#have a thing

[sp0o0kylights]

Bullshit.

The word rings obnoxiously in Steve’s ears as he pushes his way out back, not wanting to be anymore of a talking piece at this party than he already was.

He’d just wanted Nancy to stop drinking, take a second, pace herself…

Steve swipes furiously at his eyes, and then curses when it nearly causes him to run into Chrissy Cunnginham, who’s perched in a chair tucked away from the patio door.

“Sorry, sorry.” He apologizes, trying not to sound like he’s upset, trying to keep his cool--only for her to look up and away, brushing off her own tears.

“Oh.” Steve says, a little laugh bubbling out of him. “You too huh?”

Thankfully she correctly interprets that he's not laughing at her, and adds her own giggle to the mix, the sound gentle even if pitched in upset.

"Boy problems?" Steve asks her, sinking down to the vacant chair on Chrissy's right.

She nods, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"Girl problems?" She asks back, and he grimaces a smile.

They sit for a minute, Steve pulling out a cigarette and offering it to her before lighting up. Chrissy shakes her head, and though her nose curls a little at the smoke she doesn’t say anything.

Neither of them do, staring at the few people bringing the party outside in the way only drunk teenagers can.

"Can I tell you something?" Chrissy says finally, as Steve continues to struggle to keep himself breathing evenly (and not spiraling. He still has to go back and try and escort Nancy home, and he needs to keep his temper when he does it.)

She licks her lips. "I keep trying to break up with Jason, but he won't let me."

It takes a second for the words to register, but when they do he leans himself towards chrissy in concern. “What do you mean, he won’t let you?”

“He’s not--it’s not…”She trails off, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. “He talks me out of it is all.”

She’s downplaying it, and Steve’s concern grows tenfold. “Does he argue with you or just…tells you no or something?”

"It's complicated." Chrissy says, refusing to look at him. "He has this vision for me, for us."

Steve watches as she worries at a hangnail.

Feels the need to reach out and take her hand, but keeps his own hands to himself.

If Steve has learned anything, it's that not everyone wants to be touched as much as he does.

"He keeps telling me I'm just being anxious. That I should trust him, and I do, he just expects me to always do what he says? And more and more lately I--"

She huddles down into the little cat costume she's wearing, pulling the thin black sweater around her. "I want different things than he does."

Steve wonders vaguely if Nancy wants different things.

Or a different person entirely.

"That's not fair to you." Steve says, leaning forward and lowering his own voice. "He can't keep you in a relationship you don't want to be in."

A hard thing for him to say, after the bathroom conversation but this is different.

‘Please, let this be different.’ He thinks, before pushing the thought aside.

"He can't force you to do what he wants just because he wants it, or thinks its best. He should be listening to you and what you want too. Relationships are about…compromise right?” It’s what he’s heard anyway, though most of the time “compromise” means “letting the other person get what they want.”

Which is what he thought he’d been doing for Nancy all this time.

“I can help you if you want. Be your," Steve poorly mimes waving a pom pom. "cheer support."

Chrissy looks at him, eyes still wet. "You would?"

"Of course.” He says, before scooting just a smidgen closer. “Might have to ask you to return the favor though. Nancy said some things tonight and I could really use a second--”

A loud curse makes them both startle, interrupting Steve.

Together, they look around before another noise, like bark being scraped, draws both their attention to the large oak that stands in the backyard.”

"Is…is that Eddie Munson?" Chrissy asks.

"I think so."

Chrissy squints a little, as if not quite believing what she's seeing. "Is…he stuck in a tree?"

Steve finds himself staring in his own disbelief, hands moving to his hips as he watches Munsons wriggling, cursing form.

"I think so." He repeats with a shake of his head.

Eddie's foot slips off a branch, once, twice.

"Hey--" Steve calls out in warning, but unfortunately it comes too late.

The branch under his foot gives away with a startling crack! as another branch shreds Munson's jacket as his full weight caches on it.

"Oh!" Chrissy gasps, hand flying to her mouth as Eddie falls right onto his ass with a yelp.

"You good man?" Steve asks, rising from his chair, hesitant to go over but needing to make sure the idiot hasn't cracked his skull open.

Chrissy has no such qualms, popping up to run over to Munson.

"You're bleeding." She tells him worriedly, dropping to her knees to get a better look.

"Well shit." Munson says with a wonky grin. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Chrissy asks, as Steve’s newly honed babysitting instincts kick in and drive him to get up and look at Munson’s injury himself.

Chrissy carefully strokes the older teen’s hair out of his face, as Steve bends down to check his head and neck.

"You hurt anywhere?" He asks, spotting the scratch that had Chrissy worried.

It’s on his forehead--the guy must have knocked his face against the tree when he fell. Head injuries always bleed a ton but this one's well contained to a small scrape.

Probably not a concern, though Steve looks at his pupils anyways.

"Nah, I’m pine. I didn't mean to drop in on you guys.” He waves a hand behind him before dropping his voice to a dramatic whisper. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that tree, it was pretty shady.”

Steve, long trained by Dustin, narrows his eyes. "Are you making puns right now?"

"Maybe?" Munson hedges, looking delighted to have been called out.

“Uh huh.” Steve puts his hands back on his hips, straightening up from where he’d crouched down. “Your head okay? You remember your name and shit?”

“Edward Edwardian Munson, present and ready for duty!” He gives a mock salute, before dropping Chrissy a wink. “If the duty is drinking and playing games that is.”

“Your middle name cannot be Edwardian.” Chrissy laughs.

"It is!" He defends, at the same time Steve says,

“It's not "

“Oh?” Munson challenges, as if this entire situation isn’t ridiculous. “Then what is my middle name, Sir Steven?”

“No idea, but I know it’s not that.”

Munson blows a raspberry at him. “Well then, maybe you should mind your own beeswax."

"Like you were doing? Up in the tree right above us?" Steve banters back.

The playful look dies a little, Munson beginning the painful process of standing after one falls.

"For the record, I absolutely was not eavesdropping, you guys just happened to be under the tree I climbed and I was there first. " He says it rapidly, like he's used to being accused of such things, and is heading off as many problems as he can.

Steve just ignores it, opting instead to hold his hands out. One to Chrissy and one to Eddie.

Watches surprise cross the older teens face, even as he waits for Chrissy to get up before accepting Steve's hand.

"Why were you up a tree? The family dog run you up there?" Steve grunts as he pulls the metalhead up.

"Funny." Munson quipped sarcastically. "But no. I was up there for reasons."

'Reasons.' Steve mouths, and has to fight himself to keep from grinning.

"Even though I was there first, I did happen to hear some things." He looks at Chrissy, voice turning serious. "If you need any help getting things through Carver's thick skull I'd love to lend a hand."

"You would cheer for me too?"

"Oh absolutely. I'd make a far better cheerleader than Harrington here." He shoots a grin towards Steve to take the edge off the words, before doing a far more enthusiastic mimicry of the cheerleaders pom pom routine.

"But I know how much Carver hates the word no. If you break up with him and he gives you shit after, I'm happy to step in."

Steve hadn't actually thought about that yet, but given what he knew of Jason it makes sense.

He could easily see Chrissy worrying about Jason harassing her after the break up.

"Thank you. Both of you." She sniffs. "Eddie, are you sure you're okay?"

"Right as rain!" Munson gives a rather theatrical thumbs up. "I'll let you in on a family secret, we Munson's have rubber bones."

She gives him another giggle for his efforts, and even Steve can’t fully cover his

Munson, the ass, notices.

“Well call me the court jester, I got both the King and Queen to smile!” He cheers.

Steve rolls his eyes, but doesn't deny it.

"Chrissy!?" Someone barks, loud in the otherwise quiet backyard.

"Speak of the devil." Eddie drops his voice dramatically as Jason strides out of the house.

"I've been looking for you." He chides, two of his friends following close behind.

They're younger members of the basketball team, ones Steve's brain sluggishly attempts to remember.

"Are your knees dirty?" Jason asks Chrissy, disgust tinting his voice as he slowly looks from her to Munson next to her.

His eyes narrow, expression almost offronted.

"You heathen." Jason snarls, stepping forward with a fist clenched.

It was a move right of the sitcoms Steve swore he didn't watch, and it looked just as cheesy in real life as it did on screen.

"Calm down." Steve speaks up, hands going to his hips.

Jason's head jerks as he registers him, so focused on Munson that Steve slipped his notice entirely.

"Harrington?" He asks, as if Steve could be mistaken for anyone else here.

Steve gives him jazz hands in return.

"What are you doing out here?" Jason speaks only to Steve, whole body angling towards him like he's the only person who matters.

It's something Steve's dad does, if there's a businessman he considers to be an equal in the room. Zoning in on them, so he can subtly work in ways to make them feel inferior.

It's narcissism at its core (or so says his mother, when she's blitzed out on too many glasses of wine.)

"Talking to people." Steve deadpans. "If you're looking for beer, you walked past it."

Jason entire face pinches, like he just stepped in dog shit. "No one just talks to Munson."

It's a stupid thing to say, and whatever Hason was trying to imply with it wasn't appreciated.

"Well mark me as the first." Steve's hip cocks, voice frosting over.

Surprise washes across Munson's face, though he remains silent as Steve deals with Jason.

Probably a smart move, given how Jason seems to be eager for a fight.

"Whatever it is you're doing, you can leave Chrissy out of it." He says, and god his voice even sounds like Steve's dad.

"Chrissy," Steve says, with an eyebrow raise he knows looks judgemental, "can speak for herself."

He turns to face her, inviting her to the conversation, in the same way he'd always wished someone would invite his mother to speak against his father.

Watches as the cheerleader bites her lip, trying hard to hide the tears that have sprung to her eyes--but proves that she's stronger than Steve's mother ever was.

She steps forward, taking the opportunity offered to her with a steadying breath. "Jason--"

"You can explain it to me later." Her boyfriend waves her off, like she was a waitress offering water and not his partner.

Uncaring entirely that she's clearly upset.

That she wants to talk.

Munson has come to stand on Chrissy's other side, gone still in a way Steve's never seen him do.

It's downright weird for a guy who's normally always moving, and Steve knows it's defensive.

He's feeling a little defensive himself right now, though he doesn't want to particularly untangle why.

"Jason, listen to me." Chrissy tries again.

In his preffery vision, Steve spots a flash of familiar color. Turns his head automatically, seeking it out--and sees Jonathan hustling Nancy across the room.

The younger man is trying to balance Nancy while opening the front door, and for a second Steve almost beelines for them, except--

Except.

Nancy's whole body moves in what Steve intimately knows is an exhale, leaning her head in the crook of Jonathan's shoulder.

One arm wraps around his waist, as Jonathan finally gets the door open, and Steve watches with a stunned sort of horror as his girlfriend presses a kiss to Jonathan's shoulder.

It's fine.

He's fine.

Nancy was just--drunk. Seeking comfort. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't mean it like that, she didn't--

"Oh shit Harrington." Jason drawls, a lazy sort of taunt. "I think Byers just stole your girlfriend."

Steve's head snaps back to him, the emotions he was attempting to box up flying to the front of his brain like dogs who slipped their leash.

"Never thought a priss like Nancy would be easy like that, but then, you never were the kind of guy to inspire loyalty." Jason continues, clearly ignoring his own girlfriend and all Steve can see is red.

Munson sucks air between his teeth next to him, nervously eyeing Steve while Chrissy's eyes have gone wide with shock and growing anger.

"Jason!" She admonishes, but he's not even looking towards her.

That too sharp smile is all for Steve.

He thinks of Nancy, the way she'd been so angry with him but so gentle with Jonathan.

He thinks of the monster he faced down in the Byers house, the terror that had shrank down to that same adrenaline soaked focus he had on the basketball court.

He thinks of this asshole Junior in front of him.

Making Chrissy cry just because she'd been kind enough to try to help Eddie, and accept Eddie's kindness in return when the weirdo tried to help her and Steve both.

Steve taps his foot, then switches his stance.

'Plant your feet.' Hargroves voice snarls in his memory and Steve wouldn't be surprised if the asshole abandons the keg long enough to come watch this.

Have his turn at heckling, just because he can.

Steve plants his feet anyway.

"You know what Carver?" He says, hands dropping from his hips.

Jason's face curves into a smile. "What?" He says, tone smarmy.

"You're full of shit."

Hand cocking back of its own accord, Steve puts every bit of himself into his punch.

Feels it reverberate up his arm as his knuckles connect to Jason's cheek.

It's going to hurt later, but right now all he can do is stand over Jason as the asshole's head snaps sideways, legs staggering him backwards until he's falling into his friends.

Chrissy gasps, Jason's boys chanting variations of 'Oh shit!'

Steve just glares him down.

The junior wipes his bloodied mouth, letting his friends push him up before shrugging them off.

"You're going to regret that." Jason snarls, and Steve squares up a second time, expecting to be rushed, when the sharp snickt! of a switchblade freezes them both.

"I think we're done here." Munson says, knife in hand.

The blade he holds is stained a deep, russet red. Crusty flakes fall off it, drifting gently down to the patio floor.

Jason's eyes boggle at it for a moment before he stands up straight.

"Now it makes sense. You're weak, Harrington, letting the Freak get his claws into you." Jason spits bloodstained saliva down at Eddie's feet. "No wonder Coach wants Billy as co-captain!"

Steve just scoffs.

"Chrissy!" Carver barks, making the poor girl jump. "Come here, we're leaving!"

Trembling, but stepping closer to Steve, she shakes her head.

"Chrissy." Jason orders again, and has the audacity to point to his feet, like a man commanding his dog.

"No." Chrissy says it quietly at first, voice a little shaky, before she seems to realize it.

She stands taller, repeats herself in a stronger voice. "No, Jason. We're done."

Jason stares at her, hard. "Chrissy, your mother told me to bring you home. So I'm going to take you home and get you away from this--demon and his lackey!"

It doesn't sound loving.

It sounds like a threat.

He steps forward, hand out to grab her arm and Steve tenses, shifting to step in front of Chrissy.

Eddie beats him there.

The word demon seems to awaken something in him, because his face is now grinning theatrically, voice dipping low in pitch.

"You heard her, Carver. She said no, and even I respect a lady's wish. So run along now," he walks two fingers in the air, from the hand not waving the knife around. "before I decide to make you and her both one of mine, just as I did Harrington!"

Jason actually crosses himself, before making one last attempt for Chrissy.

"That monster is dangerous. if you don't come with me, I'll have to alert your parents." He locks eyes with her. "For the good of your soul."

Steve snorts at that crock of shit, but Eddie lunges forward, slashing the knife in the air.

It's nowhere near Jason, but the guy leaps a foot back anyway.

"Begone!" Eddie booms, and that's all it takes for Jason and his cronies to huff and puff and stride away.

He keeps his arms in the air for a few beats more, before dropping them when it's clear Jason won't be back.

"So I'm yours, huh?" Steve drawls, as Eddie finally puts his hands down and turns to face them.

The guys scary face drops into something almost excited, and Steve can practically see the adrenaline crackling through him.

"Hey it worked. Carver's a religious nut, he goes running anytime you even hint at Satan." Eddie shrugs, grinning wildly. "Put on a little show and poof! Him and his flying monkeys melt away!"

He mimes melting and Steve stares at him for it, until he hears Chrissy laughing next to him.

Eddie grins at her and Steve is hit with the realization that it was for her benefit. To make her feel better about her psycho ex.

Something fond and familiar winds through his chest as the other boy bows.

He refuses to put a name to it.

"Did you paint your knife?" He asks instead, rubbing the hand he hit Jason with.

"What?" Eddie asks, startled out of his court jester act.

Steve nods to his hand holding the switchblade. "That's not blood, it's way too red."

"Ah." Eddie turns the grin back on, and this time it's for Steve. "Yeah, it's uh. Modeling paint. Not like Carver would know the difference."

Unspoken was the fact that he hadn't thought Steve would.

Prior to last year, he'd have been right.

Drunken cheering erupts into wild yells inside, breaking whatever spell the three of them were under.

Hargrove's voice is the loudest among them, and the dude is definitely wasted.

Steve has a feeling Hargrove also knows the difference between paint and blood, rendering Munson's knife trick useless if the dick tried to start something.

"Do you want a ride home, Chrissy?" He asks quietly.

"If it's not a bother." She says, wiping tears shed refused to let fall from her eyes.

Chrissy Cunningham was a lot stronger than people gave her credit for.

"Come on, Munson, I think it's time we all make our exit." Steve says, finding himself weirdly unwilling to leave the older teen behind.

Eddie could hold his own, but given how badly things were playing out Steve figured it was best if they all just called it a day.

"Yeah lemme just…" Munson puts his blade away, fumbling at his pockets for a moment before turning and snatching up a metal lunchbox.

"There! After you, my liege." He says, before opening the lunchbox to make it talk.

"My lady." He makes it say, pitching his voice high.

Chrissy breaks into giggles again and Steve rolls his eyes, but he claps his good hand on Eddie's shoulder as he walks past.

Eddie smiles at him, this one a bit softer than the others, eyes sparkling and Steve chooses not to read into that either.

The three of them walk together, Eddie splitting off to his van after Chrissy thanks him.

Part Two

[zeevawyte]

Ok so, this is so far outside my usual stuff it’s insane, but this literally won't leave my brain and I don't know if I have time to write it so-

RadioApple fic idea under the cut:

TW: blood, mentions of cannibalism (it's Alastor, duh), semi-unsafe dom/sub (no actual sex), sub drops

Starts out your normal "stop interfering with my relationship with my daughter & you can have a snack whenever you want" kinda deal, with Alastor taking full advantage of the fact that he's got the most powerful being in hell at his mercy. Dude has a serious power trip the first time, & between that and the taste is hooked immediately.

And of course Luci isn't exactly complaining. Other than the occasional jumpscare via shadow, it hasn't been too bad. Kind of enjoyable actually, not that he'd ever admit that to the demon's face. And it's not like he hasn't been tied up or held down before either.

But then during one of their ‘meetings’ he ends up going into sub space on accident… and it keeps happening.

This wouldn't be a problem except Alastor (for obvious reasons) has literally zero information/knowledge about that sort of thing. And, being the dramatic asshole that he is, enjoys getting the last word and leaving without a backwards glance. Which means he's not there when Luci drops.

Hard.

But it's fine! He's fine! He's the King of Hell, he doesn't need some sinner to help him deal with the consequences of an arrangement he proposed in the first place. He's totally fine on his own.

Except he's not.

He is very much not fine, and it starts to show. It gets so bad that one day Charlie actually asks him if he’s ok mid-conversation.

Enter Angel Dust.

Now, by this point Angel’s like 98% sure the two powerhouses are going at it. Alastor has been in a good mood for months now (coinciding suspiciously with the two of them not being at each other’s throats all the time - at least in public) & he’s seen Luci coming out of a room straightening his coat and hat on one of the upper floors. Not to mention the down-right flirty undertones to any barbs they shoot back and forth.

Husk agrees that something is going on but heavily doubts it’s what Angel thinks.

Determined to prove that he’s right, Angel starts wandering the upper floors or heading up just as Alastor heads down (subtly, he’s not an idiot). Anyway, he’s up there one day being nosy when he hears a crash from one of the rooms. He goes in only to find Lucifer on the floor, having tripped over a side table and knocked over a lamp, disheveled and absolutely shaking.

He recognizes what’s happening almost immediately (fuck you very much Val) and gathers the little king up onto the couch, helping him calm down until he doesn’t look like he’s going to either spontaneously start sobbing or throw up on the rug.

Luci is understandably embarrassed and tries to offer him a favor for his help, but Angel waves him off saying he’s been there & that Luci doesn’t owe him anything.

The next day when Lucifer is off doing something else, Angel grabs Alastor and all but drags him into a side room.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on between you and short king, and frankly it’s none’a my business-”

“No, it isn’t. And if that really is all you wanted to speak with me about-”

“Shut up! I’m not jokin’ alright? I’m bein’ 100% serious. You’re fucking up big time, and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know it. So if you don’t want this whole thing to end in a big fuckin’ mess you need to listen to me.”

Cue a hilariously awkward conversation where an unusually serious Angel explains dom/sub dynamics and the effects/consequences therein to an incredibly-uncomfortable-but-desperately-not-showing-it Alastor.

It ends with something along the lines of

"And look, I don't know if you actually care about the guy or if it’s just about gettin’ your kicks, but honestly? It doesn't matter. You've got your whole gentleman thing right? Openin' doors for the ladies and shit?" *pokes him in the chest* "Well as a gentleman, you've dropped the fuckin' ball. Only self-centered dicks leave their sub to drop alone."

Now if there’s one thing Alastor will not abide, it’s a loss of manners. Being told he’s been unknowingly committing a social faux pas gets under his skin immediately. It itches at him. To the point that his smile almost slips. More than once.

He needs to fix it. As soon as possible.

He’s visibly twitchy the rest of the day.

Husk corners Angel to ask what the hell he said to Al, but only gets a vague, noncommittal answer about letting him know about some information he was missing.

And the next time he and Lucifer have a ‘meeting,’ Alastor stays.

[marypsue]

When Nelson came back from his minute as a dead man, he didn't bring all the secrets of the afterlife with him. But he did come back...different.

Sexy zombie cannibalism fic is live! Hope you all watched and remember this one 1990 Joel Schumacher film, because I did.

[gothghostiie]

calling graves 'daddy' randomly when you're one of his soldiers. doing something under his command and he gives you an order, you simply respond with "yes daddy" and work like nothing happened while he freezes in place and eyes you over, already imagining how hes gonna bend you over his desk later when he calls you in to have a little talk with you, fucking you senseless until all you can say is 'daddy' and 'please' <333

[kittyloops]

violet and clem are kickass teenage single moms in the apocalypse.... it gets me every time

[ziptiesnfries]

"You really think I'm going to do this willingly?"

"Oh, no, not willingly. But I expect you to comply."

[epsilon-system]

Wally purrs and you cannot tell me otherwise

[catierambles]

She woke to knocking on her window that steadily increased in intensity.

"Claire!" She heard and opened her eyes, jumping slightly in surprise as she saw Mike on the other side of the window. "Let me in!"

"How the hell did you--" Maneuvering, she opened the window. "I live on the third floor!"

"Climbed the balconies," He said, "Now let me in before I fall to my severe injury!"

"Get in here!" It took some pulling on her part, but he finally got through the window, flopping sideways across her bed with a huff. "What the hell are you doing here, Mike?"

"I missed you." He admitted, turning onto his side to look at her. "I know our last conversation didn't go well..."

"I found out the guy I've been dating is a vampire." She said, "How did you expect that to go down?"

"With me going down on you?" He asked, shooting her a finger gun, and she scowled at him, making him wince. "Sorry."

"I just..." She rubbed her arms slightly, looking away from him. "I don't know how I feel about you anymore."

"Have I ever given you any reason to think I would hurt you?" Mike asked, looking at her pleadingly.

"No." She admitted with a shake of her head, "But I only found out about...it recently. I thought you were human."

"And the fact that I'm not makes you afraid of me?" He asked, "Babe, I--I would never hurt you. You know that, right?" She didn't answer. "Claire?"

"I just need time to process, Mike. Can you give me that, please?" She asked, and he sighed with a nod.

"Do you want me to go?" He asked, and she nodded, still not looking at him. "Claire, I may not be human, but I still care about you. That hasn't changed." Sitting up, he reached out, touching the side of her face gently and his heart broke a little as she flinched away from him slightly. "I'll--I'll go." He turned to the window again, but she reached out quickly, grabbing the back of his hoodie.

"Use the door, you walnut." She said and he smiled a little despite himself. At least she still cared enough that she didn't want him potentially hurting himself. She let go of him as he moved back away from the window and they slid off the bed, Clarie walking him out of the apartment.

"Can I--can I have a kiss goodnight?" He asked from the front doorway but she didn't answer him, looking away from him and holding her arms protectively. "Goodnight." He left the apartment and heard the door close and lock behind him, his chest tightening as it sounded incredibly final.

The next day he was slumped over a cafe table, an untouched coffee in front of him. She hadn't answered the good morning text he had sent hours ago. His shoulder was suddenly tapped and he looked over briefly as one of their mutual friends sat down next to him.

"Hey, man." Steve said and Mike mumbled his reply into his arm. "What's up?"

"Steve," Mike started, picking his head up, "What's..." He paused, collecting his thoughts. "What's Claire got against vampires?"

"She never told you?" Steve asked but Mike shook his head. "Yeah, it's not something she likes to talk about. She was attacked by one, Mike, a few years back. Thing nearly killed her."

"Fuck." Mike said, dropping his head back down to his arm.

"Why do you ask?" Steve asked and Mike picked his head up again, pulling his lips back from his teeth and letting his fangs drop briefly before pulling them back up again. "Oh."

"I told her a few days ago and we got into a huge fight." Mike said, "I went to her place last night but she--it's like she thinks I'm going to hurt her now. I'm not, I would never."

"And I'm sure she knows that, it's just..."

"Yeah. What happened to the guy who attacked her?"

"In prison still, as far as I know." Steve said, "A bunch of anti-vamp organizations latched onto it, tried to make her their poster girl for anti-vamp legislation. She told them to fuck off and if they tried to use her anyway to push their agenda, she'd take them to court. None tried, thankfully."

"So she knows that one vamp attacking her doesn't mean that all vamps will."

"She's not dumb, Mike, she understands that." Steve said, "But it's like the "Not All Men" thing. Yeah, not all men are going to be predators, but the bad ones aren't distinguishable from the good. Best to be wary around all of them, just to be on the safe side."

"But I won't hurt her." Mike said, "She knows that, doesn't she?"

"Like I said, I'm sure she does." Steve said, "Just give her time, man. But be prepared for it to go not how you might want it to."

"Fuck." Mike said with a defeated sound, dropping his head back to his arm.

It was a few days later when he was over at a friend's place for a house party. He still hadn't heard from her and all his texts went unanswered. Mike laughed at something someone said when he caught the scent of eucalyptus and spearmint, breathing in sharply through his nose as he looked around, catching a glimpse of her moving through the people. Making his excuses, he followed her through the house as she went out onto the back porch.

"Hey." He said and she looked at him over her shoulder.

"Hey." She responded.

"How've--how've you been?"

"Fine." She said, her voice flat and he sighed.

"Claire, I--" Shit. "I'll leave you alone. For good. You won't--you won't hear from me again."

"Mike, wait." She said and he stopped as he turned to head back into the house. "Come here." He went to her and she pushed away from the railing. They stared at each other for a moment before she sighed and stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his chest. He immediately returned the embrace, holding her tightly and burying his face in her shoulder. "I know you'd never hurt me. I just had to reconcile some things. How I felt about you with what you are."

"I know." He said, his voice muffled. "Steve told me what happened to you, that you were attacked."

"I know you would never hurt me like he did. I do." Claire said and pulled back from him to look at him. Raising herself on her toes, she kissed him and he nearly sobbed into her lips, his hands pressing to her back as his eyes closed. "Let's get out of here." She said and he nodded, taking her hand in his as he pulled away, leading them away from the house.

[poisonofgcd]

" Times are gone for honest men, and sometimes, far too long for snakes. "

[stabbynunchuckss]

DAY THREE OF THE WHEEL OF WHUMP

Almost forgot about this, but today's prompt is:

Suspended by the wrists :D (a fun one)

-----

"Stop struggling," ordered Edmund, tightening the ropes around his new pet's wrists. "Or it'll be a lot worse for you down here."

"I'm not... I'm Cooper, I'm a human, I'm not your pet," spat the boy, his eyes wide with rage and fear.

"Sure, you're not. Now stay put, or there's going to be trouble." He stepped back, leaving the boy to hang there, his feet dangling in midair, using the last of his strength in a final, desperate attempt to escape.

[sp0o0kylights]

Gareth didn’t know who had “almost running over a bloodied and very clearly drugged survivor of--if said survivor could be believed-- a mall fire” on their 1985 bingo card, but he’d like a fucking word.

Particularly considering Steve Harrington kept panicking anytime either he or Eddie even hinted at taking him to a hospital.

Instead he insisted, like some kind of bad action movie hero, that he was “perfectly fine” and that it was “not nearly as bad as it looked.”

Both of which might have been believable had he not twice gotten distracted by Gareth’s drums (sitting next to them both, on account of Corroded Coffin having played at the Hideout that night) asking rambling questions that constantly outed him as being high as hell.

Nevermind the fact that Gareth kept finding more blood.

“Really, it’s--mm.” Steve said, wincing as Gareth found yet another wound. “Not bad.”

“I don’t know how a fire even did this.” Gareth shot back, trying to figure out what stain he needed to press on without taking Steve’s shirt off.

Harrington raised a hand. “Service elevator.” He identified.

He made a whooshing noise, following his hand as it dropped back to his chest. “Slammed right into the floor.”

Gareth winced.

“There was a lot of shit in that elevator besides us.” Steve added, and it was moments like this where Gareth could almost believe the guy was sober, until Harrington followed it up with yet another rant about Russians and Russian Truth Serum.

Right as Gareth found another wet spot.

“Fuck the speed limit, Harrington’s bleeding out on me back here!" Gareth called, voice loud and frantic. 

Sure that might have been dramatic but then, so were Steve’s injuries. 

"Sorry babe." Brown eyes, pupils blown wide from drugs stared up at him with an easy smile, at odds with his beaten face.

In a tone so unimpressed, a middle school teacher would have envied him, Gareth said; "That is not my name."

Harrington didn't even blink. "I know. It's Gareth."

That took him aback.

"I really don't know how to feel about you knowing that." He admitted, half to keep Steve talking, and half as a distraction when he finally figured out which wound needed pressure the most (and then pressed on it.) 

Apparently whatever the hell made up “Russian truth serum” was some strong shit, because in a tone so utterly honest (and thus entirely unlike the Steve Harrington that had ruled Hawkins High halls) Harrington said; "Good things, I hope."

Then winked.

What the fuck.

"Eddie drive faster!" Gareth yelled over his shoulder. “I think he’s dying!”

(He wasn’t, but given the flirting, Gareth wasn’t taking any chances.)

[beskarxclad]

He could feel eyes on him. Curious, but purposeful. A feeling of wariness immediately flooded through him, but he held calm and stoic. He didn't think they meant harm. Not as of yet. But that didn't mean they meant well either.

"Who sent you?" A seemingly easy query. It was never that. The mandalorian would at least give them an opportunity to speak. Hopefully he might be able to discourage them and send them on their way.

[aparticularbandit]

Alright for the prompt thing (look at me remembering!) Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm for (and really I hope you saw this coming) the Valentines. Or if not the Valentines then Eve I guess. Because everyone loves Eve.

Send me a word and a character/series/pairing and I will write a drabble....

Duende - Unusual power to attract or charm

so guess what. drabble technically is that word about things being exactly one hundred words isn't it. guess who forgot that whoops.

There’s just something about that Eve girl.

…and part of it is just how much Claire hates hearing Eve referred to that way.  That Eve girl.  Like what sort of sexist—

But the thing is?  It’s not…wrong, per say.  There is something about Eve.  Something that just instinctively….

Claire has always been drawn to Eve.  Always.  But it’s not like Eve’s the most attractive person in the world (Claire thinks so, but Eve’s attractive in a girl next door sort of way, not a supermodel sort of way, and that’s not a bad thing, in her opinion), and it’s not like Eve’s the sort of girlboss personality that forces people to fall at her feet.  She’s not mean – even in the way that people find attractive – and she’s not confident or full of herself or cocky or arrogant or take charge or anything like that.  She’s not even six feet tall or more, which is a huge appeal to some people.  She’s just a normal Haddington girl!  A little shy, a little insecure, maybe the kindest person Claire has ever met, but that’s….  Well, that is special, but not by most people’s standards.

But there’s something about her.

~

It doesn’t take courage, per say, for Claire to walk up to Eve after church, just a certain kind of persistence – pushing through the crowd of people who are leaving and the equal crowd of people who meet with each other throughout the rows and just stand there chatting.  Claire’s aunt and cousin (technically, although Agatha feels so much more like a little sister than she does like a cousin) never come to church, but Claire’s been going with her parents for as long as she can remember.  It would feel weird – wrong – to stop going after they died, like she’s thinking God betrayed her by taking them away from her so soon, when she’s really thinking nothing of the sort.

She just needed something to stay the same.

Of course, there’s not really anything the same about looking over to Eve and catching her looking back at her, not really anything the same about how quickly Claire looks down when their eyes meet only to glance slowly back up, not really anything the same about the blush that flickers across Eve’s cheeks when Claire catches her still staring at her (or the blush staying on Claire’s slightly freckled ones).  And there’s certainly nothing the same about pushing through the crowds to speak with her, when Claire’s dad had always been so insistent – when they’d gone to the same church, briefly, when they were younger – that she not mix with Eve at all.

“Hey.”  Claire reaches out, just touches Eve’s hand.

Eve stands with her head hanging the slightest bit, lips pressed together, the stance of someone waiting for their parent to be done so they can leave, but her head snaps up at Claire’s voice, at her touch, and her startlingly bright blue eyes meet Claire’s again as her lips pull into an easy, gentle smile.  “Hey?”

“I’m Christopher,” Claire lies like it’s the easiest thing in the world, even though it’s not.  “You’re Eve, right?”

“I know who you are.”  Eve twists strands of roasted chestnut hair around one of her fingers.  She bites her lower lip.  “We have English together—”

“—and history,” Claire continues, “and math.  You always have the right answers—”

“I hate it when the teachers call on me.”  Eve bristles and tightens in on herself.

A corner of Claire’s lips lifts.  “I think you’re sort of cute.”  Her eyes widen.  “It,” she corrects immediately.  “I think it’s sort of cute—”

Eve blushes a brighter red than before.  Her gaze flicks away, and she mumbles, voice soft, “I think you’re sort of cute, too.”  She tucks strands of hair back behind her ear before glancing back up and gently meeting Claire’s eyes again.  It takes a second, but then she winks.

Claire freezes.

“Eve,” the woman next to her – likely her mom – interrupts.  She takes Eve’s hand in hers and turns to them.  “Who are you talking to?”

“No one.”  Claire rubs the back of her neck and starts scooting back down the aisle.  “I’ll, um.  I’ll talk to you at school.”

Eve smiles at her, still an easy thing.  “Please do.”

~

Claire doesn’t intentionally volunteer at the senior center just because Eve does.  She tells herself that, but it isn’t precisely true.  There are a lot of places she could volunteer that would probably look better for pursuing her political aspirations than the Haddington Senior Center, but it doesn’t look bad.  Besides, the older voters will probably like it better if she has a history of helping those older than her from such a young age.  The ones who don’t think she was doing it precisely to get their votes (at which point saying that she did it in part because she had a crush on another girl would help quell some of their sniping.  Hopefully).

But the thing is – knowing that Eve was volunteering at the senior center did make it easier for to choose yes, this one.  Because there’s always the possibility that, well, um.

Um.

At first, they aren’t allowed to work together very often.  They pass each other in the halls every now and again, and the first time it happens, Eve’s eyes widen the slightest bit.  It takes three weeks of volunteering three days a week before Eve drags her into one of the closets and hisses, eyes narrowed, “Are you just here for me?”

Claire blinks twice.  She swallows.  “I’m never going to meet my parents at this age,” she says, unable to meet Eve’s eyes.  “I thought…I thought maybe….”

“Oh, I’m so…I’m so sorry.”  Eve’s expression softens immediately.  “I didn’t mean to—”

“But I’m not going to lie,” Claire continues, glancing up just enough to meet Eve’s saddened eyes, “knowing you were going to be here only sweetened things.”  She winks.

For a moment, Eve just stares at her.  Then she shoves her with one hand, pushing her back into the shelves of buckets and rags, but she’s smiling, shaking her head good-naturedly as she leaves the closet, one hand reaching back just enough for Claire to hook their pinkies together before she slips away.

~

After that, they end up being set together more often when they volunteer at the same time, as though whatever made the higher-ups want to keep them apart was suddenly…gone.  And more time together meant growing more comfortable with each other, happier with each other, until—

“You could ask me out, you know.”

Claire freezes, glances up to where Eve stands across from her, a table covered with Easter decorations between them.  She stares at her friend, who hasn’t even looked up from the plastic eggs she’s stuffing full of candy.  “What…what did you say?”

Eve bites her lower lip before repeating herself, “You could ask me out.  I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t say no.”  She glances up then, briefly, meets Claire’s eyes, and then looks back down to the plastic eggs halved in front of her.  “You…you still think I’m cute, right?”

When Claire snorts, when Eve’s face falls as a result, Claire reaches a hand out and places it over one of Eve’s.  “I think,” she says, easy as anything, “you’re beautiful.”  She keeps her eyes on Eve as her gaze lifts again and offers her a smile of her own.  “And I would love to go out with you.”

“I…I didn’t ask—”  Eve’s brow furrows.  “And you didn’t ask—”

Claire’s smile shifts into a grin.  “You said you wouldn’t say no.”  Her head tilts ever so slightly.  “So don’t.”

~

Sometimes, Claire thinks the most beautiful thing about Eve is the way she blushes.

She can’t say that, though.  It sounds awkward.

Creepy.

….

There are a lot of things she can’t tell Eve.

A lot of things she won’t.

That makes things hard.

~

“Now would be a good time to kiss me.”

Claire chuckles, pushes a hand through her hair, and says, “Why don’t you kiss me?”  She meets Eve’s eyes and raises her brows.  When Eve hesitates, she reaches out, brushes a thumb along the sharp angle of her cheekbone, and then leans just enough to kiss her forehead.  “Or is this what you wanted?”

“Mmm.”  Eve holds tight to Claire’s arms and tilts her head back just enough to give Claire a determined look, frustrated, before meeting Claire’s lips with her own.

She tastes…sweet.  Claire could get addicted to this.

~

There’s something about Eve, certainly.

But honestly?  The more time Claire spends with her, the less she’s able to figure out exactly what that is.

Not that she minds in the slightest.

[heygutlcssa]

@whatsbehindthefacade (VELMA)

" They didn't have the blue one. You don't like yellow, we paint it." He shrugged, standing in an otherwise empty room, the crib next to window. Compared to the cramped and dark aesthetic of New York apartments, the little room was wide and bright without any smell of smog or damp.

He'd been dancing around why they were walking around a perfectly nice house or why he'd pulled her away from a nice outing with Tessie to come see said house with a sold sign plastered in the front yard ( He'd broken her into other vacant houses before, this was not a new endeavor).

"Kid's gone a have a window. Tony's gone a have that window." he pointed at the sunlight coming through the window next to the crib. " Tony's gone a get himself a fence for the back yard in two ro three paychecks too. " he stuffed his hands in his pockets like he always did when he was anxious. " Cause I bought the house, Vel. It's ours. Don't have to mooch off a Baby Boy 'n' Tess no more neither." He stepped past her removing his hand from his pocket as he pointed out the window. "They don't do clotheslines that got the pulley out here. Got you the T frame shit instead. Painted that too so it don't rust." He'd painted it green because that was all that was in Baby John's garage. As far as Riff was concerned John wouldn't miss it if he didn't know it was gone.

"Good enough, Softie?" He asked turning back to look at her for any sign of approval.

[brittlefcrged]

@intcthatgoodnight​ / sith ani sent a meme for her sith sw verse.

❛ You must be very special. ❜

         It wasn’t possible.   It was not possible.  Yet, even though they had never met, his face was as known to her as almost any one else’s in all the worlds.  Holos of him, the time that he had spent training with her Master, with Lord Fernos -- the holos in Amidala’s home, even the visions of him that she had experienced... none of them had prepared her.  And how could they?  He was dead.   Even she had not imagined or foreseen, even with her visions, any other alternative.  How --

      Fear trickled like ice down her spine, sat sour in her throat.  She swallowed it down, clung to it, tried to solidify it into anger.   Into strength. 

       Power emanated from him.   Icy rage cloistered the air around him and she could feel the goosebumps tracing lines along her arms.   A spirit?  No.  She did not have to reach for him to know that he was a palpable form. Alive.  Here.  In her home.  No one came here.  No one except Obi Wan.   This island was the sanctuary that he had made for her, with droids to tend to her needs, droid sentries to keep her safe.  And yet ...   Here he stood, in her sanctuary.  In her sanctum.   His words made her heart skip, her stomach ache and tighten.  Were they a threat?  His very presence here was a threat.  

      How had she not seen this coming? 

             “I do not know who you are, or what you are doing here, but you are not supposed to be here.”  The tremble in her voice, in her lies, made her jaw tighten, but perhaps it worked to her favor.  “Please leave.”   She was no one, nothing, there was nothing to see here.   Leave.