#I don’t want to because it’ll get turned back on the store manager when it’s not his fault but like… come on

[voidthewanderer]

I’m just gonna

[moonstruckme]

Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │ part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!” 

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?” 

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.” 

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.” 

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.” 

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.” 

“How would it be your fault?” 

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.” 

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.” 

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?” 

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.” 

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?” 

You blink. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.” 

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.” 

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?” 

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now. 

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.” 

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.” 

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway. 

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up. 

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.” 

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours. 

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime. 

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice. 

“I might,” you say. 

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

[icyminghao]

pick me up!

pairing: jaehyun x gn!reader ft. sungho x gn!oc genre: fluff, crack, established relationship warning(s): mentions of food word count: 1.8k

summary: the three times jaehyun has (unsuccessfully) tried flirting with you through pick-up lines, and the one time you did it back to him.

ZERO.

“So, how did you win your partner over?”

Jaehyun looks up from his phone to see Sanghyeok raising his eyebrows at Sungho, a genuinely curious expression resting on his face. Jaehyun puts down his phone, ears peeled for his best friend’s reply.

Sungho puts his cup of coffee back onto the saucer, expressionless. “Pick-up lines.”

Sanghyeok suddenly lets out a series of coughs, seemingly having choked on his drink. Jaehyun pats his back repeatedly, sheepishly smiling at patrons from neighbouring tables at the café who had looked over due to the commotion.

“Pick-up lines? I didn’t think you’d be the type to use them to flirt,” Sanghyeok manages after calming down, “To be fair, I didn’t think you were capable of flirting at all.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s offensive,” Sungho clutches his chest dramatically, “Second of all, it works wonders. You can’t say anything, because I’m the one with a partner.”

“Really?” Sanghyeok huffs, turning to Jaehyun, “I don’t trust him. Does it really work?”

Jaehyun blinks.

“I’ve… never tried it before,” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and Sungho’s jaw drops a little.

“Dude, you’re actually missing out,” Sungho slaps Jaehyun on the back, “You should try it sometime. I’m sure y/n’s reaction will be gold.”

Jaehyun hums, internally putting his thinking cap on. He’ll try it as soon as he goes home to you.

ONE.

“Honey, can you pass me your watch, please?” you poke your head through the gap between your bedroom door and the doorframe to see your boyfriend sitting on his side of the bed as he uses his phone.

“My watch?” Jaehyun looks up. He’s about to get up to find it, but he suddenly stops, gears turning in his head as you walk over to stand in front of him, “How about I give you my time instead?”

You chuckle, having not expected such a reply, and reach over to boop his nose. “That was a good one, honey, but I need your watch now. I told the watch repairer I’d be down at his shop like, ten minutes ago,”

Jaehyun smiles at the physical contact, but scrunches his nose in confusion immediately after, his mission of flirting with you through pick-up lines completely forgotten. “Why are you bringing my watch to the repair shop?”

“Honey, you told me you wanted it cleaned last week, didn’t you?” you ruffle his hair, endeared by his forgetfulness.

“Oh, right! I did,” Jaehyun’s eyes light up, recalling his request. He doesn’t know if you noticed, but he’s very sure there’s literal stars in his eyes. You always take care of him so well, and he’s nothing short of grateful. “Thank you, baby.”

You’ve already left for the repair shop quite a while ago when Jaehyun abruptly sits up from his lying-down position, sighing in disappointment.

You didn’t react to his pick-up line.

TWO.

“Honey, can you pass me the tomato sauce in front of you?” you nudge your boyfriend softly, eyes focused on the long grocery list in your hand.

You’d come to the grocery store with Jaehyun in tow, a result of your puppy-like boyfriend begging you to bring him along.

“It’ll be like a date!” he had whined, though you would have gladly taken him along without him trying his best to persuade you.

Upon hearing no reply for a beat too long, you look up from the list to see Jaehyun looking down at his phone, eyes focused and eyebrows furrowed.

“Honey?” you try, and sure enough, Jaehyun doesn’t respond, completely distracted by whatever is on his phone screen at the moment. You tilt your head in confusion. “Jaehyun…?”

“Yes!?” Jaehyun suddenly flinches, snapping back into reality. He looks between you and the grocery list in your hand and smiles sheepishly. “Sorry. Sungho texted me.”

You hum, gesturing for him to pass you the tomato sauce you’d requested a few moments ago. “Yeah? What are the both of you up to this time?”

“I was just telling him about the shirt I’m wearing,” your boyfriend replies, placing the tomato sauce into the cart he was pushing around. 

You spare a glance at the shirt in question. It’s a simple white tee that you’re sure Jaehyun bought in bulk a long time ago, and you struggle to pinpoint anything out of the ordinary. 

“What’s wrong with the shirt?” you ask, utterly confused.

Jaehyun’s back straightens, eyes practically sparkling

“It’s the material,” he whines, moving closer to you, “Feel it.”

You raise an eyebrow, but find yourself obliging anyway. You reach forward and pinch your boyfriend’s sleeve with two fingers, feeling the material. 

“There’s… nothing wrong with it?” you reply, contemplating whether or not to add a thermometer to your cart to check if Jaehyun has a fever. 

“There is nothing wrong with it,” Jaehyun grins, “It’s boyfriend material.”

You pause, processing Jaehyun’s words before realising that you really should have seen this coming with all the signs.

“Did Sungho teach you this?” you ruffle your boyfriend’s hair, turning to push the cart down the aisle. 

Jaehyun catches up to you immediately, a small pout on his face as he reaches over to push the cart instead of letting you do it. “He said he won Bailey over with this one.”

You laugh at the mention of Sungho’s partner, nudging Jaehyun with your shoulder. “Really? I’ll have to ask Bailey about that the next time we meet.”

THREE.

“He told Jaehyun that? That’s definitely not how it went,” Bailey laughs as you recount your conversation with your boyfriend at the grocery store, “He cringed halfway through the line and refused to talk to me for a few hours because I teased him about it.”

You’re on a double date at the amusement park with Sungho and his partner, though with how you haven’t spoken a single word to Sungho and your boyfriend with the way the former pulled the latter aside as soon as all four of you met up and started whispering to each other like schoolgirls with secrets, you could say you’re practically on a date with just Bailey. 

“Sounds like Sungho to me,” you reply, before gesturing at the two men walking in front of you. “Any idea what they’re whispering about? We’ve been here for, like, an hour and haven’t gone on any rides.”

“Probably pick-up lines,” Bailey shrugs, “Sungho’s been telling me all week about wanting to teach Jaehyun some pick-up lines so he can ‘succeed where I failed’, though I really don’t see the point since you’re already dating him. I told him to teach Sanghyeok instead, but he just said Sanghyeok doesn’t ‘see the vision’.” 

This is news to you. You hum in response. “Huh, is that why he’s been using pick-up lines on me lately?”

Before Bailey can answer, the two men in front of you suddenly halt their footsteps and turn around, much to your confusion. 

“Bailey and I are going to get some churros, we’ll catch the both of you later!” Sungho grabs Bailey’s hand and briskly walks away from you and Jaehyun, with Bailey squeaking out a “We are?” as they follow.

“What’s that about?” you turn to look at your boyfriend. Jaehyun looks back at you with a sheepish grin. 

“I don’t know,” he replies in the most nonchalant tone he can muster, praying you don’t catch on to it (you do). “Let’s go ride the carousel!” 

You raise an eyebrow at his behaviour, but oblige anyway, turning to walk towards the attraction. 

“Wait!” Jaehyun suddenly raises his voice. You turn to face him, sheepishly bowing to passers-by who turned to look at the commotion.

“Your hand,” your boyfriend’s voice softens as he looks down at your right hand. “It looks heavy.”

“What–” 

“Let me hold it for you!” In one swift motion, Jaehyun interlocks your right hand with his left, swinging them back and forth as he leads you to the carousel.

You stifle a laugh, turning to look at his reddened cheeks as he continues tugging you along while looking forward, refusing to meet your eyes. 

You think you don’t mind Sungho teaching your boyfriend pick-up lines, if it means getting to see him flustered like this.

+

Jaehyun wakes up from his nap to the smell of pasta.

He rolls over to face your side of the bed and reaches over in an attempt to pull you into his chest, only to have his hands find purchase on your pillow instead. Groaning, Jaehyun opens one of his eyes reluctantly, and sure enough, you’re nowhere to be found on the bed.

Jaehyun sits up immediately, looking around the room in search of you before realising that you’re probably in the kitchen judging by the mouthwatering smell of tomato sauce. He scrambles to get up, and starts shuffling towards the kitchen to see you.

“Baby?” Jaehyun’s voice is groggy from the nap, and you turn towards the sound from your spot by the stove to see him trudging into the kitchen. 

You smile. “How was your nap?” 

“Not good. You weren’t there when I woke up,” Jaehyun whines, immediately latching onto your arm. 

“Someone has to prepare dinner, honey, and we both know it’s not you,” you giggle, booping his nose. 

Jaehyun whines a bit more before sniffing. “It smells good.” 

You purse your lips in thought, a mischievous idea surfacing in the forefront of your mind. 

“Really? I smell something burning, actually,” you try your best to sound genuinely concerned, and Jaehyun falls for it immediately. 

“You do?” he straightens in alarm, looking down at the wok in front of the both of you. “It smells and looks fine to me.”

You grin, turning to him. “That’s because it’s not the pasta that’s burning, honey.” 

“Then wha—”

“It’s my heart that’s burning for you!” you mask the embarrassment with a quick peck to your boyfriend’s lips. Pulling away, you find him frozen in his spot, cheeks reddening by the second. 

He touches his lips with a lovesick expression and visibly deflates, throwing himself into your arms. “Baby, you can’t do that!” 

Your chest vibrates with your laughter, and Jaehyun smiles subconsciously, nuzzling further into your neck as you wrap your arms around him. “Do what? Use pick-up lines? You’ve been using them on me all week.”

Your puppy-like boyfriend reluctantly tears himself from your embrace to look at you, eyes widening. “You knew?” 

“Of course I knew, honey,” you pat his head affectionately, “They were horrible.”

Jaehyun huffs, burying his face in your neck once again. “I kept on using those pick-up lines because you wouldn’t react!” 

You chuckle, rubbing your hands up and down his back soothingly. “Well, how do you want me to react, honey? I’m already yours. You don’t have to use cringy pick-up lines to win me over.”

Jaehyun plants a kiss on your neck, then whines. “Stop flirting with me. I’ll fall in love with you.”

“Oh?” you play along, squeezing him tighter around you. 

“I’ll flirt with you every day, then.”

a/n: bnd writer icyminghao is back??? hello.

masterlist

taglist (send an ask to be tagged!): @onedoornet @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @someonewhowantstobeloved @hrts4hanniehae

@wantmatthew @serejae @000-pawz @0310s

[attemptinghaikyuu]

A taste in the dead of night

A/n: so I’ve never written something like this before and it was really fun!! I am going to list some things to be aware of since this is scandalous compared to what’s normal for me-

-> lack of consent, hypnotism (basically), not nsfw, but it is up a notch compared to anything else I’ve written (comes with the vampire thing), so overall read with discretion I guess! And Happy Halloween!

Vampire!Suna Rintarou x g/n reader

———

It’s the dead of night and you can feel eyes on the back of your neck.

There’s someone, or something, watching you.

You keep walking through the cold, October air. Wind blows, finding its way into your sweaters thick wool, nipping at your skin and causing goosebumps to spread. You’re trying to keep your gait strong. You don’t want to look like your scared or crazy or, worst of all, weak. If something really is behind you, you can’t stand the thought of looking like easy prey.

As casually as possible, like you just want to look at something you’d missed on the street, you turn your head to the dark behind you. Illuminated by a single bulb overhead, you see nothing.

Your goosebumps don’t go away.

It’s nothing. There’s nothing there, and yet you still feel distinctly wrong. Like something is out of place and if you could just figure it out, you’d be alright walking through this dark area.

You turn your back and decide you need to walk the slightest bit faster.

You’ll follow your instincts. You’re going into the first open store you see on this road to your friends place.

You can text her. Let her know something came up or see if she could meet you. It’ll be fine if she can meet up with you to go to hers together.

Feet hitting the ground, thoughts sloshing through your head, you almost stop the next moment. You’re not sure how you manage to keep yourself moving forward. You think you probably slowed down there, and that makes you scared.

Right behind you a sound had echoed.

And not some distant noise coming in from the nighttime domed around you. A sound only a couple of feet behind you.

Like it was at your heel.

A sound that you can’t hear anymore now that you’re painfully straining for it.

It’s with breaths struggling to stay calm that you manage a sigh of relief. There’s a light ahead of you that’s not from a street lamp. It’s a late night coffee shop that is so close, and so brightly inviting in this late hour you could nearly laugh out loud in relief.

You don’t get to feel that relief for long. In fact you only make it one more step before the noise is in your ear, closer than before.

“Who..!?” You shout, spinning around. You feel panicked, and berate the heart in your chest for rising so quickly because there’s still nothing. Nothing is behind you even though you know you heard a whisper in your ear.

You steel yourself as you stare at the blank space that should have more. There’s something missing in the street you’re looking at and it’s not right. You know it deep down, a part of your subconscious screaming. You are going to sprint to that coffee shop when you turn back around. You’ll beg your friend to pick you up. She’ll understand when she hears fear coating your voice. She’ll know something’s not right, the same way she knows you don’t get scared easy.

With a quick, smooth motion you turn and start to the lighted shop.

Except it’s dark in front of you. A solid wall blocking your path to the safe haven ahead. You can’t see around the person whose planted themselves in fromt of you, but you can see they have a tilted head and bored expression.

He’s a tall man with dark hair, and despite the lazy eyes you know this person is sharp and watchful.

You also know he’s the one who made the noise and you know you’re afraid. Your pulse is in your throat, and you swallow it down. He’s the one that’s spiking your primal instinct to run, run, run.

That instinct kicks up a notch more when he smiles down at you. Run, your mind whispers. The nerves racing through you feel wrong, the same type of wrong as a man showing up without you hearing a single step.

“Heyyy, my name’s Suna,”

Run, your brain repeats.

He’s slow and his movements feel like water. The way he’s not even trying to get closer, but blocking your path nonetheless, makes it clear he’s messing with you.

He’s a dangerous person. Or maybe he’s just a thing. You see his mouth widen slightly and catch a glimpse of something unnaturally sharp. It can’t be his teeth, you desperately want to hold out hope this is insane and that this man, Suna, does not have sharp, terrifying teeth.

Then he opens his mouth all the way, and gives you a blinding smile after he’s done yawning. You barely registered it was a yawn, you were petrified to the spot so completely, there’s no way you were breathing at all.

“I, I have to g-

You start to stutter, stopping when Suna takes a step forward. He’s basically touching you now.

It’s like you and him and nothing else exist.

It’s not a full blown shock you feel, but a small numbing one instead, when you realize you’re looking into this monsters eyes and can’t. Stop. Your body is frozen. Your mind has slowed and Sunas teeth are coming closer.

You feel a hand gently, oh so gently, tilt your head to the side. Your eyes are heavy and droop as the teeth move out of your line of sight. Closer to your neck.

You are still panicked when you understand that the feeling at your neck is teeth gliding over skin. Not puncturing yet. Just comfortably feeling where to do so.

You shiver when his tongue slowly glides up, over you throat, hot and dizzying.

He bites fast.

It’s sudden and his teeth are sharp, like little daggers. You gasp as the pain pierces your fog and manage an attempt to shove him away.

He’s stronger though. And hungry.

The pull of blood, mixed with whatever dizzying presence Suna has sends you into a strange delirium. It’s not long before your eyes are fully closed, mind completely blank, and you simply let Suna hold you up.

He’s warm, it’s what you think, the words having replaced your desperate runs.

It’s a minute, or maybe years later, when he pulls his teeth out. He lets his tongue lap up the blood he got on your neck. Then he carefully takes your hand and starts to guide you forward.

“You’re probably a little tired,” he says. You nod. You are tired.

He smiles down at you. “I’ll walk you over to that coffee shop, does that sound good?”

“Yeah..” it’s sounds good to you.

“Alright.”

He holds your hand the whole way, and with eyes still dropping, mind still tired from ….something.. you notice him looking at your neck.

He pauses a few feet from the door of the cafe, stopping you with him.

Purposefully he takes his thumb and swipes at something on your neck. It comes away red.

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You reply without truly knowing what that means right now.

He gives you a final smile of the night, sharing his unnatural teeth once more.

“Great,” he licks the red off his fingers as he turns away, leaving you at the foot of the cafe.

It’s a slow last thought you have-

hopefully he comes back soon.

[quillsandblades]

Shades of Another World

Based on the art by @catyypss

Levi has a way with colors and paints that is unlike anything Hange has ever seen before. The moment he sets up his canvas and arranges his equipment, she knows that he’s just a paintbrush’s stroke away from capturing the whole universe and translating it on his canvas in streaks and splashes of color. 

It’s beautiful to watch, and she feels quite privileged to be able to see him paint. Best friend or not, Levi has always been secretive about his art. He stores his pieces in his workroom, letting only a few of them be seen by anyone (Which kind of makes sense because they’re the reflection of his innermost self). And Hange’s sure that no one in the entire world has ever been allowed to watch Levi Ackerman paint. So it’s only natural to feel absolutely giddy and warm when Levi finally allows her to see him while he worked—but only after years of insistence. 

Hange Zoe marvels at her friend’s command over the shades of the world, the way his slender fingers move the brush, and guide the reds and blues and greens. At first it looks like haphazard colors strewn over the white surface, but then they take shape and arrange themselves, and Hange realizes that each stroke had a meaning, a purpose to the bigger picture, and how the absence of even a single speck would have diminished the final effect. 

She just sits in wonder as Levi leans back on his chair, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth. He has made a horse galloping in a field, with the wide sky spread above. Sunlight plays on its mane and flank, and shadows dance on its body in just the right places. The field is full of flowers, lifting their faces in the gold pouring from the sun above. 

It feels like the painting is breathing. 

She’s sure she can hear the grunts of the horse, and the telltale whistle of the breeze. 

‘You’re amazing Levi,’ she says a little breathlessly, turning to smile widely at him.

He just clicks his tongue and looks away. 

Hange giggles. When will that shorty learn to take a compliment? 

‘You know what?’ Hange leans her elbow on his desk. His eyes narrow suspiciously. ‘You should teach me how to paint this good.’

‘Fuck no,’ Levi glares. ‘I don’t teach. And especially not to morons like you.’ 

‘C’mon Levi,’ she whines. 

‘No. You’ll probably manage to break everything you touch.’

‘Hey! I’m not like that!’ she cries indignantly. ‘And besides, I do know some basics; I just need to get my hands settled on it. I know it’ll never be as good as you, but I want to learn. Pleeeease.’

She stares at him with wide pleading eyes. 

He folds his arms and glares at the window beside him. Hange pokes his shoulder hard with her finger and continues to do that repeatedly when he ignores her. 

‘C’mon you grump, don’t be selfish. Share your talents.’

He grabs her finger and glares at her as she pokes him again. Anyone else would’ve pissed themselves at his menacing expression but Hange just grins.

‘You’ll love it too! I promise it’ll be fun.’ 

He sighs and pushes her away.

‘Fine,’ he grumbles.

‘Yesss!’ She punches the air. 

*****

 

Levi has a shed in his backyard where he has set up his art studio. Next morning, Hange walks into it for the first time ever. It’s as neat as she expected, with paint tubes, canvases, sketch pads and so many other colorful things arranged in neat piles and labeled boxes in shelves. An easel and a comfortable chair are standing right next to the window, and a large work table is set beside it. A fair few of his paintings are hanging from the walls. 

Hange takes off her jacket and hangs it. Levi follows her in and closes the door behind them quietly.

‘So what will we start with?’ Hange exclaims, picking up a brush excitedly, hovering next to the canvas.

‘Not that,’ Levi pulls her by the arm towards the table. When they’re both seated, he passes her a blank sheet, a paintbrush and a tube of paint. ‘First I need to see how good you are at handling a brush. Start.’

Hange looks at him uncertainly, ‘Um, so what exactly should I do?’

‘Anything. I just need to see how you use a paintbrush.’

‘Okay . . .’

She begins with simple shapes and figures and he silently watches her work. In between he sometimes asks her to make something.

‘Your grip seems fine, on the whole,’ he says when she’s finished. ‘But there’s still a lot you need to work on.’

Hange nods eagerly.

Levi then proceeds to explain the basics of using a brush, different types of grips for various strokes, when to apply pressure and so on. Then he observes her as she follows it all and guides her in places she goes wrong. They sit there until the sun dips low in the sky and the shadows stretch out against the ground. By the time Hange gets up to leave, she’s dead tired but happy.

Their routine continues, and each day he takes her one step ahead, explaining the basics of color theory, shading and so much more. Hange finds out that she’s seen Levi talking more than she ever had, in those classes; he seems relaxed, in his element. And Hange likes to think that it’s because he’s sharing his favorite thing, a part of himself, with his closest friend (as she prefers to call herself). And of course the thought makes her pleased beyond measure.

 

 

It’s another one of those days; Levi and Hange are in his studio and outside the summer sun shines in all its glory. She’s working on a technique he showed her, blotting a paper with paint-soaked fingers, trying—and failing—to bring about the proper effect. Levi is sitting by a canvas, painting away. 

Hange drops her head on the table, and regards him over the rim of her glasses; sunlight dips over his face, slanting along his cheekbones. His brows are drawn in concentration, eyes following the constant sweep of his hand over the canvas. 

‘Levi.’

‘Hmm?’

‘What’s your favorite thing to paint?’

‘Are you done with that?’ he points at the sheet in front of her.

‘I can’t get it right, but tell me—’

‘Then finish it up.’

‘Levi,’ she complains. ‘It’s a harmless question, I’m not gonna do anything else until you answer me. What do you like to paint the most?’

He sighs and puts his brush down, then leans back on his chair, contemplating her words. Hange waits in the wake of his silence.

‘The sky,’ he says after a while. 

‘Why?’

‘Can’t you be satisfied with one answer?’ he grits out.

‘Not in my nature, shorty,’ she chuckles.

He picks up his brush and starts working again. She’s about to pester him further when he speaks softly.

‘It just . . . makes me feel free. The sky is unrestrained, limitless. I don’t know but, something about it just draws me in.’

Hange waits, knowing there’s more. She sees his fingers tighten around the brush, knuckles turning white. His next words come out fast and fumbling.

‘Every time I look up, I feel like I can breathe a little more easily—I'm so damn relieved that there’s—that there’s actually an open sky up there rather than—’

The brush slips from his finger as he stops short, eyes wide and staring into space.

‘Hey, are you okay?’ Hange gets up, rushing over to him. Levi blinks rapidly, shaking himself out of whatever is going on in his head. Hange puts a hand on his shoulder and he turns to her.

��’M fine,’ he mutters, brushing her off. ‘How’s your progress?’ he gets up. 

‘I can’t get it right!’ Hange grouches. ‘Why do I need to paint with fingers in the first place?’

‘It’s important for some pieces. It also helps to bring out a texture that a brush can’t manage at times,’ he explains patiently. 

He dips his finger in some paint and shows her once more how to do it. They sit side by side and work on the sheet, and Levi corrects her wherever she goes wrong. But Hange has to admit that it's a boring practice and she’s seriously lacking some entertainment. So when Levi is focused on the sheet in front of them, she stealthily scoops up some red paint and smears it right on his cheek.

He freezes. 

Hange knows she has a literal second before he’s after her; she jumps out of her seat with a shriek before he can snatch her arm and bounds to the other side of the room. 

‘You. Are. So. Dead,’ he promises darkly and chases after her in a flash.

Hange sprints around the table, cackling like a madwoman, with Levi on the tail. In her chaotic scuffle she grabs onto the rest of that paint and as he gains on her, she splashes it squarely at him. With Levi dripping in red, Hange knows she’ll be dead for sure if he catches her now. She pelts out of the shed and into his backyard. Her howls of laughter echo in the silent afternoon and they both run in circles around the garden like some frisky children. 

When he almost catches her, she turns around abruptly and jumps on him, taking him by surprise as they both tumble to the ground. He’s pinned beneath her and scowling through the mess on his face. 

Everything is silent around them save for the chitter-chatter of birds and Hange’s giggles. Summer seems to be pouring on them lazily and she can see how his face shines in the warmth of the sun. She’s left him quite disheveled; he’s panting slightly; his shirt is stained and streaks of red are sliding down his forehead, cheeks and nose and—

Shrapnel is embedded in his face, blood trailing down his once flawless skin. He lays limp in her arms, dragging down her heart like an anchor to the bottom of the sea. Don’t die, her broken, wounded heart pleads, please don’t die. 

Hange’s laughter tapers off. She stares at him with wide eyes.

‘Oi,’ Levi is frowning, sensing her sudden rigidness. ‘Four-eyes.’

She shivers violently and Levi pushes her off him gently. She sits upon the grass as her head pounds and her vision swims. She sucks in heavy breaths feeling like her lungs are in a chokehold. With a long breath, she pulls herself together and looks around. Levi is nowhere and she’s sitting alone in the yard.

‘Levi!’ she shouts, irrational panic laces her voice. She stumbles to her feet, searching left and right. He was right there with her, where did he go? Where could he have—

‘Relax,’ his steady voice sounds from behind her. She whips around to see him coming out of the house, holding a glass of water in one hand and tissues in the other, with which he’s wiping his now wet and blood—paint-free face clean. Her anxiety diminishes a touch.

He hands her the water and she gulps it down shakily. The cool liquid soothes her throat and calms her jangled nerves. Levi is gazing at her apprehensively and she wants to tell him that she’s okay and it was probably just the heat, but the words are trapped in her throat and nonsensical thoughts are swirling in her head—thoughts that are screaming that he’s gonna slip out of her grasp and die any second if she doesn’t do anything right now because he’s bleeding and dying out in her arms and they’re surrounded and there’s no way out. 

‘Hange,’ she feels a cool hand on her arm, her gaze catches his, steel-blue irises watch her intensely. 

She raises her trembling fingers and softly brushes them against his cheek, pale and smooth, not cut up and bleeding. He’s still under her touch, his eyes searching. She lets her gaze flit across his features, trying to release her throat from that chokehold.

‘You’re not . . . hurt?’ her whisper is small.

He frowns and seizes her hand, squeezing her fingers firmly, ‘No four-eyes. I’m fine.’

‘But you were,’ she murmurs feverishly. ‘And I . . . I couldn’t—’ 

She drops her forehead on his shoulder and shudders ‘Don’t do anything so reckless again.’

She doesn’t know how long they stand there like that, but Levi doesn’t move and she just breathes. Maybe he thinks she’s finally gone mad, but he doesn't say anything, doesn't push her off. In truth, she can’t understand a thing herself, or the words she’s saying, but she knows that something made her feel like she was losing Levi. And the thought was terrifying. 

‘Let’s go inside, I’ll make lunch,’ he sounds indifferent as ever, but she can detect hints of worry in his voice. She presses his hand.

‘Okay.’

*****

Levi eventually gives her the spare keys so she can come to his studio and practice whenever she feels like. It’s helpful, because now she has pretty much mastered most of the things he taught her over the months and she sometimes feels the sudden urge to paint something that pops in her head, and rushes to his shed right that instant if she can. She’s still not perfect, and there are many things she struggles with, but she likes her progress.  

‘Leviii,’ Hange drawls, slumped over the chair by the window, pouting at her canvas. 

‘I can’t draw the sea foam.’

He sighs from the other end of the room where he’s arranging his new supplies, ‘Have you learnt nothing all these months?’ 

‘But it’s difficult. I can try but there’s only a sixty percent chance that I’ll get it right and I don’t wanna ruin this canvas.’

Previously she made two paintings on a canvas, only because she was confident that she’d get them right, and she’d practiced on a rough paper beforehand. One was a sunset, and the other was a sea port. Both of them are now hanging on the walls. The one she’s currently working on is of a raging sea and so far everything’s going good except for that damned sea foam. 

Levi approaches her, observing her work critically. She extends the paintbrush towards him and grins, ‘You’ll do it for me, right?’

‘No.’

‘But it’s just one tiny detail, nothing will happen if you help me out shorty!’

‘I’ll help out all right, but I won’t do it for you,’ he grumbles. 

And before she can protest, he moves at the back of her chair and clutches her hand from behind, leading it to the blue and gray strokes she has made. He positions her fingers in the right way, ‘You do it like this,’ he says softly. His breath tickles her neck and she suppresses a shiver. He’s close. Very close. 

He moves the brush lightly over the canvas and she sees the sea foam manifest before her eyes effortlessly. He guides her hand over the rest of the painting in the same way. His grip is warm and steady, whereas her own hands are trembling slightly. Hange is not averse to physical contact, especially with her friends. But Levi has never before initiated it first, and she tells herself that it’s the sole reason she feels shaken right now. 

‘You get it?’ his low voice spills over her ear. 

‘Y—yes,’ she manages, feeling breathless for reasons beyond her. 

‘Good,’ he pulls away slowly and she exhales. ‘Don’t mess it up again.’

She’s sure she wouldn’t. Not when the phantom touch of his fingers is still burning on her hand.

Hange wakes up to the morning light with a start, gasping for air. Her heart is racing in her chest and cold sweat slicks her face. She looks around and realizes that she’s at home, at her desk where she fell asleep last night. Files and documents are jumbled around her, and her muscles are sore from sleeping in an awkward position. She checks her phone; it’s eight in the morning and Sunday. 

She runs a hand over her eyes. There’s an odd restlessness in her heart, and she knows it’s got something to do with her dream. Its memory is hauntingly fresh in her mind, so much so that she can even feel all those sensations. Suddenly the room is too hot and stifling. She gets up, grabs her jacket and the spare keys Levi entrusted to her and rushes out.

His shed is empty at this hour, and she knows he won’t be surprised to see her when he’ll come in as he’s already used to finding her cooped up in there at odd hours. 

She grabs a palette, paints, brushes and fixes a suitable canvas on an easel. Then she perches on that chair beside the window and starts to work. Colors merge and dance over the blank surface, filling it with life. She works with focus this time, and yet her hands shake, but not due to nervousness. Maybe it’s anticipation, because surprisingly Hange doesn’t know herself what this will lead to. Her muscles seem to be obeying that hazy, murky part of her brain that’s ruled by the incoherent; the part that perhaps knows and remembers the dream she had today, much more vividly than her. 

Red, blue, yellow, gray. There’s a story in every stroke. She’s waiting. Waiting for it all to come together and assemble, and finally give her the answer she craves. Outside, the sun climbs higher and the day gets steadily brighter. Light streams in, shining curiously upon her as she works, unaware of the world.

When she finally concludes her painting with a last shade of swirling orange, she freezes. Everything is silent around her, sunbeams dip into the room, her heartbeats are loud in her ears. 

In her painting is a port, and giant skeletal creatures wrapped in raw muscles are marching over everything. She’s high up in the sky, zipping towards them in rage. Burning. Below, in the shadow of it all, small figures of people are rushing around a plane. 

Hange drops her brush and stares at the scene before her. She’s not sure why she made this, or what compelled her mind to come up with an image like that. She wants to brush it off as a spur-of-the-moment inspiration, but the fact remains that she wasn’t even aware of what she was drawing half the time. The image made itself. And then there’s this suffocating ache in her chest that she can’t define, it’s squeezing her in an iron grip. She leans back and throws an arm over her face, breathing deeply. 

The fire licks at her body and screams rip her throat. Pain beyond measure stabs her all over but she has to move forward, she has to finish them off, has to buy them time, no matter how much it hurts, no matter how much she wants to live. She must sacrifice herself. 

The door opens. 

‘What’re you doing this time?’ Levi’s voice pulls her out of the drifting currents of her mind.

She looks up at him with tired eyes. How long had she been sitting there, working nonstop?

‘What’ve you made?’ he comes over to her, leaning over to look at her work. Hange watches him closely.

She hears his breath hitch, sees his eyes widen and expression morph into something unguarded and open. He gazes at the scene for a long moment without saying anything. Then he raises his hand and touches the painting, the part where she is drawn in an odd suit, wielding swords and engulfed in flames. The painting’s still wet and the reddish orange color of the fire stains his fingers. 

‘You . . .’ he looks back at her, and this time Hange can see something more in his expression: pain. ‘Why did you make this?’

‘I don’t know,’ she whispered. ‘It felt like my hands had a mind of their own. I couldn’t stop.’

He straightens and lets out a heavy breath. His eyes are weighed. He grabs her hand and leads her to a door at the corner of the shed that Levi never let her open before. They enter a small room which is full of paintings of different sizes—Levi’s art, she realizes. At one side, some of them are covered with a large white sheet. He yanks it away to reveal more pieces, only these are different from the others. 

As soon as Hange looks at them, the same restlessness she felt today crashes back into her heart. There’s something achingly familiar about those pictures. They show green fields, stables and dark, stone castles. They show people sitting around fires, but their faces are hazy, as if the moments were captured from wispy dreams. She does recognize some people though: a blur of color that resembles Levi, a similar one that could be her. She even spots Erwin’s indistinct form among many others. Then there are paintings with giant distorted creatures and people zipping through the sky.

She turns to Levi, ‘What is this?’ her voice begs for answers.    

‘I don’t know,’ he mirrors her words from earlier. 

It’s something for sure, they both feel it and she knows it’s important in some way. 

Levi seizes her arm suddenly; his brows are furrowed and his fingers are digging into her skin. 

‘You’re . . . here? Right?’ and the helpless look he gives her just confirms that he’s feeling exactly as she did that day when she splattered paint over him. He needs to know that she’s okay, and he’s not going to lose her. He needs her to destroy the images in his head that are probably playing a twisted scene of her death.  

Hange laces her fingers with his and presses reassuringly, ‘I’m right here shorty. And I’m not going anywhere,’ she promises. 

He nods, but maintains the death grip on her hand. They both walk out of his shed and Hange pushes all those tangled thoughts to the back of her mind. She’ll think about it later, talk to Levi and make something of this. But for now she has to assure him that she’s with him and they’re fine. They’re okay and they’re together and they’re alive.

And there’s nothing more she can ask for. 

[humanrindswrites]

smudge

summary: corey wants some help with his paint

pairing: corey taylor x female reader

warnings: none

word count: 1840

a/n: i spent way too much time looking at photos of corey in his original mask to see whether he tightlined or not (he did not, as evidenced by the above gif)

Even though he’d become more than accustomed to wearing his mask for what felt like an entire year at times, there was still something that Corey wanted to do with it to make the illusion even better. But he’d need some help and a second opinion.

“What are you doing?” she asked from the doorway when she saw him wearing his mask in the bathroom.

“I’m gonna paint the parts of my face that show through it,” he said as he turned around and took it off. “I think it’ll look really cool.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” she said and joined him in front of the mirror. “Do you know how you’re going to do it?”

“Well, I was gonna put it back on and then draw around the mouth and eye holes. Unless there’s a better way?”

She guided him to sit on the bathtub's edge and took the mask from him before pulling it over his head. Gently, she tilted his face up and angled his face in different directions to get a better look at how it covered his face.

“You’ll need to do more than just draw around the edges, the skin will still show up.”

“Can you help? I don’t wanna fuck it up,” Corey said and took the mask off again, setting it next to him on the bathtub’s side.

“Okay,” she said. “What were you going to use?”

“Well, I got some face paint from the party store just to practise with. It’s in a bag on the kitchen counter.”

She left the bathroom to get the small tin of paint and made a detour into the bedroom to grab one of her makeup brushes and came back to him still sitting on the tub, but this time shirtless.

“Okay, I’m gonna start with your eyes,” she said as she took the lid off the paint and wet the brush with water. “Close your eyes, I’ll do your eyelids first.”

Corey obediently closed his eyes and waited for her to start painting them. “So how long do you think this is gonna ta-” He jumped slightly when the cold brush touched his skin. “Jesus fuck, that’s cold!”

“Try to sit still or else you’ll get it in your eyes,” she said as she grabbed hold of his head to keep him still. “Although knowing you and the guys, somebody will end up having blacked-out eyes.”

“What, from paint or from beating each other up?” Corey asked, trying to stop himself from wrinkling his eyelids as she painted them black.

“I was thinking about contacts, but I could see the second one happening too.”

She finished both eyelids quickly and instructed him to keep his eyes closed so they could dry as she worked on the space around his eyes. She started by painting a rough large circle around his right orbital bone, just touching the bridge of his nose and over the top of his eyebrow.

“That tickles,” he said, trying to stop himself from laughing too much.

“I know it does, just sit still!”

Corey just managed to sit still enough for her to finish one eye, his fingers twitching in his lap as he fidgeted with the mask. He cracked open his free eye to watch her work; her lip drawn in between her teeth and her brow furrowed in concentration as she swept the cheap brush over his face. 

She finally noticed him watching her and quickly moved the brush away from his eye to swipe across under his nose, giving him a crude black moustache.

“Hey, just because people watch you do art doesn’t mean I want to be watched,” she mock-warned him. “If you keep those eyes open the paint won’t dry.”

“I like watching you when you’re concentrating,” he said with a laugh. “You get those cute little eleven lines between your brows.”

“I’ll draw some elevens on your face if you don’t sit still,” she said as she started to work on his other eye, painting his eyebrow and under eye black before making a circle to connect them, just as she’d done before. He was able to sit still when she ran the brush over his skin, now used to the feeling of it tickling him.

“What made you want to paint underneath the mask?” she asked after they were both quiet after a while. “It looked good even when your skin was showing through.”

“I just wanted to do something a little different,” Corey said with a shrug. “It’s too late to get a new mask made so I thought I’d do this to change it up a bit. Plus, some of the other guys paint under their masks.”

“And here I thought you were a leader, not a follower,” she teased.

He cracked open his finished eye and raised an eyebrow at her. “Honey, a good leader can see when something’s worth following.”

“Okay, general, close your mouth and let me finish this.”

They let a comfortable silence take over the both of them as she finished painting his face, covering the remaining eyelid and his mouth with black paint before letting it dry. Even though he hadn’t asked her to help, he enjoyed the feeling of her hands on his face and the scent of her shampoo filling his senses. He’d been tempted to circle his arms around her waist and pull her body into his but he knew she wouldn’t be able to paint him.

“Okay, you’re done,” she finally said as she stood up straight again, her back stiff from bending over for so long. “Here, come take a look.”

Corey peeled himself off the side of the tub and one of his knees loudly clicked as he stood up. He shuffled around the tiny bathroom to look at himself in the mirror before he burst out laughing at his reflection.

“I look like a panda,” he said in between laughs, completely forgetting that he still had his mask in his hands.

“Put the mask on, it’ll look better!” she said as she took it from him. He pushed his hair back and held it at the nape of his neck as she pulled the mask over his head. “Yep, much better with it on.”

“You’re right, it looks fucking cool!” Corey said, shooting her a smile, the whites of his teeth shining brightly through the black paint. “Thanks, babe.”

But she still thought that something could be added. Something he probably wouldn’t like.

“Wait a second,” she said before he could dash out of the bathroom again. “I wanna try something out.”

He took the mask off again and placed it on the sink basin as she rooted around in the top drawer of the cabinet. The same drawer where she kept her makeup.

“What else could you do? There’s no skin left to paint.”

She pulled out what she was looking for: a jet black eyeliner pencil and a sharpener.

“What’re you gonna do with that? You already painted my eyes.”

“I’m gonna line your waterline,” she said as she quickly sharpened the pencil into a point.

“What’s a waterline?”

“The red part on the rim of your eyelid, now hold still so I don’t poke you.”

“Get that thing away from me!” he said and tried to knock the pencil out of her hand.

“Corey, don't be such a baby,” she said as she cornered him. “It’s just a little eyeliner.”

“Alright, fine,” he said with a pout. “Just be gentle.”

“Keep your eyes open and don’t squirm.”

Corey held his breath as he watched the pencil approach his eye and prepared himself for the worst. Thankfully, the kohl smoothly glided onto the skin, leaving a neat black line in its wake. The other eye took even less time now that he was used to the feeling of his waterline being touched.

When she was finished with both eyes, she stepped away from him and let him look in the mirror to admire her handiwork. The formerly red rims around his eyes were now jet black and blended in with the paint, making his blue eyes look more animalistic and striking. But she looked like she still wasn’t finished.

“Oh god, what now?” he groaned when she picked up the pencil again.

“I want to do the top waterlines,” she said and grabbed hold of his head, making sure that he wouldn’t move. “Keep your eyes open, this is more difficult than the bottom.”

“What exactly are you gonna do,” he managed to get out before she held his eye open and rubbed the pencil directly underneath his eyelashes. “What the fuck, babe?!”

“Keep still or I’ll poke your eye out!”

“It already feels like you’re poking my eye out, what the fuck does this even do?”

“It fills in any spaces between your eyelashes, we don’t want to leave any skin showing.”

“Alright, fine, but do it quick.”

She repeated the same motions with his other eye; holding it open so the underside of his lashes were visible and colouring it in with the pencil until it was completely black.

“Okay, now we’re done,” she finally said and took her hands away from him.

“You sure? You don’t want to put some mascara on me too?”

“No, I’m good,” she said and passed him the mask again. “Put it on and take a look in the mirror.”

He shoved the mask over his head and turned around to have one final look in the mirror. Even though he wasn’t happy about having the insides of his eyes coloured in with pencil, he couldn’t deny that the end result was better than he’d expected. It was as if the mask had completely become his face, not just something he wore to hide himself.

“Looks good, huh?” she said, clearly proud of her work.

“It looks awesome!” he said and swung back around to hug her. He held her so tightly to him that she thought her bones were about to break. “I should bring you out on tour so you can do this for me all the time.”

“Or you could get more comfortable with doing it yourself,” she offered.

“I’m not sold on doing this waterline stuff myself but the rest I could do.”

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of a little eyeliner pencil.”

Corey ignored her small jab and loosened his hold on her to gently kiss her forehead, leaving a black lip mark behind.

“I should get some pictures of this so that I remember when we’re on the road,” he said as he led her out of the bathroom so he could find his camera.

“Need me to take them for you? I could be your personal photographer too.”

“Honey, I would have you by my side all the time, but I know you like your freedom. You don’t need to wait on me hand and foot.”

“Good, because I didn’t sign up to be a panda handler when we got together.”

[writeforfandoms]

Fall Into Me 11

Find the series masterlist

Rose has more support now than she knows what to do with. Rudy surprises her, in a very good way.

Warnings: Swearing, the guys do hover a bit, plotting and planning (the good kind), Gaz is a menace (affectionate).

Word count: 1.4k

Eventual Rose x 141 x Rodolfo x Alejandro poly

Rose wasn’t sure exactly why things had changed, but that Incident was the real start of the change. That entire week, either Gaz or Soap showed up in the morning and insisted on staying to help. Somehow, all of their numbers ended up in her phone. (She knew it was Gaz, even though she hadn’t seen him do it.) On Wednesday, Soap manned the front while Rose had an impromptu interview with a young man who’d walked in asking after the “help wanted” sign. 

Thursday had an entirely different kind of surprise. 

“You should have told me you were finally starting an Instagram for this place!” Kelly, one of her regulars who worked upstairs, gushed. “I’ve got some cute pics, I’ll tag the shop in them!”

“Uh.” Rose blinked at her, completely thrown. “Thanks?” 

Kelly just beamed at her, taking her coffee and leaving. 

Instagram page?

Rose turned slowly to look at Gaz, who was just coming out of the back. He didn’t even look abashed, just shrugging when she met his gaze. 

“Did you do this?”

“It’ll help business,” Gaz said with an easy shrug. “Besides, you’ve got such a cozy place here, it’s very photogenic.” 

Rose huffed. “Fine, do whatever you want, but don’t expect me to help. I’m terrible at social media.”

“I’ve got it handled.” Gaz grinned, dropping an easy arm over her shoulders. “Don’t you even wanna see the page, love?”

“Oh, alright. Go on, show off.” But Rose still smiled indulgently, leaning a little into his side. He was warm and she felt all too comfortable with him. 

Gaz squeezed her shoulders a little and used his free hand to show her the page for the coffee shop. It was very nice, she had to admit. He’d gotten some great pictures, including one of the empty store (and she wasn’t entirely sure how he’d managed that). 

“Wow. These are really good. Think you might’ve missed your calling as a photographer.” Rose flipped back to her favorite picture - a mug of tea next to a vase of flowers, warm morning sunshine spilling across the table. 

“Gonna make me blush, love.” But Gaz grinned at her, giving her another little squeeze. “I can send you this one if you want?” 

“Sure.” Rose hesitated then, licking her lips, glancing up at him. “Actually…”

“Yeah?” His gaze flitted to her before he navigated to his texts, already loading the picture to send to her. 

“Do you have a picture of all of you? All of your office, I mean.” Rose felt herself warm and hoped she wasn’t blushing much. “I’d love a group picture of you all.”

“I can get you one.” Gaz gave her one last squeeze before he let his arm drop. “You got any plans this weekend?”

Rose sighed, shrugging a little. “Thinking I might do half-days,” she admitted. “At least until I can hire a couple people and get them trained.” 

“A couple people?” Gaz looked interested. 

“Yeah. Be a good idea to have backup, and that will make it easier if I need to take an actual day off and not just weekends.” Rose shrugged again. It made sense to her. 

Gaz nodded. “Good thinking,” he agreed. “You want help?”

“You have managed to be down here every day,” Rose scolded. “I appreciate the thought, very much so, but you need downtime too.”

“Love, this is nothing.” He grinned, amused. “We all used to be in much more stressful situations.” 

“Don’t care,” Rose grumbled. “The answer is still no.” 

Gaz huffed and shook his head. But he didn’t argue further - whether because he was giving in or just reevaluating his plan, Rose wasn’t sure. 

He didn’t bring up the topic again, and they worked easily through the lunch rush. Gaz ushered her off to eat after that, holding down the fort. 

“I need to run upstairs,” he said once she was back. 

“Of course. Go. Shoo. You could have said so sooner.” Rose frowned at him.

“It’s nothing serious,” Gaz assured her, unable to resist pulling her in for a quick hug. “I’ll be back.” 

Rose watched him go, shaking her head. He had way too much energy. And was too cavalier about his own time. A side effect of his career prior to this, maybe. 

Either way. She’d keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t overwork himself. (Well, she’d do the same thing for all of them, actually.) 

The afternoon was quiet, giving her time to do some inventory and ordering. She also got caught up on some of the family news, smiling when she saw a cousin had gotten a sort-of promotion and a special assignment. Actually, that seemed like something she should mention to Rodolfo and Alejandro - they might be able to help her cousin, and the other way around. Hm. Now that was something to consider. 

Her musing was interrupted by a text from Gaz. A picture of the group of them, all squished together in the office. Soap was grinning broadly at the camera, as was Gaz. Rodolfo and Alejandro looked amused more than anything. Ghost just stared straight into the camera, and Price looked exasperated but amused. 

She immediately saved the photo and tucked her phone away again. 

Gaz didn’t come back down, which was fine. He didn’t actually work at the coffee shop, after all. 

But Rodolfo did come down, smiling at her. 

“Hi, Rodolfo.” She leaned one hip against the counter. “What can I get for you?”

“Actually, I have a question for you, bonita.” He stopped opposite her, holding her gaze. 

“Yeah?” Rose blinked at him, curious. 

“Do you have any plans Saturday evening?” He swallowed, a little nervous, but didn’t back down. “Alejo and I would love to have you for dinner.” 

Rose blinked, lips parting in surprise. “I’m free,” she agreed, trying not to answer too quickly. “That sounds wonderful.”

“I can meet you here?” He offered her a hopeful smile. “I could show you a few recipes, if you like.”

Her answering smile was bright and she nodded eagerly. “Absolutely,” she agreed. “But let me take care of dessert, please?”

“Won’t say no to that.” His smile widened. “What time should I be here?”

Rose tapped her fingers against the counter. “I’m planning to close at 2, so any time around then.” 

He nodded, leaning forward a little. “Got it,” he murmured. He paused then, looking at her more closely, and his shoulders relaxed a little before he smiled. “You look happier.”

“Do I?” Rose could feel herself blushing, tempted to duck her head. But she didn’t. 

“You do. Is a good look on you, bonita.” His smile widened, one hand lifting to brush a finger over the apple of her cheek. 

Rose did duck her head then, unable to hold his gaze. Rodolfo hummed softly, letting his hand fall, apparently unwilling to push. 

“Alejo and I will be off-site tomorrow,” he told her, gently steering her back to steadier topics, giving her time to compose herself again. “But I will be here Saturday by 2.”

“Okay.” Rose took a deep breath and then smiled, a little shy and a lot pleased. “I hope it all goes well tomorrow for you two.”

“We’ll tell you all about it on Saturday.” He paused. “Well. What we can tell you.”

Rose nodded her understanding. “So long as you don’t get in trouble.”

“With Price?” He outright snorted. “Would take a lot more than telling you too much.”

Curiosity made her lean forward a bit, but good sense held her back from asking. “Even so.”

He nodded, just once, gaze intent on hers. “Even so,” he agreed softly. “I should go. Have a good rest of your day.”

“You too.” Rose couldn’t help but smile as he left, excitement rising in her chest. 

Saturday could not come fast enough for her. 

Fortunately, Friday went quickly and easily, with another person coming in for an interview. That one went well, and Rose made a mental note to call them back next week. Soap spent a good portion of the day in the shop, warm and easy.

Really, Rose had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky with these guys, but she had. She made another mental note to find a way to show them how much she appreciated them. 

A look at the calendar gave her an idea, and she hummed to herself. That might just work.

She just needed a big enough kitchen.

But that could be figured out later. For now, she had to finish out the day. And the next. 

No problem.

[lux-scriptum]

Elliot Vampire AU part 7

I definitely have things planned beyond this part :) for sure

Previous Part

At some point Elliot did fall asleep. When he did, he slept hard in the way only a good long cry can induce. It was the sound of someone puttering around in his kitchen that ended up waking him. He grabbed for his phone, only to realize he’d never plugged it in the night before. It would not turn on.

Elliot eased from bed, creeping through his apartment. If it was a burglar, maybe he’d get a good meal out of it. To his surprise, however, Owen was in the kitchen. Elliot wilted against the doorway. “How’d you get in?” he demanded, a bit sharper than he intended. “I used the chain and everything.”

Owen startled, but he turned with a smile. “Good morning to you too, Elliot.” He gestured to himself, and then the chain on the door. The chain rattled back into place. “Witch.”

For a few seconds Elliot blinked at him. His tired brain spun for a bit. “I forgot.”

Owen nudged him towards a chair. “You didn't answer your phone,” He explained. “I was worried, but when I saw you were still asleep…” he shrugged. “I got you something.”

What he fished out of Elliot’s fridge was a bag of blood. Elliot’s stomach rumbled audibly. Owen just laughed at him.

“You want it in a cup or from the bag?”

“Bag.” Elliot reached for the offered blood greedily. He only added his, “Please?” as an afterthought.

His first sip made him gag. He flushed, but refused to look up. He should have known that it’d be cold, but- stars, but this wasn’t natural. He was pretty sure if his fangs could retract in disgust they would. Blood should be hot and fresh and this was. Gross. Owen was staring at him, and for the first time his concern wasn’t hidden. Elliot forced himself to take another mouthful. If only because he was hungry. It took all his self control not to retch.

“Thank you,” he managed.

“That bad?” Owen asked. There was a very poor attempt to sound amused in there somewhere.

“Tasted better fresh,” Elliot admitted. To prove a point, he took another long pull from the bag. “It’s okay, it’ll just take some getting used to.” He did not confess he could taste the plastic the blood was stored in.

“I don’t mind letting you feed. You can save the bagged stuff for when I cant be around,” Owen offered.

Elliot shook his head. “I cant see how we’d reseal this bag. I’ll finish it. But thank you.”

“Witch,” Owen reminded him, but Elliot was already finishing the bag with a single minded determination. Owen leaned against the counter. He did not look impressed. Maybe that was because Elliot felt so green he was quite sure he looked it.

He set the empty bag down. “Yum,” he tried when Owen merely continued to observe.

“Yum?”

“Mmmhmm,” Elliot said stubbornly. He leaned back in his chair. It was hard to project “regal” while wearing silk pajama shorts and a tank top, but Elliot crossed one knee over the other and lifted his chin.

Unfortunately for the energy Elliot was trying to show, Owen just chuckled. “You’re stubborn, I’ll give you that.” He reached over and brushed his thumb over Elliot’s cheek. “Stop denying yourself things that would help you. The martyr look is not one of your best.” He took Elliot’s phone from unprotesting fingers and put it on the kitchen charger.

What was Elliot supposed to say to that? He stood stiffly, muttering about freshening up. Owen let him go. By the time Elliot felt more like a person, Owen had figured out how to use Elliot’s espresso machine. He started to hand Elliot one of the latte’s he’d made, and then blinked.

“Right. Sorry.”

“In a few days.” Elliot would have sat down, but a knock on the door had him across the apartment in a breath. Far faster than he used to be able to move. He peered through the peephole and let out an excited yelp. He yanked the door open and pulled Ben into a hug. “I completely forgot I invited you over.”

Ben was rigid in his hug. Elliot leaned back, his smile fading.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Ben asked, eyes wide.

Elliot took a step back. His hand moved to cover his mouth self consciously. “Oh. I wanted to tell you in person.”

Ben blinked hard. “Who bit you?” There was all the panic in Ben’s tone that Elliot had been studiously ignoring in himself. “Are you okay?”

“Hey.” Owen’s voice made both of them flinch. “Breathe. Both of you.” The witch nudged them towards the kitchen, locking the door behind them.

“I don’t know the guy who turned me.” Elliot perched on the chair. Ben’s anxiety was creating a feedback loop Elliot couldn’t get out of.

“Are you dead?”

“Dude.” Owen shoved the extra latte in Ben’s hands. “Calm. Down.”

“Alive,” Elliot confirmed. “Ben, I’m okay.”

“No, you’re a vampire.”

“Ben.”

“It’s okay, Owen.” Elliot bit his lip, and almost immediately stopped as Ben stared at his new fangs. He rubbed his palms on his sleep shorts instead. “Honestly, I think he’s the only one who’s reacted normally to this.”

“You’d rather I have a meltdown?” Owen arched a brow. A small smile softened the look. He turned away to clean up his latte efforts rather than continue fussing at Ben. Because that’s what it was. Owen fussing. Ben’s freak out was disrupting the calm Owen thought Elliot was managing and Elliot knew to be a carefully crafted facade.

“When did this…” Ben risked a glance at Elliot’s fangs and looked resolutely away, “…happen?”

“Two nights ago?” Elliot admitted. “And I thought Owen could-”

“He’d already fed,” Owen offered when Elliot couldn’t continue. “The curse had already taken root.”

Ben blinked again. He twisted in his chair to peer at Elliot. “Are you okay?”

Elliot nodded. When they both continued to watch, he slowly shook his head. Ben’s heart was beating rabbit-fast, but he pulled Elliot into a hug.

Owen muttered under his breath. Elliot decided to ignore him and buried his face in Ben’s shoulder. “Sorry,” Ben mumbled. “I- well. I was going to say this was a shock. But it’s worse for you.”

“I look better in pastels,” Elliot blubbered.

“Ah shit.” Ben’s laugh was half strangled. “Elliot you’re a vampire,” here he stumbled, but quickly finished, “Not goth. No one said you couldn’t wear pastels.”

Elliot swore he could hear Owen roll his eyes. “This whole thing is so /stupid,” he whined.

Ben patted his back awkwardly. “It, uh. It’ll be okay?”

“Convincing,” Owen said dryly. “Elliot, you’re going to be okay. You’re technically under the protection of two different covens. Just because Ben has an anxiety disorder doesn’t mean he’s going to hate you for getting forcibly turned into a vampire.”

Ben pulled back a bit to stare at Elliot. “Whoa, whoa. You thought I hate you?”

“…no.”

“Hey. I was just- just taking it in, that’s all.” Ben looked to Owen for help in the face of Elliot’s distress. Owen offered none. “Look. Honestly? I’m confused about why you and I are the only ones spooked by this.”

A very wet laugh came from Elliot. “Spooked?”

Ben went on, determined. “You’re going to be fine. This is just a huge life change. We can take a…” He glanced out the window, “Night to freak out. If you need.”

When Elliot looked to Owen, who had been very helpfully in problem solving mode for the past few days, he merely looked thoughtful.

“It’s not like it seems like you’ve actually, you know, processed anything,” Owen admitted. “I’m honestly surprised it took this long for the dramatics to start.”

“Owen!” Elliot glared in his direction, wiping his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Don’t be mean.”

Owen held his hands up, but he was smiling again. Good enough. Elliot let himself be bundled onto the couch between his two best friends. Apparently Owen thought a movie would make everything feel more normal. Owen started flipping through various streaming services. “I’m guessing Van Helsing is off the table?”

Elliot took the remote. “Absolutely not.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Just for that I’m putting on a rom com.”

~

Tag List! Ask to be removed! @mecharose @incandescent-creativity @fragmentedink @cwritesfiction @idreamonpaper @firesidefantasy

[access--granted]

Too Slow

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Anon asked: how about a drabble with reader x luis in another apocalypse universe of your choice? they're just regular, run-of-the-mill people trying to survive a sudden outbreak of some kind, scavenging in a crumbling grocery/convenience store. maybe something angsty happens at the end? idk i just think it'd be interesting to see luis in a different zombie apocalypse universe xD A/N: Hoo boy, anon, do I have something for you 😂 you asked for angsty, and I think I delivered on that pretty well 🤭 I hope you like it because it hurt to write and they're thrown right into the thick of it 🥹 I didn't choose a specific zombie apocalypse universe for this, they're just out here trying to survive. Also, since no gender was specified, I've gone with gender-neutral and friendship rather than romance. I hope that's okay! :) TW: Angst, Implied major character death, mentions of blood and mild gore, use of guns. Pairing: Luis Serra x GN!Reader (Friendship) WC: 1,169

“Luis, can’t you at least try looking for something useful?” You poke your head over the counter, watching the Spaniard rifle through the cigarette kiosk, throwing empty cartons on the floor, his search for an untouched box, so far, unsuccessful. 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to get at,” Luis responds, turning his head to look at you with a playful smile. “Cigarettes are vital. Without them, I might lose my mind.”

You scoff, leaving it at that as you return to what you were doing just a second before. You’re on the floor, searching all the bottom shelves in this tiny convenience store. The area had been quiet when you first arrived, and it had felt like a miracle you’d even come across this place after several days on the road, passing nothing but abandoned homes and stripped cars. It’s clear this place has already been scavenged and gutted of its stock at least a dozen times before, but you and Luis are willing to take your chances, having gone hours without food.

So far, all you’ve found are a few expired cereal bars, some painkillers from the medicine section and a bottle of lukewarm mineral water. It’s not much, but it’ll do just fine until you find somewhere else to raid. You stuff your findings into your satchel, running the back of your hand across your forehead to wipe away the sweat beading from your pores. The air is humid; a storm is coming as thick grey clouds sit stagnant in the sky outside.

“A-ha!” A triumphant Luis draws your attention back to him, and you scramble to your knees before standing up, patting the dust off your knees. When you look his way, he’s holding up a carton of cigarettes like they’re a goddamn medal of honour. They’re perfectly unopened– still in their cellophane wrapping, even. “It seems the universe is on my side,” he remarks, looking so proud of himself. It makes you laugh, shaking your head.

“How do you always manage to get exactly what you want?” Swinging your satchel over your shoulder, you watch him. He’s already torn the cellophane off and popped a cigarette between his lips.

“I guess I’m just lucky–” 

It all happens so fast. One second, Luis is proudly showing off his found treasure, about to relish in his first smoke since a few days ago, and the next, he’s grappling with an infected that came out of nowhere. Turns out the corpse hunched over in the far corner hadn’t been dead when you checked upon arrival.  

You scramble to your back pocket for your pistol– knife, anything. A blood-curdling scream bounces through the store, a chunk of flesh ripped from Luis’ shoulder, your eyes wide and pupils quivering as you watch, mindlessly taking shots at the monster, blood splattering out of bullet holes in rotting flesh until you focus enough to aim for the head. Bang. Thud.

The walking corpse crumples to the floor, and Luis staggers and falls on his backside, blood flowing consistently from the wound in his shoulder. Somehow, that cigarette is still perching perfectly between his lips. You’re too stunned to speak, to move. Instead, you stand frozen in place and watch your friend bleed out, cussing under his breath. He doesn’t seem scared, though, at least not to the naked eye. 

Luis clutches his bleeding shoulder, using his free hand to dig his lighter out of his pocket. You’re still standing across from him, the realisation of what just happened dawning on you, hitting you like a truck hurtling down the highway.

Luis lights his cigarette, taking a long drag while he rests his head against the side of the counter. His face gets lost momentarily in a plume of smoke as it exits his lungs. His eyes meet yours, his voice pulling you out of your stun.

“Well… shit,” he says, voice strained and face twitching with pain, “I guess I ran out of luck– too slow.” He grits his teeth before bringing the cigarette back to his lips. Tears start spilling from your eyes just as the rain begins to fall outside; the first sound coming out of your mouth is nothing but a sob while you stutter towards Luis and kneel at his side. Your trembling hand rests on his leg. 

“This– it’s my fault,” your voice gets stuck halfway up your throat, “I should’ve put a bullet in its head before. I should’ve–”

“Don’t.”

“But–”

“Don’t. This isn’t your fault, my friend. It wasn’t moving. You weren’t to know.” Luis looks at you, keeping the cigarette between his lips. He reaches up to ruffle your hair and sweep the tears away from your cheeks. “Sneaky little bastard, eh?”

You choke on a sob– and a bit of a laugh, and you hate it. You and Luis have been surviving together for months. The idea of having to carry on alone terrifies you. The fact that he won’t be around anymore utterly shatters you.

Noises arise from the surrounding area, bringing your and Luis’ attention to the door at the front, then the one at the back. Trash cans clatter, and feet start dragging. The screaming and gunfire likely drew attention. You need to get out of here.

“Come on, we’ve gotta go,” you sniff, moving to bring Luis to his feet again, but he pulls away and gives you that look. The look you’ve been given far too many times by too many people you’d grown fond of throughout this whole fucked up apocalypse. With Luis, though, it hurts a million times more.

His smile is genuine, yet so sad, as he says, “We both know I’m not going anywhere. I’m a dead man walking.” You shake your head, about to protest. You’re not having any of this– “Y/N, I mean it. You need to get out of here. Now.”

A door handle starts rattling in the back of the store, out of sight, but the clock is ticking. Moans of the infected start multiplying, filling the air that had been silent moments ago. Your eyes meet with Luis’ again. You’re pleading with him silently, but his fingers are curling around the grip of his handgun, easing it out of his belt, his cigarette having already burned down to the butt.

He has accepted his fate.

“Go. Run, and don’t look back.”

Thorns squeeze around your heart, piercing it, tearing it to shreds. Lips quivering, you lean in to press a single, lingering kiss on his forehead. For a second, you think you hear Luis’ breath shake as he leans into your lips.

You stagger to your feet, pistol in hand, and turn to the entrance. ‘Run, and don’t look back.’ Quaking legs carry you forward, gaining speed clumsily as you burst through the door, cold rain hitting your skin as a gunshot resonates from inside the store, and your blood runs cold.

Oh, how one moment of misjudgement can turn into such agony.

[brainicusrotticus]

the crucial event that tied doc!sol and vace together:

they set off for the subaqueous swamp. sol drives the transport vehicle, and brings a bag for storing samples. he practically forced a second bag on vace, but that’s alright because vace forced sol to carry a plaspistol, in addition to bringing his own plasrifle, stun gloves, and a hunting knife.

they get to the swamp, and go about doing their thing. vace gets a bit twitchy a few times, but sol gives him the stern “don’t shoot at shit unless we’re about to die” look, and it’s enough to settle him down.

they’re there for hours. sol darting from plant to plant, vace just following and keeping an eye out.

it gets within about two hours of sundown, which means they’re going to need to leave soon. there’s also a heavy looking storm moving in, so sol is trying to get some last readings from another new species of plant that seems to have solid healing properties.

vace seems on edge. he’s usually been quietly pacing about, always looking out for shit. but sol takes a quick breather from this plant, and realizes vace is standing very nearby, and very still.

something feels off, but vace can’t tell what it is. and that’s not good.

sol takes him seriously, because that’s what vace is there for. he unholsters his plaspistol (for show, because it’s not like he actually know how to use the thing), goes for a sample of this last plant, and then they’ll get moving back to the transport.

first rule of vertumna: it’s never just a plant.

this plant turns out to be the hook for a creature fairly reminiscent of a snapbladder. and the second sol touches it, the trap springs.

it gets a decent clamp on sol. across his left shoulder and chest. it’s clearly not sized for human prey, but it’s bite is strong enough. it’ll bruise, and its teeth break the skin, but it’s not all that worrying.

it lets go when vace fires some non-lethal shots into it, and scurried away. vace goes to check on the doc, who assures him that it’s all fine.

but they haven’t been unnoticed. all day, noctilucent has been keeping tabs on them. waiting for a good opportunity to strike. and what better opening than worried distraction?

but he’s mean. he aims for the hard hits.

he drops a tree on them.

vace manages to swing the doc out of the way, and takes the full force of a falling tree on himself. not that solane being present would’ve changed that, then they’d just both take the full force of a falling tree. and it would end much worse for one of them.

it’ll leave some bruises on him. might’ve even left a few small cracks in the bones. but this is vace. he’ll be fine.

there’s only one major problem.

his legs are pinned under it. and he’s strong, but not super strong, and it’s hard to get proper leverage when you’re face down on the ground. sol is managed to catch his breath after being thrown to the ground (really just failing to catch himself), and is about to get up and go to vace…

but noctilucent emerges from the bushes. still dripping, like he’d crawled right out of the swamp water.

(he did)

sol hasn’t met noct before, but he knows about gardeners from sym

particularly that there are a number of gardeners who want the whole colony gone. and who think “dead” is good enough.

and in this particular scenario? he doesn’t really get the feeling this is going to be a friendly chat. he wonders if noct was the one responsible for the looming stormclouds.

noct knows how to threat assess. also, he’s been watching them all day. he knows that one of these individuals knows how to use a gun, and the other is a goddamn nerd. so vace presently being stuck under a tree? means that problem can be dealt with immediately.

so noct goes to him.

and stomps on vace’s head with those ugly ass hooves of his.

but, it’s vace. he’s built different. it’ll leave a bump, and left a little split in the skin that bleeds a bit, but it’s probably not even enough for a concussion.

(sol definitely has that brief moment of “i just witnessed a murder” before he remembered vace’s augment)

but noct keeps going. he gets another 3-4 in before sol throws himself on vace, literally wrapping around noctilucent’s leg like an octopus. screaming for him to stop.

and noct backs up a step. mostly because he’s surprised by the sheer audacity sol is showing.

and sol covers vace’s body with his own.

he doesn’t know how to fight. his plaspistol isn’t in reach, he can’t see vace’s plasrifle, the only thing he has is the knowledge that gardeners don’t die when their body is killed. he isn’t a soldier.

but he has to be.

vace is out of it. he seems to be wavering on consciousness, but his legs are still stuck and he definitely has at least a concussion now.

sol is the only one who can help them right now.

he’s shaking and sobbing, pressed overtop of vace. he can see something like amusement in noct’s eyes, and it pushes him that much further.

noct leans down. he wants to meet this human eye to eye, to mock sol for this before he kills them both. he’s absolutely focused on the full-faced misery of sol.

it’s classic, really. a common trick used by magicians in old holovids.

misdirection.

noct doesn’t see sol work vace’s knife free of the belt. he isn’t as guarded with sol. this human has only ventured beyond the colony a handful of times, and has never shown any prowess for combat.

sol isn’t a threat.

and as the doctor, lightning quick, wraps a hand around the back of noctilucent’s neck and slices so deep he leaves a cut across his own palm, he wonders if noct will remember this. feel some primal unease the next time he sees solane. or if, like his recent memories, all sense of threat melts away with his body.

the sprinkling rain is starting to grow heavier. sol uses a thick branch to leverage the tree off of vace, and wishes desperately that he had the time to fully exam the damage.

but he doesn’t. utopia will probably realize something is wrong soon—probably sent a message to the transport when stratos picked up on the storm moving in, and is waiting for a response that indicates they’re heading back to the colony.

when it doesn’t come, she’ll report them as missing. normal protocol is a search and rescue party.

but the storm would make for hostile conditions. if it raises the water too much, there are parts of the road that’ll flood, and they might not even be able to get a squad to the swamp. unless the storm blows over in minutes (which is possible, if not likely), it’ll be nightfall or later by the time anyone can make it.

and nighttime isn’t a good time for a rescue squad. it just puts more people at risk. in most cases, they’d wait until day. rhett wouldn’t get any sleep over the worry and guilt, but he’d make the choice anyway.

except, maybe, for sol.

he’s a doctor. the only one who knows what to do besides instance. he has more old-school knowledge than instance, and a xenobotanist background. he’s valuable, and he hates knowing that. that someone might consider it worthwhile to risk other lives to save his own.

but others can be trained. medbeds can handle just about any problem, as long as they stay functional. rhett knows that, as much as he knows sol wouldn’t want others to risk themselves unnecessarily for him.

the doctor honestly doesn’t know what choice rhett will make, and doesn’t envy him having to make it.

(he’ll buy something nice for the security chief, if he gets out of this.)

(when. it has to be when.)

vace is conscious enough to move, a little. support his own weight, hopefully. but that’s about it.

sol gets him up, supports his weight on one side. vace has about eight inches and ninety pounds on sol, which is a fucking problem.

sol puts on his best rhett voice, and barks orders at vace. “time to push it, soldier! if you don’t, we’re both dead!”

he can’t honestly tell if it helped. he knows vace can’t do much. he knows he was mostly saying it for himself.

because if sol can’t manage this, they’re both dead.

they might get lucky. rhett might send a squad after all. nem might defy orders to come after them herself. dys might come for sol’s sake, with her or own his own. he might even get word to sym.

but sol can’t act like help is coming. can’t let himself do anything less than as much as he fucking can.

the sun has set by the time he gets them back to the transport, drenched and muddy and shaking. he barely manages to open the sliding door with one hand, and then has to lay vace on the floor from outside, get in, and drag him the rest of the way. he pulls wads of fabric from between his own teeth, put there to keep his teeth from cracking when he clenched it shut.

he can barely get the scraps out, with how tightly wound the muscles are. that’ll hurt in the morning.

(he’ll just add it to the list.)

he locks them inside the transport, and takes a chance to examine vace. he’s semi-conscious, definitely has a concussion. he can talk, a little, and vaguely understand context.

(he swears, mostly. given the context, yeah. sounds about right.)

the bleeding has stopped. there are some cracks in his skull, but nothing that feels imminently dangerous. already bruises and a hell of a black eye, and sol is pretty sure there’s a fracture along his left orbital bone. but those are all things a medbed can handle just fine. as long as he makes it to one.

sol straps vace into one of the bench seats, and gets the transport started. as expected, there’s several messages from utopia, and one from rhett. the storm interferes too much with comms for much to get through, but sol does what he can. a distress signal, canceled after three seconds. three seconds of silence, and then the signal sent again, canceled after three seconds. deliberate enough for them to know it’s a message.

he starts the transport home.

about ten minutes of slow travel down the road, it’s flooded. sol isn’t going to risk it, not after what he just went through. he parks them.

he unbuckles vace so he can lay the soldier down on the seats, and try to get some sleep. sol takes the floor, and sleeps in fits.

eventually, he jolts awake to the sound of a quiet drizzle.

he straps vace back in. he’s relieved to hear the mumbled complaints about ruining his sleep.

the floods come fast in the swamp, but they leave that way, too.

it takes another hour and a half, but eventually he sees the lights of the colony.

utopia and rhett are already at the outer post, pacing and watching the road. they see the approaching transport before the lookouts do, but not before dys and nem.

both of whom are sequestered right next to the security chief, and looking rather dour.

sol can see how much self restraint it takes to wait for the transport to roll in, and not just run to it.

as soon as it’s parked, someone starts trying to yank the door open.

(it’s locked and dead bolted, because sol wasn’t taking any chances.)

he unlocks it, and rhett yanks it open before sol can. all the doctor manages to say is vace’s name, before he’s being unbuckled and carried out in rhett’s arms.

held like a princess, limp and soaked in a way that makes his clothes and hair cling to him, vace looks like the kid he is. barely sixteen, too young to be dealing with this shit.

(they both are. hell, all of them are.)

sol doesn’t need help to move. he knows he looks like shit, but his adrenaline has been running so high for so long that he sprints ahead to prepare a medbed.

instance is waiting, but she knows someone who needs work when she sees it. she’ll be the one who cleans and cares for sol’s own wounds later, in the quiet silence of an active medbed. tang will uncurl from the corner where she’d been watching owlishly, to play the part of nursing assistant.

vace will be under for three days. it’ll heal all the worrying injuries, but sol knows the soldier can’t stand to spend forever in a medbed, even if he doesn’t remember it.

(and he doesn’t remember the medbed. but he does remember a surprising amount of that day. remembers the dissonance of hearing sol sobbing while also feeling deft fingers work his knife loose. knows noct died, and he couldn’t have been the one to do it. gets flashes of the slog back, of sol carrying him when he could only feel frustration at his weak, sluggish legs slipping in the mud.)

they’re different, after that. sol never acts like vace owes him anything, and starts taking self-defense lessons. neither one of them actually suggested it. they just made eye contact across the cafeteria one morning a week after the event, and walked to the garrison together to start.

vace trusts sol to do what’s necessary, and to know what that is. it’s hard not to, when you know the empathetic, xeno-loving doctor willingly killed a gardener. his trust grows from there.

and sol trusts vace to have subtlety, and sympathy. he never says more about that day than what sol himself admits, even after he tells sol he remembers it. he seems to pick up on the days when it’s really bothering the doctor, and finds a way to hover nearby. whether it makes sol feel safe, or reminds him that he saved someone, vace doesn’t know.

seeing the most trusted kids from each ship suddenly get along has a deep impact on not just their peers, but the adults too.

(lum hates it. he never managed to scare them, but he could usually get them to cooperate. now they do nothing less than exactly what they think is right, and the few times he’s tried to control them, they both just fixed him with a stare that said he was a problem they could solve the moment they decided to.)

it’s the start of a new era for stratos-helios relations.

the violent soldier who toughened the kind doctor, and let himself be soothed in return.

(nothing changed in them. not really.)

(they just learned how to balance.)

(and everyone else followed suit.)

[chaotic-super]

The Sweater Curse

Here's a little SuperCat fic as part of the Mods' collection of example fics for the Supergirl May-hem event!

AO3 Link!

-

Kara closes her eyes, letting the relaxing clicks of her knitting needles lull her into a state of pure relaxation, her muscle memory taking over so she doesn’t have to fight her droopy eyes.

She’s almost halfway through the sweater. A lovely blue that she’s sure Cat will love. She spent hours scouring the internet for a pattern befitting of the Queen of all Media. She spent longer looking for a pattern than she’s going to spend on the damn sweater. After all, she can’t make a sweater for Cat that Cat will call “so last year”. That would be a crime. At least, Cat would declare her a criminal. Though, if it means handcuffs— no.

Letting the rhythm continue until she reaches the end of her row, she looks down at the sweater and sighs before giving up on the slow pace she set. Cat will be home in an hour or so and she doesn’t want to gift her a half-made sweater.

Speeding up and using a moderate amount of her superspeed so she doesn’t accidentally rip her working yarn or the stitches, she speeds her way through it, finishing the front and back in no time and starting on the sleeves right away, already dreading the end where she has to stitch them all together. That’s always her least favourite part. Cat is worth it though.

If there’s one thing Cat loves talking about when they’re having a relaxing day at home, it’s the new pieces she’s managed to snag online or from fashion shows. She’s always hearing the descriptor ‘one-of-a-kind’ thrown around, so Kara figures that if she makes a sweater for Cat, it’ll definitely be a one-of-a-kind piece. She should love it.

Laying out all the pieces in front of her, she looks them over with a careful eye, searching for imperfections so she can fix them before she puts them all together. Upon deciding that it’s good enough for her girlfriend, who hates being called that because it “doesn’t sound like something you should be calling a woman of my age. I’m your partner”, Kara starts the process of finally stitching it together, hating every moment of it but enjoying the feeling of making something for Cat.

Finally, she holds it in her arms, finished and carefully looked over one last time for imperfections. There are none. She’s going to love it. She thinks about wrapping it too. Cat has always loved a gift, but her phone rings, breaking her out of her train of thought.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Hey, will you be free tomorrow for a movie night?”

“Yeah, why? Is something wrong?”

Alex snorts down the line. “Nothing has to be wrong to make me want to spend time with you, you know that.”

“Yeah, but usually you plan a week in advance, not the night before.”

“Ok, I might have eaten all the chips in my apartment and would rather raid yours than go and buy my own.”

Kara flops back on the couch, one way too expensive for flopping onto, and cradles the sweater to her chest. “So the truth comes out, huh? You don’t actually want to see me. You just want to use me for snacks.”

“Hey, I prefer you over the store. Doesn’t that tell you something?”

“Yeah, that you’re an ass.”

Alex cackles down the line, and Kara rolls her eyes, grateful that Alex can’t see her smile. “I’m making you watch a musical with me.”

“Anything but that.”

“Two musicals.”

Alex chuckles. “Whatever you want. Now, what are you doing? I’m bored and Sam doesn’t get home for another two hours. She and Lena are caught up at L-Corp.”

Kara hums. “Yeah, Lena texted me earlier to say that she’s got to cancel brunch on Saturday because of work. It sucks that things are so hectic over there. I’m just waiting for Cat to get home. I made her a sweater because she’s so obsessed with owning one-of-a-kind pieces. I think she’ll like it.”

“You knitted it?”

“Uh-huh. Just like Eliza showed me.”

“Oof.”

Kara frowns, her lips turning down in time with her furrowing brows, crinkle on full display. “What’s wrong?”

“You haven’t heard of the curse?”

That doesn’t help her confusion at all. “What in the actual hell are you talking about? Have you been drinking?”

“No, it’s a real thing a lot of knitters believe in. It’s why Mom never knit anything for Dad other than scarves. Apparently, if you hand-knit a sweater for your partner, it dooms your relationship.”

“Alex!” Kara sits up straight, her eyes wide and her fingers clawing at the material. “Why did you have to tell me that? I can’t give it to her now!”

For a moment, she thinks she can actually hear Alex’s eyes rolling back into her skull. “Don’t be a dummy. It’s just a superstition; she’ll probably love it.”

“Alex.” Kara whines. “I don’t think I can.”

“Don’t be a baby. If your relationship is strong, then a damn sweater won’t get in the way.”

“I hate you for telling me that.”

Alex snorts. “Love you too. I’ll text you tomorrow when I know what time I’ll be coming over.”

“You’re just going to leave me now?”

“Sure am. Later Kid.”

Kara goes to shout at her sister again, but upon looking at the phone, she sees that the call has ended. Alex can be a real ass sometimes.

Standing up, Kara holds the sweater between her hands forlornly. She stomps to the kitchen, her pink, bunny-shaped slippers slapping angrily into the tile. Her foot slams down onto the pedal of the trashcan just as the door opens, revealing Cat wandering in from the hallway outside the penthouse.

“Please tell me we have wine hidden somewhere. We can’t have finished the last one yesterday.”

“No, we have another bottle,” Kara says, quickly hiding the sweater behind her back and taking her foot off the pedal, wincing as the lid slams down with a crash.

Cat eyes her curiously, dropping her purse onto the nearest barstool beside the island before pulling out her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Kara answers quickly. Too quickly.

Cat stalks over to her, and despite being significantly shorter, Kara backs away from her, ending up in the living room. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.” Kara tries to double down.

“What were you doing with the trash?”

“Just…tossing some paper I didn’t need anymore.”

Cat folds her arms over her chest, her lips pressing into a thin line as a single eyebrow raises in challenge. “Do you think I’m a fool?”

“No?”

Cat’s glare intensifies.

“No. Definitely not.” Kara tries to sound more confident.

“What’s behind your back?”

Kara curses inwardly. Of course, it’s easy to see when someone is hiding something behind their back when both hands are holding it there.

“Show me.”

Kara shakes her head.

Cat sighs, unamused. “Kara, I’m not mad. Just show me what it is. If it’s a puppy, I’m going to be madder that you were about to hide it in a trash can than I am about you adopting it.”

Kara perks up at that. “I can get a puppy?”

Cat shakes her head quickly. “That’s not what I said at all.”

“I’m going to go to the shelter tomorrow.”

Running a hand over her brow tiredly, Cat sighs. “Just don’t bring back anything with fleas.”

“Yes!” Kara throws her hands in the air in triumph, noting her mistake immediately as the sweater dangles above her head. “Oh, snap.”

Now, Cat just looks befuddled. “Is that mine or yours?”

“Uh…”

“Why were you throwing it out?”

“Uh…”

“Kara.” Cat deadpans, striding over to her and taking it from her hands. “It looks brand new.”

Kara goes to take it back, but Cat just steps away from her and bats her hands away. “Where’s the tag?”

“There isn’t one.” Kara offers up nervously, her hands falling to her waist, wringing nervously. “I made it.”

“What?” Cat looks a little impressed, warming Kara’s heart, but she can’t let her have it.

“I was just tossing it out.”

Cat holds it to her chest, protecting it. “Why?”

“I was making it for you but I didn’t know about the curse. You can’t have it now.”

Cat’s shoulders sag, and she heads for the kitchen. “I need wine for this, I can already tell. Explain it to me.”

“Alex told me that there’s a curse that means that you can’t knit a sweater for your partner or else your relationship is doomed, so you can’t have it. I didn’t know when I made it.”

Cat throws the sweater over her shoulder. “Well, I’m not throwing it out. That’s a dumb curse and I’d like to see the statistics of relationship breakdown over mittens rather than sweaters.”

Kara looks nervous, sitting down on a stool, her knees bouncing rapidly. “What if it comes true?”

“Then we can tell everyone that our perfectly stable and loving relationship has ended over a sweater, not you adopting a puppy behind my back.”

“It won’t be behind your back now.” Kara points out.

“So we won’t break up. Now be a dear and find me that wine.” Cat pulls her glasses off her face and drops them onto the counter. “I just want to have dinner, a couple of glasses of wine and a bubble bath with my partner before trying on this very comfortable-looking sweater. Can we do that and agree that it’s just a terrible superstition?

Kara doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know.”

“Kara, we always dump my shopping bags on the counter, and you’re not meant to put new shoes on the counter. Nothing bad has ever happened from that. What makes you think that we’ll be affected by this one?”

Kara’s eyes widen. “That’s a real thing?”

Cat ignores the question. “Kara, darling. You’re an alien. What makes you think Earth superstitions would even have an effect on you anyway.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Kara makes her mind up. “Can you try it on?”

Cat smiles. “You sure?”

Kara nods. “I want to see if I got the size right.”

Slipping off her jacket, Cat pulls the sweater over her head before casually strolling across the room to the nearest mirror.

“I love it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Cat smiles softly, genuinely surprised that it’s not a lie. “It’s one-of-a-kind and definitely next year’s fashion.”

Kara’s grin is so wide and dopey that Cat can’t help but turn around, grab her by the collar and pull her down into a kiss.

“Thank you.”

Check out the Supergirl May-hem event, open for writers, artists and betas who want to collaborate and create art for any WLW ship in the Supergirl fandom! Sign-ups open Dec 1st!

[landofzero-archive]

Ibara Saegusa - Private Room Chapter 3

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Autumn

(Location: Starmony Dorms Hallway (2F))

Mitsuru: Bread bread, br-br-br-brea~d♪ Delicious freshly baked bread~

It’s so plump and chewy because it wants to be eaten by me~♪ Bread bread, br-br-br-brea~d♪

Midori: What’s with that song? It’s somehow stuck in my head, so please stop……

Anyway, it’s just as I’d suspected from a bakery recommended by Tenma-kun. All the bread looked delicious, and before I knew it I ended up buying too much.

Thank you for taking me there. I had been thinking of going to the convenience store because I was hungry.

Mitsuru: That’s a cheap thing to buy! I mean, is that all Midori-chan needs to eat? That won’t fill your stomach, right~?

Midori: Yeah……? Three loaves of bread is a bit more than normal, isn’t it?

In fact, I think Tenma-kun is eating too much…… Can you really eat all of that big bag of bread?

Mitsuru: Fufun♪ That’s how much time I have! I’ll make sure to finish eating by dinner time.

Midori: Ehh!? Are you planning to eat all that in one day— hm?

Aira: ………

Midori: UwaaAAA!? There’s a ghooost!?

Mitsuru: Midori-chan, Midori-chan. It’s not a ghost, it’s Ai-chan.

Midori: —Eh, Shiratori-kun?

…… Ahh, that’s right. If you look closely it is Shiratori-kun. Why’s he crouching down at the end of the hallway like that?

Mitsuru: Ai-chan, are you okay? Does your stomach hurt?

Aira: Hueh……? H-Huh? Tenma-senpai and Takamine-senpai? Ah, I see. This is the second floor.

Umm, I’m fine. It’s not like my stomach hurts or that I’m injured. That’s not the full truth though……

Mitsuru: Hm? Did something happen? We’ll listen to what you have to say, alright?

Aira: Uuu. Thank you very much……! Actually—

Midori: Ehh!? The water supply broke?

Mitsuru: That’s a bi~g deal!

Aira: That’s right. I had the water turned off, but the room was a mess.

Midori: Uwaa…… That was rough, wasn’t it. If I were in that situation it’d make me want to die……

Uum, I understand that there was some trouble. But why were you crouching down like that……?

Aira: Ah, about that. I was worried that it might have leaked to the floor below, so I went to check it out. In the end, it didn’t leak, so that was a relief.

They said it’ll take three days to repair and clean the room and that the room would be completely unusable in that time.

When I was at a loss for what to do next, I lost the will to move……

Before I knew it, Takamine-senpai and Tenma-senpai were right in front of me.

Mitsuru: Uu~. I feel so bad for Ai-chan~……

…… Ah! That’s it! You should come to our room! Ao-chan-senpai is also away for work so there’s free space in the room!

Aira: Aoba-senpai too? Ah, now that I think about it… Sakuma-senpai and Tenshouin-senpai said that Aoba-senpai would be going with them……

But even so, I’d feel bad to burden you guys for three days.

There’s also Saegusa-senpai in the room with you guys. I’ll figure something out on my own.

Mitsuru: But that’s not fair, is it? The other day, Sou-chan-senpai taught Ado-chan-senpai and I the phrase “If you know what’s right and don’t do it, then you have no courage.”

I’ll put it into practice too!

It’s alright. Saegusa-chan-senpai will understand if you explain the situation properly! Hey, Midori-chan. You think so too, right?

Midori: Eh? Are you asking me……?

U~mm…… I don’t know if it’s okay to call that without asking permission……

Still, it would be a shame to turn a blind eye to a situation like this……

Besides, Shiratori-kun is also my club junior. I think it would be fine for just three days……?

Aira: Uu…… Takamine-senpai, Tenma-senpai, thank you so much……! I’ll never forget this kindness!

Mitsuru: Ahaha. It’s no big deal~

C’mon, c’mon! I bought lots of delicious bread, so let’s go back to the room and eat together☆

(Location: Starmony Dorms (Exterior - Night))

Ibara: Fuu……

(I managed to get all of my work done before I went on my day off. I’m sure it’ll pile up again tomorrow in the meantime.

Well, that’s fine. It may be an unexpected day off, but I haven’t been able to take much time for myself lately regardless.

Moreover, Takamine-shi and Tenma-shi are supposed to be working tomorrow…… It’ll be nice to be able to spend time alone in my room.

How should I spend my first vacation in quite some time?)

(Location: Starmony Dorm Room (Ibara, Mitsuru, Midori, Tsumugi's Room))

Ibara: ………

Mitsuru and Midori: Welcome ba~ck.

Aira: W-Welcome back.

Ibara: …… Why is Shiratori-shi here?

Mitsuru: That’s because we picked him up~!

Ibara: …… Is that so? So, can he go back to where he came from right now?

Midori: Awawa…… It’s like we picked up an abandoned cat!? W-Wait please! That’s not how it is. There’s a good reason for this……!

Ibara: And that is?

—In other words, you want him to stay here until his room becomes available again……

Mitsuru: That’s right~. Ai-chan is really in trouble and I feel bad for him. So it’s fine, right, Saegusa-senpai?

Ibara: (Good grief. I was planning to spend some time alone tomorrow. I didn’t expect to be denied like this.

Seriously. There’s a limit to how good-natured you can be. Why do you go out of your way to pick up trouble like this……)

It’s not my fault, so I should leave it to the dormitory manager.

I’m sorry Shiratori-shi, but I’ll have to ask you to leave. I’m not fond of things like taking on responsibilities I don’t need to.)

Aira: Umm…… It’s a bother after all, isn’t it?

Ibara: ………

(No. Wait……? I think they were in the same room as Shiratori-shi—)

Not at all. When we’re in trouble, we call on each other! There’s plenty of empty space.

Until your room is ready, you may feel free to spend your time in this room as if it were your own☆

Aira: ! T-Thank you very much! Ibara: (By selling a favor to Shiratori-shi, I’m also indirectly selling a favor to His Holiness Eichi and Sakuma-shi. This is what it means to kill two birds with one stone! Ahaha☆)

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[justhere4kpop]

Only

Idol!Seonghwa x Reader

You come back from Vacation with your partner and as you're setting the home back up, he comes to a realization.

w/c: 1103 (I know it's short I'm sorry!!!!)

taglist: @hwaightme <3 &lt;3, @starillusion13, @yunbug

a/n: Finally! A Hwa-ne shot! Forgive me for the length! I love this one it's very very very fluffy, like practically tooth-rotting, I'm proud of it though. Inspiration for this is from me being super busy yesterday doing basic things and Only by LeeHi coming on, great song, mentioned probably a few times here. Hope you enjoy it!!!

Masterlist

~-~-~-~-~

“Darling.” came his gentle voice. “We’re back home” he nudged me lightly softly waking me.

“Hmm?” I murmured returning to the real world from my light dreamscape.

“We’re home.” he smiled gently as I turned to look at him.

“Hello.” I smiled.

“Hello love.”

“You were in my dream.”

“Oh? Mind telling me what happened?”

“The usual, you were holding my hand as we were talking about our lives.”

“Old and married on the front porch? Just like you wanted?”

“Yes, you told me I about how radiant I looked in my wedding dress.”

“I’m sure you look stunning, I probably cried.”

“Oh you wouldn’t cry.”

“I would over you my dear.” he picked my hand up and kissed it. “Ready to return to normal life?”

“I guess so.” I chuckled and stretched slightly before getting out of the car. “I suppose we should start with laundry, then probably decide on dinner, I’m sure we need to straighten up, we certainly didn’t have time before we left…at least we took the trash out….probably need to clean out the fridge, make a grocery list. You know…the usual.”

“The usual.” he chuckled.

Everything felt good to start, he started cleaning out the fridge while I took the luggage and went to start on the laundry, luckily we got in early enough in the day to feel like we can do things. Seonghwa and I have been together going on three years now, we’ve had a few rough patches sure, it’s natural to have differing opinions you’re two individual people. I wouldn’t trade him for the world, he’s my whole world. Out of every difference or argument or anything of the sort we manage it. We did break up for a while at one point because we were both too stressed out and it…you know when something needs it’s time, like a good egg in your ramen. We tried again and I have never been more grateful for how patient and attentive he is. He made me a playlist when we decided to try again and we named a star after him for his birthday. He makes me feel loved and warm and so so important. He’s my whole world.

“Hwa?”

“Hmm?” he looked up from scrubbing a shelf.

“Mind if I turn on music?” I was hanging up laundry outside on the balcony.

“Go ahead.” he chuckled.

“Hwa?”

“Yes darling?”

“I love you.” I smiled and turned around. He doesn’t always say it back but I know he always shows it, sometimes I don’t give him the chance to say it back either.

I would hum along here and there to some of the songs, it was a day for our slower playlist, full of emotional songs and some we’d slow dance in the kitchen to at 3am waiting for fried chicken. I started to clean out one of the cabinet looking at what we could eat for dinner, we had some rice ready to microwave and looked like some Spam.

“Hwa? Do we have eggs still?”

“Yes.”

“Gochujang?”

“A staple.” he chuckled.

“We could do rice bowls tonight, any other protein besides Spam?”

“None that smelled edible.”

“Damn.” I chuckled.

“You don’t have to cook dear.”

“I want to, it’ll be like a welcome home, besides I always cook after you come back from tour.”

“Yes but this was a vacation together.”

“I know, but it feels right.” I pecked his cheek. “Okay well we’ll go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

We made a list of the most important things we need from the store to get our fridge not so barren and went to a convenience store just to pick up what we could, like drinks and snacks.

“Finally. Now we’re home for the evening.” I said putting up the groceries and humming to the song currently playing over the computer speakers. “I’ll cook right after this is put away and hang up the last of the laundry.”

ONLY by LeeHi started playing and I was finally hanging the laundry and heating up the pan for eggs and spam. Seonghwa had stood up and watched as the song played gently.

Be my only one

이제는 숨기지 않고도 말할 수 있어

그렇게나 말하고 싶던 I say I love you

“y/n.”

I turned since he sounded so serious.

“I Love You, darling.” his eyes sparkled with what could only be described as pure adoration in that moment. He looked at me as if I had hung the moon and stars in the sky just so we could look at them together, he made his way to me a bright smile on his face, placing his things on the counter to scoop me into his arms.

“I love you too Seonghwa….why are you acting like you haven’t seen me for months.”

“I’m sure for the first time in forever, that I don’t want to loose you again my love. I don’t tell you nearly enough how much I love you.”

“Oh you tell me every chance you get.” I chuckled and he brought himself to my lips, I could smell the slight vanilla black orchid fragrance he wears and I could feel his smile and I wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Marry me.” he whispered resting his forehead against my own.

“What?” I chuckled.

“Marry Me?” he said louder. “I don’t have it right now but I’m sure I want to spend every waking moment with you my dear, My Only Love. Marry Me?”

“Of course idiot.” I said now feeling tears roll down my face, I really wasn’t expecting to get proposed to today.

“I Love You.” he smiled and kissed me again.

~18 Months Later~

“I couldn’t imagine a better first dance song than the one where I realized how absolutely in love with you I am my dear, Our forever starts now, until we’re old and sitting on that front porch and reminiscing about this day. I love you.” he smiled and came to take my hand as again, Only by LeeHi played once more.

“I didn’t think you’d actually cry at me walking down the aisle.” I whispered in his ear.

“I told you I would, you look beautiful my wife.” he smiled and the photographer certainly was getting everything we paid him for.

“Hopefully Hongjoong doesn’t get any embarrassing shots to blackmail you with.”

“Oh you know he’ll hold me crying like a baby over my head for years.” he chuckled. 

“Defintely.”

“To Our Forever?”

“Forever” I smiled and kissed him once again, as my husband, as my partner, as the love of my life. 

Forever.

My Only One.

[lumosinlove]

Day Ten:

On the tenth day of Winterfic, Hazel gave to you, a bit of Oh My Heart (Zombie!au)

(cw: mention of death and injury, but nothing very gory, or graphic)

“Anything?”

Natalie shook her head, blond hair braided back in two. She flipped the switch on the radio she’d been working on for the last month. “If you’re asking me if I’ve done my job, then the answer is yes. But no, nothing.”

Logan, standing beside Remus, cursed. Remus rubbed at his eyes. He adjusted his bow over his shoulder and stared at the contraption. He felt like he was in outer-space, trying to reach home, and their orbit was somehow off.

Natalie shrugged. “If there’s a problem, it’s on their side. Sorry, Doc.”

Logan pressed his hands flat against the table, eyes hard. “How’re we suppose to find anyone if we can’t talk to each other?”

Natalie narrowed her eyes, hand resting on her ax that had a constant presence beside her. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Tremblay. We’re all looking for someone.”

“Are you looking hard enough?”

“Watch it there, honey,” Natalie said slowly. “Just because we’re scout partners, doesn’t mean I’ll go easy on you.” 

Logan stared at her for a long moment before giving the table a small, frustrated shove and turning away.

“Logan,” Natalie sighed. “A radio won’t solve our problems. The dead are still dead.”

“He’s not dead.”

“I’m not saying he is. But stop putting all of your hopes into one thing.” She looked down. “It’ll just hurt you.”

Remus glanced at Logan. He knew his list well. His only remaining family member, his older sister, Noelle, and a boy called Finn. Newcomers were rare this far out of the city, but on the rare occasion they did get one, Logan was ruthless with his questioning. He had a photograph that he showed. It had been taken at a party. Logan looked younger, in college. Maybe that was where he and Finn had met. Remus had never asked. They were standing in a backyard somewhere, picket fence, open grill, string lights. Logan was standing, laughing at something off camera, and Finn was there, too, pressed up behind him, arm wrapped around his chest.

Remus, honestly, didn’t like seeing that photo. It looked too much like the old-normal. Like before. Times like those, of parties and buying packs of beer from the corner store, of finding someone to spend the rest of your life with—a life that would keep growing and turning out new adventures, new loves—were over. Remus would rather forget them than long for them.

God help one woman, May, who had given Logan a hesitant maybe when she’d first arrived and he’d shown her the picture. Logan had all but killed her with his questions. Where? When was this? It’s yes or no, have you seen him? Is he alive? Answer me now.

Logan seemed to think there was a good chance that Finn was in the city. Remus would have been jealous, he wished he had an idea where his family could be—if they were anywhere at all. But to be in the city seemed like a fate worse than death.

“What can I do, is there anything?” Remus asked. “What about Celeste, she’s got scrap medal and…I don’t know, what do you need?”

Natalie gave a sad shake of her head. “Like I said. It’s them, not us.”

“They have got to want to be contacted,” Remus said. “Why wouldn’t they?”

“Beats me. They might just not have the equipment.” She smiled and tapped her temple. “Or any brains to use it.”

It was true. Remus counted them lucky to have Natalie’s skill at hand. She’d even managed to rig up an old DVD player and a projector in the canteen some nights. The amount of smiles and laughter had been jarring.

Remus gave a short nod of thanks before pushing his way out of the tent. The winds were picking up and the entry flaps would have to be tied down. It looked like a storm.

Logan pushed after him, glancing up at the sky. “We should send another party to the city.”

“No.”

“But we haven’t been able to get into any buildings. And if the Walkers are coming out in the day now, maybe night’s the better option. We will have darkness.”

“The Walkers don’t see well at any time of day.” Remus returned the smiles he received as they walked down through the trades. He could smell fire and leather, hear people working. “It’s scent and sound, Logan. I know you have people you’re looking for, but you’ll have to be sensible about it.”

Logan scoffed. “There is nothing sensible about any of this.”

Remus sighed and turned into a stall. “Can’t argue with you there. Thomas?”

“Here,” came a voice from behind many shelves before a man pushed through the flap separating the counter from the back. He had dark brown skin and kind eyes, and he grinned widely. “What’s up, Doc?”

Remus leaned on the counter. “Does everyone here know I never actually graduated?”

Logan laughed. “Pretty sure an apocalypse counts as a diploma.”

“Let’s hope I can live up to the name.”

“Look at it this way,” Thomas said. “Your last name isn’t Walker, like mine.”

Remus winced. “You got me there. Sorry.”

“Re.” Thomas arched a brow. “You already do live up to the name. You always have.”

“You haven’t known me always.”

“I have in this always.” Thomas flashed another smile. “Now, what’s up, Doc?”

“Think its going to storm. We’ll need—”

“Buckets are already out,” Thomas said. “Shower tubs open. By Nat’s radar, we’ll have hot showers for, oh, two days.”

“That’s a record,” Logan sighed.

Thomas spread his hands. “Unless you wanna volunteer to hike to the river…”

A crackling of thunder seemed to accentuate his words from above and Thomas threw his head back and laughed when Logan flinched.

Just as suddenly, a familiar, dreaded four clicks sounded from all three of their radios. A signal from the patrol line. Logan’s head snapped up, his hand going behind his shoulders, to the hilt of the long blade slung across his back. Thomas, wordlessly, jumped the makeshift counter and followed Remus beside Logan back down the trade alley. The rain had started. Someone had seen a Walker near camp. The signal came again, then once more—it was a hard thing, sounding an alarm that needed to be as quiet as possible.

“Mon Dieu,” Remus heard Logan whisper under his breath. “Je vous en supplie…”

Remus recognized the prayer, though Logan had never shown signs of being religious. My God, I beg you…

Remus didn’t hear the end of it, but he could guess. Reunions, finding each other was all anyone sought…but not like this.

Remus wouldn’t beg for anyone. Not when it could end like this.

They joined the crowd running towards the perimeter, arrows knocking against his back, but soundless thanks to the felt that Celeste had wrapped them in for him. The alarm only told them there was a Walker, not how many—and not at what stage of the transition they were in. The tall grasses on the outskirts of the camp brushed up to Remus knees and, maybe, in some form or way, he prayed, too.

There were four stages. The first was numbness. It’s what allowed the infection to spread. Blood on the clothes but no pain? Most people assumed the blood was someone else’s and that they were fine. It was only when the pain crept in that they realized, but, even then, there was only about an hour until stage two set in—the headache. The bite went strange to the mind. Remus had heard it described as an intense burning, and he’d tried to rack his brain for what exactly the burning was, but all he could think of was some sort of brain fever setting in, or perhaps the infected bite then acted as some sort of venom, altering its victim. There were very small windows to find out more, and very rare opportunities. He’d seen more bites than he could count, but never, never would he ask anyone to go through the four stages for something like observation. The world was cruel and inhumane enough. Remus only knew about the stages from  word of mouth—as good as rumor and not helpful—or his own accidental stumbling upon victims far enough along. At that point, they merely begged for death—if they even could do anything that sensible at all.

Stage three was the delirium. It sent most people back to the old world, to their old lives. Rambles about dinner reservations or running to the store for milk. Talking to people who weren’t there. The mind, offering one last defense, one final strand of relief to the human conscience. Remus had never seen the delirium be painful, or terrifying. It was like a small, flash of peace for the victim, a happy memory, before everything was lost.

Stage four, they knew the most about of course. One’s self was undone. The Walker. The Dead. Corpsie. Chomper. Gnawer. Brainer. Zombie. More lore than science, stuffed with nicknames as a buffer against what it actually was. The last thing Remus remembered seeing on TV before the world fell apart were frantic questions that were still unanswered. Where did this come from? How did this happen? What is it?

“There!” someone called out, and Remus dropped down from a run to a walk with the rest of them. It was in the trees—the figure of perhaps a young girl. A body with a loose, ragged dress hanging off of it, long blond hair that looked oily in the wind. She was turned away from them, but Remus was glad. He didn’t want to see her face, her walk was enough. The uneven, strangely smooth gait of the Dead.

Remus touched his radio at his hips and clicked it twice, two long beats of silence, then once more. I’ve got it, the signal read.

Painless. Remus would make it painless. Clean. No one deserved to see any of this. He didn’t care how close he had to get. He walked in his soundless, endlessly practiced way, drawing in closer and closer to the Walker’s back, it’s slowly dragging feet. His own breathing was loud in his ears as he used a tree as partial cover, reaching the edge of the woods. He let the trunk support some of his weight—he always felt weak, just before a kill.

Remus raised the bow, and at the creak of the string, the Walker snapped around. Unnaturally. Too jerking, too quick, eyes too wide. They were hazel, yellows and greens, and young. They reminded Remus too much of—of his—

He let the arrow fly. It lodged in her chest, making her sway. There was a horrible moment of complete silence.

And she dropped.

God, did Remus wish that, if this virus refused to take life in its entirety, it would at least have taken the resemblance to humankind out of its victims. To an unaware onlooker, it looked as though he had done nothing more than kill an innocent human.

[imaginewarehouse]

Professor Wexler x Fem!Non-Student!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You come into your friend’s class one day to help her with an assignment and the cute, emotionally stifled professor develops a big fat crush on you real quick- he uses his Big Brain to figure out a way to see you again.

(Psst, he says he was required to offer the assistant job to you- he wasn’t)

Warnings: Age difference, that’s it.

🔆🔆🔆

“So you remember what to do, right?” You friend asks as you both sit down in the front row of her regular classroom, and you just give her a nod- preoccupied with scoping the place out. Its HUGE! More like an auditorium than a classroom. You couldn’t imagine learning in a place like this!

To be fair though, you couldn’t imagine learning in a classroom either, at the moment. Instead of going to college like your friends, you decided to get a job and take a couple years to yourself… now you’re a manager at the store you work at and feel kind of stuck. It makes being here, in these hallowed halls among all these brainiacs with binders and books kind of intimidating, but… you’re managing! You have nothing to be ashamed of, just because you chose a different path. You’re doing this for your friend, anyway, and besides- this’ll be fun!

Its occult studies- how cool is that??

“Y/N!” Your friend suddenly exclaims, putting her hand on your arm to get your attention and you jump- head whipping around and gaze landing on her once again rather than the rafters.

“Yes!?”

“Come on… Are you listening to me?” She asks, half laughing and half freaking out- just her style. She was like this all the way through high school, too. Every time she had a big assignment due, she would get so stressed out! To relax her, you nod and give a reassuring smile.

“I’m just doing what you tell me up there, right? I’m the example for your presentation- Trust me, I can follow instructions perfectly well. It’ll be fine!” You shrug, drumming your fingers against the folder in her lap. “Besides, you’ve been researching this thing for months- if I trip up there, it’s not gonna make much of a difference.”

“Hey, if you trip up there I’m going to pretend you’re a stalker and I don’t know you.”

“Ditto.” You smirk.

“You’ll pretend that you’re a stalker and I don’t know you??”

“Yep.”

The two of you dissolve into giggles at that, not noticing how the rest of the room is going quiet until it’s too late. A man comes in from the back of the stage and stops at the edge, closest to the two of you.

When you notice him and his very disapproving look (Reminding you why you didn’t want to continue with school in the first place), you quickly shut up and wack your friend to get her attention, too. She sees him as well and immediately swallows her laughter, lowering her hand. “Sorry sir.”

“Mhm… “

Though some of the other students behind your back still snigger and whisper to eachother, the man turns away from the two of you and introduces himself. You move on quickly, too, poking your friend again and leaning over to whisper in her ear. “That’s your teacher??” You ask, folding one leg over the other and angling towards her. Seeing him gave you a devilish idea, and you just can’t help yourself from messing with your friend a bit. She needs to relax, after all- school is not everything…  

“Uh- yeah. Professor Wexler.” She replies quickly, not taking her eyes away from the front- something like fear in her face. Worry. Feeling a smirk wobble onto your face, you turn your body slightly to her in order to deliver your next line without anyone hearing. This’ll kill her-

“Well… all I can say, is I now see the appeal to class-”

“SHHH!”

“Oh, you’re right, Professor Sex Appeal is talking.” As you settle back in your seat, your friend finally turns to look at you- half in disgust and half in horror. You mime zipping your lips and throwing out the key, before turning your full attention to the teacher finally. Oh, she’s too easy. Sure, Professor Wexler is nice-looking, but you aren’t really that horny.

You just love messing with her.

~

“And, now… (Friends Name). Your turn- I hope you’re ready.” Professor Wexler finally reads out your friend’s name from the list on his desk, after 45 minutes of sitting there nervously waiting for her turn. You, timid about getting up there in front of all these smart people your age. Her, dying on the inside from anxiety about failing an assignment despite your regular arm pats of reassurance.

“You are,” You assure her quietly with a nod one last time, as you both stand up and get up on the stage. She leads you to the centre before splitting from you to give Professor Wexler the USB for her PowerPoint and get it set up at his desk; Leaving you to stand there awkwardly centre stage. You consider crossing your arms, but that’s antisocial so you end up standing like a penguin with your arms at your sides. Oh lord…

It’s hot, and you suddenly feel totally inadequate in everything that you’re doing with your life- here are all these people getting degrees and masters and certificates, and you’re managing a Burger King-

Wait. Y/N, shut up. Come on. You’re on your own path, you’re okay. You can do this.  

“Miss (Friends Name), why don’t you introduce your assistant while this boots up?” Wexler’s oddly dulcet tones interrupt your inner freak out, and you look deftly over to them as your friend nods quickly, like oh right, okay. You flash the man a bright smile. Like thank you!

“Well, this is my friend Y/N,” Her voice is clear and confident as she looks out to the audience informationally and you find yourself to be so proud of her. She’s going to be fine. “She’s going to provide some visual aids for us.”

“Hi,” You add, giving an awkward little salute to the crowd. Why did you do that? Oh god, you hope to fuck that was cute-

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Do you go to school here?” Wexler asks, taking over while your friend finishes pulling up her work on computer, having it reflect onto the back wall.

“Oh- no, I don’t.” No need to elaborate, ha ha~ Its nice of him to ask and distract you from the very nerve-wrecking situation but there’s absolutely no need to embarrass yourself further. “Just here to help (Friends name), today. Um- pretty school, though.”

“Isn’t it.” He grins, and it’s really rather a nice grin, and since you’re never going to be in here or see him again you really don’t see a reason why you shouldn’t appreciate it. You also feel suddenly quite glad that you wore this mini skirt and washed your hair today.

“Okay, I’m ready.” Your friend pipes up, and you nod; Attention fully on her again. Let’s go.

~

After a few minutes of introductions and explanations, your friend finally draws attention to you once more. “Alright Y/N, now I require your assistance- would you come centre stage again, please?” You feel a certain gaze on you a little harder than others, but focus on the audience; Dipping your head a little in hello once again as you step up to where you’re needed. 

“Please sit down on the stool, facing the audience.”

Doing as instructed, you make sure to cross your legs- you’re wearing a skirt, and you’re a lady. As your friend touches your head in certain parts and explains the how to and the reason behind the ancient art of scalping- you can’t help but give a bright, humorous smile. You feel so weird sitting here! The lights are hot and there are lootta bored students out there watching… You know that you aren’t what people are really paying attention to right now, but that doesn’t make it better.

Then she tells you to stand up again, which you do, and requests Wexler to come over. Your eyes widen and you glance at her, not sure what’s going on. You thought you were the only aid? Why is she gesturing for the handsome professor to come closer to you? Why!??

“Most of what we know of the ritual sacrifices in this particular area involved nuptials. Ah- a wedding, in simplistic terms. So,” (Friends name) grins cheekily, turning promptly to you and Wexler. “Be free to get nice and close you two while I explain this next part.” Ohhhh, she’s having a laugh; Making fun of her teacher a little bit while she has the power. You get it, the rest of the class give chuckles and teases as Wexler strolls up next to you.  

While your friend continues her lecture, you turn on your heels awkwardly to face Professor Wexler with a very little, very crooked grin on your face. “Well… this is sudden. We only just met.” You say, quiet enough for him to hear perfectly but you’re not speaking over your friend at all. Just between the two of you.

He nods, giving the tiniest of amused grins. “Very.” You get the feeling he doesn’t smile all that often, and the fact that he’s done so for you make you feel all warm inside.

So, pointing a stern finger at him, you give a half stern-half playful look with one corner of your lips quirking up and try not to laugh when he forces a nervous look on his face; Like he’s getting a talking-to from his real wife. “You better take out the garbage, or we’re getting a divorce.”

“Promise, promise!... I have to say, though, if those are our vows, then I have some serious concerns about our pending marriage.” Yeah, you’re flirting a little. But hey; There’s something about having a man who’s older, and more accomplished play along with your silly little game, that feels really good. And it’s not like you’ll ever see him again- so why not?

“Hey,” You actually giggle then, unable to help it. Because this is such a weird situation; Here you are, on a stage in front of at least 30 people your age pretending to be married to your friends teacher- and again, maybe flirting with him. A bit… “Just do as I say and you’ll do just fine,”

“Uhuh,” He nods, grinning again and shaking his head as he looks back finally to the audience and your friends assignment.  

~

20 minutes later, the class is over and you’re all free to go. You help your friend to pack up her stuff and go up on stage to search for a few props she’s missing. “Where are you… “You mutter, wandering off into the wings to see if they may have rolled off. “Aha!”

Just as you’re about to go grab it, leaning against the back wall, a male’s voice calling your name startles you. You actually jump, surprised. You thought you were alone!!

Turning around, you’re only slightly relieved to see Professor Wexler there standing just in the wings, too. He’s a little ways a way from you, but still hidden away behind the curtains with you. “Oh hey there again, sir.” Sure, he’s not your teacher, but when are you next going to have the chance to call someone ‘sir’? You have a thing for it. And it’s not hurting anyone! Flashing a warm, polite smile, you reach down and pick up the prop. “I was just catching a runaway prop- sorry if I’m not supposed to be back here!!”

“No, no, that’s fine… I was just, uh… “He seems a bit tongue-tied, so you wait patiently- watching him fold his hands into his pants pockets, the light glinting off the glasses on his nose. “So. You said you didn’t go to school here. Are you… going to school somewhere else, or?.. “

“Oh, no.” You shake your head, holding your hands and the prop behind your back and forcing a polite smile for him, despite feeling uncomfortable about the topic. Telling a teacher you don’t go to school?? Awkward… uncomfortable… a couple hundred other words meaning the same thing… “I- don’t go to school, actually. I’ve um… Well, I’ve been working instead. I know- I should get an education, but-”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, or following your own path… Actually- it’s rather brave. “That brings a big, genuine smile to your face, and it seems to relax him a lot; He smiles one of those miniscule smiles again as you approach him. “Are you considering anything here, at all?”

“Well… this class sure seems like some fun!”

“I’m not sure that ‘fun’ is what I’m trying to get at, here, Miss L/N.” There’s a stern look on his face but a mischievous glint in his pretty eyes. And- ‘Miss L/N’. Good god- “But- I do agree. It is a… fun, subject.”

“It is!” You agree, nodding. “If I could get into a school like this, I’d absolutely be here! I betcha I’d be top of the class.” You wink, teasing.

“Ah- I bet.”

Smile faltering, because you remember that your friend is still waiting for you out in the auditorium and you, unfortunately, can’t just stay here and chat with the cute professor about a slightly brighter future all day- you take a deep breath and straighten up. “… Anyway, I have a shift in an hour and (Friends name) promised to drive me home– it was really nice meeting you though!”

You’re already turning your hips to head off back onto the stage when Wexler speaks up quickly again- halting you. “Um, before you go, Miss L/N, I uh- I have something I thought you might be interested in. Here.”

“Hm?” Stopping and turning back to him, you watch him take a folded-up piece of paper out of his jacket pocket- which he hands to you. Curiously you open it up, read it slowly, and raise your brows in surprise. “A job application?”

“I’m… required, to give this out to people. You know, scout. And I thought you might, perhaps, be interested. Its an assistant job. Uh, for me. You’d be working with me… be my assistant, uh- It’s not very hard, I promise not to overwork you, but… it is work in this subject. I thought you might be interested. I know you’ve already got a job, though, and you probably want to stay there- “

“Oh, no. I don’t.” Is this for real?? Is he serious?? You could work h e r e??? No way!! You would love to do something knew- something in academics! Occult studies! This is so exciting!

Your enthusiasm must show on your face, because Wexler relaxes once again. “… Great. So- then- I hope to see your application come back.”

Flashing a bright grin, and not even really thinking about it (Just that you want to), you step closer to him and give him a quick, one-armed hug. “You will, definitely!” You exclaim, pulling back before he can even move to reciprocate the affection- leaving the older professor with slight wide eyes and a bashful grin on his face. “I’m very interested!”

He opens his mouth to say something else, but your friend calls after you then.

“… Y/N?? Did you get lost back there?? I think we should get going soon, if you wanna get to your shift on time!”

“Oh- right, yeah. I’ll be right there!!” You call back, before turning back one final time to Professor Wexler. “Thank you, for this.”

“Its my pleasure. And- you can just send the application back with Miss (Your Friends Name).”

“Hmmm, nah.” With a little grin, backing up towards the stage, you fold up the application and waive it to him. “I don’t think so, I’ll bring it to you in person. So, see you tomorrow? You got office hours?”

That grin he gives is quickly becoming addictive to you. “… I’ll see you tomorrow.” You can’t wait.

[portaltothevoid]

For Whom the Bell Tolls - Chapter 27 - Breaking the Law

Pairing: Eddie Munson x OFC (Kat Ramsay), sequel to Foolin’

Summary: Eddie helps get their plan in motion by getting them a ride so they can get weapons to fight Vecna.

Warnings: stealing, grand theft auto

Word count: 2.4k

Chapter song: Breaking the Law by Judas Priest

Tag list: @munchabunch​ @madaboutmunson​ @earl-greater​

Everyone’s mouths dropped open. “Wait, what?!” Dustin asked.

“How do you know?” Steve questioned.

“Because that’s what I was staring at in the kitchen. It was her. She was doing the remote traveling thing we do,” revealed Kat.

“So she’s gonna help us, right?” Eddie asked.

“Yeah, I mean, once we actually have a solid plan, I can communicate with her and… I don’t know, maybe we do have a shot at this.”

“That’s fine and great, I’m so happy we have Eleven back, truly. But what do we do about weapons? We’re already harboring not one, but two wanted fugitives as it is. I doubt we should go around raiding the nearby neighbors for guns,” Robin quickly added.

“Uh, I think I know of a place,” Eddie shared, his face lit up with the sudden idea that popped into his mind. He started shuffling things around where Max’s phone was as a plan started formulating in his mind. “Hey, you got a phonebook lying around?” he asked Max. She nodded and went off to grab it and then handed it to Eddie. He began thumbing through it and when he landed on the ad he wanted, he slammed the book down on the kitchen table. Everyone crowded around behind him. Steve was leaning in closely on his right who had Dustin peaking through next to him. Nancy and Lucas were at the heads of the table. Robin was peering over Eddie’s left shoulder. Max stayed behind the group, simply listening in on the plan, knowing exactly what her unfortunate role in all of this was. Kat was across the table from everyone, already having guessed where Eddie’s plan was going.

“Check this out. The War Zone. I’ve been there once,” Eddie said, tapping the page. He quickly glanced up at Kat, who returned the fleeting smirk. “It’s huge. They’ve got everything you need for, uh… killing things, basically?” As he spoke he switched his weight between legs causing his shoulder to bump Steve’s chest. Kat had to keep her facial expressions to herself as she noticed Steve lean into it ever so subtly. 

“Do you think fake Rambo has enough guns there?” Robin asked. “Is that a grenade? I mean, how is any of this legal?”

“Well, lucky for us, it is so… This– this place is just far enough outside of Hawkins. As long as we steer clear of the main roads, we oughta be able to avoid cops and, uh, angry hicks,” said Eddie.

“If we’re trying to avoid angry hicks, maybe we shouldn’t go to some store called the War Zone?” Erica pointed out with her signature sass.

“Normally, I’d agree, but we need the weapons, so I think it’s worth the risk,” Nancy said.

“Me too,” Lucas agreed. “Especially since Kat can hide any or all of us.”

“Yeah, but even with Kat, is it worth the time? It’ll take all day to bike there and back,” Dustin pointed out.

“Who said anything about bikes?” Eddie said.

“What, you got some car we don’t know about?” Steve asked, seeming confused.

Eddie finally stood up straight to look him dead in the eye. “It’s not exactly a car, Steve. And it’s not exactly mine, but uh… It’ll do,” he said with the most mischievous cheshire cat grin. “Hey, Red, uh, you got a ski mask or a bandana, something like that?” he asked as he turned around to face Max.

“Eddie, really?” Kat scoffs as she walked over to him and pulled the bandana out of his pocket, which somehow managed to stay put all the way through to the Upside Down, and waved it in front of his face.

“That is a signature Munson accessory, sweetheart. Easily recognizable around here. Plus I have other plans for that,” he said snarkily as he plucked the bandana from her hand and stuck it right back in his pocket.

“I’ve got… something like that,” Max shrugged before she walked off to her room.

“Okay, so what is this super stealthy plan of yours?” Robin inquired.

“Well, see those neighbors over there enjoying this lovely weather?” Eddie said as he walked over to the window. “That, right there, is a Winnebago. While they’re sitting outside, chain smoking and pounding down a six pack, we’re gonna climb in through the back very quietly. I’ll get her started and we’re outta here.”  

“Wait, why do you need a mask? Couldn’t Kat just hide us?” Steve asked.

“Here,” Max said, handing a Michael Meyers mask to Eddie. “This should work.”

“Oh yeah, super inconspicuous,” Dustin said sarcastically.

“Wait, why do we even need that?” Steve asked again.

“I don’t want to use my powers. I don’t know if it sounds a beacon to Vecna, so if we can do this the simple way, we should.”

“Exactly,” Eddie said. “You got a toolbox or something with pliers in it, Red?” Max nodded. She went to the kitchen and grabbed a small duffle bag from under the kitchen sink. Eddie inspected it, nodding. “Yep, this’ll do.”

“I don’t know how I feel about all these risks–” Robin started.

“If shit goes south, I’ll step in. But for now, this is our only option,” Kat cut her off.

“Here we go again. Child endangerment,” Erica sighed.

“Alright, let’s go,” Eddie said, his voice muffled as he put the mask on. He started towards the door with Kat following behind him. He opened it, peeked his head out, and looked both ways before pointing a finger gun to lead the group on their way. 

Quickly and quietly, they moved from trailer to trailer. They all ran directly behind the couple who was sitting outside of their home. Had they looked back at the right second, this plan would have all been over. For the moment, luck was on their side.

They all crowded around behind the Winnebago. Eddie hastily reached his hand up to try and open any window. Thankfully the very back window slid open with ease. He hoisted himself up through the small opening which just so happened to be big enough for him to slither through. Landing on the couch, he ripped off his mask. “That was suffocating,” he breathed. Kat rolled in right behind him as he shot up and darted to the entrance to swiftly lock it. Steve dove through the window, followed by Nancy and the rest of the gang. 

After securing the door, Eddie settled into the driver seat up front. He threw the bag down and grabbed needle nose pliers. Shoving them in his mouth, he went to work finding the wires near the ignition. Kat leaned on the side of the seat, “Oh, finally get to see the delinquent in action,” she whispered. He flashed her a brief look and wiggled his eyebrows. His chuckle was muffled from the pliers. When he yanked them out from the dash, Steve made his place next to Kat. She moved down the first step so that she could get a front row view and so that Steve could too.  

“Where’d you learn how to do this?” Steve asked as Eddie snapped two red wires.

“Well, when the other dads were teaching their kids how to fish or play ball, my old man was teaching me how to hotwire. Now I swore to myself, I wouldn’t end up like he did,” he recanted, twisting two wires together, “but now I’m wanted for murder, possibly kidnapping, so why not add grand theft auto to the list of charges. So, uh, I’m really living up to that Munson name.”

Robin flew up to the front and watched over Steve’s shoulder. “Uh, Eddie, I’m not really sure I love the idea of you driving?” she shared.

“Oh, I’m just starting this sucker. Harrington’s got her,” he said as he leaned in close to Steve making a reprised impish smile. “Don’t ya big boy?” With that, he flicked the frayed wires together and the engine roared to life.

As it backfired, the couple who owns the mobile home shot up out of their lawn chairs. “What the hell?! Hey! Open this door!” the woman yelled. All four of them turned their heads as the man started banging on the door. “They locked the door!” she continued screaming.

“Shit! Go!” Steve said as Eddie flew out of the seat and Steve hopped over to sit in the driver seat. “It’s just a car,” he whispered to himself before turning around and yelling, “Everybody hang on to something!”

Robin had rushed towards the back to find her seat. Kat and Eddie had crawled to their spot, while Nancy went up to take her place next to Steve. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Go! Let’s go!” Lucas said anxiously. 

“Pedal to the fucking metal! Woo!” Kat cheered, having the time of her life.

“Drive, Steve! Drive!” Dustin screamed from the very back of the vehicle. 

“Go, go, go!” Robin hurried as Steve threw their new set of wheels into gear and punched his still barefoot on the gas. 

Lucas kept telling Steve to “Go! Go! Go!”

Dustin was watching out of the rear window as the couple were still yelling and throwing their arms in the air. “Shit, they look pissed,” he observed. 

“I mean it’s not everyday you lose your house and your car in one fell swoop,” Robin said, holding onto the sides of her seat.

“Hold on! Hold on! Hold on!” Steve yelled as he made a sharp right turn, running over some garbage bins in the process.

“There’s a place up ahead and I’m goin’ just as fast as my feet can fly! Come away, come away if you’re goin’. Let’s leave this sinkin’ ship behind!” Kat started to sing at full volume.

“Kat, what are you doing?” Nancy laughed.

“Come on! Road trip songs! You know you wanna sing along,” she gleefully said. She looked down at Eddie and nodded. He shrugged and together they both sang, “Come on the risin’ wind! We’re goin’ up around the bend, oh!” and with the second verse, soon enough, they had everyone singing Creedence Clearwater Revival as Steve hauled ass to War Zone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Eventually, when the songs and the adrenaline died down, a silence befell the group. Everyone was either wrapped up in small conversations of their own or zoned out from exhaustion.

“Hey,” Kat whispered, gently nudging Eddie with her elbow, “what’s going on with you and…” She jutted her chin toward their getaway driver.

A puzzled look scrunched Eddie’s features. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Kat started, her eyes looking up at the ceiling and her head tilting back and forth as she counted her points on her fingers, “You gave him your battle vest ‘for his modesty.’ You confessed how cool you think he is, with an Ozzy reference no less. You practically nuzzle into his personal space. I’d recognize that shit-eatting grin anywherel. And! What the hell was up with calling him ‘big boy’?” she chuckled quietly.

Eddie curled his lips in and his eyes grew wide as his cheeks reddened. “I– I– I… uh,” he stuttered trying to get his bearings. “What?”

“If you ask me, those are tell-tale signs that Munson has a little crush,” she said with a smirk.

“I have a… What? No, no, no. I mean. He’s a dude and I–”

“So what if he’s a dude? You can have a crush on a guy,” she shrugged.

“But it’s–”

“Always a little weird when you first realize. It’s okay, babe. Been there, done that. Here to help ya through it, big boy,” she giggled and winked as she ruffled the top of his head.

“‘Been there, done that?’” he repeated.

“Mhmm. I’m telling you, life is very different in LA. Plus if you weren’t so annoyingly persistent when I first got here, probably woulda batted my eyelashes at,” Kat moved her eyes in Robin’s direction. Eddie followed her eyes and then his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he slowly turned his head back to her.

‘Really? Buckley?’ he mouthed.

“Yeah, you had no idea, did you?”

“Nope,” he shook his head quickly, his curls zipping side to side.

“Of course not. That’s because it’s called being subtle. Something which you have not yet mastered. Oh, hey, wait, I know someone you could practice on!” she said, bumping her shoulder with his.

“Hey, I am very much with you. Have I told you that I love you? Because I love you. Very much in love. Runs real deep,” he said speaking quickly.

“I know, babe,” she nodded with a breathy laugh as she patted his knee.

“Hey, Kat?” Max called to her from the back. “Can I, uh, talk to you for a sec?”

“Of course!” she said, getting up to switch places with Lucas. “What’s up?”

“Well, I sort of came up with a plan. I just… I mean, you know Vecna so I wanted to run it by you, I guess,” she said nervously.

“Yeah, tell me what you came up with,” Kat nodded as she sat down, crossing one leg under her.

“Okay, so, he uses my darkest memories against me. Which, you were there when it happened with Chrissy, right?” 

“Yeah, a couple times actually. If those were her actual memories… They had to have been her darkest ones. Is that… is that what he did with you?”

Max nodded. “It’s like he only sees the darkness in us.”

“No, not just in people. Honestly, he only sees darkness, period.”

“Exactly, so I figured I’ll just run in the opposite direction. I mean, that’s what I did when they started to play Kate Bush. I saw them at the cemetery and I just ran towards it. So that’s what I’ll do. I’ll run to the light again. And maybe he won’t be able to find me there, you know?”

Kat stared out the rear window pensively. She started to nod. “Yeah, yeah. That could work. Eleven has her powers back. And if I’m there too… Wait, do you already have a specific memory in mind?”

“I do,” she said with a half smile, her eyes darting to Lucas and back as her cheeks turned rosy.  

“Max, this could work. If you show me that memory, I can find you there and hide you. I don’t know if… I don’t know how long I can hold him off and keep you safe, but maybe it’d be enough time for them to obliterate that son of a bitch…”

“Really? You think this could work?”

“Yeah, I do,” she said confidently as she walked up to the front of the camper. 

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