#yeah I am not dealing with this bullshit anymore

[carriedreamerxx]

Ahhh apartment hunting.

My favorite way to pass an afternoon

Well at least my books and art supplies and all the small shit that was in my bookshelves are still packed cause like I had any time to unpack em after the latest shit show.

Time to research.

[bobbinalong]

my thoughts on jon's whole situation change every two days, honestly.

[webslingingslasher]

what if peter calls her annoying for doing soemthing so she geniunely stops

peter remembers the conversation vividly.

'do you mind if i play a game?'

'no.'

'are you sure? cause if you wanna do something now's the time to say it.'

'no, you can play.'

you told him he could play, and you didn't even sound the slightest upset. he must've read that wrong, because while he's trying to focus on killing and not dying, you're chatting up a storm.

peter figured after the third barely there half acknowledgement you'd figure it out, but no. not even when he cut you off to shout something to a teammate. it was the third missed shot and he just really wanted you to stop talking.

it's nonstop and about nothing important. shit about people he doesn't know, or people he has a faint recolection from. his team was about to pull through, but you had to call his name to make sure he was listening to some bullshit about whoever and whatever and he fucking died.

'jesus fucking ch- what?! you do this every fucking time, i asked if i could play, you said yes. i asked if you minded, you said no. yet, every time you sit here and try to have a fucking conversation with me.'

as if he didn't dig in far enough:

'you're fucking annoying.'

ouch. ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i'm sorry.'

ouch, 'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

a heavy sigh, peter rubs his eyebrow. 'yeah, i'm sure you are.' you want to shink into nothing, he made you feel so small in three words.

'you're fucking annoying.' ouch, ouch, ouch.

'i am.' it's timid, peter sighs again, this time at himself. 'i know you are. i'm sorry, i shouldn't have yelled at you. i was doing good and got distracted, i'm sorry and it's just a game.'

peter was sorry he yelled, not sorry he called you fucking annoying. no, that part he meant. it was obvious. 'it's okay.' you feel robotic, but it was your fault he lost his game. you're the one that told him he could play.

peter looks at you, his face scrunched. 'it's okay? i raised my voice at you and it's okay?' you nod, 'yeah. i distracted you.'

sure, that's what he said, but it's not what he meant. 'hey, don't sweat it. if i was a better player that wouldn't have happened, if anything you might just make me better by talking my ear off.'

'you're fucking annoying.' it still stings. you plaster on a smile, it's missing from your eyes. 'yeah, maybe.' peter winks, he bought it. or he just doesn't want to deal with it, you're fucking annoying anyways.

'you can play another round, i won't bother you this time. i promise.' and you don’t. not a single word, you just endlessly scroll on your phone and let peter celebrate his team win.

a cluster of kisses. ‘i had total focus and i set a new record. be proud of me, please.’ you smile, it hurts to know that your silence made him win. that’s how fucking annoying you are.

‘super proud, handsome. feel free to keep playing.’

it doesn’t feel right to peter, normally you’d be begging for attention or coercing him into cuddles. instead, you’re shrugging him off.

‘are you-‘

‘yes. i’m sure.’ twitter and instagram are boring. but you don’t want to be fucking annoying.

peter gives another kiss. ‘you’re the best, trouble. don’t forget it.’

you’re the best… and you’re fucking annoying.

you won’t be anymore.

———

peter’s won every single match this week and it stopped feeling good. and as he’s aimlessly wondering, half hoping to be killed, he realizes he hasn’t heard you in a little bit.

‘hey, trouble. what’s up? talk to me.’ he misses the soft chatters and gentle pokes when he loses focus on you. he misses you bidding for his attention.

‘nothing.’ you glance up to the screen, ‘don’t get yourself killed.’ peter shrugs, he doesn’t care how this match ends. instead, he moves from his chair to the bed with you.

‘c’mon, talk to me. tell me about your day or um, what’s that girl? the one with choppy highlights?’ you flip a page in your book, ‘harmony.’

‘yeah, her. what’s new with harmony?’ he moves into your touch, you slowly nudge away. ‘nothing.’ a multitude of things, actually. harmony is someone who has the life only a writer could make up.

‘i find that hard to believe, you’re always talking about her.’

you’re bitter with your words, but how dare he make it seem like he cares. ‘i did, but not anymore since im fucking annoying.’

peter looks at you, you’re choosing to avoid eye contact even if he knows you’re re-reading the same paragraph over and over. ‘you’re not annoying. who told you that?’

oh, you stare at him. you burn the glare of a thousand suns into his eyes, a moment of rage when you picture his head exploding.

‘you did.’

peter throws his controller down, he’s shot instantly. there’s not even a peek at the screen. ‘i did?’ his mind is counting back, when and the most important, why would he say that?

‘you said and i quote, ‘you’re fucking annoying.’ so don’t sit here and pretend you want to hear my stories or whatever. you’re a fucking liar and you think i’m annoying.’

in the time it takes to blink, peter’s grabbing your book away and forcing you to look at him. ‘i didn’t mean it. you’re not annoying, not now, not ever.’

you push his hands away. ‘you do. you apologized for yelling at me but not for calling me annoying. you said it and you meant it.’

‘i’m a sore loser with a big mouth. i don’t think you’re annoying, i’ve never thought you were annoying, and i never will think you’re annoying.’

you don’t buy it. he sure seemed to enjoy your silence for the past week and you tell him that. ‘no i didn’t. you think because i don’t say something, i don’t know it’s happening. i knew you were more quiet and less touchy, but i figured you were really into your new book- not that i hurt your feelings.’

it’s nice to know your efforts weren’t for nothing, but you still feel a sting in your heart. ‘you said i always bother you, and that i do that every time you play.’

peter shakes his head, he’s doing everything in his power to make you toss this idea you think he has about you. ‘i worded it wrong, that’s on me.’

‘what i meant-‘ peter tugs on your knee, you can’t escape his eyes if you tried. ‘what i meant was that it feels like you want my attention most when i’m in the zone and super concentrated. i love that you want to talk to me or sit with me, i just want to win a game too, that’s all.’

you sniff, a threat of a cry if he tries something like this again. ‘so, you don’t hate me or find me fucking annoying?’ peter frowns, he hates that he caused a mental breakdown of sorts behind the scenes over something he didn’t even realize he said.

‘never ever. you’re my girl, trouble. i’m an idiot who doesn’t deserve your passive aggressiveness. next time i act like that, feel free to throw the controller at my head.’

it comes way too quick, you’ve been waiting for this. ‘deal.’

[causticsunshine]

.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Can I request a part 3 to "unrequited"?

A/N I honestly was not planning another part to this story. I'm just gonna... leave this here. (Pls don't hate me guys. This is so genuinely the only path I could think of for this story that I liked.)

Unrequited pt. 3 (Alastor x Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: Um. Alastor is dark/yandere in this part. Uh. Unhealthy relationship. Yeah.

Word Count: 2,094

Previous Parts:

Unrequited (Alastor x Reader)

Unrequited Pt. 2

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor had cornered her in the hall. The years, the games, the challenges, none of it was fun anymore. It all came to an end tonight. There was no other option, not when she could die tomorrow. The angels were coming, and they were coming for the hotel.

"I don't want you here tomorrow."

"What!?" Y/n exclaimed in utter shock.

She hadn't known what to expect when Alastor had stopped her as she made her way downstairs to the bar. Everyone was supposed to be having a drink together, celebrating their afterlives that there was a chance they might loose. She didn't know what to expect but, she certainly hadn't expected this.

Alastor had been acting weird lately. He was always weird but ever since the day with Husk in the hallway, he'd been weird even by those standards. He was always finding something for Y/n to do that put her near him, always watching. It was irritating. They had been fighting a lot and Alastor still had yet to apologize to Husk.

"I don't want you at the hotel tomorrow. You are not coming near this fight."

"What the fuck, Alastor?" Y/n nearly stamped her foot on the floor, she crossed her arms and glared at the demon, "I... these are my friends. This is my home. I will do what I can to protect it."

"No, you wont. You wont be here." he paused, "I will use our little deal to make sure of that, if need be."

Y/n scoffed. Her anger was a fiery, radiant thing. Alastor found himself thinking she had always reminded him quite a bit of a lioness when she got like this. The thought had been an accident, he couldn't afford to be distracted. Not when these were the stakes. Alastor pushed it away.

"You fucking... literally why? Like, what? I... sorry, just taking me a bit to process this: the demon who tricked me into selling my soul to them is now going to use that contract to take me, a valuable asset, out of a war which we cannot afford to loose?"

"Yes." Alastor nodded.

"Because?" Y/n prompted in irritation after a moment.

Alastor sighed.

"Y/n, think about what could happen if you are here."

"The same thing that could happen to any one here!" Y/n threw her arms up in exasperation, gesticulating her frustration as she spoke, "The same thing you're forcing on Husk and Nifty, have you had this chat with either of them?"

Alastor didn't respond. It was all the answer she needed.

"Yeah, I didn't fucking think so!" she scoffed, "So it's okay for everyone to risk their lives -- it's okay for you to risk your life even, but not me? Its okay for you to force my friends to risk their lives, but you're going to force me to stay out of it? Listen to yourself, you sound ridiculous."

"We don't need your help. You're slow, you will only hold us back."

The comment he had hope would dampen Y/n's spirit, bend her will into submission, only added to her fire.

"I'm... that's bullshit and we both know it. I might be small, but so is Nifty. Everyone has skills they can offer. I know how to fight, how to survive, and we will have angelic weapons for Christ's sake. Like, I really don't understand what the issue your having is here."

"Y/n, just... no." Alastor shook his head, a hand to his temples, "No. You will not be here tomorrow. I forbid it. I'm sending you to stay with Rosie."

"What am I, your kid?" Y/n sneered.

Alastor looked over at her, his hand falling from his forehead.

"Just please, Y/n." he took a step forward, pulling her hands into his. Alastor took a deep breath. "For me."

Y/n's eyes went wide. Alastor could see the conflict, the swirling emotions. Anger turned to grief, mixed with gratitude, and became anger again. A never ending cycle.

His heart pounded against his chest, it fought him valiantly for release. It had been so long. So long since she'd looked at him with anything other than disgust, so long since she had let him touch her like this.

Y/n settled on confusion as her dominant emotion and pulled her hands from his grasp. Alastor mourned the contact, his hands still held up in the air where hers had met them as Y/n took a step away.

"Why."

It wasn't a question. Y/n commanded information and at the end of the day, he may own her soul but she owned his heart. Alastor felt like in some way, she always had. He couldn't bear the thought of loosing her but, he didn't know if he could handle the rejection either. There was no way, no chance, she would believe him if he told her too much of the truth but, lying wouldn't work either. It would have to be a careful balance, a calculated withholding of information. Too much was riding on tomorrow, on tonight, on this very moment.

"Because I don't want you to die."

Y/n's brow furrowed even further, their eyes growing wider still as she stumbled another step back. Her back was nearly against the wall now, there wasn't anywhere else she could go.

Her eyes flitted around the space fervently. Her lips formed words that never left her mouth. Alastor watched, stress eating him alive. At last, Y/n did something. She brought her hands to her head and sunk to the floor, her knees pulled into her chest.

"What are you doing to me." she muttered softly, just barely loud enough for him to hear.

For what felt like the thousandth time, Alastor felt a little piece of his heart fracture off. He didn't know how much more he could take of this before there was nothing left to break, nothing left to loose. She looked up at him, her hands still holding either side of her head and her eyes wet with tears.

"Why do you care?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. There was an insistence in her voice, a pleading. He stood in indecision for a moment, frozen by want, by need, by fear. His body took over as he took a step towards Y/n. Alastor kneeled down in front of her.

With great care, with a familiarity and gentleness Y/n hadn't felt from him in years, Alastor untangled her fingers from her hair. He held her hands in his once again and this time, he wasn't going to let go.

"Because I care about you."

Shock at his own bravery emanated from his chest. Alastor held his breath.

"You..." Y/n's eyes hardened, "I wish you'd stop messing with my head like this. Its not funny."

"Y/n, I'm not messing. I am not playing a game, I'm not..." Alastor sighed, letting go of one of Y/n's hands and running his hand through his hair as he looked to the side.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back to face her, grabbing her free hand once again.

"I don't know what I can do to prove it to you, that I'm not. But I will keep you safe. No matter what, you will not be here tomorrow."

"Please, Alastor."

His heart stopped. He couldn't recall the last time she'd asked him for anything that wasn't to leave her, Husk, and Nifty, alone. He couldn't recall the last time she'd seemed to fragile in his arms.

"Please, they're... they're my family. I can't..." a single tear rolled down Y/n's cheek, "I can't just leave them."

"I..."

There was a moment, a split second where he almost agreed. Alastor's eyes narrowed. He dropped Y/n's hands and got back to his feet. She adjusted her position in response, nearly kneeling before him.

"Please, Alastor. Let me help them. Let me do what I can to protect my family. Please. I'll do anything you want... I'll..."

It almost worked. Alastor felt his purpose waver again. Then the fear came back. He had already lost so much. His mother, his humanity, his own soul and free will. Alastor refused to add Y/n to the list of things that were so far out of his reach. He just couldn't. He didn't care if she hated him for the rest of eternity, as long as it meant she was safe at his side.

"No." he shook his head, his heart hardening, "You forget, you already have to do whatever I want. You forget, I own you."

Y/n's scream of anger as the shadows took her was muffled as she was sucked into their portal. Alastor stood, watching the spot she had been in for a few moments and then, he doubled over in pain. It shot through him in spikes, in daggers. It was the first time he had told her that. Not once before had Alastor ever said those three words to Y/n, not even when they had first made their deal. I own you.

The guilt, the regret, all of it underpinned by the overwhelming love. It had been trapped for so long, so sheltered and pushed back in the recesses of his mind that it had twisted. The love had become obsessive, dangerous, hungry.

With a breath, Alastor stood straight once again. Pushing his composure back to the surface, he smoothed his hair and went down to the bar to inform everyone of his decision. He may have forced Y/n to do something she didn't want to, fracturing things further than he'd believed possible, but he wasn't going to blame her for it. Alastor was used to being the villain and hopefully, in this case, he wouldn't have to be. Hopefully, they would understand.

Y/n gasped for breath as she was let out of the shadow portal. Panting on all fours, slowly she brought herself back together. Y/n had met Rosie before, once or twice. She knew she was a kind soul at heart, a reasonable person, and she knew that Rosie's cannibals were the main force of their army tomorrow. All she had to do was convince the overlord to let her join them, and it would be okay.

Taking a deep breath to restore her confidence, Y/n looked up. Her heart dropped.

"No."

She got to her feet, looking carefully around the decrepit old radio tower.

"No. Nonono."

Her breaths becoming panicked, she ran to the door. It was locked. Taking a step back, she kicked it harshly. The firm wood didn't budge.

Driven by adrenaline alone, Y/n ran to the windows and began to hit them with all her might. None of them so much as trembled.

"No!"

She looked wildly around the space and, spotting Alastor's chair, picked it up. Y/n hurled it at the window. There was a crash and for a split second, there was hope. That was until she realized it was the chair that had broken, not the window.

"No! No!"

Turning back to the door, she hurled her body repeatedly against it. Each time, she got the biggest running start she could. Each time, there was no change at all, nothing happened. Fresh tears pooled in her eyes, she was long past panicked now.

"NO!"

After about twenty minutes, Y/n was out of breath and exhausted. Her whole body hurt and her face was sticky with tears. She sat at the door, her back pressed against it and her knees pulled into her chest. Burying her face in her legs, she sobbed.

Everyone was at the hotel, except for her. Everyone was preparing to fight for and protect what they loved, except for her. What would they think? What would they say? Much more importantly, would they make it out?

A sudden fear gripped her, a fist around her heart. Would she ever see any of them again? Y/n's sobs redoubled.

"Fucking..."

She sniffed, her panic and grief quickly fixing itself back in the shape of the familiar anger. She could see him in her minds eye, that moment his eyes had softened, that moment she thought that maybe he had been telling the truth all along, that they really had been friends, that he really did care.

"I hate you Alastor!" she screamed to herself, alone in the dark, "I hate you and I will continue to hate you until the day I fucking die again!"

----

A/N I love an irredeemable villain and doomed, misshapen love. I'm sorry to anyone who wanted this to end up happy.

[hellfirenacht]

Wing Man Part 7

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9)

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

5k words

Chapter Summary: Dustin spills the beans, and Wayne gives some advice.

A/N: Happy New Year! I ran out of steam there for a while but I am bursting with new inspiration and have a billion ideas for new and old fics! Thank you for your patience and support 💜

The next night after dropping you off at home, there was a storm the likes of which Hawkins had never seen. Lightning lit up the sky through the night like a shitty rave, knocking out the power for Forest Hills Trailer Park for the better part of two days. It wasn’t until Saturday, when Eddie attempted to check in on Ronnie again, that he realized that their worn out phone had been completely fried. Shit.

Getting a new one was easier said than done, Eddie and Wayne had to pinch pennies this week after his uncle had been out of work a few days because of a cold, and having to replace a good chunk of groceries that had gone bad sitting in the dead fridge.

Sure, Bev had been nice enough to give Eddie a few extra shifts at the Hideout to help cover but that was a paycheck that wasn’t going to be in for another week. There was always his dealings, but he’d been keeping his head down after nearly having his stash blown by an over enthusiastic K-9 unit that, thankfully, was more interested in the jerky that Eddie had in his jacket.

For a week, he’d been without a phone now. Normally it wasn’t a huge loss, not many people actually bothered trying to call him anyway, and Wayne didn’t really socialize much working the night shift. But he missed Ronnie, and he really was stressing each day that went by that he didn’t call you. Eddie knew that whatever this was, he was probably already blowing it.

Tuesday rolled around again, and he hoped that you’d show back up to the Hideout. Jeff had even agreed to give most of the band a ride if Eddie agreed to haul their equipment and do all of the breakdown in case you needed another ride home. No such luck though, unbeknownst to him Keith had come down with the same cold that his Uncle Wayne had the week before, meaning you had to work a double.

It was now Friday, over a week since you’d written your name in the most stubborn permanent marker he’d ever come across. Your name still stained his skin in a faint and ugly shade of pea green. Eddie could now say your number by memory, despite never having punched in the digits once. If anyone at school had noticed that Eddie ‘the Freak’ Munson had a girl's name on his arm, they didn’t say anything.

“Whose number is that?” Mike asked in the middle of a time out while Zach and Gareth were pouring over the rule book over the legality of a move that Eddie was sure was bullshit. So much for that.

Eddie’s head snapped over to the freshman while those in Corroded Coffin snickered and suddenly lost interest in the rules for the moment. With the candles and stage lights on, it was always warm in the Hellfire room, and Eddie had stripped his jacket giving his arms a chance to breathe while he guided the party on their next adventure.

It had also meant that the faded remains of your number was still visible, which he hadn’t thought much of until Mike had pointed it out.

“Yeah, Eddie, whose number is it?” Jeff snickered, which earned a hard look from Eddie that under any other circumstances would have shut Jeff up but in this case only made him laugh harder.

For a moment he debated internally about putting his jacket on, and telling them all to shove it. It was tempting, very tempting, but Eddie wasn’t a teen anymore. Hell, he had a good two to three years on most of the members in this club. Why should he be embarrassed because a cute girl had some sort of interest in him?

Because you’re blowing it by not being able to call her. He told himself.

Eddie then told the table about how you’d given him your number right before he dropped you off. How you’d been a perfect gentleman and hadn’t taken advantage of him or made any untowards moves to him. (Even if he had thought you almost did, but he kept that part to himself).

To his surprise, the ribbing was kept to a minimal. Without Eddie fighting against it, the group became less interested. Eddie’s love life was only of interest when it meant that the sheep could finally have some fun with the shepard.

That was going to be the end of it. Jeff had conceded that the rule they were looking up had been an old house rule from his middle school group that he had never questioned as not actually being accurate, and they were ready to move on. Eddie opened his mouth to guide the party to the next encounter-

“I thought you said you weren’t interested in her.” Dustin suddenly said. Eddie had thought that the shrimp had been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes.

“If that was him not interested then I’m quitting Hellfire to be a cheerleader.” laughed Gareth.

“No one wants to see you in a miniskirt, man.” said Mike.

“They have guy cheerleaders!” protested Gareth. “I’d wear the pants.”

“That’d be a first.” ribbed Zack.

“Don’t you have to be crazy strong to be a cheerleader? Gareth, your strength stat sucks.”

“I haul my own drumset every week!”

“Can we get back to the game?”

“Eddie,” Dustin spoke up again. His brows were furrowed and he was messing with his pencil, the same way he did when someone in the party was about to do something that didn’t make any sense. “You did say you weren’t interested.”

So much for Eddie’s love life being of no interest, he now had a herd of sheep looking at him expectantly, no longer talking about Gareth possibly changing after school activities. He should ignore it, get everyone back on track, and lead them back into the Forbidden Caves where he was not tempted to throw a mimic in for messing with the flow of the game.

He should... but Dustin’s comment bugged him for some reason.

“I never said that.” Eddie said, looking at the kid.

“What? Yeah you did!” Dustin looked as shocked as Eddie felt. When had he ever said he wasn’t interested in you?

“Oh yeah, when?” Eddie crossed his arms and leaned back in his throne, his eyes narrowing.

“At the arcade!” Dustin sounded frustrated. “You told me that you didn’t want me introducing you to anyone when we were doing Hellfire related shit, and that you weren’t interested anyway.”

The warmth from the candles and stage lights were nothing compared to the heat of everyone’s eyes on him. What the fuck was Henderson even talking about?

Oh. Oh what the fuck?!

“Excuse me?” Eddie said slowly as that thirty second conversation started to play in his mind.

“Yeah, I remember that.” Mike added, in an attempt to back up his friend. “We just assumed she wasn’t your type.”

Eddie hadn’t been looking to be anyone’s boyfriend. He was never looking to be dating anyone, the few times he’d found himself in the good graces of a girl who’d shown interest in him it had always blown up in his face.

That had never stopped him from trying though.

“Are- wait. Back up.” Eddie stood up and made his way over to the opposite end of the table where the freshmen were suddenly looking very nervous. He grabbed them by the shoulders, as he’d done so many times in the past and hauled them up while the rest of the table watched on in amusement. Normally, Eddie would never pause the game but, fuck it. This kid had something to do with you, and he was going to figure out what.

“Jesus, Eddie-” Mike said, wincing at the grip. “I don’t have anything to do with this, it was all Dustin and Steve!”

This was getting more and more confusing by the moment. Eddie shoved the two boys to face them, leaning over them. Even with Mike’s growth spurt over the past few months, somehow Eddie still seemed to tower over them.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice was slow, trying to understand why that name was even being spoken in the private sanctuary away from jocks.

“Yes, Steve! They’re like, best friends or something! Ask Dustin!” Mike said, throwing his friend under the bus.

“What’s the big deal?!” Dustin asked, looking between Mike and Eddie with a look of bewilderment.

“Henderson, you have thirty seconds to explain what the actual Hell is going on before your character becomes Quasit food.” Eddie said, releasing his grip on both of the freshmen.

“Okay, okay!” Dustin held his hand up in surrender, looking nervous as everyone watched the scene unfold. “So, you know how her and Steve work together? Well, they had a deal going on where they’d help get each other dates.”

Eddie’s head tilted down slightly, but his eyes stayed firmly focused on Dustin. This was making less and less sense by the minute. Steve needed help getting dates? King Steve of Hawkins High who had the pick of any girl in school before he graduated? That Steve Harrington couldn’t get a date and so had recruited you into helping him?

And you, you with the everything about you couldn’t get a date either? Hadn’t you mentioned something about that before, at the Hideout?

“I help him and he uh... he helps me get out of the house.”

You’d said that, and he hadn’t thought much of it until now. All this time, Eddie had thought the arcade incident had been Dustin trying to have his two older male friends meet and be friends, but it had been you that he was supposed to meet?

“So you’re telling me that you, Dustin Henderson and Steve Harrington were trying to set me up on a date?” Eddie looked over at the rest of the table that looked just as bewildered as he did. This was a prank, right? He’d been tossed into some sort of alternate dimension where a freshman and a jock had any sort of interest in his love life, in any part of his life. He’d sooner believe that he’d run a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham than this.

“Well, technically we were trying to set her up on a date and you seemed like a good fit?” Dustin’s answer came out as more of a question, leaving Eddie’s mind reeling. Behind him, he could hear the growing snickers of the party.

Eddie was ready for this to start making sense any time now.

“So she was helping Steve get dates and he wanted to set her up with me?” Nope, even after thinking it a half dozen times it still wasn’t clicking.

“That part was my idea actually!” Dustin said, showing off a smile filled with metal. “She’s pretty weird and Steve said she was picky-”

“Can’t be that picky if she was interested in Eddie.” muttered Gareth, earning another round of laughter at the table.

Eddie didn’t even have it in him to shoot another look at the table as he continued to try and piece together what was going on.

You and Steve had a deal to try and get each other dates. You were picky and so Dustin suggested Eddie. Steve then brought you to the arcade to force a meeting and-

“Wait, did she know that she was supposed to meet me?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“Oh yeah, she knew the whole time in the arcade.” Dustin nodded, hoping that Eddie wasn’t about to blow a fuse over this. “Well, she figured it out at least. See she was just supposed to be tagging along with Steve to find guys to flirt with but then uh... she realized she was supposed to meet you.”

“And she didn’t know who I was?” Eddie clarified, thinking back to the way you’d tried to talk to him about Hellfire, Chris Morrison, anything to try and start a conversation. How the hell was it that he could remember every time you two met so clearly, but you didn’t know who he actually was?

Because it wasn’t about you, Eddie. He had to remind himself.

Dustin shrugged. “I guess not? She’s never mentioned you before that night.”

Guess not everyone paid attention to the Freak. He hated that it bugged him that you didn’t remember him but could he blame you? He probably wouldn’t remember him either, just a Munson fuck up who everyone was waiting to end up dead in a ditch somewhere.

Eddie pushed Dustin back down into his seat, done interrogating the poor freshman. Everyone watched as he made his way back to his side of the table, behind the DM screen. He had a lot to think about, but he wasn’t about to start processing that in front of the rest of Hellfire.

“You all wander deeper into the cave, the only light coming from the torch carried by-”

“I have dark vision!”

Broke and bored, Eddie haunted the trailer for the rest of the weekend. He did have practice with Corroded Coffin for a generous two hours on Saturday, and then a long shift that night at the Hideout where one old drunk had slipped him a $10 tip for making sure he always had a cold beer in hand. But those few hours were just a minor reprieve from the information that Dustin had given him the previous day.

When he wasn’t distracted by work or practice he was practicing guitar, working on lyrics, prepping for the next Hellfire session.

He tried to think about you, but ended up feeling confused. When he was trying to think about anything else, all he could see was the way you had flirted with him at the Hideout.

Despite popular opinion, Eddie wasn’t stupid when it came to girls. He could tell when a girl was interested in him, and you had made it clear that you had at least some interest in him. You had told him point blank that you were not with Harrington, and had no interest as well. He’d seen the way you looked at him while watching them play, that excitement in your eyes. Your head had bobbed to the rhythm of their songs watching them with as much enthusiasm as if you’d been a fan for years.

Paige had watched with similar eyes, right? She’d seen something in them that no one else had before-

No. Not them. Not Corroded Coffin. Just Eddie.

It felt pathetic that he kept comparing you to Paige. He didn’t want to, he really didn’t want to. It wasn’t like he was still hung up on Paige, not really. She’d just been a turning point in who he was as a person. She’d been the first (and last) girl to really look at him as a person. If his dating prospects had been small before, they had completely dried up over the past two years.

Date the freak? Yeah, right. There had been the odd girl who’d hit on him as if daring themselves to get with him but he was done with that. A few mediocre dates that he’d agreed to out of boredom or loneliness had only added to the idea in Hawkins High that he was undesirable. Adding to that, the older he got, the younger his underclassmen became and the idea of dating someone younger was... well he didn’t need to add ‘creep’ to the long list of rumors about him. It didn’t matter to him most of the time, instead focusing on his friends, his band, his club, his business, himself. God knows he’d never be able to hold down a relationship unless he got his shit together and earned everyone’s trust again.

“Graduate and get laid, Munson.” Ronnie’s voice echoed in the back of his mind and he groaned as his face warmed. It was the middle of the week, just over two weeks since the night at the Hideout. Eddie was laying on the old couch face down, his homework on the counter half finished and the blue glow of the tv doing little to distract him.

The sound of the door opening didn’t even phase him enough to look up, even as Wayne grunted out a hello before setting something down on the counter next to his forgotten schoolbooks.

“Did you eat?” Wayne asked, which earned a shrug from Eddie. How could he think about eating when he was stuck thinking about everything else?

“Are you gonna tell me why you’ve been moping around for the past few weeks?” Wayne tried again in an attempt to be a good guardian. When that didn’t work either he sighed and said “Might as well step outside with me and have a smoke.”

It was better than doing whatever the hell else Eddie was doing now, and so he rolled off the couch less than gracefully and followed his uncle out onto the porch to sit on the outdoor couch. Wayne offered him the smoke and for a moment it was peaceful. Wayne wasn’t one to push Eddie to talk about anything, but he did have a way to make him think even if it did piss him off occasionally.

Eddie took a long drag of the cigarette and released it slowly as he stared up at the sky. It was a dark night, a million tiny dots illuminating the trailer park, even if the moon wasn’t out. He scanned the stars, looking for the three that he knew were Orion’s belt. That’s about where his astrology knowledge began and ended, but it was something to look for at least.

“I think a girl likes me.” He finally said as he spotted what he assumed was the constellation he was looking for.

“Yeah?” Wayne asked, his own eyes gazing upwards as well, giving Eddie the space to talk more.

“Yeah.”

It was silent again for a few minutes as they smoked, the only other sound for a while was that of Wayne cracking open a beer. That’s what Eddie appreciated about Wayne, he didn’t need to fill the silence like his dad did, and Eddie didn’t need to either. He could just... exist.

“I don’t know what to do about it.” Eddie finally said a while later. “She only has an interest because her and some jock are trying to get each other dates.”

“Is that right?” Coming from anyone else that question would have been dismissive, a filler phrase to show that they were paying minimal attention. Eddie knew better though, which caused a knot of frustration in his gut.

“I guess.” he shrugged.

“How many dates has she gone on?” Wayne passed the beer to Eddie, who took a grateful sip.

“Don’t know. It didn’t sound like she’d been on many. Henderson said she’s picky.”

“But she likes you.”

“Yeah.”

Another long stretch of silence as Eddie stewed over the question. He hated how Wayne could break down his problems into simple questions.

“Don’t see why you’re moping around if she likes you.” Wayne glanced over at Eddie. “Are you sweet on her?”

Eddie snorted at the term, taking another drag from the cigarette and flicking the ashes off the porch. “She’s cute.” he said, thinking about how you’d looked the last few times he’d seen you. He might have been distracted that first night at the arcade, but not so distracted that he didn’t notice that at least. “Smart too. She got the guys to listen to her last time we hung out.”

Wayne raised an eyebrow. “She got Gareth to pay attention? That’s a damn miracle.”

“They liked her too.”

“More than the California girl?”

The question caught Eddie off guard and he looked up at Wayne who was still looking off in the distance. Eddie had never explained exactly to Wayne what had happened that first senior year, most of the details going to what happened with Al when Officer Morris was shot. They never talked about how Eddie was so damn close to packing everything up and running away to California.

Thinking about everything that happened that year still stung. Eddie had tried hard not to think about what could have been if CJ and Toby had just shown up one or two days later. Would Eddie have made it to the audition? Would they have really liked him? Maybe in another life he’d be signed and he’d be working on an album or on tour and him and Paige...

It didn’t matter, that ship had long since sailed. Eddie was no rock hero, and never would be. He tried to tell himself it was better this way, if anything it meant that his relationship with Al was over and done with which was a hollow victory if he was being honest.

“Definitely more than her.” Eddie finally agreed. You weren’t asking him to ditch the band and run away with you, so that had to give you some points for them, and for him. Dustin vouched for you, and even Mike, but he wasn’t sure how much that counted for yet. After all Dustin still seemed to worship Steve, and you were friends with Steve-

But did that actually matter? If you and Steve were close enough friends to help each other like this, and Steve was willing to vouch for Eddie, despite never having any real conversation just because Dustin said something-

“She gonna ask you to run away?” Wayne was now looking at Eddie again.

Sometimes he wondered if his uncle could secretly read minds.

“Doubt it.” Eddie said, “She works at the video store. I don’t know much about her, honestly.”

“So ask her on a date.”

“What?”

“She likes you, you want to get to know her. Ask her on a date. It’s not that complicated, Eddie.” Wayne dropped the cigarette on the porch and crushed it under his boot. “You always did think too much, always sucked up in your own world. You’ll be happier in the long run if you open up a bit.”

Easier said than done for a 20 year old still in high school that the whole town considered a satanic cult leader. Then again, when was the last time he’d really opened up to anyone other than Ronnie or Wayne? Right, his dad in the weeks before the heist.

“I think I fucked this up before I could even start.” Eddie sighed, snuffing out his own half finished cigarette. “She gave me her number and I never called.”

“Could’a grabbed a quarter from the change jar and used a pay phone.”

Eddie pressed his hands against his face and dragged them down slowly. Why did good advice always come too late for him?

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing I brought back a new phone for the kitchen today.”

Eddie’s head snapped up so fast he should have snapped something, his eyes widening.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s a new used phone. Guy down the line from me offered it up and it’s better than nothing.”

Eddie didn’t care if it was a rotary phone, he’d take anything at this point if it meant that he could try to call you.

He wanted to call you.

He wanted to call you. Eddie didn’t care if you remembered that first time you met, did it even really matter? You had an interest in him, Eddie Munson, now.

“Thanks, Wayne.” Eddie stood up and hurried inside, seeing the new old phone that was sitting on the counter. It took a few minutes of making sure it wouldn’t fall off the wall before he plugged it in and heard that sweet dial tone sound.

Eddie grabbed his copy of Lord of the Rings from his bedside table and pulled out the paper flower, looking at the number scribbled in his own chicken scratch. He didn’t trust himself to punch in the number without checking, no matter how many times he read the ten digits over the past two weeks.

It rang once.

Twice.

Six times.

No response.

“It’s late, she might be asleep.” Wayne said, grabbing a box of pasta from the cabinet.

It wasn’t that late, not even 8:30 yet. Eddie sighed and hung up the phone, crossing his arms as he thought about his next move. He’d always had tunnel vision when he got an idea into his head, from Corroded Coffin, to his campaigns, to a book that he wanted to read, it was hard to shake the urge when he got one.

Grabbing the keys from the counter he called over to Wayne “I’ll be back later.” which was responded to with a confirmation that he’d save some pasta for Eddie in the fridge.

There weren’t many places he could think of where you could be tonight. You hadn’t shown back up at the Hideout, and the arcade was closed this late on a weeknight. You could be at home, but Eddie didn’t remember where you lived and showing up to your place after two weeks of radio silence would definitely get him in trouble.

So he drove to Family Video.

If you were there he’d do.. something. If you weren’t he’d call you after school tomorrow. Eddie winced internally at the thought. He’d been trudging through school and dragging his feet for the past six years to graduate, and now was the time he felt childish about it. You could legally buy him a beer, and he could illegally sneak you a drink in the Hideout.

At a stoplight he swapped out the Black Sabbath tape for W.A.S.P., remembering that you had mentioned liking them. How did he continue to remember these small details about you?

Because she’s treated you like a human each time you’ve talked. It was startling how something so basic was such a big deal to him.

The lights were still on at Family Video, and the open sign was still lit up. He could see movement inside the store, and he caught sight of someone wearing the signature green vest that the employees wore.

He’d walk in, and if you were there he’d- fuck what the hell was he supposed to do? Eddie stared at the door from inside his van for a few minutes. It was past nine now, and he could have sworn that they should be closed now but that stupid sign was still on. That had to be a good sign right? Eddie wasn’t one to believe in stuff like that but maybe he’d be stupid to ignore a literal neon sign hanging in the door.

Okay, now or never. Eddie had never really been one to hesitate before and he wasn’t about to start now.

He made his way to the entrance and opened the door before he could think about what he was actually wanting to do. Eddie could improvise, it was one of the more useful skills that came from years of running Hellfire.

“Who didn’t lock the door?!” Your voice was a welcome sound, sealing the determination inside of him. No going back now.

“It was Steve’s job to-” your co-worker said. She looked familiar, but he couldn’t place a name to the face.

“Oh, shit. Hi.” Steve was the first to actually notice Eddie as he walked in, looking as if he was expecting literally anyone else.

Turning on the Freak, Eddie smirked at Steve. “Cursing in front of customers, Harrington? Now that’s not very professional of you.”

“Well, we’re closed. You can’t be a customer if you can’t pay.” Steve said, putting his hands on his hips in a way that reminded Eddie of a mother hen. Steve did have a point, and so he decided to cut through any bullshit and looked over at you. You looked like you’d had a long shift, but the way you were looking at him... there was still the same shock that was on Steve’s face, but while his shock was laced with confusion yours was excited. As if you couldn’t believe that The Freak was here and that was a good thing.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Eddie blurted out the request before he could think. He had no idea where you two would go or what you would do but he had to do something.

Your coworker nudged you in the ribs, and your expression changed to a more professional one.

“I- uh. I have to finish closing.” you said, looking at Steve for a split second.

“Steve and I can handle the rest of closing!” Eddie made a mental note to learn this girls name and send her a fucking gift basket one day.

“Guys, I’m literally in charge of you both. I can’t leave before you.” You said, reaching down to grab something from below the counter- your bag. Eddie felt himself growing more excited, his heart pounding as you tossed your work vest and keys over to them. They were basically shoving you out the door to spend time with him.

“We can handle it!” Steve said.

“And I can handle Steve!” Robin added. “We close without you and Keith all the time, remember?”

You stepped out from behind the counter, looking up at him. The color of your eyes under the fluorescent lights reminded him of the stars he had been looking at earlier this evening. Eddie found himself smiling at you as you opened the door for him.

Someone was quick to lock the door and turn the OPEN sign off.

Eddie opens his van door for you, trying his best to make a good impression for whatever was about to happen. You hopped into the passenger seat and he thought that he might enjoy seeing you sitting next to him like this in his van more often.

---

Next Chapter

Comments and Reblogs help feed the fandom and the muse 💜

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag list: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirly93 @perpetualmess @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher

[korpuskat]

Spectrum

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader Rating: Mature (sexual content referenced, but not explicit) WC: 2,918 Warnings: None Sequel to In A Different Light -----

The lackey behind the counter hardly looks up, barely says anything as they pass you the repair request forms. It's fine, you get it. Menial labor, repetitive office bullshit, dealing with the guys who walk their mechs into walls when training while trying to avoid the higher-ups gaze. Normal Talon stuff. This is perfectly true until he asks you what floor of the barracks you're on, what wing.

And suddenly the lady behind him perks up. She doesn't even try to hide how she looks you over, making some unspoken assessment, then grins and returns to her tablet.

The barely suppressed smile infects his voice with excitement. "Don't suppose you're in 1813, are you?"

Oh. Fuck. "Yeah, I am."

"Kinda wondering when you'd make it down here." He says, typing in your information. "If you would."

You shouldn't say anything. You really, really shouldn't.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh, you know." He grins at you, fucking winks like you're in on the joke. "There was a pool if you'd be here or the infirmary first."

The infirmary? Why would you- actually, he did break your bed and leave a hole in your wall and you have had this peculiar ache behind your belly button and you definitely have huge purple splotches over your hips where he'd grabbed you, so, okay, that's fair.

"I guess you won then." Is the light-lipped answer you come up with, unsure how to explain that you really don't want to be part of this conversation anymore. Please, just fix your bed and wall. Gossip when you're not around.

The guy opens his mouth- and you feel it before his expression changes. A cool wind brushes against the back of your neck, down your spine, over the backs of your arms. Sickly, somehow, like the air itself clings to you, crawls on you. Everyone behind the counter looks away. His joy is gone, but the fear is carefully masked. "Reason for repairs?"

Behind you, boots stomp by. He doesn't leave, from the sound, from the way nobody exhales. You don't look, keep your eyes trained on the counter, on a little fleck where the linoleum is peeling away. He's somewhere in a corner, waiting for something. "Accident."

The lackey visibly cringes. Suddenly he, too, doesn't want to be in this conversation. "Gotta be more specific."

Fucker. Your voice is barely restrained as you bite out, "Sparring accident."

Behind you, the Reaper snorts.

When Ramattra returns to your base, perhaps only two weeks later, you really expect him to just proceed as business as usual. Like nothing had happened; he'd sated his curiosity, you're off his radar. Figuratively. You do not, under any circumstances, expect to be pulled off regular duties to be part of his temporary squadron.

It's a formality. He doesn't need one. He's here to inspect an airship, to discuss modifications to be made before it goes into mass production.

With an irritated sigh and wave of his hand, he summarily dismisses the entire squadron as soon as he sees them waiting in the hangar. The rest leave. You should join them. It's so... presumptuous, to think he thinks about you, that he even remembers you. He's leading a revolution for his people and you're a grunt he fucked once. But your boots may as well have been glued to the floor, no matter how much you want to scream at yourself to move, to turn away, you can't.

And his gaze settles on you.

And he nods towards the airship's ramp.

You follow behind him.

It's the first time you watch him leave. Every time before- three, now, not that you're counting- he's quietly departed your quarters. After making sure you're well cared for. That part had always confused you- left your chest aching in a way completely different than your hips.

But this time, you're not left alone in your mattress working up the courage to go file a repair request again. No, as part of his squadron you get to see him off this time. It's all a show, Ramattra had complained about it before- serves nothing but to boost their little human egos. He wasn't wrong, there's no need for you to be here. In fact, you really don't want to be here.

You've never seen Doomfist in person, but he personally escorts Ramattra to his shuttle. He speaks confidently, but quietly enough you can't make out what he's saying, even as he gestures broadly with his cybernetic arm. Even seeing him content makes your stomach flip uneasily, not wanting to be around if something does go wrong.

Ramattra... looks different. It's hard to believe how quickly you've become used to seeing him relaxed. Not just when he's moving in you- no, even when he sits with you, walks about the base, he never looks like this anymore. All seriousness and focused, the weight of the world back on his shoulders.

They speak a moment more, then Ramattra bows his head and turns towards his ship. He stops-

and across the launch bay, Ramattra's faceplate turns towards you. He pauses. Says nothing, hardly moves- but you know. He's looking directly at you. You stare back, unsure why you have his attention now- and ever so slightly his head dips. A tiny nod goodbye, just for you.

Your chest aches.

You smile slightly and nod back- and he's gone, entering his ship and flying away.

You don’t know who finally made the call to assign Ramattra temporary quarters at your base, but you would love to have seen that conversation. Because Ramattra’s voice is perfectly neutral as he comments that his quarters had not only a heavy duty, solid steel bed frame to support his weight- nevermind that he doesn’t sleep- but also reinforced walls.

They knew, of course. But the fact that someone high up enough knew to make the recommendation is what really gets you. Because nobody has said anything to you. Maybe they’re smart enough to- you doubt Ramattra would be particularly pleased with you being public knowledge.

And, well, not saying anything has ended up being your approach with Ramattra so far, too. Despite the frequency that he’d return to your doorway (and now you to his), or the repeated repair requests and occasional trips to medical and skeptical looks in return, you’d never explicitly asked what was going on. What exactly you were to him.

And normally that would be fine! Soldier’s bond or whatever, some bullshit to say “logistically and emotionally easiest lay.” It’s common enough. But you’ve never laid in a squadmate’s bed hours after, never dozed lightly in someone else’s blankets as they work at the desk a foot away- and never felt that perhaps that was still too far from you.

It’s the latter right now that sits heavy on your chest.

You shift beneath his sheets- a silky, deep purple that ripples with every moment. You watch, silent, as he turns some kind of device in his hands, taps it occasionally with an electric soldering iron. You sit up slowly, lean into his pillows. Even the pillowcases match. Probably actual silk knowing Talon’s propensity to keep their board members happy. Fuckers. He doesn’t even meditate on the bed.

“Ramattra,” The question bubbles out of you before you can stop it. “Can I… kiss you?”

He stills. But here, you must acknowledge how close you’ve gotten- because you can tell. Where someone else may feel that pang of fear, that his quiet is a wind-up to rage or impatience or condescension, no, you can read his shoulders perfectly. He’s genuinely contemplating the request.

He looks to you, and he doesn’t need a face for you to feel the incredulity in his voice. “You do understand I do not possess a mouth, correct?”

“I know.” You stand and sweep one thin blanket with you as you move to him. And here- he turns away from his project, sets his iron down, opens his arms for you. When you settle into his lap, he supports you- and when you reach for his face, his jaw, he lowers his head into your touch. You sweep a thumb across the lowest part of the white composite, feel the little crease between it and the purple of his jaw plate. “But I could still kiss you..”

His whole face rumbles into your palm as he hums, considering this. “Alright, though I do not understand what you would gain from this.”

And that is a lie, though you’re not sure who it’s for. It’s fine though, you don’t call him on it. Instead, you guide his head down as you stretch up- until your breath ghosts against him, leaving little puffs of foggy condensation. And you kiss him. Right across the seam between his plates, your lips squishing into the gap, flattening against his metal.

And it would be like kissing a training bot, all cold, motionless metal against your lips- and that must be what he expects you to feel, his disbelief you’d get anything from this. It would be, except for everything else about him. His hands come up to the curve of your spine, to the back of your head, cradling you so gently- and even with such a small display, his fans kick up, a quiet hum purring a hair louder from his chest. Without a mouth, he’s hardly unaffected- and against his faceplate you smile and pull away. His optics cannot, by design, be half-lidded and glazed, but you think they would be if they could.

“Did that… satisfy you?” He rumbles lowly.

“For now.” You grin and tuck yourself deeper into his lap. When he realizes you have no intention of returning to his bed, he makes a show of sighing and adjusting the stolen blanket so you’re well-wrapped and all the ends are tucked safely away before he returns to his work.

"Can I ask you a question?" You murmur, eyes still closed. He's foregone the blanket this time, holding you right up against his chest; you had curled up with him so quickly he hasn't even had time to put his paneling back on. The spars of his ribs are a little uncomfortable, but he's still so warm that you can't complain.

"Of course." His systems have already refreshed, perfectly capable of going on with his day. Unlike you, you're still wavering and floaty and in need of a shower. He's used to it. Being able to hold you afterwards is... enjoyable. He allows himself to trace shapes over your skin. He had noticed, once, how you smile softly when he does it.

"It's personal."

Ramattra's head shifts, looks down at you slightly. He's told you about himself. About the times before he was himself, about the Shambali, about the slave shops he's destroyed, about London. About Lanet. What could you possibly ask that you felt the need to warn him about first? "Go on."

"Who did you make your dick for?" Oh. He shifts awkwardly, ceases the motions of his hands. When he doesn't answer you continue, "You told me you didn't make it for humans, so, I dunno. Was just curious."

It takes several moments before he can manage to put together a stilted "Does it matter?"

You hum softly and lean back against him. "No." You swap the places of your hand with his, sweeping your thumb across the purple plating. You really didn't want to upset him- the likelihood his previous relationships have ended particularly badly is ridiculously high. "It's okay, you don't have to tell me about your exes. Like I said, just curious."

Ramattra has never quite understood the desire to grimace until now. It's not important, and yet... that annoying little whisper has returned to his circuits, prodding at his runtimes until he's forcing the words through his synth. "I don't... have any... 'exes'."

This makes the gears turn in your head. There's no way. "Like... you just didn't stay with any of them?" Even as hectic as his life has been, you cannot reconcile how tenderly he's holding you with him previously being a smash and dasher. It would make sense logistically- no danger of loss or being tied down and losing focus on his work, but… there’s just no way.

"No." He all but squirms. "I never used it before you."

"What?"

"I designed it for..." His voice cuts out as his vocoder fights him again. "...a particular omnic. To their model's... specifications. But I never used it."

You twist around in his arms, as much as he'd prefer you didn't. It's uncomfortable enough without having to see your face, without his still-not-put-away dick pressed between your bodies. "But... you told me you'd fucked before."

Around you, Ramattra bristles, his fans ramping up, his hands firming where they touch you. Too far, you did upset him. "Omnics do not need things as crude as genitals to be intimate."

The pieces come together. Not an ex, they'd been intimate, enough that he'd designed a dick just to hope, but never used it. He wanted more. You slide a hand around Ramattra's neck, over the dark plating his cowl usually hides. Normally, when you slide your fingers around the chunky cables of his mane, he'll purr or at least relax- no such luck. "Sorry," You murmur, and trace a finger along the long line of his jaw piece. "Thank you for telling me."

It takes a few moments, but eventually a soft stream of hot air slips from Ramattra's vents and he sighs. You take the cue and curl up close to him, wrapping your arms around him as best you can with his wide chest. When you think he's calmed enough, you do tack on one last comment. "I am glad you made it, though."

Thankfully, Ramattra laughs softly at that.

Ramattra holds white papers in his hand, carefully held between the rubber pads there, delicate as to not crease them before you can read them. His other hand twitches as his side, then balls into a fist. He does not meet your gaze when he enters his room. He stands there, just past the doorway, clenching and unclenching his fist, his fans slowly amping up.

"Rama?" You prompt him when he still doesn’t say anything, already scooting to the edge of his bed.

"I have to attend to the construction of a titan in person." It's flat, a statement, no particular inflection in his voice where you're clearly expecting something else. "I won't be able to return here for several weeks. At minimum."

Now it's you who looks away. It's a disappointment. You knew it was coming, three days together was already an incredible luxury. "Ah, I see." He's busy, you know this. Lots of hard work running an entire revolution almost by yourself. And you can't fault him for it- can't ask him to postpone. It's important work. "When will you have to leave?"

"Five hours. I'm also chartering transport of supplies. My omnium is short on copper wire, of all things." He says- and his focus shifts from the floor to the paper in his hands. He rubs it, watches as the paper flexes and bends, then returns to normal. You, too, observe his fidgeting and wait for the shoe to drop. You've always kind of waited for it.

"Are you- " He starts- and his synth immediately fizzles. The hand at his side tightens in frustration as he reboots it. "Are you pleased with... this?" The paper flops in his hand as he gestures vaguely between you.

This.

Never did have that conversation.

You bite your tongue, chance looking at him. None of the strain in his vocoder has made it to his faceplate, forever stuck in that passive, almost angry expression. "Yeah." If he wants to kick you out, that's fine, but you aren't going to lie about it. His visits to your base have easily become the best part of your job, the occasional message of where he is, of when he can make it back to you- it's completely different than anything you've had before. "Yeah, actually."

Ramattra's shoulders drop. "You are sure? Genuinely?"

You nod. And he holds out the paper. You don't even unfold it before he's explaining. "It's a reassignment order. Production of Null Troopers is increasing geometrically; ideally I would oversee all production lines directly from here on. It would be... advantageous to have someone else coordinate with Talon on my behalf while I am engaged with this.

"I will be very occupied. This is a critical period of staging. And I would be relying on you." Ramattra says, and there's a sternness laid over top. He wants it to sound like a job offer, to sound serious. It is, to some degree. But more than that-

"You..." The top of the paper is printed with Talon's logo, a big block of text follows, beneath is a signature line. Your eyes skim the page again- and read the most important line. Relocate to meet the needs of Null Sector. "You want me to come with you?"

A breath of silence takes the room, until he steps closer and takes one of your hands in his. So gently, he drags the rubber pad of his thumb over your knuckles. His faceplate focuses there, on the delicate bones of your hand, your wrist. "It would... please me greatly to keep you near."

The ache in your chest blooms out, spills over your cheeks.

[beanghostprincess]

Just thinking about ASL living together (modern AU) and Ace always trying to sneak Yamato inside their house without Sabo's knowledge because he doesn't want him to go all 'responsible older brother' on him. But the reason why he's always letting Yamato stay over is because his life at home is obviously... Not so good and he hates being there so he tries to spend most of his time outside. And Ace's heart aches every time he has to let him go, so he often lets him stay over. It becomes more constant and less of a 'sneaking in for a while' thing. And Sabo knows. Because of course, Sabo knows. Sabo always knows what's going on. One day he wakes up to see Yamato having breakfast and Yamato gets all anxious and not knowing what to say and trying to make an excuse (because that's what Ace told him to do if this ever happened) and Sabo is just like "Do you want anything else?" / "Huh? What?" / "I mean. You're eating cereal but we have more stuff in here, you know? At least one of us can cook. What do you want? I can make you pancakes." / "YOU KNOW HOW TO MAKE PANCAKES???????" / "Oh my god, what has my brother been feeding you in here???" / "Mostly leftovers." / "Dude, why are you still with him?" / "Because I love him!" / "Yeah, no, me too. I guess love makes you do stupid things like dealing with a fucking moron like him. Anyway- Pancakes?"

And then Ace wakes up to find his brother and his boyfriend actually getting along and laughing and having breakfast together, and he needs a second to process everything because he's tired as fuck and maybe he's hallucinating. But that doesn't matter because the point is that he's fucked.

Ace: ..... Hi? Sabo: Hey :) Ace: What are you two doing? Yamato: WE'RE HAVING BREAKFAST :D Ace: Yes, babe, I can see that. Why are you here, Sabo? I thought you were- Sabo: I got home last night from college. We have some days off. Now, care to explain why you've been treating your cool boyfriend like a dog instead of giving him actual meals? Ace: I- You're not angry? Sabo: Oh, no. I am angry. Can't you see I'm angry? Ace: Sometimes you give me mixed signals and I'm never sure...? Sabo: I'm angry. That clear enough? Ace: Yes. Yamato: Okay, so Sabo is the only person that scares you. That's good to know. Ace: OH SHUT UP HE DOESN'T SCARE ME I AM NOT AFRAID OF MY BROTHER Sabo: Ace. Ace: ... I'm sorry.

Then, Sabo takes Ace to a more private place in the house and expects an explanation from him and Ace can't keep the secret anymore. So he tells him about Yamato's dad and how he is not a good person and he's always keeping him locked and making his life a living hell. And Ace is literally begging Sabo to let him stay for a while and Sabo is just staring at him like "Why would I not let him? How could I not? Do you see me as some kind of controlling demon around this house or what?" / "I mean, you're kind of scary sometimes-" / "Because you don't do shit around here and when I left for college I expected you to take care of Luffy. But I'm not making Yamato leave! What the fuck, Ace? You should've told me." / "I just- I just don't want him to go back there. He's, like, the nicest guy I've ever known. He's just so good, Sabo. I don't want him to-" / "Yeah. Yeah. He's the love of your life and you're gonna get married and have a fairytale ending or some bullshit like that." / "I did NOT say that." / "But you love him. I'm not letting him stay over if you're not serious about this. We barely have money for us three and we're lucky I can go to college." / "... I know. I know. I do. I do, you know. Like. The L word. You know I can't say it." / "Idiot." / "You're so mean to me. You don't do this shit to Luffy." / "Because at least Luffy has the decency of telling me when his friends are coming over." / "That's what you think." / "What? / "Nothing."

So, long story short, Yamato has the chance to actually live with them for a while if he wants to. Of course, he can't do it permanently. But he knows he has a home there if he ever feels like leaving his own house.

[epigstolary]

Real Talk

TW: Medical fatphobia, health issues, fat shaming, toxic masculinity

Dude, you say you want me to help you, but you’re going to have to get serious if you really want to start losing weight. I’m a trainer, not a miracle worker. I mean, look at you; you know your body’s fucking disgusting, right? You let yourself get so huge that even your fat guy clothes can’t hide your belly anymore. Every inch of you is covered in blubber. Everywhere you look. And you have to push all that fat around every time you want to walk or move. It’s so gross watching you try to go anywhere. You’re just waddling around under hundreds of pounds of fat, wheezing like you just ran a marathon. Like… people aren’t supposed to get to the size that you have. And don’t give me that “health at any size” bullshit. You’ve got to have some serious problems to get this big and think it’s ok. Nobody your size is healthy. Your body’s a fucking disgrace, tubbo.

You gotta realize just how bad being this fat is for you, right? Think about it. All that fat’s wrapping around your organs. Either they work harder, or they just quit working. Your joints are getting annihilated having to move all that extra weight around. Your heart’s having to work so much harder just to do its thing because you’re so fucking big. Your body’s not supposed to work like that. It feels like it’s under attack 24/7 — because it is — so you’ve got anxiety, you’ve got inflammation, your hormones are all out of wack. Your body chemistry is basically fucked once you get fat. And fucking forget about it when you weigh as much as three normal people, like your flabby ass does.

Not that you seem to care, since you pay zero attention to your diet. It’s just fucking scary, bro. I’ve seen you pound an entire pizza or a bag of burgers and be ready for more. And that’s just, like, a regular lunch for you. There’s so much saturated fat and sugar in all the shit you eat for every meal, it blows my mind that you’re even able to function. Where do you think that shit goes after you cram it down your throat, meal after meal? It’s blowing up your body even fatter. It’s clogging up those arteries to make that overworked heart work even harder. It’s running through all the insulin your body tries to pump out so that it can deal with the abuse you put it through. I bet if I went through your kitchen right now, I couldn’t find one goddamn vegetable — all sweets, and takeout, and chips, and junk food, am I right? Yeah, you love kicking back on the sofa and working through a big pile of garbage like that, don’t you, fatass? I bet you sit there just belly out, crumbs and shit all over your tits, like a big fucking blob, huh?

Keep eating like that, and you don’t have a fucking chance. You’re just gonna keep blowing up until you finally have the fucking big one. That shit is so, SO bad for you. You want to not be a total embarrassment, fatty? You’re gonna have to throw the snack cakes in the garbage. You’re gonna have to cook stuff that’s not loaded with butter or grease or sugar. You’re gonna have to eat something green that grows in the ground every once in a while. And yeah, you’re probably going to feel like shit for a while because your body’s used to getting fed lard nonstop all the fucking time. But you gotta get a little self-control. The whole reason why you look like a fucking enormous cow, why you’ve got that belly packed full of fat fucking garbage, is that you’ve never had any.

I guess what I can’t figure out is, why the fuck did you do this to yourself? It’s so much harder to make it through life when you’re this fucking heavy. You can’t even go anywhere or do anything because you’re too fat to leave the house. Everyone you meet has to be shocked at what a lardass you are. Nobody who sees your disgustingly obese body is gonna want to fuck you, except the fucking weirdos who get off on that shit. Maybe that’s who you have to settle for, since there’s no way you’re reaching your dick with all that fat in the way. God, I can’t even imagine letting myself get too fat to be able to fuck. That’s so fucking gross, bro.

Like, look at me. Look at this rock-hard bicep next to that big flabby fucking water wing of an arm you have. Look at these abs next to you and that belly hanging down to your knees. It doesn’t even have a fucking shape. Look at these tight glutes next to that wide, wobbling, fat ass you’ve gotten from sitting in front of the tv stuffing your fat face for years. With a body like this, I can fuck anyone I want. How do you think that same hookup’s gonna go for you, huh? Nobody out there’s going home with a pile of jello like you You’re going home, alone, to try and figure out a way to get yourself off.

And dude, I’m not saying all this just to shit on you. I’m worried about you. It sucks to see my bro blow up into a fucking whale and get all mopey ‘cause he can’t get any ass. But you need someone to be real with you. Someone’s gotta tell you how much of a fatass you are, and how much of a fatass you’re gonna be until you get to the gym and shut this fast food and shit down. You can’t blame anyone but yourself for how you got this way. Keep complaining, and you’re going to keep being a gross fatty. You’re gonna have to go out, get some fucking exercise, and deal with being embarrassed at being the fattest guy at the gym until you’ve put in the work to fix it.

Trust me, bro, you’ll thank me later.

[writing-blog-iguess]

Online Matchup 7

Summery: It’s Jason’s first gala since he came back to Gotham. As expected, he’s n a little nervous. But don’t worry, you’re there to help him get through it.

Warning: fluff, swearing

Words: 4.2 k

A/N: So, here's the long awaited gala scene. Feedback is always welcome and Enjoy!

Taglist: @xoxoyourdoll @teapartydreams

ao3

Series master list

————

October 29

Jason (10:30 am) *sent a picture of the two of you cuddling on your couch*

Y/N When the fuck did you take that?

Jason Such language And so early in the day

Y/N First of all, you swear just as much as I do so shut And second of all, answer the question Jason

Jason But you know the answer We fell asleep on the couch last week

Y/N But we didn’t cuddle We were on the opposite sides of the couch!

Jason You’re right But somewhere in the night That happened

Y/N I do not remember that

Jason Because I got off the couch before you woke up Didn’t want you to be embarrassed

Y/N Sir, I call bullshit You love making me flustered

Jason That maybe so, but I needed the bathroom I tried to wake you up But man, you sleep like the dead

Y/N I’m very proud

Jason No kidding So, what are you up to today?

Y/N Homework, probably Clean the apartment Been slacking with that lately And with the party that’s happening on Tuesday, I need to make sure things are put away before they can break

Jason You don’t strike me as a party person

Y/N I am not My friend loves to throw Halloween parties And it’s usually at my place

Jason And you're okay with it?

Y/N We have a deal I let her throw it at my place She has to clean it up the day after

Jason But Halloween is on a Tuesday Don’t you guys have classes the next day?

Y/N Yup and she knows that I take great pleasure in seeing her clean while hungover She’s going to do a shit job cause she’ll be rushing But she wanted it on Halloween

Jason You’re a bit of a sadist aren’t you?

Y/N Only with my friends and they do that themselves I wanted to hold it yesterday But noooooo, it has to be on Halloween

Jason Your friends sound lovely

Y/N Don’t get me wrong They are but sometimes it feels like I have all the brain cells

Jason That’s hard to believe Sometimes I think you don’t have any

Y/N Wow WOW Guess you’re not invited to the party anymore

Jason That’s okay I probably couldn’t make it

Y/N Helping your brothers again?

Jason I plead the fifth

Y/N You ain’t slick I see you

Jason (3:40 am) Finished everything you wanted to get done today?

Y/N Cleaning, yes Homework, no

Jason How come you're always doing homework?

Y/N I don’t know if you’ve noticed But I’m in school And in order to pass and get my degree I need to hand in my assignments

Jason Lame

Y/N That’s just rude Why do you wanna know? Planning to have a sleepover again

Jason No Just curious

Y/N That’s a little sus babe

Jason I didn’t know we were up to pet names now

Y/N I retract the pet name If we started using pet names, I wouldn’t start with bade

Jason Looking forward to hearing what you’ll use

Y/N Mm, we’ll see

A series of knocking woke you up from your accidental nap. Blinking wearily, you tried to figure out what had woken you up.  The knocking started again, and you let your head lull in that direction. “Okay, okay. I’m coming, I’m coming,” you grumbled, as you slowly got off the couch. 

You pulled the blanket from the couch and wrapped it around your shoulders as you made your way to the door. Unlocking it, you pulled the door open and blinked at a very well-dressed Jason. 

“Was there a date we agreed to that I somehow forgot about?” you asked and moved out of the way when Jason let himself in. 

“What? No, why would you say that?” he asked, pacing around the living room. You closed the door and turned around, meekly gesturing to his outfit.  

“You’re in a tux.” 

“Huh?” he said and looked down. “Oh. Yeah no, this is for something else.” “Okay…? Can I help you with something then?” 

“So, there’s this gala tonight,” Jason said, going back to pacing, “and it’s the first one I’m attending. And Bruce has the idea of making a statement that I wasn’t actually dead.” 

“So, it’s the dead coming back to life thing,” you mused, “does Bruce have a story?” 

“Yup. He has everything planned but I-” 

“You’re not ready to be integrated back into society,” you finished and he merely nodded. “What me to come with? Act as your buffer?” That had stopped Jason’s pacing and he turned towards you in surprise. 

 “You’d do that?” he asked, shrugging. “You’ll be in front of cameras. You’ll meet my family for the first time.” 

“I know,” you said, hiding how nervous you were at the thought of meeting them for the time. “But you need help, and maybe someone in your corner.” 

“But you don’t know the full story.” 

“I don’t need it to help you.” 

“I could kiss you.” 

“I’ll count this as date two,” you said, smiling when he snorted. “What time do you need to be there?” 

Jason looked at his watch before answering. “Twenty minutes.”

“Give me ten.”

“There’s no way you’ll be ready in time,” Jason said, and you ignored him in favour of going to the bathroom. 

“We’ll see about that,” you muttered as you started the shower. 

Shower done, and hair dried, you wrapped a towel around you and quickly made your way to the bedroom. Jason had the decency of looking away when he saw you coming out of the bathroom.

If there was one thing about Jason, he was a gentleman and it was something you liked about him.

You closed the door behind you, and went through your closet until you found the dressing bag. Taking it out, you unzipped it, wanting to know if there was anything it needed before putting it on. To your relief, there wasn't.

Putting it on, you did one final check to make sure everything was good before going to the living room.

“Well, I stand corrected,” Jason said when he heard the bedroom door open. “That was less than-wow,” he breathed out when he looked up to see you standing there. “You look fantastic.”

Putting your hands behind your back, you swayed a little, looking a little shy. “You think so?”

“I know so,” he answered, giving you a smile. “Are you sure you want to do this? We can stay here and have a movie marathon. We don't have to.”

“Yeah, but you’ll be delaying the inevitable,” you said, making your way to him. Standing in front of him, you took his hands and squeezed. “I know you're not ready for it, and you probably never will. But I’ll be there with you the entire night. You just need to trust me that I will.”

Jason’s eyes softened and he cupped your face, thumb gently stroking your cheeks. “I do,” he whispered. You smiled and turned your head slightly and kissed his palm.

“Then let’s go make the best out of a shitty situation.”

The ride to the venue was a lot shorter than you had anticipated. But the drive was spent in silence as the both of you mentally prepared yourselves for the night.

You weren’t entirely sure what you were getting yourself into, but you planned to see this through.

Jason slowly made his way through the line and pulled the car in park when it was your turn to get out. Before you could reach for the handle, Jason’s hand tightened around yours, stopping you from moving.

Sitting back, you turned to Jason. “Everything okay?”

“Are you sure about this?” Jason asked, and your eyes softened. “I mean it, we can turn around and do something else.”

“I’m sure,” you said, leaning over slightly. “But if you're not ready, I’m sure Bruce would understand the situation.”

“It's not what I’m worried about,” he said, “the life of a Wayne can be pretty hectic. With being in the public, everyone’s eyes are on you. I don’t want you feeling uncomfortable when the media tries to find who you are. I…I don’t want you to leave because of them.”

“We’ll, it’s a good thing I don't care what people think,” you said, squeezing his hand. “I doubt they’ll follow you around. The tabloids are more interested in Bruce Wayne than they are of his kids. And when it’s focused on them, it’s usually at events like these or if they did something newsworthy.” You paused, biting your lip when you realized you might have gone too far. “Um, no offense.”

Jason laughed, shaking his head. “None taken. Ready?”

“Ready when you are,” you answered, squeezing his hand one more time. He gave it a kiss and told you to stay in the car for a moment. You watched as he left, and walked around the car only to open your door.

“My lady,” he teased, holding out his hand to you. You took it with a smile, and stepped out of the car, ignoring the shouts and the camera flashes.

“My good sir,” you teased back, linking your arm through his. Leaning over slightly to whisper in Jason’s ear, “do we need to stay for pictures?”

“No, we can just go in,” Jason answered and led the way. You tightened your grip on his arm as you followed and swallowed down your nerves. “Ready?”

“Never going to stop asking that tonight?” you asked, shooting him a teasing smile.

“When it comes to your well-being? Never.”

“My knight in shining armor.”

“I thought that would be Red Hood,” he questioned as the two of you walked through the doors. He laughed when you hit his chest, grumbling that you should have never told him about your little crush on the hero.

“Shut up,” you whined, though happy to see him in better spirits. “So, are there any rules I need to follow before I make a fool out of myself?”

“I don’t think you could ever make a fool out of yourself,” Jason said, looking around. As if he was looking for someone to avoid or to say hello to.

“Well, clearly you don’t know me very well,” you said, guiding him to the bar you spotted when walking in. “At some point or another, I can and will embarrass myself. If given the change.”

“Then I’ll make sure you don’t have a chance. What are you doing?” he asked when he noticed where he was. 

“Getting a drink,” you answered like it was obvious. You turned to the bartender about to order.

“Aren’t you a little young to be drinking?” Jason asked before you could. You sent him a pointed look, with a shake of your head.

“I’m like, a few months younger than you. What do you think? I’ll have water please,” you said to the bartender, shooting her a smile. She returned it and went to get your drink. “Make those two please?”

“Not a problem.”

“You’re so weird,” he stated, watching as you retrieved the glasses when they were set in front of you. He took the glass you were offering, and held it.

“Yet here we are,” you said, taking a sip. 

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Before you could reply to Jason, a voice called from behind you. The both of you turned and you hid your laugh behind your hand at the look Jason made.

“Well, that didn’t take long for them to find me,” he muttered, turning away as his brothers, well at least that’s who you think they were, walked towards you.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” you reminded him, holding his hand that wasn’t holding the cup. 

“Was hoping to spend a little more time with you before my idiot brothers found us,” Jason muttered into his cup. 

“Yeah, but you get to take me home when it’s all over and done with,” you reminded and took great pleasure in watching him get flustered. Clearing his throat, he took a sip from his cup before shooting you a dark look.

“Careful Little Bird, or you’re going to give a gentleman the wrong meaning,” he whispered. A shiver ran down your spine at the meaning and you quickly averted your gaze.

“Hey, Jason! So glad you made it,” one of his brothers said as they reached you. He patted Jason’s shoulder and he shrugged it off, frowning.

“It's not like Bruce gave me much of a choice,” he answered, “where is he anyways?”

“Taking care of last-minute details at work,” he answered, causing Jason to roll his eyes. You get the feeling they’re talking about something else. 

Minding your business, you take another sip, letting your gaze roam around the room. It only turned back when a hand was thrust in front of you.

You gazed at the hand and followed its path until you were met with the smiling brother. “Hello,” you greeted, hesitantly shaking the offered hand.

“Hi, who’s this Jay?” The brother asked. You squinted at him, recalling if you’ve ever met him before. You haven’t, but something about him seems familiar.

“My date,” he answered curtly. Letting go of your hand, you mourned the loss of contact until he wrapped his arm around your shoulder. “Y/N, this is Dick.”

“Dick Grayson at your service,” he greeted, smiling widely at you.

“Hi,” you repeated, squinting at him slightly. “You're the cop brother out in Bludhaven.”

Dick eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yeah, that’s me. I didn’t know Jason talks about me.”

“Not just you,” you corrected, “he talks about all of his siblings.” And made a noise when you felt Jason pinch your side.

“All good things I hope,” a different brother said, popping his head out from behind Dick. “Tim Drake.”

“No, he usually complains about the shit you’ve guys pulled,” you said, making them laugh. “You’re the asshole who gave Conner my number.”

“That would be me,” he said proudly, grinning. “How’d you find out?”

“My sister’s dating Conner and she got it out of him,” you explained, “I hope you know I’m getting my revenge.”

Tim narrowed his eyes at you, as if he was sizing you up. You only raised an eyebrow and met his stare. “I doubt it,” he finally said with a snort.

“I don’t think you know who you’re messing with,” Jason said, “don’t underestimate them.”

“Why? Because they’re dating you?”

“Sir, I don’t need anyone to fight my battles for me,” you interrupted, “I’m the oldest of four, majoring in engineering. But you already know that since you’ve been snooping in my life.”

“Not much of a life though, is it?” 

“Maybe, and that’s okay,” you said with a shrug. “Though before you write me off, ask Conner what happened during spirit week his freshman year.”

That made him nervous, like he knew what you meant. Smiling sweetly, you reached out and patted his head. “You don’t want to make an enemy out of me,” you said and turned to the shorter of the group.

“Demon spawn?” you questioned without thinking. There was a brief moment of silence before everyone but you and the youngest started laughing. He scowled and you downed your drink wishing that it was something stronger. You set it down and hide your face in your hands, groaning. “Oh no, please don’t tell me I actually said that.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Jason apologized, but he didn’t sound apologetic at all. 

“You aren’t that far off though,” Tim piped up. 

“I am so so sorry,” you said, voice sounding a bit muffled, “I didn’t mean to say that, I don’t know why that came out.”

“I have no doubt that Todd had any help with that,” he said, clearing his throat he crossed his arms and introduced himself. “It's Damian Wayne, the only son of Bruce Wayne.”

“Y/N,” you muttered out, finally dropping your hands from your face. “And probably. Every time Jason talks about you, he doesn't say your name.”

“Okay, don’t tell them all my secrets now,” Jason teased, squeezing you into his sides. 

“The night’s still young,” Dick said with a smile, “who knows what secrets they might spill.”

You turned to Jason, and poked his cheek until he turned to look at you. “Shoot me, if I say anything embarrassing about myself or you tonight, just shoot me. I’m okay with that,” you said with a serious face. 

“Sorry sweetie, no can do,” he said with a smile. “I like you too much to do that.” Hanging your head in defeat, you sighed.

“Damn,” you sighed, “guess I’ll suffer then.”

“That’s okay, I’ll suffer with you,” Jason said, leaning over and hiding his face in his hair. You could feel the smile that he was trying to hide. 

“At least that’s a plus,” you couldn’t help saying. That caused another round of laughter. You smiled; happy it was going better than what you expected. “I thought you had another brother, and like two sisters?”

“We do, they just couldn’t make it today,” Dick was quick to say. You raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

“I thought it was a mandatory thing for your family. Having to come to these fancy parties.”

“Sometimes, but when Bruce gives some of us a free pass when the need arises,” Jason explained. “But I’m sure if they knew you’d be here, they’d be here too,” Jason quickly added when you frowned.

“Man, I was really hoping to actually meet Stephanie,” you said, and shrugged. “Maybe next time.”

“There you all are,” a voice called from behind. You all turned to see Bruce standing behind Dick, smiling. “Ah, you must be Y/N I’ve heard so much about.” You doubted that for a minute, knowing Jason isn’t one to share things with his family. Then you looked at Tim and things started to make sense. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

You shook his head when he offered, and smiled at it. “Nice to meet you too Mr. Wayne.”

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I need Jason for a moment,” he said, turning to Jason, “are you ready?”

“Do we really need to do this?” he asked, and made a face when Bruce nodded. “Alright. Are you going to be okay for a while?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you reassured with a smile. “I’ll find you later.”

You were wrong, so very wrong. The minute Bruce and Jason left your hearing range, his brothers turned on you like vultures circling their next meal. You weren’t sure how long you stood there answering questions you didn’t know how to answer.

When you finally managed to escape, you took a breath and began your search for Jason. You found him talking with Bruce and a reporter. 

Quietly standing beside him, you grabbed his hand and ignored the conversation they were having. Jason squeaked your hand in acknowledgement, and you smiled, leaning your head on his arm.

After a moment, the reporter and Bruce excused themselves and Jason turned to you. “You doing okay?”

Taking back your hand, you moved it to cupped his cheeks and squished his cheeks together. Jason tried to smile, but it looked a little lopsided squished between your hands. “Never leave me alone with your brothers again.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” he muttered out with a laugh.

“They grilled me like I was a bad guy,” you said, “and I felt like it too. Jason, I am not the bad guy. I felt like one of those creeps that the heroes fight and needed information on something I couldn’t give them. I don’t want to feel like that again, had me questioning if I was right for you or not.”

“Not being overly dramatic?” Jason asked, and you squished his face more in retaliation. “Okay. I get it,” he said, grabbing your hands and moving them off his face. “That was wrong of them for making you feel like that. No one should go through what you just did.”

“Like I get, they’re your family and they want what’s best for you, you know? Like they care about you, and I get that Dick is looking out for you. But Tim? The dude told me I could do so much better than you and Damian? I’m pretty sure he said that you could do better than me? I don’t know, I stopped listening to them at a certain point.”

“Well, they shouldn’t have said that to begin with at all. And I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Jason said, you waved away his worry.

“No, no, you probably could. But that’s not the point, the point is they could be very good cops if they wanted to,” you said, “it felt like an interrogation. And I hope that I never have to do that again when I meet your sisters.”

“At this rate, I don’t think you will,” he said and you looked up at him in confusion. “Don’t worry about it. Come on, let's dance.”

“But I don’t know how to,” you said as Jason started pulling you to the dance floor.

“Don’t worry about it. All you have to do is follow my lead,” he said, twirling you around until you stood in front of him. You looked up, squinting at him. He laughed, guiding your hands to his shoulders before putting his hands on your waist. “Don’t look at me like that, I know how to dance.”

“Oh, I got that. I’m just surprised,” you said, doing as he said and following him as he started dancing.

“I’m full of surprises, Birdie.”

“So, how long do we have to stay here?” you asked after dancing in silence. Jason raised his eyebrows at you.

“You want to leave already? Feels like we just got here,” he countered. Shaking your head, you looked around before meeting his eyes.

“Don’t lie. I’m not sure how long we’ve been here but it has got to be an hour maybe,” you guessed, “and not yet. But I’m getting hungry and I haven’t found any food around. I thought they had food at these events.”

“They usually do,” he said, looking around to see if he could find any. “But it looks like they are either going to the kitchens to get some more, or there is none.”

“Man, that’s a shame. I’m starving.”

“I thought you ate earlier?”

“Nope. When you came over, I was taking a nap. I haven’t eaten since lunch, and even then, it was just a bag of chips,” you said. Jason sent you a disapproving look making you smile sheepishly. 

“You need to take better care of yourself. But we can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll leave when you’re ready too,” you said through a yawn. “Who knows? Maybe you have to do more interviews or speak to the crowd or something.”

“Nope, I’m done talking to people,” he explained, “all I have to do is stand beside Bruce when he’s giving the speech to everyone. After that we can leave.”

The two of you danced two move dances, before someone announced that Bruce had an announcement to make. You came to a stop, and you watched as Jason sighed. “Well, that’s my cue.”

“I’ll be standing front row where you could see me,” you reminded him, “I won’t be far.”

“You, Birdie are a godsend,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Careful there, Jason. Treat someone like that, they’re gonna think they’re really special to you,” you retorted, reaching up to pat his cheek gently.

“Maybe they already are,” he said and left, leaving you flustered. You covered your face with your hands and silently screamed. There was something about Jason that made you feel cared for, and you weren’t quite sure how to deal with.

Pushing away those feelings for now, you collected yourself and turned to make your way towards the growing crowd.

After a minute of politely pushing your way through the crowd, you found yourself standing beside Jason's brothers. Not one to be rude, you smiled hello to them and turned to the front where Jason was standing a little bit behind Bruce. You gave Jason a small wave, which he returned before Bruce started talking.

You tried to listen as Bruce told the story he had come up with, but your mind kept wandering to your relationship with Jason, and where it might lead to. The thought of the future was scary, but you couldn’t see a future without him. Maybe the two of you were going a little fast, but you found that you didn’t care as much as you should.

If he’s the one, why overthink it?

Soon enough, clapping brought you out of your thoughts. Shaking your head, you joined in the clapping and slipped away from his brothers before they decided to go for a round two.

“Wasn’t so bad, right?” you asked once you reached him. He shrugged and grabbed your hand before pulling you towards an exit.

“Would have been a lot better if you were standing with me,” he answered, “but yeah. It was okay. Now, ready for some burgers?”

“More than ready.” 

[utilitycaster]

no d20 spoilers here since i know you know the gist of the drama but the fact that both kipperlilly (and the ratgrinders as a whole) and laudna are sending the their respective fandoms into meltdowns is FASCINATING to me!!! Especially happening at roughly the same time

I am now officially caught up and. not to brag but, called it re: the Rat Grinders, huh, except it's even more stupid. Like. The "but they're literally minors?" argument sort of falls apart given that they're the same age as the Bad Kids, and are actively trying to kill them, the "but redemption" argument doesn't mean shit since at no point did they make any forays towards redemption and indeed sicced a bunch of dragons on the Bad Kids, and so we're left with nothing but an impotent desire to not have a sick-ass battle in the finale of a D20 Campaign. And, perhaps, an uncomfortable realization that they are not unlike the Rat Grinders and the narrative said "lmao yeah you suck".

Laudna's shit? not that different actually. Like there's a lot of reasons why the arguments defending her are bullshit but the biggest one is that the "Laudna has never done anything wrong ever in her life and Imogen is her tether" crowd have painted themselves into a delightfully tiny little corner and they can't hide it anymore. Like, okay, so, is Laudna in control of her actions? Because if so she just attacked Orym in the middle of the night. Is she not? Because if so why hasn't she made the efforts that Chetney and FCG and Imogen (at least sometimes) did to address that? If the issue is trauma why is hers more valid than that of others? If it's abuse tell me how you feel about Caleb, Fjord, Beau, and Percy? Why is Orym shutting down the conversation when he says the Vanguard killed his family but Laudna's not doing the same when she tells Ashton not to speak to her of loneliness and Chetney not to speak to her of loss when she doesn't have a monopoly on either?

Why is it Bells Hells' job to endlessly accomodate Laudna and why are so many people suddenly talking about Bells Hells as an abstract 7-headed entity that didn't deal with Laudna's problems when those same people (if they were around at the time of the gnarlrock airing, and many of them weren't) were like "NO THEY SHOULD MAKE UP AS FAST AS POSSIBLE AND IMOGEN IS A BITCH BECAUSE LAUDNA DIDN'T MEAN IT." Why wasn't it an issue for them when Laudna's ranting about her time in Issylra and how hard it was got shut down by Imogen kissing her because that's why it didn't stay in the spotlight. Why wasn't it an issue for them when Imogen said "if you need her, that's my answer"? Why is it Orym or "Bells Hells" in the abstract who never spent time on Laudna's trauma after months if not years of throwing a fit any time someone (often me) (not always though) pointed out how much Imogen and Laudna were shoving under the rug and not dealing with? What does it say that you can't even expect Laudna's partner to be the one supporting her through this- it has to be Orym? Why doesn't Laudna have any responsibility here? At minimum she could have spoken up about the sword at at least two if not three junctures and she didn't.

There's a lot of things I hold in contempt, and after the obvious things like bigotry, two I really detest are hypocrisy and dereliction of responsibility. It's been extremely telling with both the D20 and CR discourse that people do not like seeing the story and the fandom say "hey actually you need to take responsibility for your actions, you only get redemption if you work for it, and if you leave a room hoping someone will follow you without saying that's what you want? Don't be surprised if no one does." The reason everyone was preparing to stop Laudna was because she was, in every action and decision, showing herself to be a person in need of being stopped. Can you describe this perfect balance of gentleness in which she's never pushed too hard but she does talk about her trauma and work through it and in doing so leaves Delilah? Have you demanded any other member of Bells Hells be granted that same gentleness and patience and kindness or do you think Orym should get over his grief because it's inconvenient to your arguments.

Just as the Rat Grinders show the narrative saying "being an entitled, resentful, jealous person who hurts others from jealousy makes you an easy tool to be manipulated into cruelty and you need to deal with that," I think Laudna shows the narrative (and certainly the fandom) saying "you do have an obligation to deal with your trauma, especially if it causes you to hurt others, and you can ask for help but you can't just sit on your ass waiting for someone else to initiate the process for you" as well as "if you do hurt people because of your trauma they may be angry with you, this may shape how they see you, and they are justified in that because you hurt them" and I think people in both fandoms hate being told that because I think a lot of the people sparking the discourse really do think that you can shield yourself from criticism over your hurtful actions by claiming trauma or neurodivergence or mental illness or whatever and it's like, no, you do still suck, you just also had sucky things happen to you as well.

[sleepyistinky]

Many people don't realize this but Bruce never neglected Tim. I love that okay Tim he was a frustrated Robin who went through shit dealing with Batman I might be getting that wrong too though because I don't have access to the comics but I've been reading what I can BUT Tim was never neglected as a Robin. I see how many people heavily mischaracterize the Batfam members, from making Bruce a shitty and abusive dad even though he just isn't that good at communicating, to making Dick a pushover and making his ass his whole personality, and uwu-ifying Tim and making Jason the 'angry' robin even though that mf was a boy scout as a Robin. HOWEVER.

Tim Drake who just fucking gets so sick of everyone's shit. Batfam supporter to the day I die I do not hate any of them however I am not an apologist. I can recognize when a character is wrong because even though they're fictional they're still human. Tim sick of Batman just taking his help for granted. Alfred who sees what's going on despite being a solid rock in the past and not doing anything about it. Jason seemingly hating Tim simply because he is his successor and Damian hating Tim because he is his successor. Dick who is at best lukewarm with him. I'm not going to mention Steph, Cass, Duke, or even Helena because as far as I know they haven't really done enough I'm still pretty new to DCU and was introduced through spider-man crossovers but from what I've seen in some tim-centric fics he has it ROUGH. Tim who just is so fucking tired that he just says fuck it Bruce doesn't need me anymore I'll do my own shit elsewhere and see if I ever do shit for you guys again and watching the Batfam fall apart with Tim because HE was the one who pulled Bruce's head out of his ass when Jason died. HE was the one who basically had to take care of this grown-ass man so that he didn't fucking keel over when he was THIRTEEN. He was the one who had to stop Bruce from using such excessive force against petty criminals. HE was the one who sucked it up when Jason came for his ass in the Titan's Tower because hey he'd be pretty upset if he was forcibly brought back to life to find someone else had taken his spot. and this is his favorite Robin we're talking about! HE was the one who dealt with Jason's bullshit after everything was said and done and was one of the only members of the family to treat him normally. HE was the one who refused to give up on Bruce after he 'died' and went through so much trauma for YEARS and dealt with Ra's bullshit. He literally had his spleen removed leaving him immunocompromised. He ISOLATED himself from the people he cared about for BRUCE. He literally traveled through time for him. And on top of all that, he had his Robin mantle forcibly taken from him and given to this assassin child who hates him. And actively tries to kill him. Plus Dick think he was absolutely crazy all the time, which, yeah, fair enough. I might be wrong but didn't he successfully clone Superboy? That's some crazy person shit DIDN'T HE MAKE OUT WITH SUPERBOY'S EX THINKING ABOUT HIM? that's some crazy homosexual shit that I won't be tapping into today. So, yeah, excuse Tim if he's just finally so done with everything and everyone.

[drdemonprince]

Any chance you'd expand on the hank hill trans guy post? (Sorry, best indicator I could come up with.) The concept interests me as I decidedly know my maleness, yet don't feel impeded by for the most part, any male gendered norms/boxes. I am fairly masculine, though I rarely use those kinds terms to describe myself. I have found I often do stray outside of what society pushed for me when I transitioned, yet I again do not feel it has taken from my right to maleness whatsoever. I am just me, who happens to be male. I have had friends try and suggest I am NB adjacent but I do not feel this way whatsoever. I feel more people are outliers to gender expectation than we care to admit and it's disappointing the way cis-people deny that. Hope this wasn't too long winded, I value your writing and perspective, and wanted to hear more of your thoughts on this.

Yeah, well so many things all get conflated by gender labels, and it's all so personal, you know? Masculinity does not have to mean maleness, and a person's gender identity might be a reflection of some innate quality they experience themselves as having, or a general summary of their tendencies, or their desired presentation, or their sense of affinity with other people, or an interpersonal tool, or something they just go along with because it was given to them by society, or any other number of things.

I think my recent substack piece on detransition goes into this pretty well, and I have an upcoming piece of what @pastimperfection calls "bilateral dysphoria" that comes out next week that delves into it too.

I think I mostly saw taking on a male identity as a means to an end more than any kind of innate reflection of who I was, though I did feel an affinity with effeminate men for a lot of reasons. I think I also discounted how much I have in common with my fellow nonbinary people of all stripes, because that identity became so strongly associated with being an annoying type of queer person that everybody else just wrote off as ultimately being their assigned gender at birth anyway no matter how much they protested. it doesn't help that 'nonbinary' is a catchall term for literally thousands if not millions of very distinct experiences and desires.

transitioning gave me control over how i was perceived, finally, but hormones are a throttle that only go in one very specific direction, and you don't really have all that much control over which changes kick in at which times and what people will make of you once you do start registering to them as some identity other than what you were first saddled with. it's an incredible gift to be able to toggle that throttle. but it's limited, not because medical transition isn't incredible and needed for so many, but because there is no escaping the goddamned binary cissexist logic that influences everything about how people treat you, how you navigate institutions, who finds you desirable and what they want out of you, and so much else.

if you're able to cast a lot of the external societal bullshit aside and feel strong in your maleness, maybe you're stronger than me or maybe our orientation to these things is just different, i don't know. i was never all that sensitive to feedback that i was doing the whole being-a-woman-thing all that wrong. i reveled in violating those rules to an extent. succeeding at being a woman despite my best attempts was what felt super dysphoric. and now i guess im succeeding at being a man, insofar as im always read as one, and it feels just as uncomfortable and objectifying and false. i thought that with manhood i could probably just grit my teeth and deal with it, but i'm finding that i can't.

ive always been very open that for me, gender is a thing I Do, and i guess to those who know me well it wouldnt be surprising to hear that i have gotten tired of Doing Being a Man and dont feel like playing that particular gendered game anymore. I tend to get bored of things! and find the flaws in things. and find my comfort in being fault-finding and contrarian and not being a joiner. and thats okay. i learned a lot along the way. not having to try any more is a huge relief. i can just do whatever. and know actively that people will more often than not be wrong in what they make of me.

maybe it was natural feeling for you to decidely 'know' your maleness without a care for masculine standards because that is the right identity for you! and maybe i only feel secure in the "not knowing" realm and in letting go of what people think of me or finding any kind of tidy categorization for it because that's the right spot for me. for now. until i find a new interesting way to be unhappy and striving for more and different again. :) that's just part of being alive, for me.

[noellesturniolo]

Nic Sheff x female reader okay so like the reader also has some addictions but not drugs just weed and alcohol and maybe some self-harm too if you do that stuff and they basically try to help each other out but like Nic finds the reader like dead but not dead and yeah angst + fluff

Thank you!!

𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 - 𝐍𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐟𝐟

𝐀/𝐧: 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧���� 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐝𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐝𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝! 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐬!!! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐦𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰! 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐨....

Living with Nic had been a roller coaster, with constant highs and lowest lows. Highs had been staying clean for days and lows were the days you were caught out in an alley buying from a mysterious man.

It wasn’t anything hard, so not a single thought crossed your mind while buying.

“it’s just weed nothings gonna happen.”

Weed wasn’t even the worst you had done, so you didn’t know why Nic was so adamant about you not buying anymore. Weed only took the painful thoughts away. Nic had pleaded with eyes full of worry for you not to go and buy. Here you were in a dark alley on a rainy night, meeting up with this random plug who offered to give you a good amount for a small price.

“10 bucks?” Confusion washed over your face.

“Yeah I mean, I just need to get rid of it.” he handed the bag to you.

“Alright man, thanks” You handed him the 10 bucks and strutted away feeling on top of the world for the deal you had just scored, you made your way to the car.

You glance at your phone, 2:48 am The phone reads. You glance at the text your mom sent about an hour ago still not knowing how to react.

“Y/n, you can't just keep ignoring us. All I'm saying is that it's bullshit you wasted your life when you could have gone to college like Amelia. Your sister is a perfect role model honey, love you!”

“Fuck Amelia and your petty bullshit momma, always Amelia this and Amelia that.” you talk to yourself leaving your mom on read.

You start your car and begin to head home, wondering what Nic would say if he saw that text, what he would say if he saw the weed you newly bought.

The drive was short, mostly when you're going 90 down a highway. Only takes around 10 minutes, the apartment you fled almost 45 minutes ago was now dimmed and seemed quiet from the window. You head up the stairs, play with your keys, and finally find the right one, playing with the handle you see the apartment is empty once you enter. A note is left on the refrigerator “went to get some food, I'll be back please be safe.”

You hastily open the fridge grab a bottle of tequila, rush to the bathroom, and lock it. Opening the window so the smell of weed would be faint instead of bold enough for Nic to walk in the door and notice. Turning on the water, you plug the drain to have a nice hot bath. You begin to undress and see the recently dried scars on your thighs, too far up for someone to see unless your clothes were off.

“Lucky you,” you said out loud yet again to yourself, it had been awhile since Nic had seen what your naked body had looked like, and you promised him you would stop.

“Yes Nic, I promise, I swear I'll never do it again.” the concern grew in his eyes as he traced his fingers over your cuts.

“Y/n…please. Never again,” he pleaded with you as tears fell down his face afraid he might lose you. That he might fail you.

You snap out of your thoughts and see the bathtub has filled up and you step in letting the hot water and steam consume you. You pop open the bottle of tequila and take a deep inhale of the cart you just bought, switching it out every time until your mind becomes hazy.

Something wasn't right, no you had gotten crossfaded before. Your head didn't feel light, it felt heavy and your movements were slow and you were struggling to move around, you couldn't focus. Had you been laced? What was going on?…. Your eyes began to go blurry and then it was black.

You could hear pounding on the door and the screams and cries of Nic, but you couldn't comprehend a thought, you felt so heavy and couldn't see.

“Y/n please, open this door please fuck. Are you okay?” his cries echoed through your head.

You tried to talk but nothing came out, you didn't move. A slam is heard, over and over again. The lock had come loose and you felt Nic hold your head above the water, now cold. When did that happen?

“Hello this is 911, whats your emergency.”

“Hello my girlfriend, she uh, she's passed out, she's barely breathing I-i uh- I think she overdosed? Send help please.” he breathes out shakily.

That was the last thing you heard before it all went faint and you woke up to the fluorescent lighting and hum. The occasional beep from a monitor.

Fluttering your eyes open, you see a curled-up Nic clasping your hand peacefully asleep and snot dried up around his bare nose. His eyes were red around the skin from wiping the tears away.

“Nic?” his head quickly jolts up and he stands up.

“Oh my god, hi sweetheart.” he grabs your chin gently kissing your lips afraid of hurting you. As if you were glass and he didn't want to break you. “Hold on, j-just hold on.” he presses the call button for the nurse.

“What happened? Nic…nic wh-”

“Baby, you were laced. Fentanyl. You're lucky you are even here, you were lucky to have the type of- no- not lucky at all but you didn't have the type that kills you instantly. but-” he drops his head into his hands pulling away from mine. “We have to talk.” he looks at me with his wide puppy eyes.

“Okay.” I look down at him. “You can't do this, you can't put yourself in danger. You can't lie anymore, you said you would be a better person for me. I said I would be a better person for you and you didn't hold up your end of the deal y/n. DAMIT.” tears threaten to fall from both of your eyes. He grabs your head and looks at you like nobody else exists in the world. His big eyes filled with tears was a sight that was engraved into your brain. “Just please baby. I'm here.” He cries.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry Nic. I just needed some time to wind down and I didn't know. I just didn't.” your voice breaks.

“Please we need to get through this together honey, I love you so much. I saw everything honey, please you need to get better for me. I can't stand for you to hurt yourself like this.”

“I love you, Nic, I promise I will change for you, baby.”

[flowercrowngods]

in which eddie has to deal with the horrible ordeal of being known and finds out that it’s okay to want to hug your boyfriend all the time. in fact, it’s encouraged | 1.4k

It’s torture. Frankly, it should be labelled nothing short of a war crime, psychological warfare, the bane of Eddie Munson’s very existence! There should be novels about this, reports, guides, brochures lying in some guidance counsellor’s office in some funky-ass colour that prevents anyone from actually taking one, let alone read it.

The point: Being with Steve, being anywhere near him, in his close vicinity, falling victim to the smile slowly spreading on his face or the way it makes his eyes twinkle, is torture. Torture! Really, it should be forbidden to look this godsdamn adorable, so fucking huggable.

Steve, for all intents and purposes, for all his very hot muscles and athleticism, for all his occasional glares and menacing tone, looks too fucking huggable for Eddie’s mind to keep up.

He loses track of time, loses his words, and most of his rings have a whole new purpose. Because these days, he spends most of his time keeping himself from hugging Steve at any given moment. From just attaching himself to Steve’s side and never, ever, ever letting go.

The Fates have decided to make it this boy’s duty, his calling, his godsdamn destiny, to look like he would look even better wrapped up in Eddie’s arms. And Eddie is not dealing well. In fact, he’s not dealing at all, because this is all so new to him.

He doesn’t know what’s allowed and what isn’t, what’s normal and what’s just Eddie being Eddie, what Steve wants and what he just allows. And it’s real scary sometimes.

Warm hands come up to encase his, and Eddie blinks back into that part of reality where Steve actually notices when he’s staring.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, turning his hands in Steve’s so their palms are touching. It always makes Steve smile, and Eddie wants to explode. Maybe he will. He feels like that’s a very reasonable assumption at this point.

“Okay,” Steve says and nods, and the smile doesn’t falter, but Eddie gets to watch as Steve obviously works up the courage to say something.

So he waits. Holds his hands, his eyes, and also his tongue.

“I— This is not me complaining, okay. Please don’t think that, I am not mad and not complaining, Eddie, okay?”

Steve is waiting for him to react, and while Eddie’s heart has jumped into his throat and is racing in there now, he nods. He is rewarded for it when Steve lifts their joined hands to his lips and peppers the back of Eddie’s hands with kisses.

Gods, but he loves that boy so much it’s choking him right up.

“It’s just, sometimes I feel like… I worry that you’re holding back. Or, or hiding something. Yourself, most likely, but I don’t wanna say you’ve been untruthful or playing some game with me, it’s just… I don’t know. But. You’ll stare at me sometimes and fidget. Or sit on your hands. Or… I don’t know, but it looks like you’re physically restraining yourself from reaching out, or something, y’know? And you don’t gotta do that anymore. I’m here, Eds, and I want— I want you. Any way I can, but most of all I want you safe. And comfortable. And knowing that you don’t have to hold back, okay?”

For a moment there, Eddie’s world ends. Because Steve worries, Steve doubts, Steve knows Eddie is just playing some game at this life of his. He doesn’t actually know his next moves, doesn’t actually know when it’s okay to shut up or better to talk, when it’s okay to touch, to hold, to keep.

He got it all wrong. How does one make relationships work? When is it okay to kiss, to hug, to leave, to talk?

He keeps getting it wrong. And Steve knows.

“Don’t panic, my love, please,” Steve whispers, and there’s fear in his voice. “Stay with me.” Stay with me. It holds more meanings than one, because he remembers Nancy, remembers bullshit, remembers Steve’s fear of abandonment.

But Eddie is here, he’s here, he’s not leaving.

Now he’s the one raising Steve’s hands to his lips and keeping them there as he speaks.

“It’s stupid. You’re right, by the way, but it’s stupid.”

“What is it, Eds?”

A sigh, and then all the air has left his lungs, which makes speaking easier. “You know how I never had a boyfriend before, what with the dating pool in stupid fucking Hawkins being nonexistent, actually? Well, sometimes that makes things a bit… Difficult.”

He chooses his words slowly, trying to make sense of his scrambles thoughts as he goes.

“And being with you, it’s, it’s a lot, because—“ Steve is pulling back, and Eddie surges forward, keeping his hands, lacing their fingers now. “No, no, no, Stevie, now you have to stay, okay? Good. Kissing you is great. Wonderful. Best thing ever invented by humankind, actually. I’m pretty sure our forefathers have invented kissing just so you, Steve Harrington, could be handled appropriately. It’s the law, and all.”

Steve is laughing now, and it’s his ‘My boyfriend is ridiculous and he might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me’-laugh, which makes Eddie melt right off the couch. He’s joining Steve on the floor now, their knees touching, and he’s leaning forward, his forehead against Steve’s who lets it happen, who leans into him right back, who makes this all okay. His eyes are closed and he can pretend he’s not exposing his heart and soul right now.

“But sometimes, Stevie? Sometimes all I can think about is how much I wanna hug you. How much I wanna wrap my whole body around you and just exist. It’s not even about the kissing or the sex, and maybe that makes me a bad boyfriend? Pretty sure it does, yeah. But not an hour goes by where I don’t… yearn.”

The last word is usually only to be found in his D&D repertoire, and it’s so silent, so quiet that he hopes Steve didn’t catch it. That Steve doesn’t know its meaning.

But for once, no such luck.

“Eddie,” Steve whispers, but there’s an urgency in his voice, so very adamant to be heard yet so, so quiet. “Eddie, you can’t— can’t just say things like this. You yearn for me? The whole ‘I never wanna let you go’ thing?”

Eddie nods, a tad miserably.

“That’s… God, that’s the sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. And you think that makes you a bad boyfriend? Honey, I think that makes you the love of my fucking life. And just so we’re clear, yeah? You can always hug me. Tackle me to the damn floor for all I care, but before that little speech of yours, I’d have bet you a nice sum of money that I’m the most touch starved person in Hawkins. Now, turns out that might be you, but that’s fine because I’m here, lovely, and I’m yours. That means you can go ahead and—”

Whatever it is that Steve wanted to say gets lost in the void, because Eddie does what he just got express permission for: He tackles Steve to the floor, gently, and lies down on top of him, his arms around his laughing boyfriend who winds his arms around Eddie in turn like that’s exactly where he belongs. Maybe it is.

Maybe it’s not torture, being with Steve. But maybe it’s the best thing that has ever happened to Eddie.

Robin sometimes talks about stuff like this and calls it The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known. And Eddie wants to agree, he does. Especially when it comes to things like this, because it’s terrifying, petrifying, nauseating to talk to Steve about himself. Steve Harrington, who sees when he looks, who tries to understand and make everything just a bit better.

Intimacy. Honesty. Sincerity is scary.

But it also means he gets to be himself, it means he gets to hold his boyfriend in his arms and just breathe him in, just listen to his heartbeat and let everything about that moment ground him. It means he gets to shut up his asshole boyfriend when he says, “I knew you only liked me for my body.” Eddie kisses him senseless, and then that is that.

The horrible ordeal of being known is not quite so horrible when it means he gets to have his Stevie like this and feel better, safer, happier than ever.

for @bethespark who asked for fluff but me being me, i can only give you this :/ one day. one day i will write you fluff

[stunningsturns]

DARK PARADISE

pairing: toxic!nate x reader ｡･ﾟﾟ･

summary: you and your bf get into an argument, leading to your breakup.｡･ﾟﾟ･

warnings: swearing and angst. ｡･ﾟﾟ･

word count: 354 authors note: First fan-fiction on here. I used to post on Wattpad. Please let me know if you enjoy!! ｡･ﾟﾟ･

Nate is sitting at his desk, playing whatever childish games he uses. I watch him intently, hoping to pass time. Instead, it goes by slower. Before I could do anything Nate spoke up, “Y’know I saw you and that guy at the party the other day.” 

I look at him, “Oh yeah, that was Chad. My guy best-friend. What about him?” I question. He pauses the game, turning to look at me. “You were too close to him. And he was too touchy. I am not okay with that.” He states.

I sigh, “Nate, nothing is going on between me and Chad, Besides he has a girlfriend I am not a man-stealer.” I assure him. He just rolls his eyes in disbelief, “And I am supposed to believe you? His girlfriend is probably you.” He remarks. 

I gaze at him, “Nate, I-I swear-.” I am cut off by the brunette boy, “Y’know what, I can’t deal with anymore of your bullshit lies. You're seriously a bad liar, next time you lie to someone, do a better job.” He commented.

I stare at him with shock, “How could you say something like that? What is wrong with you? I am not lying, and I never do. You just have trouble believing them, is this always what happens with girls? You fuck them and then you blame your shitty lies on them? If so, I don’t want to stick around to find out.” I explained. 

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever, you’re just a waste of everyone's time. I am so annoyed I wasted my time on you and your bullshit excuses. Go cry me a river while you're at it.” He snickered. I just look at him, “Y’know what, you are a real asshole Nathan Doe, a real asshole.” I sassed.

“Okay, well guess what. We are done, get the fuck out of my house Y/N. I never want to see you ever fucking again. You got that?” He snickered. I nod, “Yeah whatever, fuck off Nate your a waste of time. Bye.” I jeered, grabbing my purse and jacket. I quickly exited the home. 

@hysteria-things @stellarsturns