#sorry it's so long y'all!!

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 2

🤍🌷 read part 1 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie

This is not happening. None of this is happening, he’s… He’s dreaming. He’s high. High as a kite somewhere where reality doesn’t matter, where it can’t fucking reach him and he’s— He’s not panicking behind the wheel with Steve Fucking Harrington bleeding against the passenger side window. 

It’s not happening. 

Because if it were happening, Eddie would simply throw up. He’d leave his van on the side of the road and run the fuck away. Away from Harrington and his trouble, away from his rattling breath that’s so loud and unsteady, Eddie doesn’t even dare to turn on any sort of music, even though he’s itching for it, his hands clenching and unclenching around the wheel until his knuckles go white. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mumbles under his breath, barely aware of his surroundings at all, his eyes flitting from Harrington to the red stain against the window, back to the road and then down to the white-knuckled grip and the speckles of dried blood that is decidedly not his. 

Lost in his panic and disbelief, Eddie almost runs a red light. 

It’s harsh, the way he hits the brakes, and the sound Harrington makes is pathetic enough that Eddie feels like maybe this might actually be happening. 

“Sorry,” he breathes, his voice no better than Steve’s — and he’s not the one with a concussion, a broken rib, and that… fucking fear. Of something. Or someone. 

Who’s hurting you, Steve? 

Jus’ everyone, sometimes. God you don’t… You don’t even know.

He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t wanna know. All he wants is for Harrington to stop fucking bleeding, to keep his eyes wide open and— 

“Ed,” the boy says, wheezes, and it sounds like he wanted to say his full name, but had to swallow first. Blood, Eddie thinks. Don’t let it be blood. “Think I’m… ‘M gonna throw up.” 

“Please don’t throw up,” Eddie says before he can stop himself, hating how small his voice sounds, how urgent — like that’s the thing to be urgent about. God, he’s such an ass, but he… If Harrington throws up, Eddie will lose it. He knows he will. 

He chances a glance over at Steve, who has somehow managed to get his right arm tangled with the handle at the door, keeping himself upright and safe from Eddie’s rather frantic driving style. His head is drooping, moving this way and that against the red-stained glass, and he blinks unseeingly as blood begins to trickle down from his nose and temple again. 

He’s making himself small, and Eddie wants to pull him upright and tell him to stay like that, tell him to stop looking so terrible, so horrible, so… 

So much like Eddie’s fucking problem. 

He hates it. Hates everything about that vision. Boys like Harrington shouldn’t look like this, shouldn’t hold themselves like this, shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have no one but Eddie to take them somewhere safe. 

It’s just not tight. 

“Don’ wanna throw up,” Steve says at last, the pause too long for Eddie’s liking, and he sounds so solemn about it, yet so helpless, and Eddie kinda wants to scream. Wants Harrington to scream. Anything to stay awake and maybe not ruin his car. Anything to not fucking die in it. 

“Tell me something,” he says then, because he knows he has to keep Harrington awake and speaking. Just for another ten, fifteen minutes, he tells himself. “Anything, yeah? Tell me anything. Gotta keep you awake there, you hear me? Sounds great, right, staying awake?” 

He’s rambling and he knows it, desperation shining through his words and the god-awful way his voice breaks a little. This is not about him, he knows it isn’t, but still he wants to punch himself, wants to pinch himself and stay fucking calm. 

But who could stay calm in a situation like this? The silence is filled with the horrible wheezing and rattling of Harrington’s breath barely audible over the engine, and Eddie has to look over several times to make sure he’s still there, still with him, still alive. His panic spikes each time. 

He’s just about to reach over and shake him a little, snap in front of his face to get him back, when—

“I don’t know what.” 

It’s quiet, that voice, breathy and tiny and almost invisible, and Eddie wants to scream again. 

Tell me why you’re so scared. Tell me why your old buddy did this to you. Hagan would never touch you, so why did he now? Tell me what happened to Hargrove. Tell me why you sound so fucking small. 

“Tell me about your…” He fumbles for a moment, taking a sharp left and pretending not to hear the choked-off whimper. Focusing on good things. On normal things. “Your favourite person.” 

Eddie cringes at himself the moment the words leave his mouth. Your favourite person? Really, Munson? He scrambles to find something better, something cooler, or maybe something easier like asking his favourite fucking colour, but the overthinking really doesn’t mix well with the already panicked state of his mind. And Eddie just blanks. 

Beside him, though, Harrington sits up a little straighter, smearing more blood against his window in the process that Eddie pretends not to feel nauseous about. 

God, he never did like blood. 

“You wan’ me to tell you ‘bout Rob?” 

“Sure, yeah,” Eddie says, a little too loud, a little too shrill, actually running a red light this time because he doesn’t want to brake again and hurt the boy some more. There’s no one around anyway. This is Hawkins. Fucking dead-end of a town. It doesn’t need red lights, or boys who look like Harrington. “Rob. Tell me ‘bout him, what’s he like? Favourite colour, all that shit.” 

“Her.” 

Eddie blinks, looking over to find Harrington looking at him — or trying to, his eyes still drooping and empty. But it’s a good sign. People don’t die when they look at you, right? 

“What?” 

“Her,” Harrington says again. “An’ blue. Deep ‘n’ dark blue. She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.”

Eddie doesn’t really listen, doesn’t really process what Steve is saying, already thinking of the next question just to keep him talking. But then he continues on his own. 

“Mornin’ blue dep— de… makes her sad, though. So only dark blue. Says it’s why we’re friends. You’re so blue, Stevie. Got half’a my clothes, still, she does. All the blues.” 

That's... really fucking endearing, actually. 

And he says it with a half-smile, too, bloody and pathetic as it is. Like it’s a secret that only the two of them are in on, only Steve and Robin. It’s kind of sweet. 

Not for the first time today does Eddie find himself wondering, Who the hell are you, Steve Harrington?

He exhales through his nose, ignoring the way he’s started to shake with all that panic that’s been sitting inside him for a little too long now with no way to let it out. 

“Not much longer,” he mumbles under his breath again, or maybe he just thinks very hard. Maybe he doesn’t know where he is at all. It’s like he blanks every few seconds, too busy thinking and trying not to.

Before he can tell Harrington to talk some more about that girlfriend of his, there’s a pained, confused little whine that forcefully tears Eddie’s eyes from the street for a moment only to meet hazel eyes widened in confusion. 

“Wh— Where… Where’re we going?” 

Oh no. 

“Why’m I in y—“ 

“You’re safe,” Eddie interrupts him, speaking slowly because suddenly his tongue is too big for his mouth, and not entirely sure if he’s reassuring Harrington or himself. “You’re hurt, okay? It’s bad, but it wasn’t me. I’m taking you to… to someone. My uncle Wayne, he’s— He knows about that kinda stuff. You were telling me about Rob. Remember her, Blue? How about you tell me some more, hm?” 

Eddie’s voice is unsteady with worry and fear and panic, and he’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding it. The thing is, he’s going to cry. He’s actually, absolutely, no-doubt-about-it going to scream and cry and punch a fucking hole into something when this day is over, when his van is no longer bloody, and when Steve Harrington won’t have reason to look at him any longer. 

Oh, how he wants to skip forward. Past the nausea, past the fear, past everything that’s happening right now. Maybe past the insomnia that will come with a day like this, too. 

Past all of it. 

Or better yet, travel back in time and never get to that fucking boat house. 

But he can’t. So he breathes. 

At first, through the ringing in his ears and the racing of his own heart so loud and so forceful he’s shaking with it, he worries that Steve’s gone silent again, that he’s gonna ask again, ask what happened, ask where he is, ask all the questions that make Eddie feel like he’s been doused in ice water because they’re questions that only get asked in stupid movies where terrible things happen to people. 

But then he hears him mumbling something. Numbers. 

“What’cha mumbling there, Blue?” 

“‘S her number,” Steve says, his voice slurring again, worse than before, and Eddie hits the gas a little harder. “‘S jus’ her number. Robbie’s number.” 

And he mumbles again. Over and over and over, until Eddie couldn’t forget it if he wanted to, ingrained into the frayed edges of his mind now. 

He lets him ramble, lets him repeat the number until the words slur together and he can’t separate a four from a nine anymore. Each time Harrington hesitates, each time he stumbles over the words or forgets a digit, Eddie wants to punch the wheel. 

He doesn’t. He only grips it tighter and counts down the turns he takes, the streets he passes, the fucking trees that are familiar, before, finally, the trailer park comes into view. 

The sob Eddie lets out when, with shaking, trembling hands he pulls up to his home to find his uncle having a smoke outside is deafening to his ears after the quiet weakness of Harrington’s voice. 

It startles him, makes him stop his rambles and sit up straighter when Eddie finally kills the engine. For a moment, without the steady, rolling hum, the car is filled with the small, tiny whines Steve makes on each exhale. Like it hurts to even breathe. 

“Wha’s wrong?” He asks, but Eddie can’t really hear him. Can’t turn to him, can’t— “Eddie?” 

He’s out of the car before he can take hold of another thought, stumbling out of his open door on legs that feel numb and heavy. The urge to cry is back again, the burning in his eyes only getting worse when Wayne takes in the dried blood on his clothes and hands with careful, calculated worry.

“Ed?” 

“I didn’t know what— where—- I’m… Wayne, I’m sorry.” 

“Slow down, kid,” Wayne says, raising his hands as if to calm a spooked deer. Like Eddie is the one who needs his help. And he is. He really, really is, and he shouldn’t be, because this isn’t about him, but—

Wayne grabs him by the shoulders to keep him still, and only now does Eddie realise he’s shaking again, restlessly moving his weight from one leg to the other. His uncle steadies him, gently pressing down on his shoulders to ground him, and Eddie nearly sobs again. 

“Ed. Are you in trouble?” 

“No,” Eddie scrambles to say, becoming aware of what this looks like, hiding his hands behind his back on instinct, like that’ll make Harrington’s blood disappear. “‘S not my blood, I didn’t do anything, I swear! I swear. It’s, uh. I just found him. In the boathouse, I found him, and he was… God, he looked so bad, okay, but he didn’t want the hospital, and he was, like, so scared of something, and we don’t even talk, we don’t even look at each other, but I just… I didn’t know what to do, and you know something about concussions and people who were beat to shit and, again, I’m—“ 

“Eddie,” Wayne says, his voice so calm but so assertive that Eddie shuts up immediately, gladly handing over to controls to his uncle now. “Who’s the kid?” 

He nods towards Eddie’s van, where Harrington looks to be halfway unbuckled, but his eyes are closed and his face smushed against the door again, like he just gave up.  

“Shit,” Eddie says, adrenaline and panic slowly falling from him with Wayne’s hand on his shoulder. He sags into his uncle and rubs at his face. “It’s Steve. Uh, Steve Harrington, I mean.” 

“Okay,” Wayne says, and he’s so calm. So calm. Eddie feels like he’s about to fall apart, and Wayne is the only one keeping him together, with that’d steady, warm hand on his shoulder. “And you promise me he didn’t give you trouble? Or anyone else who’ll come finish what they started?” 

Eddie shakes his head profusely, getting a little dizzy with it. “I promise I’m not in trouble. He said Hagan did this to him, was alone when I found him. No trouble, Wayne, I swear, I’m not like that, you know I’m not.”

“Okay,” Wayne says again, and Eddie wants to weep. “I know you’re not like that, but some people are, y’know? You did good, son. You did good. Now help me get him out of that car.” 

It takes his uncle tugging him towards the van for Eddie to kick back into motion, nearly falling over his feet turning back around. It’s only Wayne’s “Easy” murmured under his breath that keeps the ground from opening up and swallowing him whole. 

He climbs in on the driver’s side while Wayne rounds the car and gets to Harrington’s side. 

“Hey there, Blue,” Eddie says, his voice shaking and the nickname slipping again — but it’s easier to call him that than his real name, it’s easier to pretend it’s literally anyone else in here with him, bleeding against his door. 

It’s easier to pretend it’s not Harrington’s breath rattling the way it does, easier to pretend those pained groans so high in their cadence they can only count as whines don’t come from Hawkins High’s Golden Boy who graduated a few months ago and was supposed to be done with bullshit like this. 

“Come on, up you get,” he tells him, not daring to raise his voice too much. 

He looks so frail. Like he’s already broken. Or like he’s trying not to. Like he’s holding on. 

Eddie pretends not to think that the hand he places on Steve’s cheek to gently pry him from the window is not the only thing keeping that boy together right now. 

Harrington groans, whines, wheezes, but opens his eyes to meet Eddie’s. Jesus, we’re they this blown before? Or this swollen?

“Hey,” Eddie says, just to say something. Just so he won’t have to hold the boy’s face in silence, just so he won’t have to focus on all the blood. Just so he won’t have to hear more questions that people aren’t supposed to ask. 

Steve opens his mouth, his breath coming out a little sharper, like he wants to say Hi rather than Where am I? or When will it stop hurting? Like he wants to say How can I help you help me? 

Somehow, Eddie manages a smile. 

Wayne chooses that moment to open the door — just unclicking it, not pulling yet; giving Eddie enough time to support Harrington, make sure he doesn’t fall.

“Careful,” he whispers, though whether it’s for Wayne, for Steve, or for himself, he can’t quite tell. Maybe it’s a plea to the rest of the world, and to anyone else who will listen. 

Steve is still staring at him. That’s probably not a good sign. He leans back a little, turning Steve’s head to make him follow him. Slowly, of course. Gently. Eddie can’t remember ever having touched something like it was going to break if only he looked at it wrong, but somehow he’s hyper-aware of it now. 

Because Harrington is staring at him. Entirely too still, like he has no strength, no coordination to do anything but stare. And yet Eddie is the one who, now that the adrenaline has fallen from him, now that he can let someone else take over, now that Harrington doesn’t need him anymore, finds himself unable to look away. 

Because Steve is just a boy. And so is Eddie, who can feel Steve’s breath against his wrist. And maybe, out of the two of them, Eddie is the fragile one. The one about to break. 

“Blue, you with me?”

Steve nods. Doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t move. Eddie swallows, briefly looking back down at Wayne to see if he’s ready. His uncle nods, ready to catch Harrington should he go down, and Eddie turns back to the boy who’s smeared with his own blood.

“I’m gonna take off your seatbelt now, yeah?” he tells him, not entirely recognising his voice anymore. “That man out there, that is Wayne. My uncle. He’s safe. He’ll take care of you, okay?” 

“Safe,” Steve breathes, and that shouldn’t be the one thing he focuses on. It shouldn’t sound so unsure. So insecure. So hopeful, so relieved, so— Fucking earnest. 

Swallowing all these thoughts, all this desperation and all those questions, Eddie reaches over Steve, one hand still supporting his head and feeling the overheated skin of Harrington’s cheek against his palm, the hint of stubble and the crust of dried blood. As if in slow motion, not daring to make a wrong move and hurt him more than he already does, Eddie frees him the rest of the way, letting the seatbelt slide into its hold behind his shoulder. 

“Careful,” he says again, just to say anything, but he is careful, and his hold on Steve is steady. 

“‘M careful. Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know.” But maybe I will. 

“Good. ‘Cause… Don’ wanna break.” 

Eddie smiles, despite everything. “You’re not gonna break, Blue. Wayne’ll catch you.” 

Harrington loses his focus then, his eyes glazing over, but the small smile on his lips widens. “Blue. ‘S nice.” 

Yeah, Eddie thinks. He kinda is. 

Somehow, miraculously, they get Harrington out of the van and into the trailer. He throws up halfway to the doorstep, and Eddie curses under his breath while Wayne talks quietly, asking him yes and no questions that Eddie can’t really hear through the ringing in his ears — a strange mix of fear and relief, a panic not quite over, but soothed by his uncle’s familiar voice; even if it’s not directed at him.

“Don’t worry about it, kid, the next rain’ll take care of that. Stop apologising.” 

It throws him then, rather suddenly and violently, watching Wayne supporting Harrington, watching the blood smeared boy with the swelling, angry red bruises in his face. Somehow it’s different, seeing him in his home. 

This was always a safe space. Always void of everything terrible. 

And now there’s a broken boy on his doorstep who’s not Eddie. 

He remembers the fear, the panic, the plea for no hospital, Eddie. Can’t go there.

Why not? You need a doctor—

Monsters. Only monsters there.

It paralyses him and he stays where he is, holding the door with an arm that’s heavy like lead, standing on legs that begin to go numb again. He watches, but not really, as Wayne sits Harrington down on the living room couch, between magazines and brochures and some of Eddie’s calculus notes from last night that he was searching for a sketch of a monster he was so certain he’d drawn in the margins a few weeks back. 

Now there’s blood on his calculus notes. And Eddie is helplessly keeping the door open as though he’s going to run away any second now. Letting in more trouble to join Harrington on his couch. 

He should… He should close the door. Help. Run. Disappear. 

“Ed,” Wayne calls, snapping him out of his stupor. “The first aid kit, please. A bottle of water. A clean, wet cloth. A blanket, too.” 

Wayne talks him through it, takes it one step at a time, has Eddie bring him one after the other like he knows how much he’s keeping his nephew together by keeping him on the brink of usefulness.

Soon, Wayne has everything he needs, taking care of Harrington and his wounds, keeping him awake and talking so much better than Eddie did, even making him smile here and there, hiding his wince when the motion pulls on his split lip or the huffed breath sends a jolt of pain through his rib that Eddie is absolutely certain must be broken with the way he holds himself — with the way he lets Wayne hold him up. 

Wayne is doing his thing and Eddie is hiding, gripping the kitchen counter like a vice, staring both unseeingly and hyper-vigilantly as exhaustion washes over him, dragging him under and draining him of more than adrenaline. He slumps against the cupboard behind him, rubbing at his face like that’ll make it all go away. 

It’s not right. It’s not. This is Eddie’s home, it’s supposed to be safe, it’s not… 

He breaks away, ripping his hands from the counter and all but stumbling outside, heaving a deep breath and giving in to the urge to cry. Tears spring to his eyes and he wipes them away angrily, because it’s dumb, it’s so stupid, it’s absolutely fucking insane that he should be so worked up when Harrington talked about dying earlier. 

These things don’t happen. They don’t! 

“Stop fucking crying,” Eddie grumbles, sniffling and wiping away more tears as he closes his eyes against the afternoon sun. “Get a grip, Munson, Jesus Christ, there’s no reason to cry you big fuckin’ baby.” 

Nobody’s there to contradict him. Nobody’s there to make it worse. So he lets his eyes sting for a while, lets his lips wobble, his jaw clenched shut, the balls of his hands pressing into his eyes, breathing deliberately. 

In. Hold. Out. Hold. 

He doesn’t even scream. Doesn’t punch the still bloody side of his van, doesn’t run into the woods and disappear into the void. 

He simply breathes. Tries not to think about boys dying in mall fires, and even less so about boys beaten and abandoned in boat houses.

Doesn’t think about fucking Hawkins in Bumfuck-Indiana and the cursed way it has, driving its people mad. 

Doesn’t think about, They said my brain is hurt, Eddie. Doesn’t think about the Monsters Harrington mentioned. Doesn’t think about Blue, doesn’t think about I’m tired, Eddie. Don’t wanna hurt anymore. 

Doesn’t think about blue, blue, blue. 

He’s shaking when he comes back inside. He’s shaking when Harrington meets his eyes, looking a little clearer now, the blood washed away and everything bandaged a lot better than Eddie managed. He’a bundled in Eddie’s blanket. It’s wrong. It’s so, so wrong. 

Eddie can’t move, and neither does Steve. 

“Steve,” Wayne says, waiting until those eyes tear themselves away from Eddie and back to him, though Eddie sees them fill with such trepidation, he almost asks what’s wrong. “I won’t hear a no on this, and I won’t let you go home. I’m taking you to the hospital. Especially if you tell me your head was hurt like this before, more times than one.” 

“Three,” Blue breathes, a little dazed still. Not magically healed, not even from Wayne. Another thing that doesn’t feel right. 

“Three times,” Wayne says, nodding, like he’s encouraging Steve to continue. 

“But I don’t want a hospital.” Again with that tiny fucking voice. Like the Monsters are hiding under hospital beds. 

“I know, son,” Wayne sighs, tugging the blanket a little tighter around Steve, and Eddie’s eyes begin to sting again when he notices the tone Wayne uses. When he realises. When he remembers. 

”I want my mom.“ 

”I know, son. But she’s not coming. Your mama is gone, Ed, and this is your home now. Think we can make that work, hm? You and I?” 

Eddie had never felt so lost as he did then, clutching his blanket to his chest, burying his face in the wet fabric even as this man — his uncle — tugs it tighter around him. Like he is fine with Eddie wanting to hide as long as he doesn’t run away. 

He had shrugged, then, even though we wanted to shake his head, tell him no, tell him he wanted his mama. 

”I’m scared, uncle Wayne.” 

And Wayne had smiled a little, and nodded. “Then we do it scared, Eddie.”

Actually, Eddie feels like he never stopped doing it scared. 

And now there is Steve, who Eddie never believed knew what being scared felt like. It’s dumb, of course, because even Harrington is just a boy, but he was always untouchable to Eddie. They never talked. They never existed in the same space together, not in a good way and not in a bad way. Their worlds just never aligned, never collided, never coexisted. 

And now… 

“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen, okay? There’s a doctor, Doctor Clarke. Like— Yeah, like your science teacher, remember him? ‘S got a brother who’s just as much of a genius, and just as kind. He’ll take a look at you, yeah? Make sure your brain isn’t too hurt, clean your wounds, give you something for the pain. He won’t, uh. He won’t hurt you, kid. Whatever’s got you so scared, Dr Clarke will be nice to you. Especially when I’m there with ya, I’m an old pal of his. And I will be. Won’t let you outta my sight until you’re well enough to run away from me, you hear me, kid?” 

Eddie’s hands are hurting, his fingertips raw from where he’s been biting his nails while Wayne talks Blue through what’s going to happen — and he wonders, with the way Steve’s eyes are glued to Wayne, if he ever had anyone talking him through shit like this. 

“Okay,” Harrington breathes at last, still sounding way too small. “But. I’m…” 

“Scared anyway?” Wayne offers. Steve nods. You’re so blue, Stevie. “Then we do it scared anyway.”

And they do. Wayne goes to get the car so Steve won’t have to walk too far, leaving Eddie alone with him for a brief moment. 

He watches, from his place in the kitchen, how Steve’s face falls into a look of utter exhaustion and tiredness; the adrenaline washing from him just the same. Eddie wants to reach out. Wants to say something, break the spell of tension and silence and I know we don’t talk, but I’m glad you’re doing a little better. I’m glad you’ll go see a doctor. I’m glad you haven’t died, I guess. Do you really think you will? Are you really so scared of that? 

But Eddie keeps biting his nails, and Steve keeps his eyes closed, blanket around his shoulders. And they don’t talk. 

“Thank you.” 

Eddie perks up, not entirely sure he didn’t imagine the words — but Harrington moved slightly, his eyes still closed but his face now turned towards Eddie. 

“For, uh. This.” 

“I didn’t do shit, Blue,” Eddie says. “That was all Wayne. All I did was freak out, I promise.” 

Harrington shakes his head, though, slowly. “Mh-mm.” 

Eddie’s mouth snaps shut, because there is no room for discussion here. They don’t talk. And he doesn’t want the bubble to burst with insecurity and sourness. 

“Thank you,” he says again, and he sounds final about it. It makes Eddie wonder what he’s like, really like, when he doesn’t consist of pain and nausea and disorientation. 

He has a feeling that, despite everything, despite Monsters under hospital beds and torture in boathouses and mall fires that kill teenagers, Blue Harrington might be someone good to talk to. Compassionate as shit, even when all he wants to do is pass out. 

“You’re welcome,” Eddie rasps, pretending that his eyes don’t sting.

He wraps his arms around his chest like he’s hugging himself, or like he’s holding himself back. From reaching out, from asking, from telling, from talking. 

Unwittingly, even with his eyes closed, Steve mirrors him, and Eddie wonders if he, too, it holding himself back, or just curling in on himself some more even though it must hurt, feeling so small. 

Maybe that’s what fear of death does to a nineteen year-old. It’s so fucked up. Eddie wants to scream again. 

Outside, he hears a car door fall shut just before Wayne reappears in the door, giving Eddie some kind of meaningful look that he wouldn’t mind deciphering on any other day, but today he fears he needs words. 

“I don’t know how long this’ll take. Will you be okay, Ed?” 

“Will I be— Yes! I’m not the one with the concussion, man, of course I’ll be—“ 

It’s a bluff, comes too fast, and Wayne sees right through it before Eddie even realises it, and he steps closer. A warm hand on his shoulder. His eyes stinging again. 

“You did good, kid. Everything will be fine. But it might take a while. It’s fine if you need to go somewhere, just… Don’t drive. Call Jeff if you need someone, just. Don’t do anything stupid. And don’t get behind the wheel. Deal?” 

Eddie swallows hard, hit by another desperate, aching wave of I wanna go back in time and skip this day. A wave of tired exhaustion and wondering, aimlessly, just who the fuck Steve Harrington really is. 

“Deal,” he says, and Wayne pulls him into a hug. 

Eddie follows them outside then, trailing behind them like a lost little puppy, helping Harrington into Wayne’s car. His movements are still slugged and a little disoriented, so Eddie decides to lean in again and fasten his seatbelt. 

“Careful,” he mumbles, allowing the boy a moment’s warning, a moment to adjust before the weight settles on his chest. 

Dejá-vù hits him and makes him pause, with Harrington staring at him again. 

“I’m careful,” he says, the corners of his mouth tugging into a little smile.

More lucid than earlier, and Eddie thinks it that which takes his breath away for a moment. 

“Not gonna break, Eddie.” 

“I know,” he says, still not moving back, instead reaching up to tighten the blanket around his shoulders even though the seatbelt is already there to hold it in place. “You’re not gonna break, Blue.” 

The smile on those lips is genuine now, gentle enough to not be ruined by the blood crusting them. 

“Thanks. Again.” And then, when Eddie finally pulls away to close the door and tell Wayne to drive safely, “I really do like that name.”

It soothes the urge to scream.

Eddie closes the door as gently as he can — which isn’t much, because the car is old and not exactly smooth. 

“I’ll see you later,” he tells Wayne. Promises. To stay out of trouble, to stick around, to not run away for a while again, to stay out of his car. 

Wayne nods, a faint smile on his lips. 

“Later, Ed.” 

And then they’re gone, and Eddie is untethered again. Wonders, for a few seconds every now and then if it really happened, if this is real. 

But it did. And it is. 

And after sitting on the steps for a while, having a smoke and staring at where Wayne’s car disappeared ten, twenty, forty minutes ago, Eddie heads inside. 

He has a phone call to make.

🤍🌷 tagging: @theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 (a thousand percent sure i missed some but oh well such is the 3am disease)

addendum 22 jan 24: onwards to part 3

[limeshade]

What’s the matter with them? Why are they acting that way? Why, don’t you know? They’re “twitterpated.” Twitterpated? Yes. Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example—

BAMBI (1942) Directed by David D. Hand et al. Written by Perce Pearce, Larry Morey et al.

[cordiallyfuturedwight]

i'll melt your heart into two @jkvjimin ♡

[floating-goblin-art]

*crawls out of your carpet*

I come in peace! I wish to discuss the one called

✨Aether✨

- Big... Big lad.

- So big and strong. Will carry you if you ask.

- Gives the best hugs that are just so healing and magical.

- Sings for you. Will learn your favorite song.

- Stuck in the infirmary? He'll read to you, play Uno, etc.!

- Can absolutely cook and bake like the King he is.

- Has a frilly apron that says Kiss The Cook.

- Opens doors for you.

Until next time!

*crawls back into your carpet*

made it himself!

[blkkizzat]

ꨄ︎『Sneaky Links』ꨄ︎ (PART 1)

Sukuna x Reader (Mentions of Yuji x Reader)

18+ Minors - DNI

PART 1 of 2

Summary: Y/N is a dickmatized manipulative brat. Sukuna is Sukuna. Poor sweet Yuji is collateral damage. CW: cheating, rough play, unprotected sex, spit play, brat taming, spanking, pussy slapping, manipulation, fingering, anal play, edging, tit job, blow job, slight dubcon, sukuna being toxic, y/n thinking with her pussy not her brain (but it’s hard not to when you got that wet wet). WK: 3.1k of 8.5k Slightly Black female coded but no descriptors.

A/N: All I do is eat hot chip and bump Spotify so nearly everything I write has song(s) that goes with it.

Sukuna POV: I Mean It - G-Eazy (this mv is so unsrs but I'm criiiine imagining Sukuna as G-Eazy in this video lmfao) Reader POV: You Right - Doja Cat (not like Sukuna couldn't be The Weeknd POV here but he's so much more of an asshole than that)

Enjoy!

‘2:37 AM’. Fuck.

You had to stop looking at the clock, it was only making you more restless. Usually sleep came to you easily as the peaceful dark of your room and light snores coming from your boyfriend Yuji would lull you into a comforting slumber each night.

You sighed.

Your head lay on Yuji’s chest and his arm was loosely draped around your waist. This has become your typical sleeping position since moving in with each other. You have only been living together for over a little over a month now. But living with Yuji was great, even if your apartment was smaller than you would have liked. 

Despite the both of you being full fledged sorcerers and risking your lives constantly, exorcizing curses didn’t pay the best salary. You wanted something bigger but it was cheap enough to allow the both of you to save for something much better down the line. 

It was Yuji who had mentioned that fact to you, to both console your protests and to hint at more promises for the future. That had been enough to make you giddy and you would have agreed to live in a closet if it meant you could be together.

Sure, Yuji could be a little clueless at times but he always tried his best to make you happy. The two of you rarely had any disagreements even when you were being a stubborn brat. His easy going nature took your faults in stride, meeting your needs without complaint. 

Yuji was always doing sweet things for you like waking up a bit earlier so you could drink your coffee (that he always burnt) in bed. He would shower you with soft kisses to coax you awake with a wide grin and a whispered ‘good morning’ that made you feel warm just remembering it.

You really couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.

You were happy with Yuji.

You love him and are very happy with Yuji. 

Sigh.

So then why exactly is your mind torturing you with thoughts of the cursed object inside your boyfriend taking control of his body and fucking you dumb into the mattress?  

You caught yourself unconsciously chewing your lip in nervous anticipation. 

Your mind couldn’t allow you to sleep because it was filled with Sukuna, The King of Curses and every jujutsu sorcerer’s sworn enemy. 

Your enemy.

How could you let it come to this? 

You felt guilty but it’s not like you had asked for this to start happening. That said, you made no real attempts to stop Sukuna thus far from showing up to fuck you before disappearing again like a thief in the night. 

Rode hard and put away wet, he used you on his whims and it had been happening more frequently ever since the first week after you and Yuji moved-in together. 

The fateful night it started was the night of your housewarming party, ironically enough.

You honestly didn't even want a damned housewarming, you recalled looking back. You thought it was impractical and a bit embarrassing to throw a housewarming for such a small flat. 

Everyone would be on top of each other the entire night. 

But Gojo had insisted, promising to supply the drinks and food which automatically had Yuji on board, so you just gave in. Anything to get Gojo out of your hair and seeing Yuji so excited made you smile.

The housewarming itself went well until the six eyed sorcerer had suggested a ‘friendly’ drinking game. All which would have been fine if Gojo hadn’t brought over what he called Reggae Punch.

However, it wasn’t the standard recipe of peach liqueur and oolong tea you could find in any Tokyo bar. The dark orange drink Gojo concocted was a heavy mixture of actual punch and different liquors that you couldn’t identify until you were already 2 cups in.

The son of a bitch. He had literally tricked y’all into drinking Jungle Juice.

You were already faded as hell by the time the game started so you eliminated yourself early on purpose. 

Yuji, who was a good boy and never even took a sip of alcohol until he was legal earlier this year, actually thought he stood a chance at winning against his seniors. He foolishly joined-in with earnestness.

Rolling your eyes at the memory, the night ended as expected. Yuji was beyond shitfaced. 

His head hung heavy and was barely still on the low chabudai table by the time Nanami (the winner) had dragged a drunken Gojo out of your apartment, who was still singing songs from the pricey digital karaoke machine he had gifted the both of you earlier in the night. 

Maki and Yuta, sensible enough to stop drinking early like you, had already left.

Meaning Nobara, Inumaki and Megumi, all pretty lit themselves, had the near impossible task of dragging Panda home which you did not envy. 

With everyone gone, getting Yuji into bed proved a far easier feat than expected. 

You had left him some ibuprofen and pedialyte on the nightstand and a small bin next to the bed just in case he woke up and felt sick. You really didn’t mind taking care of your boyfriend who always took such good care of you. 

You just wished it didn’t have to be this night. This night when you realized for the first time that mixing that much alcohol in large quantities just went straight to your pussy.  

Pleasing yourself usually wasn’t an issue but after you pulled the second yet still unsatisfying orgasm from yourself is when Sukuna had made his appearance chuckling at your failed attempts. 

Admittedly, you were terrified at first.

You had been dating Yuji for two years but Sukuna didn’t often show himself and he had never even addressed you directly before. It was dangerously easy to forget the most powerful evil sorcerer in existence was residing rent free inside your bf’s soul. 

Nevertheless, you were hard up for a real release at that moment. A cloud of lust fogged your brain and it didn’t take much goading at all for your legs to spread like a warm jelly for The Curse King.

And he did not disappoint. 

Sukuna’s sharp tongue flooded your ears with degrading praises sending electricity through your body that settled in your core where the even sharper strokes of his hips corrupted you from the inside out. 

All your senses utterly stupefied, you came hard. You made a mess on him, yourself and your sheets.

And that was only round one.

Sukuna had near limitless stamina. 

The next morning, achy and sore, you could barely look Yuji in the eye. You were preparing to beg for his forgiveness but you quickly realized he barely remembered the party, let alone what happened after. 

In fact, it made you feel even more guilty that Yuji apologized to you. He was mad at himself for being so rough with you when he noticed the bites, bruises and marks that decorated your body thinking you both actually had sex the previous night. 

You were the worst. 

You really were the worst as truthfully, if you told him in that moment, he likely would have forgiven you then without question. 

It’s not like you alone could stop Sukuna from doing anything he wanted to you while Yuji was unaware. You were a semi-grade 1 sorcerer, strong enough for most curses, but you would be kidding yourself to think you could take on Sukuna in a fight. 

In fact wouldn’t the issue of Sukuna being able to take over Yuji’s body freely while he was unconscious be a much more pressing concern rather than how many times the curse king had made you squirt? 

Yet in spite of the danger, the logic and your better judgment, you were too ashamed to tell Yuji what really happened. 

That was because subconsciously a part of you knew it could happen again.

And it did. 

Many times.

Except for tonight. 

Sukuna had yet to make his appearance tonight. 

In fact, he hadn’t shown up in the last 5 nights in a row. The longest you had gone without his dick since he started toying with you. 

You recalled you had snapped at him after his last visit when his insults had started swaying from you to Yuji and his inability to please you. You told him never to visit you again and threatened to tell Yuji if he did. 

Honestly you didn’t expect your threats to do much. They hadn’t previously. 

As much as you wanted to be relieved that maybe Sukuna had finally grown sick of dealing with ‘Yuji’s bratty pillow princess’, a name he often called you while digging deep in your guts, you weren’t relieved at all. 

If anything it annoyed you. 

He hadn’t listened when you told him to leave you alone the first, second or third time so why now?

Why now after your cunt has started craving the burn of being stretched out by Sukuna? 

You shiver, thinking of his heavy grip on the fat of your hips. His claws would be so dangerously close to breaking your delicate skin. 

He constantly reminded you how easily he could rip you apart if he wanted to while he relentlessly clapped your cheeks from behind. 

Near salivating, you snapped your head up a little too eagerly for your own liking when you felt Yuji stir beneath you thinking it was Sukuna and more than a little disappointed when it wasn’t.  

You knew Yuji’s tender caresses should have made you melt, and it still did in a way. You were still in love with him. 

But it wasn’t until Sukuna tainted you did you realize you didn’t want to be treated like a delicate princess. 

You wanted to be manhandled. 

You wanted to be made a mess of. 

You wanted to be called names like the filthy cheating whore you were currently proving yourself to be. But Yuji was too tenderhearted to ever fuck you like you needed.

Squeezing your eyes shut as if you could block out all thoughts, you knew the reason you couldn't get to sleep was because you were horny for Sukuna. 

The higher the heat in your belly rises the more sleep becomes impossible. Your clit burned in response to the heat in your belly which made your pussy flutter as it desperately clenched around nothing and pushed some of Yuji’s cum from earlier in the night out onto your thighs.

In that moment, all your resolve was lost.

Yuji was simply the appetizer and you were a famished woman. Still left starving for the main course.

Sukuna. 

You swallow, unsure of yourself as you attempt to steel your resolve. You had already resigned yourself to the hell Sukuna put you in.

You turn your head deeper into Yuji’s chest and whisper softly against his pectorals, fingers lightly tracing his lower abs under the blankets.

“Yo…um.. Hey…Hey Sukuna… c-can you hear me?” 

Silence. 

You tried again. Nothing.

You huff, your patience waning. 

“Damnit, Sukuna!” you whisper harshly, your voice rising slightly with irritation. 

You waited more. 

The only reply you received was the rise and fall of Yuji’s chest. 

You were seeing red. 

This lame ass motherfucker. 

Was that it? Was he really done with you now after all this? 

Slowly rising off of Yuji’s chest you glare down at your boyfriend as if you could somehow scowl past his body and into his soul at Sukuna.

You quietly mutter to yourself about ‘the headass lord king of body snatching curses who gots more dick in his personality than pants’ while you shuffle over to the night stand on the side of the bed. 

You turn on the small light and dig deep into the drawers to pull out a toy you saved for nights you were particularly hard up and Yuji was out on a mission. 

Sukuna may have been ignoring you but you could no longer ignore the throbbing screaming at you between your legs. 

Maybe if you rubbed one out you could calm yourself down enough just enough to cease your anger at least. 

You needed to make an attempt to relieve yourself before you really lost your mind and did something insane like knocking the mario coins out of your sweet unsuspecting boyfriend in frustration at the curse inside of him. 

He didn’t deserve that. 

Not like he deserved any of this, the curse inside of him nor a girlfriend like you who would spread her legs so easily for a cocky smirk and a big dick.

You closed your eyes and pushed that thought aside for now. You were sweating and near shaking in need of release. 

Making yourself comfortable on the bed, you turn your vibrator on its lowest setting, so as not to disturb Yuji. 

Dragging it across your skin, you snake a path for it down past your breasts, across your belly and lower still relishing the sensations across your body. 

Licking your lips you barely ghosted your vibrator across your clit before a hand grabbed your wrist and another flung your toy across the room instantly smashing it into pieces.

“You really are a bratty fucking whore, you know that?”

The voice you immediately recognized as belonging to Sukuna. 

And how could it not be? 

It was more sultry than Yuji’s. The deep bass in his voice both teased and admonished you causing your aching clit pulsate to the rhythm of every syllable.

“As your King, I don’t recall giving you permission to touch that nasty little cunt, bitch.” 

You whined in protest and attempted to pull away but it was futile in Sukuna's grip. You could feel the fire from his touch on your wrist alone beginning to spread and torch your entire body. 

Exceeding the levels of any sexual frustration you ever knew in your life, his further denial to let you touch yourself threatened to spill the tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. 

“I don’t recall asking you, my lord,” you spat his words back at him without thinking, “I’d ask you if you knew you were a trifling asshole but we-”

And in an instant he was on top of you.

His tattooed hands now hold both of your wrists, placing them up over your head effectively caging you in and shutting you up before you could even finish your sentence. 

Your eyes widen in response to the hot snarl of his breath and the red of his glowing eyes burrowing into you. 

The reality of who exactly you just decided to sass sunk in.

Sukuna on the other hand revels in your dismay.

“‘Eh? Triflin’” he said, mocking your tone and slang. “Me? Not the filthy slut who is begging me to use her boyfriend’s body to dick her down while he is sleeping? Then you have the fucking nerve to throw temper tantrums when I don’t.”

Fuck, he had heard your insults from earlier after all.

“You think a bratty bitch like you can summon me on your whims and so address me so casually at that? I’ve killed many for far less.”

He was close now, too close. 

However, although hovering over you Sukuna still wasn’t touching you with the exception of the bruising grip on your wrists. 

Despite the lack of contact your body still responded to the suffocating amount of heat and cursed energy radiating off his own. The intense primal instincts of your fear and arousal brewing together in your body was creating a toxic reaction, one which threatened to tear you apart if Sukuna didn’t first. 

Your lip was quivering and your body was squirming beneath him. 

You are completely at his mercy once again.

“And Yuji?” Sukuna continued mockingly. 

His face dipped closer to yours and you let out the shaky breath you weren’t even aware you were holding.

“You’re so needy after he already gave you this dick tonight too? Tsk tsk, you really are a brazen n’ greedy whore.” 

He was wrong. 

Not about you being a whore, of course.  You couldn’t deny that fact even if you wanted to at the moment. 

But he was wrong by implying it was the same as if you were with Yuji.

When Sukuna took over, except for facial similarities, he was all but a different person. 

Sukuna was taller, more muscular and thicker in all areas, his cock not being excluded from that. The tattoos that decorated his body and bound his dangerous muscles caused him to look more intimidating than Yuji ever could. 

Even his scent was different. It was almost as threatening as his presence and was intoxicatingly masculine, more alpha.  

You knew fighting him further was a losing battle. But you were still mad at him for ignoring you.

Nevertheless, he was here in front of you now. 

You were so close to getting what you wanted. If you had to give up more of your dignity at this point then so be it, you didn’t have much left to covet anyway. 

Completely surrendering yourself to him like the little bitch in heat that you were, you appeal to his ego in hopes he would fuck you.

“If you know I’m a whore then just fuck me like one already Sukuna. My King… please? Pretty please? I-I need you. Make me cum please.”, your saccharine tone contrasted with your depraved pleas coming out like a twisted prayer. 

You humbled yourself and hated it. It broke the tears of frustration that had built in your eyes. 

Moisture spilled down the sides of your face, yet you blinked through them in order to maintain eye contact with him. 

The desperation that called to him from every fiber of your being was apparent to Sukuna, his smirk widening at your distress. 

Releasing your hands in favor of your neck, a hand enclosed it applying pressure as he licked a tear trail down the side of your face.

“Tch, Even when desperate and begging you still can’t help but to be an insolent brat”, he whispered, blowing warm air into you that made you tingle.

That’s when you felt his tongue salaciously lick into your ear before pulling back to bite and suck at your lobe and neck, leaving more marks for you to try to cover in the morning.

The full weight of Sukuna’s naked body was now pressed upon yours. You whimpered as he had finally granted you the contact you craved for.  

You could feel his heavy cock begin to twitch on your belly. You panted as you arched up into him, rubbing against his form creating beautiful friction between you both sending you into euphoria. 

But as quickly as the contact was given, it was taken away.

“You should know by now, Y/N.... Disobedient brats need to be punished.”

Part 2

This was originally supposed to be a one-shot but it got a little out of control with writing the lewd scenes. Part 2 is almost done and is FILTHY omg. I will try to post by tomorrow night or Saturday. (updated as of 9/12).

Lol also for anyone who doesn't know Reggae Punch is actually a popular drink in Japan. I did not make that up. It really doesn't have much alcohol content in it at all. But I LOL'd at Gojo tricking them into drinking Jungle Juice cause its literally night and day.

Also imo, Nanami and his salaryman vibe you know would win a drinking contest out of any JJK man so thats canon to me (excluding Toji as according to official fanbook alcohol has zero effect on him so he doesn't even drink it).

Any mistakes please DM, no rude or criticizing comments please.

P.S. I promise I don't hate Yuji.

Reblogs, likes, comments appreciated!!

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

[schneiderenjoyer]

[Attention! UTTU Magazine is holding a special limited run "Live Letter Interview" issue with featured guests, Vertin & Schneider!]

Grab yourself a copy and submit your inquiry through the arcane skill embedded within this edition's magazine. The message will be received in real time and you'll have your answer by way of exclusive UTTU cards!

Remember, this is a limited run, so don't miss the chance to ask all you want to know from the arcanist themself before the incantation wears off!

[svtskneecaps]

lukewarm take of the evening: y'all care too much about being ""outdated"". fellas this smp moves inhumanly fast. it is ok to CHILL holy shit CHILL. y'all are like "(posts BANGER ART) super late guys sorry" friend i am hitting you with a blanket i am snapping you with my metaphorical towel WHAT DO YOU MEAN SORRY. "(posts BANGER FIC) rip this is outdated now" WHO CARES???? I LOVE YOU, OK. ohhhh woe is us as the fandom at large for having MORE HAPPY PILLS ARC CONTENT oh no how outdated!! how could you be writing speculative fiction about how forever felt during happy pills :( slash SARCASM!! WHAT DO YOU MEAN!!!! THERE ARE SO MANY BANGER ARCS, WHAT, YOU THINK WE'RE COMPLAINING????? FOR GETTING MORE OF THE CONTENT WE LOVED????? oh no we're past the period where everyone thought green gay ninjas were like Dead Dead, my work is now outdated and noncanon :( WDYM. GIMME. A BANGER IS A BANGER IDC IF IT TAKES THREE MONTHS. you think rome was built in a day?? fuck you, baltimore, GIMME. my ass has been cooking a goddamn backflipo family fic since july when it was ALREADY outdated do you think i fear god??? "oh no, you're making an edit of slime's (attempted) egg murdering spree?? how could you, that was months ago it's irrelevant" SAID NO ONE EVER.

save your wrists kidlings ok carpal tunnel is no joke. CHILL!!!!! CHILL!!!!!!!! TAKE YOUR TIME SHEEEEEESH OK LOVE YOU <3

[redysetdare]

If you're first response to a repulsed person's identity is "As long as you're not sex/romance negative" then you don't ACTUALLY support repulsed people. if you're first response is basically "this is the qualification you have to meet for me to view your identity as valid and it's up to my interpretation on if you reach this unknown criteria" then you don't actually support repulsed people.

you can't go around saying how repulsed people are valid ONLY IF they're the "good ones" that's not how that works buddy.

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

tagged by @bidisasterevankinard @tizniz 💖

more bucktommy the will talk (they're getting there, the conversation went a bit off track lol) - it might be done this week, and then I can focus on the smut, and the buddie fics, and I have a new bucktommy idea inspired by that video of lou barbecuing with his shirt off that I sooo wanna write🙈

prev snippet

___

“Well, yeah, of course.” Buck answers easily, his heartbeat speeding up. He’s a little anxious about putting too much pressure, too many expectations out there, but he also knows that even if he did, they’d get back on track, they’d be fine. And besides, Tommy’s smiling, he doesn’t seem freaked out at all. And that’s after Buck brought up children. But if they’re moving forward with their relationship, they need to know what they want out of life. It seems reasonable to have this conversation this early on.

“Good.” he responds, grinning widely. “Now I won't have to stress about your answer when I ask.” he adds, and Buck feels himself blush, butterflies in his stomach going wild. Oh. Oh. This is- this is real. They’re talking about it, and maybe someday soon- he might marry this man. He will marry this man. Tommy wants him forever. Tommy wants him. Tommy wants to marry him and have children with him, and just be with him. Sometimes it’s still so shocking to Buck that someone as great and amazing as Tommy wants him, but he does. Buck’s not sure he remembers the last time he felt this wanted.

“How- how do you know I won’t ask first?” Buck asks, moving his head slightly closer to Tommy, just enough to look into his beautiful blue eyes. It feels surreal, talking about this, when they only dated for a few months, but it also feels… right. It feels like they’re on the right track to get there one day.

___

no pressure tags: @elvensorceress @thebravebitch @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @eowon @loserdiaz @evanbegins @ladydorian05 @wildlife4life @diazpatcher @lover-of-mine @monsterrae1 @thewolvesof1998 @weewootruck @loveyouanyway @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @hippolotamus @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @underwaterninja13 @exhuastedpigeon @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @your-catfish-friend @theotherbuckley @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @diazsdimples

[shikai-the-storyteller]

Saw Roier and Cellbit's communities freaking out today and I was worried I (somehow) missed a major stream, then I realize they're just reenacting the Guapoduo breakup for the funnies because Rubius' community called Cellbit's community "Gatinho" (a nickname Roier's community had exclusively used for them until now)

I've been watching it all unfold live and this is the only kind of fandom drama I've ever been invested in. Here are some highlights:

Bonus: (I'm afraid, because Roier would 100% do this)

[etapereine]

"On the Beach" by Mary Oliver + Brothers, Teammates, Rivals & Friends

"On the Beach" by Mary Oliver (x) | Matej Mohorič & Fred Wright, 2023 Tour de France, Stage 19 (x) | Jonas Vingegaard, Sepp Kuss, Christophe Laporte & Tiesj Benoot, 2022 Tour de France, Stage 20 (x) | Mathieu van der Poel & Jasper Philipsen, 2023 Paris-Roubaix (x) | Ivo Oliveira & Rui Oliveira, 2023 Portuguese National Championships (x) | Marc Soler & Tadej Pogačar, 2023 Tour de France, Stage 17 (x) | Jonas Vingegaard & Tadej Pogačar, 2022 Tour de France Podium Ceremony (x) | Wout van Aert & Mathieu van der Poel, 2023 UCI Cyclocross World Championships (x) | Mark Cavendish & Geraint Thomas, 2023 Giro d'Italia, Stage 21 (x) | Felix Gall & Ben O'Connor, 2023 Tour de France, Stage 17 (x) | Richard Carapaz & Michał Kwiatkowski, 2020 Tour de France, Stage 18 (x) | Ilan van Wilder & Remco Evenepoel, 2022 Vuelta a España, Stage 21 (x) | Mark Cavendish & Julian Alaphilippe, 2021 Tour de France, Stage 6 (x) | Primož Roglič & Tadej Pogačar, 2020 Tour de France, Stage 21 (x) | Julian Alaphilippe & Mirco Maestri, 2024 Giro d'Italia, Stage 12 (x) | Valentin Paret-Peintre & Aurélien Paret-Peintre, 2024 Giro d'Italia, Stage 10 (x) | Juan Sebastián Molano & Rui Oliveira, 2023 Vuelta a España, Stage 12 (x) | Jonas Vingegaard & Wout van Aert, 2022 Tour de France, Stage 11 (x)

Thank you @arriere-du-peloton for answering the call when I asked for cycleblr's favorite hugging photos!

[fluffyyymocha]

A SPECIAL THANK YOU TO ALL OF THE AO3 VOLUNTEERS FOR ALL OF THEIR HARD WORK!!

[petite-phthora]

Do you think it was a date?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 5]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

In-chat nicknames:

Daniel = Danny

Sharpshooter = Jazz

TooFine= Tucker

Chaos = Sam

TheCoolerDaniel = Danielle/Dani/Ellie

---

Private chat nicknames:

Bill = Danny

Pants = Jazz

---

As soon as Danny enters his apartment, face bright red, he takes his head into his hands and lets out a silent scream.

He could have said anything, and he panicked and went with Toodealoo Kangaroo???

At this rate, he’ll never get a partner.

As Danny stands there in misery, his phone starts buzzing with messages. Curious, he checks his phone to see what going on.

Uh oh.

---

Team Phantom 👻😎

Chaos: Guys check this out

Chaos: *link*

Chaos: The Joker escaped from Arkham again, but no one’s heard anything of him since, nor have they been able to find him

TooFine: @Daniel 👀

TooFine: ok the @ had been a joke but the fact that he has read it and not replied is concerning

Sharpshooter: @Daniel, what did you do?

Sharpshooter: @Daniel

Sharpshooter: I can see that you’re reading this, don’t ignore me.

TooFine: ohhhh someones in troubleee 👀

Sharpshooter: Tucker.

TooFine: 🤐

---

Danny takes a deep breath.

Well, it’s now or never. Let’s hope Jazz is feeling merciful.

---

Private chat

Bill: ok so you know how you said you would still love me if I was a worm?

Pants: I have no clue how this ties into the previous conversation, but yes. Why?

Bill: hypothetically

Bill: would you also still love me if I

Bill: hypothetically

Bill: accidentally

Bill: vibe checked someone that tried to uh

Bill: hypothetically

Bill: kidnap and or kill me??

Bill: 🥺🥺🙏

Pants: Danny, did you accidentally kill the Joker?

Bill: yes or no Jazz??!? 😩🥺

Pants: Yes, Danny. I would still love you if you, hypothetically, accidentally killed the Joker.

Bill: this is why you’re my favorite sister 🥹🥰😘

Bill: don’t tell Ellie 😳🫣

Pants: Danny, what happened?

---

Danny lets out a sigh of relief before proceeding to tell Jazz what happened.

---

Pants: Oh Danny.

Bill: are you mad at me?

Pants: I’m not mad at you, I just want you to stay safe.

Pants: While I don’t condone murder, I understand that it was self-defense and an accident. I‘m just glad that you’re alright.

Bill: 🥰💞😘

---

With a small smile on his face, Danny goes back to the groupchat.

---

Team Phantom 👻😎

Daniel: you know

Daniel: if I had a nickel for every time I’ve had to fight off an insane clown that attacked me 🤡

Daniel: I’d have two nickels

Daniel: which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice, right? 🤔

Chaos: Damnit Danny, we leave you alone in a new city for a week and you already manage to get into a fight with one of Gotham City’s most infamous rogues

TooFine: actually its been 6 days 10 hours and 17 minutes

TooFine: so not even a full week yet

Chaos: Did you at least get a good few punches in?

Chaos: Danny?

TooFine: @Daniel ???

TooFine: if i had a nickel for every time danny said something concerning and then didnt provide context id be richer than vlad

Daniel: anyway, for completely unrelated reasons, @TooFine I need you to wipe some cams for me 😃

TooFine: danny im not wiping the cams again so no one will have proof of you tripping backward and falling ass-first into a trashcan

Chaos: Speaking of, Tucker do you still have that footage and can you send it to me?

TooFine: already done

Daniel: noo it’s nothing like that this time 😫

Daniel: pleaseeee 🥺🙏🙏

Daniel: I’ll get you an autograph from Tim Drake-Wayne?

TooFine: deal.

Daniel: 🥳🎉

Daniel: ok so the footage from somewhere around 3 am last night

Daniel: around some place named park row??

Daniel: I think it’s called?? 🤔

Daniel: though I’m pretty sure I’ve also heard some people refer to it as crime alley

Daniel: not sure why tho 🤷

TooTine: aye aye captain o7

Chaos: Danny, in an alley getting attacked by the fucking Joker: I wonder why this place is called crime alley

Daniel: stop bullying me 😠

Chaos: No

TooFine: hey danny r u sure thats right? i checked the cams n stuff but theres no available footage from the area n time u described

TooFine: its like someones already wiped it all

Daniel: oh!

Daniel: that’s so sweet of him  😊

Chaos: Wait who is this ‘him’?

TooFine: the joker????

Daniel: oh no not the Joker

Daniel: just some cute guy I met last night  

Daniel: he witnessed me killing the Joker 🫣

Daniel: and didn’t call the cops on me afterward 🥰💞

TooFine: def green flag

Chaos: Oh hell yeah, he’s a keeper

Chaos: Wait you killed the Joker?! I thought you just fought him off!

Daniel: it was an accident!! 😭😭

Daniel: he crept up on me and tried to grab me 😓

Daniel: so I got startled and because all I saw was a clown

Daniel: I just kinda punched his face in with my ghost strength… 😰

TooFine: f

Chaos: f

Sharpshooter: Have you gotten rid of the body yet? Did you leave behind DNA at the crime scene? Will I need to start saving up bail money or getting ready to enact the Fenton Break Out plan?

Chaos: Jazz asking the important questions here

Daniel: well, considering the footage was wiped

Daniel: and also the fact that no one’s found him yet

Daniel: I think it’s safe to assume it’s all taken care of

Daniel: that’s honestly really sweet of him though 🥰😊

TooFine: oohhhhh ur mystery boo??

Daniel: yeah, this random guy saw me vibe-checking the Joker

Daniel: and let me go home without any trouble

Daniel: pretty sure he’s the one who wiped the cams 🤔

Daniel: and then today he showed up at my apartment with flowers 🥺

Daniel: they were sweat peas!!!! 🥰🤩

Chaos: Was that to thank you for the murder orrrr?

Sharpshooter: Oh those are your favorite, was that on purpose?

Daniel: well I didn’t tell him

Daniel: so I’m not sure if he knew or if it was a coincidence 🤷

Daniel: but yeah then he took me out to this restaurant called Pete’s for dinner

Daniel: they had some amazing cannoli

Daniel: you should try it sometime if you get the chance

Daniel: and then after dinner he took me to the observatory!!!!!!! 🤩🥰

Sharpshooter: Gotham observatory?

Sharpshooter: Isn’t that the one with the special telescope, I think you mentioned it before

Daniel: yeah, the crystal-powered telescope!! 😍💞✨🤩❤️

Daniel: and at the end, he brought me home

Daniel: and he asked for my number!!!

TooFine: nice dude!

Chaos: The guy really went all-out and planned your dream date hu? So, what’s this mystery hunk’s name?

Daniel: oh I’m not sure, I didn’t ask 🙃🤭

Sharpshooter: Danny…

Daniel: yes?

Sharpshooter: Did you go on a date with a complete stranger who witnessed you commit a murder?

Chaos: How do you not even know his name?

Daniel: two words Jazz: Johnny 13

Daniel: and he’s not a stranger!! 😠

Sharpshooter: But you don’t know his name?

Chaos: We just can’t leave him alone, can we? Less than a week on his own and he already murdered one of Gotham’s most infamous rogues and then completely forgets the concept of Stranger Danger

Daniel: I mean he probably just found it when he tried to do some research on me or something

Daniel: probably got it from the school’s system now that I think of it 🤔

TooFine: dude who the hell is this guy??

Chaos: Who the fuck did you go on a date with?

Daniel: do you really think it was a date? 🥺😳

Daniel: I wasn’t sure

Daniel: cause he mainly took me out for dinner to thank me for the night before

Daniel: but then again

Daniel: he did get me flowers and ask for my number after he brought me back to my apartment 🤔

Daniel: like I wasn’t sure if I was reading the signals right…..

Daniel: but do you think that was a date? 🫣

Sharpshooter: Danny, for the love of the Ancients.

Sharpshooter: Who was it?

Daniel: oh, it was Red Hood 🥰

TooFine: damn dannys got that vigilante rizz

Sharpshooter: Red Hood? The crime lord?!

TooFine: former, actually

Daniel: what he said ^^

Chaos: Danny, you really have a type huh? Vigilantes with a Red theme. Who’s next? Red Robin?

Daniel: stop bullying me

TooFine: never

Chaos: Never

Daniel: on a different note, who changed my name in the chat again?

Sharpshooter: Ellie did.

Chaos: Ellie

TooFine: @TheCoolerDaniel

TheCoolerDaniel: 😎

TheCoolerDaniel: wait i just read back, danny’s dating a crime lord?? :0 👀

---

Taglist (for now, I’ll probably stop if I cant keep up):

@i-always-say-yea  @uraniumwizard

[iwasbored777]

I really love Gwen's story in the end of ATSV cuz even if she and Miles never speak again she has real friends now, she's not all alone anymore. She has people who understand her the way others couldn't. And things aren't 100% perfect in her dimension but at least her father no longer thinks she's a murderer and even though everyone else will probably never change their mind about her in her world at least her father is here on her side. It's a huge improvement from how things were in the first movie and the majority of the second one. She spent the whole first movie realizing what it's like to be happy again, in the second movie she was afraid that she would lose everything because things were even worse than before, at one point she did lose everything, and after that she gained more than she thought she would.

Of course she was so negative about stuff, cuz when life is beating you down for too long you forget that good things can happen.

[vincentmatthews]

♡~OC Asks~♡

{Please specify which OC the question is targeted to, for people who may have more than one. Thank you and have fun💕}

{Safe questions}

🦋What is their favorite season?

☕️What is their favorite coffee/tea?

🍓What is their favorite fruit?

🍿Favorite show/movie?

🧁What's their dream date place?

🎀Do they have something they collect? {Stamps, rocks, stickers, etc}

🐾Do they have a pet? What are they, and what's their name?

🌿Do they like camping or road trips?

🍋Do you have a song that you associate with them?

🥞What breakfast dish instantly reminds them of home or being a kid?

🍕What's their guilty pleasure food?

🥝Do they have a food allergy or food they hate?

🍉What is their favorite summer food?

🎄Favorite holiday?

🎃What would their Halloween outfit be?

🎁What is something they keep like: a souvenir, a keepsake, or a family heirloom; that means a lot to them? Why is it so important to them?

🧸Do they have a stuffed animal or item they've kept from when they were a kid?

🍷What is their drink of choice? Both alcoholic and non-alcoholic?

🔪Say they were put in a classic 80s slasher/horror setting, who would they be? {Example: The killer. The dude who dies first. Etc.}

🍄Say it's their love interests' birthday, how would they celebrate it?

🎟Say they go to a fair/carnival, what fair treat would they get to eat, and what attraction would they like the most?

🌊What is a phobia of theirs?

🐁Do they find a creature cute, that normal people don't? Such as spiders, rats, snakes, sharks, etc?

🦴Have they ever broken a bone or had any sort of major injuries before? If so, what was their ailment?

🍰What is their favorite dessert?

♥️Favorite color?

🎈If they could travel anywhere, where would they go?

🌻Favorite flower?

🦝What do they smell like?

🍞What smell reminds them of home or better days?

🧿Do they have a superstition or belief? Such as "black cats bring bad luck", belief in ghosts, tarot, crystals, meditation, etc.

🥰Tell me about a time they'd get romantic with someone {keep it pg-13 please}

💫What do they wish on shooting stars? What is their one wish they want to come true?

🪴Free Space for your own question~♡

🔮Random Question chosen by the poster~♡

{Spicy Questions}

🌶Where have they almost been caught having sex? And what were they almost caught doing?

🩵Do they bite or leave hickies on their partner? And do they leave them where people can see it? Or do they hide them and press on the marks when they're in public?

🍇What is their sexuality? And what is their "type"?

🍼Do they have kids? Or are they willing to have any?

🍾What's the the kinkiest thing they've done while drunk at a party?

🍪What is their dirty name for their partner?

🥀Do they have a favorite position?

🧨If they could screw anyone without any consequences, who would they choose?

🎉Say it's their love interests' birthday, how would they celebrate it~?

🌽Have they ever done a dirty video before? Either alone, or with others? If so, has anyone ever "found" it?

🥑What are some of their random kinks/fetishes?

🥥How vocal are they, during sex?

🍐Say they wanted to look sexy for their partner, what sort of outfit would they wear?

🍑How did they react to having their "first time?" And was their partner understanding if they were nervous?

🥧Have they ever had a one-night stand when they were drunk?

🐹What "pet" names do they like being used for them? {Babe, Kitten, Puppy, Mutt, etc.}

🐺Tell me about their first time trying bondage~♡

🔥Do they get turned on by strange things, such as fire, chaos, blood, etc?

🧀Are people with piercings and tattoos a +1 on them being attracted to them?

🐧Do they have a safe word? What is it?

💉Have they done drugs before? Which ones? And are they addicted to anything?

🌹Tell me about a time they'd get romantic with someone {you can add the kink here}

💋Do they kiss first? And do they bite their lips if they're mischievous or aroused? And do they bite their partner's lips when they try and pull away?

🍀Free Space for your own question~♡

🎲Random Question chosen by the poster~♡

[anonymous-yandere-writer]

ooooh! Could you do something for Elliott from Stardew Valley? Or perhaps Mr. Qi? Elliott’s my favourite character, but Mr. Qi has that “omnipotent stalker with a weird sense of humour” vibe that would fit perfectly.

Thanks in advance!

Ooh, okay! As much as I think Mr. Qi is the most likely out of everyone in the cast to become a yandere, I can't help but that I just wanna cuddle a delusional yandere Eliott. Thanks for the Ask btw!

-

Anon Yan 💌‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

Yandere Elliott

I feel like Elliott is the delusional stalker type.

Like when he and the farmer (aka you) first meet it's love at first sight for him.

He's been in a creative rut for so long, bored out of his mind and replaying the same words over and over again in his mind.

He heard about the new farmer coming into town from Leah, and thought nothing of it really. It wouldn't effect him and his work.

Oh how wrong he was. From the moment Elliott met you the man became a simp.

He watched you run around town foraging for anything good to sell, he always admired how keen your eye was for the little berries that'd grow in the bushes and the flowers nobody thought to pick.

He looks at you like you hung the stars and the moon in the sky. Like you've moved the heavens and the earth to make space just for him and his little whimsical fantasies. And in a sense you kinda did.

After all, it was you who brought him out of the bored gloom he'd had been living in for the past months.

So it'd only make sense that you'd become his one and only muse.

The man could write thousands of sonnets and haiku's in your name. He hasn't gotten that far yet, but he's getting closer everyday.

He's sickly sweet, that lovey-dovey puppy-dog expression crosses his face whenever he so much as thinks about you. [Which is all the time btw]

He is totally and completely enamored with you, fallen for you like a fish falls for the bait. Which is unfortunate for him as you don't seem to have fallen for him.

But it's fine! Maybe you're just shy, that's okay, he'll just need to be a little more forceful in his affections.

"Darling! There you are. I have been looking all over for you. Come along now, I have made another poem for you to read. It'll be wonderful."

Which doesn't work...in fact it seems to make you even more reserved.

But thats okay to! You guys will work on that together.

He just keeps on pushing and pushing and pushing, and it never seems to stop.

It isn't until you blow up on him, calling him a creep, that he backs off. But only for a little bit.

He see's this as just a small argument between you guys, it'll pass over in a few days once you cool down.

But then he see's you talking to Sebastion in the saloon. You twirling your hair between your fingers, laughing at his jokes, blushing when he gets a little too close for comfort, and looking up at him with sweetest expression he's ever seen from you.

For the first time in a long time, Elliott feels rage. And not the normal kind, oh no no no, I mean blinding rage.

The kind that makes you act on your violent thoughts. Which is exactly what Elliott ended up doing.

In a flash he's on Sebastion, beating the poor boy within an inch of his life.

The other people at the Saloon try to stop the raging Elloitt, but all of the get knocked on their ass and get to scared to do anything.

Once Elliott was done with Sebastion, he turned to look at you. No longer did he look at with that sweet puppy-dog face, no instead his eyes were filled with nothing but apathy as he grabbed your chin with his bloody thumb and directed you to look at the dead body of your best friend.

"Look at what you've caused dear. This is what happens when you try to make me jealous."