#i think I'm getting too used to this dose now so now i can actually feel upset and suddenly i realise that i actually am not ok

[saintedbythestorm]

I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS! I FUCKING HATE THESE MEDS!

I FUCKING HAAAAATEEEE THEEESEEE STUPID MEEEEEDS!!!

[ckret2]

Ok but why DO the teens of Gravity Falls start worshipping Bill after everything he did to them? Isn't there a better counterculture figure they can use that didn't traumatize them for life?

You'd think. Pre-TBOB I sure wouldn't have made them worship him—but if canon says they worship him to be edgy, who am I to argue.

So since it IS canon, I justify it two ways:

One: who says they were traumatized? I'm not saying "Weirdmageddon wasn't traumatic"; I'm saying "maybe they didn't feel traumatized by it." Not everyone comes away from should-be-traumatic situations with trauma, ESPECIALLY if they have a large support group that understands what they went through... like, say, literally everyone else in town.

And a WHOLE LOT of Gravity Falls—maybe even most of the town—had VERY little exposure to Bill or Weirdmageddon. Based on Wendy's account, she and her friends didn't know anything was wrong until the eye-bats swooped in to petrify them. Anyone captured "probably" wasn't conscious (based on how Lazy Susan seems disoriented and unaware of her surroundings, I assume they were mostly unconscious, partially dreaming). All the teens (along with the other townspeople) were freed from the throne while Bill and his minions were outside, escaped (except for Wendy & Robbie) before Bill got back, and then everything went back to normal and nothing was broken and nobody was hurt.

For Wendy, it was the most stressful, dangerous, terrifying week of her life.

For all of Wendy's friends (and probably most other teens in town), it was just a pretty bizarre 15 minutes.

Since the eye-bats were picking off stray townspeople days into Weirdmageddon, I'm sure not all of the teenagers in town were captured so quickly and painlessly... but like, the teens that got the highest doses of trauma from the incident probably aren't the specific teens worshiping Bill to be edgy.

Two: it's a way of reclaiming power over the situation. Do you know one way to stop fearing the monster you imagine under your bed? By imagining really hard that the monster you can feel so, so close in the dark is actually friendly and there to protect you.

The triangle guy's dead and not coming back right? Then there's no consequences if we clown around in his name. You want to be a big fancy god? Okay, now you're the God of Making My Teacher Give Me An A+ On The Final. You're the God of Please Don't Let Me Get Fired From My Part Time Job For Showing Up Late. You're the God of Putting Me In The Same Classes As My Friends This School Year. I'll sacrifice a chicken nugget to you and you'll do me a favor.

If you're a chaos god then I'm calling on you when we spray graffiti, secretly throw a house party, sneak into the movie theater, sell weed in the restroom. If you're a chaos god then keep away the cops and parents when we're breaking the rules. (It's lucky coincidence that Bill would probably love to be the god of illegal parties and drug dealing.)

If you wanna be a god, then you're hired, buddy—and on this planet, that means if we bow to your image and chant your name and sacrificially burn a one dollar Bill over a candle for you, then you have to do what we ask, and you can't scare us anymore. And if worshiping you DOES scare the authority figures we're yearning to buck against, that's just a bonus.

Pantheons all over the world worship gods of volcanoes, sea storms, war, and death. When humans see a force too terrible to defeat or escape, we give it a face, a name, and a temple, and start feeding it with offerings and prayers in hopes we can domesticate it the same way we domesticated wolves with meat and back scratches.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

“So, are you just going to stare at my pretty face all day, or…?” The villain crossed their arms in front of their chest and rolled with their eyes. It was embarrassing enough, the hero didn’t have to rub it in.

“Is that such a crime?”

The villain let out a humourless huff. Their anger was evident, their frustration obvious.

And the pain, god, sometimes the villain couldn’t even breathe. Getting out of bed was already hard enough but being forced to work under these conditions?

Of course, it could have been worse. As part of their rehabilitation, they didn't need to do much, their work wasn't even that demanding.

But with their injuries, every move seemed to be unbearable.

“Just fuck off.”

“I have some documents to sign for you. My boss insists.” The hero fished a folder out of their bag and, unfortunately, they had indeed more documents. The villain found it quite unbelievable how much they had to sign. Although they knew it wasn't clever not to read over all of the pages carefully, they were too tired to do so.

They didn't really care that much either.

“Or better known as your excuse for visiting me,” the villain joked. Their side started to hurt again, a pain so cruel and prominent that they had to remind themselves to take everything slow.

It was actual hell. Not being able to do anything. Not being able to move freely. Although the doctor had assured them they were healing and doing well, the villain felt everything but fine. It had been over three weeks now and they were still waking up in the middle of the night. Pain robbed their sleep and pain robbed their mobility. They were impatient, they were annoyed.

The interrogation room was very familiar to the villain by now. Every week, they got to meet the hero. Either documents or lectures — whatever topic the hero chose, it was always a long conversation the villain’s body couldn’t manage towards the end.

However, they never said anything. The hero's visits were better than work. They were the best part of the entire week.

“I don’t need excuses to visit you,” the hero said, winking. They pushed the document towards the villain. “Sign here.”

The villain sighed. They didn’t even look at the paper.

“Can you ask them to increase my medication again at least?” the villain asked softly. They took in a deep breath and signed the document on the last page, their pen following their shaking hand's command as quickly as possible.

"I'm sorry, you're already on the highest dose possible."

"Oh." The villain put down the pen and stared at their nemesis. Their nemesis who had captured them. Who had put them in this situation in the first place. They seemed to be recovering just fine. They seemed to be fit and healthy, seemed to be in the prime of their life. Attractive and kind - perfection had carved itself through the hero. "...do you think the people here are honest? The nurses and the doctors, I mean?"

"Some of the best people in the country are working here," the hero said. "That includes medical staff."

"Okay." The villain's voice was quiet. They didn't understand the logistics behind a place like this, they didn't understand anything about the things the hero gave them to sign. "Did you know they're experimenting on me?"

"They take samples from your tissue or blood to look at in the lab. Seriously. You're not in any danger." The hero smiled sweetly and scratched the back of their neck. "I check the reports regularly and I talk to your doctor on a daily basis. It's their priority to help you."

"Why?"

"Well, you're a victim, are you not? We don't know much about the supervillain and their powers, so helping you recover could help us get more information on them. And considering your past, we have to...observe you in a special place like this." The hero leaned over the table to get to the document. Their fingertips touched the villain's knuckles by accident. "That's only one reason, of course. Most importantly, you were beaten to death and needed help."

"It wasn't that bad."

"Half your organs were hanging out of you when I found you," the hero said. Their voice was quieter now, maybe lost in their thoughts even. "I donated a kidney for you."

"You can be so romantic," the villain said. The sarcasm didn't really come across and the villain knew how half-hearted their jokes had become. It wasn't like they weren't grateful, it was just difficult to be saved and have a life when they had accepted their outcome a while ago. That day, they had accepted that they wouldn't survive. They had made their peace with it and then the hero had saved them.

And now, the villain had to live with this horrible pain.

With the nightmares and the fear. They had become a stranger in their own body. It didn't feel like they had control over themselves anymore. Although the hero was right, they couldn't help but feel like a lab rat.

"The point is...you're the only person who has survived them and if they find out you're alive..."

"A facility like this won't hold them back," the villain said. "It would be a minor inconvenience."

"I know, that's why-" the hero held up the document "-you just signed a request for special protection. With me being your caretaker."

Again, that sweet smile spread across their face but the villain didn't really know what that meant. Their poor heart skipped a few beats.

"Are you saying you'll be staying here?" The villain's neck started to heat up. Wasn't this a bit too much? Had they asked for too much? With the medication and the doctors...wasn't this too much effort for the hero to put in?

"I am saying you're coming with me if this gets approved. Which it will."

"Like, to your house?"

"Yes, darling." The hero leaned back in their chair and took in a deep breath. "I've been working on this ever since I found you. I knew the agency wouldn't let you recover in a prison that easily. I argued that you're a victim and a source of information. That brought you here. But still, they made you work in here which I argued to be counterproductive. The law department is pretty annoyed by me."

"I...I'm not sure what to say," the villain said. Their head was reeling. Maybe everything would be a little easier. Maybe waking up would be easier. Were they actually dreaming? They could be out of here soon?

"You don't have to say anything." The hero stood up and walked up to them. Once they were closer to the villain, they sat down on the table, looking down at them. "I just need you to rest."

"You didn't have to do this," the villain said. Their voice was shaking. "You didn't have to save me again."

"I can't help it. By the way, we have matching scars, did you notice that? I can't just leave you in here."

"You suck," the villain said, but there were tears in their eyes. The relief they felt was indescribable. This place was alright. The people were alright. But they weren't the hero. They weren't comforting. With their chair, they moved closer towards them. "You're so horrible."

They leaned their head against the hero's arm, too tired and overwhelmed to hold up the weight of their head anymore. Quickly, the hero went through their hair with their fingers, holding their jaw in their hands and guiding them to lay their head on their lap.

"Oh, honey..." They played with the villain's hair and scratched their scalp softly. Their fingers went over the villain's face, carefully avoiding their bruises. "I promise I will take care of you."

They stayed like this until visiting hours were over.

[nothorses]

So I'm thinking of going on low dose T, and ofc I'll get more feedback from doctors when I see them, but I know one of the changes is that you run warmer and have lower heat tolerance, and I'm already kind of heat sensitive (sweating is a sensory ick). Do you or your followers have any kind of coping strategies that have helped with that?

I ran warm before, too, and I'm definitely warmer now! I also have Raynaud's which kind of makes the whole experience a clusterfuck, but that's besides the point. lmao.

I live in a pretty cool/temperate area, so it isn't normally an issue except in the (increasingly horrible) summers, but I've found that the hardest time to stay cool has been at night. I share a bed with my partner who runs even warmer, and it's been 2.5 years of struggling to figure out how to be a comfortable temperature together.

The best advice I can give you is to just stay as far away from synthetic fibers as you can; "sweat wicking" and "cooling" and "athletic" stuff included. It's a lie. They're all plastic, and while they might feel cool to the touch at first, plastic doesn't breathe. It'll trap heat and moisture against your skin after enough time, especially in the form of blankets. (Fuck the Rest Evercool. Worst recommendation I've ever gotten.)

Look for 100% linen, or 100% cotton. I've heard wool also works well, but I haven't had luck with that personally. Woven fabrics are going to be cooler and more breathable than sateen, and waffle weave is like, the single most breathable weave afaik (it's more common in blankets, but some clothes are waffle).

Some of these things can be pretty scratchy at first, and I recommend a couple of washes on a high heat & some fabric softener before you start using them. We were able to break in our waffle blanket super quickly this way! (I know some folks recommend against softener for breathability reasons, but it's the only thing that actually worked for us, and it hasn't impacted breathability). After you break them in, though, cotton and linen fabrics are SUPER soft!

I also recommend staying away from leather. It's natural, but trust me: it's not breathable. It's coveted in outdoor rec spaces BECAUSE it's somewhat waterproof.

Outside of that, I'd really encourage you to lean towards multiple light layers that you can change/remove throughout the day to suit your needs (ex: light tee + fleece + wind/rain layer, maybe throw in a flannel somewhere), instead of one or two heavy ones (ex: shirt + big puffy cold weather jacket). It's a strategy common in the PNW that works great for regulating your temperature when you're dealing with humidity and somewhat unpredictable weather, and imo, it also really translates if you're just generally sensitive to heat and sweat.

Outside of that... depending on where you live, I really recommend having an AC/dehumidifier. Don't bother with trying to rig up a swamp cooler if you're sensitive to sweat- the increased humidity will make things worse. The general advice I heard when researching a good AC was that window units will always be more efficient than portable units (and a mini split is better than either), but if you have to go with a portable unit, go with a dual-hose. They'll be more efficient just because they don't create a vacuum that pulls in warm air from outside. This is the model we settled on- it was really highly recommended and cost effective for what it is, and it's been absolutely fantastic this summer.

Idk how you are about pits, but I wash mine with a benzoyl body wash and then use a deodorant with antiperspirant every day, and I virtually never smell or sweat. 🤷‍♂️ ymmv though

I'm sure folks will have things to add, so check the notes on this post- and good luck!

[rxmqnova]

I have an idea for a nat x daughter reader fic so basically reader is like a lab made baby by hydra with nat is the gene for her mother and the other one is a random hydra dude and they put reader in a house with him and his wife somewhere In America but reader knows about nat but hydra dose not know she knows I kind of want it to be the vibe of stick season but anyway she runs away and finds Yelena by accident and yelena is like what is happening and takes her to the avengers which then leads nat to meeting reader if you can can you make it like super angsty but with a happy ending

Daughter?

Y/N: 13 years old ——————————————————

NO ONE'S POV Ever since Y/N was a little girl, she has always sneaked out of her room everytime her father and step-mother had a visit. She knew it's not a good idea, especially when her father always scolds her for it, but she's way too curious.

Her curiousness led her to one very important information. A few years ago she overheard her father's boss talk about her mother… the real one. And since then Y/N's been trying to get out of this place and find her mother… the Black Widow herself.

She hates this place, she really does. The main reason is that her father is forcing her to train every day, so she could become a hydra agent one day.

Yes, Y/N's father is a hydra agent. He's actually one of the most trusted one for his boss, so that's why he was chosen to become the father of the future world's best assassin.

"Weak!" Y/N's father yells, pushing the poor exhausted girl and causing her to fall on the ground. "This is worthless! Go to your room, we'll continue tomorrow. I want to see you in way better condition, understand?!" He asks sternly.

"Yes" Y/N nods, trying to catch her breath. Her father leaves to room, leaving the exhausted young girl laying on the ground.

Once Y/N catches breath, she makes her way to her room and then straight to the bathroom to take a shower, thinking that she needs to get out of here as soon as possible.

As nearly every Friday night, Y/N's father and his wife are going out for dinner, leaving the girl home completely alone. Y/N doesn't mind though, at least she can finally get out of here and never ever come back again.

As soon as the front door shut and the car drives away, Y/N takes her bag and starts packing everything she needs.

With her bag in her hand, she rushes downstairs, trying to open every single window to try and find some her father hasn't locked. The door is locked, so there's no point in trying.

A smile makes its way on the girl's face when one of the window can be opened. She puts on her coat, takes her bag and gets out of the house, running as fast as she can to get as far as possible.

She runs and runs, finally arriving to a small village which makes her smile and let out a sigh of relief. She's too overwhelmed with everything that she doesn't pay attention to where she's going.

"Careful, little one" A blonde lady says, making Y/N cheeks turn a bit red.

"S-sorry" Y/N sutters, not used to talking to other people than her father or her step-mother.

"What are you doing here alone? It's dangerous. This place's…" Yelena stops, looking at the last few standing houses.

This little village is near one hydra base, so of course when some of the Avengers came to take that place down, the village didn't survive without a damage.

"Well, let's just say a very bad people lived near this little village" The blonde finishes her sentence.

"I. Hm… I-I'm looking for my mom. She. Hm. She's supposed to be some kind of superhero. Her name's Natasha Romanoff. Have you heard of her?" Y/N asks, a bit of hope in her voice as she looks up at the shocked woman.

"Natasha? What? She can't have children on her own. I… what?" Yelena stares at the child completely confused, but now noticing how similar the girl looks to her sister.

"Wait. So you know her? Could you please take me to her? I can't go back there, I really can't. Please" Y/N begs and Yelena can't help but nod as she's also curious how this happened.

Y/N follows Yelena to the quinjet, meeting Kate, Clint, Steve and Bucky there. Of course they look at the two with questioning looks, so Yelena tells them something before she sits aside with the young girl.

Yelena admits she's Natasha's sister, so Y/N tells her the story too, feeling like she can trust this woman. She does feel more and more nervous every minute they get closer to the compound though. She's wanted to meet her mom for a few years and she's worried about what will Natasha think about the whole situation.

As soon as the jet lands in front of the compound and everyone walks out, Y/N is quick to follow behind Yelena, spotting a redhead sitting on the couch.

"Natasha?" Yelena calls on which Natasha turns her head, smiling when she sees her sister.

"You're back" The redhead stands up, walking over to her sister and giving her a hug while Y/N stands behind and watching them, her heart nearly skipping a beat when she sees how much she looks like her mother.

"I brought someone who'd like to meet you" Yelena informs, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving the girl a soft smile.

"H-Hi, I. Hm. I-I'm Y/N" Y/N sutters, giving Natasha an akward nervous smile.

"Hey?" Natasha looks at the girl completely confused. "What can I do for you?"

"I. Hm… I-I know this will sound weird, but I-I'm your daughter" Y/N blurts out, looking at Natasha and hoping she'll believe her.

"Nonsense. I don't have a child" Natasha says immediately, the topic of children being a touchy subject for her. She turns around, walking away, but Y/N follows her.

"I can explain. Please"

"Y/N, you seem to be a nice girl, but this is a really bad joke. I can't have children on my own. It's just impossible" Natasha says with a sigh, not even turning around and continuing to walk towards her room.

Of course she's noticed the girl's features, but Dreykov made sure she won't ever have children on her own, so Y/N surely cannot be her daughter as she claims.

"It's not a joke. I really am your daughter. If you just let me explain, I-"

"No. I can't have children, Y/N" The redhead says once again, shutting the door of her room right in front of Y/N's face.

Y/N lets out a sigh, pushing back the tears that are forming in her eyes. After all, she left her home, her father… Her life wasn't the best, but what now? She has no place to stay, no home, no family.

Maybe the girl gave her hopes too high, thinking her mother would actually be happy to have a daughter. Y/N was really hoping she'd finally have a family she wanted for so long, but deep down she knew Natasha's reaction could be bad… and well, the redhead doesn't even know the part about hydra.

"What's wrong?" Yelena asks as soon as she spots her potentional niece stepping into the kitchen with her head low.

"She won't let me explain" Y/N mumbles with a sigh. "It was stupid, I should have stayed there" She mumbles to herself.

"Let me talk to her, yeah? Wanda here will give you something to eat meanwhile" Yelena smiles warmly, placing her hand on Y/N's shoulder and giving it a rub.

Y/N nods, so Yelena walks away and straight to her sister's room. After hearing Y/N's story she just wants nothing but to help the young girl. She knows Natasha would be a great mother and Yelena's already excited about being an aunt.

Yelena knocks at the door of Natasha's room, not getting any response, but she just walks in anyway, finding her sister sitting on the bed, deep in thought as her cheeks are stained by tears.

"Natasha, I know it's hard to believe, but Y/N explained everything to me. You're her mother. Isn't that what you've always wanted?" Yelena asks, sitting down on the bed next to her sister.

"Yelena, I can't have children and neither can you. It's just impossible. What if she's just a spy or something, huh? Have you thought about that?" Natasha blurts out, standing up and leaving the room. She really doesn't want to talk about it right now.

"Natasha, just talk to her" Yelena sighs, following her sister to where she's going.

"Why, Yelena? If I'm her mother, she needs to have a second parent. Why doesn't she go to him? Where does she live anyway? She has to live somewhere. I don't even want a daughter" Natasha's irritated by now, not meaning the words she's saying, but that's something Y/N doesn't know though… and she's heard every single word.

The sisters stop walking and talking when they notice they're suddenly in the kitchen, Y/N looking at both with watery eyes, thinking how stupid it was to look for her mother.

The girl immediately stands up from the table she's been sitting at and eating her food, taking her bag and rushing out of the compound, ignoring Yelena's calling after her.

The blonde runs after her niece immediately, catching her sooner than she leaves the compound.

"Hey, hey, you can't just leave. It's getting late and cold" Yelena says, bringing Y/N in for a hug on which the girl can't hold her tears anymore.

"I just wanted a mom" Y/N cries out into Yelena's shoulder, holding the blonde tightly.

"I know, sweetheart, I know. I'm sure Natasha didn't mean it, honey" Yelena tries to calm the girl down, rubbing her back and pressing a kiss to her head.

———

Yelena managed to get Y/N to stay. Both are ready to go to bed now, but a knock at Yelena's door interrupts them.

Natasha hasn't stopped thinking about it… if it's really possible that she could have her own daughter. She feels so incredibly bad for making Y/N cry and she's always wanted a child, but what if it's just a trap?

She did decide to talk to the younger redhead though. Natasha always recognizes when someone's lying, so she'll see if the girl's telling the truth or not.

"Hey, can I have a word with Y/N?" Natasha asks after opening the door.

Yelena nods, telling them she's going to the kitchen for a glass of water, so the two stay alone. Natasha takes a seat on the bed, looking at the girl who's avoiding an eye-contact.

"Y/N, I… I know I said something that hurt you and I'm sorry for that. I just… I've lived my whole life, thinking I would never have a child on my own. So when you told me you're my daughter… It just felt… impossible" Natasha admits.

"I was made in a lab. They used your eggs to create me. I heard my father talking about it with his boss a few years ago. I just thought that maybe if I found you… that maybe I could have someone who'd actually love me" Y/N confesses, trying to push back her tears and not cry in front of the woman in front of her.

"So you have a father… doesn't he love you?" Natasha asks, receiving a shake of a head from the girl.

"He's just completing his boss's orders and trains me to become a hydra agent, but I don't want to" Y/N sighs, Natasha squeezing her eyes shut, knowing damn well what's it like to have a childhood like that.

"I'm sorry you had to live like that" The redhead says softly, placing her hand on Y/N's and finally making the girl look up and lock eyes with her.

"Had to? You won't send me back to him?" She asks confused.

"No, of course not. I would never send you back to someone who's doing this. I should have let you explain earlier, I'm sorry" Natasha apologizes, rubbing her thumb over Y/N's knuckles.

That's all it takes for Y/N to just jump into Natasha's arms, taking the redhead by surprise. Natasha chuckles, wrapping her arms around Y/N. She will definitely want Bruce to run some DNA tests, but her spy skills say Y/N's telling the truth. Looks like a brand new chapter of her life is starting right now… she's a mom.

----------------------

Natasha Romanoff masterlist

Masterlist

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x Painter fem! Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Author Note: I'm actually thinking I might be doing one chapter every other night, but I would also like to draw on my comically large art tablet at some point this week, so I might skip a day or two.

Cross posted onto AO3

Session 2: Color Matching

You partially regret just agreeing to "tomorrow", seeing as this man decided that he wanted to show up at 4am.

It was the original time set for yesterday's session, and you guess he felt bad for being late, but god damn he texted you an hour earlier telling you he'd be there by 4am. Dragging yourself out of the comfort of your bed was difficult, but in the end it was worth it to draw such a stunner.

You had to get there before Leon did, so there you were; half awake, dressed in a pair of fuzzy pants and a loose t-shirt, and a small cup of tea in your right hand while the other fumbled with the keys to your little work room.

That was the greatest part about your job as a professional painter. You didn't have a dress code.

Though most days you did try to look your best, some days it was just easier to be comfortable. Besides, it's not like tons of people come and see you everyday, it was usually just one person at a time.

It was 3:47am by the time you'd gotten to your workspace and settled, sitting on one of the many floor pillows in the living area you put together away from the actual painting setup. The tea was warm, it was keeping you sleepy, but you couldn't stop taking small sips. It was in your hands, there wasn't much you could do to stop yourself.

You told Leon to just come on in when he arrived, not wanting to walk all the way back down just to lead him back up. The stiffness from sleep was still in parts of your body, so you knew it would be difficult to get up, even when he did finally stride through that door. He dressed nicely today, just what you needed him to do.

Wanting to relish in the dim yet warm lighting of your various lamps for as long as possible, you beckoned the man to come over and sit with you, which confused him slightly. He thought you would be ready to get started once he showed up, but he wasn't one to argue so early in the morning. Instead, he shrugged and slowly sauntered over to you, taking a seat on a floor pillow across from yours.

"Good morning." Leon grumbled quietly, his voice barely hiding the fact that he wasn't quite awake either. That rumble in his chest made your stomach flutter. "Good morning to you, too." You responded, closing your eyes for a moment to take another sip of your tea.

"When uh-" He cleared his throat, putting a fist up to his mouth as he did so. "When are we gonna get started?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, moving the cup away from your lips to stare at him. "I wasn't expecting to be up so early, so just give me a few more minutes to wake up and then we can turn my main lights on."

Leon sucked on his teeth as he thought, turning his head to look over out one of the windows as he rested his wrists on his knees. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just wanted to make up for being late yesterday."

You laughed softly before letting out a quiet sigh, setting your tea down on the low coffee table sitting behind you.

"Don't worry about it, but also don't make me get up so early again, old man." You attempted to joke, immediately noticing the wince on his face at the nickname. To divert, you stood up and stretched, patting his shoulder as you walked by him. "Alright, let me pull my stuff out and then we can get started."

Leon followed you with his head, taking a few seconds before standing up himself, pressing his hands onto his knees to help get up from the floor pillow.

"I'm just going to be color matching your tones today. I won't do all of it since obviously lighting changes throughout the day, buuuut..." You trailed off, beginning to rummage through a drawer in one of your desks before pulling out handfuls of paint tubes. "I just need to pull out the basic colors I'll be using."

It was still pretty dim in the room which caused you to have to squint to see the names of the colors on the tubes. Leon found that partially amusing, his chuckle causing you to glare playfully over at him. "Something funny?"

"As funny as it is to watch you go cross-eyed looking at those," he smiled, gesturing with his thumb to the light switches near the door. "I feel like it'd be easier to just turn the lights on."

"My retinas will be fried if those get turned on-" You were cut off by your own shout when Leon took the liberty of turning the lights on himself, laughing as you quickly moved to cover your eyes.

He only had to squint for a second before his eyes adjusted. You, however, were not expecting the sudden change, so you got an eyeful of bright white light. Complete and utter agony that lasted for a full five seconds.

By the time you moved your hands away from your eyes, they were watering and you had to squint for awhile longer. "Give me a warning next time you decide you want to try and murder me like that." You said, wiping away the few stray tears you'd produced from the light sensitivity. "You might live in the light, but I don't!"

The man shook his head and crossed his arms, smile still plastered to his face as he slowly made his way over to the chair in front of your easel. "That's payback for calling me an old man."

You twisted your head around to the chair so you could give him an indignant look, catching a glance as he was putting his hands up in defense with a small "what?" before you turned to look down at the tubes of paint sitting next to your hands on top of the desk.

"Nothing, just wasn't expecting to work with a toddler, that's all.." You mumbled, smile creeping onto your face as you heard him click his tongue from behind you. "I was an old man not five minutes ago and now I'm a toddler?" Leon asked, voice peaking dramatically.

"Yes, you have quite the range, Mr. Kennedy." You began sifting through the various paints you'd pulled out, humming softly as you contemplated what route you wanted to take with them. Stick to primaries? Add secondaries? Should I just use every color I need? Hmmm..

Leon watched as you stared at the paint tubes you'd picked up, tilting his head to the side slightly to try and get a better look. He snapped his head back upright when you started to speak again. "I'm trying to decide whether or not to use a lot of different colors, or just stick to a minimum.."

It was almost as if you knew what he was wondering. "Uhh... what's the difference...?" The man questioned, raising an eyebrow as you turned around, seemingly having made your decision already.

"Using just the main 6 colors-" You turned around and were faced with his very confused stare, causing you to explain a little better. "The main colors you see in a rainbow."

He breathed out a quiet "ahh" at that. Okay, good. He knows his basics. Cute...

"I can mix just red, blue, and yellow at varying degrees to get any color I need. Adding green, purple, and orange will help even more." You pursed your lips, lightly tossing the paint tubes in your hands before setting them down away from the other tubes. "I need white also. Damn.."

"What's wrong with white?" Leon asked, leaning forward a bit to watch you dig in the drawer for a tube of white oil paint.

"Nothin'. Just forgot, is all. Trying to keep this as authentic as possible..." You mumble, quickly closing the drawer with a slam after pulling out the paint you were looking for.

Silently nodding his head in acknowledgment, Leon turned his focus to his surroundings again, admiring your choice in decor once more. He bought a nice decorative pillow for his couch yesterday after being here the first time.

You grabbed a few strips of thick white paper, running your thumb along its textured surface before setting them down. You told him to stay where he was as you set up a small art palette, little dollops of the paints sitting neatly in the circular grooves.

"I'm gonna make color swatches of your skin for myself." You spoke up as you suddenly turned and walked towards him, holding the palette in your left hand while holding the strips of paper and a small yet flat paintbrush in the right. "Also, I'll need to get a picture of you in the position you want, but I'll do that after all of-" you waved everything you're currently holding in a small circle. "-this."

Leon simply responded with an "oh, okay", his knee beginning to bounce as you quickly began to mix little bits of your paint together to get a simple pale skin tone down before you even attempted to match his.

As you worked, you were starting to grow nervous with the silence, and clearly the man in front of you was as well, given he had started to sweat slightly on his forehead. He wasn't nearly as conversational as the last two agents you painted.

"So.. you've earned yourself a portrait..." You smiled slightly, holding up the strip of paper you'd brushed your mixed paint on to see what colors to mix in next. "What'd you do to earn one?"

Leon hummed. It was hard to think about every mission he's gone on, all the horrors he bore witness to, the people he saved, the people he couldn't save, how it all started, and now the fact that he's done-

"Hey, woah, I'm sorry." The sound of your voice drew him away from his thoughts. "I didn't know that would be a.. sore subject for you." He blinked at you a few times, furrowing his eyebrows soon after. "What?"

You pulled the strip of paper away from his face, pulling your lips tight with a shrug of your shoulders at his response. "You suddenly looked mad. Like... really really mad. I thought you were gonna snap at me or-"

"No. It's just bittersweet, is all." Leon cut you off, waving his hand dismissively at you before nodding once down to the paint palette in your hand. "You can keep going."

You stayed frozen in your crouched position for a few seconds longer before continuing to swatch your paint. You kept silent, not wanting to seem like you were antagonizing him.

"I used to be just a cop." The man suddenly said, causing you to look up from where you were mixing your paints together. "Only for a single day, but I was a cop. Simple as can be."

You nodded, beckoning him to continue with a small smile, which he did. "I'm sure you've heard about some of that already though, since you worked with Claire not too long ago."

His comment caused you to let out a small "ohh" in sudden recognition, nodding your head again. "Yeah, that's right! She mentioned you on that, okay.."

Leon continued to talk about all of his missions vaguely, still having to keep confidentiality in mind. You let him drone on, having gotten his skin tone matched in a few different areas now. You stopped to scribble on the papers with the paint swatches, making sure to label where each tone came from on his face and hands.

You took note of how he circled back to his single day as a cop and to certain missions. His mention of saving the president's daughter had you immediately smiling. That was a straight ticket to earning his own portrait in that hall of the White House, he could've done just that his entire life and he still would've been seeing you at some point.

You focused on mixing your paint for a little while before noticing he had grown quiet, looking up to see him staring out the window, a faint orange glow from the sun rising highlighting his features. And his tears.

Growing concerned once again, you set down the paintbrush on the palette so you could place a gentle hand on his shoulder. It seemed he didn't notice that, too lost in his head to notice anything at this point.

"Hey..." You asked with a soft voice, your eyebrows furrowing with worry. "We don't have to talk about it anymore, you know..."

Finally, Leon looked back at you, eyes widening once he realized how watery his eyes were. He turned his head away so you didn't watch him wipe the tears that had fallen down his cheeks and use his sleeve to dry his eyes. It wasn't like him to be so easily bothered by this stuff.

"I just need one more color swatch and then you can go, okay? We can save the photo for another day." You gave the man a weak smile, one he didn't reciprocate. You understood.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but you filled in for him. "Seriously, it's no trouble at all. If you need more time then you need more time." Standing up from your crouched position, you left your half-finished color match swatch with the finished ones before walking over to set everything down on the desk.

You didn't want to crowd the poor man. That was probably the last thing he needed. Despite having only painted for a select few, you've learned to just step away from these retired agents when things would go awry. It was akin to a war veteran suffering from PTSD; they did almost have the same experiences as far as you could tell.

"I'm sorry."

Leon finally managed to say to you, his hands anxiously rubbing up and down on the tops of his thighs. Must be a nervous tick.

You angled yourself so you could see him while your body still faced the desk, smiling at him while your hands worked to neatly stack the strips of paper before clipping them together with a paper clip.

"There's absolutely no reason for you to apologize." You kept your smile as you responded to Leon, looking back down at your hands to make sure everything was put together properly. "You forget I strictly work with agents like yourself. From all the vague tellings, I know that the job is tough on you guys; body and mind."

It was weird having someone outside of the agency talk to him about this kind of stuff. It was weird for him to be bringing it up in the first place. Or, at least he felt like it was.

"Still, I should know better than to do that." Leon sighed, rubbing his hand along the side of his face before stroking his chin, scratching at the stubble growing.

"Know better than to do what? Let yourself process everything you've been through?" You spoke in almost a whisper. If your tone was any louder, you fear you'd come off as accusatory.

"I get it. Really, I do." Leon groaned quietly at your words, causing you to click your tongue. You grabbed your swivel chair and scooted it over so you could sit in front of him, and when you did, you brought your legs up to sit criss-cross just like yesterday, only there wasn't a table separating the two of you. You looked solemn. He didn't like where this was going.

"The whole point of painting you a portrait is to honor you and your work as an agent, but it's not just about getting yourself painted." You leaned forward in your chair, elbows resting on your knees, all the while keeping your voice hushed and gentle. "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

Your words were really starting to strike a chord for Leon. He hadn't given it much thought. He didn't want to give it any thought at all. All he thought was "I'm just going to get myself a nice fancy portrait and be done with it". He didn't even consider what the portrait of him would actually symbolize.

"Oh." Was all Leon could muster, letting his gaze fall into his lap where his hands now sat clasped together. If it weren't for the comfortable environment you had set up here, he probably would've bolted ages ago.

You let him think everything over for awhile, wanting to give him all the time in the world. Clearly he needed something, but he wasn't allowing himself any sort of leeway.

It took some courage building internally, but you decided to stand up, taking the one step closer to him before placing your hand on his shoulder once more. You squeezed it a bit, bringing his attention back to you as he lifted his head up.

You attempted to smile at him, moving your hand off his shoulder so you could hold your arms out slightly. This man needed a hug and you were more than willing to offer the leeway he wasn't granting himself.

Leon stood up rather quickly which surprised you, and startled you just a bit, before feeling his large arms tightly wrap around you. It was a little awkward since he had to bend a bit to hug you properly, but it worked out in his favor, and yours too, since he got a better opportunity to bury his face into the crook of your neck.

He sighed happily when he felt your arms slowly wrap around his chest, doing your best to squeeze him for that extra bit of comfort, even rubbing up and down on his back. It had been so long since he had a real hug. It felt good.

You let him hug you for as long as he needed, which was longer than expected, but definitely not unwelcome by any means. Though, his warm breath against your neck and the smell of his cologne was causing you to blush. That's really the last thing you needed him to see after being so vulnerable and open with you.

You felt him start to pull his head away, prompting you to pat his back gently as an end to the hug. Despite the fact that it was faint, it was clear to you that he was blushing when you were finally able to look up at him.

You wanted to remain calm for Leon, letting out your nervousness through a quiet cough. "I know we've only met up twice, but if you ever need a change in scenery, just know that my workspace here is always open to you. I'm always open to you, okay?"

Your words were making him feel weird. Something he hasn't felt in a long time was creeping up his chest. Your smell lingering on his coat wasn't helping, either.

"Yeah-.. yeah, okay." Leon huffed through his nose, reaching up to scratch at the stubble underneath his jawline as he averted his gaze to the floor.

The sun was fully up now, so you walked over to where the light switches were next to the door, flipping them off. All your other ambient lights could be turned off later. For now, you needed to focus on the man still standing in front of that maroon chair.

"You can stay if you feel you need to, but I just want you to relax." You said, looking over at him as you heard his footsteps slowly walk past you to the living space.

"I'll head out." Leon bent over and grabbed his motorcycle helmet from where he'd set it down on the rug near the floor pillows. He placed his on his head as he walked over to where you stood next to the door, not really wanting anyone to look at his tear-stricken and red face any longer.

Once he finished fiddling with his helmet, you reached out and took his hand in both of yours, patting the top of it softly. "Text me when you're ready to come back over."

You couldn't see Leon's face anymore since he'd put the visor down, but you could definitely see him nod his head. He opened the door and let himself out, touching the side of the doorframe as he rounded the sharp corner and walked down the stairs.

After closing the door behind him, you started walking around your workspace to turn off all the lamps and other ambient lighting, pausing to listen to the sound of his motorcycle start up and drive off.

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number Part 2

the long anticipated part two to unknown number. enjoy!

Part Three is now up!

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

(one day later)

HS: Hey, I haven't heard from you. Is everything okay?

HS: I know you're busy and everything, but maybe you feel differently after us talking?

HS: It doesn't have to be different. We can go back to just texting I don't mind.

(one day later)

HS: You're not avoiding me are you?

HS: June?

(one day later)

HS: I don't know what I did, but whatever it is I'm sorry.

HS: But I'm starting to get worried. Are you okay? Like safety wise? Cold shoulder I can take but I would feel awful if you were hurt or in danger or something?

HS: Can you at least let me know you're alright?

J is typing...

(twenty minutes later)

J: i'm fine

HS: Good!

HS: Did I do something?

J: no i just think i was served a cold dose of reality a couple days ago

J: sorry for disappearing on you

HS: It's okay.

HS: Would you be more comfortable if we just went back to texting?

J is typing...

J: maybe

HS: Maybe?

J: i...like the sound of your voice

HS: You do, do you? ;))

J: don't be smug!

HS: I'm not, I swear!

HS is typing...

HS: I like the sound of your voice too.

(later that evening)

Y/n stared down at her phone and wondered if she was the biggest asshole on the planet.

She was never supposed to know who H was. Sure, she'd thought about it, had stayed up for hours thinking about who might be on the other side of their conversations. But it was all guessing and daydreaming. Y/n never actually thought she'd figure it out. Or that H would stand for Harry. As in Harry mother fucking Styles.

The person Y/n had been texting wasn't some serial killer or internet troll or some random person. He was one of the most popular names in pop culture right now. And not only that, they were in the same vicinity for the next few months while Five Seconds of Summer opened for One Direction.

When she heard H's voice, when she realized H was Harry, Y/n ran. She high-tailed it back to the tour bus, shooting a quick text to One Direction's stylist to tell her she wasn't feeling well and if she could take care of her band. Y/n pretended to be sick for a couple days while she hid on the tour bus. No one questioned it, but she did feel a little guilty for not doing the job she was paid to do.

But what was she supposed to do? The potential for running into Harry was extremely high. Y/n had no idea what she would do if they spoke and he came to the same realization as she had. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to handle the disappointment on Harry's face when he saw her and knew.

Pursing her lips, she typed out a new message.

(ten minutes from the last text)

J: do you ever think about us meeting?

(five minutes later)

HS: All the time.

J: you do?

HS: Of course. I mean it's hard not to.

J: do you...think you'd ever be disappointed by meeting me?

HS: Uh no?

HS: Is there a reason for this line of questioning?

J: no not really. just curious

HS: Somehow I feel like that's not true.

J: i don't know

J: i'm not sure why i'm in my head about this it's not like we'll actually meet

HS: You really think that?

J: do you think we ever would?

HS: I don't know.

HS: But I think I'd like to. One day.

J: you don't even know me!

HS: I do though!

HS: And you know me too!

HS: Where is all of this coming from?

J: i just think we should be realistic

J: i texted you by accident and we've become like modern day pen pals or something

HS: So you...don't want to meet me? Ever?

J: it's not about want it's about practicality. i just don't think talking about us in that way is smart

HS: You brought it up!

HS: And what do you mean by us?

(fifteen minutes later)

HS: Oh, so you're gonna ignore me now? Real mature.

HS: You're the one who brought all of this up you know.

HS: But you're probably right. I know I've been bothering you, but I think you had the right idea. I think we need a little space.

(one day later)

Harry was unreasonably irritated. Angry didn't seem like the right word, but nothing about his situation was normal.

June was technically right. This whole thing was ridiculous and nonsensical and completely impractical. There was no scenario where they would ever meet or...

Harry couldn't even think about it. Thinking about June like that...thinking about June at all outside of their messages was stupid. He didn't need to be thinking about her, about anyone that way.

So why was he so frustrated?

Maybe it was that June wrote him off so quickly and seemingly out of nowhere. It wasn't like they ever needed to talk about the obvious, which was that they'd probably never meet despite the fact that he'd grown fond of her. Harry was perfectly content to talk about whatever popped into his head or June's latest Tinder date—though that topic was slowly starting to grate on Harry for reasons he refused to admit. Now it was a jumbled mess.

With his head bent, Harry walked toward craft services. He pulled out his phone, looking at past conversations and willing himself not to send another one. June hadn't responded to him since his last message, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. On the one hand, it was what he'd asked for, but he still was itching to talk to her. Harry had grown used to expecting a quick response, had enjoyed June's wit and charming personality with each message she sent.

And now it was all weird and Harry's emotions were all over the place.

"Oof! Hey, watch where you're going!"

Harry glared down at the young woman who'd bumped into him—or who he'd bumped into, but he was too caught up in his own world to realize it. The young woman's eyes widened in shock as she stepped away from him. She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, but nothing came out. Maybe a little squeaking.

He'd seen her around before, but not much. Honestly, these days Harry was usually holed up somewhere on the bus or at the venue texting June. But he'd seen the back of her head as she scurried around, or at a table on her own during lunch as she scrolled on her phone. He was pretty sure she was Five Seconds of Summer's stylist, but he didn't know for sure.

Raising his eyes at her expectantly. Harry waited for her to say something. "Sorry," she said, barely said. She was so quiet, Harry could hardly hear it. She looked scared of him, which made him feel bad. He was in a mood, but he didn't want to make anyone feel terrified of him, and this girl looked like she was about to cry.

He tried to apologize, but she scurried off before he could. Harry watched her go and sighed. He couldn't wait to get onstage and forget about June and the texts and all the ways she made him feel things he wasn't supposed to feel.

(later that night)

HS: Are we okay?

J: i don't know

J: i think so

HS: I feel like I'm going crazy.

J: how so?

HS: All I've been able to think about is our last conversation. I don't want to not talk to you.

HS: Can I admit something?

J: of course

HS is typing...

HS: I want to hear your voice again.

(five minutes later)

HS: You know, for the first time I think I actually kind of sounded like a creep.

HS: I didn't mean it in a creepy way I promise.

J: i know what you meant

J: in every other circumstance it would raise a red flag

HS: But this time?

J: i think i just want to hear your voice again too

HS: Yeah?

J: i'm not going to say it again to boost your ego

HS: :((

J: you know, you say all the time that you don't date, but i have a feeling you like having your ego fluffed

HS: Who doesn't?

J: attention whore. that's what you are!

HS: That was mean >:(

J: i would like to make it known that i'm sticking my tongue out right now

HS: I'm flipping you off!

(five minutes later)

J: so we're okay?

HS: Yeah. We're okay.

(one day later)

J: are boys always filled with energy?

HS: I would say 90 percent of the time. Why?

J: my clients are just...a lot sometimes

J: very nice but a lot

J: like the brothers i never asked for

HS: Aw. Are they getting on your case about your bad taste in men now too?

J: you're not as funny as you think you are

J: and maybe

J: they tease me about the constant beeping of my phone. they want to know who i'm texting all the time

HS: And what do you say?

J: that i'm texting my boyfriend

J: i feel like it keeps them at bay

HS: Boyfriend huh?

J: oh hush

HS: Don't tell anyone, but I like the sound of that.

J: don't tell anyone but i do too

(two minutes later)

J: i feel like we're wandering into dangerous territory here

HS: Maybe.

HS: I'm not as bothered about it as I thought though.

J: no?

HS: Are you?

HS: Sorry. You don't have to answer that.

J: that's ok. i just don't know how i feel

J: not a cop out just the truth

HS: I believe you. Will you tell me when you do know?

J: of course

(later that night)

J: how does one acquire a new mother?

HS: Typically through divorce.

J: that won't work. my parents are miserable people together. kindred spirits

HS: what did she do this time?

J: it's stupid

HS: Not if it made you upset.

(ten minutes later)

HS: June?

J: sorry i was crying

HS is typing...

(one minute later)

Y/n's eyes widened at the incoming phone call on her screen. She knew she shouldn't have told him she was upset, but she needed someone to talk to, and somehow H had become the person she confided in.

Even then she didn't expect Harry to call her.

Hesitantly, Y/n picked up the phone. "H—Hello?"

"Why were you crying, June?"

"I'm fine, H, I promise—"

"No, you're not. I can still hear it in your voice. What's wrong?"

"I..." Was their first conversation really going to be her crying to H about her family drama? Y/n knew perfectly well that he probably had a million other things he could be doing. She was aware that both bands typically went out after shows. The boys of Five Seconds of Summer had tried to persuade her to go out numerous times, but she had yet to take the bait. Y/n was perfectly happy to lay in her bunk and text H, who she now realized might have been in a bunk of his own a couple buses over. The thought made her stomach feel fluttery and nauseous at the same time.

"My mom posted on Facebook about one of my cousins who just got married," Y/n explained. "And she said, or commented, or whatever that she was, 'so happy' and 'so proud' of the 'daughter she always wanted.'"

"Oh, June, I'm so sorry."

"It's fine, I swear it's fine," Y/n insisted, but even as she said it, she felt more tears begin to leak from her eyes. "I knew she was disappointed. Marriage is a huge deal in my family, and I didn't want—She called her the daughter she always wanted. What kind of mother says that?"

Y/n knew she was something of an outcast in her family, but she never thought her mom would say something like that, and so publicly. Facebook was her family's way of staying connected. This was a message for her entire extended family, not just Y/n.

"June, I—I don't even know what to say. That's horrible," H said.

"And you know what's the worst part?" Y/n asked. "Deep down I can't help but wonder if I should just settle down and get married like she wants me to because really, what am I doing here? I've been trying to make my way in this industry, but at what cost? My family has all but disowned me, I hardly have any friends because I live in a new town that just eats up my meager paychecks, and—"

"Hey," H said gently. "Do you really think you'd be happier back home with...with a husband at, what? 22?"

Y/n sniffled and rubbed her eye. "Probably, not, but—"

"And do you want this?" he asked.

"I thought I did."

"June. Do. You. Want. This?" he repeated.

He was the only person Y/n would admit it to. "I...I really do, H."

"Then go for it," he said. "I believe in you. In a year or two, everyone is going to want to work with you. You'll be the one turning people down."

"If only."

"Hey, that's not the voice of a confident woman. I need to hear confidence."

"H—"

"No, I need confidence. I can't be the only one believing in you here," H said, which made you smile despite the tear stains on your cheeks. "Do you need me to shout it? Because I will. Don't think I won't."

Y/n tried to stop him, but H proceeded to shout—to whom, she wasn't sure—that she was the best stylist and that she was the coolest person he knew and all sorts of nonsense that made her giggle and continually tell him to shut up.

"Okay. That's enough! Harry, that's—"

She stopped immediately. It was a slip of the tongue. Y/n had gotten caught up in the moment and his name just...it just came out. Her heart stopped and her hands began to shake, nearly making her drop her phone in her lap.

Y/n prayed that he missed it, that amidst all the laughing and shouting, H didn't hear it. But the minute his name left her lips, it was dead quiet.

"How do you know my name?" he asked. His voice wasn't lighthearted anymore. It was stone cold, closed off.

"I...I don't—"

"You do. You just said Harry. How do you know me? Have you known the whole time?"

"No! I didn't—I don't—"

"I can't believe this. I can't believe that I...that I let myself fall for this. You—You lied!"

"I didn't lie! I swear, I never—I never knew anything until..."

"Until what?" he shouted, and you flinched.

What was she supposed to say? That they were on tour together? Harry would definitely think she stalked him then. He was so angry, there was no way he would listen to reason right now.

"Until what, June?"

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice just above a whisper.

"Don't try to contact me again, or I'll call the police," he said harshly before hanging up.

Y/n could only stare down at her phone in disbelief.

(two days later)

Y/n decided to spend her days perusing thrift stores. Hiding, really.

Her first-ever clients as a stylist were pretty low-maintenance. When she met them for the first time and saw their scuffed-up sneakers and ripped jeans, Y/n knew she wouldn't be stretching her creativity pretty far. But her job was to find clothes that represented her clients' image, which was exactly what she did.

While everyone else on tour was doing who knew what, Y/n went to local thrift stores in search of vintage t-shirts and good quality jeans that would be easy to move around him. One time, she came back with a pair of gorgeous leather boots that she thought would be perfect for Luke, but he said outright that he wouldn't wear them. Boys, honestly.

It wasn't much, but they appreciated when she came back with cool band and graphic shirts. She sewed up holes and ripped new ones when she was asked. Y/n felt like Snow White sometimes, and the boys were her dwarfs, but they were nice and funny and kept her distracted, which she needed right now.

She was in a small thrift store in Oregon, a couple pieces on her arm—two flannels, a baseball tee, a t-shirt with Kurt Cobain on it, and a couple leather bracelets. Now that she'd been on tour with the wonderful members of Five Seconds of Summer, Y/n had an idea of what each member liked. They had very similar styles and often shared the clothes she picked out for them—which honestly made her life easier considering her smaller-than-small budget.

But she still thought about H, of course she did. There were times when she felt compelled to go up to him at the concert venue, or even his tour bus, but she feared that would just make things worse. He already thought she was a stalker, she wasn't going to make it worse by just...appearing right in front of him.

She didn't know what to do, but not doing anything made her heart hurt. Not talking to him made her heart hurt. Y/n couldn't believe that this was how their text friendship turned out. Of all the ways she imagined this thing ending, having Harry block her number and him virtually hating her.

"Just this today, hun?" the woman behind the counter asked when she brought the clothes up.

Y/n nodded. After her major slip up, she hadn't done much talking. She felt like a ghost, floating from place to place without a word until she could go back to her bus bunk and look at old messages. Y/n didn't really want to be on this tour anymore, but she couldn't bring herself to quit. She didn't have the energy.

Back at the new concert venue, Y/n went to the boys' dressing room. They crowded around her as she showed them the shirts and bracelets. "I can cut up the sleeves on some of them if you want," she said quietly.

"Really?"

"That'd be awesome!"

"Maybe a couple holes around the neck?"

"Do you think you could write 'IDIOT' on this one?"

Y/n had only been half-listening, but she looked over at Michael with her brows raised when he said that. "You want me to write what?"

"I don't know, I think it'd be cool. Don't you?"

All four of them looked to her at that. Since the tour started, the boys went to her for fashion advice. That was technically her job, but it felt like she suddenly had four younger brothers.

"Y—Yeah. Very punk rock. I'll get on that right now."

"You're the best, June!"

"I could kiss you!"

"Please don't," she said, shoulders tensing when they all squeezed her.

The four boys left her alone in search of food—because they were always hungry—and Y/n got to work. Or tried to. She was alone for all of two seconds before the door slammed open.

"Really? You fucking stalked your way onto this tour?"

It was the first time Y/n had seen Harry since the one time she bumped into him in the hallway a few days ago. Y/n thought he'd looked irritated then, but he looked downright furious now. His face was red and mouth turned into an angry frown. Y/n tried to speak, but she couldn't. She just kept staring at him, hoping the words to explain would come.

"I—It's not what you think—"

"You're sick! Sick in the head! I'm calling security. I can't believe this," he said, muttering the last part.

Sniffling, Y/n looked down at the clothes she was supposed to fix up for the boys. Her boys, she sometimes thought. She couldn't believe this was actually happening. Harry was in front of her, and he...he was calling security on her.

"You—You don't have to do that," she finally said. When she stood up, Harry stepped away from her. "I'll go. I swear. I know how this looks, and I know you won't believe me, but this is a coincidence. But...I'll go. You don't need to call security. I'll leave."

Y/n grabbed her things and the boys' clothes, not looking at Harry once. She couldn't handle seeing the look in his eyes. But she felt it. His glare burned his skin. She shuffled out of the room, head bent with her things in her hands. On her way out, she bumped into something. Someone.

"Woah, June. Is everything okay?"

It was Luke. He looked concerned, but she couldn't find it in him to explain. "I'm—I'm fine. I'm just going to finish this stuff up on the bus, okay? I'll have it done before the show."

Before he could say anything else, she left, trying to ignore what sounded like an argument starting in the room she'd vacated.

(three hours later)

Y/n was still on the tour bus fixing up the boys' clothes and waiting until it was time for her to leave for the airport. She knew she should've left right away, but she wanted to do this last thing. One last thing, and then she would be gone. It was almost time, and she'd finished cutting up the shirts, now she just needed to write the word 'IDIOT' on Michael's shirt. It was very fitting, Y/n felt like an absolute idiot for ever letting things get this far.

Still, she couldn't help but form a little smile as she sketched out the letters with a pencil. This job wasn't necessarily what Y/n had wanted, but it also wasn't what she initially expected. She liked the 5SOS guys, and she had to admit that there was something adventurous about going to a new city every few days. The point was, she liked it more than she thought she would, and now it was over.

(thirty minutes later)

Harry had been standing in front of the crew's tour bus for ten minutes. He wasn't sure if she was there, and he wasn't sure if he wanted her to be there. But he was standing in front of the bus door anyway, trying to decide if he was going to knock.

He'd been furious. Furious and alarmed and freaked out. When he'd gotten the first text from June, Harry immediately thought that she was some crazed fan who had somehow obtained his number. He slowly realized that wasn't the case, or so he thought. June had been lying this whole time, and not only that, she managed to become a crew member on tour.

When he heard her voice outside Five Seconds of Summer's dressing room, Harry was floored, and then he was scared, and then he was angry. Why couldn't people just leave him alone? It wasn't enough that he performed and gave all these little pieces of himself to the world. Why did everyone expect to give over all of himself?

And he talked to June about that at length, and he thought he was confiding in her, he thought they were sharing with each other. But she was...she was just lying to him.

And yet, she was still June. Months of texting and everything he felt didn't just evaporate because he discovered the truth. She was funny and charismatic and seemed to really like him, and he liked her too. A lot.

It was why he was at the bus. Harry wanted an explanation. He deserved that at least.

It took about a minute for the door to open after he knocked on it. She peeked her head out, watery red eyes surprised, and a little scared, to see him standing there. Mixed emotions flared in Harry's chest at the sight of her. Something squeezed his heart at finally putting a face to all the messages, to the girl he couldn't go more than a day without talking to. June was very pretty with a thick head of hair, high cheekbones, and pouty pink lips. Her nose was red, as if she'd been crying, and the part of Harry that cared about his friend hated seeing her like that, hated to know that this was how their first meeting was turning out. Harry had daydreamed about meeting June for the first time many times. A lot of times. None of his daydreams looked like this.

"Um, I promise I'm leaving. My flight is later tonight, and I just thought—It doesn't matter, I'll go."

Harry had met a good number of crazy fans over the years, and while he knew June was one of them, she seemed rather subdued. Instead of jumping him at any possible moment this entire tour, she minded her business and didn't try to talk to him once. Maybe he was believing in something he wanted to believe, but June didn't seem like the crazy stalker fan that she was.

"I want to talk. I want an explanation," he said.

June nodded, not opening the door any further but reaching her hand through the small crack. "I wrote it all down. I was going to give it to someone to give to you. It was the least I could do."

She didn't even want to talk to him? Was this all just an act to gain his sympathy? There was no way of knowing. If this was all one big con, June was a very good actress.

Harry took the note from June and unfolded it, reading it carefully.

H,

I just want to start off by saying that you have every right to be angry, I understand that I have betrayed your trust. And I have betrayed your trust, just not in the way that you might think.

I found out who you were a few days ago, it was why I was avoiding your texts. I'd overheard you talking to Michael and the other boys in their dressing room. It was right after we'd sent all our voice messages, and I just knew it was you who was behind the door. I couldn't quite believe it.

But I also didn't know how to tell you that I knew. I was shocked and confused...and to be honest I didn't know what to do with the information. I just...wasn't expecting you.

So I kept the secret for a little while I tried to figure out how to tell you, and...Well, you saw how that turned out.

I just want you to know that I had no idea who you were when we first started texting. I truly gave my number to some idiot that I slept with, and by some twist of fate, he gave me your number instead. I didn't want to text you, I didn't want to like you, I didn't...expect to share so much of myself with you. I know this is harder on you for so many reasons, and you are justified in not trusting me, but it was hard for me too. Part of me thought that if I told you and you saw me, really saw me, that you would be disappointed or not impressed or something like that. You mean meant mean a lot to me, and the thought of ruining our tentative friendship by us meeting scared me, so I foolishly thought I could avoid you the rest of the tour.

I'm sorry that you found out the way you did, and I'm sorry it caused you so much emotional pain. I know you probably won't trust anything I've said, but I hope this might help you understand. And with the hope that I don't come off as the obsessed stalker that you already think I am, I really did do like you, and all your secrets are safe with me, as I hope mine are with you.

All my love,

Yours,

Sincerely,

Best wishes,

June Bug

Harry looked read the letter once, then twice, then looked up at June, who was still hiding behind the bus door. It had closed that much more, like she was trying to shut him out.

He knew he had a right not to trust her, and part of him still didn't. But another him was pushing her toward him, drawing him to her. His gut was telling him to hear her out, that she was the June Bug from all of their messages.

His show was in a little over an hour. He had last minute things to do and pre-show rituals to complete, and he knew that people would start looking for him soon. But he didn't want to go.

"Can—Can I come in?" he found himself asking. "To talk?"

June's brows raised, like she wasn't quite expecting Harry to ask her that. Which was a valid thing to think, of course, but now he was hoping she would let him in. Or send him away so they could avoid a difficult conversation.

"Sure. Are you—Are you sure?" she asked him, thick brows furrowing. Harry would've found the wrinkle between them cute if it wasn't for the situation.

Was he sure? "Y—Yes."

Nodding, June opened the door further to let him inside. Harry's hand brushed against hers on his way past her, and she immediately recoiled. He ignored it, and looked down at her for the first time. Really looked at her.

She really was beautiful, there was no denying that. June had a kind face, one that held so much emotion in it. Harry felt like he could read every little feeling as it flitted across her face. And right now, she was looking at him like one word out of his mouth could make or break her. Unable to handle that kind of pressure, Harry focused on a little scar that cut into June's brow.

"Um, so obviously you're familiar with the layout of the bus. Do you want to sit at the couches in the back? Or the tables here, or we could just stand—"

"The couches are fine," Harry said.

“O��Okay. Couches it is."

June turned around and headed for the back of the bus, strands of her hair swishing with each step she took. Harry followed, wondering if he'd just made a huge mistake or was taking a risk worth taking.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

tags: @cookielovesbook-akie @sucker4angstt @l0v3e1i @bellesmith628 @marigold-morelli @obsessedmaggiemay @sophthearthoe

[genericpuff]

I've been seeing you say/speculate Rachel Smythe has been cut loose from webtoon, could you elaborate what you mean by that?

It's only a tinfoil hat theory that people should take with MOUNTAINS of salt (seriously, I'm more likely to believe that Rachel really is just done with LO), but there's a general suspicion that LO wasn't meant to end here and that Webtoons decided to cut the cord. I've made a post about it before but some new stuff has surfaced since then.

1.) The announcement the series was ending was made quietly at NYCC and not shared to either Webtoons' socials or Rachel's socials.

The only way fans initially knew about the series ending was through a screencap from the Discord where someone else who had been attending NYCC passed on the info from a Q&A that LO would be entering its final arc.

For a good while the only other way to know the series was ending was through the Discord, a Cosmopolitan article, and my own post.

Though it sounds odd for a series to get cancelled halfway through its third season, it's not uncommon for Webtoons to suddenly axe series while they're on their midseason hiatuses, it's happened before. So there's a general suspicion that Rachel may have found out during NYCC that LO would only be given one more arc.

2.) The actual finale announcement was made in a text post on Instagram that suddenly announced it would be ending on May 11th, despite the fact that there was still lots to wrap up in the story.

What this implies is that Rachel was given one more arc, with no concrete end date... until Webtoons told her to wrap it up in a limited number of episodes, hence why despite us knowing it was in its final arc, the end date still felt too soon. This is also supported by the fact that her initial announcement was vaguely "early/mid 2024" - she couldn't give a more accurate end date because she didn't plan for the actual ending.

3.) Things that Rachel has said implies that she was either hoping for the final arc to go on longer, or that she didn't think LO was going to be ending now.

(that "nothing is set in stone" quote further supports the theory that she may have been hoping to get renewed in spite of the lukewarm ending announcement - that the only reason the announcement was so quiet was because WT hadn't fully committed to it yet and wanted to see how the series would do upon its return; now that they see it falling behind to other series, it might mean WT became more sure in their decision to cut it and gave her an actual deadline to wrap it up by.)

4.) Webtoons has stopped promoting Lore Olympus despite it ending.

Any promotional spots that it has gotten have been stuffed into the dead zone of the banner reels (seriously, anything past the 3rd spot is practically useless because it takes actual committed scrolling to get there vs. the first 1-3 banner spots which can be seen as soon as you open the app/site) and the banner art itself does not in any way advertise the series being in its final arc. These banners also only seem to be appearing for a day at most, compared to the days upwards of weeks they used to get.

Webtoons also hasn't been doing any sort of promoting on their socials for it. Considering The Mafia Nanny has been consistently beating out LO in the top rankings for weeks now, and that LO's rating and view count is still dropping, it appears that Webtoons has finally given up on shoving it down people's throats and put their focus elsewhere.

Again, this is all tinfoil hat speculation, so take it with massive doses of salt. Considering this is Webtoons, I wouldn't be surprised if they finally decided to put LO out of its misery, but this is also Rachel and I wouldn't blame her in the slightest if she finally wanted to be done with it after the past two years of people clowning on it. And I say that knowing I, myself, am a clown LOL

Either way, I feel like either outcome is plausible in its own ways, but whatever is the true reason, it doesn't change the fact that LO is ending and has 3 episodes left to wrap itself up. And whatever comes after will likely involve the launch of Inklore which was estimated for the spring.

[cafedanslanuit]

♡   —   pairing: bachira x reader

♡   —   tags/warnings: gn reader + no pronouns, lots of heavy teasing and joking, suggestive themes, pro football player bachira, isagi chigiri and kuni are there too, established relationship, comedy, fluff, feel-good fic

♡   —   words: 1k

♡   —   a/n: hello tumblr i'm baaaaasck!!! and with a story of meguru my beloved of course. i'm happy to come back with a feel-good fic. i love soft readers with bachira but i need him with a freak!!! someone needs to match his freak and this reader is about to do just that hehe. mwah mwah kisses for u all

♡   —  masterlist

"If you had to pick someone for me to fuck, who would you choose?"

You hum, already used to Bachira's random questions. Tapping your fingers on the wheel, you enter the highway as you give yourself a moment to consider your answer under his expecting gaze.

"You know, that's actually a good question," you admit with a chuckle.

"It is, right?" he grins, taking a sip of his drink, a refresher he got at the coffee drive-through he asked you to stop by as soon as you picked him up from the airport. "I was wondering about it on the plane."

"Of course you were," you tease.

"Hey! It was a long flight. I had already watched a movie and the guys were asleep," he justified himself.

"Ah, gimme." At your request, Bachira holds his drink up, the straw next to your mouth so you can sip on it. "Thank you, baby."

Bachira presses a kiss on your cheek. "So?" he insists.

"Okay, okay, before I answer I must know this,” you say, loving how he shifts on the passenger seat, eagerly awaiting for your question. “Do I get to watch?"

"Of course,” he shrugs. “ Would be rude not to let you.”

"True, true," you hum. "So, I would go with…"

A pause, for the sake of dramatic effect.

"Kaiser."

"Kaiser!?" he almost shouts, almost dropping his drink. "That's so weird, baby."

"I know," you laugh. "That's why I wanna see it happen, it would be so damn weird. I mean, either him or Reo. Both of them are very pretty."

"True, true," he sings, putting his now empty drink on your car’s cup holder and then bending his arms behind his head.

"And you?” you continue. “Who would you want me to fuck?"

Bachira’s eyes flicker with mischief at your question, shooting you a teasing grin before you look back to the road again.

"I think you'd go for Chigirin. And just because of that, I'm not gonna choose him," he says, sticking his tongue out to you.

You cackle out loud and Bachira can't help but look at you warmly. "Damn, okay― fair, I guess. If not him, then who?"

"Isagi. Definitely,” he answered in a heartbeat.

"I think that's more for you than it is for me," you tease, sparing him a playful glance, to which he laughs like a little kid, making your heart jump. "It's okay, baby,” you egg him on. “I'd make sure to put on a good show for you. Maybe even―"

"Can you guys stop being fucking weird for one second?"

Bachira turned to the backseat while you chuckled to yourself, your eyes on the road. Chigiri looked back at his teammate with an irritated gaze in between a flustered Isagi and Kunigami, who was doing his best to stifle a laugh.

“Isagi is about to throw himself out of the window,” Chigiri continued, gesturing to his friend, who opted to look away with rose-tinted cheeks, a nervous chuckle leaving his lips.

“I just never got used to them being so blunt about it.”

“See? He’s doing fine! You’re so dramatic,” you sigh in a playful tone. Turning to your boyfriend, you continue. “I think Chigiri's mad you didn't choose him for me.”

“What?! I’m not―”

“Fiiiine, you can have Chigirin,” Bachira said in an over-the-top dejected voice.

“I should've just taken a cab.”

“I’m sorry, we’ll stop,” you laugh, sparing a glance at Chigiri.

"I forgot how hanging out with you guys it's like having a double dose of Bachira," he sighed. Bachira turned to him and stuck out his tongue.

You chuckled. "Well, I mean, it is my new last name. Gotta play the part, right?"

"You truly don't look like newlyweds."

Your eyes flicker to the rearview mirror and find Kunigami's gaze on you.

"Ooh, harsh!" you whistle. "Didn't expect it from you."

His eyes widened slightly. "I mean it in a good way!" he assured you. "You look like you've been married for ten years or something."

A grin formed on your face and you turned to look at Bachira, who already had his eyes set on you. You put your hand on his thigh and squeezed gently.

"I mean, that's the goal right?" you asked, feeling your cheeks warm up. Bachira blew you a kiss before you looked back at the road once more.

"Man, only ten years? I was hoping for more."

"Nope, only ten, I'm throwing you out after that."

"Fine, I guess I'll move on with Isagi."

The car filled with the sound of both your laughter, paired with a couple of pained groans.

Maybe they had a point. You were well aware your relationship with Bachira was quite unusual. From the numerous trips abroad he had to make, plus the time he dedicated to football and the constant exposure to the media the both of you were under, perhaps the only traditional thing between you was your marriage― and even so, it could be labelled as an understatement. You did rent a theme park to host your wedding reception, after all.

Nevertheless, even with the endless teasing and scrutinising eyes of others, there was something rather simple in the way he made you feel. From the first moment he smiled at you, the thought that you were going to fall in love with him never left your mind. It was only proven right as the months and years followed and you found your heart still fluttering at each of his laughs.

He had a way of being, of existing , that made each day seem a little brighter. Loving and being loved by him was a gift you never took for granted and, given the way his fingers tenderly caressed your face when he thought you were asleep, it seemed he felt exactly the same.

As you continued driving, you listened to Bachira and the boys continue their chat, this time about one of their last matches. Just as you were trying to decide which route would be best to drop each of them at their places, your husband took the hand that was still on his thigh and rose it to his mouth, leaving a small kiss on it. Grinning, you blew him a kiss, already excited about reaching home and spending some quality time with him.

You truly hoped that, in ten years time, you were still this excited for ten years more.

[oliversrarebooks]

corporate retreat 3/4

Previous > Masterlist > Next

tw: brainwashing, drugging, dehumanization, hypnosis, amnesia

"Quinn? Can you open your eyes for me, please?"

Somehow, they managed to get their eyes cracked slightly open. The lights in the room had mercifully been dimmed, and everything seemed fuzzy and indistinct.

"Good. Follow the penlight with your eyes, please."

Quinn did their best, but it all seemed like a big confusing blur.

"Reactions very slow but perceptible. Subject just barely able to respond to stimuli. Twilight sleep state achieved. Based on the results of the tests and their psychological makeup… recommend… and fifty milliliters… around two hours…"

Quinn felt the mask being taken off their face, and the cool rush of fresh air untainted by sedatives was a relief. They cracked their eyes open again as their arm was grasped by one of the assistants. She wiped the inside of their elbow with a cotton swab soaked in cool liquid, and then began to insert an IV line. They were still far too out of it, their limbs much too heavy, to resist.

The IV line was attached to a big bag of light blue fluid. Quinn watched as the drug went drip-drip-drip down the tube and into their arm. The assistant used the IV port to inject a dose of what looked like the same drug.

"We'll give you a little time to adjust to the new medication," said Dr. Moon. "You can just relax."

They assumed they were going to be put back to sleep, but instead they just lay there, staring at the slow drip of blue liquid, in a kind of tranquilized daze. Whatever this new drug was, it wasn't bad. They couldn't remember the last time they had felt so peaceful. Actually, they were feeling pretty good. The all-consuming sleepiness they'd felt from the gas had melted away into a drowsy calm, and their thoughts were gradually returning.

"Quinn? Are you awake? How are you feeling?"

Quinn turned lazily to Dr. Moon. "Good. Really, really drowsy… but good," they said.

"That's excellent to hear," Dr. Moon said. "You're on the good stuff now. We gathered enough data to understand how best to adjust your mind."

"The good stuff…" Quinn's gaze traveled back to the IV line. "What is it?"

"We like to call it cleaning fluid -- but don't be alarmed. It's a nickname, because it's for washing your brain." She laughed. "We have many different components we can use to make it. It's highly customized for the individual, their needs, and our needs."

They really couldn't have been alarmed even if they tried. "What's in mine?"

"Cleaning fluid always starts with Influence Serum. That's our proprietary control medication that removes your mental defenses and inhibitions and increases suggestibility, leaving your mind delightfully pliant and malleable. Then we add Liquid Lullaby -- that's what's keeping you drowsy and docile," she explained. "Your custom mixture also has Pacifier, our anti-anxiety agent, and a little False Paradise, to induce mild euphoria. Plus a few interesting other traces."

"That seems like… a lot of drugs."

"Don't worry, it's especially formulated for you, and completely harmless," she said. "You were so anxious coming here, weren't you?"

"Yeah," they agreed without hesitation.

"And you seem so exhausted. Aren't you exhausted from all the work you do?"

"Yeah, I am."

"And I bet you're so tired of thinking, too. Solving problems. Making decisions. Your poor, tired mind needs a break from all of that."

She was right, that sounded heavenly. What had they even been so worried about? The Brainwashing Department was so nice, and Dr. Moon was so friendly and helpful. "Yeah, I guess I really did need a break." They relaxed into the comfortable chair, resting their arm with the IV on the armrest. Dr. Moon was right. These drugs really were the good stuff.

"Well, it's a good thing you've got a month long vacation, then, isn't it?" said Dr. Moon.

Quinn smiled. "I can't believe it, but I'm actually glad I came here."

"Oh, that's just so lovely to hear you say! I really do think we do great work here. We help people," she said. "And I've got another treat in store for you."

"Oh? What is it?"

"I'm going to turn on the screen and you're going to watch a fun movie for the next couple of hours. It's going to hypnotize you and help you be so obedient. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Um…" Quinn furrowed their brows. They dimly remembered that they hadn't wanted that, but they didn't really feel like making a fuss when instead they could just relax in a blissful daze.

"Great, let's get you all situated." Dr. Moon reclined their chair a little bit more, then turned on the screen and placed it in front of Quinn's face.

The screen burst to life with a pulsating rainbow spiral, one that drew Quinn's eyes right to the center as the colors shifted and swirled. They couldn't look away. They didn't want to. Something about it was so, so… compelling… like it was the greatest and most fascinating thing Quinn had ever seen, like they could watch it forever.

"There we go. Just watch the spiral. You're too sleepy to resist, aren't you?"

"I'm… I'm not…"

"Oh yes you are. You're much too sleepy to resist."

"I'm… too sleepy to resist…" Quinn heard themself agree.

"The spiral is going to open your mind up very nicely," she said. "You're going to keep your heavy eyes open and watch the spiral, but your mind is going to go to sleep, okay? Deep, deep sleep… a deep hypnotic sleep where you can listen and absorb everything."

They could feel it. They could feel themselves falling asleep in the heart of the pulsating spiral. "I can listen…"

"So obedient, aren't you? Just like you should be. What an excellent subject."

Quinn couldn't help but smile. "…Thank you…"

"Oh, you like the praise, don't you? You're the type that wants to get a good grade in being brainwashed."

It felt like so long since they'd done anything right, really. "Yeah…"

Dr. Moon draped a warm blanket over Quinn's body. "Then be a good little test subject for me, stare in to the pretty spiral, and let yourself be hypnotized."

Quinn nodded slowly. They didn't want to do anything else. They felt a pair of headphones being slipped over their ears. Through them, they could hear soft music playing and Dr. Moon's voice coaxing them to fall asleep, to be obedient and docile, to love the experience of being brainwashed.

They were much, much too sleepy to resist. Besides, they wanted to please Dr. Moon.

They should just listen, let Dr. Moon do all the thinking for them, and fall deep into trance.

"Sleep and obey…" they heard their own voice saying. "Deeper asleep and deeper entranced… too sleepy to resist… I love being brainwashed… I must obey Dr. Moon…"

Their eyelids were getting heavier again, the entrancing spiral a colorful blur, as they repeated the mantras and fell so deep into hypnotic sleep.

They weren't sure how long they remained there, eyes half-open, staring into the spiral. Time seemed to have no meaning. It could've been five minutes and it could've been five months.

"…so happy that you were brainwashed. Three. You'll be docile and obedient. Two. You'll be relaxed and refreshed. And one. You can open your eyes and wake."

Quinn opened their eyes just as the screen turned off, yawning and rubbing the sleep from their eyes. They felt so, so utterly relaxed, like they'd just had the world's finest spa treatment. Like that was the first really good sleep they'd had in years.

They were still in their chair in the clinical room. The machines were quietly beeping, and the bag of drugs attached to the IV looked mostly empty. They were more than content to just rest for a while and see what would happen next, floating in a cloud of bliss.

It didn't take long before Dr. Moon entered. "Why, hello Quinn. Welcome back to the waking world. Did you have a good nap?"

"The best," they said. "I feel amazing."

"Oh, I'm so glad. You really needed that sleep and mental readjustment," said Dr. Moon. "Here, have some water and a nutrition bar."

Quinn eagerly took the food and water. It hadn't really been something they had thought about, but they actually were hungry.

"Did you enjoy the movie?" asked Dr. Moon.

"It was wonderful," said Quinn. "It feels so right to be hypnotized and not have to think for myself. I didn't realize how badly I needed that."

"Oh, you're such a model subject. I think you might be one of my favorites," said Dr. Moon as Quinn beamed in pride. "You're taking to the brainwashing so, so well. I agree, I really think it's exactly what you needed. And you're going to get another round with a new movie -- but first I wanted to give you a little break."

"Thank you," said Quinn through a mouthful of nutrition bar. They couldn't wait to see what the new movie would be like.

"First, though…" Dr. Moon nonchalantly pulled a capped syringe from her lab coat pocket, injecting the contents into the IV line. "We call this one Loose Lips. It's a truth serum. You're probably too hypnotized to really need it, but I want to make sure you're completely honest with me when I ask you embarrassing and invasive questions about your personal life."

Quinn nodded. "That makes sense."

"First off, how do you feel about your boss?"

They frowned, annoyance just barely managing to push through their drugged calm. "She's driving me insane with their unreasonable demands. She's constantly calling me in to work on nights and weekends because we're so short-staffed, and then she acts like it's my fault that I'm burned out. She wastes my time with boring, pointless meetings, and when there's some kind of problem, she micromanages me and keeps asking for status updates when I just need to concentrate on fixing it." The grievances poured out of their mouth easily.

"That sounds really rough," said Dr. Moon sympathetically. "You should tell me everything you know about your boss. I'm very interested. And after that, maybe you can tell me all about your insecurities, secret fantasies, and embarrassing fetishes."

"Sure!" said Quinn, so eager to be obedient and useful.

Dr. Moon questioned Quinn for a while, and Quinn found that they could answer all of their questions easily and in great depth without a hint of shame. It was really nice to be able to speak so freely. Dr. Moon was such a kind, understanding person.

"You've done so well for me," said Dr. Moon. "I couldn't ask for a better test subject. I think it's time for you to get another round of brainwashing, don't you think?"

"Yes, please!" said Quinn with a big smile. "I'm so lucky that I get to spend an entire month in the Brainwashing Department. Do you think I could transfer permanently?"

"I think that would be an excellent idea. We'll see. But for now, I need to change out your IV medication, okay?" Dr. Moon switched the nearly empty bag for a full one. "This formulation is a little different. I've reduced the Liquid Lullaby and added a little River Lethe. That's our best and most gentle amnestic -- a medication that interferes with memory formation and produces amnesia."

"Amnesia…?" said Quinn, feeling a strange bit of anxiety, the first they'd felt since waking.

"You'll be less sleepy this time, but don't worry, you'll be every bit as hypnotized and blissed-out. You're not going to remember the next few hours, though. You probably won't remember much of this conversation, either," said Dr. Moon. "This new medication will leave you feeling pretty fuzzy for a while after your treatment, too. Is all of that okay with you?"

The anxiety was dissolved by their desire to please the doctor. "Of course it's okay. Whatever you think is best." The new drug was already dripping steadily into their veins. It was strange to think that it was already at work in their brain, that they wouldn't be able to remember any of this.

"Then you can just sit back and enjoy your new favorite TV show," said Dr. Moon, turning the screen on again. This time, it was a scene of slow moving clouds floating by.

Quinn barely noticed when Dr. Moon dimmed the lights and left the room, the drugs and the voices in their headphones already turning their mind into useless mush, fit only to listen and obey. After all, they were so sleepy, and the hypnotic program was far too good to resist.

Previous > Masterlist > Next

[turning-monday-blue]

I don't know why we never thought to do this before.

Hell, we even keep the ropes next to the gum. The idea was staring us in the face all along.

I kneel on the bed and she slides in behind me, looping the bight under my tits. I close my eyes, trying to shut out everything but the feel of the hemp as she pulls it over my shoulders and around my back. She's tying things a little loose, and it feels weird, but it's probably better that way.

She pats my butt to let me know that she's finished, and I pop up to my knees to give her room to tie a harness around my hips. She fumbles and swears to herself a couple of times, and then swings around in front of me.

"I need you to lay back," she says, before playfully shoving me backwards. I let myself topple, and she continues webbing me with rope. I guess looser ties don't fight gravity very well. Won't be a problem for too long, I think to myself.

"Okay," she says, tying off my hips, "open up."

I let her slip the half-piece of gum in my mouth, but then I think about refusing to chew. What, after all, would be brattier than not playing along? What if I just took my toys and went home? Unfortunately, she's already bound my ankles to the bed, legs spread wide apart, so I have room to grow.

She slides up and looks me in the eye. "Chew."

I do what I'm told.

The flavor is always way too intense starting out, almost chemical, in a way. Its' like when they get the mix wrong in the slushy machine and it's all syrup. Cloying, too sweet, too bright, too fruity. It's hard not to drool blue all over the pillows, but I know better than to actually misbehave.

Like clockwork, as the flavor begins to mellow I feel the telltale warmth deep in my belly. Chewing was a chore before, now it becomes compulsive, thoughtless.

When people write stories about things like this, especially people who've never been through it, they always go on and on about the pressure and the fear and the intensity, but it's never been like that for me.

It does feel incredible, though. They get that part right.

The warmth grows inside me, filling me up, and, when it runs out of room, I begin to grow. I start to lose myself in the feeling of swelling around the juice inside me, when the ropes begin to pull tight across my belly.

I don't mean to, but I arch back and moan deeply, letting a little rivulet of blue dribble onto the pillows. Oops. She chuckles, and we both know I'll pay for ruining her linens yet again.

The feeling is so sharp now, and I lose my mind a little as my skin begins to fight against the hemp. The warmth spreads outward from my middle, spilling into my thighs and my chest, filling everything it can find.

I can feel the knots all over me begin to pull tight as I fill out the webs of rope. I spill out of the gap between the harnesses, and the little part of me that still feels human is silently grateful that we started with something small and easy. The other part of me, the one that's taking over, wants to be squeezed like overripe fruit through fine mesh until there's nothing left but a small ocean of dark blue juice. That's new.

I start to puff through the voids in the harnesses, the cool sensation of the air against my taut skin colliding with the burning where the ropes are holding me back. I start to wonder whether they'll break before I do, but I put that thought away. My breasts are swelling faster than they normally do, even though I only have half a dose in me. They start to obscure my view of things happening lower down, but not before I see her climb in between my swelling thighs.

It's way too soon for me to be leaking, but I feel her tongue against me, and I convulse. soon enough she reappears, mouth stained blue with a look in her eye like I've probably ruined another mattress.

The gum is flavorless now, but I keep chewing. She hasn't told me to stop yet. Still, I feel the growth slow to a crawl. The warmth begins to dissipate, so I give my arms and legs a cursory wiggle.

I'm so full, and still tied down, but I can tell that I'm not round enough. I can't help it. Somewhere, far away in my brain, I know this is a test run, but I keep chewing so frantically, hoping to swell just a little bit more. I almost want to cry.

I'm supposed to be a giant, juicy balloon, not this weird little excuse for an adult human woman.

I guess she can feel my desperate fidgeting, because she crawls up and lays beside me.

"Hey, big girl," she says, wiping bright blue tears off my cheek. "I know you want more, but I think we need to juice you. These ropes look about ready to goosh you to pieces."

I want to say "Let them!" but I know that's the juice talking.

"I know," she says, like she's reading my mind. "It's not fair, but we need to be safe."

I pout harder.

She knows better than to negotiate with terrorists, though. "What are you going to do about it?" she asks, feigning innocence. "You're tied down tight, and too juicy to move." She reaches over, grabs one move my engorged nipples, and squeezes hard. Dark blue juice sprays the wall behind her as I yowl in ecstasy. "Oh no, are you going to squirt on me until I do what you want?" she asks, squeezing again.

"Just cut the ropes off," I beg, trying to think of anything that might free me up to grow safely.

"Sorry, babe," she says, genuinely apologetic. "The rope's too tight now. I don't think I could get the scissors in there without risking popping you."

"I'm going to juice you," she says. "Do you want business, or pleasure?"

I'm too frustrated to cum right now, stuck like I am between one self and another. "Business," I mumble. Fuck orgasms. I'd rather just get this over with.

She smiles gently, and scrambles up onto my massive belly, and grabs a nipple in each hand. Her weight feels amazing, and as she starts to milk giant spurts of juice out of my breasts, back and forth, back and forth, I realize that business may lead to pleasure regardless of how I feel.

Her whole body is swaying with the rhythm of her arms, and I feel a different kind of warmth start to build between my swollen thighs. I can feel every inch of the hemp biting into me, pulling me in so many directions. It feels so good to be her balloon, letting her tease and squeeze as she pleases.

I'm taken completely by surprise when I cum suddenly and violently. I can tell she is, too, because she falls off my quaking body backwards, getting doused by the juice gushing out of me. I'm absorbed by the orgasm wracking my body, and time loses meaning for a little while.

When I come to, panting, I realize that she's nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, I'm small enough now to slip out of the ropes around my wrists and ankles. I sit bolt upright, or, as bolt as I can at least. The residual juice is going to weigh me down a little until my body can process it naturally.

I call her name.

"Down here," says a stunned voice. I look over the foot of the bed.

She's laying there, eyes wide in shock, absolutely drenched in blue.

"Wow," she says.

"Are you okay?" I ask, scrambling to offer her a puffy, light blue hand.

"Look," she says, taking my hand, "that was so much fun, really."

"But?" I ask, trying not to hold my breath.

"... but we have got to find a way to do this that doesn't change my hair color."

[genderqueerdykes]

I (21 AFAB) honestly feel like my femininity is more like transfemininity than cisfemininity. I'm autistic and intersex(ish? I've got hypoestrogenism) and spent a lot of my life (10 to 20) identifying as transmasculine. I've had top surgery and I was on testosterone around 3 years. I was cis male passing at 14 and 15, and again at 19 through...uhh... now sorta. I still pass as a young man (although people might think I'm a trans boymoder) if I speak in "guy" voice. I'm seen as female enough to not have any issues in women's restrooms since I started using them, but I stay quiet and use the men's room if I look too masc. I identify I guess as a girl, but not as a cisgender one, and not in the way that a binary woman would call herself one. I also identify as androgynous (or an androgyne). I'm submitting this ask sort of hoping that it makes sense how I feel connected to transfemininity and not cisfemininity. I'm also wondering if anyone else feels the same?

heya! that's actually almost exactly my experience, and many other peoples'. i've been wanting to explain this for a really long time so i hope this will make sense

often times when someone afab or transmasculine transitions and either pauses or stays on a lowish dose of T, our genders get garbled in the eyes of strangers. i don't know how to say it any other way than: often times when trans people who have taken testosterone for long enough have gotten deep voices, 'masc' faces, facial hair, etc. are dressed in a feminine way they will get read as a transfeminine person. like this is an extremely common phenomenon

we instantly become fags and "those type of girls". like it really doesn't take much for queerphobes to perk up. a little 'gay/tranny voice'. a little too limp wristed. when they see strong jaws, Adam's apples, strong cheekbones, and long hair they assume MtF. if the trans person is packing or had phallo things can escalate further, especially if they have breasts.

it's poetic and a bit silly but sometimes people's experiences are so deviated from the standard definition of "man" "male" "female" "woman" that they have to, in a way, transition into that identity for the first time. a lot of intersex people, poc, gender non conforming, people, gay folks, non binary people, lesbians and butches have gotten heavily misgendered as children. sometimes you just were not allowed to be that gender you were assigned at first and it's okay if you feel you're transitioning into that, especially given where you're coming from and where you're headed

i identify as transfemme for many reasons, but this is one of them. i was NOT allowed to be a girl as a child. i was deemed too masc. my nose was too big. my hooded eyes were too masc. i didn't wear flowery or feminine clothing. i acted like a boy. i had a very shitty haircut because my hair was causing me dysphoria. my mom kept calling me butch and a bulldyke. nobody saw me as a girl. i never was one until i transitioned into womanhood as an adult. there i found out i love being a butch woman- but i've had to fight for it.

i also use androgynous and androgyne :)

it's okay if you feel like youre headed on that path. i have met so many people who fall under this umbrella of experiences. many people use transfemasc or transmascfem, some people just call themselves whatever. folks who feel the same feel free to share input. thanks for stopping by, let us know if you need anything else

[frodo-with-glasses]

Where have you been?

Uhhh, France?

(That’s a Hamilton reference, btw. I have never been to France.)

So! Another Hobbit Day is upon us. On this day last year, I’d promised you all that we would take another trek through LotR, with all new drawings and poems and fanfics. I fully expected to be finished with Book One by now, at least halfway through FotR. What actually happened is that the blog struggled through the first five and a half chapters of the book before suddenly going radio silent.

So what happened?

Well, as you might expect, real life happened. I won't go into the details here—since it has nothing to do with LotR—but I can explain in DMs if anyone is interested.

Basically, a change in my family led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about my family, which led to a reexamination of what I thought I knew about myself, which kicked off an intense period of self-improvement.

Over the course of this past year, I began to unpack my family's abuse; I learned about boundaries; I started to unlearn my old people-pleasing tendencies; I reconnected relationships that were broken, reevaluated ones that were in the wrong place, and cut off ones that weren't good for me. I discovered there was a little kid in my head who's been waiting years and years for an adult to love her, and to take her needs seriously, and I finally have the chance to be that adult. And I'm happy to say that I've come to a place where I feel safer in my own head than I have ever been.

Probably very little of that is going to show through on this blog. It's all inward stuff; foundational stuff. But one thing that might affect you guys is that I left my (dreadfully overstimulating and stressful) part-time job, and I'm now working full time somewhere else. As much as I love what I do for a living now, working 40 hours a week does mean that I am become Boring Adult who does not have as much time for interneting. With my current schedule, there is no way I'd be able to sustain the intense schedule of "must post one drawing a day" that I had in the early days of this blog; and I don't expect myself to.

But! I would like to—slowly—get this train rolling again.

I find it hilariously apropos that the last piece of art I posted on this blog was of Frodo suddenly disappearing. From Merry's perspective, he completely vanished without explanation or warning. From your perspective, so did I.

But I find myself here again, on another September 22nd, and once again I'm beginning to feel that pull; that pull to read, and draw, and create, and share, and laugh with all of you. Life has calmed down enough for me that I once again have the mental space to think about pursuing my hobbies. There are so many things I want to do—so much to do with the time that is given to me. And I want this blog to be on that list.

My current goal is to post some new book art every other day. If that's too much, I'll adjust it. But if I find my groove and really get into it, who knows? We might return to your regularly scheduled Daily Dose of Frodo-With-Glasses. We shall have to see.

Anyway. If you've read this far, thank you! If you've stuck with this blog since the early days, thank you. And if you are one of that lovely core Fellowship that has had my back and prayed for me all along, I cannot thank you enough.

This past year has been an absolute ride. Not as difficult as a trek to Mordor, maybe, but not easy either. But no matter where I walked, I knew I didn't have to take the journey alone.

Anyway! Enough sappiness. Happy Hobbit Day! I'm excited to see what the next year has in store for us. 💚

[creative-clawmarks]

Longass Vampire AU Loredump

I feel I should preface this with the most important fact of this AU: supernatural beings are not actually a part of this world.

What I mean by this is there is no secret society of vampires, there is no chapter in the medical books on lycanthropy, and ghost hunters still have not found conclusive evidence. As far as you or I or anyone else knows the cast of MH are the only things like them in existence.

Because the Operator did this to them.

It's a parasite, and its strategy is to make people into predators then mop up the trail of bodies they leave behind.

As for why their monstrosity takes the specific forms it does? The Watsonian Explanation is that we will never really know, such things are beyond people's understanding. The Doyalist Explanation is that I have taken the character's metaphorical roles and made them literal to give myself an excuse to draw sharp teeth.

With that out of the way, here's what these freaks are actually capable of:

Alex (Vampire):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural speed, and unbeating heart. Probably immortal but I guess now we'll never know.

Drinks blood, of course. But I like my vamps fucked up so there's a good dose of gory cannibalism for flavor.

He won't combust in the sun or anything, but his skin is especially sensitive to heat and his eyes are especially sensitive to light.

Heightened hearing, he could hunt someone down with his eyes closed just by tracking their heartbeat.

Venomous, specifically paralytic toxins. Once he's bitten you there's no running away, you're basically screwed.

Fangs and claws are retractable. I also gave him a forked tongue because he's like a terrarium snake to me :)

"Once more I have seen the director go out in his lizard fashion."

He can purr. Because I know what the people want.

Tim (Werewolf):

Standard package of fast healing, unnatural strength, and canine features. Would rather not think about whether or not he's immortal.

Does not hunger for human flesh. If given the opportunity he might maul a deer tho.

Burned by the touch of silver. He also personally thinks wolfsbane is gross but that's unrelated.

When in human form he's mostly that, human. Sure his senses are sharper and he can grow out his teeth and claws a little bit but otherwise he's normal.

When in wolf form, on the other hand, he is DANGEROUS. I'm talking bite through steel tear you in half only thing that can stop him is a silver bullet dangerous.

The wolf form is analogous to Masky in this AU, as in he turns against his will whenever he's threatened or misses a dose and he won't remember much whenever he eventually turns back.

The only time he can change under his own power with his mind intact is during the full moon. He looks forward to it every month because without the threat of loosing control being a wolf is rad actually.

If you scratch him under the chin he goes boneless. Doesn't matter what form he's in.

Brian (Ghost):

Standard package of walk through walls, disappear, and fly. I don't think the term immortal applies to this situation tho...

You know the excuse that ghost don't just physically manifest cuz they don't have enough energy for it? Yeah he's so incandescently pissed that he's tangible more often than not.

Its actually kind of the opposite conundrum where he has to focus and calm down to actually use his ghostly abilities.

Salt circles will totally work on him, but good luck catching him first lol.

Even if you can't see him you can still sort of feel his presence, the room will get colder and the shadows will get deeper.

If you catch him on a bad day he can pull some Poltergeist TM level shenanigans.

Can't really communicate like he used to, his mind is too broken and detached from what it once was. That's why all the ToTheArk videos look like that.

If you were to put a spirit box in the room with him all you would hear coming out of it is his death screams on loop.

Jay (Mortal):

He's just a guy lol, poor bastard doesn't stand a chance.

Why yes, he has read Twilight. Why do you ask?

[ryker-writes]

if you want, can you do a thing where the reader has a habit of scratching skin till it bleeds. It's a habit I have and do when anxious, yes it hurts but pain makes it easier to ignore thoughts about what ever is causing me anxiety. Also god forbid they have have acne of any bump in their skin cause that can and will be scratch off. This scratching dose leave scaring and they do it constantly cause this world is unfamiliar and magical so lord knows what could happen to you. You can use any characters you like tho I would like Vil for obvious reasons. If you do make this then thank you and have a fulfilling life.

of course dear anon! I can relate to this one a little bit because I have a lot of anxiety myself and used to do something similar. I don't do it much anymore so there's no need to worry, but I do encourage you to find a different way of ignoring the anxiety and/or seeking help fir anxiety. Anxiety is a very tough thing to deal with and if you need to talk to somebody about it, I will gladly listen <3

I decided to add some of my favorite TWST boys to this so apart from Vil, there's also Malleus, Silver, and Leona

Request rules and Masterlists

Vil:

Vil is very familiar with anxiety and some signs of anxiety

many people get anxiety before big performances after all

so when he sees you scratching your skin so much, he's able to recognize that it's probably anxiety

and he can see the small scarring on your skin too

Vil isn't going to stand for this

whenever he sees you start to scratch, he will give you something, anything, for you to hold in your hands

and he asks you to hold onto it for him for a little bit and take care of it

his goal is to get your hands doing something else even if it's holding the object or fidgeting with it or whatever

as long as your hands aren't damaging your beautiful skin

and I do mean he will give you anything

he's handed you his textbooks, his eyeliner, and even his Pomefiore crown once

being in a new and unfamiliar world is sure to cause a lot of anxiety

but he tries to be there for you as much as he can, and slowly help you adjust to the world around you

he's also roping you into his skincare routines now

Leona:

he's actually a very observant guy

so you bet he sees you scratching your skin, but he might not comment on it much unless he sees you scratching hard enough to break skin

at that point he's going to drag you to a place that's calmer like botanical garden and try to get you talking about it

he'll ask you about your world while keeping your hands away from your skin

basically anytime you start to scratch, he just moves your hands away

you may think he'll lose his patience doing this, but he actually doesn't

he just listens to you while laying down and keeps moving your hands away

and he listens very well

Leona has actually taken mental notes about your world

so when you start feeling anxious about being in a strange dangerous world again, he brings you to somewhere calmer again, but this time he tries to show you something you're more familiar with

he'll even have Ruggie bother Sam to make something if they don't have it in their world

Leona isn't the type to hover around you, but he usually tries to check in on you from time to time to make sure you aren't scratching too much

Malleus:

I'm gonna be honest, he probably doesn't know how bad anxiety can get in people

so originally when he sees you scratching, he doesn't think much of it

that is, until you start bleeding

then he is very invested in why you're scratching

you probably have to explain it to him

once you explain that it's anxiety and being in a new magical world causes a lot of anxiety, he is very concerned

he's noticed the small scars on your skin, but he didn't comment on it in fear of upsetting you

but now that he knows those are because of the anxiety...he's very determined to help you stop

Malleus starts hovering around you a lot more after finding out

he just worries about you

whenever he sees you scratching, he will do almost anything he can to help

like he goes through different strategies each time

his magic helps a lot with this

usually he tries to use his magic to make your surroundings look more familiar or he'll create something for you to focus on

and if he isn't able to help in time and you start bleeding, he's immediately there with his healing magic

Silver:

Silver knows a bit about anxiety, and he's seen you scratch at your skin a lot

but he doesn't want to assume it's anxiety

he will ask about it though after he notices your scars

and he's a very good listener and is very understanding

he can perfectly understand how being in an unfamiliar world causes anxiety

Silver does want to help you tho so you don't hurt yourself anymore

unlike some of the others, his method of helping isn't changing your scenery

whenever he notices you getting anxious and starting to scratch at your skin, he just grabs your hands and holds them in his own

there doesn't even have to be any communication, he'll just do it

and he has no problem holding on until you start feeling better

when facing something that causes a lot of anxiety, he'll stand next to you holding onto your hand

it's very nice and good reassurance that you're not alone while keeping you from scratching

even if he falls asleep while holding onto your hand, you're not getting it back until he wakes up

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 23

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | AO3

-----

They're on the front page for about a week.

They run the stories of Hopper and Henry Creel simultaneously - honestly, Eddie kind of thinks the fact that Hopper was presumed dead and is now back makes it easier for people to believe a previously assumed dead guy is the top suspect for the murders.

Eddie gets barely a mention clearing him of all charges. There's a couple of articles about him and Steve fighting off Henry Creel, but the focus is more on Steve than anything else.

Steve bitches about it, about how they did the same thing after Starcourt, but Eddie's kind of glad his name isn't plastered all over the place anymore.

He and Steve are down in the kitchen scrounging up celebratory snacks and beers - Steve has a clean bill of health, and Eddie's stitches are coming out in a few days - when the phone rings.

"Harrington residence, this is Steve speaking," he greets.

Eddie barely has time to decide he's absolutely going to tease him about that later when the response comes - loud enough for him to hear it.

"Steven, my boy!" the voice booms, spirited and affable.

Steve closes his eyes, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Hi, Dad."

"We just heard the news!" Steve's father says. "Why didn't you call to tell us? Did the earthquake damage anything?"

Part of Eddie thinks he should leave. Or at least back away, so he can't hear everything that's being said - but the other part of him thinks that Steve'd push him away if he didn't want him here, and with how tense Steve's gone next to him, Eddie can't bring himself to pull away.

"The house is fine," Steve says. "Loch Nora didn't get hit at all."

"Good, good," Mr. Harrington says. "Your mother hears you and Rachel have been volunteering with the relief efforts?"

Eddie didn't think it was possible, but Steve goes even stiffer.

"Robin," he corrects, his tone smooth and entirely void of inflection. "Yes, we've been coordinating donations."

"That's what I want to hear!" There's a sound like a loud clap. "I'm glad to see you're taking this seriously. You had a lot of ground to make up for, but it seems giving you a dose of reality has paid off. We'll be able to have some real talks about your future soon. What? Oh, your mother wants to talk to you."

There's a shuffling noise, then a quieter and much less friendly voice greets, "Steven."

"Hey Mom," Steve's posture relaxes a little. "I told Dad we made it out okay."

There's some kind of response, but Steve's mom is too quiet for Eddie to make it out.

"No, of course I didn't file charges. I knew you'd want to handle it if anything else happened." A pause. "Yes, that Carver. Mom, it's not - yeah. Yeah, okay. No, it's just him. I think he's just mad that people listened to me and not him. Yeah, I - all right. Bye."

He hangs up the phone, leaning in with one arm braced against the wall, a long line of tension.

"Steve?" Eddie says quietly.

Steve turns to face him, giving a little crooked smile. "You can ask if you want. I don't mind you and Robin knowing. It's… easier sometimes, if she expects it, and it's probably the same with you."

Eddie aches a little. "What was your dad talking about? What ground to make up for?"

Steve makes a face. "I did a lot of damage to the Harrington image the last bit of high school, you know. Stopped caring about my reputation, didn't get accepted into any of the colleges they wanted me to go to, kept getting into fights."

"But that wasn't - did they even ask you what actually happened?" Eddie asks.

"They don't care what actually happened," Steve replies. "Just what it looked like. Like I said, it's all about appearances with them. My dad's the main reason I worked at Scoops instead of being a lifeguard again last summer - he says it's because I needed a real life experience, learn what it means to work at the bottom, but he was just pissy and trying to humiliate me. He talks a big game about working hard, but all he really cares about is how I make them look. Now that I've gotten good press twice, he's happy again."

Eddie's mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. "He didn't even ask if you were okay."

Steve shrugs. "I looked fine in the papers."

Right.

Appearances.

"Will you be mad at me if I punch your dad if I ever see him?" Eddie asks.

Steve laughs, a surprised little sound like he's startled by it. "No," he says. "But only if I get to punch yours for leaving you."

Oh.

If Eddie was thinking about it, he'd have moved slowly, making sure to telegraph what he was doing so he didn't startle Steve, but he reacts on instinct and pulls Steve into a hug.

Steve doesn't even flinch at the sudden motion. He just melts into it, letting Eddie wrap him up and hold him tightly. His arms come up to cross over Eddie's shoulder blades, the placement automatically mindful of his injuries in the way only someone who's bandaged them multiple times could be.

"Sometimes I wish they just wouldn't call at all," Steve admits, face buried in Eddie's neck. It comes out in a rush, like he hadn't really thought about it before he said it, but he's getting it out anyway. "That they'd just cut me out of their life, instead of stringing me along."

"Fuck them," Eddie says. "I've got you."

He can hear Steve swallow, and Steve hugs him tighter.

They stay like that for a long while, until Eddie finally pulls back.

"Hey," he says softly. "I'll get the food and stuff. Go upstairs and see Robin."

Steve looks uncertain. "You sure?"

Eddie hugs him one more time. "You've got two soulmates," he murmurs. "Let us take care of you a little, okay?"

Steve squeezes him tight, then lets go with a nod before heading upstairs.

Eddie dithers in the kitchen for a bit, taking an extra long time. Whatever his complicated feelings are, it doesn't bother him at all to give Steve and Robin some space like this.

They're talking when he comes back, which isn't a surprise, and he hears his own name as he gets closer to the bedroom. Eddie pauses, even though he shouldn't, listening through the cracked door. He'll feel worse about it later, probably, but right now the masochistic side of him can't resist the urge to know what they're saying about him.

"I want him so much, Robs," he hears Steve saying, low and soft like he's trying to be quiet.

"I know," Robin replies, her tone somehow managing to be both gentle and snarky at the same time. "It's kind of pathetic."

Steve lets out a muffled groan. "Not helping. I don't exactly have the greatest track record at being able to get over people! I thought, with my soulmate-"

He cuts off, and Eddie can't help the bubbling anger that springs up. Steve thought? Has he stopped for one second to think about how Eddie might feel, only ever having a platonic soulmate? Wanting him just as bad and not being able to have him, not being able to have anyone?

"-someone else?" Robin is saying, like she's reading his thoughts, and Eddie has to hold his breath as he makes sure he hadn't accidentally said that outloud.

"I don't want anyone else," Steve says miserably. "Just him. I think - I think it's always going to be him. Fuck, why does this have to be so complicated?"

There's a heavy, thick silence, and Eddie's anger simmers and crackles under his skin, the way it always does when there's a hefty mixing of guilt in it.

"Do you think-" Robin starts, then stops. "Do you wish-" She stops again, voice thick with emotion. "Would it be easier if we-"

"No," Steve says, cutting her off at the same time that Eddie realizes what she's probably trying to bring herself to ask.

There's the muffled sound of shuffling, quiet hitching breaths - probably the motions of Steve trying to reassure one of his soulmates that he wants her, and he imagines him gathering her close, pressing soft kisses anywhere he can reach, cutting off anything she tries to say with a deeper, fiercer kiss.

Eddie bites the inside of his cheek so hard he tastes copper to keep himself from making some kind of sound to give himself away. He hates that he doesn't know what he's feeling - hates that he thinks he's jealous of Robin just as much as he doesn't feel jealous of her, not really. He's jealous of the images he conjures when he thinks about them together, but he's never actually jealous when he's with them, when he watches them.

That reminder makes him shift, peeking through the cracked door so he can see them. They're sitting facing each other, legs all tangled together. One of Steve's hands is covering Robin's heart, and the other is curled around one of Robin's hands, pinning it to his chest over his own heart, and their foreheads are pressed together.

Something in Eddie settles in a way he can't explain, all thoughts of jealousy gone.

"There's no me without you," Steve is saying. "You're a part of me, Robs, I can't do this without either of you."

She says something too muffled for Eddie to make out.

"I'm happy. I really am, I promise. I love you, I love us, exactly the way we are. And with Eddie-"

Eddie leans forward, too desperate to know what he's going to say to worry about being caught.

"I don't need anything else other than just him. However I can have him. If it's never romantic, if this is us forever - it doesn't matter, not really. I just need you and him, and the kids, and I'm good."

There's silence, the two of them just completely wrapped up in each other, and fuck, Eddie - he thinks you know what, if this is it, if what he has is Steve and Robin and the kids forever, then he's good, too.

"I love you, Robin Buckley," Steve says. "In a way I never realized was possible, until you and that dumb kid showed up in my life and taught me that you don't have to do anything to earn someone's love. That sometimes, it's just unconditional."

Steve was sixteen when he fought his first demogorgon, Eddie remembers that. Which means he couldn't have been any younger than that when he started really spending any time with Dustin or Robin, which means - the same thing that Eddie went through when he first moved in with Uncle Wayne, the thing that was so impossible for him to believe at twelve, Steve wasn't shown until he was probably seventeen.

Fuck, his heart aches.

"Does Henderson know he was your first true love?" Robin asks, her voice a little wet, but obviously trying to make things a little lighter.

Steve laughs, the sound just a bit thick. "No, and he'd be insufferable if I told him."

There's the faint sting of a new lie being written on the back of his calf, and the second he registers it, he hears Robin's startled laughter. Eddie pulls back from the door, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out, trying to get himself back under control.

"Oh my God, Steve, you did tell him! When?"

He can hear Steve sputtering and deflecting, the sound of Robin smacking him and Steve scrambling - probably trying to avoid them - and if there was ever going to be a good time to announce his return after shamelessly listening in for too long, now is probably it.

Eddie pushes open the door, six pack under one arm and bags of popcorn and chips under the other as he shoots a hopefully only slightly manic grin at them. "What's Steve lying about now?"

"Nothing!" Steve says too quickly.

Sloppy, for him, considering Eddie knows how good Steve usually is at using sarcasm or half truths to avoid telling lies, so Eddie tosses the bag of popcorn at him.

He catches it easily, of course, but it means he's now vulnerable to Robin's attacks, and he has to swerve to avoid another slap to his shoulder.

"Steve's trying to pretend like we both didn't get that lie, too," Robin says.

Steve groans. "Fine, Jesus. It was back when we were waiting at the camper, and Dustin was upset. I told him that he was the first person who was ever just - there, in my life because he wanted to be, even after he didn't need me to fight demodogs. No one could ever replace him."

"You're such a sap, Steve," Eddie teases him as he comes to sit next to him and Robin.

"Shut up," Steve grumbles. "That's it, I'm picking the movie."

—

The next day, Lucas and Max swing by. Steve hauls a basketball stand out of the garage and sets it up in the driveway, and Eddie sits at the kitchen table, eating a bologna sandwich while he watches them play.

It's safer inside, where there's no one to see if he gets affected by Steve's tank top and shorts.

Or at least, he thought it was safer inside.

"Do you love Steve?" Max asks, plopping down beside him.

Eddie chokes on his Coke, and she stares at him unsympathetically until he manages to breathe again.

"He's my soulmate, so." Eddie shrugs.

Max gives him an unimpressed look, and yeah, okay, he figures they both know soulmates aren't a guarantee of anything. Eddie's parents were soulmates, after all, loved each other more than anything else in this world, and that still hadn't been enough.

"I wanted him to be my soulmate before I knew it was him," he admits, because that's a more true answer without actually having to say yes or no. "Nothing's happened since to change that."

She gets this look on her face like she's trying to decide if that's an acceptable response. After a moment, she rests her chin on her knees, staring out the window, and Eddie figures he's in the clear.

"Steve has two soulmates," she says after a while. "You don't. Doesn't that make you feel - I don't know, like you aren't enough?"

"Jesus Christ, Red, you're not pulling any punches today, are you?" Eddie swears.

He doesn't actually want to have this conversation. It's not something he's completely sorted out on his own, yet, even though he's done a lot of thinking on it, and he's tempted to tell her to mind her own business.

But she won't look at him, and he knows why she's asking. She's not talking about him and Steve and Robin, not really.

He thinks about telling her something standard about soulmates, or maybe even the advice that his uncle gave him, but it doesn't feel right.

"It's not what I always imagined," Eddie admits slowly.

Max doesn't say anything, but he watches the way she starts to unwind a little, how she doesn't hold herself so stiff, tilts a little to actually listen to what he's saying.

"You know Steve and I talked to each other when we were younger. We thought the same way about a lot of stuff, and I had this idea in my head that he was some little outcast like me, in another small town somewhere out there, that we'd move to a big city and find each other. But then we stopped talking."

"How come?" Max asks, looking caught up despite herself.

Eddie grins at her, wide and self depreciating. "I found out he was probably some rich, popular jerk, and decided I hated him."

And there's that unimpressed look again.

"Yeah, yeah," Eddie grumbles. "Let's just say there might be some truth to not talking with your soulmate before you actually meet them. Point is, for almost five years, I hated my soulmate. Thought the best I could hope for was that we'd meet when we were thirty and ancient, and maybe then he would have changed. Then a little while ago, I met Steve."

Max's brows furrow. "You met Steve way before that."

"Nah," he says. "I knew of Steve. I had a lot of assumptions about him, knew what I thought he was, but I didn't know the real Steve. That Steve I met when he helped explain all of this to me and didn't make me feel stupid for not picking up some of it right away, even after I held a broken bottle to his throat."

She snorts, but looks like she's considering that. "I met him when he was putting himself between me, Lucas, and Dustin and a hoard of demodogs, a couple of hours after calling them dickheads and me some random girl."

Eddie salutes her with his can of Coke, half in understanding and half to cover the way his heart wants to melt again. "That Steve was nothing like I imagined my soulmate to be, when I was daydreaming about him or hating him. But I knew I didn't want anyone else, and Steve having another soulmate doesn't change that. I don't think it makes what he feels for me any less than what I feel for him, and I don't think it means I'm less important to him than he is to me."

Max frowns. "Really, or are you just saying that?"

"Really," Eddie says, though he hadn't actually been sure it was true until he heard himself say it. "I'm not saying it's not hard sometimes. And sometimes I get in my head about it. But I wouldn't change it. Steve wouldn't be the same without Robin, you know? He wouldn't be the Steve that made me want him to be my soulmate so bad."

There's a long moment of silence. Then, "Would you be saying that if both of his soulmates were romantic?"

Eddie's glad he stopped drinking, because he knows he would have choked again. For a split second, she wonders if she's picked up on - but no, that still isn't what this about. "Are both of yours romantic?"

Her jaw juts forward, arms hugging tighter around her knees. "What if they were?"

Fuck, he doesn't know what to say to that. "It's okay to like both guys and girls," he says, because he feels like that's the most important bit. "I do. I mean, mostly guys, but sometimes girls."

Her grip loosens a little, but she still doesn't say anything.

"It sounds like maybe I'm not the one you should be talking to about that," he says carefully.

She scowls. "I talked to Steve already."

Right, of course she did.

"What did Steve say?"

"Steve said he thinks the line between platonic and romantic soulmates isn't as straightforward as people like to pretend it is. That sometimes what you might think should be romantic is actually platonic, and sometimes what you think should be platonic is romantic, and sometimes there's going to be things that blur the lines and you don't really know which one it is. He said it was okay to have two platonic or two romantic or one of each or, like, any combination." She makes a face here, like she's not entirely sure what he meant by any combination - or like she was sure, and didn't need that much detail. "That as long as everyone was communicating, it was okay to do whatever worked for us."

Eddie swallows. "Steve sounds pretty smart."

Max rolls her eyes. "He has his moments."

"So… are you communicating with Lucas and El?" he asks.

She picks at a rip in her jeans. "I talked to Lucas."

He waits, but it seems like that's all he's going to get. He starts to ask what Lucas said, but… he gets the feeling that it's not necessarily about what he said or not.

"But it's Lucas," Eddie says. "And you wanted to hear how someone else in a familiar situation felt."

Eddie gets that familiar, itchy feeling that he does when he wants to run, and he only barely resists the urge to bounce his leg up and down. It's not that he wants to run from Max, or even from this conversation, it's just - it's starting to make him think about things, and he really, really doesn't want an audience for this. He wants to lock himself in a room and pace, listen to some music, maybe scribble out his thoughts, something to get his hands moving and his brain in some kind of order -

"Even if Steve wanted both of us romantically," he says, knowing it's close enough that it's not a lie. "I would still rather be his soulmate than anyone else."

Max looks at him with narrowed eyes for a long moment. "I'm gonna ask Steve if you lied about that."

Eddie fixes her with an unimpressed look right back. "You think I'd do that to him?"

"You better not." There's an edge of menace in her tone, but she lets it go, so Eddie figures she doesn't really think he'd lie about something like that knowing it would be etched on Steve's skin forever.

Silence stretches between them, and Eddie follows her gaze out the window, watching Steve and Lucas playing basketball.

"I've put him through so much already," Max says, so quietly that he can barely hear it.

Fuck, Eddie is so fucking soft for these kids.

"You have not," Eddie says immediately. "You haven't done a goddamn thing, Red. Both of you have already been through so much, and it's not because of something either of you did. It's fucking Hawkins."

She doesn't look convinced, so Eddie pushes his shoulder against hers.

"Lucas is smart. He's more emotionally intelligent than I am-" Max snorts at him, and he's reasonably sure he hears her mutter something along the lines of like that's hard, but he ignores her. "He knows what he can take and what he can't. All you have to do is believe him when he tells you it."

She's quiet for a moment, looking contemplative. Then she asks, "Does that work for you?"

Right, yeah, okay, he deserved that one. He thinks about deflecting, but -

"I'm trying," he admits quietly. "What do you think, huh, you gonna let me beat you there or are we gonna do this together?"

Max glances out the window again, then turns to look back at him, her chin jutting out. "Steve loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often. I don't think he really believes that we love him as much as he loves us, even though we do."

She says it like a threat, like she's saying if you tell him I said that I will kill you or maybe if you hurt him I will kill you. Either way, he'd be dead.

"I'll talk to Lucas and El, and you make sure you don't disappoint him."

Goddamn if that doesn't stab right to the heart of him, lodging itself beneath his ribcage and sticking right into the parts that'd already made him want to run from this conversation.

"Okay," he manages to get out, because he's not sure he'll survive any other answer.

Max nods. "Good talk," she tells him, and then she pushes herself up and she's gone.

Eddie stays there, mulling all of that over. He doesn't think she'd actually tell Steve anything they just talked about, nor does he think she really has any idea that Steve had asked him to make their bond romantic and he'd turned him down. Honestly, Eddie could probably get away with patting himself on the back for actually managing to give some decent advice and be the person she'd needed him to be for just a little while, then go on being a very devoted platonic soulmate for Steve.

Except even if Max doesn't really know, Eddie does. And now Eddie's thinking about things he doesn't want to, and wondering how much of a hypocrite some of the advice that he gave her makes him, and -

"Hey," Lucas says, and Eddie yelps.

Lucas raises his eyebrows at him.

"Jesus Christ, don't do that," Eddie bitches.

There's a little smirk, but fortunately, Lucas doesn't actually comment on it. "You talk to Max?" he asks instead.

"Yeah," Eddie replies, narrowing his eyes at him.

Lucas lights up, though, his whole face practically beaming with his smile. "Good. I figured it'd help her to hear that your soulmate cares about you no matter what from someone who wasn't me."

Eddie raises one eyebrow. "How do you know that's what I said?"

Lucas rolls his eyes. "Because you're Steve's soulmate. If that wasn't the way you felt, Robin would know, and she'd have already murdered you."

Eddie considers that. "Okay, fair."

Lucas makes his way over to the fridge, yanking it open and standing in front of it as he peers in. "So what did you tell her?"

Eddie sits back, waiting until Lucas turns to look back at him so he can shoot him a wide, smug grin. "If she wants you to know, she'll tell you."

He gets a glare in return, but Lucas doesn't protest that, just leans back in to grab a pair of Gatorades from the fridge. He twists the top off of one, taking a long swallow before he shuts the door and starts back out of the kitchen, giving him a little nod as he passes.

"Hey, Lucas?" Eddie calls before he can leave.

Lucas pauses, looking quizzically at him.

"I'm guessing you talk to Steve like Max does, about all this." Eddie makes an exaggerated gesture between them and out the kitchen window, meant to loop all of them in together. "But, uh. You know. If you ever want a different perspective, from someone in kind of your position."

He motions to himself, then splays his hands out all ta-da.

Lucas hesitates, lingering in the middle of the kitchen before he seems to make a decision.

"I was kind of upset about it when I first found out Max's other soulmate was El," he admits. "It was right after Billy died, and their soulmate bond was new, and Max kept letting El in while she was shutting me out. And I was angry, and jealous, and then when El had to leave and Max kept pushing me away, I just kept thinking that if El was here Max wouldn't be by herself so much, that the wrong soulmate got to stay in Hawkins."

Lucas pauses, twisting the Gatorades in his hand, but Eddie gets the feeling it's a gathering his thoughts pause more than a waiting for Eddie to say something pause.

"Eventually I realized that El could help Max in a way that I couldn't, and that maybe that was the point. I started calling El a little, too, when the phone wasn't busy, and just - El was grieving, too. I didn't want to feel jealous over something that helped them both anymore. It's been good with El back, really good. I don't know if I like El like that, but if Max does-" he shrugs. "I guess I kind of already got over the jealousy bit. It doesn't really matter to me if they kiss while they're having sleepovers or not, as long as they don't exclude me."

Now it seems like a waiting for Eddie to say something pause, so he gives a soft little hum. "What do you do if you end up feeling excluded?"

Lucas blinks, like he wasn't expecting that question. "Uh. Well, before, I talked to my parents and sometimes to Steve or Robin or Dustin. It's hard talking to Mike or Will about it because they're not all that objective about El stuff. I don't… really know if I want to tell my parents about Max and El like that yet, so I guess… talk to Steve or Robin or Dustin." He pauses, then, more tentatively, "Or you?"

Fuck, these kids keep getting to him. "Or me," he agrees easily. "But you should probably also add talk to Max and El to that list."

Lucas makes a face, but doesn't disagree. "I don't think a lot of the others know about Max," he says instead. "Just me and Steve and Robin, and now you."

There's an edge to his voice, like he's pretty sure Eddie must be safe if Max told him, but he's ready to fight him about it anyway.

"Max knows about me, now, so we're even," Eddie replies, pleased that the effort he puts into making sure his voice sounds steady pays off.

"Yeah?" Lucas asks. "Who else knows?"

"Steve and Robin. And now Max and you," Eddie replies.

Lucas lights up a little. "Cool."

"Cool," Eddie echoes, even though he feels a little shaky from the fact that he's now said it twice today, which is double the amount of times he's ever said it before at all.

There's a comfortable silence for a moment.

"It's complicated, being in our position," Eddie says after a bit. "I think it's always going to be complicated. But if we let it - I think it could be really great, too. Most people only end up in pairs, but us? We get a whole damn party of interconnected soulmates."

"A party of soulmates," Lucas says thoughtfully, then grins. "Yeah, I like that."

"You're a good kid, Lucas," Eddie tells him, not sure if he really needs to hear it, but he still remembers the way it made him feel when Uncle Wayne said it.

Lucas ducks his head, looking a little pleased, even though he follows it up with a sidelong look. "Even though I'm kind of a jock?"

Eddie shrugs. "My soulmate is a whole jock. I guess that means I've got a little jock in me, too."

Lucas's expression shifts, turning mischievous, and suddenly he looks like the fifteen year old boy he is, and not a world-weary adult. It's nice, it's wonderful, Eddie loves to see it, except it makes him realize what he just said far, far too late to do anything about it.

In his defense, they were having a serious discussion, and -

Yeah, he's got nothing.

Maybe it'll be fine? Lucas is probably the most mature out of all of the boys, maybe -

"I don't know, man," Lucas says, slowly, like he's actually considering that. "We've all heard the rumors about Steve. I don't think it's something little you're gonna be dealing with."

Eddie gapes at him.

"I said you were mature," he bemoans, flinging his upper body over the top of the kitchen table just to make Lucas laugh harder. "I told Max you were emotionally intelligent! Begone from my sight!"

Lucas takes his Gatorades and leaves, still laughing at him.

—

"Max cornered me in the kitchen to threaten me today," Eddie says.

Steve snorts. "Of course she did. What about?"

Eddie shrugs, waiting for Steve to look at him so he can waggle his eyebrows at him. "She also threatened to kill me if I told you."

Steve shoves him, and Eddie falls back dramatically, sprawling out on the couch. He props himself up on his elbows to look at Steve, but he doesn't seem inclined to actually push him to reveal what he and Max talked about. Instead, Steve goes about shutting down for the night, checking to make sure all the windows and the sliding glass door are locked.

"Soulmate stuff," Eddie says. Or more like blurts out, before he can change his mind, to force himself to have to keep going. "She told me what you said about the line between platonic and romantic soulmates. Made me think about some things."

"Yeah?" Steve asks, stopping by the couch to look at him.

"Do you still want me, Steve?" Eddie asks, his heart in his throat.

He isn't prepared for Steve to shut down, for the way his face goes cold and hard and blank.

"Not cool, Eddie," Steve says, turning away and going back to the windows in the living room.

Eddie pushes himself up off the couch, then immediately doubts himself and sits back down. "Steve, what?"

Steve won't look at him, and he can hear the window locks rattling with the force that Steve's using to check them. "You're being a dick, man, come on. You can't ask me stuff like that."

"I-" he starts, then stops, his mind scrambling a little. Is he too late? Did Steve move on already, even though he told Robin that he wasn't going to? Is Eddie so easy to get over that even his fucking soulmate couldn't keep him? "What happened to it's always going to be him, huh?"

"Jesus Christ," Steve says, incredulous, and Eddie kind of wants to cry a little because he knows that Steve has started saying that more because of all the time they've spent together. "You were listening to me and Robin? What the fuck, man, you still think it's fair to throw that at me?"

"Fuck you, Steve, I know it wasn't a lie when you said that. Am I so fucking easy to just stop wanting, or are you that fucking fickle?"

"Eddie, goddamn, is this - were you testing me? Is this you lashing out at me again? Because I can't, okay, not about this, I can't-" he cuts off, one hand scrubbing over his face. "I told you, I can't."

Oh.

Oh fuck.

"Steve, no, I wasn't teasing, I - it was a real question."

Steve stills, pausing right by a window. The light of the moon catches on him, highlighting parts of him in pale silver while the rest of him is warmed from the soft yellow of the living room lamp. "Seriously?"

"Come on, Steve. I just picked a fight with you instead of asking what you meant, and you're surprised I'm not sure you still want me anymore?"

Eddie can hear Steve breathing out, then in, then back out again, watches as he lets some of the tension bleed out of his body. "I think I picked some of that fight right back. I'm sorry, I just - all right, let's go back, and I'll listen without making assumptions, okay?"

Yeah, okay, Eddie can do that.

"Max told me what you said," Eddie starts again. "And it made me think about how smart you are." He wishes Steve were closer, so he could see his face better, at the same time as he wishes he couldn't see it at all. "How brave you are. How when you know what you want, you go for it, how you fight to keep it, how you own up when you make a mistake, how you work so hard to make all this work."

This is Eddie trying to be brave, he thinks. Trying to go for what he wants, to accept that they're going to have to work at this, that he's probably going to get hurt, that he has to trust that Steve will be willing to work past whatever it is that springs up.

It takes him a little too long, though, because after a few moments, Steve gently prompts, "Eddie?"

"Do you still want me?" he asks again. He didn't mean to, but it comes out anyway, all small and tentative.

"Eds," Steve breathes out. "I'm always going to want you."

He loves too much, and he gets it thrown back at him too often, Max had said, and Eddie swallows down the urge to ask him if he means it, if he'll still mean it the next time Eddie picks a fight, or every time he's an ass.

"I'm always going to want you, too," Eddie says.

Steve's hands twitch, and he looks like he's waiting for something - for a lie to show up on his skin, Eddie realizes, and Eddie knows he's going to have to do better than that.

"I want you," he says again. "Steve, I want you. I'll take you any way I can get you, but I just - this is stupid, I'm stupid. I'm making us both miserable because I was scared."

He's not surprised that's what gets Steve moving, and he comes over to sit by him on the couch.

"You're not stupid," Steve replies. "Not for being scared."

Eddie shakes his head. "No, but I am for giving into it. So I might get hurt, so what? I'm already hurting, wanting you so bad and not getting to have you, knowing you'd probably let me kiss you and not letting myself go for it."

Steve's looking at him, eyes all sharp and intense, like he's really listening to Eddie's every word, and hell if it doesn't make him feel just a little bit drunk on it.

"Talking with Max made me realize that I trust you. I trust you, with my life, with - fucking everything. I trust you to work through this with me, to figure out what works for us."

Steve runs a hand over his jaw, going up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Yeah?" he asks after a moment. "You really - you want to do this?"

"So fucking much," Eddie says.

Steve's whole face lights up in a smile, and he leans in, one hand resting on Eddie's knee. "That mean I can kiss you now?"

Eddie barely manages to get out a please before Steve's other hand is sliding over his jaw, slipping back to push his fingers into his hair and cup the side of his face. Steve holds him there as he kisses him, and it's-

It's not Eddie's first kiss. But it's his first kiss that's ever really meant anything, and the soft brush of Steve's lips against his makes his heart stutter in his chest.

Steve gives a little hum, low in his throat, and then he's tilting his head to get a better angle, and holy shit.

Eddie pushes forward eagerly, deepening the kiss until they're both panting for breath, and even then they don't pull away. Their foreheads press together, lips parted and just barely touching as they share the same air. His eyes have closed at some point, but now he opens them to find Steve looking back at him, and Eddie smiles.

"How long do you think until Robin notices we haven't come up?" he asks.

"I'm okay with figuring that out," Steve replies, closing the tiny bit of distance between them to kiss him again.

I've got a pretty good handle on the outline for the rest of this now, so I'd say we've got about four more parts left!

-----

Part 24

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