#for ed accessing and expressing this side of himself

[edandstede]

if we don’t get stede putting the pearls on ed himself (which is looking doubtful based on apparent timelines) i at least would love ed to pick them out of a chest or something, hold them up the light, hear “you wear fine things well” in stede’s voice and then decide to keep them

[gas-station-trackphone]

ftm trans Eddie Munson gets turned into a chew toy for hell bats and rescued in the 11th hour by his friends who don't know he's trans, who have to run some triage first aid and can hardly make sense of the blood and gore that used to be his body as they cut off his shirt and pants to get access to the worst of the wounds, who definitely aren't in their right minds well enough anyway to think of anything other than stopping the bleeding and getting him to a hospital, which they do, and miraculously Eddie finds himself blinking awake in a bright, fluorescent room feeling exactly like he imagines a chew toy for hell bats would feel in the aftermath which is to say: like shit. Even more miraculously, he finds hometown hero Steve Harrington posted up at his bedside with greasy hair (!!! Eddie never thought he'd see the day) and bags under his eyes.

The overwhelming relief on Steve's face when he sees Eddie is awake is touching, the misty eyes and cracking voice when he says god, i thought you were toast, man are downright flattering and, let's face it, giving Eddie all the wrong ideas that he figures he has an I-almost-died pass for at the moment so he rocks with it, let's himself indulge in the fantasy for a moment. Then, gradually, Steve's relief becomes more and more obviously some brand of deeply felt pity (or sympathy, but Eddie's never been good at distinguishing the two), which bursts his bubble enough to call him out.

"I know I look like what comes out the business end of a meat grinder, but I swear I'm good, dude. They definitely have me on the good shit, I hardly feel it. I'll be good as new in no time." Big fat fucking lie, by the way, but he'll say whatever if it gets that wounded puppy look out of Harrington's eyes.

"I...yeah, Eddie, I'm glad." And whatever it is he doesn't want to say, whatever is putting that you poor motherfucker look on his face, he's absolutely the opposite of subtle about it.

Eddie can hear the manifestation of his panic on the heart monitor.

"What? What is it? Is everyone- is Dustin-?" He can't say it, can't even think it, would rather be slowly torn to shreds all over again than know he failed at his one fucking task to keep the kid safe.

"No! I mean, yes, he's fine, they're all fine. Henderson's got a broken ankle and both of Max's arms are broken but the docs say they'll be fine in a few months with physical therapy."

The release of tension in Eddie's body hurts almost as much as the relief soothes him. "Okay then, what the fuck are you not telling me? It's fine, I'm a big boy, Harrington, I can take it."

He sighs, looking sick with it. "Eds...I don't know how to tell you this."

Oh god, what the fuck. Eddie's right back to freaking out because Steve looks inexplicably guilty, pained in the face like he's about to deliver the worst news he could imagine but if everyone's fine then-

"It's your dick, man. It's- it's gone. The bats-"

And Eddie laughs so hard he tears about a dozen stitches, immediately stops laughing, and throws up over the side of the bed and thankfully not all over his freshly reopened wounds as Steve shouts for help.

Eventually, when he's all stitched up again and barely hanging on to his hard earned lesson to not literally bust his gut laughing about the look on Steve's face (he has to force himself not to tell Wayne the specifics of how he ended up back in the OR, because he's absolutely gonna crack up and Eddie will definitely be unable to help himself from laughing with him), he realizes he's going to come out to all his friends in the very near future because holy shit, he has to tell everyone about Steve's utterly devastated expression at the news of Eddie's Ken doll-ification by way of demobat.

[mugloversonly]

What Happens Afterwards?

I read this post by @acowardinmordor and was obsessed with what happened next. Written with their blessing.

also on AO3

tw: overdose, drugs, near death experience, mentions of HIV

Summary:

Famous Eddie doesn't touch drugs...too bad Steve does After Steve ODs at a Corroded Coffin concert, he wakes up in the hospital.

Steve woke up groggy and confused. Is he in a hospital? Suddenly the night rushed back to him. He did a line, borrowed a needle. He’d meant to go back to the dressing room, but he hit the deck before he could. Shit!

He shot up and frantically looked around, hoping beyond all hope that he was alone. Luck was not on his side though, because Eddie was asleep in the hospital chair next to him. Steve took a long look at the love of his life. His eyes were red and puffy with deep bags. His hair was a tangled mess as if he’d been yanking on it. And his clothes were rumpled as if he hadn’t changed them in days.

Steve sighed. He really didn’t want to have this confrontation right now. Before that thought could even leave his brain, Eddie opened his eyes and met Steve’s. The pools of chocolate were filled with a myriad of emotions. He leaned forward and took Steve’s hand.

“Hey, Stevie. How’re you feeling?” He asked softly as he reached over and pressed the nurse call button. Steve was confused by the softness, but he wasn’t going to complain.

“How did I get here?” He asked instead, dropping his gaze.

“You were brought in as a John Doe after the concert baby.” He whispered, his voice thick. “They said you overdosed.” He didn’t sound angry, Steve would have preferred that. Instead he sounded guilty. Steve forced himself to look and felt bile rise up at the expression on Eddie’s face. “I’m sorry baby.” Eddie said. “I’m so sorry.” Tears ran down his already tear coated cheeks. Steve expected yelling, berating, and ultimatum. Anything but an apology.

“Sorry for what, Eds?” He asked. “You didn’t do anything.” That turned out to be the wrong thing to say as it turns Eddie’s cries into sobs. Something sour built a home in Steve’s chest.

“Exactly! I didn’t do anything!” He said emphatically, gesturing wildly. “You were missing! And i didn’t do anything! I let everyone else handle it while i panicked. I still played the show. I didn’t follow my gut and looked who the junkies were that night!” Tears streamed down his face, but the words rattled something in him.

“How long have I been here?” Steve asked hesitantly. Eddie took a stuttered breath.

“Five days. You’ve been here for five days. You were missing for over 24 hours.” He bit his lip trying to stifle more tears.

Steve was floored. Five days?! Wait…missing? “Oh, baby.” Steve said, mournfully running the hand not hooked up to anything along Eddie’s cheek. He melted into the contact and put his hand over Steve’s. “I’m sorry for putting this much stress on you.”

“For a minute there, I’d thought it came back.” Steve knew exactly what Eddie meant. The upside down. “But when I found out you ODed…I almost wish it had.” Eddie admitted. “This is all my fault.” He whispered unable to hold the tears back any longer.

Steve felt like he’d been on top of the world from what he could remember of the high, and he thought about chasing that rabbit. But the look in Eddie’s eyes, the deep well of pure devastation and guilt swirled together, made Steve pause. He couldn’t do this to Eddie again. “This isn’t on you.” Steve insisted. “I told you I quit. You had no reason to assume I’d be in that bathroom.” Eddie just shook his head.

“If I hadn’t forced you on the road, you never would’ve had access to this kind of hardcore shit in the first place. If I spent more time with you, if I never left you alone, you wouldn’t have felt the need to do this.” Eddie trembled. “I should have protected you better, I knew what that shit could do, I’m so sorry baby.” Steve knew then that there wasn’t anything he could say. Eddie would blame himself for this until the end of time.

That more than anything else, broke Steve down. “I’m sorry, love.” His voice trembled. “I shouldn’t have lied. I just didn’t want you to worry.” He flipped his hand up in offer. Eddie immediately filled it with his. He squeezed it as he continued. “You had so much to worry about, I didn’t want to be another. But I should have known that you’d worry anyway.” Steve looked away, ashamed.

“Baby…” he was cut off as a doctor came in.

“Well, Mr. Harrington. You’re lucky to be alive. The cocktail of drugs you took was extreme.” The doctor said.

“What do you mean?” Eddie asked.

“The heroine appeared to be laced with meth. And the line he did was cocaine and ecstasy.” The doctor said calmly. Eddie gasped a shuddering breath and his hands shook in Steve’s grasp.

“I didn’t know the heroine was laced.” He said. “It wasn’t my needle.” The regret was finally showing up. At this the doctor’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. Eddie yanked his hands away and covered his mouth.

“I’ll send in a nurse to grab some blood so we can run some tests.” He said. “In the meantime Mr. Munson, I recommend limited physical contact.” He directed that to Eddie with a look of sympathy. He nodded and the doctor took his leave. Tears sprang to Eddie’s eyes and ran down his face.

“You shared needles, Stevie?” He asked in shock, his voice quiet. His fear was clear on his face. “Have you been…doing other things for the drugs?” Steve had to come clean.

“I’d do pretty much anything for them.” He admitted.

Eddie stood up quickly and made to leave the room. “I’m going to go let Robin know you’re awake.” He dashed out before Steve could say anything else.

He fucked up. He always felt guilty after the high wore off, but this time it was horrible. He’s in the hospital, after disappearing for over a day. He should have been more careful. He knew sharing needles wasn’t the best plan, but at the time the high was worth it. But the look of betrayal, sadness, and the tiniest glimmer of disgust on Eddie’s face just now, was enough to make him never want to touch another pill. Sleep snuck up on him and he prayed that Eddie would be back when he woke up again.

His prayer went unanswered. The next time he woke up, it was Robin by his bedside. She was staring at the TV but she wasn’t really watching it. “Hey Robs” he said. She whipped her head around so fast he wouldn’t be surprised if it popped off.

“Steve! You’re awake!” She exclaimed. The smile on her face fell quickly. “You’re an idiot. If you weren’t in this hospital bed right now, I’d smack you.” He shrunk down in the face of her ire. “What were you thinking?!” She shrieked.

“I didn’t think it’d be that bad.” He admitted. The fire in her eyes could set the arctic ablaze.

“Not that bad? Not that bad?! You ODed at Eddie’s concert.” She began counting on her fingers. “You lied about being clean. You shared needles with some random junkies!” On the last point she threw her hands up. “How often have you done that? Don’t lie to me Steve.” Her eyes narrowed.

“Every once in a while when I get the itch for it. Maybe once every few months or so.” He admitted grimly. Robin’s eyes narrowed.

“So however many months you’ve been doing this, you’ve been sharing needles?” She clarified. At Steve’s nod she sprang up and paced the room. “Every time?”

“Not every time, but not rarely either.” He said as guilt started to creep into his stomach. She ran her hands into her hair and yanked on it softly.

“Have you been getting tested at least?” She asked.

“I’m not cheating on Eddie, Robin!” Steve yelled, hurt that she’d even imply that. She stopped pacing and turned to him.

“Okay, first. I didn’t say that. Second, your word has no credibility right now. I know you wouldn’t, dingus. That’s not why I was asking.” She grabbed his hand. Before she could continue, a nurse came in.

“Oh good! You’re awake. I’m going to be taking some blood okay?” She asked but really was demanding. She glared at Steve as he held out his arm for her.

“Is everything okay?” Robin asked. The nurse turned to her and gave a small smile before glaring again at Steve.

“With the patient, everything is looking like it’s returning to normal.” She snapped the tourniquet into place but when Steve flinched she didn’t look remorseful. She drew a few vials of blood, stuck a bandaid on, and pulled off the tourniquet all in silence. As she got cleaned up to leave, she finally spoke. “Look kid, it’s not my place. But that boy out there? I can take a guess as to what your relationship is with him.” She flashed a tiny pride flag pinned inside her scrubs. “He cares about you so much. He was beside himself when he came in and saw you, he had you moved to this room, he asked us if there was any kind of experimental treatment, anything to help you.” She turned that glare on him again. “He loves you to the ends of the earth and he will never leave you. You better clean up your act to be worthy of that devotion, because make no mistake. He would let you drain his veins and apologize for not bleeding out faster.” She stalked over to Robin and handed her a stack of papers. She jabbed a finger in his face, “don’t you dare break up with him in a misguided attempt to save him from you. You clean up your act. If not for yourself, then for him.“ With that she stomped out of the room and practically slammed the door behind her. For a moment neither of them said a word. Steve was filled with regret and Robin was a bit smug. She looked down at the stack of papers. Rehab clinics.

“Should we pick one?” Robin asked.

“I think I want to do it with Eddie.” Steve replied. “The nurse was right. And so were you. I’ve taken him for granted and my word means shit right now. I want to prove to him that I want to get clean.” Robin hesitated.

“Do you?” She asked. “You don’t seem particularly regretful about the actual drugs.” Her tone was soft even though her words were harsh.

“I do!” Steve exclaimed. “You didn’t see the look on Eddie’s face, Robbie. He was devastated and blamed himself for all of it. When I told him I’d do anything for the drugs he got up and left. I don’t think he’s coming back in.” He trailed off into a whisper. Robin took hold of his hand.

“Stevie, he’s right outside.” She said. At Steve’s confused look she continued. “He’s sitting on a bench right next to the door. He wanted to come back in, but I asked him to let me talk to you alone.”

“Why?” Steve asked. Robin’s eyes hardened.

“Because what I’m about to say, he wouldn’t like, but as your best friend I have to tell you hard truths. And Eddie's my best friend too so I have to protect him.” She took a deep breath. “You deserved his love once Steve. I truly believe that. But right now, his love for you is hurting him. And the only one who can fix it? Is you. He hasn’t slept or eaten practically at all since you disappeared.” Steve flinched at the word disappeared. “When he called me he was sobbing so hard I thought you died Steve.” Her eyes watered. “He kept repeating ‘it’s all my fault. I did this to him’ and Jeff had to take the phone to explain what was going on. When I got here, you were still touch and go. You died on the way here, Steve. They had to resuscitate you. The sound he made when the doctors told him that…” she shuddered. “I felt his heart shatter. The nurse is right. He will forgive you and he won’t ever stop loving you and he won’t ever leave you.” Her eyes got intense again. “So you need to promise me. Promise me! That you’ll take care of yourself. Because I don’t think I could survive watching him wither away if you leave him.” The emphasis she put on leave tore Steve apart. She didn’t mean break up with him. She meant leave him. “You don’t deserve his devotion. Not after you lied to him for months. But you have it. So now, you need to cherish it. Got it?” She asked. Steve could only nod as the dam finally broke. They held each other’s hands as they cried together.

~~~

“Can you get Eddie? Please.” He asked after his eyes dried up. Robin nodded and dashed out the door, waving Eddie inside.

Steve’s heart broke at the sight of him. He looked exhausted and his eyes were red rimmed as if he’d been crying for hours. Steve held a hand out to him and Eddie rushed to take it. Steve slid over in the hospital bed, yanking Eddie in after him. He curled around him and held him close being mindful of the wires in his hand as he draped it on Eddie’s chest. Eddie took a deep breath but Steve could feel the anxiety still thrumming under his skin. “I’m sorry, love.” Steve whispered. “I shouldn’t have lied.” He halted when he heard the sniffles. He sat up, peering at Eddie. His cheeks were wet again and Steve reached up to wipe them clean.

“Stevie, I have to ask…” he began. “And I hate to even think it. But…” he paused. “Did you…when you said you’d do anything for the drugs. Did you sleep with people for them?” He finally spit out. Steve wanted to be mad. He wanted to hiss and spit and rage at the accusation. But he knew that wasn’t fair to Eddie. He was within his rights to ask.

“No my love.” Steve promised. “Never.” Eddie nodded and sighed with relief. “I don’t know how much my word is worth right now.” He admitted. Eddie pressed a finger to his lips.

“I trust you.” He said. Those three words broke Steve. How could Eddie trust his word after everything? He asked him as much. Eddie just smiled softly. “I trust you because I want to. That’s all there is to it.”

“I’m sorry for everything.” Steve repeated desperately.

“I forgive you.” Eddie promised. “Now, let’s forget the past for a minute and focus on the future.” Eddie said. Steve looked over his shoulder to the door to the room and saw Robin and the Coffin boys. The boys were glaring at Steve but he knew it was because he hurt their friend.

Steve grabbed the rehab brochures and the two went over them until they found one that had a branch in DC. “I don’t want you to cancel the tour Eddie.” Steve was adamant. He ruined enough of the tour so far and he wouldn’t be the reason it ended. At least in DC he’d be close to Robin who would keep him in line. She promised Eddie daily updates (real updates) once Steve got out until the end of the tour. Eddie finally agreed after the boys convinced him he’d need the distraction so he wouldn’t be pacing around the house all day.

Steve leaned up to kiss him, but Eddie pulled away. The regret in his eyes was almost enough to soothe the hurt. “Not yet Stevie, okay?” He asked. Steve nodded but his head tilted in confusion. “Not until the blood tests come back.” He explained. Suddenly, Steve understood. He put himself at risk and Eddie too. The virus going around was deadly and Steve had been careless. Playing russian roulette with not only his life, but Eddie’s too and by extension the band’s.

The shame that filled him was so intense he reached over and retched into the nearby bed pan. Robin ran over with a trashcan and he kept heaving. Eddie rubbed his back as he emptied his body. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I…” he cut off by dry heaving. He finally understood why Eddie ran from the room earlier and why the nurse glared at him. He’s a monster. He put the love of his life at risk of contracting a deadly disease just so he could get a fix. What the hell was wrong with him?

When he was finally done, he was exhausted. “Sleep baby.” Eddie whispered. Steve clutched tight to his hand.

“Will you stay with me?” He asked. As his eyes drifted shut.

“Forever.” Eddie whispered as Steve floated off into a dreamless sleep. His last thought was that he needed to prove he was worth forever.

~~~

The next time he woke up, Eddie was still there. Asleep curled up beside him. But in the chair next to him was someone he hoped not to see. Wayne. Their eyes met and he didn’t say anything, he just raised his right eyebrow and Steve folded. He apologized for letting Wayne down, for hurting Eddie, for lying about it. He begged Wayne’s forgiveness, but the man didn’t respond. His gaze flickered to his sleeping nephew and softened.

“You listen to me boy.” Wayne said. “My nephew is a gentle soul, quick to forgive and let things go. You should know that based on how he was after that spring break.” They both shivered at the memory. “So, he’s not going to want to hold you accountable. He’d rather just move on and take your word for it. But lucky for him, and not so lucky for you, I will be holding you accountable.” He leaned in. “I love you like one of my own Steve, I really do. But I love my brother too and he ain’t seen Eddie since they locked him up. Eddie forgave him within days, trusted him. I learned then, that if Eddie loved someone, he’d forgive pretty much everything just to keep them around. So I’ll tell you the same thing I told Al. Eddie is my boy, first. And I will protect him from anything that will hurt him, even if it’s himself. So I’ll be holding you accountable. You’re going to rehab?” Wayne asked. At Steve’s nod and explanation of where, he continued. “You’re going to give the rehab my information as someone who they can talk to. I’m going to call to check up whenever I see fit. Got it?”

“Yes sir” Steve replied. The nurse from before knocked and opened the door quietly. She paused as she saw Eddie curled up in the bed next to Steve. She gently shook him awake.

“Mr. Munson? We have both of your blood tests back.” At this Eddie was wide awake.

“You got some blood tests done Ed?” Wayne asked.

“Yeah, just um…just in case you know?” He trailed off not making eye contact with his uncle.

“Good news or bad news first?” She asked.

“Bad news first, always.” Eddie and Steve replied in tandem. They shared a private smile.

“Bad news, Steve you have moderate kidney damage. It won’t take much more to send them into failure.” She said with hard eyes.

“And the good news?” Wayne spoke up.

“Good news, you both are negative for any STDs. Including HIV.” The three men breathed a huge sigh of relief. The nurse turned to Steve. “You got lucky kid. Don’t forget that.” Steve assured her he wouldn’t and she left with a nod. He couldn’t believe he’d been so reckless. He turned to Eddie and was immediately pulled into a soft kiss.

~~~

“They said you’ll be discharged soon.” Robin said later. “Then what?” It was just the two of them.

“Then, Eddie drops me off at rehab and I get help. I stay clean. I do everything to be worthy of him.” He declared. Robin nodded her approval. Eddie came back from the hotel with all of their things packed away in a rental car. He slid into bed next to Steve.

“Hey, baby. You ready?” He asked. Steve nodded and they all left the hospital. The three of them piled into the car and drove Robin to the airport. She was going to fly back to give the boys some time alone. She hugged Steve and then Eddie. She whispered something in the his ear that had him tearing up. She went into the airport with a promise to call Wayne if she ran into any trouble.

Then it was just the two of them. They spent the first hour or so making idle small talk before the curiosity got the best of him. “What did Robin say to you?” He asked.

“Nothing important.” Eddie answered far too quickly.

“Oh, come on. You can tell me.” He knew he was being annoying but he didn’t want to think about what was awaiting him at the end of the ride. Eddie sighed, he never could keep something from Steve.

“She said if I could forgive you, I should forgive myself.” He admitted.

“You still blame yourself, love?” Steve asked. Eddie bit his lip as he nodded.

“If I hadn’t dragged you on tour, you never would have found that stuff.” Steve couldn’t let this stand. He knew he had to finally come clean.

“I was already doing it.” At Eddie’s questioning noise he continued. “As soon as we got to LA, I was looking for it. I did it at those events because it was free from someone else's supply.” He took a breath and glanced at Eddie before he admitted the next bit. “I didn’t get into this shit because I was on tour with you. I wanted to go on tour because I didn’t want to be away from you. That it would be way easier to get my hands on shit, just sweetened the deal.”

Eddie was quiet for a while after that. Steve glanced over and saw his cheeks were wet. He’d made him cry again. “So, you didn’t start them because of me?” He whispered.

“No love. And to be clear, even if I started on tour, it still wouldn’t have been your fault. You didn’t hold me down and force a line up my nose okay?” He reached out and wiped away a tear. “This was my choice. Just like going to rehab is my choice. If I didn’t really want to go, I wouldn’t.” His conviction was clear. Eddie pulled to the side of the road to kiss Steve softly before they drove the rest of the way in comfortable conversation.

They arrived at the rehab center and Eddie walked him inside. He checked in, Eddie handed over his credit card, Steve handed it right back and handed his over. The attendant smiled and swiped Steve’s card giving the boys a moment alone. They held each other close and kissed not caring at the moment who saw them. “I love you, baby. Don't forget okay?” Eddie whispered leaning his forehead to Steve’s.

“I know, love. I love you too. More than life.” He replied. He gave a final kiss to Eddie’s lips and followed the attendant into the center. He was determined to come out a new man.

~~~

Six grueling weeks later, Steve was out. He had a sponsor and group therapy sessions. Waiting to pick him up was Robin. Eddie was on the last few weeks of the tour. They had to extend it a bit to cover for Steve’s hospital stay. Robin gave him a long hug. “Ready to bust out?” She asked and they both got into the car. He lasted barely five minutes.

“How is he?” Steve and Eddie didn’t speak at all during his rehab. The center thought Eddie being on the road would be triggering to Steve. And to be frank, Wayne thought Eddie needed to distance himself from the process for a bit. Wayne and Robin had kept them both informed on the other.

“He’s okay. I mean…he misses you terribly, but he’s been coping on tour.” Robin said. Thankfully the drive wasn’t very long. Steve wanted to be in a familiar place, even if life outside of rehab was scary. They pulled up to Robin’s building and Steve stepped in after her.

There was a loud pop and confetti raining down on him. “Welcome home Steve!” Came several voices he was not expecting. The entire party was here. Wayne, Hopper, and Joyce too. But what brought him to tears was the sight to his left. Eddie was there, holding his arms open. Steve ran into them, nearly knocking them both to the ground.

“I thought your tour didn’t end for a few more weeks?” He asked in between kisses.

“I lied about the end date to surprise you.” He admitted holding Steve close. “Are you surprised?”

“Very! A good surprised!” The two pulled apart so everyone else could greet Steve. Eddie didn’t go far, not letting go of Steve’s hand the entire time. He’d felt better in rehab once the withdrawals subsided. More clear headed, more aware. But he didn’t feel completely healed. Feeling the warmth of Eddie’s hand in his, Steve felt hopeful for the future. As he made eye contact with the man again, Steve silently promised to stay clean. Not for just Eddie. But for himself too.

~~~

He skipped the next tour as recommended by his therapist. The two men decided it would be better if he wasn't alone, so Wayne stayed with him. He'd been retired from the plant and wanted to move out to LA with Eddie anyway.

He and Eddie had a hard time, but they make due with calls and letters. On one memorable occasion Steve sent a racy Polaroid. That night, Eddie called already worked up and they had a wonderful time. The reunion was so sweet. They were locked in their bedroom for days, coming out only for food and water. The rest of their friends knew better than to come visit until the love birds made the first move.

The band wrote a new album and started a nonprofit for drug addicts. It helped those who couldn't afford to get clean and see therapists, providing them with clean needles and clean drugs to help ween off them. Steve didn't shy away from his overdose, or the affect it had on those around him and he encouraged the others not to either. Eddie did several interviews on how helpless he felt when his "best friend" was taken to the hospital as a John Doe. This spurred the nonprofit to add resources for loved ones of addicts too.

Steve had been sober for three years when he went on tour with the band again. For real this time. He got clean and he stayed clean. When he was offered something at a party, he couldn't say he wasn't tempted. But he'd look over to see his love laughing and knew he'd do anything to keep that sound in the world. He never wanted to jeopardize Eddie's happiness again and he finally accepted he was his happiness.

And the next time the band played The Garden, Steve was on the sidelines cheering for Eddie and the band. He made sure Eddie could always see him and know he was safe. That look of guilt and devastation he saw in the hospital never returned to Eddie's face and Steve was determined to keep it that way.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏🤏

Please and thank you!

36 for 🤏:

---

“Yay!” The child cheers. “We’re going to the park!” 

“You have very low standards,” Eddie tells him. “It’s just a playground.”

“But Dad never took us,” the child says. 

Eddie’s heart stutters a little. His expression drops.

Buck looks between them both. 

“Well, guess what, Little Ed?” Buck asks.

“What?” The kid asks. 

“I’ve heard Ramon Diaz is no fun at the park,” Buck fibs. “So we’ll have a way better time.”

The kid smiles a little shyly. 

“Can we get ice cream?”

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, surprising himself by speaking without even thinking. “We can get ice cream.”

▪️▪️▪️

A few hours later, Buck and Eddie are sitting at a picnic table at a park on the other side of the city, paper bowls of ice cream in hand, while the child runs around the playground, playing tag with other kids. Or, not tag? A type of tag Buck says is contingent on not being caught off the playground equipment. Whatever. Eddie never learned it.

“He has surprisingly good social skills,” Buck says, between spoonfuls of sickly sweet cotton candy flavored ice cream. 

“What?” Eddie asks. “Did you think I didn’t at that age? You’re the weird one.”

Buck nudges him playfully. “Asshole. No, I mean, he interacts well with kids his age, considering he has access to all your adult knowledge and shit.”

“Oh,” Eddie says, cheeks heating. “Yeah, okay. He does.”

[bubbblesss000]

SERIES MASTERLIST // BLOG MASTERLIST

Antimony represents the wild and animalistic parts of human nature~

an Edward Elric x reader fanfiction.

~05~

In the dim light of the hotel room, sunlight peeking through the curtains. Edward and Alphonse sat on the edge of their beds, Y/N sat across from them at the table, the weight of their recent failure hanging heavy in the air. Suddenly a loud  booming voice interrupted them from outside the door. "Edward Elric! Alphonse Elric! Y/N Mustang! I demand your attention at once!" The voice belonged to none other than Major Alex Louis Armstrong. Edward sighed, running a hand through his unruly golden hair, while Alphonse, in his towering armored form, looked at the door with concern. Y/N looked down and muttered “Do you think we can ignore him?”. Without warning, the door burst open, splintering at the hinges, and there stood the Major, his muscular frame filling the doorway, his expression a mix of determination and dramatic flair. “I heard all about it, Edward Elric!” he proclaimed, a sympathetic tear sitting in his eye. Armstrong clutched his chest and projected “Such a tragedy!! Who would’ve imagined that the philosopher's stone concealed such a terrible secret!” Edward, looking unimpressed,  turned towards Ross and Brosh who awkwardly stood by the side of the Major. Ross squeaked out an apology as Armstrong carried on his monologue. 

“- The truth can be cruel!” The taller man exclaimed. 

The truth. The truth… hidden within the truth. Of course.

A beat of silence passed, Edward and Y/N’s heads shot up and they shared a look of understanding. She started “Isn’t that-” 

Ed cut her off “The truth hidden within the truth, that’s one of the last things Marcoh said before we got back on the train!” determination filing his eyes once again. He started mumbling to himself, scratching his chin as he thought, leaving everyone else in the room confused. “Major! What lab did Dr. Marcoh work at?”

Armstrong took a second to think “I think it was the 3rd laboratory, that's most likely where his research took place!” Ross grabbed the map of Amestris off of the wall and opened it up across the table. “3rd? It couldn’t have been there. We visited that lab after our certifications and I don't remember seeing anything that could’ve been research for the stone.” Y/N said, looking down at the map. 

Ed pointed to a blank building next to Central Prison on the map, “What building is this?” 

“That is an abandoned lab, it's apparently structurally unsafe so it closed down, that was 

years ago.” Ross stated factually. 

“That’s the place.” The blonde teen stated.

“How can you be so certain?” Brosh questioned the boy.

“If the main ingredient for a philosopher’s stone is human life, they would have access to plenty of raw materials there, doesn't it seem convenient that the lab next to a prison is shut down?” Edward said begrudgingly. The room was silent. The Sargent spoke “if the prison is involved, doesn’t that mean the government is too?”. 

Major Armstrong piped up “Remember this is just speculation right now. It is possible that the research department is working alone without the government…But we can’t exactly find that out, Scar killed the head of the research department a few days ago.” 

“General Grand?” Alphonse questioned.

“If someone higher than Brigadier General Grand is involved, then that makes this whole situation more complicated… Because of that I will investigate this on my own for now.” Armstrong said, worry lacing his voice, he turned to face the three teens “That means you three will stay put! I know you were already thinking of sneaking into the 5th laboratory! Don’t even think about it, this is too dangerous for children to be snooping around in.” and with that 2nd LIeutenant Ross, Seagrant Brosh and Major Armstrong left the room, Ross and Brosh returning to their posts outside of the hotel door.

As twilight descended on the city of Central, a blanket of shadows cloaked the ominous silhouette of the Fifth Laboratory. Edward Elric, with his trademark determination etched across his face, peered up at the towering wall that separated them from the secrets hidden within. Beside him, Alphonse Elric stood tall in his massive armor, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the setting sun. And then there was you, Y/N, heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation. “Are you ready?” Edward asked, glancing back at you with a spark of mischief in his eyes. He had a knack for turning ordinary moments into grand adventures. You nodded, swallowing your fear as you took a deep breath. Alphonse extended a hand, his voice gentle yet firm, “We’ll stick together. No matter what happens.” With that, the three of you approached the wall, its surface looming like a giant guardian. The faint sounds of the city faded away, replaced by the pulse of adrenaline thrumming in your veins.With a quick boost from Alphonse, Edward climbed up first, then extended his arm down for you. You grasped it tightly, the cool metal of his hand grounding you as you scrambled up the wall. The moment you reached the top, the sight before you was breathtaking and terrifying at the same time. The sprawling complex of the Fifth Laboratory lay before you, illuminated by the pale moonlight. “Let’s go,” Edward urged, his voice a mix of excitement and urgency. The three of you stealthily descended from the wall, landing silently on the other side. As you crept through the shadows, the air felt charged with anticipation. Whispers of ancient experiments and forbidden knowledge echoed in your mind, fueling your determination. Each step brought you closer to the heart of the lab, and the thrill of the unknown enveloped you like a cloak. “Sheesh they couldn’t have boarded that door anymore” Y/N laughed pointing towards the extremely boarded up door of the lab. A vent in the wall caught their attention first. It was small, barely wide enough for a person to squeeze through, but a spark of curiosity lit up Edward's golden eyes. “Think we can fit in there?” Y/N asked, eyeing the vent skeptically. Alphonse, towering and clad in his trusty armor, shrugged, his voice a soft echo. “I don’t think I’ll be squeezing in there anytime soon” Ed looked towards his brother “Al you should wait here, we shouldn’t be long.” With determination, he hoisted himself up and cracked the covering off of the opening and slipped inside, Y/N exchanged a fleeting glance with Alphonse before following suit, her pulse quickening as she crawled through the narrow passage. Inside, the air was stale, punctuated by the sounds of the teens crawling through the metal tunnel. The vent led to a split in the path, left or right. “Should we split up?” Y/N whispered from behind the boy, not wanting to make too much noise. “What’s the worst that could happen?” He said looking over his shoulder. He went left, she went right.

As Y/N crawled deeper into the narrow duct, the clanking of metal reverberated, making it hard to hear their own thoughts. The darkness enveloped them like a shroud, but their heart raced at the prospect of uncovering hidden truths. She pressed on, thoughts drifting to Edward, who had always been the brave one, charging headfirst into danger. The memory of his fierce determination fueled Y/N’s resolve. She silently vowed to remain cautious, knowing that one wrong move could lead to disaster.

Meanwhile, Edward navigated his own path through the maze of vents, his mind racing with possibilities. He couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, the tension palpable in the air around him. Every slight sound made him pause, listening intently for any sign of danger. As he moved, he thought of Y/N, hoping she was safe. He had always admired her courage, and this mission was no exception. The thought of facing whatever lay ahead without Y/N by his side felt like a weight on his chest. As he trudged through the treacherous terrain, memories of Y/N's smile and laughter flooded his mind, providing a flicker of warmth in the cold darkness. He vowed to return to her, to hold her in his arms once more and never let go. With each step forward, his determination grew stronger.

Y/N wriggled through the narrow, shadowy ducts of the Fifth Laboratory, the air heavy with dust and a subtle metallic tang. The excitement of discovery swiftly morphed into dread as the vent suddenly collapsed beneath them, sending Y/N tumbling down and crashing onto the frigid, tiled floor below. Startled, Y/N quickly scrambled to her feet, glancing around to find an empty corridor, a sinking feeling creeping in. She stood still, eyes darting around, up and down. As her eyes reached the far end of the hallway, a figure emerged from the darkness, its long hair flaring out. “Well, well, what do we have here?” It taunted, taking a leisurely step forward, feet slapping against the tile. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine. “Lost, are we? Or perhaps just looking for trouble?” Its voice dripped with sarcasm, making it clear it was relishing the moment. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she tried to maintain her composure. The figure's taunting tone only fueled her determination to prove them wrong. With a steely gaze, she squared her shoulders and took a deep breath, getting ready to run. The closer the figure got the more of it she could see, it's strange outfit, it's strange tattoo. Panic set in as she struggled to comprehend what she was seeing, unsure of how to react. As the figure drew nearer, she could feel her breath quicken and her muscles tense. The unfamiliarity of the situation only added to her fear, making her mind race with questions and doubts. Should she confront the figure or flee? The decision had to be made quickly, as time seemed to slow down in the midst of her panic. Her heart pounded in her chest as she weighed her options. Confronting the figure could be dangerous, but running away might also lead to unforeseen consequences. 

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest as she sprinted down the tiled corridor, the sharp echoes of their footsteps mingling with the distant, mocking laughter of the figure. The walls seemed to close in on her, each flickering overhead light casting long shadows that danced menacingly with every hurried step, coming closer, and closer to the doors. Its voice taunted from behind, a serpentine hiss that sent chills racing down Y/N's spine. "You can’t run forever," it called, the sound dripping with cruel amusement. She turned to see how far back it was, to see it was right behind her. Before she could react, it lunged forward, grabbing Y/N by her hair with a force that sent shockwaves through her body. The world seemed to spin as it forcefully slammed her against the cold, tiled wall, leaving her gasping for air. Her body hit the floor. Its sinister green eyes gleamed with mischief, a wicked smirk playing at the corners of its lips. "What do we have here? A little girl lost in a world far too big for her?" he taunted, its voice dripping with malice. 

With a sudden burst of energy, Y/N lunged up, landing a blow to its face, sending the creature back forcefully, its laughter echoing through the hallway, “You think you can hurt me?” it taunted, its voice dripping with contempt. Y/N stood, blood seeping from her forehead, summoning every ounce of strength and determination. With a swift motion, Y/N pressed her hands together, the air crackling with energy as she used the symbol on her gloves creating a blade of water that quickly hardened into ice. The two clashed, throwing themselves toward each other, their movements a blur as they danced around each other, a chaotic ballet of power and fury. As the fight raged on, Y/N's muscles screamed in protest, her breath coming in ragged gasps. The unknown being seemed to feed off their exhaustion, its smirk widening with each blow it landed and each swish of Y/N’s blade it dodged. With steely determination, she continued to press forward, her resolve unwavering even in the face of such a formidable opponent. The clash of ice against unknown power created a symphony of danger and defiance. “This is getting boring, I'm not even allowed to hurt you too much,” it complained, “You’d be so easy to kill, why have you got to be a sacrifice”. Y/N stopped, pointing her ice blade at its throat. “Sacrifice? What are you talking about?” It laughed, unmoving. Y/N's heart raced as she stood her ground, refusing to back down in the face of this mysterious figure. Every word spoken was like a dagger, cutting through the tension in the room. “Oopsie, I might have said too much,” it joked, shrugging its shoulders, acting like it couldn't see the blade inches away from its airway. Y/N's grip on the ice dagger tightened, her eyes narrowing as she tried to decipher the true intentions of this mysterious figure. Despite its casual demeanor, there was a calculated edge to its words that sent a shiver down her spine. Without warning, it lunged forward, a blur of green and darkness, it's sharp claws poised to strike. Y/N barely had time to react as it closed the distance, a wicked grin spreading across its face. Time seemed to slow as she braced herself for impact, but the blow came quicker than she anticipated. It's fist connected with her face , a forceful jab that sent her crashing to the ground, unconscious before she even hit the tiles.

[dustedmagazine]

Listening Post: The Ancients

The zone of music that Isaiah Collier, William Parker, and William Hooker inhabit has been around for quite some time, and one could point to mid-20th century sax-bass-drum trios led by Sonny Rollins, Ornette Coleman, and Albert Ayler as precedents for what they do. But if you A-B-ed their version of free, ecstatic jazz with earlier models, you’d not only hear the considerable energy that they generate together but its difference from earlier models. And given their diverse activities outside the trio, they might envision impacting all manner of cultural and spiritual action. 

Drummer William Hooker (b. 1946) first recorded in 1977, and while his music sometimes sounds like full-on free jazz, he has frequently recruited his fellow musicians from the rock realm or based on a shared enthusiasm for the spoken word. He’s usually heard leading bands, or occasionally in equal collaborations like his duo with Lee Ranaldo, but he’s made an exception to drum for William Parker. Parker (b. 1952) has been a part of the New York free jazz scene since the mid-1970s, when he played bass on Frank Lowe’s E.S.P. release Black Beings. He’s since written books, wielded a vast array of wind and stringed instruments, led big and small bands employing a myriad of improvisational and compositional methods, collaborated with singers and dancers, and backed eminences including Cecil Taylor, Peter Brötzmann and David S. Ware. Both men are based in New York. Saxophonist Isaiah Collier (b. 1998) is from Chicago. Like Parker, he things big; his recent multi-media work The 400 Years, is a thirteen-part consideration of African-American history from the slave trade to the present as told through music and movement. 

Parker had worked separately with the other two musicians prior to their formation as a trio for three concerts in Los Angeles and San Francisco in May, 2023. Their debut LP, The Ancients, was released by Eremite in the USA and Aguirre in Europe in January, 2025. It offers four side-long excerpts from the May concerts that showcase their purposeful synthesis of energy and expression. 

Bio by Bill Meyer

Ian Mathers: As one of the Dusted folks less familiar with/knowledgeable in the many facets of jazz, I admit I was a bit intimidated here; 90 minutes of free jazz seems a lot more daunting to me than, say, listening to the almost-as-long Water Damage LP from last year. But this afternoon I had a sustained burst of editing to take care of at my day job, so I threw on The Ancients as I got going, and that hour and a half practically flew by. I know I've tried listening to free jazz sporadically before (generally with pleasure, although for whatever reason it's not something I tend to reach for) but this is just about the easiest it's ever gone down. And yet the sets here don't feel diluted or entry-level at all (as far as I can tell as a neophyte). I was mostly paying conscious attention to Collier's sax, but all three trio members felt like they kept my attention. Am I just finally at a point in my life where jazz is starting to click more, or can those more already attuned to the nuances here tell me the ways this is exceptional?

Bill Meyer: Ian, you have gone straight to the point. In any genre, there's stuff that's good, stuff that's just okay and the rest. This album is the good stuff. It is accessible inasmuch as this music, while improvised, is played with a deep commitment to stating the groove. I think that's partly a function of the Hooker-Parker relationship. In his own bands, Hooker leads from the front and the rest of the musicians have to catch up. With Parker, I think he understands himself to be performing a different role and so the two of them are really locked into each other's playing. Another aspect contributing to accessibility is that I think that Collier is is in touch with song forms even when he's not playing a song. 

Bryon Hayes: You both have managed to articulate my thoughts on this recording.  The groove and the pacing of the Parker-Hooker rhythm section, and the way that they distribute their combined energies throughout each set, really kept me riveted.  I've heard both of these gentlemen in different settings and with different collaborators but never together, and they seem deeply in tune with each other here.  I'm also not an expert in the free jazz world, so I usually go by how a recording impacts me when deciding if I like it or not: whether I'm getting punched in the guts or whether I'm being probed in the emotional center of the brain.  This one falls in the latter category, as it feels rooted in soulfulness, especially Collier's playing - even when he's blowing his lungs out, there are little snatches of melody that really sing.  I really dig it. 

Bill Meyer: I’m certainly not an expert on Collier’s work, but because I live in Chicago I’ve had some opportunities to see him in diverse settings. Aside from the bands he leads, he sometimes sits in with other people; I’ve seen him with ensembles led by Hamid Drake and William Parker, where he does some AACM-style little instrument coloration as well as play saxophone. And I once saw a very curious solo concert where he mainly played sampler, coming up with something that sounded like a collage of some basement noise and solo keyboard fragments of contemporary r&b. 

In this trio, he seems very clear about his roll. He’s the spearhead, the focus of the rhythm section’s energy as well as his own. 

Jennifer Kelly: Okay, with the usual disclaimers about my not-super-familiarity or comfort with free improv, I’m finding that I like the third track the best, “2023-05-13 LA Set II.” Maybe that’s because it lets the bass and drums lead for an extended opening, at first a barely audible rumble of low-end and hands on drums, and then more of a conventional swing on cymbals with Parker’s bass bubbling up in synchrony and Collier, just sort of growling on sax.  His first long tone blows in like a fly swooping over, the tone dopplering against a swaggering rhythm.  And then you get the sort of song part of the piece, which is most of it, and I like the way the three principals meet, but very loosely, coming at the groove from different directions, everybody on his own trip but swerving suddenly back into the thick of it.  I hear them all echoing the same rhythm but not at the same time, one long note then a couple of short ones, daaah di di daah di di daah di di, and it works like machinery warped subtly out of true, volatile, intersecting, not quite making a monolith. 

Tim Clarke: I'm glad you mentioned the third piece, Jenny, as it's definitely my favorite on the record. It harnesses a particular feel between the players that really caught my ear. Noir / spy movie perhaps? The rest of the music, though clearly executed with sensitivity, frustrated my relatively straightforward ears. Just when the players seemed to be coalescing into something resembling a unified theme or groove that they could all dig into and explore thoroughly, someone would break away and the potential would be lost. I can hear the appeal of this music, but either don't have the patience to let it roam freely in the way it does, or simply need to be more familiar with the ways in which jazz musicians can flex song forms. 

[hologramcowboy]

You said in your Jane Eyre answer that Jensen has an “emotional depth” but I am mostly if not only see emotional immaturity. The way he talks about being a father, comparing hos feeling for his own kids, rolling eyes to Elta and mostly the fact he is still with her in this f-ed up marriage… I like her and big SupNat fan (1-5season) but I think his emotional intelligence is not good. I would love to hear your opinion on that.

Thank you for the great question, anon. To answer it, I must make a clarification: I was referring to Jensen's acting strictly. While playing Dean Winchester, Jensen has proven emotional depth. Meaning he is an actor that can access deep emotional states. Does he use that ability? Often not, especially nowadays. As for real life, he does come off tone deaf on a lot of topics and he definitely doesn't exercise emotional intelligence when it comes to his audience and the way he portrays himself. He hides behind a carefully crafted persona but due to conflicting feelings he ends up coming off as passive-aggressive towards his own family. He seems to be in the dark about his own self. I hope he finds happiness, in whatever form that may come in. An actor's real-life persona can be extremely different from his celebrity persona as well as from his acting persona. Some of the shittiest people on this earth are some of the most talented actors who are also revered because people don't know their real life personalities. My point is, don't mistake someone's real life personality for their acting range. As humans we can explore many depths of our psyche, we just have to be willing to do the inner work required. The stage or the set are often cathartic to actors precisely because they get to play out aspects of themselves they don't get to express in real life. Someone completely shy and reserved could be a firebomb on set just as someone extremely charismatic in real life might not translate well on screen and come off as unlikeable. It all depends on how the camera sees you and what type of inner work you've done. Some people pierce the screen and then seem completely anonymous when you met them in real life, to the point where you fail to recognize them. Jensen belongs to that kind of category of actor, as far as I'm concerned. Meaning that his onscreen charisma and flair have zero to do with his presence in real life and that his magnetism does not translate in person. It's definitely a case of the camera adding a new dimension to his overall look. That's just my opinion, of course, and I am strictly viewing him through an acting lens. They say Marilyn Monroe could turn off her charisma and become anonymous when she wanted, she had full control of her presence as a performer and actor. That was a result of years of study, years during which she developed a persona that to this day fascinates. Jensen didn't study much as an actor so whatever charisma the camera gives him fades away as soon as the cameras stop rolling. That's because as an actor you have to develop your charisma, culture has a lot to do with it but so do many other things an actor can pick up. People superficially view Jensen as "hot" and know nothing about him beyond that and that's because he has no branding. The persona he's developed is entirely superficial. I would really LOVE to see him embody that iconic man he sometimes brings to life on screen. There is no one who believes more in his potential but all of my believing has to be matched by profound inner work on his side.

[insteading]

“We Gull Way Back,” Our Flag Means Death 1.8

Moment 1: Breakfast on the Revenge. Ed and Calico Jack take the places Stede had set for himself and Ed. Calico Jack relates how Blackbeard set a ship on fire with the crew trapped inside.

Stede (stricken and disappointed): I thought you'd, uh, given up the killing.

Ed (to Stede): Yeah, well, technically the fire killed those guys. Not me. ...

Ed (to Calico Jack): I've actually mellowed a bit.

Calico Jack: Have you? Well, hopefully you haven't mellowed out too much.

Moment 2: The underbrush on Blind Man's Cove. Stede, having a pee, is joined by Calico Jack.

Calico Jack: Blackie and I, we've had our dalliances. (pause, then snottily) Oooh, I'm sorry, did I hit a nerve?

Stede: No, Ed's past is Ed's business, and I respect that.

Calico Jack (scornfully): Ed. The Blackie I knew would have snapped your neck for calling him that.

Stede: Well, perhaps he's not the Blackie you knew.

Calico Jack: Or maybe you don't know him at all. (pees on Stede's boots, because I guess we're literally turf-marking now)

Moment 3: The morning after Ed and Calico Jack leave the Revenge. They're sitting on the beach after Jack has failed to whip up breakfast from the surf. Ed looks hungover, overheated, irritated by the sand and his ex's stupid mustache.

Ed (waving away the rum): It's a little early for that, don't you think?

Calico Jack: Well excuse me, I didn't know I was having an audience with the fucking pope.

The subtitle of Harriet Lerner's The Dance of Anger may be “A Woman's Guide to Changing the Patterns of Intimate Relationship,” but IMO what Lerner identifies and argues isn't limited in its usefulness to women. Lerner's argument can be generalized to, Those of us whose loved ones are used to us interacting with them in a particular way often act out when we change or grow in directions they didn't anticipate. They may resist our growth and try to push us back toward the ways we used to interact with them. The fact that us setting boundaries might occasion a negative response doesn't actually mean we shouldn't set boundaries. Either our loved ones eventually adjust to The New Us, or they will probably eventually become people who get less access to us.

Having been on both sides of this: I have some compassion for Izzy and Jack, who want Blackbeard to stay suspended in the amber of myth, rather than to break open and let Ed step out. To see a loved one grow in a direction you cannot go, and lean hard into that growth, feels like a loss. But if you try to keep someone Who They Once Were by guilt-tripping them (Calico Jack: “I saved your life, man”) or expressing your contempt for Who They Are Becoming (Izzy: “I serve Blackbeard, not Edward: Edward had better watch his fucking step”), you'd both be better off admitting you're no longer each other's people, grieving that lost closeness, leaning into your own growth, and moving on.

[kookiessugababy]

Unzip (Park Jimin) // 18+ nsfw!!

Warnings 🚨- daddy kink// thigh slapping//spanking//slightly rough//hickies//

-> scenario: after a terrible night meeting your father for the first time in years, your best friend Jimin makes it his job to help you alleviate your upset.

Hope you enjoy <3

*****************************************************

His hoodie hung off over you- emerald shards of your silk dress appearing below the hem. Both damp and uncomfortable the rain poured upon the two of you. Running in the desolate street with frozen hands grasping one another, giggles erupting from his lips as he pulled you along. Apartments shone a purple glow upon the pavements- illuminating the puddling water. You watched him with delight as he tugged you, an overwhelming sense of happiness flooding out the rain.

You had met with your father for the first time in years over a polite dinner at a fine restaurant- him paying the expenses. The experience had been awkward and confining, with every expression showing disgust as you exchanged your lifestyle with his. For the first time in years, you had felt so uncomfortable in a place you loved- and with his angered complexion as he watched you gloat about how wonderful you found your new life you felt the need to escape. Despite his morals, moving to Seoul was the best decision you had ever made, quickly making best friends with a customer going by the name of Park Ji-min within days of your new cafe job. Later finding out he was somehow part of a globally successful music group, Jimin had introduced you to his band members who had grown very fond of you- now spending almost every moment messaging or seeing them. Your relationship with them was rather spontaneous, thinking about it. Very sudden, almost strange consider their status- but you would never change it for the world. Problems often lay between you and your wealthy father - your alternative lifestyle regressing his attempt to make you thrive in the business world. His filthy rich fingers had only came to tousle with your “getting along” lifestyle you were portraying to him over a plate of Daeji Bulgogi- but you were fine. In fact, the rain was thrashing your face and you were beaming at the boy pulling you along- fits of giggles erupting from your mouth as the movie like scenario lulled you into a state of euphoric bliss showed him you were more than fine. Street lights were a delightful blur at the moving pace, water splashing your legs with each step- your apartment appearing to sight as Jimin turned a silhouette around the corner.

Fumbling for your keys in Jimin’s jumper, you unlocked the door to the warm air of the room, damp fingers searching for the light switch as you both continued to giggle. Catching your reflection in the hanging mirror, you inspected your soaked hair, makeup dripping from your face and dress sopping. “Lemme help you out of that, y/n” Jimin offered, his hands moving to the hem of the jumper. It was slightly stuck as he peeled it from you, laughing as your face scrunched against the uncomfortable fabric. “I’m sorry about tonight” Jimin resonated, balling up the fabric as he tried to sympathise with you. It felt unnecessary as you stood watching him in the yellow glow of the light- a now opaque shirt sticking to his toned chest - defined features staring at your own. You shook your head and smiled thankfully- “I appreciate you meeting me so late!” You chirped, laughing again slightly as he kicked off his water filled shoes. “You know where I am y/n. How about we get you changed?” He replies, taking your hand in his own. Yup shivered on his touch- the unfamiliar intimacy almost surprising you as he guided you through the corridor.

Swinging your legs, you perched on the edge of your bed watching Jimin make his way around your room- filing through cupboards and drawers to dress you. He was humming a familiar tune as he spun around, handing you a large hoodie and some shorts. Smiling, he passed them to you as you thanked him yet again for his kind help. Rising from the bed, you felt followed by his eyes- your dress pressed to your figure with water- exaggerating its fit. The tension was thick and foreign, and unable to put your finger on it you questioned him. “May you help me unzip my dress?” It came an almost quiet mutter of embarrassment at your inability to undo it, but his keenness was evident by his gentle fingers snaking to your shoulders. They carved a line between your neck and back, eventually reaching the delicate zip. Like glass he touched you, carefully and sensually- pulling it down slowly. His index finger trailed behind, painting your skin with shivers. The fabric slipped past your legs with ease, laying in a pool at your feet- leaving you exposed in nothing but a small thong. Deafening silence echoed through his burning stare- your spine heating as he ran his hands down your sides, taking in the curves of your hips. Suggestively, they wandered down to your ass, staying there. His touch was a strange sensation- the previous absence of this desire pulsing an urge through you. “Jimin I-“ you stuttered, him shushing you almost immediately. Watching the wall, you heard him step forward, his hips now against your ass; “Hush, y/n”

Replying with a nod, you pressed your lips together as he mumbled something inaudible. The closeness of his cock made your clit pulse- his erection now pressing against you. Burying his face into you, his nose pressed against your neck- breathe steady as yours hitched.

Seconds felt like minutes, hot air whispering against you and tension only rising. Kissing sliced through the warmth as he nibbled your neck, dotting pecks all over your shoulders. Groaning lightly, his cock twitched against you. Uncertain yet sure, you pushed your ass towards him in a blatant reply, tilting your head to allow him greater access. “Mmm. You’re fucking beautiful” he groaned into your neck, a squeak rising from your throat as he nipped your skin with his teeth. Greedy hands searched your ass, squeezing and kneading your body- teasing as he treat your shoulder blades with his pouted lips. Your stomach flipped as he touched you in such way- the innocence of your friendship unzipped in a ball on the floor. Your heat grew wet as you considered his next move, fingers now grasping the string of your underwear to drop them down your thighs. Giving him more to tease, his hands slowly slid down the back of your thighs to touch your dripping pussy. Moving even closer, he stroked his finger across your slit- collecting juices from your arousal. Whining at the sensation, you bucked your hips as it vacated. Holding them to your mouth, you inspected his soaked fingers which only turned you on more. Glancing back to him for reassurance, you took his fingers into your mouth- sucking and cleaning the arousal from them. Hissing at your soft tongue wrapping around his fingers, he harshly pulled your hips to his swelling erection closing the remaining space between your bodies. You could feel yourself grow needy for him as you stood naked before him- saliva running from your mouth as you continued to suck. Skilfully, his other hand busied itself undoing his belt. As if a routine, he removed his garments with little movements- his cock slapping against your ass as your mouth remained occupied.

Needing some attention to your core, you began to grind against his cock as you muttered his name into his hand. “It’s daddy to you, baby” His low voice almost finished you on it’s own- the words sending you into a moaning mess. Suddenly, he thrusted into you- his cock filling you up with a new sense of urgency. As if he was too desperate to wait to allow you to adjust, he grasped your hips with harsh fingers, arching your back with arms pressed against the wall, and pounded into you harshly. The position he stood in give him an advantage to hit your spot continuously, sloppy sounds echoing through the room as he moved in and out of you. Slapping your ass, you moaned at the sting he left behind, his balls hitting upon the new red mark. “Baby let me hear you scream for me” he groaned, a slight grunt leaving his lips as his head fell back. With weak legs, you allowed your filthy moans to escape your mouth- his name spilling like ink, sinfully writing upon the walls. “You’re so tight y/n” the boy groaned, burying his cock as far as he could before thrusting yet again. Needing more, you begged for him to go harder- even if it felt impossible for him to do so- your heat almost numb at the speed. “H- harder daddy please I ne-ed more”

Your mouth was dry as he continued, unable to withhold a single sound as spanked your ass yet again. Every word you spoke was broken as he continued to guide your hips against his cock. Your walls felt tight and your stomach clenched as he twitched inside of you- circling your hips with avarice as he continued at his merciless pace. Spilling himself inside of you, his warm cum filled up your hole- drilling from you as his movements turned sloppy while he rode out his high. Before you could cum, he pushed you to the bed directly behind the both of you- your breasts bouncing at the force. “Fucking look at you. Look how hard you still have me.” he groaned, before lying himself on the bed next to you. You glanced at him in confusion, but before you could inquest- he interrupted your thoughts. “Sit on my face y/n. I want to see that pretty pussy drip all over me.” Gracefully moving your way over, you straddled his face as the warmth of his breath matched your heat. His nose pressed against your clit as he pushed his tongue insatiably inside your hole. Flicking his tongue at the entrance before diving further, he played with your wetness as you couldn’t help but grind against his face. Your back arched as he continued, humming into your crotch. With every movement you made, your clit gained friction from his nose. You watched as his hands gripped your thighs, holding them apart to give him accession. His dominance over you startled you slightly, having never seen him in such lustful state. Eyes squeezing shut, your back arched yet again as you came all over his face- the twisting of your stomach causing you to scream his name in pure shock. Heavily breathing, your bare chest rose as you dismounted him- watching his fingers lap up your cum and licking them clean. The sight made you flush crimson - his pretty features messed with your desperation. “So fucking pretty y/n. You taste so fucking pretty.”

Glancing down at yourself, marks coated you in a shirt of crimson- your thighs and ass bruised alongside hickies decorating your shoulders and neck like jewellery. “Oh y/n I’m sorry I should have asked” Jimin panicked, his hair now slightly messy after the previous events. Shaking your head in solace, you smiled and rested yourself upon his bare chest. “Would you like to stay over Jimin?”

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [1]

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, OCs

Words: 1,550

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you.

Chapter Summary: Dean asks you to flirt with a cop for info. Sam is not pleased.

Warnings: jealous!sam, protective!sam, huffy!sam, badass!reader, exasperated squirrel, mutual pining, idiots in love, tropesss

A/N: this is part one of a six-part mini series that is essentially an amalgamation of all the jealous/protective tropes. sorry not sorry?

MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The first time was an impromptu experiment. Of course, Dean already knew Sam had a crush on you; he raised the kid for crying out loud. That and the way Sam had stumbled over his own tongue and feet the first time they encountered you (and nearly every time thereafter) made it quite obvious to everyone… well, except you, apparently. Regardless, Dean figured it was just the case of a simple crush and poor Sammy being unable to match his finesse with the ladies.

So when the three of you came across a sleazy police captain, who was in no way shy about having the hots for you, during a rugaru hunt in Nebraska, Dean was rather taken aback by his brother’s unusual reaction.

Strolling into the Omaha police department with you and Sam on either side, the older Winchester had identified the captain immediately from his picture online.

“Captain Anderson,” Dean addressed the man directly in a low, authoritative tone, “I’m Agent Parker, and these are my partners Agents Stan and Lee.” He motioned to his right and left side as he introduced you, accordingly, pausing as you flashed your fake badges in unison.

The captain was a tall, slightly rotund fellow, with a mustache to rival an 80’s porn star’s, and he scoffed haughtily at your entrance. “What the hell do the feds want with us? And did they really hafta send three of ya?” He gestured pointedly at you with a patronizing raise of his chin and your blood began to boil at the implicitly misogynistic remark.

“Well no offense, Captain,” you spoke up; your FBI get-up always gave you an extra boost of confidence (something about the power suit vibes you supposed), plus men like him really pissed you off, “but there have been five deaths here within the last week, and from what I understand, your team has a grand total of zero working theories and just as many leads, so perhaps you can understand why the government would show some concern.”

“Mm, mm, mm!” Captain Anderson chanted obnoxiously in response. He gave you a painfully slow once-over, eyes filled with a crude and unrestrained lechery that forced a shiver down your spine. “A woman who knows how to take charge… I like that,” he licked his lips lasciviously.

Dean was torn between awaiting your likely ruthless and epic comeback or telling the douchebag off himself when he heard Sam clear his throat forcedly beside him. Looking over, he was surprised to find his giant of a little brother to be a picture of rage. Strained jaw, clenched fists, distended chest, and a murderous glare directed unwaveringly at the Omaha police captain.

Meanwhile, you were finding it difficult to resist the urge to roll your eyes and repress your temper to maintain a professional front. “We need information and clearance,” you stated firmly, ignoring the cop’s inappropriate and debaucherous display, “Are you going to hand it over or not?”

“Sorry little miss, no can do! You’re prolly gonna hafta talk to the chief if you want in on a big boy case like this one… but, you know, I can think of some ways you might be able to convince me otherwise,” he finished with a lewd wink before taking off.

Sam looked like he was about to lunge at the captain, but Dean put a hand on his arm to ground him. He was starting to suspect Sam’s behavior might have more to do with you than the fact that the captain was a regular dickhead. After all, Sam was usually the calmer and more rational of the brothers, especially during hunts.

You were too busy holding yourself back to notice though, staring daggers into Anderson’s back as you watched him walk away.

“What an asshole. I’m sorry, Y/N,” Dean began. An idea was forming in his head, one that could help him test his theory. “Look, you know I wouldn’t ask this if there was a better way, but dyou think, maybe, just this once, you could… you know? Turn on the charm a bit? Just so we can get in?”

Sam had not been fully engaged in the conversation until just then, too focused on trying to mollify the inexplicable rage that Captain Anderson had incited within him, but Dean’s request certainly caught his attention.

“What?! Dean! You can’t be serious. No. We’ll find another way. Just- No.” Sam’s voice was harder and deeper than usual and for a moment you lost yourself in it, daydreaming that perhaps he was exhibiting a sense of jealously. But who were you kidding? Sam was just a nice guy who detested sexist pricks like Anderson; this had nothing to do with you.

“No, it’s fine. Dean’s right. This is the easiest way. I’ll do it,” you stated quietly before adding with a small smile, “I can suck it up on account of saving some lives.”

Dean grinned and you walked away before Sam could protest any further. When you reached the captain’s office, you didn’t bother knocking on the open door, “Alright, Captain Anderson-“

“Please, call me Frank.” He looked up at you with such a smug and revolting expression, you decided there was no way you could follow through with Dean’s plan.

“Listen, Frank,” you crossed your arms in what you hoped was an ‘I mean business’ stance, but quickly dropped them when you realized the action had unwittingly highlighted your cleavage in the button-down blouse you were wearing and spurred yet another round of gratuitous leering from Frank. “What’s it gonna take for you to hand over the case files and grant us full access to the evidence and crime scenes?”

“Well, since I like you, I’ll make it easy for ya. How about we start with a smile?” He had leaned forward in his seated position behind his desk as he spoke, and you almost smacked him right then.

As you turned to leave, however, it was Anderson who smacked you, open palmed and right on the ass. You forced yourself to take a deep breath before slowly turning back around. Keeping your movements deliberate and unhurried, you bent over his desk, ignoring the impulse to gag at the greasy, utterly unholy scent that filled your nostrils as you got close enough to whisper in his ear, “You know what, I’ll make it easy for you too. How about, if you give my partners and I complete authorization on this case, I won’t report you to the feds for sexual harassment? See, I know people in the upper ranks and I’ve got a lawyer who wipes the floor with guys like you on the daily.” It was all lies, of course, but you figured it was for a good cause.

“So what’s it gonna be, Captain?” You asked after straightening yourself back up.

As you’d hoped, the bastard was looking a little worse for wear, though you could tell he was trying to retain what little he could of his arrogant persona. “You little bitch.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Fine. You can have it,” he pointed at a stack of file folders on his desk, and then sighed as he produced three security passes, “Go crazy! Go fuck yourself.”

“Gladly,” you sassed, ready to strut out of there with everything you came for in hand.

Behind you, things had not gone so smoothly. When Sam saw Anderson slapping your butt, he was fully prepared to march over and break the captain’s nose, but Dean again held him back, “Woah, hey, you know Y/N can handle herself. What’s up with you?”

Then when he was forced to watch you lean in tantalizingly close and whisper something in Anderson’s ear, Sam experienced an entirely foreign sensation. He was still burning with fury, but that anger was joined by a peculiar ache. His heart had risen to his throat as he stood there, completely transfixed, a look of dejection and longing written across his face.

‘Huh,’ Dean had thought with an internal smirk, ‘Sammy’s got it ba-ad!’ he sing-song-ed in his own head, storing the information away for later, when he could find an opportune moment to tease his baby brother about it.

For now, Dean gave you two thumbs up as he watched you return with a triumphant grin, holding up three official passes by their lanyards.

“Got it all. We’re completely in,” you supplied each brother a security pass when you reached them.

“Damn. You are good, woman! What did you even say to him?” Dean chuckled as the three of you left the station.

“Oh nothing, just a bit of light threatening.”

Sam stopped to look at you quizzically. “Wait, what? You mean you didn’t- you weren’t… flirting with him?”

“Nah, I was too appalled by the thought to go down that route.”

“Oh,” he huffed out, looking down with drooped shoulders and an awkward twitch of a smile. You could have sworn he looked somewhat relieved, but decided not to read too much into it, too pleased with yourself to allow the ever-growing gloom of your unrequited love dampen your spirits.

The whole time Dean was staring back at the two of you in disbelief. ‘These goddamn idiots,’ he thought with an exasperated yet slightly amused shake of his head.

→ CARRY ON

thanks so much for reading! feedback always appreciated 💞

[brokentoys]

Okay, since two lovely people were asking (y’know who you are!) So, I will write as to why they’re the most perfect ship, or at least one of them, lol! 

THE GOOD;

They’re both childish. Seriously, Harley loves cartoons, toys, and tends to act silly. Eddie is also childish, in his own ways. He throws tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants, and then he has this childish need for attention and validation. Also has shown in Ark Knight, he has a love for toys as he DOES happen to have two in his room... which is UNDERNEATH the orphanage... so there will be no way there’d happen to be two toys there, unless Eddie picked them for himself. This is an unused room which is cut from the game, and can be accessed through cheats.

They’re both abuse victims. Harley was abused by her boyfriend, Eddie was abused by his parents. In the Suey Side Skwad film, Harley is shown killing a potential BF because he showed red flags. Eddie? Has killed or harmed older men in the comics because they’re abusive, or mistreated him, and Eddie had sworn to never let that happen to him again. They both can understand each other because of this, but they also PARALLEL each other.

They’ve both been on the good side - considering certain canons, Eddie was part of the GCPD, and Harley was a psychiatrist. Wanting to help the mentally ill, and Eddie wanting to do something about justice, yet they both went astray from the side of good. Both have also redeemed themselves at one point in the comics.

They’re both very intelligent - Harley being a doctor, and Eddie being a genius.

Harley and Eddie have been shown to be... VERY into relationships. (Eddie has been shown to fall in love INSTANTLY in comics, as well as doing ANYTHING for his lover - if it meant hurting his own men, or killing people. Harley is pretty much the exact same.)

Eddie literally complimented Harley when he first met her. FR. He compared her intelligence of his own by saying great minds think alike. This may seem minor, but from EDDIE??? That is a MAJOR compliment. He sees himself as the smartest man on earth... so thinking Harley in comparable to HIS INTELLIGENCE?? Yeah...

And although Harley insulted him at first... she later starts admitting how much fun he is.

They share the same energy, they even look back at this moment with laughs in a later comic...

Harley has also expressed genuine concern for Eddie, even checking up on him. And not only this, Eddie had accepted mere cents from Harley for a case (when he was a P.I.) Reminder: Eddie had charged Bruce LITERAL THOUSANDS for a case. And he often overcharged people. But with Harley??? He accepted MERE CENTS.

THE BAD (which is also good!)

In Sirens, it showed the rockiness in their relationship, which actually made it more compelling, and I’ll explain why. Like Ed’s jealousy - when he says this about finding Harley...

At first, he was reluctant to find her, because Eddie didn’t think it was that seriously. Because his jealousy got in the way. He’s mad because she disappears at months at a time, not bothering to tell him why or how. Eddie’s jealousy got in the way of helping Harley, but it was understandable. And it was understandable why Harley disappeared. Eddie is clearly hurt because remember, Eddie was literally abused by a child - and very neglected. This caused him to feel he was nothing, which made him develop this obsession with receiving love and validation from EVERYONE, getting attention from EVERYONE. So when someone who he LOVES abandons him...? Of COURSE, that’s going to hurt... and it’s going to hurt BAD. But also Harley being in an abusive relationship, Eddie fails to see why she’d return.

However, remember... in the end of this comic, Eddie pulls through for Harley. 

Harley has also, inadvertently, hurt Eddie the same way Joker has hurt her. When she went along with the Sirens’ plan to use Eddie as a patsy to bait a killer. They used Eddie for their own gain, in a way, even if they didn’t intend to. But Harley seemed the most concerned, often saying how she feels bad for him, and how he trusted them. It gave me the panel which hurt me the MOST.

“I could see the hurt in Harley’s eyes, though I doubt she looked THAT HARD to see it in mine...” Even though, Harley is... clearly upset... worried, even...

And I think she does understand why he’s hurt... given she expressed how bad she felt for him. I will NEVER forgive Dee Cee for NOT expanding on this, because I feel Harley would’ve made it up to Eddie. BUT ANYWAY--

Why is this good? Because remember, Harley and Eddie AREN’T a conventional couple. They’re very broken people with broken lives. They’ve been abused, and they don’t know what love really is. They love each other dearly, but are still prone to hurt each other because of how they were raised, or conditioned. This? Makes them so compelling... because they may hurt each other, but together, they can become better people. And unlike Joker - it’s never intentional harm. It’s just - ... it’s a misunderstanding, or they’re scared. 

Because a story needs BOTH good moments, and conflicts. Harley and Eddie has BOTH of that, as well as having so much in common. And it makes it interesting, and makes you wanting to read it more. Makes you root for them. I really do think they’re one of the best ships because of all these dynamics.

[the-lonely-tree-original]

5 Times Ed Carried Al and 1 the Other Way Around

I.)

Alphonse was 10 and he already felt like his world was destroyed. His mother was dead, killed a second time by her children. He had lost his body to the transmutation and been forced into a metal encasing. And, most prominently, his free spirited brother was broken. Broken beyond repair, it seems.

His normally shining eyes were ringed with shadows caused by sleepless nights and the guilt at what they had done.

His loud voice, filled with excitement and wonderful personality was dulled down into meek murmurings.

His confident smile had all but disappeared.

When Edward lost his limbs it felt like they took his soul with them.

The thought on Alphonse’s mind lately was that he was to blame. 

It had started when he’d heard his brother talking animatedly for what felt like the first time in forever. Alphonse felt like his heart swelled, even if he didn’t have the body to prove so. He’d rushed into the dining room to see what made his brother so happy.

Abruptly, the cheerful noises quieted down, and Edward turned his head warily to him, looking at him with a pained expression. “Hey Al,” he tried, giving him a wobbly smile, but it was obviously forced.

The sudden disquiet within the room was evidently caused by him. Alphonse spoke softly, trying to comfort his brother, but the mood of the room was permanently changed. Al watched as his brother fell asleep in tears that night. 

The second time it happened was when Edward fell sick with a fever, calling out for his brother. Alphonse jumped to comfort, making it to his beside in seconds. The sick boy had reached out his hand, grasping for another to meet it. The suit of armor was quick to comply, grasping the smaller hand in his gauntlets.

Edward had pulled away, cries becoming louder, calling for his brother but shrugging off all contact made by him. It wasn’t until Winry and Pinako came into the room, placing their warm, soft, flesh hands in his own, that he calmed down.

Alphonse knew that his brother was adverse to his metal body, so he became scarce in his second home, hoping to soothe his own guilt by exploring the expansive fields of Resembool.

He’d discovered hiding places and giant pits and even a family of rabbits, but nothing compared to having his brother by his side. He wondered, had he not been trapped in this suit of armor, would he and Ed be exploring these together?

As he entered the Rockbell house, trying to tone down the clanking of his metal appendages, he took note of his brother by the window… stuck in that awful wheelchair… trapped. His gaze was pointed towards the grassy fields and blue skies. Alphonse remembered how much he loved to play - even more than he loved alchemy.

Making his decision in a split second he marched over to his brother, startling the elder out of his thoughts. “Come on brother, we’re going outside.”

Without waiting for his response, the younger grabbed ahold of the chair, steering his brother towards the door.

It only took a few minutes for them to make a game of it, racing the chair as fast as they could across the field. Alphonse looked down at his older brother, noticing the wide smile on his face and listening happily as the elder screamed in excitement.

Alphonse felt fuzzy at the thought of his idea being the cause.

It wasn’t long though, until misfortune struck. They hit a pothole and the chair bounced. It took Al less than a second to choose between the chair and his brother, reaching out and grabbing the other’s torso. The chair flew into the air and came crashing down.

There was a wheezing sound, and Al thought that he’d accidentally hurt his brother, still not being used to the strength of his new body, but the wheezing turned to chuckles, which turned to full out laughter.

He couldn’t help but laugh as well.

Glumly though, he noted that the chair was broken, a wheel was missing and the arm was snapped off. “I don’t think we’ll be able to bring you back on this, brother,” he said. “I’ll have to carry you.”

Adjusting his hold on Ed, from the strange stomach hold to a bridal carry, he leaned down and picked up the broken pieces of the wheelchair. He fumbled a bit with the wheel, not having any particular dexterity with grabbing multiple things at once.

“Here, Al, let me help,” Ed offered, holding out his remaining arm. Alphonse let out a grateful breath, trying to convey his thankfulness through the only expressive feature he had, his eyes. His brother grasped the wheel, and then tucked himself into the metal arm more securely.

“You know, Al,” he said, “Playing with you earlier was fun, but I think I like this even more.”

II.)

Edward’s loud snores filled the passenger booth of the train, steering Al in the direction of heavy thoughts. It did give Alphonse some peace of mind to see his brother relaxing for once, taking a break from the constant physical therapy and studying that had been distracting him for the past couple of weeks (months).

And he did find happiness in the thought that Edward was moving forward from their trauma, he really did, but it was still a depressing thought that, if Ed did pass the State Alchemy Exam, there would be less times like this. Instead, he’d have to watch as his brother burdened more than his fair share of worries, stressing over both Alphonse and his job. Would brother still be able to sleep on the train so contently if he knew that the lives of others were dependent on him?

And that was it, wasn’t it? Edward was already crippled with guilt when it came to Alphonse - a situation that they both put themselves into despite the others’ denials - so what would become of him if he wasn’t successful and somebody got hurt?

He knew his brother. He knew his brother better than probably himself. So he could say, without a doubt, that if Edward ever got into a situation where others were in danger, and one of them got hurt, he’d blame himself. And what would happen if someone he’d gotten close to died? Alphonse shuddered at the thought. For all of Ed’s tough love act, it was only an act. He cared so deeply about those he surrounded himself with. It just wouldn’t be fair to take another person away from their lives. Not with mom, not with the Rockbells, and even Dad now missing.

He looked down at his brother’s sleeping face, for once not pinched with stress. Deep down, Alphonse knew that if brother could reject the idea of becoming a state alchemist, he would. Edward could never put himself in a situation where he’d have to kill others. He’d fight, tooth and nail, kicking and screaming.

But orders were orders. And Alphonse knew that Ed would do anything to help him. It made his non-existant heart ache to think of the sacrifices that Edward would be making while he sat on the sidelines, watching his brother tear himself apart.

Brother won’t have to worry about that if he’s longer alive to witness it, a twisted voice sing-songed inside his head. This brought a whole new load of worry. Everyday, Edward would be putting himself in danger, making himself a target to criminals and enemies of the state. Though Al had the utmost confidence in his brother’s abilities, had even been there to witness them himself, he knew that his brother was still human, his metal flesh only making it that much more apparent. Bullet holes weren’t something that you could just walk away from. 

But Alphonse also knew that this was the only way. How else were they supposed to get money  for research? How else were they to get access to the books they needed? How else were they supposed to research such a coveted secret without drawing attention?

How else were they supposed to return themselves to normal?

As Alphonse looked over the sleeping face of his brother, he wondered all these things.

A jarring voice cut into his darkening thoughts, saving him from even more sadness and worry. It was the conductor, his tone crackly over the booth speaker. “We are now arriving at Central Station,” it said.

This was their stop. It was the last escape they had until their lives changed forever. A selfish part of Alphonse wanted to grab his brother and leave, at least delaying until it was too late to take the exam. The thought was almost immediately dismissed, guilt ramming into the metal armor like a freight train.

He couldn’t do that to brother. He couldn’t prolong Ed’s suffering. If becoming a state alchemist was what it truly took to get their bodies back, then he couldn’t stand in their way. Not when it was Edward who made himself sick with guilt over that night. He already couldn’t stand that he was the source of his brother’s misery. How could he think to take an active part in it?

The hulking armor bent down to softly shake his brother awake, rousing words already on the tip of his tongue, but stopped just before he could make contact.

He thought of Edward’s small form, finally lax of tension. His lips parted slightly, emitting soft snores instead of pained moans. The bags under his eyes, lightened as he got some well deserved rest.

Making his choice, Alphonse turned around and hefted his brother onto his back, miraculously not waking him up. He then reached up to grab Ed’s luggage, pausing in trepidation when he heard the smaller move on his plating. Much to his glee, however, Edward had only been searching for a more comfortable spot, snuggling into his shoulder. How this was comfortable, he didn’t know, but he felt warm like only his real body did whenever Ed relaxed in his hold.

As he made his way onto the station, he adjusted his hold on his still sleeping brother, knowing that he would need the rest for the days to come. There was no doubt in his mind that Edward would pass the test. The invigilators would have to be blind to miss talent like his. But there was still the lingering doubt about what was to come.

To be honest, he didn’t think he’d ever be free of it.

To satiate his own worries, Alphonse made a promise. A promise to always stay by his brother’s side, no matter what. They’d always bear their burdens together. If Ed didn’t want him to become a state alchemist, that’s fine, but he’d have to make do with his brother tagging along with him.

III.)

“NO! I DON’T CARE WHAT THAT JERK SAYS, I’M NOT GONNA!”

Alphonse sighed, “You can and you will, brother.”

The blonde alchemist crossed his arms and let out a huff. “I refuse.”

The suit of armor looked his brother up and down, sizing him up. Discretely inching towards him, Al started, “Look, brother, I know that this is more… ostentatious then necessary, but we can’t just run away every time Colonel Mustang gives you an order you don’t agree with.”

“I’m not running away.” Liar. He didn’t make eye contact.

Not looking a gift horse in the mouth, the younger alchemist continued to prod at his brother (“oh sure you weren’t”) while he slowly closed the distance.

“I wasn’t!” Ed responded - suspiciously quick, might Alphonse add. “I was only waiting for him to finish his goddamn paper work so that I could punch the bastard without Hawkeye blowing a hole in me.”

During that particular explosion of indignation, the suit of armor had been able to move a whole foot closer. He was just out of reach of the other Alchemist. “So you were running away from the First Lieutenant then.”

“What? No! It was a tactical decis- what are you planning?”

Dang it. He hadn’t gotten a chance to move. Trying his luck, he spoke once more, his voice the perfect example of innocence, or so he’d been told. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just think that if you keep refusing direct orders from the Colonial, then he might begin to believe that we aren’t worth keeping around. Not with all the property damage and all.”

“That was one time!” Ed raised his hand in what would have been an extravagant gesture, only to stop about halfway through. “Hey, wait a sec. You can’t change the topic like that and expect to get away with it. Now tell me what you’re gonna do.”

“Honestly brother, you’re so accusative. Am I not allowed to express my opinion every once in a while?”

Ed narrowed his eyes. “See, this is what I mean. Why are you so fixated on this? I would think that’d you’d be even more against it than I am, considering it’s just a waste of time. If anything, you seem to enjoy this more than the bas-”

The blonde cut off abruptly, and Al could tell the exact moment he realized. Golden eyes widened, and the smaller body jerked to turn around, only to be stopped before he could by a pair of very strong, very big metal arms.

“No no no no!” He cried, kicking and thrashing with the only free limbs he had. A hollow clanging was heard as the metal armor made his way back to Eastern Command. “You wouldn’t do this to me Al. Come on. I’m your older brother. You wouldn’t betray me like this, right?”

His struggles increased tenfold as they entered the building, forgoing words altogether in favor of wild screeching. A few of the staff turned their heads, questioning glances trailing the brothers’ backs.”Quiet down, brother. People are beginning to stare.” Ed head-butted him for that. Though, it did more damage to the blonde than it ever did to him.

At one point, Ed had wiggled enough to break free, on the run the instant his feet touched the floor. The smaller alchemist was faster and would have undoubtedly gotten away if not for the subject of Edward’s ire.

“Why hello, Fullmetal. I didn’t think you’d be this enthusiastic to show up here.” Alphonse released an inward sigh of relief at the sight of the familiar man, supporting a rather smug grin on the face. The pause it took for Edward to process his anger was all Al needed to snag the back of his collar.

“It’s nice to see you, Colonel. Brother and I were just heading over to the western corridor.”

“Ah, yes. Thank you for chaperoning him.” Both ignored the blonde’s outraged cries. “I saw the group earlier myself, and I must say that they’re pretty excitable. I’m feeling a little guilty for assigning them to Fullmetal here, but it should be nothing for the famous ‘Hero of the People’” The man pulled out his watch. “Ahh, well I better go. Lunch break is almost over. They sure do keep us on a short leash here, don’t they Fullmetal?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!” Did Alphonse ever say that he felt relieved at the Colonel's presence? He wanted to take that back. Edward was even more riled up than before. Scooping up the other into his arms, he set off again, closing his ears off to the string of curses that would surely accompany him.

Alphonse saw the tour group before Ed did, and thus was able to catch the elder’s grumbles about turning him into a wastebasket(?) before the blonde would surely panic again.

Ed, however, did not scream or kick or run or anything of the sort. Instead, he froze for a bit before calmly tapping on the younger’s chestplate, signaling to be let down. Distrustfully, Al did so. 

The younger Elric was so preoccupied with watching the other’s body language for signs of fleeing, that he did not see the shit eating grin plastered on the other’s face. Alphonse watched as his brother stepped to the side and held out his arms in a presenting manner. Alphonse watched (confusedly) as his brother looked up at him and winked.

There was a rough coughing as Edward cleared his throat. “Sorry if we kept you waiting guys. It’s just that Eastern Command was short on staff and decided to bring you something a little special today. May I present to you the Fullmetal Alchemist.”

A hoard of screaming fans descended on the unfortunate suit of armor.

IV.)

A warm light drifted across the pavement, casted by row upon row of street lamps. No figures got in the way, projecting shadows with their terrifying shapes.

In Central, there was always this ominous feeling. A warning just screaming to be heeded. To be cautious. A warning that there was something lurking around the corner.

Tonight there wasn’t.

The lack of people should have been disturbing, but the distant sound of pots clanging and children laughing within households blocked out that foreboding aura. This also left them away from prying eyes - innocent in their intentions, but deadly in their effect. Alphonse should be content.

But he’s not.

How could he be when his four foot eleven, spitfire of an older brother looked like he’d been forced to drink an entire gallon of milk?

It seemed that his brother’s mood was destined to grow darker by the minute. First, he wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning, ending up over an hour late to his meeting with Colonel Mustang. Then, he wouldn’t touch his food, saying it looked too nauseating to eat (Alphonse spent many minutes apologizing to the deli worker for Edward’s behavior). It all escalated to him snapping at an old lady and her granddaughter on the train. The little girl started crying!

So no. Alphonse was not happy.

“It’s a beautiful night, brother. We are going to spend it outside,” Alphonse said. Then, as an afterthought (but no less important), “and your attitude is going to change.”

Edward looked up at him, indignation shining bright in his eyes. He opened his mouth to refute, and Al prepared himself for the tirade, but he closed his lips before a sound got out. The elder of the two grimaced, and lowered his head in defeat. “Yeah, you're probably right. I haven’t been the best of company today… sorry, Al.”

The armor in question perked up, pleasantly surprised at the admission. “It’s okay brother!” He leaned low, pointing a finger out. “But you better make it up to me on our walk.”

Ed’s eyes moved, peeking out at him from under his bangs, before his head turned away entirely. In a low, reluctant voice, the Fullmetal Alchemist said, “It’s just that… it’s gonna rain soon.”

Alphonse was confused for a second, kind of mad at his brother for making an obvious lie - there were no clouds in the sky - before he realized what that sentence entailed. 

“Have you been hurting all day?” he asked, much more understanding than before. Alphonse couldn’t see Edward’s face. He couldn’t read the obvious signs: the tight mouth, the wandering eyes, the creeping blush. The hunching of his shoulders, however, indicated that Edward obviously had, all the same.

“Brother!” he chided, in the same tone that mom would use when they did something stupid, “why didn’t you tell me!”

“It’s fine, Al,” came the embarrassed reply. “All we were gonna do was rent an apartment for the night anyways. It wasn’t like we were getting into anything dangerous.”

“That doesn’t count as an excuse!”

The older boy turned around. “What do you mean it doesn’t? It’s not like it’s important right now.”

Alphonse repressed a sigh. “I should have known. You’re always cranky, but it’s never really bad unless you’re in pain.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!”

“Here.” He lowered himself to the ground until he was in a crouch. “Get on.”

Al heard the embarrassed choke behind him. “I’m fine, Alphonse. Let’s just go on that walk.”

He shook his helmet. “If it really is about to rain, then your ports have to be aching awfully. It just wouldn’t be fair to you to make you stay out any later. Right now, we should get you home and get you taken care of. I’m not having your leg give out and you getting a concussion.”

Edward sighed and hesitated a few seconds longer before giving up and getting on his younger brother’s back. “I’m fine walking, you know.”

“Mhm,” Alphonse agreed.

“I’m serious. I just couldn’t pass up on a free ride. Didn’t wanna spend the energy.”

“Of course.”

Alphonse hefted him up, earning a rather undignified squeak. He saw more than felt the arms wrapping around his neck.

Sometimes he felt like his brother was the one made of metal, not him. It was like he wrapped himself and armor and never let anyone else in. Alphonse liked to think that he was the exception, but could he really believe that when Ed couldn’t even share his sufferings?

“Hey, what are you thinking about?” Edward had adjusted himself to sit on his shoulders, seemingly at ease for the time being. “We should probably get going. As empty as it is, standing on the streets is still gonna draw some weird glances.”

“Oh… right… sorry.” He began to walk, grabbing his brother’s leg with his gauntlet (a habit he still hadn’t gotten rid of from his human body).

When they arrived at the apartment, Alphonse set Edward down, noticing the small wince upon doing so. He couldn’t miss the slight hobble in his brother’s steps as he made his way to the waiting bed.

“Do you need help with anything?”

Ed looked up, the beginnings of a blush on his cheeks. “Uh, I wouldn’t mind a cup of water.”

Alphonse left and returned with the requested drink. After a small clap, the cup was abandoned on the floor, steam drifting up from it. “Ahhh, that feels so much better.”

Alphonse wanted to smile, glad that he could do something to help. Instead, he had to settle for looking at his brother fondly.

“So, today on the train…” he began, internally smiling as Edward took the bait.

It’s okay to admit to pain, brother.

Because, I’ll stay right by your side.

No matter what.

V.)

“Al, let me down.”

“Not now, brother.”

“Aaaaaaallllllllllllll.”

“Not now.”

“Ugh. People are staring.”

Alphonse looked up at the sentence in question. He’d never known his brother to get embarrassed over stuff like that. He said as much.

“Shut up! I’m not embarrassed. It’s just that I’m the Alchemist of the people. I have to make sure they don’t see me as a little kid who can’t even walk out in the rain.”

Alphonse laughed a little. “They won’t, Ed. They’d just respect your intelligence in choosing to avoid the wrath of a certain automail mechanic, lest she finds out that you got her automail rusty.”

Al heard his brother blow a large breath onto his helmet. “She doesn’t have to find out.”

“She will find out. And when she does find out, you’ll meet an untimely death via wrench.”

The armor listened fondly as his brother ranted about Winry’s gear-head quirks.

Ok, so maybe protecting his brother wasn’t the only reason he wasn’t letting him go. Maybe it had to do with their last mission, and how he had almost lost his brother when he let him wander out of his sight. Maybe he was too scared to let that happen again.

But…

...Ed didn’t have to know.

“Trust me brother, I’m doing this for your own good. We can’t have the famous hero of the people walking around with a hole the size of a wrench in his head.”

“It’s never a hole. It’s always a bump.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want to have that either.” Images of his brother, bloody, bruised, and beaten flashed before his head. It was probably not a good idea to continue on with this particular topic. “Hey, your report isn’t going to be soaked by the rain, isn’t it?”

“What? Oh. No, it’s fine. I slaved for hours over that thing. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste. Even if my automail was still hurting, I’d remember to laminate it.” Was he talking about the pressure buildup or was it from an injury he hadn’t caught?

“That’s good. The Colonel would probably make you redo it.”

“Probably? Of course he would. The bastard wouldn’t miss a chance to ruin my day.” Sometimes, Al felt the same way. Why did he have to send brother off on such dangerous missions? He may be a state alchemist, but he was still a kid.

When they finally arrived at HQ, Mustang greeted them with a quirked eyebrow and a not-so-discreet once over. “Alphonse. Fullmetal. What exactly brings you here today?”

“Mission report,” Ed answered stiffly, trying to hide his embarrassment at his position.

“Well, let’s see it,” the man responded tiredly. “To be honest, I thought something was wrong with the both of you. You never make sure to be on time while handing in these things. I actually have a running bet with the rest of the team on whether or not you’ll show up two days late or three.”

“Har har, very funny. So do you want to take this or not? I’ve got better things to do.” Ed handed over the paperwork to his superior, returning his hands to Alphonse’s head once more.

“Like what?” Mustang asked, “Playing a game of piggyback with your brother? I could use some help sorting files, you know.”

Alphonse cut in before Edward could yell the other man’s ear off. “The rain puts brother’s automail at the risk of rusting. I’m carrying him to at least keep him away from the puddles.”

His brother rounded on him with a betrayed face. “Alphonse, how could you?”

Ed, luckily, found a new target of his ire.

“Well, we wouldn’t want you to drown in them, now would we.”

“Okay, that’s it, you overgrown, slimy, two-faced-”

“Brother!” He had to physically tether the blonde to his shoulders to prevent a homicide. “Have a good night Colonel.” Alphonse was sure his embarrassment showed through his voice. “Edward and I will be off now.”

As soon as they were out of sight of the building, Alphonse sifted his brother’s position from his shoulders to his chestplate, hugging him close.

“Al, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry, brother. It’s just… that you really scared me.” Ed, having noticed this desperation in affection, stopped all remaining struggles, choosing instead to melt into the metal embrace as best as he could.

And if that didn’t send a pang through Al’s heart chest. He might not ever get to hug his brother again with his human arms. To ever feel his brother’s warmth and love.

“You’re getting older, Ed. And that means that you’ll be going on more missions with more dangers. And one day, what if it’s too much? What if you don’t make it back?”

Edward frowned and, for once, the disappointment was pointed towards him. “I’m not going to die, Al.”

“You almost did, Ed! And what if I wasn’t there to protect you!”

His brother looked up, golden eyes meeting his own soulfire gaze. “Nothing would have happened.”

“You can’t say that.”

“I can, because I know that, if I did, I’d be leaving you all alone.” Alphonse had looked away, but something about his brother’s tone brought him back. “And I couldn’t do that. Not without making sure that you’re safe and happy and comforted.”

His voice trailed off.

“Right now, you aren’t. Not while you’re still stuck in that body I put you in. So i won’t just roll over anytime soon.”

Alphonse felt a fluttering of happiness at Edward’s words, but it was twisted with the bittersweet realization that they were a false security.

“That’s not your choice to make.”

Edward sighed, “Maybe not but... more than anything, I want to get your body back. I want to live to see it. I don’t want to have to look down from whatever place counts as the afterlife and watch you experience that without me.”

“If you want my happiness and my wellbeing a fraction as much as I do you, then you’d know that your own happiness is what would make me more content than anything. I can’t trust that you’ll ever fully be happy until you get your body back. Therefore, the only option is to keep trying. Trust in me and my tenacity to get back what was stolen from you.”

The ever accompanying, ‘and your body too,’ was forgotten at Edward’s words. Because this is what he had been telling himself the whole time, repeated back to his face. His brother would never be truly happy unless he was happy himself.

He squeezed his brother tightly. “Okay,” he said.

“Okay.” The reassuring clang of metal against metal rang in the streets. Edward had pounded his automail against Al’s chestplate. “We should probably stop worrying about this stuff, all it’s going to do is make us sick.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Okay, well could you let me back up there?”

Al started, the moment ruined. “Up… where?”

“Onto your shoulders, you idiot. If I’m going to stay alive a bit longer than I gotta prevent my automail from rusting. The rain’s already pushing it. Winry will probably have my head if we don’t get them dried soon.”

“Oh… right! We should probably get home soon!”

“Well, what are you waiting for?”

VI.)

Al spent the majority of the first few days sitting in his hospital bed with the company of his brother, teacher, and all of the wonderful people he’d come to know. Even his father was there to visit once, although he left shortly after. 

He occupied himself with relaxing in the warm, fuzzy blankets, and taking in the smell of flowers and sweets his visitors left for him. Unfortunately, he couldn’t eat any real food for now as his body was not ready for it, but he was salivating at the thought.

Those first few days were just about that happiest in his life. Even the walks to the restroom weren’t that bad. With his muscles so atrophed, he wasn’t supposed to do anything that strenuous for months, but he was determined to do it. The exhaustion tugged at his limbs, making them feel like they were transmuted into giant lumps of metal, and he couldn’t be happier for it.

The best part wasn’t even the senses he’d worked so hard to experience. No. The best part was that his brother would be right alongside him. He’d smile at Al so genuinely, guiding him gently by the arm, a lingering touch of heat still burning hot even after his fingertips left the skin. The blinding smile set loose dopamine into his brain, his physical brain, allowing him to experience the bliss even more so. Whenever Edward made eye contact he felt drugged on euphoria, because everything - EVERYTHING - was finally going to be alright. So yes, those short walks were the highlights of his days.

I took two whole weeks before he could even stomach soups, and when the warm liquid touched his tongue, he almost fell off of his hospital bed in surprise. What happened after was that he dissolved into a fit of laughter, he never knew food could be this amazing. Ed was there to steady him the whole time.

Physical training was hard, Al couldn’t deny that. Sometimes it sucked all the life out of him after just bending over. There were times where he walked two feet and it felt like a marathon and his good mood was almost ruined. 

But his brother was always there to steady him.

On particularly bad days he would hardly get two inches before toppling over. Before he could reach the ground, however, a firm body would be underneath him, arms already tucked around his legs to carry him piggyback style. Alphonse would tease good naturedly (to get Edward back for all the times he’d fought him), talk about how he didn’t need to be babied, but it was really nice for the situation to be reversed for once.

Now he could relax in his brother’s hold. Now he could finally feel his brother’s heartbeat when his head pressed to his chest. It almost felt like Ed hadn’t been injured at all, with how gently he cradled him.

“Brother,” he said one day, after they had gotten ice cream from the hospital cafeteria, “how long until I can carry you?”

Ed got a funny face at that, telling him that he hadn't recovered yet and how even if he was, it was still the older brother’s job to take care of the younger.

Alphonse took that as a challenge, sneakily putting his ice cream down and going for the tackle. “Al!” His brother went down with a screech, landing painfully on his butt. Taking advantage of Ed’s surprise, Alphonse was able to partially get his brother on his shoulder before his muscles gave out, panting.

“You idiot!” Edward was in front of his face now, checking him over for any sort of injuries. “You could have messed up all your hard work.”

Al felt his face heat up (and the fact that he could blush now was something his brother mercilessly teased now), and ashamedly turned his head. “It seemed fun at the time.”

“That’s not a good excuse and you know it.”

“Okay, okay. Can you just help me up now?”

Ed looked at him exasperatedly, with his hands on his hips and everything. “No,” he said.

Al looked up. “What? Why?”

“Because-” Alphonse felt his shoulder being tugged and he thought his brother was giving in, but- “We need to take you back to your room and get your arms looked at. I’ll carry you so that you don’t harm anything else.”

“Brother, I’m fine-”

He was interrupted by the sight of a pink tongue poking out of his brother’s lips.

“Real mature.” There was no heat behind it. In fact, Al didn’t even struggle as his center of gravity lifted, signaling him leaving the ground. Instead, he snuggled into his brother’s back, letting strands of golden-blonde hair tickle his nose. The steady warmth that came off of his brother’s back was relaxing, and he found his eyes closing, drifting off into a half asleep, half awake state.

“You comfortable up there?”

“Mmm.”

Edward laughed. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

There was a slight bouncing as Ed took his steps, but Alphonse didn’t care. It only relaxed him further. He found it cozy with his face half-buried in his brother’s cotton shirt.

It feels real nice to be carried like this. By you.

There was a slight squeaking and then Al was rotated, placed on the plushy mattress bed. He turned his head a little, nestling into the cool material of his pillow.

Ed must have thought he was asleep, because a weight settled at his side and fingers began playing in his hair, smoothing it out in the way his mother always did.

When he finally spoke, Alphonse could feel the fond smile on his face, radiating off of him. “I’m so happy that you have your body back. Love you, Alphonse.”

And I you.

[thestarsaroundyourscars]

83 and 84 for the smut prompts. Any ship

83. “How quickly can you come.”

84. “There’s people here.”

NSFW

Read on AO3

“Good to know I’m not the only reason behind your frown lines.” 

Richie leaned against the doorframe of Eddie’s office, watching him scowl at his computer. His husband looked up, ready to lash out at whoever was interrupting him but his expression softened when he saw Richie. 

“Hey Rich. What are you doing here?”

“Well, I had that meeting with the dudes from Netflix and I thought I’d stop by and pay my adorable husband a visit.” He said, stepping into the office and closing the door behind him. “I even brought you lunch.” He held up a paper bag with Eddie’s favorite restaurant logo. 

A soft smile curled along Eddie’s lips. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Richie shrugged, walking towards the desk and leaning over it to give Eddie a kiss. “You told me you’d have a busy day and usually when that happens, you forget to eat.“

Eddie’s stomach grumbled in that moment. “Fuck, you’re right.”

Richie gave him the bag and Eddie pulled out his (gluten-free) pasta tossed with roasted vegetables and (dairy-free, soy-free) parmesan, giving Richie a grateful smile before digging in. Richie perched up on his desk, telling Eddie all about his meeting while he ate. 

Once the food was gone, Eddie went back to glaring at his computer while angrily typing an email, shoulders hunched and tight in a way that seemed uncomfortable and unhealthy. 

Richie jumped down from the desk, moving to stand behind Eddie’s chair. 

“What are you doing?”

“You need to relax, Eds.” Richie said, brushing his fingers over Eddie’s shoulders. “My back hurts just from looking at you.”

“Your back hurts because you’re old.” Eddie snorted, eyes glued to the computer. 

“Spaghetti gets off a good one!” He laughed. “But I’m serious, you need a short break.”

“Rich, I can’t.”

“But Eds, how can I find my poor husband so terribly stressed and leave him like that?”

Eddie hummed distractedly until Richie started rubbing his shoulders, kneading the stiff muscles, causing him to groan in pleasure. 

“Oh.” Eddie’s hands fell to his lap as he relaxed back against his chair. “Okay, maybe I can take a minute.”

Richie chuckled, applying more pressure while Eddie let out soft sighs. Making a bold decision, his hands moved on to Eddie’s chest, trailing down his front, careful not to mess up his shirt and tie.

Eddie didn’t make a big effort to push Richie’s hands away until they started playing with his belt. When they did he yelped, whirling around in his chair to push a sharp finger against his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m just helping you relax, baby.” Richie said, leaning on the armrests and slowly peppering the skin of Eddie’s neck with little, urgent kisses.

“Richie, we can’t.” Eddie said, but he tilted his head back, granting Richie more access. “Seriously. There’s people here⎯ I have a meeting in twenty minutes!” 

Richie bit down on Eddie’s earlobe, whispering against his ear. “Then I better hurry up.” He flashed him a cocky grin before dropping to his knees in front of him.

Eddie cursed under his breath when Richie palmed him over his slacks, feeling how his dick was already half hard. “Shit Eds, I haven’t even done anything.” Richie gasped, watching Eddie thrust his hips against his hand. 

“Shut up.” Eddie muttered, starting to blush. 

He reached down to undo his belt but Richie clicked his tongue, slapping the hand away and doing it himself. "I got this baby, just sit back and relax.”

Richie stroke him over his briefs, seeing a wet spot start to form where he was steadily leaking precome. He couldn’t resist leaning forward and giving it a few kitten licks, causing Eddie to whine and grip the armrests. 

“Rich, we don’t have a lot of time.” Eddie muttered, voice strained and needy. “Stop teasing me.”

Richie would love to keep teasing him, he could do it for hours, but the last thing he wanted was for them to get caught before he could make Eddie come. 

“You’re right.” Richie said, hand slipping inside Eddie’s briefs and pulling his cock out. “Fuck, you’re so hard already.”

Eddie bit his bottom lip trying to keep from crying out as Richie’s hand moved slowly over him. “Richie, please.”

He smirked. “Okay, okay. Let’s see how quickly can you come.” And with that, he took Eddie in his mouth, earning a choked moan from him.  

Richie had to reach down to adjust himself in his jeans. He was hard just from watching Eddie, and having his dick in his mouth only made him harder. He sucked him off in earnest, doing everything Eddie liked to bring him to the edge.

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Eddie groaned as Richie teased at the slit with his tongue, before taking him as deep as he could. Eddie weaved his hand through his hair. “I’m close, Richie.”

Richie pulled back, a string of saliva connecting him to Eddie’s dick, Eddie reached down to run his thumb over his wet lips with a hungry look.

“I got you, Eds.” He said, playfully biting Eddie’s thumb before his mouth returned to his dick. Eddie was biting his lip, trying very hard to stay quiet as Richie picked up the pace until his chest was heaving and his eyes were screwed shut and he was desperate to come. Richie could tell he only needed one last push so he slid his hand down to cup and play with Eddie’s balls.

“Fuck Richie, oh fuck.” Eddie moaned, fingers tightening in Richie’s hair as his orgasm hit. His mouth stayed on him until he’d swallowed everything and Eddie had relaxed back against his chair. 

Richie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back on his heels to stare at his husband. His head was thrown back, an arm slung over his eyes and a dark flush spreading from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest. He looked sinful, sitting there with his dick out, spent and glistening with spit⎯ Richie was sure that if he reached into his own jeans in that moment, he would come after one single stroke. 

“Stop staring at me, you perv.” Eddie said, opening one eye to peer down at Richie. He had a lazy, satisfied grin on his face and his eyes were shining with affection. 

“Who are you calling perv? You’re the one who let me suck you off in your office.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, glancing down at himself like he only realized that now. “Can you get me some tissues from the first cabinet?" 

Richie nodded, crawling towards the desk and retrieving the tissues. Eddie cleaned himself off and tucked himself back in his pants.

When Richie stood up he hissed, feeling the fabric of his jeans drag against his erection. 

Eddie’s eyes darted to Richie’s crotch. "Do you want help with that?”

Richie really wanted to take Eddie up on the offer but it was probably not a good idea to push their luck, especially since he knew that he would be way too loud if Eddie did as much as touch his cock.

“Don’t worry babe, you can return the favor when you get home.” He said with a wink. “Besides, I’d probably blow my load the moment you touch my dick and I doubt you’d appreciate a come stain on your suit." 

Eddie snorted, he looked a lot more relaxed than before and it made a pleased smile appear on Richie’s face. 

"I’ll make it up to you.” Eddie said, wrapping his arms around Richie’s waist. “Thank you for bringing me lunch. And⎯ for the other thing.”

“Anytime, Eds."  

Richie wanted to lean down and kiss him, but he knew that Eddie would scrunch up his nose and whine about Richie not brushing his teeth first, so instead he pressed his lips to his forehead. Eddie hummed happily, his hands squeezing Richie’s sides. 

In that moment the door opened and Tara, Eddie’s secretary, popped her head in. 

"Mr. Kaspbrak, they’re waiting for you.” She said before she noticed that Eddie wasn’t alone. She gave them an apologetic smile. “Oh. I thought your husband left already, I’m sorry." 

Eddie gave Tara a strained smile. "He was just leaving.” He said. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She nodded and slipped outside, closing the door.

“Before you say anything⎯”

“You didn’t lock the fucking door?!” Eddie whispered yelled, slapping Richie’s chest with a horrified expression. 

“Ow! I’m sorry, I thought I did.” Richie said, holding his hands up in defense. 

Eddie pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I love you." 

"I am.” Richie nodded, grinning. “Very lucky." 

A soft smile curled along Eddie’s lips, he tried to hide it from Richie by pushing him towards the door. "Go, now. I have a meeting. I’ll see you at home.”

Richie ducked his head down to press a kiss on his cheek but before he could, Eddie was tilting his head so their lips slotted together instead, taking Richie by surprise. Especially when Eddie’s hand snuck between them to squeeze Richie’s dick through his jeans. 

Richie’s eyes widened and he moaned against Eddie’s mouth, dick growing hard again. “What the fuck, Eddie?" 

"That’s for almost getting us caught.” Eddie said, pulling back and flashing Richie a playful smirk. “Enjoy the walk home, Rich." 

"You little devil.”

Eddie simply shoved him out of his office, waving playfully at him as he closed the door. 

Still facing the door, Richie took a moment to adjust himself, swallowing a groan at the touch. Then he turned around, giving Tara a shaky smile on his way to the elevator.

And if Tara noticed that he was walking a bit funny, she was kind enough not to mention it.

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[beastlywritings]

Beginnings

Pairing: Eskel/OC (Lae’elan) AFAB NB (but gender doesn’t come into it until later)

Summary: Eskel comes across a shapeshifter (Or she comes across him) and they make nice. 

Rating for this chapter: PG-13 for sexual innuendo and suggested sexual acts, as well as talk of masturbation

TW (this chapter): stalking (kind of), manipulation, injuring another on purpose, mention of dissociation and the feeling of it, mentions of orphanage, mention of lost love, selfconsciousness about scars and appearance, gratuitous use of italics for thoughts

AN: Unbeta-ed. If you wanna beta just ask lol (help me). If you wanna gimme some concrit, I’d be grateful; this is my first time posting fic in years and I’m rusty as hell. Gonna be a long fic.

This chapter is mostly just intro to Lan, who is quite literally me if my kintype was a reality. She comes with much of my baggage and personality.

From her perch in the tree opposite the witcher, the apparent chickadee watched the man as he went about building his fire, placing each branch and split wood neatly and setting it ablaze with a quick hand motion. She’d followed him all day, in various forms, from the moment she’d spotted his cat-like amber eyes across the market. A witcher could have access to information she didn’t. A chance to finally find out what she was. Following him had been easy for her. No one expects a quiet but friendly dog, a flighty squirrel, or a singing songbird of malice, not even a witcher; and no one expects all those creatures to be one and the same. And, she knew from past experience, her powers only set off their medallions if she touched them while shifting. So reconnaissance? Recon was child’s play. 

She worked through the questions that mattered. 

What school is he from? Cats and vipers were dangerous, both schools cut-throat havens, less likely to help a sentient magical creature and more likely to kill first and ask questions later at the first signs of non-human traits. Wolves and griffins tended to be more code-bound and willing to listen. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest. She was in luck-- a wolf medallion peeked out of the collar of his open gambeson, laying on the cream of his shirt. I won’t even have to bother with proper manners, she thought to herself, remembering the last time she’d dealt with a witcher from the school of the griffin. 

What’s his personality; which method would work best to get what she wanted? She knew that Kaer Morhen had been sacked, had heard rumors of who and when, even out in the wilderness. But surely some books had survived. She hadn’t been successful in gaining entry to the keep proper in her youth, but this could be her second chance. What sequence of events would more likely get her invited to Kaer Morhen and access to the library there? 

The man seemed soft spoken; his voice could easily be a booming baritone, but he kept his voice quiet and calm to not spook the women in the town square. He was kind and friendly and polite, even smiling and saying ‘thank you,’ when he bought supplies in the open market. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible, as well, trying to make himself less of an obstruction in the throngs of people in town and pulling his large arms to himself instead of letting them hang loosely by his sides. He’d even stooped to help a woman pick up her fallen goods, though it had gotten him a scowl and a barked ‘hands off!’ Perhaps a spot of friendliness to warm him up to her, break down the walls that no doubt he had constructed over the years, then switch to some seduction. 

Her eyes roamed over him, eyeing up the deep facial scars, the bit of white tooth visible where the scar tissue pulled (adorable); to his strong forearms of corded muscle, bare to the elbow with veins snaking along his golden skin; up to his silky, dark hair that ruffled in the breeze; and finally to the crotch of his pants, where there were little red bows keeping a codpiece in place. Seducing him,  she thought to herself with a purr, poofing up her feathers and preening them some, would be no hardship. A handsome lay and the knowledge she’d been seeking since she was young? No better deal would ever come her way. Just keep the long game in mind, Lae’elan, and this could be it. Finally feeling she had enough information and having made up her mind, Lae’elan fluttered down to land quietly among the leaf litter behind the tree the witcher sat propped up against, her tiny feet making a bit of a ruckus. Muscles popping and bones creaking, she shifted into her true form. Or, well, most of it. She’d need to know him a bit better before she deigned to show him her wings. She pulled clothes out of the ether of her pocket dimension and over her head with less than half a thought. Vulpine legs peeked out beneath a woad-blue dress, as did her long succubus-like tail. Before she’d even taken a full step to the side, she heard the witcher reaching for his swords and decided she’d best show herself before he put one of them through her. Just because it wouldn’t kill her didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“That spot taken?” Lae’elan asked as she rounded the tree, her hands visible in the air beside her head, one clawed finger pointing to the space on the other side of the fire. There was indeed a sword leveled at her, a cross witcher standing at the other end. She hadn’t even registered the sounds of him getting up. Looking down at the sword, she found he got more interesting. Steel. He assumed human or common beast. Huh.

“How did you-!” His eyes darted around behind her for a flash second. 

“Sneak up? Shapeshifter. I was a bird a few minutes ago,” she said breezily, even pointing to the branch she’d been perched upon. Smartly, he did not look. Well trained. Eyeing the blade poised at her neck, she continued, “Could you put the blade away from my neck? Don’t need you to put it away, just… preferably not immediately pointed at my jugular would be lovely,” She smiled kindly. 

He eyed her warily, but lowered the blade a fraction. This close she realized his eyes were actually just a shade or two deeper than her own. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to not hate what he saw because the sword lowered another few inches. 

“Just want to sit, maybe chat.”

His eyes narrowed warily and his gaze wandered over her. The horns atop her head, the long ears, her golden eyes, sharp canid-like teeth, fingers ending in curved claws instead of human fingernails. The gears working in his head, trying to make sense of what she was, were visible in his expression. Wouldn’t we all like to know, she thought. 

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why wha-at?” 

“Why chat,” he buried the tip of his sword in the dirt, acquiescing, and sat. She stepped around the fire and settled herself on the other side.

“Why does anyone chat?” She asked, but quickly followed, “Because it’s exceedingly rare to find someone I can be myself around in these times. Humans can be decent conversation, but they tend to be sticklers for shoes,” she looked to her feet-- her paws-- and wiggled her toes, “and too often make remarks I’m not fond of. Same ones you no doubt prefer not to hear as well.” He just looked at her over the fire. 

“I’ll be honest, I’ve spent half my day following you today, trying to figure out if you were safe or not,”

“And you’ve decided…?”

“That you’re safe enough,” she chuckled. She’d get a proper conversation out of him yet. 

“Oh?”

“Never known a wolf to attack on sight,” she nodded to his medallion, “and you were kind and gracious to each person I saw you interact with,” she continued. Waiting for a response, but not wanting to push, she looked into the fire and drew her legs to the side, leaning her weight on one hip.

“I would have noticed if a single bird had followed me all day,” he grunted. That wasn’t quite what she expected as a reply, but it showed intelligence and caution. 

“A dog, two birds, and a squirrel” she replied.

“What?”

“I was a dog in the market, a sparrow in the town square, a squirrel on your way out of town and into the forest, and a chickadee for the past hour,” she looked to his eyes to gauge his reaction, “I’m no spring chicken. Reconnaissance is important to my staying alive, let alone having fulfilling conversations.” He paused after that, seemingly looking at the fire, but she knew that he was watching her in the edge of his vision. He was chewing over the fact that she had so many forms. Not many things could change into even three forms, let alone potentially the five he’d have been able to spot today. 

“And what, little stalker, do you propose we talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the tree. She ignored the jab. 

“Pretty much anything other than children-” she spotted the minute twitch of his eye, “Whatever you want to talk about, really, as long as I can keep my tail out,” she flicked her hairless, red-black tail for emphasis, “Gets itchy if I’m in this form for long without it,” 

“Don’t know of any kind of shapeshifter that can do that many forms in such a short period,” he squinted at her. She tried to hide that that made her crestfallen. His eyes darting around her face said she hadn’t done a very good job. Just because he doesn’t know off the top of his head doesn’t mean the library doesn’t have something, she reminded herself. Sighing, she replied honestly,

“Other than me, neither have I,”

“What are you?” he asked, not unkindly, losing the wary, almost clinical tone he’d had. Of course honesty would be what got him. She should have predicted that. 

“I’ve no idea,” she answered, a bit quietly, surprising herself at the admission. He scratched his scar absentmindedly. Lae’elan wondered if it was terribly itchy or if his scratching was just a nervous tic.

“Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

“Don’t know. Honestly. Earliest memory is at a temple of Melitele for children, the office specifically, but the sisters told me I’d been left on the front stoop in the night,” Again, she was spilling truths freely. If it gets you closer to him, what’s it matter? Gets you closer to that library? He raised his eyebrows, but shrugged. 

“And you can just…”

“If I can figure out how it works, or might work, I can turn into it,”

“And that’s your face?” She rolled her eyes at the question. 

“Not a doppler. Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, sitting up straighter so she could reach around the fire, hand out loosely, palm towards the ground. As if she were a maiden offering her hand to a suitor to kiss. Nodding to his sword in its sheath at his side, she continued “Touch your silver to my hand,” When he didn’t do it immediately, she nudged her hand forward again and tilted her head to the sword, looking him dead in the eye, urging him to just do it. He tilted his head curiously, but unsheathed it. Moving slowly, he placed the flat of the blade on her hand without hesitation. There was, as she knew there would be, no sizzling of flesh. Just cool metal on a dainty, pale hand. Slowly, he turned the blade so that the edge sat atop her hand, but not enough pressure to cut. He piqued one eyebrow in askance. Lae’elan sighed, but nodded, and he immediately made a shallow slice. Her nose wrinkled a bit at the sting, but nothing happened. No hissing of melting doppler flesh. He wiped the blood off the blade onto his pants and replaced it in its sheath. 

“I can do faces, but to do so makes me… uneasy. Like an out of body experience, but the bad kind a human might have as a poor reaction to some drug. Ah, there’s a word for it…” she trailed off before licking at the cut on her hand to get rid of the blood and watching the sliced flesh knit itself back together. 

“Dissociation?” the witcher filled in before she had to think much. He eyed her hand curiously. 

“That’s it exactly!” she nodded, “Most I ever change is my nose. Other than, you know, making myself look human,” she circled her face with a finger, drawing attention to the obvious non-human features. He snorted at the obvious gesture. She huffed a chuckle back.

“Eskel,” he said, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name. I’m Eskel,”

“Oh!” she said, pleased, “Lae’elan,” she stuck out a hand to shake. He gently took the hand in his and shook it once. His hands are so much bigger than mine, she thought briefly before-

“Odd name. It’s not a-”

“It’s a bastardized attempt at a human making up an elven name. The sisters thought I was an elf,” she said, flicking one of her long ears, “They were shorter then, and I hadn’t grown a tail or horns or paws or wings at that point. Those didn’t come till later,”

“You looked-? Wait. Wings?” He looked at her shoulder, as if trying to see if he had missed something on her back. He was tilting his head to the side again, like a puppy. Melitele it’s more endearing every time he does it. 

“I have wings as well, but I don’t show those off until I really trust someone,” she explained, looking around the tiny clearing, “Besides, it’s a wee bit cramped for them to stretch out here.” The witcher-- Eskel, she corrected herself-- looked about the patch of dirt.

“They must be quite big, then,” 

“Big, unwieldy, and very sensitive to curious hands if you get my meaning.” He made an ‘ah, I see’ face and seemed a tad embarrassed. She wondered if the old tales of witchers not being able to blush was true, and if it wasn’t, would he be blushing now? Ah shit, maybe we do need to be less crass with this one afterall, she scolded herself. 

“But enough about what I can and can’t do, Eskel,” she laughed, and found she rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue, “Surely there’s something more interesting to talk about. Witcher like you must have some good stories or unique interests to talk about,”

“What are you, my brother’s bard?” He griped, smiling ever so slightly. The shapeshifter just raised an eyebrow. 

“Ah, my brother’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Another blank stare. 

“The famous witcher? The bard Jaskier, his songs, they’re all about him?”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, “I.. don’t come out into human society very often, and when I do I tend to stay away from the more gossipy crowds. I’m afraid I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,”

“Oh,” he looked a bit startled at the fact she was so out of the loop, but the look melded into a bit of bashfulness, “Well then I suppose I feel a bit honored to have been your choice of companion, then,” he said, smiling lightly before gathering his thoughts.

“My brother, Geralt, has bright white hair and is known for not staying out of the affairs of men as we’re meant to. He met a bard, that’s Jaskier, who latched on to Geralt’s pantleg and became rather famous as his barker. Has an entire song cycle about Geralt,” and, mumbling quieter than a human could hear, “You’d think that it wouldn’t take Ger 20 bloody years to figure out the kid is as in love with him as he Jaskier.” She couldn’t help but snort loudly, surprised at the comment. Eskel’s eyes shot up to her. She flicked her ear again. 

“You’ll have to remember I’m not human. Ears are big for a reason. I can likely hear better than even you,” she laughed again, “20 years?”

“Longer, 20 years of pining before they finally got their heads out of their asses and realized,” 

“Fuck, even I’m not that bad. Longest I’ve lasted is two years before giving in,”

“Yeah, well. It’s different when you're a witcher,” he said, mood souring.

“Oh?”

“We live a long time. You watch everyone around you grow old, die, their kids die. Even if you decide watching them die is worth it, being with a witcher is sure death, whether it comes from exposure to the elements, a monster getting them, or a vindictive witcher-hater,” 

“It’s not worth the experience of love? Of companionship?”

“They’ve decided it is,” he said, poking the fire with a stick, “Others? Me? I’m not so sure,”

They sat in silence for a minute, Lae’elan watching him as he moodily poked the sticks around.

“Eskel, how old do you think I am,” She asked, curious. He looked up sharply before looking her up and down. 

“20… 30?” she scratched his scar again, “I have trouble telling with humans,” She laughed softly, thinking of times long, long gone. 

“Try somewhere around 250, my dear,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, her own head tilting to the side now. If she didn’t impart anything on him but this, it might be worth it anyway, “And I have to agree with your brother and his bard. It’s worth it. Even if it kills a part of you when they go, it’s worth it.” He stared into her eyes for a minute, looking for something. 

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at the ground to the side of the fire. 

“It’s ok. 80 years does a lot of healing,” her smile was sad, but brightening as she took up his idle mantle and poked the fire with a stick, prodding to move a bit that had fallen so that the fire could breathe better. 

“250?” he asked, looking her over again, “Really?”

“Somewhere between that and 260, I’d guess. Some bits get hazy on the years what with being a hermit for years at a time, and, well, I don’t know how old I was when I turned up at that orphanage,” she shrugged, “Apparently I looked to be about three, but when I ran away four years later, when I should have been 7, I looked closer to 11. My aging’s rather fucked up. So… my age is a mystery just like the fucking rest of me.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl lightly.

“I’ll go-”

“You can check those snares I saw you set up,” she cut in, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her, “But I can catch my own food,” 

“I wouldn’t… I mean I didn’t-” He began. She chuckled. 

“I know you wouldn’t try to poison me or assume I can’t hunt for myself, Eskel, I just enjoy catching my own meals too much to let someone else.” With that, she shifted, her bones snapping into new forms, her russet hair turning into pale cream and brown fur, until a wolf wrestled its way out of her dress. She took off like a shot into the undergrowth, but not before noting Eskel’s discomfort at the sight. Have to unpack that later, she thought as she bounded in the direction she’d heard a deer about half an hour ago. 

Taglist: @its--fandom--darling

[thesculptedflower]

Blue Velvet / Chapter 8

Hey! I’m alive, sorry for being away! This heatwave is getting the best of me, and it doesn't help that I’m crying the last bit of moisture I have in my body because of The Last of Us 2. But here it is, a new chapter! I have a few requests lined up so those will be up next! I hope you guys enjoy this while I go and throw myself in the lake!

Chapter 8

Ed was feeling awfully uneasy as he drove back home from Oswald’s manor. Oswald had taken Y/N out to show her something as a surprise, but when he returned, he was alone. When Ed asked Oswald about it, he answered very vaguely, telling him she had gone out to handle a sudden job with Victor. It seemed suspicious, and the worst part was that Y/N wasn’t answering her phone. Ed tried to keep himself from fearing the worst, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip around the steering wheel, trying to calm himself down. If something had happened to her, he would surely lose the tiny bits of sanity he still had left in him. Once again he tried to call her, but got no answer. ’’Fuck.’’ He muttered, pressing down the pedal, speeding trough the streets of Gotham.

At the door of his apartment, he faced a gruesome sight. Ed’s heart dropped as he looked at the blood splattered on the ground and on the door frame. He pulled out his gun. The thought of losing her was making his heart ache. He was so scared he would lose another girlfriend in this god-forsaken apartment. One he had fallen for more than any other before. Slowly, he opened the door, carefully watching his surroundings. The apartment seemed empty, it was perfectly silent. There was more blood on the floor, leading to his dining table. He walked over to the table and saw the bloody instruments, and the bullets on a plate. His mind was racing. Was this a good thing? Who was shot and who took the bullets out? And who shot them in the first place?

A sound of something dropping to the floor pulled him out of his head. He turned around and pointed his gun at the general direction of the sound. Someone was in the apartment, and it wasn’t hard to figure out where. As quietly as he could, he took few steps towards the bathroom and placed his hand on the handle. He took a deep breath in and pulled the door quickly open, pointing his gun at whoever was in. 

He was greeted with a gun pointed at him too. Y/N was sitting down in the farthest corner of the bathroom, holding her side with her other hand. Her eyes were wide with fear. Ed dropped his gun to the floor and rushed down next to her. He tried to pull her to his arms, but froze as she howled in pain. Ed pulled back to look at her and saw all the bandages on her body. He had been so focused on worrying about her being lost, he didn’t notice the pain she was in. 

’’Dear god, what happened?’’ He asked worriedly, very carefully helping her up from the cold floor. She was so fragile, the tiniest sudden move making her legs go weak under her. Y/N wrapped her good arm over Ed’s shoulders as they slowly got to the bed. 

’’It was a trap.’’ Y/N groaned as she laid down on the bed, agony clear in her voice. Ed sat down next to her, his eyes fixed on her face. A tear fell down Y/N’s cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. 

’’Oswald knew about us, he took me to see the new theatre and shot me, three times, and left me there to die.’’

For a moment, Ed couldn’t hear or see anything. He was consumed by indiscriminate hate for Oswald. He knew Oswald was selfish and ignorant, but he couldn’t have imagined that he would do anything like this, and to someone he had cared for. To someone he took in and gave a new life to. Ed stood up quickly and paced around the room few times, before suddenly stopping in front of a mirror. But he wasn’t looking at himself. Y/N could see that he was battling within himself.

’’I won’t let this slide, but I need to get better first.’’ She said seriously. The feeling of betrayal was so strong it made her fall even deeper to her darker side. And so it did for Ed. He turned around to look at her, a sinister expression on his face. They were both thirsty for a revenge, but it needed to be perfect. Oswald had left her to die on a stage, and to be honest, it would have been a fitting end for an artist like her, but she survived. And soon she would be ready.

Months passed while Y/N and Ed plotted for a perfect way to get their revenge on Oswald. They decided it was best that Ed continued to work with Oswald to keep an eye on him, so they’d know if he somehow managed to find out Y/N was still alive. Her sudden disappearance caused questions amongst Oswald’s men, but none were brave enough to ask anything. But Ed asked. Oswald’s face had twisted as he thought about the night he so mercilessly shot her down, but managed to give Ed an answer. 

’’To be honest, I don’t know. She left a note in her room, saying that she had had enough of Gotham, enough of me, and enough of you.’’

Ed had hoped, that Oswald would come clean to him when asked, but this blunt lie proved that there was nothing Oswald wouldn’t do for his own gain. Ed really needed to keep himself calm and focus on the plan they had come up with. 

Meanwhile Ed was keeping Oswald busy, Y/N was recovering at Ed’s home. She had spent countless days and nights planning the perfect way to get back at Oswald. She wanted to be absolutely sure, that unlike Oswald, the job would get done. 

Now that her wounds had finally fully healed, she was ready. 

Y/N stood in front of the bathroom mirror in her bra, trailing her fingers over the fresh scars. Ed showed up behind her, wrapping his arms around her body and pressing a kiss to her shoulder. Y/N leaned backwards, so her back was against Ed’s chest. She could see that he was as ready as she was. 

’’Are you ready?’’ He asked, trailing her neck with kisses, trying to get her to relax before the evening.

Y/N nodded, moving her head to the side to give Ed better access. She closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling Ed gave her. 

’’Got bridges to burn and places to run. Yeah, this smile is a loaded gun.’’

She sang quietly, softly swaying her hips against Ed. She could feel him smile against her neck. 

’’It’s my party, my body, my business. It’s my town and my crown on my hitlist. It’s my world and you’re just living in it. Did I, did I, did I finish?’’

She continued, turning around in Ed’s arms. Placing her hands against his chest, she pushed him out of the bathroom and walked past him to the kitchen. Ed sat down on the bed and leaned back against the frame, a mischievous smile on his lips as he watched her.

’’They are my girls and it’s us who’s deciding. It’s our door, did we say you’re invited? Leave your name and we’ll call if we like it. If we, if we, if we like it.’’ 

Y/N trailed her fingers over the guns that were neatly laid on the table.

’’No more Mrs. Sweet and Miss Nice. No more Mrs. Fuckin’ Polite. Time for Mrs. Takin’ What’s Mine. I don’t need him. Got bridges to burn and places to run. Yeah, this smile is a loaded gun.’’

She picked up one of the guns, loaded it and flashed a wicked smile to Ed. He could only watch her almost dance around the room, getting everything ready. 

’’It’s my party, my body, my business. If he tries to control me, he’s finished. Won’t be crying, there’s plenty of fishes, and I, and I, and I’m fishin’. He should know that he won’t find another, who will ruin his life and then his brother’s. Who will take what she’s owed when she wants to. Did I, did I, did I stutter?’’

Y/N picked up a throwing knife from the table and threw it across the room, hitting a picture of Oswald right to the middle. While she was unable to get up from the bed, but needed something to relieve her anger in, Ed had hang up a picture of Oswald and given her a set of throwing knives. What started as a petty idea, turned out to be amazing way to practice her precision, and now she could be as deadly when silent. 

’’No more Mrs. Sweet and Miss Nice. No more Mrs. Fuckin’ Polite. Time for Mrs. Takin’ What’s Mine. I don’t need him. No more Mrs. Lettin’ It Slide. No more Mrs. Shut Up and Smile. Time for Mrs. Takin’ What’s Mine. I don’t need him.’’

Ed could see how she was starting to get ready to give into the sweet insanity that was pulling her deeper to Gotham’s underworld. And he wanted to take that final leap with her. By killing Oswald, she and him would get to be together without anyone trying to come between. They would rule together, the true power couple of Gotham. 

Y/N pulled a dark emerald green shirt on and a black leather jacket on top. She fastened the two holsters under her arms and picked to guns from the table. One of them was the one Victor gave her. She fastened another holster to her thigh, and hid a knife in her boot. 

’’I got bridges to burn and places to run. Bang bang and your party’s done. Got bridges to burn and places to run. Yeah, this smile is a loaded gun.’’ 

Ed stood up from the bed, fixed his suit and walked to the door.

’’Shall we go, my love?’’

’’Let’s go.’’

[toloveawarlord]

Ch. 5

Characters: Sophia, Fenrir, Kyle, and Luka

Pairing: Sophia Emerson x Fenrir Godspeed

Tagging: @plumpblueberry​

“Ain’t the records office closed at this hour?” Fenrir asked, refusing to leave the newest member alone. He cast a glance at the large clock that’s hand moved ever closer to the morning hour of three. Meetings could run extremely late, and as such, on more than one occasion had an officer been sent to retrieve a worker if Blanc weren’t present.

Sophia stuffed her hand into the bag barely clinging to her shoulder, shuffling around the contents until the cool brass ring touched her fingers. “We keep patient records here and have to be able to access them at any time. Only a select few have these.” The door blocking their path easily bypassed with the ring of keys.

The crystals flickered ominously before lighting the room. A layer dust sat upon the lids of the boxes of labeled files stacked too high for their weight. The doctor winded around them, finding the stack that held what she needed. Sliding them down one by one, placing them carefully on the ground, pale blue eyes widened at the hand swiping across the top, sending dust specks up into the air. “Don’t—” Sophia gave a sigh, giving up on the warning since it hardly mattered.

“Do ya not like dust?” A question asked by someone so innocent.

How different the two of them were.

Biting the inside of her lip, Sophia shook her head. “It’s nothing.” It would be careless of her to leave the hidden notes here now. There were many places available to keep them safe. The meaty file tucked close to her chest; she asked the Ace of Spades to put the boxes back in order.

She absently wondered how long he would continue to tag along. Long nights were more common than well-rested ones in her line of work. The time of night didn’t show on his features, a bright smile on his lips when their gazes met as they silently left the Civic Center. “Shouldn’t you be returning to headquarters?”

“Shouldn’t you? You work there now too!” Fenrir clapped his hand on her shoulder as if he were the sole member of her welcoming party. His demeanor friendly and emotions openly worn on his features. A genuinely honest man, just as… he had been.

The ache in her chest impossibly tight.

“It would be waste of valuable time. I have a loft in town.” Dwelling on memories of time that would never be returned to her would only cause more pain. Instead, Sophia intended to focus on this strange case. Her steps quieter than the boots of the army boy strolling beside her without a care. He seemed to latch onto her quickly but held no ill intent.

Simply, he was curious about her.

What better way to glean information than visit her home?

Fenrir stretched out his hand in front of her, stopping the doctor from climbing the final stair to the entrance of the loft. A quick hop over it to the landing, he bent slightly, fingers tracing over the broken frame. “Someone didn’t have a key.” His gun tugged from the holster as he pushed open the door.

The entire apartment had been ransacked but the Ace found no one still inside. He returned to the office space with a frown on his features. “You should check to see if anything is missing. I’ll find a soldier to report this to headquarters.”

“Do not report this.”

The crease between his brows deepened, not understanding their newest member at all. Her home had been broken into, trashed, and she stood there as if it were a natural occurrence. A civilian would be shaken up by this. “We need to find the culprit. You ain’t safe here.”

Sophia set the file she’d taken from the Civic Center on the messy desk, tapping her finger against it. “Nothing is missing. This is what they were after.” It made perfect sense, and the picture was getting ever so clearer to her. The mess simply a countermeasure to make it seem like a random break in.

“How can ya know that?”

How indeed. She didn’t want to prematurely bring up a hunch, so she fed small details. “This case is about drugs. Whoever is behind the production must be keeping tabs on the armies. They stole my notes from the clinic and must have known I kept copies.” Glossing over the how, Sophia began to stack the papers scattered across the desk. “Can you clean up the living room?”

“And they came here to find ‘em.” For the time being, it appeared that Fenrir wasn’t going to dig deeply into the missing details. Scratching the back of his neck, he gave a nod. “You got it.” He retreated like a scolded puppy.

Sophia holed up in the office. The state of it not as concerning as the single sheet of paper holding her findings for the patient. Something about the symptoms reminded her of something but it escaped her as to what. The tiredness falling over her required a strong cup of coffee.

She paused on her way to the kitchen, finding the Ace of Spades snoozing away on her couch. He’d done a decent job at cleaning and then made himself at home. What a strange man. He could sleep soundly in a stranger’s home, as if they were close friends or lovers.

She needed to distance herself from him.

******

The following morning, Fenrir passed her off to the Jack of Spades with a bright grin and pat on the shoulder. With a hungover Kyle, the three took a carriage into Black Territory. The wheels rumbled over the dirt road, tossing the carriage roughly whenever it hit a stray rock.

“And he ate an entire bag of that candy for breakfast. It’s like he can’t survive without sugar at every meal,” Kyle complained, rubbing his temples as if it would soothe his splitting headache. His distaste for sweets never changing.

Sophia crossed her legs, previously uninterested in the conversation between Luka and Kyle tossed the other doctor a pointed glare. “At least he’ll have a functioning liver by the time he’s thirty-five.” He’d likely drink himself to death.

Kyle muttered a ‘shut up’ before slumping against the side of the carriage to rest a bit more. Left alone together, Luka shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t understand the relationship between the two doctors nor her relationship with his friend. He couldn’t recall ever meeting her in school.

“We had a few classes together in medical school.”

“Oh. You were there at the same time?” His quizzical gaze shifting between the two of them, trying to puzzle out the age difference.

Sophia turned her gaze out the window, watching the scenery pass them by. “I’m twenty-seven. Kyle started medical school at a much younger age than me, but I had training at home from a relative that was a doctor.” She’d been born with the purpose of becoming a doctor, although the intension wasn’t to heal.

Luka was silent for a moment, mulling over the information and trying to make sense of it. “I don’t remember you at the boarding school, but Ed – the Jack of Hearts – he said—” His comment lost at the annoyed expression that crossed the doctor’s features.

“Whatever Edgar said should be regarded with caution. He enjoys entertaining himself at the expense of anyone else that crosses his path.” And he was quite dangerous. As a Clemence, surely, he’d heard the rumors floating around about the Bright family. Most of the time, it was written off as simply hearsay, but her own family had plenty of evidence to prove otherwise.

“He’s not a bad person.”

“I never said he was,” Sophia replied, the first to rise from the bench seat when the carriage came to a stop. Stepping down onto the dirt road, pale blue eyes scanned the small cottage. “He’s only at the mercy of his family obligations, like most of the old families in Red Territory.” That didn’t excuse the way he toyed with others, but she understood all too well what those obligations could make one do. She gave no time for the younger officer to reply, instead walking ahead to their destination.  

There was little around the house but weeds. Paint peeling away from the wood, showing how little it was cared for. Kyle rapped his knuckles against the door, rubbing his tired face with his other hand. He only perked up when it swung open, Alex’s wife questioning their sudden appearance. “We’d like to ask Alex a few follow up questions.”

The woman hugged the door close, warily eyeing all three army officers. Her gaze settled on Sophia. “You’re that doctor from the clinic. I-I didn’t know you were in the Black Army.”

“I was not when I treated your husband. May I see him for a follow up exam?” The woman’s hesitation evident as her eyes were focused on Luka, likely eyeing the large sword strapped to his back. “They’ll wait here, if you’re more comfortable.”

“I guess that would be alright—”

Although neither Kyle nor Luka looked pleased with the plan of her going in alone, Sophia went anyways with a suggestion of the woman explaining to Kyle how her husband has been. They could interview both of them that way.

She followed the given directions, up the creaky staircase and down the short hall to the last room on the left. The cold doorknob taking a bit of jiggling to access the bedroom. He was in worse condition than she expected. The shell of a man stretched out on the small cot. “Mr. Marshall, I’m doctor Emerson. I treated you at the clinic in Central Quarter.”

He was little more than a skeleton. “I remember.” His voice hoarse and barely above a whisper. With her help, bony hands icy cold in hers, Alex managed to sit up on the edge. “My legs have completely stopped working.”

Partial paralysis. Not unheard of after drug abuse.

Sophia crouched down, testing his reflexes to confirm. “How long have you not had feeling?” He should have come in immediately, but she refrained from saying so. The deterioration of his body too severe to have resulted from the previous overdose. He was likely still dosing every now and then.

“A few weeks.” He paused for a moment before speaking again. “But doc, you didn’t come here for a checkup. Being in the army, I’m gonna guess you are here about the drugs.”

Unusually honest.

“Yes. We’re investigating a dangerous drug affecting the whole of Cradle. You are the only user who hadn’t died.” It wouldn’t be much longer until he joined that statistic. Whatever he’d taken, it was infecting his muscles and nervous system.

“It’s like being able to see the world without a filter.”

Sophia tilted her head in confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Taking Wonderland. It opens up the truth of the world to be revealed. I saw so many beautiful things that are hidden.”

Hallucinations.

Rising to her feet, Sophia resisted the urge to dispel his fantasies. It wouldn’t do any good to shatter the dying man’s delusion. “Where do you get it from?” Even in this poor state, he should be able to remember the location.

“Oh, the red door —”  

BANG! BANG!

A rain of bullets pierced through the window next to the bed.

Sophia ducked down, reaching out to jerk Alex down into the floor with her. Warm blood coated her hands. Multiple bullets embedded into his chest and one perfectly drilled through his skull. The biggest lead they had was dead before she’d even had a chance to save him. Out of habit, she pressed two fingers against his neck for a pulse, finding none.

As quickly as it had started, it ended. An eerie silence set in. Only the wind lamented the passing of the troubled man.

“Sophia!” Kyle shouted from downstairs, cursing to himself.

“I’m fine. Alex is dead.”

“So is his wife. I’ve only got a graze. The Jack of Spades went after the culprits.”

Culprits? Multiple?

Sophia glanced around. All of the stray bullets were lodged deeply into the walls or floor, none easy to access for examination. She knelt beside the deceased, taking out a scalpel from her bag to remove one single bullet. Although it was covered in blood, the blue tip still showed through. A signature too unique to ignore.

A white flower starkly contrasted the destroyed room. It couldn’t be more than a day old as it didn’t have any wilt to it. Sophia folded it into a handkerchief and carefully placed it into her medical bag. It was becoming far too clear to her.

“Someone doesn’t want us investigating,” Luka said, meeting the two the doctors out in front of the house. He clutched his shoulder with a crimson hand, out of breath and pale. He hadn’t been able to detain any of the shooters.

“None of the other houses were targeted of any known overdose victims,” Kyle added.

“That’s because none of them were alive to give up the dealer. Alex and his wife were threats.” Not quite the truth but all of it that she was willing to give. Taking out a pen, she scribed some numbers on a torn piece of paper.

Golden eyes swept over her again, looking for any possible injury. “Are you sure that you aren’t injured?”

Her head nodded in response. “Yes, I’m sure. Give this to Edgar. He’ll know what it means.” Sophia held out the scrap until Kyle reluctantly accepted it. It would mean absolutely nothing to anyone except the Jack of Hearts. There was absolutely no need to check herself for injuries.

“How can you possibly know that?”

Sophia tugged the door to the carriage open, mulling over what her steps should be. Putting together all the evidence to present to Ray, she supposed. It would be best to do it sooner rather than later, but privately, nonetheless. Pale blue irises were void of much emotion when they turned back on her two companions.

“They weren’t aiming for me.”