#i know (suppose?) you sent me this because i asked for distractions and its just the most precious thing i appreciate it a lot

[petrichoraline]

Favorite we are character or scene?

i love this question, nani <3 thank you so much, i saved it for a day filled with rendering and eye straining but it's been five days now so ill sit comfortably and think about it

I'll start off with the fact I'm a very out of sight out of mind type of person, i could be banging my head against the wall cause of a scene but have no reaction if it's mentioned in the future soo I'm definitely not going diligently through my memory for this hahah

my fave characters are phum, q, chain and pun - phum is a bit too relatable on top of being really sweet and q had me shocked at how solid of a crush I had on him in the earlier episodes. as for chain -he is the bestest friend there imo, he has the serious level-headed look at times but he's always in for shenanigans; he did a play in two acts just for q to admit what everyone already knew and he enjoyed getting into the role despite the fact q made out with his supposed crush and came out all smug about it (I'd be gnawing on his face); he is just chill and fun and so so caring, he will barely put up a fight and he'll scold pun just out of obligation, he's also super gentle with him and the domestic dynamic they have is partially because of chains reliable nature. smart dental student who finds time for his studies, his friend's and pun (and his random ideas) in particular. just a solid guy, 10/10 [if he'd do something about moving this stoic ship it'd be great][and he's not too observant but he has his own romance to care about and, again, he seems to be one of the few putting in the work to get that degree]

and punnn, I have a soft spot for him because poon is just perfect, in the hands of the wrong actor a character like this could really be insufferable but pun pouts a bit and opens his eyes as wide as he can and you root for him completely. I liked him since episode one (had that relatable factor about him as well but most of us aren't lucky enough to have someone clean up our messes the second they happen lol)

I'd say it's between phum and chain, I like them in different ways. also the teacher we saw in exactly two episodes (who is now also a teacher in mlmu hahah) was cool and so is ciize's character who seems like a cameo atp

now, for a fave scene... ive giffed a few so you could think it's any one of them but actually I'm still stuck on episode ..1? 2? when they grab each other's hair and phum's thumb lingers over peem's ear. I go wild for that scene every single time cause it took you this little?? getting yelled at, a kick to the balls, some banter and physical contact?? baby you were desperatee desperate 💕

now looking back it makes perfect sense, the guy is touch, attention and affection starved so the amount of contact and time spent with peem was overwhelming ..but watching it back then was like oh. pick your jaw up cause peem is not catching the signals anywayss

there are plenty plenty of scenes I liked from friendship stuff to romantic lines like "so you mustn't forget mine" but this one i keep being reminded of so 🙂‍↕️

thank you so much for the question, I had fun thinking it through ☺️💞💓💖💗

[hiddenbeks]

more than a month after my previous kotor update i am happy to announce that i have finally met jolee and had him join me <3

[tetsvya]

clueless, kuroo tetsuro

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷  kuroo tetsuro has a thing for girls with long hair. so what if you're a girl with long hair? that doesn’t mean anything!

➼ pairing! kuroo tetsuro x fem!manager!reader

➼ warnings! none, just fluff and humor. maybe ooc because i haven't written in years??? unfortunately, because this is based on the scene of kuroo and yaku arguing about their preference, this is really for my long haired girlies 😣 i apologize to the short haired readers

➼ word count! about 1.4k

➼ author’s note! "haikyuu renassiance!" we all cheer in unison. anywho, this is my first time posting in two years. please be nice to me 🫡

"So, you prefer girls with short hair then, Yaku?" Kai asks, shedding off the white button-up of his school uniform and revealing his black practice t-shirt. The three third-year Nekoma players had found themselves in an empty classroom, deciding to use it as a makeshift changing room. Luckily for them, they had all worn their clean practice clothes under their school uniforms. Doing so allowed them to save time and cut back the number of minutes they were already going to be late to practice, thanks to Yaku getting distracted by a group of girls, which Kai noted all had short hair. Hence, his question.

Yaku paused his work of ridding himself of his tie to send Kai a proud grin, pointing towards him with both hands, “Yesss!

"And you, Kuroo?" Kai turns to him, now curious to know his captain's answer as well.

"Long." Kuroo's answer is firm, leaving no room for debate. Still, he glances at Yaku, as if daring him to try.

Yaku only snorts, shaking his head in amusement as he too turns to look at his captain, "Like that wasn't obvious."

"Ehh," Kuroo's eyes narrow, head craning down to peer at the libero, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yaku starts, taking a step closer as he peers right back up at Kuroo, "Everyone knows you have a crush on our manager, who just so happens to have the longest hair I've ever seen!"

"Ehh?" Kuroo repeats, louder this time as he cranes his head down even more, "Who says I have a crush—"

"Hey!" The door to the classroom slides open with a shocking force, startling the boys and drawing the attention of all three of them to it. Kuroo and Yaku both grow rigid as they find you standing in its opening. Quiet pants slip past your lips, and you take a moment to catch your breath as you stare at the three of them before you begin speaking, "There you guys are! I've been looking for the three of you everywhere."

"Hello," Kai greets kindly, the only one not left in a stupor at your sudden appearance, smiling as you make your way into the classroom. "We apologize, we're running a bit late."

"Yeah," You huff, coming to a stop a few steps away from them as you cross your arms, "It was your guys' turn to set up the nets. So when you guys didn't show up in time to do so and none of you answered your phones, Coach sent me to find you guys. Didn't know I'd be going on a wild goose chase."

Your words leave you in a huff before your eyes land on Kuroo, raising an eyebrow at the captain. His shoulders tense even more at the sudden eye contact and he's quick to snap his head in the other direction. Kuroo suddenly feels warm, realizing how you could have easily heard the conversation transpiring between the three of them. Stupid Yaku, Kuroo curses the libero in his head, doesn't even know what he's talking about.

"Sorry, Y/N." And of course it’s Yaku who disrupts his thoughts, pulling Kuroo's eyes to him just as he sends you an innocent smile, "We got carried away, talking."

There's a teasing tone to Yaku's voice, and Kuroo knows it's directed at him. Why is he friends with him again?

"I don't even want to know," You speak, and Kuroo can envision you shaking your head at the three of them, "Just get dressed and get to the gym as quick as possible, please."

All three boys give some noise of recognition in response to your words, and Kuroo takes the chance to glance at you then. He's quick to regret it. Your hand rises just as he locks eyes with you, reaching up to tuck some of the more unruly pieces of your hair (which most likely came undone due to your seemingly frantic search of the three third years) behind your ear and out of your face. Kuroo's eyes follow the movement of your hand, trailing downwards and taking in the long strands of hair that fall well past your shoulders. Once again all too aware of the conversation he was just having with his teammates, the tips of his ears burn as he pulls his gaze away from you once more. He shakes his head, trying to get Yaku's words out of his mind. Just because he liked girls with long hair, and just because you so happened to be a girl with long hair, did not mean he liked you.

Right?

A snort of laughter suddenly leaves Yaku, having caught the interaction, and Kuroo turns to him with a heated glare. You don't miss the exchange between them either.

"Are you two having one of your petty arguments again?" You accuse, eyes glancing between Kuroo and Yaku who are suddenly staring back at you like two deers caught in headlights. "Seriously, you've been fighting like this since first year. What topic could you guys possibly still be discussing?"

Yaku's smirk returns as he glances at his captain with an all too knowing look before he turns back to you, "Well, if you really want to kn—"

"Nope!" Kuroo is quick to interject, speaking for the first time since you entered and drawing your attention away from Yaku and back to the captain himself. Your eyes widen as he begins to take long strides in your direction. "No arguing here!"

Your lips part, confusion taking over your features at the odd behavior your captain is displaying. You don't get the chance to say anything, however, as Kuroo makes a show of glancing at the clock on the wall before turning back to you with a dramatic gasp, "Oh, would you look at the time! We should really be heading to practice."

"You still have your school shirt on, Kuroo.” You point out when he stops in front of you, pointedly glancing down at Kuroo's attire, which consisted of his practice shorts and white button-up, with his red school tie hung loosely around his neck.

"I'll just change it once we're in the gym," Kuroo responds, waving away your interjections before he drops his hands onto your shoulders and forces you to turn around and back toward the door. You attempt to dig your heels down when he begins to push you in the direction of the door, but you're truly no match for his strength. Stupid volleyball training.

"Kuroo," You voice your protests, attempting to swat at his hands in order to get him to release you. Once again, your attempts remain futile, "Let go of me!"

"No can do! As captain and manager, it's our job to be on time to every practice. What would our team do without us?" Kuroo shakes his head, clicking his tongue as if he's scolding you. He turns back to Kai and Yaku, flashing them a warning smile, daring them to say another word. Yaku merely watches on with an unamused look, while Kai holds a placid smile. There's extra sweetness in his voice as he practically chirps out, "Bring my stuff to the club room, will you?"

"I was on time!" You retort, not giving Kai nor Yaku a chance to respond to their exasperating captain as you send them a pointed look, all the while succumbing to your fate and allowing Kuroo to push you out of the classroom. After all, he did have a point. It probably wouldn't be long before Lev managed to push somebody's buttons (most likely Yamamoto’s) one too many times and ended up in hot water. "The only reason I'm not there right now is because I came looking for you guys!"

"Ah, now is not the time to deal blame, Y/N. Our juniors are waiting on us." Kuroo argues back, shaking his head as he removes one hand from your shoulder to slide the door shut behind the two of you. Still, Yaku and Kai face the door as the sound of your guys' bickering persists. It grows quieter and quieter with each passing moment, and it isn’t until they can no longer hear your guys' voices does Yaku glance away with a shake of his head.

"He's clueless." Yaku deadpans, glancing back down at his tie as he continues to work on untying it.

Kai nods, neatly folding his button-up before placing it in his bag. "Completely."

[zhng96]

sunny days — k. gyuvin

↳ how can one make it up to someone who spends their days helping people- and how come you’ve found yourself faced with flustering feelings for said boy so suddenly?

↳ pairing: kim gyuvin x gn!reader (3.1k words OH MY GAWD)

↳ warnings: nothing honestly

↳ note: THIS IS SO LONG HELP,,, the longest fic i’ve written yet AND I LOVED EVERY BUT OF IT!!! HAPOY BDAY GYUVIN YOU DESERVE EVERY OUNCE OF LOVE EVER.

perm taglist: @tzuberry @hrtattcker @yueriots @neohyxn @avocarua @dwcljh @uyujns @knrejj

o. the meaning of loving.

kim gyuvin was the epitome of someone who loved loving. he helped where he could, was doting to his friends- even in a teasing way- but everyone and their mothers knew he meant every candied word he sent towards them, he was a social butterfly, and he made sure everyone was comfortable around him.

it was in his nature, you suppose, to help you despite not knowing you very well. being the class president and all, you assumed that he was just helping take a burden off of your shoulders even if it was a measly stack of papers waiting to be dropped by the office- not to mention his altruistic nature.

little did you know that there was a hint of devotion behind it. gyuvin knew he helped around a lot- but with you, he helped extra. any time he found you taking on a task by yourself- no matter the difficulty, he'd offer a hand. he just wished you’d notice how he set his attention on you just a little bit more than he set his attention on others.

(more under the cut !)

albeit the wave of fluttering feelings that burst throughout his chest when he hears the grateful thank you with a soul-crushingly sincere smile; he knows that when he has you for himself, he'll feel the same, just ten times over.

that's one of the reasons gyuvin has yet to give up over his attempts of showcasing his affections for you- but also because he just likes doing it. he revels in the way the sun hits your skin when the two of you are working during lunch, he loves when you accidentally make eye contact with him and find yourself looking away just as fast.

he lives and breathes you- he only hopes you do the same.

i. a paper stack as tall as jack's beanstalk.

midday was always the slowest time during school days. classes went by increasingly slower as the clock approached closer to the hour to which the lunch period began.

your stomach grumbled in anticipation for the assortment of cafeteria foods that awaited for you as soon as the bell rung. you were practically jumping in you seat peevishly- unable to distract your mind from imagining what was on the menu today.

finally, the bell rung. the teacher nods in dismissal and every student bursts from their seats.

you quickly grab your bag resting against the desk leg and shove your belongings into its pouch before turning towards the exit.

that's when the teacher called your name.

"yn, could you come here for a moment?" they ask, waving a hand towards them. you have no option but to oblige.

suddenly, 2 tall stacks of printer paper etched with various texts slam onto the teacher's desk, and your mouth is left agape, already preparing for what they will ask of you.

"i need you to bring these to the office for me", they state, sheepishly rubbing their neck, "i've got to pick up my daughter for an appointment, i'm sorry..."

breaking away from your stupor, you shake your head violently, "i-it's no worries! i'll get it there right away!"

the teacher send you a grateful nod before gathering their stuff in a hurry and their footsteps descend down the hallway- a quick and irritating clacking sound ringing throughout the 3rd floor of the building. you pay no mind, only staring at the two large stacks before you- worries about your ability to eat your long awaited lunch bouncing throughout your head.

unbeknownst to you, gyuvin stood at the door, watching the whole affair transpire. he noticed your antsy demeanor during class, having sat behind you- watching you slightly bounce like a maniac and look back at the clock every few minutes. when he heard the teacher call your name just as you were about to rush out towards the cafeteria- he knew he had to prepare for the worst.

watching your face drop had only motivated him to help you more- but when he saw the two fat stacks of paper forced before you, he wasn't so sure that even his efforts could manage to get you to eat the lunch that you were willing to risk it all for.

you frown, the office building was on the first floor and currently, you were on the third. with no elevator, the school solely relied on stairs- and with the sight of the two tall stacks of paper, there was no way you were getting both of them down in one trip- you'd most likely have to make four.

groaning, you finally oblige to the task at hand and reach for the first quarter of papers you would bring down, using your tippy toes as a support. someone is quick to help though. a tall, lanky boy reaches out to steady the trembling stack, letting you grab half of the stack with ease.

without seeing his face, you already recognized who it was. not only were his huge hands a giveaway, also the height- and most of all, the fact that he's even here right now rather than getting lunch.

you rest the stack on your biceps and tuck it to your chest. now comfortable, you turn towards him.

"you should be eating lunch", you quirk your brow, gazing at him with sincere concern- he only feels his heartbeat pick up.

"so should you", he replies coolly, shrugging his shoulders and taking a whole stack of papers as if it weighed nothing.

you yelp, "i can handle it myself! you need to eat!"

he chuckles, shaking his head before nodding it towards the door, "well, if we get a move-on we'll both be able to eat lunch. how's that sound?"

you find yourself perking up at the mention of being able to enjoy your long awaited food and nod helplessly. he nods his head again, suggesting you start walking ahead of him and you comply, being the first to walk out the door and gyuvin following close behind.

gyuvin wasn't going to lie, the stack was heavy. but thankfully, with his height, the tall stack of papers did nothing to restrict his movement, his head still fully over the top of the stack.

the two of you stop in front of the stairs and you give him a weary look, "you sure you can make it down those without falling? we can always come back up again, there's still half a stack in the classroom..."

gyuvin smiles, nodding confidently, "we'll be okay! c'mon, the faster we get this done, the quicker we can eat lunch!"

you can't help but take note on how, despite asking a question directed to him, he still manages to include you in the answer. having first-handedly witnessed the natural way he still manages to think of others in the littlest of things evokes an unrecognizable emotion inside of you. suddenly, the sight of him makes you want to break out into a grin.

quickly, gyuvin turns back towards the stairs and steps down with a fastened pace- somehow, none of the papers that lay at the top of the stack fly in the opposite direction.

you giggle to yourself before jogging down the steps as well, trying your best to catch up to gyuvin while also maintaining the balance of the stack in your arms.

ii. he said, she said.

after taking a second trip up and down the three flights of stairs to hand over the other half of the stack you left behind, the two of your were satisfied with your work. the second trip around, the two of you were so caught up in conversation that the intention to rush was long forgotten.

as the two of you slowly walked towards the cafeteria, now discussing some silly shenanigans gyuvin and his friends had done during one of last year’s breaks, the bell rung once again, and the students flood the hallways the pair were striding down.

the two of you freeze in place, watching as the students head back towards their lockers to grab their belongings for the upcoming class.

you glance of gyuvin, frowing at the sight of his downcast expression- he had missed lunch just to help you sort out your paper stack predicament.

little do you know, gyuvin is feeling just the same- he helped you just so you could be able to eat lunch and there he was, selfishly talking to you, only to lead you to missing lunch completely. his plan was perfect, it was just that his execution turned out to be counterproductive.

"i am so sorry gyuvin... i really should've just done it myself", you ramble, clenching your fists in embarrassment. you fail to notice how he looks at you with concern.

taking his silence as an apology unaccepted, you cringe, "i'll find a way to make it up to you-"

"yn!" one of your friends call from a few feet away with great urgency, causing you to trail off on your sentence.

you look at him once more, painful apology painted across your face, before jogging along to see what your friend had urgently called you for.

the rest of the day was spent racking your brain for ways to make it up to gyuvin.

you could buy him a lunch, you pondered- but you decided he was worth more.

how about a giftcard somewhere?- well, you weren't 30... it seemed like an old gift.

everything you thought, it always seemed like it was never enough. gyuvin deserved way more than just a free lunch, or giftcard, or an apology. he was gyuvin for godsakes, he helped you and everyone he could, no questions asked, he's kind, and for some reason- the mere shadow of his presences sends your stomach fluttering.

with guilt bubbling in your stomach since lunch, you've finally reached the end of the day. putting away the textbooks that weighed your backpack down onto the metal shelf of your locker- a certain name uttered by a group of friends behind you perks your ears.

"what did you guys get for gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" and suddenly an idea hits you like a truck.

you found the perfect way to make it up to him. gyuvin loved people- what if you held him a little surprise party first thing tomorrow?

you twist around and but into their conversation- an obnoxious gesture, but with your mind racing miles a minute, that was the least of your worries.

"is it really gyuvin's birthday tomorrow?" you ask, looking around to meet the faces of his close friends- the eight of them stand there a little taken aback before they collect themselves.

"yeah!" matthew, if you remember correctly, confirms happily, sending you a warm smile.

"what if we held him a surprise party?" you suggest, surveying each of their faces to take in their reactions.

each of them light up, "where are we gonna get everything?"

"don't worry, i'll take care of everything... just meet me at the school about an hour to half-an-hour early!"

iii. a lunchbox cake.

it didn't take long for the rest of your class to absorb the (not-so-secret) surprise party plan for their beloved classmate, but you never minded- afterall, gyuvin deserved only the best and that showed through the devotion of the many people he's helped giving a hand to create a great celebration. the rest of the day was spent running errands for the last minute plans.

holding two bags full of decorations which ranged from balloons to silly little party hats you bought for the laughs, you head over to your favourite bakery- they had recently started advertising lunchbox cakes.

you requested two of these cakes- hoping it will be enough to feed everyone to satisfaction, but not enough to create a herd of hyper teenagers. one cake was to be a simple white- a cursive birthday message in black buttercream decorating the top and sprinkles made through piping icing directly onto the cake taking up awkward gaps where something felt missing.

the second cake was to have a teal background and a puppy wearing a pink birthday hat in the middle- all made of icing.

despite feeling bad about the amount of work they had to put in in such a short amount of time, they assured you that you are a beloved customer and they appreciate you always coming to support them- they accepted the order with no hesitation. you explained your deadline, saying you'll be there to pick it up an hour before your classes start and you watch as they immediately start on the batter. on your way out, you thank them profusely

all that was left was setting it up and presenting it to the birthday boy.

iv. surprise?

the clicking of your loafers against the cement along with the wind rapidly dancing past you rings your ears- the sound of the early morning traffic is easily muffled.

you run frantically towards the bakery- you had gotten a text from hanbin that they were at the school ready to set up, and feeling bad that they would have to wait- you decide to drop off the decorations and then head back to pick up the cake (bad decision). you were now frantically running- only having 25 minutes to get back to the school, cakes fully intact and looking presentable. 25 minutes and then classes would start- 25 minutes and you'll see gyuvin walk in and-

turning the corner expecting to see the entrance of the bakery in view, instead you are met with a lanky figure in a very familiar school uniform.

"oh!" the boy yelps, grabbing onto your arm to save you from a painful fall onto the concrete.

at the voice, you eyes widen- gyuvin was here, right now.

"ah, g-gyuvin!" you stammer, tilting your head up to greet the boy.

at the sight of your slightly messy hair, the boy giggles, causing you to quickly run your hands over your head to smooth it out.

"what are you doing here?" you laugh awkwardly, rubbing your bicep in attempt to act natural- you needed to get out of there immediately, but without being rude? that was impossible.

"oh... i thought i'd pick you up a pastry since i made you skip lunch yesterday..."

you perk up at this confession, tilting your head in consideration.

it was his birthday and he was getting something for you...

"you... didn't make me do anything gyuvin, really it's okay!" you comfort, watching as his eyes grow wide.

"why are you here?"

you didn't know how to answer that question.

"well i... um.." gyuvin patiently awaits your answer but rests a hand on your head after he senses your struggling.

"you don't need to tell me, it's alright. you wanna come inside with me so you can pick your treat?"

pursing your lips, you nod after a second and follow him inside.

"what's your favourite pastry?" he asks, surverying the dainty bakery.

"yn!" the woman behind the counter shouts, catching both you and gyuvin's attention.

"you come here a lot?" he questions, the tilt of his head makes your heart clench; you nod sheepishly before excusing yourself. while you walk away, gyuvin internally praises himself for the choice of bakery.

rushing over to the counter, you thank her gratefully and open the two boxes just an inch to inspect the cakes.

they were perfect, the cake with the dog was perfectly smooth and the icing art was admirable, the other cake was perfectly plain. simple, yet elegant.

you turn back to gyuvin, who eyes the two boxes curiously and you shrug.

"what's all that?" he nods towards the two boxes as you walk back up towards him.

"surprise", you smile, your nerves now calmed- everything was going to be fine, all you needed to do was get gyuvin to the school.

gyuvin hums, seemingly content enough with your answer. he then moves to walk up to the cashier but you grab his wrist frantically.

"there's no need, really! seeing you enjoy these cakes is enough for me!” you stumble, saying the first reasonable explanation to get back to the school right away.

it takes you a few moments to realize your mistake, but when you do, you find yourself frozen in place.

great going.

“surprise, huh?” he chuckled, staring at your appalled expression.

“well… it was supposed to be…” you mumble, shifting between your two feet awkwardly.

sensing your shame, gyuvin places a hand on your shoulder in comfort, “hey, it’s okay… i didn’t mean it that way, you’re just too cute not to tease.”

you perk up at his confession, now it was his turn to face you, appalled by his own mouth.

“that was supposed to be a secret too…” you giggle, taking his hand in attempt to calm his nerves.

“c’mon birthday boy, that’s not the only surprise”, gyuvin follows like a puppy, gripping your hand back happily once he comes back to his senses.

v. birthday wish granted.

you walk up to the classroom in anticipation, hopefully, everything was fully put up and everyone was ready to greet the boy a happy birthday.

you tried to make it known you were going down the hallway, extending your voice a few decibals higher than usual- you only hoped gyuvin didn't notice.

still holding his hand, you drag him over to the classroom. once the two of you stood in front on the room door, you looked at him with a wide grin- his eyebrows furrow and his gaze softens at the sight of your smile.

pursing your lips, you gesture for him to move in front of you- it seems like gyuvin had figured out your other surpise a while ago as he gives you a knowing look, but obliges nonetheless. before he turns to slide the door open, he gently cups your face.

the contact of his lips on your forehead feels majestic. it was delicate and meaningful- a small peck meant so much.

he then looks at you for permission, you only nod, reading his face for his next action.

he smirks before leaning down, now level with your lips.

by pure coincidence- yujin, who overheard the two in the hallway and was getting impatient- slid the door open, ready to peek out to see if you two were close by.

instead he finds you two inches apart- suddenly the two of you jump back.

theres a pregnant silence before matthew pops up from behind a desk, his eyes darting from you and the birthday boy and then at your hands. he smirks cheekily at the sight, “happy birthday gyuvin! i’d tell you to make a wish but it looks like it’s already come true.”

navi. mlist.

[milkmissiles]

Mha boys when you have a stomach ache

(Because I am currently in excruciating pain lol)

Fluff. Literally just comfort and fluff. A little bit of implied spice.

Character index: denki, bakugou, shouto, kirishima x GN reader

Denki

This bitch would be so dramatic.

He would ask you all the questions.. like for someone who isn't book smart at all he sure does know a shit ton of symptoms.

Please humor him though he just wants to make sure your not dying.

I mean waking up in the middle of the night to see you curled up in a ball, tears rolling down your face, and your entire body tense and shaking is definitely a terrifying site for this poor boy..

But once you convince him you actually are not on deaths door, he will calm down a bit. He's still freaked the fuck out and absolutely has no idea what he's supposed to do but he will try his best.

He will hold you close all night, rubbing small circles into your stomach to distract you, if it's really bad he might give you some little shocks to distract you more.

In the morning, he'll run you a hot bath, helping you get in. But he won't leave you to your bath without saying something like, "Aren't you gonna be lonely in there without me? Y'know I could totally join you~"

He really likes to test his luck...

But once you shoot him a bit of a glare, indicating you are definitely not in the mood with the pain and all. He will leave you to it.

Although you have to admit baths are a lot more boring without him around...

Bakugou

He would somehow find a way to get mad at you?

Like bakugou wakes up to see you like dying on the floor, trying to find a comfortable position, and his first thought is to scold the absolute shit out of you...

"What the hell's up with you? Why are you curled up like that on the floor? You're gonna give yourself a headache if you sleep without head support idiot! Get back on the bed right now you stupid fuck!!"

He literally drags you back into bed by you collar before storming out of the room. He comes back with an advil, a glass of water and a snack and pretty much stuffs your face with them.

"You have a stomach ache, huh? Well, maybe you shouldn't have eaten that piece of toast you dropped on the floor!! I swear if you didn't have me you'd be dead! How stupid do you have to be to get yourself sick like this huh?? Huh?!"

He would say all this while stuffing a pain killer down your throat and force feeding you a granola bar...

"C'mon eat. You can't take advil on an empty stomach dumbass! Get it together you should know this!"

Once he's done scolding you, he'll huff, laying back down on the bed. Positioning himself so he's spooning you. One of his hands on your stomach, the other in-between your thighs. Turning himself into your own personal heat pack.

He'll make sure you get to sleep before he let's himself fall back asleep.

In the morning, he'll make you breakfast, your favorite breakfast in fact. The whole time grumbling about how its your fault he got no sleep last night. Shoving a plate of beautifully cooked food infront of you...

As pissed as he makes you think he is, he really was worried about you.

Shouto

As cold as the people who don't know him think he is. You know him well enough to know he's a huge softy.

He would immediately ask of your ok. Rubbing your back gently. He doesn't even skip a beat when he sees you curled up in child's pose on your shared bed, your breath sharp and unsteady.

Asks you if you need need anything, and when you respond with a sad sounding "sleep," He smiles softly at you. Thinking you look kinda cute like this..

After he gives himself a moment to figure out what you need, he'll go to your medicine cabinet and get you a painkiller. He'll pour you a glass of water and light a sented candle for extra relaxation. He is determined to get you some sleep.

He will pet your hair softly, speaking to you with the gentlest tone.

"Hey, y/n... can you sit up for me, please? I got you a painkiller, but you need to sit up to take it...*

He would help you up, giving you the pill and the water. He would help you lay back down. Cuddling you up to his left side and heating it up a bit to help your muscles relax. And if you start getting too hot, he'll place his right hand on the back of your neck. Cooling you off.

He would keep you at the perfect temperature to sleep. And you would sleep. Surprisingly enough, one of the best sleeps of your entire life.

Kirishima

This poor boy is absolutely lost.

He has zero idea how to help you and is instead left trying to calm you down as you sob into the bed sheets...

(Please, he's so freaked out)

I can see him patting your back like an awkward dad y'know?

He tries to talk you out of it too. Trying to act like he's not scared out of his mind that you're dying or some shit..

"Hey.. hey. You're ok.. you're ok, right? You're fine. Im here. You don't have to cry.. please don't cry.. are you okay??"

He's trying so hard but is so confused. Your talking is almost unintelligible through your tears, but eventually, he hears a soft, "advil..." Through the sobs.

He will fetch you some immediately. It takes him less than a minute before he's back. Advil in hand. A very determined look on his face.

Within like 30 minutes your passed out on his chest again. Sleeping oh so peacefully. He can finally breath, thanking the gods your ok. He was so worried you have no idea. Or I guess you probably do considering how he was fumbling over his words and desperately trying to help you. Now he just runs his hands through your hair, falling asleep in the quiet bliss of your breathing.

He will research the fuck out of this in the morning and make sure he is well prepared for the next incident. After all it is so not manly to not know how to care for your significant other..

[bisexualcage]

Stunt Work, PART. 2 | Johnny Cage x Trans Male | MDNI 🔞, NSFW!!

part 1 here <-

After that first time you thought Johnny wasn’t the type to stick around, nonetheless the one to keep up with the people he hooks up with— but you were wrong of course. You both exchanged numbers after wrapping filming and that was it for a few weeks, he kept texting you constantly asking when you’re off. But you were a busy guy, you had stunt work to do for another film you were working on— as much as you wanted to see him again.

“It’s been 2 weeks, sweet cheeks…come on!”

“I told you, diva, I’m busy.”

“I’m busy too stud. U ain’t special in that. I want 2 see u.”

“You wanna get pegged that bad?”

“Yes ;) but also…I just wanna see that pretty face of yours…what do u say?”

You were smiling down at your phone till you hear the director of choreography call you over to the practicing mat to practice your stunts for a future scene. About half an hour passed of you sweating and grunting all over the mat, you were exhausted and so was the choreographer.

“Alright, one more time and we’re calling it a day. Now— come on.” The choreographer motioned you over as he breathed heavily.

You walked over and got in to a fighting stance in front of him, you wrestled and tumbled until he had you in a headlock.

“Loosen up on the headlock, bro.” You grunted,

“We’ve done this about 30 times— now break out of it as I’ve shown you.” He talked down your ear behind you, holding you in a tight lock.

“Alright alright-“ you said quickly and winced, as you were about to break out of the headlock you hear a sort of commotion on the other side of the filming set. A bunch of filming crew and cast running to the entrance of the set. Then you heard people yelling “Johnny!” and you froze in your spot.

“Hey, no distractions. We gotta finish this.” The choreographer director tightened his grip around your head making you annoyed.

“Dude- who the hell is there?” You groan at him. Your heart accelerated and your breath came in short.

You knew exactly who it probably was causing a frenzy like that, but the question was how the hell did he know where you were at specifically and what film you were shooting when you never regaled him in those details.

“Don’t know and I don’t care if it’s Jesus Christ himself- now-“ he tried to finish but got shortly interrupted.

“What do we have here, huh?” Johnny walked up to the mat, his hands on his hips as he sported his usual smirk looking down at you both in a rather complicated position.

Your head shoots up, “What the hell are you doing here? Are you crazy?”, and in a quick motion you flip the choreographer from behind over your shoulders, making him land on his back on the mat.

Johnny makes an impressed expression, looking down at you with a lustful expression that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. “You didn’t reply to my text, stud! What else was I supposed to do?”

The fighting choreography groaned as he got up and sent glares at both of you, “this isn’t a get together for your Hollywood friends to come to— this is a filming set.”

Johnny chuckled at the man’s hostility, “Don’t worry, I cleared it with the filming director. He’s a good buddy of mine. So is G.I Joe here…” he looks at your sweaty frame, up and down. The choreography noticed this and rolled his eyes as he walked off.

You scoffed loudly, wiping your brow at his nerve— but you couldn’t hide how amused you were at his dedication. “Again, are you out of your mind? How the hell did you find me?”

Johnny walked closer to you now, taking his shades off, “I have connections— plus your IMDb is pretty informative. Said this film was in pre production and I got to calling a few contacts of mine as to its filming locations, and WALAH! how’s that for smart honey?” He cocked his eyebrow up.

You couldn’t help but shake your head with a slight grin at the edge of your lips. “All of this because I didn’t answer your text? I was obviously working.”

“Oh I saw. Two weeks without seeing you and you’re already snuggling with Mr Choreographer, huh?” He said in a humorous tone but his eyes betrayed him, a jealousy behind them.

You huff incredulously, “We were clearly practicing. What’s it to you anyways? You’re putting your image at risk by interrupting pre production and being seen with me.”

Johnny’s expression turned unreadable and his smirk was gone, “I know, I know, it’s dumb. But I can’t help but not give a shit-“

You’re taken aback at this, rubbing your neck and not knowing what to say; “Johnny, the first time we ya know…” you clear your throat trying to word it well, “…you went on about how important your self image was…not wanting stuff to get out.”

Johnny sucked his teeth in, clearly conflicted; “Yes, listen- these past 2 weeks I haven’t been able to concentrate- can’t sleep, hell- I can’t even eat, it’s like a disease.”

You make a confused expression, “What…?”

The star’s expression becomes humorous again at your confused face, “Sweetheart, I’m trying to….say I like you….probably too much for my liking.”

There’s a silence that grew, your face turns red. You knew there was some sort of mutual interest but you didn’t know it had the man practically insane. It made your stomach erupt with butterflies.

“I do too. But you and I know this…is risky with me being a guy.” You say with slight solemn on your face.

Johnny scoffs loudly, “That’s the thing— I don’t give a flying fuck. I came all the way here for this I can’t take it anymore not being able to just…be me. You’ve taken over my brain ever since we… it’s like a spell- you’re driving me crazy.”

You were speechless, blushing of sorts, the film crew around you trying to get an earful of what Johnny was hissing at you. “Oh brother…” you touch your chest, “You just gonna dump all of this on me on a Tuesday morning?”

Johnny doesn’t budge and stares at you with undeniable longing.

“Can we do this somewhere else?” You sigh and whisper, signaling towards your trailer.

—

Once you’re both in your trailer before you can’t even turn around and speak with him, he rushes over and brings you for a soul crushing hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck. As if it would kill him if he parted with you. This wasn’t just sexual longing, this was also something else entirely. So you rubbed his back softly.

“Are you okay?” You whisper in his ear.

“Fuck, you probably think I’m looney.” He mumbles against your neck, his hug growing tighter.

“I- I dont. Just tell me what’s up?”

Johnny didn’t say anything for a whole minute, just mowing over how to say things as he held you. “My dad was an asshole. I hated him as much as I tried to please him. Made me hide things that made me…well ME. Was like that for years. All I ever wanted was to make him proud, but it was never enough for him. He called me a ‘pussy’ when….” He trailed off, pausing for a second before resuming; “…I cried over a neighborhood cat getting ran over. I was 8. That type of crap…sticks with you— I guess what I’m trying to say is…that first day I was with you, when we talked, I didn’t feel judged or denied or ridiculed for the first time ever.” He pulls you a bit tighter against him.

You hug him back, rocking him back and forth, after a while of silence you speak up; “Is…is your dad still around? Did he know about ya know…you swinging for both teams?”

Johnny tenses up slightly and pulls back as he looks at you in the eyes now, his arms still around your waist; “I don’t know, haven’t seen him in years, he probably suspects something but I don’t give a shit .”

Nodding understandably, “Johnny…why did you tell me all of this?” You look at him softly.

Johnny brings you in again but this time crashing his lips on to yours, making your eyes widen but then slowly relax as he kept shifting his lips against yours. There was hunger behind it, the way he tried to basically inhale you. When he finally pulled back he leaned his forehead against yours with a smirk, his big brown eyes boring in to your shy ones; “I usually wouldn’t— but I can’t help but spill like a can of beans. It’s sick- you’re making me ill and vulnerable-“ he says with a hint of humor as he touches your nose with his.

You chuckle softly, “Oh hollywood, what am I gonna do with you?”

Johnny’s eyes turn lustful, “Peg me…that’s what, honey.”

“You’re still with that?” You chuckle with a blush.

“Hey! You said you would!” He does a mocking pout.

Walking over to your dresser you look through it and take out a box, Johnny following behind you like a tail. You open the box in front of his curious eyes, taking out a black strap on. His eyes widened and then a smirk appeared.

“I’m not sure you can take this, superstar.” You grin back and laugh at how silly it all was.

“Oh you don’t know what I can or cannot take, sweetheart.” He bit his lip as he leaned in pressed his lips against your neck. “I’m gonna take you.” He whispered against your skin, his breath warm.

Goosebumps appeared all over your hot skin as you let him trail wet kisses down your neck to your collarbone, you close your eyes and let out soft noises. After a minute, without warning he begins to pull his pants down and your eyes widen still not used to it.

“Your confidence never ceases to amaze me, Cage.” You smirk as you seem him in his boxer briefs.

“Hey, I gotta live up to my reputation hotshot.” He approaches you and starts unbuttoning your shirt, slowly with precision. Studying your reaction as he did one button at a time. His brown eyes glancing down at your semi revealed torso and then up at your reddened face. He was so gentle, so careful.

“I have a binder underneath …I’d prefer if that….” You trail off, slightly nervous.

Johnny nodded and undid the last button but not before cupping your cheek in his hand; “You want me to leave it on, sweetheart?”

You nod, shyly, looking elsewhere. “Yes. I know it’s not healthy to…leave it on while engaging in…ya know, but for now…”

He slides your shirt off, your black binder underneath being shown for the first time, he studies it before looking back at your expression; “You okay with this? You can just tell me to go to hell-“

You chuckle, “It’s fine, Hollywood.”, you start unbuttoning your pants now, leaving you in your briefs.

Johnny gives you a grin before removing his own shirt and pants in a jiffy, there was a gleam of excitement in his brown eyes as he almost tripped while taking his pants off which in turn made you giggle.

“So I assume you’ve done this sort of thing before?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

Johnny snorts, “Of course I have, that being said— please tell me you’re gonna lube it.”

“I’m not a novice at this, why do you think I own one?” You start looking for the lube in your drawers.

“Bad, bad boy.” He sends you a wink.

When you find it, you start lubing the strap on, giving Johnny a mischievous smile, “You better not make too many noises Cage, my crew is outside this trailer—“

Johnny shrugs, “Not the first time I’ve gotten a headline written over people hearing what goes on behind closed doors.”

You wince as you hear him say that, “God I’m sorry you got creepy ass people writing articles about your sex life-“

Johnny waves his hand dismissively with a grin, “Nah, part of me doesn’t care, creepy bastards might as well.”

You sit down on your bed, motioning for him to sit next to you. As he does that, he looks at you with lustful eyes again, “Just because you’re used to it doesn’t mean it’s okay, alright? People need to mind their business.” You say softly.

Johnny chuckles and leans his forehead against yours, “I swear…the way you’re so darn caring and soft with me honey, it gives me the worst boner on this planet.” He whispers, his hot breath against your face. You look down and see his boxers are tight, the fabric stretching against his evident hard on.

Johnny then leans in without warning and crashes his lips on to yours, slipping his warm tongue in your mouth and exploring. You let out a groan against his lips as your tongue now brushes against his. He then softly slides his hands down your bare sides and leans your back down against the soft bed as he keeps devouring your lips. Your lower abdomen already tightening and growing warm by the second. You decide to try and take over, catching him off guard as you flip him on his back.

“Woah baby- if you wanted to be the boss you could have just told me.” He smirks up at you while he caresses your thighs softly, you straddling his waist.

“Ready?” You start putting the strap on around your hips without wasting time.

The actor’s eyes widen and his face flushes for the first time, a rare but nice change to see for once. He swallowed deep for a second before his cocky demeanor came back; “Hell yeah- have your way with me.” He squeezes your thighs, his eyes turning dark.

You took that as a sign to grab his hips and turning him to lay with his back facing you, his face nuzzled in to your sheets as you felt slight friction between your cunt as you straddle his ass that was covered by his briefs.

“Oh fuck-“ he lets out, you could see how he breathed heavily and his shoulder blades contracted.

You back away a little and start sliding his briefs down to his thighs, having a complete view of his pale soft ass. It made you grow warm, a redness on your face. It looks like he noticed your sudden apprehensiveness as he chuckled against the covers; “Don’t bail on me now baby, you were so bold just a min- AH SHIT-“

Before he can even finish the sentence you press the lubed tip of the strap on dildo against his cheeks, prying them open slowly as they just briefly touch his ass hole. “What was that?” you said in a teasing, dominant tone. Your hands gripping his hips now tightly as the dildo teased his entrance.

“That’s cold- that damn lube-“ he laughs, “Oh you fucking tease-“ he breathes heavily, as he looks slightly over his shoulder at you with a grin.

“Shhh-“ you try and shush him as you try and enter his entrance slowly, your hips moving forward gently.

Johnny groaned loudly, gripping the bed sheets as the dildo stretched his ass hole out more and more. “fuck baby-“ he hissed, his face falling on to the sheets as his stayed up.

There was a grin of pride on your face, having such a prideful man on his knees as you took him from behind, it was definitely making you more and more turned on. You didn’t need to have an actual dick to guess how it felt, how his walls closed around you, how he shivered against you, you just knew and it made your cunt wet.

“Agh- shit-“ you hissed, getting a sudden impulse to not hold back anymore and shove the dildo deeper inside him and making him whimper loudly, probably making your crew outside hear it.

“God, that’s it, right there baby boy-“ he moaned, you’ve never never seen him so vulnerable before, he was so excited you could see the practical erection he had that was rubbing against the bed sheets. He was so in to it that he shoved his ass further against you and the strap on.

You bite your lip, almost making it hurt as you start moving slowly back and forth against his trembling ass cheeks, his pleadings become louder and at this point you couldn’t bother with who heard. You could tell you were hitting the g spot in his ass by how deep your thrusts were and how he whimpered against the sheets, the once all cocky actor now on his knees and groaning. His cheeks flushed red, as he looked back every once in a while at you ramming in to him.

As you kept thrusting in a steady rhythm in to him, you leaned over his back and wrapped your arms around his lower abdomen, your face against his spine as you reached down gripped his throbbing cock that was already oozing with pre cum, the actor immediately moaned, his eyes widening as all his senses were being overstimulated by you.

“Easy, Hollywood…” your chest rubbed against his back and you began jerking him from behind as your hips kept moving inside him.

“Oh- F- fuck baby- please- ahh-“ he said in a high pitch, already about to bust wide open. Your fingers gripped his shaft and your movements became more desperate, you were becoming more and more wet under your strap on.

Johnnys face and neck were bright red and you could sworn you saw some tears in his eyes by how stimulated he was, his face looking at you at an angle from the soft sheets, you grunt and jerk him off more as you kept rammed in to him, your eyes staring right in to his. Soon, he let out a loud whimper as he reached his climax; “OHHHH- OHHHH FUCK, YOU LITTLE SLUT YOU- agh-“ his cum oozing all over your hand and the sheets, ribbons everywhere.

You softly moan and pull out of him gently, falling back in to the bed, but not before grabs you by your jaw and kisses you roughly, shoving his warm tongue down your throat, he wasn’t even letting you breathe, he wanted to consume you. “You’re such a little vixen.” He pulled at your bottom lip, his cheeks still red. “Such a good boy… my good boy mm.” He pulled back, his lips making a smacking sound, he looked completely enamored by you.

You blush, “So I did good?”

Johnny slides his hand beneath the strap on and touches your wet cunt with his warm hand, “Mmm- so good.”

“Agh-“ you hiss.

“Now, your filming crew knows who you belong to G.I Joe.” He bites your earlobe.

[klbwriting]

For Love of Fiction

Part 3

Fandom: Red Hood

Pairing: Jason Todd x f!plus size!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You think too much and realize you have to talk to Jason

Notes: I am not sure if this is the end honestly. I keep thinking I'll be finished, but then I'm like but what if...? So there may be a part 4, this has no planning whatsoever (even less than my normal fics have) so I hope you're enjoying this and would anyone mind if I just kept going?

Taglist: soradragon (let me know if you want me to add you to this when/if a part 4 appears)

               You couldn’t get what Red Hood said out of your mind.  It was distracting.  You were writing another book, something for YA romance this time, wanting to see if you could, and the words ‘thanks for making me your muse’ kept floating around your brain.  He knew about your books, knew that he was your muse.  How?  Why would Red Hood read your books?  You supposed it wasn’t that surprising, a lot of people in Gotham read them.  Gotham wasn’t a great city to live in but the people were loyal to their own, they would have to be to bother staying in this shithole.  Maybe he had seen your book out and about when he wasn’t Red Hood, any bookstore or library had them.  Jason had even told you that he had been at the library when he…your mind froze.  Jason. 

               Jason who worked at night, Jason who was always tired, Jason who had money, enough to justify the amount of gear and tech that Red Hood would need, Jason who knew you called Red Hood your muse.  Not your inspiration, not your influence, not your favorite superhero, your muse.  Jason who had canceled dinner because of work.  Jason who was always so gentle with you, like Red Hood had been when he had touched your shoulder and checked in on you.  No way, you were crazy.  Then again, Jason was in incredible shape.  You had gone to the gym with him and one of his brother’s Dick, and they had taught you some self defense before sparring themselves, and they looked professional.  It was crazy, but you had to know.

               You debated calling Jason all day.  Would he even tell you?  Why would he tell you?  You had been seeing each other, casually, for only two months, you had had a total of one actual date and various text dates and calls.  Why would he confess what was probably his deepest secret to you?  You called him anyway.

               “Are you mad about dinner?” Jason asked as soon as he answered.  He had canceled via text and figured you must be fuming, but he had already been in gear, heading towards a robbery near you.  Its why he even stumbled on the Joker’s minions in that diner.  He had heard a call to the cops, intercepted by Oracle, and she had sent him the information since he was closest.  When he arrived, he had been shocked to see you, and so angry.  How dare anyone threaten you again?  He had probably concussed those guys with that extra punch he gave them.  Then he had to say something to you, find out if you were ok, not anyone else.  He sighed.  The muse line had been a bit stupid too, you were probably so confused.  Either that or you were giddy that Red Hood knew who you were, about your books. 

               “No, I’m not mad about dinner, but I did want to see you and I have some free time today around lunch?  I know you’re tired but wanted to see if maybe we could meet?” you asked.  You sounded nervous.  He wondered why you were nervous.  Did he make you nervous?  Was he not obvious enough about how much he liked you?  How much he loved talking to you and spending any precious time he could with you?

               “I would love to meet you, where?” he asked.  You said the name of a diner, the same one from the night before.  He swallowed a little, wondering if you had actually gotten your dinner last night.  He assumed that’s why you had gone out in the first place.  Maybe the attack had left you without dinner and you just wanted to go back and get whatever you had been craving.  Couldn’t have anything to do with Red Hood. 

               “Its just a diner, so if you don’t want to go there, we can go somewhere else,” you said, wondering why he didn’t say anything.  Were you too obvious about why you wanted to meet at that diner?  Ugh, this man was scrambling your brain, and you loved it.  You were feeling so many things you hadn’t felt in years, all of that plus the confusion on the Red Hood issue, it was a lot for one person to take.

               “No, it sounds good, I love diners,” Jason said quickly, then wanted to smack himself.  ‘I love diners’? What the fuck was wrong with him?  He heard you giggle on the other end of the phone and that made him feel a little better.  You discussed details and he agreed to meet you. 

               You were nervous, waiting at the diner early, typing what you could for your book, trying anything to stop watching your phone as time ticked by.  You were trying to think of what to say, but didn’t want anything rehearsed, you wanted to be direct, but not sound crazy or accuse him of anything.  How could one person cause this much confusion and stress and yet the very thought of him made your heart flutter and your stomach twist into sweet knots?  It was the most wonderful and infuriating thing in the world. 

               You heard the ding of the door and looked up, seeing that familiar shock of white hair and those eyes that were perfect and then he smiled, and all your planned words flew out your head.  He walked over and sat down, and you hurried to close your laptop, hoping you remembered to save the two words you had written. 

               “Working on that new book?” he asked, taking the menu.  He slid his hand over and gently took your hand.  He was a touchy-feely person you could already tell, loved feeling your skin against his and it did not help your focus on the task at hand.  You nodded, pretending to be engrossed in the menu even though you knew exactly what to get, what you always got.  The waiter came over, not the same from last night, and took your orders and headed away and you swallowed.

               “Can I ask you something?” you asked.  He nodded, thumb rubbing gently circles on the back of your hand and you almost lost your nerve.  “Why did you cancel last night?  You said work, but what happened?”  His thumb froze and you saw his panic in his eyes for just a moment before he smiled, rolling his shoulders and he moved his hand to link your fingers, thumb now near your palm.

               “There was a break in,” he said.  “I had to assist.”

               “The other security guy couldn’t handle it?” you asked, pushing the subject.  Once again panic in his eyes.  He was scrambling for a story.  You observed, wrote about what people did, how they acted.  Had long ago started making up lies for Red Fox to tell Layla about himself and what he did before she had known about him.  You could see all the signs of Jason trying to cover for last night.  It was either he was Red Hood, or he was seeing someone else, and despite this arrangement being casual you really hoped he was Red Hood.  You could handle that, but him maybe falling for someone else after you already had fallen for him was too much. 

               “It was more than one person, they wanted backup to search the place,” he said, voice uneven.  He swallowed, wondering what this was really about.  He didn’t have a lot of people that didn’t know his secret, never let anyone close, he wasn’t used to this kind of questioning.  He could tell you didn’t believe him, but he couldn’t tell exactly what emotions you were feeling.  Anxiety?  Hurt?  Hope?  They were all moving through your eyes.  Had you figured him out?  Figured out he was Red Hood? 

               “Tell me the truth, please,” you said softly.  He stared at you.  How could he tell you the truth?  He swallowed hard.  “Were you seeing someone else?  If you were just tell me before I start feeling more for you than I already do, I don’t want a broken heart.”  He felt himself breath out slowly.  He could handle this.  He didn’t realize that you would think he was seeing other people, but he knew how to calm your nerves.  Jason smiled softly at you, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles.  You melted a little, smiling at him.

               “I was not seeing someone else; I promise, it really was work, I went in helped contain the scene and catalogued the missing items, lots of fancy science words,” he said.  You nodded.  You didn’t believe a word.  You knew he wasn’t seeing someone else, that was true, but that left the lie of work, which left the unsaid truth.  Jason was Red Hood.  You were sure of it.  You weren’t going to tell him you knew; you would keep it to yourself, but now you at least could understand him canceling dates last minute. 

               “O good, I didn’t want to be the only one feeling this way,” you said.  Jason smiled and shook his head.  “So tell me, why does Bruce Wayne’s kid work night security at CADMUS labs?”  He chuckled and sighed.

               “Me and Bruce had a falling out several years ago, right when I finished school.  We’re all good now but I got the chance to be on my own, make my own way in life, and found that I couldn’t do police work, I had a criminal record as a kid, but I could do security work.  It may not be as helpful, but I can protect things like the chemicals and inventions at CADMUS, keep them out of the wrong hands, some of the stuff there could be dangerous,” he said.  You nodded, listening to him talk more about work.  It was a very well thought out cover story you had to admit. 

               “Sounds to me like you’re a couple steps down from a hero yourself, and we know how much I love a hero,” you said, giving him a smile.  Jason smiled back but saw it in your eyes.  You didn’t believe his story for a second.  “Maybe you’ll be my next muse.”  The way you said muse, the way your eyes lit up a little bit, he didn’t know how, but you knew.  You knew about Red Hood, knew his secret.  But you didn’t say anything, didn’t confront him.  You were letting him keep it, tell you himself when he wanted.  He hoped this meant you wouldn’t tell anyone else.  “But don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep your identity secret,” she said, making Jason hold his breath.  “In my books,” she finished.  He let out a breath and nodded. 

               “Just, if I tell you I got called into work and had to cancel?” he said. 

               “I’ll be sure to stay home, order in dinner maybe, or just always have pizza rolls on hand,” she said.  Jason let out a breath.  That he could live with, she was smart enough to just stay home.

[crguang]

hgsshbyss I sent that ask when I hadn’t slept in 3 days, so my brain wasn’t functioning properly, I haven’t gotten used to not sleeping very much yet. Also I only have a little crush on Black swan so far. It’s just complicated bc I thought I was aroace, but I definitely like women, and the way I’ve been eating up Kafka (I wish) fics isn’t very aro or ace, or every time I do a double take when I see a hot woman, but again, we don’t need to talk abt my sexuality crisis.

btw I rewatched the interrogation scene on the luofu, no deep thoughts bc I didnt sleep again last night :| and blue light is hurting my eyes wish Kafka wouldn’t let me sleep by railing me instead but whatever.

First of all SHES SO HOT I MISS HER. Second of all, they didn’t take her gloves, they took her contacts, her jacket and her GLASSES too, like it’s so silly. I think the only time her hands are exposed are in the countdown art of her, WHATEVER THE FUCK SHES HOLDING IN IT SHOULVE BEEN ME And she went back for them too, like girl, they don’t even fit you ik ik spider imagery, but still and the way she was looking at TB while we were asking her stuff sjhdhsbsjslsns. You were def right abt the speaking slower to control the convo pace.

I was curious abt what she was telling us abt the aeons dying/being killed, bc (assumably) nanook is the final boss, TB is supposed to play part in defeating him, and I wonder if she was supposed to tell us besides for plot reasons, or if she was just stalling. But it wasn’t mentioned after, so it’s probably dismissed as a distraction. And she never tells us the third way. also the way she jumps off after she get out of the handcuffs, her dramatic ass, I cannot with her. btw all my messages are so long I’m sorry :(

-🌠

ANON I JUST SAW MORE LEAKS IM GONNA DIEEEEEEEEEEEEE please… let us all collectively pray that kafka is not in the next banner for my sanity PLEASEEEEE. also you should definitely be sleeping omg what’s stopping you?? three days without sleep is starting to get dangerous, i hope you’re able to crash for like 15 hours soon

yeah i noticed they didnt take her gloves, i feel like they should’ve gone all the way because then its just confusing like😭😭 what would they need her glasses for?;!;? no idea how arrests work on the luofu but that sounds very silly. taking her contacts and coat makes sense but i really cant wrap my head around them snatching her sunglasses hejdhdhf kafka is so funny sometimes, looking good is an essential part of being a criminal she just had to get her stuff back

BUT YEAH HER PACE ALWAYS BOTHERS ME HERE. SPEAK FASTERRRR she was def doing it on purpose to piss me off personally… what’s crazy is that we all just took the nanook part of the prophecy as factual and im just realizing she might just be lying?… she says the SH’s goal isnt to kill an aeon but idk if i believe that. omg we really dont know shit about these people’s goal so far even after getting close to firefly. i need kafka to come back to the main story bc shes the only one who gives us some clues like😭

what i love most about her free fall is that she looked at the ground before doing it, as if telling herself like “yeah i’ll survive this i can look cool” and it always makes me giggle

[bizaar]

Cruel Summer Part 13

First - Previous - Next

pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…

word count: 11.5k

warnings: swearing, descriptions of violence/the Demogorgon ate Barb, angst, fluff

A.N.: Happy Birthday to me and a very merry unbirthday to all of you! Thank you to everyone who sent such nice comments and asks after the last chapter, I really hope you all enjoy the update!!! if you see typos, no you don't :D

Dustin can’t decide who hates this plan more, Eddie or himself. 

They’ll split into three teams, one at the Creel House to draw Vecna’s attention on this side, and two in the Upsidedown, one to lure the bats away from the house and hold them, and one to send the bastard to kingdom come while his guard is down. 

Simple and more or less straightforward… until a very frustrating though decidedly no less valid question is raised: how do you know the plan is even going to work?

Which is to say, how are you going to make sure the bats will do what they’re supposed to and leave the house unguarded when Team Distraction turns the volume up?

Because if Dustin and Eddie can’t guarantee that their distraction will lure the bats — all of the bats — then Steve, Nancy, and Robin won’t be able to get into the house, and if they can’t get in the house, then they’re dead in the water before they’ve even begun.

As so often happens when the dark storm cloud of sobering truth rolls in on the horizon, they all come to the same simultaneous conclusion.

It strikes like a bolt of lightning in the distance — a brief purpling flash that is so sudden you can’t be sure it was even there until its presence is validated by the staggered clap of thunder following dutifully behind.

That’s what the realization feels like. Loud, pervasive, numbing. It leaves Dustin’s ears ringing in the hollowness it leaves behind. 

One of you is going to have to get out there and do something to lure the bats away — one of you is going to have to be bait.

Naturally, nobody is exactly eager to throw their name into the running for that prestigious task, least of all Dustin, who is under no delusions about being an athlete of any capacity. 

He’s a Hawkins Middle AV club alumnus for Christ’s sake, not exactly the picture of physical prowess. 

The notion itself is enough to set something cold and heavy settling in the pit of his stomach, like something out of a stress-induced nightmare — he knows no one is going to ask him to be the bait, but there is still that nagging pressure of worry.

He can’t imagine what he’ll do if the task falls to him, he can’t imagine what any of you will do. More to the point, he can’t imagine any of you being stupid enough to willingly go and put your life on the line like that.

Only that is not expressly true. Steve would do something that stupid, and he doesn’t even have to imagine it as the older boy steps bravely forward into their Socratic huddle. 

“I’ll do it,” He says, nodding solemnly like he’s just presented himself to steward the one ring to Mordor … though probably not, because Steve wouldn’t get that reference in the first place. 

He’s not Frodo Baggins, he’s just a big brave dog too stupid to know when to stay quiet and save his own life. 

Thankfully, the suggestion goes over more or less like a lead balloon.

“That’s not gonna work, Steve,” Nancy says, a messy halo of curls dancing about her features as she shakes her head, pursing her lips. 

The sting of her rejection is immediately evident across Steve’s face, and Dustin has to wonder just how much of that bravery is actually just plain, old fashioned peacocking to try and impress her.

Even if it isn't, there is not much of an argument to be made against the refusal of his offer, considering the general consensus of the room is more or less in agreement with her. 

It leaves him visibly deflated.

Dustin doesn’t fault him for suggesting he be the one to do it. It is nothing less than entirely on brand for Steve — big damn hero that he is — but in this specific case, it’s more of bonehead thinking rather than the noble gesture he imagines he thinks it is. 

“Why not?” Steve presses, speaking to Nancy more than anyone else in the room, “I’ll lead them away and double back — it’ll take ten minutes tops.” 

He makes a show of dusting his hands of imaginary grime before presenting her with his empty palms, impressing absolutely no one, Nancy especially. 

“Yeaaaah…” Eddie says through his teeth, stretching the word like he knows he’s got something to say that Steve won’t thank him for, “Only that didn’t work so good for you last time, did it, Bud?”

His head lolls left to press his ear to his shoulder as he levels him with a knowing look, squinting at him and scrunching his features in a way that could almost be misconstrued as apologetic. 

And he’s right, Steve does not thank Eddie for so graciously pointing out the shortcomings of his last expedition to the Upsidedown. 

“Last time I wasn’t running away, Bud.” Steve deadpans, hurling the pet name back at him with perhaps a tad too much vitriol. “They caught me off guard, I’ll be ready for them this time.” 

It does nothing to breathe any confidence into their group as a dissenting murmur passes through the cabin of the RV.

Dustin thinks deep down they all know they probably should let Steve do it, despite their misgivings.

He’s really the only one among them with the prerequisite skills for the job – all those sports he played – but there is still a glaringly obvious issue with that plan because Steve has already assigned himself a pivotal role, one Robin is all too happy to remind him of. 

“Listen, Stevie.” She starts, “We all know you’re super impressive or whatever, but this is one thing we don’t need you Galahading yourself over — you’re supposed to be running point up at the house so Nancy can light Vecna’s ass up, remember?”  

“Well, I don’t see anyone else volunteering.” He snaps, crossing his arms over his chest and making a point to scan the room in an expectant glare, suddenly towering over them like some kind of angry lighthouse sweeping the shoreline for signs of life. 

Dustin does his best to shrink out of his line of sight when it passes over him. 

He’s got no business volunteering for something like this, and even if he did, he’s already got his own job with Eddie, acting as his roadie of sorts — at least he thinks so, that’s how Eddie had described it and for his lack of expertise on the matter all he can do is agree. 

If he had to pick someone, Lucas is probably the best substitute for Steve, but he’s got to stay with Max on this side just in case Vecna’s hold grows a little too tight and a musical intervention is needed.

It’s a moot point, anyway, because they’ve already left that group at the Creel House, and Dustin can’t feasibly see doubling back for them just because the plan has changed. 

As far as he can tell, Steve is right, and there’s no one else left to be the bait.

“I can do it.” You offer then, speaking in a small, tentative voice from where you’ve tucked yourself in at the other side of the camper.

There is a shift in the group as everyone moves at once to find the source of the voice, staring in an almost stunned silence like they’d forgotten you were there. 

Dustin feels his heart seize in his chest in a violent spasm that has his intestines responding accordingly. 

Oh, God!

His eyes go wide as he whips around to regard you with something that can only stem from the gut-wrenching, pants-shitting terror he is suddenly gripped in. 

Not you, anyone but you!

Beside you, Eddie mirrors the motion, head snapping up so quickly Dustin is half surprised it doesn’t roll right off his shoulders and across the length of the RV. 

Under such tense scrutiny, you wilt ever so slightly, glancing nervously around the room, looking for any kind of a reaction.

And nobody outright rejects the suggestion like they had with Steve, much to Dustin’s abject horror. 

“I’ll do it.” You say again, this time with a little more confidence, giving a subtle nod as if to punctuate the affirmation. 

Dustin, of course, is ardently against it, but has found that he has been rendered suddenly and woefully mute by the complete and total shock of your suggestion.

Eddie is thankfully not caught in those doldrums, and he is all too happy to tell you exactly how he feels. 

“Like hell you will,” He gawps.

For the lack of any higher functioning brain power, all Dustin can manage is a stupid, emphatic nodding, and when the initial shock begins to fade and more of his brain starts to switch on again, he searches the room for the naysayers of the earlier moment.

He waits for the dissenting murmur, the interjections from prevailing cooler heads going on to explain exactly why you cannot, in fact, be the bait, but they never come. 

It’s just Eddie, telling you you’re crazy if you think he’s gonna let you get out there, and Dustin frantically nodding along like a goddamn bobblehead. 

“Why not?” You demand, sounding almost offended that he would disagree.

“Because it’s a suicide mission.” Eddie presses, putting harsh emphasis on the last two words.

You narrow your eyes. 

“Oh, please,” you start, but he doesn’t let you finish. 

“Babe,” the pet name causes Dustin’s skin to prickle uncomfortably, Eddie doesn’t seem to notice, “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t know what’s down there–”

“Giant vampire bats?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

He wires his jaw shut and glares at you.

“And a whole network of vines and tentacles and creepy crawlies that report directly back to the fucker himself,” He presses, only he doesn’t know the half of it.  

“Not to mention the Demogorgon,” Dustin says. 

The room reacts appropriately at the mention of the foe of their past.

You remain unimpressed where you stand, but Eddie twists slowly to regard Dustin with a highly suspicious look. 

“...I’m sorry…” He begins slowly, “The what?”

Steve answers for him, dismissing the question with a vague gesture.

“It’s like I told you, Munson,” he says, “We’ve been through all this before,” 

“Only this time, we don’t have the benefit of having a girl with—” Robin starts, but Eddie cuts her off. 

“Superpowers, yeah, you mentioned — can we just circle back to that Demogorgon thing?” 

“…that’s what happened to Barb.” Nancy says then, getting this strange, haunted look in her eyes as she speaks – the color drains from her face, “… what really happened…” 

The room goes eerily silent, leaving Eddie fumbling to understand what such a cryptic comment could possibly mean.

He looks from face to face, confusion etching itself deeper and deeper into his features as he waits for someone to elaborate. 

“What do you mean what really happened?” He finally demands.

They don’t have to say it, their silence speaks volumes — Barbara Holland’s disappearance had been big news for almost a year — almost bigger than Will’s disappearance, death, and subsequent resurrection.

An honor student ups and skips town out of the blue? Not a chance in hell, not Barb, at least.

As far as Dustin can tell from the hushed conversations he’d overheard his mother having, most people didn’t outright believe it, even if only quietly so.

They preferred to keep their heads in the sand and keep the horrific alternative to themselves: that something terrible had happened to Barb right there in their sleepy little town, and she was never coming back.

It's no wonder the good people of Hawkins had grown progressively more wary of things that didn’t expressly fit their happy little narrative over the last couple of years.  

If only they knew just how right they were to be afraid. 

Eddie blanches as it dawns on him – the bats aren’t the only thing down there that can and will eat you alive if you’re caught. 

“Oh, shit.” He mumbles. 

Then, like you hadn’t heard a thing they’d just said about the bestiary of horrors waiting for them on the other side, you shake your head. 

“I don’t care what’s down there –” You scoff, dismissing the truth of Barb’s horrific and untimely demise with a flippant gesture. 

Eddie whips back around to level you with an incredulous look – eyes out on stalks and as big as dinner plates.

“You gotta be kidding,” He stresses, “Didn’t you hear what they said? Something down there ate Barb.”

“Nobody said that.” You snap.

“Henderson—!” Eddie practically shouts, whipping around to glare at Dustin, though he hardly thinks the look is meant for him, especially with the way Eddie thrusts an accusatory finger back at you, “Tell her!”

“The Demogorgon ate Barb.” Dustin drawls. 

Somewhere to his left, Nancy flinches and he can’t help but feel a pang of regret for putting it in such crass terms, but it is very important to him that you understand the ramifications of what you were about to do. The danger you are putting yourself in. 

You roll your eyes in that same maddening way you always do that lets Dustin know exactly what you’re thinking – that this is all nothing more than D&D bullshit and that they’re blowing it out of proportion to try and scare you out of volunteering. He wishes it were as simple as all that.

He wishes that he wasn’t stuck thinking about the faceless horror that has haunted his dreams since that night in 1983 back at Hawkins Middle. 

And then he feels eyes on him, boring holes into the side of his face. Dustin turns to find Eddie staring at him, brows pulled tight over his eyes, still wide and fearful as the question he doesn’t want to ask forms on the tip of his tongue. 

It hadn’t occurred to Dustin that Eddie didn’t actually expect him to back him up like that, that he didn’t really believe that’s what happened. He was just being dramatic, like always, how was he supposed to know he was right on the money?

It’s visibly sobering, and Eddie clenches his jaw as the urge to ask about it escapes him, and he levels Dustin with a knowing look, nodding curtly.

Yes, the Demogorgon had, in fact, eaten Barbara Holland, as plain and simple and horrific a fact as that. Nothing more need be said about it.

And honestly, a lot more could be said, because that’s not even the worst thing that has happened since the Upsidedown came crashing up into their world, but somehow Dustin knows that nothing he says is going to be enough to deter you. 

“Look, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m the only one who doesn’t have a part to play in this.” You huff.

You bet your ass you don’t. 

You had, in fact, been excluded by design, because that’s the way Eddie wanted it, and Dustin was only happy to agree with him, much to your patent dismay.

Every single one of your arguments had come with just as many explanations as to why you couldn’t go — the least of which were that, despite the new bandages Karen Wheeler had wrapped your hand in, you’re still injured, just as you had stressed on the shore of Lover’s Lake the night before.

“So what?” Dustin huffs.

“So, it’s not fair.” You grouse, halfway to whining about it before Eddie shuts you down. 

“Life’s not fair, Sweetheart,” He says. “The sooner you realize that the better.”  

Harsh but true, Dustin thinks. 

Anyway, what you said is not expressly true – you do have a job. An important job that keeps you very far removed from danger of any kind — you’re supposed to guard the gate in Eddie’s living room from this side in the unlikely event someone comes snooping, and you’re extremely unhappy about it. 

Normally, that would fill Dustin with some sort of gut-wrenching guilt, but as far as he can tell he doesn’t give a shit about how you feel right now.

He only cares about keeping you safe.

You’d already sat arguing about it back in the field when the details of the plan were laid out, nearly spoiling what was just about the closest thing Dustin has experienced to a perfect moment with you in months — running around and playing in the grass in a fit of euphoric, childlike whimsy. It was almost enough to make him forget that there was anything wrong in the world.

That all came crashing down the moment Steve called you back to the camper.

“We really should have someone standing by in case the cops come poking around,” Dustin had tried to explain to your angry, pacing form after they’d broken the news that you were not invited to cross the gate with them. “A-and since you’re so good at thinking on your feet—”

It did nothing to soften the blow of rejection. You’d silenced him with an angry look and spent the next half hour quietly fuming in the furthest corner of the RV you could squeeze yourself into.  

And now you’re volunteering to smear yourself in blood and go willingly into the lion’s den, and no one is disagreeing that it should be you. If that isn’t some form of cosmic justice… 

That’s perhaps what distresses Dustin the most, that you’ve volunteered to go and die, and everyone is just going to let you do it. 

In a shocking turn of events, suddenly he and Eddie are the only sane ones among you.

“This is ridiculous , you guys–”  

“No, you’re not doing it.” Eddie says, slicing the air in a clipped gesture, “End of story. Harrington? Tell her.”

You scoff and open your mouth to protest the supposed finality of the statement, and by extension what Dustin can only imagine is a healthy dose of outrage over any kind of decision involving you being left up to Steve of all people, but he is quick to jump in before you can say anything. 

“Steve!” He stresses, “Tell her!” 

It catches him woefully off guard and Dustin watches as something a little closer to panic than he is comfortable with flashes across Steve’s features. Like being unexpectedly called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention.

Thick brows shoot up toward that immaculate hairline before bouncing back to furrow over Steve’s eyes.

He flexes his jaw and breathes in deeply through his nose, and after a moment’s hesitation, he finally opens his mouth to say… nothing. Dustin can’t believe it. 

He could scream. 

In all the time he’s known him, Steve has never been caught without some kind of a smooth one-liner, a witty comeback. Of all the time Dustin has known him, he has never once been rendered speechless. 

There’s a first time for everything, sure, but why on God’s green Earth did it have to be now? It’s just bad timing. 

Steve stands there, working his jaw like a gaping fish for another agonizing moment of deafening silence, even turning to Robin and Nancy for some kind of support – they have nothing to offer but incredulous stares – but it’s no use, he well and truly has no idea what to say.

You’ve started in again before he can get much more out than a bitten-off “Uuuuhhh….” 

“I’m not just gonna wait around babysitting a hole in the ceiling while you all put your lives on the line,” You bite, and somehow Dustin can’t help but get the sense that even though you’re addressing the room, you’re speaking directly to him – to Eddie, who has spent the duration of your spiel violently shaking his head in outright rejection.

He hardly lets you finish before he makes a harsh sound of incredulous disbelief.

“No.” 

“Eddie–”

“No!”

“Will you shut up and let me do this?” You shout, “I’ll lead the bats away from the house and make them chase me back here–” 

Eddie barks out a bitter laugh that has you clamping your jaw shut with enough force that Dustin hears your teeth click together.

“Right, just like you led Jason and those fuckers away from Rick’s place?” He snaps, his words dripping with disdain, “How’s the hand, by the way? Still hurts?”

Despite their united front, Dustin can’t help the stirring sense of injustice Eddie’s tone kicks up in his chest, rattling around like embers in his ribcage.

He’s not the enemy here, regardless of what his guts are trying to tell him, but the urge to defend you has long since been stronger than any of Dustin’s natural instincts.

Of course, you don’t need him to come running to your rescue – you never have, and he’s starting to suspect that you never will. Some small part of him aches with the grief of that realization. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like a loss. 

Suddenly it’s like you don’t even know he’s there anymore, with the way you’re looking at Eddie. Glaring at him like you’re the only two people in the room. It’s strangely charged, almost intimate, and it makes Dustin’s insides go squirmy like he’s witnessing something torrid.

Somehow it feels like the scene playing out before them is not for their eyes, and Dustin wonders briefly if they ought to leave the room, leave the two of you to this moment.

He watches you bristle, sees your gaze turn to white hot steel, and feels his insides clench for it.

His concern swings hard away from you to land on Eddie’s shoulders, then. Under the molten heat of your anger, he is surely about to whither and melt down to the bone.

Dustin thinks he ought to do something to try and protect him from that, but he doesn’t dare put himself in your line of site. Eddie is made of much stronger stuff than he is, he doesn’t need his help.

“Don’t be an asshole,” You warn him through your teeth.

Eddie throws up his hands and offers you a sarcastic smile, tilting his head ever so slightly like this is all just good, harmless fun. 

“Babygirl, I’ll be whatever I need to be to stop you from doing this.” He says, “Because this is a stupid fucking plan, you’re gonna get yourself killed and when you do, I’m gonna say I told you so.” 

Each point is punctuated by a sharp poke to your shoulder with his index and middle finger, firm enough to jostle you each time he hits home – you slap his hand away before he can poke you again. 

“And here I thought chivalry was dead.” You hum, a harsh, clipped thing oozing with disdain. 

Thankfully, before either of you can really start to fight about it, Robin interjects.

“Children – enough!” She shouts, breaking the spell - you both shrink away from the moment, settling back with arms crossed tightly over your chests, doing your utmost to avoid looking at one another.

Robin continues. 

“We don’t have time to sit around and watch you two go another ten rounds, okay? We’re on a ticking clock here so both of you need to grow up or go in the back and bang out whatever the hell is going on here. Get it out of your system.”

A momentary if not bone-crushing silence falls over the cabin as Robin’s words hang heavy in the air.

It does nothing to help the awkwardness of the moment when Eddie perks up, brows jumping toward his hairline as he gestures toward the pullout haphazardly folded up at the back of the RV.

You roll your eyes, and Dustin pulls a disgusted face.

He looks to Steve for some kind of commiseration only to find him and Nancy fidgeting awkwardly and trying to avoid looking at each other.

Robin looks decidedly pleased with herself as she continues, evidently more than happy to have made the moment exceedingly more awkward than need be.

“Now,” She says, “Everyone is making valid points on both sides. Is this gonna be dangerous? Yes. Is she more than likely going to get seriously injured if not violently dismembered attempting this? Absolutely, but that doesn’t make it an excessively bad plan—” 

“It doesn’t?” Eddie scoffs, which only serves to draw Robin’s attention as she sticks him to the spot with a very pointed look.

“Eddie...” she drawls. 

He squares his shoulders and levels her with an expectant if not uninterested look, hugging himself that much tighter like he’s bracing for whatever it is she’s bound to hurl his way. 

Robin continues, gesturing to you as she speaks. 

“She’s a grown woman – fully consenting – if she wants to get out there and get her ass eaten, that’s her decision to make, not yours.”

Dustin doesn't realize there’s any sort of innuendo behind the words, intended or otherwise, until Eddie makes a harsh, choked sound in the back of his throat. 

Almost immediately, his hand drifts up like he means to clap it over his mouth but switches gears at the last moment to rub at the faint hint of stubble shadowing his jawline, trying his damnedest to hide a less-than-subtle smile.

“Jesus – that’s one way of putting it.” He says, pulling his lower lip in past his teeth.

“Eddie.” You say then, voice lilting in a gently critical tone as your brows come down over your eyes. 

The tension of the previous moment evaporated in an instant, and Dustin doesn’t understand why everyone is suddenly fidgeting and rolling their eyes.

Nancy makes a soft sound of disapproval in the back of her throat, and suddenly he feels like something has flown right over his head.

He hates being the only one not in on the joke. Max might have been able to explain it to him if not entirely unwilling, maybe even Lucas, but on his own he is hopelessly lost among this group of older kids. 

“What?” He can’t help himself from asking, looking from face to face as everyone quickly avoids his gaze, “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.” You say immediately, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

Dustin still doesn’t get it, but there’s no air in the conversation to ask what exactly he’s missing before Robin addresses you in turn.

There is the faintest pink tinge to her cheeks as she says your name in a commanding if not entirely sheepish way. 

You lean over to smack Eddie’s quivering shoulder as he continues to fight the losing battle against the fit of giggles still threatening to overtake him. 

Before Robin can speak, Steve swoops in, taking her by the arm and literally tugging her back from the center of the huddle.

She wrenches her arm out of his grasp and levels him in a harsh glare. 

“Come on, Rob, give it a rest–” He starts, but Nancy quickly cuts him off. 

“No, she’s right,” She says, then turns to you, “You ought to know what you’re volunteering for”

You, in turn, tilt your head to the right to press your ear to your shoulder.

“Running like hell and hoping they’ll try to make a meal out of me, right?” You deadpan, quirking a brow. 

Like cracking a window at forty thousand feet, all the air is immediately sucked out of the room, taking any sense of levity with it as your words hang heavy in the air. 

Dustin can’t stand it. 

“Oh, come on… come on! There’s gotta be another way.” He presses, “Somebody has got to have a better idea than this.”  

A heavy silence falls over the room, one that leaves a hollow ringing in Dustin’s ears as he waits for someone – anyone to speak.

Somebody has got to have something in the back pocket, some kind of last-ditch hair-brained scheme that doesn’t require anyone to make prey out of themselves.

It’s so quiet he’s half surprised he doesn’t hear the telltale chirping of crickets. 

“Seriously?” He demands, “Nobody?”

When Dustin looks to Eddie for help, even he has suddenly become far too interested in his sneakers, hanging his head until his features are obscured by a frizzy curtain of hair.

It’s madness. It’s got to be some kind of spontaneous contagious insanity that only he is immune to, Dustin can’t think of what else could have such a hold on your tiny group that they’re actually genuinely considering letting you do this.  

Steve rolls his neck in a halfhearted shrug, like this time he’s the one with something to say that is going to be hard to swallow.

“It’s the closest thing to a guarantee we have,” He mumbles, rubbing sheepishly at the back of his neck. “And she’s the only one here freed up to do it…”

“No way!” Dustin says, whirling around to level you with a horrified look, “You know this is crazy, right? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”  

“We’re all gonna get ourselves killed.” You argue. “But if I can buy us a little time before that happens and make sure we take Vecna with us…?”

He shakes his head violently back and forth, hard enough that it just about dislodges the cap from his head.

“Let Steve do it.” He begs, “Steve, tell her you’ll do it–”

He knows he’s whining, he sounds like a petulant child who has just been told something they don’t want to hear – totally uncool – but he doesn’t really care.

He wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake you until it knocks this parasitic idea loose from your brain and you see reason again. 

“Steve’s gotta make sure Nancy gets to Vecna.” You snap.

It drives him to the desperate edge, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Dustin hurls himself out after you into the abyss. 

“Then I’ll do it.”

There, finally, comes that dissenting murmur again, snatching him back from the precipice and placing him gently back on the ledge. It’s a rescue that comes too little too late and for the wrong person because you’re still freefalling.  

The room fills with a dull discordant roar as all of a sudden everyone seems to have something to say, admonishing him for even suggesting the notion.

On one side he’s got Steve already halfway through a lecture about what will happen to him if he lets Dustin go and do something that stupid, meanwhile, Eddie is reminding him that just because he can do something in D&D it doesn’t qualify him to do the same thing in real life.

Everyone talking at once is at best, mildly overwhelming, and at worst, giving Dustin a headache, but at least everyone is focusing on him rather than agreeing to let you offer yourself up in the Upsidedown.

It feels almost like a chance, like maybe somehow he can grab you and whisk you away from all of this while everyone is distracted.

Maybe he’ll be the one to save you this time – if no one else will do it, he has to save you.

He should know better not to hope for things like that.

“Enough,” You snap, silencing everyone with the sharp utterance of the word – you level Dustin with a look that has him wilting under its heat, “This is happening. It’s gonna be me whether you like it or not. It has to be me.”   

There’s no arguing with you because there’s never any point in it when you get like this. You are a mountain and he is the wind, and no matter how he gusts and howls and rants and raves, you will not be moved … a big stupid, stubborn mountain, and that’s that.

As quickly as it began, the debate fizzles out, and the decision is made. Everyone quietly moves to take their places in the RV again. 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

The sun is setting when you arrive, fiery claw marks cut the horizon to ribbons and set it ablaze with oranges and pinks and the faintest smear of purple. It sends a strange chill running down your spine, despite how relatively safe you still are on this side. The danger isn’t here, it’s lurking just below your feet.

For obvious reasons, you leave the RV parked among the trees and cross the threshold back into the Forest Hills trailer park on foot. You move silently, single file like good little ducklings weaving in and out of the trailers, broken down lawn furniture, and laundry lines.

It’s strangely abandoned, eerily so.

The only sound other than the gentle hum of the odd generator or the quiet murmuring of a television is the crunch of yellowing grass underfoot. Every step is like breaking glass and you have to work to remind yourself to breathe.   

You’re leading the way, which is not something you would have typically volunteered for, but among the lot of you, you’ve got the most experience sneaking around the trailer park (besides Eddie of course, but he’s not exactly the ideal candidate to go playing Percy Faucet) so it’s you, just like you’d told Dustin back in the RV. 

It has to be you.   

He’s actively ignoring you now, which is not something you’re sure you’ve ever experienced.

Sure, he’s been mad at you for one reason or another over the years, it would be hard to spend so much time as an authority figure in his life and not have some kind of disagreement crop up between you eventually.

But this time he’s pissed at you for good reason and you can’t rightly blame him for feeling so.

There’s nothing to be done about it. The plan needs bait and you need to feel included, one way or another – you know he’s got to understand that, even if he refuses to admit it.

Even Eddie is resigned to the fact that you’re the only person for this job, as much as you know it’s eating him up inside.         

You arrive at the Munson trailer in no time at all and hold the door as you usher your companions inside – Eddie first.

His mattress remains where you left it, along with the cascading fall of bedsheets knotted together, standing in suspended animation. You do your best not to look at it, or anything else you don’t expressly have to as you follow the last of your party through the door and shut it tightly behind you.

You tell yourself that you’re not going to look at the hole in the ceiling again until you have absolutely no other choice, which is to say until you’re crossing through it. 

A shudder passes through your body at the thought, grinding through you like the crunch of tectonic plates – you’re still not entirely convinced the thing isn’t going to sprout teeth and snap shut on you before you can slip through to the other side.

You’re also not entirely sure you even want to go to the other side, the place where bats had nearly liberated Steve’s head from his body and where Barbara Holland had evidently been dragged screaming into an untimely, violent death – but what choice do you have?

You have to go, especially after the fuss you’d kicked up in the RV. 

Before you can get very far down the line of trying to decide whether or not you’ve made a terrible mistake, Eddie is there, pressed to your side and snaking his hand down to link fingers with you.

You’re close enough that when you turn to look at him, your noses are nearly touching, and all your senses are flooded with him.

The rough pads of his scarred fingers brushing against your skin, the smell of his sweat intermingling with tobacco and something earthier. Some small part of you is worried it’s too intimate for the company you keep, but the way his presence soothes the fearful fluttering of your heart won’t let you protest the proximity.

He pacifies your worries with just a touch and suddenly you don’t care about the hole in the ceiling or the lapse in gravity or the monsters on the other side or anything else threatening to break your brain, all you think is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie.   

“Come with me.” He says quietly and pulls you back through the kitchenette. 

You follow, and for half a moment, you think he may be leading you back toward the bedroom.

Your numbers make for tight quarters in the trailer, especially with everyone trying to maneuver the mattress laid out in the middle of the floor, you imagine if Eddie needed a private moment with you, there isn’t a better place to find one than the bedroom. 

Before you can make it too far down the hall, however, he pivots left and twists the handle of the side door leading to the porch.

An interesting development – you are suddenly gripped in the vice of curiosity and feel the gentle pattering of your heart as a hundred different possibilities race through you.    

“Where are you going?” Dustin calls from where he’d been sulking somewhere behind you, and when Eddie ignores him, he raises his voice, “Eddie! Where are you going?” 

He’s already halfway out the door when he pauses, hardly turning to acknowledge Dustin as he speaks. 

“We’ll be right back,” Eddie says.

You’re almost relieved when Dustin’s eyes flit over to you, silently gesturing at you in the expectation that you’ll give him some sort of answer you don’t have.

All you can do is shrug as Eddie pulls you through the door with a gentle tug.

Your unexpected departure kicks up about as much fuss as you expect it would.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me!” Steve grouses, nearly stumbling over the coffee table in his hurried attempt to follow you to the door. “What now?”

“We shouldn’t split up, you guys,” Nancy calls, following Steve, “Not when things are so close.” 

Eddie pays them no mind as he heads for the rickety staircase, half rotten from disuse as much as years under the elements.

You’ve never known him to use it, opting always to leap down from the elevated porch instead, garnering many a twisted ankle in his day. You wonder if it’s only his insistence on playing follow the leader that has him taking the safer route for once. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Eddie assures them.

“I am worried about it!” Steve snaps, “Eddie – you’re the most wanted person in Roane County and you guys are just gonna… what, you‘re gonna run off and find a quiet spot to … hash things out real quick?”  

“What’s the problem, Steve?” You sigh, stopping short on the top step and holding Eddie firm to the spot below you. 

You don’t have time for an argument, particularly out in the open air where any one of his neighbors could take a peek out the window and spy him standing there.

Steve is right, but you don’t have to let him know that. As always, he’s all too happy to spell his point out for you. 

“The problem is they’re out there looking for him.” Steve drawls, aggressively stretching the words like he thinks you’re stupid or something. “What part of this seems like a good idea?”

Eddie levels him with a poisonous look.

“Hey Man, this is your stupid plan–” He bites, “You’re the one who said we need the goddamn bait, so we’re going out there and we’re gonna walk the route as many times as it takes for her to memorize it.”

If that’s true, it’s news to you and you can’t say you’re expressly pleased to hear it. 

You’d always done your utmost to avoid the Creel House, considering its reputation for being haunted. That doesn’t mean you don’t know exactly where it is from anywhere you’ve spent a decent amount of time in the duration of your life in Hawkins, if only to make damn sure you steer as clear as you possibly can. 

You don’t need Eddie to walk the route with you, but you’re also not going to contradict him when he’s in a mood like this. 

Steve, unfortunately, is not clued in enough to pick up on the venom coursing through Eddie’s veins.  

“It’s a straight shot through the woods from here to there, what’s to memorize?” His tone is oozing with sarcasm, but you refuse to let him ruffle your feathers.

Whatever this is is important enough to Eddie to risk exposure, so you’ll humor him, and in the meantime, you’ll play nice with Steve so that he’ll let you go without a fight.  

You shake your head and offer him a lopsided shrug.

“It’s like you said,” You say innocently, “It’s a straight shot, so that means we’ll be back in no time.”

Robin appears in the doorway beside him then and pokes her head out, looking curiously between the standoff. 

Your eyes meet.

“How long did he say it would take him?” You ask, “Ten minutes tops?”

Ten minutes running, maybe, much closer to twenty-five at a walk, hurried as it is sure to be. Still, she snorts out a burst of undainty laughter.  

“You did say that, Steve-o.” She hums, elbowing Steve in the side when he doesn’t respond.

A thought flashes briefly across your mind, and you make quick work of undoing your tattered watchband.

“Here,” you say, tossing it to him, “You can even time us if you want.” 

Steve catches the watch with the ease of a lifelong athlete and turns the thing over in his hands, staring down at it and evidently weighing the pros and cons of letting the two of you slip off to God knows where – you could not have told him if your life depended on it.

For all you know, you’re on your way out of town, getting out of Dodge before the shit can well and truly hit the fan.

Yesterday, you might have jumped at the chance, but there are bigger things on the horizon now than the promise you’d made to Wayne out on the road between the trailer park and Benny’s.

Whether you like it or not, you’ve both suddenly got a big part to play in all this. The window of opportunity to just slip away has long since slammed shut.

 After a moment of chewing the inside of his lip, Steve finally relents, heaving a long-suffering sigh and running a hand through those perfectly stunning bouncy tresses.  

“Fine.” He says, “Whatever, but you two better come right back. We’re short on time as it is, we don’t need any unexpected variables —” which is to say they don’t need to stage a rescue mission in the event that someone catches you out in the open.

He snaps his fingers into a point and aims the unbelievably smooth gesture at Eddie, “One time out and back, no detours.”

His shoulders drop as a little bit of the tension brimming there visibly goes out of him, and he gives a curt nod.

When Steve turns his pointing on you, you give him an enthusiastic if not ever so slightly sarcastic thumbs up.

“10-4, Good Buddy.” You say.

Eddie wastes no time after that leading you down the steps and across the park into the nearest copse of woodland, stealing away from the prying eyes of the neighborhood like a couple of horny teenagers sneaking off to fool around.

Somehow you don’t think you’ll get that lucky.

The sun is nearly gone by now, and despite the way it still holds the park in the warm luminescence of golden hour, the woods are steeped in deep blue shadow. 

Eddie doesn’t say a word as you walk, he just holds tight to your hand and pulls you along. You do your best to keep up, but his legs are longer than yours and he’s like a man on a mission, cutting through the trees at such a pace. 

Had you been paying any kind of attention to where you were walking, you would have very quickly noticed that your route is not angled toward the Creel House as he’d suggested, but you’re not focused on anything but the silent walking wall that is Eddie.  

Staring at the broad stretch of his back, you can’t help but feel shut out. You wonder if he’s mad at you, but you swallow the urge to ask him about it. You know you’d only sound pathetic and whiny if you did.

Still, he’s giving you extremely conflicting signals, speaking so softly to you the way he had back at the trailer, holding your hand with such a gentle reverence, but pulling you along behind him to wherever you’re going with no sense of tenderness, all the while actively ignoring you. 

Of course he’s mad, you tell yourself.

He’d been under the impression that this saga would come to an end without you taking part in it, far removed from danger, but he should know better that you won’t be content to just sit on the couch and wait this out while everyone puts their lives on the line.

A misplaced twinge of annoyance bites at your insides at the thought that Eddie could actually be angry at you over this, that he would be pig-headed enough to think you wouldn’t put up a fight over being so summarily benched.

You know he knows you better than that, which means he’s sticking his head in the sand and being stubborn for stubbornness' sake.

You might have laid into him about gender roles in situations of peril, the same you would have had it been you and Dustin out here in the woods, but you’re tired of fighting,  so you bite your tongue and trudge along in silence, doing your best to match his gait. 

The further you go, the darker it gets as the sun disappears from the world and night sets in. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking before the trees part – much longer than ten minutes, you’re sure.

When you finally reach a break in the woods, you realize with a start that you are not standing in front of the Creel House. 

It’s the highway.

A lonely stretch of road somewhere nearer to the fairgrounds than the spooky Victorian, if you had to guess.

It is abandoned, pitch black save for the cosmos wheeling overhead. Hawkins has always suffered from an inexplicable excess of backwood roads completely lacking in streetlights of any kind, making for a rare lack of light pollution in this modern world.

Good for stargazing, but bad for walking anywhere after dark.

Where normally you curse the powers that be for its shoddy infrastructure, you’re thankful for the oversight now as you step out onto the shoulder, confident that in the shadows, you will remain blissfully hidden from sight.

Eddie hangs back as you pad carefully to the road and take a good long look in both directions. No impending cars, so far so good. 

Once you’re satisfied that you’re alone, you twist back around to look curiously at him.

“What is this?” you ask.

He’s fidgeting with his rings, twisting the burnished pig’s head back and forth over his middle finger, and you get the sense that he’s not as mad as you’d thought he was. Much more anxious than anything else.

Suddenly you feel rather foolish for being angry at him for nothing at all. 

“Remember back in ‘83?” He begins quietly, sounding almost shy, “When you were driving me around ‘cause the van died and I couldn’t afford to get it fixed?”

You nod, because of course, you do. You cherish those days. 

Those first few tentative weeks you spent driving around with Eddie Munson in your passenger seat, flipping through your cassettes, messing with your rearview mirror, trading a hundred and one inane questions in an attempt to get to know each other better — you remember the thrill of scandal, how anyone could have looked in and seen the two of you together, going along almost conspiratorially.

You know for certain that you would have been the talk of the town had anyone cared to notice, but the good thing about being more or less an invisible person was how you could get away with something like quietly falling into step with Eddie Munson without anyone batting an eye.

By the time someone thought to check in on you, the two of you were already attached at the hip, and there was nothing to be done about it.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Eddie gestures to the spot at the side of the road.

“Time’s stuck down there. It’s still November ‘83,”

You pull a face, wondering idly if he can even see you at this distance. 

“Yeah, I’m still having trouble with that one.” You tease, skipping back across the gravel to close the gap between you and Eddie. 

He remains unamused by the levity of your mood – contrary to what you’d almost fooled yourself into believing, this is, in fact, not a romantic jaunt in the moonlight, and Serious Eddie has come out to play.   

“Pay attention,” He presses, “This is important.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes – where had you heard that before?

“Important like that story about the raccoon?” Your attempt at humor falls flat and Eddie gives you a stony look – Serious Eddie is no fun, but you relent and raise your hands defensively, “Okay, you’re right, I’m sorry… so, time’s stuck. What does that mean exactly?”

It’s a subtle change, but you watch his shoulders drop as a little bit more of that lingering tension from back in the RV eases out of him. 

“It means,” He says, “That the van’s gonna be sitting right here,”

You follow the motion when he points you back to the shoulder of the road, and you stand trying to imagine the big-bodied vehicle sitting there like a crouching beast, the way you’ve seen hundreds of times before. 

“…and?” You prompt, stretching the word lyrically as you turn on your heel to face him again, gently urging him to get to the point. 

It’s nearly pitch black now, and the others will be expecting you back. The last thing you need is Steve getting his panties in a twist and sending out a search party.  

“And… if something happens – if things go wrong and you can’t make it back, I want you to go for the van.” Eddie says solemnly, reaching down and taking your hand, “Shut the doors and barricade yourself inside. You’ll be safe there until I can come and get you.” 

You feel your face pull into a frown. 

“That’s not part of the plan.” You tell him, gently admonishing him for trying to change things in secret. 

Eddie heaves another one of those world weary sighs and shakes his head, messy curls dancing silver in the moonlight across the broad stretch of his shoulders.

“Fuck the plan.” He bites. “It’s a stupid plan.” 

You open your mouth to protest such a dismissal — it’s the only plan you’ve got — but he’s quick to continue before you can get a word in edgewise. 

“Look, I’m not gonna sit here and try to convince you not to do this – you’re so goddamn stubborn, we’ll be here all night – but I am gonna do everything I can to make sure you’ll be safe when things go wrong.”

“None of us can afford that luxury…”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t want to fight about it. Steve’s right. We’ve gotta make sure we’ve got our bases covered, including but not limited to the worst-case scenario.”

Which is to say in the event that everything goes horribly wrong and the monsters eat you alive and Vecna destroys the world.

Or maybe just in case the inevitability that you realize you’re not a track star and this being an impossible thing you’re trying to accomplish catches up to you.

How fast can you run? More importantly, how long can you keep up a sprint like that?

The answer is not something you’re expressly sure you’re ready to consider, but of course Eddie has to consider those possibilities — he’s a cynic.

Bad news first, always. Lucky for the both of you, you’ve always been more of an optimist.

“It’s a little over a mile from the Creel place to home,” Eddie says, and you glance reflexively down at your watch, conveniently forgetting that you’d given it to Steve before you left.

You give a lopsided shrug to try and mask the motion.

“Steve said ten minutes… I can totally do that.” 

Eddie frowns. 

“You think so?” 

No, you really don’t, but you’re not about to let him know that because if you do you’ll never hear the end of it. So instead, you offer a vague gesture that you hope is at least half as casual as you mean for it to be. It doesn’t feel like a successful move. 

“Yeah,” You say, your voice squeaks out an octave higher than normal, and you press your lips into a tight line against how scared you suddenly sound, “Sure, why not?” 

Because you’re not a track star? Because you’d nearly killed yourself just jogging across town less than three days ago and now you’re out here pretending like you’re some kind of Olympic gold medalist preparing for the hundred-yard dash?

Eddie gives you a hard, indiscernible look that makes your insides squirm. Somehow you know he can see right through the bullshit coating to your gooey, terrified center.

You watch as he searches your face for the answer to an unknowable question, and you see a quick flash of the feeling you’d only just managed to suppress. It’s brief, but it’s clear as day, illuminating his features like a bolt of lightning in the distance. 

Doubt. 

You know he’d never say so, but he clearly doesn’t think you can do this. Usually that would have been enough to stir up some kind of violent indignation in you, but suddenly you’re not entirely sure you can do this either.

Sure, you’d done your fair share of sprints in gym class, but this isn’t jogging a twelve-minute mile just to scrape by with a passing grade, this isn’t even making a mad dash from the boat house to the woods to try and escape Jason and the others – which had failed miserably, as Eddie had so graciously pointed out to you. 

This is running as hard and fast as you can until your body is pumping battery acid and your legs threaten to buckle beneath you. It’s running for your goddamn life and the lives of everyone else involved. 

If you don’t make it, no one does, so no pressure, right? 

“How far did you say it was?” You squeak, swallowing hard to try and conceal the tremble in your voice. 

“A mile…”  Eddie says, “Maybe closer to two.” 

Well, shit.

Still, you scoff and dismiss the notion with a wave.

“Easy peasy–” You lie. 

He shakes his head and chides your flippancy with a gravelly utterance of your name, which you candidly ignore.

“–lemon squeezy.”

Eddie says your name again, harsher this time, and grabs you by the arm in an effort to try and bring you back down to earth from the cloud of your delusions, but a sudden flash of lights stops your arguing before it can begin again.

Headlights on the road warn you of the car coming around the bend and send your heart rocketing up into your throat. 

Eddie swears harshly under his breath and takes your hand as you scramble back toward the treeline. 

He pulls you down into the underbrush and you don’t even mind the way your hip lights up in pain as you land awkwardly, holding your breath as you watch the pickup come into view.

It rolls down the road at a glacial pace, adorned with four angry floodlights that illuminate your little copse of woods and briefly blind you.

Through the spots and colors dancing across your vision, you can only just make out the handful of bodies stuffed into the cab, two more kneeling in the truck bed with roving flashlights in one hand and guns in the other.

Christ, they’ve got guns…  

You sink a little lower and move instinctually closer to Eddie as if somehow you’ll be able to shield him from them if it comes to it. As if your fragile, fleshy visage would do anything to protect him if they came out guns blazing.

Smarter than trying to make a human shield out of yourself would be to run, but could either of you really outrun a truck if your lives depended on it?

Not likely.

It makes you wonder how you ever expect to outrun these supposed giant vampire bats… 

You suddenly feel trapped, like a rabbit, crouched and shaking in the underbrush under the threat of baying hounds, watching with wide unblinking eyes until the truck has passed on and the crunch and pop of tires on pavement fades into the night.

When it’s finally gone, you do your best to breathe deep against the stinging adrenaline coursing through your veins like a swarm of angry hornets, but suddenly your chest feels impossibly tight. 

Steve was right, this was not a very smart thing for you to do and it's well past time you ought to be getting back. 

Before you can think to say something, you feel Eddie’s touch as he guides you to look at him with a kind pressure on your jaw. You let him turn you and as you stare back into those big, sad eyes of his, you can’t help but feel a cold wave of doubt bleed into you.

How the hell are you going to do this? How could you be stupid enough to volunteer in the first place and why’d you put up such a fight about it?

What’s going to happen when you let everyone down?

You’re all going to get yourselves killed, that’s what.  

For a moment, it’s all you can do to keep yourself together as you surge forward without thinking, nestling into the crook of his neck and his welcoming embrace. You sigh under the press of his arms as he pulls you close.

You take a handful of deep, staccato breaths, breathing him in and filling your head with the heady musk of everything that is wholly Eddie — sweat and smoke and sandalwood.  

It takes you half a minute to stop shaking, and half a minute more before you feel whole enough to emerge. You offer him a weak smile when you do.

Eddie tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear and grips your shoulders firm enough that you’re half inclined to think you might bruise.

“Listen to me. Nobody needs you to be the hero here, okay?” he tells you, giving you a gentle shake for good measure. “You’ve already done enough, you don’t have to do this,”

You, in turn, reach up to bracket his face. He leans into it in a way you must think is instinctual at this point, and when your grip slides down to frame his neck, gracing the columns of his throat, you think for a moment you might kiss him, and if you don’t he’ll certainly kiss you. 

Oh, how you wish he would. 

Your eyes dart southward to regard the pillowy softness of his lips, cracked and chapped as they are, and you try to believe his words, despite how patently untrue they are — he still needs you.

“Everybody’s counting on me, Eds.” You hum, then tear your gaze up and away to meet his.

You watch as something flashes across his eyes, an indiscernible look that is tinged with an unmistakable sadness.  

“Then promise me you’ll go for the van if you don’t think you’re gonna make it, okay?… Sweetheart, please… just do this one thing for me.”

You don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure you can make that promise. 

His expression softens and he breathes out a shaky, uneven breath, shoulders sagging as he tilts forward and presses his forehead to yours. 

“What you said back at Rick’s goes both ways, you know?” He murmurs, “…I can’t lose you either… Not again.” 

Your heart swells and thumps heavily against your ribs. 

“What are you getting at, Munson?” You tease, because it’s all you can do to keep your emotions from bubbling up. “Spit it out.”

Eddie shakes his head, looking positively miserable as he speaks. 

“I love you.” He says, “More than anything – more than everything, and I can’t … Jesus Christ, I’m so scared something’s going to happen and I won’t be there to save you…” 

The sound tumbles out over your lips before you’re even aware of it bubbling up inside of you.

You giggle, and Eddie jerks back from you like the sound had jumped out and snapped at him.

You can’t help it, but it doesn’t make you feel any less guilty to see the hurt look he gives you, like a freshly kicked puppy.

You’re not laughing at him, per se, but you can understand how it might seem like you are. Nobody likes to be reminded of their shortcomings, so you’re quick to correct yourself.

“Oh, Eddie…” you sigh, smiling sweetly at him in the hopes it will ease the sting of what you’re about to say, “I love you, but this isn't the kind of thing you can save me from.”  

It shouldn’t be startling, because it’s true. He'd said it himself, this is a suicide mission at its very best.

What is startling is the way Eddie reacts to hearing you say it, physically recoiling like you’d reached out with the sentiment and slapped him across the face.

“What did you just say?” Eddie gasps.

Suddenly he’s as serious as a heart attack and you’re worried you’ve misread the room. It leaves you reeling.

“...You can't save me?” You squeak out, half afraid of the hurt the statement is going to cause him if you ram it down his throat, despite how maddeningly true it is.

If things go as bad as he expects them to — which, to be quite honest, they very likely will — you don't expect Eddie is going to be able to pull you out of the frying pan, or the fire that follows, no matter how badly he wants to.

Still, his eyes grow bright and he shakes his head violently, sending his curls flying out in all directions.

His voice is tiny as he speaks. 

“No ... before that." He says. "... you said you love me."

You blink back at him in a way you imagine must look owlish and quite stupid, and you watch as he grows strangely shy.

It only serves to deepen your confusion.

"...Did you mean that?" Eddie asks tentatively.

You don't answer right away, though not because you don't, only because the question is startling and you don't expressly know what to say.

The silence that hangs between you is charged and infinite, and suddenly you’ve left the question unanswered too long.

You watch as something akin to disappointment shadows his features. He sighs and pushes up from your hiding spot in the underbrush, and stalks away out toward the road.

It occurs to you much too late that a stunned silence was perhaps not the best way to answer that question, but it had been jarring at worst and deeply confusing at best.

Of course you love him. You feel it so fully with every particle of your being that at times you feel like it’s going to tear you apart, even now after all this time when things ought to have evened out between you.

You’ve certainly told him as much often enough that you’ve worried in the past that the words are losing meaning … how could he think that you don’t?

When was the last time you told him? Surely, out in the field? …No? Well, you definitely told him back in the clearing in the woods after he told you that stupid story and set your hand? Then again maybe not… Back at Rick’s place? No, that was him…

Your heart drops into your stomach as the truth dawns on you.  

Oh shit... you haven’t told him.

How could you have not told him?

You scramble to your feet and nearly topple over in your mad attempt to get through the underbrush to follow him.

“Eddie, wait–” You start, taking clumsy steps toward him before he staves off your progress with a wave of his hand.

“Look, it’s fine, okay? I know you don’t feel the same way, but I don’t want you to say it if it’s not true.” He says, "I don't need you placating me just so I won't have hurt feelings or something—"

“Who says I don’t?” You demand.

It stops him in his tracks.

"What's that mean?" Eddie asks moodily.

"Who says I don't feel the same way?" You say a little slower, putting precise diction into each word, and spelling it out for him on the off chance that there has been a sudden and rapid decrease in IQs out here on the road.

The effect misses its mark. He just stares back at you, bewilderment etching a mask into his features so deep, you wonder idly if you’re ever going to see him make another expression again.

A sticky silence bleeds between you as you both wait for the other to speak.

Finally, you throw up your hands in frustration as you realize that between the two of you, you're the one who has suddenly become exceedingly goddamn stupid.

How could you have let Eddie go on thinking you didn't love him? What were you thinking? Nothing at all, apparently. You are a mean and foolish girl, and you cannot believe how incredibly careless you've been.

“I love you, Eddie," You start, "I’ve always loved you, from the moment I met you. That didn’t stop just because you got in your head and decided you weren’t good enough for me or whatever it was… I loved you even when I hated you … I mean — God — I always thought we were gonna get out of Hawkins and get a little place somewhere together... I thought we were gonna…" You roll your eyes and suppress the urge to hide your face then, gesturing vaguely to try and cover the color creeping up your neck, “...you know… get married and stuff…”

You try to imagine how your old friends would have reacted to hear you admit that. How stunned they would have been to find you when you still belonged to them, already daydreaming about wedding bells and little chapels, secretly scrawling your name sandwiched between Mrs. Munson all over your notebooks.

It’s embarrassing, but it doesn’t make it any less true.

It’s part of what had made the breakup so goddamn hard — you hadn’t seen it coming, you’d fully expected to spend the rest of your lives together.

Eddie makes a choked sound that is somewhere caught halfway between a scoff and something harsher. He blinks back the wetness suddenly brimming in his eyes as he reaches up to rub a calloused hand at the back of his neck. 

“Guess I really went and fucked that up for you, huh?” He sniffs. 

You shrug.

“Who says?” You ask, and when Eddie rolls his eyes, you double down, “Nothing’s changed, Eds—”

“Everything’s changed.” He stresses, stalking back across the clearing to close the gap between you, "How can you say that after all the shit I said ... everything I did? Everything is changed."

Suddenly you’re standing toe to toe, just like you had all those months back in front of the trailer, last summer. 

Somehow the roles feel reversed now as you meet his watery gaze and feel the looming threat of the same choice hanging above your head like a guillotine.

He's right. Everything has changed, but who says you have to accept that? You know he would take it back if he could — the terrible choice he’d made — so who says you have to make the same mistake here and now?

You know better.

You shake your head and watch something akin to terror flash briefly across Eddie’s face at the prospective rejection.

How pleased you are to be able to prove him wrong.

“Not for me,” You say matter-of-factly, “I still love you.” 

Like breaking the surface, he breathes out harshly through his nose and his shoulders sag under the effort of it.

“...You do?” Eddie asks, painfully hopeful, boyish even. 

You can’t help the way your face begins to split into a slow, delighted grin. Finally, you get to mend something that is broken rather than being the one who broke it in the first place.

You nod. 

“I do.”

“...Say it again.” He pleads, eyes flashing with strange and wild desperation, despite the way he’s begun to mirror your smile even before you say it.

You love him and he knows it, he has to know it. 

“I love you,” You repeat, reaching up to curl your fingers around his biceps and giving him a gentle shake for good measure, “Even though you’re a big stupid jerk.”  

He breathes out a wet, shaky laugh and suddenly he looks so fragile you can’t help but pull him a little closer.

Before you can admonish him for being so foolish as to think anything otherwise, his hands come up to frame your face, and he presses a searing kiss to your lips. It steals your breath and your eyes roll shut without your prompting.

You barely have time to process that you really ought not to be doing this so exposed, as chaste as the little kisses he’s begun peppering your face with are. He kisses you again and again, like he physically could not stop himself from kissing you if he tried.

You don’t think he’s trying very hard.

You’re in danger of being seen, standing so close to the road like this. Still, each gentle press of his lips is punctuated with a shaky utterance of his gratitude, blessing you for the reciprocation of the feeling, like he’s been holding his breath just waiting to hear you say it. 

He pulls back a moment to stare reverently at you, searching your features like he's trying to commit them to memory.

You don't let him go very far, clinging to him like you're afraid you'll lose him if you let him go.

"You love me?" he says breathlessly, less a question than a statement of fact.

He nods slowly to prompt you to do the same, and you obey, but he hardly lets you.

Any need to hear you say it again is evidently superseded by the need to keep kissing you, this time it is a hard, wet thing pressed so forcefully to your lips you can hardly move against it.

A peal of joyful laughter bubbles up out of you and you love, love, love.

You feel the curl of his mouth as Eddie kisses you again, muffling the sound with his lips and pulling you that much tighter against him, tight enough that you finally feel him slip back into place to fill the hole he’d left in you last summer, and for the first time in almost a year, everything is right. It fills you with joy.

Blinding, unadulterated, stupefying joy. 

It’s almost enough to make you forget the danger looming, and how once you turn around and head back to rejoin the others, you’ll very likely be going to your deaths… 

[sadakorosee]

When S/O dropped Donnie's mutagen canister Part 1

(Donnie x fem!reader + all brothers)

When S/O dropped Donnie's mutagen canister

Genre: Angst, unknown ending

Word count: 1,153 words

A/N: reader is over 20 years old & working. any job has its own stress level, so please don't compare office, retails and f&b. we all have stress.

~~~

"There's nothing you can do!"

"Donnie, I said I was sorry!"

Whenever you had a rough day at work, the only person or mutant turtle you'd go to, some of you would think it's Mikey since he was the original ball of sunshine. He'd just cheer you up and intentionally screw things up to make you feel less about yourself.

But the second mutant turtle you'd go to was your genius boyfriend, Donatello. He's not the type to cheer you up like Mikey does but he could distract you by letting you assist him in his projects. Recently, he found a batch of mutagen and regenerate it into cure heavy wounds. Because the turtles' body was all mutagen and muscles, he thinks he can recreate the mutagen to make it less dangerous; for eg. he'd make it risk free in case it spilled on his human girlfriend.

He kept the mutagen batch in a secured glass container everytime he's not using it to keep it safe, especially from Mikey, and resume back to his other project.

Donnie's hands were full and huge so he requested you to help him pour the mutagen into a beaker but you got clumsy and forgot to hold the mutagen canister's bottom and it slipped from your hands. You forgot how heavy the canisters were and gasped when it broke to the floor.

"y/n!" Donnie exclaimed, hands on his head. "That was our only mutagen canister!" He moved you aside anyway so your legs don't touch the chemical.

"I-I'm sorry. I forgot how heavy the canister was. Don, I'm so-"

"I am tired of everyone keep breaking my stuff here and there while I'm killing myself here. I never should have asked for your help." He walked past you and cleaned his floor. You were about to help pick up the glass canister pieces when he put his hand up, "Don't. You'll make it even worse. I don't want to have to treat your wounds either."

Your lips pursed to keep your hurt feelings contained and watched him quietly as he clean it so easily. If it were you, it'd take you 1 or 2 hours to make it look sparkly clean. He was right; you'd make it worse.

He excused you and you found yourself watching his back instead. Not bothering to argue, you turned away and about to leave the lair when Leo coincidentally walked by, a mug in his hand. He noticed your eyes were teary, his lips pulled away from the mug and put it down to go to you.

He didn't need to ask who made you cry and sighed. "Did he lash out on you?" you only looked down at his feet, tears about to pool out. "I can't speak for him but you two need time out for a while. I know your work is tough right now. Get some fresh air outside, sleep, and come back after you feel better. I'll talk to him."

You couldn't control it anymore and sobbed, Leo immediately pulled you to his chest. He looked at you like you were his sister and patted your head, which is bad cause it made you vulnerable and cried harder. The burden you went through at work you were supposed to tell it Donnie so he can comfort you but instead it was Leo who comforted you when you need it most.

Mikey escorted you back to your apartment and watched you walk inside your shoulders drooped in sadness. He stayed behind for another 10 minutes and when your lights are off, he went back to the lair. "Poor, y/n. I hate to see her like this."

When he reached the lair, Donnie happened to be at the kitchen making his coffee and only took a sip of it before he noticed Mikey walking in.

"Hey, Mike. Have you seen y/n?" It was like Donnie forgot what just happened few hours ago.

Mikey frowned. "Uh, I sent her home, dude. You upset her tonight so Leo sent me to escort her back."

Then it hit Donnie he was pissy at y/n earlier and his face winced at the memory of it. He looked down at his coffee mug and without warning swung it away from the counter. All because he didn't have his coffee before y/n came over.

"I have to go get her."

"Bro, don't." Mikey put his hand on Donnie's plastron. "y/n was really upset today. She-"

"Mikey don't stop me."

"Okay, back away you two." Raph stepped in between the two youngest easily. "Ay, Don. Leo sent her home because she was crying. Like, full on sobbing. Can't even stand on her two legs on her own."

"A-All because of what I did to her?" Donnie's chest tightened. He'd hate himself if you don't speak to him anymore.

"Hah, she's a strong gal not even you can make her cry like that," Raph slapped his brother's shell. "But she had a rough day and from the yelling I heard from my space, it was her last straw."

It was indeed your last straw - working in an office where it's understaffed and you did a 4 man job for 1 week straight. Your deadline was today and it wasn't even half done when your boss yelled at you, throwing the stacks of paper of your report to your face while your colleagues can only watch in silence. Some felt sorry for you and some loved how miserable you were. You weren't threatened to get fired despite all that and your HR advised you to get a 1 week leave due to you overtiming. Bless their heart.

You can take the yelling and your boss mansplaining you (honestly, watching him mouthing off just shows his superiority complex) but what you didn't expect was him going physical as to throw papers at you. Your boss was never the type to get physical but today was the day you realized you walked into a tiger's pit when you didn’t complete your report on time.

4 days into your 1 week leave, you felt refreshed from sleeping in and eating your meals on time after 7 months of torture. Your phone had been dead since your argument with Donnie not realizing he has been calling you. When there's no answer from you for 4 days, Donnie just panics.

That night your only friend-colleague invited you for movies together. The turtles were also on patrol and happened to see you walking to the cinema 10 minutes from your apartment. Donnie just observes your face and felt his chest tightened when he saw your fake smile you just flashed at your friend. For a year he's been dating you, you always flash a genuine and beautiful smile at his family but a fake smile?

He blamed himself.

What is it going to take for him to have you in his arms again?

~~~

part 2 coming soon :) thank u for reading!!!

TMNT Masterlist

Read Part 2 here

[divine-misfortune]

Mushy May, day 4. First kiss.

Rating: everyone

Pairing: Swiss/Mountain (swiss alps?)

Words: 1,119

Summary: Swiss has agonized and torn himself apart over the idea of it for months. It was one kiss, but what if he fucked it up?

How was he supposed to be calm about this?

Swiss was the furthest thing from calm, he'd say he was outright panicking, and if anyone could see the speed at which his thoughts raced they'd agree. On the outside at least he appeared collected, aside from the fact he kept wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He could blame that on the heat of the greenhouse.

All he could smell was herbs and flowers, and part of him was grateful. It was a distraction at least. If he'd been able to catch Mountain’s scent, he'd be done for. What little composure he had would have failed him entirely almost immediately. He could feel it already faltering but he kept the foolish hope that it might last until he could think of an excuse to smoothly leave the situation.

And the situation?

It was torture, that's what it was. Just the two of them in the narrow rows of plants, mingling with the fauna as they squeezed past each other. If Swiss had to feel Mountain's hand sliding against his waist again he might just bury his head into the nearest bag of topsoil.

Every touch and glance had Swiss fumbling over himself. Mountain nearly sent his poor heart beating out of his chest and it was disgustingly effortless on his part.

He bit his lower lip when Mountain set his watering can down, watching the way he folded his sleeves up with a fascination that could only be described as obsessive. His fingers moved so smoothly, the muscle under the skin flexing slowly with each movement. Swiss could feel his mouth run dry, his typically clever tongue sitting twisted up in his mouth.

"Swiss-"

The multi ghoul stared at the movement of his lips. His top fangs were crooked, how had he never noticed that before? He could feel his heart stutter for the hundredth time. Mountain's lips were plush with the faintest scar at the corner of his mouth, Swiss couldn't quite remember how he got it.

"Hey?"

And then there were those dimples, soft divots in his cheeks to accompany his lopsided grin.

"Swiss!"

He jumped, nearly out of his own skin, and dropped his own watering can. It spilled over the hem of his pants and his shoes. Great.

"Dude are you okay? You've been watering that basil plant for five minutes."

"...huh?" Swiss blinked and glanced at the poor plant that had fallen victim to his distraction. There was water spilling down the sides of its terracotta pot and pooling around the base. He felt his face grow warm and swallowed. "Fuck, sorry."

"What's got you so in your own head today?"

"You."

Mountain blinked and wiped his hands on his apron. The damn movement of his hands again. He took a step towards him and Swiss felt his stomach flip. He grabbed for the watering can and retreated for the hose on the far side of the small building. It wasn't much distance but it was distance.

The word was supposed to stay inside his head, silent admission and nothing more but it escaped despite himself. He debated hitting his head against the wall.

"Me?" Mountain asked, almost amused.

The wall was becoming more tempting.

"Yes! You!" Swiss groaned and dropped the hose. "It's always you, you're always in my head! You never leave!"

"Did I do something?"

"Yes! No? I don't know!" He dragged his hands down his face. "You're just, you're you."

"I'm…sorry?"

"You're you and you're perfect and it's driving me insane. I want to be around you because when I'm not my chest aches but it gets so tight when you're around I forget how to breathe. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about it. About you. About any of this shit!"

Mountain shifted and settled his hands on his hips, watching Swiss start to get more and more fidgety. He felt like he was about to vibrate right out of his skin at this rate. The thoughts had started, he'd let a little trickle out and the rest broke through like a fucking flood. He couldn't make himself shut up if he tried.

The look on Mountain's face was hard to pin down, anywhere from bewildered to bemused.

"You don't know what to do, okay…So, what do you want to do?"

"Kiss you."

Swiss wanted to rip the tongue right from his mouth when Mountain blushed. He tipped his head slightly, ear twitching a bit.

"What's stopping you?"

"I, well, um," he stammered. Swiss couldn't remember the last time he fucking stammered. "Because I know I won't get it right."

Mountain chuckled, a low rumble that felt like it rattled Swiss' brain.

"What?! It's not funny, asshole."

"It's a little funny, Swiss."

Swiss was torn between throttling Mountain or himself. Especially when Mountain moved closer to him. He couldn't back up any further when he stepped back into the table littered with tools.

"What's there to get right?"

"Everything."

Mountain was so much taller than him, he nearly forgot that fact. Being caged between the earth ghoul and the bench was the definition of being trapped between a rock and a hard place.

"I don't know about that, 's easy rosebud."

The taller ghoul graced his cheek with the tips of his fingers, rough in texture but gentle in touch. Swiss opened his mouth but nothing came out and Mountain breathed a laugh close to his parted lips. He could taste pomegranate on his exhale and had to grab the edge of the table behind him to steady himself before Mountain closed that space. He didn't trust his knees, for good reason.

His lips were chapped but moved smoothly against his own. Swiss' eyes fluttered. Better than he expected. He was sweet, he was soft, he was all encompassing and Swiss reached for a fistful of his shirt. Like this, Mountain clouded his senses. He could smell pine and honey, and the hint of whatever new laundry detergent they'd switched to.

It was a feeling he could live in. One that he'd gladly sink into and never resurface from.

Swiss had kissed others before. Every other ghoul in their pack, at least twice, and he'd never felt a lick of hesitation but kissing Mountain felt different. Like everything stopped and it was just them and that greenhouse. The rest of the world was irrelevant. Mountain kissed him like it was second nature, like it was the easiest thing he'd done in his life. As if this wasn't something Swiss had been agonizing over for weeks.

But Mountain pulled back and Swiss nearly fell over himself trying to chase the feeling.

"See? Not such a big deal."

[abromelon34105]

Snippet from Chapter 5 of my ADA!Chūya, featuring…RANPO!!!

The collar has been the only thing on my mind today. I did try it on, and was shocked to discover that it fit perfectly, just how I like it - a little tight to remind myself of its presence but not enough to restrict movement or breathing. I currently have it shoved into the box of other items of that nature and I hope I never have to think about it again. If he’s sent a collar, I’m worried about what else he could send.

Thankfully, Kunikida doesn’t bother me about how distracted I am today. Perhaps Fukuzawa talked to him and said I’m working through things or something. I don’t know. I’m just thankful. I don’t want to deal with Kunikida bothering the living shit out of me today.

I suppose it also helps that I’m accompanying Atsushi and Ranpo today. Usually, Ranpo only needs just one other detective with him, but it’s Atsushi’s first time with him. So I’m mainly here to help him learn how to navigate and deal with Ranpo’s moods and quirks.

As usual, Ranpo gets all turned around and stuck all over the train station. I have to drag both him and Atsushi to our correct train because they keep getting lost. I can tell Atsushi is shocked that Ranpo actually doesn’t know the first thing about the train station, but it’s really not a big deal once you get to know the man.

After a small nudge in the right direction and a quick run down of the landmarks, Ranpo heads off in the direction towards the murder scene. Atsushi blinks and looks at me, but I shrug and follow Ranpo, letting Atsushi follow behind me.

“You know you’re late, agents,” the police detective says with his arms crossed as he glares at the three of us. Atsushi ducks behind me and Ranpo for whatever reason, but Ranpo either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “Now hold on, who are you?” Ranpo says with his hands on his hips as he faces the general direction of the officer. I can hear the hesitancy in his voice, and I know that the sudden change in officers has left him shaken. This one doesn’t know him and most likely won’t take him seriously. “Where’s Yasui-san?”

“I’m Minoura,” the detective says as he pulls out his badge from his coat’s inner pocket. “I took over from Yasui-san. This case has been reassigned to our division. So we no longer need you or your agency.”

Here we go, I think with an eye roll as Ranpo starts going off. “That’s ridiculous! Every difficult case should be overseen by a master detective, like me!”

“We don’t need private investigators on this,” Minoura said blankly. “Because the victim was a cop who worked for me.” Ranpo just faces Minoura with a slightly angry expression as Atsushi stays behind him, looking between him and me, as if asking if he’s supposed to do something in this situation. I shake my head a little, patting his shoulder.

“Prove it,” Ranpo says sternly and Minoura sighs before turning around and heading towards the covered body. He kneels down and removes the cover for the three of us to get a good look.

The front of the victim’s shirt is stained dark red, the stains in a pattern that shows three separate shots fired off. I glance over at Ranpo, who’s looking at the victim with an impassive face before sighing. “The victim’s a lady,” he says and Atsushi stiffens beside me. I place a hand on his arm, trying to signal him to calm down. There’s a reason for the statement.

“Yes, sir,” one of the on-duty officers says as he looks at Ranpo. “Her body was found floating in the river this morning.”

“She was shot three times in the chest,” Minoura says, kneeling beside the victim. “We don’t know where or when she was killed. We haven’t found the bullets either.”

“Any suspects?” Ranpo asks, fiddling with his hat. “Not yet. As far as anyone at the office knew, she wasn’t in a relationship, so we doubt it was a jealous lover.”

“Very interesting. So that means you don’t have any leads.” Ranpo sounds so smug as he puts his hat back on and Minoura narrows his eyes as he side eyes the short detective, starting to look more pissed off by the minute. He turns away and stands as he starts to speak. “That’s all the more reason why we can’t let an amateur private eye handle this.”

“Amateur?” I ask as I raise my eyebrow at Minoura. “Who said anything about us being amateurs?”

“Um, I-” Atsushi starts but I shush him and keep my attention on Minoura. He narrows his eyes at me, his expression just as cold. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve been doing this job for years. You aren’t properly trained on cases like these and I don’t need you messing anything up.”

“Properly trained?” I ask, my voice raising a little bit, even as I fight to control it. “Just because we didn’t go to police academies doesn’t mean that we can’t do it just as well, if not better than you and anyone else here! If you had just let Ranpo do his job, this case would be solved already!”

“There’s no way he would have solved it this quickly,” Minoura snaps back at me, stepping forward and getting in my face. Or…his chest in my face. I have to look up to actually make eye contact with him. “The only person who would be able to do that is the killer, so unless you mean to say that your friend here is the killer, I suggest you stop putting your foot where your mouth is!”

“I’m putting my foot where my mouth is?! You’re the one who’s assuming we’re amateurs! Ranpo’s been doing this job for over a decade at this point, so go and take your accusations somewhere else!”

“Wait, really?” Atsushi asks Ranpo beside me and he nods, making a quiet sound of agreement. “Yeah, twelve years now. Impressive, I know.”

“...How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, I don’t look it, I know.”

“You don’t act like it either,” Atsushi mutters under his breath and I reach back and lightly smack his arm to get him to shut up. He frowns at me but gets the message anyway.

“We don’t need private eyes on this,” Minoura repeats as he takes a step back from me. “Everyone on my team is better than any private detective out there. Including you bums.”

“Oh!” Ranpo gets that smile that means he has an idea brewing and quickly turns around, pointing at the officer that had spoken up earlier about the victim herself. “Tell me officer, what’s your name?”

“Wh-What?!” he exclaims, clearly unsure of what exactly is happening. “I am Sergeant Sugimoto, sir! The victim, Miss Yamagiwa, was my superior officer on the force!”

“Alright, Sugimoto-san,” Ranpo says as he walks towards Sugimoto, placing his hand on the officer’s shoulder. “Here’s your chance. Solve this case in sixty seconds. Ready, set, go.” He says this all in a rush, with barely a breath between sentences. But not a crazed rush. Smooth, calculated. Ranpo scares me sometimes.

Sugimoto panics and takes a step back, but Ranpo leans forward, keeping the distance the same between them. “I can solve this thing in under a minute,” he whispers to Sugimoto before turning his head a little. “If you’re as good as he says you are, you should be able to do that too.”

It takes me a second to realize he’s turned to face Minoura as he says that. Minoura notices as well and just stares at Ranpo, his arms crossed for a moment. He doesn’t say anything, so Ranpo keeps going. “Okay, it’s showtime!” He turns back to Sugimoto. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Now Sugimoto is full-blown panicking, stammering and making absolutely no sense as he tries speaking. I can barely hear him say something about sixty seconds being impossible.

“Tick tock, fifty seconds left,” Ranpo says with a smug little smile as he holds a pocket watch. I don’t even question where he got it from anymore. The pockets of the autism creature are a magnificent thing. Sugimoto freaks out some more, and Ranpo is clearly taking too much joy in the entire situation. “I hope that’s not what I look like when I’m under too much pressure,” Atsushi mutters to himself and I snort, remembering how he panicked when we told him about the tiger.

“Hold on,” Sugimoto says after a bit, seeming to have calmed down enough to think and talk, “I know Yamagiawa-sama was pursuing a political corruption case and also running an investigation on the Port Mafia. The murderer’s MO is similar to the Mafia’s when they want retribution. Maybe the Mafia did it! Because they knew she was getting too close-”

“No,” I say quietly as I stare at the ground and everyone turns to me. “The Port Mafia’s retaliation methods are quite specific. They have a signature that’s as unique to them as a fingerprint.

“First, the traitor is forced to the ground and made to bite the curb. Then, they stomp on his head to shatter his jaw. Finally, they flip him over and shoot him in the chest. Three times.” I can still hear the gunshots from each of those many killings I myself had to carry out. They’re overlapping until they are essentially just one set of shots with countless victims. I know this is the fate that awaits me if anyone in the Mafia catches me in an “official” capacity. I’m lucky I managed to come face-to-face with Dazai and not have my head smashed in when I did.

“I guess if we’re being precise, then technically yes, but still,” Sugimoto says as he stares at me with a slightly confused look on his face. I continue before he can say much more. “So this MO was similar to the Mafia’s but not exactly the same. That means-”

“The killer was attempting a cover-up?” Minoura cuts in, and I let him have it. No use getting into an argument over something like that. I glance back at Sugimoto, and his confusion has changed into something else. “Shooting two extra rounds to make it look like a Mafia hit…How cruel…”

Ranpo suddenly makes a sound imitating a buzzer right behind Sugimoto, scaring the living daylights out of him. “Nice try, Sergeant,” he says as he pats Sugimoto’s shoulder. “But you’ve got a ways to go before your ‘case solving skills’ match mine~! But don’t feel bad, you’ve been useful! You’ve helped us prove that Minoura-san’s best detectives are inferior to me!”

“Cut the crap,” Minoura says as he glares at Ranpo, who is still smirking. “I’m tired of all your jabber. You can’t crack hard cases with just deduction. You’ve been reading too many crime novels. Cases like this are solved through investigation. Interviewing persons of interest, and closely analyzing the crime scene.”

“Huuuh?” Ranpo asks as he turns to Minoura, taking a few steps towards him. “You’ve got a pretty thick skull. Great detectives don’t do investigations. My ability, Ultra-Deduction, can instantly identify the killer. I can also figure out when and how the murder was committed. But wait, there’s more! I can see in my mind’s eye how to make the killer confess and where the evidence lies to prove our case! My power truly is a rare gift.” He turns to Minoura, and I can see that he’s opened his eyes by now. His gaze is locked on Minoura, who seems a little startled by Ranpo’s eyes. I understand that feeling. You get so used to his eyes being closed that when he does finally open them around you, it throws you off and it looks like he’s staring into your soul.

“Given my line of work, I know all about you gifted types and your powers. But if you have such a special ability, then why do my colleagues and I still have a job?”

“My thoughts exactly,” Ranpo says with that smug smile of his and I can tell he’s closed his eyes again. “Now we’re starting to understand each other, detective~” Minoura growls under his breath as he glares at Ranpo, and I’m ready to rush in and defend him. Again. He really needs to stop getting into trouble with the police force. One of these days, he’s going to end up arrested and not even the President will be able to help him.

“You little bastard-” Shit. I quickly move to step in front of Ranpo, the poor innocent autistic not seeming to understand the gravity of the situation he just put himself in. “Now, now, detective,” I say as I hold my hands up to try and help Minoura calm down. “Please pardon the autistic creature’s behavior.”

“The heck does that mean?” Ranpo asks as he tugs at my vest. I wave him off, smirking a little to myself. “Don’t worry about it, Ranpo. Just focus on solving the case.”

Minoura sighs and shrugs. “You can’t stop bragging about your ability,” he says, “so let’s have a look at it.”

“Really?” Ranpo asks, getting excited as he turns to Minoura again. “So I guess I’m on the case. You should have just asked me nicely when I first got here.”

“Too bad you’ve got a lot more confidence than experience,” Minoura responds, smirking at Ranpo. “You realize there’s no hard evidence. Would you like me to count to sixty for ya?” He sounds so smug, so sure of himself, and it’s very refreshing to see Ranpo getting cocky back.

“I won’t need that long.”

[smoking-old-toby]

barduil amnesia snippet (ficlet? scene? whatever)

@bi-widower-dads

Bard blinks, trying to wake up, but it's slow going. His head feels... fuzzy. Maybe he's coming down with a cold. He hopes not. Working the barge with a cold is miserable.

When Bard finally manages to open his eyes, he narrows them. What is going on? There's a man with long silver hair sitting in a chair next to his bed, looking... relieved?

Was he struck with an illness during the night, badly enough that Sigrid felt she must get help? But if someone was to be called, why a stranger?

His heart begins to race as panic rears its head. He needs to see the children. As long as Sigrid, Bain, and Tilda are okay, everything will be fine. Bard can handle anything else.

"No need to fret," the man says, "the children are well. Sigrid is looking after the younger ones while I look after you."

The healer's voice is confident, soothing. Everything is okay. The children are fine, and while Bard might not be... completely well, it doesn't seem to be serious.

Letting out a long sigh, Bard is glad his heart has slowed. "You surprised me, that's all. Was Maggie unable to help with what ails me?"

"Sigrid thought it would take more than Maggie's expertise, and I came as soon as she sent word."

He wants to ask... What did he want to ask? Sigrid... how did she know this healer? Bard shakes his head a little, trying to clear it.

He turns his face to escape those alluring blue eyes, to realize he doesn't recognize the room. "Is this your home?"

Bard looks back to the healer when he gets no reply.

The healer just stares at him, face blank. Wait. Did Bard just think of the healer as alluring? What would make him alluring? Bard knows nothing about him, save his profession, and he's certainly never felt allured by Maggie.

He gasps when the healer takes his chin with long, lithe fingers. Ignoring it, the healer tilts Bard's head this way and that, all while Bard is too stunned by the feeling of those fingers against his skin to protest.

It feels like sparks are flowing through his body. From his chin, through his arms and to his fingertips. Bard thinks of pressing his lips those fingertips... that pale, elegant neck...

The blue eyes are piercing him, looking for... something. "Do you not recognize this room?"

He opens his mouth, and then closes it. He's... supposed to remember this room, then? What's going on?

"You were injured when a building collapsed, Bard."

The healer is trying to tell him what happened to him, but Bard gets distracted by the surprising ache in his hands. An ache to touch the man before him, who looks at him now with such care.

"Bard, do you understand what I am telling you?"

"Yes," Bard replies slowly, "I don't remember the room... because I hurt my head..."

They both look to the door when it creaks open, but before Bard's eyes make it to the door, he spots something about the healer that... can that be right? Did he truly just see pointed ears?

Sigrid bounding through the door distracts him from his discovery. And how Bard's spirits lift at the sight of her!

"Da, you're alright!" she exclaims, before facing the healer. "I'm so glad it worked!"

She is crying tears of joy now, and Bard is sorry for the worry he caused her. He watches Sigrid throw her arms around the healer, who doesn't seem to be fazed by it. The healer... ah, the elf, he remembers. Perhaps it is elven magic making him feel so disoriented.

Indeed, unfazed, the elf holds her close and murmurs comforts to her. They are familiar, and that is when Bard starts to feel the fear creep up again. Sigrid couldn't be familiar with an elf without him knowing... so that must mean... it must mean that he has forgotten more than the room he is in.

"Sigrid," Bard clears his throat, willing his voice not to tremble, "do you think you could give us the room for a bit? I want to... ask him something."

After Sigrid leaves, the elf's face becomes solemn. He must already know that Bard doesn't remember him.

Bard doesn't remember him, but he wants so badly to touch the elf's smooth cheeks... What sound would he make if Bard slowly slid his tongue across his collarbone? His cloudy mind imagines trailing kisses up an arched spine.

With never before having desire to take one he doesn't love to his bed... he can only surmise that... somehow, he met this elf and they fell in love. It is the only thing Bard can think of that fits.

The elf's voice is sad when he says, "If you do not remember me, then you have lost at least a year's worth of memory."

...............

Almost losing his dear friend, Thranduil is grateful Sigrid called for him when she did. And how grateful he is for Bard's strength, that he held on as Thranduil raced to his side.

The happiness he felt at Bard's waking is now tainted with sadness, but he has hope that Elrond can assist. Thranduil has not spoken to Elrond in so long, but this is for Bard. He intends to send a letter to Imaldris as soon as Bard is settled.

Thranduil watches Bard smile at him, and his heart soars at seeing it, for there had been a terror in him just hours ago that he would never see Bard smile again. That he would be gone so young.

Sighing, Bard says, "I'm actually relieved."

Bard has always surprised him. A man, killing a dragon. That same man, demanding Thranduil let him talk to Thorin. But now, he is overwhelmed.

Chuckling lightly, Bard explains, "I was trying to figure it out why I was feeling this way about someone I don't recognize." What? "I guess even though I don't have memories of you... I still know you."

He is chiding himself for his foolishness when it happens. One moment, Thranduil is telling himself that of course Bard only meant familiarity, not that he has romantic inclinations, when the next moment Bard is reaching towards his face.

The movement is so casual and Bard's smile is so sweet. Thranduil knows he will never forget. Those rough, calloused fingers slowly tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

Biting his lip, a low keening sound comes from his mouth, unbidden. Thranduil cannot be blamed for it. It has been so long since he has been touched, and Thranduil has longed for Bard so.

"Elf ears are sensitive." Bard's words are deep and full of wonder.

Thranduil tries not to let shock show on his face, but he is not sure he is entirely successful.

Heat burns behind those lovely brown eyes as Bard takes Thranduil's hands, and runs his thumbs lightly over his knuckles as he earnestly says, "I'm glad we didn't let our differences stop us from being together. It's not often lovers die together anyways, someone is usually left behind."

It feels overly warm in this room. Thranduil looks over to the fireplace to see not a blazing fire, but smoldering embers. It must be the warmth of Bard's gaze making him feel thus.

'Lovers.' Bard thinks he and Thranduil are lovers. Then it occurs to him that Bard must have known, so why had he said nothing? Perhaps his reason for staying silent was the same as Thranduil's, that he didn't feel the sentiment would be returned.

A smile spreads across Thranduil's lips. There are so many reasons not to be smiling. Bard does not remember that he killed a dragon, that he's a king of men.

But Bard loves him.

Thranduil did not believe he could feel any happier than this, but Bard releases his hands to cradle his face between his palms.

Then Bard is kissing him. It is soft at first, and Thranduil leans into him. One of Bard's hands slides from his face and into his hair, anchoring them together. The feeling of Bard's beard against his face is thrilling.

When Bard pulls away a little and starts chuckling, Thranduil asks, voice breathless, "Pray tell, what is so amusing?"

"I don't even know your name."

"Thranduil."

Eyes widening in shock, Bard's mouth gapes open.

Thranduil has been enchanted by Bard's kiss. Surely that is a viable excuse for this slip. He really should have eased Bard into his current life circumstances slowly.

"The Elvenking?!"

[rhettabbotts]

Hey! Could I request “do you want me to leave?” “oh, now you care?” “this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.” From that angst prompts please for dilf!rhett?

And if you can’t fit all three into one that’s completely okay 💛 thank you!

thank you my love!

pairing: dilf!rhett abbott x babysitter!reader

w/c: 740

warnings: angst. argument. rhett’s a little bit of a jerk in this one. age gap (reader mid 20s, rhett late 30s).

he was late. which was becoming a common occurrence but you tried to ignore it, went through all the possibilities in your head as you checked your phone once more. if he didn’t show in the next fifteen minutes you were grabbing the check and leaving. after an already terrible week, this was just icing on the cake. your anxiety rose as you thought about what could be wrong. he wasn’t answering your phone calls, wasn’t reading your texts. what if he had been in an accident? what if something really bad happened and you would have no idea because you aren’t listed on any contact lists. 

you checked your phone again. nothing. you let out a huff of frustration, waving the waiter over and smiling sadly as you asked for the check. on the drive back to your apartment, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. you tried to will them away but that didn’t stop the salty streams from falling. a bottle of wine and your favorite rom-com were calling your name, ready to forget all about the evening. 

the feeling of disappointment never faded, it somehow grew stronger as not a single notification came through. you didn't even bother grabbing a glass, choosing to drink directly from the bottle. real classy, you thought.

just as julia roberts was sliding on her panty hose, there was a thud outside of your door. it spooked you, causing you to jump out of your skin. 10pm. who in the hell was at your door this late?

your sadness turned into burning hot anger as you saw rhett through the peephole. he was holding a bouquet of flowers and muttering something to himself. you were tempted to not even open the door, leave him standing out on the landing all night and see how it makes him feel. but you couldn't be that cruel, no matter how mad you were, not with the way snow was starting to fall outside.

"what?" you said, irritation seeping through your voice.

"this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. i promise i didn't mean to stand you up. i was on my way out the door and-"

you cut him off with a raised hand, not wanting to hear any excuses. you stepped aside for him to enter the apartment, your whole body shivering from the cold that was making its way inside.

"can i finish?" rhett asked hatefully.

you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling, but gestured for him to finish nonetheless.

"i had a business phone call, and it took longer than expected. i know i should have responded but i got distracted and i'm sorry. i know you had been looking forward to this all week and-"

"oh, so now you care?! look, rhett. i get it. i know you have all of the ranch business to take care of, but you could've sent one text. that's all i wanted. do you know how much it hurt sitting there not knowing if something had happened to you? i don't think i ask for much... i don't care that you were on a call. i was worried sick. and then for you to not say anything and just show up here, flowers in hand, and expect everything to be okay? it doesn't fix anything."

your voice was wavering as you spoke, tears forming once again. he was standing there with his arms crossed, like he was waiting impatiently for you to finish.

"are you done?"

"am i- yeah, i'm done, rhett." there was a hint of malice in your tone and rhett didn't miss it for one second. "don't patronize me and treat me like i'm being dramatic about this. i was thinking you were dead on the side of the road!"

"well i'm here now," he said matter-of-fact.

you couldn't take it anymore. he didn't understand why you were upset and you really weren't in the mood to explain it further.

"i don't want you to be," you uttered quietly.

"so, do you want me to leave?"

"i really don't want you driving back this late... but we're not done talking. and you're sleeping on the couch. i’ll see you in the morning." you didn't say another word to him as you picked up the wine bottle and headed towards your room, leaving rhett standing in the middle of your living room with wilting flowers in his hands.

join the celebration!

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 2-My Equal

Summary: You find yourself spending extra time with Legolas during your State Visit to Mirkwood. During your time there, your father sends for you and Legolas to return immediately to attend the Council of Elrond.

Author Note: LegolasxFemaleElf, Elves, LOTR movie references, Approaching the Fellowship of the Ring chapter, Sindarin language, Sindarin to English translations.

*State Visits-Incoming and outgoing visitations of Foreign Monarchs to discuss concerns and ideas.

*nin mellon- my friend

*nin bein mellon- my fair friend

*nin cóon-my prince

Italics signify character thoughts and flashbacks

Your wish is my command, @abaker74 Hope you enjoy it!

~~~~~~~~

Despite Thandruil and Elrond’s verbal disincentives, during your month-long *State Visit to Mirkwood, you and Legolas shamelessly continued your daily escapades together. Coincidentally, Thandruil’s distain of your connection with his son encouraged you to socialize with Legolas more frequently. You found yourself meeting him in the kingdom’s many hidden gardens multiple times throughout the day. Once in the early mornings when the sun barely peeks over the horizons, emitting its fiery hues across the sky as it rises, and once more as the dark blanket of night spreads with its scattered stars while the sun sets for the day.

And oddly, not only have you been affording your remaining hours with Legolas but spending that time lazily wandering the woodlands conversating rather than fencing or practicing archery. You disregarded it as becoming aloof with your daily battling routines since you both become quite the specialists, and the practices have become effortless to you both.

You stroll with Legolas on the grounds on an evening where the breeze is as soft as the velvet cloak you don, and the full moon’s glow as vibrant as the blue of his eyes. Your stomach flutters like the fireflies bustling around every time he looks upon you.

“Why is this? It is only Legolas. Perhaps I am not well?” You think to yourself.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Legolas asked. “You seem distracted.”

You look at him quite startled. “Yes, Legolas. I’m alright. Just admiring the views of your father’s Alfirin orchards. Always a majestic sight.” You complimented.

If there was one thing you could appreciate about Thandruil, was his adoration for earthly beauty. All his gardens adorned with the rarest of flowers and exotic plants.

“These groves are tended to by the most elite nature mavens. Each handpicked by my father, of course.” Legolas stated. “He takes great pride in the appearance of the kingdom grounds.”

“As if I didn’t know, *nin mellon.” You said tenderly smiling at him.

He looked at you and smiled.

“Legolas, have you noticed we’ve been spending more time than usual together as of late?” You asked.

He looked at you puzzled, almost alarmed.

“Have we? Does this trouble you?” He asked.

“Oh no, *nin mellon!” You soothed. You thought back to what your father had said about Legolas focusing on ‘stately duties’ and preparing to select his bride to be. The thought sent a stinging pain through your body.

“Jealousy?” No…” You thought.

“To be truthful, Legolas, my father spoke with me about you needing to concentrate on your next task as Prince of Mirkwood, and that I am a hinderance to you completing that task.” You finally admitted.

Legolas remained silent, fixing his stare ahead on the path before you with his hands interlocked behind him resting on the small of his back.

You continued, “I suppose your father has alerted you to this as well?”

He nodded.

You looked down towards the gravel, not sure what to say next. You both remained quiet for a time until Legolas spoke again.

“I don’t fancy to find a bride to wed, *nin bein mellon.”

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief hearing his words.

“And why is this, *nin cóon?” You dared to ask.

He hastily met your gaze, unsure how to answer.

“Because my heart believes there hasn’t been an elf worthy of the name Greenleaf as of yet. I’m afraid the ideals for my bride are set on a pedestal higher than any of them can achieve.” He declared.

This intrigued you. You were curious to what specifications were held for his model female elf. Afterall, he was your dearest and closest friend, and he trusted you with his most personal secrets. The topic of his desired woman was surprisingly a mystery to you.

“Oh? And what, pray tell, are such ideals that the strapping Legolas has for such a bride?” You asked with a slight impish tone. You slightly nudge into his shoulder, urging him to answer your question.

You both smile, as he playfully pushed you back.

Legolas looked up at the night sky when you both reached a clearing in the forest.

“I suppose I haven’t really thought about it.” He stated finally. You looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

“I figured my wife would always be selected for me regardless of my values, so I accepted my fate to whomever was chosen for me.” He finished.

“But you must have imagined a being you would fancy in reality.” You suggested. “Go on, you can tell me, Legolas.” You assured hooking your arm with his.

He bent his elbow to accommodate your arm and placed his opposite hand on top of yours. You can see he was in deep thought. Looking into a distant space in his heart for what constitutes his need for the perfect Elvin bride.

“She would have to be my equal in every way, yet allow me the disposition of being her protector…her healer, her confidante, her guide, her lover…” He trailed off, casting you a quick side eye to see your reaction.

Your heart skipped a beat when he mentioned ‘lover.’ As much as you’ve thought of Legolas, a lover is not one you’ve ventured to imagine of him.

“He is a warrior, a competitor, a leader, my friend, my opponent.” Now that you think about it, “he is indeed…my equal.”

You quietly gasp at the sublime vision that just occurred to you.

“Had Legolas just described me as his ideal wife?” You wondered.

Your heart pounded against your chest like an Orc war drum.

Legolas snickered, noticing you were distracted again.

“*Nin bein mellon, what has your mind in such a busy state?” He asked with an inquiring grin.

You calmly refocus and meet his eyes with a soft smile.

Legolas’ breath caught in his throat, and his knees almost feeling weak beneath the sudden weight that befell him, awaiting your response.

“Just wondering if such an elf exists for you, *nin mellon.” You answer. “I’m sure she’s out there awaiting the brawny Legolas as we speak.” You added teasingly.

Legolas released a heavy sigh, slightly annoyed, yet amused by your mischievous wit.  

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, you found Legolas wasn’t in the usual place you meet him to greet the sunrise. This happened once in a great while when he had special tasks assigned by his father that required him to travel, therefore, having to leave before dawn.

As you began to walk towards the castle, you hear footsteps approaching at a fast pace.

“Y/N! Wait!” Legolas called to you, running towards you with a sense of urgency.

Your spirit soars seeing him approach you, yet you’re also confused that he’s there.

“Legolas? What ever is the matter?” You began.

“Your father has called a gathering of utmost importance at Rivendell. My father elected me to attend, as well designated by Lord Elrond to escort you home immediately.” He interjected.

“Oh? Well, I shall prepare my things right away.” You respond.

“Make haste, *nin bein mellon. I shall meet you in the courtyard with our horses.” He had a tinge of excitement in his voice.

This could only mean one thing: a quest was afoot, and Legolas couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

~~~~~~~~

[maraudersftw]

"Oh god. How long have you been standing there?"

Congrats love!!! ❤❤❤

Hey, Lauren! Remember when you sent this? 💖 Neither do I 🥲 But I wrote something for it, so thank you, queen!

Fighting Fear

Through the light veil of intoxication clouding his vision, he spots her across the room, stood near the fireplace with Mary Macdonald, a cup of punch in hand.

“—how he did that swerve and roll when the bludger came his way! Are you listening, Prongs? What’s—” Sirius’s annoyed tone morphs into a heavy sigh the very next second, and James doesn’t even need to turn to know that he’s spotted the girls too. “Ah. Suppose I’ve lost you now, then.”

With a self-admonishing shake of his head, James looks away, shifting so that his back faces the fireplace now; not entirely eliminating the temptation but lessening his masochistic tendencies somewhat. “It’s nothing,” he makes himself say, chugging a huge gulp of his own punch and instantly regretting the move when his insides recoil with horror. “I’m fine. It’s over… whatever it was.”

“Is it really?” Sirius asks, looking exasperated. “Because not a single person in the room—no, fuck that; the castle—would believe that, given the fat fucking clouds of gloom the two of you seem to carry around with you these days.”

James clenches his jaw. “What do you want me to say, Padfoot? I did what I could, but—”

“You gave up.”

That does it.

“She is the one who went fucking silent on me!” he hisses, fingers clenching around his now-empty cup. “I told her how I felt, I asked her out, because you—all three of you!—told me she had to feel the same way, and then I scared her off. It’s exactly what I'd feared, and now—”

“Stop whining for a moment, would you?” Sirius glares, snatching the crushed cup away from James's hand for no apparent reason. “She didn’t go fucking silent on you; she said she needed some time.”

“Yes, to think of how to let me down gently, no doubt.”

“You know, Prongs, Evans has called you arrogant ‘bout a dozen times in the past, but now is when you really need to pull your head out of your arse, mate,” he scoffs. “Give the bird a bloody chance. She’s never had her feelings all sorted out, like you have. She clearly likes to complicate matters and overthink them to death, and I shouldn’t have to tell you this, because you already know it! If you just stopped panicking like a headless bloody chicken, you’d see all of this more rationally.”

“Merlin,” James mutters, ears a little red. “What’s with you suddenly?”

“I’m tired of watching you mope around and be miserable. Disbalances the atmosphere in the dormitory.”  

“Right.”

“Are you gonna let her talk to you then? She’s been trying since Thursday.”

“I know,” James sighs, runs a hand through his hair. “I’m just—”

“Scared of getting your heart broken, I know,” says Sirius, rolling his eyes, though not without fondness. “That’s not going to happen. No one chases the person they want to reject quite that badly. If Remus hadn’t stopped her, she might’ve marched down to the locker rooms after the match today to find you.”

“You’re kidding,” James whispers, sudden images flashing through his mind about this potential confrontation that could have taken place. He thinks he sort of regrets its non-occurrence now. “You… really think I should take a chance?”

“For fuck’s sake, yes!” Sirius barks, eyes jumping towards the fireplace for a beat. “And I’d do it soon, too, because from the look of things, Evans has clearly started thinking you want nothing to do with her anymore.”

“What?” James frowns, turning around to find only Mary standing near the large, scarlet couch, glaring with undisguised annoyance right at him. “Okay, she does not seem well pleased.”

“No shit.”

“Where’d Evans go?”

“Outside,” Sirius replies, clapping James firmly on the back. “Now go fix this or Macdonald won’t be the only one hexing your balls off.”

“You can try,” he says, mostly distracted as his feet carry him towards the portrait hole. Heart thundering behind rib-cage, skin too red-warm, breathing a little unsteady, James opens the portrait to step out, all the while trying not to completely lose it.

At first, the corridor looks seemingly empty; quiet and unoccupied given the late hour, and he wonders how she could’ve possibly gone somewhere far so quickly. But then a soft, rustling noise catches his attention, and his eyes scan the space to land on the barely-visible movement of a shadow within the nearest alcove.

He swallows, keeps his footsteps light so as to not startle her, and moves closer.

However, before he can traverse the entire distance, she steps out of the darkness, a soft gasp of surprise escaping her lips when she notices him, feet coming to an instant halt. At the sight of her, something in his chest flutters madly, then tightens to the point of pain; her eyes are sad and red-rimmed.

“Oh god,” Lily says, “How long have you been standing there?”

“I haven’t—I just came outside to—not long,” he blabbers like an idiot, feeling worse by the second. Fuck, had she really been out here, crying by herself? “I came looking for you, actually.”

“Really?” she asks, and he finds his brows climbing high when she juts out her chin a little defiantly. The action almost makes him smile with its familiarity; but only almost. “Are you just saying that because you ran into me here and have nowhere to go? Because from what I’ve seen, James, you haven’t seemed very interested in even looking at me lately, let alone looking for me.”

Merlin, this wasn’t going well. “Evans—”

“So, if awkwardness is all you’re trying to avoid, please don’t worry. I can leave you be in peace. You don’t have to feel bad—”

“Lily, stop.” He frowns, takes a step closer so she’ll see he means to go nowhere. “I’m not here because I felt bad or anything like that—although, yes, I’m not feeling too grand at the moment. I came here to tell you I’m sorry.”

He’s surprised her again; the tension evaporates from her shoulders gradually, green eyes widening. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been such a prat.” James runs a hand through his hair, finds it difficult, suddenly, to keep holding her gaze. “I knew you were trying to talk to me, but I kept avoiding you because I was scared that you’d—” say it, say it! “—that you’d say no. Or worse, that you wouldn’t even want to be my mate anymore. It was just easier to run away from that, I suppose.”

He breathes out deeply, feeling a strange sense of relief even as his heart still continues to trill in anxiety. Lily blinks, lips parted, expression painted in stunned disbelief.

He rushes to add: “That’s not to say that I still feel the same way! I mean, am I afraid? Well, yes, deathly. But I’m ready to accept whatever your answer is, Evans, I promise I am. I never should have expected you to have an immediate response anyway, and I know that—that you probably don’t feel the same way, but I respect your feelings, so… yeah.”

Fucking hell, his face feels like it’s positively on fire.

But at least his embarrassing spiel has resulted in light pink splotches on Lily’s cheeks too, which he notices only a little too well when she steps even closer, leaving barely any space between them.

“So, you were not avoiding me because you changed your mind?”

“Changed my mind?”

“About how you feel… about me,” she elaborates, voice quiet.

He can only gape in response. “You have to be kidding me. Are you absolutely mental? You thought I could just move on, change my mind, about you in four bloody days?” He scoffs, or laughs, or sobs a little—it’s hard to tell. “Honestly, Lily, that’s the most ridiculous—"

“James,” she says softly, effectively shutting him up, and in that half of a millisecond in between, James thinks that if she’s about to let him down after saying his name like that, she’ll need to take a lesson or hundred on how not to be heartbreakingly cruel. Thankfully, what she does instead is smile the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen on her, and pull him down with a light tug on his jumper. “Thank you for respecting my feelings, but I very much feel the same way.”

And before his brain can even catch up with the words, before the grin on his face has any time to materialize, Lily’s lips slide softly over his, stealing his breath, heart and sense all in one fell swoop.