#Comes in and Eddie's on the opposite side of the post office like :((

[fadedrainbowbookshelves]

"Eddie, what did you do to this thing? It's traumatised."

"I'm traumatised! It's got no business havin' that many legs!"

[rustboxstarr]

🗡"Seeking attention like some common whore"🗡

Summary: Eddie doesn't think before he talks when he's pissed, he regrets that now when he has to explain to his daughter why her mom can't wear whatever she wants.

Pairings: Dad!Eddie Munson x Mom!Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, some fighting, Eddie being a dick, Eddie and R being a healthy couple and talking about their problems lol

Wordcount: 2.6 k

A/N: I found this in my docs and thought why not post it? Idk where the idea for this came from but I guess its mildly funny 🤷‍♀️

Love yas!

Check out my other works!

You woke up in a sour mood on Saturday, head pounding and your mouth extremely dry, a bitter taste resting on your gums. Your week had been long and challenging, you hadn’t even been that keen on going out partying Friday evening but Cindy, your closest colleague had psyched you up and made you feel excited about the whole thing, you even enjoyed yourself, had quite a few drinks, lots of laughs, some stumbling around with some other girls from the office as you made your way out and a permanent sloppy grin painted your features as you got out the cab and stepped through the door to your small house where so much love had been shared you were comfortable calling it a home. That grin was wiped clean off the moment you stepped through the door. 

A hangover was beating down on you, made even worse when you woke up with no long muscly arms wrapped around you, or any limbs even touching you for that matter. You craned your neck from your position lying on your side to see Eddies back to you, shallow even breaths making his torso expand evenly. It felt melancholy, not waking up with a comforting warmth wrapped around you, and you almost let that feeling overtake you before you rolled your eyes as you remembered what had actually gone down the night before, the reason for why there would be no awaiting tylenol and water on your bedside table and no lazy saturday morning cuddles before Ophelia woke up. 

You dragged yourself out of bed, the weight on your feet feeling undeniably heavy and sagging as your post drunk state hit you like a slap in the face when your head leveled upright. Taking a deep breath you decided to go downstairs and get yourself some pain killers, a very large glass of water or two and a strong cup of coffee. 

Rubbing your eyes of sleep you sipped your coffee at the kitchen table, sunk into the wooden chair, much too hard for any slouching to be at all comfortable. Footsteps pattered against the wooden stairs alerting you that someone was coming to join you, much to your dismay it wasn't a light pitter patter of tiny feet but heavy steps of a tired grown man probably equally as sour as you. The thuds alerting his presence caused you to quickly adjust your worn cotton nightgown, pulling the hem up comfortably to cover any awkward cleavage. 

You didn't even look his way as you heard the same footsteps enter the sage green and powder blue kitchen, you made no effort to stand up and greet him in any way instead you just sipped your coffee and looked out of the window. Your husband’s and your own car parked in the driveway in front of the empty quiet street of the suburbs. Green grass damp with the morning dew brightening up the dark hours of the early winter morning, a colorful painted mailbox even more a stark contrast to the blacks and deep blues that painted the sky. 

Eddie poured himself a cup of coffee and folded himself into the opposite chair, a low groan slipping past his lips at the action. All you did was glance over to him, at the interruption, but Eddie's eyes were fixed on the maple of the table as his hands wrapped around the dark Star Wars mug, the same one he drank his coffee in every morning, just like you with your Zelda mug. Before you flicked your eyes back to the view of the street through the window you noticed Eddie was shirtless, pale skin dampened in the lack of light shining at him, torso littered with tattoos, snaking up his arms and chest, down to his hips. He too hadn’t bothered to change into day clothes yet.

The silence loomed over the small open kitchen as you both sipped your coffee in quiet, you refusing to meet his gaze as Eddie chanced glances at you, trying to gather what mood you were in and by extension how the rest of the day would look like. All he could understand was that you were nowhere near happy and that meant that his day would probably be even longer than the workweek had been. 

He cleared his throat in an attempt to get you to look at him but you blatantly ignored him and continued staring out the window. Just as he was about to try again the familiar noise of tiny feet tread the steps down the stairs that he had taken not long ago. In an instant both of your heads turned in the direction of the hall awaiting Ophelia, eyes fixed on the corner before a head of messy brown curls appeared. 

In her blue whale pajamas, clutching her favorite teddy bear, Mr Burr as she so pleasantly called him. Rugged white fabric, fluff lost with the amount of love it had been given the past four and a half years and stuffing unevenly placed in the head and body, leaving a thin long neck on the seal in its rightful position of Ophi’s elbow. 

“Hia baby” had it been any other day your voice would be alot more chipper, but today, you couldn't muster up the strength, your tone was flat and croaky, clear evidence of the night before. Eddie winced behind you as he heard it, you were probably not feeling very well and he couldn't help but feel the slight guilt that part of it was his fault with the fighting yesterday, but also not being there to dote on you the morning after you had been out drinking. 

“Hi” Ophis' voice was near a whisper, still tired and not fully awake, she walked over to you, holding her hands out expectantly. You groaned as your weak muscles worked to pick your daughter up and sit her in your lap, that too made Eddie wince, guilt bubbling up even more than it already had. “Sleep ok?” he leaned over the table to let her slide her small hand into his big palm “No it was too loud” she complained as she let her dad wrap his fingers around her wrist. “Oh I’m sorry baby, were mommy and daddy talking too loud? you should have come in and told us” you hugged her to you as you felt bad about keeping your daughter up. “Probably would have helped me get to bed faster than staying up till 4 am” you mumbled, too groggy and hoarse for Ophi to understand what you were saying. Eddie let go of his daughter's hand with an eye roll, occupying himself with a large gulp of bitter coffee instead. 

“Why were you and daddy fighting?” Ophelia turned to you as she nuzzled her head to your collarbone “Me and daddy just had a little argument” you explained as a hand instinctively went to comfort her, smoothing down her hair atop her head. “What was it about?” she pressed as Eddie stood up from his seat to prepare a bowl of cereal for her and later on, her sister. 

You looked over at him and decided, you may as well just tell her “Hmm well you know when Daddy says you can’t wear some things?” looking down at her. “Oh great turn our daughter against me” Eddie grumbled as he poured milk into a pink plastic bowl, you scowled at him as the little girl spoke “Yeah, I don't like that, he tells Woxy too” she frowned up at you, it was difficult to take her seriously as she tried to pronounce her sister Roxette’s nickname. “Yeah well daddy does that with me too” you explained in a soft tone, despite the fact that you were actually really annoyed at the fact. “Why? Daddy says it's because I'm just little but you’re old” you chuckled, not catching the way Eddie's lips tugged up at the corners. “Yeah, I’m old” 

Eddie sat back down before placing the bowl and a small spoon in front of Ophelia's usual place at the kitchen table, signaling for you to let her down so she could eat. Ophelia crawled down and then up again to sit with her knees digging into the specially placed cushion on her chair. 

“Daddy” she looked up after a few mouthfuls “Hm?” he turned to give her his full attention “Why can't mommy wear what she wants? She’s not little, she's a woman” Ophelia asked confused. The gears were visibly turning in Eddie's brain as he thought over how best to explain it, he couldn't exactly tell his almost 5 year old daughter that her mom couldn’t waltz around in skirts that he barely considered an actual article of clothing and tops that reveal the things that are only for his eyes to see. “Um… well” he was fighting for words. “Because sometimes Daddy forgets that I’m not little like you” you interrupted, booping Ophelia's nose to earn a light giggle “So he forgets that it's not okay for him to tell me how to dress” even though your voice is soft you shoot Eddie a hard glare giving him insight into how you were actually feeling about him at the moment. 

Eddie rolled his eyes again and sat back in his chair, bringing the black ceramic up to his lips. “But listen Ophi, ok this is very important” you lent forward to catch her eye “When you become a big girl and same goes for your sister, if someone other than me or your daddy ever tells you what you can and can't do you have to come to us, and tell us ok?” Ophelia nodded in understanding “Especially if it's a boy ok? Because it's very important that you remember that you are your own person, and that no one can tell you how to dress ok?” Ophelia nodded again “You gonna come tell us if that happens?” “Yeah” Ophelia nodded happily as you sat back to mimic Eddie and bring your own coffee cup up to your lips and your eldest began her meal again. 

You recognised Eddie's face as he stared unfocused behind you, he was clearly mulling something over by the looks of it arguing with himself in his mind. Under any other circumstances you would ask him “Penny for your thought princess?” in some corny southern british accent, but today you simply didn't want to know. 

Ophelia seemed not to notice the tension between her two parents as she told you both about a strange dream she had where Eddie’s guitar had turned into an airplane and she had flown off with her friend Louise Harrington in it, both you and Eddie humoring her as she spoke with mouthfuls of cheerios. Soon enough she was situated under a blanket with various stuffed animals and a bottle of water on the couch to watch her morning cartoons next to three year old little Roxette who munched on some cut up slices of toast by Eddie and sat watching intently as bright colors lit up the screen. 

As Eddie got Ophelia and Roxette settled you pulled yourself upstairs with the intent of a shower and a fresh change of clothes, but decided to belly flop head first into the soft pillows of your bed, almost dozing off as the door next to your right opened. You didn't bother looking up as you heard Eddie close the door carefully and tiptoed around the bed to his own side, under the impression that you had passed out but was instantly startled as you awkwardly turned your head to press your cheek into the pillows, facing Eddie as he was about to climb back into bed himself. 

Your voice was muffled against the pillow as you spoke, “Come to shout about what a massive slut I am again?” Eddie cringed as he heard you, he took a deep breath before sitting down next to you, his back to the headboard. “No..” he sighed “You sure? Or would you maybe prefer attention seeking.. whore? Was it? No no wait, seeking attention like some common whore, that's what it was” Eddie shrunk in on himself as you repeated the words he had shouted at you in fury the night before, you knew Eddie would come around, you knew he would apologize, but this particular time you felt he had really crossed a line so you had no problem sprinkling some salt in his wounds. 

“Baby.. I’m sorry” he whispered as he leaned over to place a hand on your back and rub it up and down. “Mmmm” you sarcastically hummed “I-I really shouldn't have said that, I was being an absolute dick” at that you hummed in agreement, face still half smushed into the pillows as you looked up at him. “I just, you know how I feel about Billy.. I already don't want him around you, and when I saw you come home like that I just knew he was probably lapping it up” a roll of your eyes “But I took my anger out on the wrong person, I’m really sorry” Eddie moved down the bed to lie on his side as his hand continued rubbing up and down your back. 

“Mhm and?” you looked at him as his face was now level with yours “And..” he breathed fighting a roll of his eyes, he knew what you were doing “I just thought about you know if Ophelia or Roxette ever comes home with a boyfriend” “mhm” you coaxed him on “I wouldn't be that happy to know he was telling them what to wear” you broke out into a wide smug grin, even though there were a few more things to unpack about yesterday, an apology was all you needed for the moment. 

“Yup” you popped the ‘p’ even more smug, this time Eddie did actually roll his eyes but a playful grin tugged at his lips. “But” Eddie’s face suddenly went serious “I would… appreciate if maybe you don't wear those kinds of outfits around, at least Billy in the future” he was feeling sheepish at his request. “In my defense” you pushed yourself up to lay your head on your crossed forearms “I didn’t actually know Billy was gonna be there” you grinned “also if I knew that, do you seriously think I would have worn that?” Eddie chuckled “Yeah ok no, that's true” another smug hum of approval. “Mmmm but why you gotta wear that stuff anyway” he started of with a hint of a whine “Who you tryna impress when you have a big hunky husband with the biggest dick you've ever set your eyes on” a loud snort rang through the room as you turned to lie on your side, letting Eddie scoot closer and wrap his arms around you. 

“Maybe I’m tryna impress my boss, ya know get myself a sweet promotion, or maybe that so called big dick you pride yourself just isn't cutting it anymore” you nuzzled your face into his bare chest as it vibrated with laughter “Well first of all you are the boss, hate to break it to ya butchya’ can’t really get promoted babe, second whatchu’ talkin’ ‘bout woman, just last morning you were drooling over it” you rolled your eyes as a big amused smile spread across your face. 

“Well now you're just lying, I was not drooling” 

“Oh Eddie! Oh Eddie god! Oh my god! AAUUH Ugh! Your cock is so big oh my goood! Fuck Eddie yes! Yes! YEEES!” Eddie's voice turned into an awfully high pitched imitation of a girl's voice as he whispered as to not let the girls hear, whole body shaking with you in his grasp to get his point across further. 

“Oh my god shut up!” you clasped a hand around his mouth which Eddie easily pulled away to kiss at your knuckles “I’m getting a divorce” you giggle as you cozy up to Eddie.

[fastlikealambo]

C+|| Professor!Eddie Munson x Black!Fem Reader

Summary: After receiving a less than stellar grade on assignment, you receive a request to attend Professor Munson’s office hours. Stuck in a cozy office with your extremely hot professor, your anxiety takes hold and office hours take an unexpected turn.

Triggers: Panic attacks,  Mental Health

Minors, please dni.

Let’s chat during my office hours this week!

You thought about throwing that little post-it stuck to your failure of an essay on the romantic poets right into the garbage and pretending you never got it. Class was hard enough, the material was engaging, you were learning so much yet at the same time, you weren’t paying any fucking attention at all. 

Those salt and pepper curls, the way he chewed on his glasses, that weird little dance he did when someone made an interesting point or gave a correct answer.

That smile....

No, absolutely not.

You had a master’s degree.

You had a perfect GPA.

You qualified to be a Rhodes Scholar.

In kindergarten, your teacher said you were a pleasure to have in class.

You were pristine.

And now you were pristinely sweating in front of your professor’s office, desperately trying to ignore that prickling feeling in the back of your neck. You knocked firmly yet politely, about a few seconds from turning and running away when music from the other side of the door turned off and it was now or never.

The door swung open and there he was, tweed blazer gone, crisp white shirt a little more open than usual, sleeve rolled up to the elbow displaying tattoos you didn’t expect a professor of poetry to have. 

“Come in, I’m so glad you had time to come today!” He said brightly, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses to the top of his head, flattening himself against the door so you could pass.  

A faint whiff of cigarettes and some sort of earthy cologne had you melt but you straightened up immediately, pulling out your paper and notebook. He takes the chair opposite you, legs crossed, reaching for his own notes.

“So, how do you feel about this paper? Let’s start there.” He said brightly. 

The prickling on the back of your neck starts to become a buzzing and it feels like your whole head is vibrating but you ignore it.

“I felt pretty solid about it.I gave thoroughly checked research, provided more than necessary sources to support every claim about Keats’ work I presented, there were no grammar errors, and I ran it through six different plagiarism checkers. The word length is exactly as you required so I’m not sure I understand what I did wrong.” You said, honestly. 

He gently took the paper from your hands to inspect his own writing, your hands starting to shake as he went through each red marked page.

What else could those fingers do, you wondered.

“Your research was impeccable, your grammar and analysis were great, and there are exactly 5,000 words. However, as this was an opinion and analysis assignment, your opinion on the poem itself seems to be missing. You did an amazing analysis but that was only half the assignment and that’s why you received a low grade.”

“I don’t understand.” You said quietly, your hands started to shake and your chest felt really tight all of the sudden. His voice faded into static in your ears and you were really struggling to stay focused.

“I want to know how Keats' work made you feel as well as how the work has been regarded over time. You’re a person, not a research archive. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asked, leaning in to meet your gaze.

“I read the instructions fifteen times, I analyzed the poem, I gave opinions, strong opinions.” You choked out.

“Other people’s opinions, dead old guy opinions, I wanted yours.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

Failure.

All that work, all that money, two degrees down and you were still just a failure.

“I did a full assignment, I didn’t do half the assignment, I would never do half the work required.” You muttered, trying to take a breath that wasn’t coming. 

 Eddie leaned forward, confused, studying your face before his own face softened with concern as he said your name, once, then again with no response from you.

“Can you hear me, sweetheart? Are you alright?”

You couldn’t breathe.

Okay, five things you could see.

Dirty carpet, empty coffee cup, worn books, your professor’s big brown eyes, oh fuck this was happening in front of an audience.

Another failure.

“Look at me, you’re okay, everything is okay. Fuck the paper, I’ll give you an A if you just take a breath, please breathe!” Professor Munson said, somehow looking worse than you felt. 

You tried to take a big breath but nothing but a rasping noise came out and the office was starting to get very blurry very quickly.  Eddie crouched down in front of you, hesitant.

“Can I touch you, is that okay?” He asked, voice soft and quiet as to not to scare you even more than you already were.

Please do.

How the fuck were you anxious and horny? One of those should cancel the other out.

You managed to nod and Eddie covered your hands with his own, squeezing gently. 

“ You’re okay, nothing in this room or in your head can hurt you, I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay? A nice deep breath, we’ve got all the time in the world.” He said slowly, taking a big breath and you mimicked him,allowing yourself to inhale deeply.

“Good job, sweetheart. Let’s try again, shall we?” He asked, thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you breathe together an additional time. It takes a few minutes before your breathing goes back to normal but he doesn’t let you go.

“There she is, welcome back, sweet girl.” He said with a soft smile, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek and you put your hand over his time, closing your eyes. You both relaxed into each other’s embrace in the quiet of his office, breathing and being as one.

“I should let you go now.” He said, leaning back first with an awkward cough, looking anywhere but your face, running a hand through his hair.

“But-” You started.

Eddie looked back at you, eyes dark.

“But what?”

You brought your face close to his, not breaking eye contact.

“But what if I don’t want you to?”

Hope you liked this!

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

from this WIP weekend post!!

you guys overwhelmingly voted for more of the rockstar!eddie x sailor!steve full fic(let)/oneshot so here are the 42(!!!) sentences i ended up writing for it! (and seriously, thank you @thisapplepielife for tagging me!! this is the most i've gotten done on a lot of these wips in a while!)

“Was hard enough driving it around these skinny-ass roads.” Eddie snorts as that, “Don’t think I didn’t feel the scrape you gave that Beetle back there, Earl.” “It’s not my fault! These roads are tiny and there’s people parked everywhere!” “I’m just fuckin’ with you, man,” Eddie chuckles, shuffling out after the other boys, “Don’t fall in.”

They head toward the little gatehouse at the front of the pier where their manager, Chrissy, is standing beside a sailor in the Navy’s digital blue camo uniform. The girl in uniform looks particularly baby-faced (given she must be at least old enough to enlist), and the bright white “U.S. NAVY” stamped across the front of her bulletproof vest matches Chrissy’s pantsuit. It makes Eddie sweat just looking at her, even with how pleasant the weather actually is.

“You not coming with us, Chris?” Gareth asks. “Nah, I’m going to sit and wait in the car, I have quite a few calls to make anyhow.” she waves him off, “Maybe I can convince Earl to take me up to the food court. I could really go for some ice cream.” She waves them off, shooing them towards the sailor waiting on them, and marches off back across the narrow road to their car. “Okay, listen up.” Erica calls out to the four of them, pulling their attention to her easily. “I am going to escort you down the pier and you will both stay out of others’ way, and watch your step.” She beckons them through the tall turnstile gate as she speaks, following close behind. “There shouldn’t be anything laying out on the deck, as a rule, but watch it regardless.” As promised, she escorts them down the flat concrete pier, herding them with short warnings as they go, for whatever hazard may be in their way.  Despite the watching where he’s going he should be doing, Eddie can’t help but gawk up at the huge ships on either side of the wide spanse of concrete. They tower protectively over the sailors throwing heavy ropes around like they’re nothing, the ones helping unload cargo vans of their equipment, and those that seem to just be having fun laughing and fucking around. The ship on their left (with the matching hull number as on Erica’s ballcap) is onloading supplies from the pier in systematic line over the deceptively narrow strip of water between it and the vessel, each of the wildly different people in the line swinging box after box between them up the steep steel ramp and out of sight onto the deck. The ship on their right is only two numbers above the Berthold, and is the one they will be touring. The USS William B. Franke (DDG-63). There’s less happening on it's side of the pier, only a few folks coming and going. There’s a small group of four standing at the bottom of the Franke's ramp, a pair in street clothes that look to be heading off for the day, and there’s a taller sailor with a long ponytail who’s just hefted a heavy-looking piece of equipment onto their shoulder and is climbing across the bridge to the ship.

They troop along behind the commander, following him up and around a couple bends in the halls to his office. “Come on in, gentlemen; have a seat, please.” Brenner gestures them inside past a wooden desk to a low L-shaped couch fixated in the far corner of the office. They plop down onto the squeaky brown pleather, Chief Bonne taking up another chair in a corner, Master Chief Williams sinks down into the seat at the end of the couch, and the captain wheels his desk chair to the other side of the small round coffee table, sitting opposite the group. MAC Hopper stands against the door, out of the way. “Apologies, gentlemen," Brenner begins, "My Executive Officer is out of country at the moment, so he’s unable to meet with you today, but he’ll be back by time we get underway again.” “Of course, no worries here, sir.” Jeff waves him off, unnecessarily, “When are you setting sail?” “We’ll be taking off in a week.” “Only about half our sailors’ families are coming along,” Master Chief cuts in, “So we’ll have the room for you all to stay aboard while we’re underway, but you’ll have to have a skeleton crew to film.” The wheels in Eddie’s head are already turning, “How skeleton are we talking?”

“Oh, of course.” He says, visibly relieved, “Let me track down Lieutenant Creel; He’s a great kid, been a friend of the family since he was in diapers.”  Eddie’s already shaking his head. "No sir, I said your most competent." The captain's smile turns sour, so Eddie continues. "Someone point me to THE second class. You know the one, does it a little bit of everything, doesn’t slow down, probably salty as hell… Where are they? I need an enlisted person…No offense to your Lieutenant, sir.”

you also voted a handful or more for each other idea so i will link below each of the other posts for each other set of votes/sentences of the other options below!

casper | destiel pt. 6 | idiot | date pt. 2 | vamp

[tbmunson]

First Day - Eddie Munson

This is my first time posting anything on here in years. I couldn't get the idea of being the new kid out of my head so I ran with it.

WC - 626

I hope to be posting more soon. I will be taking requests/prompt ideas so please feel free to do so!

It was the first day back at Hawkins High from Winter break, and your first day ever. Your parents held off moving for as long as they could, hoping for you to finish your senior year back home in Washington state. Obviously that was no longer happening.

You walked through the front door of the school clad in white combat boots, black skinny jeans, a Motley Crue t shirt and a leather jacket. You made your way to the front office for you class schedule, earning a lot of attention along the way.

The weight of the stares was starting to get heavy as the office door finally closed behind you, hiding you away for a moment.

"You must be Y/N L/N." The older, curly haired lady said as the typed away on the computer in front of her.

"Yes ma'am." You answered, death gripping the straps to your backpack.

The machine to her right came alive and spit out a sheet of paper. "This is your class schedule, dear. If you need to make any changes do so within the week, back here with me." She nodded as she spoke before sending you on you way.

The classes themselves weren't bad, but the feeling of eyes boring into you was uncomfortable. It was finally lunchtime and you opted to sit alone, trying to decompress from the first four classes. Not that it was that relaxing, since everyone was still watching, or at least it felt like it.

"You look like you could use a friend, M'lady." A male voice said as someone plopped down opposite of you.

You looked up, taking in the long curly hair and big brown doe eyes of a guy who donned a graphic t shirt, a leather jacket, and a jean vest over it. "I think I could." You answered, sending a soft smile his direction.

"Great! I'm Eddie Munson. Most people around here though call me 'The Freak'." He replied, his eyes falling a bit.

"I think you're sweet. I'm Y/N L/N." You said, reaching a hand out to put on his, causing a smile to break across his face. "What's Hellfire Club?" You asked, reading his shirt.

He looked down then back up at you. "Promise not to laugh." He said, pulling his hands back to open his jacket a bit more.

"Pinky swear." You answered, offering him your pinky finger.

He dropped one side of his jacket and secure your pinky in his. "It's my Dungeons and Dragons club. I'm the Dungeon Master and that little group of misfits over there," He pointed to a table of guys who quickly looked away and began whispering amongst themselves, "are my friends. We have a meeting tonight if you're down."

"You inviting me to play, Munson?" You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"That depends. Do you play?" He replied, resting his chin in his hand.

You nodded, smirking at him. "I thought I wouldn't be able to play again. It's so hard in Washington to get accepted into another group. I assumed it would be the same here. I'd be honored."

Eddie just looked at you for a few seconds before standing. "Come. Let's introduce you to the guys." He offered you a hand even though he was on the opposite side of the table.

You took it, letting him lead you down the table until you two met at the end.

Eddie lifted your hand and lead you in a small spin before dropping his arm around you. He smiled down at you, one that was contagious and left your heart hammering in your chest.

You were sure everyone was still watching, you just couldn't bring yourself to care anymore. You were genuinely happy.

[muns0n]

Best Kept Secret

Chapter 3 - Teach Him

Your typical, schoolgirl naïvety lasted a couple more weeks. You made sure you always arrived early to O-Chem and took a seat at the front of the class, as far away from Eddie Munson as possible. You kept your head down when he walked in the room, and shot out before he could rope you into another unwanted conversation. Eventually, he stopped trying.

You should have known it was too good to be true.

One Tuesday morning, as you unloaded your textbooks into your locker, a voice rang out through the intercom.

“Y/n L/n, please come to the chemistry office. Again, that’s Y/n L/n to the chemistry office, please.”

Holding in your groan, you slammed your locker shut and made your way there. Your mind wandered, trying to figure out what this could be about. Your grades? No, they were stellar, as always. Your behaviour? Never any qualms about that.

The door swung open before you could knock, and you came face to face with Mr Wight, your O-Chem teacher. He beamed down at you, clad in a pressed plaid shirt tucked beneath a woollen cardigan, and he ushered you into the office.

It was adorned with diagram-filled posters and geeky models, and the scent of strong coffee hung in the air. Mr Wight, clearing his throat (which set his fluffy white moustache wiggling), indicated for you to take a seat on the opposite side of his desk. The wood creaked slightly beneath you as you sat.

“So, Y/n,” Mr Wight grinned. He noticed your expression, brows furrowed and lips pursed, and mistook it as you being upset or worried, rather than just weirded out by the situation. “Don’t worry, don’t worry!” He flapped his hands gently toward you and straightened up some files on the desk. “You aren’t in trouble. I asked to see you for.. sort of a favour, actually.”

Oh Heavens Above.

“Oh, sure, Mr Wight,” you said, trying to keep the exasperation out of your voice. “What is it?”

“Well, you know, of course, that your grades are excellent,” he rambled. “It seems like you really understand the subject.”

Where is this going?

“We have a student who is really..struggling. We think you would be able to help them out. Would you be interested in becoming a tutor?” Mr Wight beamed back at you, waiting for your reply. When it took a little longer than he liked, he started talking again. “It would look great on your college application. And be worth some extra credit, too.”

You waged an internal battle. It would look good on the college application, but could you really be bothered tutoring some schmuck who clearly didn’t care to study on their own? Then again, it would only be for a few hours a week. And who didn’t love extra credit?

“I..I can do that.” You agreed hesitantly.

“Great!” Mr Wight clapped his hands, grabbing a post-it and scribbling something. He stood, and you followed. He pushed the small piece of paper into your hand as he ushered you out of the door, muttering something about ‘that’s great thank you’ and ‘don’t be late for first period’. “Oh, one more thing, Y/n.” You turned to look at him from across the hall, eyebrows raised. “I don’t think you know him, but the student is in your class. Good luck!”

As your teacher shut the door with a final parting wave, you tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your gut. There was one guy in your O-Chem class that you knew was struggling. One guy who you really, really didn’t want to tutor. And as you peeled open that post-it and saw Eddie Munson’s name and locker number staring back at you in Mr Wight’s messy scrawl, you could have screamed.

—————

After your third period class, you hung around the corridor Eddie’s locker was in, waiting for him to appear. It took a while, but eventually he appeared through the swathes of sweaty teenagers, sauntering up to his locker. When he saw you walk up beside him, he glanced down at you and quirked a brow, opening the door so it covered your face as he leaned inside.

“Hey!” You hissed, walking around to his other side and staring up at him furiously. He didn’t spare you a look, swapping out books without acknowledging you. “Hey, Munson.” Feeling your blood start to simmer slightly, you forced yourself to wait a moment more for his reply. When it never came, you didn’t bother to keep the hostility from your tone. “Munson. I’m talking to you.”

He finally met your gaze, slamming his locker shut and throwing his backpack over one shoulder. “Oh, we’re speaking now? I didn’t get the memo.” He said apathetically.

Choosing to ignore his comment, you held up the post-it from Mr Wight. “I’m your new O-Chem tutor.” His brows furrowed as he snatched the post-it from between your fingers, looking over it himself.

“Huh,” he mumbled, eyes flitting between your face and the note. His lip curled up slightly, making him look almost..disgusted? “When they said they were gonna give me a tutor, I expected it to be an actual teacher, or somethin’.” He turned on his heel and started making his way down the hallway. Skipping slightly to keep up, you followed.

“Look, I hate this as much as you, but neither of us have a choice.” Incorrect, actually. You had had a choice, and you sure as hell wouldn’t have said yes if you knew your tutee would end up being Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson. But the way he was acting made you want to do it just to piss him off. Something about this guy was really grinding your gears. Eddie let out a low laugh, not slowing his pace for you.

“Name a time and a place, princess.” He replied. A zap of irritation shot through your chest at the nickname. “Your place or mine?”

“Um, no way,” you scoffed. “Hawkins Library, please. Tonight?”

“I have Hellfire tonight.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“It’s a date, princess.” He purred, quickening his pace as he threaded back into the crowds of teenagers. He sent you a wave over his shoulder as he disappeared, shouting; “I’ll drive us after school. Meet me out front.”

————

“And he kept calling me princess, too, like we were best buddies or something.” You complained to Robin as she flicked through a Women’s Health magazine. “It really, really pissed me off.”

“I get it, Y/n, but,” she looked up at you apologetically. “You did agree to it.”

“I didn’t know it would be Munson!” You threw your hands up, pacing the floor of Family Video. Steve appeared from the back of the store with a box full of new stock. Automatically, you starting helping him unpack.

“What’s this I hear about Munson?” He questioned, adding a couple new copies of ‘The Exorcist’ to the horror section.

“Y/n’s his new tutor.” Robin explained. Steve turned back to you, expression incredulous.

“What?” He laughed slightly. “I told you, Y/n, he’s bad news.”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed, stacking VHSs on the counter. “I didn’t know it was him when I said yes.”

“Can’t you.. I don’t know, quit?” Steve asked. You considered for a moment before shaking your head.

“No. I want the extra credit.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” Robin said, holding up a particularly impressive shot of Jackie Joyner-Kersee, which Steve responded to with a low whistle. “And, anyways, we’ll be here if you want to vent.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, fiddling with the edge of the counter. “I’ll probably be taking you up on that offer.”

————

The next day, as you stood waiting for Eddie outside the main entrance, the cold started to bite into your skin. Wrapping your jacket tighter around your midriff, you glanced at your watch to see that he was already 10 minutes late.

As if summoned, a white van barrelled around the corner from the main parking lot and halted to a screeching stop in front of you. Eddie grinned down at you through the open window.

“Hop in, teach.” He called mockingly. Running around to the other side of the van, you caught some of the heavy metal playing on the radio. Heaving yourself up into the seat beside Eddie, you took in the state of his ride. The cup holder was being used as what looked like a makeshift ashtray, and the scent of cigarettes clung lightly to the leather upholstered seats. Eddie didn’t wait for you to seatbelt up before he was screeching off again.

“Jesus, do you always drive this recklessly?” You exclaimed, grabbing onto the edge of your seat as you scrambled to cram the seatbelt into the lock. Eddie didn’t deign to reply, instead mumbling along to the Metallica song playing through the stereo. Just to irritate him, you flicked the radio off.

“Hey!” He flicked it straight back on, the Metallica song continuing from a few seconds ahead of where it had stopped. Indignant, you flicked it back off. “Hey, back off.” On. Off.

“Stop, Munson. It’s giving me a headache.” You turned your nose up, turning and staring out of the window as Eddie sighed beside you. The rest of the journey was spent in terse silence, the two of you intensely aware of, but pointedly trying to ignore, the other’s presence.

Pulling up into the library parking lot, you grabbed your bag and headed inside, expecting Eddie to follow. Finding a nice table with a few seats, you sat straight down and started pulling out the study materials you had used for the most recent test.

“So, I thought we would start with the isomerism stuff from..uh..” you began as Eddie slid into the seat opposite you, shirking off his jacket and rolling up his sleeves to reveal forearms corded with muscle and.. were those.. tattoos?

“You were saying?” Eddie’s voice snapped your gaze back up to his, where he looked at you weirdly.

“From last week.” You finished, shaking your head. Flicking open your textbook to the appropriate chapter and setting your notes in front of him, you began to explain the different types of isomerism and what they all meant. Eddie listened for a while, not trying to conceal his boredom, until the section on cis and trans isomerism seemingly got too much for him.

“Ughhh.” He groaned, smacking his head repeatedly into the table. You watched him in confusion, waiting for him to stop, but he never did.

“Stop it, Munson.” You said, aware of the other library-goers gazes landing on the two of you. “Hey, stop it, twerp.” You flicked the top of his head and hit his shoulder gently. “People are staring.”

“No need to get violent, L/n,” he berated, sitting back up. “This shit is boring as hell.”

“Well, whatever. You need to learn it if you want to graduate this year.”

Eddie stiffened, brows furrowing as he took in what you had just said.

“Who told you about that?”

“About what?”

“That I haven’t.. been able to graduate yet.” His voice became quieter, and he either suddenly found your notes more interesting or was just avoiding your gaze.

Is he embarrassed?

“Um, Steve told me.”

“Steve..Steve Harrington?” He asked, gaze meeting yours again. Something akin to humiliation shone out of his eyes. You just nodded. “You friends with him or something?” You nodded again, surprised when he rolled his eyes. “Well, tell Steve,” - he sneered his name - “to stop telling people my business.” Eddie’s hand landed on the textbook and he looked up at you, anger colouring his cheeks slightly. “So? Are you going to teach me or what?”

The rest of the session continued with you making some headway on O-Chem and with Eddie sporadically groaning or throwing pencils at you. As you left the library and began to head in the direction of your house, he called out.

“Where are you going, L/n?” He stood by his van, one hand on the drivers’ door.

“Home.” You said. Isn’t it obvious?

“What? Don’t be a dumbass,” he shook his head, climbing into the van and turning on the ignition. “I’m not letting you walk home in the dark. Come on.”

You stood for a moment and stared, sort of pissed off that he thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. But, your house was a good 20 minute walk. And you were feeling lazy.

“You don’t have to drive me, Munson,” you said as you slid into the seat beside him.

“Duh,” he said, rolling his eyes slightly. “Since you’re getting a free ride, I get my music on, though.” He flicked the radio back on before you could protest, and Black Sabbath rolled out of the speaker. At the expression on your face, he clicked his tongue and shrugged. “Driver’s rules, Y/n.” Mumbling curses quietly, you settled back into your seat, giving Eddie directions when needed.

“This it?” He said as you pulled up across the street. The lights in your house were off.

Humming in confirmation, you stepped down from the seat and slid your satchel over your shoulder, leaning in through the open window slightly. “Same time next week?”

“Sure,” Eddie said, one eye on the house behind you. “Hey, are uh.. are your parents home?” You cast a quick glance behind you before answering.

“No. They’re still at work.” You said, nodding awkwardly. “Well, I’m gonna go now. Thanks for the ride.”

“Whatever. Thanks for the tutoring.”

You headed across the street and into the dark, cold house waiting for you. You were right; your parents were still at work.

The irritation of dealing with Munson for over two hours had left you exhausted, distracted, and done with the day. But you didn’t miss the way his van didn’t skid away down the street until the lights in your living room were on.

[tripleaxeldiaz]

maybe one day i’ll fly next to you

chapter 7/8

read on ao3

start from the beginning

“Thought I’d find you out here.”

The balcony door slides shut behind Maddie, muffling the laughter and chatter coming from her apartment. 

“Just like last time,” Buck says. He smiles as she sits down next to him on the bench, throws an arm around her shoulders as she curls into his side. It’s a cool night, but he’s warm from the apartment and the champagne they’ve been drinking (“no liquor during the season” rule be damned), so it’s nice. Nicer still now that Maddie’s here.

“Yeah, but this time is a lot happier,” she says.

It’s true. Four years ago, they were in this same spot at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum — neither going to the Games, Buck with a busted leg, and Maddie without a partner after Doug placed full blame on her for not making the team and dropped her. They’d stayed out all night talking, saying their worst fears and insecurities — about the offseason, the next Olympic cycle, the rest of their careers — into the night, hoping the breeze would take them away and make them feel better. It didn’t, not once the sun came up, but for a while, they could pretend.

Now they sit in the silence that they so often find themselves in together, washed in the lights hanging around the balcony and the sounds of their friends — their family — celebrating inside. They’re in a bubble of happiness now that neither of them wants to break before they have to.

“It doesn’t feel real yet,” Buck says finally. “It still feels like tomorrow Bobby’s gonna call me into his office and say that there’s been a mistake.”

Maddie shakes her head. “There’s no mistake. You earned that spot. We all did.”

Buck rests his cheek on the top of her head. “I’m really proud of you.” She’s been his inspiration for as long as he can remember, the reason he stumbled into this sport that’s become his everything, and to see her dreams finally come true is in some ways better than his own. She was there for everything, exponentially more than their parents ever were, and he can’t even begin to think of how to repay her.

“I’m really proud of you too,” she says. “For everything, not just making the team.”

He blames the stinging in his eyes on the wind and kisses the top of her head as they fall back into quiet, enjoying the peace of the night for a little while longer before rejoining the party inside.

~~~~~~~~~~

Buck basically lives at the rink for the next 15 days, even manages to sleep there a couple nights in a row before Eddie drags him back to his place for actual rest. Every day there’s something new he finds — a jump that needs a cleaner landing, an edge that needs to be deeper, a spin that needs to go faster. Little bits that add up to less than perfect, and they’re putting him more and more on edge as the days tick by. He’s got other responsibilities too — press packages, photoshoots, commercials, interviews — and it’s all a whirlwind, flying past him before he can get a chance to really wrap his head around it all. He’s dreamed of this moment for years, of being able to represent his country and see his face in commercials credited as Olympian, and it’s every bit as gratifying and incredible as he’d hoped, he just wishes everything would slow down for a minute so he can actually enjoy it. 

But it all just keeps moving, so he takes everything as it comes and tries to live in the moments as much as he can, to live in the positives instead of worrying about the negatives that are threatening to crack him if he thinks about them for too long.

The whirlwind turns into a hurricane once they land in Beijing — as soon as they’re through customs, there’s flashbulbs and reporters shouting at them in multiple languages, fans pushing through the crowd for their own photo ops. Eddie’s got that caged animal look in his eyes again as they make their way to the exit, so Buck grabs his hand and squeezes, lets him know he’s still here, they’re here together, and he’ll shove through the crowd to get them out if he has to.

He hopes someone gets a picture of the smile Eddie gives him. He wants it printed and framed and hung on his wall where he can always see it.

The Olympic Village itself is like a luxury apartment complex — 15 high rise buildings with smaller ones around them, housing dorms for every athlete, cafeterias, workout rooms, a general store, even a post office. They have just enough time after the tour to drop their bags in their rooms before they’re whisked off to the Olympic Park to get their credentials and a first look at the skating arena. It looks like any other arena on the outside — big, industrial, a looming presence over the rest of the buildings — but it’s what’s going to happen inside, or what might not happen, that makes it feel all the more imposing, like it’s waiting to swallow everyone whole.

They’re all at dinner when he really starts to feel overwhelmed. As much as he wants to talk with the team and mingle with friends and acquaintances he hasn’t seen in years, he feels twitchy and uncomfortable and everything is just the wrong side of loud. He excuses himself, blaming jet lag and an early workout session, and he ignores Eddie’s concerned gaze as he makes his way back to their room. He flops onto the bed, the only light coming from the dim lamp on the nightstand and the view of the city skyline from their balcony, and he tries to get himself to relax, to settle the electricity jumping all over him.

He doesn’t notice Eddie come in the room until he feels the bed shift, sees him crawl up his body until they’re face to face, Eddie’s arms bracketing his head as he gently rests his weight on Buck.

“You okay?” he asks.

Buck shrugs, hands coming up to rest on Eddie’s hips. “None of this felt real before today, and now we’re here and...I don’t know, it’s almost too real. It’s a lot to take in.”

Eddie hums and leans down, places a feather light kiss in between Buck’s eyebrows where he knows he scrunches up when he’s upset. “Do you need anything from me?”

Buck threads a hand through Eddie’s hair, firm so he doesn’t go too far. “You,” he says, because it’s true — Eddie’s the only thing he wants to see or feel or think about until he feels settled in his own skin again. “Just need you.” He pulls Eddie down and kisses him, unhurried, wanting to take his time and get lost in it, will his brain to shut off and just be. Eddie drops down to his elbows, pushing them even closer together, and Buck gasps softly as their cocks brush together, both of them well on their way to hard. Eddie takes the opportunity to lick into Buck’s mouth and Buck melts, sure it’ll only take a few minutes like this for him to come in his pants like a teenager.

But that’s the opposite of what he wants right now, so he flips them both over until he’s straddling Eddie’s hips and starts kissing down his neck, his hands finding the hem of his t-shirt and slowly pulling it up and off. He takes his time, savors the way Eddie’s breath stutters as Buck swirls a tongue around his nipple, chases the blush moving down his chest with open mouth kisses. Eddie tugs at his shirt, and Buck is more than happy to oblige, stripping it as he moves back up to kiss Eddie again, deeply, soundly, relieved that he can feel the crackling anxiety tone itself down, turn into simmering want instead as he tastes more and more of Eddie.

“Lube?” Buck asks, because Eddie’s hot under his hands and his pants are feeling more than tight and he needs to be in Eddie right now or he’s going to lose it.

“In my bag,” Eddie says, kissing down Buck’s jaw and working his pants down.

“And condoms?”

He feels Eddie smirk into his skin. “I think there are some in that welcome basket they gave us.”

Buck thanks whoever’s listening that those rumors were true. He only trips a little bit as he gets up and grabs everything and strips the rest of the way. When he turns back, Eddie’s stripped too, miles and miles of skin laid out on the bed and Buck’s certain he’s glowing and it’s not just his imagination this time and— 

“God you’re gorgeous.” It’s worth it to see Eddie’s blush get impossibly deeper and move further down his chest.

He kisses Eddie again, a little more frantic, slicking up his fingers and swallowing the moan Eddie lets out when he starts rubbing at his entrance. He works his way in slowly, with every intention of still taking his time, but Eddie’s sighing into his mouth, an unconscious string of “please please please” tumbling out with it, and Buck doesn’t want to deny Eddie anything, ever, as long as he can help it. He moves faster, working in a second finger, then a third, scissoring Eddie open until he’s shaking and panting underneath him.

“Come on, Buck, please—” Buck cuts him off with a searing kiss, pulling away long enough to tear the condom open and roll it on, and then he’s kissing Eddie again and pushing into him, and he’s hot and tight and perfect, and Buck almost blacks out. He picks up a rhythm, steady but not teasing, and tastes every part of Eddie he can reach — his jaw, his neck, his chest, his shoulders and back again. Eddie’s everywhere, completely surrounding him, and he chases his orgasm as it builds in his gut, finesse and any attempt at taking his time quickly forgotten. He can tell Eddie’s close too, feels him clenching down around him, and Buck gets a hand on Eddie’s cock between them, stroking him in time with his thrusts. Eddie bites down on Buck’s shoulder as he comes, spilling hot onto Buck’s hands and on their stomachs, and it only takes a few more thrusts for Buck to follow, the edges of his vision whiting out with the force of it. 

He drops down just enough to bury his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck as they both come down, still wanting — needing — to be surrounded by him. When he can finally breathe again, he pulls out and makes his way to the bathroom, throwing out the condom before finding a washcloth in a cabinet. Eddie’s half asleep when he gets back, but perks up as Buck cleans them both up and manhandles him until they're both under the covers. The bed is on the smaller side to fit two full grown men, but it’s all the more excuse for Buck to plaster himself to Eddie, an arm thrown firmly over his chest and their legs tangled together. 

They lay in the quiet, the only sounds coming from the city below, and Buck finally feels calm, or at least calm enough that his mind’s not racing. His eyes get heavier and heavier, lulled by Eddie’s breathing underneath him and the random shapes he can feel him trace on his back.

“Still okay?” Eddie whispers, stopping his drawing and wrapping his arm around Buck fully.

Buck nods and closes his eyes. “Still just need you.”

Eddie kisses his forehead and whispers, “I’m not going anywhere.” Buck falls asleep with a smile on his face and I love you echoing in his head.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Team USA, get ready, you’re up next!”

Everyone around Buck starts jumping and cheering, hustling toward the exit to get ready for their march in the Parade of Nations. It was almost easy to forget that’s why they’ve been waiting in the bowels of the stadium for two hours in the first place — watching the performances on TV screens placed around the room didn’t quite translate to the fact that they too would be out there soon enough, decked out in full red, white, and blue, waving at the fans and supporters that have traveled from all over the world to watch them compete. It’s how Buck’s watched the opening ceremony ever since he was a kid anyway — glued to the TV, trying to pick out his favorite skaters from other countries as they marched through, picturing himself there so clearly he could practically feel the wind on his face, hear the roar of the crowd so loudly it was like the were in his living room.

It was a fantasy then, but it’s reality now, and Buck wishes he could go back and tell his six year old self that he will get here, and it will feel every bit as amazing as he imagined it would.

By the time they make it to their seats, Buck’s arms feel heavy from waving for five straight minutes, his cheeks hurt from smiling in a million different selfies, and he’s shivering in his designer Team USA uniform.

He wishes he could stay in this moment forever.

There’s some more performances about unity and peace and everything else the Olympics are supposed to represent, until finally, a torchbearer runs into the stadium, carrying the Olympic flame that’s made its way here all the way from Athens. They pass it to the final torchbearer, a decorated Chinese speed skater, who runs it up the short hill to the cauldron, lighting it from below. The flames grow and fireworks go off, people start cheering and dancing around him again, and for all the pinching himself he’s had to do since they announced the team, this is the most real thing he’s felt and may ever feel. The flame in him is blazing too, ready to be set free, and it burns brighter still when he looks to Eddie, his smile wide and his eyes sparkling. In all his wildest dreams, he never imagined being at the Olympics with someone who makes him feel like he’s already won something, but now that he is, that desire to win just keeps growing, fueling the flame more and more.

He kisses Eddie’s cheek and joins in on the celebration. They’ll party tonight and into the morning, but then, it’s back to business.

He’s here for a medal, and whatever the next two weeks try to throw his way, he is not going home empty handed.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m gonna throw up.”

“There’s still four teams before they skate, Buck.”

“Perfect, plenty of time to throw up.”

Eddie just shakes his head and focuses back on the ice as the Russian team hits their final pose. As each team gets their scores and doesn’t monumentally fuck up, Buck gets more and more nervous for Maddie and Chim. It’s not that he doubts them, it’s more like he doubts the entire scoring system — they’re only in first by two tenths of a point after the rhythm dance, and anyone could pull ahead enough to beat them at the last minute.

He knows they’ll be amazing. They’re always amazing. Their win just depends on whether or not the judges agree with him today.

The final group comes out to warm up, and Buck and Eddie are on their feet, flags waving high above their heads and cheering with the rest of the supporters’ section. Maddie and Chim spot them from the ice and wave before quickly schooling themselves back into performance mode. They look incredible — Chim in all black and Maddie sparkling in her gold dress — and Buck’s stomach clenches again in the hope that she’ll have a matching medal when it’s all over. 

He feels Eddie nudge him as they sit back down. “You still with me?”

Buck smiles at him and it’s easy, real, despite the nerves still swimming around in him. “Just thinking about how this reminds me of our first date.”

Eddie scrunches his nose. “Autumn Classic was not our first date.”

“It kind of was,” Buck says, shrugging.

“You barely wanted me there, if I remember correctly. Plus May was there too.”

“Okay, so it wasn’t perfect.”

“No,” Eddie says, slipping his hand into Buck’s. “But I think this date makes up for it.”

They fall into an easy running commentary after that, and it’s enough to distract Buck and keep his anxiety at bay. If he tries, he can pretend they are at Autumn Classic again, where the stakes were lower and anything felt possible. It makes him a little less nervous for Maddie and Chim, and a little less nervous for himself, too. The mens’ event starts tomorrow, and it’ll be his turn to get on the ice and prove himself to the judges and most of the world watching from home. If he just keeps pretending it’s the beginning of the season — and not the potentially crushing end — maybe he’ll be able to keep it together.

The announcer introduces Maddie and Chim, and seeing them on the ice, looking confident and excited and ready, settles Buck even more. Their program is classic — classic music, classic costumes — but still fun and technically top notch and undeniably them, and the audience is mesmerized from the very first steps. They hit every line, every pose, every lift, and by the time they transition from the soft tones of “Fever” to the ripping guitar of “Burning Love”, the audience is all in, clapping along to the beat and loudly cheering them on. They hit their final pose, and the whole arena is on their feet, and louder still once they get their final score.

Buck’s not great at math, but he’s pretty sure the last team will need a miracle to beat them.

He holds his breath anyway, right up until the end, until the final team’s score is announced, and Maddie and Chim are officially gold medalists. It’s a blur of celebrating after that, but everything clears enough for Buck to get a perfect view of the medal ceremony and Maddie and Chim’s faces, beaming with joy and slight disbelief, even as the medals are slipped over their heads. 

Buck’s proud, unbelievably so, and happy beyond belief for his sister, but the nerves are churning in him even faster, because now it feels like there’s a precedent, an expectation that he and the rest of Bobby’s skaters will do as well as their teammates. He’s always aiming for gold, but now it feels like it’s necessary, like anything less will be devastating instead of just disappointing. And then what about Eddie? He wants to win just as much as Buck, and Buck wants him to do well, but they can’t have a tie, one of them is going to do better than the other. And won’t that make it all the more heartbreaking when it’s not Buck that comes out on top?

He shoves all that away for now as he and Eddie fight their way through the crowd and down to the green room, because it’s too much and it doesn’t matter, at least not today. What matters is that Maddie is running into his arms, still happy crying, and he lets himself be completely wrapped up in her joy.

He’s proud of her. That’s one thing he knows for sure. That’s what he focuses on and hopes it’s enough to keep the voices quiet until tomorrow.

[datleggy]

Scene that popped into my head: post lawsuit while Buck is shunned. He pushes Eddie out of the way and takes a near fatal hit. As he lays there bruised and bleeding internally with Eddie and everyone treating him his eyes focus on something past Eddie, something only he sees. The Buck says a something that truly terrifies Eddie. He simply says “Shannon?” All hell breaks loose after that. Eddie screaming at Buck not to go with her

It’s been nearly a month now since Buck came back to the team and despite all of his apologies and all of his attempts at trying to show everyone he regrets putting them all through the lawsuit, not a single person has reached out in return.

Buck regrets everything. He was just so desperate; he wanted to stay a family so goddamn bad, but it ended up blowing up in his face.

Bobby continues to treat him with kid gloves, having him do all kinds of probationary work around the station, reprimanding him for any and every little thing and leaving him on crowd control duty the few times he is actually allowed to go on calls with the rest of the team.

It’s upsetting and belittling but Buck takes it all in stride. He deserves everything he gets and more for his thoughtless, selfish impulsivity. Right?

It’s the dreary thought that’s on his mind as Buck watches his team go into the blazing fire in the bank, on their latest call.

There are patrol officers and S.W.A.T surrounding the perimeter. They’d been called in earlier when the situation had consisted of a lone bank robber and his eight hostages. Somehow—not that Buck managed to get many details from Bobby, who’d only told him he would be standing the sidelines in case anything happened—that had turned into what it is now, a fire emergency, with the bank robber plus four of the hostages still inside.

Buck is on standby, which is killing him, of course. His team is wearing bullet proof vests on top of their already heavy gear, in case the bank robber feels like shooting his way out of a burning building. Please be ok, he prays, please be ok.

He wants to run in there and help, make sure he’s got his people’s backs, but he’s been given clear and direct orders to stay back by the Captain, and though it goes against his every instinct, Buck wars with himself to wait, anxiety curling deep in his belly.

Eventually, while Buck is holding his breath, waiting for signs of life, one by one, they come out of the fire, relatively unscathed, as far as he can see. S.W.A.T. is on standby like Buck, but unlike Buck it’s because they’ve actually got a job to do. The last four hostages were all female, and so it’s easy to locate the bank robber, who had earlier been identified as a stocky white male in his thirties.

While the man is being cuffed and read his miranda rights paramedics on scene start to work on the hostages, none of whom seem particularly wounded, thankfully. In fact, the worst of it seems to be a little smoke inhalation all around.

Buck notices Eddie trying to lead the woman he saved over to the ambulance to get checked; he’s having trouble. Curious, and eager to help in any way he can, Buck hedges closer. “Look, I’m fine, just leave me alone.” the woman is saying, backing away.

Eddie, who thinks she might be traumatized and perhaps even hiding an injury, the way she’s holding her side so awkwardly, carefully reaches for her again. “Ma’am, it’s ok, we’re just here to help—”

But Buck can see something’s not quite right, he can see the panic in her eyes and instantly recognizes it for what it is: she’s feeling trapped, surrounded on all sides. This isn’t good. He’s seen that look before, in the face of that woman he rescued what seems like forever ago now. The one up on that billboard, the one who drew that gun on him the moment she felt like there was no other way out…

“Eddie wait!” But it’s too late.

The woman is already rearing back, a wildness to her, and within milliseconds she’s got a weapon aimed at Eddie’s fucking head and Buck can see that finger on the trigger, she’s not hesitating and there’s no time to think or subdue her. Buck just acts, slamming himself into Eddie to push him out of the way as the woman shoots.

S.W.A.T. is on her in an instant, securing the gun and shoving her onto the asphalt to be cuffed and arrested.

Eddie, still reeling, sits up shakily, heart pounding erratically. “B-Buck?”

Buck is lying prone on his side, deathly still, and there’s already a puddle of blood formed beneath his body, and it’s only growing.

“Buck, Buck!” Eddie panics, scrambling for what to do.

Thankfully the 118 is here and within moments they’re gathered around, and Eddie, he finds himself frozen in place, watching as Hen and Chimney turn Buck over in a flurry of activity. There’s so much blood, Eddie can barely tell where it’s coming from. It’s covering the side of his face and his neck, his chest, his shoulders.

Chim has a portable EKG reading his vitals and it’s not looking good. Hen’s managed to find the entrance wound, right at the side of his neck and she’s keeping a steady firm pressure but there’s still so much blood pouring out between her gloved fingers.

Buck groans, his eyelashes fluttering against his too pale face.

“Buck, son, you’re gonna’ be ok.” Bobby is sitting right next to Eddie, he’s got a hand lingering, hovering just above Buck’s shoulder on his other side. Eddie sees the way that hand trembles and knows the Captain is terrified he’s going to be made a liar.

But Buck is awake now, conscious and moving, if only in response to the pain. His eyes are unfocused, looking somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder, not at him. “Buck, Buck, look at me, you got shot, as soon as you’re stable we’re getting you to a hospital.” Eddie tries to assure him, the panic in his voice betraying his words. As soon as we get you stable, he makes sure to say, not if we get you stable…

But Buck doesn’t acknowledge him. He blinks slowly, his brows creasing—not in pain, but in confusion. He opens his mouth and says something but it’s too quiet for anyone to catch it, not when so many things are going on around them, with S.W.A.T in the background, released hostages and other civilians still reeling from the gun going off, and Hen and Chim working their asses off to keep Buck alive.

Eddie leans in as much as he can, without disturbing their work. “Buck what is it?” his voice is trembling. Hell, he’s trembling.

But what Buck says next makes Eddie go deathly still.

“Shannon?”

All hell breaks loose. 

“No no no no no no no, Buck no, please, look at me!” Eddie can’t even hear himself over the roaring in his ears but he’s sure he’s screaming right now, his throat feels so raw.

But Buck still won’t look in his direction, those hazy blue eyes looking somewhere into the distance, seeing something no one else can. And it is terrifying beyond all belief.

“Please!” Eddie cries, “Please stay!” This can’t be happening. Not like this. Not ever. He has so much left he wants—no, needs to say. It can’t end like this. Not again.

“Don’t you fucking go! I need you!” he’s sobbing and screaming as Bobby holds him tight, keeping him from grabbing onto Buck and shaking him, telling him to snap out of it and come back to them, while Hen and Chim work. Captain Nash is saying something, maybe he’s trying to calm Eddie down, but he can’t hear anything over the sound of the erratic beeps coming from the EKG. 

Buck lets out a very faint gasp, his eyes fluttering shut, and the resounding BEEEEEP! feels like it goes on forever.

————————————————————————————————–

Buck wakes up in a hospital room.

A very crowded hospital room.

Chim and Maddie are asleep on top of one another, taking up a small loveseat in the corner on the room. Hen and Karen are passed out on the couch beside the entrance, as are Bobby and Athena, sitting side by side on some not so comfortable looking chairs, on the opposite end, resting one against the other.

“Buck?”

Buck looks to his side, where the last chair in the room is occupied, by none other than Eddie, who looks an absolute wreck, and sounds even worse, if possible.

“Eddie?” Buck winces. Talking hurts, his throat is so sore. In fact, everything hurts.

Eddie quickly has him gently suck at an ice chip by the bedside, “It’ll help.” he says. Buck notices the tremor in his hand.

After he’s a little more hydrated Buck asks, “You ok?” his friend looks like death twice warmed over.

He’s not expecting Eddie to break down in tears, but that’s exactly what happens. “Am I ok?” he’s incredulous, running his hands through his hair. “Am I ok?” he repeats.

Buck is pretty sure the only reason no one’s stirred awake yet is because neither of them can speak above the level of a throaty raw whisper at the moment. “That lady.” he says, by way of explanation. “With the gun.”

“I’m not the one she shot.” Eddie sobs, not bothering to hide his anguish. “Buck you almost fucking died. You coded in the field after calling out Shannon’s name and I fucking lost you. Buck I can’t lose you. I can’t. Ever. You can’t---you cannot do that, please, you can’t leave me. What would I ever do without you?” Eddie can barely catch his breath and he’s literally shaking. “Buck please, I need you to promise me you’ll never do something like that again. Please.”

Buck can’t promise that. And they both know it. “You know I can’t. What the hell would I ever do without you? Hell, what would Christopher do without you?”

Eddie shakes his head adamantly, breath hitching, desperately grabbing onto Buck’s hand, like it’s a lifeline. It just might be. “He’d be in good hands. Buck, you can’t do that again.”

Buck gulps. “Eddie, Christopher needs---”

“He’s got you.” Eddie cuts him off. “I should have told you before. After the tsunami I changed my will, if anything happens to me, you’re it.” he admits. “So yeah, he needs me, but he also needs you. I need you. I love you so much Buck, I couldn’t stand losing you. I’d---” he pauses, realizing he’s just confessed, and this is certainly not the way he had meant to confess. “I---shit, I’m sorry, I meant to confess after apologizing for---fuck, for everything, for this last month, hell, for the last few months, since the lawsuit, for how selfish and stubborn I’ve been, for not trying better to understand your side, for---”

“I love you too.” Buck squeezes the hands holding his, albeit weakly. He looks awed, like it’s his first time really seeing Eddie, in a while---and it probably is. “Did you really? With Christopher?” he’s too exhausted for full sentences but Eddie thankfully knows what he means.

He nods, “I did. I’m sorry, I know I should have asked, and I was gonna’ talk to you about it, but then, everything just---”

“No, no, it’s---I’m just really happy.” Buck smiles, and it’s his first genuine smile, one he hasn’t had to fake or force, in months.

Eddie practically melts against the side of the hospital bed, laying his forehead gently up against Buck’s shoulder. “Me too.” he sniffles, overwrought with emotion.

Buck’s hand comes up to rest over the back of Eddie’s head, where he can softly caress his fingers, in hopes of providing some kind of comfort, however tired he is. “I know it’s not what you wanna’ hear right now...or ever, but I would do it again, no hesitation.” he confesses.

Eddie buries his face further into Buck’s shoulder, his breath catching on a sob. “I know.” He does know. Because given the chance, Eddie would easily take a bullet for Buck too, no questions asked. A thousand times over.

“I love you.”

[bevpegs]

singing bluejays

“You’re so beautiful,” Bev said, caressing his face. Bill smiled at her, wishing he could talk without fumbling his words.

OR

Bill hates his stutter.

Word Count: 4130 | Posted: April 12, 2020 | Read It On AO3 Here!

“Ow! Fuh-fuh-fuh--Agh!”

“What’s going on?” Mike asked, knocking and opening the door to Bill’s office. Bill paused, still holding his foot, and his face immediately shifted from angry to guilty.

“Suh-suh-suh-suh-sor-sorry,” Bill stammered, gently letting his foot down. He pursed his lips, mentally chewing on his words. “Fuh-fuh-fucked uh-up muh-muh-muh-muh--”

Bill stopped, eyebrows furrowing. Mike usually waited for him to finish his sentences when he got like this, but he’d trailed off. This one wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Mike stepped forward, putting his arm on Bill’s shoulder, “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.”

Bill’s eyes shifted downward. Oh, so it was going to be one of those.

“Here, come downstairs,” Mike said, hand shifting down to Bill’s. Bill’s shoulders slumped down, and he let out a breath, but he complied.

The kitchen was rowdy, which it almost always was. Mike would be concerned if it wasn’t rowdy. Stan had set their plates and silverware out almost half an hour in advance, because he knew Richie--and Richie was a creature of extreme habit, however much he denied it--would be there at six-thirty-five on the dot to harass him while he read and Ben made dinner. Today, Stan had tried something new. Richie was hunched over a puzzle book, tongue stuck between his teeth.

The commotion tonight was Eddie and Bev, who, when in the right mood, had a tendency to get into heated arguments.

“I’m just saying, it looked like she stuck a fucking mattress onto her model--”

“I don’t want to hear it, pillow princess!” Bev snapped, “The stitching was intricate, the handiwork was gorgeous, she did not deserve to go home and I--”

“Ladies!” Mike said, through gritted teeth, “Remember what we said about Project Runway at the table?”

“It’s like talking to the relatives about who’s fucking who,” Eddie and Bev drawled at the same time. Still, they sat back in their chairs, folding their arms over their chests, and looked like they were done for now. Ben would probably be having a fun night later.

“Anyway,” Ben announced, “Looks like it’s about done. I tried my hand at a nicer mac ‘n cheese, and picked up some burnt ends from the barbeque place down the street. Should be delicious.”

Richie, of course, immediately and furiously stirred his burnt ends into the mac ‘n cheese and ate like he was starving. “Oh my fucking God, Ben,” He said, with a mouth full of food.

Bill poked at his food, cracking an empty smile. Everyone immediately turned to him, except Richie, who was horribly tone-deaf.

“What’s the matter?” Bev asked, putting down her fork and placing her hand over Bill’s. The seating around the table was exactly the same every time. Stan sat at the end closest to the stove, and Richie sat opposite from him. Mike and Eddie were between them on one side, and Bill, Bev, and Ben were snugly pressed together on a little bench by the window.

“Muh-muh--” Bill took a deep breath, “I-I-I’m buh-buh-behind on muh-muh-muh-my puh-project and muh-muh-my puh-puh-publisher’s duh-docking my puh-puh-pay.”

“Oh, bluejay,” Stan frowned, reaching over Bill’s shoulder and bringing him in, “It’s okay. You don’t have to worry about anything.”

Bill nodded, turning and shuddering into Stan’s shoulder. Bev’s thumb rubbed over Bill’s knuckles. Bill let himself be comforted, let them all smooth out the wrinkles of his old t-shirt. Somehow, they managed to pile Bev, Eddie, and Stan all onto his bed, and they quickly tangled together silently, tenderly.

“You’re so beautiful,” Bev said, caressing his face. Bill smiled at her, wishing he could talk without fumbling his words.

“I love you,” Stan said, kissing Bill’s shoulders. Bill really appreciated him. The words were right there, right on the tip of his tongue. Stan didn’t usually do this--he was the only one who had a room to himself, he hated getting sweaty. Bev brushed the hair out of Bill’s face.

“It’s okay,” She insisted, as Bill shook his head, “We know. We understand.” She kissed Bill’s nose. Bill buried his face in the crook of Bev’s neck and didn’t realize he was falling asleep until he woke up the next morning, blissfully dumb and sleepy.

[archadianskies]

and we will never be afraid again

@dbhrarepairs Friday Day 5: Crossover / Unexpected Rescue; during the revolution ST300/Tina Chen

To be perfectly honest, she's still on the fence about the whole android thing: she’s not like Gavin Reed who absolutely loathes them, and she’s not like Mack Wilson who ever since being rescued by the prototype detective has nothing but high praise for them. She’s sort of always just been in the middle in the sense that if she minds her business and they mind theirs, then she doesn’t have to think about them. 

Only the social climate is rapidly changing in Detroit and the dirty word is ‘deviant’ and the city seems to be crawling with them. The DPD’s always worked with androids; like every other establishment in the city they have android janitors and receptionists, with the unique addition of police units- but now instead of looking at them as machines, she’s starting to wonder if they should be seen as something different. Something more. Someone alive.

Central precinct has three ST300s at the front as receptionists, and a human security staff to oversee them. They’ve been there for five years now and Tina’s really never bothered to pay attention to them. One of them, the one that sits closest to Gary’s post, always says good morning to her, every morning, and Tina’s always figured it’s some sort of social programming. Last Spring when she found some lost kid and reunited him with his mother, the woman had given Tina a bouquet as a token of her gratitude. Not really knowing what to do with them, she’d given the flowers to the ST300 and told it to put the flowers in a vase. Flowers belonged at reception anyway; better to be admired by the public than to wilt away on Tina’s desk inside the bullpen. Ever since then, ever since the bouquet of flowers, the ST300 never fails to greet her daily.

*~*~*

It’s a fucking nightmare and she can usually tolerate Gavin’s brashness and vulgarity but not today. She’s gritting her teeth and powering through cramps, and there’s a gaping void in her chest because a case went south and it had been her knocking on the door and telling a parent their kid totaled their car and wasn’t coming home. She can hear her mother’s sigh in her head, her ‘I told you you’re wasting your talent there, you should be a doctor like your cousin’ as if a doctor didn’t also have to tell parents their kid wasn’t coming home when something went south.

“Officer Chen?” The ST300 is at her desk, holding out a cup of coffee. “Your stress levels are incredibly high. You should take a moment to eat and drink something.”

“Uhhh thanks?” She accepts the coffee and the android goes back out to reception.

*~*~*

Her neighbour is the lovechild of Kate Bush and Stevie Nicks, and Tina admires her absolute rejection of social expectations and maybe even envies it a little.

“Teeny!” She greets with a gasp. “I have a present for you! I know your birthday was two weeks ago but I’ve been bathing her in moonlight and making sure her aura was glowing before giving her to you.”

“What, you’ve magicked me a girlfriend Tessie is that it?”

“Oh no no, you can’t force love onto a person.” She seems mortified Tina even suggested it, and her expression makes her laugh loudly in the hallway. “Don’t you vanish into your apartment yet! Hold tight!” She slips back into her home, all shawls and fluttery layers and the scent of herbs, before emerging with a sweet blooming cactus. “Here you are! Happy birthday!”

“Oh my god that’s so fucking cute.” Tina looks at the small plant cupped in her palms. “Fuck Tessie this is adorable , thank you!”

“I knew you’d love her!” She gives a little bounce as she claps her hands excitedly. “Keep her at work. Your desk is lonely.”

“How would you know that?” Tina narrows her eyes suspiciously as her neighbour shrugs.

“Vibes.”

If she’s being honest, she doesn’t trust herself with greenery- even the desert kind. The cute little cactus sits at her desk for all of a week before she’s fretting over it. Can’t water it too much or it drowns and rots, can’t not water it or it dries out. She doesn’t trust her very human brain to remember the proper schedule to maintain a cactus and so she figures that an android certainly won’t forget. And flowers belong at reception anyway, where the public can admire them. The ST300 smiles brightly when she hands her the cactus and promises to take very good care of it. It’s then that Tina realises she has freckles dusted across the bridge of her nose and the tops of her cheeks and that they crinkle when she smiles and she’s very very cute.

*~*~*

There’s a revolution underway, right here in Detroit, and she’s caught in the thick of it. The safety of Detroit’s citizens falls to the DPD, and it’s up to them to uphold the peace. But it doesn’t sit right, doesn’t feel right, to see the androids being rounded up. To see shipping containers converted into temporary recycling plants to deactivate and dismantle them one by one like some morbid de-assembly line. They look very real, they sound very real, and they seem to feel very very scared. When the order reaches the DPD, there’s a conundrum: all androids are to be turned over for immediate destruction, but without the android police units there’s not enough police presence to get the job done. And the police are still working with the prototype detective. Captain Fowler compromises and says the police units stay, the prototype goes back to CyberLife, and the rest of the androids get turned over for destruction.

She considers herself a by-the-book kind of officer but she’s fucking noping out of this one. No thank you. No siree. Anyone who knows her would say ‘impulsive’ is at the bottom of the list of words to describe Tina Chen, but the situation calls for it.

“We have to go.” She grabs the ST300 by the wrist. “Come on.”

“My shift isn’t finished, I-” Her LED flickers red as the other two androids look over at them. “I can’t leave.”

“You can, and you will.” Tina tries to tug her but she stands firm. “You have to come with me or they’re going to take you away to be destroyed.” The panic is rising in her throat and she fights to keep it down. “I heard the captain, you have to leave. Now .”

“Officer Chen, my place is-”

“You’ll die! I don’t want you to die!” Tina nearly shouts, and the android’s LED turns a bright solid red, so red it looks like it’s burning. She winces, her hands trembling as if she’s fighting something, wrestling with herself, before she freezes and opens her eyes again.

“I don’t- where will we go?” She hadn’t really thought that far ahead but Tina just tightens her grip on her wrist and runs. She can hear the FBI prick, can hear the Lieutenant swear at him and the sound of a sudden scuffle, and she runs . She runs until they’re in the carpark, and then she’s shoving the android into her car and then she’s nearly dropping the key before shoving it in, turning it, and driving off. She’s highkey panicking now but the thought of her being taken away, of not hearing her good mornings or seeing her brights smiles or receiving her little plant update photos on her phone overrides all the panic. Tina brings her to the apartment building, making the perilous climb up the fire escape which is more hazard than escape, and then she’s knocking rapidly, near pounding on her neighbours window.

“Tessie I need you to hide her please I’m begging you you can’t let them find her they’ll take her away and-” her neighbour just holds out her hand to the android before shooing Tina away and Tina nearly collapses in relief as she heads back down the fire escape and vows silently to buy her neighbour whatever the fuck she wants in return.

*~*~*

The revolution happens and the androids win. It’s not some Skynet horror story that leads to the genocide of humans. It’s actually the complete opposite and despite humans treating them like garbage, they want to be a part of society alongside them. It’s an odd but not unwelcome turn of events. Tina’s glad she chose their side because really, when she thinks about it, they’re living sentient beings. They’re not just machines, they’re alive. They experience fear and sadness and happiness and joy too. They experience a sense of accomplishment when they take their post again and are told they did a good job. They experience a sense of pride when the little cactus produces another bloom. They experience a sense of relief and camaraderie when a human officer addresses them by their chosen name, like a human instead of a model number like a machine.

“Good morning Officer Chen.”

“Good morning Stephanie.” Tina smiles. “How’s Eddie doing today?” She gestures at the echinopsis cacti, and the android smiles.

“Ready to take on the day.”

[angelynrostrand]

Chapter 3

Summary:  To the outside world, nothing should connect shy girl Angel Monroe and popular boy Xavier Hazelwood. But that isn't entirely true. They both hold secrets. Behind both of them lie 2 separate wolf packs. Xavier is well on his way to Alpha status and running the pack. Angel is not a wolf but instead the last healer in the world. When the realization comes forward that they are connected by destiny, will they decide to fulfill it? Is their connection predetermined by fate or will they choose their hearts? Lives and packs cross and mingle while romance and conflict brews. The story of 2 opposite souls on a collision path. Will destiny win out? Even the most innocent face, has the darkest secrets.

Word Count: 2,295

Warnings: None for now

http://thesundaychapter.com/2016/03/15-secret-places-in-london/

I wake up the next morning and do my regular routine. I get out of my bed and walk to my bathroom like a zombie. I am not a morning person. Especially after last night took a turn. After getting in my summer dress and welcoming the new spring weather, I walk down to the kitchen to make food for my family. I usually save food in the oven to keep it warm. They eat breakfast while I ride to school. During my ride, I realize I might have to face Xavier. I don't know what to say to him. He is expecting me to be his mate and the luna for his pack. I can't be a leader of a pack. Alpha and Luna are like royalty. They protect and fight for the pack members. While locking my bike, I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn around to see Xavier.  I haven't prepared anything to say to him yet.

"Good morning Angel." He looks like he woke up and learned he just won the lottery. His bright smile is something you can't help but smile back at.

"Good morning."

"How's your brother and your father?" He asks while I am walking to my first class. I don't know where he is going, but I guess he is just following me to my class.

"Good! I let them sleep in this morning. Hopefully, they feel better with the soup I made for them this morning."

"You really take care of them don't you?”

"Of course. They are my family. Without my mom, I need to make sure they are always healthy and happy."

"I also want to say I am sorry for ruining your brother's ceremony." He stops walking and sounds very apologetic. I look up to him and notice our height difference.

I sigh and say, "It wasn't the ideal way to end the night, but I want to thank you." He looks confused. "I had a fun night. I was able to talk to someone who isn't my brother or my father. It felt like I had a good friend." I kinda friendzone him, but what I am saying is true. We make it to my class.

"Well I am still sorry, but now I am happy. I was able to make you smile. I'll do anything to see you smile like that again." His comment makes me shy again. I try to hide my smile by looking down. I am starting to feel comfortable around him but comments like that make me all... I am pulled back into reality when I hear "BABY!" I look to see it is Rebecca.

"Hey, baby are you here to see me?" I step away from her, considering she jumped in the middle of us. " What are you doing here? Can't you see we are having a personal conversation." She says toward me with her arms hugging him.

"I am sorry. I'll just get to class." I walk away and sit down. I am still able to see them with the open door. I guess with all the sweet talks and gestures, I forgot he has a girlfriend. I look back at them.  They seem to be having a heated conversation, with him pushing her back. I kinda like how he was walking away, but I also feel bad. She seemed really upset and walked into class with a fake smile. A fake smile to greet her popular friends in front of me. She sits in front of me and before she can say anything to me the bell rings and class starts. All through class, she looks angry and her back looks tense. I just try to focus on English, but between Rebecca and the unsatisfying lecture, I decide to just draw on the corner of my notebook. The moment the bell releases us, I speed walk to my next class. I do not want to get caught in boy drama with Rebecca Cruz. I cannot think about Xavier. He is better off with her and plus they look good together.

I finally make it to my tutoring class and I am finally able to stop thinking about him. Now I can just think about "my kids." Even though they are freshmen, I always enjoy helping them and teaching them. They are working on their final paper. So that means a lot of editing. I can only take a couple at a time to review and edit.

"Hey, guys I have Jaymie, Eddie, Joe, and Shannon's papers done." They all walk up to collect their papers. "I want the next 5 papers." Each person lays their paper on my personal desk. The teacher keeps her lesson going while I grade and edit. Soon the bell rings. "I'll just finish the paper's at home and bring them back to you guys." They all nod.

While I am walking to my next class, I struggle to hold my backpack, my water, and my binder full of the student papers. Then he shows up.

"Hey, let me." Xavier grabs my binder without my consent. I am finally able to adjust myself and hold my hands out to take the binder back. "No, it's ok I'll just hold it for you."

"Okay." We walk side-to-side due to the crowded hallways.

"What are all these papers?" I explain to him what I spend my free hour doing. He gets really excited and says, "Can you tutor me in English ?"

"I only tutor Freshmen English. You should get someone who is an expert in Senior English"

"Nah. That's no fun. If you help me, then I can't spend more time with you and also get a better grade."

I roll my eyes."Why don't you ask your girlfriend? She is in my class and she also gets good grades." 

He laughs at my comment. "She's not my girlfriend, but I guess she still doesn't understand that. Please tutor me. I am barely surviving in that class and with the final paper coming up, I can't afford to fail.  I need to graduate this year and not be a senior twice."  He sounds desperate. Also, I know that being part of an Alpha's family member means we must keep up with our grades.

"Xavier, can I please have my binder? I need to go to class." I can see my teacher is about to close the door. "We are going to be late for class."

"Not until you agree to be my tutor.” He is holding my binder hostage. Why is he being so difficult?

"Fine," I give up. He finally gives me my binder. I turn around and am about to walk away, but before I could Xavier pulled me back by my wrist.

"When do you want to meet up?"

"I don't know. Will the weekend work for you?" With his agreement, I write my number on a piece of paper and he gives me his.

"Wow, you really move fast."

I ignore his comment. "Xavier I need to go, but I'll text you when it is a good time. Okay?" He lets go of my wrist.

During art class, I ask to use the bathroom and my instructor allows me to go. I walk down the hallway with the hall pass dangling from my wrist like a bracelet. When I enter the bathroom, I can see a group of girls messing around. I try to go around them to get into the stalls but then I realize they are the same girls from my English class. It is Xavier's girlfriend, Rebecca, and her friends.

"Well, well, well look who we have here?" One of the girls snickers. Everybody looks at me. They start to gather around and block me from moving away.

"Hello. Can I help you?" Now I'm starting to get a little scared. They are all looking at me like they are ready to kill.

"Ya, you can stay away from Xavier. Right now, we are having a difficult time and we don't need anyone making it worse. Why is he so interested in you?"

"Our parents know each other. We were just talking about our families."

"Well, I don't care if you guys are best friends." She keeps on stepping closer and closer towards me. "He doesn't need you! He needs ME! Not YOU!” 

With her final yell, she angrily pushes me into a billboard behind me. The same billboard that has club flyers, announcements, and anti-bullying cards posted all over. I can hear a gasp from her friends, but when they leave, Rebecca is patted on the back with an echo of laughter in the hallway. I slide down and close my eyes. I try to keep an even breathing pattern. I cannot let go. If I let go, people can be in danger. If I let go, I will destroy things and create natural disasters. If I get too depressed or angry, I can create unwelcoming rain or storms from my water element. Or earthquakes, tornadoes, even catch a car on fire. I have done it and I didn't mean to.  I was blessed with amazing healing powers but with it, I also have control over the four elements: water, earth, air, fire. They can work with me or against me. Right now I am fighting not to let go. Not to show the strength of my power.

I stand up and take one last breath. The bell has already rung. I walk back into class to see everybody has left and my stuff is still lying around.

"Monroe, where were you?" My teacher asks. I walk over to pick up and clean my station.

"The bathroom in the building was broken and I had to use another bathroom from a different building. I didn't mean to take so long. I'm sorry."

"Alright, but please tell me if you are leaving to a different building." I nod and before I leave her class, I return the hall pass to her.

I walk outside to collect my bike. I am about to ride when I see the one and only Xavier and his friends entering his car.

He rolls down his window. "Do you want  a ride?" 

"No, it's ok. Thanks though. I'll just ride my bike. But I'll text you to schedule for your tutoring session." I ride off before he can say anything. Plus, I want to go home. My back is a little sore from Rebecca's push.

When I get home, I can see all the minor changes in the house. The security guards stop me. "Miss Monroe, Alpha Erica Monroe would like to speak to you as soon as possible." 

I smile and nod. They let me in. Once I arrive at his office, I notice the label on the door was changed to my brother's name instead of my father's name. I knock and don’t hear anything. I walk in and see my brother's beta right inside.

"He will be here soon. Sit down. He also called me here. I guess we are in trouble?" Beta Cameron says. I laugh and hug him hello. Cameron spoils me so much. He always wanted a little sister and I always wanted a sister to play with, so he plays along and suffers my dress up games and painted makeup. When Eric was too busy with his Alpha's duties, Cameron would be at my side. Eric and Cam have been friends since the beginning of college. 

"I just got here, so what did you do?" I play along.

"I swear, I didn't do anything this time." My brother enters and sits at the desk with Cam and I sat on the other side, like a principal punishing their students.

"Good evening. Angel, how was your day? Did anything happen today?"

"So we are here because you did something? What did you do?" Cam loves to make fun of me.

I just roll my eyes and look back at my brother. "It was fine. Why?"

"Because lighting struck a tree and caught it on fire. And last time that happened was when you fell off your bike and cried. So I’ll ask again. What happened?"

"I’ve... been upset. These couple days have been stressful with finals, family, and now Xavier."

"Has he been bothering you?" Cam asks. He is immediately on the defensive.

"No, he is fine. It is just all new. Plus that other incident happened when I was 8. I didn't have control over my power back then. I do now. I have full control now. I've just been under some stress. Okay." I look back and forth between Cam and Eric. 

"Angel, you know you can come to us. Even if it’s just to take a load off. Just because we have new responsibilities, doesn't mean we aren't here for you."

"I understand. And I am sorry. Can I go now? I have a lot of homework to do." They believe me and let me go. Who am I? When did I start lying to my family? This isn't me. I still can't believe I caused another fire. I just want to be normal. But what they said was true. I never want to be a burden to them. The elders, the past Alphas and Betas like my father. The present Alpha and Beta are the only ones who truly know about me. They are the only ones I can talk to. But they don't want to listen to my teen problems. They have their hands full. I just need to practice and work harder than before. I head to my cottage and start on my homework. Before I do though, I need to text him.

[pianoperson]

Get to know me (if you want)

No one asked for this. Questions are from @chvmpagne-and-gasoline so if you wanna answer them, feel free to.

1. 6 of the songs you listen to the most?

La Campanella by Liszt, Humoresque by Dvorak, Rolling Girl by wowaka, Servant of Evil by mothy (?), Circles by Kira (?), Comptine D’un Autre Été (yes I don’t give a damn about pop culture)

2. If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

Brett and Eddy from TwoSet

3. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“1997—X-Wing vs. TIE Fighter” from Armada by Ernest Cline

4. Who do you think about most?

My real life friends because they’re great, and IkeRev guys (especially Jonah)

5. What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Asking them where they are

6. Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

With. How do people sleep without clothes?

7. What’s your strangest talent?

Having random thoughts enter my mind that actually predict the future (but I never really tell anyone so)

8: Girls are cool; Boys are cool. (everyone is cool period)

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

Nope, well at least I don’t think so. But I did write a poem about someone (it was never meant to be a roast poem, just a poem that was meant to be an outlet for my sadness, but it was accidentally written in such a way that it can be interpreted as one)

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

Bold of you to assume I ever played guitar. The closest was ukelele but that was for school.

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

No

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

No, unless your finger counts (hey, it gets bothersome sometimes to feel something within your nostril)

13: What’s your religion?

Roman Catholic

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Either I’m going out to eat or exercising

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind, but I always end up in front of it

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

I don’t have a favorite band.

17: What was the last lie you told?

It was probs a yes to a question I no longer remember.

18: Do you believe in karma?

I joke about it, but honestly, no.

19: What does your URL mean?

I’m a person who likes piano. That’s it.

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

My greatest weakness is being too cautious to the point I get tense due to fear of failure. My greatest strength is probably scrape by school with grades 90 and above without putting in my best.

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

Bold of you to assume I even have one.

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Nope, never

23: How do you vent your anger?

If I want to rant, I either rant alone or with people who think alike. But that’s with  really shallow stuff. If it’s really bad anger, I tend to keep it to myself because I feel like I’m gonna waste people’s time and my own energy.

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

None

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Depends. But I’ll go with talking on the phone.

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Nope. Not yet.

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

I hate Edgar Bright’s voice the sound of a spoon or fork accidentally scraping against the plate. I love the sound of pianos and flutes.

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if I screw up so badly that I’ll end up a failure, a loser, and a loner for the rest of my life and end up dying in pain alone?

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Ghosts, no. Aliens, a bit.

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

With my right, I touch air. With my left, I touch the TV screen,

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

Nothing

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

If it smells like garbage, then automatically, it’s the worst place for me. And I’ve been to a number of places like that so I can’t specify.

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

West Coast just because I’ve been there

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

Does Jonah Clemence count? He sings lol But in all seriousness, none.

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

Life is like a Pokemon game. You’re not going to win all those battles, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t give up. But if your life is Pokemon X and Y, you’re lucky.

36: Define Art.

Art is something universal yet personal.

37: Do you believe in luck?

Yes. Of course, you need to work hard, but you still have to hope that things go your way.

38: What’s the weather like right now?

Pretty cool since it’s nighttime. Clear skies too.

39: What time is it?

10:07pm

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

Nope. 

41: What was the last book you read?

Armada by Ernest Cline. It’s a great read, especially if you read Ready Player One by the same author.

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Yes. Everyone around me finds it weird.

43: Do you have any nicknames?

Yeah 

44: What was the last film you saw?

Infinity War

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

When I was grade one, I fell and hit my head. 

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

Never had, never tried.

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

IkeRev I guess

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

Bi

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

Yep. Quite a bit.

50: Do you believe in magic?

Nope. But I wish I have.

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Nope, because that’s a waste of time and energy. Also, I tend to forget they even did anything to me lol

52: What is your astrological sign?

Sagittarius

53: Do you save money or spend it?

For school and food, spend. Otherwise, save.

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

Takeout from a restaurant because there was no food at home.

55: Love or lust?

Love

56: In a relationship?

Nope

57: How many relationships have you had?

Was single, has been single, always will be single

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

I think I used to, but no.

59: Where were you yesterday?

At home

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

Nope

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Nope

62: What’s your favourite animal?

Idk. My dog I guess.

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

I don’t even try.

64: Where is your best friend?

At home

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

@just-shower-thoughts​ @extramadness​ @laineclemence​ @theundyingskeleton​ @valkryie-nyte​

66: What is your heritage?

Filipino with a bit of Chinese and Spanish

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Answering some questions on Tumblr

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

He doesn’t have one.

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

Sorry, what does that even mean?

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

Considering I talk to myself a lot, yes.

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Go to work. I don’t think I can save that dog.

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

Yes I will tell my family and friends that I will die. Yes I will be very afraid. I will go to confession as soon as possible and perhaps try to do some stuff before I die.

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Trust

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

The One That Got Away by Katy Perry just because nostalgia

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

My lips are sealed about that.

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Being great friends grants a great relationship.

77: How can I win your heart?

You can’t.

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

No, but it can make you do the things you want to do by removing all insecurities and inhibitions preventing you from doing those things.

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Staying alive

80: What size shoes do you wear?

If we’re talking about closed shoes, size 5

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

Never thought about it

82: What is your favourite word?

Right now, it’s Queen.

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Jonah Clemence (ok how many times have I said his name in this post)

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

“Lol”, “nice”, “I wanna die.”, or “Patayin mo na ako.”

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Melt’s cover of Rolling Girl

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Blue and black

87: What is your current desktop picture?

A galaxy

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

I don’t want to have that on my conscience and my record so nope.

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Do I have a kink?

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

Clutch my blanket and stay still, trying to think of a way to get them out without inadvertently causing my death.

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Psychic powers

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

That one time I touched a thermometer that wasn’t supposed to be touched in grade two. Everyone got mad at me for it. It took me three or four years to get over the shame from that incident.

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

2016. What a time waster.

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

That’s uncomfortable...

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

Iceland just because it sounds great

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Nope

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

Never, which is great

98: Ever been on a plane?

Yep

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

Jesus is the answer.

[beinglibertarian]

No, Paul Krugman, This Shutdown is Not a ‘Big Libertarian Experiment’ – The Lowdown on Liberty

With the government shutdown now entering its fourth week, it seems that it’s left many political pundits clamoring for an excuse to wash their party’s blame from the situation. Perhaps the most glaring example came from Paul Krugman’s recent New York Times column, “Trump’s Big Libertarian Experiment.” The Nobel-prize winning economist has never been shy about his contempt towards libertarianism, and this column only demonstrates he’s come closer to full-blown lunacy. Because, as I’ll explain, no, this shutdown is not a libertarian experiment.

I know many who may be unfamiliar with libertarian philosophy like to think our only concern is hatred for the state, and that anything not inherently pro-government must be essentially libertarian-esque, but that’s not quite the case. Libertarianism, at its core, is a much deeper philosophy, one that centers around the recognition of private property rights and a strict adherence to consent and the non-aggression principle (NAP). And already in Krugman’s first paragraph we begin to see his claim of tying this to libertarians unravel, as he admits that while conservatives often echo libertarian rhetoric, they’ve never actually followed through on any of their policy.

Nonetheless, now that it’s Trump who’s allowed a government shutdown (something every president has endured going back to Gerald Ford, but never mind that inconvenient fact), this somehow makes it a libertarian experiment. In other words, what we’re expected to believe is that although these politicians have ignored the advice of libertarians for decades, in most cases doing the exact opposite of what we espouse, now that people are seeing the negative side of their policies as government checks dry up, it is suddenly a libertarian’s wet dream. The obvious contradiction in that claim should be glaring.

It’s not unlike when we complain about silly, little things like endless wars and deficit spending; issues Democrats and Republicans can’t be bothered with, and we’re inevitably told to move to our utopia – Somalia. What Krugman is implying here is that a nation operating in complete contradiction to libertarian thought (poor regard for the protection of property rights and an inclination towards aggression against others as a political solution) can likewise come crashing down and somehow, this demonstrates it’s exactly what we’ve always wanted – or at least the negative consequences are our fault.

Not so fast though, Krugman.

Because as history shows, it wasn’t libertarians who advocated for any of this. We never lobbied for the government to expand to the point of hiring 800,000 workers that even they deem to be “non-essential.” Neither did we advocate for a massive, $4 trillion annual budget, requiring an ever-expansive debt ceiling just to keep it open, the very reason this experiment of a shutdown began in the first place.

You know who did though? Paul Krugman. With his commitment to Keynesian economics, he has rarely seen an instance of deficit spending he hasn’t liked. Unless of course Trump is in office with a Republican congress; then he’s almost downright libertarian on the deficit.

Ironically, one of the few policy agreements he actually does have with libertarians – a disdain for farm subsidies – is somehow pointed to as a strike against libertarians. Never mind that our use of the term “crony capitalism” here is the exact same as Krugman’s description in his own writing; I wouldn’t hold your breath for Krugman to share any fault now that the checks are no longer being mailed out to the farmers though. I suppose we can overlook the fact that it wasn’t even libertarians who initially enacted those subsidies back during the New Deal; a policy Krugman argues, if anything, didn’t go far enough in its spending, calling it only “modestly expansionary.” And I also suppose we ought to ignore the countless politicians who’ve fought to keep these crony policies in place, including the progressive darling, Bill Clinton, who saw to it that farm subsidies ballooned to $30 billion in 1998 by classifying it as “emergency aid.” Never mind that there weren’t any libertarian representatives behind it; now that people have been made dependent on them and are suffering in their absence, it’s a downright libertarian utopia!

And God forbid we use these libertarian critics’ own argument against them. Who was it that derided Sears’ CEO, Eddie Lampert, for running the company into the ground while still receiving a bonus check? Calling him an “Ayn Rand devotee.” Oh, that was Paul Krugman. While laying off 30,000 people and keeping your bonus is quite immoral, should we expect the same outrage from Krugman in the face of twenty-five times as many federal employees losing their checks as his friends in the Washington elite keep the money flowing in? Of course not. “Blame the libertarians!” goes the broken record.

It’s at this point, however, that Krugman spills the beans about his true agenda all along. As it turns out, he admits that libertarian ideas aren’t a “real” force within the GOP. (who knew?!) Rather, he surmises it’s only a cover story for Republicans’ true plan to distribute wealth to their rich friends – arguably the truest statement made in the entire column.

Now, what libertarian critique would be complete without a fallacious argument about food being poisoned?

Krugman decides to end his column with the oldest of libertarian strawmen: the insinuation that without the Food and Drug Administration working tirelessly to inspect our food, we’d succumb to the whims of greedy capitalist producers who only wish to poison us. Oddly, you’d think a Nobel economist would grasp the concept of how unlikely and unprofitable it is to intentionally kill off your customers – seeing as how we’re told relentlessly capitalism only cares about profits. What’s more likely is that in the absence of any real arguments comes an appeal to what political hacks do best: fearmongering.

So, does the prospect of contaminated food smell like freedom to us? No, not any more than your attempts to pass blame make this shutdown any sort of “big libertarian” experiment.

The post No, Paul Krugman, This Shutdown is Not a ‘Big Libertarian Experiment’ – The Lowdown on Liberty appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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[swanky-batman]

Unspoken

Sherlock x Reader

Warnings: violence, crimes, flashbacks, swearing, drinking- adult situations mentioned.

Requested by anon, something like this- If you still up for taking the request, I liked the fashion of Meetings, with Sherlock upsetting the reader and her being the one breaking up. Sorry again for the confusion and thank you!!😘

So, this got a bit out of hand and long. I’ll post it in two parts, hope that’s okay! :D Part 2 will come out tomorrow.

Masterlist  || Ko-Fi

Part 2

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

“You’re late again, my sweet.” He sighed without turning, facing the window of the restaurant he picked.

You frowned slightly, unsure why you ever bothered to look nice for him anymore. After all, him asking you out was probably an excuse to look over some aspect of a case. You sat down, not responding.

At that, he turned, “No snarky remark?” He gave you a small smile.

“Aren’t you tired of starting the evening on the same note every time?” You shot back a glance before turning towards the incoming waiter for a drink.

“I’m never left wanting at the end of the night.” His eyes danced over you after the waiter was out of earshot.

“Maybe it would do you some good.” You broke into a grin at the sight of his brows furrowing slightly. “So what are we doing at this place?”

“I heard the environment was pleasant and I wished to see you.” He leaned back in his chair, matter-of-factly.

You paused, glancing over his features, unsure of what exactly attracted you to him so much. “Who are we watching?”

He laughed, heartily, before subtly shooting his eyes in one direction. After a minute or so you looked around, pretending to look for your waiter and catching a small glimpse of the group Sherlock was speaking of.

“Eddie ‘the Bazooka’ McKurney hardly seems like a target for your tastes.” You bit your lip, a little worried that he was getting into something that would get him injured.

“He’s suspected in the case I’m working on.” He pretended to browse the menu as the waiter came over with the drinks and to take your orders.

Your phone buzzed at your side and you looked down, sighing.

“Your office?” He asked, nodding towards you, “Take it.”

You stood and walked out towards the front of the place. “I do get a night off once and a while, don’t I?”

“Feisty as ever, Y/L/N. We have a lead on the… case you’ve been working.” The pause made your heartbeat quicken.

“I’ll be there after I finish dinner,” You checked your watch, “Will you still be around in a few hours?”

“Meet at my home, we’ll discuss the details from there.”

You sighed, knowing you weren’t getting away that easy, “Red or white?”

“Oh, don’t I love a prankster.” He chuckled ever so slightly into the phone.

“Scotch it is.” You hung up without waiting for a response and walked inside immediately. Sherlock, obviously, noticed you were slightly flustered from your conversation and broke into a grin.

“Mycroft has always had a way with people.”

“I do really need to speak with your parents and figure out what went so askew with you two.” You mocked, your eyes flashing on your food.

You finished it without much more talk from Sherlock, who seemed to busy with lip reading to notice anything else.

You checked your watch again, “I need to get going.”

“A case?” He nodded, “Shall I take a cab with you back to the office?”

“No need.” You gave him a small smile, “I’m going to the source.”

He frowned, standing up with you to leave. “How you can step inside his place and come out functioning is something I’m still trying to figure out.”

“Funny,” You slipped your coat on, “He says something very similar about your place.”

Once outside, Sherlock grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.

“Sherlock, really-” You gasped as he pushed you against a wall.

“Give me just a few moments-” He stated, not asking as he kissed you hungrily. His hands ran over your figure and traced lines over your wrists.

You finally pushed back, “That was more than a few moments.” You grinned, his dark manner looking hungry. “I’ll come find you afterwards, since I know you won’t be sleeping.” You turned, holding out a hand for a taxi and catching one rather quickly. You hadn’t even shot a look back to him, knowing that he would make you pay a bit later for the interruption.

--

“Finally- I was starting to think that brother mine wasn’t going to share. He never was good at that.” Mycroft stated, without turning from the fireplace.

“Really, with the looks you both give to your guests I might as well be wearing sweatpants and have an open wound festering somewhere.” This made him smile, you were sure, although he still hadn’t turned. Taking off your coat you grinned, finding another way to mess with him, “Or I could just be naked,” A slight gulp made him clear his throat, his face unamused as he turned to you.

“Would you care to listen to the information or would you rather continue to bore me with facts about my brother-”

“Stop whining, I’ll read up on it.” You walked over to him, handing him the bottle of scotch you brought with you and plopped down with the case file.

“Do make yourself comfortable.” He rolled his eyes, sitting down opposite you.

Your eyes raised and met his not long after, “This can’t be true.”

“Everything has been verified, as per usual.” His face hardened a little.

You stopped yourself from a gasp by giggling, “Don’t you dare tell me I told you so.” Taking the newly poured drink from his hand, you downed it before throwing the glass across the room. Not bothering to pick up your coat, you strode towards the door.

“I expect a meeting tomorrow with you.” He called over his shoulder, sighing as he stood to presumably pour another drink, “And for heaven’s sakes, I hope he survives you.” He whispered after you were gone.

--

Pushing open the door, you met his figure with your eyes.

“Ready for your punishment?” He asked, his gaze slowly turning from his book.

You walked up to him and in the moment blindfolded him with a nearby scarf, “I think tonight I’ll be in control.” You whispered, a sneer on your face as you pulled him towards his bed, locking him in restraints.

“Something happened.” He stated clearly, sitting still.

“Did it? Or did you set this up to happen too?” You asked, your voice was supposed to sound mean but it came out strained.

“What nonsense are you spouting?” His eyebrows furrowed momentarily. He kept in a slight groan as you tightened one wrist.

You came up and sat on his lip, holding his face in your hands roughly, “All of it was a lie, wasn’t it?” You laughed, “My god, how idiotic people can be when it comes to you.” Pausing, taking this appearance in, you added, “You set this up- meeting me, seeing me as a different person, finding me attractive…” You let a single tear fall without wiping it away, sure the motion would alert Sherlock to its existence. “You always play hard ball, don’t you? I was on the verge of madness with this case- I would have let you in without the lies.”

He remained still and silent, listening with his brows no longer furrowed.

“After all I had been through-” You looked away, “I thought I had made it through the worst.” Thinking back, the scars all seemed to tingle slightly.

“You did.”

“Did I?!” You questioned, hatred pouring through your veins, “At least the serial killer who abducted me made his intentions clear instead of playing games with his prey.” You pushed yourself off him, “I don’t want to see you again. Forget my number and if you need to contact me for any reason you’ll have to do something you don’t want to- contact Mycroft.”

With this, you walked out of the apartment, passing John in the hall and walking down the street with no destination in mind.

--

“I’m surprised you haven’t frozen to death.” A sarcastic voice entered your trance as a warmth came over your shoulders.

Snapping your attention away, you noticed he dropped your coat around you.

“It seems as though one of you boys can do something decent enough- or will the government blame you for my downfall if you let me die this night?” Most raw emotion had finished hours ago and you were exhausted of reliving the experiences from tonight and before.

“I’m not one to take chances.” He responded a little teasingly. He sat down next to you, silent. As if he had known, that’s all you needed at the moment. Someone present to keep the old memories at bay, no talking or feeling sharing.

What had to be another hour later, he finally spoke, “Come- I can give you a place Sherlock won’t find you for tonight.” He nodded towards the car he had waiting.

--

Three weeks had gone by and to your shock, Mycroft seemed content with you in his space. The only places you both met up and spoke were in the kitchen and in passing for the bathroom. Otherwise, you kept confined in your room. The last thing you wanted to do was piss off the one thing keeping Sherlock at bay.

You woke up one morning to the smell of burnt toast, so strong it stung your nose. The feeling that came over you made you rush towards the bathroom, heaving what little you had in your stomach out.

That evening, you walked out to look for something to eat and you paused- seeing the outline of Mycroft.

“I won’t bite, you know.”

“That’s debatable.” You spoke softly, easing your way into the kitchen and grabbing a protein bar and a bottle of water. You cautiously made your way over to the seat opposite him and remained quiet, looking towards the fire place.

He put down the current portion of his paper and eyed you, “Something seems off about you.”

You hadn’t felt well for the majority of the day, that was true. After the morning incident, parts of your body seemed sore, achy.

“Your figure has changed.”

“Excuse me?” You scoffed, pulling your legs up onto the couch in front of you.

His face was red, obviously he hadn’t meant to offend you. He lifted the paper back up but it didn’t cover his eyes still searching over you.

You stood, frowning and went back into your room.

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

Permanent Tags:

@i-regret-this-already, @breezy1415, @seninjakitey, @imboredsueme, @courtneychicken, @marriedtopeterparker, @imeannooffensebabybut, @marie-lestowell, @cassiopeia-barrow, @daphne-fandom-writing, @notmyfault404, @i-larb-spooderman, @aussiearies, @marvelismylifffe

Requests are open! :)

[high-functioning-fangirl473]

Codot!Verse Fanfic Ch. 2

Hey everyone! I know this took a long time and I apologize for that but I’m so excited to present chapter 2 of my @waiting4codot based fanfic! Yes, the very same one where @adriallejordynn and @bugboy54 are my companions in our crazy adventures living out the Rogues adventures. So, on with the chapter! 

You may want to read the first chapter to understand how we found ourselves in the fictional Gotham of Codot and Dee’s brilliant minds. Here’s the link to Ch. 1: http://high-functioning-fangirl473.tumblr.com/post/171387383695/codotverse-fanfic 

It was silent for a moment as we waited for a reply. It was on the same channel as the voice we heard before. I looked at my friends who looked about as unsure as I was. I was just about to put it down when we heard that same voice as before, Oswald Cobblepot’s, “Who is this? How did you get one of these devices?”

“I uh, found it in an office. Do you know of a way out? Please, we need help,” I didn’t mean to sound as desperate as I was but my anxiety was slowly taking over. If I didn’t get it under control soon, I would just go quiet and speak only when I needed to. Cobblepot replied, “The Asylum is on lockdown. As of now, there is no way out. But you still haven’t answered my question. Who. Are. You?”

I knew better than to keep that from Cobblepot any longer knowing what he could do, “My name is Kara, and I’m stuck here with my friends Adrienne and Braden. We aren’t even supposed to be here. Please, we need help.”

“We are trying to get that, you need to stay calm, Miss Kara. How did you get here?”

“I don’t know. One minute we were in one of our colleges’ buildings, then the next thing I know, my friends and I are stuck here with some maniac saying that we are going to have a night we’ll never forget,” I explained choosing not to tell the whole we-are-from-another-dimension thing to them. They probably wouldn’t help us if we told them what we knew. We heard a gasp that wasn’t his in the next moment. It was none other than my fictional crush and resident riddle-maker, Edward Nygma himself, “Wait, college-how old are you and your friends?”

“Braden is 19, Adrienne is 20, and I’m 18. Who are you guys exactly? Look, I told you everything I know, please help us get out. If Bolton finds us, we are done for,” I almost screamed. Panic was slowly setting in as the entire situation hit me. A moment of silence, then a voice was heard, Harley’s, “We’ll get you kids out of here. You don’t belong in this stinkin’ place.”

“What do we do? How do we get out,” I asked in a hopefully calmer voice. I looked at my friends who still had unsure looks on their faces. I heard Edward again, “Short answer, you don’t. You can’t get out until they shut down the lockdown system.”

“Well then, what should we do? Just wait it out?”

“No, you and your friends stay where you are. Edward, see to it that these children are safe. Find them,” Cobblepot replied and went off the transmission. Edward spoke up again, “Is there anything that you can see that can help us find you?”

“Hang on,” I peered outside the window of the office to see if there were any nameplates or signs. I could just barely make out a name on a door that was across and to the right of the hallway. I brought the walkie-talkie up to my mouth, “There’s an office across from the one we are in. I think it says Doctor Keller-something.”

“Doctor Kellerman? Is that the name,” he asked and I told him yes. I backed into the room hearing footsteps coming down the hall. I looked back at Braden and Adrienne and they nodded silently telling me to tell the Rogues our location, “Yeah, it says Doctor Kellerman, but there’s footsteps coming.”

“Get as far away from the door as possible! We’re close to where you are. Just hold on,” I heard him get off the line and the three of us get to the opposite side of the door’s wall. The footsteps were getting louder and we were holding our breath waiting for whoever it was to pass. The footsteps eventually went away and we could hear voices on the opposite sides of the hallway, “We should keep going up and try to find those kids, then Bolton. They may not trust him, but he at least seems to be in possession of his faculties – more or less.”

We heard Ivy for the first time, “We’re close to the office they spoke about. I see it!”

Their footsteps were faster and I heard Edward’s walkie-talkie, “Oswald, come in!”

“Oswald here. Edward, what’s going on,” we heard the new mayor of Gotham ask. I looked at my friends hoping with everything that they would find us and get us out of here. Edward replied, “I think we found those kids. They told us where they are and we’ve gotten their location.”

“Good work. See to it that they get somewhere safe.”

“Will do,” we heard him say as the door opened. I looked up and made eye contact with none other than Poison Ivy herself. My breath hitched in my throat as I looked at her. She turned her head away from us and waved her arm gesturing the others that we were here. We heard footsteps and they entered the room before Ivy closed the door. I looked down and I could feel eyes on me. The eyes of the villain I have been obsessed with since I was a child, “Which one of you is Kara?”

I hesitantly raised my purple gloved hand and looked up at my favorite character for the first time. I could tell that he was analyzing us, more me than anyone for obvious reasons. But before he could say anything else, Harley jumped in front of us, “Are you kiddies okay?! He didn’t hurt you did he?”

She went to Adrienne and started looking over her arms and legs to make sure there weren’t any cuts or bruises, “I gotta say, you got good taste in colors!”

“Uh, thanks,” Adrienne nervously said as the clown girl moved onto checking over Braden. I looked back over at Edward and his eyes were still on me. Ivy was watching the door and glanced at us. Finally, Harley came over to me and turned my head making sure there were no bruises on my neck and none on what you could see of my arms, as the sleeves on my suit were rolled up to my elbows, “They’re clear, Eddie. Nobody’s been hurt, thankfully.”

“As much as that is a relief, shall we address the elephant in the room,” he gestured to my outfit before continuing, “Why are you dressed as well, us, and Crane?”

I started to laugh nervously, “Uhm, we’re fans?”

He raised an eyebrow at that and I could tell he didn’t believe me, “Alright, we don’t know why we’re dressed like this. We literally woke up in these when we woke up here.”

I could tell that he and Ivy were scanning my body language to indicate that I was lying and they slowly backed off. I broke eye contact with them and peered outside the window of the office, “Is it safe for us to leave?”

“There should be another office close by. You can hide in there until this whole mess is fixed,” Edward explained and I nodded. I just wanted us to get out of there and hopefully find a way out of this place. We slowly opened the door and started to lead us out, supposedly to the office that would be our safe haven. I heard him whisper to Ivy and Harley, “We’re putting them in Jon’s office. Scarecrow won’t look there.”

“Then what,” Ivy asked as we started walking into the hallway. Little did I know, that the next words would be some of the last ones before pure chaos ensued. Edward replied, “Damned if I know; I’m just improvising here.”

It was then that we noticed two things happening at the same time. The Rogues heard low singing in the distance, while Adrienne and I noticed Braden immediately straighten up and look in the direction of the singing, getting a rather strange look on his face. Edward put his arm out in front of us telling us to be quiet. It was then that we noticed the trail of bodies lining the walls. Harley shakily whispered, “There’s a lot of blood up here.”

The Riddler still told us to be quiet as the singing started to grow quieter. I kept looking at Braden, who started to walk towards the singing. He looked to be in a trance; he didn’t look like himself. I whispered to him, “Braden, Braden! Get back here!”

He wouldn’t listen, which I didn’t understand. I reached out to grab his arm and pull him back to the group, “Braden, what are you doing?!”

I couldn’t reach him and tried to grab his arm again, but Adrienne pulled me back before I could expose myself to the Master of Fear. Edward looked over at us, “What is he doing?!”

“I don’t know,” I replied frantically. What was happening to my friend?! He slowly started to reach into his suit and pulled out...a small scythe?! Where in the world did he get that?! It was then that we noticed that the singing was gone. The room was silent for a moment, then Harley spoke, “Is he gone?”

“I think so,” Edward replied and I breathed out a slight sigh of relief while still trying to figure out what was happening to Braden. What was going on with him? I looked over at Adrienne and she seemed to have the same thing going through her mind. I was about to walk over to him and find out what was going on when I heard metal hit the wall. I jumped at the sound causing me to slip and fall onto the floor and looked into the eyes of none other Scarecrow himself. He grinned down at me and I couldn’t move under his gaze. It felt like he was staring into my very soul, “You scared, little girl?”

I didn’t answer, which seemed to suffice as he suddenly looked over at Braden. My friend looked so different now, so unlike the bass singing nerd I knew. Now he looked to be in a trance; he was completely under someone else’s control now. Scarecrow saw my worried glance and looked back over at Braden, “You’re not like the others, are you?”

“No, I’m not, sir,” my friend replied cocking his head in curiosity walking towards the Master of Fear. They soon were mere feet from each other and I was left sitting on the floor completely still worrying for my friend’s safety. Who knows what this maniac will do to him, especially in this state! I frantically got up and cautiously looked at my friend, “Braden, what’s going on?”

“Your friend isn’t here right now,” he replied flatly and my jaw dropped. What the hell?! What’s happening to him?! I looked over at Scarecrow in a rage, “What did you do to him?!”

“I haven’t done anything, little girl. It would seem that he is as crazy as the rest of us,” he grinned at me pointing his scythe at Braden. No, it couldn’t be true. Braden wasn’t crazy! He couldn’t be! No, it was this place. Maybe this was why he was dressed as Scarecrow; somehow us being here created a connection between us and the people we were dressed as. Was I going to become super smart now?! Was Adrienne going to be good at reading people?! This is all too much! Looking back at him, I became fearful of this new being that has taken over his body.

“It would seem that you are taking on the role of judge, jury and executioner,” this unknown being told the mad doctor. Crane raised an eyebrow at this, “What’s it to you?”

“You take care of the judge and jury part, and I become the executioner. You give the orders, and I carry them out. You have fun with your toxin, I get to watch these people burn.”

“What do you call yourself,” the terror of Gotham asked. He looked intrigued. My breathing was becoming more erratic but I still tried to keep quiet. Braden smirked, “If you’ll allow me, I’ll be your Reaper.”

[vxnevermorevx]

Welcome to my mind

For the last three years, my mind has been... Well, shit. Not that it hadn't been on a steady decline for years prior.

Recently, someone named her Denise. My other me. "Because that's what she is..when something is the opposite of something it's de-. She's not nice, she's De-Nice..."

Denise.

The name give to the me that's not me but spends more time pretending to be me than I do.

*Character Bio*

When I'm not Denise, I'm Ginny and she was the most wonderful person. I miss her dearly.

I had a great childhood. Very few psychological events, in my opinion. We never had much money, but my mom made sure I never knew it. My father worked hard at both his job and destroying his marriage; which is probably one of the marks on my childhood. More to come on that, I'm sure.

I didn't have trouble in school, per se. Bullied only a handful of times in all my school years. My mom is a designer, so I wore things you couldn't find on stores throughout my whole school life. I was *always* ahead of the trend and some kids couldn't handle it. We're talking 1991-2003. So, jumpers, corsets, mesh dusters, pants with fur on the bottom, dressing like anime characters... I was the first of everyone around me to be dressing that way. And I loved it!

But I had my revenge, as my hecklers could be seen wearing the same things they made fun of me for, after it became trendy. I guess you didn't have to be dead to be caught wearing that after all...

I struggled in math and excelled in art and writing. I had mostly good teachers, I think only one hated me.

I met all my best friends there. Can't say I've made all that many more in the years since. But, in my defense I'm surrounded by people who are nothing like me. You see, I grew up in Florida. All my vital youthful years were spent there. And now I live near Portland, Oregon. God, why? I even lost one of my dearest friends to the city. She completely changed from a fun, artistic girl who liked to draw, read, and cook...to...one of them. She's now a guilt vegan ( let's you know how disgusting you are for eating meat ) and is obsessed with shows that need to be cancelled. I had known this girl since first grade, she said she would follow the first friend who loved out of state. That was me, so she came out here too. Our friendship immediately began deteriorating as she would not allow me in my own room during the day, because she was talking to some loser friend of hers online. This person left her in a Walgreen's 20 miles from her home, on the wrong side of town, when we were all barely old enough to drive, because she was taking too long looking at eyeliner. But, she sounds like a solid individual to begin emulating. Are you serious? I watched my fully replacement take effect. 20 years of friendship completely gone in a matter of months. Have you ever watched someone stop carrying about you? Think about it. No, don't think about it. It's awful. She even physically ended our friendship. The first I had ever experienced. It was wrenching. But, I'm too far ahead now. I need to tell you how I got to Oregon.

Somewhere around me being 16, my dad stopped coming home. His mother had recently died and he knew some pretty shitty people willing to help him take the pain away. How does a poor, dyslexic, hoodlum, with a history of abuse cure the blues? Crack, of course. My mom did all she knew how to do, but she was pretty done with it all. They got divorced and some rich old lady "saved" him and whisked him off to Maryland where he would suffer many years of depression for what he had done to his family.

Now, it was just my mother and me. I immediately got a job and gave her my entire paycheck to help keep us in our lovely house. But as fate would have it, the city claimed eminent domain on our house with plans to build a water treatment facility. So, they lowballed us on what our house was worth and gave us 6 months to move. Now, here's some important side information: my mom is an army brat who grew up with mountains her whole life, until moving to Florida for my dad, which was apparently one of the last places she ever wanted to be. And my chummy from another tummy, was born in Oregon and had recently left me to go to OSU. This girl is my sister by all counts but blood. So, with a few other helping factors the logical answer was to start anew. How completely different my life would have been if I stayed. Can't say it would be better, just 100% different from what it is now.

But, in 2005 we moved to Oregon on the promise that we would do all the things we wanted to do and be living in Seattle in a few years.

None of that worked out. I can still remember the first night we spent in our apartment. I hated it. I let everyone know too. I think I cried for a week. I just wanted to go home. My Sisi was too far away to see her more often than the weekends and slowly her grades began to falter. This led to her dropping out and moving back to Florida just five months after I moved out here for her. I fell apart. I had only my mom and I love her, but sometimes you need your friends... You know? We did what we could and took jobs we hated and tried to get used to our new surroundings. I'm apparently a spoiled brat so I'm sure I made things painful for my mom who was finally back in her element and here I was stomping around telling everyone how much I hated it. Hate it. Present tense. I know the whole world is a cess pool of hipster, millennial idiots who all think that they know how to run the world, but the concentration of their free-for-all holier-than-thou ways is as dense here as the trees. It's exhausting listening to people who haven't showered in a week tell you how special they are because they have this heightened awareness that they learned from some Joe Blow and happens to not be fact at all. I have had a 24 year old Hispanic girl tell me that only white people can be racist, everyone else is prejudice. I told her that that in itself was a racist statement. And she said "no it's not. My teacher told me, and she has a PhD." I don't think I need to explain the definition of racism, but I do think Manson could have thrived in this town.

Fast forward quite a few years and we are both still in Oregon working jobs we hate not getting any of the things done we said we would. Are we lazy? Are we depressed? I'm sure it's both.

But, a small miracle comes my way, as I'm getting dressed to go down to the office to sign the next years lease I get a call from a woman who used to work with me. She asks if we are still looking for a new place to live and I tell her yes! We end up renting her townhouse from her because she's getting married. She proves to be a terrible landlord, probably because she's not all that good at being a person. She's really great at other things, but not that. Somme people are like that. But, I also haven't learned how to speak Oregonian in the 14 years I have been here.

A few more years and we end up buying the house and I have changed jobs for my health and things are looking up. I lose some of the weight I had acquired in my sorrows. I even find a guy that I can tolerate. Mostly bc he's 4000 miles away in another country. But, I struggle to find my way in our incredibly mismatched relationship. And he's so smart. So, successful... Here it comes... "what's he doing with a loser like me?"

My friends.... They all have something to show for their lives: degrees, children (Im not interested in these things,) husbands, jobs they don't hate....

I have a mortgage and a ridiculously high HOA, two payed off cars, 50 extra pounds on my ass, a job I'm not particularly built for, and a guy whom I love differently than he loves me.

I'm killing it.... Or myself. One way or the other. "I still haven't figured that shit out yet " -Eddie Murphy

I think this a pretty good place to stop for now. You should have a good amount of reference points for the following posts which will entirely be me, describing my chronic severe depression hoping that someone somewhere might read it and know they are not alone. I feel such a sense of validation when I read something from someone who feels the same as I do. This blog isn't for attention or critiquing, as most will likely be written when things like grammar and story structure aren't focused on. It's purely to get the chaos out so, I can organize it.

I don't know who you are but if you're reading this far, please stay tuned if you want to say "Wow, that's exactly how I feel."

Do good.