#I got injured from them plenty

[goldfades]

𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 ─ PB⁵

౨ৎ ─ summary | request -> "paige x iowa!reader (pre-relationship) on game day where maybe r is mic'd up the whole time so fans hear how they flirt, joke around, etc so they start shipping them? the other uconn/iowa girlies always tease them abt it and one night they all go out to a bar tg and someones on live and accidentally catches p and r against a wall kissing or smthn 🫣" for my lovely disco nonnie!

─ word count | 2.6k

─ warnings | teasing, lots and LOTS of teasing, mention of injuries, so much flirting, teasing, slightly suggestive, kissing.... oh and did i mention teasing????

─ taglist | guys idk why my taglist isn't working pls help me and lmk

─ ev's notes | okay so i want to know if yall like the little comment section i put in some of the posts, because i love doing them and i wanna know what ur thoughts are.

"OKAY, HEY LADIES and gents. It's your favorite, me. Y/N L/N," you tried to whisper into the mic secretively as you looked around. Before you could continue talking, you felt Caitlin grab your shoulders and shake you, eliciting a yelp from you.

You sent her a glare as she giggled and walked away, causing you to roll your eyes. "Anyways, sorry for that stupid interruption. It's game day here at Iowa and we're going against... I don't even remember their names."

You were obviously joking, you had plenty of friends on the UConn basketball team and it was running joke that you didn't like them. You smirked into the camera, knowing full well that your faux ignorance would rile up some competition.

"But hey, who needs names when we've got game, am I right?" You grinned, your enthusiasm showing. "So, while we prepare to show those other guys what real basketball looks like, let's talk strategy."

Leaning in closer to the microphone, you adopted a more serious tone, though the mischievous glint in your eye remained. "First off, we gotta dominate the boards. Rebounds win games, folks. Then, we'll run those fast breaks like there's no tomorrow. Speed kills, baby."

You paused for dramatic effect, pretending to adjust an imaginary headset. "And of course, let's not forget about defense. Lock 'em down, make 'em work for every shot. That's how we do it here at Iowa."

You turned around to see some of your teammates giggling at you, causing you to roll your eyes. "I'm getting bullied again, guys. Remember amazing, hot and very cool players have feelings too, okay?"

"Can you shut the hell up and come stretch with us?" You heard Caitlin shout from the court, causing you to sigh dramatically.

With a playful wink at the camera, you turned away, joining your teammates on the court for the pre-game warm-up. As you stretched and bantered with them, you saw the opponents walk in. You couldn't help but bit your lower lip as you averted your gaze from a particular blonde whom you've gotten close to these last couple of months.

After last year's game, Paige followed you on Instagram and you began talking more. However when you two got injured around the same time, it caused you two to talk more and form a closer bond. Eventually, it turned into Paige texting and calling you every single day and now, it's like you two have known each other your entire lives despite you guys seeing each other face to face three times.

You couldn't help but steal glances at her as you stretched, a small smile playing on your lips whenever your eyes met. The familiar banter and teasing between your teams seemed to fade into the background as you found yourself drawn to her presence.

But amidst the closeness, there lingered an unspoken tension ─ a delicate balance between friendship and something more. You couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach whenever Paige's eyes met yours, or the way your heart raced whenever she flashed you a smile.

Caitlin's voice broke through your thoughts, snapping you back to reality. "Yo, Y/N! Focus up, we've got a game to win!"

"Oh my gosh, look it's serious Caitlin I'm so scared," you spoke into the mic quietly, hoping that she wouldn't hear you. Unfortunately, she did and she got up, holding up her hand as you put your hands over your head. "No, I'm sorry!"

Caitlin laughed at your antics, her laughter infectious as she waved off your dramatic apology. "You're lucky I'm in a good mood today, Y/N," she teased, giving you a playful shove before turning back to the team. "But seriously, let's focus up. We've got a game to win, and I don't plan on losing to those guys."

"Yeah, me neither." She helped you get up from the floor as you walked to the bench. "Thanks, Cait," you said with a grin, falling into step beside her as you made your way to the bench.

As you settled onto the bench, you took a moment to mentally prepare yourself for the game ahead. The familiar sounds of sneakers squeaking on the hardwood, the echoing noise of the crowd, and the anticipation building in the air all served to fuel your determination.

You rose to your feet, eyes fixed on the court ahead. With a quick glance at the UConn's lineup, you immediately spotted Paige among their starting players. Your heart rate quickened slightly as you realized the task at hand — you needed to guard Paige and shut down her scoring opportunities.

In any other situation, it would be easy. Even if the person you were guarding was someone you were friends with, you always made sure to stay professional but this was slightly different. Paige had been the theoretical shoulder you'd been crying on for the last year about your injury that you'd just healed from.

As you stepped onto the court, Caitlin's words from earlier echoed in your mind. You couldn't afford to let Paige get the better of you, not today. You made your way toward Paige and as she met your eyes, she gave you a small smile. You could still talk to her, right? She held out her hand for a quick dap-up and you accepted it gratefully.

"Bro, me and Nika were just talking about how your hair is probably gonna be perfect. You have the best game day hair," Paige spoke finally as you laughed nervously, your gaze momentarily averting to the floor then back to her.

You felt yourself blush under her gaze as you playfully brushed off the compliment. "Oh, you think so, huh?" you smiled, trying to keep the mood light despite the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Well, what can I say? Gotta look good for the cameras,"

Paige smirked in response. "Oh, trust me, you always do," she teased, her words laced with a playful flirtation that made your heart skip a beat.

You looked into Paige's eyes, you couldn't shake the feeling of warmth that washed over you. There was something about her presence, her easy smile, that made you feel at ease, even in the midst of a game.

"Says you, with your cute braids. You gotta teach me how to do those one day, you know." You playfully nudged Paige's shoulder, a smile spreading across your face."Now you're just showing off," you teased, your tone light and playful as you admired the braids that framed Paige's face.

Paige chuckled, a soft sound that sent a shiver down your spine. "Or I can just do them for you once you actually visit Connecticut, like you promised."

You just realized that you were mic'd up, as you glanced down at the mic. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Alright, alright, you've got yourself a deal," you replied with a playful wink.

You then felt Kate's hand tap on your shoulder, motioning for you to come to the bench with her. Paige gave you a small smile as she did the same, your heart fluttering at the sight of her smile. With one last glance at Paige, filled with a mixture of excitement and anticipation, you followed Kate to the bench.

"Are you gonna lock in, Y/N?" Caitlin's voice rang out as you glanced up at the tall brunette. You saw the slight smirk on her lips as she gazed at you, teasing you without saying anything. She was practically screaming "you're whipped!" as she did.

"Yeah, I'm locked in," you responded as you averted your gaze, laughter echoing in between your teammates as a blush covered your cheeks.

"You know, cus if you're not, I can guard Paige while you go shoot-"

"Oh shut up, Caitlin I hate you." You groaned, causing her to laugh along with the rest of the team. Caitlin's teasing banter was a familiar part of the pre-game ritual, and despite your protest, you couldn't help but smile at her antics.

"Hey, just looking out for you, Y/N," she teased, her tone lighthearted as she flashed you a grin.

As the referee's whistle blew, signaling the start of the game, you shook off any lingering distractions and locked into the moment. This was it the moment you had been waiting for. With a deep breath, you blocked out the noise of the crowd and zeroed in on the game plan.

At one point, as you and Paige push for position under the basket, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Paige jokingly accused you of stealing her post moves. "Hey, imitation is a form of flattery, right?" you quipped, earning a playful shove from Paige in response.

But perhaps the most memorable moment came when you and Paige found yourselves face-to-face during a heated confrontation for the ball. With the game hanging in the balance, you couldn't help but exchange a playful smirk with Paige, feeling a slight warmth on your cheeks.

Iowa had ultimately won the game but there was no bad blood between the two teams (thankfully), players from both teams exchanged handshakes and congratulatory words, acknowledging the hard-fought battle that had unfolded on the court.

Sure, some of the players were a little hurt but it wasn't like it was the end of the world. However, you knew at some point the two teams would have to play against each other during play-offs but you didn't let yourself get too worried right now. Right now, it was important to savor the moment, to celebrate the hard-fought victory with your teammates and bask in the camaraderie of the game.

──

"You looked good," Paige spoke as she leaned against the wall of the bar. Some of the girls on the team wanted to go out and celebrate and the UConn girls wanted to join. And that was how you found yourself standing next to Paige, a little tipsy as you leaned against the wall beside her, a warm flush spreading across your cheeks at her compliment.

"Thanks, you too," you replied, unable to hide the smile that tugged at the corners of your lips. You felt yourself shy away from her gaze, a stark contrast to how you usually were ─ teasing and outgoing.

Paige noticed that quickly, a small smirk appearing on her lips as she took a tip of her drink. "Aw, look at you, all flustered," she teased, her tone light and teasing as she nudged your shoulder gently.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you replied, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. "Gotta stay humble, right?"

Paige laughed, the sound sweet and infectious as she leaned closer to you. "Don't worry, I think you can handle it," she said with a smirk, her words sending a shiver down your spine.

She gazed at you for a little longer as you looked away, only for her to grab your chin and hold it so that you kept looking at her. With a soft chuckle, Paige leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear as she whispered, "You're cute when you're flustered,"

"I never thought that you could be shy, you know... with all that shit-talking on and off the court." Paige remarked as she let go of your chin, her gaze still heavy on you. "It's kinda giving me an ego boost,"

"Oh shut up," you mumbled as you took a sip from your own drink, Paige's gaze following your lips. There was something about the way she looked at you, the way her eyes seemed to linger on your lips, that made your heart race.

As you lowered your drink, you met Paige's gaze once more, a playful glint in your eyes. "You're not so bad yourself, you know," you replied with a smirk.

Paige chuckled softly, the sound like music to your ears as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I know," she teased, her voice low and teasing as she leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in her eye.

She wasn't usually ever this cocky, sure she's had her moments but never to this extent ─ she didn't know if it was the alcohol or just you. There was something about her self-assured demeanor that was both enticing and captivating, drawing you in with each exchanged word and shared laugh.

"Well, aren't you just full of yourself tonight?" you teased, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of your lips as you leaned in closer to her.

"Can you blame me?" Paige replied with a grin, her confidence unwavering as she met your gaze. "I mean, if you had a pretty girl getting flustered over every word you say, even after her beat team yours, you'd be feeling pretty confident too," she continued, her playful tone tinged with a hint of desire as she leaned in closer, the warmth of her breath grazing your skin.

"Well, I guess I can't argue with that," you replied with a grin, your tone light and teasing as you leaned back slightly, a playful twinkle in your eye. "But just remember, I'm not one to stay flustered for long."

With a playful smile, she leaned in closer to you. "Well, lucky for you, I happen to enjoy a challenge."

Her eyes kept flickering down to your lips as she downed her drink, putting it down on the table next to you. She leaned in closer, as if to test the water, grazing her lips against yours as your breath hitched.

She took your reaction as a yes, her hands finding your hips as she pushed you against the wall. She pushed her lips into yours in a hurried kiss, the intensity of her touch sending a jolt of electricity coursing through you.

You responded eagerly, your hands finding their way to her shoulders as you pulled her closer, the world around you fading away as you lost yourself in the moment. With a sense of urgency, Paige deepened the kiss, her hands exploring the contours of your body with hunger.

The taste of her lips was intoxicating, a heady mix of alcohol and longing that left you breathless. You forgot all about your teammates and who might see this and recognize the two of you, because neither of you really cared anymore.

Jada drank her water as she kept skimming through the comments of the live, reading them and chuckling at every remark toward you and Paige. Kate was behind her, momentarily blocking from everyone seeing what you two were currently up to.

Kate heard someone call her name as she quickly got up from her spot, turning to respond to the voice. As she moved away, the brief obstruction she provided from prying eyes was gone, leaving you and Paige momentarily exposed.

As Jada's gaze flickered to the screen, she froze, her eyes widening in surprise at the unexpected sight before her. "Oh shit- I mean, shoot." She quickly moved her phone as she glanced at the sight, giving the camera a shocked look as she thought about what she should do.

She had basically just outed the two of you but to be completely fair, it was on you two for making out in a very public bar. "Guys, don't worry that wasn't Paige that was just some other blonde. Sorry guys, you know how Y/N has a thing for blondes."

She sighed as she locked eyes with Kate, who gave her a shocked expression as she looked down at her phone. Kate gave her a look before Jada looked down at her phone, laughing as she waved.

"Looks like we are gonna have to end the live, sorry guys. Love you, bye, mwah mwah."

Paige finally broke the kiss, leaving the both of you to catch your breath. She smiled as her finger swiped your bottom lip, tracing the outline of it gently. You couldn't help but catch your breath, the taste of her lingering on your lips like a sweet memory.

"You're fucking beautiful," she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur as she leaned in to place a soft kiss on your lips again.

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↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do. 

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong. 

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them. 

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down. 

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.  

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️😈:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable. 

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room. 

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family. 

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt. 

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you. 

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life. 

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice. 

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever. 

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets. 

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits. 

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp. 

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different. 

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited. 

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.  

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him. 

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings. 

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed. 

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder. 

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk. 

You could see something change in his eyes. 

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms. 

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success. 

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING. 

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you. 

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail. 

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

[seresinhangmanjake]

Hey! I saw you were accepting Feyd requests and I got so excited! Could you do something where Feyd and reader have been married for a little while, have been pretty stand-offish and just keeping up appearances. They get into a fight over something stupid, saying hurtful things because reader still believes Feyd is incapable of feelings. Turns out he’s really protective though and gets seriously injured saving her during an attack? Reader panics trying to help him and the feels super guilty, meanwhile Feyd is enjoying the attention.

Staining

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Notes/Warnings: It's slightly different, but I hope you like it anyway. Mentions of blood and death. Smut so 18+. I'm sure there's typos. I think that's it.

Words: 4100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag list

“You’re heartless”—that’s what you spit at him after watching him rip apart another family right before your eyes. 

He slaughtered a man for a petty crime, and then you had to watch what would become of the wife and children. 

He gave them options, of course. He presents all of them with a choice: to be servants for his House or to fight for survival in the slums of Giedi Prime. For the mother, it likely means you’ll have a new handmaid. For the boys, they will be trained so they can one day face off in the arena. Either way, it's no life.

As he announced the options for their future, you couldn’t look away from her: the woman whose husband lay at her feet, the blood drained from his body as she attempted to shield her two young sons behind her small frame. You watched her kind eyes go permanently wide out of shock. She needed to answer your husband’s question, give a response to his merciful offer, but she couldn’t. Nothing on her moved save for the grip she had on her boys, which only tightened the longer she stared at her dead lover. 

You knew what would happen to them. Your husband found her silence and inability to snap out of her trace irritating. She would make a poor handmaid if she could not listen. The boys, however, could still make fine warriors—guaranteed entertainment a few years down the line. 

So he separated them. Allowed the guards to pry them away from their mother’s fingers—who left her state of shock behind only when she felt them being ripped from her hands—before dragging them to cells with tears streaming down their round cheeks. 

Their mother collapsed to the floor by her dead husband. His blood soaked her skirts. You didn’t know how a man could do this to his own people for something as simple as the theft of some food, but he does, and often. Then he had her thrown out, back to the slums where she came from. 

She’ll never see her boys again. If you know your husband, he will likely one day force the two to face off with each other in the arena. After all, that’s where his uncle finds entertainment, and your husband will do anything to please the old man. 

Long after his guards have departed with the woman, you’re still staring at the body on the floor. The red around him is congealing. If you run your finger through it, the digit will return sticky and thickly coated. He’ll stain your skin. He’ll stain through your skin onto your insides. He’ll never come off. 

He’s like your husband, you think. Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen stained you, and impressively, he didn’t even have to touch you to achieve that. Simply being in his presence was enough to leave his mark, and you’re in his presence plenty, just not how you imagined you would be when you married him. You imagined being in his bed. You imagined kisses and loving caresses and sweet words—that kind of staining. But you were a naive girl when your parents dropped you off on this planet, and you quickly learned how to be a woman; a woman whose husband only uses her for formality’s sake. 

You don’t know why you have to be by his side for this, though, but he always ensures that you are. The two of you…a solidified front to the world, as if you agree with the choices he makes and the punishment he doles out to those who don’t deserve it.

So that’s why you say it. Because you’re tired of this, tired of being silent, hating the idea that your silence might lead him to think the two of you are on the same page; that you’re a team. 

“You’re heartless.”

His head whips to you. “Heartless…” His voice around the word is vile; thick and rich like the blood on the floor. With a few steps in your direction he is in your space and you clasp your hands in front of you, fingers squeezing tightly to keep yourself from running off. He stares down at you, a luminous blue that you found so stunningly gorgeous when you first met him now a pair of frozen icicles stabbing into your skull. “I’m heartless?”

Your swallow is rough. Dry and scratchy. 

“I’m not the one who steals from his neighbors. I’m not the one who risks leaving his wife alone for the rest of her life,” he says. “They know the laws. They know the consequences.”

“And the woman? She deserves to be alone, rotting away in poor living conditions because of his choice? Her children deserve to die for your entertainment?”

“You take issue with how I handle things?”

“Yes.”

Feyd’s back teeth clench. His jaw sets in a sharp line. “Another reason for you to hate me then,” he grits out.

You blink. Your lips part. Another reason? You don’t have multiple reasons, and there’s certainly nothing you’ve done to indicate that you do. You used to hate that he didn’t, and doesn’t, care about you, but you’ve never said a word about it. You’ve never bothered him about sleeping in separate rooms or asked him to give you anything of himself. This—his treatment of his people in situations like this one—isn’t another reason. It’s the reason. 

“You could deal with these matters differently,” you say.

His fingers form balls at his sides. His mouth opens. It closes. He shakes his head and walks past you but pauses before he is completely out of your peripherals. “This is how things are done here,” he says. “You’ve been my wife for five months now. You need to get used to it.”

—

You don’t get used to it. You don’t get used to it because he doesn’t demand you be by his side at his executions anymore. Not after that day. 

You’d never spoken up before that moment, and it cost you what little interaction you had with your husband, which you despise to say was precious. You may not love him, and at times hate him, but he is the only thing you have on this planet. Little as you spoke to one another before, you held onto it because no one else gives a damn about you. Not that he does either, but at least he would give you a word or two. His brother and the Baron don’t bother, leaving you to Feyd to decide what to do with and when to do it. 

However, you imagine they didn’t expect that he would never touch you, and based on the way they watch you and Feyd when you’re forced to join the Harkonnen’s for dinner, you imagine they’re now aware that whatever was between you—minute as it was—is gone. He doesn’t even call on you for formal events. He no longer cares about showing a unified front to the other Great Houses. But you do.

You know what reputation means to the Harkonnens, and regardless of how you feel about the history of Feyd’s choices, you’re not willing to present your life on Giedi Prime as a failure. The two of you are too young for whispers to spread among influential families of a tainted marriage, a crack in the system. You don’t need questions floating about in regards to a unification that will not result in an heir. The end of the Harkonnen line, they’ll say, as Rabban, much older than your husband, has yet to choose a wife. How unfortunate, they’ll slyly mutter around the rims of their champagne glasses. And you’re not ready for that. 

So, with the exception of executions, you attend the events your husband does not invite you to anymore. You make sure your face is seen, especially when most vital. At his meetings, at his fights in the arena, and at Harkonnen parties such as this one. 

People enjoy themselves here. Shockingly, a few strong drinks eases the tension between Houses, and Giedi Prime has the strongest drinks of them all. It’s a tactic. A genius one, if you’re honest. The Baron invites his guests and gets them in a good mood and strikes deals one cannot go back on. Brilliant. Something you might have thought of yourself if your husband let you share your thoughts; thoughts you have plenty of. But no one cares how you would rule this planet if you had a say in its future.

You watch the Houses mingle about. You watch them laugh and dance. You watch them watch your husband. You watch them watch you. You watch the wheels turn in their alcohol-addled brains. You roll your eyes at what he doesn’t see. 

Ungluing yourself from your designated spot, you step up the staircase that leads to the Harkonnen men, your husband and his brother flanking the throne the Baron sits upon. You don’t think to speak to any of them; you didn’t break away from your assigned location for words. Instead, for all to see, you reach up to cup Feyd’s cheek and turn his head toward you for the first kiss since the day of your wedding. A gentle brush of lips. A buzz more engulfing than any drink could offer.

He freezes, and when you pull back his lips are still parted. His eyes open slowly and he stares down at you in awed confusion. How he doesn’t understand why you’ve done what you’ve done is just short of bewildering, but it doesn’t seem to click. 

“You–”

“I’m going to retire for the night,” you tell him. You’ve been at this party long enough, and the guests have now seen what they needed to see. Not to mention, their tipsy state means they’ll soon forget any thoughts they have about you until morning. They’ll stop searching for your presence. 

You don’t wait for your husband’s nod of approval. You’re pretty sure he doesn’t care where you are at any given time anyway, so you descend the staircase and exit the grand room into the hall that leads to your bedroom.

The echo of footsteps follows and you’re bold enough to believe it could be Feyd before a blade is pressed against your throat from behind. For a moment, you think it still might be your husband—retaliation for the kiss that re-sparked a feeling you’ve been trying to ignore since you married him—but the voice in your ear is feminine. 

“He killed my husband, my Lady,” the voice says, and you instantly remember her. It’s been two months but nothing could make you forget the look in her eyes. “I want my sons.”

You swallow hard. The blade nicks your throat from the additional force. A droplet trickles down your neck. “I can’t return your sons to you,” you tell her, at the same time questioning how she infiltrated such a secure place. But you suppose with the number of guests, slipping in would not have been the most difficult of challenges. 

You wince at the deepening cut. Your heartbeat quickens, doing little to aid in stopping the blood seeping from your wound. “You’re the na-Baronness.”

“I have little power here.”

“I don’t care!” she shouts, her words bouncing off the walls. “I want my boys,” and you think now she’s crying. Her tone alters. Something catches in her throat. “What’s happened to them?”

You don't wish to tell her, but you’re in no position to deny her requests. “They’re alive and well,” you say, which isn’t a complete lie. The Baron prefers strong, well-fed fighters—the duels last longer that way. 

“I want them back!”

“As much as I would like to, I cannot give them back to you. It’s not my decision.”

“Then I’ll take you from him,” she spits. “The way he took mine.”

You must’ve put on a grander show than you expected with that kiss because she seems to fully believe that your death would matter to him. But you know he won’t blink an eye. He might even thank her. Reward her by reuniting her with her sons, though unlikely. 

“He won’t care,” you tell her. 

“I have seen him, my Lady. He will care,” she says, and you don’t know how she could possibly come to that conclusion or why. It’s not as if the people of Giedi Prime sense a kind capability from the Harkonnens. “He will–”

She chokes. The blade trembles then drops from your neck. You quickly glance down to find Feyd’s knife deep in her side. 

Many things are a mystery to you in that moment. Why he bothered to leave the party; why he came down this hall of all halls, especially when his room resides in another; and why he pierced her side rather than go for the neck, which would have instantly ended her. His mistake. An uncharacteristic mistake.

The woman whips around, freeing you, and you stumble out of reach. They’re a blur of battling bodies as you get your footing, but then it catches up with you—the pain. Your hand goes to your neck and you make a little noise at the sting of your fresh wound. Your mistake. 

Feyd looks away from her in search of you for a single second. Not even. A half-second. But the woman is smaller, quicker, and the distraction is enough. Her blade slides into his abdomen. He grunts. You gasp.

He regains his focus and, by her hair, he rips her head back to expose her throat and shoves the blade through her neck. Blood spurts across his chest as he removes the weapon, and she collapses to her knees before the rest of her body flops to the floor. 

Feyd takes a shaky step back, staring down at the blade in his torso. He drops his knife and his hand goes to the hilt of the other. 

“No, don’t!” you yell, but you’re too late. He jerks the blade out and it clatters on the ground. His palm does nothing to stop the flow of crimson. 

Rushing to him, you fall to the floor as he does. You press your hands on top of his to keep the pressure but it’s useless. “Don’t you know anything?” you mutter. “You should’ve kept the damn thing in.”

He chuckles. The bastard actually chuckles. Then his other hand raises and lands on top of yours. You think he’s trying to add more pressure, but his touch is gentle. His thumb runs over your knuckles. 

“It’s alright,” he says, and you’ve never heard his voice so devoid of depth and strength.

“No, it’s not,” you retort, irritated. 

“You still hate me?”

“Shut up!” you snap. “Help!” Yanking the black chiffon sleeve off your gown, it tears free and you ball the material to shove it against his wound. “Help!” 

Guards burst through the doors and run to you. You sigh with relief, but when you look down, your husband is paler than you’ve ever seen him. 

“Feyd…” 

You’re shoved out of the way in a second, flung to the side like a flicked-away ant, and then he’s taken from you. You watch them until he’s out of view. When you glance down at your hands, they’re stained with him. 

—

They bandaged your neck in mere minutes and you find it aggrivating that they couldn’t work as efficiently on him. You’ve been dead silent for hours now, expecting to hear screams of pain as they stitch him back together, but then you remember he’s a glutton for pain. He’s probably enjoying it, the sick bastard. But you’re not enjoying it—the waiting, the limbo. It’s torturous. 

You’ve never seen him hurt before. You’ve witnessed his skills in the arena, and not once in your seven months of marriage has someone gotten a decent slash on him. 

Guilt hits you hard as you recall that it’s your fault. That woman was skilled as well—you suppose she would be if she was raised to live where she did—but if you hadn’t made that noise, if you hadn’t distracted him, she would’ve been dead before she could do her damage. This wouldn’t have happened. 

Just then, a knock comes at your door. You speak for them to enter and a guard peeks into your room. “My Lady…” he says, and you pray you’re not about to be told your husband didn’t survive a single stab wound. “You can come with me.”

You don’t wait around for more. You hop to your feet and quickly follow through hall after hall until you’re at his room. 

“What will I see when I walk in there?” you ask. 

“He’s fine, my Lady,” he says, bowing his head to dismiss himself before returning to his post. 

Turning the knob, you edge the door open and step inside. The bed is in immediate view, but he’s not in it. He’s not in it and he should be. Not even the covers are pulled back. Maybe the guard misled you. If he were fine, surely he would be resting. 

You make your way in further. 

“You’re here.” 

Your head snaps to your right where he’s leaning against the lone table in his room, a lit orb on the wooden surface illuminating him from behind in a white glow. He’s less pale than he was; what little rosiness he once had returned to his skin. 

Clearing your throat, you say, “I was told to come.”

“Because I told them to bring you,” he says. 

Your heart pounds at the bareness of his torso, the thickness of his arms as they cross in front of his chest. It pounds in a different way, an off-kilter way, when you notice the dressings wrapped around his waist and the patch of blood that is seeping through three layers of it. 

He must see your distraction because he says, “It’s fine.” Your eyes flick back to his. A beat of silence passes between you. You’re unsure how to continue now that he’s seen the concern you have for him. “I suppose you’re disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” you repeat. “What for?”

“I’m alive.”

Your jaw drops ever so slightly. You recover as best you can before you say, “Feyd, I don’t want you to—I’ve never wanted you to–”

He holds up his hand, cutting you off. “I’m going to listen to you.”

Your brow pinches. Why did he silence you, then? “Listen to me about what?”

He takes a deep breath, an action that lifts his shoulders and has them falling heavily back down. His eyes penetrate you as they’ve always done, but the iciness is gone. “I don’t care if the people I hurt want to kill me,” he starts. “But she didn’t come to kill me; she came to hurt me by killing you. So I will listen to your thoughts when it comes to dealing with matters like that one.” He pauses, expecting a response, but you don’t quite know what to give him, so he continues. “Your voice will make fewer enemies.”

“You care about making enemies?” Since when would a Harkonnen ever care about such a thing? Especially when they are known for doing that thing so well.

“I care when they come after my wife,” he says. Pushing off the table, he leisurely steps toward you. You’re stuck to your spot. “The men of my House do not have a history of caring about their wives. They’ve never cared if their actions bring them harm, and yet, people have used our wives as pawns for revenge for centuries. Many have died to prove a point. I’m not going to let you be one of them.”

He stops only to not collide with your body. You have to look up to maintain eye contact, and when you do, his breath brushes over your lips. “Why didn’t you kill her when you could have? You stabbed her in the side. You avoided vital organs.”

“Because you wouldn’t have wanted me to kill her if I didn’t have to,” he says. “So I didn’t kill her…until I had to.”

You suck in a sharp breath. You didn’t know he was capable of such restraint. You didn’t know he had enough fragments of a heart to glue together to keep him from doing exactly as he pleases. 

His hand lands on your hip and his thumb begins to rub up and down over the curve of it. He hasn’t touched you…ever. In fact, he’s seemed over the months to deliberately avoid it. Like your skin would burn him even through the fabric of your gowns. Anytime it looked like he would try, he’d pull back before flesh grazed flesh. 

“You hadn’t kissed me since we married,” he says, so gentle in that low voice that it’s practically a whisper. It doesn’t make the heat of his breath any less intense against your skin. 

“People were watching too intensely,” you inform him. “They were thinking something was wrong between us, I could tell, and I didn’t want to give them that power over you.”

“So that was it, then?” he asks. “That’s the only reason you did it?”

“That’s–” you swallow, debating whether or not to say it, to give him more. 

“What?”

“That’s the reason I did it,” you decide to tell him, and his face shifts; his features alter in a manner you’ve never seen. He looks down to his feet. He nods and his touch disappears, and now you feel cold and you hate it. “But that’s not the only reason I wanted to do it.”

He freezes as he did before. For a moment, his chest stops rising and falling with expected breaths. When his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he raises his head. 

You can’t stop staring, even though your brain is telling you to get ahold of yourself. His mouth is so plush. You’ve always known it. It’s always done something to you. And whatever that something is, it’s more potent now that he’s so close and you can see his lips glistening in the low light. 

“Will you do it again?” he asks.

Again? You didn’t imagine he wanted you to do it the first time, or the second. The first was an obligation. The second was not exactly mutually agreed upon. But as he stands in front of you, asking, you can’t bring yourself to say no. You don’t want to say no. So you say yes, and you inch up on your toes until your lips meet his. 

Immediately, he’s yanking your body flush against his. His hand goes into your hair, and he parts his lips so they can better lock with yours. He’s good at this, and you don’t want to think about why, can’t think about why without a knot of jealousy settling in your gut that only dissipates when those hands travel down your body to the back of your thighs. You’re in the air, your legs wrapped around his waist, your lips still sealed for one second more before your back hits the mattress and he’s on top of you with his leg shoving between yours, nudging your thighs open for him. 

You don’t know the exact moment it happens, but your skirts are up to your waist and he’s inside of you, moving in and out, kissing your neck and pulling gasps from your throat, and it feels right, good, like pieces falling together. A bit of you feels guilty for that. That you can know what he’s done to people and still want to feel the pleasure of every inch that he’s giving you. You’re selfish, maybe that’s it. Maybe you’ve always been and you didn’t know it. You can’t bring yourself to care as he makes those deep noises in your ear and stains your insides.

After you’re sated, you lay there for a while with him in your arms and his arms wrapped around your waist. His head rests on your chest. You think about the things you’ve done to each other in the course of an hour and it brings a blush to your cheeks. You think about how you can’t go back and that you don’t want to. You’ve wanted this from the beginning, despite what he’s done. You expected it when you married him only to be sorely disappointed at his lack, or what appeared as a lack, of interest. You’re definitely selfish, at least when it comes to him. But you refuse to be when it comes to other matters.

“I want something from you,” you say. He hums, content. “I want us to take in that woman's boys.”

[mochinomnoms]

Do you think humans in twisted wonderland have periods? What if they don't...

What if AFAB!Yuu is the only one in twisted wonderland to have periods and it freaks everyone out

Evolutionarily speaking it would make sense for the humans in twisted wonderland to reabsorb the unused egg for extra fuel for magic

[cw] - discussion of periods/afab!Yuu but still written as gn [wc} - 1,792 Added the rest under readmore as it got a bit long. I think there's a fic somewhere on here with this idea, but I can't remember the blog or name, I'll edit and link it later if I find it. I can see the point of the egg being reabsorbed, though personally I think TWST humans are biologically the same as Earth humans, minus the ones with magic maybe having a bit stronger/heighten senses and strengths. After all, there are plenty of humans who aren't magic, I think it's mentioned some point in their book 2 or book 5 that a majority of the population is either magicless or aren't privy to the privilege of formal magical education.

Even if a majority of the human population is magic, there's still a good chunk of them that don't and if that's the case then they at least would have periods.

However, that's explicitly the human population, and in reality it makes absolutely no sense for beastmen or merfolk to have periods. Especially when they have things like heat/ruts or mating cycles. Fae I think would actually make the most sense for the headcanon you're mentioning! They are completely and utterly magic, made from the magic of the earth, animals, and flora given sentience and forms. They are utterly magic, through, and through, so it would make sense for those with uteri to recycle the egg back into them for magical fuel.

And say we're going with the assumption that there are no other afab students in the school, or there are, but they're only beastmen, merfolk, and/or fae, then an afab!Yuu comes as quite a shock.

The beastmen are the first to notice something off with them, as they have the most acute sense of smell. This is followed by a very close second with the merfolk (particularly the predacious ones) and an even closer third by the fae. All the boys from those dorms, minus Lilia who's lived long enough to know what a period is, clock in on their friend who reeks of blood and flesh (because you're also shedding pieces of your uterine lining).

Lord help you, as you're in a crowded area, the cafeteria, with not only them but the rest of their classmates that also smell your blood, because their immediate thought is that you're fucking dying.

Sebek is surprisingly the first to launch himself at you, shouting at the top of his lungs, “WHERE IS YOUR INJURY HUMAN?! YOU ARE SEVERELY INJURED YOU SHOULD BE IN THE INFIRMARY—” Before he is yanked off by a wide-eyed Jack, who's looking more and more like the dead as he leans down to sniff at you.

The blood from his face drains (ha) as he turns to look at Leona and Ruggie, as well as a small group of other beastmen—friend's you've made during the tournament—and nods. This causes them to all look horrified and gaze at you like a wounded puppy. Minus Leona, who just looks amused.

“It's coming from them.”

Still confused, you stare at the Heartslabyul group—who'd been eating breakfast with you—in bewilderment. They also look at you in confusion, except for Riddle, the latter of which pinches the bridge of his noses and takes a deep sigh.

“I think you're all being a bit dramatic, they're just on their—”

“DRAMATIC? I DON'T THINK YOU'RE BEING DRAMATIC ENOUGH!”

Floyd grabs you from behind, spinning you and shoving his face so close to yours that you noses are smushed together.

“Shrimpy… you gotta tell me who did it, cause I could tell from aaaaall the way in the hallway that ya hurt. Com'on! Tell Floydie, I promise I won't be mad.”

Jade placed a hand on his brother's shoulder as he leans down to chastise Floyd.

“Not now Floyd, the poor thing is hurt, we should take them to the infirmary. Then we can hunt down the dreadful soul that hurt our friend and have them trade their spot.”

You felt yourself being lifted from the ground, yelping and latching your arms around Floyd's neck as he cradles you in his arms. Effectively yanking you from Jack's grip, who immediately growls.

“Floyd! Be careful!”

“Ehhh? Yeah that sounds like a great idea! Let's go now, I'm itching for a good fight, ayhehehe!”

Leona and Riddle shared a look, the former sighed to try and explain.

“Look you idiots, they're not injured, they're—”

“What are you waiting for?” Ruggie interrupted him, annoyed by Leona's unconcerned attitude, instead gesturing to Floyd. “Let's go before they bleed out even more!”

The small group clamored out of the cafeteria, a few more concerned students following after them as they started to hear bits and pieces of the conversation. Leaving Leona and the others in the dust. Deuce piped up.

“… Uh, do they not know—”

“No, most beastmen aren't familiar with periods.”

“I'm guessing merfolk and fae don't either, based on the twins and Sebek.” Riddle sighed, feeling sorry for you.

Leona's ears perked as he heard the shrill shriek of a certain octopus in the distance. Riddle and the others also seemed to hear it as they winced.

“Probably not…”

“…”

“… should we?”

“Yeah, we probably should, before my boys wreck the school. Let's get Crewel.”

It took a whole hour of you reassuring the small crowd that had formed around your bed in the infirmary before anyone calmed down. Floyd and Jade were being constantly pulled back into the infirmary by the ear by the nurse, who kept telling the two to stop trying to go beat up the imaginary person that, quote unquote, “hurt you”.

“What do you mean Shrimpy isn't hurt? I can smell the blood from all the way down the hall!”

“Yes, it's quite a potent scent, and distinct to our dear Prefect.” Jade held his hand to his chest as he sniffled. “We've smelled it before when they've gotten hurt, but this is a whole different level.”

“Yeah! Almost all of Savanaclaw could smell it” Ruggie nodded in agreement as Jack followed.

“They must be really hurt if we all could smell it from that far away! You need to help them nurse!”

Their voice's grew again in volume, Sebek in particular, as he vowed to also hunt down the “ruffian who would dare harm a fellow student on the campus Master Malleus attended!”

The nurse, growing more and more annoyed trying to corral the group (she wondered how ethical it would be to use a silencing spell and another to stick them to the ceiling), sighed in relief as the echo of Crewel's whip commanded immediate silence.

“Oh, thank the Sundrop, Professor Crewel, please control them. I am up to here with their foolishness—”

“Foolish? The Prefect might be dying!” Azul cried out, surprisingly attached to your side. She'd tried to yank him off of you earlier, but was met with a shocking amount of strength as his grip on the metal bed frame caused an Azul-sized hand indent to form. His strength, easy to forget in his slender frame. Now, he was trying his best to coax the name of the student responsible with promises of free drinks and discounted food.

“No I'm not!” You cried out in exasperation. “I've been trying to tell you, but y'all won't listen!”

As you tried to get up from the bed, trapped in a blanket cocoon made by Azul, the boys started up again. Half urging you to stay in bed and rest, while the other half argued with the nurse, and now Crewel, about healing you up.

A near ear-shattering rumble of thunder caused another silence to fall over everyone. This time, though, the group shrunk into themselves as Malleus, standing proud and tall, entered the room. Sebek perked up, rushing over to meet him.

“Young Master! I've ensured that the human was taken to the infirmary, but so far they've refused any healing—”

“Thank you, Sebek. I will speak to them myself.”

Malleus, his school jacket flourishing behind him (one of the students murmured that he felt like a background character in a romance movie), flew to your side. Where you had been squirming your upper body out of the blanket cocoon, smacking at Azul's hands as he kept attempting to swaddle you back in.

Now freed waist up, you turned to face Malleus, who had elegantly kneeled down by your bedside (you could hear Sebek muffled a shriek) and held your hand like a delicate piece of china.

“Child of Man, my friend, what happened? Are you alright? Did someone hurt you?” Malleus cooed at you, green eyes peering into yours, full of concern.

So it was a surprise to everyone in the room when you groaned, which morphed into a soft scream.

“Uh… Child of Man?”

“I'm fiiiiiine!” You sighed, slumping back into the bed. “I'm just on my period, you guys.”

The room remained quiet, a bit too quiet as you lifted your head back up to look at the room of confused looking men. Crewel had a hip cocked as he looked unimpressed over the crowd. The nurse was rubbing her temples. You heard Azul clear his throat, drawing his attention as he asked,

"What's a period?"

Finally, the crowd had settled, all of them huddled around your bed as you tried your best to explain what a menstral cycle was.

"So you like, bleed every month? Randomly?"

"Amount 28 days, so once a month yeah. And now it's not random, it's part of the reproductive cycle. It's my body preps for a new egg—"

"But, I though humans didn't lay eggs?" Floyd asked, leaning against Azul's right shoulder.

"We don't, it's different the egg turns into a baby itself so there's no egg to lay—"

Ruggie spoke up, "We get that, but I don't get why the egg makes you bleed? It can't do that can it?"

"No, no, no. It's not the egg itself, it's my body. In order for the egg to get fertilize it needs a good environment to grow, so the uterus grows a fresh lining once a month for the egg to latch on to, so—"

You sighed as once of the other fae students interrupted.

"Fresh lining? Like, the skin? Of the uterus?"

You nodded, trying to keep your patience as you attempted to explain to your friends that, no, you were in fact not bleeding to death.

"Yes, that's the blood, the skin is shedding to make a fresh one for the next egg."

You don't think it's working, as that last sentence caused a wave of mortifcation amongst the crowd.

"That... sounds like it hurts." Malleus, still holding your hand, softly asked. "You're not hurting though, correct?"

Pursing your lips, you looked up at the ceiling, avoiding eye contact. Wow had that cobweb always been in that corner?

"Yuu."

Malleus's voice, calling out your name for once, was full of questioning.

"Yeah Horns?"

"it doesn't hurt, correct?"

You started whistling a little tune, studying the dirt under your nails.

"Dear Prefect," Jade this time. "Answer the question?"

The group leaned in closer as you grumbled under your breath.

"Speak up Shrimpy."

".........not always."

"Come on, stop being shy, you act like a puppy most of the time" Ruggie was getting annoyed.

".....cramps..not move...not always."

"It's okay Yuu, you can say it." Azul cooed.

"...Sometimes the cramps makes it hurt too much to move, but not always."

You braced yourself as the crowd once again riled up.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT HURTS TOO MUCH TO MOVE?"

The nurse off to the side still, leaned over to tell Crewel, "I told you we needed an interspecies health class."

hehe this was fun, comments appreciated. I may be inclined to write more since writing different between species like this is fun

[thedensworld]

Work Stressed | Y.Jh

Pairing: Jeonghan x reader

Genre: comedy, fluff

Summary: Working with your best friend is stressful and Jeonghan will tell you why.

"Where is she?!" Jeonghan slammed his fist onto the desk, eyes burning with frustration as he stared at the article on his screen. One of his artists, you, was now being implicated in a vandalism case in Hongdae. Your photo—blurry but unmistakable—was plastered all over the page, showing you running with a group of culprits. How had this happened?

"She's on her way here, sir," his secretary said quietly, sensing his fury.

Jeonghan massaged his temples, trying to quell the growing headache. Just yesterday, a paparazzi had caught you napping on a park bench, forcing him to pay off a tabloid to kill the story—especially with your drama currently on air. Now this? Vandalism in Hongdae? The timing couldn't have been worse.

"She's going to be the death of me," he muttered under his breath.

Right on cue, you strolled into his office, a bright smile on your face as if nothing had happened. "Hello! I got you coffee," you chirped, holding up a cup like it was some kind of peace offering.

Jeonghan’s jaw tightened. He pointed sharply to the couch. "Sit."

You blinked but complied, casually dropping onto the plush seat as if you were here for a friendly chat. Jeonghan motioned for everyone to leave the room—your manager, his secretary, all of them filed out without a word, leaving the two of you alone.

"What's it this time?" you asked, unfazed, already knowing you were the problem child of the company. You leaned back, taking a slow sip of your coffee, like this was just another Tuesday.

Jeonghan didn’t say anything at first. Instead, he slammed the printed article down in front of you. “Read.”

You glanced at it briefly, then back up at him with a shrug. "I was just jogging," you said, completely nonchalant.

Jeonghan’s eyes flashed with disbelief. "Jogging?! How is my PR team supposed to spin that? Do you think the public is going to believe you were just out for a jog when you're literally pictured running from the scene with a gang of vandals?"

You sighed, rolling your eyes as if he were the one being unreasonable. “I didn’t do anything. I’m not part of any gang. It’s just a coincidence. Tell them that.”

Jeonghan gritted his teeth, trying to contain his frustration. "It’s not that simple, darling. You don’t just explain away an article like this. Your reputation is on the line."

Leaning forward, you met his gaze, unbothered. “Doesn’t matter what I say. I’m always going to be the villain anyway, even when I’m telling the truth.”

That made him pause. As much as it frustrated him, you had a point. You were always honest—maybe tood honest—but no matter what you said, the media would find a way to twist it. They always did.

Jeonghan slumped back into his chair, exhaling heavily, his anger slowly deflating. "I'm sorry," he muttered, surprising even himself. "How are you, by the way? I heard you got injured during filming."

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of tone. You nodded, pulling up your sleeve to reveal a deep scratch on your left arm. "Yeah, I’m fine. Just a cut."

Jeonghan winced. "That’s going to leave a scar."

You smiled, unfazed. "Well, lucky for me, you’ve got plenty of money to fix that."

For the first time that morning, Jeonghan chuckled softly. "Yeah. You’re not wrong."

It had been 15 years since that fateful day in high school when Jeonghan accidentally kicked a soccer ball straight into your forehead. You had been the new kid in school, standing on the sidelines of the field, and Jeonghan's errant kick had made sure you were noticed. While you were clutching your head in pain, Jeonghan had rushed over, apologizing profusely. That was the beginning of your unlikely friendship.

At the time, you had just moved to Seoul for your acting debut, and Jeonghan, with his easygoing charm, quickly became your first friend in the new school. He was the only one who didn’t treat you differently because of your budding fame, and soon, the dynamic shifted from classmates to something more like colleagues. You were juggling school and early acting roles, while Jeonghan was focusing on his studies—first as a regular student, but with a growing interest in business.

"Hey," Jeonghan had said one day after school, leaning against the lockers with that confident grin of his. "I’m going to start a label in the future. Do you want to be my actor?"

You had laughed at the time, but without hesitation, you responded, "Sure."

It was a simple promise made between two teenagers who didn’t quite know what the future held. You didn’t expect it to come true, but years later, after Jeonghan graduated with a degree in business and you had built up a name for yourself in the industry, the promise came back.

"Remember when you said you’d be my actor?" Jeonghan had asked one evening over drinks, his tone light but his expression serious.

And just like that, the promise from high school had become reality. Jeonghan had become your manager—a great one, too. He knew how to navigate the industry, protect your image, and push you to take on more challenging roles as your career advanced. He wasn’t just your manager—he was someone who knew you, who had been there from the start.

But in recent years, things had gotten complicated. As your fame grew, so did the pressure. The roles weren’t easy anymore, and neither were the scandals. Jeonghan spent more time putting out fires, like today’s vandalism case, and less time just being your friend.

He watched you now, still sipping your coffee like nothing had happened. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes, hidden behind that carefree exterior you always wore in public. And that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, he had pushed you too far.

Breaking the silence, Jeonghan leaned forward. "Do you ever think about... slowing down? Taking a break?"

You gave him a long, hard look, as if weighing the question carefully. "Are you suggesting I quit?" you asked, a small smirk playing on your lips, but there was an edge to your voice.

Jeonghan shook his head. "No, not quit. Just... rest. You've been running non-stop for years. You’ve earned a break."

You leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. "And what would I do with a break? Stay home? Watch dramas I’m not in?"

"You could live," Jeonghan said softly, surprising even himself with how earnest he sounded. "You could live without the cameras, the articles, the public scrutiny—just for a little while."

You looked at him, searching his face for something. After a moment, you sighed. "Maybe. But I don't think the world would let me rest, even if I wanted to."

Jeonghan frowned but didn't argue. He knew you were probably right. You were too much of a public figure now. People always had their eyes on you, waiting for your next move, your next mistake.

"Still," Jeonghan said, "if you ever decide to take that break, I’ll be right here."

You smiled, genuinely this time. "Thanks. But we both know I'm not going anywhere just yet."

Jeonghan returned the smile, though there was a trace of sadness in it. "Yeah. I know."

*

Jeonghan was jolted awake by the shrill sound of the doorbell ringing incessantly. Groggily, he glanced at the clock—2 a.m. If this wasn’t something urgent, someone was getting fired. He dragged himself out of bed, confused and annoyed, and checked the intercom. His brows furrowed when he saw your face on the screen. Without hesitation, he buzzed you in.

Opening the door, he found you standing there, still dressed in full makeup, looking disheveled and slightly off-kilter. At first glance, you appeared drunk. Your new manager was standing awkwardly behind you, wearing a tight, apologetic smile.

"She insisted on coming here," your manager explained, his tone strained.

Jeonghan waved him off. "It’s okay, I’ll take it from here. You should go home and get some rest."

With a nod, the manager gratefully left, and Jeonghan turned his attention to you. He sighed, taking in your messy state. "Who did you get drunk with this time?" he asked, guiding you inside and sitting you down on the couch. He slipped off your jacket, his patience wearing thin.

But then you blinked, stretched out dramatically, and he noticed the telltale spark of mischief in your eyes. You weren't drunk at all—you were acting.

"I knew it!" Jeonghan groaned, throwing your jacket back at you as he slumped down on the opposite end of the couch. "What are you doing, disturbing my sleep at 2 a.m.? I have work tomorrow."

You giggled softly, bending down to untie your shoes. "Let me crash here for a few days," you said casually, propping your legs up on the couch as if it were already decided.

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. "Absolutely not. Get up, I’m driving you home." He reached out to pull your arm, trying to get you back on your feet.

"No!" You resisted, clinging to the couch. "I don’t want to go home."

He crossed his arms, leaning back and studying you. "Did something happen?" His voice softened with concern.

You avoided his gaze, biting your lip as if debating whether to tell him. Finally, you mumbled, "I haven’t been home in a week. I’m scared... Let me stay here. I’ll sleep in the guest room, and I swear it’ll be like I’m not even here."

Jeonghan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. "What do you mean, scared?" He grabbed your arm, gently pulling you back down when you tried to dash off to the guest room. "No, sit down and explain. What’s going on?"

You hesitated, your eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I think someone’s been in my house… for the past week."

Jeonghan’s frown deepened. "What? How do you know?"

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him. There was a picture—of you, taken from inside your house. It was grainy, but clearly snapped from within the confines of your own home.

Jeonghan’s expression darkened as he studied the photo. "And you’re just telling me this now? Did they hurt you?"

You shook your head. "No, but... the last time I went there, I heard someone chasing me, and I fell down the stairs."

He immediately reached for your arm, rolling up the sleeve to reveal the injury. "So this wasn’t from shooting, was it?" You shook your head again, and his worry only grew.

Jeonghan cursed under his breath. "That’s dangerous. Why didn’t you call the police?"

"I panicked," you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn’t know what to do. My new manager doesn’t even know... He tried to take me home tonight, but when I saw the lights were on, I freaked out and asked him to bring me here instead."

Jeonghan sighed, running a hand through his hair. He could see how shaken you were, though you were trying to keep it together. "You shouldn’t have kept this to yourself."

"I didn’t want to cause more trouble," you muttered, biting your lip. "I already feel like I’ve been a mess lately..."

"Hey," Jeonghan interrupted, his hands settling gently on your shoulders, his voice firm yet reassuring. "That’s alright. You did the right thing by coming here."

You looked up at him, visibly relieved by his words, and he could see just how exhausted you were—mentally and physically. He stood up, grabbing his phone from the table.

"You’re sleeping in my room tonight," he said. "The guest room’s full of my work stuff right now, and I’m not letting you sleep alone when someone’s been in your house."

Before you could protest, Jeonghan was already dialing the security company and setting up arrangements to keep you safe. You sat there, watching him take control of the situation, and for the first time in a while, you felt like you could breathe.

"Thank you," you whispered, as Jeonghan hung up the phone and turned back to you.

He smiled softly, reaching out to ruffle your hair. "Get some rest. You’ll be safe here."

And for the first time in days, you actually believed it.

*

"I didn't know you could cook," Jeonghan remarked, stepping into his home, greeted by the delicious aroma of a home-cooked meal. The sight of you casually moving around in his kitchen was something he never thought he’d witness. In his mind, you were always more of a 'princess treatment' kind of girl, not someone who could navigate a kitchen so confidently.

"I’ve lived alone since high school. Of course I know how to cook," you replied, brushing off the surprise in his voice. You ushered him to change out of his work clothes and join you for dinner.

A few minutes later, Jeonghan sat down at the table, taking the first bite of your meal. His eyes widened in genuine appreciation. "Thanks for the meal. This is really good."

You smiled at the compliment. As he ate, Jeonghan’s expression grew more serious. "The police are investigating the stalker case. They’ve already found a few leads, so we should have more answers soon. As for the vandalism incident, we’ve sued the media for spreading disinformation. Hopefully, that’ll keep them in check."

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. "I just don’t understand how anyone could believe I’d do something like that. Do I really seem like the kind of person who would join a vandalism gang?"

Jeonghan laughed, shaking his head. "Not at all. They’re just looking for a story."

The two of you finished dinner, and Jeonghan insisted on doing the dishes while you moved to the living room, scrolling through the script your manager had sent over. It wasn’t long before Jeonghan joined you, handing you a can of beer.

"What’s this one about?" he asked, gesturing to the script in your hands.

"A memorable one-night stand that ends up with the female lead discovering it was her boss," you replied, taking a sip from your can.

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow. "Koreans really love their one-night stand stories. Almost every drama seems to start like that these days."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Yeah, but this one’s different. The boss—the male lead—has actually been in love with her since high school. I know, it's a bit unrealistic, but the character development is solid."

Jeonghan smiled, understanding now why you’d taken the role. "Is that why you accepted the part?"

You nodded. "That, and let’s be honest, there are so many new rookies in the industry now. I can’t afford to be picky." You laughed, but there was a hint of truth behind your words.

Jeonghan picked up the script and skimmed through it. "Let me help you with practice," he offered, settling in beside you. He took on the role of the male lead, reading his lines with a surprising amount of intensity.

"Just because I’m your boss, doesn’t mean I can’t love you," Jeonghan read, his voice low and serious. "I’m also human. I have feelings. And I’ve told you before, I’ve liked you since high school. That feeling... it never stopped. It’s only grown, Y/N."

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own name coming from him. "That’s my name," you pointed out, half-joking but also feeling the odd shift in the air.

Jeonghan quickly cleared his throat, flustered. "I—I meant to say, Mina... the character’s name." His face flushed as he tried to recover.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the tension building between you. Suddenly, the room felt too small, too intimate. You hastily grabbed the script from his hands. "Practice is over," you said, tossing it onto the coffee table.

The atmosphere was heavy, the lines between your characters and your real relationship beginning to blur. You stood up quickly, needing to break the awkwardness. "Do you want ice cream? Or dessert? Maybe I should order pizza?"

Jeonghan bit his lip, looking down as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had messed up, and he knew it. That one slip, saying your name instead of the character’s, had crossed a line he wasn’t sure he could uncross.

"Yeah, sure. Pizza sounds good," he muttered, watching you retreat to the kitchen, trying to put some distance between the moment that just passed. But the tension hung in the air, thick and undeniable. He wasn’t sure if either of you could pretend it hadn’t just happened.

*

"Are they following us?" Jeonghan's voice was tense, his eyes glancing at the rearview mirror every few seconds. You followed his gaze and immediately recognized the car tailing you both since you left the company.

"It's them," you whispered, dread settling in your chest. It was the stalker that had been eluding the police for weeks now, making your life a constant state of unease.

Jeonghan's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "They must’ve been waiting for you," he muttered, a sharp edge to his tone as he pressed down on the accelerator, increasing the speed. His jaw clenched, and his knuckles whitened as he kept glancing at you, noticing the panic on your face as you watched the car in the rearview mirror.

He let out a frustrated sigh before turning the car down an unexpected street. "Why are we turning left?" you asked, confusion lacing your voice.

Jeonghan shot you a determined look, the corner of his mouth curling slightly into a grin. "I'm giving them a little lesson," he said calmly, though there was a storm brewing behind his eyes.

Your stomach dropped. "No..." you began, shaking your head in protest. "This could be dangerous, Jeonghan."

He only smirked as he turned the car down a narrow, dark alleyway, taking sharp turns that would easily confuse the car behind. Within moments, Jeonghan had maneuvered them into a tight corner, effectively trapping the stalker's car.

The car came to a screeching halt, and you let out a deep sigh, anxiety still buzzing through your veins. "This isn’t a good idea..." you whispered, but Jeonghan was already out of the car, his movements swift and purposeful.

You barely registered where the bat came from, but suddenly, Jeonghan had it gripped in his hand as he approached the stalker’s vehicle. Without hesitation, he swung the bat at the car’s door, the sound of metal denting beneath his force echoing in the quiet alley.

"I said, get out, you motherfucker!" Jeonghan’s voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the fear lingering in the air. You flinched at the sound, shocked by this side of him. He'd always been calm, composed, but tonight he was someone else entirely—fierce and protective.

The driver, a man, finally opened the door, trembling as he faced Jeonghan, who towered over him with a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Is this the guy who’s been following you, Y/n?" Jeonghan barked, his eyes flicking back to you for confirmation. You took a few steps forward, your breath catching in your throat as you recognized the man’s face, albeit obscured by the shadows. But you knew. It was him.

You nodded, pulling out your phone with trembling hands and dialing the police, your fingers moving on autopilot. Jeonghan didn’t wait. He grabbed the man by the collar, lifting him slightly off the ground as he growled into his face, "If you ever come near her again, I swear to God—"

The man whimpered, too scared to even respond. Before anything more could happen, the flashing lights of the police illuminated the alleyway, casting long shadows as officers arrived on the scene. They quickly apprehended the stalker, securing him in handcuffs as you gave your statement to one of the officers.

As the police car drove away, Jeonghan stood there, still clutching the bat. His shoulders finally relaxed, and he turned back to you, the fierceness in his eyes softening into something more familiar, something more... him.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice now low, filled with concern.

You nodded, still shaken but relieved. "Thank you, Jeonghan," you whispered, unsure of what else to say. He walked over to you and gently placed a hand on your shoulder, his earlier anger dissipating into tenderness.

"Don’t worry," he said softly, "let's go home."

*

Despite everything that had happened recently, you refused to take a break. You continued cooperating with the ongoing investigation, all while managing to shoot your latest drama. With the media spotlight firmly fixed on your every move, you became the topic of discussion, whether it was for the stalking case, the vandalism rumors, or your work. It wasn't a surprise when some of your co-stars started showing subtle attitudes—jealousy or perhaps frustration, masked behind fake smiles.

One of them, a junior by two years, approached you between takes with a smug expression. She had once been part of the company before leaving two years ago. “Maybe you should give your company a break from all the scandals and trouble,” she said, her words dripping with passive aggression.

You didn’t miss a beat, flashing her a sharp grin. “Still worried about your ex who takes care of me better than you ever did?" you shot back, referencing Jeonghan, whom she had dated before leaving the company. Your words hit their mark, her face briefly betraying the sting before she turned and walked away.

Jeonghan’s words echoed in your mind: "Be bold. Don’t be nice to people who do you dirty." He had told you that during one of your darkest moments, when the pressure of rumors and whispers had almost broken you early in your career. Now, you carried that same attitude with you—while you were known as a bit scandalous, and people tried to paint you as a troublemaker, you had firm boundaries. And unlike some, you didn’t allow people to step over them. You had no problem telling them to back off, which often led to even more shade and misinformation thrown your way.

But no matter how hard they tried to tear you down, the public loved you. Your acting was brilliant, your roles brought to life in a way that others could only admire. And while you were often the target of rumors, at the end of the day, people couldn’t deny the fact that you were just a person trying to stay sane in the cutthroat world of entertainment.

“Good job, everyone!” the director called, signaling the end of the shoot. You thanked everyone on set as you wrapped up your work for the day. It was past 10 p.m., and exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. Fortunately, today's shoot had been made more enjoyable by a surprise food truck sent by your former co-star, Jeon Wonwoo. The gesture had lifted the spirits of the entire crew.

As you gathered your things and bid goodbye to the team, you noticed a familiar figure walking toward you with a tired smile—Yoon Jeonghan.

“CEO Yoon!” people greeted him with respect as he approached, exchanging pleasantries with the crew. You overheard the director speaking with him.

“Are you here for Y/n?” the director asked, shaking hands with Jeonghan.

Jeonghan nodded, his expression warm but focused. “Yes, is the shoot finished?”

You quickly grabbed your bag and approached the two of them. “Thank you for today, director,” you said, bowing politely.

The director smiled, nodding in return. “You did a great job today. Have a good evening, Y/n. You too, CEO Yoon.”

As the director walked away, Jeonghan turned to you with a soft smile. “Ready to go?”

You nodded, grateful for his presence after such a long and draining day. Even after all these years, Jeonghan’s presence had a way of grounding you—reminding you that no matter how chaotic things got, you always had someone in your corner.

“Hyejin talked to me today,” you said, breaking the comfortable silence as Jeonghan drove you home.

“Shin Hyejin?” Jeonghan asked, glancing at you briefly.

You nodded. “Yep, your ‘ex’ who loves pampering me.”

Jeonghan chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s not an ex. We just met a few times back in the day.”

Raising an eyebrow, you shot him a playful look. “But she sure thought you two were dating.”

A heavy sigh escaped Jeonghan, followed by another chuckle. “I’m really sorry about that, then,” he said, amused at the absurdity of it all. “People see what they want to see, I guess.”

He changed the subject quickly, his voice light and teasing. “I noticed Jeon Wonwoo sent you a food truck today. He’s such a sweetheart, isn’t he?”

You rolled your eyes at his teasing tone. “We’re just friends, Jeonghan.”

“I didn’t say anything,” he quipped, clearly enjoying getting under your skin.

You sighed, leaning back in your seat. “He’s a great person. Kind, thoughtful, and sweet... but you know my problem.”

Jeonghan’s teasing smile faded, replaced with quiet understanding as his hand moved to rest gently on yours. He gave it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay,” he said softly, referring to your struggle with avoidant attachment. “There’s no rush. No need to worry. You’ve been through a lot, and you get to take your time.”

You appreciated the warmth in his words and the fact that he always seemed to know how to calm your anxieties. While people like Wonwoo were kind, it was Jeonghan’s constant presence and unwavering support that had always grounded you. You didn’t need to explain yourself around him. He just got you.

As the car cruised through the quiet streets, you found yourself lost in thought, staring out the window while Jeonghan’s steady presence filled the space next to you. The city lights blurred by, and you suddenly wondered, When did this happen?

When had Jeonghan become such an integral part of your life? It wasn’t just that he was your manager; it was the way he was always there—at every high and low, quietly supporting you, guiding you through the mess of the industry. You didn’t know when it had shifted, but at some point, he had surrounded your life fully. Every big decision, every major step, Jeonghan had been there, solid as ever.

You glanced at him from the corner of your eye. He was focused on the road, his face calm and composed, just like always. But you couldn’t help but feel a mix of awe and confusion. How had he managed to be so deeply woven into the fabric of your life without you even realizing it?

His dedication to his work was something that had always amazed you. He wasn’t just a manager who worked the hours and did the minimum; Jeonghan breathed the industry. His passion was palpable, the way he fought for his artists, the way he handled crises with a cool head and quick thinking. Even when things were overwhelming, he never seemed to waver.

You had always admired that about him. It was part of why you never allowed yourself to rest, why you kept pushing yourself to be better. You wanted to prove to him—and maybe to yourself—that you were as passionate as he was, that you could match his fire. Sometimes you felt like you were chasing that, trying to live up to the standard he set, even if it wore you out.

But tonight, sitting next to him in the quiet hum of the car, you found yourself questioning more than just your career.

Was that all it was? Admiration? Dedication to your work?

Or was there something else? A deeper reason why you felt this way whenever you were around him. Why his opinion of you mattered so much. Why, when he placed his hand on yours earlier, you felt a sense of calm you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You shifted in your seat, feeling a flutter of unease mixed with something you weren’t sure you wanted to name just yet. What am I feeling for him?

Jeonghan had always been your constant, but lately, that constant presence felt heavier. More significant. And the more you questioned it, the more confusing it became. You didn’t want to ruin things. Didn’t want to blur the lines between the professional and whatever this was growing between you. But could you keep pretending you didn’t feel it?

"Jeonghan?" you called softly, your voice almost uncertain.

He glanced at you, surprised by the tone in your voice. “Yeah?”

You hesitated. What am I supposed to say? The words were on the tip of your tongue, but instead, you forced a smile and shook your head.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, turning back to the window, your thoughts more tangled than ever.

Jeonghan didn’t press, but the question lingered in your mind long after the car ride was over.

*

Jeonghan shouldn’t have done that.

It was 9 a.m., and Jeonghan had his head buried in his hands at his desk, staring at the article that had just been published. Not just about you—but about both of you. His face might have been blurred in the pictures, but anyone with half a brain could tell it was him. The caption was vague, but the implications were clear: rumors of a secret relationship between you and him were already spreading like wildfire.

Why did I kiss her last night?

Jeonghan replayed the events over and over in his head, the regret gnawing at him like a bad headache. After driving you to your new place, the drive had been oddly quiet. Something had felt off, so he’d asked if everything was okay, checking on you a few times. You’d nodded, but your silence said otherwise.

When he’d parked and walked around to open the door for you, that’s when it happened.

“Jeonghan,” you’d called his name, standing in front of him with a look he couldn’t quite place. “I don’t like Wonwoo.”

Jeonghan had blinked, caught off guard. He wasn’t sure what had prompted that, especially after teasing you about Wonwoo earlier. But what you said next stopped him cold.

“I think I like you.”

His breath had hitched. You... liked him? No, that couldn’t be right. After all these years? He could hardly believe it, and neither, it seemed, could you.

You quickly corrected yourself, shaking your head as if trying to sort through your own confusion. “No, I think it’s just admiration. But… I don’t know. Admiration can lead to liking someone, right? But I honestly don’t know.”

Jeonghan had stood frozen, staring into your eyes. He watched the way your expression shifted from uncertainty to something deeper, something vulnerable. And before he could stop himself, before he could think about the consequences, his gaze fell to your lips.

And he kissed you.

You weren’t drunk. Neither was he. You were both fully aware of what you were doing, yet Jeonghan still couldn’t fathom where he’d found the courage to close the gap between you after fifteen years of friendship. Why did you suddenly confess to him? Was it because you’d been living under his roof for the past few weeks? Had the proximity stirred something inside you?

Now, the aftermath was crashing down on him. He wasn’t just your friend—he was the CEO of a company with a reputation to uphold. He couldn’t afford to be entangled in a scandal like this, not with you at the center of it.

Jeonghan was snapped out of his thoughts by his secretary’s voice, pulling him back to reality.

“You can be honest with me, sir. Are you two dating?” she pressed, clearly curious. She was one of the few people who knew about the close bond between the two of you, and she had probably been speculating for a while.

Jeonghan sighed, avoiding the question. Instead, he asked, “Where is she?”

His voice softened instinctively when asking about you, something his secretary didn’t miss. She checked her phone, scrolling through messages. “Her manager said she just woke up and hasn’t seen any of this yet. Apparently, she left her phone somewhere…”

She paused, smirking slightly. “Somewhere in your car.”

Jeonghan waved her off, feeling a mixture of exasperation and amusement. He leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment as he let out a deep sigh. He needed to figure out what to do next—and fast.

An official statement would have to be released soon, but the bigger question remained: what was going to happen between the two of you now?

“Let’s just say we’re dating,” you blurted out, and Jeonghan immediately choked on nothing.

“We’re not dating,” he stated flatly, eyes wide in disbelief.

You raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to date?”

The conversation had suddenly taken a sharp turn, the heat of the moment making it hard to think straight. Thankfully, no one was around to witness the embarrassment unfolding in Jeonghan’s office.

“Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, panic lacing his voice.

“Why not?” You tilted your head, smirking slightly. “Are you suddenly chickening out after kissing me last night? Or do you kiss all your artists, Yoon Jeonghan?”

Jeonghan scowled, thoroughly offended by your accusation. “Is that what you think of me? Wow.”

You shook your head, teasing him more than you probably should. “No, but now I understand why Hyejin misunderstood things.”

Frustrated, Jeonghan threw his hands in the air. “Me and Hyejin were nothing, I told you.”

“Okay, but what about you and me?” you asked, voice softer, but your question hit harder than you’d intended.

Jeonghan’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly at a loss for words. It wasn’t that he didn’t have anything to say—it was that he was terrified. Scared that if he told you the truth, you’d run away from him.

I love you.

He ran a hand through his hair, his frustration growing as he watched you grin in satisfaction. This woman...

“Please, consider everything before you speak. What about your fans? The shippers for your drama?” Jeonghan was grasping for any reason to keep things under control, even though the situation was spiraling fast.

You shrugged, entirely too nonchalant for his liking. “I don’t know. Let’s see their reaction then.”

Jeonghan crossed his arms and sighed, already feeling defeated. “Alright, fine. Let’s release a statement saying we’re dating—for now. We’ll figure out the rest later.”

Your smile grew wider, head tilting as you gave him a look that made his heart race even faster.

“Jeonghan,” you said softly, catching his attention.

“What?”

“I don’t think I just like you.”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow, his breath catching in his throat.

“I think I love you.”

He bit his inner cheek, feeling like he was about to lose his mind. This woman is going to be the death of me.

[totallybakedcake]

Boyfriend headcanons kaiju no 8 boys

Reno

Whenever you both are outside training or near anyone, he does nothing more affectionate than holding your hand at most, but when you both are at home, he does not let go of you. Back hugging you and snuggling into you. It's his favorite thing to do.

He loves to be the little spoon while cuddling. He always wants to be in your embrace while sleeping, or else he cannot sleep all night. "Name, can we please cuddle? I had a rough day." He says in such an adorable voice that how could you deny him?

He is a great cook and always makes you mouth-watering dishes to eat all day. He just loves seeing you enjoy his dishes and eat them so cutely.

He loves at-home dates. He just loves watching any movies, shows, or anime you want to watch as he cuddles you. When you both had your anniversary and you were in the mood for something fancy, he decorated the living room with flowers, teddy bears, chocolates, and gifts to surprise you. 

Hoshina

He absolutely loves it when you pamper him with all your affection. Cupping his face. Giving him onslaught kisses, burying your head in his neck. Whenever he thinks about that, His day becomes one of the best.

Hoshina is an overly protective boyfriend. The moment he comes home, he checks your body for any wounds. Whenever he even sees you interact with one of the juniors, he makes sure the both of you don't talk for more than 3 minutes, or else the game is over. He makes sure you feel safe and protective.

Hoshina loves giving you a flower and chocolate every day. He always has a bundle of chocolates with him and goes to a local flower shop to get you any cute flower.

He loves picnic dates and afternoon dates. He loves to take you to a quiet park. Lay down a blanket and rest in your lap as you and him talk for hours and hours. Picnic dates are usually in the morning, as he likes to take you out on brunches too. 

Kafka

He is the most affectionate boyfriend. He gives you many warm hugs every day. He loves to kiss your temple as you relax on top of him.

He loves hearing you talk. Your voice is just so comforting. He brings you to his lap and burys his face in your neck as you talk about anything.

He does not show his jealous side, as he knows you are loyal to him, but one thing he makes sure of is that you have a healthy routine. If he does not know that you have eaten well, slept well, and are drinking plenty of water, he has to check up on you because his mind keeps thinking about you.

Even though he does not look like it. Kafka is a fancy man. He takes you out to fancy restaurants to eat at on dates. He always has a private reservation ready for you and him. After all, your happiness is Kafka's happiness.

Gen

Gen has made you obsessed with gaming too. After all, games are addicting. He got you all kinds of gaming consoles and game figures to play with him.

A lot, meaning everyone asks you. Why choose Gen? An irresponsible captain who has such an attitude and is careless, but what they haven't seen is Gen's soft side. He makes sure you are okay. He cannot focus on anything unless you are safe. Once on a Kaiju mission when you got injured. Gen stayed up all night. Not touching his games or electronics once, as he needed to take care of you and make sure you were safe. Not letting you go on a mission unless you are recovered.

Even if he is loyal. He is the most jealous person ever. He knows your beauty and your aura, which makes people gravitate towards you. So, he makes sure to have you near him at all times, not letting you even talk to a guy in peace.

He loves arcade dates and karaoke dates, but if you don't want to go there, He takes you to amusement parks and water parks. Gen loves an adventure.

Hey yall. First ever post on tumblr so the writing may be tacky and awkward cause I wrote this in the middle of the night but I couldn't stop myself from writing for kaiju no 8 after finishing the whole manga in 4 days.

Have a great day!

[yan-lorkai]

Hi hi

So, I was talking to a friend about a scenario in which Lilia is obsessed with his beloved wife and their unborn child.

Do you think you can do something like this?

(obs:eu duvido 👀)

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Well, it's done. Dad Lilia always make my heart beats a little quickly, he is such a funny dad imo. Duvida, é? 👀 Bem, espero que goste!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, pregnancy, afab!reader

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lilia suffered a lot because of the war. He lost Meleanor, he lost Levan, he had to travel for years on end to search for a way to hatch Malleus's egg. But finally after so many years, he got his happy ending with you, his beloved and your child, growing inside your womb slowly. It's refreshing in a way. He is a father, he got all the experience but it's his first time being a father to a child who got his blood and genes.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He is very helpful. He likes to fluff your pillows, to wrap your blankets around you burrito style, to help you bathe and dress, he massage your feet and shoulders, he even spoon-feed you if you let him. He gets overwhelming very quickly because he doesn't let you do anything alone or the way you want if he consider too "dangerous" - which is... Pretty much anything. He is a helicopter dad, watching your every move, reading the slightest secret hidden on your voice. He won't have you getting injured because you are stubborn, he is glued to you for nine whole months.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Lilia know that the pregnancy hormones may make you sad or angry, but he knows just how to soothe you, having already dealt with Meleanor years before, even if you two are a little different in temper. And he is very good at calming you down. He wipes your tears while professing his love for you again and again, kissing your cheeks, your nose, your forehead, everywhere his lips can touch.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He loves staring at you. He loves watching how your body is changing, how you're glowing, he specially love your bump. He compliments and praises you a lot, he can goes on and on for hours on end.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ He has a list of names already. There's plenty of variation between names, some tend to have a more fae-ish origin while others are more common, he is sure that you will be able to find a name that suits the little one growing inside your womb. He also like to talk to the little one too, he cracks jokes and tell them stories about him and their brothers, he even sing to them when they start to kick.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ When you go into labour, Lilia is there, holding your hand, encouraging you to push, wiping the sweat from your forehead, and when you do give birth to your firstborn, he watches you hold your child and he burst crying loudly, hiccuping. It's too beautiful to take. The domesticity, the warmth feeling on his chest, he can't take it. And he loves it.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Be your child a girl or a boy, Lilia will take good care of them. He'll guide you through every step of motherhood with happiness, loving to see you holding your child carefully against your chest as you two lay on your bed. It's a sight he will never forget about, he even take a photo. He even make an album full of them. He is that obsessed.

[luxaofhesperides]

Can I please have meet cute/weird with mistaken villain! Danny (but really just a engineer and or chem student) and the one being put on investigation cause Danny is a day villain(not really)! Duke

Technically, Danny Fenton is innocent. Technically. 

Duke wants to give him the benefit of the doubt, especially since he’s having so much trouble finding solid evidence that Danny is stealing from a wide variety of people, but he’s been burned before by trying to see people as better than they were. It doesn’t change the fact that Oracle’s cameras keep spotting Danny right before a building on the street is broken into and something stolen. He’s always just walking down the sidewalk; no one has spotted him entering or exiting a building, but he’s around far too often to be unconnected to these burglaries. 

It doesn’t help that strange, petty crimes have been on the rise since Danny first arrived in Gotham. 

So.

Danny Fenton is technically innocent.

Duke is trying to prove that he’s not. 

Maybe I’m looking too closely, he thinks, going over Danny’s sparse file in the Hatch. Maybe Danny’s only one person in a bigger operation.

He could just be the lookout, the runner, the information gatherer who marks which buildings to hit. He may even be the scapegoat, the sacrificial lamb; Danny has no support in Gotham, no family, no job. There would be no one to help him if he got arrested or injured in a fight. He’s a freshman college student from Illinois who should be unprepared for life in Gotham but is somehow managing to survive like a native. 

There’s a lot about Danny that doesn’t add up. 

Duke has seen plenty of different people since he first went out as the Signal. He’s tried to be kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, but it leads to his loved ones being put in danger. Some people are truly evil, some working on a malicious agenda, some are misguided in their beliefs, and some are desperate people who see no other way to move forward.

He’s not sure yet which on Danny is, but he’s hoping Danny is just desperate and needs a little help to get out of a life of crime.

Which leads to the next problem: Duke has no idea what Danny is steal, or why. He hits both rich and poor folks, civilians and members of the mob, and once, notably, stole something right out of Cobblepot’s office. Allegedly, at least, since no one saw him enter or exit the office, not even the security cameras. 

But added to the whispers going around about a new group in Gotham snatching people up from the streets, and some strange green substances found in warehouses often raided by police for the frequent drug labs that pop up in them… 

It doesn’t look good for Danny. Especially when a few of the items he stole were found where people either vanished or where that green substance has been found.

A week of analysis in the Batcave and they still don’t know what it is. 

Both Damian and Jason suspected Lazarus water, but the composition was completely different. By the look of the molecular structure, it shouldn’t have been in a liquid form at all. 

All these findings lead back to one person who may have answers: Danny Fenton.

According to Tim, who’s already broken into Danny’s dorm room and checked over all the labs he has classes in, Danny has some concerning items in his possession. Various inventions and little metal knick-knacks put together by a practiced hand. He was also the one to find all the information that went into Danny’s file when it was first being made: social media posts, school report cards, news articles about his parents… everything. 

And then he had an emergency mission to take with the Titans that swept him out of Gotham leaving Duke to tackle this investigation on his own. 

He doesn’t have Tim’s natural skill in stalking and invading privacy. He hates breaking into people’s spaces and following them around, but needs must and he has to force himself to work through the discomfort. 

It’s a good thing he did, too. Danny’s leaving his dorm after his last afternoon class, hood up to hide his face and something held in the front pocket of his hoodie. He ducks around people on the sidewalk easily, almost as if he’s gliding through the crowd instead of walking. 

Duke follows from above, bending the light around him to hide him from sight. 

He walks for some time, weaving through alleys and streets as if he’s been in Gotham his whole life, leaving behind the university campus to head towards Otisberg. There’s something strange about the way Danny walks, as if he’s moving around people who aren’t there, guided by something Duke can’t hear. Even using his meta abilities doesn’t do much beyond show him where Danny’s going to be in the next few seconds. 

He continues to follow Danny on the rooftops, walking along the edge to keep him in sight. 

Then Danny stops behind an apartment building and tilts his head back to look up at it. He tilts his head to the side, then nods and looks around the empty alley. Duke crouches down, keeping his eyes on Danny in the hopes of catching him in the act—

Danny disappears.

Duke curses under his breath and jumps down from the roof, putting more strength into his abilities as soon as his feet touch the ground. 

The space where Danny was has a faint outline, oddly enough. He’s never seen that before. From it is a semi-transparent trail, smoke-like and a pale green leading into the building. It goes straight into a wall, as if Danny walked through it.

He can’t go in and search the entire apartment, but he can grapple up and take a look into the hallways to see where Danny’s heading. If he was looking up, then that’s where he should be heading. 

It doesn’t take any effort to scale the building. There are ledges and windowsills and plenty of handholds for him to propel himself off of, and paired with his powers, Duke is able to find the correct floor in just under two minutes. 

The green smoke slowly dances through the air of the ninth floor, on the east side of the building. If he’s been counting the rooms correctly, then the target of tonight’s burglary has to be apartment 924. 

The curtains are drawn on the window he makes his way over to, and his abilities don’t show him anything helpful for the immediate future. He hates going in blind, especially to a civilian’s home, but capturing Danny takes priority. Duke picks the lock and slides the window up slowly, making sure it stays quiet, then slips into an empty bedroom. 

He makes his way out into the hallway on silent feet, keeping a wary eye on the thin smoke strands of green, curling along the walls. The rest of the apartment is empty as well, pale sunlight slanting across the floor through the blinds. 

Everything is still and silent. Danny’s nowhere to be found. 

Did he miss Danny leaving, somehow? Was this a misdirect to get him out of the way while Danny stole from another location? Did he know Duke was following him?

But no, his ears pick up on the faint sound of clothes rustling. 

Cautiously, Duke turns towards the front door, where the door to the coat closet is open. He focuses on what’s going to happen in the next twenty seconds and sees Danny panic, then disappear from sight again, but a transparent outline of his body is visible just enough to show him where he runs to. Best not to spook him; Duke pulls at the light around him and bends it to hide him from sight.

Then he moves along the wall, getting around the open door without bumping into anyone or anything. 

A figure in front of the coats, shoving them to the side roughly, flickers in and out of view, almost like a reflection in water, distorted by ripples on the surface. 

Danny pops back into visibility suddenly, scowling at the coats. “Are you sure it’s in here?” he asks the empty air. 

There is no answer, but Danny acts like there is. He rolls his eyes and says, “It’s a favor. That I’m doing for you. I can literally stop right now and you wouldn’t be able to stop me.” He shoves aside another heavy winter coat, then sighs. “Why don’t you look for it, and then tell me where it is.”

He steps back and bumps into Duke.

Danny whirls around, eyes wide, and blast of green light has Duke crashing back into the wall, trying to blink spots out of his eyes. 

“Wait!” he yells, grabbing for Danny before he can run off. “I just wanna talk!”

“Standing right behind me like a serial killer does not make you look like someone who wants to talk!” Danny yells back, slipping through his hands like mist. 

“I just have a few questions!”

“Well, I have a question: why?!”

“Will you hold still, we’re being too loud!”

Danny escapes to the other side of the apartment, next to a window looking fully prepared to fling himself out of it. But he does stop yelling, so Duke is counting it as a success.

“Why is the Signal coming after me?” Danny asks, glaring at him suspiciously.

“Dude,” Duke says, “You’ve been seen outside of every single building that’s had a burglary since you first arrived in Gotham. All the Bats are after you, they just sent me because I’m the only one active during the day.”

“All the Bats?” Danny repeats, losing what little color he had in his face.

He looks legitimately scared, pale enough to be concerning, and Duke drops his guard and tries to relax the tension in the apartment. “I’m not gonna turn you into the cops or anything. I just had questions and you seem like the most likely person to have answers. That’s it.”

Danny still looks wary, ready to run at a moment’s notice, but he doesn’t leave when Duke approached casually, leaning his weight against the couch. 

“So,” he begins, “What’s the deal with all the thievery? It’s rarely something super rare or expensive.”

There’s a long few minutes where Danny doesn’t answer, looking anywhere but at Duke. Then he twitches a bit and glares off to the side, and says, “I taking items that are contaminated with ectoplasm to help ghosts move through the veil and leave Gotham.”

That tells him nothing! That just gives Duke more questions! But at least it’s an answer, the first one any of them have got.

“I think you’re gonna have to explain a little more.”

“Ghosts are real, alright?”

“Yes.”

Danny stops. Squints at him. “What do you mean, ‘yes’?”

“Ghosts are real,” Duke repeats, “There are a few who help heroes or are heroes themselves, but that’s more on the magic side of things so I’m not super familiar with it.”

“Magic,” Danny says slowly. “Sure, alright. Um. Yes, ghosts are real. And there are a ton in Gotham who need help moving on, but they’re too weak to get past the veil. Something about Gotham has made the veil super strong, so they need a little boost to get through. Additional ectoplasm bonded helps with that.”

“And that’s why you’re stealing random things?”

“The ghosts I help can kind of sense ectoplasm-infused things, but they need me to grab them since they can’t hold anything without a physical body.”

Duke nods slowly. “Okay, that’s starting to answer some things. We have found those objects in the last places missing people were seen. Any idea what’s going on with that?”

“Yeah, those people were already dead.”

The way Danny says the most concerning answers as if they’re nothing is really throwing Duke off his game. He was expecting to be calm and serious to keep Danny from freaking out too much and look like a legitimate hero. But as soon as Danny started talking, all his nerves fell away and Duke is left grasping for composure. 

“They were…”

“They were ghosts, yeah. And they needed to get through the veil. But they were also able to possess their own bodies and didn’t realize they were dead until I had to break the news to them, which is why it looks like living people just up and disappeared.”

“Okay… What about the green stuff we’ve been finding?”

“Ectoplasm.” Danny holds up a hand and a neon green light surrounds it. Except it looks more solid than light, as if it can be touched, and it moves on its own like fire around Danny’s fingers. “It’s what ghosts are made of.”

Oh. If Danny has ectoplasm, does that mean…

“Are you dead?” Duke asks, heart dropping. 

Instead of looking upset about the question, or even disturbed by it, Danny just shrugs and waves his hand back and forth. “A little.”

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” Duke says, trying to resist the urge to rub his temples. It’s a habit he didn’t mean to pick up from Batman, and it would just look silly with his helmet in the way. “You’re just doing all this to help ghosts?”

“Yeah. Basically. They asked for help man, of course I was going to help them.”

Danny’s a good person. He’s just a good person to ghosts. But this is good news either way, and he can let the others know that Danny isn’t the next Catwoman and is entirely unconnected from any drug production. Everything that made him look like a criminal is just the fault of ghosts. 

“Speaking of,” Danny continues, “Looks like they found what they need, so I’m going to grab that real quick.” He pushes off of the wall and heads for the closet again, moving past Duke without any fear. Duke follows, keeping a few feet of distance between them so Danny doesn’t feel trapped, and watches as he shoves aside the coats again and pulls a shoebox out of the depths of the closet. From it, he takes a single intricate lace headband and holds it up.

It looks normal, if a little old, but when Danny sends ectoplasm through it, the lace lights up and holds the glow. 

He pulls some strange contraption out of his pocket and holds it up to the headband. It makes a few beeps, then Danny mutters, “7.4 millisieverts. That’s enough to get you through the veil.”

Another concern Duke can let go of: Danny’s not creating weapons like his parents have, he’s just measuring ectoplasm through his own inventions. 

Maybe he could talk to Bruce or Tim about getting Danny an internship at the R&D lab in Wayne Enterprises? That way they could keep a closer eye on him while seeing what he can create in some of the best laboratories in the country.

Well, it might take having them meet Danny before they trust him enough for that, but Duke is sure he can make it happen. 

“I better go see this through, then,” Danny says, shoving the contraption back into his hoodie pocket. He gives Duke a small awkward wave, then pops out of visibility. “I’ll see you around, I guess?” he disembodied voice hedges, and Duke smiles.

“I’m sure I’ll be able to find you again.”

“Cool. I gonna go now!” 

He doesn’t see any sign that Danny’s left, but he gets a feeling that he’s alone now, the apartment suddenly emptier than it was before. 

As strange and concerning as Danny and all his bizarre actions were, Duke is glad he was able to finally talk to him and get some answers. Knowing how Gotham pulls people him in, it’s only a matter of time before the other Bats are exposed to Danny’s kind of strange. He’s already looking forward to it. 

For now, though, he has a file to update in the Hatch; POTENTIAL THREAT will be removed and replaced with GHOST HELPER. 

If anyone goes snooping into his files and gets confused, then that’s their problem. Duke’s explained enough. And Danny can take care of the rest, once they go through the effort of tracking him down. Duke's done his part, he's ready for the rest of them to step up to his level.

He can’t wait to see what other kind of trouble Danny can get it into.

[hotshotsxyz]

beer & apologies

(buddie) (722 words) (7x04 coda)

It’s late, later than any reasonable person would show up on a friend’s doorstep, but Buck’s got this bright, warm feeling in his chest and all he wants to do is apologize so he can share it. For a split second he thinks about knocking, but that feels a little too much like going backwards. Instead, he lets himself in and hangs his key on the hook.

“Eddie,” he calls quietly into the still house.

“Kitchen.” The reply is soft, easy, like Eddie was expecting him.

Buck steps into the room and holds up the beer he brought.

Eddie looks up at him and grins, soft and warm in the glow of the lamplight. “What’s that for?”

“This is ‘sorry for acting like a teenager and spraining your ankle’ beer,” Buck says, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “Seriously, I’m sorry.”

Eddie sighs and pushes an empty chair back from the table with his foot, gesturing for Buck to sit. “I’m sorry too,” he says.

“No, no, you don’t—" Buck starts.

“Yeah, I do,” Eddie interrupts with a wry grin. “You should definitely be sorry-er, though, so I’ll take the beer.”

Buck snorts and sits, setting the six pack on the table between them.

“We didn’t—well, I didn’t…”

“I know,” Buck says. “I was just—”

“I know,” Eddie says softly.

A few, quiet moments pass, and it’s comfortable, exactly what Buck was missing the last couple of days.

“Hey,” Eddie says suddenly, sitting up a little straighter, “at least now I know why you always said no to basketball.” He smiles, loose and just a tiny bit mischievous.

Buck splutters. “What? No! I wasn’t that bad,” he protests.

Eddie lifts his injured ankle and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay, well maybe, but—”

“Uh-uh,” Eddie says, “no buts. You haven many talents, Buck, but basketball isn’t one of them.”

Buck ducks his head and grins. “Maybe I’ll get Tommy to teach me, then I can beat you without playing dirty.” Saying Tommy’s name out loud gives birth to a few giddy butterflies in his stomach.

“You two make up?” Eddie asks.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “He uh—texted me.” The butterflies turn to little rocks.

“Good,” Eddie says, “that’s good.” He grabs a beer and twists the top off. “I really think you guys will get along, if you give him a chance.”

“We, um. Yeah. We probably will.” Buck grabs a beer of his own and stares at the label.

He doesn’t—he didn’t mean to lie. It just kind of… came out. Which, it’s Eddie. Buck knows he could tell him exactly what happened, right now, and it’d be fine. It’d be completely fine because it’s Eddie and he knows Eddie would be cool about it, probably even happy for him! But when he goes to open his mouth it just. Doesn’t.

“How’s—uh. How’s Marisol?” he asks instead, tripping over his words.

Eddie shrugs. “She’s fine, same as always. Apparently Christopher got her to play Fortnite, which, according to him, was a disaster.”

Buck laughs, shaking his head. “That kid,” he says softly.

“That kid,” Eddie agrees. He takes another swig of beer and sits back.

“Hey, wait,” Buck says suddenly. He lurches forward and snags the bottle out of Eddie’s hand. “You can’t have this, you’re on pain killers.”

“It’s my apology beer!” Eddie protests.

“Nope, two sips is plenty. I can’t hurt your ankle and your liver on the same day.”

“It’s after midnight, it’s tomorrow,” Eddie pouts. “Give it.” He makes a halfhearted attempt to grab it back, but Buck holds the beer aloft.

“Nuh-uh, absolutely not,” Buck says. “You can drink your apology beer this weekend.”

“My apology beer is going to be flat and stale,” Eddie replies, unimpressed.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy you a new apology beer, alright?”

“Promises, promises.”

“I will!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie laughs. “You better. Want to bring it over on Saturday? We can watch the game.”

Buck’s grin falters a little bit, even as that warm feeling bubbles up in his chest all over again. “I uh- can’t, sorry.”

“What, you got a hot date or something?” Eddie asks with a laugh.

Buck takes a long swallow from the beer he stole from Eddie. “Yeah, something,” he says with a hollow laugh.

He feels like a liar.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

118 group chat (AO3)

---

The thing they don't tell you about being a first responder, Tommy thought, is how much waiting around is involved.

He and Donato had just transported a guy of barely 20 who'd gotten badly injured in a heavy motorcycle accident to hospital, and were waiting around to see if any of the doctors needed to be flown back to the site.

Tommy hadn't seen much from his chopper, but what he had seen hadn't been pretty.

He really hated motorcycles and was still relieved he hadn't personally witnessed Evan getting on one to clear the highway so Athena could land the plane.

A quick search around local news stations after texts from both Evan and Eddie had filled in the blanks for him, but no matter how sexy Evan had looked on the bike, Tommy really hoped it hadn't given his boyfriend the idea of getting one of his own.

"I'm getting a coffee, do you want anything?" Lucy asked, getting up from the seat next to him. "There is no quicker way to make everyone here make up their mind than sitting down with hot coffee."

Tommy chuckled knowing she was right.

"Nah I'm good."

She nodded and went in search for her caffeine boost, leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts and the muted local news playing on the TV on the wall.

Thankfully Evan had the day off so the chances of him appearing on there were slim.

Suddenly he felt his phone buzz against his leg in the pocket of his flight suit.

There was only one person who would text him in the middle of his shift and he smiled as he pulled it out and unlocked it.

Evan ❤️ added you to 118 fam

Evan ❤️: Surprise baby 😘

Hen: You did not just call a grown man baby

Evan ❤️: Why not? It's cute. He's cute!

Hen: 🙄

Hen: Hi @.Tommy by the way.

Eddie: I wish I'd only heard them call each other baby. You're getting way too comfortable around me!

Evan ❤️: Not my fault my boyfriend is so cute and hot and sexy and really good in bed.

Eddie: See???

Evan ❤️: He can sleep for days 😂😉

Howie: Hey look who has finally joined the party! Welcome to the club @.Tommy

Cptn Nash: welcome to the family @.Tommy I hope you can make it to the first 118 dinner in mine and Athena's new place next Sunday.

Eddie: He'll be there cap, Buck will make him.

Evan ❤️: We'll bring dessert. There is an Italian ice cream parlour near Tommy's house. We'll get gelato!

Cptn Nash: Just bring yourselves, that's plenty.

“What's got you smiling like that at your phone? What sappy shit did Buckley say this time?" Lucy asked, coming back with her coffee.

"Nothing you need to know about." Tommy just said, sending a quick "Thanks guys" to the group chat and a ❤️ to Evan and pocketed his phone again when he saw one of the doctors from before make their way over with a heavy bag of medical supplies slung over their shoulder.

"Duty calls" he said to Lucy who swore under her breath and tried to finish her coffee without burning her mouth.

"Every damn time" she muttered but Tommy just laughed and made his way to the elevator up to the helicopter platform, feeling like one of those cartoon characters with the heart eyes floating through air thinking about their love.

Donato would call him a sap if she knew what he was smiling about, but he didn't care. It felt good to belong.

[luv4fushi]

secrecy

jjk megumi fushiguro x fem!reader

hiding your relationship from your loudmouth friends and your energetic teacher is harder than it seems.

content: fluff, established/secret relationship, aged!up megumi (16/17 years old), there is implied/suggestive content because teenagers do stuff (come on, we all know that) but it’s not written out!!! yuji and nobara get the wrong idea and tease the hell out of megumi, that’s all!

wc: 2.1k

click on my masterlist for more!

meeting up after classes are over is always hard.

yuji and nobara are insistent in their spots between the two of you. yuji stays glued to megumi’s side and nobara sneaks her way in between you two. it’s a surprise that neither of them have caught on yet.

megumi’s sudden confession had been blurted out from the doorway of your dorm. you both had been in a pretty gruesome fight; you had needed stitches despite shoko using reverse cursed technique on you, and megumi was injured with a slight limp. he’d been worried even though you paid your wounds no mind.

“take care of yourself,” he’d said through gritted teeth. “i care about you more than you think.”

it had been out of pity more than anything; he had walked you to your room, believing it was his fault that you’d nearly been killed.

still, you acknowledged the warm words through his usual gruffness.

that had led you to today, with yuji and nobara arguing between the two of you. you want nothing more than to relax in your dorm with megumi’s head on your chest, running your fingers through his messy black hair. he’s got a knack for nuzzling into you, breathing in your scent and peppering kisses along your collarbone. it’s his way of telling you he loves you.

“so what d’ya wanna do then?” nobara huffs, frustrated.

“you just said no to every single restaurant i recommended. why don’t you choose?” yuji whines.

nobara crosses her arms. “i’m not choosing because you’re gonna say no.”

“that’s not true,” yuji deflects, furrowing his brows. “i just told you, i don’t care where we eat.”

“i’m gonna head back,” megumi says, clearing his throat. “i’ve got a mission tomorrow and i wanna get some sleep.”

it’s an obvious excuse, at least to you. megumi isn’t lying, though; he has to visit a train station tomorrow to get rid of a nasty curse that’d been formed from an accident. it’s overgrown and estimated to at least be a grade 1 curse, so megumi is being sent by himself because gojo trusts that he can handle it smoothly. megumi is a grade 1 sorcerer, after all, and lately gojo has been trying to get him reevaluated as a special grade.

“you guys have fun,” you announce shortly after megumi trudges away. “i’m gonna go finish my book before my sparring session with maki.”

“whatttt?!” nobara groans. “maki said she was gonna hang with me! someone isn’t telling the truth and i know it’s you!”

you cringe, knowing you’ve been caught in your lie. “oh, that’s right. the session is tomorrow.”

“if you or megumi aren’t going then i won’t go either!” yuji pouts.

“what was the point of us walking all the way out here?” nobara smacks him on the back of his head. “whatever! i’m going to find maki. maybe she’ll wanna eat with me.”

“the third years aren’t gonna hang with you, loser,” yuji says, sticking his tongue out at her.

nobara responds by flicking him off over her shoulder. she’s already long gone by the time you and yuji bid your goodbyes. you take your time on the way back to your dorm, shuffling your feet against the pavement as slowly as you can. the last thing you want is to catch up to yuji on your way to the boys’ dormitory.

you take a quick look around once you start to get close to megumi’s dorm. the sun beams down at you and you begin to sweat nervously. you’ve done this plenty of times before, but it still makes your nerves jitter.

the coast is clear. the bushes don’t seem to be hiding anyone. there doesn’t seem to be a person hiding behind any corners. you make a run for it, nimbly skipping toward the boys’ dormitories. you make a beeline for megumi’s door, which is the furthest one at the end of the hall. yuji’s dorm is across from his, so you make sure your footsteps aren’t too loud. you tap on the doorframe four times, a signal you’d unknowingly came up with in the weeks you and megumi have snuck into each other’s rooms.

megumi swings the door open, his face brightening as he pulls you in. he wastes no time in burying himself into the crook of your neck, inhaling your comforting scent.

“god, i was hoping they’d leave without us back there,” he sighs into your neck. “it took you so long to shake ‘em off.”

your lips stretch into a pretty grin, and megumi nearly melts at the sight. you ruffle his hair and press a kiss onto his redden cheek. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

megumi would’ve cringed had it been any other couple, but it’s you and him, and all the sweet words you two whisper make him adore the cheesiness of the relationship. he takes you by the hand and nearly crushes you as he lays the both of you down.

napping together is a common occurrence for the two of you. it’s not like you can waltz out with your fingers interlocked because gojo would make fun of you both for the rest of your lives. dating as a jujutsu sorcerer is hard enough, and you two would rather not add him into the mix.

“are you sleepy?” you ask softly. you’re trapped in between his toned arms, your face pressing into his firm chest.

he hums. “you mind?”

“not at all,” you say with a small laugh. “but you gotta get up before dinner, ‘kay?”

you feel him nod. “yeah, just wake me up.”

“‘kay.”

the silence is comfortable, as if you’ve known him for longer than you actually have. he lets himself go when he’s around you, and that fact makes you more prideful than it should. there’s something about megumi fushiguro allowing you to see his vulnerable side that makes you feel all the more important. the boy never, ever removes the scowl off his face unless he’s with you.

“need to take off my clothes,” you complain. “i’m all sweaty from today. gojo sensei had me run a few laps ‘cause nobara snitched about me returning to my room late.”

the corner of megumi’s mouth lifts. “that’s why i told you to leave before sunset. see what happens when you don’t listen?”

you shove his shoulder and unseal yourself from his hold, giving him a glare. “you were the one asking me to stay, you idiot. now give me a shirt.”

he pretends to be annoyed, mumbling something under his breath as he reaches for a shirt hung on the end of his headboard.

“a clean one.” you give him a pointed look.

“i thought you liked my smell?” he looks at you through his lashes.

“your smell, megumi, not your sweat,” you deadpan.

he lets out a laugh and it sounds like music to your ears. perhaps this is what the world means when they say love makes you a different person.

he obliges and walks to his drawer. megumi is changed himself: loose sweatpants hanging on his waist lowly. he has on a white t-shirt and the necklace you had gifted him a week prior. megumi hands you one of his sweaters, which is oversized, but it’s the best he can do. you’d rather not go back to your dorm to change.

megumi turns around so that you can change. he’s awkward and beet red, scratching his head in a moment of tenseness. you slip on his sweater and you’re immediately engulfed in his warm scent. the fabric nearly drowns you as you take off your pants.

“do you have any shorts?” you ask, scanning the room.

megumi’s back is still turned to you. “you took those ones back to your room, remember? did you bring them?”

you shake your head, but then remember that he can’t see you. you duck your head in embarrassment, laughing lightly. “nah, but it’s fine. the shirt’s basically a dress anyway.”

megumi hears the sheets rustle and makes a bold assumption to turn around. he’s met with you sprawled out on the bed, patting the empty space next to you as a wordless invitation.

his eyes crinkle when he grins, which is not something you see everyday. you savor the moment and engrave it into your memory. it’ll make you giddy when you remember it tonight as you get ready for bed.

“love you,” you whisper, making yourself comfortable in his embrace. you feel his fingers caress your arm in loving patterns.

megumi pauses for a split second, but it’s long enough for you to notice. he still has a hard time using his words, but you’re in no rush to change that part of him.

“i love you, too,” he replies in a small voice.

“when did you get so corny?” you tease, your eyes fluttering shut.

“you’re being irritating,” he says. you can tell just from the way he puffs out a little breath that he’s rolling his eyes in distaste. “it’s your fault for making me all gross and corny. yuji would never stop making fun of me if he saw us right now.”

“megumi!” a knock interrupts him. it’s yuji, who calls from outside the door. “gojo-sensei needs us real quick! read your damn text messages for once!”

megumi freezes and your head perks up. your eyes are wide with fear and slight amusement. this has never happened before. megumi presses a finger to your lips, shushing you, before he yells out an irritated, “what does he want?”

“he says we gotta go see him in his office! check your phone.” yuji’s voice is muffled. he bangs on the door once more.

your breathing is shallow. there’s a sort of excitement in the air at the thought of possibly being caught, but the anxiety of it all overpasses that. you refuse to move, afraid that the loud sheets will give it away to yuji that you’re in the same bed as megumi.

“is the door locked?” you whisper lowly.

megumi’s eyes narrow. “i… i think so. i don’t know.”

“what do you mean you don’t know?”

“i was excited to see you… i’m not—i don’t remember locking it.”

“i’m sure you did,” you convince yourself out loud, “you always do.”

“and tell y/n that she’s gotta come out too!” nobara’s voice rings out.

you feel your body grow hot in humiliation.

once you’re all in gojo’s office, the white-haired man gives you and megumi a hard stare. he has a lazy smirk plastered on his face, his blindfold pushed down on his neck solely so that he can show off the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“let me make one thing clear,” gojo begins, “no boys in the girls’ dorms.”

yuji scrunches his nose.

“and no girls in the boys’ dorms. we all know this already, don’t we?”

“duh. is that all?” nobara says, shifting her weight on to her left leg. she looks amused.

“y/n,” gojo says, causing your eyes to flicker up at him, “run 30 laps. you’ve broken the rules.”

your jaw drops open. it had been embarrassing enough to quickly throw on your pants and rush out of megumi’s room with nobara and yuji’s smug faces trailing behind you.

“no buts,” he adds when he notices your apprehension.

you frown.

“i’ll take half,” megumi mutters, the annoyance leaking into his tone. “she’ll do 15 and i’ll do 15. we both broke the rules, so punish us fairly.”

gojo’s smirk widens. “i wasn’t finished, fushiguro. you’re gonna run 30 as well… but i guess it’s 45 now? isn’t that sweet of you? protecting your girl~”

“gojo-sensei… y/n is wearing megumi’s shirt…” yuji pretends to gag. “we all know what that—”

megumi shoots a glare at him. if eyes could kill, yuji would be six feet under. “don’t be fucking gross, yuji. it’s not like that.”

you tug at his t-shirt, eyes averting gojo’s. megumi’s behavior is only going to punish the two of you more. the whole situation is already making you want to curl up into a ball and die, and you want it to be over with already.

“oh my god, you’re right, yuji. that’s…. that’s very scandalous.” nobara brings a hand to cover her opened mouth.

“don’t piss me off,” megumi threatens. “it’s not anything like what you two are thinking. don’t be weird about it.”

gojo opens his mouth to speak, but megumi is quicker. he drags you out of the office and the two of you make it to the track field. the red of the field matches the red in megumi’s face. it’s ridiculously hilarious now that you’re really looking at it.

“let’s run our laps. 15 for you, 45 for me.”

you giggle and pull him in for a kiss. “thank you, megumi, but i can handle 30 just fine. we just have to get better at sneaking around, don’t we?”

“yeah…” he says, his composure breaking. “ah, whatever. they know anyway. let’s just start going out, hm? they can’t control us outside of school grounds.”

from somewhere inside the school, you can hear nobara celebrate over winning $50.

a/n: this was SO FUN TO WRITE. i have so many drafts and drabbles so i decided to just post one! none of it is canon blah blah idc IM A SUCKER FOR SOFT MEGUMI!!! he’s the epitome of “i hate everyone but you” HOPE U ENJOYED

[cjlouwho]

Bucktommy prompt: Tommy is dealing with chronic pain and Buck helps him through it.

Part 3 of my injured Tommy fic

If Tommy were being honest, there were some positives to being paralyzed. The first time he'd told Evan as much, he'd stared back at him with eyebrows raised and a face that said, “I can't wait to see where this is going.”

So Tommy had gone through the list he'd made in his head.

1. He always got the best parking spots.

2. Little old ladies now helped him in the grocery store.

3. People were constantly opening doors for him.

4. He'd get to board first on a plane... as soon as he and Evan figured out where they were going to go for their honeymoon.

5. Sometimes people let him cut in line.

6. He'd learned how to do some sick ass wheelies!

Buck had laughed along with his list, even adding a few himself.

7. Bigger hotel rooms.

8. Tommy's biceps were larger than Buck thought humanly possible.

9. If Buck got tired of walking, he could just sit on Tommy's lap and get a free ride.

And while these things were all good and true, there were plenty of things that made Tommy's new life far more difficult.

One of which were the body spasms.

He'd been warned about them in the hospital. Had a few of them before he'd been discharged. Learned how to deal with them, for the most part, through physical therapy. He'd also been put on muscle relaxants, sleeping pills, and antidepressants.

Which really only caused more problems, because he spent the better part of a month feeling so doped up that he was asleep more than he was awake.

His doctors changed doses and moved around schedules, trying to find the perfect balance, but Tommy hated the pills no matter what.

They didn't only impact his day to day life, but also his ability and desire for sex.

And God, as his body recovered and he and Buck settled into their new normal, he really wanted to want to have sex.

Adjustments already had to be made do to the reduction of sensation he felt around his pelvis. Things got weaker and weaker from there, reduced to no feeling at all in his legs.

They'd had their quickie wedding at the courthouse in February, followed by a ceremony with family the next month, and started planning a honeymoon in the summer. And that's when Tommy decided he was going to cut back on some of his medications, and cut others out completely. He was not going to spend his honeymoon in a half daze, not caring whether or not his drop dead gorgeous husband was naked on top of him.

Buck had protested at first. He'd made it clear that sex didn't mean everything to him. The things they still did do were pretty damn great, and it wasn't worth Tommy being in pain.

But Tommy insisted.

So they'd met with his doctors and come up with a plan. He could go off the sleeping pills, taking them only when needed. They'd reduce the antidepressant in increments. And muscle relaxants could be used as needed as well.

For the most part, everything went fairly smoothly. His spasticity would rear its ugly head from time to time, but it wasn't anything unmanageable.

Until, one night, it was.

He should have known it was going to be a bad night. He'd been restless and uncomfortable all day long. He'd go from his wheelchair, to the couch, to the wheelchair, to the dining room chair, to the wheelchair, to the bed, then back to the wheelchair.

He'd tried wheeling around the neighborhood, usually enjoying using his arms to push himself around, but today he just felt stiff.

The muscle relaxants in the kitchen cabinet had been calling his name, but he'd resisted. Evan was coming off a forty-eight hour shift tonight, and he'd already texted Tommy a picture of himself all sweaty, no shirt on, telling him he was gonna get himself all cleaned up for Tommy.

And Tommy wanted nothing more than to give him everything he wanted, because he wanted it too. Which was a damn good feeling to have back.

He hoped that sex would help his body relax.

It didn't.

He'd gotten through it though, with a few little twinges of pain in his chest and back. Nothing too severe. And with Buck on top of him, his body flushed red, head tossed back and mouth hanging open, the pleasure overrode the pain.

It didn't get really bad until after Buck had fallen asleep. Tommy wasn't sure how long he laid there, trying to stay as still as possible so he didn't wake Evan.

Even as the pain started to radiate up his back, he clenched his teeth to keep himself from groaning.

Then it went to his chest, causing his breath to hitch. The spasm made his back arch off the bed. If it didn't hurt so bad, he would have made some sort of exorcist joke.

His hands gripped onto the fitted sheet and he could feel a vibration.

His legs were probably shaking. He couldn't feel it, but it always happened when he had these spasms, even the minor ones.

He couldn't hardly get a breath. Not while fighting to be quiet. Not while his back and chest felt like they were becoming harder than a rock.

Finally, he unclenched his jaw and let out a half-moan, half-gasp.

“Ev- Evan,” he huffed out, releasing his grip on the sheet to smack his hand down on the bed. Tommy couldn't quite reach out far enough to touch him. Not when everything was seizing up like this. “Evan!” he repeated, louder this time.

Even in his deep sleep, Buck must've realized something was wrong. One second he was dead to the world, and the next he was jumping up, tossing the covers off of them both.

“What? What's wrong?” he said, clumsily reaching over to the nightstand and turning on the lamp.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut against the light. He didn't feel like seeing himself right now.

It took Buck's brain a few seconds to catch up to the sight in front of him. When he finally registered what was happening, he headed for the door. “I'm gonna get your meds.”

“No!” Tommy yelled, sucking in a breath. “D- Don't.”

“Tommy, you need your muscle relaxant.”

“I- I can't.” He managed to bring a hand to his throat, hoping Evan understood.

“You can't swallow right now,” Buck replied. It wasn't a question.

“Mhm. Just... Just-”

“Massage?” Buck guessed, getting to Tommy's side of the bed in record speed. “You think that would help this time?”

Figuring out the correct responses to these episodes was always a guessing game. Sometimes touch could make it worse. Tommy was pretty sure nothing could make it any worse right now.

“Mm... Mhm.” His jaw was getting so tight he could barely open his mouth.

“I'm gonna move you onto your side.” Very carefully, Buck turned Tommy's rigid body so he was facing away from him. It was an awkward angle, and he was having to do most of the work to keep Tommy on his side, but he managed to get into a position where he could start to dig the palm of his hand into Tommy's back.

At first, he was so tight Buck worried he was going to hurt him even more by massaging him. But, Tommy's breathing seemed to become a little fuller, and the groaning died down a bit.

So Buck continued. He'd alternate between using his palm, his fist, his thumb, to dig into the muscles and get them to loosen.

After a few minutes, Tommy had quieted down completely. His body relaxed into the bed as he flopped the rest of the way onto his stomach. The shaking in his legs subsided. He no longer felt like he was going to shatter into a million little pieces.

Still, Buck continued his massage. He worked up Tommy's neck, massaged his head, down to his shoulders, his back. He even massaged over his legs and feet, letting Tommy know what he was doing so he wouldn't think Buck had just left the room.

After about half an hour, Buck rested his hand at the center of Tommy's back. “Feel better?” he asked quietly, unsure if Tommy was even still awake at this point.

“Mhm. Thank you,” Tommy replied. He paused, blushing before starting to ask, “Did I... Do I need..?” He couldn't quite get the words out. Did I piss myself? Do I need to get up so we can change the sheets and clean me up?

It happened sometimes, when his body seized up. And while he nearly had full bladder control back, everything went haywire when it came to his spasms.

“No, you're good,” Buck answered, and Tommy thanked whoever might be listening that they were able to read each other's minds. “Think you can turn back over now?”

“Yeah. Yes, I- you'll have to help me though.”

“Of course.”

Once Tommy was resting comfortably on his back, head propped up under two pillows, Buck stared down at him. “You knew it was gonna happen today, didn't you?”

Tommy sighed. There was no point in lying. “Yeah. Not this bad though.”

“And you didn't take a pill earlier?”

“No.”

Buck sucked in a shaky breath as he nodded. He didn't answer. Didn't say a word. He simply turned and headed into the bathroom.

Tommy listened as he turned the sink on. It ran for a while, then Buck was back by his side. He ran a warm washcloth over Tommy's face, Tommy closing his eyes and melting into the touch.

Once Buck had finished wiping off his face, he started on his chest.

Tommy blinked his eyes back open, studying Buck.

He was tense, eyebrows knitted together as he focused on cleaning the sweat from Tommy's body.

Tommy's eyes drifted to Buck's hand, shaking ever so slightly.

He reached out and placed his hand over Buck's, gently gripping his wrist. Finally, Buck made eye contact with him.

“Please don't be mad,” Tommy said, knowing it was unfair even as he said it. Still, he hated to see Evan disappointed. Wasn't sure if he could handle it right now.

But as he looked further into Evan's eyes, he didn't see anger.

He saw fear, and sadness. Red-rimmed, wet with unshed tears that were threatening to spill over.

“M'not mad,” he replied, clearing his throat. “I- I'm upset. I don't like seeing you in pain, Tommy.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

“You don't have to be sorry. Just don't do it again. I can't... I can't enjoy being with you- having sex with you,” he clarified, “if I think you're hurting yourself for it.”

“I know, Evan. I just... I just wanted to be with you tonight. Wanted to feel good. Wanted to make you feel good.”

Buck tossed the rag onto the nightstand, sitting down on the bed beside Tommy. “You know what makes me feel good?” he started, resting two fingers under Tommy's chin so he couldn't look away. “Seeing you comfortable makes me feel good. Us enjoying dinner together makes me feel good. Going for a walk in the evening, watching movies, going out for ice cream, you holding me in your arms, getting to hold you in mine, kissing you for hours and hours. All those things, plus like a million more, make me feel good. Sex is fun, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it because damn you've got some moves,” he said, getting a smile out of Tommy, “but it's not everything to me. You are everything to me. I know we can't always prevent spasticity, but when we can, it would make me feel good if we did. Got it?”

Tommy nodded, giving himself a few seconds before verbally responding. “You can't just say stuff like that to me, you know,” he said, choked up. “I'm a softy now.”

Buck scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully. “You were always a softy,” he informed Tommy, leaning in for a kiss.

“I'm gonna go get your pills now, okay?”

“Okay.” Before Buck could get too far, Tommy reached out and grabbed at his hand. “Hey. Have I told you lately that I love you?”

Buck cocked his head, giving Tommy a glare. “If you start singing Rod Stewart to me, I will divorce you.”

“No, seriously, Baby,” Tommy said, keeping a straight face. “Have I told you there's no one else above you?”

“I already know a good attorney.”

“You fill my heart with gladness,” Tommy continued, grinning, “take away all my sadness.”

Buck wriggled his hand free of Tommy's grasp, heading out toward the kitchen. “If you hear the front door slam, I'll be back later for my things.”

Tommy's smile only widened as he yelled out, “You ease my troubles, that's what you do!”

[idontcaboose]

Haunted car Au part 14

So, it has been a week, and it feels like when you wake up from an unplanned 30 minute nap and have to ask 'What year is it?' While feeling like you have been run over by a whole procession of clowns, clown cars, and maybe a camel for good measure. Granted, that may be from the ragweed that is pollinating like crazy, but oh well... new part!

THIS IS YOUR WARNING! SWEAR WORDS! Plenty of cursing ahead! You have been warned!

Previous. Masterpost

It had been over 24 hours since Jason saw Danny. The most troubling thing was, there were no whispers of a trafficking group in that area. He couldn't fathom what had happened to the kid. Barbara couldn't find the kid on her cameras either, so he might need to go to the cave and look at the Batmobile himself. The footage Babs pulled were just as corrupted as the ally cameras were. Maybe the kid built himself a little jamming device, wouldn't be his first strangely useful creation. Whether or not he had a jamming device, he was still missing and none of the other street kids had seen him. He knew they were probably not harboring him with the bounty for finding Danny being as lucrative as it was. Jason knew offering to cook 3 meals a day for a week would get all of his street kids looking, some adults too.

Jason was a little surprised to see Duke looking at the Batmobile's underside when he drove in. Normally only Bruce and Jason worked on the cars since they had the most hands-on experience with them. Case in point, Duke had the car up on the lift with the front doors open. Did he have to sit Duke down and go through safety in maintenance 101? Maybe he could borrow little Timmy's version “The importance of Maintenance Safety: Or why you don't let Megan write safety plans.” It would hit all the important bits and sear the information in with neon yellow and blue comic sans font.

“So, Glowstick, mind telling me why the fuck you are trying to get yourself crushed?” Jason growled at the kid, the helmet making it even more menacing.

Duke gave Jason an unimpressed look. “B got a stick up his ass and thinks I somehow was involved with the Batmobile running weirdly." Duke sneered as he continued. "Last night when Red Robin activated his emergency beacon, the lead goon got in it and ran over some of his goons. The fail safes for theft didn't activate. Somehow, it was my fault. Perks to being the closest non-injured, I guess.”

Jason was surprised at the bitterness the usually sunshine-y kid had.

“Well, good news, we can swap for a bit, and I can teach you properly how to maintain this beast.” Jason offered.

“Why are you so interested?”

“I can't be nice?”

“You are here willingly, and no, you usually are not ‘nice’. So what is it?”

Jason was not expecting such hostility from Duke, but if Bruce had his panties in a twist and took it out on Duke, he could forgive some of the bite. Couldn't hurt to get Duke in on his hunt for Danny anyway.

“I… need help. One of my guys mentioned they bet a kid, named Danny, some money to put a sticker on the Batmobile. No one has seen the kid after entering the alley where the car was parked. Oracle said the cameras were corrupted at the time the kid was there with it. Figured I would check the car for clues.”

“Oh…. Sure.”

They both looked at the undercarriage of the car in silence before Jason gave a snort.

“The kid really did put a sticker on the oil pan. That is hilarious.”

Sure enough there was a Green Arrow sticker, one where he had his arms crossed and looking smug as all hell, positioned in such a way that eluded that when the oil was drained it would look like Green Arrow was pissing.

“That is amazing, if you find the kid let me give them a high-five for that. What does he look like anyway?”

“Adoption bait, pretty much a mini me with a more ‘polite’ mouth.” Jason was sure Duke could hear his smile when talking about the kid.

“No shit? You with manners? I don't think I can imagine that from a Alley Rat.” Duke teased.

“Watch it Narrows, us Alley Rats are all a little rabid.” Jason found himself teasing back before sniffing. “Besides, Alfie would have my head if I didn't have some manners.”

They went back into a more comfortable silence while working, Jason took to looking through the center, hoping to find some sort of clue of a struggle if Danny got nabbed. Duke was focusing on the engine compartment and any wirings that he could follow. It was rather relaxing until Duke went to move some rubber piping to get a closer look at a relay.

Neither person expected the car to shudder and produce a kind of creepy giggle. Duke froze and Jason reacted by tackling him away from the car and pulling one of his guns at the Batmobile.

“What in the ever loving fuck?” Jason screamed, the Batmobile responded with its own car alarm going off.

“Don't shoot! I'm sorry, I didn't expect that to happen, we are still trying to figure things out!” Duke had jumped back up and put himself in front of Jason, waving his hands and trying to keep attention on him.

“We? What the fuck Narrows?!”

“Just, both of you, stop! Hood, gun down, Car dude, stop the alarm. Please.” Duke all but whined the last word in desperation.

Jason took a Very deep breath, and growled out in the now silent cave.

“Car. Dude?”

Next

@kizzer55555 @sebas-nights @candeartist422 @trappednyourheart @fandom-life-corrupted-me @tkiesai @2lbballpeenhammer @admiralwidow @rewrittenwrongs @whotfevenknowsanymore @symmetricalastigmatism @thespacedragons @atinygracie @okami-love @lesbian-spider-drone @1n0sss @forgetmenot-bluepurple

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two

15 days before Christmas Steve Harrington flinches when the Christmas lights strung along the arcade flicker. 

Eddie only notices because he makes a habit out of keeping an eye on questionable people when he's out and about. 

Watches Harrington recover with a little shake of his head and a roll of his shoulders, as Gareth finishes up his shift, swapping cashier positions with Jeff. 

Dustin and Lucas stick around long enough to greet Jeff as Eddie stares, before scuttling off to Harrington's car, pushing and shoving each other the whole way. 

Eddie frowns, but decides to put the whole thing out of his head. 

He doesn't need his little lamb's adoration of evil high school figures to poison his day. 

                                                            xXx

12 days before Christmas and Eddie is starting to realize Harrington is everywhere. 

There's a little holiday display the town center has put on. A temporary ice rink surrounded by dazzling lights, hot chocolate stands, and plenty of things to see. 

Wayne and Eddie, with their traditional day of Christmas shopping complete, stroll within it, a cup of hot chocolate in hand. They never buy much--can’t, but it’s still something fun for Eddie to do with his Uncle and so and he bounces about with glee as they people watch. 

A familiar shriek hits the air, and Eddie turns in time to see Mike and Dustin collide on the ice, while Lucas and his sister skate literal circles around them, laughing. 

Unable to pass up on the opportunity to tease, Eddie flies to the edge of the rink, waving his hand and demanding one of the kids do a flip. 

"A flip!? Eddie, I can't even skate a circle!" Henderson shouts, at the same time as Wheeler adds; 

“Let’s see you try and skate with these idiots!” 

“Sorry Wheeler, I think getting on the ice with you might be hazardous to my health.” 

“Shut up!” 

Delightful banter officially traded, Eddie turns to find his Uncle in a conversation with Steve Harrington. 

Grin immediately faltering into a frown, he approaches cautiously right in time to see Wayne clap Harrington on the shoulder. 

“It gets better.” Wayne says gruffly, in that tone he uses when he’s trying to give deeply emotional advice without the emotional part.  

The younger boy gave a hard nod, muttering something that might have been “Thanks.”

Eddie jerked to a stop several steps away, but close enough for Wayne to see him, to know he was done and it was time to go. 

Thankfully his Uncle picked up the signal, and made his way over, so the two of them  could finish out their lap around the town center. 

"He’s one of your classmates, right?" Wayne asked, as they turned away from the rink, Harrington back to watching the kids laugh and play around the ring. 

"Not anymore." Eddie scoffs. "That's Steve Harrington."

Wayne hums noncommittally.

"As in, the rich Harrington's.” Eddie prods, because come on everyone knew who the Harrington’s were, just as everyone delighted in rightfully shitting on them. They weren’t good people. “As in, the assholes from Loc Nora?" 

Another hum. 

Then; "People are more than their last name, Eds. You should know that."

Eddie jerks back, stung at the admonishment. 

Wayne’s not mad, never is, but Eddie recognizes his Uncle’s disappointed tone loud and clear. 

"One of the gifts you got from me was seein’ through people's bullshit.." Wayne continues, before sucking in a draw on his cigarette. "I'm surprised you didn't see through his." 

‘I don’t want to see through his!’ Is what Eddie wants to say, but keeps it to himself.

Changed the subject instead, shoulders hiked to his ears, because Harrington having some kind of claim on his new players was one thing, but his Uncle!?

He didn’t care about whatever crap the guy was going through. King Steve has been an ass for as long as Eddie had known him, the kind of bully whose downfall you cheered for. 

Sure it was petty, but guys like Harrington reveled in pettiness. 

So who cared if Eddie didn’t want to look closer at him now? Harrington wasn’t a lost lamb.

He was at best, an injured wolf, and no amount of sad looks was going to make him any safer to be around. 

                                                          xxx

 9 days till Christmas and Wheeler is having a tantrum that's delaying Hellfire's holiday oneshot.

"I don't get why he hates Christmas so much. He didn't even know Will when he disappeared!" Mike snips with his arms crossed. 

Dustin is across from him, a furious scowl on his face, as Lucas stands between, a physical barrier between the two. 

"As usual, you're talking out of your ass, Mike." Henderson spits, furious. "He was in Will's house with Jonathan and Nancy. That's reason enough!"

As if that makes any kind of sense, but then this isn’t the first argument that went into weird territory like this. Eddie’s always prided himself on pulling stories out of people, earning secrets and truths with a well trained ear and a smarter mouth. 

The freshman though, were proving to be a hell of a challenge.

Mike throws his hands in the air. "I'm just saying, we all have way more reasons to hate Christmas, but none of us are acting like the grinch!"

“I know you can only have two good thoughts a day without breaking your brain, but you're being so stupid." Dustin thunders. "Did you ever think Steve might have other reasons to hate Christmas!?”

Eddie almost groans aloud, because of course, of fucking course, this is about Harrington. 

The guy was a goddamn ghost at this point, hellbent on haunting Eddie’s entire life. 

Didn’t even have the courtesy to die first! 

"Guys." Lucas stressed, hands now firmly pressed against Mike and Dustin’s chest. “Come on, we’re wasting time. We can talk about this later.”

“Oh don’t worry about that Sinclair,” Eddie purred, making the three of them jump, as though they had forgotten they had a full ass audience in the form of the rest of the club. “I’m just docking their HP points for every minute they hold up the game.” 

“Shit!” Dustin and Milke yelled as one, scrambling to get to their chairs. 

Gareth and Jeff snicker, Grant making it known he was over their antics with a look that could have burnt gold. 

Eddie clapped his hands once, hard enough for it to echo throughout the room. “If everyone is done bickering,” He announced, slipping into his DM voice, “we can begin our tale…” 

He launches into the story he’d planned, and enjoys pulling everyone into it, all thoughts of Steve Harrington left behind.

                                              xXx

5 Days before Christmas and Eddie is panic shopping.

He’s not the one panicking, nor the one shopping, but he has a car and friends who know where he lives, so he’s woken up at an ungodly hour of the morning (10 am) by Gareth, Grant, and Henderson of all people. 

“Gareth’s sister took the car again.” Grant explains with dramatic, rolling eyes at Eddie’s exasperated face. 

“I’m sorry you planned going shopping five days before Christmas?” 

“Well--no-” Grant continues at the same time Dustin and Gareth yell protests. 

They talk over each other for a moment, loud enough to make Eddie crave coffee and the comfort of his bed. 

He runs one hand through his frizzy, bedhead hair before yanking it out and waving it around to catch his friend's attention. “Alright, I get it! You all decided to do white elephant gift thing last minute, and are now scrambling." 

"Speaking of which, you're invited." Henderson tells him with a cheeky grin. "We're doing it on Christmas Eve." 

Of course they were. 

 "Please man? It'll be fun." Gareth pleads, as Grant shoots him his patented puppy dog eyes. 

Eddie sighs. 

"I'll do it, but!" He sticks a finger in the air as grins broke out, "I'm demanding food and coffee and payment!" 

With that he retreated from the door, stomping back to his room. 

"Good coffee, too!" He hollers as he throws on clothes, happy chatter breaking out among his friends. 

Several arguments and one run to the best to-go coffee shop in town, and Eddie was following his buddies around as they wandered through downtown Hawkins. 

Since the mall had burned, shopping options had been rather limited, shops slow to reopen. 

It made it difficult to buy things last minute, but Eddie found it was actually kind of fun as Henderson explained the rules they'd all agreed on (hopefully, Gareth added, because the rules had been passed along in pieces.) 

"The goal is to get outrageous, funny stuff." Dustin explains as they browsed the local bookstore. "Nothing more than fifteen dollars, and nothing Christmas-y."

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Nothing Christmas-y?" He echoes curiously. 

Dustin nods, serious. 

"Yeah. Christmas can be kinda a downer for some people. We came up with this as a way to celebrate without all the holiday stuff involved."

"Some people like Harrington?" Eddie guesses, sinking feeling in his stomach. 

There's no way Grant and Gareth would've  agreed to do a gift exchange with Steve Harrington.

Right?

Dustin sighs dramatically, whole body heaving. 

"I know you've got a weird hate-on for him, but this time of year is really hard on Steve." He snaps, exasperated. "It's not my place to talk about it outside the Party, but he doesn't deserve to deal with it on his own."

There's that word again, Party. 

Capital P implied, just as it implies that it's a group that Eddie is firmly excluded from. 

It stings as it lands, an unintentional insult that reminds Eddie that his newest little lambs have secrets they refuse to share.

Nevermind the fact that Steve is clearly included. 

Eddie collects secrets like candy, but his poking and prodding had yet to get him a solid answer on the mysterious "party." 

Rather than press, Eddie raises his hands in surrender. 

"Easy there, tiger. No offense meant." 

Full offense meant actually, but Eddie wasn't in the mood for a full blown Henderson Rant. 

Dustin narrows his eyes, but takes his words at face value. "You know, you guys would really like each other if you both just got over yourselves." 

Eddie snorts, but covers it by playfully shoving Henderson's cap down into his face. 

"When hell freezes over maybe. Now look, they have a new science fiction display!" The last part is sing-songed. 

Thoroughly distracted, Dustin lets the conversation drop, much to Eddie's relief.

(Because really him? Liking Harrington?

Not in a million freaking years.) 

                                                      xxx

 It's Christmas Eve and Eddie is staring furiously at Steve Harrington's house. 

"No one told me he was involved." He hisses angrily, knuckles white on his steering wheel. 

"Oh my god, stop being dramatic." Dustin rolls his eyes as he talks, unbuckling himself. “I told you Steve hates Christmas, so this is how we’re including him!” 

Jeff is looking equally uncomfortable, even as Lucas and Mike fall out of the van.

Gareth's car is behind him, Grant with him.

No doubt they too, are staring at the massive house in front of them in horror. 

Slowly the elder Hellfire members file out, standing in a clump as the younger members rush forward. 

They storm the door like they live in the damn place, fluttering about like moths. 

"What the hell." Jeff mutters quietly to Eddie's left. 

"Yeah guys, what the hell." Eddie repeats, shooting a glare toward Gareth and Grant. "No one mentioned this part!"

"We didn't know." Gareth defends angrily. "This was all the freshman!" 

"Are you idiots coming inside or not!?" Robin Buckley of all people yells, appearing in the now open front door. 

Or rather, one of the front doors, because Harrington is rich enough to have two. 

"Shit." Eddie mutters. 

"It's not weird if we just--leave, right?" Grant mumbles, shuffling from foot to foot. 

"It's very weird if we leave." Jeff responds flatly. 

A flare of anger ignites in Eddie. It comes from Steve Harrington invading this entire holiday, and Eddie finally has a chance to catch him off guard.

He'd be damned if he let it pass by. 

"Brave faces men." He says, tossing his hair back with a jerk of his hand. "We're storming the castle."

Struts forward determinedly, present in hand, fully planning on making Harrington as uncomfortable as he had made Eddie.

Unintentional, or not. 

                                                xXx

It's the day before Crapmas, the one holiday Steve hates, and he's somehow been sweet talked into hosting the kids white elephant exchange.

Which was fine--they were welcome in his home anytime and they knew it--but they'd conveniently forgotten to mention this was a Hellfire Club event.

As in, Eddie "the freak" Munson and his crew of three other dudes whose names Steve doesn't know (but who probably knew his.) 

"I dunno man, I wasn't the best person to a lot of people." He worried at Dustin this morning, when the brat had sprung it on him. "This probably isn't the best idea."

"Please Steve!? It's too late to change the venue and you promised you'd do a holiday thing with each of us!" Dustin whined on the other end.

At least he had the forethought to not actually use the word "Christmas." 

"You did everyone else's, you can't skip out on mine!"

Everyone else's was simple shit like taking them ice skating, or shopping, or making gingerbread houses.

Not hosting a whole ass party with four people who likely hated his guts--and for good reason.

Which Steve repeated to Dustin, staring vacantly at his carefully decorated house.

Once again, his parents had called in designers to come keep appearances, sending along their usual message that they may or may not be home depending upon various work factors.

"We just never know anymore with your father's job honey." His mother slurred on the phone, four years ago. "We'll make it up to you, sweetheart. Promise."

Like more money on his credit card could fix years of ruined holidays. 

(At least them being gone was better than forcing Steve to perform in their horrible holiday parties. Dressing him up like a doll, gathering drunk adults around the piano to make him play horrid Christmas songs. 

Showing him off like a well trained dog, complete with finger snaps to signal him to move on to his next trick. ) 

“Steeeeeeve-!”

As always, Steve crumbled under Dustin's badgering.

"Fine, fine!" He’d said. “You're responsible for letting them know me and Robin are gonna be there though!” 

Robin, who’d been laying on his couch, poked her head up at her name. 

“They’ll know!” Dustin had promised. 

Then abruptly hung up, like the brat he was.

Now four half-terrified, half-murderous looking dudes were staring Steve down as they awkwardly stood in his living room, and he had the wondrous realization that Dustin had probably sprung this on them too. 

‘Little. Asshole.’ Steve thinks, but plasters the best non threatening smile on his face. 

“Hey, uh, guys.” He says with an awkward little wave.

He gets three sets of glares and one impressive looking spooked face back. 

Mike and Lucas were already tackling the snacks he’d put out, cheeks full of chocolates and popcorn. Dustin was re-arranging furniture to his liking, and Robin, in-between her four classmates and Steve, glanced at both sides and rolled her eyes. 

“Steve, go pull the pizza out of the oven. You lot, come sit down, you look like you’re about to bolt.” Robin snaps, making everyone sans the kids jump. 

Happy for the distraction, Steve quickly retreats to his kitchen, overhearing Robin try and get the elder Hellfire members to identify themselves. 

Chatter fills the room, slow at first, but it becomes more fluid with Robin’s ruthless prodding. The pizza ends up needing another five minutes, which suits Steve since he hadn’t had time to pull out drinks. 

He’s bent at the waist, pulling out various cans when Dustin loudly announces his presence by barging into the fridge and smacking Steve’s ass with it. 

With a yelp, cans fly everywhere as Steve drops them, bouncing off the floor and rolling across the kitchen. 

“Henderson!” He gripes, standing up as the kid grins at him. He has all his teeth now but the smile will probably always feel cute to Steve. By-product of knowing the little shit for far too long. 

“Sorry Steve.” He says dismissively, before stepping aside with a dramatic flair. “Now stop being a total housewife for a second and meet Eddie!” 

The sound of cans still rolling ringing in his ears, Steve finds himself staring into Munson’s eyes. 

Who looks all too delighted to have seen Steve fumble. 

“Thought you were a jock, Harrington. What happened to those reflexes?” He smirks, and Steve feels his face flush red. 

“Yeah well,” Steve says, hand reflexively rubbing the back of his neck, “Turns out hanging around kids kinda ruins them.” 

This is clearly not the response Eddie was expecting. 

Nor is he expecting Dustin to loudly announce that; “Steve once played a D&D campaign with us, but he totally ate it as a cleric. You should give him some tips, Eddie!” 

Now it’s Steve’s turn to smirk, because Munson looks completely thrown. 

“Is…that a joke?” Eddie asks carefully, looking between the two of them. 

Dustin shakes his head. “Nope! You can ask Lucas’s sister, she was there.” 

He then glances down at his watch, and gives the biggest fake gasp Steve has ever heard (and Steve once sat through Will and Mike acting in a play for their English class, while Nancy and Jonathan silently suffered second-hand embarrassment next to him.) 

“Oh shit, I forgot something! Be right back!” 

“Language!” Steve calls, as Dustin shoots out of the kitchen. “And be careful not to trip on the cans!” 

Munson, who looks like he’s taken a wrong turn and ended up in the Twilight Zone, stares at him. “Did you seriously play a cleric?” 

“Weave Healington was a brave man who sacrificed himself in a time of need.” Steve tells him seriously, just to see the guy’s reaction. “May he rest in peace.” 

“Weave Healington.” Eddie deadpans. 

Steve, keeping his face blank by the skin of his teeth, nods. 

“Please tell me that wasn’t the pizza you just dropped.” Robin says as she flies into the kitchen, interrupting Eddie’s face rapidly cycling through different emotions with a badly wrapped present in her hands. 

“Stevie boy dropped the pop, Buckley Bird.” Eddie says, recovering quickly. “I would not recommend drinking out of anything currently laying on the floor.” 

“Noted.” Robin says, pausing to stare at the cans scattered about. “Hey Steve, did you wrap your weird eyeball thingie? Or do you want me to do it? I dunno how long the kids are gonna wait.” 

Like a dog hearing a whistle, Munson’s whole head tips sideways. “Weird eyeball thingie?” 

“Oh my god, it’s this--I don’t even know how to describe it. Like an alternative ouija board? It says it’s a “fortune telling game.” Robin makes the quotation marks with her hands. “It has this giant, ugly eyeball in the middle.”

She leans forward conspiratorially to add; “It glows in the dark.” 

 “Oh my god, Steve, your gift is Ka-Bala!?” Dustin says, bouncing up like a damn jack-in-the-box. “I’ve always wanted that game!” 

“Robin!” Steve hisses, because of course she’d announce that right as Dustin would pop back up. 

“Oh shit.” Robin says, shooting him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your gift.” 

Steve sighs dramatically, but keeps a small grin on his face so Robin knows he’s not really upset. “Guess I’ll have to go find a new one--which means your punishment is that you and Dustin are now in charge of the pizza. And also picking up all the cans.” 

“Curses.” Robin says flatly, before breaking out into a grin herself, while Dustin whines. 

“It’s probably for the best.” Eddie says, though the guy sounds weirdly like someone desperately off balance and scrambling to fix it. “You know you weren’t supposed to pick cool gifts, right Harrington?” 

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “Cool? It’s kinda weird. It’s disgustingly neon green. And Robin forgot to mention it’s a board game.”  

He pushes Dustin’s hat down as he walks by, and laughs aloud when Eddie follows up by knocking it right off Henderson’s head. 

“Hey!” Dustin squeaks, hands darting to cover his hat hair.

He’s ignored. 

“Neon green, giant eyeball, fortune telling board game?” Eddie sums up. “Yeah might have to murder Buckley because that sounds rad as hell.” 

Steve snorts as he walks down the hall and up the stairs, somehow unsurprised to find the metalhead is following. 

“You want it, Munson?” He asks as they hit his second floor, Steve aiming for his fathers office. “You’re welcome to it, I never even opened the thing.” 

“What do you want for it?” Eddie asks, following Steve right through the door, before stopping dead. 

A typical reaction to someone walking into his fathers stuffy, stupidly expensive office. Like the rest of Steve’s house, it looks as though it was transported straight out of a magazine. Everything is shiny and worse--unused. 

“Nothing, man.” Steve said, standing in front of said desk now with his arms crossed. “I mean it, it’s still got the plastic on it. You’re gonna have to sneak it by Dustin though.” He turned to smile at Eddie, feeling like they were sharing a joke, “He might physically fight you for it.” 

For some reason this made a hell of a blush streak across Munson’s cheeks, before the guy coughed and swung into the office behind Steve. 

“He can try.” Eddie managed finally, voice a shade higher than normal. 

As he always did to social things he didn’t understand, Steve just ignored the change. 

“Why’d you never play it?” Eddie asks, as Steve scans the shelves of stupidly expensive knick-knacks. 

“Someone trying to impress my parents got it for me one Christmas.” He says with a shrug. “They wouldn’t let me open it then, and I forgot all about it until I was digging for something else.” 

“They don’t care about it now I take it?” 

Steve can’t help the snort that leaves his throat. “They’d have to be around to care.” Then to get the conversation back on track, says; “Okay, I’m thinking the shitty World’s Best Boss trophy.” 

He points to the gaudy thing, all shiny from the ass kissing the person who’d purchased it had done in hopes Steve’s dad would give him a raise. Or not fire him, Steve never knew which it was. 

 "I take it your dad’s not gonna be here to care that it’s gone?” Eddie asks, walking up to stand next to Steve. 

 Another grin appears on Steve’s face, shared conspiratorially with Eddie when he looks over to the metalhead. “That’s my gift to myself man. I’m gonna see how long it takes before he notices it’s gone.” 

Eddie whistled, quiet enough to not hurt Steve’s ears. “Fuck the old man, huh?” 

“Absolutely.” Steve agreed, stepping forward to fish the trophy down. 

“Gotta say man, you’re surprising me. I didn’t expect such a thing from you. Especially since Henderson told me you hate Christmas.” 

Steve shrugged as he turned back around, new white elephant gift in hand. “Yeah it’s a thing I’m trying.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow. “Not hating Christmas?”  

“Not being a dick. Which,” He shook the trophy, “--means sticking it to the biggest dick in my life. I think I’ll always hate Christmas.” 

Eddie snorted a laugh, then looked startled, like he hadn’t expected that reaction out of himself. 

Steve grinned at it. 

“You uh--you know if you ever want to talk about the hating Christmas thing, I think I get it. Or can relate. Sorta.” Eddie says, and it’s so stilted that it takes Steve a moment to figure out what he’s offering. 

He almost asks him if he’s kidding, but thinks better of it. 

“I think I’m less cut up about it then the kids are but, for what it’s worth--thanks.”

Doesn’t think he’ll ever take anyone up on that offer, epically not someone who doesn’t know that an entire hell dimension exists under them but--

It’s nice. To have someone recognize that Steve hates it. That there are reasons he might.

He recalls suddenly that the man at the ice rink who’d also seen through his melancholy was in fact, Eddie’s Uncle, and briefly wonders if this just runs through the family. 

“Come on, I gotta wrap this and then get back downstairs before Robin and Dustin burn the house down.” He says instead, because he doesn’t want to get in his own head about it. Not tonight, when he knows the kids have gone out of their way in an effort to celebrate the holiday without making him feel like he was celebrating it. “Or worse, they start the white-elephant without us.” 

“After you, my liege.” Eddie says with a dramatic bow. 

Steve pauses awkwardly for a moment, before giving the world's most careful curtsey back. 

(Laughs loudly  as Eddie almost falls on his face in surprise, before the older man scrambles to chase after Steve, out of the office.) 

                                               xXx

It’s 12:00 pm, making it officially Christmas day, and Eddie Munson is rapidly re-evaluating his entire life.

Well perhaps not all of it, just the parts with Steve Harrington.

They’re playing the best white-elephant game Eddie has ever participated in, a cutthroat competition that’s filled the house with shrieks and laughter. 

Henderson’s gift, cat-paw shaped mittens with “You’ve gotta be kitten me” scrawled on the back is the current winning prize, with Mike’s salt and pepper shakers made in the shape of two pigs “porking” being a close second.

The worst gift is a tie between the eye searing scarf Gareth’s mother had created (complete with bedazzled gems) and an abomination of a stuffed animal Grant insists is an ET doll.

It looked like a deformed llama sat on its ass, and Lucas already scared Mike with it twice. 

Eddie’s own gift, ( a mug with Tom Selleck posing shirtless) was jokingly fought over by Robin and Steve to the bitter end, while Gareth was defending the blue circular cookie tin (the kind that mothers shoved needles and sewing threads into, but shockingly enough actually held real cookies) with his life. 

Literally at one point, as he laid over it while Jeff tackled him. 

Eddie himself had gone for the gold, wanting the trophy Steve had procured. He too, was defending it aggressively against Dustin, who was currently stuck with Lucas’s gift (one of his sister’s pet rock creations she’d apparently tried to sell to her classmates. 

It was hideous.)

Now stretched out on his bed, legs in the air as he stares at the Ka-Bala game Steve had snuck into his arms with a wink, Eddie finds he’s the guy’s managed to go from haunting his whole life, to trying to haunt his heart. 

Made him want to do the thing he’d angrily been against this entire time--take a look at the guy closer. 

See past his bullshit, at the person hiding underneath. 

Find out what Steve was talking to his Uncle about, and why his house looked like a Christmas themed tomb. 

Why his parents were gone. What the hell made him he pick a cleric in D&D. How he met the kids and why Dustin thought the sun shines out of his ass. 

But most of all?

Why the hell had Steve Harrington put a note on the back of the Ka-Bala game? 

‘Hope you like the game..’  It read, with the dorkiest little smiley face. ‘I wouldn’t mind hanging out again.’

Below it was a number, and Eddie felt himself go red in the face. 

Steve Harrington was a fucking mystery, but one Eddie himself, had been personally invited to solve. 

‘Merry Christmas to me I guess.’ He thought, and tried very, very hard not to kick his legs in the air. 

[deadghosy]

Hi so I don’t know if you’re taking requests at the moment but a couple days ago I fell onto the concrete on my way to school and both my knee and leg were bleeding and needed one of those big patch bandaids so I was wondering if you could do like the Hazbin Hotel characters when there kid falls over and gets hurt like I did only they hurt both of their knees and they try fixing it first then they go to there parent and ask for help (no I definitely don’t struggle with asking for help what are you talking about) and they need like multiple patch bandaids on both legs, sorry if I bothered you with this request have a nice day/night

OOP I HOPE YOUR KNEE HEALS LOL! And yeah I don’t like asking for help either 🦆 also sorry if some of them are short because I didn’t write in order and kept skipping to finish other scenarios.✨

HOW THEY REACT TO CHILD! GN READER GETTING HURT:

Charlie

You were training to skateboard as you seen it on a dvd Alastor had for you. You seen how the human teens were skateboarding and wanted to do it as well.

And how did that go for you?

You fell with a face plant as you got up from the concrete from the pentagram city you known and hated for its crimes. You grumbled cursing yourself out as you kicked the damn skateboard as you wrench feeling a burning sensation in your knees to only look down and see them bleed.

At first you panicked like a dumb ass as you had a very shocked pikachu expression. But damn you didn’t want to ask mom….so you went to the hotel and go in your room grabbing some medical things.

You watched plenty of movies where they take the mc to the hospital…of course you can do this!

Time later, and you couldn’t get the hang of it as you actually tied your hands together with a wrapping bandage.

Charlie found you and snickers but grew concerned when she saw your knees. Good thing she was good at bandaging things.

So at the end it was a soft end as you had a cool skull bandage on both of your knees

LUCIFER

You were supposed to be in bed, BUT NOOO YOU WANTED TO BE A BAD ASS KID AND SAY NO!

You laid in bed with a grumpy face “fucking bed time…fuck bed times. I go to sleep when I wanna sleep…” you say under your breath. >:(

It was basically giving Eric cartman 🦆

You got out of bed as you sneak around the palace as you held your hand out letting out soft fireworks for a light source. Like hell…you didn’t wanna get caught but shit you were actually thirsty.

You went to the dinning room and go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You flew up with your three pair of wings and grab a glass. You smirked and turned around to find Lucifer, your father in his duck pjs tapping his foot with a raised brow.

You yelp shocked as you accidentally dropped the glass making some glass shatter as you flew to get away only to run into a wall.

At the end, you scrapped your knees by the wall somehow as the kitchen walls were brick and you slide down.

Lucifer tried to help you but you ran to your room as he sighs at his stubborn child…

“What in the world was they thinking…”

Alastor

You found out about your shadow like powers your father had and wanted to test it out as Alastor had his own shadow watch over you with a soft smile.

And how did that go for you?

It went kinda well you suppose as you did some shadow tricks and even shadow transportation.

But….

He found out you were injured before you knew yourself. His shadow grabbed you into his lap as he shakes his head in disapproval at you getting yourself at how you tried to shadow transport but ending up falling on your knees first from the air.

“My sweet little doe…you must be more responsible with your powers…” Your father said as his shadow counterpart wraps your knees in a bandage wrap

VAGGIE

You were skating around the hotel and wanted to do a 360° on the hotel stairs as you let out a gremlin laugh putting up a 🤟 as you said “YOLO!”

Cut to you on your face as your skate board is rolling away from your flat out body on the floor. Yeahh….you ate your own words as you didn’t think you would fail a sick trick.

You got up but hissed looking at your knees that has carpet burn..

“Shitttt” you said hissing still getting up as you grab a skull bandage and putting it both on your knees.

Your mom found out tho….and boy did she give you a huge lecture about skating in the hotel as you felt ashamed at making your two moms, especially the mom who is pouring peroxide on both of your knees to disinfected anything in it.

“You’re grounded from your skateboard….” “WHAT!”

Husk

“Kid the fuck happened to you…” Husk said as you had turned your back from him. Husk scoffs as his own child wasn’t responding to him. He grabbed you by the scuff of your shirt and you faced him with teary eyes.

Context: you tried to run downstairs as your favorite show was on but ended up falling down the stairs like a dumbass and slide like a cartoon character as you sobbed just laying there

Husk’s eyes soften as he sighs sitting you on the bar took grabbing a med aid kit and an alcohol wipe. Husk didn’t want to assume but he just had to say it.

“So..kid, you gettin' picked on or something?” He asked as you jolted shocked making him narrow his eyes as if it was the right answer

“What?! No! Pops I ain’t gettin picked on…”

“ then answer.” He said seriously..

You told him the truth as you promised him not to laugh at you….he laughed as you scolded him.

ANGEL DUST

Let’s just say…monkey see, monkey do.

You saw your father practicing his pol dance skills as you watch clapping and appreciating skills. Your eyes shine amazed as your father left you with some leftovers from last dinner the hotel crew had with you.

You ate waiting for your father as you hum peacefully with fat nuggets by you. Your little mind wanted to learn how to pole dance elegantly like your father.

So what did you do?

You got on that damn pole and bruised the fuck out of your knees. Literally you tried to get down safe, maybe like a fireman? As you slide down you hit your knees first than your feet as fat nuggets squealed worried for you.

Your father came in tired as he sighs. But then he instantly comes over to see what was wrong as you covered your knees with a shy smile as fat nuggets poke his cute little nose to your hands covering your knees.

You didn’t want to ask him for help as you felt ashamed for doing dumb shit but Angel takes your hands off your knees and sighed again.

“Jeez kid…if you wanted to learn the sport, ask the pro next time sweetie.” Angel says kissing your head as you nod with a soft smile

SIR PENTIOUS

You tripped on his tail falling on your two knees as the egg blitz jumped at shocked. Your father didn’t even noticed as he was just excited to make smoothies with you.

You didn’t cry…no…of course no-

You cried like a little bitch…

BUT WHO COULDN’T AS IT HURT YOU!

You held both of your knees as the egg boiz surrounded you trying to calm you down as your papa slithers by you trying to see what was wrong. One of the egg boiz named frank explained what happened. You tried to say it didn’t hurt and that you could stand up.

You stood up with wobbly bleeding knees with a weary smile as you face planted.

Yeah pentious picked you up with his tail and cried to Charlie at how he is a horrible father for harming you as you and Charlie tried to call him down.

He calmed down as Charlie helps while pentious kept asking if you were okay

ADAM

You flew into a window having glass shards in both of your knees as you let out a scream.

Cut to you being escorted by angel guards to your house as Adam was pissed and tired .

“Fuck kid…just..” he rubs his eyes as he pulled your ear inside and slamming the door to the guards.

“Ow! Dad chill the fuck out old man! Ow ow ow!” You yelled as you hid your wings while Adam grumbled with an irritated expression. Adam definitely gave you a smallest lecture while cursing you out at how he is tired of having the guards come to his door.

Adam sighs looking at your knees while you huff covering them. Adam tries to pull your hands off your knees as you flinch away from him. Now Adam was serious as he pulls your hands off your knees with force. Only for his eyes widen with shock to see your knees cut with glass shards.

“Oh you gotta be fuckin' kidding me….” Adam says as he gets up and goes to get med kit. As much as an angel can self heal in heaven. You are only a kid…so it’s kinda slow unless you are a grown adult.

“You’re gonna be the death of me you little shit..”

Lute

Lute was busy training the other angels for the next extermination as you smile eating some food your mom brought you “couldn’t whine” about be hungry. As you watch your mom be a badass, you tried to mimic her moves only to bust your cheek and fall on your damn knees as if you were praying to the lord himself.

You got up and see gold blood coming out of your knees as you covered a small scream and ran out of the room your mom was in.

She definitely heard you as she side eyed the door you left out of. Her suspicions grew when she was tracks of gold blood where you were.

She just sighed as she facepalmed and told the females to halt in their training as she flew after you.

HAH YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND IF YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE YOUR WOUND FROM THE BLOOD THIRSTY LUTE!

AND HER BEING YOUR MOM?! yeah fuck no…she’s immediately throwing you over her shoulder as she takes to a nurses office as you wounded yourself while she brought you to work with her….

For context, it was Bring your kid to work day…..🦆

So it kinda embarrassing having some of the angels coo at you while lute had a nonchalant face as she patches you up.