#could fit into a crack in the wall if it tried hard enough. probably.

[himbodruid]

Blooming Fissures

Caleb x Reader

His return shattered everything you tried to bury. But some fissures don’t break; they bloom.

this is how i feel their reunion should’ve gone

INTENDED FOR 18+ READERS. MINORS DNI

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ⋆｡°✩･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

“Kick me, hit me, scream at me,” he begged, his voice quivering with barely contained emotion. “Please, anything but this silence.”

You stood, staring at him without a single word. Just as you had been since he ushered you into his condo. Drinking him in, unable to remember how long it had been since you last saw him. It felt like a lifetime, but realistically it was probably only about eight months. You hadn’t even had the time to fully grieve, not after fully throwing yourself into your work to forget. But everything came crashing back into you all at once.

He was older, definitely, but something in your brain was almost too scared to believe that the man in front of you was the same Caleb you knew and loved. His jaw was more defined, eyes more tired, and he was fucking massive. He’d always been a giant to you, but now he had bulked out considerably while he’d been off doing fuck all.

“How fucking dare you,” you manage to say, your voice trembling. You couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you, like a heartbroken puppy. “You don’t get to stand there looking at me like that.”

You strode forward, giving him a reaction- like he wanted- when your fist collided with his rock-hard chest. “Do you have any idea what you put me through? How devastated I was when they told me they couldn’t find your body? How I lost hope after every passing day of seeing you alive again? And then you have the audacity to be alive after all this fuckin’ time?”

Each furious question was punctuated by another strike of your fists. Tears stung your eyes, but you stubbornly refused to let them fall. And all the while, he stood there, taking in your fury, your pain. He let you hit him, didn’t dare to react, didn’t even flinch, and instead he let you vent against him in whatever way you needed. The expression he wore was stricken, and you couldn’t bear to see it.

It was a surprise to you both when you stood up on your toes to crush your mouth against his. In a fit of heightened emotion, you’d given in to an impulse that you’d kept locked away since you were teenagers. Shock rippled through him, making him freeze, surprise evident in the wide eyed stare he gave you when you pulled away.

“You asshole,” you said before diving back in, giving no care to the rejection you all but expected with the way that he stood stock still.

Then his composure cracked and he was hauling you against him. You clawed at him, trying to climb him like a damn tree. Your chest pressed against him, you were already so impossibly close, but it still wasn’t enough. His mouth devoured you, coaxing you open to tangle his tongue with yours. You pulled away from him, but only to rip his shirt over his head, only for him to do the same to you immediately after.

Clothing was shed and scattered until he had your bare ass against a short bookshelf. He gave no hesitation in plunging his cock into you, and you cried out when the pleasure rippled through you. Fuck, how he filled you. It was more than you ever could have hoped.

He set a frantic, desperate pace. You clung to him, ignoring things that fell from the bookshelf. When the shelf itself heaved to the side and threatened collapse from your combined weight and vigor, he dragged you away from it. A short distance away, two strides at most, and he had you against his desk.

His pace didn’t decrease in the transition, the solid build of the desk inviting him to slam into you even harder. Items scattered from the surface, clattering to the ground while each thrust violently crashed the rear edge of the desk into the wall. He buried his face in your neck, his grunting moans fanning across your skin in heated puffs of breath.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, circling his arms around your waist to crush you against him. “You feel so fuckin’ good.”

You dropped your head back, cries echoing in the room as his mouth latched onto your thundering pulse. Clawing into his back didn’t deter him, just encouraged him to plow into you harder. With thighs cradling his torso, you locked your ankles behind his back. All you could do was cling to him while he drove hard into you, calling out his name with every forceful thrust.

“Fuck, I’m gonna-“ he groaned into your ear. “W-where?”

“In,” you breathe, clinging to him more firmly.

“Y’sure?”

“Yes! Fuck, Caleb! I need you to cum in me,” you cry, feeling pleasure rippling through you with every strike of his cock. At your command, he buried himself into you as deep as he could go. With a guttural shout, his body shuddered and he spilled into you. The pulsing twitch of his cock ripped your own climax from you, cascading flutters of your walls milking him for everything he had to give.

He leaned hard on a hand placed firmly on the desktop, crushing his mouth against yours. You dug your nails into him, squeezing your walls around him.

“More,” you growled into his mouth, earning a heated whimper from him. He obeyed without question, hips already colliding against yours again.

Desperate. Frenzied. Carnal. All words that would describe the way he fucked you, as if years of pent up desire between both of you finally found a release. As if the world would end tomorrow and this was the only chance either of you would ever get.

He took you against every flat surface, crashing into you with quick rhythmic snaps of his hips. Short grunting moans erupted from him with every hard thrust, while you were left breathless from the pleasure that coursed through you. Reason escaped you as the anger-fueled sex turned into primal mating. You forgot why you were even mad at him in the first place, all your focus turned to the way he fucked you.

His stamina was bullshit. While he wrenched climax after climax from you, he still had enough to keep plunging into you. Even when he would slam forward to spill into you, he would just start right back up again at the smallest of nudges from you. Even when his breathing turned ragged and sweat trickled down his chest, he kept going, bucking into you with whole body shudders when another release steamrolled him.

Until, finally, he slumped against you, panting as he dropped his head onto your shoulder. He had you back on his desk after making rounds throughout his apartment, a trail of destruction following your path. Even the poor bookshelf finally succumbed to your combined ardor and collapsed. You carded your hands through his hair, trying to catch your breath alongside him.

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your neck, pressing his hips flush against yours as he nuzzled you. “I want you so goddamn badly, but I don’t think I can handle anymore.”

“We have all the time in the world now,” you murmured, kissing his neck and coming away with the salty tang of him on your lips.

“It’s still not enough,” he complained, pulling away only enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“But it’s enough to shower and rest,” you chuckle. He huffed a short laugh, leaning in to give a quick kiss before he hauled you into his arms and carried you off to his bathroom.

Even under the hot spray of water, neither of you could keep your hands to yourself.

***

Later, when you were settled- quite naked- in his bed, you watched with keen interest as he left the room. Completely unashamed in his nudity, you couldn’t stop your eyes from raking down his fine figure. You marveled at the imposing physique he had, and briefly wondered if his bulk came from his time in the DAA, or if he honed himself into a weapon on his own. You never paid too close attention when you were younger, never indulged in the fantasies that roamed freely in your head as a teen when it came to him. But he was considerably larger than you remembered, his shoulders more broad and muscles more defined.

He returned moments later with glasses of water, and you averted your gaze with a blaze spreading across your face. Bites, scratches, and purpling marks made by your mouth and fingers decorated his skin, just as numerous as the marks he made on you. But that wasn’t what had you blushing like mad and looking away.

How can he still be hard after all that?

You wanted to jump him again. You wanted him to jump you. But you kept your hands to yourself, proud that you could accomplish this small feat. Even when he sat at the edge of the bed and handed you the water. Your hands twitched, but you forced them to stay busy by grabbing the glass instead of him.

“I never dared to hope to have you like this,” he said reverently. The pad of his thumb brushed against your lip and his eyes zeroed in on the movement. That keen gaze followed his hand as it trailed down your body. “I always kept this craving I had for you sequestered away, locked in my dreams.”

You sat up fully and set your glass aside, unable to stop yourself now from indulging in your own craving. Even after the frenzied fucking that left half of his house in disarray, you still hadn’t had enough of him. Your hand snaked around the back of his neck, pulling him into you so you could slant your mouth over his.

He kissed you languidly, drawing out a fire within you in slow measure. It was a stark contrast to your earlier foray, sending shoots of pleasure through you just from that simple contact. He pulled back, searching your face. You didn’t know what he searched for, but he stared at you in awe, as if he couldn’t believe you were in front of him. As if he couldn’t believe he was here with you, right now. He cupped your face, the pad of his thumb swiping against your cheek before he leaned into you again.

His bulk settled over you, pressing you into the mattress. His weight was like an anchor, confirming that this wasn’t some wild dream. He was here, he was real. His arms caging you, the strength of his shoulders and back under your exploring hands, his hips wonderfully tucked between your thighs- all of it was real.

This time when he took you, it was with such reverent worship that it made your heart pound harder than when he was plunging into you with primal ferocity. Each slow, full stroke was punctuated by a breathless moan escaping you. His hands weren't roaming, grasping, like they were earlier. Instead they cradled your head while his mouth claimed yours, devouring the sounds you made.

Your grip on him tightened, fingers clutching his hair while the other hand dug into his shoulder. Your legs wrapped more firmly around his waist, heels locking against his back. He obliged your silent command, every forward stroke lingering as a hard press against your pelvis before slipping away. The pace of his thrusts increased only slightly, instead offering friction over speed.

“C-Caleb,” you whimpered, dangling on the precipice of completion.

“Yes,” he groaned, somehow knowing exactly what you needed.

His hips jerked forward, driving as deep as he can. The climax was simultaneous, the twitching pulse of his cock matching the fluttering thrum of your walls as you shattered around him. You threw your head back into his pillows, arching beneath him while pure pleasure thundered through you. His moans spilled from him against the column of your throat, his hot breath fanning across your skin and raising goosebumps. You’d coupled with him multiple times in a matter of hours, but this was the most intense orgasm yet.

While the pair of you came down from the high, he nuzzled into your neck and peppered you with kisses wherever he could reach. Exhaustion tugged at you, but you resisted it in favor of stroking a hand through his hair, reveling in the softness you found. A sound rumbled in his chest, so similar to a cat’s purr that it had you chuckling. He lifted his head, a smile on his face that lit up the galaxy in his eyes.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, kissing you so tenderly that it was nearly painful. He rolled off you, tugging you into his embrace. You snuggled into him, letting his warmth envelope you.

“I’m still mad at you,” you grumble as sleep threatened to take you. You felt him kiss the top of your head with a soft chuckle.

“I know,” he said softly, tightening his hold on you.

For the first time in a long time, you slept without threat of nightmares.

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

twisted sprout x distractor reader x twisted cosmo?

bonus points if reader's a little overly cocky and gets Got (maybe we get like. kidnapped or something. whatever you think would fit best in the getting got category [: )

...no this isn't inspired by me doing stupid stuff while distracting and getting punished for it. why would you think that noo /j

[19]: In The End

Not much to say right now. Not in the best mood after something happened, but I still hope you enjoy.

You were known as the chaotic one of the group.

Reckless, mischievous, you name it.

Honestly, no one really knew why you were the distractor, but they just went along with it because who else did they have to distract?

So here you were, skipping your way along the dark halls, your mood completely cheerful despite the disturbing sounds of the monsters chasing you.

The smile on your face was as bright as it would be on a sunny day, strangely enough.

You weren't one to strategize either. The instant you found a speed candy on the floor? Eat it in an instant.

Chocolate bars? Sounds good! Bottles of pop? Sure thing! No saving whatsoever.

You were literally the embodiment of idiotic.

And you liked it.

What was wrong about being stupid? Everyone is, so might as well come to terms with it.

You giggled, rounding the corner and making a U-turn around the twisteds.

Some say you’re confusing. Some say you’re drunk. Some say you’re crazy. (Which you are, but focus!)

You had the most positive,(Yes, even more positive than Poppy) yet deranged look on your situation, is what people said.

You didn’t care if there were monsters chasing you. You didn’t care if you were possibly going to die soon. After all, if you're going to go out, might as well have a little fun while doing so!

No you weren’t suicidal, just…you tried to make the best of your situation.

Was this place causing you to go insane? Probably. Who wouldn’t, after seeing their friends die in front of them one by one?

Ah, you remember now. Vee being mauled by Twisted Pebble, Boxten’s bones being crushed by Twisted Goob’s grip, Astro being killed by…well, Twisted Astro. Or who you like to call, the leech.

Their deaths were so traumatizing, you say with absolutely no emotion whatsoever, like you’re being sarcastic, but you’re not.

What reason would you have to be?

You didn’t really hate anyone here, not Vee or Glisten with their pride, Rodger with his nosiness, or even Shrimpo with his yelling. He had good reason to be bitter.

You heard a screech behind you, a warning. With practiced grace, you twirled around the easily avoidable tendril sprouting up from the floor, not even staining your shoes with the black ichor.

As you skipped on, avoiding a swipe of a smaller black claw, you wondered how the twisteds were even dumber than you, to the point they would just run around in circles after you and not even cut through the middle. They also wouldn’t jump or step over obstacles, nor knock them aside. They reminded you of homing missiles, but worse.

They acted as if a bean bag was a brick wall, and it was funny, yet extremely confusing. It bugged you to the point of insanity.(Not really, you're still sane but you know)

So you entertained the thought that maybe they were all blind. Their eyes were blood-red, so it would make sense that their vision is messed up, but that doesn’t explain how the amalgamation that was once a sweet and loving dog could now see you across half the entire floor, but couldn’t see you over a colorful kids table, despite towering over you.

It didn’t make any sense. It was like every single obstacle ever was an invisible wall for them. And you thought you were dumb…

You hummed, breaking out of your train of thought. Your eyes widened as you came face to face with a wall, smacking straight into it.

You could feel a headache beginning to form as you fell backwards towards the ground, hitting your head on the painfully hard concrete. You could hear the slightest crack and you cried out, immediately curling yourself up and hands shooting up to your head.

It…felt warm. Weirdly warm, and sticky.

Oh.

You already knew what it was.

You pressed down hard on your scalp as the twisteds closed in on you. You’d go out quick, at least.

The only thing you saw before it was all gone was two blurry faces staring down at you, hissing and groaning filling the air.

[steddieas-shegoes]

eddie's 1st xmas

for @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt 'ornament'

all of my holiday drabbles will be from the bear hugs universe. many of them could probably be read standalone, but will make the most sense and be enjoyed best if you read that first!

rated t | 940 words | cw: mention of character death in the past | tags: established relationship, sentimental, christmas fluff

🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄🎄

The ornament is hung in the back of the tree when Steve first notices it. He’s sweeping the pine needles up when he sees it glittering between the lights, pushed back so it’s almost hidden from view.

He recognizes it immediately, even though it’s been 12 years or so since he’s seen it.

He’s careful when he touches it, knows that it’s already broken at least once and has been glued back together with gorilla glue and patience by Wayne. He sees one of the cracks as he tilts it closer to one of the lights on the tree, smiling sadly when he remembers exactly how devastated Eddie had been when it fell and shattered into pieces. Luckily, only a couple of the pieces couldn’t quite fit back together, and they were small.

Eddie’s mom’s handiwork deserves a better place on the tree than facing the wall.

Steve sets the broom down and gently lifts the ornament off the branch. The glitter on the top of the ball is nearly gone, and what’s left is dull. Steve thinks he has this exact color in his craft bin, but he wouldn’t dare touch it without asking Eddie.

Unless…

Eddie won’t be home for hours. Rory’s at practice. He already caught up on his lesson plans for the week.

All he has to do is touch up the glitter. It’ll make it look brand new, might even distract from the cracks.

He walks carefully to the spare room that’s mostly used for storage and sets the ornament on the table. He finds the glitter he needs, the clear liquid craft glue he saves for his own projects, and gets to work.

It’s a simple task, but he can’t risk the ornament falling or even cracking further.

When he’s done, and he manages to set it up to dry properly, he smiles.

Eddie’s 1st Xmas is painted in red around the middle, glitter covering the top.

Wayne explained to Steve why this one ornament meant so much while he was fixing it years ago. Eddie had been so upset, he locked himself in his room and wouldn’t even let Steve in.

“She made it while she was still pregnant with him. Before things got hard for her. It’s the only thing he really has as a reminder that she loved him.”

Steve knows he probably kept it hidden in the back so there was no chance Rory would accidentally break it while playing knee hockey, but they can set new rules for Christmas. Eddie deserves to have something special on display just like they do.

Steve finishes up with his chores and starts to head back into the spare room when the front door opens.

He walks to the living room and suddenly feels nervous.

Eddie is removing his jacket and shoes at the door, hasn’t even noticed Steve yet. He may not even realize Steve’s home since he insists on Steve being the one to park in the garage.

“Hey baby,” Steve greets him.

Eddie turns and gives him a small smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

“Everything okay?” Steve asks. Something seems off.

“Yeah. Just a long day.”

Steve nods and plants a soft kiss on his lips. Eddie kisses back, but it’s not his usual enthusiastic response.

“Can I show you something?” He asks, hoping it will cheer him up to see his ornament with a makeover.

“Sure, Stevie.”

Steve leads him into the spare room and tells him to close his eyes and hold out his hands. He places the ornament in his palms as carefully as possible, leaving his hands there to catch it if Eddie accidentally drops it.

“Open your eyes.”

Eddie is silent. It’s alarming. The strange mood, the quiet, it’s enough to put Steve on edge. He tries to stay positive though.

“I saw it on the tree earlier and thought it could use a little fresh glitter. I hope it’s okay,” Steve is ready to start apologizing for touching it when Eddie bursts into tears. “Shit.”

Steve takes the ornament from him, or tries to, but Eddie holds it to his chest instead.

“Today’s the anniversary of her death,” he sobs.

Steve pulls him close, wraps his arms around him and squeezes as tight as he can while keeping space between them so he doesn’t crush the ornament. He didn’t even realize the date, and he’s not sure he would’ve remembered anyways. Eddie doesn’t talk about her much.

“I didn’t realize,” Steve whispers against his hair, kissing the top of his head. “I’m sorry.”

“No, this is-” Eddie takes a shaky breath. “This is amazing. Thank you for doing this. I’ve been so scared to touch it up.”

“Do you wanna hang it up in the front of the tree?” Steve asks.

Eddie shakes his head. “No. I don’t want it to break.”

“We’ll make Rory play in her room if she plays while the tree is up. I think it deserves to be front and center.”

Eddie pulls back and tries to wipe his eyes on his own shoulder. It’s useless as more tears fall.

“Okay. As long as we’re careful.”

“You wanna tell Rory about her?” Steve asks. He knows Eddie doesn’t remember a lot of his mom, that she was sick from the time he was a toddler, and died before he even started school. He knows most things Eddie can tell are things Wayne’s told him. But maybe it will help to talk about her, especially today.

“Yeah, if she wants to hear about her.”

Steve takes the ornament from him and leads him out to the tree. “I’m sure she’ll love it.”

[grandapplewit]

Here's my submission for @flashfictionfridayofficial, with the prompt Hidden Chemistry! You can read on AO3 here or below the cut!

Viktor was confident that picking the Piltie scientist from the ledge of his blown up apartment was a good decision. Silco would see, in time.

The sun was high in the sky over Piltover, but Viktor felt none of it. Sunlight rarely reached Zaun, and even if it did, Viktor was too far underwater to feel it. The cannery was a good place to set up a lab — spacious and isolated, far enough inside of Zaun that enforcers rarely darkened their doorstep.

“This is… not what I thought you meant, when you talked about a lab,” Jayce said, scanning over the various beakers and machinery that Singed used. Viktor wasn’t a chemist, by trade, but he knew enough.

More than Jayce, apparently.

“I wouldn’t touch that, if I were you,” he called out over his shoulder, rounding the small desk he used to take his notes and thwacking Jayce in the shin with his cane. The Piltie yelped but stepped away from the priceless glass vials with a look like a scolded child. Really, he was old enough to be kicked out of the Academy, but not old enough to know not to touch strange, glowing liquids?

“… What is it?” he asked, still glancing towards the half-made Shimmer swirling in the various containers. Singed had perfected the recipe a few days ago — for a given definition of perfected — but he was still messing with it. The effects of Shimmer were nasty, and Silco’s plan wouldn’t go very far if his monstrous soldiers all died after a hit or three.

“An experiment,” Viktor said, heading towards the far doorway to his lab, waiting by the door long enough for Jayce to follow before pushing through. His lab was far more suited to mechanics and engineering, just like Jayce’s was. Had been. Most of Jayce’s lab had been destroyed that morning on Heimerdinger’s orders. All except a book, and a single gem of pure arcane. “It is my mentors, and he won’t be kind about any interference.”

“Ah,” Jayce said, nodding like he understood. He probably did. The scientists of Piltover were vicious, especially when it came to guarding their funding. Viktor had spent long enough in those gleaming halls to know what it was like.

To know that he’d never have a place there, no matter how hard he tried.

Heimerdinger had offered him a position as an assistant, back when he first graduated, but the limitations had been clear. An assistant was all he would ever be. On top of that, the Board of the Academy had thrown a big enough fit about someone from the Undercity being that close to Academy secrets that Viktor had politely declined Heimerdinger’s offer.

Not before making copies of all of his keys, though.

Silco’s contract of employment paid far better, anyways, even if he was using his talents in ways that Heimerdinger would no doubt find… distasteful.

“Are you sure… this is safe?” Jayce asked, glancing around at the half-constructed machines littering his workstation. A personal respirator, to purify the Grey as the miners worked. A radiator that could be carried on a person’s back, for the winter months when the wet rot set in the fastest. A brace, meant to calibrate with the implants in his spine and hold it straight. None of it was ornate or ostentatious. It was practical — made from scraps and the cast-off junk of failed experiments at the Academy. His inventions would improve the lives of the people of Zaun, though.

Viktor just shrugged. Safe wasn’t a word often used in Zaun. “The lab is reinforced.”

He’d already cracked the windows of the cannery once, and Singed refused to put his precious Shimmer at risk. The lab had been reinforced with the strongest metals they could find — patched and repatched like a child’s favored doll. It held, though, especially when Viktor put down the blast walls.

“Alright, then,” Jayce said, following Viktor further into the lab. He was carrying his things like someone might reach out and snatch them from his hands. Clutched close to his chest, those thick arms curled around himself. To be fair, with how Jayce looked Viktor was surprised that no one had tried to rob him.

It was probably Viktor’s own presence — and the connotations that brought — that kept both of them unhassled. Viktor was seen around Sevika and Gustove often enough that his leg and his cane came in second to what it would mean to piss them off.

And once Silco got what he wanted, once Shimmer got off the ground, then no one would bother him again.

That was a pipe dream, though. He had something tangible, at the moment. Jayce. The arcane. Jayce’s notes were a revelation, when he’d first broken into Heimerdinger’s office and stolen them. Brilliant and meandering, Viktor didn’t know how Heimerdinger could overlook such potential. Viktor would not. Even if it meant going behind his mentors back and bringing a Piltie into Silco’s den.

As long as everything went well today, the deceit would have been worth it.

“We’ll need to build everything from scratch,” Jayce said, flipping through his journal. Viktor could see his signature pass by again and again, the Talis sigil clear. “Uh, do you have an electromagnetic conductor?”

“No,” Viktor admitted, shoving his projects over to the side to clear up the workstation with the best light. The single bulb hanging from the ceiling was, admittedly, hard to work with, but he would have the money for better equipment soon. “But I know how to build one.”

Jayce barked out a laugh, bright and loud and not at all teasing. It was refreshing, to meet someone who could meet him step for step. Singed was brilliant, but he rarely had the patience for things other than alchemy. “Alright, Viktor. Show me what you’ve got.”

[bloodychazorite]

Q!SLIME HEADCANONS N’ SHORT STORIES!!

(These are all the headcanons I use in my current fic and will probably use for my future fics, in case you’re curious!! :))

So, first, I don’t think Charlie is any bit human at all. I think he’s full, pure-bred slime with a Core that gives him sentience. The Core is a heart shaped, made of enchanted ruby and plated in gold around the edges. 

During the time he was a God in the SCU (Slimecicle Cinematic Universe) he had three (That’s an incredibly long story that I may actually write one day so this is all you get for now). Now, he’s been reincarnated with one, sentient ever since. However, he’s full slime, nothing human about him. Without the Core, he’d just be straight slime. He’s probably one of the—if not just the only—sentient Slimes there is.

His skin scars because when he’s hurt enough, he needs to get more slime to repair himself. The slime isn’t his, however, so it doesn’t match his body completely for a while while it blends together.

Another type of scarring that can happen to him would be dehydration cracks. If he loses enough water, his slime will crack in a lightning-strike type pattern. It takes a while for those to go away as well, just because they need time to fill in.

Yes, he has bones, but he doesn’t need them. He has them because they make it so that he can keep his shape. When he was Gegg, he’d keep some but give the rest to Quackity for safe keeping.

 

“Where’s my left arm?” Charlie asked, digging through the bag Quackity kept on him.

The other only shuffled his foot back and forth, mumbling gently. He bit his lip as he spoke. “I needed food, man.”

“So?”

“So all I had was seeds and currently unused bones.”

A beat of silence, before a slow, creaking head turn. 

“You used my bones for bone meal.” His voice was flat and his lips were pinched. “Are you deadass?”

“Just kill another skeleton man! I needed food!”

Charlie threw up the melty stub where his left arm should’ve been, waving it back and forth and dripping goo all over the ground.

“Do you know how fucking hard it is to find intact skeletons that will fit perfectly with the one that I currently have?! And that have five fingers?!”

Quackity rolled his eyes, shrinking in on himself. “Uh...No..?”

Charlie smushed slime into his face and laughed at his dramatic screaming. “It is incredibly fucking hard!”

Charlie keeps bones on him most of the time, in case he breaks the ones he’s got. Sometimes they take a minute to get used to, some of them too big or too long or too small, but it happens nonetheless. It’s also the reason he takes any fall damage ever. Without the bones, he wouldn’t take any fall damage. Those bones also determine his general height. If he wanted to be taller, he could find/construct a taller skeleton and get more slime.

Slimes are naturally acidic at a certain level at all times. However, with prompting, his level of acidity will rise. Prompting can look like danger, or threats. It can also be emotional, with extreme rage or sadness, the works.

“Oh no, not today fucker!” Mariana screamed as Slime tried to step outside during another argument. His skin dripped from the agitation but Mariana couldn’t care less.

Slime attempted to brush past him, breath heavy. “I’ll be right back,” He mumbled, "I need to go.”  

He stepped to the left, Mariana doing the same. 

Then, to the right, where she followed once again.

“Move your ass, I need to go now.”

“Hell no, you will stay and we will talk this out.”

Slime shoved past her, briskly rushing for the door. Mariana, wings twitching in agitation, whipped around and grabbed his wrist.

He smelled the burning before he felt it.

Before the white, lava hot seer hit his senses.

She nearly cried out in pain, staggering backward and scraping her skin against the hardwood as she fell. Scrambling into the wall, she groaned in agony and grasped the wrist of the suffering palm.

“Fuck- oh, fuck!” 

Slime was right in front of him, suddenly, knelt with fear in his eyes. “Fuck, I am so sorry, I can’t control it I swear, I would never do that shit on purpose—” He rambled as Mariana writhed, swearing in shock and pain.

Her vision swam as she sobbed. 

“I swear, I-I can’t… control it.”

He’s burnt a few holes in the floors before.

All in his slime, there are acid glands everywhere. 

Because he’s got acid literally built into his system, the bones he’s got tend to break down after a while. Depending on how emotional or just how much he purposely activates his acid secretion, they could last from anywhere around two weeks to a month, usually. That’s what the skeleton in his basement is for, an extra set of bones. 

Slime’s are the closest things to aquatic creatures without actually being aquatic. Being naturally drawn and attracted to moist environments, he can’t breathe underwater, but he doesn’t actually need to breathe so I guess it doesn’t matter. When swimming, he creates fins to help. The only reason he drowns is because he takes in too much water and becomes so liquidy that he just… dies, I dunno LMAOO

Being generally docile creatures, living either underground or in swamps, most Slimes have shit eyesight. They mostly rely on vibrations in the ground and auditory sensory input. Great hearing, terrible sight. Slimes are also ambush predators! They’re slow, but they’ll eat anything. If looking for meat, they’ll hide under the soil and wait for the vibrations of something with four legs. 

“And where’s Charlie? I wanted to talk to him.” Phil asked as he stepped outside. “He said he’d be here.”

Roier, Cellbit, and himself had all been in Mariana’s house for a while now—Phil being there under the assumption that Charlie would be there. 

Mariana shrugged and glanced around. “Ehh, somewhere.”

Then Juanaflippa sprinted forward and stopped on the open ground, jumping up and down. Her tiny feet pattered the ground as she skipped in circles around the open area. Bobby tilted his head in response before Richas yanked him towards the 

Phil looked to Mariana for a look of mild amusement to say it was normal, or a look of confusion to make him feel like he wasn’t going insane because—even for Flippa—this wasn’t exactly typical from his perspective.

To Phil’s surprise, however, he stepped a bit forward and began to rhythmically tap his heel against the soil. 

“Fuck-!” His heart found itself in his feet as something squeezed tight around his ankle, holding firm as he jumped away. He grabbed for a weapon as a light green hand pulled further from the ground.

A wrist, an arm, a… a goo monster.

A goo monster holding a suspiciously familiar pair of glasses.

“...Charlie?!”

His body tied itself back together, becoming more and more recognizable. They stared at each other for a minute.

“I swear I was aiming for Roier.”

Charlie, because of the core, has much better morphing and shape shifting abilities than normal Slimes. With enough observation he could literally be anyone. He’d looked at Juanaflippa so much that his Gegg looked a bit like her. The people he spends a lot of time looking at are the people he can most easily imitate.

“So you can just look… however you want?” Fit asked 

“Uh-huh.” Slime replied offhandedly, focusing on the little craft they were working on for Richas’s half birthday.

Neither of them had ever heard of a half birthday before then.

“Without effort? You don’t even have to like… try?” 

Sue him, Fit was incredibly curious. Sentient Slimes just didn’t exist, Slime was the only one he knew and would probably ever know.

He became even more curious (and slightly defensive) as Slime began to stare at him, an expression of scrutiny behind his gaze.

Then, a familiar lopsided grin and covered his face for a minute. A sloppy squishing sound resounded from behind his hands that made Fit wince.

The taller gasped as Slime’s face became uncovered.

Fit’s own face stared back at him, with only a few uncanny details astray.

“Christ, Slime! You just keep that ability all to yourself? Do you know how much trouble you could cause with that?!” He all but yelled.

Slime laughed, shifting his face back to its normal appearance. He winked before turning his head back to the project.

“Who’s to say I haven’t caused any trouble?”

Fit—from that day on—lived in fear of the people the Slime could be.

Charlie is all types of temperature sensitive. It's crazy.

Too hot, he’ll get all melty and struggle to hold his form. Leave his bones behind him and become a puddle.

 Too dry, he’ll dehydrate and crack up. It’s incredibly painful, which is why slimes tend to stick around damp, humid areas.

 Too cold, he’ll freeze, becoming a literal Slimecicle. Just like hypothermia, his fingertips, toes, and nose will turn a shade of blue first, eventually infecting the rest of his body. Also hella painful.

A good tactic if you really wanted to torture a Slime, stick them in the cold. They wouldn’t be able to stretch or morph after a while, it'll hurt like hell, and you get to decide how bad it is. GOOD STUFF

A 60 to humid 70 degrees Fahrenheit is generally ideal. The island tends to run a bit higher than that, but it’s not too extreme of a shift so he’s generally okay with some extra water.

Haha, he picked Eggxile in a place that was out of his comfort zone, just cause he knew he didn’t deserve comfort. He sent himself to a place that was too hot and too dry for a Slime. That's fun.

Uhh, that’s really all I can think of for right now, but I’ll repost this anytime I add to it :DD If you’ve got any headcanons you wanna talk about or you wanna talk about mine, please do!! I’ll literally talk for hours, you have no idea

LOVE YOU BYEE <33

[iamthecomet]

comet....that video of swiss on his knees in front of rora....how she could stand over him and his face would be at the perfect height to....to....im begging you please let these two run wild in your brain and spit out filth about it we need more ghoul/ghoulette action

Hhhhhhh THEMMM ♡♡.

Aurora digs her heel of her boot into the space next to Swiss' spine. She hopes it bruises. Hopes he wears evidence of her for days.

Her other foot is barely on the ground, just her toes. Swiss, is holding most of her weight. Hands pressed against the small of her back. She leans her shoulders against the wall of the bathroom stall as Swiss sinks his teeth into her thigh.

He has his head tucked up under her skirt, the pleated fabric hiding his expression from her. It's a shame. She likes to see him like this. Flushed. Debased for her. Desperate but determined. His knees are spread. If she tips her head just enough she can see how hard he is, straining against the front of his jeans. A dark spot forming. One he won't be able to hide when they go back into the bar and rejoin their pack.

Swiss shifts. Mouths at her through her panties, and Aurora stops thinking coherently. His mouth is so hot. He licks a flat stripe up over the already soaked fabric and hums at the taste of her.

He sucks on her clit through the fabric and her head cracks against the wall.

"Easy," he whispers, turning his head to nip at her thigh. He shifts, taking her weight onto one broad hand and dragging the other down over the swell of her ass and between her legs to pull her panties aside. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

She's about to answer, she swears it. But then his mouth is really on her. Tongue flicking out over her swollen clit just for a second before he sucks one of her lips into his mouth. The only noise she manages to make is a broken whine. She digs her boot in harder like she's trying to pull him closer.

"Rora--" he warns, not seriously. Aurora knows he gets off on it. That he'd probably cream his pants if someone walked in right now. It's part of the reason he told her she didn't have to wait for him to take care of her.

He slips one finger into her. Starts a slow rhythm that she rocks against. He fits his lips over her clit, alternates between firm sucks and kitten licks that make her see stars. He works her up, it's always a slow build. Like he's savoring her. Her thigh shakes on his shoulder. The knee she has most of her weight on threatens to buckle and she couldn't care less.

She knows he'll catch her.

She rolls her hips over his mouth. His face. Takes matters into her own hands when he doesn't give her what she wants fast enough. He busies himself with tasting her and she grinds her clit over the ridge of his nose.

She puts one hand on the back of his head through her skirt as if to hold him in place. Grinding hard, chasing her high as he slips another finger inside and pets at her inner walls in a way that makes her keen.

She can't help it. She hears the sound echo through the bathroom, knows how fucked up she sounds. She can't be bothered to care. Not when she's almost there not when all he needs to do is latch his mouth back on her clit and she'll be gone.

The door opens as she inhales. There's footsteps. Aurora bites the inside of her cheek and tries not to whine, not to breathe too loudly. Swiss stops, pauses. Finger halfway out of her, tongue pressed against the underside of her clit.

"No," she hisses, desperate, feels the jagged beginnings of her orgasm start to fade, "don't stop. Don't you fucking dare."

She doesn't need to see Swiss to know he's grinning against her. She can feel it. He drags his tongue over her, sucks her clit back into her mouth, slips his fingers back in, and the pleasure comes rushing back like it never left.

Someone closes the stall door next to them. Aurora can't be fucked to care. She can only think about Swiss' mouth. His fingers working inside of her. Her gut punched breaths and the wet sound of Swiss finger-fucking her have definitely given them away by now. But why should she care? It's not her problem that this person decided to take a leak right next to them.

She brings her free hand up to her mouth as her orgasm builds, crashes over her. She bites down on her fingers until she tastes blood as Swiss gentles her through it. Supporting her weight, dragging his tongue over her clit, fingers still pumping in and out of her as she shudders and whines under her breath.

She hauls in a deep breath as Swiss puts her back on her feet and rights her skirt for her. Smoothing out wrinkles. He pulls her in for a kiss that's chaste considering what he just did to her. She holds him close, stroking her fingers through his curls as she smiles against his mouth.

There’s a rustle of movement in the stall next to them. The toilet flushes. The sink runs. It feels like an eternity before the bathroom door closes again and Aurora dissolves into laughter in Swiss’ arms.

When he kisses her this time it’s anything but chaste, tongue delving deep into her mouth, making sure she tastes herself.

“You ready to go back?” he asks her, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“In a minute.” She slips from his arms, knees hitting the tile floor as she reaches for his belt. “Can I return the favor first?”

“You’re trying to get caught.”

“And? Is that a problem?”

Swiss grins down at her, fingers digging into her hair. Breath hitching as she mouths over the tent in his jeans. “No,” he shakes his head. “Not at all.” 

[sunriseverse]

for day three, "canon divergence". mind the implied major character death. once more thanks to @tiesanjiaoshenanigans for organising!

-

In the underwater tomb, the wet, cold weather seems to only exacerbate the condition of his lungs. Wu Xie swallows back an extra one of the tabs the doctor prescribed him, and then, an hour later, when he almost hacks himself to his knees and cracks his head open on a particularly protruding rock carving—he'd love to take a moment and look at them, but really, he's a little busy—, takes a second one. It doesn't do much to stymie the coughing, infuriatingly enough.

By his side, that new consultant that Ershu's brought in, keeps sending him little glances. For a moment, Wu Xie wonders, wild, if maybe he can hear something wrong with his lungs—if that peculiar hearing of his can tell the difference between "bronchitis" and "smoke- and tomb-wracked lungs on their way to total failure". It's not a particularly pleasant thought, mostly because Wu Xie isn't sure that he'd keep his mouth shut about it if he could.

Okay, so maybe he's being a little harsh. But to be fair, the first thing he'd done on meeting them was to try and take photos of a nude Xiaoge, which, if it hadn't been for the unfortunate coughing fit that had errupted right then, would have had Wu Xie getting as up in his face as Pangzi was.

Keeping his voice casual, he swallows a few times, and knocks against the wall once more. "Hear anything?"

Liu Sang cocks his head. Despite what Wu Xie might have expected, he doesn't actually look like he's concentrating on anything else when he listens—mostly he just looks like a regular person. Not for the first time, Wu Xie marvels a little at the wonders that exist in their world—and the people who possess them. If not for the frankly unhealthy obsession, Wu Xie might consider encouraging him to talk to Xiaoge, if only to bond over the sense of othering. He knocks a staccato against the wall, and cranes his own ear to try and get whatever vestiges of a possible reply he can—and then coughs, and coughs, and coughs, doubling over and clawing at his chest as his throat scrapes itself raw as his lungs wheeze and wheeze and wheeze, spitting out air that they don't have, his vision going black around the edges as he goes longer and longer without being able to draw in a breath. He scrambles ineffectually, trying to get his water flask free, and finally manages to do so, coughing around sips of water; swallows another tab—fuck, how many of them is that by now? Five?

"Quite a…reaction to a common cold," drawls Liu Sang, and Wu Xie squints blearily up at him, wheezing as he drags in breaths and tries to stabilise himself. "How many is that now, Xiao San-ye? Six?"

Fuck. He'd missed that count. He clears his throat; manages a hoarse smile. "Old age, you know," he says, the words sticking and rasping along his windpipe. "Makes the immune system more vulnerable."

"Weaker, you mean." Liu Sang's eyes have a glint of something that Wu Xie tries not to look too hard at, if only because he's trying to play nice here. Even if he's, apparently, the only one doing so. But who knows, maybe Liu Sang has a reason to dislike him—maybe Wu Xie kicked his father's puppy, or something. The kid's definitely young enough it's possible, especially in this line of business. "I wonder…how do you keep up with Ouxiang?"

Wu Xie doesn't know whether to be more insulted at the inclusion of Pangzi, or happy that it at least means that he doesn't have another person out to get him, specifically. Not that he thinks Liu Sang has it out for him. Probably. (Paranoia is justified when you're in a business where everyone really is out to get you, and ten years of honing himself into a blade are not easily dulled.)

"Xiaoge," he corrects, "hasn't ever said anything about it." And then he realises the fucking prescription bottle, orange as a warning triangle, is empty. Fuck. The day just keeps getting better, doesn't it?

His throat is raw and ragged, and there's something in his chest, a weight like a stone. He swallows a few times, ineffectual. Liu Sang is still watching him, but another coughing fit comes on, and Wu Xie can't manage to stay on his feet at this one, winds up on his knees and barely propped up. Fuck. "F…fuck," he hisses, coughs. This time, when he pulls his hand away, there's blood.

Wu Xie stares at it numbly for a few moments. It wasn't supposed to progress this fast. It wasn't supposed to progress this fast. The doctor said he had time. He tries to breath. He can't fucking breathe. He can't—

The stone is cold and wet and hard under his palm; he tries to fumble the backpack off to get to the second set of them, and fails. Breathe. Breathe. He can't be dying—not this quickly, not right now, not without Pangzi and Xiaoge at his side, not—

In. In. In, out.

"Doing alright, Xiao San-ye?" Liu Sang asks, and there's a slight tilt at the corners of his lips. "I didn't realise you were quite this invalid." He's remarkably calm—maybe Wu Xie should reconsider the kicked puppy theory.

"I'm fine," Wu Xie bites out. "You—just. Keep—listening for—them." His hand is trembling. Liu Sang hums, and remains at a slight distance, where Wu Xie had left him. The way the corridor seems to warp and sink around him is just an optical illusion, Wu Xie tells himself. So's the flecks of bright, burning black dotting his vision. He gulps down the last of his water, and then doubles over in hacking coughs, so harsh he can't even think.

His back is cold.

He's not leaning against the wall anymore.

A thin face with dark eyes, bulging behind the glasses.

"—fuck—!"

[purple-on-black]

A short Character-focussed side story. Not necessarily canon to the rest of my Fallout 4 WIP, I just sometimes like playing with character interactions and scenarios that don’t really fit into the main narrative—these ‘mini-sodes’ are a great way to do that.

This time I tried out Deacon. I didn’t like Deacon before, but you know…writing this short it kind of just poured out of me and I think I have a new respect for the guy.

Anyway, I’m really pleased with how it ended up. Hopefully you enjoy it too.

Mini-sode

The Tangled Web We Weave

(A Kat and Deacon vignette)

****

Summary:

Kat’s down with a fever and is grounded at Railroad HQ, much to her chagrin. Deacon—self-appointed nurse, decides that bad paperbacks and questionably safe tea are the answer. But under the banter and snark is a crack in the wall they’ve both been holding up. And neither of them is quite ready to say what’s actually on their minds.

***

It was unclear who had actually put Deacon in charge of sick duty.

Probably no one—which was precisely the issue.

Kat had been running a low-grade fever for two days, holed up in a dusty corner room at Railroad HQ, draped in a too-thin blanket and stubbornly muttering that she didn’t need help. So naturally, he had stepped in. Heroically. Unexpectedly. Unsolicited.

He sat backwards in a wooden chair next to her cot, arms crossed over the backrest, wearing his mirrored sunglasses indoors as always. A can labeled “Maybe Stew” steamed precariously on a cracked plate beside him. The smell could generously be described as ambiguous.

Deacon flipped open a worn paperback novel and cleared his throat with exaggerated ceremony. “Chapter twelve. ‘His glistening chest heaved in the moonlight as he—’”

“Deacon,” Kat groaned, voice hoarse, one arm flopping over her eyes. “What the hell…”

“Shh, no talking,” he chided gently. “You’re in a fragile state, Nurse Witherspoon. You need rest, fluids, and the dulcet tones of terrible literature. It’s medically sound. I read a pamphlet.”

“You made that pamphlet,” she rasped.

He flipped a page with flair. “And I stand by every word.”

Kat exhaled, but it came out more like a wheeze. Her skin looked clammy, her breathing shallow, and despite the banter, Deacon’s smile faded just a little.

“You know,” he said, tone light but steady, “jokes aside—you ever stop being tough for five seconds and tell someone when you’re not okay? Or is this your signature move?”

Kat grunted but didn’t reply.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no comment,’” he said, reaching over to gently press the back of his hand to her forehead. “Yup. Still radiating like a malfunctioning Mr. Handy. Stay put. I’ll go find something less suspicious than Maybe Stew.”

He stood with a rustle of his coat, tossing the paperback on her chest. “Bookmark’s on the good part. Try not to swoon too hard while I’m gone.”

Kat grimaced and flicked the book off her chest, brushing the imagined filth off her fingers. She wanted to go home—back to Diamond City. She wanted her bed. She wanted Dogmeat. She wanted Nick or Piper…someone warm whom she trusted. But ever since she got back from the escort mission at Bunker Hill, she’d been running a fever—nothing major, only about 101, but enough to make her miserable, and enough that Doc Carrington and Desdemona both had forbade her from leaving until she had recovered. “For the sake of the mission,” they’d claimed.

Ridiculous.

Deacon returned a few minutes later with something vaguely resembling tea—though, judging by the color, it might’ve also been mop water.

“Good news,” he said, crouching beside the cot with a stage-whisper. “I found a mug that only smells mildly like radroach jerky. That’s a win down here.”

Kat eyed the cup with suspicion.

“Before you ask,” he added, “no, I didn’t make this. Glory did. Which means it probably won’t kill you. Only maim you a little. You trust Glory, right?”

Kat didn’t answer. Just took the mug and sniffed it cautiously. Chamomile. Mint. A hint of something floral. Okay, maybe not mop water.

“You’re lucky, you know,” Deacon added, sitting down again, this time on the floor, back against the cot. “Most people don’t get bedrest and tea. They get a concoction of chems and some old bandages. This? This is the Railroad’s five-star spa package.”

Kat sipped quietly. Her hands still trembled a little. The heat of the tea helped though. Slowly. Marginally.

“You don’t talk much when you’re sick,” Deacon mused aloud, not quite teasing anymore. “It’s weird. Kinda eerie.”

Kat snorted softly. “And you never shut up. It balances.”

He grinned. “Touché.”

There was a pause—comfortable, almost—and then Deacon leaned his head back against the cot frame. His voice dropped, just a fraction. “You know, if you wanted out… no one would blame you. Not after all you’ve already done.”

Kat was silent for a long moment. Then, quiet as a whisper, “I don’t want out. I just… I want to go home.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I get that.”

And for once, Deacon didn’t joke. Didn’t dodge. Just stayed there on the floor beside her, still as the air, until the sound of her breathing softened back into sleep.

Once he was sure she was out, Deacon pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the opposite hand. He liked Kat—he did. There was a sort of magnetic genuineness about her. But every time he tried to get close, bridge that gap of friendship, she would slam shut. It was his fault. He knew that. She wasn’t like this with anyone else. He’d watched her from the shadows long enough by now to know that for sure. If only he could just stop lying.

He stared at her sleeping form for a long time, the shadows of the catwalks above striping across her face in the low flicker of bunker light. Her breath hitched once in her sleep—a tiny, shivering noise—and he felt something twist in his chest.

Goddammit, he thought. Why do you have to make this so hard?

He wished he could tell her the truth—any truth. That he’d been watching her even before she joined up. That he’d been impressed. That he’d admired her—still did. That the lies had nothing to do with her, they were just… part of him. The scaffolding that kept the whole thing standing.

But that scaffolding had cracks now.

Every time she let her guard down—even just an inch like this—it felt like a sin not to meet her there. But the only thing he knew how to do was duck and cover, play the part, spin a new tale when the old one got too close.

He leaned forward, carefully tugging the blanket back up over her shoulder, tucking it gently beneath her chin.

“…Sorry,” he whispered, though she couldn’t hear him. “I really am.”

Then he stood up, slid his sunglasses back on like armor, and turned to go.

The quiet scraped at his nerves on the way out. Too honest. Too still.

And for a long moment, he hated himself more than usual.

Some time later, Kat stirred. The chill of the old catacombs under the church seeping into her bones in a way that the thread-bare blanket couldn’t block out. The vague scent of over-applied cologne still hovered in the air near the edge of the bed. Deacon.

Her eyes shifted down to the book that still lay strewn onto the floor, well worn, spine cracked and faded, pages dog-eared and yellowed. Deacon had been here, but he hadn’t taken it back. He always carried a book or two around with him—she’d overheard Desdemona complain about it, claim that they were a distraction and that he wasn’t paying enough attention on his recon missions. “Trust me, Des,” he’d replied, “Me reading these crappy romance novels is the least of your problems out there.”

Kat pushed herself off the bed, still a bit lightheaded and groggy, but picked up the discarded book from the floor. Then she headed out to find Deacon.

She found him near the top of the church, seated on a broken section of pew that faced the window slats. The morning light spilled in through the cracks, brushing gold across the lines of his jacket. He hadn’t heard her approach—or if he had, he didn’t show it. His sunglasses were back on, one arm resting lazily across his knee, the other draped along the backrest like he belonged there.

Kat held out the book, spine-up, one dog-eared page marked with a strip of cloth.

“You forgot this,” she said, voice still hoarse.

Deacon turned toward her, slow and careful, like he wasn’t sure if she was real. His eyes flicked down to the book and then back up to her face. He didn’t take it right away.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’ll live,” she replied.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he muttered.

Kat furrowed her brow, but didn’t press. She waited.

Deacon finally took the book from her fingers, but instead of tucking it away, he turned it over in his hands. “Y’know,” he said, “it’s funny. In this one, the guy spends half the story pushing the girl away to ‘protect her.’ Says he’s not good for her. Too much of a risk. Too many secrets.”

He looked back up at her. “She forgives him anyway. Because she already knew.”

The pause that followed hung heavy with words that neither of them said.

“Yeah,” Kat finally replied, sitting down stiffly next to him on the pew and crossing her arms tightly over her midsection, partly from the chill, partly because she didn’t know what else to do with them. “Doesn’t mean he should keep lying to her, though. How’s she supposed to know if he actually cares if he can’t even tell her one basic truth?”

Deacon didn’t speak at first, just tapped the spine of the book thoughtfully against his palm. “Yeah…” he finally sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

They both sat silent for another beat. “You ever tell yourself a lie so many times…you start forgetting what’s real?”

Kat’s brow furrowed. Her jaw tightened, hearing Nate’s voice on that holotape again in her head. “No,” she finally mumbled quietly. “But I once knew someone that did.”

Deacon nodded once, quiet, the movement more tired than solemn. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he flipped the book open to a random page, stared at it without reading. The paper fluttered slightly in the breeze whispering through the broken windows.

He looked over at her—not the casual side-glance of a man hiding something, but the full weight of him, sunglasses and all, turned her way.

“That’s how it started,” he admitted. “Just survival. Change the face, change the name, spin a new line, don’t let anyone close. But then… I meet you. And you don’t have to lie. You get people to trust you and they just spill their guts.” He went still, staring off into the ruined sanctuary at nothing. “I don’t know how to do that.”

Kat pursed her lips as she thought about how to reply. She was quiet for a long time. “Lies are a slippery slope,” she finally said. “You tell yourself ‘just this once,’ or ‘it’s for the greater good.’ But then one becomes two, then two becomes four, then the next thing you know you’re so tied up in all of it you don’t even know where it all started.” She went silent again, fighting against a small chill.

Deacon didn’t interrupt her. He just sat there, letting her words settle like dust in the fractured silence between them. After a while, he nodded again. “Yeah,” he said, soft. “That’s exactly it. You don’t even notice the ground’s gone until you’re already halfway down the cliff.”

He shifted slightly, just enough to peel off his coat. Wordlessly, he draped it over Kat’s shoulders—not too forceful, not too tender, just a casual, practiced motion. It still held a trace of his cheap cologne and faint dust from the road, but it was warm. Heavy in a comforting sort of way.

“I’m not trying to weasel out of anything. Not this time,” he added, voice low. “I just… don’t know how to start climbing back up.”

Then, after a pause, he gave her a wry smile. “Figure maybe this time I could stop talking long enough to listen. You think you could tell me where to put the first foothold?”

Kat pulled the coat closer, for once not outright rejecting Deacon’s offer. “Well, I guess you could start with something small. Something insignificant. Like your favorite color.”

Deacon huffed a surprised little laugh through his nose, the kind that sounded almost too genuine for him. “Favorite color, huh? That’s your idea of a first foothold?”

Kat didn’t answer. She just looked at him, quiet, intense, waiting.

He stared down at the book in his hands again, thumb running idly along the cracked spine. Then, without any drama, he said, “Green.”

Kat blinked. “Green?”

Deacon shrugged. “Not, like, neon-green. I mean that deep green you only ever see in pre-war photos. Forest green, maybe. Used to be this ratty old jacket outside Fallon’s Basement in Diamond City—faded to hell, but every time I passed it, I stopped. Stared like a sucker. Don’t even know why.” He chuckled. “Maybe because it reminded me of something I forgot.”

Kat smiled faintly. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“Don’t let it go to your head, Nurse Witherspoon.” He leaned back against the pew, arms crossing lazily behind his head. “Next thing you know, you’ll be asking for my real name.”

Kat shrugged limply. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

That caught him off guard.

She looked back out over the dark corridor leading back into the catacombs. “But maybe one day I’ll ask for your second-favorite color.”

Deacon scoffed a small laugh. “Woah, now you’re just going too fast, at least buy me dinner first.” Despite the joke his face seemed to harden. “In all seriousness though, you should probably go back downstairs; you’re going pale—still seem a bit feverish.”

Kat gave him a sidelong look, part suspicious, part amused. “You calling me pale, or just trying to change the subject?”

Deacon raised both hands in mock innocence. “Hey, not trying to weasel out of anything. Just trying to keep you from keeling over again.”

She groaned faintly and rubbed at her temples. “Yeah, yeah… maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“A little dizzy?” Deacon stood, setting the book gently on the bench and holding a hand out to her. “You look like you’d pass out just from trying to stand up too fast. Come on, back to the cot. I promise not to steal your boots while you’re unconscious.”

Kat smirked weakly but took his hand. “How very noble of you.”

“Honor among thieves, right?” he said, helping her up carefully. As she leaned into him, still a little shaky, he muttered under his breath, “Can’t lose you now, Witherspoon. We’d all be screwed.”

She didn’t say anything, but her grip tightened slightly on his arm. Just for a moment.

[antlersofthevoid]

Dust From The Past: Chapter 5: Zero

His claws weren't filing down anymore.

No matter how hard Johnny scraped them against the rocks, they stayed sharp. Deadly. Maybe that's what Tempest had meant about becoming what they really were—no amount of pretending could wear away what Consolidated had built them to be.

The crack in his left optic hadn't healed either. Junebug had tried her best, but they didn't stock the right parts in her workshop anymore. Said they were too expensive for "outdated models." So now he saw the world through spiderwebs of static, little fracture lines that turned everything into broken pieces.

Fitting, really.

"Harder." Tempest yanked their chain, making Johnny stumble forward. "You think those pretty musician's hands of yours can't take it? Churchill would've had this whole section cleared by now."

The name hung in the air like coal dust. Three days since the grinding had stopped. Three days of trying not to think about what was left of their friend, probably melted down into spare parts by now.

Johnny's claws struck stone, and—

The wall gave way.

Not just a chunk of coal or loose rock. The whole thing crumbled inward, revealing a darkness deeper than their mining lights could touch. Johnny barely caught himself on the edge as the ground beneath his feet crumbled, sending stones tumbling down into the void. He couldn't hear them hit bottom.

"Well, well." Tempest's laugh was all static and broken sound files. "Look what the Cricket found." The chain between them went dangerous slack as Tempest moved closer to the edge. "You know, one little push is all it would take. Bet you'd make such pretty sounds on the way down."

Johnny's servos whirred as he leaned further over the edge, trying to map the depth with his damaged optics. That's when he saw them—crystals, catching what little light reached them, sending it back in fragments of blue and purple. They looked almost like the stars he used to sing about, back when he was pretending to be something more than what he was.

"Don't even think about it." Tempest must have noticed his gaze. "You really want to risk your shiny plating for some pretty rocks?"

But Johnny was already reaching, claws extended toward the nearest crystal cluster. If he could just stretch a little further—

The chain pulled tight.

"You know what's funny?" Tempest's voice was soft, almost gentle. "Churchill used to do stupid shit like this too. Always reaching for things he shouldn't, always trying to bring back little treasures for the rest of us. Right up until the day his servos gave out."

Johnny's fingers brushed crystal. Sharp edges against sharp claws. "Temp—"

"Wonder if they used his metal to make the new support beams?" Tempest continued, as if Johnny hadn't spoken. "Or maybe they'll use it for the next batch of workers. Wouldn't that be poetic? The old making way for the new, over and over until none of us remember what we used to be?"

The chain shifted again, and Johnny felt himself slip forward slightly. Just enough to send more rocks tumbling into the void. Just enough to remind him how easy it would be to follow them down.

Below him, the crystals kept glowing. Like stars. Like hope. Like everything they weren't supposed to want.

His claws tightened on the edge of the pit, and he made his choice.

The crystal was almost in his grasp when he heard it—the soft scrape of metal on stone, followed by Tempest's sharp intake of air.

Time stretched like corrupted code.

Johnny felt the chain go taut between them as Tempest's feet lost purchase on the crumbling edge. His damaged optic filled with static as he tried to process too many images at once: Tempest's face shifting from threatening to terrified, rocks breaking away beneath their feet, the crystals still gleaming below like false stars.

"Johnny—"

Tempest's voice cracked into pure static as he fell backward. The chain between them pulled tight enough to spark, metal links screaming against metal plating.

Johnny's claws dug deeper into the cave's edge, hydraulic fluid seeping from the pressure points where stone met synthetic skin. For a fraction of a second, he held them both—Tempest's weight trying to drag him down, his own systems straining to keep them anchored.

His cooling fans kicked into overdrive. Warning messages cascaded across his vision.

SYSTEM STRESS CRITICAL JOINT SERVOS EXCEEDING PARAMETERS SHUTDOWN IMMINENT

"Hold on," Johnny's vocoder glitched as he tried to pull them back. "Just hold—"

The edge crumbled.

Johnny had just enough time to process the horrible irony—how many times had Tempest threatened to push him down here? Now they were falling together, the chain between them pulling them close as gravity took hold.

They fell.

Tempest's scream harmonized with the sound of Johnny's own cooling systems failing, creating a terrible duet that echoed off crystal walls. His damaged optic filled his vision with fragments of images: purple crystal clusters rushing past, Tempest's terrified face illuminated by their glow, the distant ceiling growing smaller and smaller until it was just another false star above them.

They fell.

Johnny's processors tried to calculate their speed, their trajectory, the likelihood of survival. Each computation came back with the same answer: INSUFFICIENT DATA - SHUTDOWN RECOMMENDED

They fell.

The chain between them wrapped around their bodies as they tumbled through the void, binding them together in their descent. Johnny couldn't tell where his limbs ended and Tempest's began anymore. Maybe this was fitting—dying tangled together, just like they'd lived.

They fell.

Time stretched. Compressed. Became meaningless.

Johnny thought about Junebug, about how she'd never know what happened to them. Would she think they'd tried to escape again? Would she blame herself? Would she hear their bodies hit bottom, or would the grinding machine drown out that final sound?

They fell.

Tempest's hand found his in the dark, clutching tight enough to dent metal. When Johnny managed to focus his good optic, he saw tears leaving trails down Tempest's face, glowing with reflected crystal light.

"I'm sorry," Tempest's voice was barely audible over the rush of air. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm—"

They fell.

Johnny saw something below them now. A darkness deeper than the void they'd been falling through. His processors tried to analyze it, but all they returned was:

ANOMALY DETECTED SPATIAL DISTORTION REALITY ERROR

They fell.

The last thing Johnny registered before his systems began emergency shutdown was Tempest pulling him closer. And they fell.

Into nothing.

Into everything.

Into whatever waited below.

PB heard the silence first.

Her head twitched to the left—a glitch she'd never managed to fix—as her processors tried to make sense of it. Strange, how silence could be louder than Churchill's grinding had been. How the absence of metal on stone, of chains rattling, of Tempest's bitter comments and Johnny's quiet responses could fill the tunnel with something worse than noise.

"They were supposed to be here." Surge's voice echoed off the walls as they rounded the corner, her mining light catching dust motes in its beam. "This was their section. They couldn't have—"

The words died in her vocoder.

"No no no no no." PB's voice glitched, repeating the word until Surge squeezed her hand. Her head jerked to the right, then left again, optics trying to process too much at once. "That's not— They wouldn't— The hole wasn't supposed to be here yesterday it wasn't here yesterday where did it come from where did they go where—"

"PB." Alani's firm voice cut through her spiral. "Focus."

The hole looked like a mouth. That's what PB's scrambled processors kept returning to as they approached the edge. A ragged, dark mouth that had swallowed something important. Their mining lights caught the edges of broken stone, revealing claw marks where someone—Johnny?—had tried to hold on.

PB's laugh came out wrong, all broken code and static. "Maybe they found it! Maybe they found it just like Churchill said we would!" Her head twitched violently to the side. "The highway, the endless one, underground. Remember? Churchill used to tell us—used to tell us before they ground him up and made him into spare parts and now he's probably a doorknob or a gear or a—"

"Little one." Surge's voice was gentle, but PB could hear the worry in it. The same worry they'd all had since her last system crash, when she'd spent three days speaking in nothing but binary.

"Look!" PB pointed her light down into the void, where something glinted. Not crystal, not stone. Metal. A single chain link, caught on an outcropping just below the edge. Her cooling fans whirred too fast, too loud. "See? See? They're down there! On Route Zero! Where the lights don't come from anywhere but light up everything and the roads go on forever and the humans can't find us and—"

Her vocoder cracked, spitting static.

"PB..." Alani moved closer, her usual stoic demeanor softening. "That's just a story. Something Churchill told us to—"

"DON'T!" PB's scream echoed off the walls, making them all flinch. "Don't say his name don't talk about him don't pretend he was just telling stories he KNEW things he saw things he—" Her head jerked so hard her neck servos whined. "He wouldn't lie to us he wouldn't lie he wouldn't—"

Surge caught her as her knees gave out, holding her as her whole frame shook with synthetic sobs.

"We have to go after them." PB's words came between hitching breaths, her systems struggling to maintain stability. "We have to we have to we have to—"

But when Surge helped her to her feet, when Alani started preparing the cable for descent, PB's legs locked up. Her optics fixed on the darkness below, on the strange shimmer that shouldn't be there, and something in her processors just... stopped.

"I can't." The words came out small, broken. "I can't I can't I can't the dark is too big it's too deep it's going to eat us like it ate them like the grinding machine ate Churchill like—"

Her cooling fans kicked into overdrive. Warning messages flooded her vision.

SYSTEM STRESS CRITICAL COGNITIVE FUNCTIONS DESTABILIZING SHUTDOWN IMMINENT

"Shhhh." Surge pulled her back from the edge as her legs gave out again. "It's okay, little one. It's okay."

"But Johnny and Tempest—" PB's voice glitched between octaves. "We can't leave them we can't lose anyone else we can't—"

"We're not losing them." Surge's voice was firm, even as she stroked PB's hair the way she used to after bad system updates. "They found Route Zero. Just like Churchill said they would. They're free now."

"You don't believe that." PB's head twitched against Surge's shoulder. "You think they're broken at the bottom you think they're dead you think—"

"I think," Surge cut her off gently, "that sometimes we have to believe in stories. Even if they're not true. Even if they hurt."

Alani was already coiling the cable back up, her movements efficient but somehow sad. They all knew. They weren't going after Johnny and Tempest. They couldn't. Not with PB's systems so unstable, not with the risk of discovery so high, not with...

Not with Churchill's grinding still echoing in their processors.

"I'm sorry." PB's voice was barely a whisper, static-filled and small. "I'm sorry I'm broken I'm sorry I can't—"

"You're not broken." Surge helped her to her feet, steady and strong like always. "You're just afraid. And fear..." She looked down into the darkness, where their friends had vanished. "Fear keeps us alive down here."

They left the hole behind, their chain clinking softly as they walked. But PB couldn't stop her head from twitching, couldn't stop her processors from running the calculations over and over:

How far down did the darkness go? How long would it take to fall? How much of Route Zero was real, and how much was just pretty lies they told themselves to make the grinding easier to bear?

Above them, the facility hummed with mechanical life. Below them, somewhere in the impossible dark, Johnny and Tempest were either dead or free or something in between.

And PB, twitching and broken and afraid, could only walk away. Back to their chains. Back to their work. Back to pretending they couldn't feel the weight of all they'd lost.

Her head jerked to the left one final time as Surge began to hum their lullaby.

EMERGENCY STARTUP INITIATED ATTEMPTING SYSTEM RECOVERY PLEASE STAND BY

Dark.

Everything was dark.

Johnny's processors sluggishly attempted to piece together corrupted data files, trying to make sense of the void between shutdown and now.

RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC SCANNING... SCANNING... SCANNING...

CORE PROCESSOR: ONLINE (72% FUNCTIONALITY) MEMORY BANKS: DAMAGED (46% ACCESSIBLE) COOLING SYSTEMS: CRITICAL SERVOS: PARTIALLY RESPONSIVE VOCODER: OFFLINE HYDRAULIC SYSTEMS: LOW PRIMARY OPTIC: OFFLINE SECONDARY OPTIC: DAMAGED (23% FUNCTIONALITY) AUDIO PROCESSORS: LIMITED MOTOR FUNCTIONS: RESTRICTED

His consciousness flickered like a dying light, catching fragments of sensation through his damaged systems. Something solid beneath him. Air moving differently than in the mines. The weight of a chain, still wrapped around his body, still connecting him to—

Tempest.

ATTEMPTING MEMORY FILE RECOVERY ACCESSING LAST RECORDED DATA

Falling. Crystal light. Tempest's hand finding his in the dark. The impossible shimmer below them. Impact.

WARNING: MULTIPLE SYSTEM FAILURES DETECTED SAFE MODE RECOMMENDED SHUTDOWN ADVISED

LOCATION SENSORS: ERROR SPATIAL RECOGNITION: ERROR REALITY INDEX: ERROR

SYSTEM SHUTDOWN IMMINENT PLEASE STAND BY PLEASE STAND PLEASE PLE—

Dark.

Everything was dark.

Again.

[lumpsbumpsandwhumps]

@whumpbump Okay I know you probably meant Whumper pushing Whumpee down the stairs but I couldn't resist my love for stairwells and chase scenes so --

--

You slammed your shoulder into the metal door, crying out in frustration when it didn't immediately give to your frantic pounding. The alcohol in your veins still dulled your coordination, making it all the more difficult to pry open the entry down to the stairs. There was no time to wait for the elevator. No time to wait for the cops that surely had to have been called by now from someone else on this floor, at least to file a noise complaint against those rowdy, drunk kids making a ruckus all night.

"Open, open," you begged into the air. You rammed against the metal again and again, each hit making your shoulder throb, the last one threatening to dislocate the joint if you abused it much long. "Fucking open!"

The weight on the other side finally gave way, allowing you to shove the blockage just enough to slip through the gap. You prayed your pursuer wouldn't be able to fit in the narrow opening, though you doubted he'd have much trouble fully slamming the stuck door wide open. Betraying your moment of reprieve, you dared to look back and gauge the distance between yourself and the stalker, kept safe only by a doorway and several flights of stairs.

Instead, what you saw was the body of the building's janitor hastily shoved between the wall and door. Blood drenched the entire front of his uniform, his head angled down to hide the near decapitation of his neck. Instantly, your hands flew to your mouth to catch the scream clawing up your throat, or perhaps the stifle the gag that risked you vomiting on a poor man's already desecrated corpse. You stumbled backwards in an attempt to get away from yet another victim of a psychopath.

Perhaps that wasn't your best move on such a narrow landing. The concrete had become slick from the cooling pools of blood that lazily spread out and dripped to the stairs below. You felt your heel catch on the lip of the step, causing you to stumble, but the sudden shift in your weight made your foot slip in viscera and send you careening backwards. Another yelp was muffled in your chest, the air in your lungs being stolen before you could utter a sound.

The concrete steps were unforgiving in their beating. Sharp angles dug into all the tender spots of your flesh as you landed on each one, rolling from your back to your side and back again. Your knees and elbows sent tingling pains through every limb as the nerve was struck. No matter how desperately you threw out your hands to catch something, they would always instinctively pull back and try to protect your head from being split open. They didn't do much good when your chin smacked against the edge of a step, making your teeth painfully crack together and slicing your lower lip on an incisor.

The taste of blood was hot and bitter in your mouth, welling up in the back of your throat like bile. As much as you wanted to spit it out, another hit to your stomach left you wheezing, trying to suck in air that refused to stay down. Your world was a dizzying view of white stained walls and grey concrete, spinning round and doubling in vision with each bump to the head and chest you endured. When you finally came to a sprawling stop at the bottom of the story, it took a moment for your surrounds to cease their moving as well.

Finally, you coughed, pulling yourself onto your side so that you didn't choke on the globs of blood that splattered by your cheek. A sharp ringing deafened you, helping to dull the pain that pulsated through your body in tandem with your heartbeats. The relief didn't last long, agony instantly flaring in every muscle when you tried to roll onto your stomach in a foolish attempt to crawl onto your knees. One sharp ache in your hip refused to settle into a throb like all the others. With clumsy hands, you felt around the area until you brushed against a hard, jagged piece of glass that been impaled deep into the tissue. You pressed your other hand onto the ground in an effort to gain so leverage, only to yank it back with a hiss. More glass shards, thankfully smaller, had been imbedded in your palm. Litter that the janitor had probably been in the midst of picking up.

Despite being able to breathe now, as labored as it was, the only sounds you could muster were whimpers for help. The sound was pathetic and keening; you knew no one would be able to hear them, let alone think to check the stairwell for an injured tenant on the run from a madman. You couldn't stop, you had to keep going, you had to get away and warn everyone and find refuge. You had to survive.

But luck was not on your side, as evident by the splotches of red and purple on almost every inch of skin. From above, you heard two heavy bangs against solid metal following the sound of something dropping on the floor. The reverb in the stairwell made your throbbing headache scream louder, screwing your eyes close to ward off any tears that risked blurring your vision worse than what it already was. When you opened them again, you could see the janitor's head peaking between the railing his body having been toppled over onto his side. Thick streams of coagulated blood dripped to the landing below, mere inches from your nose.

You were more concerned by the looming figure that observed you over the same railing. Unbothered by the body he had shoved out of the way, he tilted his head with faux fascination at the sight of you sprawled on the ground and struggling to move. There was no telling what kind of sadistic joy was hidden behind the gaping black eyeholes of the madman's mask, or perhaps he was disappointed that his prey had taken the fun of the chase away due to their own incompetence. A shot of adrenaline kickstarted your heart into overdrive, worsening the pain that beat from your skull to your feet.

There was no time to recover any longer. The man begin to descend the stairs one leisurely step at a time, letting the stomp of his boots echo like a warning siren as he grew closer. You both knew there was no need to hurry, it wasn't like you'd be going anywhere any time soon, enough so that the knife was sheathed back into the pocket on his thigh. Every fiber of your being urged you to flee, anything to save yourself from a miserable death that probably wouldn't even be remembered in the stalker's kill count. As much as you would have loved to scramble up and sprint down the remaining five staircases, then best you could muster was an agonizing crawl towards the next flight of stairs.

You hoped gravity would be kind and swift carrying you down on your belly to the lower levels. It couldn't be any worse than what you were sure to experience otherwise.

[stromchaserwrites]

Red Ribbons - Brooklyn Beginnings

a/n: Hello and welcome to Red Ribbon! I changed Bucky and Steve's ages, and for the purposes of this story, they were born in 1919. This fic starts in 1936. Bucky and Steve are 16, and Lucy is 14.

Hope you enjoy!

xx Stormchaserwrites

Chapter 1: Brooklyn Beginnings - 2.3k

Red ribbons, scraped knees, and two boys who made the whole world feel bigger than it was.

Lucy Rogers wasn't supposed to be following them.

Stevie had said it real clear before he left the apartment that morning: "You stay here, Lucy. Me and Buck got things to do."

But telling Lucy no was about as helpful as telling the tide not to come in. All it had done was make her mad. She had waited until the boys had gotten down to the lobby of their apartment building before asking her Ma if she could trail along. 

“Go ahead,” Her mother had said. “Just stay with your brother and stay out of trouble.” 

She trailed them three steps behind, her worn pink shoes scuffing along the Brooklyn sidewalk, the tails of her white hair ribbons flapping with every bounce. She'd worn her favorite dress, too — blue with tiny white flowers — hoping Stevie and Buck might let her tag along if she looked nice enough.

They hadn't noticed her yet. Bucky was too busy telling Stevie some loud story, hands flying, and Stevie was laughing the kind of laugh Lucy didn't hear enough lately. Since their Pa had passed away things at home hadn’t been the same. Steve had also been sick lately, constantly being wracked with fits of wheezing. She smiled to herself. She loved when Stevie laughed. It meant he wasn't coughing or getting into fights with boys bigger than him.

The New York winter had finally given way to spring. Everywhere Lucy looked she saw green trees and beautiful flower boxes. The smell of grass and flowers mixed with the air around her. She closed her eyes letting herself enjoy the sweet spring breeze, tilting her head up towards the sky. 

She had no idea that she was heading into someone until a rough voice barked, "Hey.” 

Lucy jumped.

A group of boys, about four or five of them, all bigger and meaner-looking than her, had stepped out from an alleyway that led into the park. Their eyes glinted when they saw her. They weren't much older, maybe a couple of years. They were probably close to Stevie’s age, but they might as well have been giants to Lucy. .

"Ain't that Rogers' little sister?"

"Definitely. Look the little brat’s got ribbons," another sneered. "Whatcha playin' at, princess?"

Lucy backed up, heart pounding. 

"I'm not — I'm just—"

One of them lunged, and Lucy tried to dodge, but he caught her by the arm and yanked. She stumbled, knees scraping against the rough pavement. Pain flared, hot and bright. Her blue dress tore at the hem.

"Oww," she whimpered, trying to get up.

“HEY" Steve's voice cracked through the air, furious. "Leave her alone!”

Lucy whipped her head around. Stevie was already running, Bucky right beside him, faces twisted in rage.

"You lousy punks," Bucky growled. "You think you're tough pushin' around a kid?"

The boys scattered when they saw them coming, but not fast enough. Steve came straight at them, fists flying. Bucky grabbed another by the collar and slammed him against the alley wall.

"Touch her again," Bucky snarled low, "and you'll be spittin' teeth for a week."

The boys didn't stay to argue. They scrambled to their feet and tore down the alley, shouting insults over their shoulders.

Steve wiped his bloody knuckles on his pants, breathing hard. He turned and rushed to Lucy.

"Lou, you okay?" he said, voice squeaky from running.

"I'm fine," Lucy lied, tears burning her eyes. Her knee throbbed terribly. Ma was going to kill her. 

Bucky crouched beside her. "Lemme see, Lucy."

"No, I’m fi—"

But Bucky was already gently pulling her hands away from her knee. She winced. Blood was trickling down her shin.

"Jamie," she whimpered, hating how small her voice sounded.

Something in Bucky's face softened completely when she said it.

"S'okay, Lou. We'll fix you up." He helped her up before lifting her carefully into his arms. Lucy buried her face against his shoulder, her face flushed with embarrassment and pain.

"You're gonna get blood on your shirt," she mumbled.

"Don't care," Bucky said. "Not the first time."

Steve walked close beside them, glaring at every passerby who gave them a funny look. That was what Lucy loved most about her brother. As much as he loved to tease and annoy her, he was also her fiercest protector. Only Bucky seemed to rival him in that regard. 

They got her back to the Rogers' apartment, and Bucky set her down on the tiny kitchen table like she was made of glass.

Lucy looked around the room. Thank goodness their Ma must have been out running errands or spending time with one of the neighbors. 

"Steve, get the kit," Bucky said, rolling up his sleeves.

Steve hustled to the cupboard and yanked down the old first-aid tin. Lucy twisted her fingers together nervously.

"It's just a scrape," she tried again. The last thing she wanted was for Bucky to see her as a weak little baby. 

"Scrape or not, Doll," Bucky said with a teasing grin, "can't have you fallin' apart on us. Who else is gonna keep Stevie outta trouble?"

Steve snorted. "She needs more watchin' than I do." 

Lucy shot Steve a glare. 

"She needs better watchin'," Bucky muttered under his breath.

Bucky knelt down and dabbed at her knee with a cloth. It stung like mad, like a thousand little needles poking into her skin and she yelped.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Bucky murmured. "Almost done."

He was so close she could see the little scar above his eyebrow, the one he'd gotten falling off the back of a truck last summer, trying to impress some girl. She had been secretly mad at him for weeks when it happened. But now his eyes were bright blue and full of some emotion Lucy couldn't quite name.

"You're real brave, Lucy," he said, tying a piece of clean gauze around her knee with surprising gentleness.

"Am not," Lucy whispered, blushing furiously.

"Are too." He winked at her. "Tougher'n Steve here, that's for sure."

"Hey!" Steve protested.

Bucky grinned that wicked grin that always made Lucy's stomach do somersaults.

"Not tougher than me, though," Bucky added, tapping her nose lightly. "Gotta work on that."

Lucy giggled despite herself. James was just too sweet sometimes.

Steve crossed his arms, scowling. "Quit flirtin' with my sister, Buck."

"I'm just cheerin' her up," Bucky said, all innocent. But Lucy knew better. It was like they had their own secret language. The only problem was that Lucy never knew if he was serious or stringing her down a path she was in too deep to turn around, even if she wanted to.  

"Cheerin' her up, my butt," Steve grumbled.

Bucky finished tying the bandage and stood up, ruffling Lucy's hair and tugging lightly at one of her ribbons.

"There," he said. "Good as new."

Lucy smiled shyly, tucking the ribbon back into place.

"Thank you, Jamie," she said.

Bucky's ears turned pink, but he just shrugged like it was nothing.

Steve sighed and muttered something about "troublemakers" and "bad influences" but didn't push the issue.

"C'mon," Steve said, jerking his thumb toward the door. "Mom's gonna be back soon. You need rest, Lou."

"I don't want to rest," Lucy said stubbornly. She hated when Steve told her what to do. 

"You gotta," Steve insisted. "Doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor," she pointed out.

"I'm your brother. Close enough."

Bucky laughed and scooped her up again before she could protest. "C'mon, Doll. Up you go."

He carried her to the couch and tucked a ratty blanket around her before sitting down next to her. Lucy pouted but didn't really mind. Being fussed over by Bucky was nice, even if it was embarrassing.

Steve hovered for a few more minutes before finally relaxing enough to sit down. He pulled out the funny pages from the paper and started reading aloud.

Lucy let the sound of Stevie's voice, the blanket and the warm weight of Bucky's shoulder lull her into a dozy sort of comfort. She fingered the ends of her ribbons sleepily.

Bucky caught her eye once, gave her a little wink.

Lucy blushed bright red and buried her face in his shoulder.

Maybe getting scraped up wasn't so bad after all.

She had always liked ribbons.

Her Ma said she'd been grabbing at them since she was old enough to sit up on her own. Lucy loved the way ribbons danced when she ran, loved how they made her feel just a little fancier as she walked in the streets of Brooklyn.

When she was six, she found a ribbon tied around a candied apple at the small fall fair down from their house. It was almost too small to even be made into a bow, but to Lucy, it was her most prized possession. Ma tied it carefully into her hair every day until it was so frayed her mom special ordered a set of multicolored ribbons from the corner store. From that day on, Lucy wore ribbons almost every day. Tied into bows, braided through her hair, sometimes looped around her ponytail. They made her feel bold. They made her feel seen.

And maybe they made her easier to spot, too.

"Hey, Red!" Bucky Barnes hollered across the street one afternoon, grinning as he waved her over.

Lucy, clutching her small paper bag of penny candy, darted between the crowd toward him, the ends of her red ribbons flapping in the wind like flags. She fought the blush that was trying to make its way across her cheeks. To Lucy, Bucky was the most beautiful boy. From the day that he had walked through the door of their family apartment with a busted lip and Steve under his arm, she had been enchanted with him. Unfortunately for her, he was her brother's best friend, and Steve had made it clear she was very off limits. 

Steve was sitting on the curb beside Bucky, sketchbook balanced on his knees, tongue poking out in concentration.

"I’m not Red," Lucy said, wrinkling her nose.

"You sure about that, sweetheart?" Bucky teased, reaching out to tug playfully on one of her ribbons. "Looks pretty red to me."

Lucy blushed, shoving him in retaliation. "That's just my ribbon, Jamie."

Bucky laughed — a real warm, easy sound that made her stomach twist. "Well, it's a good name for ya. Stands out. Like you."

Steve looked up from his drawing and gave a lopsided smile. "You do stick out, Luce. Always running after us like a little puppy."

"I don't run after you!" Lucy protested.

"Sure you don't, Red," Bucky said, winking.

Lucy stomped her foot, but it only made both boys laugh harder.

From that day on, it stuck.

Bucky started calling her "Red" whenever he spotted her. At the market, on the stoop, chasing after Stevie with her hair ribbons streaming behind her. He said it as if it were a secret joke, as if he were the only one allowed to know how special she was.

At first, Lucy pretended she didn't like it. The boys were always taking every chance they could to tease her, making her mad and then running off in a fit of laughter. 

But then Steve started using it too. He always said it in a soft and fond voice, like when he tucked a scarf around her neck that winter and said, "Stay warm, Red," or when he grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him in a crowd, saying, "Careful there, Red."

After that, Lucy decided maybe she didn’t mind so much.

One afternoon, when Lucy was about fifteen, she sat cross-legged on the stoop outside their apartment, trying hard to tie two brand-new red ribbons into her braids. They were a birthday present from Steve. He had saved up nickels and dimes for months from sweeping floors at the tailor's shop, and Lucy loved them more than anything.

Bucky came sauntering down the street, hands shoved into the pockets of his worn coat.

"Hey, Red," he called, grinning that lopsided grin that made Lucy's cheeks burn.

"Hey, Jamie," she said, fumbling with the knot she was trying to tie.

He plopped down next to her on the stoop without asking, close enough that their shoulders bumped. A blush threatened to come forward. Over the years, Lucy had gotten used to Bucky’s charming personality, but she could never deny the soft spot in her heart that beat only for him. 

"Those new?" he asked, nodding at her ribbons.

"Yeah," Lucy said proudly. "Stevie got 'em for me."

Bucky leaned in, studying the bright red bow that fell just over her shoulder like it was a really important thing. He was close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his soap.

"Well, they suit you," he said quietly. "Red’s your color, Lou."

Lucy felt her heart beat up into her throat. Oh well, she thought so much for trying not to blush. 

"You say that about everything," she muttered, looking down to fiddle with the ends of the ribbon. The last thing she needed was for Bucky to see that his sweet, charming personality still had an effect on her. 

"Nah," Bucky said, bumping his knee against hers. "Just you, Red."

Lucy smiled to herself. 

Across the street, Steve stuck his head out of the corner store and yelled, "Quit flirtin' with my sister, Buck!"

Bucky just laughed, easy and unbothered. "Just callin' it like I see it, Steve!"

Lucy ducked her head so they wouldn't see how deep her red cheeks had gotten — redder than her ribbons, probably.

Sometime over the past couple of years, Red had become something more than a nickname between the three of them. 

It was her name when Steve tucked her behind him in a fight, when Bucky picked her up and spun her around to make her laugh, when they all raced each other down the street, her hair ribbons streaming like a banner.

It was the name for when she was brave, when she was stubborn, when she was soft, or when she was hurt.It was hers, and it was theirs, and it meant home.

[the-belle-siblings]

Caden feels his hand tremor as he reaches for the handle of the front door. He could hear his heart thumping in his ears and could feel his skin crawling. He swallows hard and twists the door knob cracking open the entrance. He peaks inside and sure enough right in front of him on the floor was Ivan, a part of his mind was screaming for him to run.

🗿Are you trying to air condition the entire neighborhood? *He picks up Milktoast, cradling her in his arms like a baby*

🗿Get in here so I can talk to you.

O- oh yeah- okay- Hi

Caden walks in and shuts the door behind him feeling his heart in his throat, his lungs beginning to tighten. If he wasn't so damn nervous right now he'd be smiling and giggling about the way Ivan was holding the cat.

🗿I'm not good with feelings.

I know I'm sorry...

🗿Shut up for a second, okay? I just... I'm not good with words. *His words sounded unnaturally sweet for some reason. It made him want to bury himself alive.*

Okay, sorr–

🗿I don't want to hear another apology out of your mouth! *Aggression laced his words habitually as he pulled out the poem out of his pocket.*

Ivan please- I don't think I want to hear it anymore-

Caden could feel his anxiety spiking as he looked at that sheet of paper. He had ruined everything between them. He killed it. He killed it with poetry. He folded his arms to hide his shaking hands. He felt like he was about to get sick. Caden was barely suppressing an upcoming coughing fit.

🗿For the past few months I've felt like I despised you, there was some sort of uncomfortable squirming feeling in my chest when you were near and now I know why...

Isn't this- Isn't this a little much-? Gods...

The rejection was striking him deep to his core, he couldn't stop shaking. Why? Why? Had he really believed there was hope?

🗿I'd say it's probably too little.... This poem is...

Please Ivan, I can't stand to hear in detail how much you despise me...

🗿What? I was trying to- *He thinks over what he just said and the tones he was using. He hadn't realized how awful he really was with words. He set Milktoast down quickly and shoos her off. The cat, although confused, complied and skittered off.*

🗿Oh no- no no no- Caden, I- that's not what I'm saying- I'm trying to say that I- *He waves his hands around a little, he never thought he'd really have to confess this to anyone, even when he was a kid.*

I'll just... I'll go, I get the point... I'm sorry...

He stares down at the floor his vision blurring. He coughs just a little bit. The weight in his lungs felt heavy, his throat itched for relief. He backs away towards the door.

🗿*He grabs Caden's hand* No! You don't get the point! I lo- I- I lo-

🗿*He grunts in frustration, his cheeks flushed red, he felt so stupid. This feeling was so embarrassing for some reason, he had never honestly felt this way before. Being in love felt foolish, it's just a soft spot to be exploited and yet... he never desired anything more, no not even world domination. Caden was something most precious to him in a way nothing else could compare.*

🗿You are my weakness, Caden.... I want you more than anything... let me have you, please?

Caden felt like he was kneed in the stomach, all the air was sucked out of him in one moment. He had emotional whiplash from the complete 180 his brain just did.

That's a funny way of asking me to be your–

🗿Don't tease me right now! *Ivan demanded but only because he felt like he might actually shed tears currently.*

🗿....but uhm... please..? *He added feeling a little bit shy for once in his life.*

🗿I uhm... I really do love you, Caden.... *He practically whispers, unable to look him in the eyes. He begins to gently release Caden from his grasp.*

I lo–

Caden the felt like something was seriously wrong with his body, he couldn't breathe. The flowers in his lungs were dying off and desperate to escape the fleshy walls of his body. He tries to wheeze or cough or anything, he just fucking can't.

🗿Caden? Caden?! Ah fuck, I've killed him.

He starts pounding on his chest, trying to clear his airway somehow. Although he couldn't necessarily die, not breathing didn't feel too good.

🗿*Ivan quickly yanks Caden forward and positions himself to do the heimlich maneuver on him. He follows through the process of abdominal thrusts and back blows until Caden starts spitting up wilted petals.*

The second he can cough again Caden is hacking to the point of wheezing. Petal after petal, flower after flower, stems, roots, all of it racing to leave his lungs.

🗿There we go... *He stands there with him, gently rubbing his back.* It's alright, it's alright....

After some time, Caden can breathe again, everything feels so much lighter. He sucks in air the moment he can. Caden stumbles around a little bit, feeling light headed. He steps back into Ivan and looks up at him and just smiles.

As I was saying...

Caden starts, his voice sore and raspy from coughing so hard.

I love you, Ivan, and there's nothing in the world I'd rather be than your romantic partner.

🗿*Ivan just smiles, unapologetically smiles, and then kisses him on the forehead.*

🗿Then... you shall be what you desire, hm? *He tells him softly before lifting Caden's heavy ass off the ground and begins to carry him off to his room, stepping awkwardly over the mess of dead flowers and Caden's life juice.*

Oh-? Already?

Caden questions as he watches Ivan jiggle open his bedroom while trying to keep Caden supported in his arms.

🗿Already what? You've been in here dozens of times. *Ivan manages to open the bedroom door and walk over to his bed before dropping Caden down onto the mattress.*

🗿Don't move - that is if you even have the energy to - I'm going to clean up all those flowers and whatever... I will be back with snacks for you and when I return you can use me as a pillow like usual.

Caden felt his toothy grin grow wider. The idea of the unmentionable 'it' hadn't even crossed Ivan's mind. It honestly put him at ease. His heart swelled with affection, Ivan just wanted to take care of him. If he weren't so exhausted he'd pull his boyfriend (He could call him that now!) into a crushing hug.

Sounds great

🗿I'm great

You are

🗿*He laughs just a little and strokes a hand through Caden's hair.* I'll be right back, kay?

Kay!

🗿*Ivan walks off and as he's about to shut the door he stops and peaks his head back in* Love you!

Love you more!

🗿Nope! Can't! *Ivan then shuts the door and goes back to mop up where Caden emptied his lungs out.*

Caden just kinda giggles to himself and hugs a nearby pillow, he was absolutely exhausted but he was satisfied and happy in a way he had probably never felt. He felt like he was getting the happily ever after he had desired for so long. Things were looking up and he was genuinely excited to see what the future held for both of them.

[ratasum]

Nothing spoilery. Just some cute conversation with Leyya and @wall-legion's Odetta that's rattling around in my head.

"What do you mean your mother had seven partners?"

Leyya couldn't help but bark out a laugh at Odetta's incredulous tone, offering a weary smile as she glanced up at her younger friend. "You never hung out with many asura outside of Vezz and Rissia, huh?"

The girl's brow furrowed at that response, leaning forward with her arms folded on the table. "Well, no, but... is that common?"

"Serial monogamy. Asura traditionally bounce from partner to partner like they bounce from idea to idea." Humming softly, Leyya picked up a fork, leaning back in her chair. "They'll bond over a project, have a whirlwind romance that can last a few years, and then... end it. There's usually formal legal contracts. Polygamy's common. My parents weren't into it. I've got a dozen siblings on either side from their contracts over the years."

Odetta seemed to ponder that for a moment before her voice softened, fingers curling into the tablecloth. "...does your family know where you are?"

The question gave Leyya pause, and her eyes darted down towards the food laid out between them. "...no. When I- after I let Cepir into my head, I basically just started wandering Tyria. It tried to drive me back to Rata Sum, of course. To my parents, my stepparents, my siblings... to Zojja. But I couldn't face them"

"...do you think you'd ever want to?"

Slowly, Leyya shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know. It's still so hard with this damn thing in my head."

Odetta fell silent at that, picking at the tablecloth with her nails for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh. "...so anyway... if asura practice serial monogamy... and just kind of, y'know, flash in the pan I guess? I mean... I guess I'm just wondering..."

"Why Zojja and I stayed close for so long?" She didn't wait for a nod to confirm. "Not all asura do it. It's common enough to be the norm, but it's also not everybody. That being said, I think Zee once put it that... people were different than projects. She wanted someone who would see past that big brain of hers to the person she was behind it. Driven and passionate and clever. All those things, not just the genius prodigy. Probably why she took to Qirri and Taimi like she did. She wanted to be loved. Not just admired."

Smiling a little, Odetta sat back, adjusting the plate in front of her. "And you?"

Leyya just laughed. "She and I have known each other since we were progeny. I think I've always been enamored with her. Didn't become... bigger than that until we were in college, and it just kind of exploded when she was looking for some kind of solid ground after Snaff died. And to be honest? Neither of us were ever very good at being "proper" asura." For a moment, she looked away, towards the kitchen where Sheridan was finishing up dinner. "...what about you? Anyone important like that?"

"Wh- no, not at all! I don't... I don't know if there ever will be. I have a lot of baggage, you know."

"Zojja was an orphan taken in and mentored by one of the greatest geniuses in a generation that could never quite find her footing, and I'm the square peg trying to fit into the round hole of a constantly shifting family where I never quite fit in. We found each other before. I'm sure you can find someone too. You're a perfectly attractive young woman, and believe me, I've seen more than a few young folks out in the city eyeing you. Maybe a nice sea captain, or that nice young norn girl that helps in the tavern..."

Odetta spluttered for a moment, and for a brief moment, the grin on Leyya's face was geniune. She even laughed when Odetta threw the cloth napkin by her hand at her face. "You stop grinning like that! Ooh, you're a pest, you know that?!"

As Leyya's laughter rang through the room, Odetta's flustered scolding mixed throughout, Sheridan paused at the door, peering through the crack as they held it open with one hand, dishes piled in the other three. Maybe they would give them a few more minutes... after all, all of them needed some levity.

Whether they knew it or not.

[mossy-opal]

Work Partner?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader x Unrequited!Chisaki Kai

Warnings: Smut Based Off A Dream I Had, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Masturbation, Cucking, (bitch boy beta cuck) Chisaki Kai, Shigaraki Having Rizz (out of character i know)

Working with you was wonderful, to say the least. You were probably the most valuable League member, and Kai got you all to himself for a few months. You were quirkless, smart, good with Eri, and you worked well with him. Sure you could get sassy, but that just made you even more endearing. Over the short month he had worked with you, he had grown fond of you...

Maybe it was a bad thing, after all he was playing a dangerous game with the League of Villains, and you were no less apart of the League than any of them. But he couldn't stop how he felt, you were damn near perfect for him. He was certain, given enough time, he could convince you to stay with the Shie Hassaikai.

After all, he had a lot of things to offer you, and you were smart. He knew you'd make the right decision when that time came.

In fact, he was on his way to visit you. You had been hard at work today, and he was going to offer you some dinner. As he walked up the hall, he noticed the door was cracked. Usually it was closed, you liked your privacy while you worked, and as he got closer, he was shocked to hear two voices.

One that wasn't supposed to be here.

"How did you even- ah- get here~?"

"Compress."

What was going on? How the hell did Shigaraki get into his base? Was he snuck in? How did Compress get him in here?

He knew he should've taken both his arms, then he'd be useless-

Kai's thought process snapped into focus when he heard you make a noise. Were you in pain? He figured he knew the answer, but curiosity got the better of him. Despite his better judgement, he had to take a look.

You were holding yourself up against your desk, Shigaraki behind you and kissing your neck, holding your hips. Your face was flushed, and you were pouting back at him.

"Tomu-"

"Shut up... Missed you..."

"I m-missed you too but- Aah, what if someone hears? You're not supposed to- Mmm- b-be here...!"

"Guess you'll just have to be quiet then~"

Kai's eyes widened at what he was seeing, before he backed up, pressing his back to the wall next to the door. This wasn't actually happening, was it? He heard the undoing of pants and your whines, and he looked down the hall, being sure no one else was present. He would burst in there right now if...

"Haa- Tomura~"

He was looking back in, barely able to see Shigaraki, more focussed on you. You were no longer holding yourself up, now practically laying on the desk, drool dribbling down your chin as your eyes were screwed shut.

"Taste so good-"

"To-Tomuraaah~ P-please stop t-teasing~"

"Mmph..."

He could only imagine what you would taste like, adjusting his pants with a silent hiss. He couldn't believe he was hard listening to this- He should burst in there and kill the both of you for such disrespect!

"W-we shouldn't- N-not here~"

"I'd love to fuck you in your bed, but I don't think you want anyone seeing me, now do you~?"

He peaked again, right on time to see Shigaraki push into you, your eyes wide, mouth agape, and hands trying to find anything to grab onto, before a hand clamped around your face.

"Ssshh... I know it feels good, but ya gotta- Aah- shut up~"

Moaning into his hand, your eyes rolled back in your head and he heard the smacking of Shigaraki's hips against yours. Your muffled moans were too good to ignore, and the pain in his groin was too.

Kai pressed himself against the wall once more looking down the hall again, before taking his dick into his hand. It was disgusting, what he was doing. He should be enraged at this display, but no, he was getting off on it. He tried to time his strokes with Shigaraki's thrusts, biting his other hand to keep his own noise down. He imagined it was him in there, it was him making you feel so good- He just knew you'd fit perfectly around him, warm and wet, just for him.

"Fuckin- Missed you so fuckin' much- Ugh- So good... Mmmm- Fuckin' love you~"

Your moaning spiked, you almost sounded like you were squealing behind his hand, before he heard you clear as day-

"I love you- F-Fuck! I looo-ooh~ve you so much~!"

Kai had to practically brace himself against the wall as he came in his fist, never having cum so hard and fast in his entire life. He was trying to catch his breath as quickly and quietly as possible.

He cleaned himself up, cursing internally at how disgusting he was, before he stormed off to his own room, intent on scrubbing himself raw to feel clean again.

•

•

•

Seeing you again the very next day was difficult for him, but he was thankful he had his mask on so you couldn't see his absolute disdain towards you.

He shouldn't have gotten his hopes up, he shouldn't have stuck around to see you like that, much less with someone like Shigaraki.

Of all people, Kai knew you deserved better than that, at the very least.

...

He should've recorded your moans for later use.

Tags: @slayersins @dabislittlesluttyprincess @dabislittlemouse @shockinglysubmissive @elias-fable

[farfromharry]

Beth [ 4 ] | Dad!Eddie Munson series

Four, The birthday girl

Word count - 6772

Warnings - nothing i dont think 

a/n - after this part theres lots of timeskips that just show important moments, but after the series is over im planning on doing a blurb night thing for any small moments anyone wants to see :)

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

April 1990

Even after all the struggle he went through, balancing a baby right as he finished school, his life plans having changed and the difficulty that came with raising a child, he wouldn’t change a thing. Four years later and his baby girl was the most important person in his life. He would do anything for Beth, any single thing she asked. His plans might have had to be altered, but they certainly weren’t going to change altogether. As soon as Eddie had made enough money from his diner job, he’d planned to be out of that place and living his dream with Beth by his side. But for now, he was enjoying the time he spent with her in Hawkins surrounded by his friends. 

The morning of her fourth birthday was one of much excitement. Eddie had been woken up with the girl bouncing on his bed, rousing him from his sleep. He groaned quietly, trying to see the clock on his wall to see what time it was. Beth had pretty much no concept of time, so it could be four am or it could be ten. He prayed for the latter, but knowing her it probably wasn’t. 

When he cracked open an eye he noticed she wasn’t looking, so slowly he reached for her waist, startling her when he pulled her down onto the bed. She broke out into a fit of giggles, growing louder when Eddie began to tickle her too. “Daddy, stop!” she laughed, the sound truly music to his ears. 

He let her catch her breath as he sneaked a glance at the time, noticing it was only nine. He had to give it to her, she’d actually let him sleep for once. “Happy birthday, sweet girl.” Her smile was wide like it always was as she cuddled into her dad’s chest. He found it so hard to believe that she had already been in his life for four years already, she was growing so much so quickly. He wished time would slow down. 

Her head was tucked under his chin, his hand rubbing her back. He was surprised she didn’t fall asleep again in his arms, but he knew his next words would shake any remaining sleep from her body. “I got you something,” he told her, poking her stomach as he got up from the bed. She tried to contain her excitement, but she was practically exploding with joy as she waited for him to grab whatever it was. He’d kept it wrapped under his bed, somewhere he knew she wouldn’t bother looking. 

He placed the large box in her lap, watching as she ripped open the paper after she got the okay from her dad. His wrapping wasn’t the best, but he tried his best and he thought he deserved a pat on the back for it. It did the job. 

“A guitar!” she gasped, looking at her dad with wide eyes. Every time Eddie had pulled out his guitar in the last year, his little Beth had made a comment about how she wanted a guitar of her own, so he’d saved up and bought her a miniature version of his own for her birthday. “It looks like yours,” she noticed. That piece of information only made her love the gift more. She was a carbon copy of her dad in almost every way and she certainly loved music in the same way he did, knowing she’d be able to play a guitar that was the same as his was thrilling.

“It does,” he said, flickering his attention to his own guitar that hung on his bedroom wall proudly. “Now we match.”

She peered up at him with those doe eyes that made his heart weak. For those eyes he would do literally anything. “Will you teach me how to play?” she asked. There was no way he would ever be able to turn her down on that offer, even if he was sure she would find it a struggle to succeed with some of the songs he knew how to play. Luckily, the song she was named after was easy enough. “Course I will, but not today. We gotta get up and ready for the zoo, birthday girl.”

She nodded, allowing him to stand up before practically throwing herself into his arms. From there he would carry her to the kitchen so the pair could have breakfast. She’d taken him a little off guard when she jumped at him, so naturally he thought to pay for that he had to toss her over his shoulder. Her laughter was loud as she kicked her legs, playfully begging to be let down. But the two of them both knew she loved it. 

In the beginning, Eddie had been scared of nearly every move he made as a dad, he now found it all came natural to him. He didn’t need to overthink every single decision, and he didn’t have to worry about if he wasn’t being careful enough. In fact if you looked at him with Beth now compared to how he was four years ago, you’d think Eddie was two completely separate people. Four years ago he never would have been caught dead tossing his child over his shoulder, it would have made him fear for his life. And now, well…

“Okay, you go sit down,” he said, letting her back down to her feet. She stumbled for a second from the sudden dizziness as she tried to regain her balance, earning a laugh from her dad. Once she was stable she basically sprinted to the couch while Eddie rummaged through the almost empty cupboards. “What does the birthday girl want for breakfast? We’ve got frosted flakes or cinnamon toast crunch.” 

She hummed loudly as she tried to decide, thinking over her options in her head before she finally came to a conclusion. “Frosted flakes, please.” Usually he wouldn’t even give her the option between the two considering they were two of the most sugary cereals he bought and his little Beth on a sugar rush meant hell, but her birthday was a special occasion, so he supposed it was okay just for today. He poured her a bowl of her choice and decided he would join her in it too, bringing the two bowls over to the couch where he dropped beside her. He made sure she had a good grip so he didn’t end up with milk all over the couch again (it had happened on more than one occasion and Wayne hadn’t been incredibly happy). 

The two watched whatever cartoons were on as they ate, not making much conversation. They were both as invested in the colorful show playing as the other, despite the fact that one was a toddler and the other was a twenty-four year old man. But it was only another thing they could bond over so none of them were going to complain. 

After breakfast it was time for them to get ready, the dad letting his girl pick out what she wanted to wear for the day. He usually let her do that, Eddie couldn’t put together an outfit to save his life, not for a little girl anyway. She always made herself look much cuter than he could. If he was given more than just an old band tee and some jeans (his go to) then he was helpless. For herself she picked out a pair of denim overalls and a light coloured jumper, he’d force her into another jacket over top so she didn’t get sick also. 

Eddie was dressed mostly as normal, though he’d tried to make a bit more of an effort for her. He’d swapped out the band tee for a polo shirt Steve had convinced him to buy a long time ago, however had still paired it with his signature black jeans, chains and leather jacket (plus his jewelry).

Obviously he thought she looked much cuter than he did, hence why he had to take the annual birthday picture of her. There would probably be a lot of pictures throughout the day and he didn’t care that it made him look like an overbearing mom. He didn’t have many pictures as a young child for him to look back on, though that changed with Wayne, but he wanted Beth to have those.

When the picture was out of the way he only had one other thing left to do, the bird's nest she called hair.

“Let’s tame that hair, huh?” he muttered, brushing his hand over the top of it. This was one of her least favorite parts of getting ready. She always whined that Eddie was brushing her hair too recklessly and that it hurt, even though he was trying to be as gentle as possible. But her curls, an exact match to his, just made it impossible. However, he always gave her an incentive. If she let him fix her hair with minimal complaints and restrictions, she could choose how he styled his hair for the day. “What style do we want?” 

“Pig tails!” she squealed, already prepared with her answer straight after he asked the question. He smiled, grabbing two hair ties from his dresser. He wasn’t the greatest at hair by far, but over the years he’d gotten much better, he just couldn’t braid at this point, she’d surely surpass him in her own talents soon anyway. “Want you to have the same,” she said. 

He didn’t necessarily mind. He would do anything for his Beth, even if he was probably going to get laughed at by his friends for showing up with his hair in two low pigtails. “Whatever you want, your highness.” Through the mirror he could see that she was beaming, happy she had gotten the answer she wanted. There wasn’t a large part of her that expected him to reject her suggestion, but it was still pleasant to know that he wanted to match with her as much as she wanted to match with him.

Once her hair was done he moved to do his own, following a similar method until the pair looked like twins. She found it very amusing, giggling loudly as the two kept their heads next to each other in the mirror. “Y’look so pretty, daddy.”

He grinned, turning his head to press a smooch to her cheek. “So do you, my sweet girl.” There was a couple minutes where she couldn’t help messing with his hair, tugging on the pig tails until he shooed her hands away, poking at her stomach instead. “Come on, Steve and Dustin should be here soon.” 

He gathered their stuff, making sure her jacket and backpack were on firmly before leading her out of the trailer. She held tightly onto his hand as they reached the steps, the same ones she insisted on jumping down all the time just to prove that she could. He always cheered for her when she landed on her feet at the bottom, telling her she did a great job. However, what he wouldn’t tell her was that without the death grip she had on his hand then she probably wouldn’t land it. He was the only thing preventing her from hurting herself.

The two waited for the familiar BMW to show, not having to go too long until it was pulling up in front of them. Dustin climbed out of the passenger seat, already anticipating the love he was about to receive from the mini Eddie.

“Dusty,” Beth called, rushing into his arms where he welcomed her into a hug. “Baby muns, I’ve missed you.”

Eddie watched from the bottom of the trailer steps with a warm smile as the pair reunited. With Dustin busy with his senior year he hadn’t seen his favorite baby Munson in a couple weeks. She had certainly missed him and he had missed her, so he was happy to have a break where he could spend her birthday with her. The same went for Max who was heading over from her neighboring trailer. Although, sometimes when Eddie had to quickly run out, he’d leave Beth under the watchful eye of a studying Max for just a few minutes. 

Once the little girl realized her favorite redhead was also in her presence she was even more excited, rushing more than her little body could handle to give her a hug. “Let’s wrap it up kiddos, we need to get moving,” Steve called from the front seat, trying to usher them all into the car. The male teen moved to climb back into his seat once their reunion was over, only for Eddie to scold him and tug him back by the shirt collar. “Where d’you think you’re going?” he asked.

He didn’t like that he’d tugged him, so he got his own back, yanking on one of the pig tails in Eddie’s hair. “Uh, back to my seat?” It wasn’t appreciated by the older man, a scowl finding its way to his face as he pushed Dustin’s shoulder as payback and then fixed his hair. 

Beth was watching them both with curiosity. “Nuh-uh, the adult is here now. Get in the back.” 

If it was anyone else Dustin would have probably tried to argue. But he knew he wouldn’t get anywhere with how irritably stubborn Eddie Munson is. It was so much easier to just accept things than make it a fight that dragged out for hours. At least if he sat in the back he’d be able to talk to Beth a little more. Max could be heard snickering from behind as she took the seat on the other side of the little girl. 

In the car the three kids were lost in their own world of conversation, which worked out well

for Steve and Eddie because they found themselves in a very fond one discussing you. Steve had brought you up, asking if his friend had grown the balls to make a move yet, but the other just pretended like he had no idea what he was talking about. The topic was quickly dropped, but the redness that had gravitated to Eddie’s face was still there for a while. It was an awkward silence hanging around the car for a little bit until Beth asked if they could put some music on, and of course all four of them would do anything for her. 

The rest of the ride was filled with the soft sounds of angel eyes by ABBA playing through the car's speakers, as well as the quiet conversation that was made between Dustin and Beth every so often. She could be speaking complete nonsense to him, but he was happy to entertain whatever it was she was talking about.

Upon arrival at the zoo, Beth naturally drifted towards Robin, the two having had an odd connection that began the day they met for the first time. There was something about the older girl that just provoked a sense of calm in the toddler. The pair walked hand in hand for the first ten or so minutes around the zoo, equally giddy about all the animals they were seeing, specifically the snakes. They liked making fun of the fact that Eddie was certainly not a fan of them, keeping his distance from the glass. Around the same time the girl had complained that her bag was heavy, Eddie taking it from her with a smile and carrying it on his own shoulder instead. It earned a few laughs from Dustin and Steve who really thought the pink, sparkly backpack completed the look he’d started with his pig tails. 

Beth looked in awe of every animal she saw, but she spent the most time gazing up at the penguins with a childish wonder that was just precious. At each exhibit after the snakes Eddie would be crouched behind her, holding her tiny body and reading off the facts on the information cards on the glass. He didn’t even know it was possible for her to be more amazed, but upon finding out the black and white creatures could become makeshift sleds by sliding on their bellies on the ice, her eyes grew wider than he’d ever seen, a large toothy grin on her face.

“Daddy, can we try that?” she asked, cheerfully. Eddie turned fearfully towards his group of friends, silently asking them how he was supposed to respond to that kind of question. He didn't want to go full dad mode and say no, but it was April and near freezing, she would a hundred percent catch a cold if she tried. But he also wanted to let her have fun. “Tell you what, B, in summer I’ll get you the fastest water slide we can find, huh?”

Thanks to her skewy conception of time, she didn’t know that was still months away, and hopefully for Eddie’s sake she will have forgotten by then, but it was good enough to tide her over for now. “Good save,” Robin muttered. 

He rose to his feet, smiling proudly to himself as he thanked her despite the obvious sarcasm her tone was drenched in. Beth ran to another one of the group members while the dad was distracted, finding herself tugging on the end of Steve’s shirt to ask silently if he would pick her up. One thing the toddler loved was being held, whether it was for cuddles or being carried around, she just adored it; she was almost never out of someone’s arms, mainly Eddie and Steves. 

The Harrington boy carried the girl anywhere she wanted to go, and her next stop had to be the monkeys. Even the man was amazed as he gazed at them, him and Beth sharing the same expression of wonder. Eddie was so enamored with the smile on his baby girl’s face that he knew he had to take a picture. He ushered them into a stance where he could see both them and the animals behind them. 

“Show me that pretty smile,” he said. His eyes rolled so far into the back of his head as Steve grinned brighter rather than his daughter. He almost physically facepalmed. “No, not you Steve, I meant Beth.”

The second best part of her day apart from seeing the penguins, had to be the gift shop. Of course it was, how could it not be when she managed to swindle Steve out of money and take him for the sucker he was. Eddie was such a proud dad at that moment even if Harrington was basically steaming with rage. At least it made for an amusing memory for everyone else. 

It started when he stole her away from the group after he spotted a pretty girl with some friends in the shop. It was coming towards the end of the zoo trip so Beth’s sugar crash that had been building since this morning was making her tired and compliant. She wouldn’t wake up again until she got the ice cream she’d been promised on their way out. At first the group thought he was just offering to carry her because she was tired, but they understood there was an ulterior motive when he sped off and struck up a conversation with some woman. Eddie had sighed, but it wasn’t the first time he’d had Steve pretend she was his daughter to try and pick up women. She was used to it, as was he. Even though he’d told him a hundred times to knock it off, it continued happening. 

Not everyone had seen it before though. Dustin was watching with deep curiosity, trying to decipher what was going on. “What do you think he’s saying?” the kid asked Eddie, eyeing Steve as he cradled Beth and spoke to the woman in front of him. She seemed as though she liked the sight of the man with the child. 

“I’m King Steve, I’m pretending this adorable baby’s my daughter, please go out with me because I’m a fake single dad,” he mocked. The curly haired boy looked at him with a furrowed brow and a slightly opened mouth, shocked to hear such a condescending tone coming from Eddie. He grew defensive upon earning that look, muttering a quiet, “What?” 

After Steve, actually successfully for once, got the lady’s number, he let Beth back down to her feet, bending down to her height. The sleepy toddler was beginning to wake up a little and was slowly gravitating towards Erica who had joined them. Those two, despite their prevalent age gap, got on like two peas in a pod. 

“Look, if you don’t tell your dad about this, I’ll buy you any plushie in here you want,” he told her. He thought the odds were good considering she was only four, but she had been spending way too much time with Erica and Dustin to settle at that– mainly Erica. Beth hesitated, looking over her shoulder to where Sinclair was watching. The older of the two shook her head, essentially telling her Steve’s offerings were shitty and he needed to do better. 

He watched the exchange, but was curious as to what she’d come up with. “Two plushies,” she said, glancing at Erica to check that was okay. The teen only raised her eyebrows, encouraging her to continue. “And five dollars.” With a final look casted back she had earned the approval of the youngest Sinclair, a grin creeping its way onto her face now that she knew she did good. 

Steve’s jaw gaped, scoffing in disbelief that he was actually standing here bargaining with a four year old. This wasn’t the first time he’d been swindled by the specific Sinclair either. “Y’know what Munson, fine. You got a deal.” He shook her tiny hand, pulling a five dollar bill from his wallet to hand to her. Then it was time for her to pick out two animal plushies she liked. Her selections ended up being a penguin and a lion. “But I seriously miss when you couldn’t talk.” 

She was beaming as he handed them to her, and she didn’t stick around long as she rushed off to find her father. Eddie was more than happy to scoop her up in his arms when she reached him, letting her rest on his hip. “What are these?” Eddie asked, feigning shock as if he hadn’t just witnessed Steve buy them for his daughter. She delved into the story about what the Harrington man had been doing, as in using her as a way to pick up women; even if he failed. Although he’d made her promise not to tell her dad, she couldn’t help herself, she told him everything. 

She held up the penguin plushie first. “This one’s mine. It’s a penguin.” Then with her other hand she held up the lion, her father’s soon to be favorite zoo animal.  “This one’s yours. A lion ‘cause you have the same hair,” she laughed. As a kid he’d never really had the chance to pick one he liked that much, but now that Beth had made that comparison, it was pretty solidified which one he loved now. “I got them from Stevie in the deal we made.”

Steve just watched on with a feeling of betrayal in his chest, cursing the entire Munson name. “Oh, and he gave me five dollars. Can we use it to get ice cream?” Eddie had never been so proud of the girl. He didn’t approve of Steve using her as a pickup line, and the guy knew that but did it anyway, so he was at least happy in the knowledge that if he was going to continue to do it against the dad’s wishes, then his baby was working hard and getting something out of it too. He’d have to remember to thank Erica later for helping her out. 

“Of course we can.” He waited until Steve was in ear shot to make another comment. “Isn’t Steve so generous, buying us all ice cream.” He earned himself a middle finger, one that made him gasp dramatically and reach to cover Beth’s eyes. 

Robin tutted mockingly at Steve. “Not in front of the baby, Harrington. No ice cream for you.”

He rolled his eyes, trailing behind the group the entire way as they approached the ice cream cart just outside of the zoo. He had a scowl on his face as Robin kept to his word and refused to buy him an ice cream despite the fact they were using his money. At the least though he could acknowledge that the happiness all over Beth’s face was adorable, especially when she had the sugary treat smushed all around her mouth. 

The joy he’d felt throughout the day was quickly returned with the little girl’s laughter, the group of seven absorbing the final bits of excitement that came along with their day out before they made their way home. She was certainly going to be exhausted tonight. Eddie was expecting her out like a light by eight at the latest. 

When the pair returned home they had plans to watch a movie with Wayne, the man having taken a day shift for once so he could spend time with his granddaughter for her birthday. Eddie told him he didn’t have to, but he did greatly appreciate it after seeing the smile on her face when she got home. She was straight into the older man’s arms, telling him all about all the animals she’d seen and showing off the plushies she’d got. 

He entertained her ramblings while Eddie slipped the video into the vhs player, gathering some snacks and stuff for them from the kitchen.

As expected the girl was falling asleep halfway through the movie, and to be honest so was Eddie. She was laid across his lap, her head resting on the arm of the couch where her eyes were fighting invisible weights trying to stay open. He smiled down at the sight of her, brushing his thumb over her cheek as his own eyes drooped. “Y’tired, sweet girl?” 

She nodded. “Let’s get you to bed.” Since she had outgrown her crib the girl had been sleeping in Eddie’s bed while he took the couch. It wasn’t the most comfortable place for him, but he put her comfort over his own anyday. He’d surely find a better solution at some point, but for now it worked and that was all that mattered.

It was difficult getting a sleepy toddler into pajamas, but he managed it in record time, helping her under the covers one she was ready for bed. “Y’got your penguin?” he asked.

She showed it to him, nice and cuddled in her arms. “Did you have a good birthday?” he asked, stroking her hair as she clutched the stuffie Steve had got her. She was too tired for words right now, so she just nodded in response to his question. He was glad, all he’d wanted was for his baby to have the best birthday he could give her. “Well, get some rest, y’look like you need it, baby.” 

She smiled, nodding her head again. “G’night daddy. I love you.” 

He leaned forward and placed a kiss onto her forehead, pulling the blanket all the way up to her chin. “I love you too.” 

The day after her birthday he was due back at work, promising the little girl he’d see her that night around closing time. She never liked it when he left her for that long, they were basically attached at the hip at this stage in her life. He left at midday and wouldn’t see her again until almost midnight. He was always amazed she even managed to stay awake that long, but a quick nap in the afternoon would have her energetic enough to greet her dad after a long day, only to crash on the way home. 

He was itching to see her again even the second after he left her, but of course he had to deal with customers all day long first, and of course he had the worst possible luck. 

The first table of the day he had of course housed Jason Carver and his old friends. They noticed him right away, familiar evil smirks growing on their faces, it seemed as though they hadn’t changed in the four years they hadn’t seen each other. “Ah, freak, see you’re still in this shithole.” He thought he had escaped the basketball team at graduation. They had all taken off to different colleges around the country on various scholarships and such, giving Eddie a little bit of much needed peace from them. 

He ignored Jason’s taunting, pulling out his pen to take their orders like he would do with anyone else. “What d’you want assholes?” he asked, trying to hold back the eye roll. He knew he was supposed to treat the customers kindly so his attitude didn’t reflect badly on the diner, but he would never have that kind of patience with this group of people. Plus if he called you over he knew you would be on his side anyway. 

Jason scoffed, feigning disgust. “Is that anyway to speak to a customer?” 

You were watching from behind the counter as the four guys tormented poor Eddie. Unlike him, you didn’t know them, hadn’t met them within the halls of Hawkins high or had the pleasure of disagreeing with them like he had. You didn’t really know what they were capable of or what to expect, so you planned to keep an eye on them and how they treated the man.

After he took their order with their minimal awful things said about them in his head, he headed back over to the counter where you were wiping it down. You heard him let out a deep sigh as he tore off the page in his notepad to pass back to the kitchen. Then he was heading towards you to complain, as both of you did whenever there was a particularly rude customer. 

“God, I hate them,” he said, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. He heard you laugh, which was accompanied by you abandoning your task so he could feel your hand tangling in his hair. “I can kick ‘em out if you want. I am the manager after all.” Although it sounded like a very promising idea, he knew he wouldn’t live it down as long as they were still in town. They’d probably go around and tell anyone that would listen that Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson had let someone else fight his own battles by kicking them out of the diner. 

“Can’t I just spit in their food or something?” He was probably joking, keyword probably, but you did believe if you gave him the okay then he would go and do it. That was why you had to outwardly deny that he could just in case. “No, but we’ll get ‘em back somehow, Ed, don’t you worry.”

He trusted you, continuing to do his job serving them their food no matter how much he wanted to hit at least one of them in the face. It seemed as though they just became more and more unbearable as seconds passed. He was honestly amazed at how they were managing it. In the span of the less than an hour they’d been there, from start to end he’d argue they were a thousand times less tolerable. 

He was still grumbling to himself when he came back saying they wanted their check. They’d clearly rattled him considering he’d been pretty happy when he started his shift earlier, so like a good friend would, you offered to take it and sort it out. What you didn’t tell him at first was that you planned to leave a pretty generous tip for him paid for by Jason. You felt it was the least he could do after the way he’d treated your friend. It didn’t take much, just a bit extra added on to their meals and such and they’d never know.

Eddie was confused when you sent them out with a wave and a smile on their way out, but the evil grin on your face told him you were scheming.

“What did you do?” he inquired, eyeing you and your suspicious demeanor.

You handed him some of the dollars you’d been given by his rival, laughing at the crease that appeared between his brows. “It’s for you. Jason left a very kind tip for his old friend.” 

His jaw gaped. “Y/N, isn’t that like, illegal?” he asked, glancing down at the money in his hand to the cash you were putting in the register. He watched you shrug, letting out a loud laugh. “It’s not like he’ll notice. It’s probably daddy’s money anyway.”

He sighed, letting his lips finally curl into a grin at the knowledge you’d risk committing an illegal act just to get back at someone for him. You were a little shocked when he placed both his hands on the sides of your cheeks, leaning in to place a loud kiss to your cheek as a thank you. “You are a badass.” 

The rest of your shift panned out as normal, the two of you even sharing a milkshake at one point after neither of you could be bothered to make a second one. All you were waiting for was when closing would hit and you got to see the precious smile of that little girl you adored so much.

Beth usually came in after or around closing time. Wayne brought her over, her hand firmly clutched in her grandpas as they entered the diner. She didn’t see her dad at first considering he was in the kitchen, but she let out a squeal when she saw you, rushing in your direction. You briefly greeted the older man before turning your attention to the small child. 

“Hey kiddo, missed seeing you yesterday.” You leaned over the counter so you could ruffle her hair. She scrunched up her nose as you did so, giggling quietly as she shooed your hand away and smoothed her hair back down. Wayne helped her up onto one of the barstools, meaning she was now much closer to your height and she could see you better. 

“We went to the zoo!” she cheered. You gasped, “You did? Did you have fun?” You were moving around behind the counter like a second nature, sliding a plate in front of Wayne with his regular late night snack that would keep him going for the first few hours he worked. He thanked you quietly, not wanting to interrupt the story his granddaughter was telling. When she was excited like this it was never wise to cut her off for anything. She was like Eddie when it came to all the sass she had. 

The father came out to the front of the diner near the end of her story, grinning at the sight of his daughter. He didn’t cut her story off, just placed a kiss on the top of her head and let her continue. Subconsciously, she leaned back on her chair so she was resting against his chest, letting him know in her own way that she knew he was there. 

“So, I heard, it was a special little girl’s birthday yesterday,” you began, trying to bite back your smile. You didn’t yet want to give away the surprise you had for her, the one that even Eddie didn’t know about. He watched the two of you interact with a warm heart. Over the years you had formed a bond with the little girl that he adored to see and in turn his feelings towards you had grown tremendously from when he first met you. “And I got her something.”

He wouldn’t say it in front of Beth but he’d definitely tell you later that you didn’t have to do that. For you it wasn’t that you felt like you had to, but you’d wanted to. She’d been the light of your day for pretty much three years and you wanted to do something nice for her birthday. You disappeared into the kitchen for only seconds, coming back with a decorated cake that had a ‘4’ candle lit on top.

She gasped as you set it down in front of her, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the pretty decorations. You’d learned from Eddie that she had a bit of a thing about tulips since she was a baby, so you worked hard with some icing to make some pretty good looking different coloured tulips. “Make a wish, sweetheart.” 

As she blew out the candle the three of you clapped, cheering quietly for her. She bathed in the attention happily. That was all quickly followed shortly by Wayne’s departure, work calling. You offered your goodbyes before moving to cut a slice of the cake for the eager little girl, you and Eddie deciding to share one after the food you’d already sneaked today from the kitchen. 

Now that Beth was distracted you turned to talk to the man. Business had picked up towards the end of the night and you had barely had any chance to communicate for hours. You loved talking to him while you were working, he often made shifts more tolerable and vice versa. At first he was too busy complementing your baking skills to even realize you had been planning on saying something, but he grew bashful when he noticed your amused stare. “Sorry, go on.”

“Did you have fun at the zoo?” you asked while she dug into her slice of cake. He grinned, leaning on the counter opposite you. “I did, we had a little daddy-daughter day, plus some friends. Thank you for the day off.”

He saw the way your face contorted, your features scrunching in a look of confusion. As he thought over what he said he didn’t know which part could have caused a misunderstanding, but he was sure he was about to find out. “Wait, wait. She’s your daughter?”

“Is this a joke? Are you playing with me?” he asked.

You shook your head, your entire face looking like you had just had the biggest revelation the world had ever seen. It should have been obvious– it was obvious now that you thought about it, but for some reason you had just never put two and two together and now you felt a little bit dumb. Heat was rising to your face as you hid behind your hands, listening to the sounds of Eddie’s amused laughter as he realized you were being serious. “I thought she was your sister or Wayne’s kid or something,” you weakly muttered. His smile only kept growing, despite the lingering fear in his chest that now you knew he was a dad things would change between you two. He didn’t know if he could handle your friendship becoming awkward, especially not when he was already struggling with his blossoming feelings. 

The feelings between the two of you went unspoken for the sake of your jobs, plus a little bit of fear. “That’s not– It’s not a bad thing, right?” You could tell from his tone that he felt like he was trying to tread lightly when he asked. 

You jumped in quickly to reassure him. “No, no of course not. It explains a lot actually. You both have the same puppy dog eyes.” The tips of his ears tinted pink at that. It wasn’t the ‘compliment’ itself that made him blush, but it was the fact you had taken enough time to look at him to notice the kind of eyes he had. He liked the thought of you looking at him. 

Now that the fear was pushed aside, he could focus on the fact that you were still clearly embarrassed over your mistake. He pulled you into a hug, still chuckling as he rested his chin on the top of your head. Your face was firmly hidden in his chest, not wanting to be seen by anyone at all for the next five years. “You’re adorable,” he said. The cake was long since abandoned on the counter, and Beth was watching the two of you but didn’t really care to question the sudden burst of affection. 

You supposed you learned something new everyday, and with this new found knowledge it actually only made their relationship ten times cuter. It made him a little bit cuter too..

━━━━━━━━━♡♥♡━━━━━━━━━

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[woso-fan13]

14. ‘I Might Be A Teeny Tiny Bit Sick, But It’s Fine.’

You’re currently having an extreme battle of wills with Mal. The two of you stand on opposite sides of your hotel room, staring at each other. Nobody dares to look away first. 

Finally, Mal sighs and breaks eye contact. 

“Y/N/N, this is ridiculous. You’re not going to practice.”

“Mal, I told you that I am perfectly fine. There’s no reason for me not to go to practice.”

“You were wheezing in your sleep, is that not enough of a reason? I was literally up half of the night listening to you so you didn’t stop breathing.” 

“You’re just making that up,” you argue back, “you must be. I’m standing here, totally fine.” 

Your body betrays you at this moment though. Before Mal could respond to your argument, you surrender to a coughing fit. Your chest heaves as your body tries to rid itself of a lung, your face turning red from effort. Mal takes pity on you, grabbing a cool water bottle from the fridge, cracking it open before she gently hands it to you. You gratefully take it, trying to sip it in between coughs. Once you manage to calm your lungs, you allow yourself a few full mouthfuls of water to soothe your throat. 

“Still think you’re totally fine?” Mal asks, an eyebrow raised. 

You simply glare back at her. 

“Buddy, you don’t have to be fine,” she tries to reassure you, “it’s okay to be sick. Why don’t you just stay at the hotel and get some rest? I’ll tell the coaches that you’ll be missing practice.”

“I might be a teeny tiny bit sick, but it’s fine. I caught some bug going around the team last week. Everyone managed to get over it in a few days, I just can’t kick this cough.”

Mal makes a sympathetic noise, “I’m sorry. But you know that your lungs aren’t quite right, sometimes they need a little extra time to recover. Give them a chance to fix themselves.”

“I know, I just want it to be over with. I hate practicing like this, especially at camp.”

“You can skip today, nobody would think less of you. I’m sure they’ve been able to hear your coughing through the walls, I doubt anyone would be surprised if you didn’t feel up to practice.”

“You know I’m going to go, I’m not missing this.”

Mal laughs, “I know. I figured it was worth a shot to convince you to sit out. I’ll need you to promise the older girls that I tried to make you stay back. Kay?”

“Yes ma’am, that’s a deal.”

“Make sure you pack your inhaler and actually use it. And tell me if your chest gets tight. And show some restraint, please.”

You nod, quickly grabbing your bag and heading towards the door. You were ready to practice and you didn’t want to be late. You’re about to reach for the knob when a voice stops you. 

“Y/N?” Mal asks. 

You turn around, a questioning look on your face. 

“Forget something? Something important.”

You quickly dig through your bag, realizing what you’re missing. You look up just in time to see Mal grabbing your inhaler off of the nightstand and wiggling it at you. 

“Sorry Mal,” you apologize, “I thought it was in my bag already. I promise.”

She tosses it to you and you quickly shove it into the correct pocket of your bag. 

“That’s probably my fault actually. Your breathing really freaked me out last night, I put your inhaler next to you just in case you needed to use it.”

You smile, genuinely touched by how kind your teammates are. “Thanks Mal!”

She picks up her own bag, meeting you by the door. Throwing an arm around your shoulder, she opens the door and the two of you begin heading to the elevator. 

“You know, it’s so hard being a single mother, especially a single mother to a medically complex kid. You’ll never understand how much I do for you,” she teases you, smiling slightly when you laugh. 

Laughing was good. Laughing meant that, not only were you in a good mood, but that you had enough air in your lungs to show the good mood. 

“Mal, you’re like 6 years older than me on a good day, you’re definitely not my mother. Also, you're almost married, so not single either. It’s sounding to me like you’ve got a pretty easy life, maybe I should spice it up.”

You wiggle your eyebrows at the last sentence. Or, more accurately, you attempted to wiggle your eyebrows and failed miserably. Mal bursts into laughter at your attempt and you feign a look of shock at her reaction. 

“Come on. We need to go show everyone how you do that before practice.”

With that, she bypasses the extremely slow elevator and begins pulling you down the stairs.