#makes s4 hurt even worse

[samdeancrimespree]

it’s so wild how dean utterly Refuses to entertain sams “maybe im a monster and a killer” thing. he feels so strongly that sam is a perfect little angel. His perfect little sweetheart. all of those other psychic kids? Nothing like his sammy. when he says “you’ve got something they don’t. me” he tries to pass it off as this lighthearted reassurance but like. dean knows to his core that sam is good. at this point dean sees himself as the killer, the monster. sam “isn’t like them.” he’s not a killer. the powers don’t change that. if sam was a vampire, he’d be like lenore. he is so fundamentally averse to hurting people. that is like… just True about sam. that’s the most obvious thing in the world to dean. and even if sam can’t trust himself, he can trust deans judgement. that’s why he trusts dean to kill him. dean would know if he was bad. dean would take care of him.

[psychicsolanum]

they were so evil for cutting this. this man has not had a single moment of true peace from the first episode. he's never ever taken seriously by his siblings the whole show. and the one scene where he finally gets himself help, and is fully supported by his loved ones and they TOOK IT FROM USSS!

Look at the hope in his eyes for the first time in his life!! he has a support system that loves him and he has hopes of a future where he can love himself!!! this is character development and a satisfying arc!

like they knew they were gonna take it all away from him anyway why couldn't they at least give him this.

[quietwingsinthesky]

there’s actual good fights you could point out where Dean does put his foot down and it’s completely justified, even if only from his point of view. why would you bring up the amy thing instead of literally anything else.

[greengoblinswifey]

My Winner- Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

warnings- unprotected sex, angry sex, creampie, daddy kink, slight argument/angst, fingering, face fucking, choking, ass slapping, degrading kink, praise kink, slight spoiler for s4 ep 1(takes place during s4 ep 1)

Cheering quickly transitioned into worry as JJ easily overtook Rafe in the dirt bike race. You didn’t want to doubt your boyfriend but for a moment it seemed as though he wasn’t going to win— and then he didn’t.

“Shit!” you screamed, as Rafe’s poor attempt of bumping the Pogue’s bike caused them both to come crashing down. It took everything out of you not to run over to him before the race was over.

“Oh my god, are you okay,” you asked, helping your boyfriend from the sand as the crowd ran over to Topper.

As much as you wanted to scold him for endangering himself and someone else, you held your composure.

Rafe was seething, but anything was better than JJ or John B winning the Enduro.

Before driving him home, Rafe and his sister Sarah had a squabble with him accusing her of killing their father. It wasn’t your place to interrupt but you looked at Sarah with apologetic eyes, dragging your boyfriend away before he said anything more hurtful.

“I don’t fucking care,” he mumbled, still seething from losing the race and the incident with Sarah.

“Oh I know you don’t, but how can you say that to your own sister? You know she’s grieving too right? How can you accuse her of killing your father?” He didn’t answer, the grip he had on your thigh getting more painful as you approached Tannyhill.

The door was barely closed before your boyfriend pushed you up against it, his hand around your neck.

“I’ve had a shitty day seeing those fucking Pogues and losing that race, and I don’t need your lecturing making it any worse. I’m gonna take you right here, right now.”

Unable to get a word in, he smashed his lips against yours, his hands going to your ass and squeezing. While you wanted to discuss what happened further, there was no way he’d allow that before he let his anger out. Not that you were complaining.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he uttered, his hand swirling your clit with the other hand still around your neck, “you love seeing me all worked up.”

“Maybe a little bit.”

He found the sweet spot on your neck as his skilled fingers swirled your clit, rubbing rough circles and sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body. A gasp escaped your lips as he slipped two fingers inside your pussy, giving you no time to adjust.

“Please,” you moaned, not even sure what you were begging for but his fingers felt too good inside you. The look on his face was almost enough to make you cum. The buzz cut, the dazed, lustful look in his eye as he released your neck from his kisses and stared at you.

“I can feel you just clenching around my fingers, so fucking close, cum for me slut,” he demanded. His thrusts sped up and his thumb rubbed circles on your clit, causing you to release all over his hand.

“That’s a good fucking slut, now, my turn.” He forced you to your knees, stripped himself and you of your clothes leaving you both bare. His cock was painfully hard in front of you, thick with the head glistening.

He tapped your mouth, you already knew what was about to happen. Rafe groaned as he shoved his cock down your throat, bucking his hips and shuddering, savoring how good your mouth felt around him.

“Gonna fuck your throat okay? If you want me to stop, don’t hesitate to tap my thigh.” You looked up at him and nodded, naked on your knees with his cock filling your mouth.

He held your hair in his hands, snapping his hips forward and fucking your throat. Your nails dug into his thighs, trying not to gag and focusing on the feeling of him so deep in your throat.

“God, look at you, on your knees just taking whatever I give you,” he moaned at the sight below him.

Humming around his cock, you used more tongue, swirling it around the head as he pulled out all the way and slammed into the back of your throat.

“I love it when you moan around my cock like a little whore,” he chuckled in between moans.

You could feel how close he was getting as his brutal thrusts sped up and his cock throbbed in your mouth. “Get ready, open up that fucking throat, get ready to swallow every drop of my cum, bitch,” he moaned.

You did as you were told and continue suckling on his dick, his pace faltering as his cum shot down your throat.

“Fucking hell, good girl, that’s my baby,” he breathed, slowly thrusting to make sure you swallowed every drop.

He lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around him, your lips meeting in a sloppy kiss as he tasted the remnants of himself on your tongue.

You opened your eyes as Rafe threw you unto his bed, his cock still hard and ready for your dripping pussy. His eyes were locked on yours as he slowly inched inside you and for a moment you thought you were about to have sweet, loving sex.

“Daddy,” you gasped, feeling him snap harshly against you, his cock practically kissing your cervix. Sweet, loving sex was clearly not in the works.

“Fucking take it,” he whispered, sending shivers throughout your body. His pace was brutal and the headboard knocked against the wall continuously as he fucked you hard.

“Mm, daddy, feels so good,” you cried, his cock going in and out of you roughly, making you see stars and you hadn’t even cum yet. Rafe wrapped his hand around your neck, and used the other to pinch your nipples, making you feel even more ripples of pleasure.

“Fucking cum all over daddy’s cock, now,” he demanded. His lips captured yours as you shuddered under him, your climax overtaking your body, but he didn’t stop. He continued fucking you hard through your climax, your tits bouncing, your body and the bed moving upwards, roughly.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, so fucking hot when you cum for me. Now get on all fours.”

The loss of his cock inside you made you whine, but you did as you were told, going on your hands and knees, arching your back just the way he liked it. “What an obedient slut, good girl,” he cooed.

Rafe pressed your face into the bed as his rough thrusts began, this angle making him feel even deeper inside your pussy.

“Fuck,” he moaned, the sound going straight to your pussy. You absolutely loved when he was vocal.

“Mhm, yeah,” you moaned, as he slapped your ass and dug his nails into your hips, slamming you hard against his cock. He pulled you back by your neck, your back arching off his body, his pace never faltering. “Rub your clit for me baby.” You obeyed, rubbing your clit as he fucked you from behind, moaning in your ear.

“Daddy, gonna cum,” you managed to croak out. This made him speed up his thrusts and he rolled his hips, continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you as you lost yourself on his thick cock.

“Good girl, that’s it, feels good doesn’t it? I know it does baby, I know,” he cooed, “but daddy isn’t done with you yet.”

Your body fell limp on the bed and he lifted your hips, pressing you into the bed as he chased his own orgasm. You screamed, the pleasure almost too much having cum three times already.

“You can take it baby, be a good girl and take what I give you.”

You nodded frantically, rubbing circles on your needy clit as his thrusts got harder and sloppier, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room. With a loud moan, you squirted on his cock, surprising you both and making Rafe spurt his cum inside you almost immediately. He continued fucking you through both your highs as your legs shook and you began seeing stars.

He collapsed on the bed beside you and you snuggled into him, your body aching from the treatment he gave you a minute prior. You lay in silence, only the sounds of your heavy breathing filling the room.

“You’re my winner, Rafe.”

He smiled and kissed your forehead. You always knew what to say to make him feel better.

“I may not have won but as long as I did in your eyes.”

A/N: I haven’t written smut on here in so long but after watching the first episode of s4, i had to��He looked so hot. Requests are open!

[obxanon]

Addressing the OBX drama and the speculations:

Was JJ’s Death planned?

No, Rudy asked to leave the show. It wasn’t something the writers planned. He didn’t want to renew, the writers were rightfully upset and then decided to kill JJ off.

Did the writers/producers create an uncomfortable set?

No, they didn’t. This post is not true. The brothers were never inappropriate.

Was Madison a bully on set?

I’ve seen a post going around of someone saying Madison was a bully, controlling the set, and bluntly treating Rudy and crew members like crap. That is NOT true. 

Was Rudy’s decision sudden?

Yes and No. No as in he let the Pates know ahead of time he didn’t want to continue (some time during the strike, so they had time to change what was already written). Yes, as in they were shocked by it.

Was there on set drama between Rudy and the Pates?

Yes, there was many disagreements/personal problems during s4. Yes, Elaine was involved and so was Lilah Pate. They are civil now.

Why did every ship but Jiara get a still?

The jiara still does exist but idk why it was not released. My source doesn’t know either and I don’t want to spread something not true. Rudy and Madison took pictures just like everybody else did.

Why did the cast chemistry seem off in part 2?

They shot episodes 1-5 first, THEN 10, then 6-9. The cast didn’t know rudy asked to leave until they received the script for episode 10. You can tell there was a drastic change between JJ and Kiara in part 2 because after the cast found out, Madison was upset with Rudy and his decision, so she didn’t put in as much effort into the scenes with him. She was upset because she knew that would mean the near end of obx and her character… in a way.

Was there alternate endings?

Yes, but that was only because they wanted to see if rudy would change his mind. There was even scenes where a funeral was shot (obviously they didn’t air it so I’m assuming they’re saving it for s5). From March-June of 2024, they spent the entire time doing reshoots of some scenes. That is why some things don’t make sense.

Did Rudy and Madison talk on set?

Yes, but not closely or anything. They’re not friends, they just did the scenes they had to do and that was it. All those people saying they’re hiding their friendship from the cameras or whatever… that is not true sorry. The pates can’t force them to act like best friends as long as they were doing their scenes.

Why did Jiara have “less” than everybody else?

It’s true that Jiara scenes were toned down. Part of it was Rudy asking for it. Madison didn’t care as much. Another part was just Rudy and Madison not doing more than what the script asked.

Was Elaine uncomfortable with Jiara scenes?

Yes, and she has been since s2. It got worse during s3 and obviously s4. That was part of the conflict.

What is the Rudy and Madison Drama?

Obviously what happened between them is private. It wasn’t the fans. The fans were more so the catalyst to something that had been brewing. 

It is true that the girlfriends are involved and that they weren’t happy. Madison hurt Rudy, but not by being a bully. It was emotionally. The feeling was then returned on his end and it just got worse from there. It didn’t help when the girlfriends and fans were involved. It is true that it’s not a coincidence this happened when they both got involved with relationships. Most of you have speculated correctly, that is all I will say. I think you know by now what I’m trying to say.

Also when I say fans, I don’t mean the “shipping.” They never cared about that. What I do mean is that all this drama happened when Jiara fans were at their peak. Them wanting to see those characters together put Rudy and Madison in a problematic situation because they knew they couldn’t avoid each other on screen. Instead they just did so off screen.

Should the Writers/ Directors/ Producers stepped in?

Yes, but what I need you guys to understand is that these writers were basically father figures to those actors. They watched them grow their careers, supported them, made them who they are now. It’s hard when you spent so much time with each other and became a genuine family. Even their conflict with Elaine was hard because Jonas knew her family, his wife treated her like a daughter, and lilah treated her like a sister. They had every right to be bitter because from their POV, it’s basically like “hey I trusted you to bring my project to life and now I’m being forced to go in a direction I never wanted to go in.”

What’s going on behind the scenes right now?

A mess. They knew it would be bad but infact it is worse and they know that.

Am I reliable?

Honestly I don’t care if you believe me or not. You didn’t before and I got attacked (literal death threats in my inbox). I’m just a messenger. I’ve given you info before and clearly I didn’t lie about it. It’s up to you to decide.

[sleepy-steve]

@steddieangstyaugust 01/08 // second chance

wc: 2.7k // rating: M // cw: mild language, references to sexual content // tags: angst with a hopeful ending, miscommunication, eddie makes some questionable (bad) decisions, post-s4 but vecna died, protective robin buckley

divider credits @steddiecameraroll-graphics

“Woah, hey, no. Absolutely not.”

Eddie is being shoved in the chest by someone before he can even register the sharp anger in their voice.

“Wait, wait, Rob, just—”

“No!” Robin smacks him on the chest after successfully pushing him back out the door of Family Video. “You do not get to see him.”

“Robin, please—”

The bell jingles as the door swings shut, and Robin is still pushing him off the curb and into the parking lot. “No, Eddie. You’ve hurt him enough, I’m not letting you do it again.”

There’s a fire in her eyes that lets Eddie know she’s more than serious, and willing to do a lot more than just shove him out the door. He holds his hands up and steps back in surrender, no doubt looking as pathetic as he feels. “Okay, okay, okay, I’m not coming in! I just…”

“Just what?” Robin crosses her arms across her chest, looking at Eddie like he’s the scum of the earth. Maybe he is. He feels like it.

Eddie sighs and anxiously pulls at his hair. His stomach rolls with nerves. “I just wanna talk to him.”

Robin scoffs and looks off to the side, understandably skeptical of his intentions.

“I know! I know, I fucked up!”

“You—” Robin cuts herself off, her sharp gaze returning to him. He flinches at the anger in it. “Do you? Do you actually know?”

“I…” Eddie had only assumed, by the way his last conversation with Steve had ended, the way all his calls had been avoided, minus the one where Robin had answered and swiftly delivered the message to never contact her best friend ever again. He had only assumed it was bad bad. “I… didn’t know.” He finishes weakly.

“And the fact that he told you—”

“I was scared!” Eddie cuts her off. “Can you blame me?”

“Yeah, I can, actually.” Robin’s tone is harsh. Eddie knows he deserves it. “After everything you’ve been through with him, after everything you know, and to just run off like that?”

Her words sting, and Eddie can’t help but hang his head in shame. “I know, Robin. But I was wrong!”

Robin scoffs again, eyes narrowed. “And it only took you, what, a week to figure that out?”

“No! No. I regretted it as soon as I left, but I…” Eddie exhales heavily. “I still—I was still scared.” The venom in Robin’s expression doesn’t change. “Please, Rob, I wanna be with him. He’s gotta give me another chance.”

“Okay, let’s get a couple of things straight.” Robin raises a finger. “One, Steve doesn’t have to do anything.” She raises another. “Two, if, and that’s a big if, he decides to give you another chance, you better be for real, Munson. I will kill you myself if you hurt him again.”

“I am! Rob, I swear, I wouldn’t’ve come back if I wasn’t. I…” Eddie hesitates for a second. Pulls on his hair again. His heart pounds wildly in his chest. “I love him, Robin.”

Robin assesses him, eyes narrowed, trying to see if he’s serious. Eddie tries to hold her gaze, hoping she sees his sincerity. Whether she sees that, or the bags under his eyes from not having slept at all the past week, or the fact that he’s begging with everything he has in him, she seems to accept it.

“Fine. But you will not do this during work. At least let him finish his shift in peace before you come and blow everything up.” Robin turns swiftly and starts walking back to the shop, not waiting to hear anything more from him.

Eddie fumbles for his cigarettes and lighter, fingers trembling as he walks back to his van. That could've gone better, he thinks. Could've gone worse too. Taking a couple deep drags, smoke filtering out with the shudder of his breath, he wills his heart to settle down. He had time to kill now. If he had to wait until the end of Steve’s shift, he would wait.

“I love you, Eddie.”

Steve’s soft voice came from above where Eddie was resting on Steve’s chest. It made him freeze, hand idly playing with Steve’s chest hair stilled. It sounded like Steve said… but no. That couldn’t be right. This… thing, this friendship, Eddie guessed he would call it, that he and Steve had been doing since all the end-of-the-world stuff, had definitely turned into something different. Yes, Eddie had very recently had Steve’s cock in his mouth. But they were still just friends, right?

The first couple of months were average enough, as far as trauma bonding friendships went. Just being there for each other, working through nightmares and panic attacks and pain flare ups. But as they healed and moved on, Eddie found himself and Steve hanging out just for the sake of hanging out.

And then there was the flirting. Eddie started it, he knows he did. A little call back to the “big boy” comment from the RV. He’d watched as Steve’s cheeks flushed a faint pink at the pet name, and found himself wanting to see it more and more. To his surprise, Steve started flirting back, catching Eddie off guard and having him hide behind his hair, cheeky smile peeking through the curls. It just seemed to be a… thing they did. It was normal to flirt with your friends.

It culminated in a night where, after sharing a joint and drinking some beers, Steve leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s lips. Sweet, slow, romantic. Eddie reciprocated with heat and desire. Steve had laughed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist and pulling him into his lap. They ended the night asleep in Steve’s bed, wrapped up in each other, exhausted after the bliss of touching and tasting each other. Eddie left the morning after with a shy wave from Steve. It happened again and again, the taste of Steve’s skin, the warmth of his hands on Eddie’s waist, the feeling of his chest hair between Eddie’s fingers, finding pleasure in each other’s touch, all becoming familiar.

Eddie thought he knew what this was. He thought they were just messing around, just having fun. The idea of being with Steve, in any capacity beyond this, was so laughable to Eddie, he refused to even think about it. There were moments where Eddie almost thought Steve liked him as more than a friend, but he quickly shoved them down. Pushed them deep into the recesses of his mind where he wouldn’t have to think about it. He knew Steve was just an affectionate guy. And it would never happen, so why even think about it? Eddie would just enjoy what they had. It was enough. He told himself over and over. It was enough.

But then Steve said…

“Wh-what?” Eddie managed to stutter, still frozen in shock.

Steve’s hand trailed down Eddie’s spine. “I know that it’s early, and you don’t—you don’t have to say it back. But I don’t wanna waste time. Almost lost you once. I wanna be with you, Eddie. I love you.”

Eddie’s mind sluggishly takes in what he’s hearing. When it finally catches up, he sits up so swiftly, Steve jerks back on reflex. Eddie sees the soft concern in Steve’s eyes, and suddenly his heart is pounding in his ears and he feels like he can’t breathe. Steve reaches out, back of his hand about to caress Eddie’s jaw.

“No! No, no, no, no, no.” Eddie jumps up, very aware of his own nudity.

“Woah, woah, hey,” Steve sits up, hands out like he’s placating a wild animal. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not!” Eddie can feel himself panicking, but can’t seem to stop it. “You just said you love me?” He can’t help the incredulity in his tone, the very idea so insane to him.

Steve’s confusion seeps into his voice. “I… I do?”

“No, you don’t,” Eddie argues instantly.

“What are you…? Eddie, what is this?” Steve’s eyes are widened with hurt, head shaking slightly. Eddie can see that he wants to reach out, but is holding back.

Frantically looking for his clothes, Eddie’s hands shake. “You—you’re just confused.” He finds his pants and yanks them on, not looking at Steve. “You don’t love me, you’re just… this is just…” Eddie trails off, looking for his shirt.

“Eddie, Eddie, look at me,” Steve pleads, fear starting to lace into the concern. “This is real, I do love you.”

Eddie refuses to look at him as he quickly pulls on his shirt, searching for his boots. “No, no, you don’t. I can’t Steve, I can’t…”

“Can’t what?” Steve finally stands up, trying to catch his eye.

Exhaling heavily, Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, before looking up at Steve and seeing the pain in his. “I can’t let myself believe that.”

Steve takes a step back, looking as though Eddie had pushed him. He sees the shutdown happen, the way Steve is suddenly closed off, pulling away, grief barely concealed as he averts his gaze. Unable to stand the expression on Steve’s face anymore, Eddie grabs his boots and runs out the door. He keeps running until he gets to his van, throwing himself inside and slamming on the accelerator, not daring to look back.

He doesn’t ease up until he’s halfway back to the trailer park and feeling like his chest might explode with the quick, panicked breaths he’s taking. Eddie pulls the van off to the side of the road and hits the brakes, body jolting with the force of the stop. The conversation with Steve replays in his mind on a loop. He forces himself to take a deep breath but the look on Steve’s face in his mind’s eye makes him choke on it. Eddie finally calms down enough to stare blankly through the windshield, and he asks himself what the hell he just did.

Sitting in the driver’s seat of his van, Eddie’s hands tap on the steering wheel, jittery with anxiety. The clouds grow dark overhead. Steve’s shift ends in a couple of hours, but Eddie didn’t want to leave in case he left early. He couldn’t help but feel guilty about cornering Steve at work, but he wouldn’t take his calls, and he was sure that if Steve didn’t intend to hear him out, Buckley would have come to tell him by now.

With half an hour left of Steve’s shift, Eddie opens the door to his van and swings his legs out, his last cigarette in hand. Keeping his eyes trained on the door, he waits for the last few customers to file out. He sees Buckley flip the door sign to ‘Closed’, catch his eye, roll hers, and disappear back into the store. Eddie’s heart was in his throat, waiting to see if Steve would appear, or if Buckley would come out to tell him to piss off for good.

After several agonising minutes, the door swings open slowly and Steve steps out. Eddie had never seen him look so… wary. So closed off. Not since they’d been friends. Steve catches his gaze, and Eddie watches the hurt flash briefly in his eyes before being quickly hidden. Buried deep down somewhere Eddie wouldn’t be able to see it. An impassive mask taking its place.

“Hey…” Eddie starts softly. “Can we talk?”

Steve only raises his brows and gestures vaguely between them. Eddie figures it’s as much approval as he was going to get. He tosses the butt of his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it as he hops down from the van seat, shutting the door behind him. He takes a few slow steps towards Steve, who still only regards him with caution. Eddie rubs his hands down his jeans, trying to still the trembling. Tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. Finally, he decides to sit on the curb a few steps away from Steve. He looks out and takes in the grey sky. Weirdly fitting. After a few moments, Steve sighs and sits down, leaving a bit of space between them.

Eddie, hunched over his knees, turns his head to look over at him. Steve looks straight ahead, but Eddie could see the darkness under his eyes, the overall flatness of his expression. It made Eddie ache to realise he caused it. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse that Steve wouldn’t look at him.

“I’m… so sorry, Steve.”

Steve scoffs, still not looking at him. Still unreadable.

“I mean it, Steve, really.” Eddie continues to stare, hoping (and scared) that Steve might turn his head. “I just—I panicked. I didn’t think you’d ever—”

“I get it,” Steve cuts him off sharply. “You thought we were just messing around. It’s fine. I don’t, y’know, need to hear your reasoning. For why you don’t feel the same way.”

“No! That’s not it at all.” Eddie tries to keep his voice calm, but the wobble gives him away. “I mean, yeah, I did think we were just messing around but I… I thought the idea of you wanting more than that was, y’know… crazy.” His hands continue to shake as he gestures vaguely.

Steve finally turns to him, only to give him a look that was equal parts hurt, confused, and honestly quite harsh. “What? Because King Steve could never be capable of love?”

“No, Steve, of course you’re capable of love, I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it.” It takes everything in Eddie not to reach out and take Steve’s hands in his. “I just. I didn’t think you’d ever love me.”

The silence sits heavy between them for several long moments.

Steve closes his eyes, his tone is measured. “I told you I loved you—”

“I know, and I didn’t believe you.”

“And you ran away.” Steve continues as though Eddie hasn’t spoken, looking back to him. “You told me I was confused.” The hurt returns with full force in Steve’s eyes, the slight green in them shining with it. “You said you couldn’t let yourself believe it. That I could love you.”

“I’m sorry, Steve.” Eddie’s voice cracks. “I’m so, so sorry. For all of it. I hurt you, and I wish I could take it all back. I was just… scared. Terrified. To believe it. I thought I was protecting myself. That if I let myself believe you, it would hurt too much when the rug was pulled out from under me. But I was wrong. So wrong. Nothing hurts more than knowing I hurt you, and I know you wouldn’t say it if you didn’t mean it, and…”

Steve just waits, tears shining in his eyes but not spilling over. It breaks Eddie’s heart all over again to see how much pain he’s caused. He meets Steve’s gaze with as much bravery as he can muster.

“And… I love you, Steve. I do, I love you so much. I don’t wanna be without you.”

Steve closes his eyes at Eddie’s words, turning away from him, brow furrowed. Tears trail down his cheek and settle at his jawline. “I don’t… think I can trust you.” Steve’s words are slow and thick. Measured.

Eddie feels the knife twist in his heart. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he continues. “I… I get it. I do. But I’m asking—begging you to give me another chance. Please, Steve. I’ll spend every single day proving it to you, until you can trust me again.”

Steve peeks over at him, wary. “Every single day?”

“For the rest of my life, if that’s what it takes,” Eddie promises. “I swear it. I love you, Steve.”

Eddie holds his breath, throat tight, and blinks away his own tears. Expression unreadable, Steve looks at him for a long moment, carefully considering Eddie’s words. Tentatively, Eddie reaches out towards Steve’s hand, leaving enough distance for him to decide. Steve slowly takes his hand and grips it tightly. He lets their joined hands hang between them, before finally whispering, “Okay.”

[matchingbatbites]

Pre-s4 Steddie where Eddie doesn't try to be cute and sneak up on Steve, not to spook him or to even just to wrap his arms around him without warning. He doesn't know why his boyfriend's reaction to being startled is to throw a mean right hook, but he learned his lesson the first time and always makes sure Steve knows he's coming up behind him. Especially because seeing Steve upset over the fact that he hit Eddie hurts worse than the actual hit itself.

[flowercrowngods]

who did this to you. part 3

🤍🌷 read part 1 here | read part 2 here pre-s4, steve whump, protective (but scared) eddie. now with robin!

The number rings in his head, echoing off the inside of his skull and sinking lower and lower until his heart strings join the symphony that leaves him shaking as the memory of Harrington’s slurred voice is drowned out by the dial tone that feels harrowingly like a flatline right now. 

Said I’ll go blind. Or deaf. Or just… die.

Eddie doesn’t really feel like his body belongs to him anymore, or like there’s anything left inside him other than panic and fear and that stupid, stupid shaking that he can’t suppress even as he bites his knuckles. Hard. 

The pain helps a little not to startle too much when the dial tone stops and a female voice begins speaking to him. Still he almost drops the phone, cursing under his breath as he pulls his hair to collect himself and get his voice to work. 

“H— Hi, hello, Mrs Buckley? This is, uh. I. I’m. A friend of Robin’s, could you, uh—“ 

“Oh, of course, dear,” the woman says, and Eddie feels his eyes beginning to prick with how nice she sounds even through the phone. 

Does she know Steve, too? Would she worry if she knew? Would she curse Eddie for not taking him to the hospital right away? Would she blame him if anything happened? 

“I’m sorry? What did you say your name was?” she asks, repeating herself by the sound of it. 

He blanks, for a whole five seconds, before he spots a note stuck to the fridge saying Don’t forget to eat, Eddie :-)

“Eddie,” he croaks. “Uh, Eddie Munson.”

“Alright, Eddie Munson, I’ll see if I can grab Robin for you. You have a good day, dear, yes?” 

No. “Thanks.” 

The hand clenched in his hair pulls tighter and tighter until the tears fall and he can pretend it’s from pain and not from— whatever the fuck is happening. 

He waits, phone pressed to his ear with a kind of desperation he’s never really felt, and never wants to feel again. He doesn’t even know what to tell Robin; what to say. It’s not like they ever hang out or have anything to say to each other, so why would she— 

“Munson?” Robin’s voice appears on the other end, a little too loud for Eddie’s certain state, and he does drop the phone this time, scrambling to catch it and only making the situation worse as it dangles by his knees. 

He drops to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and reaching for the phone again. 

“Hi.” 

“What do you want? How’d you even get this number? I swear, if you—“ 

“It’s Blue. I mean, Steve. Harrington.” 

That shuts her right up, and Eddie clenches his eyes shut for a moment, hoping to keep the tremor out of his voice if only he takes a moment to breathe. 

The moment stretches. And Robin’s voice is wary and quiet when she speaks again. 

“What about Steve.” 

Eddie rubs his face, leaving more dirt and grime to fill the tear tracks, and clenches his fist before his mouth. 

“Eddie,” Robin demands, dangerous now. Nothing left of the rambling, bubbling mess he knows her to be on the school hallways. “What. About. Steve.” 

“He… He’s hurt.” 

There’s a bit of a commotion on the other end, before Robin declares, “I’m coming over. You tell me everything.” 

“You— I mean, he’s in the hospital with my uncle, so—“ 

“I am. Coming. Over,” she says, enunciating every word as though she were making a threat. Maybe she is. But the certainty in her voice helps a little, anchors him the same way that Wayne’s calmness did. “And you tell me everything.” 

Eddie finds himself nodding along, knowing intuitively that there is nothing that could stop her now. Knowing that he doesn’t want to stop her. 

“‘Kay.” It’s a pathetic little sound, all choked up and tiny. She doesn’t comment on it. 

One second he hears her determined exhale, the next she’s hung up on him and Eddie is greeted by the flatline again. He lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head back against the wall. 

Breathing is hard again, but it’s all he has to do now, all that’s left to do, so he focuses. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Hold. His lungs are burning and there’s something wrong about the way he pulls in air and keeps it there, desperately latching onto it until the very last second, his exhales more of a gasping cough than calm and controlled. 

It takes a while. Longer than it should. But with Harrington’s blood still on his hands, with his heartbeat in his ears so loud he can’t even hear the words Wayne used to say about breathing in through the mouth or the nose or… or something, he— 

He’s fine. He’s home. Wayne’s got Blue, and Buckley is on her way, and… He’s fine. 

People don’t just die. 

They don’t. 

He’s fine. 

Eventually, Eddie manages to breathe steadily, the air no longer shuddering and his hands no longer shaking. It’s stupid, really, being so worked up over someone he doesn’t even really know. Sure, everyone knows Steve fucking Harrington, and everyone sees Steve fucking Harrington — whether they want it or not. He has a way of drawing eyes toward him even if all he does is walk the halls with his dorky smile and that stupidly charming swagger he’s got going on. Always matching his shoes to his outfit.

Eddie can relate.

Always reaching out to touch the person he’s talking to; clapping their back or shoulder, lightly shoving them in jest, ruffling their hair or chasing them through the halls, moving and holding himself like teenage angst can’t reach him. Like he belongs wherever he goes. Like he’s so, so comfortable in his own skin. Like the clothes he wears aren’t armour but just a part of him; a means of self-expression. 

Again, Eddie can relate. He can relate to all of this. 

It’s almost like the two of them aren’t so different after all. Just going about it differently. 

And now he’s… Bleeding. Slurring his speech. Wheezing his breath. And Eddie feels protective. Eddie feels responsible. Like he should be there, like he should get to know more about him. About Steve. About Blue. 

But he can’t. And he won’t. So he gets up with a groan that expresses his frustration and the need to make a sound, to fight the oppressive silence that only encourages his thoughts to run in obsessive little circles, and he hangs up the phone that’s been dangling beside him all this time. 

He needs a smoke. 

He needs a smoke and a blunt and a drink and for this day to be over and for time to revert and to leave him out of whatever business he stumbled into by opening the door to the boathouse and, apparently, Steve Harrington’s life. 

But unfortunately, the universe doesn’t seem to care about what he needs, because just as he steps outside and goes to light his cig, he catches sight of a harried looking Robin Buckley, standing on the pedals of her bike as she kicks them, her hair blowing in the wind to reveal a frown between her brows. A wave of unease overcomes Eddie, an unease he can’t really place. Maybe it’s the set of her jaw, or the tension in her shoulders, or maybe it’s the worry and anger she exudes. 

It never occurred to him before that Robin Buckley might not be a person you’d want to set off. And not because of her uncontrollable rambles. 

“Munson!” she calls over, carelessly dropping her bike in the driveway and stalking toward him. 

Almost as if summoning a shield, Eddie does light the cigarette. Pretends like the smoke can protect him. 

She doesn’t stop at the foot of the steps, though, climbs them in two leaps and gets all up in his space with that unwavering look of determination — so unwavering, in fact, that it almost looks like wrath. Cold. Eddie wants to shrink away from it, not at all daring to wonder what could make her look like that upon hearing that Steve’s hurt. 

I don’t wanna die, Munson. I never… I didn’t. With the monsters or the torture.

But those are the words of a semi-conscious teenage boy beat to a pulp, they can’t— There’s no way. Eddie misheard him, or Steve was talking about some kind of inside joke, using the wrong terminology with the wrong guy. It happens. It happens when you’re out of it, really! The shit he’s said when he was shot up, canned up, all strung out and high as a kite… He’d be talking of monsters, too, and mean some benign shit. 

But the way Harrington looked, none of that was benign. The bruising all over his face, the blood still dripping from the wound by his temple or his nose, the way he held himself, breath rattling in his lungs, or— 

“Hey!” Buckley demands his attention, giving him a light shove; just enough to catch his attention, really, and just what he needed to snap out of it. Still the smoke hits his lungs wrong and he coughs up a lung, further cementing his role of the pathetic little guy today. 

“Hey,” he says lamely, his voice still croaking as he crushes the half-smoked cigarette under his boot. “Sorry.” He doesn’t know for what. But it feels appropriate. 

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes at him as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. 

“Tell me,” she says at last, and even though there is a tremor in her voice, she sounds nothing short of demanding. “I want the whole story, and I want it now.” 

And so he does. He tells her everything, bidding her inside because he needs the relative safety of the trailer even though the air in here is stuffy and still faintly smells blue. He pours them both some coffee and some tea, because asking what she wants doesn’t feel right in the middle of telling her how he found her supposed best friend beat to shit in the boathouse he went to to forget about the world for a while. 

She stills as she listens to him, staring ahead into the middle distance somewhere beneath the floor and the walls, her hands wrapped around the steaming mug of coffee. Eddie stumbles over his words a lot, unsettled by her stillness, her lack of reaction. She doesn’t even react to his fuck-ups. People usually do.

He wants to ask. Where are you right now? What have you seen? What’s on your mind? What the fuck is happening?

But he doesn’t ask, instead he tells her more about Steve. About how he seemed to forget where he was. About the pain he was in. About the smiles nonetheless. The way he reassured Eddie. 

That one finally gets a choked little huff from her, somewhere between a sob and a laugh. 

“Yeah, that sounds like him alright. He’s such a dingus.” 

There is so much affection in her voice as she says it that Eddie can’t help but smile into his mug. 

“Dingus?” he asks, hoping for some lightness, hoping to keep it. 

But the light fades, and her eyes get distant again. Eddie wants to kick himself. 

“Just a stupid little nickname. An insult, really.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t know what to do with that. If he should ask more or if he should say that he has a feeling Steve might appreciate stupid little nicknames. Especially if they’re unique. Especially if they’re for him. But what right does he have to say that now? What knowledge does he have about Steve Harrington that Robin doesn’t? 

So he bites his tongue and drinks his coffee, cursing the silence that falls over them as Robin mirrors him, albeit slow and stilted, like she doesn’t know what to do either. Or where to put her limbs. 

“Wayne’s got him now. I took him here, after the boathouse, because I didn’t know what to do. He said he didn’t want the hospital, said there’s…” He trails off. 

Robin looks at him, her eyes wary but alert. “Said there’s what?” 

It’s stupid. Don’t say it. 

“Eddie?” 

With a sigh, he puts his mug on the counter and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “He said there’s monsters. In the hospital, I mean. He said that.”

Instead of scoffing or at least frowning, Robin clenches her jaw and nods imperceptibly, her eyes going distant again. Eddie blinks, the urge to just fucking ask overcoming him again, but with every passing second he realises that he doesn’t actually want to ask. He doesn’t want to know, let alone find out. 

He just… He just wants to go to bed. Forget any of this ever happened. But he can’t do that, so he continues. 

“Brought him here and Wayne took one look at him and convinced him he needed a doctor. And, Jesus H Christ, he was right. I’ve never… I mean, those things don’t happen,” he urges, balling his hands into fists even in the confined space of his pockets. “Right? I mean… Shit, man.” He bumps his shoe into the kitchen counter; gently, so as not to startle Buckley out of her fugue like state. 

“You’d be surprised,” she rasps, staring into the middle distance again and slowly sinking to the floor. There is a tremor in her shoulders now, barely noticeable, but Eddie knows where to look. Without really thinking about it, he grabs two of his hoodies he’d haphazardly thrown over the kitchen chairs this morning while deciding on his outfit and realising that it was altogether too warm for long sleeves today. But now, right here in this kitchen, the air tinged with blue, they’re both freezing. 

Because fear and worry will take all the warmth right from inside of you and leave you freezing even on the hottest day of the year. 

She barely looks at him when he holds out his all-black Iron Maiden hoodie to her, freshly washed and all that, but she takes it nonetheless, immediately pulling it on. It’s way too large on her, her hands not showing through the sleeves, her balled fists safe and warm inside the fabric. It would make him smile if only it didn’t highlight her stillness, her faraway stare, and the years he has on her. She’s, what, two years younger than him? Three? 

It seems surreal. Everything, everything does. 

Robin Buckley in his home, sitting on his kitchen floor, swallowed by a hoodie that is a size too large even for him, but it was the last one they had in the store and he doesn’t mind oversized clothes, can just cut them shorter when the need arises or layer them or declare them comfort sweaters for when he wants to just have his hands not slip through the sleeves on some days. And now Robin is wearing his comfort hoodie because her best friend was bleeding in his car earlier and then on his couch and now in his uncle’s car, and they never even talk, but he knows that Robin’s favourite colour is blue, but not morning hour blue because that makes her sad; only deep, dark blues. 

Her favourite colour. Her favourite person. 

It’s so fucking surreal. 

He drops down beside her, leaving enough space between them so neither of them feels caged, and mirrors her position: knees to his chest, chin on his forearms. Staring ahead. 

And silence reigns. 

“Your uncle,” she says at last, finally breaking the silence that’s been grating on Eddie’s nerves and looking at him, really looking as she rests her cheek on her forearms crossed over her knees. “Tell me about him.” 

There is a gentleness to her voice now despite how hoarse it is. Maybe she’s just tired, too. And scared. At least the shivering has stopped. 

Still Eddie frowns, confused as to why she should be breaking the silence to ask about Wayne when everything today has been about Harrington. About Steve. About deep and dark blues. 

“Uncle Wayne?” he asks. “Why?”

“Because,” she begins, and sighs deeply, works to get the air back in her lungs. Eddie wants to reach out, but instead he just clenches his fingers a little deeper into the fabric of his hoodie. “My best friend is hurt very badly and the only person with him is your uncle, and I need to know that he’s in good hands. Or I swear to whatever god you may or may not believe in, and granted, it’s probably the latter, but still I swear I’ll give into my arsonist tendencies and burn down this city, starting with your trailer if you don’t tell me that your uncle is a good man who will do anything in his power to make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs. And deserves.” 

Her jaw is set and her bottom lip trembles, but it doesn’t take away from the absolute sincerity in her threat. 

“So, please,” she continues, her voice breaking just a little bit. “Tell me. Tell me about your uncle.” 

Tell me about your favourite person. 

Eddie swallows, and mirrors her position once more, so she can see his eyes and know he’s sincere. Because he’s learned something about eyes today, about how much in the world can change if only you have a pair of eyes to look into. 

And he nods, looking for somewhere to start. “He’s the best man I know. He’s the best man you’ll ever meet.”

She clings to his eyes. Searches them for the truth, beseeching them not to lie. He lets her. 

“Took me in when I was ten, because my dad’s a fuck-up and my mom’s a goner. Took me in again when I was twelve after I ran away. Makes me breakfast and I pretends the dinner I make him is more than edible.” He smiles a little, because how could he not? “He’s my uncle, but still he’s the best parent anyone could wish for. Writes those little notes that he sticks to the fridge, y’know, the one with the smiley face? Tells me to eat, because I forget sometimes. I tell him to drink water, because he forgets. First few years, he’d read to me. And the man’s a shit reader, has some kind of disability I think, and at some point I learned that he wasn’t reading at all. He was telling me stories all the time, conning me into thinking that the books were magic, and that every time I’d try to read the book for myself, the story would change.” 

There’s a lump in his throat now, and his eyes sting again. But Robin doesn’t seem to fare any better than him if her wavering smile is any indication. 

“There’s no one,” Eddie continues, “who will make you believe in magic quite like uncle Wayne. Or in good things. And d’you wanna know what he told Blue when he said he was scared of going to the hospital?” 

Sniffling, Robin shakes her head. 

“He said, Okay. Then we do it scared. And all of that after he just… with that patience he has, told him everything that was gonna happen. And that he’d be there with him through it all. That he knew the doc and wouldn’t let anyone else near him, and that there’s no need to be scared at all.” 

He sighs, breathes, stills. Swallows, before looking back at Robin. 

“So, if there’s one person who’ll make sure that boy gets the help and care he needs and deserves…” 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Robin finishes his sentence, her voice still hoarse, but Eddie likes to think it’s for a different reason now. 

“It’s uncle Wayne,” Eddie says, nodding along as he does. 

There is something like understanding in Robin’s eyes now, and Eddie hopes it’s enough. Enough to calm the spiking of her nerves, enough to settle the coil of freezing nausea that must reside in the pit of her stomach, enough to let the next breath she takes feel a little more like it’s supposed to be there. 

He wants to say something more, wants to reach out and reassure her that everything will be okay, but he can’t know that. He doesn’t feel like it’s entirely true, let alone appropriate right now. 

There’s something in Robin’s eyes, in the way she holds herself, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like she accepts his words at face value but doesn’t really believe them. Like she’ll only rest when she’s got her best friend back in her arms and hears the story — the whole story — from him. 

And Eddie doesn’t fault her, because the thing is, he doesn’t know what happened. Steve said that Hagan came at him, but that’s really all he got out of him before he started talking about death and shit, and Eddie really didn’t want to ask any more questions then. 

So they sit there for a while, the silence oppressive and unwelcome, clumsy and awkward; Robin’s mouth opening and closing a lot, like she wants to ask questions but doesn’t dare to ask them — and Eddie doesn’t know if he’s glad about it or not. Doesn’t know if he wants to hear the kind of questions asked with that kind of stare. 

It is only after a long while, when Robin’s shoulders start shaking again and she buries deeper into the hoodie and her own spiralling thoughts, that Eddie breaks the silence again, replaying in his head the last moment between him and Steve. 

“He’s not gonna break,” he tells her, aiming for gentle and reassuring. 

What he doesn’t expect is the minute flinch, the jolt shooting through her body and the pained expression it leaves her with. What he doesn’t expect is what she says next. 

“You know,” she begins, her voice as far away as her eyes, and it’s like she doesn’t even know she’s speaking. “Sometimes I wish he would.” 

What?

Eddie blinks, swallowing hard.

“Just for, just for a break. Just so he can rest. Let the rest take over for a while.” 

That… He doesn’t— What the hell does that even mean? 

“Like maybe then the world would… snap back.” She snaps her fingers, just once. This time it’s Eddie who flinches. “And everything bad would disappear. But it won’t. And he won’t.” She swallows. Then quietly, almost inaudible, “He won’t break.” 

And the way she says it… It was reassuring before. And now it feels like a burden. A curse. 

Who the fuck are you, Steve Harrington? And you, Robin Buckley. 

Eddie shudders, knowing he doesn’t want the answer to that anymore. He doesn’t want the questions either. So he buries his face in his hands, closes his eyes, and breathes. The adrenaline has worn off by now, the repeated panicking that added fuse to the fire has ceased now, leaving him worn out and strung out, tired and exhausted. He pulls up the hood, burrowing into the warmth. 

And then he stills. His usually twitching, fumbling, fiddling body falling entirely still beside Buckley. 

It’s like time stops for a while there, even though Eddie knows that it’s dragging ever on and on. He’s inclined to let it, though. He’s too tired, too exhausted to really care about what time may or may not be doing. 

“Why’d you call me?” 

It takes a while for Eddie to realise that Robin’s spoken again, asked him a question out loud, the cadence of it different to the endless circles of questions Eddie’s got stuck in his head since the early afternoon tinged in blue against crimson. 

He lifts his head, tucking his hands underneath his chin, and looks over at Buckley. Her hair is dishevelled now, her mascara smudged and crusty. Her lipstick is almost all gone, with the way he sees her biting and chewing on her lips. 

“I… It seemed like the right thing to do, y’know? He kept repeating your number. In the car, it was like… Sounds dramatic, but it was like his lifeline, almost. Repeated it so often it kinda got stuck.” He shrugs. “Seemed important, too.”

Robin frowns; a careful little thing. “How’d you know it was me?”

“Well, he just talked about you. Y’know. Tell me about your favourite person, I told him, because that’s the thing you gotta do to keep people, like, talking to you. Not shit about what day it is, or what. Just, y’know. Let them talk about things they like. Things they’ll wanna tell you about. ’N’ he talked about you.” 

She’s quiet for a while, letting his words sink in. And Eddie wonders if she knew. That she’s his favourite person. If he ever told her. If maybe he took that from him now. It’s a stupid thing to worry about, really; the boy was bloodied and bruised on his couch just an hour ago, there are worse things at hand for Eddie to worry about. But now he wonders if he just spilled some sort of secret. Some sort of love confession. 

“Did you, I mean… Are you guys, like, dating? Did I just steal his moment?” 

Robin huffs, but it’s more like a smile that needs a little more space in the room, a little more air to really bloom. It’s fond. She shakes her head, her eyes far away again, but closer somehow. 

“Nah,” she says, and the smile is in her voice, too. Eddie kind of likes her voice like that. “We’re platonic. Which is something I’d never thought I’d say. Not about Steve Harrington, y’know?” 

And the way she drags out his name… Eddie can relate. Like it means something, but like what it means is nowhere close to reality. Nowhere close to what it really means. Nowhere close to Blue. 

Robin sighs, the sound more gentle than it should be, and leans her head against the cabinet behind her. “We worked together over summer break. Scoops Ahoy.” Her voice does a funny thing, and her eyes glaze over as she pauses. Eddie waits, his lips tipped up into a little smile, too; to match hers. 

“What, the ice cream parlour?” 

Robin hums, her smile widening at what Eddie guesses must be memories of chaos and ridiculousness. “I wanted to hate him,” she continues. “But try as I might, he wouldn’t let me. Or, he did. He did let me. Just, it turns out, there’s no use hating Steve Harrington, not when he’s so… So endlessly genuine. There’s nothing to hate, y’know? And then he…” 

She stops, her mouth clicking shut as her eyes tear up a little. The Starcourt fire. Eddie remembers the news, remembers the self-satisfied smirk when he’d heard about it, remembers sticking it to the Man and to capitalism and to the idea of malls over supporting your friendly neighbourhood businesses. 

Guilt and shame overcome him as he realises that they must have been in there when it happened. 

“He saved your life?” 

Robin’s eyes snap toward him, wide and caught, and Eddie raises his hands in placation. 

“In the fire? Were you there?” 

“Y—yeah.” She swallows hard, avoiding his eyes. “The fire. He saved me. Yeah.” 

Eddie nods, deciding to drop that topic right there; to lay it on the ground as gently as he can and cover it with bright red colours so he never steps on it ever again. 

“He must be your favourite person, too, then, hm?” he steers the conversation back away into safer waters. 

“He is,” she says, sure and genuine and true. “It’s just. I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone’s favourite. He has a lot of people who care about him, you know? A lot of people he cares about. Even more numbers memorised in that stupidly smart head of his.” She huffs again, burrowing deeper into Eddie’s hoodie, pulling the sleeves over her hands some more. “It’s stupid, to be so hung up on this. Is it stupid?” 

“I don’t think it is,” Eddie says, scooting a little closer to Robin. “Like, I don’t even know that boy, right? But even I know that he’s got some ways to shift your focus or something. Give you a silver lining, or something to take the pain away even when he’s the one who… I don’t know, that’s probably stupid, too.” 

“Nah,” Robin says, scooting closer to him, too, until their sides are pressed together and she can lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s not stupid. You’re right; that’s Steve for you. ’S just who he is.” 

It is, isn’t it? 

You’re so blue, Stevie. 

She’ll say something corny when, when you ask her, jus’ to fuck with you. Sunset gold or rose, jus’ to mess with… But is blue.

Blue. ‘S nice. 

Yeah. Yeah, he is. 

Eddie lets his thoughts roam the endless possibilities and realities that is Steve Harrington, the depths he hides — or won’t hide, maybe, if you know how to ask. Where to look. 

Maybe he’ll find out, one of these days. Not about the terrible things that leave him scared of the hospital, not about the horrible things that have him speaking of death and dying like he’s accepted them as a possibility a long time ago. 

He swallows hard and shakes off these thoughts, because things like that just. They don’t happen. They don’t happen to blue-smiled boys who trust you to be kind even when they’re beaten straight to hell. And they sure as hell don’t happen when uncle Wayne’s around. 

Nothing bad has ever happened when uncle Wayne was around. 

And he wants to tell Robin, wants to make that promise. But part of him can’t bear the thought of being wrong. So he keeps his mouth shut and just sits with her, their heads as heavy as their hearts as they wait. 

The sun is long gone when the phone above him rings again, spooking and startling them out of their timeless existence. 

“Yeah?” he answers, his heart hammering in his chest. “Wayne?” 

“Hey, Ed,” Wayne’s voice comes through the phone like a melody. Calm and steady. Robin is scooting closer, and Eddie shifts the phone to accommodate her so they can both listen. Somehow, they ended up holding hands — and holding on hard. “We’re coming home now.” 

🤍🌷 tagging:

@theshippirate22 @mentallyundone @ledleaf @imfinereallyy @itsall-taken @simply-shin @romanticdestruction @temptingfatetakingnames @stevesbipanic @steddie-island @estrellami-1 @jackiemonroe5512 @emofratboy @writing-kiki @steviesummer @devondespresso @swimmingbirdrunningrock @dodger-chan @tellatoast @inkjette @weirdandabsurd42 @annabanannabeth @deany-baby @mc-i-r @mugloversonly @viridianphtalo @nightmareglitter @jamieweasley13 @copingmechanizm @marklee-blackmore @sirsnacksalot @justrandomfandomstm @hairdryerducks @silenzioperso @newtstabber @fantrash @zaddipax @cometsandstardust @rowanshadow26 @limpingpenguin @finntheehumaneater @extra-transitional (sorry if i missed anyone! lmk if you don't wanna be tagged for part 4 🫶)

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 7B

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary: Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. Jus sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: took a page from @whytheylosttheirminds with separating the part into 2. Because it’s a bit of writing. About 3k words each. I wanted to finish this off before S4 P2 begins so it’s finishing this is the last part until it airs.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: fluff, bit of angst, smut (oral m receiving, chest riding, p in v riding) death, Luke Maybank

“Can we please talk?”

You give it a second but you can see the desperation in his eyes, “okay, talk.”

He runs a hand through his buzz cut, eyes heavy with guilt. “I’m sorry. I do want to be better. I’m the man of the Cameron family now, and what am I supposed to do when all the women in my life hate me? Fear me? It eats at me. I should’ve stood up for Kie, set an example that Ruthie and Topper’s bullshit isn’t acceptable anymore, never was, I don’t care about that reputation anymore, not like I used to. When I look at V, all I want is to be better. I have no excuse.

He watches you, searching for a sign that you’re listening. You offer him nothing, forcing him to keep talking. “I took you for granted for so long. Used you, kept you a secret because I was scared of what people would think, all because of stupid titles. I knew Topper and Kelce wouldn’t say anything but that’s always what they’d use to try to piss me off when we’d be messing with each other. You always meant something to me and I constantly pushed you away. I hurt you more times than I can count, some of the times worse than others.”

Painful memories flash between you—He’s talking about the time he handcuffed you to his bed during his downward spiral after killing Peterkin, dragging you with him to Barry’s when he needed to hide out, putting you in the middle of gunfire with the police when he got caught. Drugging you alongside Sarah and bringing you on that ship then standing idle why he watched his dad strangle you until you were blue when you got smart with him about murdering Big John. All because he didn’t want to be alone.

“You came to me for protection from your father, and I failed you. You tried to help me, and I pushed you away. But all I want now is to see you happy. You shouldn’t have even forgiven me.”

Tears slip down your face as you reach out, cupping his cheek. “I told you what I thought your problem was, and I was right. You’ve grown without your father’s shadow. Even before I came back, you’d changed. You are the man of the Cameron family now, and you can be the kind of man your father never was. I need you to be all in, Rafe. No more half-measures. V needs you. I need to know we can count on you. Only then can we move forward.”

You grab the sea turtle V left on the bed this morning, unintentionally but great for the point you’re trying to make. “Because what if she was there, what if she could understand all that happened.” You toss it to him. “Think about her Rafe.”

“I promise,” he says, voice cracking. “Forever and always.”

A bittersweet smile spreads across your face. The words that once comforted you in your darkest moments return, anchoring you both.

I’ll protect you, I promise, forever and always.

I’ll be here for you when you need me, I promise, forever and always.

I’ll kick his ass for you, I promise, forever and always.

“I love you, Rafe, and that’s never changing.” You kneel closer, wrapping him in a hug.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he whispers, his voice resolute. “Forever and always.”

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

You look at him, and he smirks. You kiss him on the lips, then his jaw, then his neck. He coos at the feeling. You sit up and pull off your tank top, laying back down. You stare into his eyes intently as you play with the waistline of your shorts. He goes to reach out for you, but you smack his hand away.

“Uh uh, take your clothes off.” “Yes, mam.” He stands up and rids himself of his own pajamas, now standing completely bare in front of you. “Lay.”

He does exactly as you say. You straddle his legs, running a finger down his length to tease him. Kneeling your upper body down, arch your ass into the air, and he smiles down at you. You grab him in your hand, running your thumb over his tip, smearing his precum. You drop a glob of spit down onto him. You lower your head onto him, beginning to bob up and down. He thrusts up into you at the sensation, and you remove your mouth from him.

“Uh uh, I’m in charge tonight, baby.”

He nods his head and throws his hands up in a mock surrender. You begin bobbing again, taking as much of him as you can, gagging on his huge length but taking him nonetheless. You run your hand that's not pumping him up and down his torso, scratching your nails on the way down. You hear his series of grunts and moans and feel the way he'd tense up trying to refrain from thrusting up.

He was getting close, and you could tell by the way he'd twitch in your throat. When his breathing started to hitch, you let him go and watched for his reaction. As he realizes his orgasm was lost, he opens his eyes to see you kneeling in front of him with a big smirk.

“Not fun being treated like shit, right?” You laugh, and he rolls his eyes but eventually laughs quietly. He goes to sit up, and you push him back into the pillow. You want to tease him as much as you can. You made up, but it's nice to give him a little taste of his own medicine.

You start making your way up him, taking a seat right below his chin. You push down into him and moan. You begin to ride his chest. Rafe always loved to eat you out, and you know having him this close to your pussy drives him crazy.

“Let me taste you.” Gripping his head, moving it up closer to your clit. “Tongue out.” He lays his tongue out flat, and you move a little closer to also ride his tongue. Using him like this feels so good since you'd usually let him take control.

Your movements quicken, digging your nails into the back of his head, and you crane his neck. You're getting close, and you don't plan on slowing down. You hold yourself up on the headboard, and your body twitches. Rafe moans into your clit, and your head throws back. You shake as you come, arousal sticking to his chest. You lift up a bit to his mouth, and he cleans up what's left.

You move back down to his waist. Licking the palm of your hand and reaching back to stroke him. His body jolts at the feelings. You line yourself up with him and sink down onto him. Your nails dig into his chest at the stretching. No matter how many times you do this, the feeling always has you shocked.

You settle on him for a second before you lift up and throw yourself back down onto him. Your pace is immediately quick. You bounce like there's no tomorrow. Taking control of him like this is so rewarding. The feeling is amazing, but you need more stimulation. You begin to grind, feeling his pelvic bone rub against you has seeing stars.

“Can I touch?” You nod, and Rafe's hands roam your body. You're driving him crazy tonight, but his touch is soft. Taking every inch of you in. You're an angel sent from heaven to him. You're both close, and you're getting tired. Rafe grabs your hips and keeps you moving. You lean down and begin to kiss him.

“Love you, baby doll. Forever and always.” You lean your forehead on his as you continue your movements. “Fuck, Rafe. I love you more. Forever and always.” You cry out with a high-pitched moan as you release your orgasm. Rafe follows right behind you, gripping your waist hard and letting out a bunch of grunts.

You lift off of Rafe but stay on top of him. You shift down a little, enough to be able to lay your head on his chest. Following the rise and fall of his heavy breaths and listen to his heart race, while he holds you tightly, leaving kisses on the top of your head. You could lay like that forever.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

The next morning you and Rafe wake up still tangled up with one another. He’s dressed and doesn’t smell like sweat and sex anymore, which means he left at some point. It angers you a bit but you chose to let it go for now. You take a shower and come out of the bathroom to see Rafe flying V around the room like Superman. You’re downstairs having breakfast, really just talking to V trying to make her laugh. That fell into a bit of a silence.

“I took the deal.”

“What?”

“Last night, I took the deal. That’s why I was dressed. I know you noticed but didn’t say anything.”

Taken aback just a bit. You were still very nervous of what Hollis’s intentions were. But you said you’d be supportive no matter what. “Ok, so now what?”

“She sent the info to the investors. The deposit should come out at some point today. And now I’m in contract with them.”

“Did you read the fine print about murder if this thing goes wrong?”

He laughs at the outrageous statements and goes to reach for your hand. “Yes, I read the whole thing, no there isn’t anything about murder. Not sure it’s something they’d want in paper.”

You smile and grip his hand a little harder. You go to say something but he cuts you off, “after yesterday, after our talk, after last night (he winks and you giggle), I thought this was the best step for US.” I want to be taken seriously, I want to be a strong father for V. Then I saw a photo of me and Sarah and I thought about the things I did to her. How she hates my guts, how she looked at me yesterday. I can’t be that person anymore. I’m gonna do the right thing and this is a stepping stone in that. This is for our family. I know you always hated that I’d tried to treat you with gifts and money, but you’re stuck with me and what’s mine is yours. So get used to it.” He takes a deep breath and smiles at you.

You release his hand and walk to the other side of the table to sit on his lap. “Ok Rafe Cameron. I told you I’d be there with you the whole way. Anything you need I’ll help you. I’m not going anywhere this time.” You give him a big kiss on the cheek when your phone starts to vibrate.

You reach over and pick it up and JJ is yelling in the other side. “JJ calm down!”

“Sis I need you here right now. I’m alone and got this letter and I’m freaking out.”

“Okay, OKAY, I’ll come.” You hang up and turn back to Rafe. “Do you think you’d be ok for a few when I go handle something for my brother?

“I mean sure but I thought we’d celebrate.”

“Ok first rule of the “be a better man” journey is to know that when a sibling calls in distress saying they need you. They probably need you. That would’ve saved you a lot of trouble.”

Rafe looks at you with a blank stare. “Ok- go then. I’ve got V.” You’re shocked at the reaction. Not being able to tell if he was mad at it or not was difficult. You didn’t mean to throw in a little jab about the past. It’s just a good lesson for him to learn.

You lean down to give him a kiss. “I love you.” Looking deeply into his eyes. “Forever and always.” He returns back.

╰☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆ ☆☆╮

Meeting JJ at your old house feels strange. He’s standing in the living room, staring at a piece of paper and rubbing his head. He hadn’t explained anything on the phone, which left you uneasy, but seeing his disheveled state makes your anxiety spike.

“J? What’s going on? Where is everyone?” you ask, voice tight with worry.

“They’re out on the boat, taking care of Terrance’s body,” he mutters, barely looking up.

“Terrance? As in Cleo’s Terrance? What happened?”

JJ sighs, exhaustion lining his face. “Cleo got kidnapped. Terrance was involved but didn’t know who the target was. He tried to save her, and it got him killed. I’ll fill you in later, but I need you to read this.”

He hands you the letter. The first line catches your eye: “Master JJ Maybank. Don’t let that go to your head.” You laugh nervously, but JJ doesn’t even crack a smile.

“Genrette’s groundskeeper brought this to me,” he explains. “Said Genrette left it for me.”

The words on the letter blur as you try to piece together its meaning. “I think we need to find dad,” JJ say, your eyes dart back to him.

“Absolutely not. I’m not seeing him,” you snap.

“Good thing it’s not about you,” he counters. “He’s the only one who might have answers to whatever this is.”

JJ’s expression softens, and he nods reluctantly. “You’re right. Sorry. Any idea where he might be?”

“I have a hunch.”

Minutes later, you’re on JJ’s boat, slicing through the water toward Barracuda Mike’s house. When you arrive, Mike is in his yard fidgeting with a go kart, watching the approaching storm clouds.

“Hey, Big B, you know there’s a storm coming, right?” JJ calls out.

“Yeah, I see it,” Mike responds.

You hang back as JJ pleads with Mike for information on your dad’s whereabouts. Moments later, Mike sighs and mutters, “I’ll call you if Luke gets in touch.” Sending you both off to the dock.

JJ sets the phone on speaker as it rings. Luke’s familiar voice comes through, cautious and calculating, until he hears Mike’s dog bark in the background. Realization hits him too late.

“We gotta move,” JJ says, eyes wide. You both sprint back to the house and bang on the door. Mike steps out, irritation creasing his brow.

“Mike, I’ve got a daughter to get home to. Don’t waste my time with this bullshit,” you says, voice cracking under the strain.

“I’m a grandpa, huh?” Luke’s voice drips with smugness as he steps out, a twisted smile on his face. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Actually, you’re not,” you retort coldly. “She’ll never know you exist.”

Luke’s smirk falters, replaced by a fleeting shadow of disappointment. “That’s no way to talk to your old man,” he says, trying and failing to sound fatherly.

JJ shifts protectively in front of you, confronting Luke about his sudden reappearance and silence. You take a step back to the dock, needing space to process. Pulling out your phone, you FaceTime Rafe and V for a distraction. Rafe’s face lights up with a grin.

“Hey, when are you coming back? I’ve got something to tell you,” he says.

Before you can respond, the sound of sirens fills the air, and you see JJ and Luke sprinting toward the boat.

“Shit,” you mutter, forgetting you’re still on the call. “I gotta go. Bye, V. Rafe, I’ll call you later.”

JJ jumps in the boat with Luke behind him. “Take me home on the way,” you tell JJ firmly as you climb aboard.

Luke glances at you. “So, you’re a mom?” he asks.

“Yes,” you reply flatly, not sparing him a look. “And don’t ask anything about her. You don’t deserve to know her.”

“It’s with that Cameron kid, isn’t it?” Luke chuckles, as if confirming a suspicion. “I always thought that’d happen—the way he used to sneak in and out of your window. And I knew that’s where you’d be when you disappeared. Good for you, little miss new Kook.”

You clench your jaw, holding back a response. As the boat nears your house, you quickly text Rafe: Home. Meet me at the dock.

When you hop off the boat, you wave to JJ as he drives him and Luke off. Rafe and V are already walking down to meet you. You pull them into a tight hug.

“So, what’s up?” you ask, sensing the weight in Rafe’s eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about everything,” Rafe begins. “I’m really sorry for all the shit at the beach. Pogue this, Pogue that. I shouldn’t have put you through that.”

“We’ve talked about this,” you say, tilting your head at him.

“I know,” he continues, “but I need to know we’re good. My dad was a Pogue; that shit doesn’t matter. What matters is I wanna be like him, hardworking and keeping this family together. I want to build things, be better, in my own way. I’m going to patch things up with my sister, and I want you there with me. When the deal with Hollis goes through, I’m keeping a piece for us. For the three of us.”

The thought of the deal makes you pause, the uncertainty gnawing at you. Rafe notices and takes your hand. “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll make it work—you and me. I promise.”

He leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. With that reassurance, the three of you head inside, ready to face whatever comes next.

TBC

Taglist:

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505

@dayyzlol @calaryssia @eg-dr3amer3 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @rafestar @bigbonenative

@writtenbyhollywood @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @leilanizcals

[onlyhyunjin]

𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒!

(♡) - my personal favorites (🔞) - CONTAINS NSFW CONTENT

CAROUSEL - @h5eavenly ( Queen Bee the most popular girl around campus Song Y/N was envied by everyone. After making a bet with her best friend Yeosang her life takes a turn for the worse, she doesn't expect the only person to stick by her side to be her ex-first love and long time enemy - Hwang Hyunjin.) (♡)(🔞)

WHEN TULIPS KISS - @cupidcures (you and hyunjin were THE couple back in high school, and the two of you thought that you had found your perfect match. until one day, one misunderstanding turned everything around.) (♡)

WHEREVER YOU ARE - @hyunverse (Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye? Especially when you've spent your entire life with Hyunjin, you didn't know of life without him.) (♡)

ROLE PLAY - @milkandhyunnie (you and your husband try to spice things up by role playing as strangers during date night, but hyunjin just can’t hold in how much he loves his wife) (🔞)

THE BOY IS BAD NEWS - @milkandhyunnie (An aspiring journalist, you are the news editor for The Uni Chronicles; the campus newspaper, popular for delivering breaking news at the drop of a hat and providing detailed articles about the various happenings around your university. You think you’ve covered every story there was to cover before you’re tasked with producing an in-depth editorial on a student whose name is on everyone’s lips—Hwang Hyunjin.) (♡)

MINE - @milkandhyunnie (As a successful kpop idol, you never have time for romance or relationships. After getting your heart broken by men in the industry, you vow to never allow yourself to get hurt again. You try your best to avoid commitment but soon find yourself struggling to avoid catching feelings when you meet Hyunjin.) (🔞)

WHIRLWIND - @naeviskz (you overreact just a teensy bit when you see hyunjin talking to another girl, but when you find out the actual reason why … you try everything you can to make it up to him.)

WARM THEM UP - @yootaesowlwrites ( “Your hands are so cold, let me warm them up.”) (🔞)

THE JANITOR'S CLOSET - @jae-bummer (friends to lovers with hyunjin)

AN EYE FOR AN EYE - @astraystayyh (it is perhaps the most decisive night of your life. what are the odds that at the same time and place, it happens to be hyunjin’s too? )

A MEMORY KEPT FOREVER - @soobnny (a memory kept forever — hwang hyunjin. best friends to lovers. conversation inspired by a lumax scene in s4. )

WHAT YOU CALL THAT? - @minniesmutt (getting dragged to a concert at a small venue for an up-and-coming rock band, HONEY, brings Y/n a whirlwind of emotions towards the lead singer.) (♡)

HEART OUT - @jinhyun (when your long-term boyfriend left you for someone else, not only were you left to deal with a broken heart, but also with the discouragement of never finding true love in your life.after all, you were completely unaware of the fact that your best friend’s little brother fell head over heels for you the moment he first saw you six years ago, and he’d be damned not to show you, firstly, that he was no longer the teenage boy your mind made him up to be, and, secondly, that he would be the man to step up and love you right.) (♡)

LIKE IT - @mxnhoo ("a no-label relationship, how thrilling can it get?")

SURPRISE - @hanniebaeee (It's your birthday and your best friend hasn't even wished you, but he is out and about with his other bestie. But little do you know, they have something big planned for you.)

HATE TO LOVE YOU LOVE TO HATE YOU - @moonchild9350 (You hate your neighbor Hyunjin. Everything he does irks you to know end. You know Hyunjin feels the same way. The feeling is mutual, right?) (🔞)

[aingeal98]

There are many things I love about Agents of SHIELD, primarily how they took fandom's obsession with minor white mcu character #1 and used it to launch the full story of a Chinese superheroine, with the first two seasons serving as her superhero origin story.

But a more minor thing I also love is how they portray Daisy's lowest point during s4, specifically how unglamourous it is. Sure it's cool to see a character reach their breaking point and snap, especially if it's done in epic ways and they turn into a badass. But Daisy was already a badass, and given how traumatic Daisy's whole life has been and how she always responds to it, I just found it really nice how messy and... awful, her self destruction in s4 was. She was hurting herself to the point it made her a worse fighter, she was trying to logic things that were purely irrational trauma responses, she wasn't interested in help or love or compassion and from people who love her it was frustrating for them to see her self sabotaging! And none of it was portrayed as cool or made her seem strong. Like sure what she was doing was impressive but she was just as impressive before. Isolating and pushing herself without care for her body didn't make her look cool it made me go oh fuck I hope she gets help soon. It was heartbreaking to see her like this and I spent most of s4 just really wanting her to get hugs and therapy, even when she was doing cool stuff like smashing holes in buildings or beating up gangs of racists.

[munsster]

hii!! i'd like to request a steve harrington x fem!reader fic pls <33 reader confesses to steve, but he says he doesn't like her. then reader's all 'okay fine, i'm gonna move on' and when she actually does that, steve is 🥺 lots of angst please and some steve grovelling teehee <33

gut feeling

A/N: okay yes 😏 i screwed this up the littlest bit, but i hope it still tickles ur fancy. also i’ve seen this done for king!steve and i wanted to write it for s4 steven

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have big feelings for Steve, he’s just not sure he feels the same way. 3.6k words.

Warnings: angst, but it resolves into fluff, unrequited love trope, lots of feelings, friends to lovers?, CURSING!, italics, established friendship, feat. Keith 😑

"You think it would be gross if we kissed?"

Steve thinks you might actually sound hurt, but he also thinks the face he's making is hilarious beyond belief: kind of contorted and screwed inward, nose scrunched and trying really hard to batten down a grin. You glare at him from the passenger's seat, arms crossed tight over your green Family Video vest.

You think he's wonderful despite his naiveté. If only he knew how handsome you thought he was, all caramel locks and big brown eyes and the kind of smile that reaches his eyes before he's even thought of it. No wonder he has an ego up to the moon. No wonder he still manages to weasel his way into the creases and crevices of any living creature's heart. Even yours. Hell, especially yours.

"Yeah, duh!"—and he's so sure of it, you could cry—"You're like the little sister I never had!"

You chuckle but you look like you're about to hurl yourself out of the car or get yourself arrested for manslaughter. Thank God he's only a block away from your house, or he'd never see the light of day again. Does he really think of you like that? The soft laughter peters out into a grating silence that burns right down your throat and feels like hard metal settling in your lungs.

He doesn't dare glance over at you. He only bites down hard around nothing and grimaces, eyes set hard on the lines dashing beneath the grill of his car. Jesus Christ, he does not think of you like that. And he begs whatever stupid pride is keeping him steady in this nonexistent pissing contest to leave it be, but its jaw is set in the tender meat of the game.

"Don't have to be so jovial about it," you grumble.

"What?"

"Mine's on the left," you grumble, nodding out the window. Oh, he's definitely in trouble. You only ignore him like this when he's done something boyish to a fault.

"I know. I drive you home every—hey!"

"Bye," you coo, booking it up the steps to your door, refusing to turn over your shoulder for fear that you'll burst into tears upon seeing him smile or frown or crack the slightest look of confusion.

He watches you slam the door and rolls the passenger window up with a frustrated sigh. Where the Hell did that come from and why. All while you're sitting against the foot of your bed, chattering into the phone at Robin, still wearing your uniform and tugging at strands of your hair as expletives weave themselves between every three words.

"Oh my Fucking God, I'm so fucking embarrassed right now, Robs—Does he—? Does he think I'm some sort of fuckin' baby? I just don't—"

"He's just being Steve, okay? He probably didn't mean it—"

"The way he looked at me, Robin, I felt like a fucking imbecile. Of all the dickheads in the world I could fall for, my heart chose Harrington? Maybe I'm the idiot." You sigh and kick your feet out, the frustration winding up new nerves and letting them go like tight springs to fling out over your body.

She sighs and it rattles through the grainy speaker. "You're not an idiot; he has his moments. Don't beat yourself up, you know how he gets. He's probably not thinking straight, just... tell him? The worst he can say is—"

"That I'm like a sister to him? Oh, how delightful. That's even worse than just flat out admitting I'm unattractive."

"You're not unattractive, don't do that."

"I am to him," you groan.

"Hey," she hums after a beat of crackling silence. You close your eyes and grip the sickly yellow receiver a little tighter.

"I really like him."

"I know."

"And it sucks."

"I know." The other end rustles and you let out a curt sigh just as you move to stand. "I love you, and I'm here for you. Especially when dumb boys make you feel like shit. You'll always be the most amazing and most beautiful girl in my life, don't forget that."

"Thank you. I'll see you, Robs."

"Take it easy."

—

Steve wakes up to an ache in his neck and a soreness in his knuckles. You didn't call him last night. And he's assuming you didn't call him before school this morning because his alarm clock flashes eleven, first period starts at eight-thirty, and the tone his ancient landline emits is shrill enough to deafen a man. Let alone wake him up in a cold sweat. He concocts a sick feeling in his stomach of burnt orange shame and maroon guilt because he has to wait until closing shift tonight to explain himself to you.

But by then, he's feeling spiteful. You weren't home when he went to pick you up and he waited ten minutes and knocked on the door in bulk. Until someone who was not you answered and told him that you'd gotten a ride with some jerk from the Hawkins High football team. That's not how it was originally said, but that's how he heard it. So you're avoiding him? It makes him spit up a little in his mouth, and he's going about twenty over the speed limit the entire way to make it on time.

By the time he can fling open the glass door and hear the sound of the tiny bell, he spots you in the back corner with a stack of tapes under your arm. Listening to music. To drown him out. And it makes him frown. Six hours. That's how long he'd have to endure this, then he could go home and not call you and not be able to sleep.

The casette in your Walkman can only run for so long, right? But he watches you rewind it after an hour and a half and slumps against the front desk when you grab a new stack of tapes from behind him. He simmers down after the first half of the shift, and of course, the fact that you won't talk to him rubs him the wrong way, but what's even worse is that now you're bumming rides off of losers on the worst football team in all of Indiana.

He gets worked up thinking about that guy's motivation and how many times he probably tried to make a pass at you. Steve would never do that to you. Even if he wanted to, he's a gentleman at heart. He could beat that jerk to a pulp just imagining him giving you the look. God forbid that sucker puts his hands on you. Steve would get charged with battery before ever letting that happen.

It's not like he can say anything to you about it either. He's pissed, and he knows himself. He'd get all angry and confrontational, and you deserve better than that. It's his fault you got there first, and it's his fault you got to stocking, and it's his fault you're tuning him out. But he didn't think what he said last night would be worth all that trouble.

"If you keep up the optic blast, I'm gonna buy you a ruby-quartz visored monocle." And that droning voice could only belong to one overbearing manager.

"What do you need, Keith?" Steve grumbles, and out of the corner of his eye, he catches you looking to the front of the store to watch the encounter with a smirk.

"Duty calls, Harrington. Corporate sent us more shelf space. Need someone to unload it into the office," Keith murmurs, shooting a glance your way, "And, uh... it's kind of unwieldy, so get the kid to help you out."

It makes Steve's eye twitch because you're not some kid. And if you heard Keith refer to you as such, you'd unleash a fleet of curses on him. Only Steve is allowed to call you that. Because it's funny, duh. You're a year younger than him, obviously he's going to use that to his comedic advantage. Oh.

He lets out a sigh—"alright"—and leaves Keith to man the front while he skirts to the back of the store and leads you by the hand through the office.

"'The Hell, Harrington?" you hiss, but you keep your fingers locked between Steve's, abandoning the rest of the tapes on Keith's desk and jogging to catch up with his stride. As forward and demanding as his grip may be, you have to admit, the warmth of his palm is comforting and it makes your heart race because you've never held hands with Steve before. And in any other circumstance, you might've been able to enjoy it a little more.

"Keith told me to tell you that you have to help me bring a shelf in from the truck."

"Oh, I have to?" you bark, now pulling your hand away and putting your headphones around your neck once you exit through the back door with him. "And you didn't think to give me a warning before yanking on my arm?"

"Yes, you have to, and maybe if you weren't listening to that shit so loud, you would've been in the loop." It comes out far more harsh than he intended, and that was exactly what he was afraid of happening in a confrontation with you. His brow softens, and the tension in his upper back and jaw dissipates into his own self-pity party. "And I didn't yank on your arm. Or at least I didn't mean to, so I'm sorry for that much."

Steve hops up into the truck and offers you a hand you don't take as much as you both wish you would have. Because he looks like a kicked puppy, and you have to stop yourself from cheering yourself on. Maybe this will be your first literal step towards getting over him. Once and for all.

After about fifteen minutes of heaving and ho-ing, the two of you manage to haul the shelf into the office as per Keith's request. He was right: it was unwieldy. The awkward grip spots caused a lot of overlap, and you both flinched away from the physical contact in a matter of milliseconds. But Steve couldn't deny he felt bad, and you couldn't deny that you definitely still had feelings for him.

You grab your previously abandoned stack of tapes to scurry out of the office, but Steve stops you by the elbow. And you glare back at him.

"Sorry. The... yanking, I know"—he shoves his hands in his pockets and looks down—"Look, I'm not entirely sure what happened last night in the car, but it clearly made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to apologize."

He can see the neurons firing when he looks you in the eye, but he can also see that his apology wasn't effective in the slightest. Because you're still anger-ridden and fuming at him. You put your headphones on and go back to restocking shelves.

He checks the digital clock above the door. Two hours till eleven. Great.

And they creep by like refrigerated molasses. Second by second. Every time he glances at the clock, only a minute has passed. Eventually, though, he starts cleaning up for closing: vacuuming, cleaning the windows, fixing the display. And he finds himself getting a little more efficient at checking tapes back in and rewinding them only so you'll cruise by the front—scowling at him, but nonetheless at him—to grab a new stack and shelf it.

Five minutes to closing and a sleek, blue sedan pulls into the parking lot, and you practically beam at it, grinning and skipping to the front. You grab your bag from under the counter next to Steve's hip and shove your Walkman into it.

"You know, my car works perfectly fine," he grumbles, "don't have to replace me with some football jerk." He knows that struck a nerve because your smile immediately flickers away into a squint.

"That football jerk is bilingual, a painter, and lets me listen to the music I like in his car."

"But that's not the rules," he whines, desperately defending himself against some sports guy who's probably taking advantage of you.

"Well, I like him and he's nice to me." You sling your bag over your shoulder triumphantly, marching towards the door.

Steve is aghast at the implication. He thought you liked listening to the radio. Plus he took Spanish and art for the required two years, it's not that great of an achievement.

Still, he sputters out, "Yeah, well—"

You wave over your shoulder. "Later, Steve."

Since when did he become such a loser.

He watches jerk-face open the car door for you then glance over to wave at him with a perfect smile and perfect hair and perfect manners. What an asshole. Steve does not wave back.

—

"That's the kinda guy she likes?" he fusses into the phone, palming his face while Robin chuckles on the other line. This whole time he thought for sure you liked the self-assured, cocky, college-age boy type. And now you're dating a high schooler. Come on, jerk-face is not even that good looking.

"First of all, they're not dating. Second of all, don't lie to make yourself feel better; even I can admit he's basically a Greek god," Robin says, shoving a handful of popcorn into her mouth. "Third... why do you care? You’re acting like it’s your job to protect her, but it’s not. She’s an adult now, you know, she can take her of herself.”

He lets out a puff of air through his nose, blinking hard and leaning into the pale yellow receiver. Then mumbling: "She told you."

And she replies, cheerily: "Yup."

"Well—! I just... don't want to see her get hurt. I know that type of guy. I used to be that type of guy. He's bad news, I can tell."

"Right,” Robin scoffs, “It's definitely not because you love her.”

"I don't love her. She's just a baby, and we don't even like the same things. It would never work out between us, there's no connection." They both know it’s a lame excuse, but it’s worked up until this moment. It’s worked since the day you met. You’re too young, the end. Sure, you can be cute sometimes, but you’re also a pain in the ass and you two could never get along long enough to stitch together a real relationship.

But Robin sees through all of that shit. And she’s over it.

“Okay, maybe, but she listens when you talk about cars, and you buy the albums she likes even when she only mentions them once. Plus, you both love Dustin like he's an extra limb”—she’s right, you love that kid to death and Lord knows Steve looks after him like a son—“I think as much as you wretch and complain over her being too young and the connection not 'being there', it seems like you try an awful lot to get her to like you."

He immediately rejects the idea with a scoff.

"Of course I’d want a cool person to like me, old fuckin’ habits die hard. But that's all. She's cool and has a good sense of style and tells the best jokes and makes me feel smart and listens to me, and right now I'm feeling pretty crazy because maybe I do love her and I blew it because... because? Because I don’t know why—but she's probably sitting in some jerk's car listening to her favorite songs and watching him paint the sunset while speaking Spanish or whatever."

Robin closes her eyes, and Steve’s annoyed by the fact that he can hear her smirking. "Jesus Christ, I need to start charging you idiots for my time"—and she sighs—"Just... tell her all that cheese. And maybe throw in an apology or two. I don't know, do what you usually do when you pick up girls.”

He’s frustrated. And annoyed. But he throws a thanks at her anyway and stomps down the stairs and to his beamer. It’s not until he’s shrouded in the piercing light of the convenience store that he realizes three things: he’s still in his work uniform, it’s midnight, and he’s pretty sure he does love you. He grabs a bouquet, not even realizing it’s a bouquet of amaryllis and baby’s breath—he’d prefer roses, but ‘tis not the season, as the cashier told him.

Minutes later, he’s muttering under his breath like he’s mad, waiting for someone to answer your door. And thank God you do.

“Steve—?”

“Oh, shit, did I—were you—?”

“Oh, no, I was just…”—thinking about him—“nothin’. What’re you doing here?”

He pushes a furious hand through his hair, then tucks a chunk behind his ear, worrying at his bottom lip. More nervous than he’s been in his whole life. Then he flashes those soft brown eyes at you, and you’re toast. You step onto your doormat and shut the door behind you because he starts into his sentence like a blazing fire:

"I feel so stupid, and I’m sorry for saying you're like a little sister to me; I don’t believe that, and it couldn’t be further from the truth. You're not like a sister to me, you're like the only thing that matters and I feel like I wanna learn another language for you and take a cooking class for you and listen to your music with you. I just, I mean I’m trying to say you make me want to be a better person, and I feel like I’m already a better person whenever I’m around you. I... what I’m saying—and I promise I’m getting to it—is that I’m sorry for being so stupid and not seeing it before, but I think you're beautiful and I'd be honored if you'd forgive me and maybe consider letting me take you out sometime. Like on a date."

He’s breathing heavily, looking and feeling manic, and your eyes are wide as you slowly process his confession. It goes down like sweet wine, floral down your throat and settling in your tummy like candy. But still: what the fuck? Is he insane? Are you insane?

His hair is flopped to one side, and his work vest is snug around his shoulders. You step forward slowly, and the creases in his forehead seem to go smooth. And you point to the bouquet.

“For me?”

Steve glances down. "Oh, yeah, got em for you. Sorry they're not roses, it's not—"

"I love them, thank you."

He nods. And you smile. And despite how beautiful the soft pink and white flowers are, you’re not particularly focused on their safety when you hook your arms beneath his and rope him into a hug. It’s clearly just what he needed when he goes pliant and heavy against your chest, smiling into your neck as his hands wrap over your shoulders.

"I think we might both be stupid,” you whisper.

He chuckles. "Yup. Just a couple of stupids. Geez, what kinda pair are we?" You both pull away. Only to look at each other squarely. To see a smile creep and creep across the other’s face. And he cocks a brow and says, "By the way, worst twenty-four hours of my life—"

And that’s saying something after the last three years.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Steve, I was just so—"

"I know."

"So confused and disappointed, it was—"

"Torture, yeah, don't even think about doing that ever again,” he teases, pinching your side and scrunching his nose when you pinch him back.

"Yeah. Well, never tell me I’m like a little sister to you ever again.”

Gross.

"I don't plan on it"

With the slow bat of your lashes, and the tender curve of your lips, he can’t not think about kissing you. Not in this light. Not under the meddling moon, and not holding your waist like cupping pools of honey.

Then you look away. For all the shit you talk, he manages to make you far more shy than he ever anticipates. And it gives him butterflies to see you duck away.

"You know, I think you're pretty beautiful yourself, Harrington.”

Oh, he’s blushing now. The blood gushes hot to his face, he could sweat buckets right here and now. You can probably hear his heartbeat. Jesus Christ, what’ve you done to him? You can tell he’s nervous when he chuckles softly. "Does this mean I can start giving you rides again?"

You pretend to weigh your options. As if there would ever be a better alternative. "Only if you let me play my music sometimes.”

"Absolutely. I never liked the radio much anyway."

You let go of him only to cradle your bouquet in both hands, admiring the petals while Steve puts his hands back in his pockets.

"Then I'll see you later," he says. Grinning ear to ear, mind you.

"Yeah,” you coo, “I’ll see you."

With one hand on his shoulder, you plant a kiss on his willing cheek and let him go. But before he can make it to his car you holler, “Wait!” and he jogs back over to you.

"Did I forget somethin’?"

“Yeah,” you poke, "you forgot about our date."

He tilts his head a little, brows furrowed. "Our... our date? What do you mean our… Ohhhh”—he nods in understanding, suddenly hit with a wave of excitement and embarrassment—"Does tomorrow work? We could grab lunch or dinner or something and maybe stop by the arcade or—oh, the fair's in town, that could be kinda fun, unless you don't want to, I mean—"

"Steve?" you hum.

“Mhm?”

"I'd love to."

And suddenly his ego is miles through the roof; he's nodding and grinning and it’s like he can’t wait to wake up tomorrow just to see you again.

"Me too. Okay. Yeah! I'll see you then."

"Bye, Stevie.” You give him a small wave, and the shroud of plastic around the bouquet crinkles like the corners of his eyes at the idea of tomorrow.

masterlist

[raayllum]

I have a lot of thoughts about how the show actually successfully, Seriously uses the ship as a metaphor for Rayla and Callum's dynamic (which I'll talk more about when I make my way through to the end of this ep) but as always I have fun looking at microcosms.

Here, we have Rayla once again volunteering to do something dangerous alone (shocking), Callum wanting to switch places with her because he's the one with the issue / 'messed up', the wedge of ice literally dividing them, and Rayla assuring him it's okay and she'll be okay, she can do this for him.

We see time and time again across the course of the series that Rayla is ultimately a very forgiving person — she can see the potential good in Claudia in early S2 even if she doesn't trust her, she forgives Amaya and Soren for attacking her largely without a second thought, on her assassination mission even with so much personally and politically at stake she fumbles because she sees a stranger as 'too much' of a person and seeing that he's scared of her causes her to spare his life.

She's arguably worse at staying mad at Callum (1x04, 1x05, 1x06) than he is at her. When Callum does dark magic in S2, she's angry for maybe a day but is still tending to him and taking care of him. Outside of initial hurt and confusion, she's never mad about him wanting space or not wanting her around in S4 and continually puts the ball in his court in subsequent seasons (S5, S6) for pacing their relationship. It's kinda like how even when the boys 'mess up' with the Plan in 1x08, Rayla assures them it's okay or wasn't their fault, a grace she never extends herself.

That's one of the reasons, I think, it's been so rewarding to see Callum extend that same kind of grace to her—"I trust her, unconditionally" for ex—in arc 2, because she's the one who messed things up. She's the one who got lost, and left.

But Rayla doesn't let him go into the ship by himself just bc it's 'his fault', so Callum doesn't let her take all the blame for their lack of relationship repair, either. And I like it

[sehtoast]

Rebirth (Homelander x OC)

18+ | heavy descriptions of gore, s4 e4 spoilers, the bad room, mentions of sexual abuse/trauma, torture, they're making each other worse in this one actually and homie deserves that kind of ride or die vibe | Fic Directory

“So, how do you feel?”  

Such a simple question for such a… gruesome task.  Benjamin had gone with Homelander to his moment of reconciliation.  Even helped him pipe sloppy icing writing onto that ugly little Carvel cake.

He knew everything.  Long ago, after busting into Stan Edgar’s personal terminal, Ben found the tapes and files on Homelander’s childhood.  Watching them had been sickening at best, but hearing the personal account as described to him by his lover over the years?

Even the do-no-harm bug himself couldn’t find a reason to prevent Homelander from following through.  He’d found John crying in front of that shattered mirror and pulled him out of his stupor once the banter ended.  Benjamin held him on the couch as he sobbed as he often did after run ins with the different facets of his psyche.  Used to be that there was no one to hold him at all, but the bug changed that.

Homelander would crash, but he would have somewhere safe to burn.

He thought about John’s various accounts of his childhood on the flight to the compound.  The incinerator, the bad room, how on edge he always was under the all seeing eye of big brother.

Usually the violent details emerged after nightmares.  Babbled words and cries for mercy as he tossed and turned until he’d shoot up in bed with his eyes primed to protect himself from his own memories.  Benjamin always held him afterward and listened.

“Sometimes I can still feel it,”  John would say, eyes glassy as he’d fight to keep those little shakes from turning into sobs.  No signs of weakness, no reaction.  Part of his conditioning– he cannot let the world know it hurts.  He cannot be a disappointment.

Ben would all but beg him to let it free anyway.  “You don’t have to be strong with me, pumpkin,”  he would always whisper.  “I love you even when you’re not.  Promise.” 

“But I– I have to be,”  Homelander would reply.

Benjamin always asked why.

John could never give an answer.

The worst were the more… intimate details.  Benjamin knew less about these, but there’d always been a sneaking suspicion that things along the lines of that happened.

Homelander spilled the beans after a panic attack during foreplay.  Stuttered out the details of masturbating during the security guard’s breaks. Doing what young boys do, he’d said.  Failing to finish in time and finding himself subject to mockery day in and out.

The resulting body image and self confidence issues, and the occasional difficulty with performance were all the consequence of some jackass further torturing the boy who never had a safe moment to feel what he described as the only good he could find in that awful room.  

Each time, Ben held him.  Promised him he was safe.  There’s no judgment, no mockery, no humiliation, and certainly no name-calling.  With kisses pressed to John’s knuckles, the two would talk it out until the world became steady again.

It’s why Benjamin doesn’t mind watching John laser that piece of shit’s dick clean off.  He doesn’t bat an eye to any of it.  The torture they face is but a fraction of what they’d done to that little boy– a drop in the lake of the things they swear up and down they don’t recall.

The axe forgets, but the tree remembers.

After listening in on Barbara’s account of Homelander’s conditioned obedience and the nature of his birth, he finds he has no problem holding her steady as his love slaughters the rest of them before her eyes.  

Bit by bit, he dismembers them.  Split them in two and paints the room with their remains.  He laughs and laughs, grinning wide and proud as he pries a man’s jaw open until his neck splits just to rip the tongue from his gullet and chuck it at her face.  He doesn’t stop until they’re no more than unrecognizable piles of flesh and viscera. 

True to their perfected teamwork, Ben webs Barbara to the wall to feast her eyes upon Homelander’s good work, and John?

Well, lasering the door and melting it forever shut was ingenious.

She will die in there, nice and slow. It’s no less than she deserves.

It’s heartbreaking to see how little it did to soothe Homelander’s pain.  Revenge, as Benjamin had told him many times, never quite worked out the way people wanted it to.  It’s potent for as long as it takes for the elevator to reach the surface.  It simmers during the flight.  Fades by the time they touch down at the tower.

And then turns to deep, lurching sobs as they shower it all away.

Release, yes… but not enough.  

It could never be enough.

“Johnny–”

“Homelander,” he chokes through tears. He’d been correcting people all day about his name.  “I’m– I just–”

Ben shushes him softly, thumbs swiping away the odd gooeyness of blood and tears.

“H-Homelander… just–” he tries again.  “Just for now… please…” 

Because Homelander was safe.  Homelander had the strength to overcome.  Homelander was the ideal and the power to protect himself.

The arms around Ben’s abdomen pull him impossibly closer.

“Homelander,” Benjamin murmurs, still stroking softly at his love’s face.  “I love you.”

Maybe not the best thing to say to the man claiming to be casting off the shackles of love, but certainly something always worth reminding him of while he crumbles.  There’s a million promises behind those three little words.

I love you when it hurts.  I love you when it doesn’t.

When it is ugly.

When it is beautiful.

As long as it is you.

His love succumbs to more cries, but Homelander knows, deep down, that it’s okay.

He is safe.

He is loved.

There will be no mockery. No humiliation.

Here, in the arms of his little spider, he need not be strong.  Here, he may simply be.

[anundyingfidelity]

I'M A RUIN — Soldier Boy/Ben (Part IX)

Summary: After the events of the Seven Tower, you present Grace Mallory a new secret project you're working on already to develop a cure to Compound V. The only problem? You need Soldier Boy for that.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x female reader

Word count: 2.3k.

Warnings for series: set after S3 (spoilers), some OOC!Ben, some depressed!Ben, angst, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, slow-burn, language, PTSD, reader has Compound V (she's no Vought supe tho), Soldier Boy being an usual asshole, reader is a fucking liar.

Warnings for this chapter: some spoilers and references to S4 and Gen V, mentions of sex, mentions of kindaping, so much lying from these fuckers!!

Notes: idk who's still interested on this crap because my original drafts went to hell once S4 dropped (but also my fault i was waiting for that lol), anyway I'll try to be consistent with this is giving me nightmares i swear. thank you if you're still here 😭

<<< Previous Part

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GEN MASTERLIST! — SERIES MASTERLIST

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And if it wasn’t much worse, there he was still, lying down on the other side of the mattress, sleeping and snoring like a stray dog you just took in to protect him from the dangers of the night. Who would have thought? But you wanted this. You fell for it eventually. And you didn’t give a single shit about it, not yet. It was great, you had to admit that. In the end, Ben was right, he could fuck pretty good and could bark about that with good reasons.

Part IX: Nobody’s Business

Rolling on your side of the bed, your eyes fluttered open. There was a warmth coming from the mattress, one that you were not used to every time you woke up. That side always came up empty, but then your mind replayed the memories of last night's events. The small and soft light emanating from the window forced you to sit up abruptly, covering your breasts with the bed sheets. The clock told you it was almost 9 a.m.

But duties are duties, you told yourself, sitting down and reaching your phone on the nightstand. There were six missed calls from an unknown number; you were pretty sure who that was. With a scoff, you got on your feet and full in your naked glory, stepped out of the room, just taking your dress from the floor to put it on as best as you could while you heard the line from the other side.

“Oi, I’ve been calling you, answer the damn phone,” the British voice on the other side spit.

You grimaced, pulling the phone away as he yelled at you before speaking. “I had important things last night. Sorry for having a life,” you lied gracefully, making your way to the kitchen to boil some water for a tea. “Besides, since do you care? I barely fucking know you, so tell me what is it before I hung up.”

Butcher sighed from the other side of the line. “I need the kid back.”

“Ryan?”

“Yeah, and I need something for it. I don’t wanna force him, but tough times require even tougher methods…”

There was a silence coming from you, trying to process his words. Soldier Boy wanted the kid, Butcher wanted the kid, and Homelander of course wanted his fucking kid. You didn’t know who was the best for Ryan. Homelander was out of the league immediately, but maybe Butcher was the only sane motherfucker between them to take care of him. After all, he was his dead wife’s son.

“What do you want me to do? You’re not gonna kidnap him, right?” you asked, unsure of what would happen if you agreed to help Butcher on it.

“No, but don’t play innocent. Can imagine you have plenty of analgesics to take down an army, doctor.”

You pictured that fucked up smirk on his face at his words, and followed his game to see if you could get somewhere.

“And what do I get in exchange? I’m not giving anything for free.”

“Novichok. Put him to deep slumber and can test the strongest drug you have on Soldier Boy without getting killed,” he whispered over the phone, as if someone was hearing his words.

“Alright, deal,” you accepted, taking off a cup to pour your tea. “Send me the address and we can meet today. Just don’t mess with me, I don’t have enough arguments to trust you right now.”

“And I can respect that. Should be receiving it soon, darling.”

With those final words, Butcher hung up the call.

Your head felt spinning, as if something had crushed you so bad. Your body hurted, and you were sore. Probably you regretted it. Not because it wasn’t good, it was something else. What had happened between Ben and you wasn’t supposed to be. It just simply couldn’t. He was a killing machine you were just reaping, eventually discarding him when you took what you needed. However, the right time to test the Anti V prototype had yet to come. Sipping from your hot tea, you heard hard steps from the stairs, and for some reason, you were not prepared to face him the morning after.

“Ah, preparing my breakfast already, doll,” Ben said cheerfully, much to your liking, and approaching you as you faced your back to him.

His arms wrapped around your waist, and as much as you wanted to enjoy his touch, you pushed him away and turned on your feet to see his confused grin.

“First of all, good morning. And second, no. You can make yourself a sandwich,” you replied.

A smile appeared on your lips as his own slowly faded away.

“So, nothing for me, even if I made you feel so good with my cock?”

“God, you’re so gross…”

Ben snorted, leaning to give soft kisses on the skin of your neck as he whispered. “I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

As an impulse, you shut your eyes. His touch and lips over your sensitive skin were too intoxicated for you to react quickly and stop him. Ben took the cup of tea from your hand, putting it on the countertop; the place he fucked you so good the night before. He would kill to go again, with you beneath him, yearning and crying for his dick. Or maybe he’d fuck you in the couch before taking you to your bed, exactly like he did after you did it in the kitchen…

“Stop,” you said, pushing him away softly.

He did as you asked rapidly, licking his lips, and watching your lustful gaze intently. You wanted it as much as he did, but it wasn’t the right time.

“I’m still sore,” you continued. “And I have some stuff to do right now. I have to go.”

He nodded. “Right.”

To your surprise, Ben gave you some space and you stepped up, not before taking the cup and your phone between your hands again. You stopped, standing by his side for a moment.

“Maybe later?” you said, watching his face attentively.

That sleazy smirk curved on his lips. “Later.”

You walked away then, feeling his eyes over your figure. God, you were so fucking regretting offering yourself to him already for some reason.

You sat down on the dining table as he settled down a saucer and two cups of tea with a bowl of biscuits.

“It’s not necessary–”

“Nonsense, take it,” Butcher said, taking a seat in front of you.

He served you and him the tea with an elegance only a British man could ever have, not that you expected him to have that inside. Butcher was a soldier once, now an undercover agent whom you had no idea what to expect, besides the few things Grace had told you about him, but she wasn’t there. This meeting was hidden from everyone. Butcher crossed his arms on his chest, looking at you with an expression you could not decode. You were barely knowing him after all.

“I’m not trying to poison you,” he joked, taking his own cup to taste the tea.

“Well, thanks for your kindness,” you took the cup and sipped the warm drink. It was surprisingly good. “So, weren’t you after Victoria?” you asked, following the previous conversation you had with him before sitting down.

“Yeah, cunt’s indestructible,” he remarks. “Can’t do anything now, planning on just retiring and just leaving it all...”

“There’s a fucking outburst right now between Homelander’s cult and Starlight fanatics, Victoria is almost there along with Robert Singer at the White House. Why you wanna give up on that?”

“I’m not part of the team anymore,” Butcher confessed, taking you aback.

“Is that the reason you want Ryan back?”

He nodded and you sensed vulnerability coming from him. The tough facade, the immoral plans, the thirst for revenge for the fucker who screw up his life and made his wife’s a living hell… Even your own thirst for payback and burning Vought to the ground wasn’t as big as his own grief. After all, you were just another piece on the chessboard. Butcher saw you as one, and you did the same with him and Ben. You were just taking in things that would help you to reach your own, selfish goals. One can’t compete with that.

He coughed in the middle of the silence you shared, and you noticed there was a black liquid coming off one of his ears you have never seen.

“Are you okay?” you worriedly asked.

Butcher looked like he noticed your eyes staring at the side of his face and wiped up the substance with his finger, cleaning it up with a napkin.

“You stopped taking the temp V?” you insisted on his silence.

“Yeah, I fucking did, and then had it again. The true V this time, didn’t help. Just accelerated my own death,” Butcher seemed like he didn’t give a shit as he told you.

“Fuck, are you crazy?!” you exclaimed.

“Thought it’d save me, alright?!” he ranted. “Thought it could. So I could say I had more time with Ryan, but I don’t. That’s why you’re here. Do you have what I asked or not?”

Grumbling, with your jaw tight, you took from your jacket a small packet of white powder and tossed it on top of the table.

“A sedative. Will keep him asleep for days if you’re not careful,” you announced. “Give me the gas now.”

Butcher stood up abruptly, and searched for something in one of the kitchen cabinets. He took out a grey cylindrical vessel, similar to a fire extinguisher, and left it on the floor by your feet.

“There you have it,” he said, before taking his seat back.

You didn’t say ‘thank you’, neither did he, but Butcher dared to speak out again.

“Can you come when Ryan is here?”

“Excuse me? I don’t know the kid, I don’t see why I should be here.”

“Another secret is good enough for ya,” he insisted. His face was just as plain as yours.

You didn’t know what else to expect from him at this point, but you followed him up.

“And?”

“There’s something down Godolkin. A virus, created to exterminate supes,” he explained, leaning forward and whispering as if someone else could hear outside the walls. “If your cure ain’t working, maybe you could use some help from there.”

Ben emptied the last drawer in your room. There was fucking nothing. The only pleasure he took in from sniffing into your stuff was checking your underwear, from the most comfy cotton panties to the lingerie he’d love to see on you while he fucked your brains out. And then, nothing. Emptiness. No secrets, no files. Nothing.

Not caring of putting your stuff in place, he just tossed them into the drawer. If you were to indulge back there, you would certainly notice the mess. But he didn’t care if you did. He fucked you good, but that didn’t mean he trusted you. That’s why he spent the last hours of the day checking the whole place after you left him all alone and by himself. The past few days, he had spent checking everywhere to find a clue or something that could give you away easily.

Tired, Ben went down to the living room and checked between the bookshelves, only to find dust and old books he didn’t give a shit about. He scoffed to himself, and walked to the back of the room, where the aisle ended. The carpet felt different, as if another floor was down there. He knocked on the floor with his fist. He was right; there was another floor down the living room.

“What are you fucking hiding in here?” he mumbled to himself, his mind pulling the tricks of any stuff you could probably have down there.

He pulled the carpet away and found a small metal knob, unlocked. He opened it just to reveal stairs and he went down carefully. A heavy metal door stood in front of him, an electronic panel with numbers by the side. The walls were also made of the same material, and he tensed. It wasn’t a good sign. Before, he noticed you would sneak out of your room some nights. There was no other place you should be visiting but here.

He thought of breaking the door, but it wasn’t that subtle. There was a code to get inside, probably he could get it. It had to be something important for you, right? Shouldn’t be so difficult.

But he knew better than to continue playing this fucking game of hiding the thruth from him. Anger seized him in a second, thinking of endless possibilities this could be a hidden lab. You were a doctor after all, he knew what those cocksuckers were capable of. You were no exception.

He clenched his fists tightly, and heard in the distance the sound of your car. Ben quickly climbed the stairs and covered the door to the basement. The click of the door announced you were home and he made his way to the kitchen to take out a bottle of whiskey and two glasses.

Once you stepped up, he poured the liquor. You left a couple of bags full with groceries on the kitchen counter as Ben gave you a dirty smile and offered the whiskey to you. It was his way of disguising what he really felt.

A quick fuck should do, he thought.

“So, later, right?” he said, taking a sip from his glass.

Immediately, you knew what those words meant.

“You’ve been waiting so long I see,” you smirked.

He pulled you closer with a single hand before claiming your lips in a harsh kiss. He smiled when you moaned against his tongue and he pulled away, this time his lips claiming the sensitive spot on your neck.

“And can’t wait any longer, sugar.”

this fic tags:

@k-slla @syrma-sensei @mostlymarvelgirl @cheynovak @drasticemotions @thesilmarillionblog @deans-spinster-witch @girlsforpjm @delaynew

[quitealotofsodapop]

Spicynoodles with egged MK content.

The angst, the fluff, the hurt/comfort, all of it.

That's all I got right now.

That feel when the boy you have a crush/rivalry with is having a (literal) single-parent crisis, and he's just learned he's a primordial stone monkey that may die due to the unique process.

Red Son is confused af - when did *this* happen?! He was in a Scroll for a lot of the process, so he's a little out of the loop!

Not to mention, everyone's gut reaction is to look at them!! As if they had something to do with it!

Red Son and his family have been in more frequent contact with Sun Wukong and his protégé ever since the events surrounding the release of the Brotherhood. DBK forms an unexpected friendship with Pigsy over their shared journeys of cooking and fatherhood. The same occurs on a smaller scale with Tang and PIF getting together to gossip about immortal drama over cocktails.

The fact that Red's parents see MK's future cub as a surrogate grand-calf could be part of that. Red still blushes whenever she remembers her father's first assumptions on the matter.

MK becomes a bit of a recluse in the days after S4. Not only because of what he's learned about himself and his Egg, but because his energy is severely sapped.

At Mei's insistence, Red Son agrees to come over and spend some time with their fave monkey-boy. MK appreciates the company. The Egg absorbs so much life energy that he can barely get out of bed some days.

After a few weeks MK breaks down into hormonal tears. Sobbing into his former-enemy's jacket.

MK: "Everything I do leads to pain.... I'm sorry. You're the last person I should cry to." Red Son, rubbing MK's back: "It's ok. This is all... very new for all of us. You being the only other known celestial monkey besides Sun Wukong and Macaque has been a shock to everyone." MK, sniffling: "No. Not just that... this... I don't think I'll be able to be there for them." Red Son, stiffens: "What do you mean?" MK: "I'm..." (*gets quiet*) Red Son, thinks for a bit: "My mother does share the stories you know. How she almost died bringing me to life. To make that risk... It's admirable." MK: (*quietly leans head on Red Son's shoulder*) Red Son: "You've stated your intentions many times before to continue the pregnancy despite the risks. All I can offer is that I'm allowed to be there to see you through it." MK, looking up with surprise: "You will?" Red Son: "Yes." MK, regaining cheeky smile: "Not just because your parents are convinced it's yours?" Red Son, coughs awkwardly: "WELL uh!" *cough* "Uncle did mention that proximity to a preferred... partner, could help alleviate the worst of the symptoms caused by lack of life energy. But that the child could become peppered with the Dao of the partner and therefore their DNA..." MK, happy laughing: "I don't mind having a baby with red hair or horns, if thats what you're worried about!" Red Son: (*blushing furiously*)

So Red Son unofficially deems herself "the sire" of the Egg so she can donate her life energy to the depleted MK.

Then Season 5 happens...

MK actually manages to fight back against the restraints of the Ten Kings - his body providing a beacon of Life that they have no power over. Li Jing still handles the pregnant creature roughly, father or not - he sees MK as a beast that needs to be tamed. Nezha growls at his father's actions, and quickly comes to MK's aid - declaring his duty as a Protector of Children (although stretching the definition considering said child could be MK himself or the unborn cub) to preside over Li Jing's orders.

Somehow, knowing about his Egg, makes MK even more self-sacrificial. Because in his mind; if his Stone Egg is going to kill him anyway - why not sacrifice himself to repair the Heavenly Pillar?

Everyone reacts even worse than in canon.

The Nine-Headed Demon certainly didn't expect the Harbinger to "sprout off" so soon! They tease and prod MK - pointing out that he's accomplishing something not even the Monkey King has done; have a child of his own.

Wukong and Macaque snarl and bite at the snake for that comment...

Xiangliu is kept busy from trying to stop multiple heroes and anti-villains from tearing him apart.

Wukong can't even bring himself to fight MK's sacrifice, only able to hang onto his successor in a desperate hold. Begging him to please think of himself. His family and friends! His Egg even!

But MK still makes that leap.

Upon entering Nüwa's sanctuary within the Pillar and learning that his sacrifice was to only upkeep a destructive cycle, MK... has the expected reaction.

MK: "You expect me to sacrifice myself to when my kid won't even live to see the world?!" Nüwa, surprised: "I... I will admit. I had not known you would be able to do that."

After hearing her Harbinger's tearful plea, the goddess can only smile and sigh.

Although the safest option is to continue the cycle, she knows any child of her blood or clay would not dare leave the world or people they love so dearly. Heavens weep when a mother/father sets their mind to something. Something she struggled with many eons ago...

She gives her Little Heaven the Five Stones and the instructions for how to split their powers evenly across the cosmos. Humanity has certainly increased in number since her time!

She also gives blessings to her future grand-creation! The little stone monkey will be the first born naturally since Sun Wukong after all. She can spare a blessing or two to ensure their safe arrival!

MK leaves the Pillar, seeing his friends and family clasped together - all believing that the world was truly coming to an end.

Red Son, emboldened by the coming apocalypse, suddenly declares something that's been on his mind for a while now.

Red Son: "I like-like you, noodle boy! I did not lie when I said I want to be by your side through it all! If the world is to end now, I do not wish for it to end without saying I wish we could have been courting!" MK, touched: "Aww!!! Thats really sweet, Red Son! But I actually have a plan to save the world!" Red Son, stuttering: "Oh um. Ok?" MK: "I totally reciprocate the feelings though!" Red Son, excited: "You do!?" Macaque, interrupting: "Excuse me, lovebirds. End of the world?" MK, fumbling the five stones: "OH YEAH! RIGHT!"

The stones are still destroyed, and the Queen Mother of Heaven watches as the power her husband harboured for so long spreads across the universe like petals on the wind.

It takes some time for MK's egg to be fully ready, so him and Red Son have some time to do some courting before the little guy arrives!

PIF and DBK totally called it.

Also it turns out harbouring the Five Heavenly Stones while pregnant has some... unexpected effects on the Stone Egg within...

The Whole Family: "..." Baby: (*eyes glowing with a rainbow shimmer*) Baby: *chirp*! Pigsy: "Why does my grandson look like a Lisa Frank drawing?" MK: (*tired shrug*) Mei, taking photos: "He's so pretty!!"

The baby is named "Haoyu - the "Vast Universe/浩宇" to MK's "Little Heaven/小天". Depending on the characters it can also mean "cloudburst/豪雨" aka an unexpected rain.