#robin why are you still writing this fic

[nonbinary-eddie-munson]

I was thinking about how the run away with me au Robin and Steve "should we get divorced?" conversation comes about:

Theyre about 23 and Robin comes home in tears after another break up. The reason: Robin had asked her girlfriend of 8 months, Lorraine to move in with her and steve. Lorraine assumes this means steve is moving out and when Robin clarifys that no Steve is staying, he's an important part of her life theyre married for chists sake. Well Lorraine doesnt take that well, says she isnt going to spend her life playing second fiddle to Steve.

This isnt the first time a relationship had ended for either of them because a partner hadnt been able to accept that Steve and Robin were a package deal. Things had been especially rough for them romantically in the first couple years of their marriage. It wasnt until a particularly awful screaming match between Robin, Steve and Steves first real boyfriend, that they were able to admit their relationship was incredibly codependent and unhealthy. Steves boyfriend had been upset when Steve had cancelled on him for the 3rd time in a row because of a Robin Emergency™️ and decided to confront Robin about it while Steve was in class. Things escalated quickly when Steve came home early from class to find them arguing and immediately took Robins side. The argument and Steves relationship ended with a slammed door, a lot of tears and a new rift in Robin and Steves relationship.

It took a lot of long conversations with Carina and Marjorie, Steve working through his toxic masculinity enough to go see a therapist - He and Robin made a deal that theyd both go talk to someone about, you know almost dieing "do you think me being fucked up by what happened at starcourt makes me weak steve?" "No of course not!" "Well then why would it make you weak?" - and a summer spent apart (Robin taking an internship in rome to study latin) for them to sit down and have a long conversation about boundaries and ground rules for how they would navigate their relationship as well as dating in the future.

Steve and Robin agreed to both take a break from dating while they worked through their respective traumas, and figured out how to navigate their relationship in a healthy way. Things werent easy, the both of them occasionally backsliding into unhealthy behaviors, more than a few nights where one of them spent the night with Carina and Marjorie in order to have space from eachother. But eventually they get their shit figured out and decide to brave the world of dating again. Steve and Robin both have their share of flings and short lived relationships but nothing so far seemed to stick. That is until Robin met Lorraine.

Lorraine was funny, sweet and a little bitchy. They had immediately clicked after being introduced by some mutual friends from school. Robin really thought things with Lorraine were going to work out. Steve and Lorraine had gotten on like a house on fire, she had slipped into Robin and Steves dynamic easily, trading jokes and light hearted jabs, cooking breakfast together on days Lorraine would stay at their apartment. Robin had fallen hard and fast, she thought she had finally found someone who accepted that her and Steve were a package deal. So 8 months in when Lorraines lease was ending Robin (with agreement from steve) asked Lorraine to move in. Things don't go to plan. Robins dreams of a future with lorraine are shattered. She goes home broken hearted.

After Robin has cried herself out, her and steve cuddled together on the couch Steve is the one to broach the topic. Robin immediately bursts back into tears before he calms her back down again saying he doesnt want a divorce but he also doesnt want to hold Robin back, doesnt want to be the reason she cant find happiness. Robin replys by saying if anyone is holding the other back its obviously her, steve gave up everything to protect her afterall. Steve calls bullshit -years of therapy and he can finally say that word without cringing- says he would do it all again in a heartbeat, that she doesn't owe him anything. They stay up all night talking about it, about what the both of them want from their futures. Neither can see a future without the other. they're platonic life partners, one day they'll find their someones who can accept that and if not well, they'll always have eachother.

Of course they do find their someones in the form of a charming if infuriating metal head and a brilliant, sweet, and badass reporter. Through trial and error the four of them figure out how to navigate life together. They all live happy ever after.

Robin and Steve celebrate 30 years of marriage with divorce papers. They'll always love eachother but now they dont need a marriage to keep eachother safe. They dont need a marriage to stay as platonic life partners. They have eachother and they have Eddie and Nancy. They have everything they need.

-

Lmk what you think! I'd love to have someone to scream with about this AU and bounce ideas off of :D

Tagging by request <3 @ramyayaya

[starboundsingularities]

good lird they did not make a gimmick blog about a real life murder

#someone fucking DIED but whatever who gives a shit it's funny i guess

7 notes

🥚 eggvidenced Follow

honestly with how suspicious and confusing everything on the dl-6 case was i wouldn't be surprised if it came out that it was that prosecutor guy tbh

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

date posted: june 23, 2010

1,834,853 notes

⚖️ courtofpublicopinions Follow

🌟 rockliker270 Follow

ok hear me out. what abt winston payne though

🧊 just--ice Follow

okay now they're just making lawyers up

#also didn't mvk die or something?

28,932 notes

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

why the fuck are you people still posting about the gavinners as if theyre not copaganda. didn't the guitarist get convicted of murder

🎸 guiltiest-lovers837 Follow

so fucking tired of this "um um didn't daryan get convicted of murder" YEAH AND HE'S LITERALLY NOT IN THE FUCKING BAND ANYMORE. dipshit

🔥 triedbyfire Follow

are you gonna address the copaganda thing or

1,092 notes

🌻 attorneybout Follow

he's so. 😳

📂 trialanderror Follow

why is he defending

📂 trialanderror Follow

OP WHY IS HE DEFENDING???

24,374 notes

��� giantlakemonsters Follow

i just wanna hear about another gourdy sighting thats all

🥜 liberdeez Follow

op. i'm so sorry op. gourdy isn't real you have to let her go. they had a whole trial about it.

🔐 wrightorwrong Follow

hi!! so this isn't actually the case as while gourdy was briefly mentioned in a trial, said trial had nothing to do with whether or not gourdy was "real" per se as much as. well. murder, actually. while gourdy WAS found out to be an inflatable steel samurai this was not brought up in the case at all as the veracity of gourdy wasn't really as relevant as the fact that the witness was looking for gourdy rather than at the murder she claimed to have seen. plus this was also a relatively small part of a MUCH larger trial which for those interested not only solved the dl-6 case but ALSO marked the end of prosecutor von karma's ~40 year long record and the court records are really a fascinating read through!!

🦀 mad_libz_87 Follow

net 0 information post

#thanks again lawblr

94,834 notes

🍒 cherriescoola Follow

btw i was at the park the other day and klavier gavin (of gavinners fame) was there and obv there was a huge crowd but this guy was there with him and at some point he (the other guy) waved to the crowd and someone still screamed like it was klavier??? who was that guy ive never seen him before in my life

2,284 notes

🩸 has-dl6-been-solved-yet Follow

December 28, 2016

YES!!!

702,947 notes

🪙 tellerlikeitis Follow

guys help i'm a bank teller and this guy just introduced himself as robin banks what do i do

🔪 violencekilling Follow

you gotta let him rob you that's the law

302,948 notes

👻 ghostesswiththemostest Follow

look if i ever get convicted of murder im just hiring the lawyer with the coolest sounding name

💼 courtofwaw Follow

bestie if you already got convicted it is Too Late

62,193 notes

📋 lawandwhoreder Follow

guys i know it's real fun to think people just can predict whatever but if you look at the earliest reblogs of that post that "guessed" the true killer in the dl-6 case it was actually a post about how they didn't want to go to the store. clearly edited

#stg nobody bothers to factcheck anything anymore

7,293 notes

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

i am NOT homophobic or whatever the fuck you guys are saying now i just think its weird to write fanfiction about realass people?? go touch grass ffs

🌈 lawsbian Follow

the fun police (this guy) putting me in yaoi court but the lawyers (phoenix witrght and miles edgeworth) just keep trying to make out (real court is like this too btw)

🐺 lawnewolf Follow

YOU HAVE SOMETHING WRONG WITH YOU.

#look idc what your enemies to lovers fic bullshit says #they're straight. and more importantly REAL PEOPLE. #there's TENSION because they are in COURT and there are LIVES on the LINE. #not because they wanna fuck. god.

12,293 notes

🔮 inhighspirits Follow

why dont they just ask the spirit mediums to ask the victims who killed them this law shit is easy

837,495 notes

💞 lawveyourself Follow

seriously i cant believe they gave this guy a law degree

💞 lawveyourself Follow

what do you mean evidence fraud

503,893 notes

🎧 instrumentalillness Follow

fuck you *unguilties your love*

384,568 notes

🎀 copiicat Follow

perjury isnt illegal btw in fact if youre one of tge witnesses youre legally required to lie on the stand. thats why everyone does it. trust me

[aphrogeneias]

more than seven minutes — one-shot

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: after you spend nearly a week completely avoiding your best friend, he takes matters into his own hands. and if that means locking you into a room with him until he makes you talk, then so be it.

word count: 2.6k

warnings: smut (+18), fluff, friends to lovers, forced proximity, love confessions, mentions of a sex dream, dry humping, oral sex (f receiving), hand job, dirty talk

author's note: another reupload! this is the only steve fic i've ever written, or rather, the only one i started and finished. not sure if i really write steve that well, but i tried <3 this has a part two and will be uploaded soon too.

"Where are you taking me?"

"Don't you trust us?"

From your left, Robin's faux exasperated tone had you throwing her a mean side-eye. Her girlfriend, Vickie, on your right, giggled, "I don't think she does, Rob."

It wasn't that you didn't trust them. On a normal day, you would trust those two with your life, but given the circumstance you recently put yourself into, you couldn't help but be suspicious.

They'd found you hiding — or trying to, at least — at the back porch during another one of Tina's house parties, which were getting more and more boring to you, but you needed an escape, and cheap beer with some questionable company would have to do it. 

You were sitting with another one of your friends when Robin and Vickie, appearing seemingly out of nowhere — confusing you immensely because they'd be two people you wouldn't expect to find at Tina's on a Friday night — took your plastic cup from your hand and pulled you by the arms to follow them.

Dragging you along, each one linked to your arms from both sides, passing in between the crowd of bodies gathered in the living room, occasionally having to push a drunk jock out of the way, and guiding you up the stairs, into the upstairs hallway. They moved fast, the people around you passing by like a sea of blurred faces.

You were thrust forward when you reached one of the doors, and were pushed inside by Robin, who flashed you an apologetic smile, shrugging, "I'm sorry!"

"Robin!" Yelling over the loud music that bled through the walls, you could hear giggling from the outside, as well as the sound of a key being turned in doorknob. Your heart raced as you slowly realized what was happening, "Vickie! What the fuck?"

You knew who was behind you without even having to turn around.

Taking in your surroundings, you could tell it was a guest room, untouched by the madness going on downstairs and in the hallway. Sitting on the neatly made bed, above the soft pastel bedding, Steve Harrington looked like a kicked puppy, brown eyes following your every move from where you stood, still at the bedroom door, unsure of what to do.

He was the first to break the silence, "So… now I have to resort to kidnapping you in order to have a conversation with my best friend?"

Leaning back into the cold wooden surface of the door, you tried to sound as unbothered as possible, knowing very well you were about to crack. "I wouldn't call that much of a kidnapping. Your henchwomen are a little too clumsy for that."

When Steve didn't answer you, merely raising an eyebrow, unamused, you tried again. "So, uh… what is this, exactly? Seven minutes in heaven? You know this isn't seventh grade anymore, right?"

"No, if it was seventh grade you would still be talking to me and not acting all weird for a whole damn week and not telling me why!"

"I'm not acting weird…"

"Bullshit! You are avoiding me like the plague and I need to know why."

You weren't avoiding Steve.

At least, that's what you had told him the first time he confronted you about it, almost a week ago. He had showed up at your house, unannounced as always, with a new film he knew you'd love and a bag of popcorn and candy, walking in as if it was own place — and it was, in a way, more of a home than his own has ever been. You made up an excuse about how you were sick and didn't want to get him sick as well, ushering him out of the house with an apology and the promise of a raincheck on your movie night.

After that, he'd been calling you, asking what was wrong and why were you avoiding him, and you couldn't bring yourself to tell him the truth. You'd told him it was nothing, you were sick that day, then you were busy, and then… you were running out of excuses.

The truth was that you couldn't look your best friend in the eyes anymore.

Sighing, you looked down at your feet, shuffling in place, "It's nothing, Steve. I'm just confused about… something, but I promise it has nothing to do with you. You did nothing wrong, it's just, just a thing that happened." You stuttered.

There was a shift in the air, the tension dropping in the atmosphere as Steve's expression lightened, suddenly focusing entirely on you. He rose from his place on the bed and walked over to you, his body crowding your personal space. 

"Hey…" You felt a hand gently hold your chin, forcing you to look at him, warm brown eyes searching for yours. "I'm not mad at you, okay? I'm just worried. We used to tell each other everything and now you're acting like this and I don't know what to think."

Overwhelmed by Steve's closeness, his smell and the heat of his body invading your senses, and his hand moving to cradle your cheek, distracting you from gathering your thoughts, you close your eyes as you lean into his touch. "If I tell you, do you promise you'll stay not mad at me?"

"I don't think I could ever be mad at you, Y/N."

With a deep breath, you walked away from him. The nearness, the feeling of his hand on your skin brought you vivid memories of the exact reason you were pushing him away.

"Ihadasexdreamaboutyou."

"A what?"

"A sex dream! I had a sex dream about you and I'm embarassed enough as it is, okay? I know it's weird, but we can't really help what we dream of, you know? It's like our brains produce images using the faces of people we know but it doesn't necessarily mean anything…"

"I get it! I get it, you don't need to explain yourself, I promise." Steve interrupts your rambling, you're still avoiding making eye contact with him, but you notice a light shade of pink take over his face. Silence fell over the room, both of you still trying to come to terms with what you'd just confessed.

"What was your dream like?"

He was closer now, you realized. There was something different in his eyes, a look you'd never seen before — far more intense, pupils blown wide. An electric current grows between you, like a live wire, ready to explode. It didn't help you stop thinking about the Steve in your dream, looking up at you with those same eyes, hands hungrily exploring your naked body.

It was all you could think about in the past few days — and then, there he was, warm and real, right in front of you, your Steve.

"Steve…"

"Please? I'm curious. It can't be that bad."

Turning around, you stared at the wall instead of having to look at him, feeling flustered all over. "I don't remember a lot of the details, but, uh… I think we were on my couch and we were… I  was riding you, I think." Letting out a nervous laugh, you gathered the courage to turn again, pretending to not be affected, "Crazy, right?"

"Not that crazy. Coming from you, I was expecting something a little more shocking." 

You laughed earnestly then, feeling some of the tension leave your body. "Yeah. Screw you, Harrington."

Steve started taking a few tentative steps forward, and instinctively, you took some backwards, until your back hit the wall behind you. Leaning in, those same dark, hungry eyes lowered to your lips, and down to your cleavage — you felt vulnerable under his gaze, but not uncomfortable. It felt right, even though it made your skin prickle. "Can I ask you one more question?"

"Yeah." You breathed out.

One of his hands trailed along your waist, keeping you still as the other rested beside your head, on the wall. This was a line you'd definitely never crossed, even with Steve being as affectionate as he was, always keeping at least one hand on you. Not even in the many times you'd shared a bed and woke up tangled in each other. This was different, heavy with anticipation.

"Did you… touch yourself… thinking about this dream of yours?"

It felt like your head was spinning. Despite yourself, you drew in a sharp inhale, "Do you really need to know that?"

"Only if you want to tell me." His voice was gentle, much more restrained than the wild look in his eyes, barely keeping himself together. "But something tells me you do."

Steve wasn't blind to the effect he had on you, especially up close, where he could feel your heavy breathing, watching the way your body responded to his. Throwing every caution you had out of the metaphoric window, you finally looked him in the eyes, bringing him closer, and resting your hands on his broad shoulders.

"What if I told you that I did? What if I told you that I had my fingers inside of me thinking about how good it would feel if I was bouncing on your cock instead? How would it feel to have you run your hands all over me while I do it? Is that what you want to hear?"

Like the cat who got the cream — or the guy who got his best friend to confess how badly she wants to fuck him — he smirked, now holding you with both hands around your waist.

"Any chance you want to make that dream come true, baby?" 

"If King Steve is offering, who am I to refuse?"

"Shut up."

Snaking a hand up your back, raising a chill up your spine, and holding the back of your neck, his mouth descended on yours with a deep kiss. It started clumsy, all teeth and uncoordinated hands, two friends who dared cross a line they'd never return from. Steve took control, then, leading you towards the bed, and laying you on top of it, his hands never leaving your body as he climbed on top of you.

"You should have told me about this earlier. Could've helped you out, you know." He said, in between kisses, descending his mouth to your jaw, and down to your neck, his tongue eliciting tiny gasps from your gaping lips, "You were driving me insane."

His hands travelled under your shirt, after yanking it from under your skirt, finding your covered breasts. Too eager to feel you, he felt you up over your bra, squeezing and caressing his thumb over your nipples. Between Steve's hands and his kisses, you were left breathless under him, seeking whatever release you could get, grinding your hips against his thigh, which was resting between yours. You could feel your cotton panties cling to your wet folds, slick with desire.

"I think you're the one driving me insane here." You whined, biting his lower lip and dragging it just slightly. Steve's eyes darkened above you, and you felt his hands lower, slowly, to the hem of your already bunched up skirt. You watched as he sat up on his knees and removed his polo shirt, revealing his broad chest, and feeling the sudden urge to run your hands over the tuft hair and the smattering of freckles covering it.

"Consider it payback, baby."

They stopped at the waistband of your underwear, and stilled, as he asked, brown eyes as gentle as ever, almost whispering, "This okay?"

"Yeah. Please."

Lowering his head, he left kisses over your thighs as he brought the fabric down your legs and off your body, his hot mouth leaving a trail of small teeth marks and spit that warmed you to your core. There was an underlying devotion in Steve's touch, a reverence he always treated you with — like you were something precious, something worthy of praise. It set you alight under his expert fingers, running over the soft skin of your parted thighs.

Wasting no more time, Steve licked a long stripe over your weeping slit, flattening his tongue. You dropped your head to the pillow beneath you, not being able to stop the moan that rose on your throat. One of your hands reached to grab his hair as he alternated between flicking his tongue over your clit and sucking on it, groaning into your pussy like he was enjoying it just as much as you were. His strong hands grabbed your thighs and pulled you further into him, burying himself into you, his nose touching your clit as he delved his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it.

A litany of moans filled the room, along with the filthy, sloppy sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy. You felt delirious, skin burning and grinding yourself shamelessly into his mouth, meeting his movements. 

"Isn't that better, honey?" He teased, bringing a finger down to your entrance and into you, stroking your walls in a torturingly slow pace, making you pout as you kept moving your hips, "Better than fucking yourself with your tiny, little fingers? You could have had this instead of hiding from me."

Mumbling something incoherent, you could barely keep your thoughts together as you felt him add a second finger into you, pumping them faster this time.

"Louder. Let me hear you."

"So much better. You feel so good, Stevie, so fucking good. Please don't stop."

At that point, you didn't care how whiny you sounded. Steve didn't seem to care either, shifting between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit again, matching his languid thrusts as he curled his fingers inside of you, building up the tension in your core, your pleas of "faster, please!" rising from your lips.

He obliged, looking at you with hooded eyes. You meet his gaze as you cry out, feeling your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing into you slowly, and then all at once. He keeps his fingers moving as you ride it out, breathing heavily, and running your hand over his messed up hair, much gentler this time.

"C'mere, baby." You called, voice a little weak from exhaustion. Steve leaned over and you met him halfway, supporting your upper body into your elbows, and kissed him. Deep and slow, savoring the taste of his tongue, still stained with your juices, making you dizzy with uncontained lust, and, quite frankly, an overwhelming feeling of possessiveness, as if you had just marked him as yours.

After spending years watching him pine over Nancy Wheeler, and throw himself into date after meaningless date, it felt only fair.

Not you'd ever admit this to him out loud.

Distracting him with your kisses, you manage to take control, flipping him over, and mounting him, straddling his hips. Steve doesn't stop missing you, however, bringing his hands to rest over your hips and guide you to grind your exposed pussy over the tent on his jeans. You could almost feel him pulsing under you, bringing a new jolt of pleasure through your body, making you run your nails over his chest.

Quickly undoing his belt, and his zipper, you bring his pants down, just enough to free him from his boxers, feeling his length warm and heavy in your hand. He pants under you, his eyes rolling back as you tease him with your fingers, lightly, before running your thumb over the delicious vein on the underside of him, all the way to his already weeping head.

Before you could do much else, you heard a hard knock on the door, followed by barely hushed giggles.

"Are you still alive in there? Do we need to call the police?"

"Go away, Buckley! Jesus." 

Steve groaned at Robin's interruption, running his hands over his face, flushed with frustration. You release him from your hold, chuckling a little at his outburst. Leaving a kiss to his nose, driving his attention back to you, you ask "Your house isn't too far from here, right?"

"Yeah. Your point being…"

"I think we should take this party somewhere a little less crowded."

Humming deep inside his chest, Steve leans up, pecking you on the lips, "Now you're speaking my language."

[idianaki]

Wciąż czekam na BatFam Fic który próbuje się zająć reperkusjami "The Last Laught" (zwłaszcza, jeśli chodzi o to, że Jason się o tym dowiaduje) i kiedy ktoś próbuje usprawiedliwiać Bruce'a przez "On to zrobił dla Dick'a!", zamiast "Oh, obv tatuś się bardziej martwi o swoje ulubione dziecko" czy coś, odpowiedź jest "I w jaki sposób to miałoby cokolwiek poprawić?!" albo "To co, to że Joker nie jest już martwy nagle sprawia, że wszystko jest okej?!"

[fandomfuntimem]

*walks in with more dp x dc because thats all i think about*

HEAR ME OUT!

A fic where Danny, still a teenager, saves Red Hood. He helps Hood out and returns him to the bat family. But before he can leave they're all thanking him, Hood is talking about how skilled and smart he is, Batman personally thanks him for saving his son, the other bat kids are asking about his powers and what he does, Robin/Damian nerds out with him over weapons, then Agent A/Alfred invites him to dinner as his own personal thank you, even asks him for his food preferences.

But Danny is just scared he accepts because non contaminated food and heros. But he's not used to this. He's not used to being treated with such pure kidness and appreciation. With humans everythings almost all around bad, the only people who dont treat him like shit are Jazz, Tucker, and Sam (maybe Valerie depending on how you personally write her. I ship him and Valerie.). With ghosts they do treat him a lot better, like a friend or an annoying little brother. But in human standards it doesn't exactly reach the mental health requirements for an adolescent brain. So its just new to him.

When he gets back him, the dam just fucking breaks. He was holding all his emotions in for so long because it was his normal. It was his normal to be the local weird kid, to be everyone's punching bag and scape goat, but now that he saw how he could be treated he's just shattered. Why can't he have that? How is it that a family of vigilantes who's entire thing is darkness, managed to treat him better in one night than his home town can in his entire life?

Maybe after this he ends up talking to the bats more and they start to realise somethings up, or he avoids the bats thinking all the emotions will go away if he just forgets it.

Give me a depression and struggling to heal because his world view wash shattered fic.

[sanguineterrain]

im begging you to write a part 2 of vigilante reader because the way you write??? the dynamic between reader and jason??? the sex tension???are chef kiss!!!

thanks very much! part 2 and I couldn't put off the reveal bc I'm just too impatient lol 🫶 but I might write another part post-reveal? maybe? cuz I'm growing attached to these two <3

jason todd x gn!vigilante!reader (nocturne). tw explosions, smoke inhalation, reader passes out, canon typical violence, identity reveal, asshole bruce. jason is in love? jason is in love.

read pt 1 here! | all fics are reblogged to @sanguinelibrary

****

"Go home."

"Bruce, I—"

Bruce looks at you, eyes sharp with fury and... something else. Something older.

The others know how to talk back. You still haven't gained the courage to sass The Batman.

"Go. Home. If you need an escort, I can call Superman."

You take a step back at his coldness.

"Bruce, I know I messed up, letting Hood escape but—"

"Yes, you did. You deliberately disobeyed an order. I told everybody to stand down. He could've killed you."

But he didn't, you don't say. He could've, but he chose not to.

He'd felt safe.

"I had it under control, honestly. He wasn't—it wasn't like the other encounters you've had with him. He wouldn't have hurt me."

That is the wrong thing to say. You realize that after the words leave your mouth and the muscles in Bruce's jaw jump.

"You can't be this naive. I know I wouldn't have chosen someone who's this naive," he says savagely. "You know Hood can't be trusted, and you're defending him to me. We've seen time and again he's rogue. He doesn't make sense and that's exactly why he's dangerous."

"But if you would just listen—"

"Enough," he snaps. "Enough. Go home. I'm suspending you for three weeks."

"Three w—I'm not even injured!" you cry.

"No, but you need the time. You're not thinking clearly. Go. I don't want to see you until next month."

You press your lips together before you say something truly foul. Something about Batman's habit of pushing people away. Something about dead Robins.

You don't let the tears fall until you leave the Cave. This is all Hood's fault. You know it would've been a different conversation if you'd managed to successfully capture him.

You'll take down the Red Hood if it's the last thing you do.

****

It takes you approximately two days to break your suspension.

In your defense, you meant to follow Bruce's orders. You would've stayed put and helped Barbara with research instead.

But not at the expense of civilian lives.

"All units to Canal and Riverview, 10-80. Standby. Do not enter the factory until given clearance from the Bomb Squad."

You turn off the police scanner and stuff it in your drawer. In Gotham, explosions usually come in multiples. If there's one, there's bound to be another. The police are generally inept when it comes to evacuating civilians. You know one of the other Bats are on their way, but you're the closest to the docks.

You glance at your suit. No. If you go as Nocturne, Batman might suspend you indefinitely.

You grab your gas mask and put on a black hoodie and a domino mask. You'll just have to make do.

The marina is blanketed in thick smoke. It makes your eyes water. But in the commotion it causes, you're able to slip past the barriers and help workers out of the factory. It's difficult because without the suit, people don't give you the same trust and respect. But you're anonymous, and that's all that matters.

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

You ignore the voice and keep hauling two elderly workers towards the exit. They're barely outside before you turn around, determined to clear every level of the factory.

You're yanked backward by a hand on your hoodie. You nearly lose your footing, but the hand is firm, dragging you towards the pier.

You're spun around and put face to face with a red helmet.

Oh, of all the fucking—

"Let go of me!" you shout, smacking his arm. Hood's grip tightens.

"I will as soon as you stop doing stupid shit. What were you thinking, coming here?"

You pause. Whoops. This isn't how a plain civilian would react to being apprehended by the Red Hood.

And that's definitely not how the Red Hood would react to getting swatted by a random civilian. Shit.

"I was, um, I was thinking I could help," you say haltingly. "P-please don't hurt me, Mr. Hood, I was—"

Hood sighs and lets you go, then tucks his gun into his holster.

"Cut the shit. I know you're Nocturne. I also know that you need some acting lessons because what the hell was that? Mr. Hood?"

A chill washes over you. "I don't know what you mean. Nocturne?"

Hood shakes his head. "I don't have time for this. The building's gonna collapse any second. Stay. Put."

He goes back toward the smoking entrance. Your eye twitches as you follow him.

"Last time I checked, you don't have that kind of authority, Hood."

He turns around and looms over you. "Don't I?"

Anyone else would back down. You might've a week ago. You should, after the tongue lashing Bruce gave you.

But there's no soot on Hood's helmet or vest. He doesn't smell sweet like gasoline or pungent like motor oil.

He was in the factory to help.

Something shifts. Batman is wrong. Batman is more wrong than he's ever been.

Because Hood's not the enemy here. Not anymore. Maybe not ever.

You push past Hood. "It'll be faster if we work together."

"Oh, absolutely not. You're not even in your suit."

"As per your request," you say, flashing a plastic smile. "You're welcome."

"Don't get cute with me, you—hey!"

You dart past him and go straight into the factory. Hood shouts your name, which makes you pause, just for a moment.

But revealed identity or not, you need to clear the building. So you pull on your mask and run faster.

Your worst fear is confirmed when you check the upper level: someone was missed in the evacuation. It's a worker, and she's unconscious.

You don't think about how explosions come in pairs in Gotham. Don't think about how long it'll take to get to the exit.

You take off your mask and slide it onto her face. The smoke burns your throat immediately, but you ignore it and lift her in a fireman carry, just as you were taught all those years ago by Robin. He's the one who taught you how to save people without relying on brute strength or height.

You hope he's alright, wherever he is. You hope he's not too upset seeing you rush into a burning building.

That's your last thought when you see the entrance. Your face is covered in sweat and grime. The heat from the fires is exhausting. You can feel your eyes beginning to close.

"There's something seriously wrong with you," a decoded voice says in your ear, and then the woman's weight is lifted from your shoulders.

Hood grabs your hand, the woman over his opposite shoulder, and you make it out just as the second explosion goes off. It knocks you forward.

Hood puts the woman down just in time to catch you. His arm is around your waist, the other hand cradling your head. His gloved thumb touches your mouth, and you feel his dawning realization as he finally sees your mask on the woman.

"Don't tell Ba'man," you slur.

"Jesus fuck—" Hood starts to drag you. You feel lightheaded. He's moving, and you wish he'd stop. "You don't take off your mask. You never take off your mask. We taught you that!"

"She was unconscious, J'y..."

Arms tighten around you. Everything goes dark.

****

You wake up to the smell of scrambling eggs.

For a moment, you just bask in the smell. It smells like Alfred's breakfast scramble. Bacon. Butter. Golden potatoes.

Then you wake up further and realize that you're not in the Manor. You're in your apartment.

So who's cooking?

You get up quietly, slipping out of your room. You pause in front of the full-length mirror.

Honestly, you've looked worse. Your hair needs a wash, and you're in the same clothes you went into the building with, which are now a little charred. But your face is clean of soot, and your throat hurts only a little.

The kitchen sink runs. You slowly creep out into the living room, keeping your breathing even and silent.

The mess of black hair, you recognize. Sort of. You might've mistaken him for Bruce if you didn't know that Bruce has a lifetime ban from kitchens all over the world.

He's too tall to be Dick. Too skilled in the kitchen to be Bruce. Too nice to be Bruce, too—you can't imagine Bruce Wayne making you eggs. Especially when you disobeyed his orders. Again.

The red helmet on the kitchen stool turns your blood to ice.

You grab the letter opener from a drawer and wait a few seconds to see if Hood's heard you. Then you throw the letter opener with near perfect aim at his exposed shoulder.

He catches it without turning.

Your heart skips a beat. Every time you think you might get the drop on him, Hood reminds you just how competent he really is.

A mix of fear, aggravation, and something you don't want to examine too closely swirls in your gut.

"Impressive," he says. "Dami been training you? Mama Al-Ghul spent a lot of time on his knife lessons."

"Why are you in my apartment?"

Hood sets the letter opener down on the counter and turns off the stove. Then he serves the breakfast scramble on two plates, then sprinkles chives over them.

This is the weirdest kidnapping ever.

He sighs, back still facing you.

"You can't tell anyone it's me," he says.

"You make a lot of demands for a guy who just used the last of my eggs."

Hood laughs. It sounds wet. It sounds like grief.

"God, I've missed ya, honeylove."

Your heart pounds. You try to find another weapon, anything. Hood doesn't give you the chance.

He turns around.

The first thing you see is the stark white streak of hair and the curls you once loved. The curls that were near unrecognizable in the casket.

You were right: Batman was wrong.

[azullumi]

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF THE STARS AND YOU, PT. 1

premise ��� because that’s just how they are; alternatively, “the type to” trend with hsr characters. characters — ruan mei, veritas ratio, aventurine, and robin content tags — gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, not proofread, word vomit in some parts, 1.6k words ; headcanons

note from me — seasickness took me out and the fact that i have a 9 hr road trip tomorrow is already making me dizzy. i hope i’m asleep for the 3/4 of it,, also this has a pt. 2 which i’ll upload later on !! anyways i wrote this in between my vacation and trip and in between the long-ass separate fics with sunday and aven so sorry if it seems rusty or out of my style 🙏

RUAN MEI, (lies in between the line of a good lover and a bad lover) the type to be unable to express her affections for you through words and settles with small and simple gestures that she has observed and seen from everyone around her; having never understood “love” and never knowing how to correspond with such, she’s left silent and confused like a lost child in the wake of it. She’ll find herself staring you quietly, memorizing the lines of your face and how it creases and contorts into different expressions, studying each crevices and edges of the parts that makes up your being to bury you in her memory, and there’s a smile that tugs on her lips every time her gaze falls on you. Oh, she wishes she understood what it all meant (she simply and devastatingly adores you).

RUAN MEI, the type to subconsciously write your name on paper whenever she’s distracted. it’s a small habit she does, one that makes her smile whenever she notices the letters spelling out your name. She has ruined, tainted several of her papers, even important ones, with just a single word, a set of letters that composes of what makes warmth seep into her chest when her mind drifts into the thought of someone—you.

RUAN MEI, the type not understand the underlying reason behind her actions—why she spends the time and makes the effort in between her busy schedule and pile of papers to make sweets for you, why she lets you do her hair despite how messy it often turns out when you braid it and how she can never find the strength in herself to “fix” or disturb the state of your work, why she always seek for the warmth of your hands whenever she’s feeling uneasy or stressed, why she always lean to your shoulder or to your touch when you caress her cheek, and everything. It’s a puzzle board of missing and scattered pieces, unable to comprehend the full image of the mystery—and yet, she still delves into the enigma of her feelings that is intertwined with your existence. Maybe one day she’ll come to know it all and maybe it will be the time when she can finally be honest to herself.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to want to know every single thing you and remember all of it. Perhaps it’s the bare minimum, perhaps it’s something that he just does. “They don’t like that,” He would say when an arrogant fool would even try to give you (or do) something, and he’s there, witnessing it all, knowing the things that you prefer and like. He knows what flowers that you like, knows your favorite color, knows the way you prefer to sleep, knows the small habits that you do when you’re nervous or scared or happy, knows every little detail that paints the whole of your existence. Isn’t it simply just lovely when someone desires to know you from the inside and out? Even if it’s just a little bit, he feels more closer to you in this way.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to be sweet and reassuring towards you (through words and actions), even though he may come off as mean, blunt, or rude towards others. Sure, he may call you an idiot sometimes but he’ll never go past that nor reach the line of degrading and distasteful remarks because he never wishes to hurt your feelings; if ever he did, he’ll apologize and tell you it’s not his intention. “Fool,” But the affection that edges into the tone of his voice cuts the thread of disdain that sews into the word. Oftentimes when texting and it’s easy to misunderstand the tone of one’s message, especially his tone, he’ll reassure you that he didn’t send it in a way that he’s angry or scornful: “The ‘Ok’ that I sent is not a mad ‘Ok’, I am in a rush and could only type that out. I’m not angry.”

VERITAS RATIO, the type to entertain your questions no matter how stupid it can be; he’d give you the answers every single time. He doesn’t mind being treated like a walking encyclopedia or dictionary if it’s you—he’d hate it if you were going to ask someone else instead of him (although he probably never told you that discomfort). I mean, you have a well-known member of the Intelligentsia Guild, someone who parallels a genius, just right at the tip of your fingertips, why bother asking someone else?

AVENTURINE, the type to like listening to the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat (to listen to the sound of you blinking, to listen to your hands soothe). It’s comforting, in an odd way, and he never tells you but it helps him fall asleep—watching the rising and falling of your chest, seeing your calm face wrinkle ever so often while you sleep. He keeps the sound of your heartbeat close to the pocket on his chest, weaving the rhythm of it to his pulse, and before he knew it, the dawn will come in quiet solitude.

AVENTURINE, the type to be always on fight-or-flight mode. Perhaps it’s the way that he grew up, perhaps it was the harsh and cruel environment that he’s in, but he’s always on guard, seemingly on defensive mode as if danger lurks at every dark corner. His shoulders are always tense, his hand either hidden or playing with the ring on his finger, it’s like he never can’t seem to relax himself even when he’s in the comfort of your arms. It follows him everywhere, trailing behind his feet, and forces him awake at night—he doesn’t even know where the fear, the anxiety, is coming from, he just knows it’s there. One wrong step and his thoughts will come crashing down like cold downpour, one wrong move and you’ll come to leave him. Sometimes a little reassurance comes a long way and it’s all he needs when his mind is being tormented. (He will learn to live with it, even if he can never seem to understand or know it. He will come to know peace as if it’s all he had in his hands when the sun first held him).

AVENTURINE, the type to immediately smile after a kiss. It’s utterly affectionate; parting, staring deeply into one’s eyes with his cheeks dusted with a certain color and he’s grinning—warmth beams from his expression and there’s a certain feeling that intertwines into his gaze and he knows it’s love because it’s all he feels whenever he looks at you. He’s the type to laugh into a kiss, feeling ticklish all over his bones as if your hands are ghosting the sensitive parts of his skin, and you’ll ask him, “What?” but he’ll only answer with, “Nothing.” He’s not drunk, the ache of wanting simply swells up in his chest and all he can think of is how much he adores you.

ROBIN, the type to try and make time for you. Her schedule is always packed, filled with all kinds of events and tasks that she needs to do. It’s overwhelming, everything feels overwhelming for her and it’s hard to know which one she should prioritize first not when she has a lot of things on her hands. Sometimes she feels lost, feels the weight too heavy on her shoulders, feels like her feet are tied to the ragged earth, feels the cage closing on her. She tries so hard to be the perfect lover for you, to become someone that will reach beyond your expectations; she cradles that perfect image, broken in all of its edges, that were constructed for herself close to her chest even if it feels like a knife to her heart. But really, all you need is for her to be herself (not the star that everyone admires and wishes to reach) and sometimes, that’s all she needs to hear from you—that she doesn’t have to hold on to the shattered chains when the coldness of the metal reminds her of what she has to carry.

ROBIN, the type to go on all kinds of dates with you, silly or not, and even matches clothes with you. She’s usually the one to make the invite to match, thinking that it’s cute and the both of you rarely ever has time like this so why not make the most out of it; who are you to even say no when she’s beaming at you so warmly? She has all of her options laid on the bed, displayed on clothing hangers, asking you what you’re going to wear or what color do you want. It’s lovely, sweet, seeing her like this and you could only pray to whoever aeon is listening that nobody comes to ruin the day the both of you rarely have for each other.

ROBIN, the type to bring you all kinds of souvenirs and gifts from her (universal) tours, sometimes having bought too much that you don’t know what to with some of them; the type to send you letters every time she’s away so that you won’t worry for he, especially knowing what happened last time, the type to always try to keep in touch and keep you close no matter the stars between you and her. She’ll ask for one thing that you own that she can carry with her person, making a promise that she’ll come back and return it—the item a testament to her vow—, but for the meantime, she’ll keep it so she has a little piece of you everywhere she goes and she can say that you’re always there by her side.

DRUM ROLLS PLS *dundundundundun* special mention to the one and only beloved feli @dr-felitas !! i think i owe you a lot of end notes so here i am :3 also i’m sorry if i publish this and i still haven’t responded to your messages (if you have sent me cause im on dnd to avoid my dumbass from checking and looking at the phone during car rides knowing that i get motion sick) ANYWAYS i would like to begin this with i love you mwamwa, you’re one of the sweetest and most wonderful souls i have ever met and anyone who tells u otherwise will get a boulder thrown to their head 🫵 im glad to have met you, that my anti-social ass went ahead and messaged you despite the fact that we only talked once or twice AND IT WAS OVER ASKS OR COMMENTS BUT YEAH !! idk what or where i’ll be if i hadn’t done that; maybe not replying to my friends idk (again im sorry if i take business days to answer i sometimes get busy or i sometimes dont have the energy :3 i hope u still love me hahahaha… *slides down the wall*) again, i really appreciate and adore you for everything. you are a brave and kind person and i only hope for the good things for you. don’t be too mean or harsh to yourself 🫂 know that i’m always here to listen to you no matter what you’re saying. you’re never a burden to me and i hope you’ll come to see just how you shine and radiate with so much warmth and kindness, it’s like love itself is found in you. ily lottss mwaa <33

sunday, himeko, welt, gallagher, and jing yuan next !!

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[dcxdpdabbles]

DC x DP fic idea: Love Among Fans

Damian Wayne would be the first to admit he had difficulty connecting to others his age. The only thing he knew well was the unforgiving bloodlust of battle and while that helped him fight as Robin it didn't mean it made a well liked Robin.

Civilians flinched away from him, and Police officers stood weary around him. He cares not for the crooks' opinion of him, but he knew it is low.

Worse, other teenage heroes didn't like him around. The Teen Titans had rejected his membership after the three months trial run. Young Justice made excuses after the first two. Even the Outlaws said he was too much to be around, and Todd ran that one.

Of course, his brothers did their best to let him down gently but they could not force the rest of their teams to accept him.

That's why Jon meant so much to him. His best friend had been displeased initially with Damian's behavior, but he had been willing to still get to know him.

Jon had the patience of a Saint. He discovered what worked for Damian and how to help him breach the gaps between them. Damian knew little of what he had missed as a kid, but Jon never made him feel less for it. He carefully explained, opening his world to wondrous new things and Damian tried them all because Jon asked him to.

There was very little he wouldn't do for Jon.

"Have you ever read fanfiction?'" Jon asked one afternoon in the Kryptonian's room.

"No." He grunts, knowing the other wouldn't take offense to the short reply.

Jon smiles, pushing the tablet he had been scrolling on. "You should! This is my current favorite. It's about the show Space Ninjas, you like."

Damian appreciated the show's art and animation, so he took the tablet and clicked on the first chapter. Jon pulled out his phone, and got comfortable on his bed as Damian read.

And read and read and read.

Three days later, he lay on his bed staring at the ceiling, unsure how to deal with real life until the author posted another chapter. He been texting Jon about the story and hosting over amazing character interpretation, theories on what the upcoming twist would be and just about how amazing this piece of art is.

Jon sent back multiple reaction gifs and links to the author's blog, where fans had posted art of the fic. Damian scrolled through them, amazed by how well every piece was, and his eyes caught the drawing Tabet Drake given him a year ago that he had ignored for his paints.

After a moment of thinking, he picked it up, hooked up his computer, and tried to draw the one scene that made the whole fic his newest obsession.

It took three days before he was satisfied with the results. He showed Jon who gushed over it for hours. He convinced him to open a blog to post it and when Damian couldn't bring himself to, Jon tagged the writer in it.

The writer sent him a heartfelt message equally moved by his drawings as Damian was by his writing.

It was the start of his second friendship.

Over time Damian drew more and more. His fanart blog grew in followers as his skills sharpened with practice. He made more pieces of other fanfiction he read, but he always fell back to making unique fan art for GlaxeyAstronaut.

He and GlaxeyAstronaut chatted for years. He didn't know his real name- he could find it easily enough with the Batcomputer but felt it would ruin things if he did- but he knew about him. His online friend was the same age as, Damian, who identified as male, had an older sister and two scientist parents, lived Minnesota and dreamed of being a astronaut.

Damian likewise told him things about himself, mindful never of revealing anything that could pinpoint him a Wayne. And that's how their relationship was for two years.

The writer and his artist.

At one point, Jon had pointed out that Damian messaged GlaxeyAstronaut daily and talked about him just as much. He pointed out how Damian's heart beat raised whenever he saw that silly icon on his notification. He pointed out how flustered he became when he read GlaxeyAstronaut's messages.

But Damian ignored him beacuse surely he was only excited to have two whole friends now.

When they turned fourteen, things changed. GlaxeyAstronaut stopped replying to his message for a week, nearly causing Damian to go find him as Robin until his friend returned to the chat room with a short "I had an accident in my parent's lab. Electric accident. It was bad. It is bad. I may not be able to get on here as much"

His friend became somewhat distant after that, replying three or four days after. Damian figured it was because he was recovering from his accident. Still he tried to be there for him and one day, almost a year after GlaxeyAstronaut's accident he received the message.

"I can't be an Astronaut. My heart will always be too slow to apply"

Damian stared at the words feeling ice cold. Being an Astronaut had always been his friend's dream since he was five, and he could point at the glowing dots to his parents on a camping trip. The fact a medical condition acquired from a lab accident ruined it just left Damain feeling cheated.

He had no idea what GlaxeyAstronaut must feel but he guess far worst.

He had sent a message asking GlaxeyAstronaut if he wanted to call him and talk about it without much thought . They had never done a voice call before, never wanting to breach that uncharted area of online and real life friendship.

But GlaxeyAstronaut agreed, and hesitantly, Damian sent him a link to a chat room with a call option.

The call connected, and the two spoke about the writer's condition how the electricity had run amok in his body, slowing his heart and killing him for a few seconds until his friends were able to bring him back using CPR.

When that became too heavy, they switched to their favorite shows, then brainstormed ideas for collaboration and everything else under the sun.

Damian felt like no time had passed when Father came to warn him to get ready to head out soon, and GlaxeyAstronaut told him he should get started on his homework anyway.

"My name is Danny, by the way," the voice from his speaker said softly. "You don't have to tell me your name. I just....thank you for listening. My best friends and sister hear me but they don't listen to what I saw about.....the accident. It means a lot to me."

"You are most welcome" He pauses for a few seconds before he tacks on "My name is Damian. It is a honor to meet you Danny"

He heard the other boy laugh before the call disconnected any Damian was left staring at his ceiling like he did three years ago.

Back then, Damian's life had changed upon discovering fanfiction and fandoms. Today his life changed upon the startling discovery that Jon had been trying to tell him since he was twelve.

He had a crush on Danny.

How would ge deal with this?

[zwhoreo]

Omg can you please write a scenario about Luffy asking Sanji for romantic advices because he wants to be a good boyfriend. After receiving a jealous kick from Sanji, he proceeds to help him.

luffy tries to follow Sanji’s advice but silly boy fails miserably but still Reader finds him cute and makes him feel better at the end.

(Girlie your tumblr it’s so good it hurts your writing is 🩷🩷🩷🩷)

this request is so cute!!! sorry for taking a little while on it, but it turned out well and it’s also my longest fic yet (hope that’s ok with you! just got excited about the prompt), hope you like it and tysm for the praise :’)

trying so hard - luffy x f!reader

fluff, very slight angst

summary in request, luffy tries very hard to be a good boyfriend to you, with a little advice from sanji which he fails at miserably. distressed, you comfort him and assure him that he’s the perfect partner

contains: some brief mentions of luffy being in emotional distress

words: 2.9k

_______________________________

He loves you. He wants you to know he loves you, so desperately, and what he knows best is touching, cuddling. He’s attached to you always, warm arms, gentle kisses, he sleeps with you every night all wrapped around your body with his face against yours. Luffy, at first, didn’t understand why he wanted to touch you so much. The feeling was overpowering, deep, he woke up every morning with his mind and soul in your arms, touch was forever, an ocean for him. But with that indescribable joy a hug can bring, there’s something else, it tugs at him, and with his kisses on your cheeks and your laughs and your smile he understands what he loves more than anything in the world.

He wants to make you happy.

He likes it when you smile, which is good because you often do that around him, but he wants to make you even happier like those princes in the books Robin reads to him, he wants to spoil you and get you gifts and be romantic and be a boyfriend from a fantasy, and he isn’t really sure if he knows how. He wants to marry you someday, he isn’t really sure what that means.

He knows, vaguely, that Sanji is an expert in these things, which Luffy finds mystifying. He’s heard Sanji talk about women all the time, a topic he doesn’t care about much. Luffy loves you, only you, he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world in a way he hasn’t thought about anyone else, ever. So he doesn’t understand Sanji’s lust and he finds the whole thing confusing and boring. But not when it’s about you, Luffy can talk about you for a million hours. Which Sanji hates, he’s happy for both of you but so, so jealous.

Luffy isn’t threatened by the way Sanji treats you, only amazed. Sanji does all these things that Luffy would never think to do, holding doors and cleaning for you and calling you such formal, flowery names. And food, that amazes him most of all.

Luffy is especially keen when it comes to food. He likes to watch Sanji make dinner, he likes to have meals with you and watch you eat. He doesn’t care about politeness or looking good around you when he eats, he just appreciates affection and closeness. But oh, Sanji makes you the most wonderful things. Perfectly arranged desserts, expensive and tastefully cut meats and cheeses, colorful drinks in decorated lacquerware that Luffy has never seen before. Past the jealousy of wanting this food for himself, Luffy recognizes how much these gestures mean to you. You’re so joyful. You thank him and you smile.

You smile.

Luffy wants to make you smile too.

So, now determined, Luffy fully believes that Sanji has every answer he needs about how to treat a girl, how to make a girl smile.

____________________________

Luffy is sitting on the counter and kicking his legs, watching Sanji fry some apples for dessert. And Sanji is a bit annoyed but he lets him, knowing Luffy loves this sort of thing so much, the smells and the fresh leftover batter he’ll get to eat, Sanji never has to worry about wasting food.

But this breathy humming means Luffy has something on his mind and doesn’t know how to say it. Kicking the cabinets aimlessly, picking at the silverware, he’s not good at words.

And after a few minutes and a quiet sigh from Sanji, Luffy finally blurts out, “hey, can ya teach me how to be a boyfriend?” and looks expectant, head tilted.

“For [name]-san? Huh, you’ve got a lot to learn.” Sanji’s voice is frustrated, quiet. “You don’t know how to treat a lady.”

“Yeah. I wanna be good at it.” And he sounds so genuine that Sanji has no choice but to help. He turns off the oven, turns to his captain, huffs and crosses his arms.

“You need to learn respect, Luffy, and politeness. Compliment her, give her gifts, kiss her-” Sanji’s eyes turn up a bit and he seems lost in a fantasy despite his upset, but before his extensive and endless list goes on forever he’s loudly interrupted.

“Ooh! I kiss her alll the time. She taught me how and we’re both so good at it-” Luffy’s smile grows bigger and bigger and now it’s Sanji’s turn to interrupt.

He shouts in jealousy and gives Luffy a swift kick, knocking him off the counter. He’s had enough, he doesn’t want to know this.

“Heyy! What didja do that for?” Luffy’s lack of self-awareness is not what Sanji needed, but it’s time to relent.

His anger isn’t enough to take over his instinct, to help this beautiful girl feel happy and respected. He’s going to help, his captain needs an expert teacher.

“Mmh, I like how you make her food, I can’t cook real good, though.” Luffy’s voice breaks through Sanji’s thoughts, he’s still looking up from where he’s sprawled on the ground, unswayed.

Another huff from Sanji, more determined. “I’ll make her meals, you’ll bring them to her.”

“Ohh, like my leftovers after I eat, cause I don’t got a lot of those but I can save some…”

Sanji is confused and exasperated at Luffy’s lack of simple understanding, snapping, “No! You don’t touch meals meant for a lady, it’s only for [name]-san, the worst thing you can do is touch a woman’s food.”

Disappointed, but trying so hard. “I can bring her those apples you’re makin’? Does she like apples?”

“Of course she does. She likes them with sugar and cinnamon, thinly sliced, stewed until soft. She enjoys a powdered sugar garnish, with drops of honey.”

“Wow. You know a lot, heh…” Luffy’s eyes are on the apples, they’re bubbling, he likes when they bubble. “They gonna be done soon?”

“Patience is a principle of good cooking.” Sanji seems a little drained, but hell, this day has now become [name]’s for him.

Smells so good. Especially at the end. Warm to the touch even though Sanji slaps his hand away and says Luffy isn’t allowed to put his fingers anywhere near those apples. And he can’t drop the plate. And he can’t let them get cold. And he can’t, no matter what, taste a single one, not the sugar, not the honey, nothing. Nothing is for him.

____________________________

You’re in the bathroom when Luffy finds you. You’re doing your hair for the day, very carefully because this is a nice day and you like to look good for nice days. But Luffy isn’t allowed in right now because he likes to touch your hair and mess it up and he burns his hands on the curling iron.

Even though Luffy is calling to you from outside the door and saying something about apples.

To which you’re kind, you tell him it won’t take long, he whines in frustration and sits down with the plate on his lap.

He fidgets. He’s impatient. He doesn’t know what to do right now but oh my god does he want to touch those apples.

He takes minutes of restraint. Ignoring the smell and looking out the porthole and biting his lip to occupy his mouth.

But a touch won’t hurt, right?

His hands are probably clean enough. They aren’t quite as sweaty today as normal, it’s alright.

They’re so smooth, so fun to touch, like a warm kitten or your cheeks when they’re hot from blushing.

But it makes him want to taste them and his stomach hurts so bad. One won’t hurt, right?

It’s more than one, in just a couple minutes. But guilt tugs at his heart, what did he do? Is this going to make you sad? It doesn’t taste so good anymore. He rubs his hands into the apples, squishing them, he’s trying to spread them out so it looks like there’s more on the plate. He knows he’s done something really bad. He’s stressed.

What would help? Probably an apple slice.

So when you come out of the bathroom Luffy’s head is down in embarrassment and there’s only one little slice left on the plate. And melted cinnamon on his hands and mouth.

“Sanji made you apples. I brought ‘em to ya.” His voice is small when you sit down next to him.

“That’s really nice Lu.” And then you laugh a little bit at him, but stop when you see he doesn’t feel good, you pet his hair and wipe his sticky lips with your thumb. You’re charmed by the thought, at least.

“That was nice of you guys.” You take the slice and eat it, making sure he sees you smile, and then you put your arms around him and pull him in for a kiss, which makes him happy.

He tastes like fried apples.

____________________________

So here he is again sitting on the kitchen counter, humming. Sanji can tell something happened.

“I brought the apples to her but I ate most of ‘em… I’m sorry,” Luffy admits.

Sanji gasps in indignation and slams down his spoon, turning, fire in his eyes. “You did the one thing, the only thing you weren’t supposed to do.”

Luffy’s so sad now.

“You don’t deserve her.” Sanji feels mean, dejected.

“I love her so much! Please, Sanji, please help me more! I’m gonna be better!” Luffy’s voice shakes a little and the poor, jealous Sanji can’t give up, he won’t.

“Bring her flowers. All ladies like flowers. We’re docking at an island for supplies, make a bouquet of flowers and give it to her, she likes white roses and baby’s-breath.”

Luffy doesn’t know what a bouquet is, or what baby’s-breath could possibly mean, but he’s seen Sanji give lots of girls flowers and it doesn’t seem so hard. He’s excited again.

____________________________

There’s lots of fields here which is paradise for Luffy because there must be so, so many flowers. Before dinner he’s going to pick you a lot and maybe tie them with a ribbon like Sanji does. He doesn’t know a lot about flowers but he thinks they’re real pretty things. He runs off to look as soon as his ship hits land.

He doesn’t know what to pick but, in clusters on top of a sunny hill, he sees the most perfect ones that you’ll love so much. They’re fluffy and white, delicate, he’s never seen anything quite so pretty. He picks as many as he can, cursing as they come apart in his clumsy hands, but soon they’re as good as they’ll get in a neat little bunch in his fist and he completes them with a blue ribbon, he doesn’t know how to tie a bow but he gets them together well enough.

You’re putting together your day bag when he finds you, catching you before you head into town for some food. Your name is yelled excitedly and here’s your Luffy coming towards you, holding something, so happy and confident.

“Hi, Lu! Do you have a present?” You’re too distracted by his eyes, too distracted to see all those “flowers.”

“Mhm! I was out all afternoon making a.. uh.. “bouquet,” right? And I thought these were so pretty and you can keep ‘em in your room!”

He shoves them at you and they burst into a thousand tiny seeds that dance in the air and come at you in waves and clouds and you cough, quickly covering your face, they’re sticking to your dress and your hair and falling into your bag, burying themselves in your blankets, permeating the room.

Luffy’s face falls. Your gift is all gone, he doesn’t understand what happened.

“Oh… dandelions.” You aren’t mad at him, this was so sweet, but you just swept your cabin yesterday and now look. Now it’s filled with little winged seeds.

“Sorry… I didn’t think they were gonna do that.” He’s trying to scoop up the white fluff, he wants you to get something pretty.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it.” You adjust his hat and hold his hand gently, “I was just about to go into town and get some dinner, you wanna come? We can eat and then go pick some flowers together, does that sound fun?”

“Oh, oh yeah!” He’s ginning again. “We can eat a lotta food and do ya think there’s gonna be more of those dandelion things out there?” He pulls your hand, he wants to go right now and have a fun day.

“Mhm! I think there’s… a lot of them out there.”

____________________________

Sanji is beyond frustration when he hears about the dandelions. Luffy gave a lady weeds, got seeds all over her bed, how could he be so clueless? How didn’t he know what he held?

“You’re hopeless!” He groans in near defeat. He’s done with his captain, who only means well but can’t do anything right. Sanji curses to himself and he’s lost in a little daydream about how much better he’d treat you if you were his, and he’s only snapped back to reality by Luffy coming in to give Sanji an apologetic, unwanted hug.

“God, Luffy, you smell bad! Have you been hugging [name]-san like that? When’s the last time you took a bath?”

“Don’t remember…” There he goes, trying to bury his face in Sanji’s chest and Sanji wants literally anything other than that right now. But even he sees how sweet your boyfriend is, how loving, how much he wants to make you happy.

“Listen, this is what you can do for her. Go take a bath. You can even… ugh… use my soap. It’s in the cabinet, rosemary. And make sure to clean yourself everywhere. But don’t you dare touch Nami-san’s bath products!”

“Heh, ok! [name]’s gonna like it if I smell real good? And this means I can cuddle her after, right?” His eyes are huge, hopeful.

“I guess so.” Sanji looks away. But he pats Luffy’s back, encouraging, thinking that it’s possible, Luffy could be a good boyfriend, he better be.

This is all Luffy needs to sprint to the bathroom.

____________________________

You’re out on the deck, it’s getting late, you’re watching the stars and wearing Nami’s night shirt. It’s so beautiful tonight, you’re hoping Luffy comes here soon, you love him.

And he’s coming. But he smells different, not that familiar musky scent. You think it’s Sanji at first he smells so much like him but wet sandals clack on the deck and he’s stumbling a little he’s so eager to get to you.

“Hey, [name], I took a bath, I smell good, huh? Can we please cuddle now?”

You see soaked hair and dripping clothes and before you have time to pull away you’re scooped into a tight, wet hug. A rosemary hug that soaks through Nami’s nice shirt and makes you cold against the night air.

He forgot to dry off, he was so excited to come hold you.

But god, that’s so sweet.

“Mhm, you smell really good! But you’re a little wet, hun…” you hug him back despite the discomfort.

He blushes in shame. He was, wasn’t he. How could he forget something so simple? How didn’t he notice? Was he making you cold and uncomfortable? His hold is loosening around your back, he’s almost holding back tears.

He just wants to be a good boyfriend. He just wants to show you how indescribably deep his love goes. He wants you to be happy and comfortable always and he doesn’t want you to be sad and he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you, ever.

And as his hug disappears, yours tightens, you’re not letting him get away. This is your baby. Hold him so he doesn’t cry.

“Shh… it’s ok, Lu. I said you smell good, didn’t I? It’s ok, please don’t worry.” You’re trying to rub his back and be as gentle as you can possibly be.

“I’m no good at this stuff.” A strained, little voice against your neck.

“At what? At being my boyfriend?”

“Yeah…”

“No, no, you’re perfect.” You wipe wet hair away from his eyes and hurriedly give him a hundred kisses on his cheek. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry, Luffy. “You’re the most perfect boyfriend in the whole world. Please don’t say that, ok?”

“Sanji told me I’m no good. I jus’ wanna make you happy…” he tries to lean away from your kisses but he likes them too much.

“Sanji doesn’t know anything.” You laugh, you imagine Luffy sitting there and getting advice from that jealous, idiot cook. “You make me happy every day. You know, you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I dream about you every night. I would hold you for the rest of my life if I could. I love you so, so much. Everything you do is perfect, you don’t need to do anything else, you make me happy by just… being in the world. You don’t need to change, I’m already gonna be in love forever.” And you kiss him, a long kiss as you cup his face and you feel his muscles release. He tastes a little like soap, did he wash his mouth, too? You try not to worry about that right now, you just want to kiss him.

And he smiles, kissing you back. “I love ya. You’re my everything, darlin’. Not gonna let you go, ‘kay?”

This sweetheart. You’re in his lap now, squeezed so hard. That breeze turns into wind, salt on your skin, adoring hands on your skin.

“Let’s go get you a towel and some warm clothes. Then we can see about that cuddling, sound good?”

He laughs and presses his nose against yours, overjoyed at just existing in this one moment and getting to touch you and taste your smile. “Yeah, c’mon.” He picks you up, cradling you, he isn’t letting you go for the world.

[bitterchocoo]

Hiiiii I've been scrolling to much in Tumblr thankful that I found ur acc, got hooked with ur writing when I read the jing yuan fic <333

so may i request dr. Ratio or sunday with a gojo m reader 👀, maybe enemies to lovers (anything is fine ^^) , the plot is yours to freely choose <33

Charm You Later~

Sunday | M. Reader as Satoru Gojo [Jujutsu Kaisen]

----------

"I hate that man I hate that man! …but oh cara mia..how I love him~"

----------

Oh how he hated that man. He would always waltz towards him and act all buddy-buddy, and he'll do it with that cheeky grin. How annoying.

And that voice. Oh how he dreaded it. Hearing it hurts his ears.

Just who does he think he is? Getting all chummy with him. A member of The Family! Just who does he think he is?! Another thing he doesn't understand.. is how Robin seems to be fond of him. How could his sister like someone like him? He's a complete man child!

When he asked about it, her response was. "He just seems to be a fun person to be around."

Fun? Him? He's more like a headache! An annoying headache!

Especially that one time...

.

.

.

.

.

The door of the theater bursts open, revealing a tall man wearing sunglasses. He casually walks towards a specific seat, his hands in his pockets and a cheeky grin on his handsome face. Acting like he owns the place.

Some were swooned by the handsome man, some were whispering amongst each other, some looked at him with annoyance.

Just who does he think he is?

"Hey! Sunday!" He called out casually, raising a hand as if his tall figure and "grand entrance" didn't already attract anyone in the theater.

----------

How humiliating! To have someone as brash as him to call out to him like that in front of everyone! Sunday swears he wanted to kill him right then and there.

"What's with that look~"

"Shut up."

"Hey I was just asking an innocent question.."

The man pouts as Sunday turned his back against him. How grumpy.. why can't he just lighten up a little? A dream is supposed to be sweet, not bitter. "Come on~" Letting out a sigh, Sunday mumbled something under his breath before speaking up. "That's enough, [Name], please leave."

"Come on Sunday~ Why must you act this way to me.." [Name] teased as he continues to pout at Sunday for being a "meanie" surely he hasn't done anything bad, right? [Name] is positive he hasn't done anything that might result in such a behavior from Sunday. So.. he decided to continue with his teasing.

The other's teasing will always annoy Sunday to no end. He always acts so cheery, plus that cheeky, weirdly adorable grin on his face that doesn't seem to be leaving him anytime soon. He's looking down on him. Of course he is! His tone, no matter how friendly it is, still has that faint hint of arrogance in it. The way he acted is just so.. condescending.

Then again.. what did you expect from someone who always claims he's the strongest.

"Is it something I did? Hey, Sunday." [Name] wrapped his arms around his shoulders, leaning down a little to do so. "Sunday, tell me!" Poking the man's cheek as he kept pestering him like a child wanting their parents attention. With a groan Sunday slapped the man's finger with his wing. "Stop that."

[Name] pouts before finally leaving Sunday alone.

Finally.. some peace and quiet..

----------

Death comes for us all. A common knowledge. And yet, the moment that.. thing attacked..

He can't help but feel.. off..

The sight of that thing attacking him.

How the self proclaimed "Strongest" struggles in the face of Death. Then again.. no one could escape Death itself. But still.. he can't help but feel a wave of dread at the sight of it. When he saw him after the incident, there was one thing that crossed his mind..

'That blank, dead-like expression doesn't suit him.'

Where's the smile that always decorated his face? Where's the captivating glow of his eyes?

"What's this?" The other asked rather blankly, a tone that doesn't suit him one bit. "..a get well soon gift." "I'm not sick."

Letting out a sigh, Sunday continues to shoved the small box toward him. "Just take it." [Name] look at Sunday from over the top of his sunglasses, eyeing him for a moment before taking the gift, mumbling a small "Thanks."

'That look doesn't suit him.' Sunday continues to think of the same thing over and over again. The glint of mischief isn't there anymore... he can't deny it anymore.. Sunday had missed the bastard's mischievousness and his playful attitude.

"What's this for anyway?" "Stop that."

Taken aback by the sudden harsh words [Name] look up from the gift and stare at Sunday. "I beg your pardon?"

Sunday? Raising his voice like that? That's unheard of.. why is he acting this way? What happened? Is this truly Sunday? Thousands of theories run through his head as [Name] tries to think of a reason for the calm and collected Sunday to lose his temper like that.

"I said 'stop that.'" He huffed crossing his arms. Yeah no, [Name] isn't taking that attitude. "What's with you all of a sudden?"

"That's supposed to be my question you idiot!" Sunday suddenly raised his voice as his temper took the best of him. "Wha—Hey!" "Just shut up and listen to me!!"

[Name] glared at the winged man. Him? Telling him to shut up? Who does he think he is? Ordering the "Strongest" like that? And where is all of this coming from? It doesn't make sense! Not with how calm and collected Sunday usual is!

The winged man grabbed the other by his collar as he's getting fed up with their little argument. But before [Name] could protest again, he was silenced by something soft placed on top of his lips. A sweet kiss.

Huh?

Did he just..?

Stunned by the kiss that came out of nowhere, [Name] looked at Sunday with wide eyes. He was not expecting that... how is he supposed to expect that coming from the person who he annoys and argues 24/7?

The two blushed as Sunday looked away for a moment before speaking up. "That look doesn't suit you."

"Could you please... give me a smile instead..?"

[estrellami-1]

If I Should Stay

Y’all are the absolute funniest most of the tags/comments on part 2 were either “oh shit Nancy????” Like we as a collective Steddie hivemind genuinely forgot Steve and Nancy were a Thing for a minute and I think that’s so sexy of us. OR y’all went “OH THANK FUCK ROBIN REMEMBERS” which. Y’all. Y’all don’t understand how little control I actually have over this fic 😂 like genuinely I’m not creating anything, it’s writing itself, I’m just writing the words down. It’s fantastic. 😂 also keep in mind I have a tentative posting schedule of every 4 days so expect something on/around the 16th! ❤️

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Eddie runs.

He’s terrified and a coward but it’s kept him alive this long so he runs, books it back to his van, ignores Harrington calling out for him, only realizes when he’s most of the way home that he’s still got the ring clenched in his hand.

He stares at it long enough at a stoplight that someone honks at him when it turns green. “What the fuck,” he whispers again, placing it on his desk when he gets home. “What the fuck.”

Wayne knocks on his door then immediately pokes his head in, which completely defeats the purpose of the knock, but Eddie’s door was open anyways. “Eds?”

“Yeah?”

“Y’alright, kiddo?”

“I think I hallucinated.”

Wayne’s silent for a few long moments. “Did you take somethin’? Or are you bein’ dramatic?”

“I didn’t take anything.”

Wayne sighs. “Wanna tell me what you think you hallucinated?”

He’s about to, it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t quite say it. Like there’s a dam at the front of his mouth, and the words can’t break through. He lets out a desperate chuckle and shakes his head, flopping backwards onto his bed. “I don’t even know.”

Wayne raises a brow, but before he can respond, there’s a knock on the trailer door.

Knock is a polite term for it. It’s more like someone’s trying to break down the door with their fist. “Munson!” Someone yells. “Open this door, dammit, or I will drag you out by your ears?”

“Boy,” Wayne says, looking at him. “What the fuck did you get yourself into?”

Eddie groans, grabs his pillow, and screams into it.

When he surfaces for air, Wayne’s gone, talking to the person at the front door. Eddie vaguely recognizes the voice. Female, young, probably someone he has a class with.

Wayne, the traitor, lets her in, and Eddie’s suddenly faced with a furious Robin Buckley. He blinks. “Buckley?”

He tries to think back, but he hadn’t sold her anything recently—or ever, for that matter—so he has no idea why she’s here, looking like she’s about to murder him. “You said you’d listen.”

He blinks again. Sits up to face her. “What?”

“Steve. He told you.”

“Steve- Harrington? Oh, come on, Buckley, are you delusional too?”

Blue eyes narrow at him. “You’ve got a little stick-n-poke on your thigh. It’s an upside down star. It’s crappy ‘cause you did it yourself, but that’s why you love it. He already said your favorite song, so I won’t repeat it. You’ve had a frankly ridiculous crush on him practically since the moment you laid eyes on him. You call your guitar your sweetheart because that’s what your mom called you, and she’s the one who taught you to play.” She crosses her arms. “I can keep going.”

“I suppose you’re from the future, then, too?” Her words catch up to him and he suddenly blanches. “I, uh, I’m not sure about your second point.”

She softens some, which is rather unexpected, but he’s grateful. “Oh, Eddie.” She sits on the edge of his bed. “Me too. It’s alright. I’m sorry, I got upset because you ran, after you told Steve you’d listen, and…” she sighs, looking around his room, before standing when she catches sight of the ring on his desk. She picks it up and studies it. “This is practically all we have left,” she says softly, and Eddie feels like throwing up.

“Because I die?”

She looks at him like she’s seeing a ghost. “Yeah.”

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[munsons-melody]

angeleyes

summary: after seeing nancy get pulled into a trance, eddie gets worried the same might happen to you and makes you a tape with your favorite song on a loop, even though you're broken up

pairing: eddie munson x female!henderson!reader

cw: bit of angst but ends with fluff

recommended songs: 'disillusion' and 'angeleyes' by ABBA

word count: 3.3k

a/n: did i start crying while writing this? yes, yes i did. also NOT PROOFREAD! also feedback is always appreciated :)

masterlist

part two of this fic called ‘your song’ can be found here

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

-

the two of you were together for almost a year. you were inseparable from the start but as months passed, you each kept getting busier and busier and whenever you were together, it would end in a giant screaming match with one of you crying while the other stormed off with no apologies in store till days later.

even though you knew the two of you were in a rough patch, you never expected the last fight to be your final one. you were at each others throats, a silly bicker turning into a full blown fight. you were both teary-eyed, throats sore from screaming and holding back tears, pacing all around the trailer. neither really knew what the fighting was about, but it didn't stop the screaming match that definitely caused the whole neighborhood to wake up from their peaceful slumbers

you still remember the exact moment you felt your world shatter. you stood in eddie's room, wiping the tears from your cheeks as you diverted your eyes from him to the floor, littered with his clothes and various items. you didn't want him to see you cry as hard as you were.

all you wanted was him to say anything like "i'm sorry" or "come here" and have him wrap you up in those strong arms of his, while he stroked your hair and told you he loved you and the two of you would be alright. but nothing of the sort came. the quietness deafening after the two of you stopped fighting.

"maybe we just aren't good for each other anymore," eddie muttered out, and you looked up at him with bloodshot eyes

"what? no! don't say that, please" you said, inching forward but he moved back to avoid your touch

"i think we should break up y/n" he said. it was like someone knocked all the oxygen out of your body as your heart started pounding

"eddie-" you tried but he shook his head, a couple of tears slipping down his cheeks

"y/n, please, just go" he said with anger hidden in his voice, facing away from you

"fine" you said, your blood boiling. you stormed out of his trailer and walked out into the cold evening air, using your walk home as a way to cool down and soon enough your anger turned into more sadness

once you arrived home, you couldn't help but let the tears flow freely, feeling as if your heart was broken into a million tiny little pieces

"shit are you okay?" dustin asked you as you crumpled onto the couch, not caring that you would most likely have to explain why you were crying.

"no" you muttered out, curling into a ball and putting a pillow over your face. he walked over to you, sitting on the coffee table across from you

"did you break up?" he asked and you nodded, turning your head to smush your face into the pillow, letting your tears soak into the fabric of the pillow

"shit shit you're gonna be okay i promise" dustin said with a panic

.

eddie's trailer was in pure chaos as everyone ripped his room apart, looking for some tape that wasn't a heavy metal song to aid nancy in freeing herself from vecna's trance

"music! we need music!" robin screamed out as you watched as she flung a handful of cassettes onto eddies bed, Eddie swiftly picking one of the iron maiden tapes up and screamed at her "this is music!" 

right as you grabbed another box of tapes you heard steve yell "guys!" and all of you ran to the small living room, littered with debris surrounding the mattress that served as your 'landing pad'

you looked up to see steve holding nancy on the floor and you immediately thought the worst, your heart pounding as it skipped a beat, not prepared to see the potentiality of your best friend dead in steves arms 

"she's okay! we're going to come through!" steve's voice rang out, laced with urgency. everyone nodded as they cleared the area. you watched as the two of your friends individually climbed up the makeshift rope and fall through the gate onto eddie's mattress

you saw everyone, or at least assumed everyone, swarm nancy, asking question after question of "are you alright?" and "what happened"

nancy just stayed quiet, holding her arms to herself blinking away tears, and you broke away from the group to get her some water as she slowly sat down on the couch

you moved through the all too familiar kitchen of the munson trailer, wanting to reminisce about the memories you shared with eddie in this kitchen, but refusing to do so due to the fact you a) didn't want to waste time helping nancy and b) didn't want to relive the memories that would just break your heart even more

once you handed nancy the water, you let her be, not wanting to overwhelm her or pressure her into talking about what just happened. you went back into the kitchen, not wanting to be in any ones way, and stood there with your arms crossed

this time you allowed yourself to let those memories creep back in. the early mornings where you would make pancakes for you and eddie's breakfast, and what would be wayne's dinner when he came home before he would go to sleep. the times you would teach eddie how to cook when you felt like making dinner together. the late nights you spent listening to the radio and would dance under the refrigerator light. the times you two would spend after hours of endless sex where even when you tried to have a break from each other to get some water just to end up fucking on the kitchen floor. 

hell, you even smiled to yourself about the time eddie accidentally bruised his knuckles after enthusiastically waving his hands around while in conversation and smacking them on the cabinet, and you of course had to kiss them better.

you heard some shuffling and mumbling behind you and turned to the hallway just to make eye contact with eddie as you watched him drag dustin down the hall and into his room

you heard the door close and some muffled voices, but you couldn't make out the conversation 

-

eddie shut the door and turned to dustin who stood there, confused as ever as to why he was being dragged down the hall 

"what is y/n's favorite song?" he asked with urgency. dustin looked taken aback.

"excuse me?" dustin questioned, looking at eddie as if he had five heads

"your sister, y/n, what is her favorite song?" he repeated with a stern tone

"shouldn't you know?" dustin snapped with an annoyed look upon his face. even though eddie was one of his best friends and someone he looked up to, this breakup between his sister and him was so new and fresh, he didn't know how to act in this situation

"well it changes with her, like it changes all the time man... for a while it was killer queen by queen and then it changed to dreams by fleetwood mac then it changed to, i think, amoreena by elton john? ugh" he groaned

"eddie, why do you want to know? didn't you two break up like a couple of months ago?" dustin pointed out and eddie shook his head, rubbing his temple 

"it was a little over a month ago but-" eddie started before dustin interrupted him 

"and didn't you break up with her?" he questioned further, crossing his arms 

"well technically but i-" 

"'technically' my ass! you completely broke her heart and now you want to know her favorite song? why do you even care all of a sudden? you didn't seem to care when she would come home crying after seeing you at school all day. you didn't seem to care when she wanted to go to her favorite place in this goddamn town but didn’t cause she was scared she'd run into you there. you didn't seem to care when she spent all of her money to buy you those stupid concert tickets for your birthday..." dustin's voice trailed off from his originally loud tone

eddie looked down, a lump forming in his throat

"i didn't know any of that..." he admitted, moving his head up to look at dustin with glassy eyes 

"what?" dustin said and eddie nodded, sniffling 

"i didn't know she did any of that, especially those tickets" eddie said, his voice cracking which mirrored the cracks forming in his heart

eddie sat down on the bed putting his head in his hands, feeling completely and utterly stupid 

"i am the biggest fucking idiot for breaking up with her. it was just the heat of the moment with that stupid fight- and i can't even remember what it was about! i was just tired of the fighting! and now it's been a month but i haven't even talked to her until all of this shit went down but god i love her so goddamn much and i will be damned if something happens to her- if nancy can get under his trance at random who knows if she's next" eddie ranted, standing up and putting both his hands on dustins shoulders

"please dustin, what is her favorite song?" he pleaded. dustin looked at him with sympathic eyes and sighed 

"angeleyes" he muttered out and eddie stared at him with a confused look written across his face

"i think her favorite song right now is angeleyes by abba... i always hear her listening to it and singing it around the house..." dustin told him and eddie's eyes widened 

he ran to the door to open it but as he did he it revealed you standing there, with your arm and fist up in a knocking position 

"y/n" he breathed out and you looked into his eyes, the knots turning in your stomach reminding you of the heartbreak he succumbed you to and you blinked, looking past him at dustin standing there

"sorry, uh we're heading to max's next door, it's safer over there" you said bluntly before turning around and walking down the hallway, steve wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you headed toward the door 

eddie watched you leave and made a b line into the cabinet that sat adjacent to their kitchen, opening the door and starting to rummage through the boxes

"what are you doing? didn't you hear y/n?" he heard dustin ask as he approached behind him

"i know for a fact that we have that abba song on an album somewhere" he rumaged some more before pulling out a handful of tapes by ABBA

"my mom loved them so we had a lot of their tapes," eddie explained, walking back to his room and grabbing a blank tape 

he looked on the back of each tape till he saw the small words ‘angeleyes’ on the back of the voulez-vous album

he put both in his boombox, playing the song and pressing record so he was able to make a loop of the song 

"eddie we need to regroup with everyone next door" dustin pleaded and eddie shook his head

"we can meet them after we get a good loop of at least 10 minutes" he said before turning back to his dresser 

"we shouldn't risk being here longer than we already have, what if someone hears us or even sees us in here?" he pleaded again and eddie shook his head, being stubborn as a mule 

"fine, we'll be all over there where its safe and you can be over here with the fear of being caught" dustin said with annoyance, starting to leave eddie's room when eddie walked over and stopped him 

"just wait 5 more goddamn minutes" eddie told him with an angry tone 

"jesus christ okay" dustin responded with his voice higher than normal 

eddie heard the end of the song and quickly paused the two tapes, and rewinded before pressing the play and record buttons 

he sat on his bed, listening to the song and the lyrics hit him like a train 

'Sometimes when I'm lonely, I sit and think about him And it hurts to remember all the good times When I thought I could never live without him And I wonder, does it have to be the same Every time? When I see him, will it bring back all the pain? How can I forget that name?'

shit he thought to himself, continuing to listen to the lyrics of the song 

'Look into his angel eyes One look and you're hypnotized He took my heart and now I pay the price Look into his angel eyes You'll think you're in paradise Then one day you'll find out he wears a disguise Don't look too deep into those angel eyes'

once the song ended, he rewinded and played it again, internalizing each word he heard from the song 

he came to his senses that both of you were hurting just as much when it came to this break up and he felt guilt and resentment gnawing away at him

how in the world could i ever get her back? he questioned himself, feeling as lost as ever

he heard the song again a couple more times as it was recorded onto the blank tape, feeling like a piece of his heart was shattering with each note

he finally felt satisfied with the loop he had made, and quickly ejected the tapes from where they sat and slipped it into his walk man and shoved it into dustins bag along with a pair of headphones, and they carefully walked out of eddie's trailer and to max's trailer next door

-

you stood next to robin in the kitchen, the two of you hungrily snacking down a pb&j after finding your appetite now that you knew everyone was safe and was able to take a breather from the traumatizing experience you all shared 

"here's one for you and nance" robin said, handing the plates to steve and he smiled before turning to nancy who was in the living room 

"where's eddie and dustin?" max asked you, making a sandwich herself and you shrugged, gulping down some water 

"i'm not sure, i mean i told them we were coming here and that was almost 20 minutes ago" you said, wiping your face

"should we go check to make sure they're still over there and not getting sucked back into the upside down?" robin asked and you nodded

"yeah i'll go, you two finish eating" you said, putting your plate in the sink and walking out to the front door but you noticed the two of them running across the street from eddie's trailer to max's and you switftly moved from the door as they jumped in 

everyone stopped and stared at them since they were out of breath

"where were you guys?" lucas asked and dustin looked at eddie before looking at you and then back to lucas 

"uh sorry we had to reattach the caution tape to the front door so it didn't look suspicious" dustin said, and everyone seemed to buy the lie, nodding to each other as everyone convened in the living room

-

you sat in the stolen rv in the back, looking out the window at the birds playing in the trees. it was parked on the side of the store where there was room to fit it without taking up spaces in the main lot.

you heard dustin and lucas up front near the steering wheel in some conversation when you felt the seat dip next to you.

you turned your body to see eddie sitting there looking at you. 

"hey" he said softly

"hi" you said back, turning to face back to the window 

you hadn't really talked to him over the past few days, not knowing what to do or say since you hadn't spoken since your breakup

"y/n can i please talk to you?" he asked sweetly, and you looked at him again, seeing his eyes in a fixed stare

you just nodded, turning to face him completely

"the reason i was late coming from my trailer earlier wasn't because dustin was fixing the caution tape" eddie started, reaching for dustins bag which was by his feet. you blinked at him, muttering an "okay?" which came out with a more annoyed tone than you intended 

he pulled out a walkman from the bag, and popped the tape out 

"y/n... i don't know what the hell will happen next but i know for a fact if anything happened to you and we didn't have a way to save you i-" he said, wiping a few tears from his eyes

your brows furrowed as you looked at the tape and back at him, meeting each others gaze

"i made this, uh, it's like a 20 minute loop of angeleyes by abba... dustin said it was your favorite song... after seeing nancy be put in that trance just so vecna could talk to her really freaked me out, and i don't know if he'll somehow use you as a pawn in his game, so this is for you" eddie said, fiddling with the tape before replacing it back in the walkman and handing it to you

"oh eddie..." you said, rubbing your thumb over the piece of technology

eddie's heart fluttered as he heard you say his name

"listen, nothing will happen to me, i promise" you said, grabbing his hand in yours. the fact that he was in the shittiest situation to ever occur and he was still thinking about you just made your love for him grow strong, which in turn only fed into your heartbreak because he wasn't yours to love anymore, and he had made that very clear

"yeah but if anything does, i want to- no i need to tell you... i love you y/n henderson. you were the best thing to happen to me in this godforsaken town and the fact that i messed things up will be something i will always regret. i hate that i told you i wanted to break up. i didn't- i was just so sick and tired of always fighting. i've never had someone like you in my life and i thought you were going to break up with me so i went and pulled the trigger before you could. this past month has been pure agony for me, and dustin went and rubbed salt into the wound when he told me about those tickets you got for my birthday, and jesus- im just, im sorry and i love you" eddie told you, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of your hand 

you cupped his face, leaning in to kiss him, craving his lips on yours. he kissed back before you pulled away to look at him

"eddie, i don't even know what to say" you muttered out and he shook his head 

"you don't need to say anything, i just needed to tell you how i felt just incase" he said and you took in a deep breath 

"i've hated you so much these past few weeks for what you did, but fucking hell i love you more than words can say eds. it was very stupid of you to assume i would break up with you just because we were going through a rough patch but, maybe when all of this is over and you learn not to be an idiot, maybe we could have a picnic by lovers lake, just me and you," you said softly, and eddie smiled 

"yeah?" he asked, his eyes lighting up 

"yeah, maybe i can even tell you about the concert tickets i spent all my money on... it was supposed to be a surprise but i guess dustin ruined that" you joked, and eddie chuckled 

"oh honey you didn't have to spend all your money on me, especially not on tickets," eddie said, brushing his fingers through your hair to push it back on your shoulder 

"but you deserve it, your birthday's coming up and ozzy osbourne was going on tour and i knew you wanted to see him" you shrugged with a small smile 

he kissed you passionately, and you melted into his touch, feeling the warmth of his lips on yours and you didn't realize how badly you needed him till this very moment. it was soon interrupted however as the door to the RV swung open, and you pulled apart, watching everyone clamber in yelling that we needed to go

the engine of the RV roared to life as steve sped off the premises, leading you guys onto the next part of your adventure to killing vecna

fin.

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I've seen people in fics write about how Eddie and Robin would clock each other. Nobody talks about how hilarious it would be if Eddie and Steve clocked each other as bisexuals. Maybe they're sharing a hospital room because you know Robin bullied Steve into a hospital bed.

"RABIES, STEVEN, RABIES!"

Anyway, Eddie and Steve are kind of high on painkillers when Eddie starts talking about how hot Steve’s mom pose is.

"Oh. Shit, I think I just outed myself as bisexual," Eddie said.

"Oh, man, you too?" Steve asked.

"Oh, man, I fucking knew it! I mean, I didn't want to assume," Eddie laughed.

"Hey, I knew there was something with that hanky," Steve said. "I didn't want to ask."

"Hanky?" Eddie asked.

"You don't know about the hanky code?" Steve whispered.

"No, man," Eddie whispered back.

Steve proceeded to tell him about his trip to Indie for magazines with Robin, where he discovered that he was bisexual and they learned all about the hanky code from a polite, older man with a long beard who had accidentally stumbled upon them during Steve’s crisis.

"That's wild. Wait, what store did you find these magazines and Gandalf the Gay at?" Eddie asked, still whispering.

"Oh, man, I wish we could push these beds together," Steve said suddenly.

"It's not the fifties. You don't have to push the beds together to make babies anymore," Eddie whispered with a giggle. "They make big beds now. Hey, Steve, why are we whispering?"

"I don't want to wake Robin," Steve whispered.

"Ah."

"Hey, dinguses, I've been awake this entire time. You know how you can tell? My eyes were wide open," Robin said.

"You think she heard us?" Eddie asked.

"Yes, dingus number two, I did."

"Hah! I'm number one!" Steve exclaimed, then frowned. "Wait a minute. . ."

[cozage]

you wanna do continue the one you did where the s/o gets captured? Get them rescuuuued. please and thank you :D

A/N: I actually have two of these requests in my inbox, and these got really long because I’m insane and have to write every detail, so I’m going to break these up into three different posts so people aren’t stuck reading and scrolling through a 10k fic on tumblr. Ace and Law’s will be coming soon!

Characters: female reader x Luffy

Cw:  angst, drugging, near-death experience

Total word count: 2.3k

Summary: You've been captured by marines, and the Strawhats work to get you back. (Followup from this request)

Rescued by Pirates - Luffy

Luffy stood at the top of the cliff, staring down the Marine fleet in the bay. There were ten ships, and you were on one of them. Captured. Alone. He knew you were fighting, but there’s only so much you could do in a locked prison cell with sea prism cuffs. 

“I’m coming.” Luffy muttered, hoping the wind would carry his words to you. “Wait for me. Don’t stop fighting.”

“Luffy, get down!” Nami pulled the captain back over the ridge, keeping him out of sight from the scouts. “If a Marine sees you this whole stealth operation is over!”

Luffy groaned and slumped to the ground. “I don’t even know why this has to be a stealth operation! If we just start smashing everything-”

“They’ll kill her.” Sanji said, and Luffy grew quiet. “If they know we’re coming, they’ll execute her now and report it to the news coo after.”

“They probably have people waiting outside her cell to do it as soon as the call is made,” Franky admitted coldly. “They don’t want another repeat of…” he trails off, and everyone knows what he’s going to say. 

They don’t want another repeat of Ace. Luffy embarrassed the entire World Government when he broke into Impel Down, broke out of Impel Down, and then sailed to Marineford and freed Ace from his shackles. 

“It’s possible that’s why they’re still here.” Nami’s voice was worried as she spoke everyone’s thoughts. “They’re baiting us so they can kill her. They don’t want to transport her just to have Luffy embarrass them again.”

“It would make sense why they haven’t taken off yet,” Brook added. 

“Or they’re waiting for backup,” Sanji countered. “She’s a dangerous pirate, but the Navy always prefers public executions. Especially with the new leader having a personal vendetta against Luffy, he’ll want to kill her publicly if possible. I’m sure of it.”

“Then we have to go!” Luffy started to stand to his feet, frustrated with the lack of action, but Nami quickly pulled him back down. 

“Let Robin and Brook handle this first part! We have to find her first before you start smashing everything to bits!”

Luffy hated waiting. Especially when there's nothing he could do to pass the time. But finally, after about 30 minutes of silence, Robin opened her eyes. 

“She’s on the fourth ship in the back with the red and yellow tailwind sail. Under deck, in a prison cell. Shackles on her arms and legs, and a neck collar.”

Luffy’s eyes peeked over the cliffside to find the ship Robin was describing. He located it, and sprang forward to jump over the cliff, but strong arms held him back. 

“Zoro, let me go! We know where she is!” He struggled to break free from the swordsman's grasp. “We have to go get her!”

“Hang on Luffy, we need a plan before we just jump into action!”

--

The guard change comes early today, which you find odd. Normally the Marines are dragging their feet to stand guard over your cell, but then you spot green hair poking out from the marine cap, the man next to him with a very familiar scar across his cheek, and your heart begins to beat faster. 

“So, the keys?” Zoro holds his hand out to the Navy officer watching over you, who laughs in his face. 

“This must be your first time imprisoning a pirate, kid,” the old man says. “We don’t keep the keys anywhere near the prison. You know how easy it would be for someone to knock out a guard and take them? Let me show you the ropes, kid.”

The old man and his colleague turn to face you for the first time in hours, ushering Zoro and Luffy to look at you now. You can see Luffy is in visible pain just from looking at you. 

Your arms and legs were each shackled to the wall, and you had a contraption around your neck that looked strikingly similar to the ones the Celestial Dragons used on their slaves. Blood caked your hair and trickled down your face. Your body was littered in scratches and bruises, your clothes torn from whatever battle had happened that Luffy wasn’t there for. 

“Each one of those shackles has a different key, and that neck collar too, as well as the key to the jail cell itself. Each of those keys are on a different ship, and we’ve got instructions to throw the keys into the harbor if we catch a glimpse of a Strawhat approaching the ship. 

“The best part, though,” he continues, with a hungry malice in his eyes. He raises his hand to point a finger at your neck. “That collar has a fun little detonator. The Vice Admiral has the control button if it comes to that. And the collar itself administers a sedative every hour on the hour, and gives another dose if someone touches the bars.” 

He smacked the bars for good measure, and you flinched as you felt a pinch in your neck. 

“Honestly it’s a miracle she’s still awake. We like to hit the bars every now and then just to keep her calm. Don’t want her causing a scene now, do we?”

You were trying your hardest not to stare at Luffy. You can see the rage consuming his body as he realizes what an insurmountable task it is to save you. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head viciously to relay a simple message. Run. Don’t save me.

But you know he won’t listen. He never has. Not with Robin or Ace or Sanji or anyone else he’s saved against their will. And he certainly won’t do it with you either. 

“I see a pretty big flaw in this whole design,” Zoro said, staring at the cell you were in. You could see he was enraged as well, but he was hiding it better than Luffy. 

“Oh yeah? And what’s that, kid?”

“Can’t they just cut it?”

The old Marine let out a hardy laugh at his question. “Sea prism stone is the hardest substance in the world. Nobody can cut through that, I don't care if it’s Dracule Mihawk himself!”

“Oh, Mihawk can cut Sea Prism Stone.” The green-haired man gave a devilish smirk to the Marine.

You braced yourself. You knew what was coming. Zoro only had two swords with him, but it would be enough. 

You heard a whirlwind of air swirl around you, and you could feel the weight on your arms get lighter. There were several pinches in your neck, and you could feel yourself involuntarily slip into unconsciousness. 

--

Zoro had put just a bit too much power into his swings to free you, and the cuts ripped through the ship behind you. He then turned to the marines, wickedly smiling at them. 

“Told ya.” He smacked the younger one with the hilt of the sword and the marine crumpled to the ground, but the older marine was fast and dodged Zoro’s attack. The Marine locked Zoro into a battle of swords, occupying his ability to get the other chains off of you.

Luffy sprang into action, running to grab you. He screamed your name as he ran to you, jumping over sea prism stone rubble and other debris to reach you. He knew Zoro hadn’t hurt you, but you were slumped against the ship wall, and he couldn’t help but think about how fragile you looked. He shook you, desperately trying to wake you up. 

And then Luffy heard a beeping sound, coming from the collar around your neck. The same sound that he was helpless against in Sabaody. “ZORO!” He screamed, holding you tight. 

“Forgot to mention,” the older marine grinned back at the swordsman, keeping him locked in a battle. “Tamper with the chains too much and the collar will detonate, even without a push from the button.”

Zoro tightened his muscles in horror. “Luffy, get it off of her!”

“I hear she’s the weakness of Strawhat Luffy. Let’s watch and see, shall we? Perhaps he’ll have an even worse reaction than in Marineford.” The marine's gaze was on Luffy now, eager to see him snap. 

Luffy ignored the weight of what failure meant for you. He focused, letting his Haki flow through his body like he had seen Rayleigh do in Sabaody. He grabbed the collar from around your neck and squeezed, snapping it in half, and threw it away from you. In the same motion, Luffy turned and glared at the Marine, who instantly crumpled to the ground, knocked out by Luffy’s Conqueror's Haki. 

“Luffy, we have to go,” Zoro’s voice was urgent. There was commotion above them coming from the deck. It was clear the Navy was alerted to their presence. But Luffy was ignoring him, desperately trying to shake you awake. 

“Come on, Luffy,” Zoro insisted, stepping over the rubble. He quickly cut each of the shackles off your legs.  “She’ll be fine. I’ll carry her, you punch things. Let's go.”

Zoro put a sword between his teeth and picked you up into his arms. He saw the darkness in Luffy’s eyes, and stood back to let his captain destroy the people who had tried to take you away from him. 

Luffy spared no ship. Once he saw Zoro and you were safe on the beach, he unleashed his full might against the ten ships in the harbor. His crew could hear his screams of rage from the shoreline, his pent up fear of losing you spilling out into his attacks. 

When he was finally finished destroying the ships, he came back to the shore and sat silently among his crew. He pulled your unconscious body into his lap, stroking your hair softly. He stared down at you for a long time, just watching the rise and fall of your chest, his eyesight fuzzy from tears. 

As the sun was starting to sink over the horizon, Nami finally spoke up. “We should go.” Her voice was hoarse, and her cheeks were damp with tears. 

“Not until she wakes up.”

Sanji sighed, pulling out a few small rations of food to give the crew while they waited. Luffy didn’t eat, he just combed his fingers through your hair, willing you to wake up. 

Nightfall came, and you were still unconscious. The crew could see lights on the horizon. Marine ships that were supposed to lead you to Impel Down. 

“Luffy, we need to go,” Sanji insisted. Luffy refused to respond, his eyes only watching you. 

“She’ll be more comfortable on the ship, Luffy,” Chopper said, trying to coax the captain back to the Sunny. “She can sleep in a bed and we can monitor her more closely.”

“It’s better for her to be back on the ship,” Sanji agreed. “And we need to get moving.”

Luffy finally nodded, giving in to his crew's request. If it was better for you, then he wouldn’t be selfish. It was selfishness that got you in this position in the first place. If he hadn’t run off on his own, if he had just stayed with the group like Nami had told him too, this might’ve never happened.

He held you close to him and walked back to the ship with the rest of the crew, not speaking. When they got back to the ship, Luffy set you down in the infirmary and stood in the corner, letting Chopper take care of you.

“Let me know if anything changes in her status.” And with that, Chopper left the two of you alone in the infirmary. Luffy sat in the chair next to your bed, holding your hand and watching you sleep, waiting for you to come back to him. 

--

Before you open your eyes, you can hear the heart rate monitor beeping; you can feel the harsh light against the back of your eyelids. Beside you, you can hear soft, even breathing of someone who is sleeping. Luffy. You’d know the sound of his breathing anywhere. You feel relief wash over you, knowing you’re safe with your crew. 

The light is still too bright for your eyes, so your hand reaches out blindly, searching for Luffy. Your hand finds his head, and you pat him gently. You don’t intend to wake him, but he instantly stirs from his sleep. 

“Y/n?” His voice is groggy as his head lifts up. 

“Hi,” you whisper, your eyes still closed. “Can you turn off the-”

His body crashes into you, cutting off your question, and you wrap your arms around him in an embrace. You can hear his broken sobs of relief fill the air. “I was so scared,” he sobbed into your shoulder. “You weren’t waking up.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” you say soothingly, trying to calm him down. You crack your eyes open a bit, trying to adjust to the light in the room. “Thanks to you, captain.”

[pizzaqueen]

One day I will write a fic that is not a first kiss fic, but today is not that day! This is mostly dialogue, but I might expand it at some point. Brief mention of Mary Jane (sorry, I don't know what Tumblr censors these days lol) / rated T

“You know, Steve…”

“I do know Steve.” Steve's lips tilt in a proud smile.

Eddie snorts. “You’re a funny guy. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“All the time.”

“Anyway. Like I was saying: You know, Steve…” Eddie looks at Steve, waiting for him to interrupt again, but he doesn’t, so he goes on, saying, “Sometimes I wish you were a girl.” Why hasn’t he ever told Steve this before? High Eddie is so much smarter than sober Eddie. Steve should know this.

“What? Why?”

“So I could kiss you.” Eddie scrunches his nose up. “But now that I’ve said it out loud, that’s dumb, because I don’t want to kiss girls.”

“Okay…”

“Maybe I wish I were a girl so you would kiss me.” Eddie scrubs a hand over his face, shakes his head. “Except, I don’t wanna be a chick. And, like, I’m basically a dude version of Buckley, except cooler—”

“Robin’s cool.”

“—and you don’t want to kiss her.”

“Well…”

“Wait, do you?”

“Not lately.”

“So, you guys…”

“No.”

“Right. Well, I don’t wanna be a girl—”

“Eddie.”

“—but I still wanna kiss you, and I can’t as a guy, well I could, but—”

“Eddie!”

“What?”

“I want to kiss you.” Steve’s lips twitch and he adds, “As a guy.”

Eddie opens his mouth, closes it again. “You do?”

Steve nods, pushing himself up on one elbow, leaning over Eddie. Leaning down, so close, and, oh, he’s going to—

Eddie pushes a hand in Steve’s face. “Wait. Why didn’t you ever kiss me before then?”

The next words Steve says are muffled by Eddie’s hand.

“What?”

“I said,” Steve says, moving his face so Eddie’s hand is cupping his jaw instead, “because I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I didn’t know you were gay.”

“I’m not. But I still want to kiss you.”

“You…” Eddie’s brow furrows. Does that make sense? It has to because Steve wouldn’t say it otherwise. He looks up at Steve, still leaning over him, so pretty and right there and he wants to kiss Eddie and Eddie’s head is still pleasantly fuzzy from the weed they smoked and, wait, why is he just looking at Steve?

“Okay, yeah,” he says, “that works for me,” and slides his hand to hook around the back of Steve’s neck, pulling him down for a kiss. “I’m so happy you’re not a girl,” he murmurs against Steve’s lips.

“I’m pretty happy about it too,” Steve says, and then he kisses Eddie properly and they stop talking for a long while.