#not EVERY robin can have black hair and blue eyes and if they did that’s weird and wrong fuck you

[kierancaz]

MOTHER FUCKER WHAT COLOR ARE JASON TODD’S EYES ?????????????????

[clockwayswrites]

Bury the Years Part 2

WC:1091 Masterpost CW: blood, canon typical violence, brief mentions of human trafficking/pedos

Jason watched Dick pace, hand clamped over his mouth like he was going to be sick. He could tell that Petrichor was watching Dick’s back and forth because of the very slight shifts of the other’s head against his chest. He was sure to keep petting his hair, hoping not to have to deal with a fit right then.

They were terrifying to watch.

Finally Dick stopped, sucked a breath through his nose, and then let his hand drop.

“You clawed your way out of your grave.” Dick sounded ruined.

Jason knew he didn’t sound much better. “Yeah.”

“When?”

He closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see Dick’s expression for this. “Four years ago.”

“Four years?!”

Hearing it wasn’t much easier.

“Where have you been? Why didn’t you—”

“Talia grabbed me, alright?” Jason snapped. That burning bile of the Pit coated the back of his throat. Petrichor nuzzled at his chest and Jason tried to breathe. He pulled the other a little tighter against him. “I was… I wasn’t okay. I was lost? My mind was lost. Talia grabbed me. I was with the League of Assassins or she would send me training or— she got in my fucking head Dick. They threw me in the Pits and whatever parts of my brain it couldn’t bring back they filled in and, and…”

He pried his eyes open. It was one of the hardest things he’d done since he’d been back, other than actually calling Dick, but he pried his eyes open and let Dick see the horrible, glowing green. “I’m not okay, Dick. I’m all sorts of fucked up and I’ve done fucked up things and, fuck, Dick, the things I was planning to do…”

“Hey, hey no, you didn’t, you called me,” Dick said, rushing over. Petrichor flinched, hard, and Dick stopped instantly, crouching instead, palms out and open. “You called me. I can help. Whatever she did to you, whatever she made you do—”

“I’ve killed, Dick. I killed in training. I killed teachers she sent me to because they were pedophiles or traffickers or some other sort of evil. I’ve killed and it wasn’t all her. B will never—”

“I killed the Joker,” Dick said, interrupting with a sort of detached cold that Jason had never heard from his brother before.

The Joker? But they… Talia said…

“They brought him back, but I killed him. But I’m still me, every part of me. You’re still his son, of course B will take you back.”

“Don’t,” Jason choked out.

“And if he won’t you have me! You’ll always have me.”

Jason squeezed his eyes shut again. “You don’t know what I was planning to do!”

“But you didn’t do it!”

“Because of him!” Petrichor flinched hard at the shout and the fight drained out of Jason like a bleeding wound. “Hey, I’m sorry dust bunny. I’m sorry I yelled, that wasn’t right of me. It’s okay, we’re okay. Dick’s not going to hurt us and I’m not going to hurt him. We’re safe. Remember I promised we were safe?”

Jason waited for the little nod.

“That hasn’t changed, earthworm. We’re still safe. That hasn’t changed. I just got angry and scared, but we’re still safe.”

Petrichor’s too thin finger squeezed Jason’s hand twice.

“Okay,” Dick said softly when Jason didn’t speak again. “Okay… we can… work through that.”

Jason laughed, the sound cracking in his dry throat. “I can’t see B right now, Dick. My head’s all messed up about him and with the Pits… I can’t see him or r—or the other one.”

“Alfred?’” Dick asked incredulously.

“No, Dickstick, the new black haired, blue eyed orphan charity case B replaced me with.”

“Who— oh, no, Jay, Tim—”

Jason honest to everything growled. The sound ripped itself out of his throat before he was even aware he was making it.

“Ooookay. Um, he isn’t your replacement, Jay. He doesn’t even live at the manor. He’s stayed over a few nights, if he got hurt on patrol, but he’s the neighbor. It’s part of how he figured this all out. He basically made B take him on as Robin.

What?

“What?”

No, that wasn’t… Talia had said…

“Yeah. The kid… he’s something. But he’s not B’s new son. And he sure can’t replace you, little wing.

Jason looked away from Dick, gnawing on the edge of his lip. That…

“But! You don’t have to see either of them right now. You and your, er, friend can come back to my place! It’s not much but we can make it work! You two can have the bed and I’ll stay on the couch. I’ll have to go shopping but,” Dick said, talking a mile a minute. He stood up suddenly, making Petrichor flinch again, but this time it was Dick that Jason stayed focused on.

“You’re hurt.”

“What? No, I mean, okay, a little, but it’s nothing! The plan still works.”

“Dick,” Jason snapped, though he was careful not to raise his voice.

Dick rolled his eyes, but pulled up his hoodie and shirt. The bandage was soaked through with blood.

“Jesus, Dick, did you even stitch it up?”

“I was trying to get here as fast as I could!”

“It’s ten in the morning! You didn’t get stabbed at ten in the morning. Did you pop your stitches while sleeping?”

Dick stared mulishly at the ground.

“Jesus fucking Christ on a cracker, you didn’t stitch it up last night,” Jason said. He tightened his hold on Petrichor preemptively. “And you think you can look after us? You can’t even look after yourself!”

“That’s different!”

“How? Why?”

“Because you matter!” Dick shouted.

“And you don’t?” Jason yelled back.

Dick’s shaking fists were clenched so tightly Jason knew there would soon be more blood to deal with. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to, the little jerky shrug he gave said it all.

“Right, that’s…” Jason buried his face in Petrichor’s hair again and tried to gather the few scraps of nerves he had left. “We’ll go to the manor. All three of us, we’ll go to the manor. You’re staying too so that Alfred can patch you up and so that you can keep B and him away from us. But you have to stay, Dick, I can’t be there without you. You have to stay too.”

Jason was sure, for a moment, that Dick was going to say no, but then he sighed heavily and his shoulders dropped in a weary slump. “Okay little wing, okay.”

---

AN: You all voted for it! So have some more hurt! Dick's still in a really rough spot when this fic starts, struggling with everything. It's not a good time for anyone.

We also have Jason's main name for Danny for this one! Since he doesn't know Danny's name. And of course lots of other nicknames!

Stay delightful, darlings!

[alyakthedorklord]

I’m having dramatic thoughts about Damian being born to Fem!Bruce ok I’m having THOUGHTS

(TW for alluding to Damian’s conception being nonconsensual)

Okay so set the stage of our Drama- Fem!Bruce (or just AFAB idc) is out on patrol or something and League Parent (Either Talia as in canon, or Ra’s if we’re feeling the creepy old man tonight) drops Damian off with “Hey, watch our son that you birthed and then I stole and let you think was dead for ten years, there’s some infighting in the league.”

(If we’re using Ra’s as dad then Talia is absolutely trying to kill Damian for the position of heir)

Bryce is, understandably, shocked. Her other children? Even more so. Because what do you mean you had a biological child? How did we not know about this?!

Damian isn’t old enough to be pre-robin unless he was cryogenically frozen. Did Bryce really hide a whole fucking pregnancy from them?

Dick is screaming, Jason shows up because he has to see this shit for himself, Bryce is standing in silence, staring at the results of every single test she can think of to confirm that yes, this is her son, this is her Damian, all the info matches up…

Tim tries to speak up, but Jason just turns on him, asking if he’s ready to be replaced too. Bryce didn’t even have to go looking this time!

Tim looks him dead in the eye and points out the birthdate(and death date) on file for Damian Wayne.

It’s exactly eight days before Jason was taken in.

How did Dick and Jason not know about this?

Because they weren’t there.

In the short period of time when Dick was striking out on his own, and before Bryce picked up Jason, League Baby Daddy of your choosing shows up and takes advantage. A simple greeting, a spiked drink, a blurry night, and a pregnancy test later…

Bruce is, as always, in any universe, is terrible at communication. But honestly she can be excused in this case. How exactly do you tell your wayward son ward that, after chasing him off because he was “being reckless” and “putting himself in danger,” you’ve gone and gotten taken advantage of, trusted someone that you had absolutely ZERO business trusting, and now you’re pregnant with an Al Ghul baby? And you’ve decided to keep it? That this isn’t you replacing him or demanding he return, because you understand his need for space, but also you desperately want him back with you because you’re scared but you can never admit it?

How do you do that in a text? Because Dick is not answering the phone.

You don’t. Thats a conversation you have face to face. So the messages Bryce leaves are all “there are some changes and i’d like to talk to you” “there may be a new member of the family soon” “please answer me chum”

Dick doesn’t answer.

Meanwhile, Gotham crime is being weird because “hey robins gone! Dynamic duo is out!” And Bryce is being careful because of her belly and sometimes she has to take breaks and hormones are bullying her and nothing is going her way right now.

And them she goes into labor too soon.

And something goes wrong (League Baby Daddy happens) and she’s told her baby is dead, and now she’s lost two children.

She recovers, and goes back out onto the streets, taking her rage and pain out on the criminals that got a little too bold with her in a hospital bed…

And then there’s a street rat jacking the tires off the Batmobile.

The fucking audacity. The guts. The challenge in his bright blue eyes, the sneer on his lips, the shaggy black hair. Skin just a bit darker than hers, not quite an Al Ghul’s deep olive but somewhere in the middle.

Is this what her Damian would have looked like? Is this what her son would have grown up to be?

Maybe its the hormones, maybe she’s projecting. She knows its a bad idea, but Bryce takes the kid home. Alfred gives her a knowing and slightly disapproving look, but accepts the new child with open arms, because there’s worse things. Jason fits in easily, and soon enough, Batman has a Robin again, and Bryce is smiling again, and begins to heal from the pain of losing Damian.

But Dick? Dick is PISSED.

Upon seeing news of a new Robin/Wayne, he finally looks though his messages, and comes to the wrong conclusion that Bryce was looking for a kid to replace him this whole time. She might have tried to get his input, but had eventually made a decision like this without him. And so he’s back, and he’s angry, and Bryce gets defensive because Jason is a good kid and she can’t use her dead baby to win an argument, not when the wound is so fresh.

So life continues. Jason dies, comes back, is angry because he listened in on a few arguments and now ALSO thinks Bryce actively hunted him down to be Robin, and now she’s done the same with Tim.

Bryce keeps quiet, because how is she supposed to explain after all these years? Jason is right to be angry. She let her emotions get the better of her and dragged a sweet boy into her life. The loss of all three if her children was her own fault, because she put him into the line of fire. There’s no excuse for that.

So years pass. Tempers settle somewhat, Bryce holds her grief close to her chest because she can’t do that to her children, but… then Damian is back. And it all explodes.

The story comes out in bits and pieces. Tim figures out a timeline based on the rest of the info in the file, and Bryce and Alfred slowly fill it in.

And like- they’re all still angry, and it is justified, because what the fuck, Bryce. But also…

Dick is horrified. He had been so angry, so so angry, reading those messages that he now knows, with this new information, were a cry for help. Bryce had been desperate and scared and wanted nothing more than to just talk to him after their fight, and when he had come back after something like this had happened he had immediately started another fight.

Jason isn’t sure how to feel. He hadn’t been taken in to be a replacement soldier, he had been taken in to be a replacement son. What is he supposed to do with that? Knowing that Bryce had seen him at his worst, and taken him in and shoved down her grief to help him?

Tim is wondering if every time Bryce backed away with an unreadable expression, it hadn’t been keeping herself emotionally distant, it was grief for the sons she had lost.

Steph is realizing that Bruce wasn’t lying, when Steph had to give her own baby up and Bryce had hugged her and said “I understand.”

Damian is sitting in a corner wondering what the ever-loving FUCK is going on. Why is everyone crying this is pathetic. Father take him home he prefers the threat of imminent death.

[normansnt]

The tailor (sanji x male tailor! Reader)

Warnings: the reader cuts himself with scissors. I don't know if thats a warning but yeah.

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The strawhats docked at another island for the logpose to reset. As usual everyone went their way. And Sanji obviously went with Robin and Nami clothe shopping to carry their bags.

They were walking around town when they spotted a shop standing alone. It wasn't too big nor small. The first thing that someone felt when they saw it was calmness. It was a cozy little store. First Nami wanted to ignore it due to its simple looks. But Robin felt like the little shop had great things to offer.

"I find it rather adorable, I wouldn't mind going in" said Robin in a calm voice.

"Well all right we have time after all" gave in Nami looking at the log pose. Sanji didn't say anything but he had a little cheer in his mind that the girls decided to go in.

It was a small shop with unique and beautiful clothes put on display. The closer they got the clearer they could see how amazing the clothes put on display in the shop window were.

When they stepped into the shop the little bell over the door gave a light "ting" sound letting whoever was in there know that they had entered. The smell of lavender greeted them. The shop was only slightly bigger on the inside then it looked from outside, but it was not too small as though not having enough space.

Two clothing racks stood in the middle and if you walked to the other side of the store three mirrors greeted you with a small stage in front and a table besides them. The walls, which had clothes hanging on racks neatly organized, had a comforting light blue color. There was also a staircase leading to a door, a closed door so they had no idea what was behind it.

"Aughh damn it" came from behind the closed door.

"I will be down in a minute" yelled a mans voice.

Nami and Robin started looking around while waiting for whoever it was behind that door to come down, Sanji kept analyzing the place. All though he had to lie if he said that the clothed there didn't catch even his attention.

They seem to have been made with utmost care due to every stitch being very clean and the pieces of fabric complimented each other well very well.

The door opened suddenly and a man not much younger then Sanji stepped out. He had a big smile on his face and glasses on his nose which were held together by duct tape.

The man had h/c h/l hair and e/c eyes. These looked lovely with his s/c skin. He was a handsome man by the looks of it and based on his outfit he knew his way around clothing as well. He was wearing a white button up shirt with brown suit pants which had red squares detailed on it, around his neck was a tape measure and on his middle finger a thimble showing that he in fact made these clothes with his own hands. To top it off on his feet were black loafers, he looked very sheik.

"Oh hello" greeted Robin politely "are you alright we heard cursing before?" Asked the raven haired women kindly.

"Oh, I apologize for that, I was just cutting some fabric and the bell startled me so I cut into my finger a bit" smiled the man sheepishly while holding up his index finger which was bandaged all the way.

"Must have been a deep cut" muttered Sanji.

"Anyway I apologize again, what can I help you with ladies and gentleman?" Said the man while flashing a big smile. 'Adorable' thought Sanji, his smile had a child like innocence to it and the glint in his e/c eyes made it all the more sweeter- what? Since when did Sanji think like this about a man? He admits when a man is handsome, of course, but he never went into detail describing his attraction towards one- attraction? What is going on today?

"And for you sir?" Asked the man who he still didn't know the name of because he wasn't paying attention to the conversation he was having with the girls, who, disappeared,now realized Sanji. The man must have noticed his confusion so he said hastily

"The ladies went to try one some pieces" said the clothing shop owner while pointing at a door beside the three mirrors on the opposite side to the little table.

"And my previous question was if you are looking for any clothing?" Said the man smiling kindly. Sanji didn't want to be rude he wanted to get the handsome mans name at least.

"Please excuse me but I seem to have zoned out previously, do you mind telling me your name?" Asked Sanji red in the face.

"Oh no problem, of course, my name is Y/N L/N it is a pleasure to meet you" smiled Y/N while putting his hand out for Sanji to shake. He did just that while introducing himself as well.

"So are you looking for any clothing? I can tell by what you are wearing that you know a thing or too about fashion" he flashed his handsome smile again.

It was true Sanji did put a bit more care into what he was wearing than oder man but compared to Y/N he probably couldn't tell the difference between velvet and chiffon.

"Oh no, thank you, Im just here to carry the ladies shopping bags and assist them any way they need" smiled back Sanji. All though he liked the clothes in this shop, he didn't want to waste money, not to mention it was hard to find something that fit him because of his build, he was skinny but very muscular at the same time.

"Are you sure? I can tailor something for you as well" said the man hopefully.

Sanji saw the glint in his eyes, it looked similar to when he was about to cook a new meal or try a new recipe. Passion, passion for ones work. Sanji liked that about Y/N he seemed very eager to work, just like him. Also the thought of having his own tailored suit sounded lovely for Sanji. Finally something that fits perfectly.

"I actually think that's a really good idea Sanji you have been wearing the same suit for forever" Said Nami suddenly standing beside Sanji. She walked out of the fitting room with the clothes she wants to buy in her hand just a minute ago. Sanji didn't notice her walking out. But how could that happen? Sanji not noticing Nami? Its true he was focusing on Y/N but not this hard! Right?

"Yes, getting a new suit might actually be useful but I don't want to waste money that could be spent on food Nami-san" said Sanji.

"Its not a waste of money its clothes, we have enough money for food, its just one suit it cant even be that much money" said Nami looking at Y/N hopefully.

"Oh no its 50 berry" Said Y/N hoping they are ok with that price. Nami's eyes turned into berry icons showing how happy she is that she will be saving this much money.

Y/Ns clothes had amazing quality and were cheap as well. This showed how kind the male was he never thought much of money. He just sold his clothes to make people happy and of course he needed to eat something.

"Very well," gave in Sanji "I would love to have you tailor me suit" finished Sanji smiling at Y/N.

"All right we will leave you to it then" said Robin also coming out of the fitting rooms. And with that the girls paid for the clothes they wanted and left. Weirdly enough, Sanji didn't mind this, of course it would be amazing to spend more time with the lovely ladies of the strawhat crew but staying alone with Y/N was an idea he didn't oppose of.

While Y/N was taking his measurements Sanji could feel his hands touching his body slightly. Y/Ns feather light touch left goosebumps on Sanjis skin for some reason even though it was only through fabric.

Naw, Sanji was no fool. He has noticed in the past that Ladies are not the only ones who capture his attention, he wanted to sleep with man as well in fact.

However what Y/N was doing to him was completely new. The man made Sanji flustered and now he understood those butterflies in the stomach everyone was talking about. They had just met but Sanji was smitten. Even more so when they started talking, while Y/N was making his suit.

"Yeah, I love cooking Im not really good at it though" said Y/N a little red in the face. "The last time I tried to make breakfast I left the omelette on the stove because I got distracted and well lats just say I had to get a new kitchen." Smiled the e/c eyed male sheepishly. Sanji loved when he smiled like that it was rather adorable.

"I can teach you if you like" said Sanji perhaps a little fast. Y/N stopped his movements and looked at Sanji with a slightly red face and a small smile

"You would do that? Thats so kind but you guys will only be on this island for so long Im afraid we don't have time, I mean pirates have to move right?"

The interesting thing about this sentence is that Sanji never mentioned that they were pirates. That means Y/N must have known the entire time. And yet... and yet he was this nice to them showing nothing but kindness. Thats it, he had to have you, at least on the crew.

"Well... we don't have a tailor on our ship yet..." started Sanji hopefully. At this point he didn't care if you couldn't fight he would protect you, he didn't care he has to clear things with Luffy he will threaten to not give him food for a week.

"Oh, Im sorry, I would not be a good pirate, I hate fighting..."

"You don't have to I'll protect you" Y/N smirked a little bit. "I didn't say I couldn't protect myself I just said I hate fighting, lets just say me and fighting have a...problematic past." Y/N was searching for the right words. "You see if I were to be a pirate they would find me and well I do not fancy that" smiled Y/N embarrassed hoping Sanji wouldn't question him further.

"They? Who is they is someone after you?" Sanji was shocked. You, an innocent angel, had a past with fighting? Not to mention someone was after you?

Y/N was contemplating what to do. On one hand he trusted Sanji even though they had just met he took a liking to the blond. But he is risking a great deal if he finds out about his past.

Oh what the hell he has been in hiding till now even if Sanji decides to hold this against him he can just flee.

"Sanji have you heard about Ciper pol?" What? Yes he had he fought them not long ago...where is this going?

"More specifically Cp9?" Oh no, what is Y/N about to say?

"I was part of them" there it is, exactly what Sanji feared. "Im not anymore, I fled, they raised me to be a monster who knows nothing outside of fighting, but thats not me, I hate fighting, I decided to flee not long after an old lady showed me how to sow" a sad smile spread on Y/Ns face. "She thought me in thanks for not killing her family, I was supposed to kill them. Thats why after I stayed with them for a long time and she thought me how to make clothes I ran away and lived in hiding since then"

There it was, out in the open. Now Sanji can run away, make a disgusted face, curse him. These are the reactions he got before this.

But instead Sanji took out a cigarette and lit it up. He took a drag and then said

"My crew just fought Cp9 not long ago" Y/Ns eyes widened 'and they are still alive??' "In fact we declared a war against the government, then won the fight against them." Sanji looked at Y/N who's expression showed absolute shock.

"Listen it doesn't matter how your story begins you had no say in that, your decision afterwards matter. And you fled, you ran away from that horrible life and that was your decision and that shows the person you really are--" before Sanji could finish his sentence Y/N was clinging to him, hugging him with almost unbearable strength, almost. "Thank you..." whispered the slightly shorter male.

He meant thank you for them defeating his past comrades, Sanji knew that. He hugged back. It was a very comfortable hug, Y/N smelled like clean clothes and lavender, just like his shop.

After hugging for a good two minutes Y/N pulled away.

"I'm sorry its just... they deserved it" chuckled Y/N slightly "they needed an ass whopping to get them in the right mind just a little" continued Y/N while taking the cigarette from Sanjis hands and taking a drag. "Fuck I needed that".

Sanji got tomato read. The way Y/N inhaled the deadly chemical and then tilted his had back to blow it out. His adams apple visible and his neck exposed.

"Anyway where is this pirate crew who declared a war on the government? The handsome cook said they needed a tailor I would like to check it out" smiled Y/N kindly again. Sanji got even redder. This is going to be interesting

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WHAAAAA- two posts on one day😗

I told you my next fic is gonna be a Sanji fic😍

I tried to not like this man due to his pervert behavior but I just have to end up falling for him🙃

ANYWAYS I love how this fic turned out I tried to make it longer now, and I successfully did so, Im happy🥳

I hope you guys like it Im sorry for any grammatical mistakes I made if I did please correct me🙏

Well, I hope you enjoyed your reading ladies gentlemen and others, good afternoon good evening and good night🧡🦖

[infinite-orangepeel]

Behind every shitty hole in the wall is a story.

It’s a hysterical combination of luck and determination that lands Eddie Munson in the back alley of a dive bar five years after the world was supposed to end.

It's by chance alone that Steve Harrington is snuffing out a cigarette under his boot. Eyes fixated on a useless point in the distance. Off into space or wandering no man’s land. Distracted and distraught.

He’s never been the same.

He’s never known how to come back home.

He’s punishing himself. Has been for half a decade.

It’s the first anyone’s seen of him, since—

There’s a smudge of grease or soot or black makeup outlining his cheek. There’s gel in his hair—sticky and functional. He’s tangible. Real—somehow. Dusting ash off on his dirtied pants and trying to make the most of a blasphemously humid afternoon.

He wipes sweat from his brow bone, breathes deeply, seems to come to terms with the harsh underbelly of reality.

The sky is orange; afflicted by caustic heat. He doesn’t belong in a place like this. It’s time to bring him home once and for all. Of that, at least, Eddie is certain.

Eddie isn’t certain of much these days. None of them are. Not since Steve left and took their bleeding hearts with him like a dissolute trail of breadcrumbs.

Every moment without him has been spent painfully avoiding the mention of his absence. Setting his place at the dinner table was a habit they all had to unlearn, but sometimes Robin will forget—put out a plate and fracture at the realization.

And, then, the evening is ruined. The evening becomes a sinking ship. Blurry conversations swirling around how to convince him to come back. How to see it through. How to show him he has a God-given right to nestle into their world without making desperate apologies. There’s no need.

The desert’s on Steve’s side. Thinks it can outsmart Eddie by parching his lips, cracking the skin around them, drying out his tongue like the package of liquor store jerky he anxiously gnawed on while driving into town. Kicking up arid soil with his tires and blinding himself to fear—to the voices in his head that tell him to let Steve sulk and suffer in silence, because he’s the one who chose to leave in the first place.

It was a choice.

A fucking stupid choice, but a choice nonetheless—

Steve’s going to go back inside. He’s got a dish towel tucked into his apron pocket. A toothpick replacing the fallen cigarette between his teeth. Eddie’s been trying to muster up the courage to actually approach him for the past three days.

It always ends the same.

Steve’s fifteen minute break comes to a close, he disappears through the door on stage left to clock back in, and, as if looking through a broken kaleidoscope, the scene around Eddie fades into colorless obscurity. Everything else is void of meaning. Without Steve in the picture, life makes little sense. There’s no point. No clear way North.

He’d rather die than go through it again. The loss. Decay. Heartache and rage.

“Have you told your boss about the family emergency yet or do you need me to take care of that for you?” Eddie snarks, hiding his emotions behind a practiced smirk.

Steve looks up. Hand on the door. Stuck between two universes. One in which he hides and another in which he allows himself to be found.

“What are you talking about?” He chokes on a peach pitted fantasy in which he gets to briefly wake up and hit snooze–rub the sleep from his tired eyes, “Why are you—Eddie, you’re not supposed to be here. How the fuck did you find me?”

There’s uncertainty afoot. His chest rises and falls in shaky hesitation. One beat slow followed by two in rapid pace—standard procedure for someone who's been forced to confront his past in broad daylight. Out of the blue and into the unknown. Eddie wants to pin him to the wall and kiss him—drown his sorrows so he never has to feel them again.

But, it’s not time for that.

Not yet.

“Is someone hurt? Is it one of the kids? Robin? Nance?”

Eddie feels cruel for planting that seed in his brain so he cuts him some slack. Pushes past his own frustration, devastation, the scars on his torso that ache when he twists this way or that—reminders of who he was before.

“Everyone’s fine. Healthy and safe at home,” he swallows the gasp that wants to come out when Steve releases the handle on the door—when Steve makes the conscious decision to stay, if only for a moment, “You, however, won’t be, if you don’t march right up to your manager and let him know that you’re gonna have to throw in the towel a little early on this shift. We have plans and—unfortunately, for the big boss—they can’t wait.”

“I don’t understand—”

He starts to say and Eddie can’t help, but soften. Can’t help, but fall apart under his pretty eyes and pouty lips. Gaze catching and tugging on his heart strings when he notices the hint of Steve’s own scars lining his neck. Temporarily exposed by the breeze shifting the collar of his work shirt. Hidden unless you know where to look.

Eddie’s always known.

“Do you know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to a guy who looks like you—especially when there’s a sob story attached to that face?” He leans forward, exhales softly as Steve’s lashes flutter out of control, and bites the opposite end of his toothpick—stealing it and sucking it into his own mouth, “You have a family emergency. You have somewhere to be. You’ll be back tomorrow or you won’t—that part’s up to you. Knock ‘em dead, sweetheart. Go on. It’ll all make sense later. Just need you to trust me for now.”

He thinks of the bats. Of the fight. Flashes of the unforgiving war. The smoke and mirrors and nightmares that never fully went away. The cold sweat and salty tears. Memories that no one can verify, because time and space have made them intangible. Like monsters under the bed. Creatures that stalk the house in the wee hours of the morning. By dawn, they disappear, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real.

There’s no confirming or denying. Steve doesn’t nod or give a final answer with his hand hovering over a big red buzzer. Instead, he moves forward, steps through the door, doesn’t look back over his shoulder to contemplate if Eddie was a figment of his imagination. Leaves without a trace.

Like he was never really there.

Like he’s a ghost haunting the untethered planes of Eddie’s memory.

—

When Steve climbs into the back of Eddie’s van, it’s comical.

He bangs his head on the roof. Mutters a curse or two. Almost tips himself backwards hopping into the passenger’s seat. The van shakes with laughter—amused by the boy who has grown out of his old polos and button downs, but has somehow managed to maintain his childish humor. Slipping back into an old tattered suit and finding it’s still tailored perfectly to his measurements.

“Are you kidnapping me? Is that what this is?”

“Pretty sure kidnapping implies taking a ‘child’ against their will,” he smirks at Steve rubbing the back of his head, “You don’t fit into either of those categories by my estimation. Try not to get any blood on my seats. I just got this baby washed—I mean, sure, it was ten years ago, but—”

Eddie slings his arm around the back of Steve’s headrest. Talking a lot of smack for someone who feels as protective over his aggravated passenger as he does. The van’s hot. There’s no A.C. It’s stuffy and awkward and all Eddie wants to do is kiss him.

All Eddie’s ever wanted to do is kiss him. Just once more. Once would surely be enough to quench a thirst that’s plagued him for five long years.

“People would come looking for me, y’know. I have friends. People in town who would notice…eventually,” Steve snaps, but his heart’s not in it. Sounds like a luckless penny hitting the bottom of a dried up wishing well.

“Well, you’re worth caring about,” Eddie feels the edge of a splinter graze his tongue off the toothpick, “Always have been. Shouldn’t be such a surprise.”

It’s too honest. God, he knows, it’s too honest.

Steve doesn’t say anything. Eddie half expects him to throw a punch.

A few miles pass and the only interruptions to the weight of their shared silence are the bumpy groan of a shallow pothole and the lonely howl of a coyote on the horizon.

Maybe he's been separated from his pack—

The thought is almost too much to bear.

“How’s business?” Eddie tries to change the subject, turn back the clock, pretend it’s just another weekday on the way home from school.

“Does it matter?”

“Guess that all depends on if you’re planning to stick around this dust bowl or not, but I don’t think you’ve quite made up your mind one way or the other.”

They’re almost to Eddie’s hotel. He can see the flashing bulbs of the sign down the road—The Saguaro Inn. It’s not the nicest establishment. The sheets have moth holes, he’s had to kill a spider or two, but the guy at the front desk gave him a six-pack of beer on the house and that, alone, was worth its weight in gold.

“Where else would I go? I live here. I work here. This is my home, now.”

If Eddie looked over and saw Steve running lines off a Hollywood script, he’d believe it. Authenticity evaporates from his voice like everything else that the blistering desert sun destroys in its wake. The only things meant to survive in such an unbearable climate are cacti, insanity, and dread.

Even the coyotes are lost and out of touch.

“Hmm. Funny,” Eddie raps his knuckles against the peeling steering wheel cover—needs to get it replaced, but in the face of an unearthed Steve Harrington it’s the last priority on his list, “We clearly remember things differently. As I recall, you’re a Midwestern boy. Born, bred, and raised on Indiana corn. Not whatever the Hell they serve at that dump you work at.”

“Fuck off. I’m happy,” Steve argues hotly, fists balled at his sides—tension working through his jaw like a flame on an inevitable collision course with the end of a stick of dynamite, “I’m fine. I’m not some damsel in distress who needs you to come rescue her. I chose this. I want this.”

It’s clear he doesn’t.

If only he had the wherewithal to look himself in the damn mirror and tell the truth. Tell it without leaving out the obvious—the lie written all over his face.

Steve undoes his apron, tosses it in the back, and throws a sidelong glance at Eddie as if sizing him up. As if searching for the minute details that have shifted, collapsed, grown in prominence. Like one of those ‘spot the difference’ games on a children’s menu in the back of an old diner. Illuminated by lightning bugs, grease, and splattered syrup.

Eddie doesn’t think he looks much different.

Eddie doesn’t think he’s much of anything to look at.

Old soul. Dark curls. A leather jacket that’s seen better days. He aims for mystery and shoots blanks. Comes up with mediocrity, a sense of macabre discontentment, the bitter taste that hangs around on the back of his tongue.

He practically jumps out of his skin and bolts when Steve, unexpectedly, runs a thumb over the Demobat scar on his cheek. It’s hyperreal. Throttles him through the past and future. Merging together hopes and dreams that he hasn’t allowed to see the light of day since those scars first got bandaged up at Hawkins Memorial Hospital.

“It suits you,” he hums thoughtfully, “I like it. Gives you an edge.”

Dizzy doesn’t even begin to define it.

In some universes, in this one, he might have fared better if Steve had the guts to hit him instead. To draw a knife, send a bullet flying, be a force of conventional violence rather than whatever the fuck this is.

This is worse.

This is a death he’ll keep reliving until the day he actually finds rest.

Or, perhaps, this is the afterlife and Steve is his eternal punishment for being stupid enough to care.

—

The short journey from the van to Eddie’s room is blissfully uneventful. Mundane.

They chat about vending machine snacks. Steve gets a candy bar and Eddie gets a pack of sour gummy worms. They split them. Share in the sugar coating, the sour bite, the milk chocolate that gets stuck in the backs of their teeth. It’s a dinner two little kids playing house would ‘cook’ up.

Only understanding later why their parents always advised them to save dessert for later. To end things on a sweet note.

Eddie’s room is 111 which prompts Steve to ask about El and the kids while he’s working at the keycard. The scanner’s finicky. Won’t budge unless the plastic’s inserted at just the right angle. It’s fucking annoying, but the place was cheap and, frankly, he didn’t know how long he’d be in town when he checked in.

He tells Steve about their accomplishments. Sounding like the proud father he never had—sounding like Wayne who made up for the lack of one. Max’s studying sport’s medicine at the community college. Dustin’s starting his summer engineering internship. Will’s got an art showcase coming up in October. Robin and Nancy’s new apartment is close to the city. Eddie crashes there most weekends and takes them out for coffee on Sunday mornings to show his thanks.

By the time Eddie’s done recounting the events Steve’s missed out on, their shoes are off. Tucked side by side next to the door.

Steve checks three times to ensure the latch is secure. Blushes when Eddie tells him its’ safe. Its’ okay to rest and close his eyes if he needs to.

Life isn’t what it used to be, but old habits die hard.

Eddie gives him the last gummy worm in the pack. Does it wordlessly. Automatically. Steve goes to decline, but Eddie does him a favor—closes his hand around it and nods.

It’s an act of love. It’s an act of faith. It’s the only way he can figure out how to say that bitter thing on the back of his tongue.

The mattress creaks obnoxiously to announce their arrival upon it. There’s a modest amount of space between them. Left vacant so their secrets have a place to run and hide. So they don’t have to speak them aloud.

“Do you ever miss it?” Eddie bumps Steve’s shin with his foot.

Cartoon sound effects curate the fantasy. Glowing orange and yellow from the rabbit eared television set—out of date and grainy, but that’s part of the appeal.

The screen casts desert colors across the headboard and suddenly, this is their life. A shared life. One they’ve built together. Nothing separates them anymore, but the itchy floral sheets and the inconvenience of clothes. Memory loses its ache.

“Which part?”

Steve looks at him through glassy eyes, marbles rolling across the floor.

“Whichever part you miss, I s’pose, if there is one,” Eddie shrugs and prays to a divine entity he doesn’t know the name of, “I’ve always wondered. ‘s hard not to.”

“Sometimes,” Steve reaches over the nightstand to grab a handful of ice—sets it on his chest over his shirt to cool off, “When I get off work. When I’m on the bus ride home and I’ve forgotten my headphones. Those times, I miss it—the sound of everyone talking over each other in Mike’s basement. It used to be like wrangling a bunch of wild animals. They drove me up the fuckin’ wall, but that sound? That sound was home. That sound was family, to me. No matter where I go, I don’t think I’ll ever find that again, but I was lucky to have it for a little while.”

“It’s not, like, that door over there,” Eddie points to the overly complicated latch that was designed to keep out intruders and cockroaches alike, “You’re not locked out unless you have a special key. The door—back home—it’s wide open. It always has been,” he studies Steve’s grimace; the evident pain he feels at that ‘too good to be true’ promise.

In the cartoon, it’s sunny. Steve’s bathed in a fictional variety of yellow optimism.

The character’s smile, laugh, and dance around in the middle of a playground. The swing’s never swing higher than they’re supposed to and conflict is resolved by the end of each thirty minute segment.

It’s a cruel juxtaposition to pay witness to as Steve’s cheeks become stained with tears. It hurts to see him curl up onto his side. To sit idly by as he goes about the wretched business of breaking his own heart.

“They’ve moved on, Eds. They’re onto bigger and better things. I’d just be holding everyone back. It’s okay.”

“It’s not—”

“Eddie,” Steve inches closer to him; knees knocking together—mirroring each other, “let it go. I’ve made my peace. Why can’t you do the same? Why can’t you let me–”

“Because, watching you leave was the single worst moment of my life. Worse than the bats. Worse than Vecna. Not a day goes by that I don’t replay it in my mind. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what might have happened if I’d been brave enough to stop you.”

Kissing him is wrong.

Kissing him resolves none of it.

Kissing him tastes like sour gummy worms and chocolate and the satisfaction of finding a final resting place.

Kissing him is anger, spite, love.

Kissing him is the only thing that’s ever mattered and, maybe, that’s okay—

Steve startles. Keeps his lips perfectly still and Eddie thinks he’s really fucked this whole thing up, until he feels him break.

Until he feels him crack wide open like one of those novelty geodes Wayne used to bring back from his trips to mining country.

As the next episode begins and the cheesy theme song plays out in the background, Steve yanks Eddie towards him and sobs. They ground each other through twisted limbs, the rough meeting of lips, and the active avoidance of any moment outside of this.

They kiss and it’s both Heaven and Hell. It’s the promise of what could be and the mounting fear that the second they pull apart, the bonafide shelter they’ve created will crumble.

Steve whines openly. Sighs into Eddie’s mouth and slots a desperate knee between his thighs—a generous offering from a dead man walking.

Eddie grinds against it. Finally loses control. He rides Steve’s thigh in earnest—hips bumping, moans dripping from his lips like saccharine honey, cock throbbing and making a sticky mess in his boxers. Everything tastes like salt and sound and fury.

“Taste so good,” Steve licks over his mouth quickly, “Taste sweet. That part’s stuck with me—Eddie Munson’s real sweet.”

“You bit my tongue when we—”

“You probably deserved it,” Steve jokes and slaps his cheek playfully, “C’mon. Don’t stop. Kiss me, again. Want you to taste me like I taste you.”

He fucks his tongue into Steve’s mouth and the remembrance of a night he’s only been able to dream of, for the past five years, plays on.

He’s kissed Steve once before. Left a violet hickey on his neck. It was the end of June—concrete sizzled, mosquitoes swarmed, an ending should have been obvious, but it wasn’t.

They’d been scared. Afraid for the future. Afraid of how the past would follow them around in the shadow of tragedy. Afraid to press onwards, to lick over each other’s teeth, to make a mistake.

It’s different now.

Eddie doesn’t hold Steve like he’s fragile. He holds him like he believes he’s strong, because he is and he does. He’d have to be to start all over. To press restart in the middle of nowhere.

Steve’s hands roam his body ceaselessly. Wrinkle his clothes. Tug at his belt. He’s possessed by hope and the taboo Mirage and who can blame him? It’s gorgeous and awful.

“I haven’t touched anyone—” he cries, “I haven’t let anyone touch me since you kissed me on the night I left Hawkins. Remember? In my driveway–”

The confession sends a pang of agony racing through Eddie’s chest.

Nobody’s held him. Nobody’s kissed his neck and left behind a brutal memory. Nobody’s taken the time to wash the suds from his soft brown hair or dab the soap from his hazel eyes.

“Shh,” Eddie hushes him, laps at his tears and makes a split second decision, “I’ve never forgotten. How could I? I hardly ever think about anything else,” Steve whimpers from where he’s found a spot to rest his head in the crook of Eddie’s neck, “Shh, baby. Will you let me wash your hair? Will you let me help you clean off? Is that okay?”

Clinging to him and refusing to let go, Steve shudders and nods. Eddie knows this is significant for him—to relinquish the tired role of martyrdom and permit someone else to take care of him. To shoulder the responsibility with gentle hands.

Slack in his arms, Eddie carries him to the dim bathroom. The cartoon characters scramble around on screen—chasing each other around with hammers and wacky laughter.

When the water warms to the point of comfort, Eddie undresses the two of them in tandem.

First, Eddie’s shirt. Then, Steve’s. A breathy kiss in the interlude—they savor this practice. This delicate waltz. Their hands tremble. Steve’s shockingly sensitive. He breaks skin on Eddie’s shoulder when he circles his nipple and bites down just to tease.

“Nobody’s ever done that—”

“I don’t care about anyone else. No one. This is about me and you. Let me be the first. Don’t let there be anyone else. Me and you. Yeah?”

“Yes. Only you, Eds. No one else.”

“There’s my boy. My sweet, sweet boy.”

He cradles Steve’s sleepy face in his hands, pecks at the corners of his mouth as he helps him out of his classic Americana blue jeans. Levi’s or Lee. Brass buttons, deep pockets.

In the humid steam of the shower, they melt into each other. Eddie guides Steve to stand in front of him under the spray of the water and folds his arms around him. He strokes a hand over the flat plane of his stomach, toys with the pretty hair there, and sways with him to the tinny sound of the end credits. Conclusion. Finality. It is decidedly so.

He scrubs away the dirt, tears, grime, and misfortune with the prepackaged bar soap. Supplied by the manager at the front. Handed to him alongside the six pack and finicky roomkey. Steve lets Eddie rub out the knots in his shoulders. Thanks him unnecessarily as if this isn’t the greatest gift Eddie’s ever been given.

“Let’s do your hair, next,” Eddie presses lingering kisses to the column of his throat.

“I’d like that.”

The shampoo isn’t great. It’s in a miniature hotel bottle and opens with a snap. Smells like a pink petaled flower that would never survive this heat. Mildly delusional peonies with a whimsical flair.

“Tilt your head back. Rest on me,” Eddie whispers, flattening his palm over Steve’s heart—swearing an oath, “I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

He listens. Obeys readily. As if having waited his whole life to be instructed to do so.

“That feels nice,” he whines high in his throat while Eddie lathers the floral shampoo and works it through his hair, “Want more. Please, Eds. Please—more.”

“I’ll give you more, sweet boy,” he’s deliberate about the way he subtly scrapes against Steve’s scalp and tugs at the tendrils swooping around the nape of his pretty neck, “You’re so perfect,” he kisses his ear, nibbles on the lobe and revels in the resulting moan, “so kind, so smart, so lovable.”

Love—

Eddie wasn’t supposed to say love.

Shit.

He really wasn’t supposed to mention that.

“Fuck,” Steve sucks onto Eddie’s jaw—groaning and nipping along the full line of it, “Do you?”

“I’ve gotta rinse it,” he pretends to miss the question, “You can switch spots with me or–”

“Eddie,” Steve grinds his ass against Eddie’s dick and it’s no fucking accident, “I wanna come home. I wanna be yours. I don’t wanna be here anymore,” he turns so they’re face to face and Eddie sees Steve’s hard and leaking onto his hand where he’s lazily stroking himself as he crowds into Eddie’s space, “But, I need you to tell me. Do you love me? Do you love me the way I love you, because if you don’t—I can dry off, I can get my stuff, I can go back to the bar—”

“I love you—Jesus fucking Christ, Steve! Of course, I fucking love you! I’m not capable of loving anyone else! Don’t leave—”

“I won’t,” Steve caresses his cheek and wipes away his tears—the years of pent up heartache, “I love you.”

Breathless, Eddie’s back hits the cold tile wall and Steve’s fucking against him. Using the place where his hip meets his stomach to rub, press, and plead. Eddie grabs his hips, pulls him closer, gasps when he feels Steve spurt pre onto his pale skin.

“Say it again. Tell me why, so I believe it. So I know who to call when the voices in my head get too loud. So I can learn how to come home. Please, Eddie, please.”

Taking them both into his fist, Eddie pumps Steve’s dick alongside his own. Slow and steady. He thumbs the slit as Steve’s knees buckle. Grits his teeth and grins dumbly when his boy hisses at the heat and building friction.

“Honey, I dreamed of you. I ran after you a million times. I begged and prayed to whoever would listen. I’m nowhere near religious, but, fuck, I devoted everything in me to finding you,” he slots their lips together and feels Steve’s smile before he sees it, “You’re my home, Stevie. It’s empty without you. I’d rather die, than drive back alone.”

To have him like this is a million times better—a Goddamn miracle, compared to what Eddie’s envisioned night after night alone in his bed.

Moaning brokenly into his pillow as he chased after the punishing gossamer threads knotted in the hair of his phantom lover.

To untie him meant freedom and, at last, Eddie has the filthy pleasure of being the one to make Steve Harrington come undone.

“Gonna make me cum, Eds? Gonna let me be good for you?”

Steve’s thrashing wildly. Thrusting into Eddie’s fist and digging his nails into his back. Babbling sweetly about how badly he wants to shoot off over Eddie’s hands.

“Not yet, angel. I need something from you first,” he catches his breath, forces Steve’s hips to go still, and does his best to keep it together, “Promise me you’ll get in my van when we wake up tomorrow morning. Promise me you’ll forgive yourself.”

Steve’s quiet.

The water’s running cold—you get what you pay for.

The coyotes and cartoons fight for dominance. Lone rangers, lone wolves, trembling in the dust.

The dim bulb flickers—one, two, three; it’s fading fast—

In the pitch dark, Steve traces Eddie’s mouth with his fingertips, peels off his scars, draws whimsical shapes and crisscrossed stars with the very top of his tongue. An odd ritual and not a word to explain it.

As Steve finds the path to Eddie’s goriest scars—those that line his ribs—his curiosity gets the best of him.

“Care to enlighten me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Steve kisses the tops of his knees and that makes Eddie horny and madly in love. Even madder than he was with Steve’s cock in his fist.

“Not to me, no.”

His laughter is infectious. Eddie giggles—genuinely giggles like a blushing schoolgirl.

“I’m making a map,” Steve licks the head of Eddie’s cock and he shivers, “memorizing you, so I’ll always know the way back home if I get lost. It’s a promise.”

—

They stay up later than they should for a drive as long as the one they have ahead of them. But, it’s worth it.

Eddie cums down Steve’s throat in the shower. Steve thanks him. Licks up every last drop and kisses his knees like a forbidden secret.

Getting dressed isn’t an option. It never had a chance to be part of the agenda.

Steve falls apart in Eddie’s lap on the bed—fucking himself at his own pace. Deep and perfect. His moans belong on an album. Eddie tells him he’ll make him one some day. Burn a CD and terrorize the neighbors by blasting it in his car with all the windows rolled down.

Afterwards, they brush each other’s teeth and make a mess of the counter. Cackling like crazed animals because the light’s still fucked and Steve can’t find the toothpaste cap. They decide to leave it there—a piece of themselves for whoever rents the room next.

—

An hour into the drive, Eddie reaches for the map over Steve’s lap and looks at it for a moment before shrugging and throwing it out the window.

That gets Steve’s attention.

“What the fuck? Did you mean to do that? Was that on purpose? Tell me that wasn’t on purpose—”

“We don’t need it. I know where I’m going. I have everything I need right here with me,” he winks at Steve and steals a handful of gas station sunflower seeds.

“You’re such a sap,” Steve snorts, “I can’t believe you made me promise to come home with you and now, we don’t even know which direction leads to home.”

“I’m a romantic,” Eddie pats his thigh affectionately, “and, I may or may not have convinced Robin and Nance to fly out for a family road trip. We’re meeting them at the next rest stop. Nancy has another map. Hope that’s okay?”

“As long as you’re there. I’m there,” Steve takes his hand, “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

taglist (message me to be added or removed at any time <3): @estrellami-1 @disastardly @ilovecupcakesandtea @the-redthread @asbealthgn @bestofbucky @vampireinthesun @carlyv @shrimply-a-menace @lordrrascal @jjoesjonas @malachitedevil @anxiouseds @gay-little-bitch @jhrc666 @pinkdaisies1998 @mcneen @perseus-notjackson @eiddets @corroded-coffin-groupie @three-possums-playing-human @stevesbipanic @plutoshelm @arkenstoned @indiearr @they-reap-what-we-sow @gleek4twd @bunnyweasley23 @livingoutload @a-little-unsteddie @novelnovella @rugbertgoeshome @neverlandwaitingforme @anglhrts @swiss-cheeze @wynnyfryd @loguine-linguine @josephmunsonx

[veryace-ficrecs]

Batman Outsider POV Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Wait... you're backup? by Ceciliedr - Rated T

When her team is captured by Lex Luther, Traci can do little more than cross her fingers for a rescue. When someone does crash the party, it isn't anyone she knows. Traci sincerely hopes the guy in the red helmet is on their side.

library card by mikkal - Rated T

Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the Park Row Public Library (and her librarians).

Finding a New Perspective by njw - Rated T

“I got this, Hood.” Red Robin sounds annoyed as he arcs and twists through the air, kicking one henchman into another and wrenching the gun away from a third while simultaneously retracting his grappling line and then launching it to catch another unwary henchman. Just, how?

“I can see you do,” Red Hood says, and wait. Was his voice always that deep? Is he… Maya squints. Is he staring at Red Robin’s ass?

She blinks, then studies the line of sight more closely. Maybe he’s just checking out Red Robin’s kneecaps, in preparation for shooting at them? That seems more his style. Sexual attraction is kind of confusing and she still doesn’t totally believe Tosh that it’s actually as big a thing as people make it out to be—seriously, do other people really spend that much time thinking about it? Sounds fake but okay.

But no, Red Hood’s helmet is totally pointed at Red Robin’s ass. Huh. That’s new.

Captain Marvel's Adopted? by Len_suilon_mellon - Rated T

When Captain Marvel sends out a distress call, the only League member available is Batman. Bruce comes to his aid, but he finds out that Billy is a 10-year-old homeless orphan with black hair and blue eyes. Obviously, he makes the only logical decision and adopts Billy. Because it's Bruce—who's allergic to revealing life-changing information—the League is left in the dark. This story is written as 5+1 story from the Justice League's POV as they attempt to define the weird relationship between Batman and Captain Marvel. 5 times they didn't realize Batman had adopted Captain Marvel, and the 1 time they did.

The Startling Secret Identity of The Batman by Nokomis - Rated T

Good evening, super-sleuths! Boy, do we have a treat for you today. We’re delving into one of the biggest unsolved mysteries of the modern era. The million-dollar question. The billion-dollar question, if one of these theories holds water. That’s right. We’re gonna risk life, limb and sanity by asking the question… who is The Batman? [In-universe Buzzfeed Unsolved accidentally stumbles on Batman’s secret identity. The Batfam reacts.]

playacting by nex_et_nox - Rated G

“So,” Jim said, “are you one of Wayne’s new kids?” Because only siblings acted that way toward each other, and it seemed like every time Gotham turned around, Bruce Wayne was adopting more kids. It was a reasonable question. “What?” Jay asked. “No, I’m—” He paused. Very slowly, his head tilted as he looked over Jim’s shoulder in the most obvious way he possibly could. Jim Gordon accidentally meets the "newest" member of the Wayne family.

5 times the Justice League catch Bruce acting domestically by TimesBeingWhatTheyAre - Rated G

...and the one time he lets them see it aka 5 times the kids torment Bruce, and the time that he actually arranges a meet-up and minds are blown

the politics of dancing by TheResurrectionist - Not Rated

After months of silence following his mysterious resurrection from the dead, the prodigal Wayne heir shows up at an unlikely meeting. “Where is Mr. Wayne?” Jason crossed his legs, cracking his neck. “He’s not coming.” “I was assured Mr. Wayne would be here.” “Tough. Looks like you’ll have to settle for me, huh?”

I Love My Gay Son(s) by reeby10 - Rated G

But the part that had everyone’s attention was the shirt, a plain white t-shirt with “I LOVE MY GAY SON” emblazoned across the chest in bold, rainbow letters.

Bat Out Of Hell by arguablysomaya - Rated G

Five times the Bats are weird, and one time that weirdness saves the world Or, the Bats are weird, everyone that’s even remotely aware of the superhero game knows this. But, odd as they are, they’re still humans. Which is why it should probably be impossible that they’re such forces of chaos. And when they’re all together? Well, most people are just glad they’re on the good side. And they are. Mostly.

The five times Flash came to Gotham for help and the one time he didn't need to (5+1) by Silver_Athena - Not Rated

Barry needs help solving a murder, he goes to Gotham for help. Though he's looking for Batman he seems to constantly run into new heroes. Why do they all seem connected to Batman? --- “You know where he lives?” “I practically live there myself, why is this so surprising to you? You’ve worked with him for- Oh… oh my God, you guys don’t know!"

A Break in Tradition by incogneat_oh - Not Rated

Gordon had seen something when he caught the canary yellow cape out the corner of his eye– something in the way the kid had moved. So he figures he should ask, “You doing okay up there, son?” AKA: The one where Jim Gordon minds a tiny vigilante until his bigger, scarier partner can collect him.

gotham aviary by pepperfield - Rated G

“I see you have a new addition to the family,” Bella says, smiling at the group pushing their father along toward the plaza stairs. “Yeah, we stole him from his backyard,” Jason tells her brightly.

“average billionaire adopts 1000 children a year” factoid actualy just statistical error. average billionaire adopts 0 children per year. Orphans Bruc, who lives in cave & adopts over 1 child each month, is an outlier adn should not have been counted.

what goes around by Goldmonger - Rated G

A civilian accidentally kills the Joker. It’s a confusing time for everybody.

artemis crock coming to the wrong conclusions by impravidus - Rated G

Nightwing has his hands outstretched, his palms opening and closing exaggeratedly. Red Hood shakes his head. “I am not gonna—” “Just one?” Nightwing interjects sweetly. “Please please please?” “You are such an idiot—” “Just ooone. C’mon, Hood. Don’t these arms look so warm and inviting?” “Inviting for a stab, yeah.” Artemis sees Nightwing being his affectionate (or as Red Hood would put it, extremely annoying) self and comes to the wrong conclusions.

[edgeray]

Part 1: Sweeter Than Wine(Nico Robin x Fem! Reader)

Part 2

A/N: First post on here :3. This is the culmination of me when I was downbad for like two nights straight. Can you tell how gay I am? This is just 2k words of self-indulgence, I love Miss All Sunday so much, there needs to be more content on her. Who doesn't love a sexy cowgirl?

Warnings: Reader uses female pronouns, Robin may be OOC, Reader is also highkey downbad (I'm sorry, I was projecting), alcohol drinking, pet names(?), if there is more that needs to be added to this please feel free to tell me

Chatter, laughter, and the smell of alcohol filled your senses as you sat on the bar stool, enjoying your drink in one of the bars at Whiskey Peak. Your pinky tapped against the glass of your cup repeatedly as boredom filled your mind. Despite all the drinking and hooligans surrounding you, nothing about all of this was entertaining to you. After all, this happened almost every other week. Naive pirates would come to Whiskey Peak after having just gone through Reverse Mountain and get ambushed by the hundred or so bounty hunters. Then it'd be the end of those little pirates’ journey before it really even started. It was honestly pitiful, and quite frankly, you've long grown tired of throwing up a party and a facade for every unfortunate pirate that stopped by. You were tired of these events even though you yourself were a bounty hunter. 

Another pirate crew crushed, what a pity, she sighed as she watched as an orange-haired girl and a moss-headed swordsman drank nearly the entire bar dry. Silence and solitude surrounded you, feeling an empty void within. With a sigh, you turned to your glass and twisted your wrist to observe the swirling of the liquid. 

At first, you didn't notice her when she entered the bar. No one did. But then there began whispers of awe and admiration and that was when you finally looked up from your drink. 

Your heart halted in your chest as your eyes laid upon the woman who sat herself a few seats away from you. You immediately related to all the dumbstruck stares from your fellow Millions, because how could you not have been infatuated at first glance? Pitch-black shoulder-length straight hair, sun-kissed skin, a skimpy outfit that did wonders in showing her goddess-like stature, and the sexiest cowboy boots and hat met your eyes. But what drew you in wasn't just her physical appearance but the aura that she gave. Seductive confidence exuded from her form and sitting posture even as admirers (including you) ogled at her. 

It felt wrong to be staring at her so openly but you couldn't help it–the more you observed her the more she captivated you. 

You were never a believer of love-at-first-sight but this had to be pretty damn close. Warmth began to blossom within your abdomen the longer your attention lingered on the new woman and your ears burned at the realization of all the thoughts you were having as you continued to watch her. You snapped your head away from the woman finally when your fantasies became more lewd and you tried to wash those erotic ideas away with your glass of alcohol. You shouldn't be thinking those things for a woman you've never even met, you scolded yourself, shame overwhelming your being. You closed your eyes and tried to shuffle your thoughts on the woman away, hoping for the pitter-patter of your heart to similarly be shooed off.

“Can I buy you a drink?” A low, sultry, feminine purred beside you, the kind of voice that instantly made you want to fold yourself in half. Your eyes flew open as you spun your head towards the direction of the voice and your heart jumped out of your chest when the woman you were fawning over was seated adjacent to you. It's the first time you were able to get a glance at her face and heat instantaneously swarmed your cheeks, your breath hitching at the sight. Soul-piercing ocean blue eyes stare back into you, a smirk played on her perfect lips as she leaned her cheek against her hand, which was propped up by her elbow on the counter. Her body was turned towards you while she leaned against the bar counter so that your eyes could roam freely over her entire front. Her body language oozed with unwavering sensual assurance and from the way she's smirking at you, she most definitely knew it. You desperately attempted to stop your focus from wandering down, knowing if you did you'd probably see her cleavage and at this point, you weren't sure if you'd risk a stroke in front of her just to see it. 

“Yes,” you nervously stammered out and a low rumble reverberated from the ravenette's throat as she chuckled. It's music to your ears and you just want to hear it again. She turned to the bartender and requested two glasses of red wine while you instinctively slouched upon feeling the envious weight of other Millions’ stares on your back. 

"I hope you don't mind wine, I prefer my drinks on the sweeter side," the alluring woman stated, her smirk growing just a bit when she faced you. 

"No, wine is good," you shake your head dumbly, feeling humiliated by your lackluster response. "Thank you," you remember to thank her a moment later. 

"Of course. How could I stop myself from buying a drink for such a cute little thing," she replied with a voice laced with honey as she beamed back at you. 

You flushed and turned your head away to hide the abashed expression on your face. Your body can't help but be filled with ecstasy at the compliment and your knees couldn't have ached more to be on the floor in front of her. However, you couldn't divert your attention from her for long when she reached out her hand to grasp onto your chin and forcibly but gently tilted your head up towards her gorgeous face again. 

"Don't be so shy. I don't bite, I promise. Unless you want me to," the woman whispered as she leaned close to your face, the distance between you only a few inches apart. Her thumb stroke across your bottom lip and impulsively, your tongue swiped against her thumbpad. While embarrassment smacked you across the face, the woman's smile only grew more. 

Her next words had you nearly falling out of your seat. "Good girl," she purred and something inside of you stirred. 

"What's your name, sweet thing?" She asked as her thumb repeatedly caressed your lip in a circular motion. Like an idiot, your words stumbled over as you tried to recall your name for a second.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Miss All Sunday." Her voice and every word were laced with syrup despite the shockingly big reveal to you. 

"Miss All Sunday?" You repeated quietly as you remembered faintly that Miss All Sunday was the vice-president of Baroque Works. Your world stopped spinning as you came to the realization that you were majorly crushing on one of your bosses, the second highest on the ladder as a matter of fact. You've heard of her, through the rumors of other Millions–how ruthless and powerful she is, yet all you've been fantasizing about is if she's the same way in bed. Oh, how she could snap you in two and you'd thank her, wouldn't you, you taunted yourself in resignation. 

"What are you doing here?" You wondered out loud, compelling yourself to rid of all the lewd thoughts. 

"There's something I need to take care of here. But it can wait for a little bit, I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of beauty in my eyes," the vice president commented. Your entire face flushed at the compliment. The hand on your chin wandered down and her fingertips scraped against your neck, then down to your shoulders, to your sides, and grazed against your hip until it rested upon your thigh. Your thighs clenched tightly against one another and the reaction amused her. Feather light warm touches danced on your skin as it sent tingles of pleasure throughout your body. 

A shuddering sigh left you and you're silently begging for her in your eyes, for more of her, for the entirety of her. You want to greedily soak up everything she can give you and more. She momentarily turned her gaze away from you once the glasses of wine arrived and a disappointed whimper involuntarily escaped your throat. Your pathetic noise earned you a few squeezes on your thigh. 

"Would you like a sip?" She inquired as she held onto a glass in her other hand. You nodded slightly and reached out your hand, however, she didn't pass the glass to you. Instead, she brought the glass to her lips and had a sip. She leaned in and using the hand on your thigh as support, she closed the distance between you. 

One moment, your lips were bare and cold, and the next, it was met with Miss All Sunday's mouth. You gasped into the kiss and the vice president used the opportunity to pour the red wine from her mouth into yours. The sweet flavor of the beverage overwhelmed your taste buds while the woman in front of you fervently pressed her mouth against yours, each kiss deep like she was savoring the sensation of your lips. Her tongue danced on your lips to request entrance and you swallowed the drink she so generously offered you to allow her in. She immediately dominated your mouth, her tongue exploring every nook and cranny without so much of a struggle from you. You moaned softly against her and tried to press yourself closer to the woman. 

The heat in your stomach exponentially grew and the sensuality of it all only made you want to surrender yourself to the woman more. One hand uselessly gripped onto her arm while your other hand clenched around the seat of your chair. Meanwhile, Miss All Sunday's other hand found her way behind your head, making it impossible to escape from the kiss as she ensured you were as close to her as possible. Not that you'd want to escape of course. 

You wanted to memorize every texture of her soft lips that unrelentlessly ravished you. It's the sweetest, most relishing thing to you, sugarier than any dessert you've devoured, and more decadent than the most gourmet of meals. And you were getting this for free? You wanted more, no, you needed more, damn the lightheadedness that began to settle in your head. It’s intoxicating the way she took over all your senses, the way you're disarmed with just one kiss, the way she has your entire form trembling, the way your mind is filled with the eternal necessity that is her. She stole your breath not because she's not allowing you to breathe but because suddenly your oxygen supply is Miss All Sunday. But then her mouth leaves your lips and it's only then that you realize you need to breathe oxygen. You gaze at her with half-lidded eyes and a bit of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, and you can tell that she's pleased with the mess she's reduced you to. 

“M-miss,” you mumbled, hungry for more. You were drunk off of her kiss.

“You want more? What an insatiable girl,” she coyly smirked before her eyes scanned around her surroundings. “Looks like we've gained an audience.” 

Her last statement sobered you up a little and you too looked around and saw many of the bar's customers scrutinizing you in covetousness. You ducked your head in mortification but the vice president of Baroque Works only chuckled, and she raised a hand to her purple felt hat. “How rude of them to intrude into a private show.” 

Her fingers clasped on the brim of the hat and she removed it from her head, before bringing it to the side of your face, essentially creating a shield from the onlookers. You pondered why she was doing that before she leaned in, this time her lips more aggressively crashing against yours and you were caught off by surprise again. Her free hand that was once on your hand cupped your cheek gently, trailing her thumb over your skin. The way that her hat censored the passionate moment from everyone else in the bar only makes it so much more intimate–like a secret shared between just the two of you. It made your heart flutter excitedly; Miss All Sunday, for all how powerful she is and for all she could easily obtain just for being Baroque Work's vice president, was focusing solely on you and you alone. You were the only one that captured her attention and she was kissing you stupid again, making the rest of your world so trivial when she had you in her hold.

It seemed like hours before she parted from your lips, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you panted for air. Her cerulean eyes softened when she took in the entirety of your expression and she licked her lips sensually. “You're so sweet. Such a good girl.”

“Sweeter than wine."

And she drew you in again. 

---

I have a sequel to this. Might post it if I feel like.

[sanjisblackasswife]

So I forgot who it was (I’m so sorry if u see it pls lmk and I’ll tag u) but the person re logged this drawing I did and said “Imagine Sanji telling her how much he loves her skin “ and something else I forgot BUT I UNDERSTOOD. So imma do it rn so here is some Soft Sanji.

“Just As You Are” Sanji x Black Fem Reader (Fluff)

CW: Mentions of racism/colorism/Verbal Abuse/Mental Health, Very much fluff, Reader is insecure and sad, happy ending

It was always different.

How people looked at you, how you weren’t the “ideal” woman. Was it your hair? The way you dress? How you talk?

Maybe it was your skin.

You grew up not loving your self. You were adopted into a family that treated you as if you weren’t even human, you were constantly talked about your melanin, you weren’t beautiful, so many disrespectful comments and mockery of you being black it made you not accept the true love the Strawhats gave you. They didn’t care if you were black, white, yellow, or blue they love you for you!

Especially a certain cook.

You’ve had a few episodes of panic attacks when all eyes were on you, you had the internal fear of being ridiculed for your appearance. Sanji noticed this immediately when you first joined and tried to convince you in his own way that you are beautiful but you were stubborn you didn’t want to hear it.

You shunned many people in your life due to this, took a very long time for you to even wear more comfortable clothing exposing your features, your skin. You often wore big hoodies or huge clothing in general. The girls welcomed you in with open arms and day by day they helped you get over this doubt you have in yourself.

Today wasnt a good day though. You just came back on the ship, legs exhausted from running, hair in a tangles mess from running into some bushes, you were covered in dirty and blood, not sure if it was yours or that man you kicked around.

“Oh! Y/N! Y/N! My love?!” Sanji ran over to you in a panic immediately holding your weakened body. “What happened who did this?!”

You shook your head it was too embarrassing to even think about, “I just need to sleep.”

“N-no you cant your head!” Sanj took out a napkin from his jacket and placed it on your bleeding forehead. Thats probably why you felt so tired. He walked you back to his room where he had a small couch for you to lay on his lap. He had a small first aid kit to help you since Chopper was gone with everybody else.

Sanji was furious on who could have possibly done this to you. He bit his tongue as you groaned in pain.

“I thought you were with the girls?” He asked taking the leaves stuck in your hair.

“I wanted to be by myself for a moment..that’s all…and then I encountered some assholes…doesn’t matter though…apparently my kind isn’t welcomed here.”

“Y/N—“

“Sanji.”

Sanji’s been very aware of the treatment you’ve gotten in the past by ignorant people when you all were in public. If you all weren’t being chased or fighting every once in a while you and you alone would get stared and not so loud whispers about how

“Different“ you were from Nami and Robin.

Sanji never understood it, Never understood how someone can look at a person’s skin or race or culture or features and be so hateful? What have you done to deserve such treatment?

Nothing. You didn’t deserve it.

Sanji cleaned you up in silence, but it was killing him not to speak his mind to you, “Here…” He sat up and got in front of you to take out anything else from your hair. “Gatta make sure I get all of it.”

Your eyes felt like they were burning as you fiddled with your thumbs. Fighting back the urge to cry, Your chest felt heavy. You were tired and ready to shin everything and body from you after he was done. They’re all the same. Nothing will ever change with how people treat you.

Like clock work Sanji looked down to see a tear fall on your fist. Before you could wipe it off he gently moved his finger under to ur chin so you can look up at him. It was like his heart sank seeing you so broken in the eyes.

“Y/N…”

Without anymore words exchanged he grabbed you into a soft embrace. Your face was buried in his shoulder finally breathing out the tears you needed to release. It was painful to him to hear you like this. He wish he would have been there those assholes would never had a chance to hurt you. His head started to pound from the frustration, so many what if’s. What if they done worse? What if they took you? What if he just could have been there?

Your cries dies down and the sounds were replaced with Sanji’s quickened heart beat. You felt maybe because he is holding you—a woman— he’s probably trying to not bleed all over you. Rolling your eyes at the thought you pulled back and was greeted to him instead with his glossy eyes.

“You’re so Beautiful Y/N…” He spoke out searching your eyes, “you are. I’m more than sorry this happened to you. ….I’m sorry this has been going on for so long . I’m sorry you haven’t been treated the way you needed. I’m sorry you couldn’t come to me when you feel anything less than perfect, I’m sorry for not reminding you enough how stunning you are, how worth of a life you are, how….”

“I’m sorry for not loving you enough.”

You blinked. It was so much emotion poured into what saying was professing to you, you couldn’t process it all you just looked away embarrassingly not wanting to believe him.

“You don’t mean —-“

“It’s more than a belief Y/N It’s a fact. “ Sanji wiped your tear stained cheek. He needed you to understand who you really are, and how much you meant to him. “I promise. To this day Y/N. I won’t ever allow any asshole to make you hate who you are. Your skin is just how God intended it to be and its so Heavenly.”

“You don’t ever feel like you need to apologize or feel animosity about this beautiful body you’re in. Because I love it.”

He kissed your hands looking into your eyes. It wasn’t the same how he usually does it, full of indescribable lust, but it was lawful. It was real.

It made you feel shy quite actually.

“I love you.”

You cried a little chuckling at the floor. You didn’t have much to say back because you were still fighting in your mind if you believe him or not.

“I love you, Too Sanji.”

His smile was also a sign of relief, in the back of his mind he felt like he maybe over stepped his boundary with you, but you welcomed him. You welcomed his compliments.

You took a bath Sanji drew for you and he went to your room to clean up a bit and fix you your favorite dinner. As you were relaxing the cook had some spare time after making your meal, the girls came back and told Sanji about what happened and the men that harassed you.

Needless to say during that time Sanji went out for a smoke break to handle some business.

[amaramizuki666]

Shared sensation part.4

Where was he? Who was he? Why did everything hurt?. Those where the constant questions going through 27's head. He didn't know what was happening. He was in some sort of tube filled with green liquid.

Every once in a while someone in a white coat will walk over to the tube and press some buttons then insert some blue liquid into the tube, causing these weird dreams.

"Red Robin focuse we need to be careful about this" a gruff voice orders and tim nodded "yeah b I know" tim says his voice hollow. He felt so numb as if he was drowning in a sea of ice.

Why should he care if he gets hurt he isnt going to feel it. Tim tries to stay focused during the fight but his mind keeps wandering, wandering to the beautiful black haired boy, and how his face flashed with horror when tim rejected him.

By the time the fight ended tim was bruised and bloody. "Red robin I told you to stay focused" bruce criticized once they got back to the cave. "I'm sorry ok, I just cant think properly" tim sighs, he can feel a headache comeing on.

Bruce put a hand on Tim's shoulder. "I think it's best for you to take a break" bruce said "bruce I'm fine" tim growls. He wasnt fine he was numb, nothing mattered anymore.

He lost his other half. He shouldn't have let him go. he shouldn't have pushed away. HE FAILED, IT WAS ALL HIS FAULT, HE SHOULD HAVE PROTECTED HIM!

27's eyes opened again he felt pressure behind his eyes almost as if something wanted to escape them. 27 felt so confined. He didnt like it in here. He felt like something was pulling him, that something was missing. He dosnt understand what was going on.

D.A.N.N.Y the name at the top of the file bright in red. It contained so much and so little. "Danny" tim says while running his fingers down the photo of the boy a year younger than himself. "My sweet danny" tim mumbles reading over the suspicious death records.

They say he died a few months ago but tim knows that he died 2 years ago. Things arnt adding up. He has to find out what happened, what happened to danny. HOW DID DANNY DIE!? WHO IS COVERING IT UP?!

27 studied his surroundings. He wanted out of here, he wanted to go where his chest wanted to lead him.

"AHHHHHH!" Danny's screams rang loud even through the muzzle that was shoved onto his face as people in white coats cut him open. even if it was only over video tim could clearly see how they looked at his soulmate. like he was less than human. How dare they, I will kill them the thought rolled into Tim's mind, the yeah the GIW will pay.

27 didn't want to be in here anymore he wanted out. 27 moved his arm placing his palm against the glass. None of the white coats paired him attention so he reeled his arm back and punched. And punched, and punched, until the glass cracked.

Part 3

Part 5

[jessysapphireblue]

Give me your blessing Luffy x Oc

Nicknames included are Lu and Je. Female is a born magician without a Devil Fruit, but you can use it as y/n since nothing else is mentioned. ALSO!!! She and Sanji have siblings bond, just platonic

fluff

The sea was quiet and calm, sun was shining and it was indeed a perfect day, especially for the crew members. Your boyfriend, the captain of the Straw Hat Pirates, was sleeping in your lap, head burried with a smile, while his arms were wrapped around your body, as he smiled in his sleep. Under the shade of the tree, you sat there, resting against it with a soft smile while stroking his hair.

And the crew did take advantage of their captain sleeping. Usopp and Chopper even came to you and thanked you in a prayer since both were busy and you just literally made their day. Opening your hand, a book popped up and you used this to finally get ahead on it, since Robin recommended it. That was, until someone tapped your shoulder. Turning around, there stood Sanji, with a tray, his index finger resting on his lips with a soft smile, making you nod.

He handed you the tropical blue drink, decorated fancy with fruits and a straw, making you nod with a bright beam towards him, as a soft blush covered his cheeks before he bowed and walked away, never once waking Luffy up.

Hours passed as you finally finished the book, tears brimming in your eyes because of that ending, as you heard a loud yawn and arms raising in your view. "Man! That was a good nap!" "Well, I´m glad you enjoyed my lap as your pillow", you admitted as you closed the book, lying it in your lap as Luffy sat up. "Yeah! By you, I sleep the best!...Ah! Right", he beamed before leaning in to capture your lips in a soft and gentle kiss...oh, you remember how many times you had to show him how to kiss like that, but let´s be honest, you didn´t minded, he was just so kissable and beamed every single time you did it.

"Was this enough payment?", he asked with his usual childish grin. "Yes, indeed. I like your kisses" he smacked his lips together while looking at you. "Did you drink something sweet?" "Yes. Sanji gave it to me a while ago"

Silence

"SANJI! FOOD! I NEED FOOD!", Luffy screamed and jumped up, dashing into the kitchen, which made you sigh before laughing. Taking the empty glass, you also made your way to the kitchen, only to see your boyfriend inhaling some meat and other stuff. "MELLORINE! How was the drink, my dear~" "Sanji, as always, wonderful. Thank you for it" "For you, it´s always my pleasure", he smiled before bowing a little, making you chuckle. "Need some help?" "You know I always feel bad when you ask me this" "And I feel bad making you cook alone for a literal black hole", you admitted, which made him laugh. "Well, if you want, you can help me with the vegetables" "On it, Sanji!", you said determinated and went behind the counter to work.

Luffy on the other hand watched you two chatting and laughing, and talking about the most crazy food you guys have either ate or made. He began to smile after hearing you laugh and Sanji as well.

~

Time passed fastly and soon, it was night and you had watch, and your boyfriend joined you. "Unusual for you to join me" "I slept so well by you today and I´m not tierd AND you always stay awake when I do so", he beamed and began to cuddle you, which made you chuckle. " Was that book and adventure book?" "Well...not really. More with magic and centuries of a myth. Not a real adventure like you know" "Hmpf!", he began to pout, making you laugh again, while leaning back against his chest. "There was one thing that I liked. And I imagine Ace and Sabo would do it also for you" "And what?" "Sisters. Boys came to her, asking her if they would be ok to go on a date with her bigger sister. Apparently the big sister said that she only goes on a date with someone after the little sister blessed it. Now imagine I go to Sabo and ask him if I could date you" "mmmh. H would say yes. Ace also! They would love you!" "I hope that", you said with a soft sigh. "Je?" "yes?" "Why are you and Sanji so close?" "Sanji? Well, I see Sanji as a big brother I always wanted. Someone who is there for me and I can spend time laughing, asking all the stupid stuff, who would laugh with me about it"

Luffy breathed out after he heard it. "You ok?" "I thought you like him more than me!" "Luffy, Sanji is like a brother, while you, you are the person I want to spend my life with, until our last breaths" He smiled brightly and hugged you close, arms wrapped around you like a snake until he laughed. "I won´t be happy with anything less!", he admitted and both of you began to laugh.

~

Sanji just entered the kitchen to get everything ready for breakfast, humming a tune as "SANJI!", the door slammed open and the poor cook hit his head on the counter. "Luffy! OUT!" "No!", the young captain said sternly, making sanji sigh as he tugged on his cigarette. "Give me a few to get you something" "Ah, no food. i need to talk to you" Sanji nearly inhaled his cigarette as he heard it, turning to Luffy. "What is it, Captain?" "Sanji, I need your blessing!" "My...what?", he was confused. "Blessing" "For what?", another tug of his cigarette. "Je said that you´re like a big brother to her! So! I need your blessing that I can date her", Luffy said determinated, while Sanji just blinked. "What?" "Yes! Since she said you´re like a brother, you need to give me the ok" A little smile came over Sanjis lips as he heard it. "Ok. You have it", he admitted and Luffy beamed. "JE! HE BLESSED US!", he shouted and dashed outside, Sanji following close to see his captain picking you up and spinning you around with a smile that he never saw so big before, as the sun slowly begin to rise.

And all Sanji could do was to smile, knowing that you two were meant to be

[sparks-olivarpente]

the very long list of Very Short Fics

Here's a list of byler very short fics (≥ 2500 words)

Will’s Crush: A Post-Painting Sleepy Convo by bloomaomori4540 (@tsugarubecker) Shhh. It’s 3am in the van, pitch black, and Mike and Will are asleep.

feedback loop by @aceoflanterns Other words begin to enter the feedback loop. The world is still a hazy thought, just a distant memory, but new things enter your mind—it’s not, it’s not my fault, it’s not my fault you don’t like girls! or, the destruction of castle byers.

I'll Be Waiting by SunflowersAndSarcasm (@sunflowersand-bees) The Snow Ball hadn't gone quite how Will and Mike had wished that it would. But they get a do-over. Maybe this time, it'll work out.

My Love, I Could Have Sworn I Felt Your Arms Around Me Last Night by lookinghotwiththosewings (@dinitride-art) “Dreams can be dreadful things. They are everything you have and everything you don’t. Stored memories blend with desperate pleas and reckless hopes. And how recklessly did I hope that you loved me.”

The Hospital, Nancy and My Mom's Cardigan: All That's Left of My Family by lookinghotwiththosewings (@dinitride-art) They don’t tell you what to do when someone you love might lose someone.

would i know him? (i don't know) by willow_lark (@willow-lark) It's November 6th, 1988--a long and hard two-and-a-half years since the start of the fight against Vecna. Nancy just got back from a reconnaissance mission to the Upside Down, and she pulled a stranger out with her--a boy with fearful eyes and a lot of secrets. Mike Wheeler doesn’t trust this new guy at all.

Don't Leave Me Here by BeanwithaQ (@quinnick) Will and El go on a mission to end Vecna for good but when they don't return on time, Mike waits for them. For however long it takes

Something Which Matters by nbfutureboy (@futureboy-ao3) Hopper swallows his pride, and attempts to apologize to Mike Wheeler for the Summer of ‘85. Unfortunately, the logistics of teenage relationships are every-changing and dramatic, so he gets a little more of a surprise than expected.

i could be brave by jaymelovestaffy (@ghoultaffy) Mike clumsily sneaks out to Lucas's get some things off his chest.

please say i'm young enough by @elekinetic Will is gay. Robin knows. Or, Robin and Will go on a supply run. Set in post-season 4 apocalyptic Hawkins.

a change that i can see by agustplz (@wheelerstrange) He heaves a sigh and kicks off his blanket, welcoming the slight chill of the air against his bare arms. And then, like clockwork, he rolls to his left and takes it in for the thousandth time. Will's painting. or: a sleepless night in mike's room, april 1986

yellow is your favorite color by RomeoWrites (@itsromeowrites) Will has an episode and under the kitchen counter is a better place to hide than expected.

Mouth Reader by byelervevo Will’s true sight, as Mike had called it, certainly came at a steep price. His doctors said that the temporary deafness in his right ear was a mere side effect of. He should regain hearing just in time for the Snow Ball. But he doesn’t.

the tender things by iphigenias Without her hair again she looked younger and older all at once, but the shape of her mouth was the same, the slope of her nose, the bright eyes that looked straight into Will’s when she spoke to him because she’d never learned the meaning of the word awkward. He’d missed her, more than he realised.

pink & black by queer_we_are Eddie wears a lot of pins and buttons on his vest, and Will is pretty sure he saw a pink triangle on one of them. Which would mean that Eddie is…Well, that Eddie is like him.

False Expectations by @breyito Nobody expected it. Nobody expected Will’s eyes to open and be a solid, glacial blue.

Two spoons by General_KJ Dustin is working a shift at scoops ahoy when Mike and Will suddenly show up and he learns something new about his best friends.

[curiositydooropened]

Better Off - Part One

Four years since Argyle's wedding, Robin invited you and the gang to her boss's lake house. Hoping good memories will be made, you're forced to wrestle with some ghosts of your past.

This fic runs in the same Universe as My Whole Life, Too.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader, Eddie Munson x Reader

Wordcount: 11,019

Warnings: second chance romance, angst, fluff, sex and sex adjacent (minors DNI, thanks!), recreational drinking and drug use, mentions of pregnancy and parenthood, mentions of the loss of loved ones

Navigation • Masterlist • Part Two

---

The paper garbage sack slipped against the slick chiffon of your floral skirt as you fumbled for the brass door handle.  When the door swung open, you hoisted the sack back up your hip like a sack of flour, catching a rogue apple with the crook of your chin before it went rolling off the pile. 

“Hello?” You called out, stepping into a warm house. Windows were open on either side, a breeze trickling through the foyer and tickling your upper thigh where your skirt had ridden up, caught on your haul. You toed out of your sneakers and huffed your bangs from your eyes. “Anyone home?” 

To no response, you sashayed through the cramped dining room to the kitchen entrance to find a figure hunched in the warm glow of the refrigerator lightbulb. Blue checkered boxers stuck out from the waist band of painted-on black jeans, a black t-shirt loose around a slender build. You waited for him to stand before you slumped your groceries to the wooden countertops with a dramatic sigh.

“It’s fine, I’ve got ‘em.” 

Eddie Munson spun on bare feet to face you, a look of genuine surprise flashed before the corners of his lips turned up in that iconic Cheshire grin, all teeth. You were disappointed to find his dimples hiding behind the patchiest goatee anyone could grow. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” He cracked the beer in his hand and kicked the fridge closed. 

“Uh huh,” you practiced an unimpressed demeanor, despite everything in your body screaming to launch yourself into his arms. “Help me with the groceries.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted with two fingers and his beer can before taking a long gulp. His eyes never left yours, so you rolled your eyes and broke the contact, dipping into your bags to start putting things in a bare pantry and refrigerator. 

Eddie sidled up behind you, all spice and cigarette smoke and warm, arms snaked around your middle while his head rested on your shoulder. You cried out and swatted at him as his stubble came to tickle the skin where your jaw met your ear, but he only tightened his grip. “I haven’t seen you in months, and you thought you could get away without affection? You wound me, sweetheart.” 

With a resigned sigh, you gave in, sinking into him nearly deadweight, and he heaved dramatically to hold you upright, swaying back and forth as he pressed lithe kisses to the tops of your cheeks. 

“I missed you,” he graveled, that vibration in your back that sent your knees weak every God damn time. 

“Missed you too,” you rubbed his forearms before patting at his wrists for release. “Now put this meat in the freezer before it goes bad.”

He did as he was told, albeit like a teenager, balancing a steak on top his scraggly hair and one in each hand. He tossed them in and they landed on the frosty interior with thumps. “D’you run into him?” 

“Who?” You breathed, glancing sideways back through the dining room. Your heart began to race in your chest. 

“Steve,” Eddie answered.

You shuffled flour and sugar, baking soda, and lined it up against the wall, eyes still fixed on the front door you left open. “No, should I have?” 

“He and Nance went to the store.” Eddie picked three apples from the top and began to juggle them. “Figured your paths might have crossed.” 

Your shoulders relaxed, and you caught one apple midair and walked it to the fruit basket nearest the breakfast nook on the opposite side of the kitchen. “Could you not play with your food?” 

“You never had a problem with it before,” Eddie tongued at a molar, cheeky grin spread across his features again. His eyebrows waggled. 

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I thought Robin made you promise not to be gross this week.” 

He shrugged, added butter, eggs, and bacon to the refrigerator. “Mom’s not home, and we’re both consenting adults.” 

You barked a laugh and glanced around the corner once more. The breeze swept in through billowy, white curtains. After a moment, they fell to expose the long gravel driveway. Your car was parked out front next to another you didn’t recognize. Out of state plates signified it must be a rental. “Yeah where is Robin? She left her boss’s vacation home in your hands?” 

“Ouch,” Eddie snickered, leaning against the back counter to sip his beer again. You shot him a look. He grinned, shaking his hair from his eyes. “She went to pick up Jonathan and Argyle from the airport. She left Nancy in charge.” 

“Ah,” you smiled, folding the paper bags in on themselves to stash under the sink. You hadn’t realized your hands were shaking until now, didn’t feel the tremor of your knee cap as it bounced in place. You licked your lips, glanced once more toward the entrance hall. “When do you think they’ll be back?” 

“Any minute,” Eddie answered behind you.

“Cool,” you breathed.

He laughed. “C’mere, sweetheart. Let’s get you a drink.”

You spun on your heel with a smile, nodding fervently.

Eddie’s eyebrows raised, and he tucked his fingers around your hip bone to pull you in closer. 

You slipped his beer from his other hand to sip. It was cheap, and a little stale, and the rim tasted of Eddie, cigarette smoke and spice. “I don’t think I’ll survive this week sober. Do you have anything else to help me out?” You smirked, trailing your fingertips from the guitar pick on his sternum down his chest and past protruding hipbones to the tight front pocket of his jeans.

He wriggled out of your reach, but you managed to sneak two fingers in to procure a rolled up piece of paper. Holding it between you, you were disappointed to find a one dollar bill in place of the joint you were hoping for. “Told you, sweetheart. I don’t do that shit anymore. You’re going to have to ask Argyle.” 

“Traitor,” you admonished. 

He chuckled, fingertips finding purchase under the flow of your t-shirt, just where your flesh rolled above the elastic waistband of your skirt. “But I can offer your something harder than expired beer.” 

You cocked an eyebrow. “Keep it in your pants, Munson.” 

And then, you were launched across the room. Not quite launched, but had the hard wood been a little slicker, your socks might have betrayed you under the shove Eddie gave you. Some beer sputtered from the can in your hand and splashed the ground. He stood up straight and flashed you an apologetic look before you heard the ruckus in the next room.

“Hey, assholes. Want to help with these groceries?”

Your heart fell into your toes. You hadn’t heard those tones in four years. Not that clear, at least. You’d forgotten how Midwestern he sounded, the long As of his profanities. It hurt, ached somewhere within you you didn’t know existed. Your mouth was dry, and your hand shook too hard when you tried to take another sip, so you placed the can to the countertop.

“Dude, seriously, there’s like three more bags in the car - “ Steve’s voice cut off the moment he entered the claustrophobic kitchen, and he froze right in the doorway, blocking your only exit.

You swallowed and mustered the courage to look up, and there he was, Steve Harrington in all his glory, arms full of plastic grocery bags teeming with snacks. “Hi,” your voice cracked, betrayed you.

“Uh… hi.” His pink lips quirked in a strained smile, and suddenly he was far too close, all encompassing. His face was clean shaven, but his hair remained long and voluptuous. You couldn’t help but notice the pepper graying his temples, the wrinkles at the corner of those honeyed doe eyes. It hurt in that spot again, emotion dammed at your throat, blocking you from making any more noise. 

“Awkward,” Eddie snorted in a singsong.

“Shut up,” you snapped, while Steve simultaneously groaned, “fuck off!” And at least that had the three of you snickering.

“Car, you said?” Eddie pointed past Steve, and the latter had to shuffle further into your space to let the other man through.

Steve smelled the same, expensive cologne and a bit of whisky, and you had to grip the countertop with your fingertips to stay upright when his bicep brushed your own so he should schlep his overfull bags off his arms. His forearms were thick and tan and veiny, and you busied yourself with helping him empty the bags just to keep your mind occupied on something other than being within touching distance.

“Oh, someone bought eggs.” His voice broke through the awkward swish of plastic and squish of styrofoam and cardboard and ting of tin cans.

“Yeah, me. Sorry. No one told me.” You trailed off, tonguing at a canker sore near a back molar that you’d manifested in the stress of the week leading up to this trip, the anxiety of this very moment.

“No it’s cool. We just had to get out,” he offered as an explanation, and that stung a bit too. “I mean… stretch our legs. Me and Nance.” 

You glanced his way, and he ducked back into the fridge. “Where is Nance?”

“Upstairs. I guess she’s not feeling well. Food poison from the airport, she thinks.”

You hummed and turned back to the bag, nearly empty in front of you. You felt a bit panicked, closed in, like your face was too close to the plastic and it was all you could breathe. You dipped shaky hands inside to find the last glass jar, white lid, full to the brim with the florescent brine of maraschino cherries.

You heard the suction of the refrigerator door close, and you felt Steve’s eyes on you, but you couldn’t look away from the cherries, each of them slamming into one another like buoys after a storm. Your heart thundered in your ears and your chest, and all of you rattled when Steve muttered the syllables of your name.

“Hey, look who I found!” Eddie burst through the door with arms full of the last three grocery bags, and the ruckus of the entrance hall startled the cherries from your hand to the countertop beside your baking supplies. You moved aside to give him room to drop his haul, and you glanced around his lean frame to see Steve scratch at the stubble on his chin, a far-off look in his eyes. 

“Is my best friend in there?” You heard a screech and the stomping of feet, and you plastered on a smile and stepped into the line of fire to catch Robin as she came sliding into the room.

She was all limbs and hair, and she cackled in your ear as she enveloped you in a hug, rocking you back and forth too many times. “Ohhhh, I’ve missed you.” 

“I talked to you yesterday,” you laughed, running your fingertips down her slender shoulder blades. 

“Yeah, but that was on the phone. I haven’t seen you in person in ages. Did you cut your hair? Did you get a new perfume?” Robin held you at arm’s length to shower you in compliments. “You look incredible. Doesn’t she look incredible?”

Instinctively, your gaze met Steve’s over Robin’s shoulder. Your face heated, and his lips fell open to say something. 

“She looks incredible,” Jonathan interjected from behind you, grabbing your wrist from Robin’s waist to sweep you into a warm hug. He always smelled of leather and the metal of the New York subway, and was the refreshing breath of home you needed in that moment, centering, calm. You and Jonathan had grown close over the years, seeing each other every few months for coffee or bagels or a slice at 3am between the bar and home. “You good?” He mumbled in your ear, and you nodded, giving him an extra tight squeeze. 

“This house is super nice, Robin,” Argyle commented, admiring the setting of your little reunion. He’d aged the most, but perhaps aside from Steve, it’d been the longest since you’d seen him. A sleek of grey framed his face, long hair tucked back into a low ponytail. His mustache nearly met his sideburns, and his dark eyes crinkled in a smile when he caught your eye, reaching to envelope you in greeting.

The room shuffled around to allow everyone to say hi to one another, and Eddie began emptying the final bags and clinking things around, and Robin yammered on about her boss letting her using his summer home before the season, and the lake, and Argyle and Jonathan crowded countertops and sidestepped Eddie, and soon you were sandwiched beside Steve. You leaned back to catch yourself, and caught the meat of his thigh in your grasp, both of your jolting upright at the sudden contact. 

“Alright,” you huffed. “There are far too many people in my kitchen right now. If you idiots want buns for your burgers and an apple pie for dessert, I’d recommend you all find somewhere else to congregate.” You wiped your hands on your skirt, the warmth of Steve’s denim leg sent all nerve endings ablaze.

Jonathan chuckled, hands up, eyes sparkling as he backed slowly out of your way and back into the dining room.

“Okay, Your Highness, Geeze,” Robin laughed. “Come on, gents. I’ll show you to your rooms.” 

“Oh!” You crossed to the purse you’d managed to drop some time ago and fished around the bucket for your keys. “If anyone could please get my suitcase and pillow out of the trunk for me, I’d love you forever.”

“I got it, sweetheart,” Eddie tugged the keyring off your finger, mischief flashing in his dark eyes. 

“Don’t even think about looking through my stuff, perv,” you jabbed at the pick around his neck.

“Nothing I haven’t already seen,” he winked, voice low, and twirled his way out of the room. 

You rolled your eyes and pulled the flour from its spot against the wall. 

“I’m going to check on Nance.” A voice muttered from behind you, and you startled long enough to see Steve’s towering frame rush from the room. 

You exhaled, brushing your bangs from your eyes and made to pull down a large mixing bowl. This was going to be a long week.

—

Robin’s boss had taste, or at least his wife did. Lakefront views, west-facing so every angle of the house was bathed in rich reds and burnt auburns as the sun dipped into tranquil waters on the horizon. The cottage-style home stood at the top of a slope downward, a deck with barbecue and place settings sat a level down, and the dock on the third level below, bobbing calmy in the wake. 

You licked condiments from the corners of your lips, fingertips stretching through a paper napkin, hunger from a long day satiated. Everything smelled of smoke and summertime. You tipped your head back, sunglasses gliding up the bridge of your nose, and basked in the warm glow of evening, breathing in the chatter of family, of home. 

“So, Jonathan, I hear you’ve finally sold out like the rest of us.” Steve commented, bringing his beer bottle to pink lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jonathan nodded, stretching himself out in his own chair beside you. “Kids call me Mr. Byers and everything. It’s disgusting.” Jonathan started teaching in the fall, photography at NYU. Freelance wasn’t paying the bills as he’d hoped. 

“I shudder to think that today’s youths are being taught by you four,” Robin pointed in disdain at each of the men in front of her. Argyle taught shop. Steve taught gym at Hawkins High. 

“Hey, I don’t teach. I hold extra curricular jam sessions and spend my time picking notes out of locker doors. Have you seen Mr. Harrington’s ass today? He’s soooo hot.” Eddie snickered, sloshing beer with every dramatic gesture. You swallowed around his words, trying not to imagine Steve in his track suit, hands on his hips, tonguing the whistle between his lips.

“Dude, gross,” Steve tossed his napkin at the other boy. “Those are kids. Literal children.” 

“Oh yeah! Nancy told me Holly was your student this year.” Robin cackled. “Nancy, what was it she was saying about him over Christmas?” 

Steve groaned, and the group turned to Nancy for an answer, but she was caught in her own world, staring off into the sunset behind designer glasses. Her hair was cropped short, sleek, perfect pink lips pursed in a pout. It took Eddie’s bump of her knee to realize she’d been called out.

“Um… what?” 

“Earth to Nance,” Robin snapped her fingers. “You good? What the hell did you eat?” 

Nancy had barely touched her hamburger, lettuce and tomato remained untouched and wilted to the side of her bun. “Nothing,” she snapped, pushing out of her chair. The metal feet scraped against wooden floorboards. “I’m going down to the water.” She grumbled and bolted for the staircase, sandals clacking against her heels with each step. 

“Jesus,” Robin grumbled, pushing up from her own chair with a huff, resigning to apologize, but Steve beat her to it, hand to her shoulder.

“I’ve got it.” He reassured, soothing her back to her seat so he could head off after Nancy. You allowed your eyes to trail his frame as he left, watching the shift of his shoulders, the slight limp in his walk still prevalent after all these years. 

“So…” Jonathan bumped you with his elbow. “How’re you?” 

“I’m good,” you replied, simply ignoring the implications in his tone. 

“They’re both freaking the fuck out,” Eddie translated. You shot him a glare. “Oh, don’t act like everything’s fine, sweetheart. You guys should have seen them say hi to each other. They were staring, mouths wide open like a couple of fish, man.” 

You groaned and tipped your head back again, praying the heat of the sun would disguise the warmth crawling up your chest and throat. 

Robin’s groaned matched yours. “You guys said you’d behave. This was a mistake, wasn’t it? I just wanted a good vacation with my best friends after ten whole years, and I guess I should have known better.” Robin Buckley was the master of guilt trips. 

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Jonathan offered. 

“Sure,” Robin chided. “Then why haven’t you spoken a word to Nancy all day?” 

You rounded on the boy with a smirk, the tables turned his direction. 

He gaped back at you both, peeling at the label of his beer bottle. “We’ve talked. We said hi. I see Nancy all the time. We’re good. The last time you and Steve spoke, he asked you to marry him.” He smirked.

“Cheers, asshole,” you grumbled into your drink, finding the disappointment of the last few drops of beer, now warm under your clammy touch.

“Whoa, my dudes, chill,” Argyle pushed his sunglasses up and off his face as he leaned forward. “We’re all adults here, and Robin invited us to this beautiful lakeside oasis to have a good time. Everyone’s going to get along, even if it takes a little encouragement.” He fished in the breast pocket of a technicolor shirt until tanned fingers exposed the stark white paper of one of the largest joints you’ve ever seen. 

“Robin,” you grinned, plucking the cigarette from the man’s oversized hands, “you’ve just been replaced as my favorite person here.” 

“Hey!” Eddie and Jonathan argued, but you watched with delight as Argyle leaned toward you, flame of his lighter a royal blue. 

—

With the sun went the warmth, and a blunt between seven people, no matter how big, quickly dwindled to giggles and hummed songs and playing with Robin’s hair between your fingers with her head in your lap. You wore someone’s well-loved sweater, the duck on the front no clear indication of owner, and savored the morsels of apple pie that stuck to your molars while you sunk deeper and deeper into the couch, your head light and your heart lighter. 

“I appreciate that you’re all happy high,” Eddie snorted, running fingertips over your freshly shaven shins. He meant what he said about not partaking, despite all of your whiny peer pressure, and you admired him for it. He was a good babysitter anyhow, and he smoked a cigarette while the rest of you passed around saliva and anecdotes about the daily life. 

“Dude, we appreciate you, man,” Argyle nodded slowly, patting his sternum in devotion. He confessed he hadn’t been high in two years, not since the first baby was born, and it was clear as his pupils grew wider, slap happy smile across his features. 

Eddie patted him on the shoulder in solidarity. 

“Dude, do you remember prom?” Steve chuckled.

Your ministrations on Robin’s scalp stopped, and you could feel the tingle of your heartbeat against your ribcage. You’d never forget prom. Steve wore a turquoise cummerbund and bow tie to match your taffeta dress. His hair was slicked into that perfect coif, and he met you at your front door with a corsage in hand. He smelled of peppermint toothpaste, and didn’t even flinch when mom pinched his cheek, or when dad gave him that hard ass handshake.

He danced every song with you, swayed under the lights and banners, until your feet hurt, and then he brought you a mouthful of bright red, spiked punch. That was the first bit of alcohol you’d had, a cherry floating to the top of your paper cup. 

Eddie snorted. “Holy shit, do you remember prom?” 

You sunk further under Robin’s frame, and she made a humph of protest at being stirred, tucking her cheek further into the underside of your boob. 

“What was prom?” Jonathan chuckled, but you could see his mouth continuing to pronounce the letters of the word ‘prom’, like it was some foreign word to him. You’d laugh, if it weren’t for the panic. 

“Couple months ago, I was cleaning up after prom, and I found this massive stash under the bleachers. So I brought it home, and since I don’t partake…” he gestured with a lazy grin toward Steve.

“I was fucked up. I don’t know what kids are into these days, but I almost - “ He met your gaze from across the coffee table, mouth quirked in the softest of smiles, until it coughed it away, running a hand through his hair. He shook his head and looked back at Jonathan. “I almost did something I’d regret.” 

“‘Prom’s a funny word, man,” Jonathan giggled. “Prom. Prom.” And although his laughter was contagious, had the room going, you couldn’t help but feel the familiar pit of heartache in your stomach that hurt somewhere new every time Steve looked at you. 

“Okay, dickheads,” Robin announced, pushing herself off of you with surprising force. “I love you, but you’re all being so loud, and Nancy’s trying to sleep.” She pointed to the floor above, disgruntled expression not unlike a toddler.

“Maybe it’s time for all of us to turn into pumpkins,” Eddie started a chain reaction of yawns and stretches, lanky arms over his head to expose a bit of pale skin on his stomach. 

The cold water was refreshing on your face, hair tucked into a stretchy headband and teeth brushed. You weren’t sure if you’d partake in another round of Mary Jane this week. This high went from cozy to anxious far too quickly, and sometimes melancholy wasn’t the ideal way to trudge to bed. You passed Eddie on your way out of the bathroom, receiving a slap to the ass that had you blowing him a kiss before you slipped into your designated bedroom to turn in for the night. 

Your room was small, with a double bed and a little nightstand, a chair in the corner that hosted your open suitcase, contents already strewn in piles around the room in the search for your pajamas. A small window faced the front of the house, moonlight filtering in, and the antique lamp on the bedside provided a warm glow. The ceilings were vaulted, a little nook of wood and plaster that peaked above the headboard, and the patched blue quilt was handmade. 

Steve sat facing the door, hands in his lap, socked feet firmly on the floorboards.

You jumped, grasping at your chest as you slammed against the closed door behind you, nearly chucking your toiletry bag at him. “Jesus Christ, Steve,” you scolded.

His eyebrows shot up in apology, head ducked. He looked small, unsure, like the kids he used to cart around. He didn’t say anything, but you watched doe eyes trail your face and linger downwards. 

You felt hot, exposed in a t-shirt and tiny bed shorts, and you shifted uncomfortably on the balls of your feet. “What uh…” You swallowed. “What’s up?” What’s up? Really?

“Do you remember prom?” This time you knew which he meant. 

He stood from his spot, took a step toward you, and out of fear he’d pull you in for a dance, you made about organizing your mess of a suitcase. 

Steve cursed under his breath. “I just mean… we were best friends once, weren’t we?” And God, did that hurt too. “I know I fucked up, I fucked everything up so so bad last time, and maybe I was stupid thinking that we could come here and it’d be like no time had passed, like nothing had happened.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, released a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. 

“And now I’m just in your room, rambling about what a dick I am, when you know that. Of course you know that. And you probably don’t care or want to forgive me, or - “

“What do you want, Steve?” You were surprised at the evenness of your own voice, folding a t-shirt, back still turned, maybe terrified to look at him while his hesitation rang like a bell in your head. 

He sighed. “Civility? I guess. I want a truce. Just for this week. For Robin.”

You glanced over your shoulder, saw his demeanor shift from desperation to something stiffer, unnatural, salesman Steve. You swallowed and folded your arms over your chest, turning to face him. “What does this truce entail?” 

He shrugged, arms mirroring yours. “You could talk to me every so often. Let me take interest in your life, maybe even take some interest in mine.” You cocked an eyebrow, but you could tell his facade was breaking, the corner of his lip quirked upward. 

“No referencing us, or Louisville,” you gestured between the two of you, watched his smile falter. “If someone else brings it up, we act like we have no clue what they’re talking about.”

He stood a little taller, hands to his hips. “You quit acting like I have cooties, sit next to me, interact with me, laugh at my jokes.” 

“Deal’s off,” you scoffed.

It took a second for your sarcasm to hit him, but you felt your lips tug up in mirror to his own. He snorted, shook some hair into his eyes. 

You wanted to reach up and push it from his forehead, to trail your fingertip down the ridged edge of his nose, to cup his cheek. You noticed his eyes scan your features, trail once again down your front, to your exposed thighs. You swallowed and hugged your arms closer. “And we reserve the right to go back to normal come Friday.”

His eyes snapped back to yours, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob before he offered a curt nod. He wiped a hand on his thigh before extending it toward you, brows furrowed in determination. “Truce?” 

You clenched your fist a few times before crossing to meet his gesture. “Truce.” You slid your hand into his for a firm shake, and you almost melted at the way his digits enveloped yours. Just like prom night, corsage sliding to your wrist. You broke away quickly with a nod toward the door. “Now get out of here, creep. I’m beat.” 

“Yeah,” he scratched at the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry. I mean… you know… goodnight.” 

“Night,” you smiled, and as he left, you couldn’t help but feel something was missing from your exchange.

—

Your midmorning scones were a bit too salty for your liking, no doubt a sabotaging tactic of Eddie’s. Everyone argued with you about how perfect and delicious they were until you waved them off, refilling your coffee mug and joining Nancy on the terrace while the rest trudged to the rickety dock for a morning zoom on the boat. 

Nancy wasn’t looking much better, although the pink had returned to her cheeks, and a shower did a lot for the bounce in her hair. She sipped water from a glass and held slender fingers to shade her eyes from the sparkle of lake water. Even sick, she was a super model, stretched a satin robe across a chaise. 

“How was last night?” She pulled an abandoned journal from your chair to make room, and tucked it under the rolled towel at her back. 

You sighed and stretched out beside her, accepting the morning breeze across warmed skin from yesterday’s sun. “Steve snuck into my room last night.” 

“What?” Her eyes went wide. 

You waved her off. “Nothing happened. I think he just wanted to corner me. I guess we have a truce, for the week.

Nancy settled back into her seat. “Thank God. I don’t think I have the patience for that right now.”

You snorted and sipped your coffee, bitter from a second drip, again a sabotage on Eddie’s part. You made a note not to allow him in the kitchen for the rest of the week. “Yeah, what is up with you? Did work just like go to shit since I saw you last month?”

“I’m pregnant.” 

Nancy was lucky you’d swallowed when you did, but you held your coffee mug aloft and blinked into your reflection in the sludge until your brain picked up on the meaning behind her words. Setting your drink to the deck, you swung your legs to her side of your chair and leaned forward. “Excuse me?” 

There were tears in her blue eyes, welling just around the edges, an emotion Nancy rarely portrayed. She was tough as nails, would rather lash out in violence than in tears. Terror flashed through her features.

You scrambled to meet her on the chair, pulling her into your neck before she could meltdown. You were at a loss for words, your mind just racing with images of Nancy in Boston, the least-tied down of the group, even less than you. She never stayed in an apartment longer than six months, always begged for stories that took her out of town, traveling the world, chasing the exact opposite of that American Pie life her parents raised her in. 

After two seconds of tears, all she’d allow herself, Nancy pushed off from you and swiped at her nose with the back of her hand. “I missed my period, which is whatever, sometimes it’s late. And then I threw up on the plane, but I just thought it was motion sickness of whatever, but something was off. Like I just kind of knew. So when Steve said he was going to the store, I tagged along and bought five tests at the pharmacy. Every single one was positive. Every God damn one.” That familiar anger flared in her eyes, and you thought her wrath might explode on the pregnancy test factory workers.

A thousand questions buzzed in your mind, but none of them bubbled to the surface, so you just ran light fingertips down her arm, hoping it provided some form of comfort.

“Steve found me catatonic in the bathroom, and I asked him to get rid of the evidence. So he knows, but no one else.”

Instantly, your heart sank for the man. All he wanted was a family, a full brood of Harringtons. First with Nancy, then with you. You couldn’t imagine how he took that blow. 

“Can we keep it between us please?” 

You nodded fervently. “Hand to heart. Are you…?” You didn’t even know how to end that question. 

“I’ll live,” she shrugged. “I’m just grateful I found out here, with you guys, instead of on a job in South Africa or worse, at my mother’s.” Nancy groaned and buried her face in her hands. “My mom’s going to have an aneurysm.” 

You rubbed between her shoulder blades and stared off at the shimmer of sunlight across the lake’s water, a little metal boat casting its wake your direction.

—

Light filtered through the kitchen window soft and slow, a breeze billowy gossamer curtains. You washed and peeled potatoes in the sink, an old apron tied around your waist that you’d found in the pantry cupboard. You hummed to yourself, some obnoxious tune Eddie had been singing all day, stretched out in his sun lounger, pale skin turning a deep shade of lobster pink.

Each friend had filtered in and out as you cooked, complimenting the scents of onions sautéing on their pan or offering unwanted help rolling out the pastry dough for the potato pies you were making. You reassured Robin you’d be fine on your own and ushered her back outside for an evening stroll to the nearest convenient store for liquor. 

You thought they’d all gone, surprised when a large figure loomed behind you to see the potatoes in a strainer over your shoulder. 

“Smells amazing in here,” Steve commented, stepping quickly out of your space to open the refrigerator. 

You hummed in agreement, basking in the waft of coconut suntan and expensive cologne he left in his wake.

“So, you uh… talked to Nance?” Steve sidled to the countertop beside you, thankfully a few feet away, and cracked into a beer. 

You offered him wide eyes, noticing the patch of red that rimmed his eyes like a mask from where his sunglasses sat. “Yeah, what the actual hell?” 

“Crazy right?” He shook his head, dipping back for a swig, exposing the tanned column of his throat.

You licked your lips and turned back to your potatoes, not wanting to slice yourself with the peeler. “How are you taking it?” 

His long pause almost had you regretting the question, wondering if you’d toed over the line, over the parameters of your truce. It was hard to fall back into acquaintance territory when you knew so many truths about him, his deepest desires, his biggest fears.

“Yeah,” his voice sounded small. He cleared his throat. “Yeah I mean it’s weird, right?”

You glanced his direction again, watched the pink of his tongue wet his lips.

He leaned a little closer, tilting his head your direction. Your heart began to race at the low rumble of his voice, breath fanning your cheek. “Do we know who the dad is? Is it… Jonathan?” He whispered the other man’s name, a sound for your ears only.

You shook your head, wiping your hands on your apron before elbowing Steve out of your way, transporting the strainer of peeled potatoes to the cutting board. “No way. They haven’t hooked up since like Argyle’s wedding. No, she’s been seeing this guy… Robbie. He lives in Hartford, and Jonathan just started dating this girl, Joanie or Julie?” You reassured, trying to disconnect any tacked yarn Steve had built on his mind bulletin board. Long gone were the days of Nancy and Jonathan meeting at your dad’s on the weekend from a friend trip turned third-wheel romp.

He seemed to relax at your reassurances, swigging his beer while he watched you work. He stood in comfortable silence, a sturdy frame with a silk shirt and board shorts, peeling at his label until you’d reached into the bucket for a third potato.

“And you?” He asked, voice a low rumble again.

“Me what?” You raised your eyebrow his direction. 

“Do you have a Robbie in Hartford?”

Your knife slid easily into the flesh of a boiled potato, making a dull thunk against the wooden cutting board. Steve had angled himself your direction, blocking any light from the kitchen window. He was too close, all encompassing, warm breath against your cheek. 

You glanced upward through your lashes find honeyed eyes, too much hope lingering in the way he watched you. There was something knee-weakening about the way he licked his lips. 

“Steve,” a cry of anguish separated you. The sun filtered back in with the breeze. Nancy slumped herself to the door frame, wiping sweat from her brow. “Robin fell and skinned her knee, and the blood is going to make me puke. Can you handle it?”

Steve elicited a sigh your dad would have been envious of, and he pushed off the counter to take care of his eldest child. You tried not to watch him go, tried not to offer a sad smile when he glanced back your direction, tried not to wish he hadn’t gone. 

“Are those carrots?” Nancy pointed to the pile beside your knife. You smiled and slipped one into her outstretched hand.

—

The crickets chirped their asynchronous tune, and the campfire crackled and glowed auburn off the water’s edge. Gravel  and damp planks carved grooves into your asscheeks, but the cheap cinnamon whisky Robin found provided inner warmth and good company. 

“Whoa there, sparky,” Eddie caught Robin as she swayed his direction, kneecaps covered in oversized band-aids. 

“Yeah, Rob, you know the rules. No standing when you’re this flammable,” Nancy chided from her spot beside you. She was huddled in close for warmth, licking the chocolate off s’more stained fingertips. 

“I just love you guys, okay?” Robin allowed Eddie to coax her back to the ground, knees curled to her chest to form the perfect mould for her chin while she sent heart-eyes around the campfire circle. “I just wanted to have a nice week with you all, like old times, minus the fighting monsters and setting the city on fire bullshit.” 

You all snorted. A chill wracked your spine, eyes unfocused on the blaze in front of you, much smaller than the one that engulfed City Hall. You didn’t often let your mind wander that way, hearing the screams of loved ones against the dull roar of those things. Every time you were transported to that moment, reaching out for Mom, Steve’s strong arms around your waist, hauling you back to a military tent. 

Feather-light fingertips stirred you from your daze, soft pads against the gooseflesh prickling your thigh. You blinked to find Steve watching you, worry etched into warmed features. Instinctively, you wrapped your fingers in his, the curl of his knuckles in yours, the steady sweep of his thumb across your wrist. 

Maybe it was fruitless to think you could shrug off a lifetime of history just like that.

“I just wanted you to all come here and get along, and we could just laugh and get drunk and just act like nothing ever changes.” Robin continued her drunken ramble. 

“Robin, everything good over there?” Argyle called from his edge of the circle.

“You tell me, bud,” she sighed, cheek pressed to the peeling edge of her bandage. “Everything good with you? What’s new? How’s life? Tell me something… juicy. A secret.”

Steve’s hand never left yours, circling a steady rhythm against the edge of your arm. Familiar nerve endings prickled. He shifted his weight to be closer, to hide your hands, all warm bicep against yours. If you wanted, you could rest your chin to his shoulder, if you wanted. You felt like a school girl again, stomach flipping like you were in a satin dress, watching out the front window for BMW headlights. 

“I don’t think I have any secrets, my dude. I’m an open book. What do you want to know?”

“Ugh!” Robin threw her hands in the air. “Eddie, tell me a secret.” 

Eddie leaned forward, gaunt featured shadowed devilishly in the firelight. He scrubbed at the goatee on his chin while he thought. He flashed a Cheshire smile before he responded. “I told Henderson you didn’t invite him. He’s pissed.” 

“Can confirm,” Steve voiced from beside you, lifting his glass with a nod. “I also told him.” 

“You guys suck!” Robin groaned, burying her head in her hands. 

Your entire body vibrated with the rumble of Steve’s chuckle, you licked your lips and hid your smile behind your glass. 

“What about you three?” Jonathan called from across the circle. “Any secrets?” There was a mischievous glint in his eye, and you yanked your fingers from beneath Steve’s while Nancy bristled stock straight beside you. Your heart thundered in your ears. 

“I’m moving to France!” Robin cried out, hands in the air, whisky fleeing her glass skyward, luckily in the opposite direction of the fire.

“What?” Nancy breathed from beside you, instantly deflating in relief. 

“It’s true. I’m moving to France, and I’m scared shitless, and I didn’t know how to tell you guys,” and with that, the poor sweet dear began to cry. Sob, actually, loud wails that wracked her tiny frame. Eddie was first to wrap an arm around her, pressing her into the crook of his shoulder and rubbing a strong hand up and down her spine, silver rings glinting in the firelight. 

—

You held Robin’s soft waves while her stomach evacuated itself, and wiped the mascara from the corner of her eyes, off freckle-ridden cheeks. You lay on the pillow beside her, nose-to-nose, breathing in her minty toothpaste while she hiccuped herself to sleep, reassuring her that no one was mad and that you all loved her, and were proud of her for being an amazing change in the world. She’d feel better in the morning. 

Her staggered breathing deepened, and her grip on your hand went limp, and the sounds of busied houseguests silenced over the floorboards, everyone having taken their turn in the bathroom before bed. You slipped from beneath soft covers and tiptoed out of your best friend’s room to gather your own toiletries for a late night shower. 

Just as you reached for the bathroom door, however, you saw the wiggle of a brass handle before the door opened to expose Steve in a burst of steam, towel around his waist, toiletry bag in one hand, gripping the fold of the waistband. He smelled intoxicating, like expensive aftershave and toothpaste, and you watched a drop of water from his hair hit the plane of his chest and glide all the way down a chiseled abdomen to the v of his hipbone.

Your mouth filled with saliva. Sputtering, face burning from the steam, you side-stepped, but he bobbed and weaved the same direction.

“Jesus, sorry.” 

“Excuse me, sorry.” 

Finally, you managed around one another, your socks wetting on the drip of his bare feet against the tiled floor. Your reflection in the fogged mirror betrayed you, pupils blown, bottom lip forced under your top row of teeth. 

“Hey,” Steve muttered.

You squeaked a hum, trying to stare at the darkness just over a freckled shoulder. 

“I’m sorry if I crossed a line tonight,” he offered, but you couldn’t hear past the hum in your ears, couldn’t see past the sturdy grip of his fingers against the door jam. You missed those fingers. Christ, maybe you should have declined that last shot. “I just thought I saw you going back there, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

You swallowed, blinked, tried to focus on his words. “Back where?” 

“Home.” 

You met his gaze then, honey eyes dark, eyebrow furrowed to crease in the middle. Home. It’s how you used to refer to him, the only piece of that Godforsaken place you clung to, the only positive memories. ‘Come home’ he’d coaxed, in that swanky hotel room in Louisville, fingertips bruising your triceps, same honey eyes pleading.

Your throat dammed with emotion, and you pulled away from him, glancing back at the look of hurt etched across your own features. You turned on the faucet and squirted toothpaste onto your brush.

“So are we good?” His voice came thick from beside you, too close, a looming stack of meat.

You pressed your toothbrush to your molars and hummed, feigning nonchalance with a shrug.

“Okay…” He seemed unconvinced, posted up against the door jam, fingers gripping his towel to keep it upright. 

You tried to hold back your eye roll, spitting foam into the sink, and thought of Robin craned over the toilet. You cursed internally and turned to the man, gesticulating with the bright green utensil in your hand. “I’m good, Steve, really. Today was just a lot with Nance and now Robin, and I’m just tired.”

“Yeah?” He still had that lost puppy look in his eyes. 

You shrugged and continued to brush. “Who knows,” you sipped dribble before it fell from the corner of your mouth. You turned and spit, rinsing your brush. “I might even let you knead some of the pizza dough tomorrow.” 

He chuckled at that, that sound that hurt somewhere within you. “I’m holding you to that.” 

You snorted. “Goodnight, Steve.” 

And then he reached out, linking his fingers around your wrist, feather light. “Goodnight.”And he was gone, floorboards creaking into the darkness of the hallway.

—

Midway through the third day, when the sunlight glinted off dark waters, and the bob of a boat brought a lull of contentment over the group, the homesickness crept back in.

You curved yourself into the bow, legs outstretched and glistening from your dip in the cool waters, head back against leather seats, basking in the warmth of the sun. Eddie sat at the other side, ankles tangling with your own while he wrapped a rhythm on his sternum with nimble fingers. Jonathan and Argyle splashed and laughed, somewhere just out of sight, too close to the vessel to be seen over the edge, but their cackles made your mouth upturn to a warm smile. 

And just a few yards away, Steve popped up from a swim, head swung back in a gasp, droplets cascading in pools around him. He swiped at his eyes and nose, treading water to stay afloat, all tanned and toned, a grin spread across pink cheeks when he spotted whatever ruckus the other boys were getting up to. His smile hurt. 

All at once, you were transported to the last pool party in Hawkins, the last time you’d all been there, before Argyle went home, and you moved, and everyone went off to college. Steve did his laps, surfacing at the shallow end to push his hair from his face, grin making you weak at the knees. It hurt then, too, knowing you might never see him again. 

He’d taken you for a drive that night, just out of city limits, to an abandoned farm house. You’d broken in, sandals crunching on broken glass, blowing dust from mantelpieces. It was there, you’d let him kiss you, let him touch you. You realized that even if you left Hawkins, you’d always have him. He’d be your anchor, your guiding light, your home.

Eddie toed at your ankle, stirring your attention from the sparkling water, from the boy breast stroking your direction. Your eyes focused again, and you cleared past the emotion stinging in the back of your throat. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” 

You nodded and shimmied upright, fanning yourself. “I think I’m getting roasted alive.” You pulled a tube of sunscreen from beneath your towel, the plastic soft and smelling of coconut. “Do my back?” 

“With pleasure,” Eddie smirked and took it from you.

You rolled your eyes, but gave him a soft smile while you cleared any hair from your shoulders and turned your back toward him. 

Eddie Munson was a life preserver of sorts, the buoy you needed in the storm. You’d felt guilty to cling to him, at Argyle’s wedding, when your internal storm thrashed at every sign of what-could-have-been. You apologized a dozen times, tangled in sheets and curled hair and tattoos, and Eddie laughed and trailed fingertips to your skin and understood. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” He grumbled, calloused hands pressing out the knots between your shoulder blades. You tilted your head to expose your left trap, sucking in a breath when he thumbed at a particularly sore spot. “Sorry.” 

You sighed, watching Steve reemerge from the depths, closer now than before. “Why are we here, Eds?” 

“I think this was a test.” Eddie responded, certainty etched into his graveled tone. “To see if you could be in room together and get along. I think it was the reassurance you both needed that you aren’t monsters.” 

You scoffed at his accusation, but his words rang true, cut a little too deep.

“You were both too proud to call each other, to apologize for being assholes to each other, so I think you both needed this to prove you were adults who could put the past behind you.” He squirted more lotion into his hands and lathered to heat it up before applying it to the backs of your arms, sliding lithe fingers under the straps of your bathing suit. 

“I can’t put it behind me. It’s all I can think about.” You confessed, chewing at a sore spot in your cheek.

“So talk about it,” Eddie offered, catching the back of your neck with one oversized palm, thumbs pressing into the pressure points on your skull. You curved under his touch, closing your eyes to the soothing pressure of his hands. “I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve caught him by the phone.” 

You frowned and glanced back out at the water. Steve was watching you, a crease formed between his own brows. When he caught your gaze, he turned around, dove back in, ear to the water as he stroked away. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Eddie sighed, squeezing your shoulders. You reached up and locked your fingers in his.

“I know.”

—

The dining room table was a graveyard of rustic pizza toppings and marinara in ramekins, empty wine glasses, tossed napkins, a clutter of silver spoons in ice cream bowls, the last bits melting into vanilla soup. You’d all moved onto harder things, pulling whisky bottles to the table to top off glasses, maraschino cherries staining lips cherry red when everyone cheersed to Argyle’s eldest son, Rami.

Eddie had been humming something all day, a tune you couldn’t mess through as the carbohydrates and the alcohol warmed beneath your skin, tingling at your fingertips and thighs and the tips of your canines, which you tongued in laughter, humming the tune alongside him.

“Will you two shut-up?” Robin groaned, tossing her napkin your way. “I’ve had that stuck in my head all fucking day.” 

“Me too,” Nancy sighed, swirling her cherry from the stem. You’d been sneaking drinks of hers for her, hoping no one would catch you, but getting tipsy twice as fast as the rest of them. “What even is it?”

Eddie shrugged, a wide grin etching a dimple into his cheek. He waggled his brows at you.

“Elvis,” Argyle answered, arms swaying like a wild conductor. “The King. Can’t Help Falling in Love. My wedding song, remember?”

Your cheeks warmed with familiarity, but you sunk into Eddie’s arm as he swung it over the back of your chair, giving a little shimmy when he sang the words to you, breath hot on your cheek.

“Never have I ever hooked up at somebody’s wedding!” Robin announced, well proud of herself, as though she invented high school drinking games. You all chorused various groans of protest. “Stop your bellyaching and drink up, bitches!” 

You smiled as Eddie clinked his glass to your own, and as you brought the drink to your lips, all sweet syrup and the kick of alcohol, you noticed Steve watching from across the table, thumb tapping the side of his glass. His gaze flitted from Eddie to you, and when you noticed you watching, he quickly stared at the ice cubes bobbing in his discarded drink.

“Never have I ever been eighty-sixed from a bar,” you sputtered, your mouth moving faster than your brain in the slog of your inebriation. 

Steve looked back up at you then, and a private moment was shared between the two of you as the others squawked various words of protest you couldn’t hear. Steve searched your face for something, you weren’t sure what, maybe some evidence that you meant what you’d said, some understanding of this olive branch, a truce. Then, you watched him shake his head, grin stretching across his pretty, pink lips. “Yes, you have.” 

You blinked, trying to remember what you’d said and how you’d said it, wondering if you’d misunderstood the parameters of the game, or maybe you’d misremembered that moment in Louisville, when things were at their peak, days and unending memories before the end. “What?” The room echoed with the same sentiment, although the rest of your comrades were cackling at your demise.

Steve cleared his throat, choked on an awkward laugh, wrapping his knuckles against the table. “Remember that tiki bar? We were hashing bets all night, and I bet you wouldn’t get up on the table…”

The room erupted in laughter, and chants of “drink, drink, drink!” until you extended your glass in a cheers of surrender and drank. Steve kept his eyes on you, settled back in his chair, but there was still that contemplation playing on his features. You had broken the rules of the agreement. You brought up Louisville, and if you were being honest with yourself, the consequences stirred something within you.

“Okay, my turn,” Eddie leaned forward, running fingers through his shaggy hair. “Never have I ever lived outside of Hawkins.” 

Everyone but Steve booed and drank, and you avoided his gaze as you went for another sip. That was too big a wound to prod right this second. 

Nancy shifted in her seat, sighed, giving into the game. “Never have I ever been in a band.” Robin, Eddie, Jonathan, and Argyle drank, mumbling under their breath about how bands were cool. 

“Never have I ever had sex with a man,” Jonathan chuckled, and no one was surprised when Eddie drank beside you and Nance.

And on and on the game went, targeting one another with hyper-specific memories, until you were all toasted and giggly, the game devolving into other silly little quips and anecdotes. You’d fallen back into Eddie’s embrace, finger spinning the chain of his necklace while you struggled to keep your eyes open, too blissed about because you were home again. 

“Okay, I dare you to tell me about the last girl you slept with,” Robin crossed her arms over her chest, narrowed her gaze at her target.

Jonathan paled. “What? Why?”

“Robin,” Steve bristled from across the table, his tone a warning, protection mode activated. 

You frowned when he met your gaze in warning, before glancing at Nancy. She sat stiff beside you, her own lips pursed and arms crossed, water glass empty in front of her.

“It’s fine, dingus,” Robin shrugged. “I just wanna live vicariously through you. I haven’t had sex in months.” 

Jonathan chuckled, ran a hand through his hair. “Alright, what do you want to know?”

“Her name?”

He swirled his ice in his glass, staring straight into it before muttering, “Julia,” and crunching down on anything remaining. 

You allowed your gaze to flit to Nancy, and she didn’t show any physical reaction, eyes watching him, waiting for him to look up at her. 

“Julia,” Robin mused. “Sounds sexy. Italian?”

Jonathan hummed a response. 

“The last person I had sex with was Jonathan.” Nancy’s voice cut through the room like glass, every hum of warmth and intoxication buzzed like live wire. There was a moment of recognition before the table erupted in questions. Jonathan wasn’t looking at Nancy, staring at his hands in his lap, but her gaze was unmoving. “Jonathan is Robbie from Hartford.” She offered as clarification.

“What!?” You, and Robin, and Steve chorused. She’d been seeing Robbie for ages, a regular basis, trips back and forth, something serious. You never expected her to lie to you about it. Secrets kept between lovers, you supposed. 

“Is Nancy Julia?” Eddie asked with an uproarious laugh, but the look of guilt on Jonathan’s face said it all. “Oh, shit.” 

You cursed under your breath, and reached for Nancy’s hand, but she swatted you away, teeth grit.

“I’m pregnant, Jonathan.” 

You buried your face into your hands and sunk further into your chair as the other voices in the room erupted in questions. You felt Nancy push out from beside you and rush from the room. Steve told Robin to sit down, and when you peaked from between your fingers, Jonathan tossed his napkin to the table and rushed after her, feet stomping up the groaning staircase.

“What the fuck just happened?” Robin looked to you for answers, and then to Steve.

“Well that’s one way to harsh a mellow.” Argyle grinned from his side of table, standing to start collecting plates and bowls to take to the kitchen. 

“No kidding,” Eddie grinned, pressing a kiss to your temple before he got up to help clear the table. 

Robin stood from her spot too, napkin falling from her lap to the floorboards below. “What the hell else is going to happen on this vacation?” She turned to you with a pointed finger. “You two better not be hiding anything from me. You aren’t sleeping together, are you?” 

“No!” You squeaked the same time Steve repeated her name in that Dad voice, your entire body warmed.

“Who’s the last person you had sex with?” Robin asked, point-blank, arms crossed over chest. “And be honest with me.” 

You sucked in your cheeks to avoid a laugh, the absurdity of the situation bubbling in your chest.

“Eden,” Argyle nodded, matter-of-fact, sliding back in to stack glasses. 

“Thank you, Argyle. I believe you.” Robin scoffed before blowing out the candles dripping wax to the center of the table. She shot you a death glare before stamping up the staircase. 

You shuffled in your seat, uncomfortable as Eddie hummed that stupid song, peeling the candlesticks from the tablecloth and bunching it up. Your mouth tingled, and your fingertips, and you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Eddie glanced down at you and winked, and you swat his knee until he scampered off to the kitchen where Argyle had the water running. 

That’s when Steve said your name, low and slow, and in seconds, your smile was wiped from your face. You watched the bob of his Adam’s apple, and he nodded toward the entry way. “Can I chat with you outside?” 

Your mouth went dry. You swallowed, nodded, pushed out from your chair on wobbly limbs, and followed him outside. 

Steve stood against the porch railing, hands shoved into the pockets of his Levis, soft blue sweater hugging the swell of his bicep, the expanse of his chest. The glow of the moon cast everything in blues and lilacs and silvers. Crickets chirped over the sound of rocking boats and the softest waves. 

With a deep breath, you closed the front door behind yourself and sidled up beside him, basked in the warmth radiating from him. You waited for him to speak.

“Do you think they’ll be okay?” He asked softly, after a long moment. “Jonathan and Nance?”

You licked cherry syrup from your lips, stared out at the expanse of trees and twilight. “I think so.” Your heart fluttered in your chest, the buzz blurring your vision and lowing your inhibitions. “Things tend to work out for people as close as them.”

He turned to you then, and you wondered if your eyes mirrored the hope in his. After a long moment, he coughed a laugh, scratched at the back of his neck. “I actually was thinking about our truce.”

“Oh yeah?” You smiled, turned to face him completely.

“Yeah,” he let out a shaky breath. “I was wondering if I could… add something to the terms and conditions.” 

The sweet breeze fanned your cheeks, and you closed your eyes, leaned into it, hummed for him to continue. Warmth from your chest bloomed up your throat, to your cheeks. You hoped he’d cup your face, cool your skin with his strong fingers. You hoped he’d pulled you in tight, press his lips to your own, tell you how he feels. 

“Just for this week, while we’re here, and we’re getting along. Could you maybe… not be so cuddled up to Eddie.” 

Your eyes blinked open. 

He ran his hand through his hair, shrugged. “Like I know you guys are friends, and I love that, you know I love that. And I know you slept together at Argyle’s wedding, and that’s cool. Whatever. You’re consenting adults, but it just makes me feel a little uncomfortable to have to like… see and be around or whatever.” He was rambling, and all you could hear was the rushing of blood through your skull. Here, you thought he wanted to kiss you, wanted to forget the truce, wanted to go back to the way things were. 

“We slept together a few times.” You don’t know what possessed you, but it just came spilling out, and the second something heartbroken expression flashed across his features, you wished you could inhale it all back in. Your mouth slammed shut, and you tried to regulate your breathing, your heart rate, the panic at its boiling point. 

Steve took a step back, nodding slowly as his gaze drifted to the toes of his sneakers. “Right, sure. Again, like I’m glad you’re comfortable with each other. I’m just asking for you not to like… rub it in my face.” 

“When did I rub it in your face?” You were embarrassed, mortified even.

Steve shrugged, avoided your gaze. “Just now, at the table with the song, the Elvis song,” he grumbled. “And earlier, on the boat, I saw him giving you a massage.” 

Now, a laugh bubbled out, a bark, dry. “He was applying my sunscreen,” you explained, and suddenly all of your anger from the last four years surfaced, bloated and gruesome, untethered from the depths. “And what gives you the right? I can’t spend my life coddling your comfort, Steve. I came here to spend time with old friends. We’re comfortable around each other. We have love for each other, and I’m not just going to stop acting how I’m going to act because you’re jealous.” 

His nostrils flared at that, and you watched the steady rise and fall of his chest and shoulders. He grit his teeth, nodded, shrugged. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s just so typical,” you cried out, fists clenched at your side. “You never considered what I want, or what makes me happy. You always had this picture painted of what our life would look like together, of the perfect wife I’d be for you, and I’m sorry but I can’t just do whatever you want, Steve. I have to live my life.” 

And God, the hurt in his eyes made you want to take it all back, but it’d just been growing for years, festering, peeling apart, and now it finally had an outlet, an escape, and you couldn’t hold it back if you tried. So you left. Before any more could spill out, before he had anything to say, you stormed back inside, slamming the door behind you.

“All good, buddy?” Argyle called from the kitchen.

“Fine,” you breathed. Your hands shook, your lungs burned, your jaw ached from clenching. With a deep breath, you stormed up the stairs until you found a bedroom door, and you slammed it open to find Eddie slipping his socked feet out of his jeans. 

“Whoa, you okay?” He asked, standing upright. He was all limbs and inked skin, scraggled hair, pale skin, checkered boxers, the perfect outlet.

You grabbed the front of his t-shirt and pulled him down into a fervent kiss. It was all teeth and surprise, but Eddie sunk into it for a moment, grunting and groaning as his cold hands slid beneath your t-shirt at your waist, and you dug your fingertips into his scalp, relishing in the sounds he made into your mouth. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed when you came up for air, lips finding his jaw, his throat, the lobe of his ear. He whined, guttural, low in his chest, and gripped your hips. “Fuck, no. Stop.” 

“What?” You breathed, biting a mark into the curve of his collarbone. You pushed his boundaries, sliding a hand down the front of his boxers.

He yelped and used the strength of his sinewy arms to push you away, holding you at arm’s length. He cursed again, running his fingers through his hair. “We can’t.” He licked his lips, pupils blown.

“What do you mean?” You sucked your cheeks in, your chin raw from the stubble of his goatee. The inside of your mouth tasted metallic. 

“You know I want to,” he offered, watching you. He reached a hand out to push your hair behind your ear, but you stepped out of his reach. He sighed, crossed his arms over his chest. “I just won’t. Not when Steve’s here.” 

“This isn’t about him,” you scoffed, but your voice wavered, your jaw trembled. 

“Then tell me you don’t want to make him jealous.” Eddie responded, even-toned, and the hurt in his eyes was worse than Steve’s.

You swallowed and shook your head. “Fuck you,” you whispered before you left, the hallway a blur of too many doors and the sounds of your housemates readying themselves for bed. You knocked blindly, knuckles trembling, and Robin greeted you with open arms, ducking you into her chest and clearing your hair from bleary eyes. 

---

A/N: This is part one, be sure to click over to read part two. Thanks, so much, for reading xo xo

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[licorice-tea]

Pirate Bias

Pairing: Nico Robin x reader

Content: reader is a straw hat/ pirate fan (just like me fr), a little nervous around their fave, robin! could be sent as platonic or romantic since its just a first meeting! part of my 100 follower event <3

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: (cringe title? perhaps…) I'm not really into kpop so I hope I used the term “bias” correctly lol :) also I haven't really edited this super closely yet, so if there are grammar mistakes I'm sorry about that!!!! pls enjoy, ty to the anon who requested!

The last thing you expected to see upon entering the bar for a midday pick me up, or the last people you expected to meet rather, were the Strawhat Pirates. Yet there they were, in all their glory: from the boyish captain to the grandiose cyborg, the latest addition to their crew. Still in a state of disbelief, your eyes scan the bar trying to get a headcount on every one of them.

And low and behold- almost the entire crew is somewhere within the dimly lit bar. Luffy, Usopp, and Chopper are gathered around an old arcade machine. Zoro and Nami are at the bar, and Sanji and Franky are eating at one of the few regular tables. It's kind of strange to see them all in such a normal setting, acting like normal people instead of, well, The Strawhat Pirates. “What are they doing here, of all places?” You wonder. The only one you don’t spot is one Nico Robin, with her gorgeous black hair and blue eyes. Perhaps she’s watching their ship; you’d heard that was common for pirates, to leave someone to watch the ship since being attacked was always a possibility.

However, your curiosity is overridden by the pure excitement in your veins. To say you're a fan of the Strawhat Pirates would be an understatement- you had followed their story closely through the World News ever since the events of Alabasta. You thought they were just what the world needed: people who fought for such righteous ideals as freedom and happiness and peace. Still, Robin is your favorite, so it is just the slightest bit disappointing that she isn’t among the others. If she was, you’d surely approach her and strike up a conversation, even compliment her on something. Her intelligence, her power, her beauty…

“Hi there.” A calm voice greets you to your left.

You turn your cheek and blink in astonishment when you find Nico Robin in the bar stool next to yours.

“Oh- hi!”

“You’ve been watching my friends. Why is that?”

“I- I’m so sorry, I didn’t think anyone would notice, um… I just, well, I’ve heard all about you guys from the World News, and, gosh this is embarasing, I just think you’re a really cool crew!”

Robin tilts her head and leans her head on her hand. You can’t decide if she’s suspicious or -, so you continue rambling. “I don’t mean you any harm, really I… I have your wanted poster on my wall!”

At this shocking and unintentional reveal, Robin quirks a brow and her lips twitch up in the subtlest of smiles. “Is that so?” She laughs politely behind her hand. “I didn’t know I had a fan!”

“Well, y-yeah, I guess you do!” You laugh along, albeit more awkwardly.

Robin hums contemplatively. “So, are you on a crew yourself? Or a marine division perhaps?“

You shake your head rapidly. “No, no I… I couldn’t live that kind of life. I’m not as strong as you guys…”

“That’s too bad,” she smiles softly, “I’d love to get to know you better.”

“Really?” You didn’t mean to sound like such a fan, but you couldn’t help it. It was Nico Robin, for fuck’s sake; she was practically your pirate bias!

“Mhm. What’s your name?”

You smile back and shake her hand. Her grip isn’t espescialy firm, but it is stable. “Y/n, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nico Robin,” she nods and extends her hand- the one she isn’t resting her chin on- toward you in greeting, “but I suppose you already knew that.”

You can barely contain the way your smile breaks out into a grin. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, I expect you want an autograph then?”

Your mouth gapes- is she serious? Not that you’d turn down an autograph from the Nico Robin, but… isn’t that kind of a weird thing to ask for? Especially when all you want is just to talk to her, and get to know her better, too.

“I’m kidding.” She laughs again, but it’s more unrestrained this time around. Then she looks around the bar at her crew mates, and back at you. “Come on, y/n. Let me introduce you to the others.”

[gayuu-the-necromancer]

Chapter 2

Boundary Between Good And Evil

???: "Wait!!"

(.....!)

I see a little girl and an angry man leaped in front of me, entangled.

Little girl: "Ow!"

He shakes her wrist roughly and I see a small twinkle between her closed fist.

(Is she a thief?)

Man: "I'll make sure you can't use that arm of yours!"

The man raised a fire poker.

(If you hit her hard with that it will break her bones for sure!)

A moment unfolds before my eyes and----

Kate: "Wait!"

Unintentionally, I shouted.

Man: "Huh?! What do you want?"

(I didn't mean to step in, but...!)

Kate: "Hey, first return what you stole. After that, I'll listen to what you have to say."

Little girl: "Ngh!"

Man: "Ow!?"

(Huh!?)

The little girl took this opportunity to kick the man in the arm and disappeared into the crowd.

Man: "Come back, you bitch! And you, what the hell were you trying to do, huh!?"

Kate: "S-Sorry, I didn't mean to...."

(It didn't come to my mind that she would kick the man and run away)

I regret sticking my nose into other people's business, but I'm sure it will haunt me later.

Man: "She stole something very expensive from me! Of course, you're going to pay me for that, right?"

Kate: "Yes, I'll pay you!"

I can feel tears running down my face, as I took out my purse.

...........

Man with long black hair: ".....I see. So that's the cute little robin."

...........

Kate: "Haa....I did it again."

(Although to that jeweler, that little girl may have been an outright bad person, stealing things)

(But I also didn't think it was good to...hurt and blame the little girl who was so cornered that she had to steal)

Everyone knows that East London is full of people living in poverty.

I couldn't just stand by and watch a little girl get hurt without knowing what kind of feelings she was having about stealing.

(But in the end, the jeweler was victimized and the child got away with the crime)

Kate: "....I don't know if what I did was good or bad."

Kate: "All I know is I'm a little short on money for tickets to this month's play."

It is my humble hobby to go to the theater once every few months with the salary I have saved up.

(I was supposed to save up enough after today's delivery...looks like I won't be able to make it this month)

Kate: "Well, I guess there is no point in crying over the spilled milk. I'll just have to make some more money again!"

...........

Kate: "I'm back."

Postmaster: "Kate! Thank god you're here!.....No wait! On second thoughts maybe not, the streets at this hour would be dangerous..."

Kate: "What's wrong?"

Colleague: "Actually, we're understaffed. There is still a vacancy for night delivery."

(Night delivery...that's it!)

Kate: "I'll do it!"

Postmaster: "Are you sure, you will be safe? I appreciate the help...but."

Postmaster: "Okay look, the delivery block is a safe townhouse area, but don't wander off carelessly."

Kate: "Got it!"

(Great! Now can make up for the money I lost earlier!)

(It's my first time doing night delivery...as long as I'm cautious, I'll be fine)

..........

Man with long black: "Now, gentlemen, are you ready?"

Man that looks like a cat: "Of course, Victor. It's been a long time since we've all been on a mission together. It's very exciting."

Aloof man: "You're getting too excited. Too much excitement can backfire and you'll end up hurting yourself. So just chill."

Man with a gun: "I'll fix you up if you're not too badly hurt. If you die, then I'll have one less person to help me with my research."

Man that looks like a cat: "Thank you, Roger. As expected from a former doctor."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: ".......Al, do I have to go too?"

Gentlemanly man: "Yes. It's a lovely evening and there may be something you're looking for in the target's mansion."

Man with blond hair and blue eyes: "Really....okay."

Best man: "If we're going anyway, get on with it quickly. Unlike the nobles, I don't have time for this."

Tall young man: "You don't have business meetings or collections scheduled for tonight."

Best man: "Tsk....Can't you just read the room and not be honest for once. Shut up."

Man with red eyes: "As you can see, the Crown is ready, Victor."

Man with long black hair: "Ahaha, as usual. You guys are so carefree. Well, let's get started then."

Man with long black hair: "Loyalty to your evil tonight."

Chapter 3 - Invitation To The Dark Night

[eddiemunsons-stuff]

Lovesick

A/n sorry guys this is my first time writing anything like this so if I suck, l'm sorry :)

Background

Victoria 18 yrs old Steve's younger sister Parents aren't really in the picture so you and Steve have a place.

<3 word count 1k

September 18 Wednesday

You woke up to the sound of your blaring alarm clock as you grunt and reach over to turn it off. You lazily get out of bed as you go to pick out an outfit. You find a pair of ripped black jeans with a oversized Metallica shirt. You pack all your homework into your backpack, do your makeup, use the bathroom and brush your teeth as you rush downstairs to smell the sweet aroma of bacon and eggs sizzling on the stove as Steve looks over and smiles.

"Good morning sleepyhead" Steve sings

"Good morning mother Steve" you chuckle

You sit down at the table as you scarf down the food that Steve gave you. " is eddie dropping you off?" he asks. " yes. like every other day." "ok have fun love birds" he says as a horn honks, coming from the white van now outside your house. Eddie and you have been best friends since forever. You did everything together from sleepovers, to shopping, to passing notes in class.

Everybody thought you two were dating but you guys had always thought that was silly. Or so you thought.

Eddie's Pov

She looked so beautiful with her shoulder length dirty blonde hair, in her Metallica shirt, ripped black jeans, doc martins, and little accents of jewelry as she slung her backpack over her should and jumped in the car.

"woah slow down!" eddie said " sorry how late will we be?" Victoria asked. "only 5 minutes" eddie said. she chuckled and her nose scrunched like always, it was the cutest thing i'd ever seen, if only she knew how I felt about her.

Victorias Pov

"thanks" you said jumping out of the car. "anytime princess" eddie said intertwining his hand in yours. you didn't know why but it had given you butterflies, how weird was that. a paper ball had been thrown at eddie's head cutting you from ur thoughts. "hey freak" jason sneered with the other jocks. you just rolled you eyes and lead eddie inside.

"ughhh" you grunt realizing you have math, "what's wrong sweet heart" eddie asked "math" you say. but there it was again! the butterflies, what was happening? " well come on, i'll walk you there" "ok" you reply, as you arrive Eddie asks, "lunch at our spot?" "of course" you reply as you kiss his cheek.

"Heyyy!" Says a familiar voice behind you that makes you turn around. You met face to face with one of your favorite people, Robin. You'd been friends since the first day of kindergarten and had instantly clicked.

It was your first day of kindergarten as your mom walked you up to the classroom. You were super nervous that nobody would like you. Your mom pulled you into the room as you dragged your feet along.

"Hi! You must be Victoria! I'm Miss Rose! We are so excited to have you, you can put you backpack over by the cubbies and we've started working on our name tags to introduce ourselves!"

You put your backpack in an empty cubby as your mom started talking with the teacher. You chose to sit next to a strawberry blonde haired girl dressed in a pink shirt, white frilly skirt and sparkly pick high heels, and a brown haired boy with a plain blue shirt and khaki pants. Suddenly the girl starts speaking to you. "Hi! What's your name? I'm robin! Are you excited for school? I've never been so i'm a bit nervous but excited! Do you want help with your name tag? I think we also have to make another for our cubby. Oh, sorry for rambling i'm just really excited!

You were taken aback by all the information you were just given but happy that you could have a friend. You knew you guys would click instantly after her speaking. "Your ok, l'm Victoria, nice to meet you.

Let's make those name tags you were talking about!"

A hand waved in your face bringing you back to the present. "Hey, you ok?" asked Robin

"Oh ya sorry i'm fine. What were you saying?"

You replied. "I was saying that we have to hang out sometime cause we haven't for FOREVERRRR. Eddie's always stealing you away from me!" She says smirking at the end, you don't know why but she's always thought you 2 should be more than best friends.

"Oh ya that would be so fun! Also stop with the Eddie and me, never gonna happen."

"Sure, we all see the way he looks at you, like your the sun,moon, and stars all in one."

"Ok ya sure. Anyways catch you later a gotta run to class!"

You barely make it past all your classes, all you could think about was the butterflies you got from Eddie.

There couldn't possibly be anything going on. You couldn't like him, right? That would be weird.

The bell rings dismissing everybody from their classes on the way to lunch. You rush down the halls catching up with Gareth. You had also befriended Gareth the same day as Robin back in kindergarten.

Sitting next to your new friend, Robin, was that boy brown haired boy. You didn't wanna make him feel left out, so you introduced yourself. "Hi, I'm Victoria!

What's your name?" His face lit up, he never thought he was gonna make friends but here, this nice girl started talking to him. "Hi, Im Gareth!" He said with a big smile. And little did they know all the memories the trio would make in the years ahead.

"Hey!" you called to Gareth ahead.

"Hey." he replied back walking together into lunch getting ready to grab their trays to eat.

A/N

Hi guys! I hope that my writing isn't complete crap but here's the first chapter to Lovesick I'm rly excited to write this book bc i love Eddie!

[archiveikemen]

Ikemen Villains Prologue: Chapter 2

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by downloading and playing their games.

read this before interacting with my posts

???: Wait!!

(...!)

An angry man and a young lady suddenly sprang out before my eyes, they seemed to be having a conflict.

Young Lady: That hurts!

The necklace in the young lady’s hand was shaking and glimmering.

(A thief—?)

Man: I’ll make sure you can never use this hand again!

The man raised the fire poker in his hand.

(Her bones will break for sure if he hits her with that—!)

In the spur of the moment—

Kate: Wait.

— I reflexively called out to them.

Man: Hah!? Whaddya want?

(I shouldn't be interfering, but…!)

Kate: P-Please return the item you stole. I’ll listen to what you have to say afterwards.

Young Lady: Ggh!

Man: Ouch!

(Huh!?)

The young lady kicked the man’s arm and vanished into the crowd.

Man: Stop right there, you thief—! Damn it. Look what you’ve done!

Kate: I- I’m sorry…

(I didn’t expect her to kick him and escape.)

I regretted ever interfering with their business.

Man: That necklace she stole was expensive! Are you going to pay for it!?

Kate: Yes, I will!

I tearfully took my purse out.

…

Black Haired Man: … I see. A fine little robin, indeed.

…

Kate: Ahh… I really messed up this time.

(To that jeweler, the young lady is a bad person for stealing from him, but I didn't think it was fair to fully blame her for stealing. She might've had her own reasons for doing so and was desperate.)

Everyone knew that there were many people living in poverty here in the east side of London.

(I couldn't possibly watch and do nothing about her getting hurt, without finding out why she had to steal.)

(And yet, the jeweler was the one who suffered a loss and that young lady got away with it.)

Kate: … I don't know if what I did was considered good or evil.

Kate: But one thing's for sure is that now I don't have enough money to watch this month’s play.

It was a small hobby of mine to watch a play once every few months with my savings.

(I was supposed to have enough after making today’s deliveries… but I guess I won't be catching the play this month.)

Kate: Oh well, crying about it won't solve anything. I’ll just have to earn that money back.

…

Kate: I’m back.

Chief: Kate! Perfect timing… wait no, the streets can get dangerous at night…

Kate: Is something the matter?

Co-Worker: You see, we’re a little short staffed at the moment, so there's no one to do the night deliveries.

(Night deliveries… that’s it!)

Kate: Please let me handle them.

Chief: Oh? I appreciate your offer to help.

Chief: The delivery area is in a relatively safe neighborhood full of townhouses, just don’t wander around unnecessarily.

Kate: Okay!

(Thank goodness, this means that I can make up for the money I lost!)

(It’s my first time doing deliveries at night in this neighborhood… I guess it should be fine, as long as I’m careful.)

…

Black Haired Man: Well then— are you ready, gentlemen?

Cat-Like Man: Of course, Victor. It's been a long time since we last went on a mission together. How exciting.

Aloof Man: Calm down a little. Getting too carried away will only result in you being hurt.

Man Carrying A Shotgun: I mean, I can patch you up if it's not a serious injury. But if you die, that just means I have one less person to help me with my research.

Cat-Like Man: Thanks, Roger. As expected of a former doctor.

Blond Man with Blue Eyes: … Al. Do I really have to take part in this?

Gentlemanly Man: Yes, seeing how it's such a lovely evening. There might also be something you'll like at the target's mansion.

Blond Man with Blue Eyes: Really...? Fine.

Sinister-Looking Man: Then can we get going already? Unlike you nobles, I don't have a lot of free time on my hands.

Tall Young Man: But you don't have any business meetings scheduled for tonight.

Sinister-Looking Man: Tch... will it kill you to be less honest? Shut it.

Red Eyed Man: — Looks like 'Crown' is ready, Victor.

Black Haired Man: Ahaha! Good. You lot are so carefree and wonderful as always. Well then, shall we begin?

Black Haired Man: Tonight — we give in to the evil in our wicked hearts.