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artiststarme · 2 years

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Steve is Afraid of Hospitals

Years of dealing with the Upside Down had taken a psychological toll on the entire Party. From nightmares to newly-developed phobias, no one escaped their yearly festivities unscathed. Steve was not an exception. Since his and Robin’s capture and subsequent torture by the Russians underneath Starcourt, he’d been terrified of drugs, needles, doctors, and everything else relating to the medical field. Any time he thought of having to go to the doctor, he could feel the torturer ripping his nails off with the plier. Whenever he tried to enter the ER, he felt the painful sting of the needle in his neck enough to make him dizzy. And imagining getting a shot? Well, that was enough to keep Steve away from even driving past the hospital out of fear alone.

The closest he’d been to the white coats since the happenings underneath Starcourt was when he’d carried Eddie’s bleeding body into the ER for treatment. Even then, he hadn’t stuck around. He’d stayed just long enough to threaten the nursing staff to try their best and tell them that Eddie wasn’t a murderer. Steve waited until the doctors promised to do all that they could before he hurriedly made his way outside to escape the tightness in his chest. He waited briefly in the parking lot for Robin or Dustin or Nancy to follow him but he soon realized that they were much too busy dealing with Eddie and Max to worry about him.

And so, he started the long trek back to his house. He knew deep down that he should’ve gotten his sides looked at, maybe even the abrasions on his neck. Irrationally though, Steve couldn’t stomach the thought of any doctors poking and prodding at him. Even thinking about being in the same room as a doctor with access to drugs and syringes caused his heart to palpitate. His reaction to everything made it worse. Why couldn’t he just get over his aversion to hospitals? Robin wasn’t afraid of supporting their injured friends around doctors. She had been stabbed in the neck with the same type of needle as he had and she had no problem being around needles now. And she could still drink the occasional beer, feel the relief of alcohol, without delving into a panic attack over loss of control.

But Steve was weak. When he had a problem, instead of solving it, he avoided it. Even when his new friend and one of his kids was in the hospital fighting for their lives. And he hated himself for it.

It took him a little over an hour to walk back to his house. The whole way there, the sides of his torso throbbed and his head ached. He could feel blood soaking through the dirty bandages and he could feel Eddie’s blood sticking to his skin too. He just wanted to take a shower and forget what they had all been through over Spring Break.

He scrubbed his body clean in the warmest shower his wounds would tolerate. He was in there long after the water had run cold just trying to peel the stain of Eddie’s blood from his skin. When he was done, he tried to bandage his wounds and clean them with antiseptic but staring into the pulverized flesh reminded him too much of how his face looked after the Russian torture. So, he slapped on some gauze and fell into his bed to get some sleep plagued by nightmares.

~*~*~*~

He called Dustin at the hospital to check on Max and Eddie late the next morning. “Hey Henderson, how’re they?”

“Um, they gave Eddie a blood transfusion and a couple of skin grafts last night. They said that he would be fine but the police kicked us out of his room and have him cuffed to the bed. He almost died trying to save Hawkins and they’re still treating him like a criminal! Max is in a coma, the doctors don’t know if she’s going to wake up or if she’ll be the same when she does.” He paused for a moment. “You’d know if you were here. Where are you? You just disappeared last night. Where’d you go?”

“Dustin, I’m sorry. I just, I just really needed some time to myself last night. I’m happy to hear they’re doing well. I’ll talk to you later,” Steve went to hang up the phone when he heard him speak again.

“Hey, since you’re calling to annoy me, you might as well annoy me in person. Can you give me a ride home today?” Dustin asked in a desperate voice barely disguised with snark.

Steve sighed, he couldn’t let the kid down after everything he’d been through. “Sure, man. I’ll be there in 20 minutes, okay?”

“Yep, thanks Steve! I’ll see you then.” And then he hung up and left the Harrington house in silence once more.

Steve was a little nervous and his palms were already starting to sweat. He was just picking Dustin up from the parking lot, it was fine. He wasn’t going to get poked by needles or drugged with unknown hallucinogens. No, he probably wasn’t even going to see any doctors! All he had to do was get Dustin, drop him off at home, and go back to his own house to lick his wounds in peace. Easy peasy.

He continued his inner pep talk all the way to the hospital and only stopped once he saw Dustin waiting at the ER doors. His stomach dropped as soon as his car turned into the lot and his vision blurred for a moment. Oh shit, he didn’t know if he could do this.

“Henderson! Get in the car, I’m not going to wait all day!” Yeah, that’ll trick him. Steve couldn’t let anyone witness his weaknesses. It was his job to protect the group at all costs. If they knew he was afraid of such a trivial thing, they’d never trust him again.

Dustin just shook his head and huffed as he climbed into the now-parked car. “Jesus Christ Steve, have some patience. It wouldn’t kill you. Speaking of, how are your bites? I saw some of Eddie’s after they cleaned him up this morning and they looked brutal, man.”

He reached for Steve’s waist but he slapped his hand away. “Um, no. Take me to dinner first before trying to get me to strip. Jesus Christ, Henderson. Don’t be a perv.”

Dustin pulled his hand back, affronted. “What the hell, Steve. You look all sweaty and I can see blood soaking through your bandages. Did you get them looked at by a doctor before you left yesterday?”

He reached for the hem of Steve’s shirt again and Steve grabbed his wrist. “I’m serious, Henderson. It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

Henderson yanked his arm out of Steve’s grasp and went to grab the hem for a third time. Unfortunately for Steve, he miscalculated slightly and poked his pointy fingers directly into his wound. A white-hot flash of pain shot through Steve and he released a half gasp/half yelp of pain. He felt the sluggish bleeding of the bites start anew with the blunt intrusion through the bandages.

Steve screwed his eyes shut in pain and let his head drop against the steering wheel. His horn sounded but his eyes remained closed and his breaths left his lips in pants. Dustin shot back in his seat and fumbled with the door handle. “Oh my god, Steve! I’m so sorry! I’ll go get a nurse to help you!”

He didn’t receive an answer from Steve who was still keeled over in his seat, barely conscious and reliving the pain of the bats digging into his flesh. He must’ve lost consciousness because the next thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a moving gurney and lots of people in scrubs and white coats. He jerked in his spot and started mumbling meaningless pleads.

“No, no, no. Let me leave. Please, let us go. I work at Scoops, please. Scoops!”

The doctors paid him no mind even as his limbs started to flail. They spoke over his panicked shrieks and one approached him with a syringe filled with clear liquid.

Steve wasn’t going to go down without a fight, unlike last time. Last time, he had to bide his time to protect Robin. But now? Now he was alone. He didn’t have to take the torture lying down this time. So, when the doctor was within reach past all of the nurses and restrictive grasps, Steve punched the white coated man in the face.

“Shit, he broke my nose!” You’re damn right I did, evil Russian. Logically, Steve knew that he was in the Hawkins hospital. But he couldn’t focus on logic over the sheer panic that he was experiencing.

“Restrain him, give him the sedative!”

“No, please, no! Let me go!”

And then he felt a sharp poke in his arm and the world went black once more.

~*~*~*~

When he woke up again, he saw a dark room. What happened? He let out a loud groan and moved his hand to scrub at his face.

“Easy Harrington. If you keep moving, you’re going to pull your stitches.”

“My what?” Steve paused all movement and tried to force his eyes to acclimate to the darkness. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital. Dude, you went home instead of getting your sides looked at and they got infected. Nice going. They were worried about sepsis for a while there but they think you’re probably in the clear now. You’ve been getting IV antibiotics.”

When he heard about the IV, his attention was immediately pulled to the pain in his hand and he gasped as he pulled out the needle. It clattered to the ground with little fanfare but Steve could still feel it poking his skin.

“Did you just pull out the IV? You need that, Harrington. What the fuck?”

The person turned on the light and suddenly the room was illuminated. Steve turned his head to the neighboring bed to lock eyes with an unimpressed and rumpled Eddie Munson. “Eddie?”

“Yes, Harrington. I’ve been talking to you for the past five minutes and you didn’t recognize me? I’m offended.”

Steve shook his head. He was in the hospital. Oh god, he had to get out of here. He tried to scooch out of bed but fell back in pain.

“What’s going on, Harrington? You need to stay here. Lay back down, you’re safe. Steve, I see you trying to get up. You need to not do that.” Eddie tried to calm him down but it wasn’t working.

After a few more failed attempts, Eddie pulled himself out of bed and stumbled to Steve’s. “Fuck man, I need you to stop moving. I’m pretty sure I pulled some stitches on my way over here and if we both need new stitches, the nurses will get the wrong idea. Hey, Steve! Talk to me.”

Steve’s vision was blurred with tears and he was pretty sure his heart was going to explode due to the pressure pressing down on his chest. “I can’t be here, man. I need to get out. I can’t breathe, I can’t think, and where the hell is Robin? Is she safe? Did the Russians get her? Where’s Dustin? I gave them his full name. Oh shit, what if they go after him now? Fuck, I have to go.”

Eddie pushed his arms onto the bed and leaned his face close to Steve’s. “Steve, are you afraid of hospitals?”

Steve had told him a little bit about their time with the Russians and he guesses that Eddie made the connection. “I just, I can’t be here Eddie. What if they come after me again? I can’t lose control like that again. The drugs? I can’t do it again, man.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Stevie, I’ll protect you. And as soon as you can be discharged without dropping dead in your escape, we can leave. Alright? Move over.” Eddie comforted him.

“What-” Steve tried to ask but Eddie cut him off.

“Look man, you’re afraid of hospitals and I’m afraid of being alone. Move over so we can share a bed and not be scared together. Okay?”

Steve looked at him. It really was harder to be afraid with Eddie practically on top of him. And they had been through a lot together. So, Steve nodded and made some room for Eddie. There was hardly enough room for the two of them but they managed. And when the panic started to ebb away and his eyes started to close, Steve swears he felt Eddie press a small kiss to his hairline.

He was still afraid of hospitals, doctors, drugs, and needles. But from then on, Eddie was there to distract him and make everything just a little better. And eventually, the fear stopped being so horrific and became just a mild nuisance as long as he had Eddie by his side.

@nburkhardt @doubleb11 @zerokrox-blog @carlyv @i-less-than-three-you @newtstabber @ghosttotheparty

The long awaited medical phobia fic @ghosttotheparty. I hope you like it!

#I can be distracted from my fears so I feel like Steve would be the same #Eddie has no idea what's happening but he's wanted to cuddle with Steve since sophomore year so he's not complaining #Not my best work but probably not my worst either #did not proofread so please be nice #stranger things #fanfic #steddie #steddie fic #Steve Harrington has powers #steve harrington #eddie munson #eleven hopper #max mayfield #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #lucas sinclair #dustin henderson

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stevesbipanic · 2 years

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I'm donating blood again today and it got me thinking about the fruity four donating too.

Nancy organised it all, she saw the notice of the blood drive in the paper and rounded up the four of them to go donate together. She's very efficient with her donation, drank plenty of water, in and out too easy.

Robin hates needles, especially since the Russians, but she really wants to donate since she saw a little kid in the pamphlet. Nancy holds her hand the whole time and she wears her little I donated sticker for weeks.

Steve would've held Robin's hand too, but after being perfectly fine through the donation he made the mistake of looking at the blood bag and passed out. Robin teased about it saying he should be used to seeing his blood out of his body, "Not in a little bag though, Robs!"

Eddie actually donates whenever the blood drive comes through, not for any ethical reason he just really loves the cookie they give you at the end. He also now knows just how important donating is since he needed a lot of blood after almost dying.

Donate if you can, even just once can save three lives!

#blood donation #fruity four #st headcanons #headcanon #donate if you can #stranger things

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starryeyedjanai · 1 year

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Be still, my foolish heart part 6

@steddie-week day 6

true: 834 words, blood cw

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Things with Eddie get better after that.

They're talking again.

They're friends.

It’s fine.

At Eddie’s insistence, they test how long Eddie can go without Steve's blood before things start to get bad again. They make it to two week without Eddie feeding from him before Eddie starts feeling hunger pangs again.

He tells Eddie that it’s fine- he can drink form him more often so he isn't going so long without, isn't depriving himself again, but Eddie still wanted to test it. Said that now that he’s allowing himself to drink from Steve, he wants to make sure he isn't doing it too often, which kind of stings, to be honest.

They’re friends and it’s fine, but Eddie wanting to put it off as long as possible, waiting until the last possible second before it gets bad - yeah, that doesn't feel great.

Robin thinks they’re being ridiculous and that they should talk, but Steve tells her that they already talked.

“Well, it seems like somehow you both didn't actually manage to say much during your talk. You’re both so stubborn, it kills me,” she says, and Steve rolls his eyes.

They talked and sorted everything out. So it should be fine.

Steve’s learned to control his reactions to it more, learned how to not make Eddie uncomfortable while he’s drinking his blood.

So things are fine.

And that’s a true statement in a lot of ways - they’re hanging out again, alone and with the others, they’re talking again, they’re friends.

But it’s also untrue in a lot of ways, too. It’s untrue in the underlying way that Steve still aches thinking about Eddie, the way Steve dreams about Eddie now, the way being taken care of after Eddie feeds from him is the only time he’s happy.

Steve’s trying, he really, really is.

He’s trying to take what Eddie’s able to give him, and if that’s a surface level friendship where the only benefit Steve can bring to Eddie’s life is the fact that his blood tastes good, well. He’ll have to be okay with that.

“We’re fine,” Steve tells Robin and he mostly believes it, hopes Robin believes it too. They are fine.

If he keeps saying it, and keeps acting like it, it has to be true, right?

Robin says, “I don't think you’re being honest with yourself or with him. He’s not going to turn you down if you tell him how you feel.”

Steve bristles at that. “I don't know what you’re talking about,” he says, and resolutely refuses to talk about it with her again no matter how much she tries to needle a conversation about this out of him.

He’s not oblivious to how he feels about Eddie, or about men. He’s told Robin before that he thinks he might be attracted to some guys, and it’s something he’s fine with. That’s not the issue.

The issue here is that he’s sure Eddie doesn't feel the same. He’s not sure if Eddie’s into guys, but he’s one hundred percent sure that even if he is, he isn't into Steve.

He’s not into Steve and Steve has to be okay with that. The same way he has to be okay with the fact that the only thing he brings to their friendship is his blood.

It’s fine.

The next time he’s with Eddie, after Eddie’s done drinking from him, when he has his head tucked against the pillow on Eddie’s bed that smells like him, he tries so hard to believe it.

It’s after Steve's eaten a snack and had some water and he’s resting on Eddie’s bed, feeling like he’s about to cry that he realizes that he’s not okay.

He feels a little raw inside sometimes, after they finish, but it’s different today.

Eddie brought him food and sat with him for a few minutes after he drank from him, but Steve realizes that he always keeps his distance then, after. The only time he lets himself get close to Steve is when he has to, when he’s hungry, and that hurts.

He knows with a sudden certainty that this isn't working.

This isn't working and he doesn't know how to tell Eddie. He wants to keep being useful to him, wants to keep being his friend and keep letting him drink from him, but this isn't working.

It’s hurting him.

There’s an ache in his chest that he doesn't know what to do with. There are tears prickling behind his eyes as he listens to Eddie puttering around in the kitchen, putting Steve’s glass away.

There’s a fear in him that if he tells Eddie that he can't do this anymore that Eddie will tell him to leave, that the only reason he’s still friends with him is so that he can drink from him. There’s a fear in him that Eddie will want nothing to do with him if he can't do this.

But Steve can't keep doing this.

He has to tell him.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie ficlet #janai.doc #kas!eddie #cutting it close on this one but i have not had the time to write today

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medusapelagia · 1 year

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Eddie's month day 12 + Whumptober day 12

written for @eddiemonth and @whumptober-archive

Prompts: Eddie’s month 12: Soulmates | Eight - Sleeping at Last | Perceptive Whumptober 12: I haven't slept in days, but who's counting? - Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Nurse Steve Harrington, violence, hospitals, medical procedures, medical inaccuracies, soulmates and soulmarks WC: 2284

"You got nice veins." the nurse tells Eddie while drawing some blood.

"Sorry?"

"Your veins. They are nice. Look how they pop out." the omega repeats, smiling at him so sweetly that Eddie has to fight with all his self-control not to pop something else right there.

"Are you worried?"

"A little." he confesses.

It's a minor surgery, everyone told him, but he is scared. He never had surgery before and he doesn't know what to expect.

"It will be fine. It's a very simple procedure and I'll be with you all the time." the nurse comforts him.

"Will you?"

The omega nurse nods "Yes. I'm in surgery today. And you are lucky I am, my partner, Robin, is not as delicate as I am. Done."

Eddie stares at his arm and sees the long needle "This is an IV access. I will remove it as soon as the doctor discharges you, ok?"

"How long?"

The nurse looks at the clock "We start at half past eight, you are the third so I think you'll be waiting for at least an hour." the omega replies, then he asks "Can you tell me where your soulmark is? It's not written on your file."

Eddie blushes, he knows that the skin around the soulmark is sensible but his soulmark is… "Oh... it's... it's on my hips. A crown."

The nurse smirks "Lucky boy, you find yourself a prince! Or is it a queen?"

Eddie shakes his head "No... I... haven't found my soulmate yet."

The nurse keeps smiling "You are young. You still have all the time in the world to find your soulmate. Some people do not even get their soulmark recorded to the register. I waited for years before registering mine. And I did it only because my family insisted. They said that it was not appropriate for an omega male to work if he was not bonded."

"So you found your match? Are they perfect for you as everyone says?" Eddie tries to take a look at the omega mating gland but it is protected by a tick collar like every omega in the hospital.

"Sadly not.” he replies “But there are a lot of people who find their soulmates by chance. Their soulmark starts to tickle when they first meet, and if they are fated mate they say it can even shine. Not that I have ever seen a shining soulmark, but you never know, right?.” he tells him while he keeps writing something on Eddie’s file “But I think that it is possible to find love even without the designated soulmate. Many people do that. I know some couples that even erase their soulmark once they bond."

"Really?"

"Of course. But I'm sure you'll find someone perfect for you, soulmark or not. Now. Here is the gown, put it on and tie it on the back, I'll call you when we are ready for you."

"Can I ask you something?"

The nurse turns, his hand still on the handle of the door "Do you have any doubt about the procedure? I could call a doctor if you need some explanations…"

Eddie blushes "No it’s… I... I'd like to ask you your name."

The nurse's smile is so bright that Eddie feels a little bit in love.

"Steve. The name is Steve."

***

When Eddie wakes up the kind omega is working at the computer.

He turns, as he could feel that Eddie is awake “Hey. How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?”

“Is it done?” he asks, still disoriented and sleepy.

“Everything is done. Now we wait for a little bit and then you can rest in your room.” The omega replies with a smile.

“Have I… have I done something stupid?”

Eddie has a very vague memory of having made a fool out of himself but he can’t really remember what happened.

“Hey, our lover boy is back! How are you feeling?” a blond nurse asks him, getting closer to his bed.

“Lover boy?” he asks, confused.

The girl's eyes shine “Don’t you remember? That’s such a pity. You made the most wonderful love declaration I have ever heard.”

“That’s because you never heard a love declaration before, Robin.” Steve mocks her.

Robin. Why is that name familiar to him?

“What… what are you talking about?”

“Oh. You promised our Steve to make him an honorable omega and to marry him soon. I think you tried to compose some kind of wedding song too.” She grins.

“Oh my god.” he roughly remembers that, now that she is pointing it out. Fuck. He proposed to his nurse in front of his partner!

“I’m sorry… I don’t know why I did it.”

“Don’t worry. It was the anesthesia. I know that you are not really attracted to me.” the omega replies.

“How no, you are definitely attractive! I just didn’t mean to make a declaration in front of your partner.”

Steve stares at him perplexed, wondering if they gave him too much medicine “Who?”

“Robin? Your partner?”

The girl starts to laugh “Oh, Romeo, I’m his partner in crime, we are not partners in real life.” she explains to him, taking his vitals “Even if our Steve is actually taken. How are the things between you and Tommy, by the way? Did he finally propose or is he still unsure between you and Carol?”

“Robin, that’s not professional!” Steve scolds her.

“Come on, lover boy here is so high he will not remember a thing.”

“I don’t care. Just stop it.”

“Ok, ok. Sorry.” she says putting a hand on Steve’s arm and the omega flinches.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

“Steve Joseph Harrington, show me your fucking arm right now!” she hisses, tugging him in a corner, but even from his position Eddie can see a blue bruise that looks like a hand.

“How the fuck did this happen?”

“I argued with Tommy. I forgot to pick up dry cleaning, but he was right to be angry because he had a really important meeting today and I’m the omega of the couple…”

“What the fuck! He can’t hit you because you forgot something.”

“He didn’t hit me!” Steve protests “He just… Grabbed me.”

“So hard to leave a bruise?”

The omega lowers his eyes and covers his arm “Come on. We still have three more patients and I have to bring Mr. Munson back to his room.”

The girl sighs “But don’t think that this conversation is over.”

“Yeah, yeah…” he comes back toward Eddie who stares at him with more attention, the omega’s eyes are red and tired, and he seems dead on his feet even if he keeps smiling and cheering Eddie up.

“All done. So now you rest a little and when the doctor says that everything is fine you can go back home.”

Eddie nods, but before falling asleep he thinks about the sweet tired omega.

How is it possible that he is in a relationship with someone who grabbed him so hard to hurt him?

Someone who can’t decide between him and another person?

He feels a strange burning sensation on his waist, but he falls asleep before he can point out exactly where the pain comes from.

***

A week later Eddie is back in the hospital, he still has to do a couple of exams just to be sure that everything is fine.

This time it is Robin who draws his blood and he definitely feels the difference.

“Steve is not here today?” he says.

“Still in love with him, lover boy?” she asks, changing the vials.

“I just wanted to thank him for being so kind to me.” Eddie shrugs.

“Well, I do hope he is resting somewhere. He was here all night long covering an extra shift.” she replies “But if I know him I think you will find him in the pediatric ward. That omega loves children.” she winks at him.

Eddie thinks for a long moment, and then he goes toward the pediatric ward.

As Robin anticipated, Steve is reading a fantasy book to a couple of pups.

“And that’s all for today.” he says, closing the book.

“Come on! Steve! Read us another chapter!” a red-haired girl complains, glaring at him with her blue eyes.

“Next time, Maxine.”

“It’s Max.” she states.

“Ok. Max. Tomorrow we will read another chapter, ok?”

The pup doesn't seem happy but then the other one notices Eddie and says something in Steve’s ear.

The omega lifts his eyes and smiles at him.

“Eddie. Did you come for your last check-up?”

The alpha nods, too embarrassed to speak, but the omega is kind as usual.

“You know what? Why don’t we have a coffee? God knows that I need one.”

***

The cafeteria is nothing fancy, but the coffee is hot and strong.

“That’s exactly what I need.” the omega sighs, drinking his cup of coffee with oat milk and brown sugar “I was ready to fall asleep when I was reading to the kids.” he laughs.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“I’m a nurse.” Steve replies with a smile “I haven't slept in days, but who's counting? Right?”

Eddie’s inner alpha would like to take him home, helping him make a nest in his room and keep him there until he feels better.

“Robin said that you were supposed to rest.”

“Yeah, I know. But I promised Max and Dust that we would read a chapter today and I’m not going to have any free time later on so…”

Steve takes off his collar and stretches his neck “Every omega that works in the hospital has to put a collar on during his shift, you never know what could happen with some alpha patients. Sometimes they get violent and try to bite the omegas. But god if it’s uncomfortable!” He complains.

“For real?”

“Yeah. You know. Pain is a strong emotion and sometimes it takes out the instinctual part of some individuals.”

“Steve?!” someone calls and the omega turns.

For a moment Eddie sees a black mark on Steve’s neck, but then his attention is all on the alpha that is growling at the omega.

“You are such a slut.” the unknown alpha yells, throwing a paper bag at Steve “I made you a fucking sandwich! Your favorite! Because I thought you were too tired after a night shift! And you are here?! Having fun with another alpha?!”

The omega mewls “It’s not like that, Tommy, he is a patient and…”

“Is that so? I thought that you were supposed to wear a collar when you were with alpha patients! Why are you not wearing it, uh? Are you offering him yourself? Is that what you do when you are at work?!” the alpha growls, but Eddie growls back, pushing Steve behind him.

“What the fuck are you doing, man! We were just having coffee!”

“You were having a coffee with my omega!”

“I see no bite!”

“Well, this could be arranged, you know?” and then Tommy pushes Eddie away and throws himself at Steve, trying to bite his mating gland.

The omega whines, but Tommy manages to scruff him and he is almost biting Steve when Eddie punches him in the face.

After that, everything is a blur.

When Eddie comes back to his senses he is tied in a hospital bed and a policeman is sitting next to him.

“I’m Chief Hopper. Nurse Harrington told us what happened but I’d like to take your statement too.”

Eddie nods and explains to him what happened.

“The omega is not going to press charges. Are you?”

Why the fuck is he not pressing charges?!

“Everyone in the cafeteria testified that you were protecting the omega so you could press charges if you wanted to.”

There is something in the way the police officer is talking to him that makes him think that he should.

But in the end, he decides not to.

It’s Robin who comes back to discharge him a few hours later.

“How is he?”

“Steve?”

Eddie nods.

“He is resting. It was a hard day but we are understaffed and he knows that.”

“Can I see him?” he asks and Robin seems unsure, while she bites her lip, but then she gives him directions toward the room where Steve is resting.

“I’m up, I’m up!” Steve says, jumping on the bed as soon as Eddie opens the door, ready to get back to work.

“Sorry. Just me. I wanted to be sure you were ok.”

“Oh, Eddie. Hi. I’m fine. Yeah. Thanks for the help…”

“When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things… I see something familiar.” he tells him, sitting on Steve’s cot “My parents were junkies so I lived in a trailer with my uncle. I’m no Prince Charming but I know how you should treat a person and how you should not.”

“You mean an omega.” Steve clarifies.

“You are more than your designation, Steve. And you deserve someone better than that piece of shit!”

In the dim light of the room, something is shining on Steve’s neck.

“What are you looking at?” the omega asks.

“Your neck…”

“Oh, yeah, it looks bad but it’s just my soulmark.”

“It’s shining.”

“Is it what?!” Steve gets up and runs towards the bathroom. Now that Eddie can see it better he understands exactly what that is: a guitar pick.

He lowers the waist of his pants and sees something shining too.

“Are you a prince, Steve?”

Steve turns and looks at him astonished “At… at school. They called me King Steve. To mock me.”

“Well… I’m a guitarist. And I really think that I’m your fated soulmate.”

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dragonmuse · 2 years

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Is there a timeline where Jim meets Izzy and Eddy before they meet Olu? When Izzy and Eddy are still working together and Jim is angry and willing to kill? Maybe knowing Jim earlier helps Eddy come out sooner, but I can’t imagine they’re all good influences on each other…

(another anon asked what would happen if Lucius met Izzy as a college student without age changes and I smashed the two together. This one has a lot of implied darkness. Let's called "I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it')

-“Izzy!” Eddy calls to him and no matter how deep he is in work, Izzy rises. “Bring your kit.”

Shit. Is Eddy bleeding out or do they just need advil? Izzy grabs the first aid kit, better stocked then most and goes to Eddy’s office. They looks fine when he walks in but the kid crumpled in the guest chair is bleeding from a cut on the forehead that looks rough as hell.

“They stepped in front of a knife for me,” Eddy said with a frown. “That Ficus guy with the grudge. They fought like a fucking demon.”

“Nothing,” the kid hisses out. “Easy as breathing.”

“Sounds like you’re having a fuck load of trouble doing that right now,” Izzy frowned. “Stabbed where?”

They glare at him, at Eddy. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah,” Eddy says with a look in their eyes Izzy recognizes. An idea is forming. “But you don’t have to. You want to be sewn up or not?”

The kid doesn’t answer. Izzy can smell blood.

“You want to bleed on the furniture or you want to get patched up?” He demands.

“Fine,” they grumble and down their shirt. There’s a sluggish bleeding wound on their shoulder.

“Time to play seamstress, Iz,” Eddy decides. “Where’d you learn to throw knives like that?”

“Around,” the kid says. They’ve got dark eyes, long dark hair that hasn’t seen a professional’s scissors in a long time. But they’re fed, thin, but not overly so. Their lips are chapped, but otherwise healthy looking. Someone’s been keeping at least half an eye out.

“Why’d you stop that guy from taking me out?” Eddy presses on.

“Dunno. Not in the mood to see someone die because they were distracted by a cat.”

“A cat?” Izzy repeats, incredulously as he starts to clean the area around the cut.

“It jumped right in front of me,” Eddy says without shame. “Who expects a cat to come out of nowhere? Anyway, doesn’t matter. The kid was there. You got a name?”

They hesitate and Izzy wipes away a streak of blood. “We don’t need a fucking real one. Just something so we don’t call you kid all night.”

“I mean we might anyway,” Eddy says honestly.

“I-” They clenched their hands in their lips. “You can call me Jim.”

Izzy is up close and personal just now. They don’t look like a Jim, but that’s none of his fucking buisness. He’s just going to sew up their shit and hopefully send them on their way, no more the wiser. There’s numbing spray and he jets it on. The kid doesn’t flinch even though it’s cold.

“Nice to meet you, Jim,” Eddy sits on the edge of their desk, arms folded, legs crossed. “You still in school or what?”

“Or what.”

Izzy waits for the numbing spray to kick in, gets out the suture kit. He’s gotten better with this stuff over the years, for better or for worse.

“You finish out high school?”

“What’s it matter to you?”

It’s been a long time since someone sassed Eddy that way and Izzy has no idea how she’ll take it. It’s the kind of thing she’ll either think is hysterical or deadly serious.

Eddy laughs. Izzy picks up the needle.

“The thing is, Jim, I’ve never seen anyone fight the way you fought and I like new fighting styles.”

“That a hobby?” They grunted as Izzy pierced their skin. Still no flinching.

“That’s a job,” Eddy said evenly and Izzy paused, then pulled the thread through. They didn’t hire kids. It wasn’t something they’d talked about even, just a silent understanding. “If you’ve got a high school diploma.”

“I don’t need a job.”

“No? Not even one with full time hours, health insurance and a 401k?”

“...what kind of health insurance?”

“Everything, including dental and vision. ‘Course that’s cause sometimes your teeth get knocked out and we see a lot of sudden bright lights, but that’s part of the fun.”

“What the fuck do you guys do?” Jim asked. Izzy put in another stitch. It would take five or six, he could tell already.

“We’re security for hire. High-end only. Goods transfers, high-profile parties, chauffeuring the elite, whatever pays top dollar. Jobs go by seniority and skills required, but everyone gets paid.”

“What if I had...a side project?” They asked.

Izzy watched their flesh come together.

“You planning on getting caught?”

“No.”

“As long as it doesn’t interfere with the work and you stay off the radar, then I don’t give two shits what you do in your off time. The first time I catch wind that it is, you’d be terminated.”

“That sounds final.”

“I don’t leave loose threads.”

Izzy tied off the end. Six stitches. It’d heal clean most likely. A year from now, they’d have nothing to show for it, but a faint white line.

-Jim is 19 as it turns out. Izzy finds out as he photocopies their ID for the records. He brings the file to Eddy while Jim is waiting in the conference room.

“19,” he hands Eddy the folder.

“They’re already in it,” Eddy doesn’t take it. ‘What do you want? We can’t turn back the clock for them. But we can give them a place to be useful instead of waiting tables while they bide their time.”

And that was probably true enough. Izzy pulled the folder back to himself.

“Fine. It’s done. They’re legal name-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Eddy cut him off. “Who cares? As long as it runs clean, they’re Jim.”

“Jim,” Izzy sighed. “Guess it’s better than Fang.”

“I like Fang,” Eddy shrugged. “Anyway, I’m going to need you to train Jim up. Not like I’ve got the time.”

“And I do?” Izzy demanded. “With what extra hours in who’s extra day?”

“Dunno. But I think they’re more in your line than mine anyway. Can’t do anything until I get the Bellville job squared away, can I?”

And since it had been Izzy that had pointed that out earlier, he didn’t have a leg to stand on. Shit.

“Yes, boss.”

-Izzy trains Jim. It’s not hard to figure out what Eddy saw him them. They move fast, they learn quick and they are incredibly good with knives. But close up work isn’t all they do, so Izzy takes them to a shooting range and puts a gun in their hands.

“I prefer knives.”

“Yeah, how long do you think you’ll live holding a knife when the other side has semi-automatics? We don’t go out looking for that shit, but it finds us anyway. You gotta know which way goes bang at least.”

“Fuck off,” they hefted the gun, listened to the saftey lecture he gave, and then took aim. The first few rounds went wide, but by the end of the first session, they were hitting center mass.

“Come on then,” he took them to the backroom and handed them a clipboard. “Fill that out. Then meet me at the counter.”

They found him not long after. Their handwriting was good, a rigid clear copperplate.

“This shelf,” he pointed down. “Any of those’ll work. You can test them out first. I’d recommend it. Then it’s a 24 hour hold, you come back and pick it up.”

“I can’t afford-”

“Paid for by the company. It’s part of your equipment. On the job, you carry unless you get told different. Off the job, that’s up to you.”

“Even if I get the one with the ivory handle?” They ask, gesturing to it.

It’s an overdecorated piece, fake ivory and intricate carvings. It’s showy and ridiculous, but he knows the specs underneath and it’ll do the same damage as a bland one.

“It’s your piece. Guys’ll definitely give you shit for it.”

“Let them try,” they decided. “That’s the one I want.”

-So in theory training Jim is easy enough. They learn fast, they’re quiet for the most part. Sometimes they do shit that reminds Izzy that he’s dealing with a teenager like when they try to climb the side of a building and almost wipe out themselves and Blue Toby in the process or when they get a game of slaps going on a slow day (of course no one else as the excuse of being a teenager when they go along with it and Izzy give anyone trying to complain about sore hands extra bullshit work to do).

-In reality, it’s giving Izzy some sleepless nights and he doesn’t know why. Jim is cocky and sometimes over confident. If they’re like that in the wrong job, they’ll be dead, so there’s that. But there’s also...he just keeps thinking of the first time he took them out.

Routine job, easy enough. Nobody tries anything, they’re basically set dressing. That’s how it’s supposed to be. Nine out of ten times, that’s how it is. Jim struts around with their fancied up gun and their hair falling in their face. They kill flies with the tip of their knife and the guys are impressed enough by that that most of the hazing doesn’t go down.

There’s a perimeter breech, turns out to be nothing, but Jim sits beside him and watches the security feed so they can see how the guys run it down for next time. And they say easy as anything,

“I could knife ‘em from where Solmon is standing.”

And it was cool and calculated and Izzy knew that fucking tone. Maybe that’s what kept him up.

-”How’s Jim getting on?” Eddy asks when they come back from the Bellville job, cash in hand, none the worse for wear.

“Their quick. Too confident sometimes.”

“Worse things,” Eddy deemed. “Going to take them to Dublin next month?”

“If you want them there. Could be of use.”

-Jim kills a man in Dublin. They do it fast. Quiet. Izzy can find no way to complain. So instead, he shows them the protocol. The body is disposed of. He was undeniably a piece of shit that the world is probably better off without.

“Was that okay?” they ask him as they put their clothes into a bag to burn. They’re in a loose change, borrowed off Eddy.

Izzy looks at their wide eyes, the hard set of their mouth. It’s already done.

The first time Izzy had killed someone, Eddy had grabbed his arm with bruising intensity and not let go through the entirety of Hornigold’s interrogation. When it was over, she’d dragged him into a coat closet and given him a hickey so intense that he had to wear his collar turned up for a solid week. He’d touched that bruise like a talisman for months after it disappeared.

“Yeah, kid, you did good,” he says. “Let’s talk about what the fuck you don’t do for next time.”

-Jim is worth five other assholes by the end of their first year. They are efficient, not burdened with sadism or unwarranted softness. They throw knives with killer accuracy that’s only matched by their accuracy with bullets. They brawl with the best of them, uncaring of the consequences to their own body.

“You did good with them,” Eddy declares as they watch Jim knock out a guy by headbutting him. They’re just out for drinks, but the bar fight got going and it seems to be burning off steam for a few of them. Eddy and Izzy are standing at the outskirts, watching the mayhem.

“Did I?” Izzy doesn’t feel the usual fizzy pleasure at Eddy’s compliment.

“Yeah,” she put her arm around his shoulders. “Really brought out their potential or whatever bullshit they say on performance evaluations.”

“Sure.”

-”Come on you have too, boss.”

“I’m not your boss,” Izzy reminds them.

“Whatever, you basically are. And you call Eddy that all the time.”

“Because they actually are my boss.”

“Don’t be boring. Come out with me. Real ID and everything.”

He’d helped Jim with the name change paperwork. It had been a mercy to make them stop pestering him about it and then loudly complaining in his vicinity. They were a fucking pill. So now they had a real ID and fuck if they hadn’t turne 21 right on time to put their mitts on it.

“Take one of the guys.”

Jim glances over at the conference room. They’re not rowdy today, just watching some shitty day time programming and talking about some woman on the shows tits. Not their best showing. Jim turns back to him.

“I just want...” they trail off.

It’s their fucking brithday and there’s no one. Izzy knows that. Knows the date. Knows that he spend his own twenty-second standing guard over a bored socialite and the date went by unremarked. Jim could live with the same.

“One drink,” he says, gets his coat as they do a little triumphant dance.

“Hell yeah! I choose the bar, you’re paying.”

“I didn’t agree to that,” he says, but he’s already resigned.

-The bar is a dive, but a manufactured one. Lots of upscale twenty-somethings ‘soaking up the atmosphere’. He looks like he’s there to enforce their curfews which he could do without. But the drinks are decent.

“Jim!” The bartender with fluffy hair and in no way drinking age himself, greets Jim with a wide grin.

“Read it and weep,” they slap the ID on the bar.

“Look at that,” he picks it up and studies it. “Happy birthday! Love to pour you a drink. What’ll it be?”

“Fuck me up,” they say with a grin. “And get him something too.”

“Vodka tonic,” Izzy says, feels the bartender’’s eyes slide over him. “You want my ID too?”

“Nah,” and he actually has the fucking audacity to reach out and poke Izzy right in the middle of the forehead. “Those speak for you. You need something strong, been thinking too hard.”

Izzy does not reach out and break the bartender’s hand, but it’s a near thing. The bartender seems to read that, dropping his hand away though his smile doesn’t dim.

“Vodka tonic,” Izzy orders.

“Uh huh, you got it.”

The drink takes a while to reach him, but it’s good when it does. The food isn’t bad either and Jim gets steadily drunker, milking Izzy’s platinum card for all it’s worth. He’d said one drink and he’d meant it, but it wasn’t a hardship to sit there and have another.

Or to come back a few weeks later.

Or a few weeks after that.

Izzy’s never been a regular anywhere. It’s not so bad. Lucius, the bartender, always builds him out a vodka tonic without being asked and greets him with a smile. He doesn’t try to touch him again, but he does call Izzy ‘Jim’s hot boss’ within earshot which is uncomfortable.

Lucius is a freshman in college. Izzy will be thirty-seven next month. And he’s straight so. Who the fuck cares? Who cares if sometimes he just wants to go somewhere where someone recognizes him and makes him a drink he likes and implies that he’s fuckable? Is that a goddamn sin?

-Izzy gives Jim point on a small job. The guys are dickheads about it because of seniority and other age related bullshit. When they come back, the job is done and two of the least reliable of them quit.

“I’m giving them a bonus,” Izzy finishes the report to Eddy.

“What for?”

“They got the job done better than anyone else could’ve and they were fighting their own team the whole team. You want to keep them or you want Jackie to get them?”

Eddy considers, then nods. “Do it.”

-”Listen,” Jim slams their hands down on Izzy’s desk. The report he’d been writing now has a line of incoherent characters.

“What. The. Fuck.” He demands.

“I’m not a girl,” they tell him. “Use they/them for me from here on out.”

“....what?”

“They/them. This isn’t fucking hard, boss. You got it or what?”

Izzy has no fucking idea what they’re on about, but for all Jim’s face is calm, their voice is choked and tight. He can google later.

“Fine, fuck, whatever. They/them,” he repeats and they sit down hard in a chair. “How long has this been brewing?”

“My whole goddamn life.”

Izzy shifts in his chair. It smells like a storm in here.

“You know the guys’ll be dicks about it.”

“Then I’ll stab them,” they say easy as breathing.

They do stab two people over it. People they can afford to lose, but Izzy has to explain it to Eddy. He stumbles over it, unfamiliar words on this tongue.

“You can do that?” Eddy asks instead of a dozen other things that had come to Izzy’s mind.

“Apparently,” he mutters.

“Huh,” Eddy leans back in their chair, puts their feet up on the desk. The piles are low right now. A good mood has settled over the office and Izzy just hopes this isn’t something that’ll tip it the wrong way. “What’d they call it again?”

“Nonbinary,” Izzy repeats dutifully. He’d read for hours and it makes no more sense to him than it did when Jim said it first, but he knows he doesn’t want to get stabbed and he’d rather have Jim in whatever form they choose then any of the guys that they easily took out.

“Wild. Kids these days, huh?” Eddy barks a laugh, slaps at Izzy’s thigh. “Well fine, I didn’t like those motherfuckers anyway. Maybe we should just put Jim in charge of H.R. they’re efficient.”

-Jim spends more time with Eddy after that. Izzy can’t pin down when it starts. Sometimes he sees them going into Eddy’s office, coming out hours later and it becomes more and more regular. He wants to ask, but there’s no way in that won’t make him sound like he’s insanely jealous or worse. And maybe he is. He can’t remember the last time he sat in Eddy’s guest chair and just shot the shit.

-Lucius changes bars. Jim, thinking they’re very casual, takes Izzy out for drinks at the new place. They smirk when Izzy catches sight of Lucius.

“What? You think no one else can make vodka soda?” he scoffs. He isn’t relieved when Lucius lights up immediately and comes over.

“I thought I’d seen the last of you,” Lucius grins at Izzy. “Jim said you don’t like places like this.”

Izzy hadn’t registered the place. It’s bougie, fake rustic and full of people that he loathes on principal.

“Still serves booze,” Izzy shrugs. “Fine by me.”

-Eddy stops going out on Friday nights, but makes Saturday night appearances. No one seems to care, but Izzy. And after a few weeks of that shit, he decides he can take a night off from that bullshit too. Maybe he goes to a bougie fuckugly bar and gets his vodka tonic from a man that smiles at him. It was just a bar. It was just a drink.

He thinks he should strike up a conversation with one of the lonely heart women that sometimes sit besides him, but that seems like a lot of work.

Fuck, Izzy is tired.

-Jim is with him on the fatal Friday night. Hard to get pissed over it, it was their bar and their bartender first. Neither of them are going hard. Just a slow steady buzz and enough french fries to line four people’s stomachs. They close the place down, though neither of them are talking much. The last job broke bad, they’re both nursing hurts and groggy brains.

Lucius shoos them off with a laugh and they both pause outside for a bit. Izzy lights a cigarette he’s been carrying around for emergencies and Jim makes pleading eyes at him until he shares it. They blow smoke into the cool night air.

They react to the gunshots almost before they hear them. Jim goes low, Izzy goes high and they break down the locked door without discussion.

Lucius is behind the bar, ducked low and shaking. There are two people bleeding on the floor. The gunman raises the pistol to Izzy.

Izzy and Jim shoot as one. Gunman goes over in a heap.

“Who the fuck are you people?” Lucius demands.

Jim goes and kicks at the corpses, “Dunno them. Boss?”

“No,” he determines. “Did anyone start talking before shots went off?”

“What?” Lucius asks, voice breaking. “Are you cops?”

“Fuck no,” they both bark.

“Then who are you?” Luciu demands. “Because I knew the owner was mob, but I figured that just meant we wouldn’t get robbed.”

“Mob,” Izzy says flatly.

“Yeah? I mean you know, the defanged modern mob that just owns businesses and talks big?” Lucius grips the bar white knuckled.

“You can’t stay here,” Jim says immediately.

“Why not?”

“Because you just witnessed a hit. And it went wrong,” Izzy sighs. “Jim?”

“No way, boss, I barely fit at my place.”

“There’s the safe house.”

“You’re gonna burn that over this?” Jim frowns. “Could blow over.”

“Burn what? I think I should...” Lucius sank down behind the bar. His voice rose from the floor. “That’s a lot of blood.”

“He’s going into shock,” Izzy pulled off his coat. “I’ll...I’ll just take him to mine. No one knows us here. No reason to connect dots. Let him lay low a few days, figure things out.”

-Lucius does not want to go, but he’s also definitely in shock and not hard to bully, which Jim does expertly. It’s the first time Jim sees Izzy’s place, but if they have any smartass comments about it, Izzy is spared for that night. They just help him get Lucius settled on the couch, then disappear to do follow up research.

“I didn’t see anything,”Lucius tells Izzy as he hands him a glass of water. “I won’t turn you in. I promise.”

“Doesn’t work like that,” Izzy sits down beside him.

“Are you going to kill me?”

Probably be easier. But Izzy wasn’t in the habit of bumping off bystanders.

“No. Gonna make sure no one else does either.”

-They lay low a few days, but eventually Izzy has to go back to the office and given the choice of leaving Lucius to poke around his things, possibly running off to put himself in danger or just dragging him along, the latter is the obvious choice.

“So this is the witness?” Eddy circles into Izzy’s office before anyone has their coat off.

“Lucius,” Lucius sticks out his hand, eyes wild. “My name is Lucius.”

“All right then, Lucius,” Eddy shakes his hand with a small smile. “You going to be useful or a pain in the ass?”

“Why not both?”

“Ha! Why not? Iz, I need the proposal for the new client, where are we at?”

“I’ll email you the draft. Numbers might need adjustment.”

“Yeah?” Eddy signals a question behind Lucius’ back and Izzy signals back. Safe, harmless. Eddy tilts her head to the side. Izzy never uses that sign.

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Give me ten.”

-Lucius gets bored after an hour. He wanders out before Izzy can stop him and apparently just charms the hell out of Ivan and Fang, who have been left behind on the current gig. They’re laughing along with him and when Izzy sends off the proposal (an hour later, it was in worse shape than he’d recalled), he gets up to wrangle him only to find that Lucius is holding Ivan’s hand in his and listening to him with serious intent.

“You should tell her,” Lucius says. “I bet she feels the same way. Lots of people are shy.”

“You think?”

“What the fuck is going on here?” Izzy demands.

“Izzy!” Fang smiles up at him. “Thanks for bringing Lucius in. Really insightful. Want us to get everyone lunch?”

“...yeah,” he is hungry and Lucius eats more regularly than him. Izzy had to cook more the last few days than he usually does for himself in a month. A hardship easily lifted by the way Lucius had been excited for every meal despite the circumstances.

-Lucius comes with him every day. There’s no hint anyone is looking for him and after a few weeks, Izzy suggests that Lucius can go back to classes.

“But I should stay with you?” Lucius checks and he sounds...like he wants to?

“Yeah, that’d be smart,” Izzy says bemused. It would be. And anyway, Izzy is away more than he’s there. It’s fine if someone else uses his bed when he’s not there.

-Lucius doesn’t go back to his dorm. Jim finds out by apparently just asking and they close the door to Izzy’s office and hiss, “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“What now?” He saves his document, just in case.

“You’re moving him in? Is this some...sugar baby bullshit?”

“What? Fuck you, no,” he hisses right back. “I’m not fucking him.”

“You’re not?” Jim blinks. “Jesus fuck, why not?”

“None of your goddamn business. I’m your boss, you can’t ask me that shit.”

“I just did. Going to fire me?”

He can’t fire Jim. Jim is half the staff at this point.

And...damnit, but Izzy likes the horrible demon that lodged themselves under his ribs.

“Leave it.”

“No. What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. He’s an infant. You were literally just pissed when you thought I was fucking him.”

“Yeah, because I thought money or power or something was up and that’d be gross, but do you just like him?”

“He’s an annoying little pest.”

“Oh shit,” Jim sat down heavily in a chair. “Boss. No.”

“I haven’t done anything.”

“I know that’s what makes it pathetic.”

“I’m still a faster shot then you and if I get you in the meaty bits, you’d still be useful when you heal.”

“Yeah, whatever, you tell yourself lies.”

“...don’t tell Eddy.”

“Nothing to tell apparently.”

-Izzy doesn’t give Lucius money, but he does let him live with him rent free, doesn’t ask for money for groceries and makes sure they still get delivered when he’s away.

And one day, a month into that bullshit, where Izzy is no the wiser to his own motives, Eddy says,

“We need a forger.”

“What happened to Alan?”

“Retired.”

And Izzy knows an artist, is the thing. But Lucius probably wouldn’t agree to something like that. Probably can’t even do it.

“That’d be easy.” Lucius determines, looking at the image. “Could be fun too.”

“You get caught, it’s a felony.”

“Will I get caught?” Lucius’ gaze on his skin feels like a hand dragged slowly over Izzy’s throat.

“No,” Izzy promises. “Not if I can help it.”

“Then yeah, I need a few things and we can make it happen.”

Lucius works at the offices because they don’t bring incriminating stuff home. He decides that Eddy’s office gets the best light and he won’t let them keep the door closed. Eddy grins through his prissy demands and let’s him setup there.

Izzy can hear them talking as Lucius works. Light and easy. Eddy laughs like she does with Jim.

-The forgery comes out well enough to pass.

“Alan might do some training,” Eddy says.

“But he’s-” Izzy starts. Stops. Lucius is in it now. He lives with Izzy, even if he never does anything outside the law ever again, that’ll always come up. Because he gets his mail addressed there now. “I’ll ask him.”

-Lucius joins the payroll after a few months of what he calls ‘fun crime lessons’. There’s not enough work for a full time forger, but he’s not half-bad at organizing and taking notes. He lifts those tasks off Izzy’s desk.

And because he’s there, he adds into brainstorming meetings. His mind is startlingly devious for an art student/bartender.

-Izzy is no fucking saint. He comes home early from a trip and Lucius is still in his bed. Izzy stands over him for long minutes and when Lucius wakes, Izzy just falls to his knees and kisses him.

Lucius kisses back.

“Hello, danger,” Lucius says against his lips.

Whatever Jim was worried about probably happens.

-In the morning. Izzy has a dozen half-ideas about how he’ll tell Lucius it’s a bad idea and he’ll pay for his life back in the dorms, if that’s what he’s worried about, but the man presses him against the mattress before he can say any of them and they die in his throat unuttered.

“Somethings different about you,” Eddy says as soon as Izzy walks in the door.

“Slept okay,” Izzy checks her face and frowns. “Are you wearing lipstick?”

“What if I was?” She challenges.

“...how about we just go into our offices and I’ll get lunch later?”

“...deal.”

They don’t talk about Lucius or the lipstick over lunch. Both stay. Both breed more change.

-The first day Eddy comes to work in a dress, Jim is on her heels and glares over her shoulder. Lucky for them Jim has already weeded out the wrong kind of people and no one has a word to say about it. Including Izzy. He’s got his own fucking problems.

“Well?” she demands of him.

“Well what?” He holds out the stack of files. “You signing these or am I forging your name?”

“Hands.”

“Boss,” he pushes the files at her.

“How do I look?”

He doesn’t let his gaze travel, just looks her in the eye, “Like yourself.”

“...yeah, fine,” she grabs the files. “Thanks. Where’s Lucius?”

“Right here,” he walked out of Izzy’s office with his own stack of files. Catches sight of Eddy and smiles, “Digging the new look. The eyeliner is a little heavy, but I can see where you were going with it.”

“Really?” Eddy tightens her grip on the folders.

Izzy disappears into his office. He has nothing to add to that conversation and he thinks he’s earned a little hyperventilating.

-Eddy, now definitely Eddy, is like a new, fresher version of the person she used to be. They have fewer close calls and more beautifully cracked ideas. Lucius and Jim feed into those. And maybe Izzy does too. He stops questioning Eddy so much as she shows more and more signs of being checked in to the work. He doesn’t have to rile her up, she’s just ready to go.

And Izzy....Izzy is a little more relaxed.

“Damn right,” Lucius purrs and kisses his neck when he confesses that. “I work hard at that lover.”

Lucius looks different these days too. With his own paycheck, freed from such weights as rent and food, goes to clothes. He cultivates a new persona. More black, but no leather. Loose black trousers, the kind of men’s boots made for runways instead of streets and a series of dark colored button ups, always turned up at the wrist. The haircut is professional now.

He does something to Jim, who at last abandons their beige and creams for tight black pieces that are somehow like Eddy once was and something altogether different. Sharper, cleaner, modern. They go to Lucius’ stylist and come back with a clean undercut, the rest of their hair back in a bun.

When they meet clients (and they do, the two of them somehow becoming a team, Lucuis the voice, Jim the suggestion of the work), they always get the contract.

“I think they might be better than us,” Eddy watches as Lucius shakes the hand of a man that once tried to bite Izzy’s nose off. Jim grins at him sharklike.

“No,” Izzy declares. “Not yet.”

-The summer Lucius turns twenty-five, Eddy finds the Revenge. Finds Stede Bonnet.

“We should let her go,” Lucius says, stretched over their bed. Izzy kneels beside the bed, chin on Lucius’ knee.

“What do you mean?”

“We don’t really need Eddy to run the business, darling,” Lucius reaches down, runs a hand over Izzy’s hair. “You know the back end and between Jim and I, we can do the rest. She’s sick of it all, likes this Stede guy...I say cut her loose.”

“But-”

“Think on it,” Lucius cuts him off, his fingers sink into Izzy’s hair and tugs him up off the floor. “Later.”

Izzy thinks on it, but he’s too slow. Eddy comes to him and proposes the end of the company before he can do more than start. Jim stands behind her, a faint smile on their face.

“It’ll be yours,” Eddy tells him.

“I don’t think so,” Izzy stares at Jim.

-Eddy leaves. Sometimes Jim and Lucius go to the Revenge and they tell Izzy about the place. They never say he isn’t allowed to go, but he can read between the lines. He stays away.

The company grows. Jim and Lucius are young. They have new ideas. Lucius’ forgeries have gotten very very good. Jim kills easy as breathing and doesn’t ask Izzy if they did the right thing anymore.

Izzy does the paperwork. He goes out on the kinds of jobs he’s familiar with and still feels useful. His name is on the front door now, but he keeps his office. Jim and Lucius take Eddy’s office, but they renovate. Fresh lighting, fresh paint. Two desks.

-”We should move,” Lucius declares one evening.

“What’s wrong with this place?”

“Oh darling,” Lucius kisses his cheek. “We can just do so much better now.”

-Izzy does like the penthouse once he gets used to it. It’s spacious and his office is as black and chrome as he could ask for. The rest of the place is wholly Lucius and Izzy likes it more than he thought he would. It’s just...comfortable there. He stays home more and more. Does his work from the office. He cooks for Lucius, who’s always an appreciative audience. Makes extra for Jim for lunch the next day.

Sometimes Izzy wonders what Eddy would think of it. He almost texts her sometimes, but they haven’t spoken since the day she signed off on the place. Probably for the best.

“Darling,” Lucius kisses his throat. “You did beautifully with the books. Are you sure you don’t mind not going out on the Bellmonte job?”

“I don’t,” he smiles, pets the silky material of Lucius’ shirt. “Jim handled it.”

“They did,” Lucius agreed. “Did you make the lasagna for dinner? It smells amazing in here.”

“Mm, I had time.”

“What did I do to deserve such a man?” Lucius nipped at him, drawing back to grin at him.

“Must’ve been a saint in another life,” Izzy laughs. He does that now. It feels good. “Fuck knows it isn’t in in this one.”

“Sing it,” Lucius pulls him close. “Take me to the shooting range tonight?”

“You hate guns.”

“Mm, pays to know though, doesn’t it? And you’re hot when you get all teacher-y.”

They rent out the whole range. Lucius fucks him with a hand over his mouth that reeks of gunpowder. Afterwards, Izzy fishes out the ring he’s been holding for years and asks. Lucius says yes. Jim witnesses their marriage with blood drying under their fingernails.

“You’re next,” Lucius teases them.

“Maybe,” they concede.

That’s how Izzy finds out about Oluwande. The man isn’t of the life. He’s soft and sweet. Izzy almost feels bad for him.

Almost. Jim treats him well. He stays of his own accord. He doesn't talk to Izzy much even though they're thrown together a lot. Sometimes though when Jim and Lucius get really deep into it, talking in half-sentences that loop around each other, Oluwande will catch Izzy's eye and something passes between them. Understanding maybe.

Or fear. Izzy wasn't sure he could still feel that really, but the ghost of it lingers on his tongue. He tastes it in those moments.

-Izzy signs over his part of the company to them two years into the marriage. He has enough money and Lucius pays most of the bills these days anyway. He's barely there. Anyone can keep the books. Lucius says that anyway and Izzy believes him.

-Izzy doesn’t look back. No apologies. No regrets.

He wonders once. Just once. He Googles. Finds no trace.

He doesn’t ask, even when Lucius picks at him over dinner, tries to figure out what's wrong.

No apologies. No regrets. No looking back. He erases his search history.

He'll be forty-five this year. He never thought he'd live to see it. He'd like to see forty-six. He thinks it'll be nice.

#leda house and the kraken verse #au of the au #I may be bad but I'm perfectly good at it #izzy hands #lucius black #jim jimenez

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crispycookedcat · 2 years

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"All Good Things End..."

He would say casually while swirling a petri dish lightly in his unscarred palm, digits clung onto the short walls of plexiglass in soft delight. "Did you know that, Edward? Good things come to pass, no?", he whispered out to the air before abruptly turning to face his guest. The man gagged and bound having been quiet thus far for the past several minutes that dragged on betwixt them both. He would click his tongue, grey optics sparing his body a once over before turning back with an unanswered question. It was rather amusing, to see him go from rambling on for hours to being silent. His silence was usually unsettling to him, well, in the past of course. Before any of this occurred, before any incidents, any need to "strike it big", before he even considered being the leader of an aggressively powerful army that had spanned out into several takeover operations, failed zombification trials, and of course the rare monster outbreaks. So many coups were held, so many rebellions repressed, a lot of cohesion, bribes, deceit, /murder/, all such delicate and hard painstaking work. While he was planning utopia, /he/ just had to go out and put forks in his way. Really? A zombie-run and themed amusement park? Openly allowing mutations? Unsolicited use of public property and unwarranted destruction of his own personal robot and near murder? Well, that last part was on himself. He did technically fuck that up on his own. Goddamnit. "You know, Edd," the Norwegian starts with a slow pander towards his unconscious friend, middle-aged body strapped into place with tough leather restraints, "I missed having conversations with you lot. Matthias, Thomas, you. The hijinks we would get into, teasing our neighbors, fighting our movie theater clones, visiting Hell, joining the army, ironic isn't it." "I never thought to believe I could have had as much fun as you made it out to be. And then some when I left, too. You went and got irradiated, becoming neigh powerful, being able to fly like the superhero you wished to become." He would drag on, preparing and sterilizing thread and needle to stitch his old friend back up. "You know, I think it is pretty kind of you to do something like that. Like Matt and his vampirism, or Tom and his inner demon. Because now I get to study you all up close! Think about it, an army ready to enforce all things good with your help. Your blood, Matt's blood, Tom's blood. It's embedded in you. My final steps to release this corruption with a fine-toothed pick." He would say, moving to stitch the other arm and fetch bandages in the overhead cabinets. "All it took was nearly 20 years of constant squabbles. Speaking of, I've missed many personal celebrations with you lot, yeah? Who's birthday was it last, was it, Thomas'?" He would grow quiet as he would bring the bandages to the counters to cut and measure while prepping some towels and alcohol. His brow would arch down, his marred face frowning in heavy thought as he brushed the soft gauze and wrap with a calloused thumb. "It was difficult doing things alone, Edd. But with this, I have a start and a subject in mind. I really couldn't have done /this/ without you Eddie." Tord would utter, a soft frown on his lips. "It's a shame that you weren't more cooperative though, comrade. Welcome to the Army."

(Listened to Me and the Devil by Soap&Skin while drawing and writing this, I'm so tired but hey! Here he is, the rat man himself.)

#eddsworld #eddsworld au #ew tord #tord #Crispy!Tord #ew au #Crispy!Edd #ok i can sleep now #finally. Im free #goodnigth #gore trigger warning #gore

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strangerthingsfan-fics · 1 year

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Tattoo Steve Harrington x Fem!munson reader

Warnings-pain,crying,kissing, swearing,needles,unknown pregnancy,if there are anymore please tell me so I can add them

Note- sorry I’m writing a lot abt pregnancies I have massive baby fever right now haha

Your brother Eddie loves his tattoos he always talks about having more and you decided you’d get one this is your first one so your really anxious you know eddies good at it he’s given people tattoos pleanty of them your stomach was churning and you was already not well it’s been that way for a few weeks not liking smells of stuff being sick but that wasn’t important

Steve could see your anxious the whole car ride he kept telling you you’d be fine but at one point your breathing was picking up so Steve pulled over and undid his and your seatbelt opening the window for you letting you breath

“There’s no need to be anxious yn” Steve whisperd

“There is I’m already not well my stomachs churning even more thinking about the tattoo” you paniked

Steve hugged you and you hugged him back you did your seatbelt back up and Steve did and carried on driving

You finally got back to your brothers house and you had to go back to the toilet still not feeling well and you walked back in chewing a bit of gum and placed your arm out for Eddie to do the tattoo saying mrs harrington

Steve smiled at the fact your nickname was your new tattoo it had a deep meaning to it and he was so happy

“So Mrs Harrington how are you feeling now” Steve asked

“Still feel I’ll” you whisper

“Yn you need to go to the doctors this has been on too long” Steve says

You nod and Eddie smiles at how protective he is and when Eddie started shading you yelpped in pain going to pull your arm away eddie kept your arms squashed to the table

“This is the worst bit and shading takes hours” Eddie said

“Holy shit this hurts” you cried

Eddie did the last bit of shading around an hour later and you felt sick again eddie put the plastic wrap around your arm quite tight so it could get decent amounts of residue from the ink on and small dregs of blood

A few hours later you was hugging Steve laid on eddies sofa cuddling and Steve’s cologne started making your stomach churn so you kissed Steve before running to the toilet and started being sick so you went in your bag and got a pregnancy test out you had them in there because Nancy thought she was pregnant and she wasn’t but you kept them in your bag just in case

You told Steve to come in and you had the test in your hand and passed him the test that said positive and Steve looked at you and smiled and hugged you kissing you and you laughed when he didn’t hold your hips while kissing you but had his hands on your stomach

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve stranger things

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jungk0oksthighs · 2 years

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Pi Gasu | Damned If We Do, Dead If We Don't

Pairing - jungkook x reader

Genre - smut, angst, E2L, vampire!jungkook

Word Count - 6.5k

Donating blood for Jungkook is physically draining you, in more ways than one. Warnings: swearing, mentions of blood, needles and masturbation, jk & oc argue, light violence

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s Tuesday, you’re mindlessly tapping a blunt pencil against the desk between your fingers, feeling uninspired and drained. In more ways than one. Donating blood for Jungkook has changed from a fortnightly occurrence to a minimum of twice a week. Truthfully you don’t know how much longer you can keep this lifestyle up, while your bank account has never looked healthier your body feels the complete opposite.

You’re sick. Feeling constantly light-headed and drowsy, similar to last year when you had a nasty chest infection, even getting out of bed is a daily struggle. But with every donation comes a tonne of money, money you’ve been sending straight to your mother to cover the cost of Eddie’s medical bills. Jungkook doesn’t know truly how desperate you are for the money, he’s never asked and it would be fair to assume he doesn’t care – as long as you’re donating.

Your relationship with the vampire in question is equally as unstable as your blood pressure. He invites you over, you get yourself off in front of him while he's chained to the bed he has to replace every time you go there – giving that he breaks at least two of the bed posts each time you go, thrashing around like a handsome shark attempting to be freed. Once you’re finished you head up to his kitchen, donate and leave. The two of you don’t speak between your sinful, morally grey rendezvous, only amplifying your confusion toward the situation. Amplifying your confusion toward him.

College work can wait, you decide you need a nap before you’re capable of conjuring any coherent thoughts. It’s been a while since you felt this ill, your entire body is heavy and weak, simultaneously burning hot and shivering. Maybe it’s the flu? You’re Googling your symptoms when the weight of sleep drags you into unconsciousness, succumbing to slumber quicker than you thought humanly possible.

It's the knocking sound on your front door that wakes you a few hours later, actually, when your eyes flutter open with a lot of effort you register it’s dark outside. You’ve been out cold for at least six hours. Tired footsteps drag on the floorboards as you make your way to the door, using the peephole to ensure you’re not going to be drained of blood as soon as you unlock it. Thank god, it’s just Yoongi.

He's standing on the other side of the door with arms folded over his chest, brows raised and an unimpressed-looking expression. You sigh, unhooking the chain before you greet your next door neighbour. You’re not exactly dressed for company right now, having fallen asleep in nothing beyond an old, oversized Twilight t-shirt you wear to mostly dye your hair. Oh the irony.

“Hey…” You croak, throat feeling full of glass shards and head banging louder than thunder itself when you open the door.

Yoongi’s features shift to concern instantly, he uncrosses his arms and softens his profile into something almost caring when he speaks. “Are you okay…? You look… Are you sick?”

“Mhm, think it’s the flu.” You admit with a cough to backup your claim, covering your mouth, “Don’t get too close to me, what’s up?”

“I-, I uh-, I came for the lasagne dish back…” Yoongi runs a slender finger through his long brunette hair, pushing it away from his gentle features. “Do you have any medicine? You look really sick…”

At this you offer him a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine. Hang on I’ll go get the dish for you, probably best you don’t come inside…” You trail off to nothing while searching your cupboard for the dish in question, but much to your surprise Yoongi follows you inside, closing the door behind him all while he ignores your pleas. “No seriously!” You turn to face him with wide eyes, well, as wide as your eyes can physically get with the weight of the flu resting on your lids, “I don’t want you to get sick, go wait outside!”

“Y/N it’s just the flu, I’ll be okay.” Yoongi chuckles, veiny hands finding your kettle on the countertop before flicking it to boil, “Go sit down, I’ll make you some tea.”

“Yoongi—”

“Sit. Down.” He emphasises his words with a low, assertive tone, pointing to the sofa with raised brows. “Are you always this stubborn?” A small smile briefly tugs the corners of his pink lips, until the kettle flicks back off signalling the water’s boiled and he heads over to your small, makeshift hot drinks station.

You smile back, “Are you?”

Yoongi doesn’t look at you, too focussed on searching for tea, “I’m not gonna ask you again, sit down. You look terrible.” He murmurs, picking out your favourite mug straight away.

“You didn’t ask me to begin with.” You mumble in defeat, finally doing as he says and sitting on the sofa in front of the television. A large, cotton-candy pink blanket is haphazardly thrown onto your frame and the weight of it almost knocks you clean out. When you glare at your unexpected guest he’s grinning ear-to-ear, peeling his gaze away from you.

“Shit, is this rose thorn?” Yoongi gestures to your mom’s homemade tea bags, immediately rinsing his hands below the cold tap after touching it. Though he doesn’t look to be in any discomfort.

“I don’t know what she puts in there… My mom makes her own tea, she sent me some not long ago.” You hum, mindlessly flicking through the Netflix selection, internal organs knotting with shame when you scroll through the ‘Recommended For You’ section:

The Vampire Diaries, The Twilight Collection, The Lost Boys, and one that catches you off-guard so much so that laughter bubbles in your throat, Vampires Suck.

Correct Netflix, vampires do suck. It's refreshing to be at home in your modest apartment with blush pink and mustard furnishings for a change. It's bright, light and homely. The complete opposite to Euphoria's dark seductive overall aesthetic. But even Euphoria is tame in comparison to the hidden sex dungeon in Jungkook's otherwise seemingly normal home. You frown, wondering if the vampire has even noticed you haven't reached out in a couple days. Probably not.

“Sounds like mom’s very paranoid.” Yoongi mutters, choosing to give you a green tea instead. As well as a bottle of water. He places both onto the white coffee table in front of you and before you have time to question him he speaks again, “When did you last eat?”

You sigh, “Seriously Yoongi I’m fine, thank you but—”

“Y/N.” He cuts you off, “Do you have any idea what I do for a living?”

“No…” You admit sheepishly, unable to hold his strong, judgemental eye-contact that's unwavering despite choppy brunette locks tickling his almond-shaped eyes. “I don’t know anything about you, actually.”

Yoongi nods in response, slowly, “Exactly. Trust me, you’re sick. I bet you’re burning up right now-“ You don’t have a second to think before the back of his large hand is on your clammy forehead, he’s frowning when he pulls away, “Shit, you’re really sick. I’ll pick up some medicine for you tomorrow.”

“What do you do for a living?” Curiosity takes over, heart racing in your chest when Yoongi’s adjusting the blanket over your body, tucking every part of you beneath it apart from your bare ankles and feet.

“Keep your feet out, it’ll help regulate your temperature.” He’s completely focussed on making sure you’re comfortable, it’s when his hands graze the swell of your ass over the blanket that you clear your throat uncomfortably and he keeps talking, you assume it's his way of overcoming the sudden awkwardness, “I’m a medical journalist, used to be a paramedic before that.”

“Oh really? I’m a nursing student.” You smile, a genuine smile despite the ache in your body and pounding in your brain… It’s nice to have something in common. “How come you switched from being a paramedic to a medical journalist if you don’t mind me asking?”

At this Yoongi shrugs, eyes his expression almost bored-looking, “I helped a lot of people but it was never satisfying enough for me… Now I expose the people who don’t help others. Medical malpractice is something I’m passionate about, was an easy decision to make.”

“Hmmm…” You nod along with his words, seemingly impressed that he followed his passions and is still helping people by exposing the wrong-doings of others, “That’s really interesting.”

“So,” Yoongi stands in front of the television holding his hips, winning him your complete focus. He’s wearing acid-wash blue jeans, a white t shirt and a grey oversized cardigan today and once again, you can’t help but notice how he doesn’t seem out of place standing in your apartment. “Do you have any soup?”

The next four days are filled with Yoongi coming over and taking care of you, bringing you comfort food and medicine or even just his company. You learn that he’s a very sweet guy, though his external walls are tough and hard to penetrate – on the inside he’s much gentler than you’d expect, much more. It’s day five of riding out the confirmed flu when once again Yoongi is standing in your kitchen area, having just tucked you up on the sofa.

The pounding in your head has dulled, the aching of your joints and muscles has lessened. You still don’t feel 100% but you’re a hell of a lot better than you were, and it’s all because of Yoongi. It’s strange, one minute you didn’t know much about him and the next it was as though you’d known him forever. He’s scanning the contents of your cupboard with pinched brows, but you’re way more focussed on how his slender fingers trace patterns on the cupboard door while he searches for what he wants.

“Shit, no green tea left.” He sighs exasperatedly, “I think I’ve got some at my place…”

You’re smiling, attempting to show indifference when Yoongi closes the cabinet door and zones in on your face. You cough, looking away, “What’s wrong with my mom’s homemade stuff? It tastes nice, you should try it.”

“No can do,” Yoongi chuckles, slipping his shoes back on to head out into the hall and back to his apartment, “My roommate is allergic to rose thorn.”

You frown, prodding the inside of your cheek with your tongue to showcase your confusion, “But your roommate won’t be the one drinking it…?”

“Not directly, no.” Yoongi sighs, brushing fingers through his long brunette hair. Today he’s wearing an all-black outfit consisting of a very tight fitted t shirt and loose baggy jeans, all tied together with a leather jacket that’s currently hung up on your coat stand. “But you can never be too careful where allergies are concerned. I’ll be right back.”

After ninety minutes of waiting for Yoongi to come back to your place the drowsiness of the medication is in full swing and you drift off to sleep on the sofa. It’s an unknown amount of time later when you feel your limp body being shifted around, until your head is resting on something warm with a beating heart and there’s an arm loosely draped over your waist. The familiar woody scent of Yoongi’s cologne is the last thing you pick up on before you fall back to sleep, completely oblivious to your surroundings save for the comforting hold of your next door neighbour.

It's been a week since Jungkook last heard from you, if he had a heart it would be yearning for you to reach out to him right now. This is the longest the two of you have gone with zero contact since the night you met, even his employees Jimin and Namjoon haven’t seen you around your college campus or your neighbourhood. Which is unusual to say the least considering they’ve memorised your scent and know where you live. It’s like you’ve disappeared.

The only thing that has stopped Jungkook from directly reaching out to you himself is his pride, that and the fact Jimin and Taehyung have grown suspicious of his recent behaviour. It’s not that he’s in love with you or anything, vampires aren’t capable of such humane complexities. But he’s addicted to you, to the taste of you, to the sight of you, the scent of you. Everything about you lingers in his soulless being like an ache, he misses you. He misses your blood.

He’s due to run out of your donations any day now, giving that he’s being rationing himself to one test-tube per day of the euphoric rush your blood provides. He has three tubes left, and the fact he hasn’t heard a single peep from you in a week makes him feel… Well that’s just it, you make him feel.

Sitting alone in a private dance room at Euphoria he dials your number, wanting to schedule another… meeting with you as soon as possible. It’s when a voice he didn’t expect to hear answers, whispered and smug, that Jungkook stops breathing.

“Hello?” It’s a guy speaking, sounding every bit arrogant which ignites a fire of fury inside the vampire.

“Where’s Y/N.” Jungkook bites, immediately sitting up right on the leather sofa, almost crushing his cell phone in his strong grip. “Who the fuck is this?”

“She’s sleeping.”

Jungkook’s fangs double in length when his question is ignored, angering him further, “Who the fuck are you and why do you have Y/N’s phone?” He spits venomously, nostrils flared and eyes wide, rounded yet still fierce. His voice is bleeding with unsaid threats, anyone in their right mind would be terrified of him in this moment.

“I didn’t steal her phone if that’s what you’re implying…” The voice laughs sadistically, still remaining quiet and albeit unphased by Jungkook’s tone, “She’s here, she’s asleep on me right now—”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jungkook growls, rushing to his feet, the leather sofa he was sitting on moments before flying back and crashing against the ground, smashing to pieces. His chest is heaving up and down, breathing ragged and mind clouded by the idea of you cosying up next to someone. “Are you in her apartment?! I’ll see you there in five—”

“Good luck with that,” The man sighs, bored-sounding as though this is the most mundane conversation he’s ever had, “Place is drowning in rose thorns.”

Jungkook’s features drop until no emotion remains, “A hunter.”

“Not exactly,” The man audibly shifts, a low delicate hum can be heard in the background and Jungkook’s chest tightens, he knows that’s your voice, “But you don’t belong in Y/N’s world. Stay away from her.”

“Stay away from her?! You think I—”

The call ends, pissing Jungkook off to the point where he’s launching his cell at a wall-length mirror that stands opposite him, smashing it to pieces. He catches sight of his reflection, his profile is tense and seething, equal parts disgusted and angry. His favourite leopard print shirt barely covers his chest, the top four buttons undone at least exposing his taught dewy skin. Tied with black slacks and bare feet, the club hasn’t opened yet and he knows he has to calm down and screw on his business head before customers arrive. But that’s going to be somewhat impossible now.

Who the fuck is in your apartment?! That guy is probably poisoning you with rose thorn. Jungkook’s entire body stiffens, fuck this, why does he care so much?! If you want to fuck around with men—, no. He can’t even bring himself to think about you being intimate with anyone else. Not that he’s fucked you, he’s never even kissed you because every time he entertains the mere thought of it the smell of your blood floods his senses and all he can think about is killing you.

Kissing a human, a few months ago he would’ve felt physically ill at the thought. But now? Kissing you is something Jungkook wishes he had the strength execute properly.

As soon as the flu passes you find yourself standing outside the familiar door adorned with a golden ’97’ on the front. You haven’t been to Jungkook’s place in almost two weeks now, you haven’t communicated with him at all but this conversation is something that has to be done face to face. You want out. Out of the donations, away from the vampires.

It’s nothing personal, there’s no bad blood between you and Jungkook but frankly you can’t keep doing this. For whatever reason your blood is special, you understand that, well at the very least you’ve accepted it. And Jungkook wants to know why, rightfully so – it’s just the constant donating is taking a toll on your body, you still don’t feel completely recovered from the flu and there are new aches and pains in your limbs every day. You’ve been to the doctor, mostly because Yoongi forced you to go to the doctor, and they confirmed your bloodwork is all over the place.

You have low iron, borderline no B12, your haemoglobin levels are dangerously under what medical professionals deem to be normal. Truthfully you’re exhausted, the mere thought of gifting any more blood to Jungkook makes your knees buckle under your weight. You feel weak, you feel tired. Which is precisely why you’re standing at Jungkook’s front door, wearing a rich burgundy off-the-shoulder sweater and black skinny jeans, tied together with a pair of black military style boots.

The dark front door swings open before you’ve even had the chance to knock, revealing Jungkook’s wide doe-like eyes shocked and confused to see you here. You swallow, having forgotten how… ethereal he is.

Today he’s wearing a fancy white shirt with plentiful ruffles gathering at the front of his chest, the first to buttons undone and revealing his tattooed dewy skin. The trousers he wears are similar to yours, black and tight fitting, except his are made completely of leather and shine beneath the November moonlight. It’s not a moment later when Jungkook’s features drop into a tight scowl, thick dark brows furrowed and nostrils flared.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is threatening, a little dangerous and lacking any trace of concern.

Awkwardly shifting your weight between your legs you sigh, looking him dead in his faintly stained crimson red eyes, “Can I come in?”

Rather than verbally responding he steps to one side, granting you access to his home. It’s still surprising to you how not gothic and creepy this place is, instead it’s homely and warm. At least this level of the house is, what lies in his basement is far from homely…

You slip onto a barstool in the kitchen, noting how Jungkook is keeping a large distance between your bodies. Right. He’s not tied up this time, he’s probably resisting the urge to kill you right now.

“It’s not because of that,” Jungkook reads your mind with a whispered scoff, “You stink of him, that’s all.” He folds his strong arms over his chest and you have to try not to stare at the bulging muscles flexing and moving beneath the very thin fabric of his shirt. The material is so sheer in fact, that you can see the tattoos that lie beneath.

“Him?” You frown, heart pounding in your chest as the realisation dawns on you – he means Yoongi. “Oh… Yeah, my neighbour has been looking after me… I’ve been sick. That’s actually why I came over…” You swallow again, mouth suddenly feeling very dry when Jungkook makes his way over to you in a few long strides, until he’s at the opposite side of the kitchen island.

His tattooed hands rest on the marble surface either side of his body, arms straight and stare stuck on you. “You should’ve told me you were sick, I could’ve helped you.” There’s zero emotion in his tone, no clues as to what he’s feeling etched onto his face, nothing.

“Helped me…?” Your brows are pinched together again, flaunting your confusion, eyes wandering to the swell of the vampire’s shoulder muscles, round and inviting. In an ironic way they almost look biteable, like large succulent pieces of fruit joining his arms to his equally as enticing body. His taught, big, beefy—

One of Jungkook’s eyebrows raise, the pierced one, his stare is intense and doesn’t falter from your for even a second. “Can you stop that?”

“Stop what?” You blink at him, a little anxious.

“Stop staring at me like that while you’re thinking such obscenities.” He says bluntly, the usual glimmer of flirtation nowhere to be seen.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you look away quickly, clearing your throat, “Sorry.”

“If you were sick you should’ve called, you’re a smart girl. I’m sure you know all about what a drop of my blood can do.” Jungkook cracks his neck, eyes fluttered shut as though he’s actively trying not to look at you. “I’ve never let a human feed from me, but if you really were sick I would’ve made an exception.”

“What do you mean if I ‘really were sick’?” You scoff, pursing your lips, “Do you think I’m lying about being ill? Why on earth would I do that Jungkook?” You shake your head in disbelief, fucking vampires and their stupid sexy brooding faces and thoughts.

Of course he doesn’t believe you, probably thinks you spent the week avoiding him to hook up with Yoongi since you ‘stink of him’. Sighing, you mirror his movements, planting your hands down onto the countertop, cocking your head to eye him curiously.

“That’s exactly what I think, actually.” Jungkook looks scary, the tinge of red to his eyes has taken over his whole irises, the once faint stain of colour is now opaque and unmistakably deep ruby. Burning with something indescribable, boring into your soul from across the countertop. “Look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t touch you, tell me his scent isn’t all over you for the reason I think it is.”

You’re laughing, the sound empty and absent, “Stay out of my head! Are you asking if he touched me, or if he fucked me?” You fold your arms over your chest, subconsciously pushing the swell of your breasts up without trying, “Because they’re two very different questions.”

The vampire’s stare darkens, flickering to your chest for a moment so brief it could pass as an accident, “And yet the answer is the same for both, isn't it?”

“You’re right.” You hum, “He didn’t touch me, or fuck me. Are you happy now? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

Silence.

“Lets say for arguments sake he did fuck me… What could you do about it?” You scoff, frowning at him when you stand, “You don’t own me Jungkook, stop acting like you do. If I want to fuck my next door neighbour who the hell are you to stop me?! You’ve never even touched me yourself—”

“How fucking dare you,” Jungkook’s standing next to you in the blink of an eye, sharp fangs and familiar face bruising dominating his chiselled features. He’s looking down at you as though you’re everything wrong with the world, as though he despises you to your very core and his voice is equally as disgusted. “Show up at my home, drowning in another man’s cologne and try to pick a fight with me. Are you frustrated because I haven’t touched you myself, is that it?” He spits, lowering his head until you’re both nose-to-nose, “You want me to touch you, don’t you? You’re either very brave, or very foolish.”

Jungkook’s breath is hot on your face but you don’t fold, looking up at the familiar monster he’s become with unwavering, strong eye contact, despite the hammering of your heart inside your chest, “Are you jealous that I was with another man?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. Of course I’m not jealous. I don’t own you, remember.” He scoffs, wetting his lips. The way his chest is heaving with each and every angry breath he takes is all the confirmation you need to know he’s lying, “The supplies are in the basement, make your donation and get the fuck out of my house.”

At this you try to push him away, the apple of his shoulder is rock hard beneath your palm when you attempt to move his body away for yours. But of course, as to be expected, he stays exactly where he is. A frustrated sound escapes you, similar to a whine or maybe even a defeated whimper. Whatever description it falls under, it has Jungkook smirking when you step away from him.

“Not so brave now, are we?” He chuckles, eyes raking the spans of your bare shoulders when he swallows.

You stand your ground, “The reason I came here is to call off our… arrangement, whatever you want to call this. It’s making me sick, my blood work is messed up and frankly I can think of better ways to spend my evenings—”

“Stop seeing him then, problem solved.” Jungkook barks, edging closer, voice louder, “He’s the one who convinced you to stop this arrangement, isn’t he?”

Your mouth falls open in equal parts shock and rightfully placed, albeit a little delayed fear, “N-no… Yoongi doesn’t even know about what we’re doing… I haven’t told anyone.” You silently plead with him, nervous of what he’ll do to you if he thinks you’re lying, “I need to stop doing this for my health…”

“I can fix that. I can make you healthy again.” He’s calm now, the fury behind his eyes softening with each passing moment.

“I don’t want to feed from you, Jungkook.”

“Think of it as medicine.”

“Except it’s not medicine.” You sigh, growing agitated.

“A drop of my blood will rid you of any human illness—”

“It’ll also turn me into a monster!” You blurt, immediately regretting that decision when every hair on your body stands to attention as you’re being hurried downstairs into his basement, faster than you can humanly process.

The familiar scent of warm amber and ginger hits you like a train and in the next breath your back is firmly pressed against a brick wall adorned with leather sex accessories. Paddles, floggers, whips, ball-gags, collars, everything a person can think of is pressing against your back. Tears stab at your vision, clouding it entirely when you catch sight of Jungkook’s strong arms caging your body in either side of your face, keeping you in place.

“You’d only turn if you died with my blood in your system…” The calmness, the consideration and purity of Jungkook’s voice surprises you. He doesn’t sound mad, he doesn’t appear to be anything related to angry. Instead his tone is sincere and offers solace. “And you’re an even bigger fool than I thought if you haven’t figured this out by now…” He whispers, lips tracing up your jaw until his fangs are pressed against the shell of your ear, “But I would never let that happen.”

“I’m s-sorry…” You whisper back, dizzy from his words, “I didn’t mean to call you a monster…” Your breath is shaky, eyes fluttering shut in an attempt to calm yourself down. He's going to fucking kill you down here.

“That’s exactly what I am Y/N.” Jungkook’s head is still dipped, lips grazing your ear as the words roll off his tongue, sending a hot shiver down your spine that you can’t even describe. “But don’t do this, don’t stop making donations.”

He pulls his face back on instinct when your eyes open, leaving you staring at each other with open mouths. Your heartrate picks up, until the sound of your pulse is deafening your ears. Your voice is quiet, cautious and calculated when it tumbles from your lips, “…Jungkook, my health comes first. I can make one final donation but after that you’re gonna have to find someone else to test—”

“Except there is nobody else. If you’re sick because of me, let me fix it.” Inked fingertips find their way to your bare shoulder, you tense beneath his touch and you register him wetting his pierced lips, his face is less than arms-length away and it’s enough to make you nervous. He’s not chained up this time, there’s nothing stopping him from killing you in an instant. “Please.”

“Why…?” You exhale.

“If I wanted you dead you would be already, don’t you trust me?” His voice is hoarse.

Your breath catches in your throat but you find yourself nodding, “Fine… But-, I’m… We’re not going to be like bound forever if I do this, right? If I-, if I drink your...”

At this Jungkook’s gaze deepens with hope, flashing with something a little sinister, “That’s not how it works. You’ll be restored to full health and your body temperature will burn it off in a couple days. You only need a drop.”

“That’s it?” You snort, undeniably confused, the media has always made the exchange of vampire blood out to be something akin to injecting heroin. “That’s all that happens? I don’t get addicted or anything?”

“That’s all that happens…” Jungkook smirks, his fangs extending two inches longer than his other teeth, one hand rolling the sleeve up on his other arm in preparation. “You have my word.”

You should be frightened, uncomfortable and scared shitless when his fangs pierce the tattooed skin of his wrist, until a tiny amount of blood gathers round his lips and drips from the open-wound. You should be running for the hills, you should be screaming, crying, throwing up or having an anxiety attack from what you’ve just witnessed.

But the only emotions coursing through your veins are… Curiosity. Bewilderment. Excitement. Is this a good idea? Definitely not. Do you trust Jungkook? You shouldn’t. Are you really going to do this?

You are.

Jungkook’s pierced plump lips are stained red, the skin surrounding his mouth tinted pink, you’ve never seen his lips look so inviting before. Almost swollen and begging to be kissed. Your gaze flickers back to his eyes, they’re crimson in colour and glowing beneath the dim lighting in the basement. He’s… beautiful.

“Stay still.” His voice is barely audible when he takes two small steps closer to you, his bleeding wrist is forgotten about when he edges even closer, hands finding purchase on the wall you’re pressed against. His scent is intoxicating, he’s staring at you with a gaze full of equal parts desire and uncertainty. “Don’t move Y/N…”

“Jungkook…” You whisper, subconsciously wetting your own lips in preparation for what you think is about to happen.

“Please…” He exhales, swallowing thickly, “Stay… Exactly how you are.” His eyes close, dark eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheekbones. When his mouth opens again you register that while his fangs are still sharp and unmistakably inhuman, they’re shorter and less-threatening. His chin starts to tilt towards yours, lips still parted, shallow breaths warming your face.

Slowly his eyes are open again, barely, but his hooded stare is intense enough to make you weak at the knees and win your heart to explode in your chest, “The unfathomable desire to have you… makes me feel human again.”

“Jungkook, please-,” It’s a slender tattooed finger pressing gently to your lips that cuts you off, you know Jungkook is trying his best to keep calm, his features are tight and crumpled with something indescribable. His digit leaves your lips and travels to your chin, angling your face up to meet his.

“Don’t move.” He whispers.

“Okay…”

He hushes you, lightly shaking his head, “Don’t speak.”

It’s the sound of your own gasp that fills the silence when Jungkook’s blood-stained lips are a hair away from yours, the coolness of his metal lip ring pressed against your mouth further confirmation this is the closest he’s ever been. You peer up at him through long eyelashes, breath hitching, zoning in on the two tiny face tattoos that sit beneath his eyes.

Divine. Sinner.

“Please… Stay exactly as you are.” He reiterates seriously, with more determination.

And then he kisses you, showing you exactly how kisses are meant to be.

It’s the way his lips are softly pressed to yours, the metallic yet sweet hint of his blood lingering on them. It’s how his inked fingers quickly and roughly grip your hips, the hold strong enough to shatter your bones. It’s the way he’s pressing you harder and harder against the wall, the way you’re already desperate for more but more of what you’re unsure. It’s the way his fangs graze your lips when his tongue slides into your mouth, accompanied by a drawn-out hushed moan.

Your head is spinning, arms snaking over Jungkook’s broad shoulders just to keep yourself standing. Your legs are wobbly, your heart thumping, body burning with an indescribable heat that you’ve never experienced before. You’re lost to his kiss, simultaneously damned and saved. It’s as though two worlds are colliding, maybe it’s heaven and hell. Maybe it’s vampires and humans. Or maybe, it’s nothing more and nothing less than you and Jungkook.

You do more than simply let him kiss you, you kiss him back. Fervently, intently, as though your entire existence depends on it. It’s Jungkook knocking your legs apart with his thick thigh that wins you to gasp, smiling against his lips triumphantly.

“I can’t-,” He exhales with furrowed brows, the words slipping from his lips and straight onto yours with another kiss, a hungrier kiss. “I can’t stop, how is this possible?” He murmurs.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You emphasise your words with a gentle tug of his hair and something inside Jungkook snaps — He pulls himself to the other side of the basement with a heaving chest, kiss-swollen blood stained lips and wide eyes. Leaving you standing alone, disoriented and yearning.

“You need to leave.” Jungkook says curtly, looking everywhere in the room except you, completely in disbelief of what just happened. “Y/N you need to leave now, I don’t want to hurt you.” The way you know he means that sends a pang of something unfamiliar straight to your chest.

“You won’t.”

“I want to.” He admits, wetting his lips. “I… I want to hurt you.”

"What about the donation...?" You ask sheepishly, feeling confused and embarrassed all at once.

Jungkook swallows, he's breathing through his mouth heavily as though he's attempting to calm himself. "You're the one who said you were done donating. Lets part ways here, while we still can." The venom dripping from his tone makes you scoff, makes you angry.

You shake your head, determined legs taking you over to where he’s stood before any rational thoughts can stop you, “No. You don’t get to kiss me like that and pretend it never—”

Within the blink of an eye he crushes his lips to yours again, the familiar taste of his blood gifting your body a surge of energy. This kiss is different, if the last one were akin to two worlds colliding this one can only be described as two lost, broken hearts exploding and becoming whole. It’s messy, it’s desperate and loud. Both of you moaning and gasping for air while your tongues explore the other’s.

It's not until your back slams into the nearest wall, every accessory hung up hurling to the floor as dust clouds rush from the exposed bricks that you register he’s holding you. Your legs wrap round his waist, hands already deep in his raven hair, his hands are squeezing the fat of your ass cheeks with so much force you feel bruised.

“Jungkook… I want you.” You pant, reattaching your lips to his with more urgency.

He's resting his forehead to yours, peeling away from your lips for just a moment when his dark hooded eyes flutter open, his stare intense and unwavering, completely zoned in on you.

“If I had a soul it would already be yours.”

Suddenly he’s kissing you with everything he has, with everything he is. All his defences shattering only to be replaced by the lust-fuelled hunger surging both your bodies. With your back firm against the wall that’s barely standing, bricks tumbling to the ground from how hard you’re pushed against it, your legs snaking his middle keep you in place. It’s when Jungkook laces his fingers with yours, pinning them above your head that your eyes meet his again.

The satisfaction darkening his chiselled features is unmistakable. As is the relief, the need, the want, lust, desire, desperation and even the hint fear. It’s as though you’re looking straight into an emotional mirror, everything you’re feeling he’s feeling too. After one final kiss, a kiss so passionate not even Shakespeare himself could describe it, Jungkook’s sharp fangs are pressed to your neck and you gasp.

“You… You need to leave, now.” He rasps, finding the strength to pull away from you and aid your feet to the ground. “Leave.”

This time you don’t need telling twice, bruising and wine-coloured veins darken Jungkook’s eyes and you’re painfully reminded of what he is. And what could’ve just happened.

“S-sorry. I’m sorry.” You scramble up the stairs, hurling yourself out of his home as fast as you can, delirious and uncertain of what the future holds. The only thing on your mind being the sincerity behind Jungkook’s hooded gaze when those heart shattering words left his pierced, welcoming lips.

“If I had a soul it would already be yours.”

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steveshairychest · 2 years

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Back on the pirate au for a second, but just imagine prince Steve knowing first aid and stitching Eddie up after a bad fight.

He makes Eddie take his shirt off and sit down in the chair behind his desk. Steve shoves aside Eddie's map and trinkets, completely ignoring the others protests as he sets down the few medical supplies he could find. "Drink this." He hands Eddie a bottle of rum, their fingers brushing as Eddie takes it from him. "You're more tolerable when you're drunk." He mumbles while dragging another chair over in front of Eddie.

"I flirt with you when I'm drunk." Eddie points out before taking a long sip from the bottle and placing it down. He feels slightly lightheaded. It could be from the blood loss, the gash across his chest is still bleeding slowly, or the fact Steve is sitting so close to him he could count the moles that paint his skin.

"Be quiet or I will let you bleed out." Steve grabs a cloth from the desk and places a hand on Eddie's bare chest causing him to shiver and inhale sharply, Eddie blames Steve's cold hands. "Sorry." Steve says before leaning close and gently applying pressure to the wound. The gash started on the right just below his collarbone and slanted down towards the middle of his chest. It wasn't deep but it had bled a lot, the front of his white shirt was now stained completely red.

"Do you know what you're doing, your highness?" Eddie watched the way Steve carefully threaded the needle with some string, his eye twitching at the nickname. Eddie loves getting under the princes' skin, loves to flirt with him and watch him squirm and flush bright red. It's equally as entertaining as watching him beat his crew in a sword fight, not a single hair out of place. "I can call for Gareth if you don't want to get your pretty hands dirty."

Steve glares and points the needle at him. "If you call for Gareth you will bleed out and die." He brings his chair even closer and rests a hand on his chest again, keeping Eddie from moving. "Which is fine by me." He rests the needle against his skin and looks up to meet Eddie's gaze, the yellow light of the lantern above catching in his eyes and making it look like the stars were trapped in them. "Don't move."

Eddie winks at him. "Aye aye, Captain."

#throws this at you #now i will sleep #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #steveddie #steddie pirate au

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panickinganakin · 2 years

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stitches ch 3 (steddie)

hello everyone! here is chapter 3! to find previous chapters you can go here

please remember this a mature fic and intended for such audiences. minors dni.

Steve covered Eddie up with the navy blue sheet that was on the bed. Robin carried in two of the wooden chairs that were in the dining room of the lake house. "Here we go," she said, sitting them side by side next to the bed.

Steve took a seat and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He looked around the room and laughed lightly, "This was my room when we would come stay on the weekends."

The walls were a light blue color, sort of like the sky on a sunny day. The trim around the walls was the same navy blue as the bedding. "You seem to like the color blue." Robin made an observation.

"Yeah, guess I did."

"Not anymore?" She questioned.

Steve stared at Eddie, making sure his chest was rising and falling. It was. Steve was terrified if he looked away for too long it would stop. "I do. But I really like yellow now, I think that's my color." Robin sighed through her nose and scratching her cheek. Her hands were shaking again and Steve frowned, "It's going to be okay, Robs."

She shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Hopefully. We literally have no idea what's going on. And Dustin," she paused to take a breath.

Steve felt a stab of guilt. Dustin was with Nancy now, who only knew where, grieving the loss of his friend. Steve had been so jealous of Eddie it was ridiculous and for what? Because his young friend had another friend? And fucking hell, the look on Dustin's face while he was holding Eddie’s body.

"We have to tell him." She finally finished.

Steve shook his head, "No, Robin. Not yet anyways."

"Why? You seen his reaction. It absolutely crushed him-"

"Because. What if he thinks he's alive and gets hopeful? Then dies for real? That would hurt him so much more. There's also the possibility he'll tell Eddie's Uncle Wayne. Then Wayne would force us to bring him to a hospital. We can't risk that. He has a better chance of living here then in a medical facility."

Robin took in a sharp breath, "That's so fucking sad. He literally saved this shithole and now he can't even see a doctor? For fucks sake."

Steve sighed and nodded his head in agreement. He looked over Eddie again and an overwhelming sense of sadness and anger washed over him. He didn't deserve this; he never had deserved it.

Most of the dirt and blood was off him now but Steve knew when his condition improved they would need to give him a bath.

Robin’s hand crashed into Steve's arm and Steve bit a curse, "What was that for?"

"Steve! You idiot. Your mother is a nurse!"

Steve shook his head, "No. No way she would help with this. You've met my parents. They are not sympathetic people. She would call the chief down here on him and then let him arrest me for harboring him or some shit."

Robin sighed, she pinched the bridge of her nose. "No. She won't help us. However, you can steal her key."

Steve stared at Robin with his mouth agape, "You want me to steal from the clinic? In the middle of town?"

"Yep." She sat up quickly and held out her hands. Touching a finger each time she named an item, "We need gauze, bandages, b-bactine, uh, what else... Oh! We need an IV needle and bag-"

"You want me to steal IV stuff?! Robin! For what? Neither of us can do that plus we don't even know what he would need!"

"They give people IVs if they are dehydrated! He's going to need liquids if he's not awake and drinking water, Steve. Geez. For your mom to be a nurse you're missing a lot of basic knowledge."

Steve sucked in his bottom lip in frustration. "Fine. But he can't stay here alone. What if he wakes up? Or stops breathing?"

"Steve. I told you. I was a Girl Scout. I can take care of him. I know CPR plus I know how to pour a glass of water if he wakes up. What else could he need?"

"I don't know. A bathroom?" Steve shrugged before sighing again.

"Come on, Steve. He saved us. It's our turn to save him."

“I’m not saying I don’t want to save him. I definitely do. It’s just stealing,” he paused and inhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry but do you think stealing is the worst law you’ve broken in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Fine. I’ll go. The clinic should be closed by now anyway. I’ll be back. Please, do not let anything happen.”

Robin nodded quickly, “Don’t worry.”

Steve started to head out of the bedroom and Robin yelped, “Wait! If there’s some sort of medical book to teach how to put in an IV-“

Steve shook his head. He couldn’t believe they were doing this.

Steve started to feel anxious as he parked the car outside of the white building. There was a large sign that said “Hawkins Day Clinic” and listed the doctors who worked there. He chewed his lip. If he got caught he would risk not only legal trouble but his mother losing her job over it.

He thought of Eddie and shook his head, pushing open the car door. Fuck the job and fuck the police. He would do it for Eddie.

He pulled his hood over his head and looked around the street making sure there was no one out. Most of the town traffic was towards the outskirts of the county. Because of Vecna literally splitting the town open; most of the community was evacuating.

He pulled his moms key ring from his pocket and unlocked the door quickly so he could step in and lock it back.

There was a bit of natural light shining in from the moon which was all he had. He didn’t bring a flashlight because he was sure if anyone driving by noticed the light in the window they would call the chief. He was not interested in getting caught.

Get in, get the stuff and get out.

He repeated the sentence to himself as he shuffled through the waiting room and hopped over the reception desk following the opening back through the hallway.

The clinic was eerie at night. The usual buzz of staff and machines was completely gone. It was just the sound of the air vent and Steve’s breathing.

With everything Steve and his friends had been through he had only made him more cautious. So, as he turned every corner he would check the surrounding area before continuing.

The supply was room was in the very back of the clinic. It was a large room with metal cabinets full of different things all labeled neatly. The first cabinet had most of the things he needed. He grabbed a plastic bin that was on the table and started to throw bandages, gauze, alcohol wipes and ointment in it. Then he moved on, scouring the next cabinets until he found IV needles, bags of liquid which only confused but he grabbed a couple different ones. Then he grabbed a few boxes of latex gloves and searched through medication. “Shit. What does someone who was attacked by demobats even need?” He asked himself out loud.

He spotted a bottle of antibiotics and grabbed those along with ibuprofen and acetaminophen. He was starting to get antsy. He needed to get out. He wasn’t being fast enough.

He looked over everything again and sighed. The bin was completely packed full of different things now. Surely all of this could get the job done.

He shut the cabinets back and grabbed a metal IV rack. He had seen people in hospitals in movies have these at their bags holding the IVs so he knew he would need it.

On the way back out he stopped in the nurses station and mumbled a prayer of forgiveness. There were a couple different medical books probably there for reference. He grabbed the three that were on the desk then rushed back out to the car.

a/n thank you guys sm! feedback is always apperciated! feel free to follow me on my sttwt @ nickleisbitchin

#steve harrington #eddie munson/steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #eddie is alive #fight me about it idc

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

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Sicktember Day 17 - Fainting - No Relationships - Canon Divergent TW: Giving Blood (nothing descriptive)

(In September of 1985 gay men were banned from giving blood up until 2015. For the purpose of this story, I am making it September of 1986, so that it is realistic, otherwise Eddie wouldn’t be allowed to give blood.) (This is taken from a real life scenario)

“Hey, so, what do you guys think about donating blood? They’re encouraging people who are eighteen or over since there were so many people hurt in the uh…earthquake,” Robin frowns at the last word.

Eddie looks up, humming in thought. He’s never given blood before, but tattoos and shots are fine, and the times he’s had blood taken he’s been alright, so he gives a nod.

“I’m down. What about you Harrington?”

They’re all hanging out at Steve’s, eating pizza and watching movies. Despite the terrible circumstances, Eddie’s grateful he’s got friends now, not having realized just how lonely he was.

“Oh uh…sure,” the man squirms slightly, making Eddie grin.

“Steve Harrington’s afraid of needles?”

“I mean…I don’t want blood sucked out of me and out in bags, but it’s for a good cause, so,” he shrugs.

It’s how Eddie, Nancy, Robin and Steve find themselves at the Hawkins Hospital, sitting in chairs in a sectioned off area, a dozen nurses moving around twice as many people. They’d been instructed to eat and drink before they came to lessen the chances of passing out.

“This is metal,” Eddie says distractedly as he watches the small fluid bag start to fill. Robin laughs and Nancy rolls her eyes fondly. Steve stays quiet, and eventually the others look at him.

“You good Dingus?”

“Yeah…just uh, that’s a lot of blood,” he mumbles, swallowing thickly.

“Are you feeling ok? We can get them to stop,” Nancy worries, looking around for a nurse.

“No, no, I’m ok,” Steve assures, making Eddie chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing Stevie. Just…you would be the one to pass out from this,” he laughs, eyes crinkling and hair wild.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’ve fought monsters!” The last few words are quietly hissed, and Eddie just rolls his eyes fondly.

Why was Steve so cute?

“You’re right, sorry monster slayer Steve, my deepest apologies.”

They all get the correct amount taken; 500ml, and sit there for a few minutes after to let their bodies regroup from the amount of blood lost. As they get the all clear, the four adults stand and start to head out.

“Head rush,” Robin laughs, shaking her head a little. Nancy laughs and Steve puts a hand on her shoulder to make sure she’s alright.

Eddie watches them from behind, all three in front of him as they go. His head feels heavy and his world feels fuzzy, like he can’t quite get a grasp on everything. He takes five steps and then realizes; stomach swooping, that he’s not feeling well.

“Uhm, guys…”

They’re almost out of the large area, and the metalhead is certain if he doesn’t sit down now…

“Guys!” His voice is weak even to his own ears.

Steve must hear him because he’s turning back and the last thing Eddie sees is Steve’s pretty eyes go impossibly wide, and he moves forward. Then it’s black.

He wakes up on the floor, pain ricocheting through his head like it’s in a pinball machine. He feels like shit- his entire body feels fuzzy and achy in a way he’s never experienced, his stomach is almost hollow and he’s sweating but cold. Forcing his eyes open, he sees Steve, Robin, Nancy, and two nurses around him. His ears are ringing, but it fades moments later.

“Eddie oh thank god,” Robin looks absolutely terrified, and Nancy puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Jesus Munson,” Steve breathes out.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?”

“You passed out honey, probably just need some more water to help get you hydrated, do you feel alright enough to stand up?”

Eddie takes stock of himself and nods, even if he’s not entirely sure it’s true. Steve helps him, keeping most of his weight. They make it seven steps before Eddie’s world blurs again. This time, he can make out Steve yelping before he completely goes unconscious.

“And you teased me about being the one who couldn’t handle it,” Steve smirks, the words gentle as Eddie takes in everything around him.

They’re in a room off of the ER wing, the lights dimmed. God he feels like actual garbage. An IV is set up in the crook of his arm, but he’s got his regular clothes on, no gown.

“You passed out twice. Nurses say you probably have a low blood volume in general, so taking more wiped you out. They’re giving you fluids and you should be back to normal soon.”

“…Rob and Nancy?” His voice is raspy from disuse. “How long have I been here?”

“They’re both just out grabbing food for us. You’ve been here maybe half an hour? Scared the hell out of all of us man,” Steve bites at his lip.

“I’m ok Harrington. If demobats didn’t kill me, donating blood sure as hell won’t either.”

#sicktember22 #my fic #em #sh #rb #nw #st

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almond-milk-man · 3 years

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|| @sweetpsychorainbow asked for someone to write something like this, so I did! I didn’t proof read, this is just a fluffy drabble, really. ||

“You’re going to be fine, alright?” The reassurance was honestly mostly for himself. Even after everything, he couldn’t bear to lose Oswald. Ed gulped as he grabbed his hand. “I promise.”

Oswald was still clutching his eye in pain, but now he was laid on a makeshift hospital bed as Leslie Thompkins prepared put him under anesthesia. “CAN YOU SHUT UP FOR FIVE GODDAMN MINUTES?!” The angry man glared with his one eye. Normally he wouldn’t get so mad at Ed, but he was sick of him trying to make him feel better. He was perfectly fine. He was going to be fine.

“Mr. Cobblepot, I need to ask that you’ll remove your hand from your eye.” Lee sighed, making a clicking noise with her tongue as she glanced at the two of them. They were both a total wreck.

“Shut up?? Shut up?? Oswald, you just did the stupidest thing I have ever witnessed! I’m not just going to shut up!” Edward retorted with a grimace.

”Stop it, or my going to kick you out.” Lee glared as she pulled out the IV.

Edward shut up, sitting down in a foldable metal chair that was right next to the hospital bed. His grimace softened as he offered Oswald a sympathetic smile.

The avian man‘s nostrils flared as he glared at Ed. ”For a genius, you really are an idiot sometimes.” He looked away as the needle was stuck in his arm. Then it hit him. What if he somehow died during surgery? What if he didn’t get to wake up again? He had already lost a lot of blood. His glare dissipated as he turned his head to look at the green clad man next to him. “If I don’t wake up,” He already felt tired. “I want you to know that I love you.”

Like that, he was out like a light.

Edward’s face went pale. Had he heard him correctly? He didn’t even know. He felt tears run down his face, before he knew it, he had crumbled to the ground like an old building. After everything, all of the hate and pain, Oswald still loved him. Even after he tried to kill him and dethroned him, Oswald still loved him. His mind raced as he cried on the ground, mumbling incoherent phrases as he tried to grasp what happened.

Love was about sacrifice. It was about putting other’s needs before your own. And Oswald had done that for him. He risked his life to save him in a split second.

Then a thought hit him like a bus. It was a joke. It had to be some sick, cruel joke. There was no way that Oswald loved him anymore. This was just his revenge.

Ed choked on his tears as he stood up, hiccuping and trying to catch his breath.

Lee sighed, shaking her head. “He’s going to be fine, you know.” She glanced at her ex. “When he wakes up, you can tell him how you feel, Ed.”

Ed wanted to tell him so badly. “No, I can’t.” He looked out a window instead of at Oswald. “He’s going to wake up, I’ll tell him I love him too, and then he’ll laugh at me for being a fool.” He gripped the windowsill. “This is just some piss-poor joke.”

“Do what makes you happy, Ed.” Lee rolled her eyes. God, he was ridiculous.

After almost two hours, it was done. “I have a date with Barb that I’m late for, I’ll leave you two alone. He should wake up soon, Ed.” Lee rushed out with her keys and coat.

Edward sat by the bed, holding onto Oswald’s hand as tightly as he could. “You’re right, you know.” He whispered to the unconscious man. “I’m really an idiot sometimes, Os.” He admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to his hand.

”I love you.” He said, finally.

Oswald’s lips turned up into a grin. “Say it again.”

Edward’s face went red. “You-” He scoffed. “You’re awake?! How long have you been awake?!”

“Only a few minutes. I knew you wouldn’t do some dramatic monologue if I were awake, so I pretended to be asleep.” Oswald explained. “For the record, I love you too. I know you already know that, though.”

”I hate you.” Edward huffed as he kissed his knuckles.

”You wouldn’t have said that if I were awake and we both know it, Eddie.” Oswald grinned as he grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and gave him a kiss. A kiss he had been hoping for for years.

Edward kissed him again. “I love you, Oz.” He cupped his face in his hands.

“Really?”

“Really.”

#nygmobblepot #riddlebird

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mookie--jam · 2 years

Text

Chapter 19 (Part 1): Black (Empty Canvas)

“Lola, thank God you made it”, Johnny shouts at me so his voice will be heard over the music booming through The Vogue. He gives me a quick hug, finding it much more important to sip his Vodka Cranberry at that moment.

“Of course I made, though it was a bitch to get in. Where’s Corrine?” I ask as I try to signal one of the bartenders in the hopes of getting a drink.

“She’s still backstage with the guys, though she promised to come and watch the show here with us. So she’ll be here in a few minutes”, Johnny tells me and I nod in response as I order myself a rum and coke. Tonight is Mookie Blaylock’s second show ever. At first I didn’t want to come because every time I see Eddie it hurts like a motherfucker. But then Stone, Jeff and Mike kept telling me how excited they were for this gig. Mike even dropped by my job at the hotel to beg me to come to the gig. Apparently there’s a few guys from a record label in the crowd tonight interested in signing them. I couldn’t not come. That would make me a fucking horrible friend and I couldn’t do that to the guys. Also I still needed to thank Eddie for the flowers he sent me for my birthday. It had been two weeks and I hadn’t yet been able to muster up the courage to call him on the phone. I wonder if he’s okay. I hope his stage fright isn’t getting the best of him.

“Are you okay Johnny? You seem awfully quiet today”, I tell after a few moments of silence spent between us, which is a very rare occurrence. He’s aggressively stirring around the ice in his cup with a straw.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just need to go to the doctor tomorrow for a routine check up, but I know he’ll have to take blood and I just hate fucking needles”, Johnny tells me, sounding traumatized by the thought of it alone.

“Oh you big baby”, I chuckle and wrap an arm around his shoulders, gently squeezing the top of his arm.

“You’ll be fine, trust me”, I say and Johnny lets out a half whine besides me. I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to fucking worry but at that point Corrine appears in front of us and wraps her arms around both Johnny and I giving us a group hug.

“Hey, how are the guys? Are they nervous?” I ask Corrine and even though I say guys, I only care about one name. I’ve seen the other perform at least a hundred times and they’re always fine. It’s Eddie that I worry about.

“Most of them are okay. You know the normal preshow jitters”, Corrine tells me and I already feel that something else is coming.

“Eddie on the other hand. The poor guy is on the verge of a nervous break down”, Corrine tells me and my heart drops.

“That’s why I’m here. I know you guys to be on speaking terms and the last time you were able to calm him down. There’s a lot riding on this performance and the other guys are getting worried, because he’s nearly catatonic. Would you just please go and talk to him”, she continues. She practically begging me.

“Corrine, I don’t know…” I say. It could work and I could calm him down. Though the last time I did that was through kissing him, which isn’t and option now. But maybe I could be able to calm him down again. But maybe I could make him more stressed out and panicked than he already was.

“Please, Lola, I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t necessary”, Coco says. I know I could calm him down, I just need to trust my instincts.

“Okay, I’ll go. But I can’t promise anything”, I tell her and I start making my way through the crowd to get to the backstage.

“You’re a saint”, I hear Corrine shout. I shake my head at her commentary and continue to push my way through the crowd at The Vogue. The place is packed to mass capacity and there a bunch more people outside trying to get in. Most of them are here for Alice in Chains, that’s a fact. But over the last few weeks the Seattle Music scene has been buzzing with talk about Mookie. They’ve been working on a project with Chris and it’s already set to release in April of next year. So everyone is really fucking curious. Also because some of the old Mother Love Bone and Green River fanbase didn’t hear in time about Mookie’s first show. So even though people are here mainly to see the Alice guys, there’s more than a little curiosity towards the Mookie guys. I eventually manage to get to the back stage door.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” a guy asks me as I open the door. I turn around to look at him, judging from his clothes he looks like he could be part of the security crew.

“My name is Lola Carmichael. I’m here to see Eddie Vedder of Mookie Blaylock”, I tell the guy quite confidently. It’s something I picked up when I was dating Andy and needed to get backstage; just act like you belong her, because you do. So don’t be fucking nervous and stutter. The security guy however is not really having it.

“Why haven’t I heard your name mentioned before?”, he asks me and I practically want to roll my eyes, because for a hot second I think I’m gonna have to explain the whole fucking situation between Eddie and I and why I need to get backstage, preferably before they have to go on stage. But I’m saved by someone pulling me through the half open stage door.

“She belongs with us, it’s cool”, Stone tells the security guy who just shrugs, but I can’t help but give him a somewhat smug smile. Something along the lines of: told ya, motherfucker.

“Thank God you came”, Stone tells me as soon as he closes the door. He wraps me up in a hug that nearly squishes all the air from my body.

“You’re not the first one to say that tonight”, I mumble against his chest. Eventually he finally releases me from his grip and I’m able to breathe once again.

“So, where is he?” I ask him, wanting to get down to business. Also because I’m worried for him. I need to know that he’s doing okay. Because when Andy couldn’t handle stress in the past, he reached for fucking dope and that’s not what I ever want Eddie to do.

“He’s locked himself in the restroom”, Stone tells me sounding hopeless. I’ve been backstage at The Vogue before so I know where the restroom is. Without saying another word to Stone I make my way over to said restroom. I find Jeff in front of the door, softly knocking on it, though his voice isn’t exactly soft.

“Ed, get the fuck out here”, he mutters angrily. I shake my head and push Jeff aside. Jeff gives me a surprised look.

“That’s not gonna fucking work. He’s never gonna get out of that restroom out of free will”, I tell him and I rummage through my black satchel bag for something that will help the situation.

“Oh, and what do you intend to do then?” Jeff asks me. Oh Ament, you know me longer than today. you know I have a way of working around these things. Eventually I find a quarter at the bottom of my bag. I put it in the outside groove of the toilet door lock and turn it around, effectively unlocking the restroom door. I open it and give Jeff a look that says something along the lines of: I told you, never underestimate me. After that I close the door behind me and lock it again. I hear an aggravated moan from the outside, but decide to ignore it. The restroom is a bit bigger than a one person stall, but not much. Eddie is sitting on the toilet (thankfully he’s put down the seat and the cover and is very clearly using it as chair, rather than something else). He hasn’t even moved or flinched since I entered the room.

I kneel down in front of him and take his hands, which are in his lap, in mine. I use my thumbs to stroke the back of his hands.

“Eddie”, I softly say his name and nearly sigh out in relief when he slowly lifts his head to look at me.

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask him, not knowing what else to ask him at this point. He stays quiet for a second and I’m worried that Corrine wasn’t exaggerating when she said that he was nearly catatonic.

“Not really”, he eventually says. Good I’m making progress. My current plan of action is to keep asking him question so he’ll come out of his slightly catatonic state to then switch to a subject that always makes him happy and somewhat excited so that he’ll have the right energy to go on stage.

“What’s the matter? Why are you so nervous?” I ask him, making sure to speak calmly and softly because the last thing I need is for him to have a panic attack.

“There’s a lot riding on this show. There’s people from Epic records that are coming to see us, so it’s important we play well. And… I’m just scared to fuck up”, he tells me. I nod. I knew it was something along these lines. But I have a feeling there’s still some things that he’s holding back. But I know better than to try and get it from him all at once.

“I haven’t had the chance to thank you yet for those flowers you gave me on my birthday. They were absolutely beautiful. So thank you”, I tell him, trying to change the subject a bit and also because I really needed to thank him for them.

“You liked them?” he asks me, somewhat shyly. It always confuses me when he acts shy around me. I thought we were past shyness, but I guess when we came to the conclusion that we could never be together that it set us back in our friendship as well. So Eddie sometimes is shy around me now. I don’t get why, but I do find it really endearing.

“I loved them, thank you so much”, I tell him and I can’t help but lean over and give him a peck on his cheek as a sign of gratitude. He gives me a small smile.

“Come here”, he mutters, somewhat shyly, somewhat pleading and gestures to his lap. I’m in doubt of about exactly 0.3 seconds before I oblige to his order and straddle his lap. I take his head in my hands and place a soft kiss on his forehead, stroking his hair in the process. Eddie wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer. For the first time in a long time I feel good again. Why does this always happen? Why do I feel incomplete until I’m in his arms again?

“I’ve been such a fuck up lately. I just assume that this will go wrong as well”, he says, resting his head against my chest as I play with his hair. Oh my love, you weren’t the one to fuck up, I was.

“Eddie, would you look at me?” I ask him and he slowly raises his head until his baby blues meet my eyes.

“You’ll be fine. Because I’ve heard you sing many many times before and not once did you ever fuck up”, I tell him and I see a small smile form on his lips. Oh how I want to kiss him again.

“And if you get too nervous up there, just look in the crowd. Johnny, Corrine and I will be front row”, I continue.

“But there’s also about 300 other people and the guys from the record company. Those are the ones that get on my nerves”, he says somewhat hopelessly.

“Whenever it gets too much, just look at me. And imagine that you’re in the basement of the gallery, with just me there following rehearsal, like I’ve done before”, I try to reassure him.

“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything”, he eventually says and I give him a little smile. He’s out of his catatonic state and just seems really nervous now. But it’s the kind of nervousness that he should be able to handle.

“Lola…” he says my name and is about to say something else when we’re interrupted by someone banging on the door.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE GET OUT OF THERE! WE NEED TO GO ON IN FIVE!” Jeff shouts from the other side of the door. We both turn our heads towards the door. Eddie lets out a sigh.

“I guess it’s now or never”, he mutters and I turn my head back around to face him. I can’t help it, and tuck a strand of his hair behind his air.

“You’ll be okay, right?” I ask him, now more nervous than he seems. He is such a talented musician and so are the other guys. The though that they might miss out on an opportunity like this is nerve wrecking. Eddie’s voice needs to be heard. Heard by more people than all clubs in Seattle could hold and this could be his shot.

“I think so. And if I get too nervous I look for you in the crowd”, he says and I nod, shooting him another small smile.

“I’ll be there”, I tell him. Jeff is still banging on the door. He really needs to get out of here. I get off his lap and he gets up from the toilet as well. I’m about to turn around and open the door when Eddie pulls me in tight for another hug. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close as well. Jeff is still knocking on the door.

“Come one guys, this isn’t funny anymore”, Jeff says helplessly from the other side of the door. I gently force a bit more distance between Eddie and I, even though I don’t want to. I don’t want to leave his arms ever again.

“Eddie, we have to go”, I tell him and I notice how dangerously close our lips are. One kiss and he’d be so much calmer already. But I can’t. We can’t. We’re not those people anymore. Eddie nods and loosens his grip on me completely. I turn around and open the restroom door.

Jeff’s arms were still on automatic pilot and he could barely stop himself in time so he didn’t hit me in the face.

“Finally”, he sighs out very much relieved. He gives Eddie a scolding look immediately, but stops it as soon as he sees the look on my face. We awkwardly stand there for a few seconds. The backstage has become more busy. People are running around, trying to find their instruments, tech guys running around with cords, the stage manager yelling that they have two more minutes.

“Well, I’ll see you guys after the show”, I tell them and give Jeff a quick hug. I then turn to Eddie and pull him tight one last time, hoping to let him know that everything will be alright.

“You’ll be great”, I whisper in his ear and before he can say anything in response, I remove myself from his arms and start making my way towards the backstage door again.

I walk back into the crowd and soon enough I’m able to find Johnny and Corrine again. They’re front row already and I manage to snake my way through the crowd until I get to them.

“And? Did it work?” Corrine asks me eager to know. Knowing her the suspense of it all has been killing her ever since I left for the backstage. She holding on to her her glass -what I assume to be rum and coke- for dear life. It’s surprising the thing hasn’t shattered under the pressure yet.

“He’s talking now, so I guess I did something right”, I tell her as I squeeze in between her and Johnny to secure my place in the crowd. I promised him I’d be front row if he needed me, so here I am.

“God bless your beautiful soul”, she shouts out and wraps her arms around me so aggressively I nearly get tackled to the ground.

“Corrine, you should thank her. Not fucking kill her”, Johnny tells her and I nod in agreement. He gives Corrine a push at her shoulder and eventually she does let me go. Why do I always take breathing for granted? Especially with the friends I have, who see near suffocation as a sign of affection.

At that point we hear the mike switch on and the MC comes to to announce the guys. I hold my breath the moment they walk out on stage. Eddie is the last one to walk on. He seems okay, somewhat hesitant, but okay. He makes his way to the mike and looks around him, checking if the guys are ready. They all nod or give a thumbs up. Now it all lies in Eddie’s hands. His eyes are still screwed shut, but eventually he opens them and scans the first row. His eyes lock with mine and I give him a small wave. It’s just us in the rehearsal space of the gallery, or just you and me in bed when you used tot sing me to sleep. It’s just us.

“One, two, three…” he softly says into the mike and behind him the band begins the first tune. I recognize it as Release. I’ve heard them rehearse it many times. I recall when it was written. It was in the week that Eddie slept on the couch of the gallery. One day after rehearsal he came upstairs to quickly take a shower. I remember opening the door to see a puffy eyed and runny nosed Eddie on the other side. He told me it was nothing and I decided to let it go, not wanting to intrude. But after everything that he told me during Thanksgiving, the meaning of the song is so much clearer to me. If his dad could see him now, he’d be so fucking proud. By the end of the song there are tears in the corners of my eyes and I quickly wipe them away before anyone else can see them.

After that they launch themselves into a setlist consisting out of uptempo, high energy songs. First Once, followed by Alive, Why Go, Even Flow, Alone and Porch. The set is going very well and Eddie is crawling more and more out his shell. There is more audacity in his voice and in his presence. He even manages to look into the crowd instead of keeping his eyes shut. Every now and then his eyes still find me and I give him some form of reassurance; wether it’s a smile or a thumbs up.

“So… Uhm… This is our last song”, Eddie says after Porch. Honestly, I’m so sad their set is already over. I could watch them for hours and hours on end. The crowd isn’t too happy that it’s over already either.

“But that means that Alice will be out in a few moments”, he continues and the crowd cheers. Knowing Jerry Cantrell, he’s probably grinning ear to ear back stage right now.

“But we have one more song to go. It was written in a dark hour, hence the title Black”, and with those words the band kicks in behind him. I’ve never heard them play this before. I can immediately tell it’s a more slow song, and I’m excited. I love their high energy stuff, but in my humble opinion you can only get to know the core of an artist in their calmer works, where the emotions are able to come to the surface.

I’m mesmerized by the beauty of his voice once again. I’m so entranced that I’m only vaguely listening to the lyrics. But then Johnny and Corrine start tapping my shoulders at the same time. They share a knowing look and I’m completely and utterly confused. What? I mouth at Corrine, not wanting my voice to was out Eddie’s.

“I think he wrote this about you”, Corrine says and a chill runs down my spine. What? That can’t be? Oh please don’t let it be so. But when Eddie gets to the final part of the song I know Corrine is right.

“I know someday you'll have a beautiful life, I know you'll be a star in somebody else's sky. But why, why, why can't it be, can't it be mine?” Eddie sings and for the first time during the song he opens his eyes and they immediately find mine. The pain in his eyes knocks the wind out of me.

They finish up the song and take their bows. In that moment I don’t think about what I do. I start to push my way through the crowd again. I hear Johnny and Corrine call my name, but I ignore them. The fastest way it is through the backstage and then through the emergency exit. I make my way to the backstage door. Luckily this time the security guy doesn’t stop me and lets me right through.

The moment I get into the backstage the Mookie guys are getting off stage. So I decide to make a run for it.

I hear Stone shout my name but I just ignore him as I run around the labyrinth that is the backstage trying to find the emergency exit.

Another person shouts my name. I know who it is. It’s the one person I can’t face right now. I can’t see him right now. I take a sharp turn around the corner and eventually see the emergency exit right in front of it. I push it open and run through it in one swift motion. Even though I’m impressed by my successful run so far, Eddie is by far faster. I’ve only been able to run a few yards when Eddie’s hand catches on my wrist, stopping me in my running and pulling me back.

“What?” I shout at him, only to realize my voice is cracking because of tears.

#pearl jam fanfic #pearl jam fanfiction #eddie vedder fanfic #eddie vedder fanfiction #grungefic #grunge fanfic #grunge fanfiction

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name-me-regret · 4 years

Text

If The World Was Ending 11/?

If The World Was Ending Chapter Eleven: Waking Up Slow

Read on AO3.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

“Heaven help me My mind changes like the wind Please excuse me I don't know where to begin

But I didn't think I cared I could be your friend But I'm unprepared Oh, I've never felt like this

I was unaware That you were lighting flares Now I'm running scared Oh, how did it come to this?...”

~Waking Up Slow (Piano version) - Gabrielle Aplin

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

‘BUCK!’

Buck lifted his head and saw Christopher, he was barely hanging onto a cement light post as the water ripped at him like dark, reaching hands.

‘CHRIS!’ he shouted as he tried to swim toward him, before he was dragged under. But it didn’t matter how much he kicked his legs and moved his arms, he couldn’t get any closer.

‘HELP, BUCK!’

The water pulled at Chris and his little fingers were slipping and Buck felt desperation start to fill his chest when nothing he did could get him to the little boy. ‘PLEASE!’ he sobbed, seeing Chris’s frightened face as he reached one small hand toward him.

Then the water rushed forward and ripped him from reach and from view.

“NO!” Bucked screamed as he shot up in bed, eyes flying open. He searched the dark room, but he was alone in his loft. His chest was heaving, feeling his heart racing in his chest, but there was no water and he knew Chris was safe. Even so, he wanted to reach for his phone and call Eddie, since he knew he was home right now.

The only thing that stopped him was that it was his first day off after a 48-hour shift, and Eddie needed to rest. Hell, Buck had had Chris during that first 24-hours before Carla had come back to stay with him for the other day. Buck would have honestly been more than happy to take care of him both days, but Eddie had insisted that it was Carla’s job and that Buck didn’t have a job anymore so he couldn’t keep wasting money taking him out.

Buck knew Eddie hadn’t meant it maliciously, but the words stung more than he was willingly to admit, to be reminded that he was no longer a firefighter. Also, Buck wasn’t worried about money, since he kept getting his worker’s comp checks, and his savings consisted of all the money his grandparents had left him. They hadn’t agreed with their parents way of raising him and Maddie, especially how they’d cut her off when she’d married Doug. So, they’d cut them out of their wills and left it all to Buck and Maddie.

They’d been furious.

As for Buck, he didn’t care about the money. All her ever cared about was for his parents’s love and acceptance. He’d never gotten it.

Buck knew he was too keyed up to try going back to sleep, so he decided to take a shower to wash off the sweat. As he was coming out, his phone playing his Mellow playlist, it cut off in the middle of the James Bay song he was listening to. He immediately answered when he saw that it was Tony.

“So, you’re still alive?” Buck asked, a relieved grin on his face despite himself. His hair was still damp, and he’d yanked on some sweats and a t-shirt. The blonde man let himself fall on his bed, cell phone still against his ear. It had been two days since Tony had left, and he’d only received a single text from the man since then.

“Yeah... bruised and bettered, but still alive,” Tony groaned on the other end. There was shuffling on his end, followed by a clanking and then he heard JARVIS voice clearly stating that he needed someone else to stitch his wound.

“You’re trying to stitch your own wound?” Buck asked incredulously. “Don’t you have a tower with a medical floor?” He sat up now, worried for Tony and his apparent idiocy. And Buck thought he was a dumbass.

Tony fumbled with something as he grumbled. “I didn’t call to get lectured, Ev.”

Buck nodded with a sigh, running a hand down his tired face. He hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep in the last two days, mostly because of nightmares. While the ladder truck bombing had given him his share of nightmares, the tsunami and losing Chris during the natural disaster was something worse. So, he was feeling a bit irritable at the moment.

“Then why did you call then?” He didn’t want Tony to think all he’d do was nag at him, as if he was his... well, his boyfriend or something. That had ended a while ago. “I can exactly help you stitch your wound with you being all the way in New York.”

Tony was quiet for a few seconds. “Well, I’m not exactly in New York,” he admitted at last. He heaved his own sigh and did something that gave a sort of ripping sound, and then hissed as Buck heard a smack. “I’m right outside L.A. in a SHIELD safe house.”

“And there’s no one there to help you?” Buck asked, already starting to stand up. He looked for his wallet and the keys to the rental the insurance company had given him, since his Jeep was a total loss and were in the process of getting a estimate and issuing him a check. He had insisted on getting his Jeep back, for sentimental reasons and it didn’t matter if they didn’t give him a check. Buck didn’t want a new vehicle, wanted to fix up his Jeep.

“I’m not exactly supposed to be here,” Tony admitted. He kicked at something on his end. “By the looks of things, no one’s been here in months.”

“Where are you?” Evan asked as he climbed down to the ground level and out of his building.

“What? Why?” He paused and listened, obviously having heard him get in his car and start the engine. “No, Ev, I’m fine. You don’t have to come here.”

“J, are you there? Send Tony’s location to my phone.”

‘Yes, Mr. Buckley, sending it now.’

“JARVIS, you traitor! I will donate you to a community college!” Tony snapped with no real heat in his voice. If anything, he sounded more tired than angry.

“I’m on my way, you idiot,” Buck laughed. He heard Tony curse, but he didn’t tell him to stay away. Buck took that as a win.

- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

The house wasn’t much to look at, and ‘a shack’ would be a better description for it. Buck didn’t see the armor, but figured it was inside with Tony. He didn’t even bother to knock and entered through the door, which Tony had probably left unlocked for him. It could also be because he didn’t expect anyone to come attack him, so whatever had caused his injury had probably been taken care of. If not, Tony wouldn’t have allowed JARVIS to give Buck his location.

“Tony?”

“In the kitchen,” he heard the man call.

A few moments later he entered what could maybe be called a kitchen. The table looked like anything more than the first aid kit resting on it would make it collapse, so did the two chairs that were the only thing in the room. It didn’t look like it had been stepped in for ages, judging by the dust over everything, the grimy stove and the refrigerator that was probably from the eighties, possibly the seventies. There was likely no food inside, and the sink and the faucets of it were rusted, so there was possibly no water.

Buck moved over and soon he was standing over Tony, who was sitting in one of the rickety chairs. He had a black eye that was almost swollen shut, several cuts and bruises all over his face and exposed torso, since he was shirtless. Tony also had a bandage taped against his left side, just out of where he could comfortably reach, and it was quickly being stained by blood. “You’re fine, huh?”

Tony scowled up at him past his rapidly swelling eye, and the armor silently standing behind him in sentry mode showed the dent on the face plate where he’d been hit. “I am,” he insisted. He indicated the bandage. “I managed to tape it up.”

“And JARVIS thinks you need stitches,” he said, removing his light jacket and hanging it on the other chair. “Turn this way,” he instructed as he pulled the chair with his jacket closer. He had to sit close to be able to examine the wound, and he shook his head when he pulled the bloody bandage off. “I’m a firefighter, not a paramedic, and even I know this needs stitches.”

“Well, take a crack at it, if you want,” Tony told him petulantly. He didn’t seem to happy with being seen like that, but he’d seen Evan like that so he didn’t know what his problem was. In fact, he’d been worse, but then again, he’d been eighteen at the time, almost nineteen. So, he guessed it was different.

Buck shook his head and yanked the first aid kit closer, which he’d obviously been trying to use by the blood smeared on the side of it. “I’d normally leave you to your stupidity, but then JARVIS would be upset,” he snarked back.

Of course, he wouldn’t actually do it, since he’d come all this way to help him. Buck cared about Tony, even when he was being snappish. They were both quiet as he worked, Buck having slipped on some gloves, and Tony grunted in pain when the needle first pierced the skin, but then his only response afterwards was a few flinches or his shoulders twitching for the next six stitches. “All done,” he said, cleaning the excess blood and tossing it all in the trash can Tony had obviously dragged closer. There wasn’t even a bag inside of it.

“Thanks,” Tony finally said after a moment of silence. His face was tired and Buck wondered how much sleep he’d gotten since the two days he’d seen him. The bags under his eyes told that it had likely not been much, so he probably felt as bad as Buck did.

“Are you staying here?” Buck asked, looking around distastefully at the grime and dust that covered every surface. He was sure the rest of the... structure was just as bad, or worse. At least it was only one floor, since he was quite sure anything higher might have collapsed by now. Then again, if it belonged to a secret spy organization, then it was probably reinforced to keep it standing. Buck wasn’t too keen on testing that theory out.

“I can’t really fly without fixing the helmet,” he said. Buck took that to mean that it was damaged enough that he might not be able to even use it. “I’ll have... Pepper send me the jet.”

“Or I could take you home,” Buck blurted out, not really thinking on what he was saying.

“I.. do have a penthouse in LA,” Tony mused out loud. Then he quickly shook his head. “No, never mind, I think it was damaged in the tsunami.”

“I meant take you to my apartment,” Buck clarified. He was amused as Tony’s gaze snapped up in shock toward him. “It’s not like we haven’t shared a bed before.” He tried to keep the smirk off his face as he saw Tony’s face start to get a bit red. Buck hadn’t even know it was possible to make Tony Stark blush.

“I don’t... want to be a burden,” Tony said, almost stuttering. Buck was enjoying this way too much. “I don’t really have a change of clothes.”

Buck shrugged as he leaned forward, seeing Tony’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed nervously. “You can just borrow some of mine,” he said, making a show of checking his bandage, but he wanted to tease him a little. He’d always enjoyed flexing his flirting skills, and there was no one better for that than Mr. Tony “smooth-talking-charm-anyone” Stark. Then again, Tony had been Maddie’s friend since they were 14 and 16 respectively, Buck having been 10 at the time. It was the year before he started at MIT, and three years before his parent’s automobile accident.

He’d been a mess back then, alcohol and drugs and between Maddie and his friend Rhodes they’d helped him the best way they could. As for Buck, he had met Tony briefly but not entirely, and during that time he’d been thirteen. They hadn’t properly met until he was 16 (almost 17) and Tony had been 20, at a charity event that Charles Buckley actually donated to. Buck was convinced that it was just to keep up appearances, but it had benefited Buck that he could finally meet Maddie’s friend, Tony Stark.

Buck had been smitten almost immediately but Tony had refused the young man’s advances until he was actually 18. By then Buck had long known he was bisexual and knew exactly what and who he wanted, and he had wanted Tony. It was cliche that on his eighteenth birthday they’d finally fallen into bed together, but that’s what had happened, almost like a fairytale if one was being extra sappy and cheesy.

Then Charles Buckley had found out eight months into their relationship, and Buck had ended it to spare himself from his father’s bigoted, homophobic rage. He’d moved to LA a month after he turned nineteen.

Now here he had him once again and all those feelings he’d never gotten over were returning with a vengeance, despite his feelings for Eddie. He’d been hiding them well, hiding himself out of fear still, but it became harder now with Tony here. Because while he wasn’t sure that Tony had ever loved him, Buck was sure the man had been his first love, and you never got over your first love.

“Come home with me,” he told him, fingers coming to rest on his knee.

Tony’s eyes moved to the hand on his knee before they lifted to meet his eyes. “Yea-”

The sound of the front door being kicked in made them both freeze, and the armor turned as the repulsors charged with a whine. Buck stood and faced the open doorway even as Tony hissed at him to get back. There was no way he’d do that, not with Tony being injured.

They both tensed as an imposing figure entered their line of sight, a very familiar shield in front of them. “Tony?” he asked in confusion.

“Rogers,” Tony sighed as he slumped back in his chair. He winced a moment later and Buck wanted to immediately check the stitches, but he hadn’t moved from his position, which was between Tony and this man. “It’s alright, he’s a... not a threat.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed on the man, trying to place him, and definitely not trusting him in the slightest. “Why’re you kicking in the door?” Buck asked him as his eyes not once leaving him as he walked further inside the kitchen.

“Because this is a SHIELD safe house and someone broke into it,” he said, as if that explained that all. “I work with SHIELD.”

Buck opened his mouth to respond, not sure why this man got his hackles up, but paused as Tony’s hand touched his elbow. He glanced at the man, scoffed and backed off, physically and metaphorically as he sat in the rickety chair once again. “I’m surprised there’s even security system for this shack,” Tony told the man. He seemed to know him, whoever he was.

“It’s a low frequency alarm, which is why we only got here,” a woman said as she walked in after the man. Buck hadn’t even heard her come in she was so quiet. “I’m surprise you didn’t realize there was an alarm.”

Tony grunted as he put on his shirt carefully. “I didn’t really check,” he admitted. “I was preoccupied with other things.” He stood. “We’ll be leaving now.”

“You’re hurt?” the man asked, brow furrowed. “Do you need assistance?” He’d stepped forward and his blue eyes narrowed as Buck tensed and half rose out of his seat.

“He’s fine, I took care of him,” he said.

The man, Rogers as Tony had called him, frowned. “And you are?”

Tony opened his mouth, but Buck cut him off. “Buck,” he said, holding a hand to him. And even as he smiled at him, there was no warmth in the expression. “A firefighter with LAFD.”

Rogers hesitated a moment, seeming to stiffen at the mention of his name. He eventually took his hand, grip firm as he shook it. “Steve Rogers. That’s an interesting name.”

Buck shrugged as he released his hand and tipped his head at the woman, who hadn’t bothered to introduce herself. Except, she really didn’t have to now that Buck new the man’s name. He was Captain America and that must mean she was Natasha Romanov, the Black Widow, who had wandered closer to Tony to check him over. Tony just waved her off. “It’s actually Evan Buckley, but everyone just calls me Buck.”

Tony stood as well now. “Well, not that this hasn’t been swell,” he snarked, “but I’m eager to get into Ev’s bed.”

Rogers sputtered and Tony only grinned and didn’t correct what he must be thinking. He moved past them all, and Buck nodded as he also left the room. The suit, being controlled by JARVIS, followed right behind. As they exited the shack, he saw the jet parked close by, a dark shadow in the gloom.

Tony had already slipped into the passenger seat and Buck wasted no time in getting into the car as well. “So, did I just meet Captain America and the Black Widow, or did I imagine that?”

“No,” Tony huffed a laugh, “you didn’t.”

Buck nodded as he started his car. “And did you just make those same people think we were about to have sex?”

Tony smirked and Buck laughed as he shifted the car into drive and headed back toward the city. “You’re terrible.”

“I try my best,” Tony quipped back.-

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