happening because a few years ago, some asshole scientist decided to play God."

"When we get out of this, the first thing that I'm going to do is apologize to Lucas," Eddie sighed.

"I'll be there to see it," Steve said.

"I'm sorry for almost slitting your throat with a beer bottle," Eddie mumbled into his shoulder.

"Nothing to forgive there," Steve laughed.

"I think maybe I am freaking out about the whole being bisexual thing but like in a good way," Eddie said and sighed into his shoulder, moving his face to Steve's neck. "What are we doing again?"

"Well, it looks like you're molesting my best friend for one thing," Robin's broke them up. "It's okay, we'll wait if you guys need to take a minute to fuck."

"Really?" Eddie asked gleefully. "Well, you heard her, Stevie!"

"Okay, now I'm worried that you don't know that I was joking," Robin said.

"Literally another time and place," Steve grinned.

Eddie's arms were burning from being in Steve's arms and he had the sudden urge to fall into them again. There was a deep ache in his chest as he continued to walk towards Nancy's house with Steve. He looked over to see Steve's arm swinging loosely by his side. Eddie swallowed his fear and reached over, taking Steve's hand in his.

"You know, just in case we get lost," Eddie said.

"Good idea," Steve said and threaded his fingers through his.

"You know, Henderson really looks up to you. He said that you're a really good guy, and it just went against my entire Munson Doctrine. No way is Steve Harrington, not an asshole, but you are a good guy. A great guy," Eddie said. "I don't even care about what the shrimp thinks, but I guess I did get a little jealous."

"Henderson really said all of that?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, he also said you were a badass and you were like a brother to him," Eddie said. "I believe it now though. I never would have jumped in there to save your ass. I'm no hero. I'm a coward. I turn and run."

"Give yourself a break," Steve said. "I think there's more to you than you think there is. The first time I went through this, I turned and ran. I came back. When it's truly important, you'll be surprised at what you can do for the people you care about."

"You really think that I have it in me?" Eddie asked.

"Yes," Steve replied.

"Well, there's one thing that I know for sure," Eddie said. "You look really hot in my vest."

After they got to Nancy's, they discovered that the Upside Down was stuck on the day that Will Byers went missing meaning that the guns weren't there. They did discover a way to communicate with Dustin and in his very Dustin way, explained that there was a gate at each murder sites.

"Jesus Christ," Steve said when Dustin snapped at them. "This kid's got to get his ego in cheek."

"It's his tone. Right?" Eddie agreed.

"Jesus, sound more like his dads," Robin said.

"Well, we were going to make you godmother but since you have an attitude about it," Eddie said. "Nevermind."

"I'm sorry! Wait. . .Do I want to be Dustin Henderson's godmother?" Robin asked herself. "No, thanks, I'm just going to have to drop him off at the orphanage when you guys bite the dust."

"Nice, Buckley," Eddie grinned while Steve scoffed.

After they biked to Eddie's trailer, everything seemed to happen so fast. Vecna cursed Nancy and told her his plan for bringing the Upside Down into Hawkins. Nancy had to calm down in the bathroom before their plan to head to the War Zone to get guns to take down Vecna. Everyone was chilling in the living room, going over the plan. Eddie made eye contact with Steve and nodded his head towards the kitchen. He walked into the other room, smiling when Steve followed him.

"So," Eddie said, leaning against the sink. "I'm twenty years old and I've kissed someone only a handful of times. I've never kissed a guy though and I'm kind of scared that I'm going to die without ever knowing what it's like. Knowing my luck, it's going to be me."

"Don't talk like that, it's not going to be you," Steve said.

"You don't know that, Steve," Eddie replied. "If you don't want to kiss me. . . "

"I like you, Eddie, and I do want to kiss you," Steve said and paused. "I'm kind of scared myself."

He moved closer to Eddie, pressing himself up against him. He placed his hands on either side of his neck and slid them up to cup his cheeks. They moved together at the same time, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. It was nice and it definitely made Eddie feel all warm inside. Steve deepened the kiss for a moment before breaking it.

"Well?" Steve asked.

"Hm, I definitely felt something but just to be sure. . .maybe we should do it again," Eddie said. "You know, for science purposes."

"Hmm, yes, for science."

Eddie kissed him hungrily, bring him in by yanking on his hair. Steve wrapped his arms completely around his waist, bringing him as close as possible. Eddie slipped his tongue inside of Steve's mouth, moaning. In one quick swift movement, Steve lifted him and set him on the counter beside the sink. Eddie wrapped his legs around his waist, trying to get even closer. If they got any closer, they'd exist in the same exact space, Eddie thought in amusement. They broke the kiss again, leaning their foreheads together as they breathed heavily. Eddie glanced over Steve's shoulder and yelped. Steve turned to find Max sitting on the other end of the counter, swinging her legs and drinking a glass of water.

"How long were you there for?" Eddie asked.

"Long enough to know you use a lot of tongue," Max said casually.

"Uh, does it not bother you that I was kissing Steve?" Eddie asked.

Of course, Dustin decided to enter the kitchen at that moment.

"You were kissing Steve?!" Dustin shrieked with a grin.

"Jesus," Steve and Eddie sighed.

"Did I just hear right?" Lucas asked, coming in behind Dustin. "Eddie was kissing Steve?"

"Oh my God!" Eddie exclaimed.

Nancy had chosen at that moment to enter as well.

"You were kissing Steve?" Nancy asked.

"YES! I was kissing Steve! Does anyone have a problem with that?" Eddie said grumpily.

"No!" Everyone said quickly.

"While I don't have a problem with you mouth fucking our babysitter," Max said. "I do have a problem with you doing it on the counter where I make the sandwiches that I eat. So, thanks for that."

"Did you really have to say it like that?" Dustin asked. "Really?"

It was all downhill from there. Well, after they gathered in a clearing to prepare for battle, it was nice. For a moment, Eddie sat in Steve's lap in front of the RV and openly flirted with him. For a moment, Eddie felt confident that everything was going to be okay. It felt so final when he had to part ways with Steve, and he didn't want to leave him. Robin and Dustin literally had to pry him off of Steve. Could they blame him? He just got himself an amazing boyfriend. Wait, was Steve his boyfriend?

He didn't have time to freak out over that because once they got the trailer ready, it was time for the most metal concert in the history of concerts. As he played, he thought of Chrissy, and he thought of Steve, who was out there, taking down Vecna. After he celebrated with Dustin, they successfully kept the bats out. Then he was pushing Dustin through the gate. As Eddie was climbing up the rope, he thought of Chrissy again, and he thought of Steve. He couldn't let Steve become like Chrissy. The next thing he knew, he was dying in Dustin's arms. I'm sorry, kid.

Beep. Beep. Beep. Holy shit. Eddie opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. Was he alive? He was fucking alive. How in the hell did that happen? Eddie groaned. Oh, everything hurt. What the fuck? Oh, yeah, the bats chowed down on him like he was a buffet.

"Eddie?" he heard Steve ask.

Eddie grinned and looked over at the angel standing beside his bed. He looked cleaner than when he last saw him, in a fresh polo and jeans. Steve was holding his vest in his arms.

"You'd look hotter if you were wearing my vest, big boy," Eddie said.

"Boy," he heard his uncle's voice and he looked over to find him sitting on the other side of his bed.

"Oh, hey, Uncle Wayne," Eddie said cheerfully. "I like boys now."

"Yeah, I figured. Steve here wouldn't leave you for anything," Wayne said. "I had to threaten to shoot your boyfriend to get himself checked out."

"Boyfriend?" Eddie asked. "Are you my boyfriend?"

"Son, you better say yes," Wayne said, staring at him.

"Okay, even if your uncle wasn't here trying to scare me. . . unsuccessfully, I might add. . . I would still say yes," Steve chuckled.

"Oh, my boyfriend found out your secret, Uncle Wayne! You're not actually scary," Eddie laughed.

"Neither are you, son," Wayne said.

"What? Stevie, defend my honor!" Eddie exclaimed. "Tell him how scary I am."

"You're very scary, baby," Steve said.

"You lying ass," Wayne scoffed.

"By the way, I told you that it wouldn't be you. Also, the real reason that Metallica caught my eye was Kirk Hammett," Steve said, and Eddie laughed.

"You know, I was told by someone that I kind of remind them of Kirk," Eddie said, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Oh, don't you know, Eds?" Wayne asked. "Kirk is your biological daddy."

"What?! Really?!" Eddie shrieked.

"No."

"Fuck you, old man!"

Once Eddie was checked out by the doctors, Eddie made sure the first thing that happened was that Lucas was his first official visitor and apologized for not postponing Hellfire, for implying that he was going to the Darkside. He also made sure that the others apologized as well for not supporting Lucas either and told them that they were more than welcome to tell him to shove it when he was being an ass. As he drifted off to sleep, he felt secure in the knowledge that he would never be his father. . . that he had done more than his father has ever done or ever will do.