#he said he’d be there by 1. why did he show up at ten to three

[fingertipsmp3]

People who get annoyed with me for always wanting to be on time & being anxious about being late to stuff would not last two seconds with my family tbh

[hatchetno1]

frustration and anger.

creepypasta/mh x reader in which they get frustrated or angry, or, in BEN's case, are frustrating themselves. word count: 2.1k cw: abuse, descriptions of anger, arguments/quarrelling.

EJ

EJ doesn’t often get angry.

in fact, it’s hard to even frustrate him. Even when faced with particularly difficult patients to suture up—ahem, Jeff— he shows no sign of being fazed.

well, perhaps that’s because he’s used to living with Jeff and his reckless, barbaric antics.

but when he does get frustrated, it’s like a gradual intensification.

you like to split his frustration into three phases.

phase 1: EJ starts to seem a little off. Quieter than usual, less responsive, and more distant. Almost as if he’s in his own world, deceptively peaceful.

phase 2: EJ starts to show actual signs of being frustrated. You notice that it is at this point he may start to snap lightly at others, but with you, he tries his best to keep it to a minimum.

phase 3 is the climax before the drop. On occasion, he may raise his voice slightly and openly express irritation. But he always drops, hard and fast.

“I am so sorry, Y/N, I am so sorry,” he whispers, rubbing circles gently on your back. Though he has to bend over quite a bit (he’s a gentle giant at a height of 6’6 or about 2 meters), you find it to be very soothing that his frame envelops the entirety of yours.

oh, but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of getting angry.

no, the anger you heard in his voice was undeniable as he roared at another member of the household to stay the fuck away from you.

you’d startled at the sheer sound of it, and quickly those trembles descended into violent shaking as you cried—his roar was simply not…human.

you flinched as he picked you up, just as gently as was the anger intense in that dreaded noise he made, a stark contrast in behavior, a jarring change in your body, mind and soul.

but other than that, you knew your darling EJ was back.

he plopped you onto his bed, surrounded by his sweet yet musky scent, nuzzling your neck and your face.

“I’m sorry”s were whispered countless times in your ear that night as you dozed off in the safety of his arms.

jeff

gotta put a trigger warning on this one. you know what to expect, but just in case you don’t, TW: Jeff is literally a murderer with abusive tendencies and anger issues.

at the start of your relationship, Jeff had been…well, to say the least, not the best partner.

he often got mad at you, whether it be keeping him waiting or spilling a cup of water.

yeah. spilling a cup of water.

but you understood why he was the way he was. he just couldn’t help it. but that didn’t mean you were going to stick around for it, no matter how much you loved him.

one day after a particularly huge argument, you found him crying in his room. his sniffles were unmistakable, but you knew you’d have to pretend you hadn’t heard from ten feet away.

turns out, angsty little Jeff here wasn’t completely unaware of himself.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he had sobbed as quietly as he could. “I know I’m a bad boyfriend, I know, I keep lashing out at you and I’m so sorry.”

your relationship could have very well ended that day if you hadn’t found Jeff crying on the floor.

but even though he’d hurt you so many times, you took him back into your arms.

and so you taught him to manage his anger, though it took you immense effort, energy and bravery.

he’d always help, though, by reminding you it was okay to yell back at him. you chided him lightly for it, saying that it’d just cause a back and forth.

“oh, right. my bad. sorry, doll,” he had said with a sheepish grin.

today, you are proud to boast that you trained your bloodhound boyfriend to be a tame dog. hell, he even does whatever you tell him to now, albeit sometimes reluctantly.

but he understands that if he loves you, he must make sacrifices upon sacrifices. you did that for him.

now it is his turn to sacrifice himself for you.

masky - tim

it’s not really uncommon that Tim gets angry.

but his anger is almost always the quiet kind.

he will “hmph” and huff lightly, a mild kind of anger you both can still joke about, though his face will redden at it.

you can’t help it though, the sass he gives you when he’s lightly frustrated is too good to let slip past.

oh, but when his anger gets loud—

it’s no longer a harmless little nip.

it’s been directed everywhere. everywhere, his teammates, the table, the card game he’s losing a bit too embarrassingly to Toby who’s being an unbearable little ass about it.

but never you.

okay, it was one time.

but Tim decided it was one time too many. (as he should)

he’d raised his voice at you, more so out of frustration rather than anger.

and you flinched.

and oh, how that little flinch broke his heart.

he shut up immediately, gathering you into his arms, whispering “oh, I’m so sorry, darling”, and “you’re okay, you’re okay”.

he never did it again. ever.

now, when you both get angry at each other, it always devolves into stupid little giggles and kicking.

hoodie - brian

Brian doesn’t really get angry, nor does he get frustrated.

normally, at least.

something shines in his eyes when he is defied, a shadow of a grin, a curl of the lip—

you spend a couple days investigating this, defying him little by little.

“Y/N, could you pass me the water?” “No.” and you’d say it with a cheeky smile on your face to match this strange expression on his.

it evolved into much greater things, “Y/N, come over here for a bit.” “Nope!”

“Y/N, help me up.” “Nope!”

your gleeful defiance doesn’t have a complete zero effect, either. with each silly little “nope”, the glint in his eyes grows brighter. and you know that the cup you’ve slowly been filling the past few days is about to overflow.

it’s one fateful day that you happily defy him once again, and—

oh. something’s grabbing at your jaw, and your lover’s face is so close to yours.

he smiles so gently at you, so purely. but his grip on your jaw says otherwise.

firm like iron, reprimanding, but not harmful or venomous. you know he isn’t going to hurt you, but oh, he isn’t letting you go either.

“Y/N,” he says calmly. “You’ve been a little more uncooperative than usual.”

the shiver it sends down your spine isn’t one of fear. excitement, rather.

he lets you go, but guides you to the bed. “Sit,” he commands.

so you do. what else are you to do when your lover commands you so well?

“Good girl.”

so you never say no to him again, not when it comes to harmless favors.

Brian does not get angry or frustrated…at least, not like the normal person does.

toby

Toby becomes a very bitter cynic when upset, spitting sarcasm wherever he goes.

his BPD only makes it worse. his relationship with Tim is already strained as it is, with the latter trying his best (as much as a man with anger issues can), and his relationship with Brian being almost entirely carried by the older man.

and his relationship with you, oh his sweet vogel, his darling dove— he doesn’t know what to think of it. some days he lets loose around you, tickling you and blowing raspberries against your cheeks, and others he’s withdrawn, curled up into a ball in his bed, and so you dive in with him, nuzzling him against his sheets long overdue for a change.

but if it’s neither of those, he’s lashing out. sometimes you can’t even look at him when he walks into the room bringing dark clouds over the atmosphere. that’s when you know you can’t look up at him.

and when you make the mistake of looking up, your smile meets a scowl.

“what are you looking at.” he’ll spit, and then storm off, as if he can’t stand your eyes on him.

and it’s true, your eyes gaze at him with such gentleness, he can’t bring himself to stare back sometimes. especially when he’s in a bad mood, because he breaks inside as he sees his own eyes burn the love in your eyes, reducing them to ashes of fear.

“vogel,” he’d whisper at night, lying next to you in your bed. “i’m sorry.”

he apologizes so much and so often you no longer make a big deal out of it, but this time, his soft whisper is laced with such heavy guilt, your arms move before your mind thinks, pulling him into a soft embrace.

oh, but this bad mood is nothing compared to his jealousy.

Jeff gets close to you? Jeff is suddenly on the ground, blood leaking from his head and EJ hurriedly dragging the former away, admonishing him about not messing with Toby’s precious human.

Tim comforts you about Toby’s outbursts? suddenly he’s against the wall, Toby growling and spitting in his face. if he can’t be there for you, then no one else gets to be there for you either. though, he knows this is selfish.

if he could help it, he’d let you go to whomever you wanted for comfort. but oh, his heart aches so.

and his jealousy is nothing compared to how angry he gets at himself, bashing the walls of the manor, crying out at night, because he can’t be there for you like a normal boyfriend.

he doesn’t know this, but you’re in a corner too, muffled sobs, tears, nose dripping and all.

so at night, you crawl back into bed before he notices you, and lie awake till he comes back.

as his breathing settles and his snoring begins, you hug him just a little bit tighter, your sweet vogel with broken wings.

ben

you have to admit, BEN is really, really freaky.

in the way he plays his games, the way he treats his archnemesis Jeff, in bed—oops.

but particularly, in the way he seems to have an endless tolerance for things that would usually upset someone.

he just. fucking giggles.

“aww, my sweet Y/N is so cute when she’s mad~”

context: he pissed you off and you’re currently in the middle of admonishing him with your whole heart and soul.

conversely, you’re the one who gets mad right back at him.

within the hour, he presents you with a tiktok with two cats that says: me when i’m venting and all my bf does is make jokes

he cackles to the ends of the earth and proceeds to make even more jokes

frankly, when the topic of frustration comes up with BEN’s name in the same sentence, you pretty much just think of him being the frustrating asshole in the relationship.

“BEN, give me my fucking phone back.”

he’s dangling it over your head, using the fact that he’s a floating apparition that can somehow interact with physical objects to his advantage.

once, you got so frustrated at him that you cried.

thankfully, he had the decency to pause, panic, and reflect on his actions.

“oh.” five seconds passed and your crying didn’t get better (what did he expect?). he repeated himself. “oh.”

“actually say something, you idiot!” you sobbed. and this is what snapped BEN into action. (you can’t believe you actually had to tell him to comfort you.)

“oh.” then he realized he’d just been saying “oh” like a broken record. “um.”

so he wraps you up in a blanket like a burrito, and holds you close to his chest.

“i’m sorry.”

“promise not to do it again?” you look up at him with your best puppy eyes.

“…i can’t promise.” you can tell he’s holding back a cheeky grin.

you whine and hit him lightly.

but you know very well that he loves you; this frustration merely comes with him as a package.

[aurasy3ag3r]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝟐) 𝐂.𝐒𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫

☆ summary : Short p2 of the first Intoxicated

☆ parings : plug connie x blackfem reader.

☆ wc : a little until 700

1:30 am

con

Come outside.

yn

It's mad late, hell nah

con

YN don't play with me.

I told you I was coming

yn

So?

You chuckled softly as you slipped on your cozy slippers, making your way to the main door of your dorm. Connie had been outside for a while now, but you hadn’t felt like getting up until just a few minutes ago. As you opened the door, he stood there with a black plastic bag in hand, likely filled with food or ice cream—either way, you knew he’d share. “Why you leaving me out here in the cold?” Connie asked, a teasing smile on his face.

“Because I’ve been waiting for you since ten,” you replied, turning to lead him inside, back to the dorm that had become so familiar to him. “YN, you know those parties don’t even start for real until after twelve,” he said, following you. You rolled your eyes, making sure he noticed. He sucked his teeth in response, but you knew he wouldn’t do anything about it.

“Don’t even think about getting on my bed in your outside clothes,” you warned. Connie nodded, already moving to your drawers where he’d started leaving some of his clothes for this exact reason. He grabbed a pair of shorts and a shirt—clothes that you often wore yourself because, honestly, his clothes were basically yours at this point. Without a second thought, he began undressing in front of you, unfazed since you’d seen him naked before.

“You like what you see?” he smirked, clearly enjoying teasing you. You threw a pillow at his head in response, rolling your eyes at his antics. “I bought us some ice cream,” he said, pulling out a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and starting to open it. You stared at it like a hungry little kid.

“Does this mean you passed your finals?” you asked, hoping that he did. Connie nodded, and you rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek. “I’m so proud of you,” you said warmly. He smiled at your praise, leaning in to give you a kiss on the lips in return.

“I already knew you passed— You smart woman,” he teased, making you nod and chuckle. From the moment Connie met you, he believed you were the smartest, most beautiful, and amazing woman he’d ever known. No matter what, you never failed to amaze him—even with simple things like teaching him how to take notes properly or listening to you explain something you were passionate about.

You handed Connie two plastic spoons, and he scooped some ice cream into two cups.“You got my favorite,” you noted, taking your cup from him. He hummed in acknowledgment. “You didn’t tell me how the party went,” you asked, settling onto your stomach as Connie got comfortable next to you.

“It was chill, but I prefer being here,” he replied, his hand slowly sliding up your thigh before giving your butt a light slap. “You think Sasha’s coming home tonight?” you asked, but before Connie could respond, the two of you burst into laughter. You both knew Sasha wasn’t coming home—even if she was there was no way she’d be coming back this early.

“When I was leaving, she was taking shots with a group of random people,” Connie said, shaking his head. You smiled, not because it was unbelievable, but because it was exactly what you expected. “Remember when she introduced us?” you asked. Connie nodded, his spoon still in his mouth. “I remember it vividly. She was showing you off like a trophy, spinning you around and shit,” he chuckled at the memory.

“Now you’re my trophy,” he said, giving your butt a harder slap this time. “Connieee, stop it!” you protested, but he just chuckled, rubbing the spot he’d hit to soothe the sting.

“Are you done yet? I want to cuddle,” you said, already inching closer. Connie placed his cup next to yours on the floor, giving you the green light to lay on top of him. You rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“When we first met, did you ever think we’d end up here?” you asked softly. Connie nodded, not missing a beat. “Mhmm. The second I met you, I knew you were gonna be mine.”.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, looking up at him as he kept nodding. “After you left, I was blowing up Sasha’s phone to get your number,” he chuckled, reminiscing about that day a year ago. “When I’m with you, YN, I feel like a whole new man,” he confessed, his eyes locking with yours.

“You drive me crazy—in so many ways, like sometimes you really be buggin’,” he teased. You scoffed, giving him a soft slap on the shoulder, making him laugh.

Soon, the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound coming from your air purifier. Connie’s hand gently rubbed your back as you began to drift off to sleep.

“Goodnight, mama,” he whispered, holding you close.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 1) Chapter Twenty-One

Kusuo Saiki x Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Adventures in London

Summary: Kusuke uses Saiki's one weakness against him: (Y/N).

            “Kusuo, come to my research lab,” said Kusuke, smiling at Saiki. “I want to show you something.”

            After being dragged around London and losing the pieces of his receiver (because of his father, unsurprisingly), Saiki finally had his dampener fixed and could control himself and his abilities once more. Unfortunately, Kusuke’s mind still couldn’t be read due to the new device he’d created (which was frustrating for Saiki since his brother was always cooking up some new scheme).

            “Why can’t we go with you?” asked Mr. Saiki.

            “I want to see where you spend your days,” said Mrs. Saiki.

            “You can enjoy London by yourselves now,” said Kusuke. “I got you a reservation at a restaurant with great roast beef.”

            Mr. Saiki looked away nervously and addressed his wife. “Do you want to go on a date? I wouldn’t mind.”

            “Me? I wouldn’t mind, either,” said Mrs. Saiki shyly.

            “This isn’t your first date.”

            Still, Kusuke’s suggestion won, and Mr. and Mrs. Saiki disappeared for a nice date in London. That left Saiki and Kusuke together.

            “Those two never change,” said Kusuke as he started leading Saiki into the city.

            “What is your intention?” questioned Saiki instantly. “I have no interest in your lab.”

            “Let’s play rock-paper-scissors,” said Kusuke instead.

            “Don’t ignore me,” said Saiki.

            “Rock, paper, scissors, shoot!” said Kusuke. He played scissors, which lost against Saiki’s rock. “I lost,” said Kusuke, an awkward smile on his face.

            “Are you happy now? I’m going,” said Kusuo, turning to head away.

            “My record against you is zero wins and 725 losses now,” said Kusuke. “Your winning percentage is the lowest when you play rock. Well, I guess that’s because I chose to play scissors only 104 times. I have lost the word games thirty-1 times. I have also lost shogi fifty-nine times, chess ten times, and video games 189 times. I have also lost mah-jongg four times and the memory game seven times.”

            If (Y/N) was here, they’d comment on his obsession. That thought lightened Saiki’s mood.

            “There are others, too. Altogether, how many times have I lose against you?” continued Kusuke. “My total record against you is zero wins and 4,254 losses.”

            (Y/N) would call this creepy, decided Saiki fondly. Still, what is he scheming this time?

            “Hey, Kusuo, will you teleport us to this address and room?” asked Kusuke, holding out a paper.

            Saiki narrowed his eyes. “No.”

            “I’ll tell Mom and Dad if you don’t,” said Kusuke, smiling. “Don’t you want them to have a good time and know we’re having a good time?’

            Weaponizing Mom being upset at us. What a dirty trick, thought Saiki. “Whatever.” He took the paper, Kusuke put his hand on Saiki’s shoulder, and the pair disappeared and reappeared.

            “Wow, teleportation really is amazing,” said Kusuke.

            “Where are we? A hotel room? Are we in London—” His eyes widened in alarm as his heightened senses heard voices in the next room over—all very familiar. “That can’t be. I must have misheard.” A sweat drop appeared behind his head.

            “Did you figure it out already? Correct!” said Kusuke. He grinned creepily. “They are in the next room.”

            In the next room over, Nendou leaned out the window. “Wow, runt, pinky, look at this! The buildings look like drawings!”

            “Why did we have to come here for a surprise?” wondered Kaidou.

            “It’s for Kusuo,” said (Y/N). “But I’m just hoping he feels well. He wasn’t in school because he was sick…” They knew the real reason, but their concern was immense either way.

            In the other room, Saiki glared at Kusuke. “Why are they here!?”

            He was torn between annoyance and suspicion. Not only were Nendou and Kaidou troublesome at the best of times (though he was friends with them even if he would never admit it), but Saiki hadn’t expected Kusuke to involve (Y/N), and yet there they were, still worried about him. Saiki didn’t want Kusuke to pull (Y/N) into any of his schemes, and that irritated him immensely. (Still, the inkling of relief to have a person he cared about so deeply there with him still made an appearance).

            “I summoned them,” said Kusuke, smiling innocently. “I called them a day before your arrival. I asked them to come to London to surprise you. I sent them plane tickets.”

            “You’re kidding, they wouldn’t have—” Saiki interrupted himself. “Well, they—” Nendou and Kaidou, dumb as they were at times “—would. But (Y/N) should’ve known better.”

            “Really? They were the most worried about you.” Kusuke grinned. “ ‘Is Kusuo alright?’ They really seem to care.”

            Saiki glared at Kusuke. The last thing he needed was his brother figuring out anything about his feelings and interfering in his (nonexistent) love life.

            “Why did you bring them here?” demanded Saiki.

            “Let’s play a game, Kusuo,” said Kusuke.

            “A game?” Saiki curled one hand into a fist and punched it into the other.

            Not intimidated, Kusuke continued, “Let’s play tag in London.”

            “…What?” Saiki deadpanned even more than normal.

            “I lost rock-paper-scissors. I will be it,” said Kusuke. “The time limit is three hours. As long as you don’t leave London, you can take buses, taxis, or subways. Well, sounds like fun, right?”

            “What is the point? London is larger than the twenty-three wards of Tokyo,” said Saiki.

            “You will play with Kaidou and Nendou as well as (L/N) so that you can’t use your powers,” said Kusuke.

            “I don’t want to play,” said Saiki.

            “You don’t care what happens to those three? With one signal, I can make those two explore London and return to Japan,” said Kusuke.

            “(Y/N) would want to see me,” said Saiki. “They wouldn’t go along with it.”

            “If you win, I’ll treat you to afternoon tea in this hotel,” said Kusuke, knowing Saiki’s sweet tooth was his biggest weakness. Or, almost.

            “…What happens if you win?” said Saiki. He really wanted afternoon tea and the confections that came with it, but first he needed to understand Kusuke’s angle on top of just getting a win on the board.

            Kusuke smiled brightly. “If I win, I’ll tell (L/N) you have a crush on them.”

            Saiki’s jaw dropped open. What a brutal blow from Kusuke.

            “Did you think it was hidden? It’s obvious,” said Kusuke, waving a hand. “As soon as they said your first name and mentioned your receiver, I knew you were open with them. The pieces were simple to put together.” He grinned. “So, what do you say?”

            “We’re playing tag.” Saiki could not let Kusuke win—not if he wanted sweets and for his feelings to remain hidden. He wasn’t ready to admit anything, and he wouldn’t let Kusuke of all people do it for him.

l

            Saiki and Kusuke opened the door to the room (Y/N), Kaidou, and Nendou had been stuck in.

            “Hey, pal!” cried Nendou excitedly.

            “Did we surprise you?” said Kaidou, grinning. “We’re in London.”

            “How are you feeling, Saiki?” asked (Y/N), frowning.

            “I’m fine,” said Saiki, nodding and pointing to the repaired receiver.

            (Y/N) visibly relaxed and smiled. “I’m glad.”

            “Now come on, we have to get going,” said Saiki.

            “Huh?” said (Y/N), tilting their head.

            “We’re playing tag,” said Kusuke with a wide grin.

            “Tag?” asked (Y/N), Kaidou, and Nendou.

            “I will be it, and Kusuo will hide. You three need to help him,” said Kusuke.

            “What about the surprise?” asked Kaidou in confusion.

            “He was surprised! We did it!” said Kusuke.

            “That was it?” said Kaidou.

            Knowing Saiki wouldn’t get involved with this of his own volition, (Y/N) looked at him. “You got bribed with sweets, didn’t you, Kusuo?”

            “Afternoon tea,” admitted Saiki.

            (Y/N) chuckled but smiled. “Alright, I’ll help. What are the rules?”

            “The time limit is three hours,” said Kusuke. “You can go anywhere within the borders of London. You can take buses, taxis, and subways. Get ready, start!” He pressed the start of a timer. “I will begin searching in thirty minutes. Run!”

            “Let’s go,” said Saiki, immediately grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist and hurrying to the street below.

            “What is this, Saiki? I don’t understand,” said Kaidou.

            Saiki took a map from a stand and glanced over it. “I’m sorry to involve you, but just shut up and follow me. This is a serious game.” Too much was on the line to mess around (sweets and his feelings).

            “Don’t worry, Kusuo, we have your back,” said (Y/N) brightly.

            “Isn’t this too easy? London is larger than Tokyo’s twenty-third ward,” said Kaidou.

            “There are cameras in the subway like on the street,” mused Saiki, focused on the game. “Well, we could put some distance between us.” He led them down towards the underground.

            “Your brother probably has a trick up his sleeve, doesn’t he?” said (Y/N).

            Saiki nodded (he actually responded to them).

            Sure enough, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, the shutter was down. The sign read “Tube Strike” in English.

            “Yare yare. There it is,” said Saiki.

            “He knew that the subways would be closed, which would make the lines for buses long,” said (Y/N). “Wow. He’s a genius.”

            “Don’t praise him, he’s as weird as everyone else in my family,” said Saiki.

            “We need to move fast!” said Kaidou, panicking. “He’ll be coming soon.”

            If he’s watching us, I’ll watch him. Saiki crossed his eyes. Clairvoyance. He saw his brother on a hang glider. He’s coming this way. He’s close. He can reach this place in five minutes.

            “What should we do?” said Nendou.

            “There!” said (Y/N), pointing. “Bikes for rent.”

            “Good idea.” Another reason Saiki liked (Y/N): they were actually helpful in these situations.

            “But there are only three, and there are four of us,” said Kaidou worriedly.

            “I can stand on the spokes on the back of one. I’ve done it a ton with Mera,” said (Y/N).

            Saiki pulled out a bike. “Get on.”

            “Are you su—”

            “We don’t have time.”

            Saiki didn’t want to admit this was nerve-wracking since he wasn’t a fan of touch usually, but he was choosing this. And it was (Y/N). He was comfortable with them. Of course, he also just didn’t want them to be so close to someone else, and with the other idiots with them, Saiki only trusted himself to keep them safe from Kusuke (not that there was really any danger, but Saiki had to justify this to himself without just getting to the point that he had a crush on (Y/N) and wanted to be close).

            “Alright,” said (Y/N), getting onto the back and holding onto Saiki’s shoulders as he began pedaling.

            Their cheeks warmed as they held onto him, and they fought to remain composed and focused. Their feelings were strong, but that didn’t mean they could lose focus and mess this up for Saiki. That would ruin any of (Y/N)’s chances to be close with Saiki.

            On his part, Saiki kept a straight face as usual, but he kept his eyes carefully ahead instead of glancing at (Y/N)’s hands on him. They were warm even through his clothes, and his heartbeat quickened as their proximity.

            Still, they all managed to remain focused on the task at hand and turned through a few streets and alleys to escape Kusuke. The bicycles were working. Unfortunately, not everyone riding them was working. Kaidou’s terrible stamina caught up, and he collapsed to the side.

            “Let’s take a break,” he gasped.

            “We’ve been biking for fifteen minutes,” said Saiki. “But we did try to avoid cameras. We should be alright. If we move around too much, he’ll detect our location. Perhaps we should’ve move location.”

            “That’s what you think!”

            From above, Kusuke dropped in with a motorcycle. Saiki and (Y/N) threw themselves out of the way.

            “Seriously?! Why is he here?!” cried Kaidou.

            “Are you alright?” asked Saiki, helping (Y/N) stand, and they nodded.

            “So cool!” said Nendou.

            “This isn’t the time for that!” cried Kaidou.

            (Y/N) and Saiki jumped back onto their bicycle, and all four sped out of the alley with Kusuke on their heels.

            “How did he find us?!” said (Y/N) over the rush of wind. “We avoided cameras!”

            “Maybe he has psychic powers,” joked Nendou.

            “It would run in the family,” said (Y/N) quietly, chuckling.

            “If he did, that would be terrible,” said Saiki. Luckily, his brother was just a genius, not a psychic.

            “Does he have a tracking device?” said Kaidou, giving a much more plausible idea.

            Saiki’s eyes widened. “My control device.”

            “He put a tracking device in it,” groaned (Y/N).

            “That jerk.” Saiki looked back, his eyes glowed, and a piece of Kusuke’s motorcycle broke to stop him in his tracks. He biked on, leaving his brother behind.

            They only stopped once they reached a giant department store, and Saiki led them in to try to lose Kusuke in the crowds.

            “As long as he knows our location, this is better than walking around,” said Saiki. “We need to avoid standing out.”

            (Y/N) coughed to avoid laughing. “Good luck with that.”

            Nendou was already driving a tiny kid toy car around the store, and Kaidou was examining all of the gaming equipment.

            “We have an announcement,” said the PA system, except it spoke with Kusuke’s voice. He was up to something again.

            “That voice?”

            “Uh-oh, he’s trying another tactic,” said (Y/N).

            “Please look for three young Japanese teenagers,” said Kusuke. “One has pink hair and has climbed Big Ben. Another has (H/C) hair and dressed up as a Grenadier Guard. A third is a bad child with shifty eyes who calls football ‘soccer.’ Another is a serial killer gorilla.”

            “Is the gorilla Nendou?” said (Y/N), not really fazed by the strangeness of Kusuke’s strategy. They had heard stranger things.

            “Definitely,” said Saiki.

            “It’s them!” cried an English man, pointing at the group. “Get them!”

            Instantly, a crowd converged on them, and they took off running. Saiki led them into a bathroom and a stall. People began to bang on the door, and (Y/N)’s eyes widened. They were pinned, and with the tracking device and the crowd, Kusuke would find them in an instant.

            “Okay, everyone, don’t worry,” said Kusuke’s voice in the bathroom.

            “He’s almost here!” whispered (Y/N) urgently.

            “That was a false announcement,” said Kusuke.

            “Oh, really?” murmured the crowd, slowly dispersing.

            “Up,” whispered (Y/N) to Saiki.

            He looked at them, and (Y/N) pointed up.

            “Up,” they repeated.

            Saiki’s eyes widened as he got the message, and he mentally thanked the world for giving him a friend like (Y/N). For all the trouble they got into and their air-headedness, they came through at all the rights moments.

            Saiki teleported them all a floor up. There was no change in the layout of the bathroom, so Kaidou and Nendou didn’t notice. Best of all, though? Kusuke’s tracker wouldn’t see the change in elevation. He would open the door of the stall below and find nothing.

            “Time’s up,” said Saiki.

            Kusuke had lost once more.

            “We won!” cheered Nendou.

            “Now do we get to really explore London?” said Kaidou excitedly.

            “Do whatever you want,” said Saiki. He opened the stall door and walked out. He had a prize to collect. “(Y/N), do you want to come to tea with me?” Kaidou and Nendou might tail after him, but what mattered was if (Y/N) came or not. They made any additional company so much more bearable.

            (Y/N) grinned. “Of course!”

            Saiki’s hearts warmed at their brightness.

l

            “So are Kusuo and Saiki always like that?” asked (Y/N), taking a sip of their tea and looking at Mr. and Mrs. Saiki.

            Saiki himself was glad that (Y/N) used his first name now since if they called him and Kusuke the same thing, he’d just get frustrated to be lumped in with him.

            Mrs. Saiki laughed. “Oh, yes, since they were small. They’re always competing. It’s so cute.”

            “Troublesome is more like it,” said Saiki. “He never stops challenging me.”

            “They’re brothers. Brothers are like that,” said Mr. Saiki.

            “No, he’s just a nuisance.”

            (Y/N) chuckled. “Well, it was kind of fun. I mean, I don’t have siblings of my own to compete with, so running around with Kaidou and Nendou and Kusuo was a real adventure.”

            Saiki looked at them and their shy smile. Okay, fine. So maybe the entire situation hadn’t been that bad since he got to spend time with them and it made them happy. Saiki would never admit it out loud, but he was thankful that Kusuke’s endless competitiveness led to more bonding with (Y/N) and their joy.

l

            “Morning, Kusuo! Where are your parents?” asked (Y/N).

            “On another date,” said Saiki. It was the following day, and there was still time until they were scheduled to return to Japan, so his parents were taking advantage of the time.

            “That’s cute,” said (Y/N), smiling. They liked how in-love Saiki’s parents were. It was how married couples should be.

            “Where are Nendou and Kaidou?” asked Saiki.

            “They went back to the department store to buy souvenirs,” said (Y/N).

            “Of course they did,” said Saiki.

            “Do you have anything you want to do?” asked (Y/N).

            “Not particularly,” said Saiki.

            “Well, I was thinking of going for a walk to find a bookstore and then head to a café to read,” said (Y/N). They shifted nervously. “Do you want to go together?”

            “Yes.” The answer was instant, unusual for Saiki.

            (Y/N) brightened. “Really?”

            Saiki nodded.

            “Awesome,” said (Y/N), grinning ear-to-ear.

l

            Soon enough, Saiki and (Y/N) ended up in a bookstore off the trodden main roads of London. It was quaint and lovely, quiet and private.

            “They have so many books,” said (Y/N), looking at each excitedly.

            “Can you read English?” asked Saiki.

            “Not perfectly, but I’m trying to improve,” said (Y/N), laughing sheepishly. “That���s why I’m trying to find a book that interests me. Then I can improve my vocabulary outside of just what school assigns.”

            Saiki nodded, understanding. “How about this one?” He handed over a book.

            “Pride…and…Prej-Prejudiice,” said (Y/N), trying to sound out the words. They brightened. “Oh, I’ve seen the movie for this. I love it!”

            “What type of story is it?” asked Saiki.

            “A romance between a headstrong woman and a man who doesn’t know how to show his feelings,” said (Y/N). “It’s so cute.”

            “Would you watch the movie again with me? Maybe over break?” said Saiki, daring to ask (Y/N) for a private moment with them that wasn’t their usual homework or cooking. This was something more akin to what many considered a date. It was a risk to ask, but Saiki wanted to be closer to (Y/N). He wanted to show that he cared.

            (Y/N)’s cheeks warmed, and their smile softened. “I’d love to, Kusuo, but are you sure you want to interrupt your time alone?”

            “I don’t mind spending time with someone when it’s you,” said Saiki. “You’re my…you’re my best friend.” He avoided eye-contact, unused to his own honesty.

            (Y/N)’s heart nearly burst, and, overwhelmed with their own emotions, they dared to reach out and touch Saiki’s hand. “I’m glad you like spending time with me, Kuso. I really like i. You’re my…well, you’re my best friend, too.”

            Saiki looked down at the hand touching his own, and he let himself take their hand and give it a gentle squeeze. Neither had spoken the complete truth of their feelings, but it was enough. They both cared about the other. That was all their hearts needed to know for now.

Taglist:

@elaemae

@painstakingly-juno

@characterreaderwriter

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[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 2

Woohoo!!! I'm back with the next chapter of this lovely fic.

Steve and Eddie start circling each other, but they aren't there yet.

Since it's been awhile (three weeks eekk!) I'd go back and read part one again. ;)

Part 1

~

Eddie got home that night, tired and aching from a long day of grunt work. He found he didn’t hate Murray, but he if he had a choice of passing him in a dark alley or turning tail and running the other direction, he would chose the latter every time.

Murray would spend the first week watching over him and helping him when he made mistakes then next week he’d have to do it all on his own.

Eddie worked from eight to four and the pool opened at 9am and closed to the public at 6pm. Then it was given the rich toffs with their personal coaches until eight or nine. But from when they left and until ten, staff was allowed to use the pool for personal time.

The rec center itself opened at 6am for all the people who wanted to work out before before they had to work. The pool used to open then too, but they had to stop doing that. It was without lifeguards and during that time there were huge ass signs that declared no lifeguard on duty. But because some idiot woman left her kids to play in the kiddie pool while she did yoga or some shit and the little shit goblins got into the big pool and one of them almost drowned. If there hadn’t been one of the trainers arriving early to set up for his class, the shit goblin would have died.

So because of one asshole, the public wasn’t allowed to swim in the mornings before the lifeguards were on duty, that left staff able to use it during that time. And oh boy did Eddie abuse the hell out of that on Saturdays. He, of course, double and triple checked with Joyce and Murray that he was considered staff before he did it the first time. But for three hours one day a week, the pool was mostly his.

Sure, every once in awhile he’d see a lifeguard or a trainer come take advantage of the quiet time, but mostly he was alone. He loved it.

In fact he got to know the lifeguards and trainers. Well all but one of them. Robin, Jonathan, and Nancy were all trainers. Vickie, Carol, Nicole, and Tommy were all lifeguards. All but Steve.

Steve didn’t use either of the two Olympic sized pools, but rather stayed in the endless pool, which was in a separate room. Eddie had been tempted to try it, but he’d have to ask someone how to use it and he just didn’t have the guts to.

He decided that lifeguards were snotty know-it-alls, with the exception of Vickie, and all the trainers were the cool kids.

Nancy trained the advanced students, Jonathan trained intermediate, and Robin with Steve trained the beginners. Which apparent had four different classes. Adults, teenagers, eight to twelve year olds, and the baby and toddler class.

During the day, Eddie would watch the swimming classes and he started noticing a strange pattern. Steve never went into the large pools. He would crouch on the sidelines with his little whistle and blow it when he wanted his class to stop. Then Robin would get into the water with them if she wasn’t there already and correct them.

Or they stayed in the kiddie pool if they were young enough.

Murray caught him staring the second week. “See something you like?”

Eddie wrinkled his nose in distaste.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he huffed going back to restocking the towels. They had gone through them faster today than usual. Or what counted as usual to Eddie in his two short weeks.

“Sure you don’t,” Murray said with a sneer. “I’ve seen you watching the pretty lifeguards and trainers.”

“Well, I’m not going to stare at the coaches,” Eddie said, rolling his eyes and moving on to the laundry baskets. “Considering I’m out of here before they even deign to show up.”

Murray barked out a short laugh. “There’s a reason for that.”

Eddie paused what he was doing and straightened up. He turned to look at his supervisor. “Why’s that?”

Murray just shrugged. “Let’s just say coaches and trainers don’t mix well. Like oil and water.”

Well, Eddie thought, that was cryptic as fuck and annoying as hell. But instead of pressing him, he just got back to work. After all they weren’t paying him for this shit and he just needed to get it done.

“What’s Harrington’s deal, anyway?” he murmured as he pushed the laundry cart past Murray.

“Not my story to tell.”

Eddie sighed. Apparently his supervisor was going to dangle a carrot only to yank it way. Story of his life, honestly.

Which was to say it fucking sucked.

~

Steve came out of the men’s dressing room a couple of weeks later to find the new maintenance guy watching them again.

The guy turned away when he got caught and bent over to put something away.

Steve turned to Robin. “Does that guy give you creepy vibes?”

They started walking to the kiddie pool for their first class of the day. Teenagers. God, he hated teenagers. They were only there because their parents made them, they never listened, and one or two of them would end getting into trouble, every god damned time.

“Who, Eddie?” Robin asked, looking over at the guy who had began mopping the endless puddle by the towel dispensary.

“Oh is that his name?” Steve asked, curious.

Robin nodded. “Yeah, he’s actually here doing community service. Got caught dealing and was sentenced to working here for about three months.”

Steve chewed his bottom lip. “Still not beating the creep vibes there, Robs.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said and threw her head back, laughing. “But no, he’s really nice guy and you’d like him if you actually joined us on Saturdays.” She poked his side for emphasis.

He wiggled and squirmed away fro her. “You know why I can’t.”

She sighed and cocked her head to the side knowingly as she sized him up.

Robin and Steve had actually had the same swim coach growing up, her parents applying to some disadvantaged kids program.

Steve excelled at it while Robin merely enjoyed it. After she graduated from high school she went into linguistics and then learned there aren’t that many jobs for a polyglot. So she became his interpreter at international events like the World Championships and the Olympics.

Especially the Olympics as the primary language is French.

After his accident she got them the job of teaching kids how to swim. Joyce was fine with their little arrangement as she called it and most parents were understanding once they found out why a swim instructor didn’t like deep pools.

There were always those that complained, but Joyce would refund their money and tell them to go elsewhere. First complaint and bam! They were gone. She trusted Steve and that’s all that mattered to her.

“I know, dingus,” she said linking their arms together. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

“Thanks.”

They got to the pool and found five spotty teenagers waiting for them. Four boys and a girl. One of them, who had gangly limbs and freckles on his arms and face sneered at him.

“What are we doing at the kiddie pool?” he whined the second he saw them. “It’s for like kids.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “I could toss you in the deep end the main pool and see how well you fair, if you’d like?”

The other kids stared at him in shock, clearly not expecting Steve to bitch back.

“You wouldn’t!” the snotty teen huffed. “You’re not allowed to do that!”

Robin and Steve shared a glance and then Steve just shrugged.

“It’s what we do with the babies and toddlers,” he said, nonchalant, batting his eyelashes innocently. “I mean if it’s good enough for babies, it should be good enough for you, right?”

The kid’s mouth opened and shut without a single word coming out.

“You know,” Robin said dryly, “moving your mouth like a fish doesn’t mean you are one, so I’d close it if I were you.”

He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click and gulped loudly.

Once Steve was satisfied he wasn’t going to say anything else, he started the class.

Then when they in the pool learning how to float, Steve looked up to see Eddie grinning at up him. He blushed and looked away. He didn’t know why his insides suddenly felt like liquid metal had been poured down his esophagus but he knew he liked the feeling.

~

Okay, so maybe Eddie liked how pretty Steve was and how he would take down the Chads and Karens when they threw fits and how Joyce backed him up every time. But he really did try to keep the staring down to a minimum.

Which he absolutely failed at if Joyce’s teasing and Murray’s snide remarks were to go by. Like the only people who hadn’t teased him about it was Hopper and his Wayne. And he figured it was only because they never saw how flustered he got when Steve came around.

The trainers teased him, the lifeguards teased him. His friends teased him. God he wanted to murder Jeff in his sleep sometimes.

“Look, man,” Jeff said, “you’ve got to at least talk to him. Robin even said that he thinks your staring is creepy.”

Eddie let out a pained sigh. “We don’t have breaks at the same time and he never comes into the main pool area if he can help it.”

Jeff scratched his chin. “Maybe he’s afraid of water.”

“Like a swim instructor could be scared of going into the pool,” he scoffed. “He teaches in the kiddie pool and the endless pool, so it can’t be all water.”

Jeff just shrugged.

But the comment wouldn’t let go his brain. It created an itch at the back of his mind every time he saw Steve.

The closest he ever got to the pool was just out of arm’s reach. One time he even caught one of the teen-aged beginners try for him and missed.

Steve got up and walked away and the kid was forced to do pedaling exercises until the class ended. And even then Steve still hadn’t come back from class.

He needed to mop the men’s changing room, so he called out. “Maintenance! Hey anyone in here?”

When Eddie didn’t get a response, he walked right in with mop and bucket. The rec center liked to keep the area as dry as they could even though there were signs everywhere: CAUTION WET FLOOR.

He started by the showers and slowly made his way to the changing rooms, when he got to the last stall he actually found it locked.

Shit.

He hoped he didn’t have to crawl under the gap in the door to reach around and unlock it because little kids were shits. More than once Eddie had seen them lock the door and crawl out, leaving it locked and any appeals to their parents fell on deaf ears.

But as he crouched down to look he could hear the sounds of someone crying softly. He then spotted the soft shoes that a lot of the swim staff wore again, color coded like everything else in this place. White for trainer.

Eddie’s heart sank.

“Hey, Harrington, that you?” he called out gently. All their last names were on the backs of their polos.

There was a sniffle or two before the weak, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just give me a minute and I’ll be out of your way.”

The door opened and a very disheveled Steve came out of the stall, head down and shoulders rounded.

“You sick or something?” Eddie asked, tilting his head to get a better look at the man.

Steve let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah you can say that.” He went to the sinks and splashed water on his face couple of times before drying it on a paper towel and throwing it away.

Eddie watched as the trainer exited the changing rooms leaving him with more questions then he had answers.

~

Part 3 Part 4

Tag List: FIVE SLOTS REMAINING

1-@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @justforthedead89 @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

[merrybloomwrites]

You Can Start a Family (Extra: Fan Reactions)

Finally doing my first requested story!

Based on the following ask from @drunk-teens-doing-drugs and the comment from @luxiorchive

Summary: A serious of reactions from from fans and Media about Harry's new girlfriend as well as Mitch & Sarah's feelings of being left out of big moments. This story starts immediately after the end of chapter 10.

Previous Chapters:

Main Story: One ; Two ; Three ; Four ; Five ; Six ; Seven ; Eight ; Nine ; Ten

Sickfic Part 1 ; Part 2

Mitchrry Prequel

Mitch & Matilda

Wordcount: 2.1K

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can you do me a favor?” Harry says, breaking the morning silence.

“Uhm, yea, sure, what is it?” You ask. Unless Harry asked you for something crazy you’d do pretty much anything he said right now. Two days ago, he joined your relationship and you, Harry, Mitch, and Sarah had your first official date together. Yesterday you all spent the day out on the water enjoying the beautiful Italian views. The night ended back in your shared bed, you and Harry having sex for the first time while Mitch and Sarah reconnected right next to you.

So yea, you were pretty blissed out and content, happy to please your boyfriends and girlfriend however they want.

You’ve all been awake for a little while, hanging out in bed and switching cuddle partners every now and then. You’re currently in between Mitch and Sarah with Harry on Sarah’s other side. He’d picked up his phone a few minutes ago, seeing a screen full of notifications and he knew he had to peek at what was happening, just to make sure nothing was wrong. Which has led to him asking you a favor.

“Can you not go on social media today?” He asks you.

“Sure,” you answer quickly. That was an easy request. You aren’t even sure where your phone is to be honest. You’re more than happy to exist in your little happy bubble, but still, you’re curious about his request. “Can I ask why you want me offline today?”

“Yea the uh, the pap photos from yesterday have been posted.”

“Oh gosh, what, are they bad? Was it a terrible angle and I look awful? Did they like, photoshop someone else’s face on me or something?”

“No, love,” he answers with a laugh. “Nothing like that. It’s just that this is new and I’m not sure how people are going to respond yet. I want to make sure you don’t stumble across something nasty.”

“Do you think people are going to be negative?” Sarah asks, worried about the idea of you two receiving backlash.

“I never know what to think,” he replies while scrolling through his phone. “But I will say that everything seems positive so far. Media outlets are confused, wondering who this ‘mystery woman’ is. Fans are much better detectives. They’ve already posted some videos of you at my shows.”

“Can I see?” Mitch asks and takes the phone Harry hands him. After a moment he says, “Oh this is good. The people who were near you at the concerts are all saying how nice and chill you were. There’re a few comments saying you seem to follow Harry’s treat people with kindness motto, that’s like the best compliment his fans can give.”

You smile at that, remembering all the moments you got to share with Harry’s fans during his shows. You realize that you probably won’t be able to do that again in the future, now that you’re officially known as Harry’s new girl, but you hope you’ll still be able to interact with the fans in some way.

“Okay, phones away,” Sarah says, and Mitch immediately locks the phone and hands it back to Harry.

“What’s the plan for today?” Sarah then asks.

“Can we stay here and go swimming?” you ask. “I’ve been taking Ryan in the pool a lot but I don’t get to actually swim, you know?”

“Sounds good to me,” Harry replies as the other two nod in agreement. “How is Ryan?” he asks, and you fill them in on the boy you nanny as you all get ready.

The four of you spend that day and the next relaxing at the private villa. It isn’t until dinner of the second evening that Harry decides it’s time to pop the bubble and see what people are saying online.

You’re all sitting at the table outside and he explains that no news is good news, that his publicist would have called if there was anything truly bad being said. He pulls out his phone and starts to scroll. When he doesn’t say anything for the first minute you start to get anxious but finally he begins to smile.

“It’s good?” Sarah asks.

“It’s- Yea. It’s really good. I mean, I hoped this would be the reaction, but I’m used to getting so much negativity that I didn’t think it would actually be like this. I mean there’s a couple of bad comments but for the most part it’s, God, it’s really good.” Harry says this with a smile so big his dimples are showing. Suddenly your insecurities and fears vanish, replaced by joy for your boyfriend.

His words and obvious relief make you remember all that he’s been through with the public. He’s suffered years of lies and abuse from fans and media alike, and he’s probably been more worried than anyone else the past few days even if he wasn’t showing it.

You move to sit in his lap, kissing him gently then asking, “Can you read us some comments?”

Harry complies happily, one arm wrapped around you as he tells you all what people are saying.

There are hundreds of comments saying how cute and happy you two look together. Some people have negative things to say about you, but even seeing them say that you’re not pretty, or too plain, or a total nobody can’t shake you. It doesn’t matter what they think, not really. It matters what Harry and Sarah and Mitch think. And since they respond with compliments to contradict every negative comment you’re feeling pretty good.

There’s a feeling of celebration in the air and you realize that you were all more worried about the feedback than you thought. But seeing so much positivity makes you feel really happy. You didn’t necessarily need the validation but having that rather than having people hate your relationship with Harry uncomplicates things a little bit. A four-person relationship is a lot to manage and needing to make the public happy would’ve added a strain that you all simply did not want to deal with.

Over the next few months people spot you and Harry together a few times both in England and in the US. Every time new pictures drop the fans get so excited and comment about how happy they are for you and Harry.

On a few occasions all four of you are spotted together. As always the fans have a number of theories about that and you’re all relieved to see the most common one is that you must be friends with Mitch and Sarah, and they introduced you and Harry.

You’re happy that they came to this conclusion naturally, since that’s what you always hoped the fans would think. The downside of course is that you have to distance yourself from Mitch and Sarah when you’re in public. You can somewhat get away with being close to Sarah since people seem to love that you two are “besties”. However, you and Mitch are extremely careful not to get too close, knowing that tabloids and gossip columns would jump on an opportunity to claim drama with Harry’s relationship.

For the most part, this secrecy is just a part of life. In fact, none of you really want any of your personal lives shared with the public if you can help it. But sometimes it does get difficult not being able to show each member of your relationship the same level of love and attention.

One of the biggest examples of that is the Grammy Awards in 2024. Harry’s up for an award and was asked to give a performance as well. The four of you get ready together and hype each other up throughout the day while making sure to not be too obvious in front of the stylists in the room.

When everyone is ready and about to get in the cars Harry turns to you and says, “You look absolutely beautiful my love.” He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips. When you break apart you’re blushing, aware of Anthony taking pictures of the moment.

“Thank you,” you finally reply. “You look gorgeous as well.” You lean together for another kiss and after a moment you pull away laughing and swatting at Harry as he gently tickles your sides.

You glance over to Sarah and Mitch standing together in another part of the room. There’s a mixture of emotions on their faces and you know them well enough by this point to figure out what they’re feeling with just a look. First is a look of adoration since they simply adore and love both you and Harry. But under that is concern? No. Not concern. Jealousy.

They want to be a part of that moment. Not for any sort of external praise or fame, but because they want to share every part of life all together as a foursome.

These feelings continue throughout the entire day. They want to be by Harry’s side with you as you support him down the red carpet. When you meet them all backstage after the performance they wish that they could share a kiss with you like Harry does. And when Harry wins in his category they want to celebrate with him instead of cheering him on from a separate table in the back of the room.

For someone who has no prior relationship experience before this, you are very good at figuring out what your boyfriends and girlfriend need at any given moment. And that night Mitch and Sarah need to be reassured that they’re as much a part of the relationship as you and Harry.

After finally leaving the afterparty that management forced you and Harry to attend you rush home hoping Mitch and Sarah will still be up. You find them both cuddled on the couch in sweats and immediately realize how uncomfortable your dress is.

Without hesitation you remove your dress, drop it on the floor, and pick up Sarah’s oversized sweater from a nearby chair. You slide it on, and it reaches mid-thigh, so you decide you’re clothed enough. You snuggle in between Mitch and Sarah and Harry joins the cuddle session on the couch a moment later. Things stay innocent for the remainder of the movie that’s playing and then you decide to show the others just how much you love them.

You first focus on Mitch and Sarah, pleasing them and showering them with care and adoration. Then the three of you turn to Harry and congratulate him on another Grammy win in a way that only the three of you are allowed to do.

After that instance the four of you have a conversation about what everyone was feeling that night. From day one you all knew that open communication is key and so over breakfast you hash out all the emotions and come up with a solution to make sure no one is ever feeling left out.

Things aren’t always easy for you and Harry either. While the general public’s reaction to you and him dating is mostly positive, there are negative comments and sometimes things can spiral out of control.

One time your cousin Matt is visiting during a week when Harry happens to be away for work. Pictures of you and Matt start to surface and within hours the cheating rumors begin. At first it doesn’t bother you as it’s honestly kind of expected, but people started to get downright nasty. Finally, you post a story on Instagram, introducing Matt as your cousin in a borderline passive aggressive manner. Most people back off after that, but some don’t believe you. From that moment you know there’s a subsection of fans that will never like you, but you know it’s a small group, so you let it slide.

There are also people who don’t like you simply because you’re dating Harry Styles. They stayed in the background when those first pictures were posted, thinking you’d be gone pretty quickly. But when they realized you were sticking around they started to post nasty comments. It’s mostly just typical mean girl stuff, saying you’re too plain, or fat, or short, or any judgmental thing they can think of even if it couldn’t be farther from the truth.

You don’t mind these comments too much, knowing they’re made mostly out of jealousy. And nights when they surface tend to end in Sarah, Mitch, and Harry showering you in compliments and worshipping your body so really the internet trolls are doing you a favor.

You know you’re never going to win over everyone so having a majority of people happy for you and Harry makes you feel content. But at the end of the day, what they think doesn’t matter. Because you have the most wonderful boyfriends and girlfriend to share life with, and that makes you the luckiest person alive.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!

Let me know if you have any requests!

Taglist: @akkatz @pandeebearstyles @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @theekyliepage @numafarawayglxy @booberry019-blog @hillzrry @ssareidbby @gem1712 @acesofspadess @houseofdilfs @shaquille-0atmeal-1 @kissitnhekitchen @amateurduck @poguestyleskye @n0vaj3an @snwells @drunk-teens-doing-drugs ; @fdl305

[amnevitahwritesstuff]

The Pretty Woman AU no one asked for.

Fandom: A Court of Thorns and Roses

Pairing: Feyre/Rhysand

Rating: Explicit

Triggers: Prostitution, Older Man/Younger Woman

Chapters: 1, 3 (WIP)

AO3 Link

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Chapter Two: Day Two

The morning brings with it confusion. 

It took Feyre a few moments to realize where she was when she woke up. She knew almost immediately that this wasn’t her bed. For starters, her bed wasn’t nearly so comfortable. So where…?

She saw white sheets. Pretty cream wallpaper. And a floor to ceiling window that showed off a dazzling city skyline. 

It all came rushing back then. 

She had…! And then she…! And he had…!

She felt dizzy. 

It almost didn’t feel real. Like the events of the night before had happened to someone else. 

To Vivian. 

Vivian had been confident. Vivian has been sexy. Vivian had been enthusiastically willing to jump into bed with a stranger and get paid for it. 

Feyre finally spied her purse, carefully laid out on the bedside table, and snatched it up to look inside. There, nestled safely where she’d stowed it the night before, was all the money she had earned. She counted it to be sure and, yep, all eight-thousand dollars was accounted for. She would be able to pay her landlord. Buy groceries. Maybe even have a nice buffer for when her sister inevitably didn’t show up to pay her half of the rent next month. 

She…she needed to go to the bank. She needed to get this deposited and safely out of her hands as quickly as possible. Knowing her luck, she would get mugged on her way home. No. Better to get it locked up in a vault somewhere. 

It didn’t take long for her to gather her meager belongings. Her purse. Her ratty converse. Her hoop earrings that she didn’t even remember taking off (had she taken them off? She must have…). And then tip toeing to the bedroom door looking for the exit. 

The man from the night before (Rhys, her brain reminded her helpfully) stood with his back to her, quietly speaking on the phone, as he leaned on the kitchen island. 

“No that won’t work. I have something I need to take care of first.”

Shit. 

How was she supposed to get out of here? Didn’t people usually just expect prostitutes to…walk out? She had the money. He’d gotten what he wanted…right? This transaction was over and now it was time for her to make like a banana and split. 

So then why did she feel so awkward about the idea of walking out without saying goodbye?

Clearly she wasn’t as cut out for this sex worker thing as she thought. 

Too late, Rhys had turned and noticed her. He smiled at her warmly, as if she were a beloved guest instead of his late-night booty call. 

Fuck. 

“Listen, I’ll check back with you soon,” he said quickly into his phone. “Just move the meeting up.” Then he ended the call and tossed the (very expensive looking) phone onto the counter while his eyes zeroed in on her. 

“Umm…hi.” Feyre wanted to smack herself. She sounded like an awkward teenager. 

You are an awkward teenager, a traitorous voice in her head replied. 

“Going so soon?” 

“Well…yeah…” she trailed off meaningfully. They were done…weren’t they? He had only paid for the night after all. And he couldn’t meaningfully argue it still was what with all the morning sunshine streaming in through the giant hotel windows. 

“Do you have somewhere to be?” 

“I…umm…I mean, I should probably go to the bank…”

He stared at her then. In the morning light, she really could almost be convinced his eyes were purple…they were just so…blue. Like a night sky just after the last rays of sun had sunk beneath the horizon. 

“What if…what if I bought you out for the rest of the week?”

Feyre blinked. 

She opened her mouth. Then she closed it. Then she opened it again. This was the part where she told him ‘no thank you’ and got the fuck out of dodge. She had her money. Nearly ten grand of it. She wouldn’t have to worry about bills for at least a few months. 

And yet all she managed to get out was, “I think I need to sit down.”

She sat on the floor. 

Rhys suddenly looked a little panicked. 

“Are you feeling alright?! Do you need anything?!”

Strangely, this actually made her feel a little better. If he was being awkward about this too, then it actually put them on somewhat more equal footing. 

“I’m fine,” she began. “I just…why?”

“Why what?”

“Why me? Why an entire week? That’s…that’s a lot of money.”

Rhys shrugged. “I can afford it.” 

She thought of the eight-thousand dollars burning a hole in her purse. Yeah. She just bet he could. 

“But…you’re…you,” she argued, waving at his expensive suit and model-ready cheekbones like this explained everything. “You could have anyone. For free.”

He cocked his head at her curiously. Almost amused. 

“Could I have you for free?”

“Well…no,” Feyre admitted. What she didn’t tell him was that he probably could…if she wasn’t so fucking desperate and poor. 

He shrugged, as if he had expected that. “Then you can have the money and I can have your company. Besides,” he added with what could only be described as a sly smile. “I’m here on business for the week. You need money. I need someone pretty on my arm for all the work functions I’ll be forced to attend. Everyone wins.” 

“So you don’t just want me for…you know…” her cheeks darkened, much to her horror. This man’s hand had been inside of her and yet she couldn’t even say the word ‘sex’ to him out loud? God, what did he even see in her?

He grinned and crouched down to her level. “I wouldn’t say no…but I’ll leave that up to you. No, you just be your charming little self and you’ll more than earn your keep.” 

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her? Charming? Had he hit his head last night? 

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, she thought. 

“Okay.”

Rhys looked beyond thrilled by this answer, though she couldn’t imagine why. 

“Now,” he said genially, reaching forward to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. Feyre tried not to shiver. “What do you say about us getting you some new clothes?”

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

There were things she needed to take care of first. 

Like calling into work. 

“Hey Gabe…” she began, already dreading this conversation. “A family emergency came up and I’m going to need to take the rest of the week off.”

She wasn’t about to tell him the truth, that she actually needed to spend the week at a millionaire’s beck and call to make ten times her monthly income. She was sure that wouldn’t have gone over well, so family emergency it was. 

“Fey, honey, really?” She frowned. She hated that nickname. “We’re slammed over here. We need you!”

“I’m sorry, but it’s an emergency. There’s nothing I can do,” Feyre said firmly. And then, because she was a pushover, “I’ll make up the hours next week.”

“But we need you now.”

“Well,” she said, frustrated, “I have an emergency now. You’re just going to have to deal.”

“I can’t believe you would do this to us,” Gabe scoffed, laying on the guilt trip. 

“I’ve never taken time off before,” she pointed out. And it was true. She hadn’t. Not once in the three years that she had worked for him. Not even when she’s gotten the plague and had run a fever so high her sisters had nearly sent her to the hospital. “And I’m not asking.” 

Her boss grumbled some more about ‘staffing shortages’ and ‘peak hours’ but she knew she had him. He may bitch and moan about how much she was ‘letting the team down’ but he wouldn’t dare fire her over this. She was too good of a worker to risk losing. 

Once she made her excuses and disconnected the call, she wandered back out into the living area to find Rhys lounging on one of the couches (the same one he’d fingered her on), typing away on his phone. She sat down next to him. 

“So…” she said. “I…still need to go to the bank. To deposit all this.” She gestured to her purse. 

“I’ll have someone drive you,” Rhys said, still typing something on his phone. “What bank do you use?” 

“Umm…Bank of America?” Feyre said automatically, taken aback by the question. 

“And your account and routing numbers?”

She stared. 

“…Why do you need those?” She asked suspiciously. 

“So I can wire you your money.” He said simply. 

“…Oh.” 

“How does twenty grand sound?”

Feyre nearly swallowed her tongue. 

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Later, after she got herself back under control, he gave her a card. 

A black card. 

Feyre may have been poor, but even she knew what a black AmEx card was. She held it gingerly, the way one would a live grenade. 

“Do I have a budget?” She had asked. 

Rhys had just laughed. 

So here she was an hour later, card in hand, standing outside a boutique she’d been ushered to by Rhys’s chauffeur and a personal shopper named Claire. 

“Is there any particular style we’re going for?” She had asked her in the car and Feyre had only been able to stare at her blankly. The only ‘style’ she had ever been known to exhibit was ‘cheap’ and ‘my father bought this for me in middle school and somehow I still fit into it’. Style was for people who had disposable income. And she was definitely not one of those people. 

Or, she thought dazedly, maybe she was now?

As they entered the boutique, Claire took charge like a general rallying her troops. Immediately, half a dozen impeccably dressed saleswomen appeared to do her bidding. One of them spied the black card in Feyre’s hand and the look in her eyes could only be described as predatory. 

Feyre gulped. 

The next several hours were a whirlwind of Feyre trying on a bevy of beautiful designer clothes (with price tags that gave her heart palpitations) while Claire barked orders to everyone who would listen. Occasionally Feyre found herself trying something on she thought looked perfectly fine only for the other woman to shake her head in frustration. 

“No, not that one. It’s too last season.” 

She had no idea what that even meant but at this point Feyre had grown rather scared of this woman so she had dutifully taken the outfit off in favor of the next. 

The only time she had found herself putting her foot down was when Claire had tried to veto a leather jacket she had liked. 

“No,” Feyre said quickly, clutching the jacket to her chest. “I’d like to keep this one.”

Claire just seemed confused. “It doesn’t really fit with the aesthetic we’re going for.” 

“That’s fine.”

Everything else that had been approved and then ferried off (to be packed up and sent to the hotel she later found out) had followed the pattern of being very…sophisticated. Gorgeous beaded ballgowns, crisp white blouses, cinched pencil skirts, red bottomed heels, all of it seemed tailored to an image of a woman Claire seemed to think Rhys needed at his side. And Feyre was fine with that. She certainly had no idea what kind of woman Rhys needed on his arm. 

But this jacket was also the first thing that seemed…her. The real her. And if she got anything out of this strange business arrangement she’d like it to be something that she could actually wear again after this was all over. 

Claire shrugged. 

“Alright.”

She directed someone to take the jacket so it could be added to the pile of approved clothes and then Feyre was back to being shoved into another extravagant dress. 

She sighed. 

Finally, when all was said and done, Feyre found herself to be the owner of a dozen new outfits, various accessories, far too many shoes, and all the while wondering how on earth she was expected to wear all of this in a single week. 

When the total was read out, she tried very hard not to have a heart attack then and there. Wincing, she handed over Rhys’s black card and watched the saleswoman swipe it with a bit too much relish. 

At least someone was enjoying themselves. 

• $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ • $ •

Her last errand was the most important of all. 

“Here, Miss?” The chauffeur confirmed a little skeptically as he pulled up in front of her run down apartment complex. 

“Yep. This is it. I promise I’ll only be gone for a second.” Then she was climbing out of the car and sprinting into her apartment as quickly as possible. 

Thankfully, her landlord’s door was conveniently near the front exit. She banged on it a few times and was soon rewarded with a rumpled look middle aged man poking his head out. 

“Feyre,” he said her name the way one would to a misbehaving child. “You here with my money?”

“Actually,” she smiled, pulling out a stack of bills. “I am.”

[hbyrde36]

Life is a Game (and True Love is a Trophy)

Chapter 2

Ch 1 ao3 link

*Eddie - 1986*

Dustin burst in the door without knocking. A habit Eddie had been trying to break him out of for years. One of these days he’d do it at the wrong time and see something he’ll wish he hadn’t. Maybe then he’d learn his lesson.

“So, don’t freak out but…”

“Ugh” Eddie groaned, pushing his face further into his pillow. “It’s never good when you start a sentence like that. At least let me get some coffee first.”

“Fine.” Dustin relented, stomping back out into the kitchen of the Munson trailer.

Ten minutes later and with coffee in hand, Eddie motioned for Dustin to continue with whatever nonsense he’d woken him up for this morning.

“I told the guys about Steve, about you knowing him.”

“Dustin!” Eddie shouted, incredulously.

“What? It’s not like it’s some big secret or something!”

“You didn’t know!”

“No, I didn't. But I should have realized, and I shouldn’t have said what I did the other night about him. That wasn’t cool. That’s why I told them, because I felt bad, and because I was thinking that maybe we could do a little investigation of our own?”

The kid meant well and it was sweet that he wanted to do something to make Eddie feel better, but what did he think he and a bunch of teenagers would be able to do about it?

Eddie shook his head. “I already told you man, his parents are loaded. I’m sure they left no stone unturned. What could we possibly do that they haven't already tried?”

Dustin’s face spread into a cocky grin. “For starters, Mike talked to Nancy. Did you know she dated Steve for a little while right around the time Will got lost in the woods?”

He had known that actually. In fact he vividly remembered catching the two of them in the boy’s bathroom that one time. He’d never thought about it in reference to Steve’s disappearance before though. The couple had broken up a few months before it happened.

“Yea, okay. So, they dated. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“I'm not sure if it does, but the police never even talked to her. Mike said she was willing to talk to us about him, if you want.”

Eddie couldn’t believe he was actually considering this, but it was hard to deny how intrigued he was to learn more about Steve. Even if it didn’t lead to any answers about what had happened to him.

“You know what? Fuck it. Let's do it.” Eddie declared, slamming his now empty cup down on the table for emphasis.

“Language! I am a child!.” Dustin gasped, in a dramatic impersonation of his mother.

“Shut it, nerd.”

“You literally play D&D with children! Who’s the nerd now?!”

-

Eddie had never really had a full conversation with Nancy. They said hi in passing, and whenever he came to the house to play with the boys of course, but that was the extent of it. Now he was supposed to sit here in the Wheeler’s basement, like it was any other day, and talk to her about her ex boyfriend. Awkward.

Or, maybe not. 

According to Dustin, Nancy knew all about their game, including how she, Steve, and many others were used as characters in it. She understood their curiosity. She herself had always thought that there was something suspicious about the whole thing. That maybe there was more going on in Hawkins than a single missing boy.

“Do you remember the day in the cafeteria, when Steve got into that screaming match with Tommy and Carol?”

Eddie shook his head. “No, but I heard it was brutal.” He’d skipped out early that day to meet up with Rick for more product. The whole school was buzzing about it the next day, he could have kicked himself for missing the show.

“It was. I was shocked. I had never seen him act like that. I know he and I hadn’t been together that long, so I could be wrong, but It seemed so out of character. I mean, everything he said was true, and those two probably deserved it, but the three of them had been best friends for years. He never stood up to them before, so why now? It felt like it came out of nowhere.” 

She paused, taking a breath and gathering her thoughts before continuing.

“I remember him looking at me, just before he stormed off when it was all over. He didn’t look mad, it was more like.. I don’t know, scared, maybe?”

Well, that was a little ominous. Eddie and the younger boys shared a look as Nancy got up from her seat on the couch and started pacing.

“He called me later that night and asked me to come over so we could talk. When I got there, he stepped out onto the porch instead of letting me come inside. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but looking back, it was a little odd. We sat on the steps and he said that he was sorry, but he couldn’t see me anymore. I asked him if there was someone else, but he said no. He just wanted to be single for a while and concentrate on other things. It was fine. I don’t think either of us were too upset about it. We hugged and said our goodbyes, and that was the last time I spoke to him.”

She stopped pacing, standing directly in front of Eddie as she finished her story.

“I still saw him around, of course, and heard about how he quit the school teams. Which seemed weird, because, what was this more important thing he was focusing on? Clearly it wasn’t sports. Then he started skipping school, so it wasn’t about his grades either. I started to wonder if maybe he had gotten into drugs or something.” 

Or, he could have just been lying to let you down easy, Eddie thought, but that wasn’t very kind. Instead he said, “If he was, he wasn't getting them from me.” 

Dustin gasped. “Wait, dude, are you really a drug dealer?”

Fuck. “Um. No?”

“You are! You’re totally a drug dealer!” Dustin said, bouncing in his seat and pointing a finger in Eddie’s face.

Eddie groaned. “Please stop yelling ‘drug dealer’ before Mike's parents hear you and kick me out!”

“Does that mean you smoke pot?” Lucas asked.

 “Can we smoke pot?” Mike added quickly, grinning.

“Absolutely not!” Eddie and Nancy shouted, simultaneously.

He turned to her, hands raised. “For the record, I don’t sell anymore. Not since my supplier went to jail.”

Dustin’s eyes widened slightly. “Oh shit, is Reefer Rick a real person?”

Nancy gave Eddie a hard look.

“What?! We all used people from our life in the game!” He said defensively. “Look, guys, I think we’re getting off track here.”

“Is there anything else weird you remember about Steve from before he disappeared?” Will asked Nancy, speaking for the first time. Eddie threw him a grateful smile.

“Not that I can think of.”

“What about his parents?” Lucas asked.

“I never met them, but he always said his dad was an asshole. The way he talked sometimes, it sounded like they weren’t around a lot.”

The image of it flashed in Eddie’s mind for a moment. Steve, all by himself in that big empty house of his. Haunting its hallways in the middle of the night. He shook his head roughly to clear it. 

Maybe it was silly to think of it that way. What teenage boy wouldn’t love having the house to himself? No one hassling you or telling you what to do. He couldn’t explain why, but somehow he didn’t think Steve liked being alone.

Eddie was startled when Nancy placed a hand on his arm. She looked at him, face pinched with concern. He realized suddenly that they were alone. He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the boys had left. She saw him looking around and explained.

“I sent the boys upstairs for lunch. It looked like you needed a minute.”

“Yea, sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.” He got up to collect his things, and headed towards the basement steps.

“It’s the time of year. I get it, I've been thinking about him a lot too.” She said, following him.

Eddie shook his head. It wasn’t the same, she was allowed to think about Steve. To miss him. What right did Eddie have? “That’s different. You dated the guy. We weren’t even friends.”

“You’re allowed to miss him, Eddie.”

“No, I'm not.”

“He thought you were brave, y’know.”

“What?” He stopped walking, but couldn’t bring himself to turn around to face her. 

“He told me once, the first time I sat with him for lunch. You had jumped up on your table, ranting and raving about whatever had bothered you that day.” She sounded amused at the memory. “Tommy and the others sneered and complained, but not Steve. He smiled as he watched you. He said, ‘sometimes I wish I could be brave like that. Just stop caring about what everyone else thinks and be free’.”

He finally looked back at her over his shoulder. She smiled at him kindly, it seemed genuine so he returned the gesture.

“Thanks, Wheeler.”

-

Eddie didn’t stay to join the boys for lunch, though he did make plans to meet up with them the next day. He needed some time alone to process what they’d learned so far. He did his best thinking in the van, so he drove around town aimlessly, blasting Metallica and trying to sort through it all. 

Eventually he made his way to Loch Nora, slowing when he reached Steve’s street. He’d never been inside the Harrington house, but he knew where it was. There was no car in the driveway, so he rolled to a stop in front of it. A ‘For Sale’ sign was stuck in the grass a few feet to the right of the mailbox.

He hadn’t realized Steve’s parents were selling the place. Good, Eddie thought. It would make his next task that much easier. He’d come up with a plan, of sorts, as he cruised around Hawkins. The first step? A good old fashioned breaking and entering.   

-

*Steve - 1983/1984*

Two days after finding Eleven out in the woods, Steve cut ties with all his friends. He made a big scene out of calling Tommy and Carol assholes in the middle of the cafeteria, to really drive the point home. He turned himself into a social pariah overnight, anything to keep people from wanting to get close to him.  

He let Nancy go. It was easy enough. He found that he wasn’t even all that upset about it, he knew she wouldn't be too sad either. He’d seen how she looked at Jonathan that day at school, when the news broke that Will was missing. They would get together before too long, he was sure of it.

He quit the swim team, basketball, and only continued going to school because dropping out would be too suspicious. He started skipping days a lot. 

-

Eleven, who he’d taken to calling El for short, needed her own space. He would have loved to decorate the guest room for her, would have let her paint the walls and everything. Unfortunately, his parents still came home on occasion, and it would be too hard to hide. Instead, they worked together to fix up a space for her in the attic. Even when they were home, his parents never went up there. 

He didn’t know anything about little girls, but neither did El, so they figured things out together. He set her up with a T.V. to keep her company when he was gone during the day. He gave her a bunch of catalogs to look through, and told her to take a marker and circle anything she liked. Clothes, bedding, curtains, toys, he bought it all. Perks of the Harrington name, and a credit card with a high spending limit.

By the time her attic room was done, she finally felt secure enough to sleep in her own bed. She felt safe in the knowledge that her new brother wouldn’t abandon her as she slept, or lock her inside. Sometimes though, he would wake up to find she’d come into his room in the middle of the night. Almost always when it rained.

They quickly became a little family, he and El. Steve didn’t have any siblings, hadn’t thought he even liked kids, and certainly never knew how much he wanted a little sister until she came along. He taught her what he knew about the world, and in return he learned the importance of patience and kindness.  Together, they discovered unconditional love. 

For a few wonderful months, life was good. There was a little hiccup in January of ‘84, when eleven accidentally knocked a vase off the counter in the kitchen. It was fine. She caught it with her mind before it hit the floor, then levitated it back upright on the counter. It was the first time she’d used her powers in front of Steve. Powers he had been completely unaware of.

He’d hyperventilated for a while, but once he recovered he explained to her that, ‘No sweetie, I didn’t know you could do that, but it’s fine. I promise. No, I'm not afraid of you. It’s just another part of you, and I love who you are.’

It was another turning point for them, a catalyst that compelled her to explain more about where she came from. What sort of things they did to her at the lab, and she finally told him all about Papa and the other children. 

Steve had never pushed her on any of it, happy to just keep her safe, and wait until she was ready to talk. Once she did? Well, he was fucking livid. It was all he could do not to go to the newspapers, or Chief Hopper, and blow the whole thing wide open. Hell, he would have found the place himself and burnt it to the ground if he didn’t know for a fact that there were other kids living inside. 

In the end, he did nothing. Too afraid that if he was caught, or worse, there would be no one who knew about El, or where she was. There would be no one to take care of her.

-

It was all his fault. He should have known better. It was his job to take care of her, and he had failed in that task spectacularly. It was spring break 1984, Easter Sunday. He’d just wanted to take her out to breakfast, something he could remember doing with his own parents for the holiday when he was young. Back when they at least pretended to give a shit about him. 

They were as safe about it as they could have been. He picked a small restaurant two towns over, where no one would recognize them. She looked so happy when she smiled at him over her massive stack of waffles.

He didn’t see it for what it was, when the two nondescript white work vans pulled into the parking lot of the diner. Movies had him envisioning a legion of fancy black town cars pulling up on him one day, a swarm of dark suits surrounding him, demanding to know where the girl was. He should have known that Papa would be a bit more subtle.

The bell above the main entrance door dinged as a new customer entered. El looked up reflexively at the sound and her eyes went wide. It was the only warning Steve had before a tall man with white hair and an impeccably tailored gray suit slid into the booth next to him.

“Hello, Eleven. You’re looking well.”

Steve watched as she curled in on herself. Turning back into the little girl he found in the woods right before his eyes. 

“Papa.” She gasped, bottom lip trembling.

The man turned to look at Steve. “I’m Dr. Brenner. Now, don’t go getting any big ideas, young man. I have people on every door to this place. You’ll never make it to that pretty car of yours in time, and I can assure you that if you try, they will not hesitate to... deal with the situation.”

Steve froze, not remotely prepared for this scenario. He didn’t know what to do and was scared of making a misstep. He wasn’t afraid for himself, he didn’t care what happened to him, but he was terrified for El, and the possibility of losing his sister forever. 

“Here’s what's going to happen.” Brenner continued. “Eleven is going to leave this place with me, right now. You, Mr. Harrington, yes I know all about you, are going to go back to your life and forget that any of this ever happened. If you so much as think about telling anyone what you’ve seen, we will know, and we will come for you.”

“I’m not going to just let you take her.” Steve protested, heart pounding.

“You don’t have a say in the matter.”

“If you take her then you’ll have to take me too!” Steve raised his voice a little too loudly, drawing the attention of the other diners. 

“That’s not an option.” Brenner hissed. “I have no need for someone like you”

Steve lowered his voice to a whisper, knowing that angering the man further wasn’t going to help. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll die first. You’ll have to kill me right here and now in front of all these people. Do you really want to make that big of a scene?”

Steve could tell the man was considering it. “Please.“ He begged. “I'm sure you can find some use for me. I’ll do anything.”

Brenner sighed. “Very well. You will both follow me outside. Leave your car keys on the table, Steven, you won’t be needing them.”

The man slid out of the booth, threw more cash than necessary on the table, and walked out the door.

Steve scrambled out of his seat at the same time El did, and they collided in a desperate embrace. She was shaking, crying. Steve ran his fingers through her short curls. 

“I'm sorry El, I'm so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

She looked up at him, blinking through tears. “It’s not your fault, they would have found me eventually, one way or another.”

“I’ll get us out of this somehow, I promise.”

She took a small step away from him and shook her head. “No, Steve. You have to let him take me. Only me. You have a life, parents, a family.”

He shook his head, taking her small hand in his. “You are my family El. I’m not leaving you. We’re in this together. You and me, always.”

Chapter 3

@penny00dreadful @buckleybarnes @steddie-there @yeahhhh-suga @goinsteddie @brbsoulnomming @the-s-is-silent @paintsplatteredandimperfect @estrellami-1 @herebedragons404 @epiclazershark @iaminmultiplefandoms @adaed5 @mentallyundone @hardboiledleggs @hotshot9 @manda-panda-monium

[inawickedlittletown]

Dragon Chosen (BuckTommy fic) - 1/4

Summary:

In a world where dragons exist and where they pick their riders, Buck doesn't expect his perfectly normal Tuesday to include a dragon and his rider, Tommy, showing up to ask for his help with an injured dragon…a dragon that has picked Buck as his rider. Buck doesn't know who captivates him more his new dragon or Tommy.

Rating: M

Words: 3.4k

Ao3

"But it is one thing to read about dragons and another to meet them." ― Ursula K. Le Guin, A Wizard of Earthsea

-

Chapter One

The shadow was huge and unmistakable. Any hope that it was just a passing cloud covering up the sun was futile, especially once he felt the downdraft of air from the wings. When he finally looked up, Buck took in the dragon in all its glory. The dragon was huge, the biggest that Buck had ever seen — not that he’d seen many. 

There weren’t many dragons left. Low breeding and eggs that didn’t hatch, it was all complicated and no one really understood it. Well, the dragons probably did, but they weren’t sharing and if they were then it was with their riders and no one else. 

The wings spanned out and it glided downward all in precise motion. Buck could only watch, fascinated. And…oh, it wasn’t just flying overhead. It was…it was coming down. 

The dragon landed with a thump. Now that the sun was shining on it, Buck could make out its color. It was blue, but not just any single hue of blue. The scales shimmered in the light. It was absolutely gorgeous. Only the wings were a dark solid blue-ish gray. There was something regal about the dragon, maybe the way it stood or how it stretched its long scaled neck. Maybe it was just that it was a dragon. 

Buck had been so caught up looking at the dragon that he didn’t look at the rider, not until he was dismounting, dropping down from the dragon with practiced ease. The dragon didn’t even seem to react, not until it let out a snort complete with a puff of smoke. Almost like it was laughing. 

The dragon rider then started striding towards Buck. The first thing Buck noticed was how built he was. He was probably Buck’s own height, but he looked bigger because he seemed to be comprised of muscle and not much else. To make matters worse his clothes looked like they were painted on him. A friendly smile rested on his lips as he took the last few steps towards Buck and Buck was struck by the sharpness of his jaw and the cleft on his chin. 

This was not a man walking towards him, it was a god and Buck was struck dumb because he’d never seen someone so beautiful. Or someone that he wouldn’t have minded dropping down to his knees for. Buck didn’t go for men usually, but even if he didn’t know he was bisexual, this dragon rider would have cemented it for Buck. 

“Evan Buckley?” the dragon rider asked. 

Buck swallowed. “Uh…yeah, that’s uh, that’s me.”

“Oh, good,” the rider said, extending his hand towards Buck. 

His hands were big, fingers thick and long with neatly kept nails. His skin was callused and his grip was strong. Buck kinda missed touching him once the handshake was over. 

“Tommy Kinard,” the rider said. “Chim and Hen sent me.”

“Oh. But…why?” 

Tommy chuckled. “To fetch you, of course.”

“But I was…I was weeding the garden. I was going to plant my tomatoes.”

Tommy chuckled again. “You’re cute,” he said. “They didn’t tell me you’d be like this.”

“How do you know Chim and Hen?”

Behind Tommy, the dragon shifted its wings. It really was huge. 

“Used to work with them before…well, before—” he motioned at the dragon, a fond smile growing over his lips. Oh to be the one gazed upon with that look and that smile. 

“And I’m just supposed to jump on the back of your dragon with you because your old co-workers sent you to get me?” Buck asked. 

“Well…Chim said you would,” Tommy said, tilting his head. 

Buck laughed. “Uh. Yeah…he’s not wrong. Just let me close up and put my stuff away. Ten minutes, tops.”

“Sure.”  

His stuff consisted of his garden shears, the small spade and his two shovels, even the bucket where he’d been throwing the weeds. He also probably shouldn’t be wearing sandals while on a dragon, so he went inside the house to get a quick change of shoes. When he returned, he found Tommy examining his garden. 

“Are you a witch?” Tommy asked.

Buck laughed. “Why do you ask that?” 

“No, uh, no reason. I’ve only ever seen witches grow this much vervain, sage, lavender, rosemary, and aconite,” Tommy responded. His fingers reached down and touched a basil leaf, the scent rising from the plant.

“I’m not a witch,” Buck said. “I like to garden. Between Bobby and Eddie it all gets used up.”

Tommy hummed, eyeing him. “Then, you have a green thumb.” 

“More like I know how to research. Plants are…they’re living things and for them to thrive they need the right kind of care. The right amount of water, soil that reaches a certain ph, the right amount of sunlight.”

Buck didn’t know what to make of the way that Tommy was staring at him. It was something between being impressed and awed. Tommy could get lost in it. He actually inched closer to him. 

“You’re different than I expected,” Tommy said. 

“Well, I didn’t expect you…so…”

Tommy laughed. “Alright, come on. They’re waiting.” 

“You didn’t say what for,” Buck pointed out. 

“No, I guess I didn’t,” Tommy said. 

The dragon was even bigger up close. If it had wanted to, it could have easily swallowed Buck whole and that didn’t even take into consideration that it could roast him alive first by just opening its mouth and shooting out flame. 

“Come, I’ll introduce you,” Tommy said. 

In everything that Buck had read about dragons, it had always said that dragons were telepathic, not that they ever talked much to anyone that wasn’t their rider. 

“This is Cyra,” Tommy said. 

Hello, Evan Buckley the voice was silky smooth and different than anything Buck had ever heard. 

“Oh,” Buck said. “Hi, Cyra.” 

Cyra lowered her head, her eyes were even with Buck and Tommy. She blinked and Buck let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. She lifted her head again and shifted in place. 

“We should go,” Tommy said. 

“You still haven’t told me where we’re going,” Buck said. 

He watched as Tommy tilted his head towards Cyra. They had a whole conversation and Buck could just watch both of them. Cyra was more impressive than Buck could have expected, despite everything he’d read about dragons. She was just bigger and cooler and more magical. The magic almost poured off of her in a way that even Buck could feel. He wondered if it was like that for anyone that came near a dragon. 

No. You’re special.

Buck almost jumped when he heard her voice again. 

“What?” he asked. 

Tommy touched his shoulder, sending heat right down his arm. 

“There’s a dragon,” Tommy said in a gentle tone. 

Buck immediately paid attention. Another dragon…but what did it have to do with him?

“He was hurt and Hen and Chim have done their best to keep him alive. Evan, he said your name. He needs you.” 

“He…what?” 

He has chosen you, Cyra said. 

Climbing up to the dragon felt awkward, mostly because Buck could feel her magic and also how hot her body ran. There was also, of course, the fact that he was stepping and grabbing onto a living creature. Tommy did it with ease. He seemed to know just where to step and how to jump until he was up where the saddle was situated. Buck tried to follow his steps, but he still almost slid off Cyra a few times. She seemed to find it funny at least. 

Tommy grasped his hand. He was on his knees, leaning down from the top of Cyra and he was strong enough to actually help pull Buck the rest of the way. It was unfair how much hotter that made him. No one could blame him for letting his hand linger on Tommy’s, though Tommy didn’t let go either and his gaze was intense. 

At one point in his life, Buck had ridden horses. He knew the feel of a saddle under him, but this was nothing like a horse and it felt almost insulting to compare the two. The saddle was shaped, it seemed, around Cyra where she was narrower, with handholds sticking out at the front. 

“Go on, sit,” Tommy said.

After Buck was situated, Tommy took his place in front of him.

“Now, hold on,” Tommy said. 

Buck hesitated, not sure how Tommy wanted him to hold on. Tommy reached for his arms and placed them around his middle. 

“Don’t let go, Evan.” 

His chest was pressed to Tommy’s back. His hands rested right on his stomach and he could actually feel him breathe. Buck could also smell him. He smelled like smoke and fire and leather. It was intoxicating. 

“Ready, Evan?” 

Tommy said his name like there was some importance to it, he said it like he liked it and wanted to keep saying it and Buck couldn’t not imagine what it might feel to have Tommy whisper it against his skin, against his ear. 

Cyra moved, jostling Buck. It jostled him out of his mind too and he grasped at Tommy and felt him laugh. 

Cyra pushed off the ground with her legs. Her wings spread, flapped. Wind rushed at him and then he was tilting backwards. He closed his eyes tightly, held on to Tommy maybe a bit harder than he should. One of Tommy’s hands landed atop his, thumb running gently over his skin. 

“Relax, Evan, you won’t fall. I won’t let you.” 

Buck let out a breath. He pressed himself closer to Tommy and let up on how hard he was holding on. Cyra leveled off. Buck opened his eyes. They were in the sky, actually among the clouds. 

“This is—”

“It is,” Tommy said and he squeezed Buck’s hand before letting go. 

Tommy leaned forward a bit and Buck went with him. Cyra flew forward. Her wings flapped and she twisted a bit. Buck loved it. He loved the wind on his face and the feeling of Cyra moving underneath them, the way that her wings were powerful enough not just to get her up into the air, but to get him and Tommy up there with her. 

He let out a laugh when she dropped down in rapid movements. It felt almost like a rollercoaster. She twisted a bit too far left in the next moment and then started climbing higher into the sky. Buck tightened his hold on Tommy until she leveled out once more and after that they flew relatively straight. Tommy actually turned to look at him. 

“How are you feeling?” 

Buck had no words. 

“Alright?” Tommy asked. 

He nodded. 

“Good. Not too much further now.” 

When she did start dipping down again it was slower and Buck could see below. 

They were high, so high that everything looked tiny and far away. There was green and blue and brown but there was no making any of it out concretely. Buck had no idea where they were or where they were going, not until she got closer and closer to the ground. 

Cyra flew over a crop of trees and it was wild to think about how tall those trees were if you looked at them from the ground. Now, they were above them. Slowly, she descended, her wings gliding rather than flapping and then she finally dropped down feet first onto a clearing. Her wings settled at her sides and she turned her long neck to look at them. Her gaze was piercing. 

Did you enjoy that, Evan?

“Cyra, you are amazing,” Buck responded. 

Cyra ducked her head almost in a bashful manner which made absolutely no sense coming from a dragon. 

“Come on,” Tommy said. “We should hurry.” 

Buck had no idea how he was supposed to get down, but Tommy just slid his legs over to one side of the saddle. Cyra had gotten low to the ground, and he just slid down her side, landing right on his feet and looking up at Buck. He lifted a hand towards him. 

“I won’t let you fall, Evan.” 

Buck was clumsy getting his legs over the saddle and then it didn’t look that difficult to just drop down. The scales under him were warm even through his clothes, they were also insanely smooth and when his feet hit the ground, Tommy was there grabbing him so he wouldn’t topple, his hands on Buck’s sides warm and strong and distracting. 

“Good?” Tommy asked. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” Buck said. 

Tommy let his hands fall away and he stepped back. He looked past Buck to Cyra and then he motioned for Buck to follow. Buck was still reeling from being up in the air on Cyra’s back, of having his arms around Tommy the whole flight, of just the impossibility of him getting picked up by a dragon and its rider because of another dragon. 

They went down the slope of the hill. Cyra actually followed and Buck didn’t know why the dragon hadn’t flown them closer, until he saw the canopy tents. She would have thrown them off with the downdraft of her wings. There was a worn trail and they walked it in silence. 

The tents had been constructed on a flat area of ground. Two of them were pressed together. One had three walls, but the other was wide open. 

A grumbling sound came from the tent. It made Tommy pick up his pace. Buck followed. Cyra moved slower, carefully, but she still made it to the tents before them. She lay down, careful of disturbing them. From within the tent came the sound of muffled voices and a growl-like sound. 

Whatever adrenaline had come from flying on a dragon was gone and in its stead came nerves. His stomach was churning. Cyra and Tommy had been so sure that he was needed, that the dragon had picked him or something and Buck just…well, he wasn’t sure anymore. 

The magic hit him before they had even reached the tents. It felt like Cyra, but somehow more. It made him stop walking, especially when he felt like the magic was pulling at him. 

“Evan?” Tommy asked. 

Buck glanced at him and then he rushed forward. Tommy moved with him, not stopping him, just following. 

Evan Buckley, a voice said in his mind. 

When Buck arrived at the tent, his eyes went right to the dragon. He was aware that Hen and Chim were there, that they had even said his name. He was aware of Tommy at his back. Even Cyra somewhere outside of the tent, but looking in. 

At first, the dragon looked like a lumpy green rock, but that was because it was splayed out on the ground, curled up with its tail tucked in and his wings covering most of his body. When it moved, making a hissing like noise, it moved slowly. The dragon grumbled and a wing fluttered up touching the ceiling of the tent. It was small, a tiny fraction of what Cyra was. His scales were shades of green. He was beautiful. 

Captivated, Buck moved closer to the dragon. The dragon seemed to notice him for the first time and Buck was suddenly faced with it unfurling, the long neck turning to Buck and staring right at him. Buck took a step back, almost right into Tommy. The dragon remained on the ground, mostly, but his shining green eyes met Buck’s. Locked on Buck’s. 

Buck didn’t even notice himself stepping closer, and then his hand reached out. The dragon made a snuffling sound, sniffing him. Hot air came from his nostrils and Buck pulled back, but the dragon pushed forward and then Buck’s hand landed on the warm scales of his head. 

Evan. My Evan. 

The voice was different than Cyra’s. It was male for one thing, but it was also clearly younger. Of course it was. He was also pure magic, or at least it felt that way. The dragon pushed against Buck’s hand in what could only be described as a nuzzle. Buck had felt how warm his scales were from the moment he touched the dragon but now the magic rushed at him. Enveloped him. Welcomed him, even. 

Evan, you’re here, the dragon said. You came.

He could hear the dragon, but more, he could feel the dragon. His relief. His excitement. How happy he was. Oh…they had formed a bond. If he felt for it, Buck knew it was there and if he felt towards the dragon mentally he found more of him. He was hurt. Magically. Physically. Buck ached for him. 

You’re mine, the dragon said as if that explained everything. 

“What happened to you?” Buck asked. 

The dragon made a sound that sounded like a whimper. 

“What happened to him?” Buck asked, finally tearing his eyes away to look to Tommy, Hen, and Chim. 

“He had an encounter with a witch,” Tommy said, voice hard and serious. 

From the dragon he could feel fear and disgust. Pain, too. He ran his hand down from the dragon’s head to his nose. 

“Lost a few scales for it and injured his wing. But it was the spell that really complicated everything.” 

“A spell?” Buck asked. 

I’m fine, the dragon insisted.

“The witch tried to force a bond,” Hen said, coming up on Buck’s side. “Almost managed it, too.”

He felt a shiver of revulsion from the dragon. Buck pet him some more, reached out with his other hand too and got back something that felt like satisfaction. 

“Cyra felt his distress. We rushed to help. Managed to get him out of there, but what he really needed was you,” Tommy said. He smiled at Buck and touched his shoulder lightly. 

“But why me?” 

Because, Evan, you’re mine, the dragon said. 

He felt it. 

I know. 

Dragons were an ancient species. Magical in nature and unexplainable. Buck liked to research and at one point, when he was younger, he’d gone through a dragon phase. There were books written by riders and people that had known dragons and their riders and yet none had ever managed to actually capture what it felt like to be bonded to a dragon. Buck didn’t think he could describe it either. 

“Dragons know who their rider will be when they are born. It’s instinct,” Tommy said. “When they grow big enough, they call to their rider and when the rider responds they form the bond. They become kin.”

“But I didn’t hear any call,” Buck said. 

Tommy moved closer to the dragon, touched his neck with a gentle hand. The dragon seemed to enjoy the touch, pushing in for more. 

“His magic was too depleted,” Hen said. “If you didn’t come…well, I don’t know if he would have survived.”

Buck gasped and he stepped even closer to the dragon. The dragon sent reassuring waves his way. He fluttered his wings too as if to try and show Buck that he was okay. One of them was bandaged from the looks of it. He bumped his head on Buck’s chest gently.

“So bonding with me, it’s enough to save him?” 

“That and everything Hen and I did to set his wing,” Chim said. 

“Thank you,” Buck said. “I just…this is not what I expected on a Tuesday morning.” 

Tommy laughed and Cyra made what sounded like a snorting sound. 

Thank you, Evan, Cyra said.

Buck looked behind him. Cyra was lying down outside, but she’d stuck her head in the tent, not wanting to be left out. Hen and Chim were a little wary of her, understandably considering how huge she was. 

“How, uh, how did you two get involved?” Buck asked. 

“Tommy called us,” Hen said. “Now he owes us one.” 

“It was a good thing too, because we knew who the dragon was looking for,” Chim said. 

Buck hadn’t even thought about that. Tommy had come looking for him because of Hen and Chim, but without them then Tommy wouldn’t have known where to find him — or if he did figure it out maybe it wouldn’t have been in time. Buck ran a hand down the dragon’s neck. The dragon stretched his head up and opened his mouth, yawning. 

“He should rest,” Hen said. “Even with you here, he’s still healing.” 

Buck didn’t know if dragons could look tired, but his dragon certainly did. His head was bobbing down and he let out another yawn complete with a small puff of smoke. 

“One last thing,” Buck said, “what’s your name?” 

Buck heard Hen and Chim start to laugh. Even Tommy chuckled. The dragon yawned, stretched one wing out and then snorted. He was blinking sleepily. It was Cyra that finally explained. 

Evan, you have to give him a name.

[lance-space-mommy]

Like Father Like Son

Izuku Midoriya grew up believing he lived a good life. He was always full of energy, obsessed with the hero world, and desperately wanted to be friends with everyone.

One thing that set him apart from his peers was that his father was an interesting character. Inko and Hisashi Midoriya seemed to balance each other. Inko was sweet and stern. Hisashi was sour and childish. Izuku often used that to his advantage.

Hisashi was mostly absent from Izuku’s life. Sure, Hisashi was always around, but he never behaved the way a father should have. It seemed as if entertaining Izuku was nothing but a burden and an inconvenience. Given the task of receiving his father’s love, Izuku did anything in his power for an ounce of attention.

Fear of abandonment was the driving force of Izuku’s childhood. That followed him to his teen years.

Now that Izuku was attending the U.A. High, the best hero school in Japan, the “cracks” in his perfect personality were on display. He took up a lot of the traits that made up his mother. He was sassy, goofy, nerdy, stubborn, compassionate, loving, and talkative.

When the first war hit and everyone was scrambling, it seemed that his upbringing came to a head.

If it had only been Inko in the picture, he could have consoled his crying mother before escaping U.A. High to take the target off the school. But Hisashi was also in the picture, and he was able to keep a better leash on his son.

For the first time in his life, Izuku wanted nothing more for Hisashi to avoid him again. Maybe Hisashi was just showing face for Inko. At least that was what Izuku was trying to convince himself.

With each hour that passed once he woke up, Izuku grew more antsy. He had already finished his goodbye letters to his classmates. On top of that, he talked to Toshinori, Gran Torino, and the pro heroes he’d be working alongside when he went on the run.

When news reached class 1-A that the pro heroes were going to be doing something and that Izuku was involved, the group decided to invade his hospital room. They had no plans of letting their friend go through this battle alone.

“That idiot!” hissed Bakugo as he stormed down the hallway, leading the group of his classmates.

“Why didn’t he talk to us,” wondered Todoroki quietly, right on Bakugo’s heels.

Uraraka sighed, focusing on the door numbers. “This is Deku we are talking about. He never talked about his troubles.”

Right beside Uraraka was Iida. He let out a huff as he commented, “It’s rather concerning that he's getting involved in something big and we aren’t informed about it.”

“I’m sure everything will be okay once we talk to Midoriya guys,” reassured Kirishima, not believing what he was preaching.

“Yeah! Midoriya is impulsive, but he wouldn’t do something too reckless,” agreed Kaminari, feeling rather optimistic about the entire situation.

Jiro shook her head, mumbling, “That has to be the dumbest thing you’ve ever said. This is Midoriya we are talking about. He’s always being reckless.”

Mina smiled at Jiro, feeling a bit better with the lighthearted banter. “Let’s just hope we can talk to him about what we have been hearing and get some answers.”

Less than ten seconds later they reach his room. Right as Bakugo was about to blast the door open, his anger vanished. Shouting could be heard from inside the room.

“What are you saying? We are in the middle of a war!” shouted Izuku.

The entire class quickly huddled by the door; Jiro used her quirk to help them eavesdrop as well.

“Here are some things a war needs Izuku. Conflict, stakes, a way to benefit, and clearly you staying here to rest and train for the inevitable second wave,” listed Hisashi in a couldn’t-be-bothered tone.

“But the villains are after me! Targeting the people I care about and eating babies,” argued Izuku, not understanding why Hisashi wasn’t understanding.

Bakugo and Uraraka shared a confused and disturbed expression. Iida and Todoroki shrugged considering Izuku often said crazy things out of seemingly nowhere.

Hisashi seemed to be munching on something as when he began to speak, it was clear something was in his mouth. “Yeah. Thankfully that’s not our problem. It’s time to pull the plug.”

“Pull the plug?” spat Izuku in disbelief. He couldn’t believe how selfish his father was being. Deciding to let it all out, Izuku attacked, “I have to protect my friends and save the hurting child inside Shigaraki! I have to do the right thing! Do what you never did as a dad! Put in a little effort.”

Class 1-A was officially panicking. Not once had Izuku ever mentioned having family problems or a bad relationship with his father.

Todoroki couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. After all, Izuku helped him through his family troubles, childhood trauma, and his generally bad relationship with his father.

Bakugo on the other hand was pissed off. If he had known that Hisashi was a piece of shit father, he would’ve gotten his parents involved. After all, Mitsuki adored Inko and would do anything for her.

It seemed that the rest of the group was eager for answers considering something like this was so out of the blue. The conversation was emotionally charged on Izuku’s end, but Hisashi seemed to care less.

“Alright, cut the high road routine. We both know about Shigaraki’s shitty situation and how he now has All for One. You accepted One for All, the only quirk that can defeat him. Shigaraki’s pathetic life is in your hands. You go save him,” taunted Hisashi, clearly proving Izuku right. He didn’t put in any effort in supporting his kid.

Bakugo glared at the door. He was tempted to bust it down and blast Hisashi to hell. Despite never interacting with the man before, he made up his mind that Hisashi was an insufferable asshole he didn’t want to be bothered with.

Todoroki on the other hand was still caught off guard by Hisashi’s words. All for One and One for All were mentioned. Shigaraki had AFO and Izuku had OFA. They were opposites and destined to battle one another? Uraraka caught on as well and felt the fogginess in her mind clear up a bit.

“So, you refuse to let me leave, but you want me to save Shigaraki? You’re really going to believe that I, your son, can’t be trusted with pro heroes?” interrogated Izuku, more than happy to point out the flaws in his father’s hurtful comments.

“Yes, Izuku. I don’t trust you. Because you’re not my son,” shouted Hisashi, fed up with the conversation.

Kirishima gasped, appalled by such a cruel thing for Hisashi to say to his son. Uraraka shook her head, a pang of guilt eating her up inside with the knowledge that Izuku had to deal with Hisashi for his entire life.

Todoroki had flashbacks to the things his father would say to him out of anger. Endeavor loved using the phrase “If you can’t do ____ then you’re no son of mine”. It seemed Hisashi was close to no better than Enji.

Bakugo’s hands twitched as the fabric of his school uniform was singed. The blood rushing through his veins was overwhelming, but it didn’t compare to the nightmarish thoughts running through his head. He wanted to kill that bastard. Izuku was an incredible person and the fact Hisashi couldn’t see that was crazy.

Much to everyone’s shock, Izuku fired back quickly, not too upset by the statement, but rather annoyed. They could hear movement from inside the room as Izuku exasperated, “Oh, God. Yes. I’m one of infinite Izuku’s with infinite fathers and infinite universes! It’s called a hug Dad! It won’t kill you.”

The conversation was derailing so fast. Mina and Kaminari were already tapping out from being able to react. Todoroki was struggling a bit too. The majority of class 1-A felt as if they were missing vital information. It would make sense with how Izuku never brought up Hisashi.

Bakugo was lucky enough to know most of what was going on, the only thing he didn’t understand was Izuku and Hisashi talking about a multiverse in the middle of a conversation about Shigaraki and Izuku wanting to save people.

Despite all of that, Jiro and Sero snickered at Izuku for shaming his dad. It was funny to hear Izuku be sassy and mock someone.

“Yeah, don’t be so sure. Do you know why every Hisashi made sure their little boy was quirkless? The same reason why I’m not surprised you want to go on this suicidal villain destruction tirade. You were a scary fucking kid,” admitted Hisashi shamelessly.

Bakugo was having a crisis while the rest of class 1-A were trying to process the insane confession they just heard. Hisashi made sure Izuku was quirkless. Yet somehow Izuku had a quirk in this reality.

The teens also couldn’t comprehend why Hisashi would say Izuku was a scary kid. Sure, he could be pretty intense and spooky when in battle, but he was super kind, energetic, and a pure hero. It seemed that Hisashi didn’t know his son at all.

Izuku let out a laugh of disbelief. “Oh my god.”

Everyone was more than happy to hear Izuku was in the same boat they were in.

“I didn’t take your quirk to punish you. I did it to protect the neighborhood," revealed Hisashi bluntly. Izuku didn't respond so Hisashi explained, "Not in a noble sense. It was more to sequester you before I had to start, you know, cloning a replacement for every less-than-polite kid or gullible little animal that might cross your socio-path."

With more context to back up Hisashi's insane statements from before, they were now more curious about Izuku's childhood. They could imagine how he'd be a lot to handle. He was a very curious person and always found his way into trouble. Still, that was something they liked about their classmate.

Bakugo, who grew up with Izuku, didn't have the slightest clue about what Hisashi was talking about. Izuku was annoying, sure, but he was obsessed with becoming a hero and saving people. This story Hisashi spun up made no sense.

"This bastard is lying," whispered Bakugo, growing more irritated.

Uraraka and Todoroki glanced at Bakugo. They were glad to hear Bakugo say what they were thinking. While their thoughts and feelings about Hisashi were biased, Bakugo knew Izuku when he was young.

"You would rather believe I'm evil than admit that you are a bad father?" remarked Izuku rather calmly. It seemed that the disbelief wore off and the disappointment settled in.

Hisashi was quick to respond as he clarified, "Oh, dude. No. No, bad father all the way to the max here. I'm a fucking nutcase, and the acorn plopped straight down baby."

The entire group got a bad feeling about all of this. No matter what the result of the conversation was, it was clear that Hisashi was an unreliable narrator in this case. He was contradicting himself left and right, being overly rude, claiming Izuku was crazy, and then making it sound like Izuku had to be crazy just because he was.

"Look at some of the shit you asked me to make you as a kid," started Hisashi as the sound of wind and something crashing could be heard. The group immediately assumed that Hisashi had opened a portal to get a box of items from his home or something.

“Ray guns. A whip that forces people to like you. Invisibility cuffs. A parent trap. A lightning gun,” listed Hisashi as he picked up the items one by one.

With each item Hisashi announced, class 1-A’s jaws dropped lower and lower and their eyes grew wider and wider. They struggled to comprehend what they were hearing. They could hear the jingling of metal and the rubbery noises of plastic. These items were real.

The one thing no one could understand is why Izuku would ask for any of those items. He was a quirkless kid with a dream of becoming a hero. Why he’d ask for things that could cause harm or suggest criminal activity made no sense.

In the cases where the item wasn’t dangerous, they found themselves growing sad. For instance, the whip that forced people to like Izuku. They couldn’t conceptualize people who didn't naturally like him. He was a magnetic force that attracted people.

“A teddy bear with anatomically correct innards. Night vision googly eyeglasses. Sound erasing sneakers. False fingerprints. Fall asleep darts.”

Magically Hisashi’s prior statements started making sense. If Izuku was asking for items that made it seem like he was planning on stalking and killing someone, they could understand why he was so stern.

The one thing that had Bakugo stumped was he never saw any of the items mentioned before. Izuku’s little bag he used to carry around everyone only had a crappy hero notebook and some hero figures. He rarely had the book bag on him anyway.

While Uraraka, Todoroki, and Iida were concerned by the things their best friend asked for, they were more curious than anything else. How did a child come up with half of those ideas, especially the teddy bear with organs?

“A lie-detecting All Might action figure. An indestructible baseball bat. A taser shaped like a ladybug. A fake police badge. Location tracking stickers. Rainbow-colored duct tape. Mind control hair clips. Poison gum,” continues Hisashi effortlessly. It seemed like he was going to account for every item that was in the container all the items were in.

Kaminari and Sero let the shock fade away and they were suddenly snickering. There was something so humorous about Izuku being a bloodthirsty child.

Bakugo on the other hand was freaking out because some items sounded like faint memories. If he felt like he remembered some of the items, it meant there was a high probability Izuku carried them around often.

Uraraka and Todoroki seemed to process a big issue simultaneously. Hisashi was creating these things. If Izuku asked for a bomb, it seemed like Hisashi would mindlessly make one for Izuku and shove him out the door.

At the best, Hisashi was neglectful. At the worst, Hisashi was an abusive piece of shit. He would make insane and dangerous items for his child without even considering how Izuku could hurt himself or others.

It was a blessing that Izuku managed to calm down and chose the right path of being a genuine hero with the mission of saving people. Inko must’ve raised Izuku all by herself because there was no way Izuku reflected Hisashi.

The group barely had a moment to reflect when Hisashi spoke again and said, “A green, sentient switchblade.”

Before anyone could process what Hisashi just stated, they heard the flipping of a switchblade accompanied by a horrifically human voice.

“Hi Izuku! You’ve gotten taller. Shall we resume stabbing?”

Jiro and Momo’s jaws dropped as their heads slowly turned to look at each other. The fact that Izuku grew up with a custom, humanlike knife was something out of a movie.

Todoroki was growing increasingly concerned about how Hisashi managed to make the items in the first place.

Kirishima and Kaminari were jealous that Izuku got a bunch of cool things in his childhood. They did have to remind themselves that Hisashi was a shit father and Izuku deserved better.

Bakugo on the other hand was still trying to recollect ever seeing any of the items. Maybe Izuku had them hidden or requested Hisashi to make an invisible backpack. Still, never once had Izuku used those items.

As horrible as it was, Izuku let the bullies push him around and insult him despite having gear to protect himself. Bakugo probably would have left Izuku alone if he had ever seen any of the items.

“Has it occurred to you that I asked you to make those things because I wanted you to spend time with me? Had it occurred that if I asked you to make those things, it was to protect myself from the bullying I endured because of my quirkless status?”

Suddenly all concern the group had for Izuku’s sanity vanished and empathy kicked in. It made a lot of sense when they thought about it. Izuku wouldn’t have asked for those things before the age of four.

If Hisashi stole Izuku’s quirk and put a giant target on his son’s back of course he’d lose friends and be a target of bullying. Izuku was probably lonely and wanted his parents' attention.

With his father being some kind of inventor, it made sense that someone as smart as Izuku would try to knock out two birds with one stone. Some time with his dad and getting useful items.

Nonetheless, Bakugo understood why he never saw Hisashi. Hisashi was a crazy ass adult with no sense of morality. He was a bad father and a disappointment of a person.

“Wait what? Why? Didn’t you play with those three boys all the time? You wanted to be a hero so deal with the consequences of that,” scoffed Hisashi as he once again dismissed his son’s serious problems.

Uraraka was incredibly disturbed. Izuku had confronted his dad about wanting attention and how Hisashi’s decision to steal his quirk did more harm than good. So how did Hisashi take that entire statement and just go right back to square one? The topic of Shigaraki has already passed so why was Hisashi simply chalking all of this up to Izuku wanting to be a hero?

Bakugo was done with Hisashi and was happy to tell Iida to go get Aizawa. Japan may be a wreck now, but Hisashi was not about to make UA a scary place for Izuku.

As Iida rushed away, Izuku responded. To no one’s surprise, Izuku was hurt and betrayed by his father’s reaction. It must have stung to know his father never once cared about him.

“Oh my god! This is your fault! I am not a bad person. I’m going to leave UA, I’m finding Shigaraki, and I’m fixing this!” shouted Izuku as the sound of a window breaking rang out through the room.

Bakugo burst through the doorway in the moment, terrified Izuku was hurt. All he saw was a broken window, a hospital gown lying on the hospital bed, a pile of letters sitting on the floor, and Hisashi standing near the bed with a stunned expression.

Bakugo wasted no time charging at Hisashi as he screamed, “You fucker! Do you have any idea what you just did?”

Todoroki vaulted himself out the window, hoping he’d be able to catch Izuku before he got away. Uraraka rushed out with Todoroki, knowing every second counted.

By the time Aizawa reached the room, Hisashi was unconscious, Izuku was gone, and Todoroki and Uraraka came back empty-handed.

After countless days of searching, fighting, and struggling to get Izuku to return, they succeeded. They had to give Izuku a bit of time to rest and recover, but when he was good enough to chat again, they all had one question.

“Can we see your sentient switchblade?”

[emchant3d]

Final part of Eddie forgetting about Valentine's day!! Part 1 Part 2

Thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this, I hope the ending does it justice!

Eddie doesn’t know how fast he drives, just that he gets to Steve’s place in record time. The big house is quiet, Steve’s car the only one on the driveway.

All the lights are off, and yeah, it’s kind of late, but Steve is almost always up later than this. But even his bedroom window is cast in shadow, and something about it makes Eddie’s heart twist in his chest. 

He slams the van door behind himself and runs up the walkway, almost colliding with the front door when he reaches it. He beats on it, knocking hard enough that he knows the sound will echo through the empty house and up those grand stairs and right into Steve’s room, and he prays to anything that’s listening that Steve will come down and meet him.

“Steve!” he yells, like it isn’t late as fuck and Steve doesn’t have neighbors. “Stevie, baby, come on!” 

He feels frantic, like he’s going to die if Steve doesn’t get this door open in the next ten seconds. 

“STEVE,” he shouts again, slamming his fist into the door, right before it’s ripped open in front of him and he almost goes ass over teakettle through the doorway.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve asks, frantic as he catches Eddie with a hand around his bicep, pulling him into the house and closing the door behind them. He flicks the locks one-handed because the other is holding the nail bat in the kind of absent grip that tells Eddie he wasn’t sure he’d really need it, but he was going to be prepared just in case. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you have the bat?” Eddie asks, like that’s what he should be focusing on, and Steve gives him a bewildered look.

“You’re knocking my door down in the middle of the night, why wouldn’t I have the bat?” And yeah, okay, fair, but Steve sets the thing down next to the front door and Eddie closes the distance between them. “I need to get you a key, that way next time you show up outta nowhere you don’t wake the whole neighborhood - uh–” Eddie takes Steve’s upper arms in a tight grip, interrupting him. “Eds?” Steve asks, looking at him, and shit, Steve looks too fucking cute when he’s confused. His thick brows are furrowed, lips turned down, big eyes all wide - and that’s when Eddie notices how red they look.

Bloodshot, a little swollen, like Steve’s been rubbing at them in that harsh way he does. He hates crying, feels humiliated when it happens, and Eddie’s been a witness more than once to the way he’ll bury his fingers in his eyes like they’ve personally offended him.

He’s pale, a little shaky, now that Eddie’s really looking, lips bitten red and sore.

He doesn't need to ask what's wrong. He's uncomfortably, acutely aware of what's wrong. Instead, he reaches up, laying his hand along Steve's jaw to smooth his thumb over his cheek. 

"Sweetheart," he says, and Steve glances away, gaze avoiding Eddie's. "I'm so sorry."

“Skip what?” This isn’t what he expected at all. He thought he’d get here and Steve would be angry, would be yelling. He thought he’d get chewed out, possibly broken up with, was catastrophizing the whole way here.

"For what?" Steve’s trying to keep his voice light, trying to keep it casual, but he reaches up and wraps his hand around Eddie's wrist, thumb pressing at his pulse point like it's his own lifeline.

"Honey, I know what I did now. We don't have to act like I didn't royally fuck up Valentine's day." Steve winces.

"Oh god," he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face roughly. He paces a few steps away, looking absolutely mortified. "I was really hoping we could skip this." Eddie follows him with his eyes, lost.

“The part where you realize and we, like, talk it out.” Steve gestures between the two of them. “We don’t need to do this. It’s not a big deal.” He says it like he’s repeating something he’s said before, and Eddie’s heart sinks, wondering how often Steve has told himself that very sentence tonight.

“It is a big deal,” Eddie says cautiously. Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie cuts him off. “You’ve been miserable for days, Steve, that’s a big deal.” Steve actually rolls his eyes, and Eddie barely bites his tongue.

“We can just move past this, though,” Steve insists, and Eddie approaches him slowly, like a spooked animal. Steve’s shoulders jump to his ears, but he doesn’t bolt away, and Eddie takes that as a win.

“What if I don’t want to move past it?” he asks, and Steve flushes an embarrassed pink, eyes darting around like he’s looking for an escape route. 

He sniffles, raises his hand to pinch his nose, and mumbles, “Please,” halting and quiet, “let’s just let it go.”

“But why?”  Eddie asks, and Steve makes an angry little sound.

“Cause it doesn’t matter!” he snaps. Eddie reaches out then, snagging Steve’s hand and pulling him in close. 

Steve fights him for two seconds before suddenly slumping against him, and Eddie sighs in relief, wrapping his arms around his baby and holding him tight. Steve gives a shuddery little breath, and Eddie lets him hide his face in his shoulder, turning his head to kiss his temple.

“It does matter,” he says fiercely. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Steve makes a quiet, protesting sound, and Eddie shushes him. “Let me apologize to you, you absolute brat,” he says, and Steve snorts a little laugh. “I’m gonna make it up to you,” Eddie promises. “I mean it. And I’m never going to forget about it again, I fucking swear, okay? I’m gonna get February 14th tattooed on my fucking face, I swear to God.” Steve finally laughs, a breathless, squeaky little thing, and Eddie smiles, pulling back. 

“Please don’t tattoo your face,” Steve mumbles, looking at Eddie with a crooked little grin. The expression reaches his eyes for the first time in days, and something in Eddie unwinds at the sight. 

“What, you don’t want me to ruin the moneymaker, huh?” he asks, and Steve laughs again, rolling his eyes. There’s some levity in the air, and finally, the frantic pace of Eddie’s heart slows. "Sweetheart," he says softly, because this is important, because this is on him and no one else but he can't not ask,  gentle and imploring and cupping Steve's flushed cheek to trace the shine of pink on his skin, "why didn't you say anything?" Steve's eyes flick away from his.

"It's stupid," he says, and Eddie frowns.

"What is?" And just like that Steve’s back to being annoyed, shifting in Eddie’s hold. He loosens his arms, watching as Steve starts pacing again. He walks closer, steadily closing the distance as Steve rambles.

"Being this upset! It's just - it's just a stupid day, right, like, we don't need a particular day to show that we love each other, it's commercialized and overdone and dramatic and it's stupid to be upset that you forgot one little day when objectively you're, like, fantastic. So I didn't want to say anything because it's dumb to be so worked up and make a big deal out of it and I need to just get over it--"

Eddie kisses him quiet. Maybe it's rude, but he knows when Steve gets going like this, works himself up, he'll talk in circles for ages. It's a mostly-endearing quality he's picked up from Robin, but Eddie knows sometimes Steve needs him to catch him before he spirals too far.

"No," he murmurs softly in the space between them when they part, lips still brushing one another's. "You do not need to just get over it." Because Eddie gets it, now.

Yeah, it's about the holiday. Steve is upset and hurt and Eddie feels like a total fucking asshole, and he's going to grovel for the rest of his life if that's what it takes. But this isn't just about Valentine's day.

"I'm being ridiculous," Steve insists. Eddie shakes his head, and Steve makes a frustrated sound. "I am. It is. It's stupid. I'm - I'm stupid–”

"Hey," Eddie says, and it's a little sharper than he means, but it works because Steve goes quiet, and the look he gives Eddie about breaks his heart all over again.

It's not about Valentine's day.

Steve is so, so used to not being taken seriously. To being dismissed. To being told to just get over it when he's upset, to being minimized, to the things that matter to him being framed as dumb or unimportant.

As stupid.

He's the strong one. The tank, made to take the hits and keep moving. He shouldn't have wants or desires. He's the caretaker, makes sure everyone is looked after, ensures they have anything they could ever want, goes out of his way to get it for them.

And he's shit at doing the same for himself.

"It's just a stupid day," Steve insists, but his eyes are wet and his voice is catching and he sniffles.

"Oh, honey," Eddie whispers, and Steve cracks, tears spilling over the edges of his red eyes and running down his pretty face. “Oh, sweetheart, come here. I’ve got you.”

They end up on the couch, Eddie holding Steve tight and whispering his apologies into his hair as his baby clings to him. 

“It’s not stupid,” he tells him softly. “You aren’t stupid. You’re allowed to want things, Stevie. You’re allowed to expect these things. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t give you what you deserve.” He repeats his promises and doesn’t let the guilt eat him alive because he might not have been there when Steve wanted him, but he’s here now, and that has to count for something, he knows it does.

He’s here holding this beautiful boy as he cries and he dries his face with the soft sleeves of his sweater, whispering to him that he loves him, that he’s here, that he’ll make it better.

And Steve believes him, thank fucking God. Steve trusts in him, is looking at him with soft, hooded eyes, is pressing his mouth to Eddie’s and nipping at his lips and clinging to him. He’s letting Eddie strip him bare, letting him press him into the couch, letting him make love to him until he’s crying for an entirely different reason, clutching at Eddie’s back and gasping his pleasure into his throat. 

And that weekend Eddie brings his baby flowers, a stuffed bear, a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a small E hanging from it to join with the guitar pick that Steve has long ago claimed. He plays him the song he’d written for him, gives him the cherry chocolates, tells him over and over how much he loves him, and shows him in every way he can think of.

And through it all Steve keeps that sweet smile, and Eddie just knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life keeping that look on his baby’s face.

Tag list! I'm very sorry if I've missed anyone!

 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zerokrox-blog @m-owo-n @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself @bejeweledbaby @snapshotmaestro @ineffablecolors @uwujinniee @munsonsduchess @avacrebs @estrellami-1 @huskysarelife @afewproblems @messrs-weasley @bitchysunflower @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nvybloo @unclewaynemunson @valecitainwonderland @megaweird-2-point-0 @resident-gay-bitch @disasterlia @iwouldsail @tinynebula @ilsewrites @umjamlam @booksandsience @xtkxkrzrizir @trikigirl271 @mistlafey @bornonthesavage @baron-zemo-trash @beckkthewreck @a-random-nerd @bela-valdis @goodolefashionedloverboi @em9515 @newtstabber @callmesirkay @ohwelsh

[foundfamilynonsense]

Rereading Rick Riordan books bc hey the tv shows coming out soon and I have questions about what Camp Jupiter was like before the titan war.

Like. I’m gonna go on a limb and say they did not have access to the Big Three prophecy about Percy. Because… it was about Percy. And if the Romans also had access to the prophecy Jason would have been haunted by it growing up, but he never mentions it in the books.

Not to mention the smaller reasons. Like… Camp Jupiter doesn’t have an oracle. Major prophecies are found in ancient texts. And since this prophecy was made at the end of WWII idk how the Roman’s would know about it. And the fact that Zeus/Poseidon/Hades aren’t really considered the “big three” in Roman mythology. I mean they are technically, but Neptune isn’t really a big deal at all and Pluto got a downgrade. #1 is Jupiter and then #2 is Mars. So the prophecy doesn’t really make sense for them anyway

But like. If there’s no prophecy, that raises different questions.

Jason is the only Roman son of Jupiter born since WWII. But before WWII Jupiter/Zeus was as Horny as he was in the myths (I’m assuming). So it suddenly goes from dozens of children of Jupiter every ten years or so to fucking zero? And then one turns up suddenly? Same with Neptune and Pluto, honestly. All of a sudden, bam, no more children.

And it’s not like we can say “well maybe the Roman versions of the big three weren’t held to the oath” bc we know Jason is the only son of Jupiter for a while bc he says it. And Hazel was born before the pact was made and brought back to life bc, plot-wise, she couldn’t have been born during the pact, hades/Pluto was the only one to keep the oath.

And you can’t even say they knew about the oath just not the prophecy, bc no one brings up said oath to Hazel or Percy when they show up randomly. They’re not suddenly worried about gods breaking promises.

So what was going through the Roman’s heads? Jason says a lot about being held to a high standard bc he was a child of Jupiter but I think that’s an understatement.

Imagine the camp goes 5-6 decades without a single child of Jupiter. No one knows why, bc Jupiter’s a bit of a slut and that’s really not like him. And then all of a sudden this feral two year old shows up. And he’s a son of Jupiter. And… that’s it. No explanations, no prophecies, nothing?

“Ok Romans. You thought no children of Jupiter was ominous? Well here is exactly one child of Jupiter all of a sudden. He is also two years old but Lupa expects him to be recruited immediately. Good luck.”

I mean seriously that kid must have been an urban legend.

At least with Percy everyone knew why Poseidon hadn’t had any kids in the last 5 decades. Even if Percy was technically some terrible omen of bad things coming towards Olympus at least the Greeks knew what to do with him. The Romans were lucky Jason is an all American boy who worked his way up the ranks. If he had been like Percy he’d have easily become an eldritch horror by the age of four.

[misscorn]

Day 2 Resolve/Time

Enjoy another flavor of 'but what if they DIDN'T break up' for day two of @takaritsuweek day 0 celebration :)

______________________

Saga Masamune had a feeling that he was being severely underestimated: his love, his anger, his confusion, his resolve, and his capabilities. Ritsu thought he could up and disappear? Thought he could kick Masamune in the head and then run away without any kind of repercussions? Thought he could make Masamune fall in love with him and then not take responsibility for something so world stopping? 

No.

Absolutely not.

If they were going to play some kind of game then Masamune was going to win. 

The first school day after the incident - informally known as the kick - Masamune entered the library and made his way through all the bookshelves just to make sure Ritsu wasn’t hiding in the aisles before he took his usual seat. He crossed his arms, eyes darting between the door and wall clock that ticked by silently. 

Once ten minutes had passed Masamune came to the conclusion that Ritsu wouldn’t be showing today. Unsurprising, he didn’t take Ritsu for the confrontational type (then again he did kick Masamune in the head for seemingly no reason, so maybe his judgment was off), but Masamune figured it was worth it to at least try and see if Ritsu would come to the library to talk. 

Masamune stood, grabbing his bag and approaching the student librarian he’d seen around here just as frequently as he had seen Ritsu. 

“Excuse me,” He started to get her attention, “I just wanted to know if you knew anything about the student who’s usually with me.”

She blinked, processing the request before she smiled. “Oh, you mean Onodera-kun?”

Now it was Masamune’s turn to stare at her for a moment as his brain tried to make sense of her response. “...No? His name is Oda Ritsu, not Onodera.” 

“Brown hair, green eyes, about this tall?” She held out a hand to gesture.

It was an abysmal description of the adorableness that was Ritsu, but not inaccurate. “Yes.”

“Yeah, that’s Onodera Ritsu. He’s in my class: 1-C. He was absent today, so I’m sure that’s why he’s not here.” 

Masamune felt his heart jump; name mystery aside, this girl could potentially have some very vital information. If Masamune tracked Ritsu down first, found out why he was so upset, apologized and made up then he could get an explanation on the name mix-up. Finding Ritsu was the most important thing. 

“Do you know his phone number or an email or something? It’s really important that I talk to him as soon as possible.” Masamune said. 

“Ah, I don’t, but I know he’s close with another student in that class. Her name’s Kohinata An - she’s actually on cleaning duty today so she should still be around for a few more minutes!” 

Masamune nodded and murmured a quick thank you before he left to go track down this Kohinata girl. He popped his head into classroom 1-C, spotting the small selection of students who were finishing up.

“Are one of you Kohinata An? I have to ask you something.” He said to the three girls present. They all exchanged a confused glance with each other before one stepped forward. 

“I’m Kohinata An, how can I help you, Senpai?” She said. 

“Can we talk in the hallway or something? It’s about Ritsu.”

Her eyes lit up at that, a smile gracing her delicate features. “Oh! You know Ricchan?” 

Masamune was tempted to narrow his eyes at her when he heard the nickname, but he maintained his mask of indifference. “Yeah.”

“Okay, just give me one second!” She said. She made sure everything was squared away with her classmates when it came to their cleaning duties before going out into the hallway with Masamune. “So, how do you know Ricchan?” She asked curiously.

“We hang out in the school’s library together.”

“Oh! So you’re the person Ricchan is always seeing after school! It’s nice to finally meet you.” She said with a cheerful smile. 

“...Yeah.” Masamune said. How much had Ritsu told this girl about him? Did she know they were dating? Masamune wouldn’t care if she knew, but he was worried about putting his foot in his mouth and revealing something that maybe Ritsu didn’t want her to know. “I was wondering if you knew Ritsu’s home phone number or something? He and I…got in a fight the other day, I think? I don’t know, I’m not really sure what happened, I think I offended him somehow and he stormed out before I could learn what it was or apologize and then he didn’t come to the library, so I couldn’t talk to him about it today either.”

“Ah, that sounds like Ricchan: running away from his problems.” An said with a slightly sheepish smile, as if she wanted to apologize on Ritsu’s behalf. “I was actually going to visit him after school to deliver some notes and homework! I thought he was sick, so I wanted to check up on him too, but if he’s just…” She didn’t want to say avoiding you as that sounded a bit rude, but they both knew that was what she intended, “Well! It gives the two of you a perfect excuse to talk.” She started to fish some papers out of her bag, holding them out to Masamune. “I can write down the address for you too, Senpai.”

Masamune said a soft thanks and reached out to take them, but An suddenly held them close to her chest. 

“Ricchan really cares about you, from what he’s told me.” She said, her cheery disposition becoming more solemn. “So if I find out he’s got a good reason for being upset with you then I’ll be upset with you. Okay?”

Masamune blinked, not sure how much he should or should not be feeling threatened. Considering this girl was his best lead when it came to Ritsu, he decided that the answer was very threatened, so he nodded firmly to show his understanding. 

An’s smile returned and she held the notes back out to him. “Here you go. Let me rip out a page of my notebook to write down the address.” She said, doing just that after Masamune accepted the papers. She wrote it down quickly before placing the page on the very top. “Good luck making up!”

Masamune gave a half assed response, more focused on getting out of here to go to Ritsu’s place. He wished he was able to experience some excitement at the idea of going to Ritsu’s house for the very first time, but he just felt sick to his stomach with nerves. Would Ritsu’s parents be home? What would they think of him? Would Ritsu even agree to see Masamune? What if he sent him away? What if Ritsu did agree to see him and Masamune somehow made things worse? He’d have to make a conscious effort to tread lightly. He didn’t want to upset Ritsu further and completely ruin the one intimate and sincere connection he had with another person. 

Eventually - after consistently checking and rechecking and re-rechecking the address written down - he did arrive at Ritsu’s house. Well, house was an understatement, it was more like an estate. Masamune’s throat got tighter and he swore the notes in his hands must be absorbing some of the sweat from his palms. He was actually dating a little prince and that made the task of trying to earn his forgiveness - for whatever the hell it is he did - that much more daunting. 

“Good afternoon, how can I help you?” A young man asked after Masamune rang the bell to alert the residences inside to his presence.

This definitely isn’t Ritsu’s dad, does he seriously have a butler? Masamune thought, clearing his throat a bit before he spoke. “I’m a classmate and friend of Ritsu’s. Kohinata An was going to deliver these notes from school to him, but she had to take care of something else, so I came instead.” He hoped that using An’s name would give him a little more credibility. 

It seemed that was enough for Masamune to be granted entry. He was directed to where Ritsu’s (or as the butler referred to him - the young master’s) room was after he removed his shoes. Masamune put on his blinders, refusing to take in his fancy surroundings as he made a b-line for the stairs. He knew that paying too much attention to it would just make him more nervous and he needed to focus on his task rather than his boyfriend’s rich lifestyle. 

His parents are probably going to be even harder to impress than I thought… Masamune knew they weren’t at that point in their relationship, but it was something he’d have to worry about eventually. He’d have to make a good name for himself to gain their approval…

Masamune stopped in front of Ritsu’s door and took a deep breath, standing there for an almost concerning amount of time to get his nerves in check. 

He wasn’t here to meet Ritsu’s parents - as far as he could tell they weren’t even here. He wasn’t here to prove himself in any capacity. It didn’t matter if he stuck out like a sore thumb in this place - Ritsu wouldn’t have ever confessed to him if he had cared about something like that. He was just here to talk to Ritsu. Ritsu. He knew Ritsu. He could handle Ritsu. He loved Ritsu.

Masamune knocked gently on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” Ritsu’s familiar voice reached him, though he sounded a little scratchy. Maybe he really was sick?

Masamune entered the room, closing the door behind him quietly. Ritsu was sitting on his bed, his legs under the covers and pulled up to his chest as he sat in the sunlight streaming through his window. It hadn’t been that long since the two last saw each other, but the sight of him still made Masamune’s heart squeeze. Ritsu was so beautiful. 

Ritsu did a double take and sat up straighter, his eyes going wide. “S-Senpai?!” He exclaimed, having expected one of his parents or a staff member. “W-What are you doing here?!” The rise in volume made his voice sound even more hoarse. Those startled eyes were a little red and puffy. 

Has he been crying? Masamune wondered as he took a few tentative steps into the room. “I brought you some notes from class.” He said, setting them down on Ritsu’s desk. “And I came to talk.” 

“I-I don’t have anything to say to you!” Ritsu said, looking away from him. “P-Please just leave!”

Masamune frowned. “No.” He said.

“I don’t want to see you.” Ritsu insisted.

Masamune ignored the stinging in his heart and closed the distance between them, sitting on the bed with him. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving until you tell me what I’ve done to make you so upset.” 

“That’s the problem; you don’t care!” Ritsu grabbed and hugged a pillow tightly, almost trying to hide himself behind it. 

Masamune furrowed his eyebrows and frowned once more, leaning toward him. “What is that supposed to mean?” He asked.

Ritsu didn’t respond, simply looking away from Masamune with his pillow still in his lap. 

“I’m not leaving until we talk.” Masamune insisted. “I know I can wait you out.”

“Don’t underestimate how stubborn I can be.” Ritsu snipped.

Masamune was a little taken aback by his tone, but he was not nearly shaken enough to give up. 

“Ritsu, whatever it is I’ve done, I’m sorry. I’ve thought over the past couple days trying to figure out what I did or said to offend you this badly, but I just don’t know. Maybe I’m being insensitive or stupid, but I really have no idea…”

Ritsu went back to sitting there silently, still refusing to look at the upperclassman. 

“Is…this your way of telling me you want to break up?” Masamune asked. He wouldn’t accept that, of course, but was that where Ritsu was trying to steer things? 

“We’d have to be dating first to break up.” Ritsu choked out and Masamune realized that Ritsu was crying - presumably not for the first time since their last interaction. 

Masamune wanted to wrap his arms around him and be a source of comfort, but he feared that would push Ritsu away more. “Of course we’re dating, why wouldn’t we be dating?” He asked, trying not to sound panicked. 

“...I-I asked you if we were dating…i-if you had any feelings for me a-and you just laughed!” Ritsu gripped the pillow tighter and Masamune could feel himself losing his patience. He grabbed the pillow, pulling it out of Ritsu’s grasp so he couldn’t try to hide behind it anymore and then turned his head to make him look at him. 

“That’s what this is about? You didn’t even give me the chance to properly respond to you before you got up and ran!” He said, wanting to gently wipe away the tears trailing down Ritsu’s face, but also wanting to call him an idiot. “So, you thought I was making fun of you?”

“Of course I did!” Ritsu cried, pushing Masamune’s arm away. “I-I always worry so much about annoying you or being too much and it’s not like you’re running around saying that you love me-”

“I love you.” Masamune cupped Ritsu’s face with both hands, not discouraged. “I love you.”

“W-Wha-”

“I love you.” Masamune repeated.

“Wait a second-”

“No, this is what you needed to hear, right? I love you, Ritsu.”

Masamune would have sworn Ritsu’s face had suddenly caught on fire with how warm he was to the touch and how red he became. 

“Stop it, stop it, I can’t take this, p-please, that’s enough!” Ritsu squeezed his eyes shut tight to try to avoid Masamune’s intense gaze. His heart was about to explode out of his chest. Had Saga Senpai just said he loved him not once, not twice, but four times in a row?! He was going to go into cardiac arrest! 

Masamune leaned forward, ghosting his lips over Ritsu’s forehead to press a light kiss. “I mean it, Ritsu. I really do love you. I’m sorry that I made you think otherwise.”

Ritsu didn’t respond, trembling a bit from how overwhelmed he was due to Masamune’s confession(s).

“So…we’re dating, right?” Masamune asked, hoping his nerves weren’t obvious as he spun the question back on Ritsu. “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

Ritsu still didn’t open his eyes, hesitating for a few seconds before he finally managed to speak. “You…really aren't messing with me?” He asked.

Masamune gently pressed their foreheads together, still cupping Ritsu's cheeks. “No. I'm not.” 

“I-If I find out you are-”

“I'm not.”

“But if I find out you are then I-I'll do worse than kick you.” Ritsu huffed and although the kick had hurt the threat still fell a bit flat. 

“Okay.” Masamune agreed, knowing that it would never come to that. 

“Then…yes, we are…dating.” Ritsu’s voice got much smaller on the last word, but Masamune was flooded with relief. 

“Good. Don’t ever run out on me like that again, you scared me.” Masamune huffed, making himself more comfortable on the bed and pulling Ritsu to his chest to hug him tight. “If we have a problem, we talk it out, understand?” 

Ritsu nodded nervously, listening to Masamune’s heart - a heart that belonged to him. He couldn’t believe it. He almost felt like this was a dream his brain was making up to deal with his own heartbreak. 

“Now, since that’s sorted, I have another question for you.” Masamune said. 

“Yes?” Ritsu responded meekly, still a bit dazed from the whole conversation. 

“What is the deal with the Oda-Onodera thing?”

Despite having just agreed to talk things out, Ritsu tried to hide all over again. 

[undead-supernova]

Masterlist

plot: when you suggest that you and Eddie should quit smoking cigarettes, Eddie struggles to believe in his capabilities. but there's just something about the way you challenge him...

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! Somehow I can't get enough of Eddie and Weirdo and I can't help but come back to them. (this is six months before Part 1 of the original series!)

warnings: fluffy fluff fluff fluuuuuuuuuuffffff, talking about smoking, a small argument, Southern culture, country music, reader has an accent, (why are Eddie and Weirdo so horny as friends? shouldn't they have known sooner? idiots)

wc: 2.4k

thank yew @strangergraphics for your adorable dividers!!!!

It was unusual, the way it all started.

Just a normal Tuesday with the bitter cold of January and the crowded highways blocked off by unnecessary construction. Honks muffled by the sound of Guns ‘N Roses’ “Welcome To The Jungle” coming through your speakers. You were clad in a black turtleneck and jeans. Eyes lined in black, maroon-lipped. Spiked bracelets and nine shiny rings dappling light around the car.

Eddie was riding shotgun, sighing alongside you at how slow the traffic was moving when you first said it.

“I have a proposition.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “A proposition?”

You nodded. “Yeah, and I want you to hear me out.”

“Uh, okay?” he said, unsure as to what was about to come out of your mouth.

“I think we should stop smoking cigarettes,” you stated simply, looking back at the road as you inched forward. “A New Year’s resolution.”

“Nuh-uh,” he said, throwing his hands up, his rings reflecting off yours. “No way. Nope.”

“What! Why not?” you exclaimed, now throwing your hands up before promptly putting them back on the steering wheel.

Eddie had his own reasons, like how he’d been smoking for nearly ten years and the irritation of working at a dealership where rich idiots badgered him for just doing his job. The stress of bills and keeping his music career afloat. Not to mention how fucking sweet a puff of nicotine was whenever he got drunk or cross-faded. Nothing beats that feeling. Even you knew that.

“I just don’t want to.”

“Even if I did it with you?” you asked, voice growing soft.

He looked at you, confusion falling over his features. Your eyes seemed a little solemn, like you were disappointed by his refusal. And it was in your expression that he felt drawn to the idea. Because, yeah, if you actually could stop, maybe he could, too. But…

“We wouldn’t stop smoking weed, you know,” you added, cutting off his thoughts. “Just cut out the cancer sticks.”

“It won’t be as easy for me,” he said, sighing defeatedly. “I, uh, I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

“You always doubt your own strength, I swear.” You shook your head. “You’re so smart but so, so stupid sometimes. I say that affectionately, by the way.”

Before Eddie could think about some witty comeback, he heard the sound of the next song starting. It was different from your usual genres. It was the picking of a guitar, all folky and twangy and…

Country.

“What is this?” he asked, eyeing you.

You smirked, cranking the volume up as you started singing along.

         “Well, I was raised up beneath the shade of a Georgia Pine

         and that’s home, you know

         Sweet tea, pecan pie, and homemade wine

         where the peaches grow."

Eddie groaned. “Dude, what the fuck is this?”

You merely shook your head, your tone as playful as your expression. “It’s Zac Brown Band, god dammit! Show some respect.”

He was struck by your Southern accent popping up out of seemingly nowhere. And before he could even remotely process that or protest again, you cleared your throat and started screaming.

Not singing. Screaming.

         “A LITTLE BIT OF CHICKEN FRIED

         A COLD BEER ON A FRIDAY NIGHT

         A PAIR OF JEANS THAT FIT JUST RIGHT

         AND THE RADIO UUUUUUP!”

“Please turn it off,” Eddie pleaded, dragging his hands down his face. “I think you’re killing me.”

“Nope,” you said simply. “My car, my music. It’s the least you can do when we’re stuck on this highway and you’re refusing to quit smoking without even trying.”

“Oh, come on,” Eddie huffed. “Like it’s that fucking easy.”

“Have you ever tried to stop smoking?”

Eddie thought about it for two, maybe three seconds before feeling a twinge of embarrassment.

There had never been a singular thought given to the idea of quitting. Not once. Smoking was just something he did. There wasn’t much else to it. No secret shame or guilt. No bargaining or grief. No, it was just something he did.

“No,” he admitted, avoiding your eyes. 

“At least think about it, okay?”

Eddie nodded before glancing back at you. You continued humming along to the god awful song and tapped the steering wheel, as pretty as ever. And he was surely in love with you. Really, he was. But he thought he was going to explode from how much he hated this song. It wasn’t just the sound, but the lyrics and how you knew every single one.

If he didn’t want a cigarette before, he surely wanted one now.

By the time the bridge hit, you cleared your throat, straightened your posture, and threw up a salute.

Eddie stared at you like you were crazy. “What the—”

         “I thank God for my life!

         And for stars and stripes

         May freedom forever fly, let it riiiiiiing.”

“Oh, I swear to god. I’m losing my mind.”

         “Salute the ones who died

         The ones that give their lives

         So we don’t have to sacrifice

         all the things we looooooooooove.”

Rolling his eyes, Eddie decided to throw up a quick salute himself. “Aye, aye, boys. Yes, okay,” he sighed. “Can we please change it?”

You nodded then and Eddie was severely grateful to hear the beginning notes to “Rebel Girl” by Bikini Kill.

Thank god.

But you didn’t let up. “You can’t just live in the South for three years and not listen to at least one country song.”

“I did a reaaaally good job up until now.” That made you laugh. “I didn’t know you listened to country.”

“I contain multitudes, Eddie. Multitudes. Layers. Like an onion.” He rolled his eyes. “It’s in my blood. Don’t hate on country music just ‘cause you don’t get it. There’s more out there than just jeans, beer, girls, and tractors.”

“Don’t forget trucks.”

You snorted before exaggerating your accent. “Yeah, and I’ll run you over with one, boy.”

Despite his frustration at the grating music, Eddie stopped itching for a cigarette. No, the desire had disappeared entirely. He was looking at you, all giggles and lighthearted apologies, and couldn’t help but laugh along at how utterly goofy the encounter was.

And once he took a second to think about it, he realized that your accent had bled through the entire song. Your sweet little Southern accent that rarely popped out had been on full display for him and only him. That paired with your eyeliner and your spikes and your lips and your everything. It was…cute. Like, very cute.

You were always just so genuine. It was in the way you just fucking cared about things. How you just wanted to try and how it made him want to try, too. You always knew there was more inside of him than even he knew. How you did it, he couldn’t say.

It was hard to say no to you.

It was hard not to love you.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Let’s do it.”

You gawked at him, rapidly flicking your head back and forth from him to the road as traffic began to finally pick up.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And like every addiction, the first week was the hardest.

If Eddie was sitting, his legs were bouncing. If he had a moment to spare, he was drinking coffee and scarfing Red Vines. Kept a toothpick in his mouth as if it would do anything. Frustration ran down his limbs in shivers that turned into unprovoked anger. It was fucking killing him.

You weren’t doing too hot either. When you called, you complained about a sore jaw from the three packs of wintermint gum you’d gone through. Bitten cheeks and lips. Irritation from anything and everything that came across your path.

So, when you saw each other that weekend, Eddie said flat out, “I don’t wanna quit anymore.”

You dropped your scrubber back into the sink, turning your head to gawk at him in shock. Mouth wide open, showing off a pitiful piece of gum you’d been chewing on for maybe two hours.

“What?”

Eddie shrugged, suddenly intimidated by your gaze. “Don’t you think this is, I don’t know, too much?”

“Too much?” you asked, voice hardening.

“Yeah.”

“Eddie, you haven’t even tried yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, that incessant frustration rising up his chest and into his mouth. “I have and it’s not working.”

“You have not!” you argued, placing your hands on your hips. “It’s been a week and, yeah, this is fucking hard. But it’s just temporary. Robin said it takes at least a week or longer for it to, like, detox. Probably longer for us.”

Barking out a bitter laugh, Eddie challenged you. “What if I don’t care what Robin thinks?”

“Then you’re giving up and you’ll spend the next however many years killing your lungs because it was hard for a week.”

“You’re one to talk! You’ve smoked for the same amount of time as me.”

“And yet I’m still fighting for it.”

He watched your chewing seemingly turn aggressive, knowing that you were disappointed in him. And it was actually hurting. 

That first flare of guilt hit him then. 

“Why do you want me to quit so bad?” he wondered.

“Because I know you can do it!” you exclaimed. “This shit sucks, Eddie. I’m literally gonna lose my mind some time soon. But it’s not forever.” 

He rolled his eyes. But he realized it was most definitely a mistake when you stepped forward and put a finger to his chest, eyes locked on yours as your breath seemingly washed over his neck.

“Because after everything I know about you, your past, I know you wouldn’t be here right now if you were someone who gave up. If you didn’t fight just to try to have a better life.” Eddie stayed silent, watching your eyes grow soft. “And if you can get through all of that other shit, you sure as hell can quit smoking cigarettes.”

In that moment, Eddie couldn’t help but love you that much more. You were a challenger, a pusher. But it wasn’t unjustified and it wasn’t excessive. No, you were just a force to be reckoned with. When you knew something to be true, you hardly let up. Some called it stubbornness, but Eddie knew it to be determination.

Oh god, how he loved that about you. How you told him what to do and pushed him to do better.

And, oh god, did he have to try his hardest to stop getting a tiny bit hard thinking about it. This was not the time.

“Fine, I’ll keep trying.”

Your shoulders slumped, clearly exhausted from your argument. Leaned your head on his shoulder and heaved a sigh before stepping back.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll try. But don’t expect me to stop complaining about it.”

“As if I won’t. Hell, I’ll go first. Having an oral fixation sucks,” you admitted. 

Eddie’s eyes immediately went to your lips. And, Jesus, even all bitten up and cracked, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you. To call this argument to a close by throwing you up against a wall and devouring you until this bout of irritation dissipated from your bones.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re telling me.”

He could’ve sworn your eyes flickered to his, your own lips nearly quirking up into a smirk. And, fuck, did it seem like you were chest-to-chest, all sidled up and ready for the next fight.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” you asked.

“Like what, Weirdo?” he deflected, unable to keep himself from leaning in just a little bit further.

You pressed a finger into his dimples. “Like that.”

What, like I want to kiss you silly and massage your cheeks and then kiss you again and take that gum out of your mouth and make it mine and be gross and stupid? Like I want to say I’m sorry by taking you in this kitchen right now? Like I’m going to lose my mind from how much I fucking love you?

Eddie took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Took a step back.

“I think I’m going crazy.”

“Come on,” you said with a smile. “Let’s go get Taco Bell.”

He smiled back, feeling the heat start to subside from his face. And, most importantly, his dick. 

“I could always use a Baja Blast.”

Things weren’t so bad after that first month. Or the second. Or the third.

And by the time you guys hit the six month mark, Eddie didn’t even crave it anymore. If anything, he couldn’t believe how much better his mood was. His chest felt lighter. Head clearer. 

For once, life felt good without a cigarette.

He noticed the same in you, how smiley you were at any given moment. No need to duck out to get a quick smoke in or beg for one after a crying spell. It was like a weight was lifted off of you. He couldn’t believe that such a small thing made up of tobacco, paper, and cotton could have such a big impact on, well, everything.

In the past, you were always looking forward to a cigarette. So, the two of you devised a plan. Every week or every other week, you and Eddie would go to Jailbait Hemp and try out a new product. Split the cost. Go find something to do. Just let loose and see where the day took you.

Today you were at Piedmont Park, passing a joint back and forth as people filtered in and out. You were lying on your backs, a blanket beneath your figures. Both barely able to see each other through the blinding sun because, predictably, no thought to grab your sunglasses. 

“We should try that THC syrup next Thursday,” you suggested.

Eddie turned his head, squinting back at you in the sun’s glare. Tried to see your pretty face the best he could. Sneaked another glance at how breathtaking you were in your sundress.

“Oh, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah, why not?”

Eddie couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fuck it. Let’s do it.”

“Where do you wanna go to try it out?”

Summer lasted longer in the South. You’d have the Georgia heat to yourselves until mid-October. Eddie had no idea what you’d do until then. Drink, laugh. Play games, go to karaoke. Work.

Maybe things could change. Maybe he’d even get the courage to ask you out one of these days. It was funny what one could do with all of the money they once set aside for packs of cigarettes.

It was July and Eddie was in love. Had been for nearly four years. 

And some part of him knew as he watched you search the clouds that he’d continue to fall harder every single day. 

He knew exactly where to take you next week.

“No clue,” he lied, smiling to himself. “But it’ll be a damn good time.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

it led me to you

chapter 3: junior year also on AO3

Chapter 1  Chapter 2

-----------------------------------------

Eddie couldn’t sleep.

Even though he had alarms set to make sure Steve woke up and remembered who he was, he was worried that something would happen the moment he closed his eyes.

Was it logical? No. But logic left the moment he saw Steve’s black eye and split lip.

And the fucking shoeprint bruise.

It’d been four hours and he hadn’t heard or seen Wayne or Hopper yet, though he didn’t really expect to.

Steve had been about as well as could be expected the first time he woke him up, though it seemed like more of the pain was sinking in before he managed to fall asleep again.

Eddie held a bag of frozen peas on his eye for the first 30 minutes or so while he slept, but was too scared to leave him alone even for a minute to put it back.

The next alarm would go off soon, and maybe if Steve seemed a bit better then he would sleep. Maybe.

- - - - - - - - -

He didn’t.

The next alarm went off, Steve was groggy and couldn’t focus, but otherwise alright.

But Eddie just kept thinking about, well, everything.

Steve’s dad had hurt him, to the point where he felt like he had to run away just to be safe. He’d called Eddie even though he probably should have called 911. He’d hinted at this not being the first time his dad put his hands on him, but it was the worst.

If Wayne didn’t take care of it, if Hopper couldn’t help, Eddie would do everything he could to get Steve out of there, out of Hawkins, out of the life that he didn’t want.

Or he’d die trying.

- - - - - - - - - -

Steve woke up for good around ten in the morning, but the groan he let out told Eddie that he wasn’t happy about it.

He whimpered in pain when he want to rub his eyes, forgetting about the black eye entirely.

Eddie was sitting on the bed, resting against the headboard, hand barely grazing through Steve’s hair as he slept.

Now his hand was hovering over where Steve was curling into himself, wanting to make it better but not knowing how.

“It’s alright, Stevie. It’ll pass. Hey, just take a deep breath with me, okay?” Eddie was trying to keep his voice steady, but he could still hear the tremor.

Steve placed his shaking hand on Eddie’s chest, still not looking at him, but at least acknowledging him in some way.

Eddie watched as he took in a long, slow breath, let it out, and did it again.

“Good job, Stevie. Can you open your eyes so I can check you over? Make sure you don’t have something more serious goin’ on?”

Steve opened his eyes, but his black eye was nearly swollen shut.

“You need ice again?”

“I had ice already?”

Eddie’s brows furrowed.

“Yeah, I held the frozen peas on there when we first got settled. You don’t remember?”

Steve shook his head, then winced in pain.

Shit.

Eddie didn’t know much, but he knew what a concussion looked like, and it looked like Steve had one bad enough to show signs of memory loss.

“Alright, you’re gonna hate me a little for this, but you’re gonna have to sit up.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to know if I’m driving you to the emergency room or not.”

Steve sat up quickly, too quickly, trying to argue that he didn’t need to go. Eddie watched as he nearly fell right back over, probably too dizzy to stay upright.

“I can’t go to the hospital,” Steve said as he managed to hold himself up in the bed.

“You might not have a fuckin’ choice, Steve. Let me just check, okay?”

Steve let out a sob, turning his head away suddenly as if to hide the fact that he was crying, as if he could.

“Please. I can’t.”

Eddie’s heart broke into more pieces, shattered across the floor of his room with no chance of ever putting it completely back together. Not with the way Steve was trying to hide his tears and begging not to get medical help because he was scared.

“Okay. We can wait for Wayne to get back, but I at least have to make sure your open cuts aren’t gonna get infected and your eye gets ice on it again.”

Eddie hated this.

He hated Steve’s father.

He hated his mother for probably knowing it was happening and doing nothing.

He hated everyone who had ever failed Steve up to this point.

He hated that his own uncle sounded like he’d been aware of it and hadn’t done anything or warned him about it.

He hated that Steve never felt like he could trust him with any of this.

Just when he started to get off the bed, the front door opened.

“Eddie!” Wayne called from the living room.

Eddie ran to the living room, slowing down to a stop when he saw Hopper was with him.

“Hey, kid,” Hopper sounded tired. Exhausted, even.

“Um. Hi,” Eddie said before turning to Wayne with wide eyes. “I don’t think Steve would be okay with getting the police involved. He doesn’t even wanna go to the hospital.”

“Look, I’m technically here off duty. I can do something about this if Steve wants or I can just check on him now and keep an eye on him in the future.”

“Like you did when you knew this happened before?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, anger in his voice.

“Ed-“ Wayne started.

“It’s okay, Wayne. He’s just trying to stick up for his friend. It’s a reasonable thing to ask,” Hopper said, though he didn’t look like he was planning on answering it.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked from the hall, his hand on the wall holding him up as he stumbled closer to the commotion.

Eddie rushed over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him.

“Shit,” Hopper said too loudly. “Steve, this is bad, son.”

“I’ll be fine. It’ll heal in a week or so. I’ll just try to cover it with makeup or something,” Steve suggested.

Eddie’s brain was running wild.

How often had he hid things? How often had something happened, physical or not, that he just didn’t mention because no one noticed and his for specifics?

“I can arrest him for this, you know. This is all the proof we need. He’ll probably post bail, but we can make sure to hold him long enough for you to get stuff out of the house and move in here,” Hopper replied, his voice louder than necessary.

Steve flinched.

“It won’t go anywhere. He’s a lawyer. You think he hasn’t gotten himself out of worse positions before? He won’t do it again if I just lay low. I pushed him too hard last night is all.”

“Steve, even if you had pushed him too hard, he can’t do this. You understand that you’re still a minor and CPS should be called right?”

Eddie watched as Steve’s face fell, the events of last night finally sinking in.

“Son, I’m not gonna let you go back to that house while he’s in it. If you won’t let us do what we can to protect ya long term, we’re gonna do what will keep you safest right now.”

Eddie tuned out of the conversation as everything sunk in.

He knew exactly what would happen.

Steve wouldn’t let Hopper arrest him, or file an official report. He’d beg Wayne not to do anything and, because Wayne loved him, he wouldn’t. He’d hang around the trailer as much as possible, just like he always did, but with a looming threat over his head that he couldn’t feel safe at his own home.

Eddie would support him, even when it was hard to understand why he was doing things this way.

That’s what love was, after all.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Steve healed surprisingly quickly, the deep purple bruising around his eye had faded to an ugly yellow in only two days and his split lip just looked chapped now.

He went back to his house when he was certain his dad was gone, gave a sad smile to Eddie and said he’d be fine.

Eddie knew he was lying, but he knew better than to argue or offer to let him stay longer.

Steve would turn it down, Eddie would feel even worse, and then Steve would feel bad for making him feel bad.

And that was the cycle until Steve’s birthday.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Steve’s birthday was the only part of summer that Eddie looked forward to.

This year, he’d been working extra hard to save money for a good gift.

Working was maybe not the right word, but he was earning money.

Steve didn’t know most of the reasons he had to rearrange Hellfire again was because Rick needed him to pick up his inventory on those nights.

He was pretty sure Wayne had caught on by now, but hadn’t said anything except that he hoped he was being careful.

He was, but there’s only so much caution you can take when selling weed out of a lunchbox in the woods.

Most of his customers were juniors and seniors who were throwing insane parties while their parents were on summer vacations without them. Many of them were people who lived in Steve’s neighborhood.

There was the occasional adult who didn’t care if he was technically just a kid, they just wanted to buy what they came for and leave.

He should have been more careful, today though.

He should have turned down the meeting.

It was Steve’s birthday. He’d already bought his present. He was supposed to be at the trailer in 30 minutes to help Wayne with the cake they were baking for him.

But he couldn’t turn down this deal.

A senior wanted to buy $100 worth of stuff for a college party he was going to in the city that weekend, thought it would make him look cool.

$100 was $100.

But the kid was running late, and Eddie’s biggest rule was you show up on time, or the price doubles. If you’re more than ten minutes late, you get nothing and he doesn’t sell to you anymore.

That’s what’s worked for him in the few short months he’s been doing it.

At the ten minute mark, he started to walk back to his van.

It wasn’t far, the clearing in the woods almost visible from where he was parked in the daylight.

Which is why he froze halfway back when he saw Hopper’s patrol car parked next to his van, Hopper leaning on his driver’s side door with his arms crossed, watching the woods.

He could pretend he was just on a walk maybe.

But he wasn’t dressed for it, and Hopper knew at least enough about him to know that he wasn’t exactly the “walking” type.

“I can see you, Eddie,” Hopper yelled from his car. “Just come on out.”

Eddie sighed.

Maybe Hopper would let him go once he saw he was completely alone.

He’d probably scared his customer away.

“Hi chief! Didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Unfortunately, I did know you’d be here. You wanna tell me what you’re up to?”

“Not really.”

Eddie didn’t mind Hopper, not really. He hated authority, but Hopper was clearly just a guy trying to make a living and seemed more frustrated with the law than any standard citizen.

“Having a picnic by yourself?” Hopper gestured towards the lunchbox.

His lunchbox full of drugs.

Shit.

“Nah. Just can’t go anywhere without it.”

“You think I can take a quick look in there?”

“Why?”

“Just wanna make sure what I heard was wrong.”

Eddie knew he’d be in actual, real trouble if Hopper saw everything in his lunchbox. He’d started carrying more than just weed a few weeks ago.

He rarely sold it, but it was there when business was slow.

Business would be really slow in jail.

“Eddie, please tell me it’s not what I think is in there,” Hopper looked tired.

He always looked tired, but it seemed like he just didn’t know how to handle this situation and didn’t want to try.

“It would be pretty cool if you let me head home. It’s Steve’s birthday,” Eddie tried.

Hopper looked like he really wanted to let him go, to forget this interaction even happened.

“I can’t until you show me what’s in there.”

Eddie could have opened it up for him, maybe even try to hide some of it under the less incriminating stuff.

But he just handed the whole box to Hopper, hoped maybe he would pretend he didn’t see it.

Hopper opened it, looked for only a second, then closed it with a sigh.

“Why?”

“I needed money.”

“Your uncle strugglin’?”

“We’re always strugglin’. But I just wanted to have my own money. I wanted to get Steve something.”

“How long you been selling?” Hopper placed the lunchbox in his car, not breaking eye contact with Eddie the entire time.

“A few months.”

“How long were you gonna sell it?”

“I dunno. I figured I could maybe make enough to start helping with bills so I guess until I graduate.”

Hopper shook his head.

“You know I have to take you down to the station for this. I mean, this isn’t just a tiny amount, Eddie. This is shit that would get you put in prison if you were 18.”

“Wait. No! No, you already took it! Can’t I just go home?”

But he couldn’t, and Hopper looked just as upset about it as Eddie was.

He knew what this would do to Wayne, to Steve.

But he put him in the backseat of his car, uncuffed, and drove him to the station.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

He didn’t book him.

He sat him on the chair in his office and left him alone, hopefully to call Wayne to come pick him up.

Wayne wouldn’t even be mad, he’d just be disappointed.

Steve might be, though.

The last thing he wanted was to make Steve mad, especially on his birthday.

“Alright, Wayne’s on his way,” Hopper said as he walked back in the office, door closing softly behind him.

“Did he say anything about Steve coming with him?”

“No, he didn’t mention. Just said he’d be here in 15 minutes and asked if this was going on your record.”

“Is it?”

Hopper watched him for a moment, searched his face for something.

“Not this time. I’m not a big fan of ruining a kid’s life for trying to help pay bills. But this is the only warning you get, you understand? I catch you again, even if it’s with a single ounce, I have to book you.”

Eddie nodded sadly, looking down at his lap as he played with the rings on his fingers.

“Steve know about this?”

“No, sir.”

Hopper seemed shocked that he’d called him sir, but brushed it off quickly.

“You worried about him finding out?”

“Yes, sir.”

Hopper breathed out, eyes going wide for a moment as he thought about what was about to happen in his office if Steve was with Wayne.

“I’m sure he’ll understand once you’ve given him his gift.”

Eddie shrugged.

Steve wasn’t motivated by gifts, not in the way people would expect from a rich kid. The only gift he’d ever really wanted was the BMW, and now that he’d technically owned it since yesterday when his dad gave him the paperwork for it, he didn’t really need to think about other ones.

Wayne had given him a coupon for his first car service on the house and made him dinner.

Dinner that was being interrupted because of Eddie being sort-of arrested.

Hopper left him to his thoughts, sensed he didn’t actually want to talk about any of it, and turned to a file on his desk.

Maybe he was pretending to read it, maybe not, but it made Eddie feel better not having all the attention on him.

Only a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Hopper yelled.

Wayne walked in, expression tired, body slumped forward.

“Hey, Wayne. Thanks for coming so quick.”

“Thanks for callin’ me, Jim. Glad you’re letting him off with a warning this time,” Wayne didn’t look at Eddie, but he didn’t need to for him to know he was upset.

“Not a problem. We had a discussion about it, don’t go too hard on him,” Hopper gave a small smile, as if that was going to really help the situation.

“I don’t think it’s me he’s gotta worry about going hard on him,” Wayne said quietly, almost like he didn’t actually want Hopper to hear.

But Eddie heard.

Eddie knew who he meant.

Steve was mad.

He stood up, thanked Hopper for letting him go, and walked out of the station, slightly hopeful that maybe Steve was in the truck.

At least with Wayne in the truck with them, he’d probably hold back some of his anger.

But Steve wasn’t in the truck.

He turned to Wayne, who still wasn’t looking at him as he made his way to the driver’s side.

“Steve at home?”

“He went to his house. Get in.”

Wayne wasn’t someone to argue with. He wasn’t scared of Wayne, not like he was his father, but Wayne had a way of making him feel shitty without even doing or saying anything.

Wayne started driving before he even buckled, an even more sure sign that he was upset.

Eddie noticed they weren’t driving to the trailer within a mile, and decided he should probably ask where they were going before he was left on the side of the road somewhere.

“Are we not going home?”

“We’re gonna talk.”

“Oh.”

“Ed, you know I love ya. More than anything, more than I ever thought I could love anyone, family or not. I love how spirited you are. I love how much passion you put into your band and your game and your friends. You’re the best part of my life. But you fucked up bad today, son.”

Ouch.

Knowing it beforehand didn’t make it easier to hear, especially not from Wayne.

“I know.”

“I know you think you know. But the way Steve sat waiting for you to show up, kept making excuses for why you must be late, he was so excited to spend his birthday with you. And when that call came through, I could see on his face he thought the worst. He thought something had happened, you’d been hurt or died. I could see it, Ed, how much he cares about ya. And I had to be the one to tell him you were fine, just caught with drugs with the intent to sell. I’ve given a lot of bad news to people in my life, but this was the worst.”

Eddie felt tears falling down his face as his uncle spoke, driving them God knows where.

“His birthday was meant to be special. You are most of what he has in this world and you let him down.”

“I know!” Eddie got out, sob immediately following the words.

Wayne pulled off the road, put the truck in park, and pulled Eddie against him.

“It’s a lot of pressure to be everything to someone, ain’t it?” Wayne asked as he rubbed his back to calm him down.

All Eddie could do was nod against his chest.

“You know what you gotta do?”

“Apologize.”

“And show him that you’re not another person who’s gonna let him down. He’s got enough of that in his life, don’t ya think?”

“Yeah.”

“I can drive ya home, or we’re about two minutes from Steve’s house if you want me to drop ya off there.”

“Steve’s, please.”

- - - - - - - - - -

No lights were on at Steve’s house, not even the outside one by the door.

He either took the BMW somewhere using his brand new license or he was asleep inside.

He looked to Wayne for encouragement, only receiving an eyebrow raise and a nod towards the house.

Eddie thanked him quickly, getting out of the truck and walking up to the front door.

He didn’t bother knocking; Either Steve would be asleep and wouldn’t hear him come in or he wasn’t even here to acknowledge his entrance.

He saw the hall light on upstairs, so he made his way there after locking the front door behind him.

He moved with a stealth he didn’t even know he had, his feet moving faster towards forgiveness than his brain was capable of.

He heard crying from Steve’s bedroom.

Steve was crying because of him. On his birthday.

He should have knocked, but he’d never had to before, and he didn’t want to assume that what he did broke them so much that he would have to start now.

He slowly opened the door, peeking his head in before walking all the way inside.

Steve was curled up in bed, pillow hugged to his chest, Eddie’s hoodie on.

He insisted that this hoodie was way more comfortable than his own, but a small part of Eddie hoped it was because he liked having a part of Eddie with him even when he couldn’t spend the night.

His eyes were closed, but Eddie could see the tears falling down his cheeks, glistening in the lamplight of his bedroom.

“Go away,” Steve said, voice choked, raspy, like he’d been crying for a while.

“Can I just apologize first? Please? And then you can send me home.”

Steve opened his eyes, red-rimmed and puffy.

Eddie bit back his own self-hatred to get this out. He owed it to Steve and he owed it to Wayne to admit his shortcomings, his mistakes, be better than what the Munson name usually meant.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you about it, but I started dealing to buy your birthday present and then the money was good so I figured I could keep doing it, help Wayne with bills. No one usually suspects the soon-to-be high school senior. I know I shouldn’t have, but Wayne doesn’t want me working while I’m in school, says I need to focus on graduating first. And he doesn’t have spare money to give me, even if I do stuff to help him out. I’m sorry I did it, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it, and I’m most sorry that I got caught on your birthday when we were supposed to have fun celebrating you.”

Steve watched him the whole time, tears still falling rapidly, but at least he wasn’t interrupted.

“Wayne told me you thought I’d been hurt.”

Steve scowled, his whole body turning away to look out the bedroom window instead of the door Eddie just walked through.

That wasn’t a great sign.

“I’m sorry that I made you think that. If I could, I’d go back in time and never even bother showing up. No amount of money is worth you feeling like this.”

Steve said something, but it was muffled in the pillow.

“What was that?”

“I said, you’re everything to me. I thought I lost the only person I have.”

It sounded like I love you, and please be mine, and don’t leave me.

But it sounded so hurt, Eddie didn’t know how to fix it.

“I’ll do whatever you need me to do to make it up to you. You need me to quit selling, I’ll quit. You need me to beg on my knees for forgiveness, I’ll start right now.”

“I don’t want you to beg.”

Eddie knelt on the floor, resting his head against the bed.

“What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to understand how much I need you around. Something dangerous like this has too many possibilities for ending badly. I can’t see you hurt or dead or in prison because you’re trying to buy me a gift. I don’t need a gift. I never need gifts, not from you.”

“Okay. Alright. I’ll stop. I won’t sell anymore.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Steve turned back around, eyes glassy and lip trembling.

“You’re gonna leave me,” Steve whispered as fresh tears spilled from his eyes.

“No, I couldn’t ever leave you, Stevie,” Eddie rushed out, a hand brushing through Steve’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Steve shrugged as if he didn’t know, but Eddie could read it all over his face that this was a genuine concern and he believed it wholeheartedly.

Now wasn’t the time to try to get him to admit something, though. Not when he was so fragile with emotions that he deserved to feel.

“Do you at least want your gift?”

Steve nodded, pushing the pillow away from his chest and sitting up in bed.

Eddie got off the floor, his knees cracking a bit from tension, and sat on the edge of the bed.

He reached in his pocket, grateful that Hopper didn’t confiscate everything, though he would have had no reason to take this.

He hadn’t wrapped it, figured the box it was in was enough.

Steve’s eyes honed in on the box.

“Open it,” Eddie said as he handed it to him, nerves setting in that he shouldn’t have done this. This was something a boyfriend would do, and he was far from a boyfriend.

Steve gently lifted the lid of the box, gasping when he saw what was inside.

“Eds…”

“I didn’t really want to part with my ring, but I know how much you like this one, so I had this made as, well, not quite a copy, but close.”

The ring in question was the smallest Eddie owned, and secretly his favorite. It was Steve’s favorite too judging by all the times he’d stare at it or play with it when they were on the couch or in bed.

“It’s moonstone instead of garnet. Your birthstone. Is it okay?”

Steve was taking it out of the box, holding it up to the low light in the room and grinning as he watched the holographic image of the moonstone reflect back at him.

“It’s amazing, Eds.”

“It was quite difficult to find someone who would work on the band I already had, but eventually a jeweler in Indy took it on.”

“Wait, you had the band already?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nodded. “It was from my mom’s wedding ring. My dad stole the stone from it not too long before I came to live with Wayne, but he left the band and I figured I could build something new with it. She would’ve liked that.”

Steve was crying again, tears endlessly streaming down his face.

“It’s perfect. I’ll wear it every day.” Steve slipped the ring onto his left ring finger, causing Eddie’s heart to stop momentarily. “This might be worth some of the stress of today.”

“That’s progress.”

It was progress that night, and progress the next day when Steve kept the ring on, and progress for the rest of the summer as Eddie did his best not to feel guilty about not providing money for bills.

It was progress throughout Steve’s junior year, crashing his homework and study sessions, his tests, even his forced family vacation over Spring Break.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Shortly after Spring Break, Eddie found out he wouldn’t be graduating.

He fell short in gym, Biology, and Algebra.

They’d calculated what he needed to pass, and it would be impossible.

Steve was having a surprisingly good year, his tutoring with Nancy keeping him on A/B Honor Roll, which was impressive enough that his dad even managed to come home and treat him to dinner without making any terrible comments.

Eddie tried not to sulk.

But telling Wayne almost broke him.

Wayne smiled at him, said he was still proud of him, that he’d get it next year.

“Maybe it’s just that you’re meant to graduate with Steve. You do everything else together,” he said.

“Maybe.”

In a month or so, he could probably look at it that way.

Once the sting of it was gone, maybe it would be easier to see things in a positive light like Wayne was.

Maybe once he felt less like a failure, he would actually be able to find something positive in this mess.

- - - - - - - -

Steve was upset for him, but only because he could tell he was upset.

“Graduating together will be great though! Another year we can hang out at school, another year running Hellfire, another year to get your grades up so you can maybe come to college with me!”

College was so far out of his realm, he hadn’t even considered that Steve was going to go.

“Are you thinking of going?”

Steve frowned at him.

“I mean, yeah. My grades are good, my dad always expected me to go, and it seems kinda fun. Maybe it won’t be some Ivy League school, but it’s all the same education, isn’t it?”

Eddie nodded along like he understood anything he was saying.

“Plus, we could find an apartment together! My dad’s trust fund is gonna kick in so I can probably cover rent for a bit until you find a job to help with it. It’ll be great!”

Eddie shared in his excitement for now, didn’t wanna drag him down when he was so excited at the possibilities of their future.

But he knew that wasn’t reality. It wasn’t even a thought for him. He knew nothing he did would get him in that position, but Steve was blinded by his friendship with Eddie and totally thought he could do it.

“Yeah, Stevie. Sounds great.”

Chapter 4

TAG LIST: @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @renaissan-vvitch @estrellami-1 @sofadofax @mightbeasleep

[ssukidesu]

i guess (songfic)

Fandom: The Apothecary Diaries

Pairing: Jinmao

Rating: T

Summary: They'd known each other for years now, but Maomao still didn't understand Jinshi even a little bit. She didn't understand why he felt the way he did about her. She didn't understand why he wanted to give up all the power in the world to be with her. She didn't understand how he could sit there contentedly while she was only just starting to reciprocate with her half-mute heart.

Yeah, they've known each other for years now. And while she still isn't any closer to understanding him, he is certainly beginning to rub off on her—because she's starting to turn into someone she doesn't understand any better. (based on the song "I Guess" by Lizzy McAlpine)

Read on AO3

Chapter 1: interlude

Straighten your tie

We're not alone

I'll tell a lie just to bring you home

This was going to get... tiring.

Damn the emperor and his stupid diplomatic methods. It was bad enough with every female who was already in the capital vying for Jinshi’s attention every day; why did he have to go inviting more here for that sole purpose? Especially considering he knew Jinshi couldn’t marry any of them anyway because of his scar…

Maomao shook her head. It was probably some sort of disciplinary ploy to get back at him for that very incident. The public couldn’t know anything was amiss, after all. 

But that wasn’t her business.

At least, it shouldn’t have been.

Maomao scuffed her shoes against the floor as she made her way toward Jinshi’s chamber. She felt bad for the guy, honest—but she felt worse for herself. Being his default food taster meant that she had to be present at every meal, even and especially those in which the female attendees fought to get as much of his attention as possible. The very errand she was on now was to deliver a letter to him from some unmemorable woman who had the audacity to invite him for evening company. The woman had handed her the sealed envelope with a half-measure of both passive disgust and delusional giddiness. Poor woman.

No—poor Maomao.

She knocked four times when she reached his door. He hadn’t been in there long—he’d only left the dining room about ten minutes before her—but she was in no position to barge in. About five seconds later, he cracked the door just enough to peer out at her. His one visible violet eye immediately softened upon recognizing her, and he revealed the rest of his clearly exhausted face by opening the door all the way to let her in.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as she walked past. He shut the door behind her.

Maomao would have gotten right to business, but her attention was immediately grabbed by an open book on his paper-infested desk. 

“Were you reading?” she asked absently, approaching to inspect closer.

“Nosy tonight, are you?” he observed. She heard his steps approaching behind her.

Her eyes were trained on an illustration. It was of some sort of tree, one she didn’t recognize. “Are you studying botany for fun in your free time now?”

He scoffed. “As if I had any.” Now at her side, he lowered his finger to the page and traced the ink. “I’m researching trees to learn which would be the most sustainable to cultivate for paper. If we’re going to increase production to incentivize literacy, I figure not all trees are made equal. There are the few variants we use in our country, but it never hurts to do research on what other places use.”

“I see,” she hummed. “And here I thought you’d be daydreaming of all the lovely ladies you had the honor of meeting tonight.”

His lip curled at her sarcasm. “I don’t understand what he wants to achieve with this. He knows I can’t marry any of them." Jinshi's pout spread beyond his mouth and into his voice. "If it’s all for show, he should make it a comedic one, at least.”

“Oh? And how would he do that?” She was getting worse day by day at stomping out her curiosities with him. She knew it was better to be curt, to say only what needed to be said, but sometimes she spoke without thinking and just… said what she was thinking.

Jinshi plopped onto the foot of his bed and unceremoniously kicked off his shoes. He brought his hand to loosen the neck of his robe, which had been clipped with some kind of royal brooch. He cracked his neck, once on each side, and leaned back on his hands. He pouted, “It’d be so easy. Just tell them all I only like women who wear green, or women who only breathe through their mouths.”

Maomao couldn’t help giggling at the image. Jinshi latched onto the sound right away and leaned forward to meet her gaze. He motioned for her to sit on the cushion beside the bed, so she did. He continued, “That’s all I was thinking about, that whole time. What I could send through the grapevine to give me something to laugh about. I thought about telling them I preferred when women wore entirely black makeup and styled their hair in novel ways.”

“That would be cruel, sir,” she said evenly with a moderate amount of genuineness. 

“It would.” Jinshi leaned back on his hands again, but he kept his downward gaze locked to hers. “Thank you for being there for me.”

Maomao broke away to peer at her folded hands in her lap. “It’s my job.”

“Tasting my food is your job. Sitting here now, on the other hand…”

She heard the tease in his words, and she remembered all at once why she had come. She stood and poised to reach inside her robe for the letter. She watched him as she did so, and her fingers hesitated. There, laying on his bed, she felt that he looked like an entirely different person from whom the writer of this letter thought he was. He had not yet freed himself from his royal clothes, but he had loosened them where he could. She could see the top of his chest. His shoes were thrown haphazardly beside the bed, and his bare feet were stretched out, toes no doubt breathing in relief. His face, too, was no longer what it had been when they were at dinner; his smile, once practiced, was now sloppy; his posture, once perfect, was now lopsided and lax.

She liked him best like this. And perhaps not even just for selfish reasons; she liked how he looked when he was just being himself—not the prince with a name she dared not use, but Jinshi, the man who had managed to become her friend.

The word echoed in her head. Had she ever used it so flippantly in her mind before? Why did it feel like she was doing something wrong by saying so? By all objective measures, it was not inaccurate.

She hated the constant bags beneath his eyes, the dull pallor of his cheeks. Maomao knew she cared for his well-being, and had for a long time now. How could she not?

Hands having frozen in the air, Maomao moved to crack her knuckles, as if that had been her intention for lifting her hands from the start. He wouldn’t answer the letter, anyway; why should she waste his time with it? He should go ahead and get to sleep. 

She wouldn’t give it to him. At least, not tonight—not when a mere knock on the door, which even her ears were passively anticipating at all times, could choke out every ounce of relief he currently felt. Just a knock, and his mask would instantly return. His clothes would immediately be refastened. His tired feet would immediately adopt the burden of his body weight. She hoped silently to herself that no visitors would come to him tonight, welcome or otherwise. She thought about leaving a note on his door requesting as much.

His warm voice breached the air. “You won’t speak?”

Her eyes lifted to his. She’d been staring at his exposed clavicle. “Huh?”

“We were talking about your job, and what you do and don’t get paid for.”

“Ah. Are you offering to pay me for my babysitting you at night?”

“You’re forgetting already that you’re the one who came to me, presumably for no particular reason at all.” He was smiling still, but Maomao noted that it was now certainly not the polished smile of a palace prince. It still looked beautiful on his face, of course, but it was a smile she’d often seen on the faces of sparring soldiers or gambling drunks. 

“It wasn’t for no reason,” Maomao snapped, but she couldn’t come up with a secondary excuse quick enough to escape his doubt. When her lie finally came, he was ready to recognize it as one. 

“There are about a hundred additional people in the palace who want to become your partner. I figured I’d make sure you got to your room safely.”

Jinshi fell onto his back with a thump. “Maomao is my protector, then? What would you have done, if indeed you had found me compromised?”

Luckily he was no longer looking at her—he didn’t see her face turn pink. Her words tumbled out quickly. “I’d toss you a tonic and get the hell out.”

He laughed once. “How rude. I’m still young enough to not need a tonic.”

“That so?” she teased, grateful for the opportunity for offense. “I figured your years of taking a eunuch philter would make you inept forever.”

His voice lowered, and he brought his arm up to cover his eyes. “Bold of you to say something like that when you’ve come alone and unbidden to my bedroom.” 

Under normal circumstances, Maomao would seek adamantly for a topic change. But just before she could corral them elsewhere, an image from earlier that night inexplicably invaded her mind: her master the moon prince, at his banquet table, bearing the weight of dozens of fawning eyes at any given time, cheeks fixed in a smile, eyes both politely flicking between guests and secretly glazing over, his chopsticks picking at his otherwise untouched entree. To the untrained and unfamiliar eye, he was near angelic; but to Maomao—who had been sitting adjacent to him behind a few rows of guest tables, close enough to see him clearly but far enough to not hear any of his spoken words—he was hanging by a thread. The few times she rose to deliver his plates after confirming their safety, he eyes would land on her, and he would let his smile slip ever so slightly. She knew it was not because he was unhappy to see her; rather, it was because, out of all the other people in the room, she was the only one who didn’t require it of him. At her final delivery, a fruit tart dessert, when their eyes met and his lips loosened, something within her wished to give him comfort. Without thinking, she felt her own lips curl upward, and she smiled softly at him. His eyes widened slightly at the sight, and from then on till the end of the banquet, she noted that he seemed a bit more energetic.

Kind of like how he seemed right now.

“I meant no offense. I only wanted to tease you a little,” she said finally.

Jinshi sat up again and shuffled so that his butt was on the edge of the bed. This brought him close enough to reach out to her, and he did so. After a second of hesitation and a skeptical look, she accepted his outstretched hand. He tugged her forward until he could wrap his arms around her waist. Looking up at her, as she was about a head taller than him, he sucked in a deep breath and sighed.

“Tease me more,” he grunted. 

Maomao raised a brow. “How can I be so heartless as to tease someone so pitiful?”

“Yes, like that. More.”

She smirked despite herself. “If only one of those ladies knew what a masochist you are. All she’d have to do is slap you in the face and you’d become her slave.”

“Only if the slap was followed by a kiss.”

Touché, she thought.

And then, just as she opened her mouth to retort, the moment they both had dreaded came: another human being, an outsider from this safe bubble of theirs, rapped their knuckles on his door.

“Moon Prince?” the voice said, muffled by the door. It was Basen. “Someone has requested a word.”

Maomao had been watching Jinshi’s face, not noticing how her own fingers clutched at the fabric of his shoulders when his arms tightened around her frame. His eyelids had fallen closed; his brow furrowed. They both were thinking the same thing: if it was someone Basen could not dismiss for the night’s late hour, then it meant it was a very high ranking guest, or a servant thereof. He would have to answer.

“One moment,” he said with a mostly collected voice. 

He loosened his arms from her body and began to resituate his robe. Maomao’s own fingers came to the unclasped brooch, and she refastened it while he gathered his hair to be repinned. His shoes were near enough that he could drag them close with his feet, and he slipped them back on.

Unthinking, Maomao remained close to him despite no longer being in his grip. When he was altogether the Moon Prince again, at least outwardly, he met her eyes. He seemed to find something there, but before she could ponder about what it was, he stood, caressed her face with a single hand, and brought his lips to her cheek. 

Then, he was gone, walking to the door. As he opened it, Maomao did her best to look as if she belonged but also didn’t belong, as a servant would.

She heard Basen’s voice introduce someone, but her mind did not accept the sounds as articulate words. Whatever occurred in the conversation, it resulted in Jinshi leaving the room. 

She returned to her own, knowing she would not see him again until morning.