#this summer child needs her sun like the air to breathe

[hughiecampbelle]

Unornamented (Hughie Campbell Oneshot)

Character/s: Hughie

Word Count: 1,691

Requested: Not requested, but here are the prompts I used :) 13.) Hum, 36.) Scraped Knees 34.) “Still awake?”

Inspired By: Foxglove by Haley Heynderickx

A/N: I love him, I love him, I love him!!!! Anyways, just an appreciation fic for your patience!!! Thank you my loves!! I actually kinda love how this turned out. I think it's very soft and sweet, even a little sad. Heavily inspired by the song/album. Slowly working through my writers block so that once I start posting again, my work will be what you deserve!!! Feedback is always appreciated!! 💜💜💜

The cicada's sharp pitch moves with the wind, seeping through the open window screens. You never knew what that peculiar sound was, the screaming, bleating, wailing, only that it swept through you each night on your long, humid walks home. A kind of begging. A performance. A tongue you have not yet mastered. Shakespearean tragedies, you imagine, wars between families, between forbidden lovers and bitter marriages. Feuds. They step out into costumes covered in ruffles, pearls, thick collars and high stockings. The children dress as fauna and flora, roaring like cubs, nipping at one another playfully. On stage, they are someone else. Largely unseen as the sun sets, they intend to make their presence known. The rest of them, the crowds for miles and miles, sing their songs in appreciation. A hum that vibrates through the leaves, the open air, their roaring praise and applause settles goosebumps across your flesh. They’ve grown accustomed to sweet summer shows and they will be forever grateful. Harmless, they went about their time as you wished to do. No biting, nor stinging. Without violence. They draw out these shows, afraid they will be left alone to bear their lives, their thoughts, mundane and overpowering respectively. 

Beneath you, the springs of the mattress puncture the thin fabric, poking at the spokes of your spine the way a mother would her child. It tickles, her bony knuckles, the sharpness of the spring. Interchangeable. A comfort you have forgotten of, one that fills the cavity of your chest with dread. What else have you forgotten? What else have you given up for a life like this? The sheer curtains blow with the breeze. Thoughtlessly, they move and dance and grab at one another, like sisters. They must be laughing, you think, for they are warm underneath the butter yellow street lights and safe and together. They must be laughing, because they are together and that is who they’ll only ever need: their twin. Leaves rustle underneath the insect melodies. A bass, low and of the earth, the tone of an old man telling stories of his youth. You can hear him smiling. 

The sheets are soft, newly washed, and sticking to you. Wrapped around your torso, your legs free to breathe, kissed by the thick air. Lying like this, with your knees tented, you can see the scrapes across them. Earth scorched. What was once torn open, alive and mouthy, had healed only slightly. The skin is pale and thick and chewy. Shiny. They don’t hurt as much as they did. You’re not sure how it happened, only that it must’ve been recent. There are other aches and pains. Healed and unhealed, bruised and not. Old wounds stitched together. Deep purples, cobalt blues, sickly greens. They’ll yellow soon enough. You were always getting hurt. You were always in some sort of danger. Unwise, you knew, and yet there was something about the thrill. The taste of blood in your mouth. Last time – the last time – you’d almost been sliced in half. Not yet a scar, the settled skin inching its way across your belly remained snakelike. Sensitive, you were careful to wash and dry, to dress and dress again. Your fingertips brush where it rests beneath your shirt. You don’t like looking at it. It remains too much of a reminder. On that day. Of what you were attempting to leave behind. Too soon to joke, to laugh, the both of you still a little rattled. 

It’s how you ended up here. 

There is a body beside you. Not unfamiliar. His skin is warm, and though forgiveness was never one of summer's virtues, you find yourself curling into him, all his nooks and crannies, despite the humidity in the air. His chest rises and falls evenly. His lip is split and there is a scab at his temple. How many times have you kissed that very spot? How many times had you checked on it, to make sure it was healing properly. Free of infection. His shirt is worn and thin and it smells of him: soap and sky and the dinner he burned earlier. One arm rests beneath you, your head, the other thrown behind the pillow, perching it up further. His rest is not easy, not without effort, but there is a certain softness to his features. Maybe it’s the light, the setting sun, the deep, bright blue of the night sky. Maybe not. Either way your eyes follow the slope of his nose, the curve of his cheek, the furrow of his brow. His hair is wild, some of it slicked back. It is his best effort not to overheat. His dreams are still water, not yet broken by growing, gruesome waves. Not yet entering the heart of the storm. It will, of course. And when it does, he will startle awake. Panting. Gasping for air. Clinging to you. 

For now, though, he is quiet. 

The bedroom is cozy. Cozy, you think, is a nice way of saying it’s small. No matter. You had little with you anyways. A lamp. A mattress. You have yet to get a frame, a bedside table. Frivolities. A single dresser you split down the middle, neck to groin. Autopsy-esque. Photos of friends. Notes and doodles. Passports, fake IDs. Enough clothes to get you through the season. You know, when the snow threatens to fall and the cicadas are long gone, you will need more than what you’ve got. The drawers stick and, embarrassed, as quiet as he can, he’ll shake it open. He has done this since you got here. Untethered himself from you, from the bed, gentle enough not to startle you. He’ll dress, and kiss your head, and leave a note: Be back soon. XO Hughie. He’ll disappear in the early morning. Wandering, you suppose. It is the only way he can breathe easily, if he knows where you are. If he understands the layout of the land. You weren’t in the city anymore. The crowds you’d slipped into, becoming just another strange face, were no longer an option here. The hiding places were minimal. Open roads, nothing for miles. The underbelly you could run to for safety, the trains you could crouch into, your hoods up, your faces low, were unavailable. Nonexistent. You’d traded one anonymity for another. You’d pretend to be asleep, watching him, wide eyed, as the morning sun enveloped him. The rays are subtle, not yet full, and they stretch out towards him. Sometimes you’ll fall back to sleep. Sometimes you’ll lie there, soaking in every inch of the room, wondering what became of everyone you’d ever cared about. Wondering if you could make a life like this. When he comes back, he will make you coffee. The only two mugs you brought with you. Chipped and worn. He’ll place his on the dresser, careful with yours, as if it were something precious. He doesn’t voice what he’s seen, what he’s taken into account, but his features are quick to give him away. You will reassure him: he could never find you here. You are both safe. Everyone is safe. The words are hollow, You know this. As long as Homelander is alive, you are in danger. There is only so much of you you can give to him anymore. There is only so much of your mind, your body, your fears, that you can dole out to him. Hughie nods, the steam from his cup bringing color to his face. You will find something else to talk about. The strangers you met on your long walks. The pets you wave to through fences, through windows. The long summer you’ve been granted. How lucky you’ll be when the weather chills and the leaves begin to turn. Anything but Vought. Anything but him. 

That isn’t for many hours, of course.

Your thoughts spread like fog through the apartment. The kitchen (tiny) and the bathroom (even littler). Enough utensils for two. A spongy bath mat. Anything that would fit in the backseat, really. Silly things you grabbed without thinking. The kitschy salt and pepper shakers. A dozen mismatched socks. Only the case of Hughie’s mouth guard. Half a set of slippers. A handful of books. The rest? You would never be sure what happened to them, to anything. You had what the old tenants left behind. The dresser, the lamp, a table for four with three chairs, a shower curtain. There are other things here as well. Spiders in the corners, weaving their webs. Occasionally, you might find one on the bar of soap by the sink, crawling across the counter tops, making its way through the length of the apartment. A mouse or two. If you’re quiet enough, you might hear them scurrying in the walls. Worse, you suspect, though that’s as far as you can name definitively. The first thing he did was get you a mattress. Paid in cash under another name, beaming with pride, he pushed it up the stairs and through each doorway. It was perfect.  The cicadas sing their songs, harmonizing with one another. The sky has darkened. There are so many stars here. That was the first thing you noticed. Driving for days on end, you watched the inky black glitter, thousands and thousands of holes opening up, letting the twinkling light through. It wasn’t like this in the city. It had never been this clear. Perhaps it was the running, the escaping, the tiresome ways you’d been living since you left. Perhaps it was the first beautiful thing you’d been allowed to take in in a long time. There were wildflowers and small towns and houses built long before you, but the time to look in awe, to appreciate, had been so fleeting. Mere moments, that’s all you were allowed. This would go on forever. The scars embedded in your skin ache just a little. You readjust, placing your head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart. Hughie, coming to, wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer. “Still awake?” He asks in his sleepy voice, and you know he is smiling.

[wtfuckevenknows]

Another one for good measure because I MISSED the sun 💗😭💗

[thewritetofreespeech]

aemond - prompt 1

Prompt list - 1. Breeding kink

------------------------------⚔️---------------------------------

“Up! Up!”

“Up! Up!”

“Hehe…you’re both too big now for me to carry the both of you on my hip like before. Why don’t we flip a coin then? Heads Jaehaerys you can go first, and tails means Jaehaera can go. Sound like a fun game?”

Aemond watched from the table with his family as his wife made a deal with his niece & nephew. Completely fair. Void of favoritism. He remembers no such favors from his own childhood.

His wife was wonderful with the children. As one of the few Helaena let near them in recent months, due to some new fear she had concocted in her mind, Jaehaera & Jaehaerys clung to her like shadows. Even Maelor, still at his mother’s breast, would swing his fat little arms in his wife’s direction every time she passed. And she never missed an opportunity to give him attention or affection whenever he, or any of the children, clamored for her.

“Everything alright Aemond?”

His trance was broken by her words when she returned to him. Whatever deal or game they had struck over now as a nurse came to put the children to bed. Aemond nodded. Dreams of his own silver-haired babes following her around, tugging at her skirts, in need of constant attention from that sweet face drift out of his mind like dragon’s wings on the horizon. “Yes. I am fine. Let us retire for the evening as well.”

The sun would be up soon. He couldn’t see it from the window, but just felt it in his soul. That time of night that was more the wee hours of the morning. Where the darkness would finally break to the light.

They haven’t slept at all. Rested, but not slept. Sleep seemed immaterial in comparison to the need to fill her again & again. Sleep, water, food, air. All of it seemed trivial as he was a man possessed with possessing her.

“Aemond….please….no more….”

“Just once more.”

His wife whined as his cock still inside her slid back and into her again. One bout giving way to another with truly no rest in between this time.

He was consumed with making his dream a reality. Fill her with so much of him that his child would have no choice but to take root in her belly. They could have a babe come spring. Or a sweet summer child with his pale violet eyes and his mother’s gentle disposition. Aemond thrust harder into her, as if driving the idea home with his cock, making his wife cry out. “Ah! Aemond! Oh Gods!”

She wouldn’t have to take care of Aegon’s children anymore. She would have her own babes to keep her busy. They would be strong and perfect. In constant need of their mother like he was. Maybe she would give him twins like Helaena gave his brother? If his fragile sister could do it, surely his wife could do it too. Judging by the cum spilling out of her onto the already soiled sheets, Aemond had given her more than enough opportunity.

“Aemond….Aemond….”

She couldn’t say much more than his name now and moan. Good. There shouldn’t be any thought of others or anything but the two of them as they made their child.

He looked down at the woman who was going to give him his future and found a blank slate there. Broken with pleasure. Those intelligent, bright eyes black and hazy with lust. Disheveled to the point of madness by his own mad need to put a babe inside her.

He leaned down to kiss her rough, swollen lips and swallowed a whine from his princess. He felt her breath quicken against his lips and her walls quake around him. Her overstimulated body climaxing with even the most minor addition of stimuli between them at this point.

Aemond came just short after that. One final push. Spilling his seed just as deep as the rest before he finally, eventually, let his wife go.

He fell to the other side of the bed, listening to her gasp for breath beside him, before he got up and went to retrieve a rag for the two of them. His wife hiccupped out a gasp when the cool material touched her feverous skin. Her whole-body twitching as it was still too overstimulated to determine how the touch was intended. Aemond cleaned her body starting with her arms. Moving down to her breasts, imagining them larger and fuller in just 4 moons time, then down to her belly that would do just the same. She whined when he gently wiped at her overly sensitive cunt. Red and swollen. His seed still glistening in the folds. He doesn’t want to get rid of it but knows she would be uncomfortable sleeping like that. Aemond had already made her uncomfortable enough for one evening.

He cleaned himself off with much less care and crawled back into bed beside his wife. She willingly came to him when he pulled her in his arms. Or perhaps she was too exhausted to think and just went along with him. Her body still twitching now & then, even in her sleep, from the frenzy he just put her through.

He kissed her head, then covered them with whatever clean blanket he could find.

Come spring they would have a child of their own. A silver haired paragon, who would take Vhagar after he was gone and be his legacy for when his bones became ash. After that, they would work on another. Then another. Then another. His branch would flourish as much as his great-grandfather, and they would build their family to the point that they did not need any others but their own.

He almost felt bad for Jaehaera & Jaehaerys. Soon they would not have their wonderful aunt to dote on them. But his children, and his family, would be what came first.

[leonsdolly]

Dog Days

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Synopsis: You're sick, but Leon's here to take care of you.

CW: fluff, comfort

WC: 785

A/n: looks like everyone's sick rn !!! ruru, this one's for you since you also got sick (╥﹏╥) sending you all the love and best wishes so that you can feel better @laceycoffins (๑-﹏-๑)

“Leon…” Your whines fly weakly through the room and hit your boyfriend’s ears in the living room. “Leonnnn…” It takes everything in you to muster up enough energy to call out his name.

You hear a sigh before the sound of his footsteps make their way to your shared bedroom. “Everything okay, baby?” He internally coos at the sight of you laying in bed with a cool rag over your forehead and thin covers pulled up to your chest. You’re like a woodland creature of sorts, a little dormouse curled up snugly in its burrow for the winter. Except it isn't winter. The scorching early July sun looms over the city, ready to penetrate through your lace curtains and exacerbate the fever plaguing your body. You pout up at him as you feebly lift your arms out for him.

“What do you need, baby?” He chuckles as he takes one of your hands in his. “Just brought you more fluids, changed that washcloth, made your bed ‘til you said it was comfy enough.”

“I need you,” you say like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which it is. Did he really expect his needy girl to recover through her illness without being pressed up against him 24/7? Would he also let her succumb to the bubonic plague, damning her to a burial pit on the outskirts of a European city in the 14th century? He sighs and lifts the washcloth on your forehead to feel it with the back of his hand. He turns his hand over to rub soothingly at your forehead, and suddenly you're a child again, relishing in your mother's healing touch over your little ailing body while her dramas blare in the background and the aroma of spicy noodle soup invigorates you. You close your eyes, relishing in the relief of his cool touch against your warmed skin. He lifts the blanket up to slide in next to you, and when you open your eyes again, he's wrapping his arms around you.

“Weren't you bitching about how you can't get sick right now?” You snuggle against him, enraptured by the way his warm breath hits the top of your head when he chuckles.

“You’re a pain, you know that?” He drops a kiss on your hair. “Can’t have my baby suffering, that's all there is to it. Even if your snot gets all over me.”

“Whatev-” your croak is intercepted by a coughing fit that erupts from within your lungs.

“Sound like the exorcist girl.”

“You have such a way with words.” You bat your eyes like you’re really head over heels for this man. Which you are.

“Look like her too,” he says pointedly at the god-awful leakage dripping from your nostrils.

“When his love language is words of affirmation.”

He grunts as he snakes an arm over to pluck a lone tissue from the nightstand and pinches your nose with it. “Blow.”

“You know I don’t ever say no to that,” you joke as you close your eyes and force the air to expel through your clogged sinuses and into the flimsy tissue Leon holds.

“Now you sound like a lawn mower. Or a chainsaw.” He tosses the tissue into a spare plastic bag you’re using for trash before vigorously sanitizing his hands which makes you giggle.

You tuck your face into his chest, feeling the cooling fabric against your flushed cheeks. Nothing is quite more miserable than falling ill alone during the hottest months of the year. He’s your relief against the hazy summer world just outside your windows, threatening to seep in and shake your body’s best efforts to maintain homeostasis. Your symptoms are alleviated by his mere presence, and his hands are the most effective treatment in your frail state. His familiar scent envelopes your senses even through your congestion, whispering words of reassurance into the depths of your brain like you’re that little girl laying in your mother’s soft arms again. The bottle  of generic acetaminophen laying on your nightstand fails in efficacy when Leon’s around.

“Love you,” you mumble against his shirt as he repeats it back, and you cling to him for all that you’ve got in your weakened condition. This is your source of wellness, your reason for waking up every morning and braving through the travails of life. The love is mutual - you’re his sole reason for fighting. There’s a plethora of horrors alive and breathing in this world that you’ll never have to witness; he’ll make sure of that until he’s drawn his last breath. But for now, he’s content in just holding you close while the summer heat rages on outside the walls of your home.

[jenctrl]

koi kim minji

synopsis; during a night stroll in tokyo that turns rainy, the two members feel like kids in love when all their worries wash away with it /content; fluff, they kiss once, 6th member reader /wc; 2.2k

songs; vaundy - odoriko, kenshi yonezu - lemon, seventeen - kidult

In Japanese, "koi" is a homophone for 恋, another word that means "affection" or "love".

The air was heavy in the city, filling their lungs with a sort of wetness as the previous rain created humidity that felt like it was hugging their skin. Some people passed by in a hurry, some took their time, and most carried umbrellas, but something everyone had in common was the way they lived on with their lives, not minding the people around them. 

It was a hot and humid summer night in Tokyo. 

“Do you think we can get past everyone?” Y/n questioned, a smile tugging at her lips, there was a small jump in her steps. 

Minji twisted her lips, her hand came out of the pocket of her jeans and she intertwined her fingers with Y/n’s. She let out a breath at the excitement of the younger when she pulled her closer, their shoulders brushing. 

“People don’t care—” Minji hoped they didn’t, they had snuck out of their hotel to wander the streets. She could tell that Y/n was far from ready to head to bed. She’d sacrifice some sleep for her girlfriend if it made her happy, in the end, it was what made Minji happy. “I think…” She trailed off, somewhat nervous that they would get recognised amid the streets of Tokyo.

However, as they wandered through the half-busy alleys with restaurants, small shops, vending machines and whatnot, no one paid them any mind. 

“I like seeing you this happy.” She always aimed to make Y/n happy, but she was aware that she wasn’t the only thing that caused happiness in the younger girl’s life. However, Minji was a base that let Y/n build her happiness so when something fell apart she had somewhere to fall. They were there for each other, supporting the other. 

“I have many reasons to be this happy and I have you.” Minji chuckled at the warm words, bumping the girl with her shoulder. It made Y/n grin bigger, looking to the side at the taller girl who let go of her hand and threw her arm over her shoulders, pulling her into her warmth.

“You get so cheesy, but–” She started and looked down at Y/n whose arm wrapped around her waist, clinging onto Minji as they walked along the streets of Tokyo. The sun was down, and the only thing lighting up the way for them was the moon and the neon lights of signs and machines. “It’s you so I don’t mind.” She finished, the words didn’t make her want to recoil like when another member would say something cheesy. 

Everything was sweet when it was Y/n.

Y/n had always been a child at heart and sometimes Minji wondered what she was doing in the industry. Of course, she was beyond talented and didn’t belong anywhere else than right there beside the rest of the members, right beside Minji. However, she couldn’t help but feel like there were certain things she wouldn’t be able to protect Y/n’s inner child from.

She’d try, especially to make that part of the girl happy.

Minji didn’t want Y/n to ever end up hurt. 

“We finally made our Japanese debut, I’m so excited about everything.” The corner of Minji’s lip tugged into a lopsided grin and she met Y/n’s eyes. The two slowed down in their steps, the empty alleys of closed stores were still from people, only lit up by the few vending machines.

She hummed, bringing her hand up to Y/n’s face who turned to her and with a gentle almost ghost-like brush she moved away the few strands of hair that were in the way. 

“I’m finally home, kind of, but you know what I mean.”

Minji pulled the girl even closer, having a smile on her lips that was filled with fondness. It made her lean in, trusting the enclosed space and leaving a small peck on Y/n's forehead. 

Y/n wrapped her arms around Minji’s waist, hiding her face in the crook of the girl’s neck for the brief moment that she needed to steer her heart into a calmer pace. 

The excitement and love were almost overwhelming, she was back home in Japan where she came from even if she wasn’t from Tokyo and they finally made their Japanese debut.

At the pace that she was running through everything; she had Minji right beside her and it always made things easier.

The taller girl pulled back, her arm still around Y/n’s shoulders and she looked down at the hand that found its way into the pocket of her jeans. It had become a habit to carry Y/n’s things in her pockets; the girl rarely brought a purse with her and rarely had clothes with pockets; wearing a skirt this time. She didn’t mind, it felt empty if she didn’t have to carry any extra stuff. 

“I just need…” The girl trailed off, digging through the deep pocket while Minji waited. She was glad that it was just them, she didn’t mind spoiling Y/n in front of everyone, but she never got to hear the end of it from the rest. 

Minji blinked, somewhat flinching at the drop of water that hit her face. It was cold, it made a chill run over her whole body and she looked up, more raindrops started to splatter her face. 

“It’s starting to rain.” 

She didn’t get a reply and looked at Y/n who was busy looking through her phone, but she got a gesture, making her look towards the vending machines.

Her hand fell to rest on Y/n’s lower back to guide her under the little roof of the closed store before moving over a few steps to the vending machines; one selling umbrellas. 

She bought one of the see-through umbrellas, taking it out of the stand before turning to open it up. It made Minji huff, “yah,” she exclaimed in surprise when the girl jumped onto her back, their bodies colliding. Y/n’s giggle made her release a breathless chuckle as she steadied herself.

“Here you go,” she got a kiss on her cheek which made her body warm up before she was handed one of the earphones. 

“Wired ones?” She complained, putting in the earphones to finish opening the umbrella as the gentle rain shower grew. 

“I lost my airpods.” “Losing stuff is a very expensive hobby that you have, angel,” Minji commented while intertwining their fingers, knowing her girlfriend never failed to lose things. The rain tapped against the umbrella as they continued their walk, making it out onto a new street with people around them.

The umbrella created a separate world where it was just them, being see-through: they were just a blur. It shielded them as they only needed to know where they placed their feet, covering most of their view. It shielded them from rain and from any eyes. The music filled the comfortable silence as songs by Y/n’s favourite artists played. 

Minji looked down at her girlfriend; the younger girl walked with a giddy but gentle smile, her eyes glimmered in the night with a fondness that made Minji feel love brew in the humidity.

She’d love to take a picture of Y/n this way, but she couldn’t even bring herself to take out her phone because she loved it even more when they lived right in this moment without anything in the way. 

It all made every little thing wash away with the rain. All they could think about was the warmth of their fingers tangled, the way their shoulders brushed, and the sweet scent under the umbrella, all united by the rapid beating of their hearts that were tied together to love forever. 

All that stress they had been under, the stress Minji had tried her best to lessen for her girlfriend; was gone and she by something as simple as a walk felt herself relax at last. It made everything feel so simple like there were no worries, reminding her of the youth in them. 

In a world that was perhaps just for existing, they found a reason to exist: love.

“Maybe someday soon you and I can travel to Kōchi and you will show me your hometown.” Maybe someday soon was really sooner than later or maybe it wouldn’t be soon enough, but it was still something Minji wanted to do. 

She wanted to know everything about Y/n, even see where she grew up, by how it made Y/n’s smile bigger; it would be something she’d try to arrange, somehow. 

“Would you want that?” Y/n’s question was hopeful and Minji never managed to disappoint her even if not all things went as planned. It was always the thought that counted for them.

“I’d love that.”

Y/n giggled, the rain poured a tiny bit harder, creating a certain type of rush in the small crowd of people. It was one the two joined as Y/n found herself being pulled by Minji who picked up their pace, running through the rain that bounced off the umbrella that left the world outside of it nothing but a haze.

It made them feel free in Japan's most densely populated prefecture. 

She never had a clue what love was aside from watching it from afar. This was more than she had imagined and Minji taught her every day that love was more than what the eye caught. It was something beyond the view of the bare eye as Y/n could feel it overflow inside her and beyond what she could simply express. 

It did make her feel much more giddy and childish at heart, it made it light. Neither felt like they were two adults with a weight on their shoulders, but they could stop for a second and be the kids that they never stopped being when they became adults. 

They made a turn, ignoring the way they dirtied their shoes in the puddle as nothing would get in the way of how good it felt to be like two kids in love with no worries.

With heaving breaths, they stopped and met each other’s gazes. It was a simple alley, people continued to pass by as they walked the main street; the two girls were like ghosts.

In a world where they could have it all, they didn’t want more. 

“I can’t wait to see you cover Vaundy.” The girl mumbled, getting a gentle squeeze from Minji who would be making a cover of Y/n’s favourite artist.

Y/n leaned back against the wall, feeling comfortable under Minji’s affectionate gaze, gazing right back with the innocence of their pure love. The said song was slowly coming to an end after they spent it running through a crowd, puddles and rain.

Minji adjusted the umbrella and let go of Y/n’s hand, using it to brush away the stray strands of hair and trace her soft features with her fingertips.

“I can't wait to perform it for you, but I’m more excited to see you.” It seemed perfect how the song transitioned to Lemon that Y/n would cover and the older girl didn’t feel any hesitance or nervousness like she did at the start of their walk. 

She lowered the umbrella the slightest; their escape, blocking them from anyone who was walking by.

Her hand cupped the girl’s rosy cheek, caressing it with her thumb as she leaned down. Y/n’s hands found their way to Minji’s shirt, clutching the soft material made of wool, tugging her closer. Her eyes looked into Minji’s, blinking them closed just as the small distance between them was closed too.

The steps and chattering of people passing by faded away with the rain that tapped against each surface it met.

It was short, but it was sweet and it somehow managed to pour out the love they couldn’t express with words. They could feel it through the softness of their lips meeting in a kiss that only made their love blossom like a flower that the rain had watered. 

“I’m a little nervous,” Y/n admitted as they pulled away, letting out a coy giggle. 

Minji hummed in acknowledgement while pushing the girl’s hair behind the ear before leaning back in and kissing her crown this time. 

“Maybe you’re mixing it up with excitement,” she concluded and grabbed hold of Y/n’s hand again as the rain calmed down, but their hearts continued to create a storm inside of them, one that held them warm. They both felt warm on the inside with Y/n clinging onto Minji as they walked in rhythm.  

“I think so ‘cause my parents will be there—Oh! You will finally get to meet them,” Minji’s body shook from how Y/n jumped, pulling onto her out of excitement and the older girl widened her eyes at the unexpected words.

“Wait what?” She questioned. “I don’t know if I'm ready for that,” Minji added while slowing down in her steps, but she got pulled right back to walking by her girlfriend who gave her a reassuring smile. 

“You’ve talked to them before.”

“That was before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

“You will just add that when you say hi.” Y/n made it sound simple and maybe love was just as simple as that because despite the little nervousness that grew in her stomach; she’d easily do these things for her girlfriend. It all resulted in a feeling of freedom and no worries.

[thebadboyfanclub]

I Will Never Leave You (Daemon x Reader)

I think this more a love letter to Rhaenyra than anything but I’m really proud of this one cause I adore writing characters like this, I hope you guys enjoy it

Rhaenyra adored her mother since she drew her first breath, yet the woman she admired the most and desperately seemed her nod of approval was her beloved aunt (y/n) Targaryen, the middle child of prince Baelon and princess Alyssa, the seat between the brothers suited her, (y/n) had the good heart and the bright mind of her older brother that went hand in hand with the wild spirit and the constant need to protect the ones she called her own that she passed down to Daemon.

(Y/n) had been by Rhaenyras side when she needed her the most, wrapping her arms around the shaking frame of the young princess burying her face at the crook of (y/n)s neck.

“Dracarys”

Even though the dragon was not (y/n)s, beautiful Syrax complied whilst Rhaenyra broke down at the arms of her aunt, (y/n) ran her fingers through Rhaenyras long hair to offer her comfort as she whispered the lullaby she would sing to her when she was little.

She had also been the one to almost harass her beloved brother and king to name Rhaenyra his heir.

“As much as I love my lord husband, he is not fit to lead, the weight of the realm will crush him until he bursts into flames, we can prevent this, you can prevent this”

“And name Rhaenyra my heir? A queen has not sat the iron throne”

“Why not name the princess your heir? She is the second born”

Otto had questioned, (y/n) side eyed the man before she looked down to collect her thoughts, the wound of her brothers digging their claws on that piece of metal had brought such mental combat between them, turning blood against one another, if she had taken a go at them then all efforts for a harmonious family would have gone to war ages ago.

“I am afraid it is too late for me to claim what could have been or some could argue “should have been” but the time is just right for my niece, Rhaenyra is the result of the love you shared with the late queen Aemma, you have already wronged her, do not turn your back on the only thing you have left of her”

(Y/n) and Daemon had wed a fortnight after Viserys and Aemma, their wedlock’s were as similar as the sun with the moon, Daemon and (y/n) mirrored one another, their fire burned bright and their thick skulls could cause the the strongest storm to lash, still at the end of the day they ended up in each others arms, holding each other tight and whispering words of love and admiration.

(Y/n) was the only one that could keep Daemon on a leash, staying by his side as he raged for the “disrespect” their brother had shown, in a delicate manner (y/n) would always grab his hand and bring it up to her cheek to ground him.

“I love you and your bravery, however I do despise when you let your rage overtake everything that’s good in you, let me fix this for you”

Daemon would always take her in his arms and kiss her lips with all the might he could master. (Y/n) was his life line, her eyes were like a much needed breath after a deep dive, her smile resembled the feeling of the brisk air on the early hours of a summer day, her hair was as soft as a birds feather as it brushed on his skin, and her touch, oh that touch of hers…like a soothing balm on Daemons wounded heart.

“What is the matter, my love?”

“We must fly to kings landing by the morrow”

“Has something happened?”

“Lucerys’s claim is at question by Vaemond, Lord Corlys has not even passed and they are already circling around Rhaenyra like crows”

(Y/n) half mumbled half explained whilst her fingers rubbed circles on her temples, (y/n) had never voiced it still a pang of guilt ate her soul as slow as the carnivores ate their dead prey whenever she exchanged letters with Rhaenyra, she gave up on her, she left her alone to fight against those Hightowers, withering away as the bastards started to tighten the rope around the heiress’s neck.

Daemon puffed out a breath, the conversation had always been the same, (y/n) would often bring up her concerns over Rhaenyras well being, asking Daemon if mayhaps they made a mistake by leaving her, fabricating elaborate scenarios of how things could have been different.

With caution Daemon approached his lady wife and once he reached her he placed his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs rubbing circles on her aching shoulders as she slouched back and a grunt of pleasure left her, the flames from the fireplace licking her face in such a complimenting light, had he not touched her he could assume she was just an extremely accurate portrait from the hands of an exceptionally gifted artist.

“Rhaenyra is strong, she will overcome this”

“Rhaenyra is alone, our brother is barely able to make a sentence, she cannot stand alone at court”

“And what do you think our presence will do? We have been cast away for far too long, no one will pay attention to what we have to say on the matter, besides, driftmark is none of our responsibility”

After the birth of their first born daughter Enora Daemon and (y/n) decided to leave kings landing and reside in Pentos, granting protection with their dragons they were gifted with land and lived like the Targaryens only knew how to live.

“It is under the Targaryen rule, our closests bond to old Valyria”

“Dragons are our bond, which we have our own”

(Y/n) stood up from her chair to face her lord husband, fury that intertwined with confusion painted across her face as her eyebrows furrowed and her lips half open from the shock that his dismiss had caused.

Daemon resented when they fought, he did not enjoy his love being cross with him, though he loved a battle he would hang on dear life on anything and say whatever to make her curl up in his arms with content.

“You do not want to come with me” (y/n) stated

“I do not believe we will change anything”

“You believe that? Out of all I thought you would be the one to get on your dragon the fastest”

“You are with child, our other children are happy here, must we indulge in that mess?”

“That mess? Our brother has been crippled, our niece tortured by the Hightower and now she asks for our aid and you think I will just ignore it”

“You are emotional”

“I am, and proud of it, I will fly to kings landing with my children, you can choose to stay and hide behind our thick and tall walls of this castle. I will not leave our legacy, our blood, to slowly perish. It is your decision at the end of the day”

Daemon puffed out of breath before he reached for (y/n)s arms to which (y/n) stepped back to avoid, her eyes that spewed fire starring right into his soul.

(Y/n) was the diplomat out of the pair, one can imagine the surprise of her stubbornness when it came to this, which also revealed how important this was for (y/n).

“You mustn’t get upset in your condition”

“That is something you should remember, I was fine until I saw that the years turned you into a coward”

(Y/n) spat inches away from his face, with hurried and swift motions she intentionally bumped his shoulder as she made her exit of their chamber, Daemon did not catch a wink of sleep, (y/n) had never slept at another chamber separately since they had wed.

As the sun started to shyly make its descent (y/n) was assisting her three children on their dragons for their journey to kings landing.

“Hold on”

(Y/n) looked over her shoulder to find her husband with his dragon walking towards them, she had to admit that leaving without him would have costed her a great deal, she wanted him by her side, to help her, to hold her, to have her.

“What made you change your mind?”

“My astonishing devotion to you and your stubbornness, I won’t leave you alone with the wolves”

Daemon reassured her before he placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, a smile making its way to (y/n)s lips as she gazed at him with love, that sparkle of joy was what kept Daemon alive, he would risk anything to see her well.

A giggle that came from their youngest children interrupted their sweet moment, Daemon and (y/n) looked up as the twins sat on their dragons, admiring the deep affection that oozed out of their parents, Daemon only winked at his children in response and turned back to his lady wife.

“Allow me dearest”

A shriek was heard when Daemon swiped the princess off her feet and lifted her up at her green dragon Zephyr. The family landed unexpectedly since they had not given any information to their visit, Otto and Alicent were fuming upon their arrival, the pair would stir the pot and cause chaos all in the princesses name, Otto was certain of it.

However no one could expect the ever defiant (y/n) holding Viserys by his right arm and the stoic prince Daemon holding the king by the left.

“King Viserys of house Targaryen, first of his name, king of the andals, and the rhoynar and the first men, Lord of the seven kingdoms and protector of the realm, with princess (y/n) Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen”

Time stood still as they entered the throne room, (y/n) had persisted on visiting her brother, encouraging him to stand and back Rhaenyras claim, begging him to find his strength and sit on the iron throne.

“I will sit the throne today”

Viserys was able to say to Otto who only bowed his head and stepped aside. When (y/n) gently assisted her brother to sit comfortably his crown managed to move and fall, Daemon was the one that caught it and placed it back on Viserys head. As the pair took a step back (y/n) was the first to curtsy in front of him.

“My king”

She whispered before she smiled, Viserys managed to get a hold of her hand and bring it up to his deformed lips, as cold and slimy the weird texture of his lips left on her hand (y/n) looked back on that memory until the end of her days, as many times as they fought (y/n) held a spot for Viserys, one of loyalty and respect.

Daemon snaked his arm around her waist as they went down the steps and took their place next to a baffled and ecstatic Rhaenyra, (y/n) subtly nodded and side eyed Rhaenyra letting her know she is her for her.

As Viserys reaffirmed Lucerys claim and Rhaenys announced the betrothal of Baela and Rhaena (y/n) was ready to turn and hug her dear niece when Vaemond stepped in front of the king, interrupting the glorious moment.

“You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir, don’t you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon, No, I will not allow it”

“Allow it? I do not think anyone hear asked for your opinion Ser…. Apologies I haven’t been at court in so long, what is your name?”

(Y/n)s words sliced through Vaemond like Valyrian steel and Rhaenyra struggled to hide her chuckle, Daemon stood proudly by her side though his grip tightened around her waist when Vaemonds eyes fell on her for a brief moment before he pointed to Lucerys.

“THAT! is no true Velaryon and certainly not a nephew of mine”

Rhaenyra as the mother that she is took a step forward to stand closer to Vaemond and in front of Lucerys, what no one had seen was an important question that (y/n) had whispered at her husband.

“Which side is your sword on today?”

“Go to your chambers, you’ve said enough”

“Lucerys is my true born grandson and you are no more than the second son of drift mark”

“You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine, my house survived the doom”

“To which you owe it to much greater men than you Vaemond, men that knew their place and played their part in history, something that you refuse to do”

“And you think that you can tell me what my place is? Your brother skipped over you and gave the name of heir to your niece, the gods know what you have done to make him skip over you and your… husband, my name survived and gods be damned I will not see it ended on the account of this”

“Say it, say it”

Daemon antagonised the man, (y/n) assumed her position and slipped away from Daemons grip, her hand gliding from his back all the way down to his sword, dark sister, and pulled it out the sound of metal brushing against its scabbard was enough to make (y/n) grind her teeth in annoyance, thankfully no one seemed to pay attention to what she was up to.

Except Daemon whom had already a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he internally thanked whoever blessed him to change his mind and was now going to be a witness on this wonderful event and as he viewed it “important milestone” in his lady wife’s life.

Vaemond was caught in his own fury and sense of entitlement to see his end coming, even if he had seen (y/n) with a sword he would pay her no mind, a man of such ignorance wouldn’t feel threaten by a woman with a swollen belly or any woman for that matter.

“Her children are BASTARDS and she.is.a.whore”

“I will have your tongue for that”

Daemon watched with pride as his wife lifted the sword and with one clean slice Vaemonds head was cut right above his tongue. Enora was taken aback by her mothers acts while her two siblings Alastor and Aelia hid behind their fathers legs to avoid witnessing the gruesome sight of the corpse at such a young age.

(Y/n) stood still as the sword touched the ground to support her, glaring down at the man that had so much to say, a man that thought himself as indestructible and yet he laid on the cold floor as his blood gushed out of him and pooled on the ground.

“He can keep his tongue, to explain his treachery to the gods”

“Disarm her”

Otto commanded as his voice boomed through the throne room like a proper king that would command his kings guards to obviously attack (y/n), though the real king -Viserys- had just opened his mouth to stop this when Daemon took only a step forward.

“Don’t you dare”

Daemon warned them, in a rather surprisingly composed way for the situation Daemon approached her and took the sword from her, wiping it away at his clothes lazily before he placed it back on its original spot, his hand brushed a few strands of hair that had moved and let it glide behind her shoulder, he preferred it when her hair was out of her face, so he can fully take in her beauty.

(Y/n) was seen smiling brightly, basking in her accomplishment that was so grotesque that some reported that a numerous ladies that had been witnesses had fainted or vomited at the sight.

“You must rest, my love”

“Before that”

(Y/n) proclaimed, she left her husbands side momentarily only to stand before Rhaenyra, her hands going up to cup her nieces cheeks and place a kiss on top of the heiress head, a gesture that held such affection and compassion, (y/n) had Rhaenyra in her heart and her mind as her own daughter, images of the princess running careless on the grass and finding refuge in (y/n)s hug flashed before (y/n)s eyes.

“My dear niece”

“(Y/n)” Rhaenyra breathed out

“I will never leave you, ever”

Requests are open!

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Springtime Caresses

III. Angsty Dadstarion, but it's quite alright.

“Here, papa, here! You have to lie down right here! Don’t move!” 

Warm grass tickles the back of Astarion’s neck. With his eyes closed to the bright sun above him, he listens to his surroundings, takes in the bird song and wind dancing through the trees. The static buzz of honey bees. Children’s play. 

Life. 

He’s not asleep but pretends to be. It’s part of the game, or so he’s been told. 

“Sweet dreams, papa!” 

Most of his dreams are sweet these days, but he doesn’t mention that, just complies. 

The scents of sun-warmed soil and perfectly ripened strawberries carry a promise of summer to his nose, lulling Astarion into a twilight state of content drowsiness. Maybe he will allow himself to fall into reverie, after all. He’s tranced in worse places, and with worse company, too. 

But that was a long time ago.

Now, he enjoys ruining his silken shirts with grass stains. Fresh air filling his lungs all day long. The feeling of tiny hands weaving wildflowers into his silver curls. 

Even after all these years, this experience will never cease feeling novel to him—the warmth, the tranquillity. This deep sense of belonging.

Peace.

It’s not a sweet dream, but reality. It’s as real as the wild shrieks and laughter sweeping across the meadow. Children jumping over and around him, eager to slay this or that imaginary fiend. The hem of a skirt he mended only last night brushing against his legs. A young boy humming a song his mother sang over breakfast close to his ear. 

Astarion smiles, or tries not to, since he’s promised to be fast asleep—even when there’s a sudden tug at his hair. 

The humming stops; the laughter fades into displeased groans all around him. Astarion doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that the face eclipsing the sun above him is a much younger version of his own. 

“Careful, Miri, that hurts papa!” The boy scolds as he gently untangles his little sister’s hand from their father’s locks.

“Uh-oh!” the toddler mumbles before she helps the boy pick stray sticks from Astarion’s hair. “Bad!”  

“Yes, Miri—bad.” 

Astarion suppresses the urge to take his daughter’s clumsy hand in his and press a soothing kiss to her small fingers, telling her it’s quite alright. That no harm was done. There never is. Not here. Not with them. 

But all he has to do today is feign sleep, so he will reassure the child later when it’s his turn to braid her hair in time for bed.

“Sorry, papa,” another girl calls from near the treeline. “Miri didn’t mean to hurt you! But don’t worry, we’ll protect you from the true beast!” 

This time, Astarion cannot help the faint smile tugging at his lips. 

It’s a lovely promise, lisped through missing front teeth. And it’s true—most of the time, at least. 

These children, this family he helped create with nothing but love and devotion, distract him from the beast prowling the everlasting darkness far in the back of his mind.

Yet, sometimes, distraction alone isn’t enough… 

Astarion doesn’t like to dwell on the rare occasions when the beast eventually does find its way to him. It’s tamer now, the years have made it lazy enough, but every now and then, it will probe him. It can still sniff out the weakness he’ll never be able to shed, knows whenever he’s at his lowest. 

The beast only lunges at easy prey—it always has.

So, sometimes, when Astarion’s nights are tense with endless whining, misplaced toys and sharp words, the beast breathes down his neck, whispers in his ear.

On your back, boy, right here. Do not move. It will not hurt unless you let it. Your screams have always sounded the sweetest. Are you hurting, yet? Good, it’s because I want you to. It’s what you deserve, you insolent fool. Have you no respect for yourself? That’s why they hate you so, that’s why you’re but a pathetic little boy who’s never amounted to anything that’s why you’re nothing that’s why—

Once the older children perform their duty to scold the youngest among them, the laughter returns. Their faceless fiend is fair game again and all Astarion has to do is sleep, trust in his family’s sweet promise that holds his cure. 

Because, as exhausting as it is, he has learned to ignore the beast, become numb to its poison. It’s a thing of the past and he won’t let it taint his future. 

Astarion lets out a deep breath. He can feel himself grow tired under the little hands stroking his hair.

“No worry, papa.”

No worry, no. Not here. Not with them. Never with them…

There’s a gust of wind coming from up north. It carries the scents of sickly sweet strawberries and petrichor and, ever so slowly, Astarion can feel his mind slipping. 

He doesn’t sleep; he hasn’t in a very long time. Sleep, true sleep, is vulgar and reminds him of death. Instead, Astarion drowns in memories, but even there he’s buried six feet under today. 

There are no strawberries in this freshly dug grave, only the stink of decay. The damp wood of his coffin presses uncomfortably into his back while worms and maggots tickle his neck. Eating at him. Consuming him. 

His broken fingernails hurt as he claws at the darkness surrounding him—this deep in the ground, all shades of grey are tainted black. Sometimes he wonders if his eyes are even open, but they must be because they burn with tears and blood and dust.

There’s laughter coming from somewhere above. It’s rumbling like far-away thunder; it hasn’t reached him, yet, but the threat of it is already stunning him with fear.

He cannot speak he cannot see he cannot be he cannot—

The laughter isn’t coming from above, nor is it coming from anywhere, really. It’s residing inside his head, this vile laughter that won’t let him in on the joke. And why would it? He is nothing, is he not? All he is is blood and screams and death. Bodies piled atop his aching shoulders, weighing him down.

So why is he moving? Why is he digging through wet soil until he can see moonlight illuminating his path to…

The beast eclipses the moon and the stars shining down on him. It has stopped laughing, though its maw is stretched into an unnatural grin, revealing a pair of sharp fangs—the key to the wounds on his neck. A promise of endless misery.

He cannot stop moving towards the beast. It holds its claws out to him, stroking his hair, scratching his scalp raw. There you are, boy, always crawling back to me. My good, prodigal son—look at you! Do you know why you’re here? With me? It’s because, after all these years, you’re still mine. And you will always be.

“Astarion?”

There’s a light drizzle soaking his skin. 

Astarion opens his eyes to a sun that’s crawled past its zenith, taking the music of children’s play with it. The silence feels oppressive, just like the calm before a great storm, and all he can feel are the small, warm bodies Astarion helped create press against him. They’re curled up against his side, lying draped over his legs, clutching his arm. Weighing him down.

No.

Grounding him, always ever grounding him. 

He needs to shield his sleeping children from the rain, he thinks, but his arms are still caged somewhere between nightmare and reality. 

Fuck, how long had he been out?

Astarion inhales deeply. He just needs a moment to come to his senses.

He can smell rain-soaked cotton, crisp air and that faint scent of magic he would recognise even if he were buried deep in the ground.

Oh, of course…

“Astarion.”

He allows himself a relieved half-smile as the rain above him is coming to a sudden halt a moment later. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, my heart,” Tav says as she steps into the meadow, one eyebrow raised at the sight in front of her. “But what in the nine hells are you doing out here?”

Astarion can only watch as little droplets of rain run down the magic dome enclosing him and the children, tear drops that can never reach them now. 

“I’m a sleeping princess, or so I’ve been told. But I’m rather afraid my knights in shining armour fell asleep before they got to wake me…” 

Tav joins her family under her shield of magic, strokes the head of the child closest to her as she smiles at her husband.

“I see. May I kiss you awake instead, then?” 

“You already have, darling,” Astarion whispers. “But do it again, yes? Just to be on the safe side…?” 

His hand brushes the swell of Tav’s stomach as she’s trying to settle comfortably against him. It’s getting rather crowded—the house, life, moments like this—but there’s always room for one more, Astarion thinks.

Tav grins as she sweetly kisses her way from his cheek to his mouth, where she finally lingers. 

To Astarion, Tav’s lips taste of freedom, of nightmares swiftly broken. Of home—the best distraction he never dared to hope for. One he never wants to end.

In the distance, there’s a gentle thunder rolling towards the meadow, but that’s quite alright. Astarion knows that it can’t do any harm. Not here. Not with them.

Never with his family around him.

@seaofdaydreams , my dear, I hope you do not mind me borrowing Miri's name for this one ♡

more Dadstarion content

tag list: @spacebarbarianweird @bardic-inspo @kawaiiusagichansan @darlingxdragon @herautumnmorningelegance

[twstfanblog]

~Manhwa AU- A Fairytale Do-Over~

A/N: Holy shit look at this. the first chapter of the manhwa AU! Hope you guys enjoy! I'm gonna look into making a story title card for this series, to be added later! Word Count: 2.5K Pairings: Crewel/Crowley (They hate each other but they are married) Warnings: Mentions of blood Next

Yuu snaps awake, body thrown forward by the force of a scream that had refused to leave her throat finally ringing out into the air. She pants, eyes wide, blurry vision focusing over time as she calmed herself. Her hands traced along her surroundings, the soft covers of a bed, the fur of a stuffed animal…

Her breathing had finally slowed, allowing her to slump back into the overstuffed pillows that normally adorned her bed. She…survived? That was the most terrifying experience of her life. The echos of summer bugs buzzing in the garden, the harsh light of the sun in her eyes, the burning of the stone on her skin that slowly grew wet before she slipped away…

Looking out the window she noted how it was nighttime. A question of how long or how many days she had been out was barely pondered before she noticed her curtains. The color to be more precise. The soft, chiffon pink that ombred into a deeper shade with gold threaded stars scattered closer together near the bottom of the fabric. Lovely drapes, but not the ones in Yuu's room at that moment. She had a set of thick, light-blocking dark teal drapes, as she had her room redone years ago, they matched better.

But, she had owned this set of pink curtains since she was a child.

She blinked, staying down, her eyes started to roam around the room. Taking it all in just how soft and whimsical the design was. The dream room of a little girl on the edge of leaving social infancy and still not allowed to be called a young lady. Not at all the room of her twenty-year-old self.

Looking down, she didn't see her dark-colored long nails with delicate gold designs. Instead, she saw two tiny hands with short and neatly cared-for nails. Her eyes travel upward on her right arm, crisp white ruffles leading into light purple velvet sleeves. She scrambled out of bed, falling onto the plush carpet face first as her legs were tangled in the soft grey duvet. Recovering, Yuu made her way to the full-length tri-fold mirror stationed in the corner of her room. She stood before it, drinking in her appearance.

Small. She looked so small.

A round baby face stared back at her, large black eyes with perfect baby doll lashes. She was wearing a long-sleeved nightgown; cozy and warm, buttery soft and intricate lace almost bursting from every opening, small pearls used as buttons keeping her collar closed. 

She looked like a doll, an adorable little doll. Just the way her papa would dress her until she turned 13 and he allowed her to finally have more say in her wardrobe. Yuu slowly lifted her hands (So tiny), one to pat her soft cheeks and the other to run down a braided pigtail of two-toned hair. She breathed out in a shudder, her voice higher than she remembered, before she turned and ran out of her childhood bedroom.

Running down the hallway, Yuu Crowley realized she was eight years old, again, for some reason. But she couldn't complain. It was better than meeting her end by bleeding out at the bottom of the hot summer stairs of the royal garden…her feet were cold now that she thought about it. Looking out the grand windows of the manor as she ran, she realized they were frosted over. Bare trees seen in the distance through the ice in the chilly late hours of the night. She should have put her slippers on; Papa had made her a knitted pair that looked like his snow boots that she loved…

Soon she came to the double doors, or what she remembered, of her parents' room. Yuu reached a small hand to one of the levers and quickly shuffled her way inside. 

She doesn't remember entering her parents' room much, never had a need to. She scarcely remembers them even entering her own room, but maybe that could change; maybe she could spend more time with her parents and learn more about them this time. Yuu looked around, noting the room looked different from the most recent memory of the space. She did really like the look of the iridescent curtains covering the door to their large balcony. The sheer fabric casting the room into an almost eerily shifting color tone, making the area calm and dreamlike even in Yuu’s awake state. Catching her breath, Yuu Walked closer to the lavishly dressed bed, staring down at the rare uncovered face of her father.

Dire Crowley, Grand Duke of the Noctorn Empire, arguably one of the most powerful men in the land. And if you asked her papa, without a doubt one of the most frustrating. He snored, mouth hanging open with his star and moon printed button-up pajamas messy from his tossing and turning; a loveable embarrassment…

A gasp calls her eyes to look at the other side of the large bed at her papa. Divus Crowley nee Crewel, Grand Duchess of the Noctorn Empire. He had his hair wrapped up in a fine patterned scarf and a hand clutching his silk robe closed, his eyes wide as he stared at her before huffing.

Divus leaned into his hand, taking care to not smudge the cream spread under his eyes as his lips turned into a scowl, “What are you doing up, puppy? I know it's far past your bedtime…” To any other person, Divus looked as though he was annoyed to be dealing with his child, and he was. But after years of knowing, loving, and being loved by her papa, Yuu was aware he was annoyed that his method of putting her to bed seemingly needed to be worked on again, not that she was bothering them.

“...” Yuu looked at her papa, blinking before taking in a shaky breath and whispering out her question, “Can I sleep in bed with you?”

“...Oh, puppy…” Divus groans, an elegantly sharp nail tapping against his creased brow. His darling daughter was eight now. Close to the double digits and being expected to start behaving in a mature manner, yet still so painfully young. He had somehow managed to train his clingy toddler to sleep in her own bed years ago, a feat that was hard enough as is. But how was he to deny his puppy his comforting embrace when she was still so cute!?

Clasping his hands over his mouth, he breathed in. Raising an eyebrow at his strangely still daughter he asked, “Why do you want to sleep in our bed, puppy? You haven’t asked since you were four…”

Yuu blinks, taking in another quivering breath as it all seemed to be hitting her at once. The years of her friendship with the men she grew to love that meant nothing in the end, the years of cold eyes and harsh off-handed comments. The fall, the crack, the pain, the blood.

“...I died…”

“...” Divus sat up straighter in his bed, eyes gaining a new worried flicker as he stared at his daughter, “What?”

“I-I…I…” she hiccuped, the tears finally welling in her eyes as her hands clenched onto her nightgown. Words were lost as all she could do was take in shuddering gasps and let out pitiful chokes, unable to stop the grief fully settling into her body.

Divus slapped Dire's chest, each hit coming quicker and harder the more distressed Yuu's cries became, “Dire. Dire! Wake UP, you crow BASTARD!”

Dire blinked his eyes open, bewildered as to why he was being forcibly woken in the middle of the night. His remark quickly lost on his tongue as he noticed his crying child right beside him, “Oh, my darling! What's made you cry like this?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and pull her into bed!” Divus slapped Dire’s shoulder, nearly punching the other man in an effort to bully him into doing as he said.

“Ow! I am!”

Yuu started to sob as Dire gently pulled her into the bed, placing her between the two fretting adults. She could feel their arms wrap around her, trying to soothe her tears with soft words and gentle pets. Her father had rung his service bell like a madman, no doubt sending the servants into a panic and scrambling to heed his call. Soon a flustered servant ran into the room, Dire ordering them to bring a midnight snack selection of his daughter’s favorites, anything to ease his child's crying. Yuu didn't get the chance to eat any of the snacks, having slipped into a pitiful slumber locked in her papa's arms.

She had somehow traveled back in time over a decade, long before her death and the betrayals of her closest friends. And as she laid curled between her loving parents, she made the decision to not look this gift in its mouth. For whatever reason, she was given a second chance and Yuu didn’t plan on dying the same way twice. Her old life wasn't worth repeating a second time, she knew her heart couldn't take it again…

The morning wasn't much better. Dire and Divus had canceled all of their meetings, choosing to crowd and dote on their daughter. Yuu had been strangely quiet since she woke up. Even throughout Divus's daily outfit selection, she had remained silent, letting her papa hold up dress after dress to her body without complaint. They had moved to the family lounge of the home to spend time together after breakfast.

The family lounge had always been Yuu’s favorite room past her own bedroom. Dark wooded panels caging in forest-printed wallpaper that was so detailed it almost felt real. Artwork of dogs and crows littering one of the walls as though they were locked in a never-ending war as her fathers keep replacing portraits with their favored animal. Couches framing a large and elaborate bricked fireplace, the fire's flickering warmth in contrast to the bleakly white outside.

Dire and Divus were quiet, each almost afraid to speak to break the silence. It was concerning, the way things had progressed from the early morning hours. Dire looked at his family from his armchair, watching Divus fuss and pick at their child in an attempt to engage her in conversation. Yuu would only give weak answers, seeming content yet still so tired. She would give little sighs and nuzzle into the fur-lined collar of her papa's long-tailed vest whenever Divus pulled her into a hug. His sweet, rambunctious child had never been so reserved and passive. Not even as a baby…

Divus was barely keeping it together, emotional yet holding it in for the sake of his daughter. The fur-clad man moved to busy himself by brushing Yuu's hair into more styles he had been meaning to try. The fact she let him only made his nervous energy stay and slowly fester, “Hmmmm…half-up styles look more elegant for you right now. But you still look positively adorable with pigtails…which do you like best, puppy?”

“...I don't mind what you pick.”

The comb in Divus's hand snaps, the man holding back his growl and stomping away, muttering he was going to gather more hair accessories. He loved his daughter, he truly did. But she was possibly the most argumentative, wiggly child he had ever known and he knew it was from his blood. While any other day he would have been overjoyed at Yuu allowing him to dress her up to his heart’s content, knowing she had a breakdown no more than ten hours ago ruined whatever joy he could gain. A feeling that was only growing as she refused to explain herself.

Dire watched his husband stomp out of the room, standing from his seat and kneeling with a smile at Yuu, “My darling, do you want some cake? Or maybe a new doll? Tell your papas, we will acquire anything your heart desires…”

Yuu was quiet, unable to look at her father. As the seconds passed, she couldn’t stop the hiccup of her breathing as another wave of tears crashed over her. 

“Oh, my sweet girl…” Dire quickly gathered her into his arms, patting her back when she clung onto him. He shushed her cries, walking with her as he would have when she was younger to soothe her.

He and Divus share a worried glance across the room as the other man re-entered the lounge. Yuu had had nightmares before, that was simply a staple of childhood. But they were always told to them with a smile in the morning over breakfast. She'd describe them almost with a sense of pride at how hard her little mind had worked to terrify her. But this dream of her dying had truly terrified her. They were quickly reaching past the realm of simple concern and into the fields of trepidation; Crowley worried if it was a dream of foresight. If he needed to prepare for an unseen threat to his child.

A pair of servants announce their presence with a knock from the doorway, both wearing excited smiles. One of them stepped forward, almost giddy as she bowed and presented an ornate silver tray holding a few letters in a neat line, “The mail, my lords!”

Crewel and Crowley lock eyes, both of them smiling. New years had passed and the next major event of the empire was the young prince's birthday party. Malleus was one of the people Yuu adored most; without a doubt, the invite was the item needed to lift their child's mood.

Divus rushed to the servants, snatching the black letter from the tray and holding it up in excitement, “Oh, puppy! Look what's arrived!”

Dire beams, trying to pull Yuu from his shoulder to look at the elegant black and silver lined envelope sealed closed with the enchanted green wax of the royal family, “Darling~! The prince's birthday invite has arrived, now you and your papa can finish your dress! And the present you were so excited to give-”

“No.”

…

The servants looked at each other, the girl holding the tray quickly scurrying back out of the room with the other close behind. Excusing their presence, they closed the doors of the private family room and left the three in their silence.

Divus's hand was shaking, eyes looking toward Dire with a barely contained fury as though he were the one to cause this dramatic change in their child.

Dire nervously averted his eyes, his arms holding Yuu tighter to use as a shield against his husband's anger, “Dearest…what do you mean ‘No’? Do you not want your papa to pick out your dress-”

“I'm not going…I don't wanna see Malleus”

…

Divus felt the letter flutter to the ground from his slack grip, his face ashen at the shock, “...CROWLEY!”

Dire was already across the room, Yuu still in his hold as he fumbled with a telephone, “I'M CALLING! I'M CALLING!” He rang for a doctor, demanding they come to their home at once to give his daughter a check-up. 

Their worry had fully bubbled into a hysteria. Yuu Crowley, refusing the invite of the crown prince Malleus, his child had clearly fallen deathly ill…

[riordanness]

i think he knows - [l.laurence]

wordcount: 1.3K

requested: no (but i am working on all my requests)

warnings: maybeee a wonka reference (my bad)

I lay side by side with Jo March, our hands intertwined, staring up at the clouds. 

“You’re kidding, right?” Jo laughs. “That is definitely not a giraffe. It looks like a flamingo.” 

I wrinkle my nose. “No way. It looks closer to a melted chocolate bar than a flamingo.”

She nudges me and laughs again. “Whatever.” 

I sigh and close my eyes, my spare fingers playing with the blades of grass we’re lying on. 

“This is the life,” Jo says quietly, as if she can read my thoughts. 

“Mhm…” I reply, feeling sleepy and sun sick. We’ve been out all morning in the hot summer sun, and the effects are finally catching up on me.

“You know what would make today better, though?” 

“What?” I’m barely paying attention now, my sleepiness wanting to take over. 

“If Laurie was here.” Jo says it like it’s poetry. 

I’m immediately awake. I sit up. “What did you say?” 

Jo looks amused. “I said…that today would have been better if Laurie was here with us.”

I try to downplay my reaction with a shrug. “Yeah, that would have been nice I suppose.” 

“Oh, y/n,” Jo teases. “Don’t try to pretend you aren’t head over heels in love with him.” 

I look at her sharply. “Jo, don’t talk about such things.”

“It's true, though,” Jo insists. “Isn’t it?” 

I look away. Of course it was true. Laurie Laurence was the one person I could never imagine not having in my life. I needed him like I needed air in my lungs. He was my sunlight, my happiness, my joy and my energy and my smile. He was my everything. 

“Maybe it’s true,” I whisper. “But it’s not important. I will never matter to him the way that he matters to me.”

Jo is quiet for a while, her eyes narrowed as she stares into the deep blue nothingness of the sky. 

I lay beside her, in comfortable silence, as my thoughts drift, as always, back to that boy with the laughing green eyes, unruly but beautiful dark hair, and that smile that fills me with everything I need.

I first met Laurie through the others. I’m lifelong friends with all the Marches, and being an only child, my days tend to be lonely. Marmee has me over as much as humanly possible. Sleepovers, performances, club meetings and dinners, walks and piano lessons, days at the beach, sketching in the garden, dances and dumb adventures. I do it all with those four girls. 

Then one day, a boy joined in on our fun. 

At first, it was nerve-wracking, doing all our usual antics in the presence of a boy. But I soon learned that Laurie was anything but judgemental, and better than that–he was amazing fun. 

We became best friends. 

Now, everything I did was with Laurie, or nearly everything. I’d spend every second with him if I could. 

It’s like there’s magic in his smile.

“Laurie!” I shove open his front door, yelling up the stairs. 

His curly head pops over the stairs, grinning down at me. “Hey, you.”

I squint up at him. “What are you doing? I thought we were going out today. You promised we’d go ice skating.” I wave my skates at him to prove my point. 

Laurie winces. “I’m sorry, y/n. I know I did, but–” He makes a face. “I’ve got a cold and Grandfather forbade me to leave my room.” His features turn mischievous. “In fact, I’m risking his wrath just being out here in the hall.”

I roll my eyes at him. “Well, I guess I’ll have to come up there and entertain you then.”

“You’ll get sick!” Laurie shakes his head at me.

“Too late,” I say, as I drop my skates and coat at the door, and dash up the stairs. 

Laurie watches as I hop, skip, and jump at the top stair, as I do every time (because he did it first, and I like to do everything he does). He stares at me with a small smirk on his face.

“What?” I ask, coming to a stop only a metre away from him. “It’s fun doing that at the top of the stairs. Like a little celebratory moment for conquering the staircase once again.”

Laurie laughs under his breath as he shakes his head slightly. “It’s nothing, my dear y/n. Hop at your heart's content.”  

I shrug and head into his room, a lage, ornate chamber full of antique paintings and old books and clothes strewn all over the floor.

“Oh, my,” I say disapprovingly. “Laurie, you really need to tidy this place up a little if you want to get any better, you know.”

“I know,” Laurie sighs, falling sideways onto an armchair. “But I just don’t have your work ethic, y/n. I love being lazy and useless and spending my time doing silly, worthless things.”

I click my tongue. “Don’t be ridiculous, Laurie. I know you. You have it inside you to do great things with your life. You just have to want it enough, and to work hard for it. You can do it. I believe in you.”

I wander around the room busily, picking up dirty laundry and discarded books, and straightening the bedsheets. I can feel Laurie’s eyes on me, but it’s not an awkward feeling. If anything, it’s comforting. Being around him, everything is easier, safer. My words come out of my mouth easily. I don’t worry about saying the wrong thing or coming across as too blunt or anything like that. They can come right from my heart, because I know him better than anyone, and I see what Laurie is capable of. 

“And you know, you can always–”

“Y/n.” Laurie gets to his feet. 

My voice dies, and I frown at him uncertainly and I drop a small stack of books onto his desk.. “Yeah?”

“You know how the other day, um, you and Jo were hanging out in the gardens, watching the clouds?”

My eyes narrow a little, but I nod slowly. “Yes…? How did you know about that?”

Laurie doesn’t meet my eyes, rolling his tongue around in his mouth nervously. “I might’ve been spying on you?” 

My hands are instantly on my hips as I give him a look. “Laurie Laurence.”

“I’m sorry!” he says immediately, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “I just… well, I heard what you were talking about.”

I try to think back. What would Jo and I have been talking about that was so important he’s bringing it back up now? I didn’t think we were discussing anything that exciting, except…

Oh.

My face goes slack, and my mouth drops slightly open. “You-you mean–”

Laurie nods and gets to his feet. “So it’s true?”

I want to lie, to shake my head and laugh it away, but my reaction has already made it obvious. I slowly nod my head yes, once, then twice.

Relief floods into Laurie’s features. “Oh, thank goodness.”

“What?” I ask, but my question is lost when Laurie attacks me with a hug. 

“I love you, y/n,” he says softly into my hair. “I’ve loved you ever since Jo first introduced me to you that day in the attic. You might’ve been shy and wearing that silly costume; a battered overcoat and tattered suitcase, but I’d never seen a prettier girl. You help me be a better person, you’re always so encouraging and kind and hard-workig, and I just… I really love you.” 

He pulls away, holding my shoulders and gazing at me. 

I’m in disbelief, staring up into his eyes, my mouth still open. 

He laughs, ducking his head a little. “You don’t have to say anything, y/n. You said enough the other day.” He pauses, licks his lips a little. “Y/n, can I kiss you?”

I can’t help but to smile. “Of course you can.” 

His mouth meets mine, and it’s better than anything else in the world.

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 6

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, death, war.

Word Count: ~1k

Masterlist Previous Next

x x x

Winter, spring and summer had passed since the Bremen raid and the subsequent mission that had greatly knocked down the number of original men at Thorpe Abbotts. With each passing season the letters from your secret admirer, including the final one that had been delivered to you the day before the mission, grew more wrinkled with each reading- though now you could picture his face clearly as his words pierced your soul so profoundly.

Each time you read that the final letter you were transported back to that day, the moment the breath was torn from your lungs as so many friends, so many brave souls failed to return to the safety of the English fields.

Your tendancy for isolation had been the main reason for a weekend pass to be handed to you on a days notice. You slipped a few of your belongings into a bag, the bag remaining light as there were very few items that you were allowed to own besides a spare uniform and simple compact.

You were driven to the closest train station, it would be your mode of transportation to London. You settled into a compartment with your unexpected travel companian, Major Egan. It was quiet as you both avoided speaking of the reasons why you were practically forced to leave Thorpe Abbotts for a few days. You glanced at John, finding him immersed in a tattered paperback before you dug through your bag for the letter that had been delivered that morning.

“Being in a plane had always provided me with a sense of freedom, it has began to feel like a cage, trapping brave men for their inevitable demise. It feels like it would be cruel to reveal myself to you now as each mission carries a sense of finality after we have lost so many. I hope that I can convince myself to walk up to you in my true form before I depart, no paper or ink between us to hide my cowardice. If not, farewell for now.”

After locating housing for your stay, which you and Egan would be neighbours, you went your separate ways. He moseyed into the pub across the street while you wandered the city, stopping in small shops to spend the little money you had on trinkets and sweets. When the bit of sun peaking through the clouds had begun to set you went back to the hotel, drawing a hot bath to ease the stress from deep within your bones. You settled into the water, a sigh escaping your bitten lips as the warmth overtook you for the first time since you had been home. You wondered what your author was doing now, would he be writing your next letter? Or were the men at base preparing themselves for a raid in the morning? You pictured a faceless man sitting on the floor beside the tub, convincing yourself that you could feel his fingers tenderly brush against your scalp. Maybe one day you would share a moment like this with him, a serene scape where war was merely a torid memory of the past. You were broken from your fantasy by an air raid siren before loud booming and panic filled the streets, a peak out the curtain revealed an attack just across the city.

Sleep evaded you in the large bed, you had gotten used to small, hard beds with scratchy sheets- it felt like a luxury you did not deserve. With the inconsiderately vulgar sounds emitting from your neighbour you tossed and turned until you came to the conclusion that you would not be falling asleep anytime soon with all the noise. You quickly dressed and hurried across the city, knowing that even if not at Thorpe Abbott you could still help someone in need.

The sun had risen long ago but you had yet to sleep. You ignored the stinging from the cuts and scrapes across your fingers and palms, you had been helping a weeping mother find her child burried among the rubble of a collapsed builiding. With the child being found meraculasly with only a few cuts and bruises, you spotted a man passing reading the recent paper. You quickly located a stand, using the very last of your pocket money to purchase a copy of the Daily Herald, the headline was clear about the destruction of the 100th. Eighth Air Force Smashes Bremen- 30 Bombers Lost.

You hurried to find the one other person you knew was also in London for the weekend.

“John!” You shouted, pushing your legs harder to catch up with the man in his all too familair dress greens. “Major Egan!”

He paused just in time to catch your hurtling body as you tripped on the curb. His hard look of determination told you he had already heard the news. “I’m going back.”

“I’m coming with you.”

You did not question where John had procured the jeep from or the speed at which you barrelled toward the countryside. Exhaustion from your lack of sleep was catching upto you but the worried hammering of your heart in your chest for those who had not returned kept you awake.

“You’re still bleeding.”

You glanced down, finding drops of blood and dirt covering your once clean blouse. You regretted not carrying a medical kit in your bag as you inspected the wounds on your hands, most were superficial but there were a few spots that would require proper tending. You shifted in your seat to remove the hoissery from under your skirt, “Keep your eyes on the road.” You teased the Major, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere as you wrapped the pantyhose around your bleeding hand.

“Blakely’s fort went down, with Dougie and Cros.”

You swallowed thickly to clear the emotion tightening your throat with the thought of the loss of your friends, “Buck?”

He nodded erratically, “Benny too.” He confirmed, pausing as he contemplated his next words. “Your writer… I think I know who it is. I think you should know too, now that he won’t be able to tell you himself.”

x x x

I appreciate everyone’s patience!! Reveal imminent in Part 7! ❤️❤️🫣

@jointherebellion215 @orchiidflwer @probabydeadbynow @claireelizabeth85

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

Mamma Mia | prologue

listen to: Mamma Mia - Abba (Movie cover) | Crazy- Aerosmith | Everybody wants to rule the world- Tears For Fears | Our Last Summer- Abba (Movie cover) (playlist here)

warnings: accidental pregnancy, smut 18+, raising a child alone. warnings will be added as the story progresses. Nothing for this chapter in particular.

series masterlist + read the next chapter early on my ko-fi!!

The sound of the waves crashing against the sand is muffled by the music in your headphones as you take the view in. The salty air breeze, the heat of the sun warming up your skin just fine, soaking up in the way your whole body felt like it was buzzing. Everything just felt so right. You rode your bike with no hurry down the Marina, tasting the moment. 

You arrived the night before at your parent’s house. They were still hugging you like you’d graduated Law School yesterday when in reality it had been a month but you just guessed the happiness for a law degree lasts longer than your high school and your bachelor’s degree. You got them, not everyone went to Law School, not everyone was the daughter that your parents had and although yes, you were happy you were done with Law School, in all honesty, you were even happier about returning to San Diego and what the summer held for you because after this it would all change. 

That kind of loving turns a man into a slave, 

That kind of loving sends a man right to his grave

You mouth the lyrics, being able to taste the air. It tastes just the same and smells just the same as before. Part of you almost wants to scream, seeing the town again, coming after what felt like a decade, when in reality it’d been five years. Your father had guessed that you might feel nostalgic about returning, might feel adverse to your memories from high school for some reason. You don’t. You’re happy to be here, to come home after a long, long time. It held a million promises of summer, of what might be. 

Arriving at James and Augustine’s place wasn’t hard at all, you’d been watching that house since you were freshmen in High School, and now a promise that had lasted over ten years was finally completed. You felt so warm on your chest as you stared at the house for a moment, in secret. If it was up to you, you would’ve screamed from the front lawn, but you didn’t, you wanted a minute to remember the moment forever. 

It was a small two-floor house, a faded white over it with roots climbing over the wall of the plants that surrounded it. It definitely needed to be repainted but you didn’t care. The backyard and front yard also had orange trees, the orange giving a homey touch to the house. There was a warm feeling in your stomach as you watched. 

That kinda loving makes me wanna pull down the shade, yeah!

That's kinda loving, yeah. Now I’m never, never, never gonna be the same. 

You kept on singing as you parked your bike on the front lawn and quickly walked towards the porch. Taking a deep breath, you unceremoniously opened the door as if it was your own. It technically was yours too. The house smelled like oranges and lemon and as you walked in you felt like you could cry. The main door led to a big living room to the right and in front of it, a small sunroom led to the backyard. As you walked a little bit further, to your right you found the small green kitchen and in front of it, a spiral staircase next to big open windows. 

The house was filled with light, warmth, and everything you’d dreamed of. 

Suddenly, you heard footsteps and at that moment you saw her. That red long hair was falling from her messy bun as she ate a long baguette while watching her phone. You waited for her to see you, not wanting to scare her and make her trip on the stairs, which was something Augustine would probably do.  

And then, her green eyes fell on you. 

The scream was basically so loud that you were sure that the neighbors might’ve heard it but you didn’t care, you ran towards her screaming at the top of your lungs too, crushing her into a hug at the start of the stairs, she launched into your arms with little thought on the baguette that immediately fell on the floor. 

“Jamie! She’s here!” Augustine screamed while you laughed as she held you by your waist and kissed you on the cheek repeatedly.“Oh my god! I can’t believe you’re finally here!” she gushed while you continue to giggle. 

“Jamie!” you screamed this time, hoping your other best friend would climb down the stairs. You heard some tired steps on the ground above you but when James showed up her face from the spiral staircase, as soon as her eyes fell on you, her whole face lit up. She screamed as she climbed down just like Augustine had done and then fell into the arms of both of you

“Can’t believe you’re right here?” she squealed as she held you both tight, her brown hair tickling your cheek as she kissed your cheek. 

“I’ve missed you guys,” you mumbled against James’ cheek while they laughed. 

“That’s what you deserved for going to New York to be a big shot lawyer,” James teased you as she finally let go of you before pushing you gently, feigning annoyance while you slapped her softly on her arm. 

Augustine didn’t miss a beat as she grabbed both of your hands and quickly led you to the sunroom, near the back patio. A serious look on her face as she sat you down on the main couch while James and she took the seats in front of you, almost like an interrogation but you only could bite your lower lip from the excitement. 

“So what’s waiting for us this summer? What’s our main goal?” Augustine asked as she looked at you seriously. 

“What we’ve always planned,” you answered as you pulled your knees up, legs against your chest. “Make some memories,”

“So, you’re finally going to sleep around?” You pushed James' leg softly from the couch and she laughed. 

“James!”

“Want to finally kiss more than one boy a night?” Augustine chimed in while you feel your cheeks getting warmer and warmer. 

You nodded. It’d been a while since you’d planned this since you’d planned that this summer was the one you were going to get loose. In all honesty, you’d thought about it for years now. Being a good daughter, someone who could calm down your parents, and a responsible shoulder to lay on was your goal. All through your childhood, to teenager, to young adult, you’d never actually done something that you wouldn’t tell your parents. You didn’t get loose, you studied and you worked, that was it. 

“Are you telling me that you’re finally letting loose this summer?” James asked as she gazed at Augustine. 

“Before you leave us again?” Augustine asked, pouting as she looked at you. 

“I’m telling you that this is the last summer before I go to London we are going to have the best summer of our lives!” You replied back as you took her hands and then screamed with joy while you pulled them, making them fall on the sofa next to you. 

Seven years later, 

The sound of the waves crashing against the sand is muffled by the windows in your car as you take the view in while staring at the sunset. The sky is painted with hues of purple, yellow, and orange in the most beautiful glow that you could recall in a few weeks. 

It’d been a while since you stopped and just watched what was around you, recalling how lucky you are for living here. Pulling a window down from your car, you close your eyes, the salty air breeze makes your hair a little bit sticky but it’s fine, you’re used to it by now, you let what was left of the sun soak in your skin as you finally take a deep breath. 

It was finally July and everything felt heightened as if something had shifted in the air. You aren’t quite sure what is it, you aren’t sure just yet but you can feel it in your bones. 

Since Inés was born you usually got those gut feelings, as if someone was telling you that something was coming. But Inés wasn’t sick, she hadn’t forgotten any homework, you were up to date with the errands of the house, your mom was fine, your friends were fine, and your work was perfect. 

Everything was fine, and yet it wasn’t. 

A part of you wanted to attribute it to your fight with John but honestly, as you’d grown up you’d learn that as long as Inés was okay, everything else was too. So, you stay there for a while, shaking off the feeling, letting your body relax as you close your eyes and listen to the ocean. 

It is a warm feeling, like cinnamon and honey mixed together, and you let it coat your body. Salty air and the ability to breathe with a little more ease are things you never want to take for granted but you always seem to do when life gets too busy, which is often. 

“Thursdays night are mommy’s night,” you tell yourself and get down from your jeep with ease before walking towards The Hard Deck. 

The little bar definitely had managed to stand the test of time. It had been around for as long as you could remember, located just off the main drag, it was the most popular spot for everyone that lived in the area. On this particular day, the sun was setting and bathing the Hard Deck in this beautiful orange glow, you feel the warmth on your skin and close your eyes. 

Thursdays night is mommy’s night, you recall your beautiful six-year-old daughter, Inés, saying when you’d suggested that you wanted to stay over with grandma and her, she disagreed in the most explicit way. Secretly you were delighted that your daughter was so strong-willed but on the opposite end, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit remorseful about the ritual. 

You’d created the tradition early on in her life when you’d become too overwhelmed with taking care of her on your own. It had happened when she was six months old, James and Augustine weren’t around and she just wouldn’t stop crying as you were trying to finish research for a case a partner had personally given to you so you could prove to her that you could do the job. It came to the point when you’d have a total mental breakdown, unable to get her to eat, unable to get her to sleep, and unable to calm her down; you’d driven to your parent’s place, fat tears falling from your eyes as you and Inés cried in chorus. Inés had calmed down as soon as she was in your mother's arms and you too, quickly got to work and delivered the research before the deadline. 

Soon, it became a tradition. Your mother would care for Inés and you would get ready to work non-stop for around four hours before you pick her up around ten. It was only until last year that Thursdays weren’t used only for work, now, you were often using them to gout out with your friends and go on dates. 

But not today. 

As you walk through the doors of the Hard Deck, you are greeted by the familiar smell of beer and sweat. The bar was crowded, packed for a Thursday and the noise level was high, but at the moment you didn't mind. You didn’t have it in yourself to really scan the place, you walked right to the bar where you find a spot, and quickly leaned on the wooden table, taking a deep breath. 

“Long day?” you can hear Penny’s voice as you raise your head to be met with her green eyes and her soft smile. 

“Sort off,” you groan as you finally take a seat while you look around at the bar, it’s almost always the same view. 

Navy officers, mechanics, people from around town, Top Gun students, those damn Top Gun students. You can identify them easily now that you’ve been living here as a grown-up. You didn’t back then. 

“White wine?” Penny offers, snapping you out of your thoughts. You shake your head as you dangle your keys from your right hand. 

“Driving,” you state as you sigh defeatedly. 

“James didn’t come with you?” she asks with a frown as she still pours the wine into a glass in front of you, before taking the keys from your hand. A part of you wants to protest, but another part of you really knows that you need the wine at the moment, you need to relax and it’d been a while since you had that awful feeling in your gut. 

“No, she was busy and so was Augustine,” you say as you take a sip of your wine and smile at Penny, who winks at you with ease. 

That’s one thing about Penny Benjamin, she never lets anything get to her. Since you’ve known her, you had admired her for it. If Amelia was sick, Penny wouldn’t be fuzzing around. If someone missed a shift at The Hard Deck, she would replace them or find a replacement without complaining. Since you were young, you knew you needed a little bit more of that; ten times more when Inés was born.  

“And you decided to drink alone,” Penny stated calmly as she serves a couple of drinks to the guys next to you, they are clearly young, Top Gun students without a doubt and they are not so subtlety checking you out. 

To be fair, you’d gotten ready before the fight with John. You were wearing a strapless white short dress that let your legs be the center of attention, your hair put on a clean bun, and a pair of strappy heels. It’s pretty, you look pretty, you know it but you still dislike the distasteful way they look at you. 

“John was supposed to come tonight, we fought,” you say as you try to ignore the young pilots. Penny lets out a small ‘mhm’, knowing exactly what she means. 

John was a lawyer from another law firm in Los Angeles. He’d been trying to take you out on a date since he saw you in the meeting for a merger between both of your clients, you’d denied his request saying that until the merger was completed, he couldn’t contact you for anything other than work. He was patient and agreed with you, therefore, a month ago as soon as you’d stepped out of the conference meeting where the papers were signed, you received a phone call from him. 

You’d been dating for over a month and he was perfect on paper. He checked each and every one of the boxes that you’d written down one night with Augustine and James when you were younger. He had a stable job, he was smart, he was good with servers, and he had his own place in LA, sex was good, and yet the most important thing that you hadn’t managed to check was how he got along with Inés; which in turn was taking a toll on your relationship.

“Got it,” Penny assured you as she gazed at you. “What does Inés think about him?”

You raised your eyebrows and then sighed. “No clue,” you answered honestly before taking another sip of wine. “She avoids the topic,” you explained to her.

Penny now raised her eyebrows. “She’s six,” she laughed and you smiled. 

“She’s smart, like her mother,” you answered. 

It was true. Inés was the smartest kid you’d ever met, she was way more advance than you were at that age, and she was way more advance than any kid her age. Most importantly, she was kind and loving, she was so caring that you were afraid sometimes for her. You didn’t want her to be naive, you didn’t want her to get hurt like you were. 

“Why’s so packed today?” you ask Penny, changing the topic quickly as you looked back and see more people arriving. 

“Why should I know?” Penny ask, feigning innocence as she served you a little bit more wine. 

You scoff softly while you look at her. “You know everything, Penny Benjamin,” you say softly as you shake your head and take a sip of your wine. 

Feeling your body relax a bit, you wonder if it was stress getting to your body. Knowing that there’s actually nothing to worry about, you’re okay. 

And then, you hear him. 

“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain,” his voice raspy and delicious as it was seven years earlier. “Too much love drives a man insane, you broke my will but what a thrill,” 

Your stomach sinks in a matter of seconds as you gaze toward the piano.

He hadn’t changed that much from the first time that you’d met him. The sun-kissed skin that for some reason you knew stayed on despite living through the winters in Virginia. The amber locks, the same that turned into curls if he brushed his hair in a certain way after dipping in the ocean. His cheeks, the warm and reddish blush still there, like it was after you kissed him for the first time. The famous mustache that now seemed much fuller and a bit more cared for above that damn smile, the same one that had brought you to your knees all those years before. 

He’s changed now though, his build is much bigger now. You can tell by the way that stupid Hawaiian shirt is hugging his arms as he plays the piano. He seems more confident than he did back then, all of those doubts don’t surface anymore as far as you can see. 

And, after all these years, he is still as beautiful as he was when you met him. 

Part of you wants to be wrong but as he continues to sing to his friends, not looking in your direction, you know that it is him. Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, you remember the taste when his name first fell from your lips. 

“Goodness gracious, Great Balls of Fire!” you hear him scream again, his fingers expertly playing the piano as you watch him from afar. 

Then, his friends start to howl loudly as he continues to play the tune. It is only until then, that your eyes fall on the people behind the piano and you see him. 

Those doe-eyes were the first thing that you see like you did the day you met him. The crinkles on his eyes are a bit deeper now than back then, they always crinkled like that when you saw him. His long feathery lashes that brushed against his gold-framed glasses are still there, they still complement the warmest blue eyes that you had seen back then and even now. The brown locks were still there, you could tell they still turn golden in the right light, but now they were perfectly combed and arranged even as he is bumping his head to the music, not like back then. He looks basically the same, soft and intelligent. 

Everything Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd did outside your bed was gentle and soft, you can still recall his fingertips over your cheek as he pulled you in for kisses. 

And a heavy feeling on your chest now makes you want to throw up as you see him, see them. 

Deep down, you know what it means for you if they are back, even for a little while, and they see you. You know you have to get out of there.

“Pe-Penny,” your words stumble against the other as Penny’s face drops as she turns to see you, you’ve suddenly become pale, the usual blush on your cheeks completely gone. “I, I have to go,” you manage to say as you climb down from your seat, people are still dancing around you and screaming along with Rooster’s voice. 

Approximately, you have around thirty seconds before he finishes the song and if you don’t go out now, they could probably catch a glimpse of you. 

“What, you just got here?” Penny asks as she looks at you with concern while you examine how to make your way out of the bar but it’s too crowded.

“I just, I need to,” you pant but suddenly, someone pushes you and the glass of wine that you were about to hand to Penny, drops from your hand, breaking into a thousand pieces on the ground, many people finally turn around as Rooster’s singing the last notes of the song. “Fuck, I’m so sorry, I’ll pay for it too, and I-”

You know you have to get out of there, you just shake your head to Penny, mouthing a small ‘sorry’, and then as you give a step back before you turn around, your back hits someone’s chest. 

“I’m so-” you start to say as you turn around and then your heart sinks. 

You had decided back then that living in California and New York allowed you to be surrounded by the most beautiful in the world but when you met him, you’d decided that there wasn’t anyone as beautiful as him. 

It was like seeing a performance, watching him move through the world. You could still remember it, the way his sea-foam eyes roamed a place, a similar way to when they roamed your body. The way he stood up, the way he leaned against a wall, the way his mouth twitched in just the right way, the suave way he approached everything, the confidence that exuded him like he knew he was meant for something bigger. 

He still had it. 

His sea-foam eyes weren’t as gloomy as they were when you saw him last, instead now, they were gleaming in a similar way to the day they had when you’d first met him. The wrinkles in his forehead were a bit deeper now, you’d always teased him about it but they accompanied well when he had that determined look on his face. His dimples were still there, and his lips, those lips as always quirked up into a familiar smirk. Those damn lips that after all those years still made your cheeks warm up, even after you’d just gone pale. 

He is still as gorgeous as he was the first day you met him, which in turn, only makes you want to cry even more. 

There he is, the bane of your existence. 

“Good to see you, Honey,” Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin says as your eyes meet his. 

***

author's note: thank you for your patience! I really love you a lot and I hope you like it a lot!

***

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[mc-i-r]

Disposable Heroes

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Ao3

A/N: Guys, I’m so sorry for the late update! Life has been crazy for me the past couple weeks but I hope that I can get back to writing more regularly. This chapter is the well-awaited Eddie pov, as well as a ton of backstory for him that I didn’t really plan on but it just kinda came out. This chapter is kinda rushed, I’m gonna be honest, but I wanted to get it out to you guys as soon as possible since its been awhile. There are gonna be some major warnings here so I’ll post them below. Take care of yourselves and stay safe, now enjoy!

Tw: homophobia, homophobic language, child abuse, domestic violence, referenced drug use, Eddie being incredibly gay

———

It’s a muggy Sunday morning, the summer sun burning through the last vestiges of chilled night air and frosted dewdrops as it rises from its slumber. Like the sun, Eddie rises as well. However, it’s with much less fanfare and grace due to the obnoxious pounding at his front door.

He groans dramatically, shoving his face in his pillow and willing whoever the fuck decided to bother him at—he glances at his alarm clock on the other side of the room, squinting to read the numbers—nine in the morning to go away. His wish must have pissed off some universal god because the knocking only gets louder, making the window above his desk rattle with every shake of the door.

With a sigh big enough to rival the windy intro of “Holy Diver”, he pulls himself to the door in a zombie-like state. Movements sluggish from his interrupted sleep, he misses the doorknob twice before finally turning it, throwing it open with newfound strength to find one Robin Buckley in all her glory. Her fist is raised and ready to knock again, her face the epitome of righteous fury as she glares at him.

“Uh, hey Buck. Whatcha doi—“ he begins, only to be interrupted by Robin shoving past him and barging into the trailer. He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face and pulling on his hair slightly before shutting the door.

Kids and their manners nowadays.

“Yeah, sure, come on in. Totally fine. I wasn’t sleeping or anything, noooo,” he says to himself before turning to face his intruder. Whatever Buckley is upset about seems serious, and from the icy look she’s giving him it also seems like it’s his fault. Her hands are on her hips like she’s in a Steve Harrington impersonation contest and plans on taking home a first place prize. Something in him squirms at the thought.

But, he is nothing if not a performer. So, of course, he puts on a show.

“Lady Buckley,” he declares in a posh British accent, bowing deeply with a flourish on his arm. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company on this fine morning?”

He’s expecting a fond eye roll, or a laugh, or huff, or something. He gets silence.

“Cut the bullshit, Eddie. We need to talk about Steve,” she demands.

Steve… Now isn’t that an interesting subject?

Now, Eddie has always been different. He was loud, and jumpy, and fidgety, and the other kids never wanted to be friends with him because they were scared. He was always covered in dirt, always barefoot because he either forgot to put on shoes or the ones he had were too small for his ever-changing feet. He would talk to himself, mutter little reminders under his breath or work through the questions plaguing his mind aloud because he just functioned better that way.

Then, at eleven, he found out just how different he really was. He was outside during recess when he fell off the monkey bars and scraped his hands and knees. He huddled on the ground, tears falling down his small cheeks because it hurt and his wounds felt like they were throbbing. Then a boy, James, ran up to him and asked him if he was okay. James had stark blond hair, a face full of freckles, and bright green eyes. He looked so concerned for Eddie, and was gentle when he picked up one of his hands to inspect the cuts littered there. It was that gentle touch that elicited a flutter of butterflies in his stomach, and ever since then Eddie knew.

When he had gotten home to the trailer that day, he felt confused. Other people in his class were constantly talking about who they “liked”; boys liking girls and girls liking boys. About how they would get all nervous around their crushes, and Eddie realized he had never felt that before. All of the girls in his class were just… girls to him. They never gave him that fluttery feeling James had. But… no one ever talked about boys liking boys. No one ever said if it was okay, so Eddie thought it must not be. That boys liking boys wasn’t okay. That he wasn’t okay.

It took awhile, but he finally confessed to Wayne that he liked boys, that he got all the little butterflies that boys were supposed to get about girls. Wayne shook his head and told him that he could feel butterflies for anyone he pleased, as long as they made him happy. They both cried that night, and ended up in a hug so tight they nearly fused together.

Since then, Eddie’s come to accept the fact that he’s gay. Has added it to his whole anti-conformist persona, even. So when high school hit he let himself finally be free. He joined Hellfire club, made friends with the upperclassmen who ran it, and learned all the intricacies of D&D that he never imagined he would. After two years, he met Gareth and Jeff who joined Hellfire much in the way he did. Then, Grant joined halfway through Eddie’s junior year and he quickly recruited him as well. He found his friends, his people, and he finally let himself be himself around them.

He told them he was gay after a long session of lazily practicing in Gareth’s garage and smoking, the weed having loosened both his limbs and his lips. They were all extremely chill with it, even after the weed had worn off. That, however, didn’t exempt them from making fun of him though.

Eddie was loitering in the hallway after school, waiting on Gareth to finish up a quiz he missed the week prior, when none other than Steve Harrington walked out of the pool room in nothing but those little speedos that leave zero to the imagination. Seriously, all those girls were right, holy shit. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, he noticed Steve was looking at him with that adorable little confused puppy look before a god damned smirk fell across his face. Eddie’s face, he knew, had to rival that of a Victorian nobleman fawning over a sliver of pale skin shown by a lady across the room with her face hidden by an elaborate fan because he was literally drooling for the man in front of him.

It got considerably worse when Steve leaned down to drink from a nearby water fountain, making Eddie’s mouth go completely dry with this blatant offering of ass right in his face. In hindsight, it might not have been an offering, per say, but it was definitely there and Eddie was definitely staring. So it really wasn’t a surprise that he jumped when Gareth tapped his shoulder, Eddie having not heard him come up behind him, and he turned on his heel so fast he’s surprised he didn’t get whiplash.

“Dude, you good?” Gareth asked. Eddie opened his mouth, squeaked out, “I’m fine” and immediately felt his face go up in flames. Gareth glanced over Eddie’s shoulder and he could see in slow motion the series of thoughts that crossed his mind. Gareth went from concerned to confused to understanding to smug so fast it was almost comical. When their eyes met, Eddie’s went wide.

“Don’t you dare say a word,” he hissed, and the smug look only intensified.

Once they got to his van, Gareth immediately rounded on him.

“Seriously? Steve Harrington?” Gareth teased. “Of all people, it had to be that douche?”

Eddie groaned and clenched his eyes shut. “I know, Garebear, now shut up before I push you out of the van.”

Of course, news about his little crush spread around his friend group like wildfire, and soon enough he was being teased by them relentlessly. Eddie knew his crush wouldn’t get very far, Steve was very clearly straight and in a happy relationship with Nancy Wheeler of all people. Still, Eddie couldn’t stop thinking about that smirk.

Just as his crush began to fade away, Steve showed up to school with a busted face and eye bags deep enough to rival shitty vampire Halloween make-up from a toddlers costume contest. Feelings came rushing back, the intense need to protect, to find out what happened and get justice for that pretty face.

Then it kept happening, and Steve showed up to school with a beat up face yet again. However, judging by his stumbling and droopy eyes, it came with a concussion this time. Just when Eddie was trying to figure out who did it, Billy Hargrove came stalking through the empty halls and all attention was focused on his scabbed knuckles. On the hungry glare he sent Steve’s way. On the way Steve shrank back a little on instinct.

And Eddie… Eddie just couldn’t leave well enough alone, now could he?

He walked up to Steve, brows furrowed. “Harrington?”

Harrington didn’t turn, eyes still focused on the spot where Billy had been before. Eddie tapped his shoulder. “Steve?”

He jumped that time, like Eddie had actually hit him, and spun to face him. Up close, his face looked a hell of a lot worse and Eddie had to suppress a wince just looking at him. Steve looked at him confused, though it was hard to tell between the swelling and assortment of bandages on his face.

“…Munson?” Steve began. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up.”

He said it flippantly, with a wave of his hand towards his left ear like that explained everything. It didn’t, but Eddie felt like it wasn’t his place to push.

“You good, man? You look like you got in a fight with a dump truck and lost,” Eddie said. “Badly.”

He expected Steve to scoff and roll his eyes, push past him and hit his shoulder too hard to be an accident. He expected him to spit some barb and walk away, to leave Eddie there in the hallway alone. None of that happened, though.

Instead, Steve smiled. A little self-deprecating, but a smile nonetheless. He huffed a laugh.

“Make it a supercharged dump truck and you’ve got it right,” Steve joked at his own expense. It resulted in a shocked laugh bursting from Eddie’s lips, which he immediately stopped by smacking a hand over his mouth.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his hand away. “That’s not funny. I mean… your joke was, just not,”—he gestured to Steve’s… everything—“this.”

“It’s okay man, I know what you meant,” Steve said sincerely and Eddie doubted why he was ever called King Steve. The person who stood in front of him was the furthest thing from what those jocks supposedly worshiped that Eddie had to hide another bubble of laughter.

“Seriously, dude, did you even go to a doctor?” Eddie asked, and at Steve’s wince he knew the answer. He rolled his eyes and slung an arm around his shoulders, careful not to land too hard in case he was bruised there too, and led him down the hallway towards the nurse’s station.

“Uh,” Steve began. “Where are we going?”

“The nurse,” he explained. “Figured a look wouldn’t hurt, right?”

Steve’s shoulders relaxed a little under his arm, and Eddie decided to focus on him during their walk down the empty hallway. He noticed the way his hair bounced a little with every step, how a couple strands were threatening to fall from their perfectly coiffed positions. He noticed his moles and freckles, how he had a smattering of faint ones all over his face from time in the sun. He noticed how his nose was a little crooked now, with a bump on the bridge that wasn’t there before the weekend. He noticed how pretty his eyes were, with at least three different shades of brown all swirled together like melted chocolate with flecks of forest green nestled in the folds.

He noticed that Steve was looking at him.

They had come to a stop in front of the nurse, yet Eddie’s arm was still over his shoulders. He quickly retracted it, but Steve didn’t move away and neither did he.

“Well, this is your stop,” Eddie nearly whispered out. Steve smiled, just a small quirk of his lips, and his eyes flitted across Eddie’s face.

“Thanks, Eddie,” he started. Steve took a step backwards toward the station and did a little wave with his fingers that had no right being as endearing as it was. “See you around.”

With that, he disappeared behind the thick mahogany door and Eddie was left there alone, face full of flames and smiling like he was in fucking love with the guy.

Fuck, maybe he was a little bit in love with the guy.

That feeling didn’t waver, not even after seeing him in a skimpy sailor uniform as he scooped overpriced ice cream for toddlers in the Mall. Or, when he was pinning him to the rickety wall of the boathouse he was hiding in after seeing Chrissy murdered in front of him by some freaky wizard from an alternate dimension with a broken bottle to his beautifully freckled throat.

That feeling greatly intensified when he saw Steve take an honest to god bite out of a demonic bat and spit the flesh and blood out on the dried lakebed in the previously mentioned alternate dimension.

And, really, you can’t blame him for falling all the way when he found out exactly who dragged his half-dead body out of hell and saved his life.

So yeah, Steve was a very interesting subject indeed.

“Is… Is he okay?” Eddie questions as he straightens from his hunched position, head tilting to the side and making his bangs fall in his eyes. Robin throws her hands up with a mighty huff and a frustrated groan.

“Obviously not!” She exclaims. She starts pacing around his living room, back and forth in front of the coffee table. “He’s obviously not okay because you’ve been avoiding him and making him feel like shit for months and I’m actually really worried about him ‘cause he’s been doing stupid shit that can get him killed and I don’t know how much longer he can go on like this before it completely ruins him.”

As Robin rambles, her face turns a bright shade of pink. She finishes her speech, sucking in a deep breath as if she ran out of air. Eddie’s brows furrow.

“I haven’t been avoiding Steve,” he defends weakly. He hasn’t, not really. He just… he doesn’t want to get hurt.

Okay yes, Eddie is practically in love with the guy, but that doesn’t mean Steve feels the same about him. They’re friends, that’s it. Steve is going to find some beautiful girl and get married and have the houseful of kids he’s always wanted and Eddie will be here, still pining from afar. He knows it would be easier to just forget about him, and forget about the feelings clutching his heart like a starved hawk with its first fulfilling catch in months. That’s why he’s been slowly letting go over the past few weeks, trying—and failing—to get that stupid pretty boy out of his head. Of course, it’s not working, and every day he spends not talking to Steve feels like hell.

So no, he’s not avoiding Steve. He just doesn’t think he could survive it if he confesses and Steve rejects him completely. Staying away means he won’t accidentally reveal his feelings for the man, and judging by how much he’s feeling, it wouldn’t be very hard for that scraggly cat to come clawing and screeching out of the proverbial bag.

Robin, however, thinks the opposite because according to the look she’s giving him, she says he absolutely fucking has.

Eddie sighs. “Okay, maybe I have just a little bit but it’s not—“

Eddie freezes, stomach plummeting as Robin's rambling words take purchase in his mind. She said Steve was doing something stupid, something that could kill him. Flashes of a night now a distant memory play in his mind, one filled with panicked breaths, stilted tears, and a bloody bat with nails.

“Robin… What do you mean by ‘stupid shit’?” Eddie asks tentatively. Part of him wants to know the answer, while part of him fears the idea of ever finding out. Robin only gives him a confused look and crosses her arms.

“Eddie, that’s totally not the point of this conversation and you know it—“ Eddie cuts her off by waving his hands.

“Robin! Just…” he trails off. Should he tell her about Steve? He promised he wouldn’t but…

“Okay, I have to tell you something about Steve but please please don’t tell him I told you because I promised him I wouldn’t but if you also know something about him then I think you should know about this too,” he rushes out, words tumbling fast out of his mouth as his lungs scream for air. Robin’s icy glare has melted a bit, turning into one of anxiety and caution.

He sighs and flops down on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he looks down at his hands. He feels more than sees Robin sit next to him and he knows he has her attention.

“What happened, Eddie?” She prompts, and he takes it as a sign to continue.

“I had a visit from Steve awhile back, around four or five days ago,” he begins. “It was early in the morning and I couldn’t sleep so I was writing notes for a new campaign idea in the living room. I could feel that something was… off, so I looked out the window and there he was.”

He ran a hand over his face, pushing his bangs back and pulling on the ends. He glances over at Robin to find her looking at him. He squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before looking back at her.

“He wasn’t all there, Robin. Like… like he was trapped in his mind or something. I thought,” he huffs a deprecating laugh, “for a moment there, I thought he was cursed.”

He doesn’t mention that the image found its way in his head and can’t seem to find its way out, like a stubborn housefly who keeps banging against the glass hoping to be freed. The thought of Steve floating—eyes rolled back in his head while his lids flutter and his limbs shudder and break one by one—has kept him awake on more nights than he can count. The thought of him being subjected to his worst nightmares given life, all the lies that he tells himself turned to truth. The thought of Eddie being completely helpless, watching him die in agony in front of him.

He doesn’t mention that every night since then, he’s called Steve. He needed to hear his voice, to know he was okay. To know he was alive. He never got a call back.

“I got him to come inside but he didn’t stay long. Something spooked him, I think, I just… I don’t know, it was really weird. Like…” he trails off, unable to find the words.

“Like he was in fight or flight mode?” Robin suggests, and he nods.

“Pure instinct.”

Robin groans. “Shit, this is worse than I thought.”

“Wait, did he tell you?” He asks. Steve was so insistent on Eddie not telling her—made him promise, in fact—so why…?

“Well… after a very long, very emotional, and very vulnerable conversation, yes. He told me on his own terms though, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she supplies. “He… He didn’t tell me a ton of details, though. Not… Not like that.”

There’s a pause as Robin clenches her eyes closed and looks away from him.

“I didn’t know it was that bad,” her voice comes out just barely above a whisper, something he wouldn’t have heard if he wasn’t right next to her. Eddie stays silent, unwilling to break the solemn mood. Robin, however, misses that message entirely as she smacks his arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me, doofus?!” She accuses, giving him a half-hearted glare that is no less threatening. Eddie holds his hands up in surrender, unable to hide the exasperated look on his face.

“He made me promise!!” Eddie defends. “Plus he gave me those damn puppy dog eyes and I couldn’t say no.”

“He is really good at that, especially when he wants something. He says he has no clue but I bet you he does,” Robin whispers, almost conspiratory as if they’re sharing a terrible secret. Eddie can’t help but smile and shake his head. Screw Harrington and his stupid pretty eyes.

“Did he say anything else while he was here?” Robin asks after a moment of silence.

“No, that was the only thing he said really, other than an absent ‘I’m fine’ before he bolted out the door. It was a very uh… one-sided conversation,” Eddie explains. “He mostly gave only one or two word answers before he panicked and ran.”

“I’m gonna assume he didn’t tell you why he left?” She asks, and at the shake of his head she curses. “Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”

Robin shifts beside him, raising her hand to mindlessly chew on her thumbnail. He thinks the conversation is over. Or, rather, wishes it were over.

That universal god must really hate Eddie today because Robin roughly shakes her head and waves her hands around, letting out a huff.

“Okay, one problem at a time. That was totally not the point of this little talk and you know it, Munson,” she admonishes. “Why. Are. You. Avoiding. Steve?”

She punctuates each word with a, quite literal, punch to the arm. Eddie reels back, dramatically clutching his bruised arm and gives her a fake glare.

“Ow!!” He rubs his arm. For her incredibly bony arms, she really can pack a punch. He’s only half joking that it hurts.

“Answer the question!”

“Fine fine…” he takes a deep breath, knee bouncing with building anxiety before he stands up, unable to quell the urge to move. He paces twice in front of the coffee table before he has the nerve to look at her waiting gaze.

“So, as you know, I am a raging homosexual,” he states, and at his pause, she nods. “And I miiiiiight have a teeny weeny, itsy bitsy, enormous crush on him.”

The end of his sentence is rushed out, words jumbled together as he screws his eyes closed and waits for… whatever Robin’s response is going to be. He waits for five seconds. Then ten. Then twenty-five because yes he’s counting. If he knows one thing about Robin Buckley it’s that she doesn’t know when to stop talking so silence is a very rare occurrence for her and now its been a whole minute and something must be wrong so he opens his eyes to find her—

The only word that even remotely comes close to encompassing the expression on her face is seething.

He instinctively takes a step back.

“Edward Lee Munson you better explain yourself right fucking now or I swear to every god out there that I will rip out your spleen and feed it to the neighborhood dogs before you take a step out that door,” Robin all but growls out, eyes icy and cold as they stare through him. He’s quick to explain because he really quite values his spleen, thank you very much.

“Okay, okay, geez I get it! Fine,” he huffs. “I’ve been avoiding Steve because it’s hard to be around him.”

Robin only raises an eyebrow. Eddie groans. He really wishes he didn’t have to explain his big, fat, gay love this early in the morning.

“It’s hard because he’s so…. So Steve all the time. He’s so kind and caring and hot— god, Birdie, he’s so fucking hot—“

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t need to know that,” Robin interrupts.

“Sorry,” he says, a bit sheepish. “Every little smile he gives me feels like a swarm of butterflies are fighting horde-style to get out of my stomach. I just…

“I think I’m in love with him,” Eddie confesses. The way her eyes blow wide is comical, and he’s half expecting them to pop and burst like they do in cartoons.

“But I know better,” he gives her a sad smile. “I know that I’m not special, he doesn’t mean it like that. Like I want it to. And…. And I know he never will.

“I thought that distancing myself would make the feelings go away, make it… I don’t know, hurt less? But not seeing Steve at all… fuck, it hurts worse than dying and I know what that feels like. Now I don’t even have him as a friend,” he scoffs at himself, shakes his head a little and focuses on a framed picture of him, Steve, Robin, and Dustin from graduation on the wall. Focuses on how Steve’s arm is wrapped around his shoulders, hand gripping his upper arm as he smiles shyly at the camera. How Eddie himself is leaning into his side, tucked under his arm as if he belongs there. As if he’ll ever belong there. He looks back at Robin.

“But this is what’s best. I can’t have my stupid heart feeling things my brain knows it shouldn’t,” Eddie ends his little speech by flopping back down on the couch. Part of him regrets telling her, but another small, itty bitty part is almost grateful.

Eddie’s always had a way of caring too much, even from a young age. Wayne could tell you better than anyone that Eddie has always had a soft side. He could tell you that Eddie refused to let him kill any of the bugs that got into the trailer when the weather turned cold and insisted that they be put outside under the trailer where it was at least a little warmer. He could tell you that every time Eddie would see another person cry, he would too.

He’s just always been like that, so carrying this around with him everyday? It was becoming too much to bear, having to put on a face around everyone so no one could tell. So no one could see how it was breaking him inside. Wearing him down to the bone. Slowly, slowly killing him.

Robin sighs beside him and he had almost forgotten she was there. Her voice is quiet and strangely gentle as she speaks.

“Why do you think that, Eddie?”

What?

“What?” He asks incredulously and knows his face is in a similar state to his voice.

“Why do you think Steve wouldn’t like you like that? Has he said anything to make you think he wouldn’t?” She clarifies, which really doesn’t clarify anything at all for him because what?

“Um… are we talking about the same Steve? You know, Steve Harrington, Hawkins’ resident ladies man? Why the fuck would you think I’d have a shot?” He explains. “He’s so painfully straight and I am so painfully not, Robin.”

Robin just looks at him like she’s trying to read his mind. Or, rather, push a thought into his mind. Waiting for something to click. It doesn’t. Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Besides, Steve never tried to talk to me about the whole distance thing, so I just—“

“You know what happens when people assume things, Eddie,” Robin interrupts.

“—figured that he didn’t mind,” Eddie finishes with a glare. Robin closes her eyes and takes a breath as if calming herself. She pinches her nose, right between her eyes like Steve always does when he’s frustrated or tired, and turns to him. She takes his hands in hers, and her face is only a mere mask of calm, the tumbling waves of anger rolling just under the surface.

“Eddie,” she begins. “Have you ever thought of the possibility that Steve doesn’t talk about his feelings? That he would keep it all bottled up inside like he does with literally everything else?”

Well, when she puts it like that…

“Fuck.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees. “I only found out about this whole… thing two days ago and that was only because I just so happened to catch him falling asleep at work. He wouldn’t have told me if I didn’t ask him, I know that for sure. He… Eddie, he honestly believes that this is all his fault. That he’s the one that fucked everything up between you and he kids.”

Eddie’s brain screeches to a halt. “Wait, what do the kids have to do with this?”

“You haven’t told them anything?” Robin asks, eyes going a little wide.

“Have I told a bunch of teenagers—whose opinions I regretfully respect—that I have a crush on their babysitter? No, I have not.”

“Okay, yeah that was a stupid question, sorry,” she amends. “Just… the kids are avoiding Steve and I can’t think of a reason why.”

“They’re what!? Wait, why haven’t I heard of this until now?” Eddie exclaims. Robin gives him a look that makes him deflate a little. “Let me guess, you only found out two days ago?”

“Bingo, we have a winner!” Robin fake cheers, raising her arms in a mock-celebratory fashion. She drops them with a huff. “They haven’t talked to him in weeks, Eddie, and I think it’s because you have been avoiding him.”

Her tone isn’t accusatory, but it still makes him feel like shit.

“They must have picked up the sense that something was going on between you two and assumed they should be avoiding him too,” she suggests. Eddie leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“I don’t get how they could think that, though. I mean, Steve has been nothing but good to them for years now.”

“I know,” Robin agrees. “But they’re kids. Stupid, dumb, ungrateful kids, but they’re still kids.”

Eddie drops his head in his hands, pressing hard on his eyes until spots form behind his eyelids.

“I really fucked this up, didn’t I?” He asks it rhetorically, but Robin gives a noise of agreement anyway. “How do I fix this, Birdie?”

“You could start by talking to him,” Robin suggests.

Now isn’t that a terrifying thought?

Because knowing you have feelings for someone is one thing, but telling them? That’s something so far out of the realm of possibility for him that he’s never even thought about considering it.

“Have you lost your fucking mind, Buckley?” Eddie exclaims, looking over at her with wide eyes. “I’d like to keep all my teeth if you don’t mind. I mean, I know I’m not your type and everything but some poor schmuck would probably like to look at this face one more time before it's beat all black and blue.”

Robin only rolls her eyes at his rambling—which is rather hypocritical of her if you ask him, since she seems to treat rambling as an Olympic sport she plans on winning every time she opens her mouth. She grabs his face between her hands and honest to god shakes him.

“I can’t tell you everything, but I’m telling you to trust me and talk to him,” she practically demands, giving him a pointed look much like the one from before. Except he still doesn’t know what it means, as that final piece has yet to click into place.

He nods in her hold, partially afraid of her now, and she releases him.

“We need to fix this. Now,” Eddie insists. He looks over at her. “We need to talk to the kids.”

Eddie stands up, running to his room and groaning at the mess he left. Tossing his sheets and blankets back on the bed, he reaches under his bed for the walkie he knows he last saw under there three days ago. Except, it’s not there. He stands up, scrunches his eyebrows, and thinks.

Let’s see… it was next to the keychain that was on top of the VHS sitting on the books on the corner of the desk, then he moved it when he had to answer one of Lucas’ questions which he did while he walked around the trailer and he laid it down when he finished to get some cheese from the fridge, meaning—

Eddie runs back to the kitchen, finding the walkie on top of the fridge, right where he thought it would be.

“Got ya!” He grabs it and runs back to the living room where Robin is waiting very impatiently.

“Where even was that?” She asks but he ignores her, electing to set the frequency so he can talk to the kids all at once instead of answering her. He presses the button.

“This is Eddie the Banished calling an emergency Hellfire meeting pronto,” he orders into the speaker. “I repeat, emergency Hellfire meeting.”

He waits for a response. One minute. Two minutes. Three—

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Eddie mumbles, pressing the button again. “Over.”

Immediately, Dustin responds. “Hear you loud and clear, Eddie. Is this a code red situation? Over.”

“Nope, not a code red. More of a uh…” he glances over at Robin who shrugs. “Code yellow? I think. Over.”

“What the hell is ‘code yellow’? We don’t even have one of those,” comes Erica’s, as always, sarcastic remark. Eddie can faintly hear Lucas yelling in the background.

“Munson, you better not be shitting with us.”

“I promise you, Red, I wouldn’t. Not about this.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, people! You’re supposed to say ‘over’ when you’re done talking! Over.”

“Shove it, Dustybuns, the adults are talking.”

Eddie has to hold the walkie away from him at Dustin’s responding shriek. He presses a hand over his eyes. These kids are going to kill him one day.

“Guys, this is serious. Just get your asses over to my trailer as soon as possible. Robin’s already here, does someone have Little Byers and Supergirl?”

“I’ve got them. Over and out,” Mike responds.

“Erica and I are on our way. Over and out,” Lucas says.

“Be there in fifteen. Over and out,” Dustin declares. Eddie glances at Robin, sharing equally nervous and worried looks. This is not going to be fun.

Thirty minutes later, all of the kids are cramped in Eddie’s living room. Lucas, Max, El, and Mike are scrunched together on the couch, while Will and Dustin sit on the floor in front of them. Erica claimed Wayne’s recliner as soon as her and Lucas got there, refusing to move for the older teens.

Robin is standing next to him, hands on her hips again—really driving home the whole “Steve is my platonic soulmate” bit—as he stands there with his arms crossed. The two of them remind Eddie of disappointed parents about to tell off their kids, which, in reality, isn't too far off.

“Okay, what the hell?” Dustin asks, still breathless from the trek there. “I literally just got home an hour ago. Why did you call us and make us bike all the way here in the heat?”

“Because you deserve it for being shitheads,” Eddie defends and rolls his eyes. He’s met with a cacophony of dweeby teen voices as they retaliate.

“What did we do this time?”

“What?! We didn’t do anything!”

“What did Dustin do, now?”

“Me? Why am I the one being blamed? I wasn’t even here!”

“Because you’re too damn nosey, dude.”

“Ouch, Lucas. Ouch.”

“Hey!” Eddie yells, clapping his hands to get their attention. It startles them all enough to quit talking over each other and look back up at him. “Okay, I’m just going to get to the point. Why are you all avoiding Steve?”

Mike gives him a confused look and crosses his arms, his expression the epitome of teenage angst.

“We thought you hated Steve, dude. You would always leave the room whenever he was around with some shitty excuse so we just decided to do the same,” Mike answers. Dustin nods from his spot on the floor.

“Yeah, we all thought he did something or said something to you since every time we brought him up, you’d shut the conversation down somehow. It just… naturally progressed from not talking about him to not talking to him either,” Dustin explains.

“Steve stopped showing up to things, too. He used to help me practice but he’s not shown up in weeks,” Lucas adds.

“Mom’s gotten really worried about him. He’s not shown up to dinner in a while, either,” Dustin chimes in. He shrugs. “We just thought the feeling was mutual.”

Eddie clenches his eyes closed and throws his head back. Fuck, this is worse than he thought. He hears Robin shift beside him, and knows firsthand the look she’s giving them right now.

“Have any of you even considered asking Steve about this?” Robin asks accusatively. “Or even talking to him about anything other than rides or movie nights?”

Silence falls over the room, so thick and suffocating that Eddie briefly prefers the air of the Upside Down to this. He pulls his hair, scrunching down on the floor and balancing on the pads of his feet.

“This is all my fault,” he groans, twisting strands of hair frustratedly.

“It is,” Robin agrees and ignores the glare Eddie sends her way for that. “But we can still fix this.”

“Wait, what’s going on?” Mike asks.

“Why does Eddie look three seconds away from strangling himself with his hair?” Max hesitates, sounding the most cautious he’s ever heard her. Eddie groans and avoids eye contact with the group.

“The reason I’m avoiding Steve isn’t because I hate him. It’s uh… quite the opposite, actually,” he explains, nervously fidgeting with his rings and pulling a thick strand of hair to hide his face. He glances at Robin, who gives him an overly enthusiastic thumbs up, and he rolls his eyes.

Max and Erica give him equally smug smirks while Will looks at him with wide, understanding eyes. The rest of the group, however, look confused.

“Wait, then why are you avoiding him?” Dustin asks.

“Dude, that makes zero sense,” Mike counteracts. El just looks lost, almost like she’s trying to read his mind. Which… he really wouldn’t be surprised if she could at this point. Eddie sighs.

“That’s not the point,” Eddie redirects. “The point is that an issue with me and Steve shouldn’t affect you guys’ relationship with him.”

“Yeah,” Robin agrees, and he deftly ignores the pointed look she sends his way. “Steve has been there for all of you for years.

“Dustin, wasn’t it Steve who helped you catch D’art when he escaped from your cellar? He bought pounds of meat for you to lure a demodog away with, then fought a pack of them by himself to keep you safe. Steve put himself in the line of fire again against said demodogs in the tunnels after he was beaten unconscious by Billy, then sacrificed himself to Russians just so you and Erica could make it out alive a year later.”

Dustin clamps his mouth shut from its gaping position—likely from him wanting to defend himself from the truth—and has the decency to look sheepish. Eddie turns his gaze to Lucas.

“Lucas, wasn’t it Steve who helped you train for basketball when you started to show an interest in it? He practiced with you every week, even after a long shift at work or when he felt like shit, just because you asked. Steve protected you against Billy because it was the right thing to do, and took a beating so you wouldn’t. Not many people can say they’d do that for someone else, especially not against anyone as vicious as Hargrove,” Eddie adds. Lucas drops his head in his hands, knee bouncing from his place on the couch.

“Max,” Robin begins. “Steve checked up on you every day after Billy died. He would bring you food or ice cream or a distraction, but he was always there. He would drive you to the arcade just to cheer you up, let you beat him at Dig Doug and Pinball just to see you smile. Steve was terrified to let you be the bait for Vecna, he… he kept telling me that he wished it was him instead. That he should be the sacrifice, not you.”

Robin wipes her eyes where they begin to tear up, and Eddie uses the pause to look at Mike. He still has his arms crossed, but the smartass look on his face has dwindled a little.

“Mike, I know you don’t like Steve because of him and Nancy, but you can’t hold onto that grudge forever. What happened between them had nothing to do with you, so there's no need to be mad at him for it,” Eddie states. Mike isn’t looking at him now, and something tells Eddie that the kid just needs a reality check. Hopefully, this will work. “Steve has been protecting you from the beginning, even when you were more than hostile to him. You’ve at least got to give him credit for that.”

Eddie looks around, sees the morose expressions on the kids’ faces.

“Steve has picked you all up countless times from Hellfire, waiting the entire session out in the parking lot while wasting away in his car. He was there rain or shine, snow or sleet, and he never missed a day. Not once,” he states.

Eddie first found Steve’s presence after Hellfire to be confusing, an anomaly. He didn’t know that the Steve the kids talked about was the same Steve he had a debilitating crush on in high school, not until he saw him waiting outside after the first session the kids attended, leaning against his maroon BMW like a Calvin Klein model. A ball of anxiety formed in his stomach at the sight, because one thing about Steve Harrington was that he’s unpredictable. Eddie just didn’t know if it was good or bad yet.

“You know, usually when people graduate they tend to stay away from high school, not willingly come back,” Eddie teased.

His words seemed to spark some life into Steve, as he jolted from his relaxed position against the hood to stand firmly beside his car. Steve ran a hand through his hair, and looked Eddie up and down.

“You’d probably know more about that if you managed to actually graduate, Munson,” Steve quipped, but it wasn’t mean. He had a smile on his face, and the air around him was friendly. Some of the anxiety churning in Eddie’s gut eased at the sight.

“Besides, who says I’m here willingly?” Steve asked rhetorically, as Dustin made his appearance by running up to him and immediately began talking his ears off about the new campaign. Steve turned his full attention on the boy, nodding along to certain comments even when Eddie knew for sure Steve didn’t know what the hell Henderson was talking about. The other kids soon crowded around the former jock, all talking so incredibly fast that Eddie was surprised the sound barrier survived their cracking voices.

Eddie watched as Steve glanced at him over the kids’ heads, giving him a loose smile and a shrug as if saying, ‘what can ya do?’

Soon, all the gremlins piled into Steve’s fancy car, still talking and gesturing wildly with their hands. Eddie had a passing thought that he should get Steve some earplugs or something to at least help drown out the noise. He immediately shook his head at the thought and jumped in his old, beat up van, driving home to an empty trailer and trying desperately to forget Steve Harrington existed.

“He always waits until the excitement starts to wear off before he takes you all home, letting you talk to each other for nearly an hour after each session despite the fact he never has a clue what you’re talking about. He always listens to you guys, no matter what,” Eddie supplies. “Did you guys know he has mixtapes for each of you?”

At the question, they all look at him with varying degrees of confusion and an all-too-late realization. Eddie huffs, while Robin mutters something under her breath that sounds a lot like, ‘of course they didn’t.’

“There’s one for each of you, filled with songs you like or mentioned liking at some point despite some of them not being his own taste. He listens to you, all of you, and it fucking hurts to know you don’t see that,” he exposes, and part of him regrets letting a bit of his anger out. Though, the kids need to know this is serious, that you can’t go through life assuming the worst in people, so if being angry is what it takes then so be it.

The kids have various emotions on their faces, ashamed and regretful being the two most prominent. Dustin clears his throat and looks up at Eddie, flicks his eyes to Robin, and returns them to his lap.

“I… I didn’t realize he did so much for us,” Dustin quietly admits, and a small part of Eddie cheers at finally teaching the kid a thing or two about humility.

“We’ve been taking advantage of him for… for so long,” Lucas breathes out. Max nods morosely beside him, and Will raises a shaky hand to cover his mouth.

Mike rolls his eyes, still petulantly crossing his arms. “Why should we even care about him? All he’s probably doing is wallowing in his fancy house or something.”

He says it with a layer of snark so thick, all the kids turn to him with varying levels of bitchy glares. Eddie, however, can tell his attitude is a mask, a way for him to hide how he’s truly feeling to prevent from being too vulnerable. From being too open. Eddie knows a lot about that.

It started when Eddie was four and he scraped his knee on the harsh gravel outside his parents’ run-down home in Kentucky. Tears rolled down his chubby cheeks as he ran inside to tell his mom, who he knew would take care of him. She told him to play outside, and not come in until she told him so, but his knee really hurt and he was scared they would have to cut it off if it bled too much. At least, that’s what Charlie—a kid who lived two streets over—said they would do.

When he stepped over the threshold, something felt off. The house was quiet, more so than normal, and it set him on edge. The TV was filled with static that grated on his little ears, and he covered them with his hands as he made his way over to turn it off. He picked up the antenna off the floor, wondering how it got knocked off the top of the TV in the first place. He looked around the living room, finding it in a similar state of disarray. He followed the trail of broken things before him; the overturned coffee table, a spilled ashtray, a stray pillow, and the chair his dad always sat on, pushed far out of its normal place. He questioned who could have messed up his house like this, leaving a big mess behind.

He found his answer when he ventured into the kitchen, just a few short steps from the living room, and found his mother laying on the floor. She was on her stomach, arms splayed out as if she tried to catch her fall and head turned to look at the doorway where little Eddie stood. Her eyes were closed but she was still breathing, the floral pattern of her dress moving with each breath. Shards of ceramic were spread out around her, littered with droplets of dark blood that spilled from a cut on her forehead. It dripped down the side of her face, along the curve of her cheek and onto the floor where it formed a small puddle. Her skin was pale in the artificial light of the house, the soft yellows doing nothing to soften the tones of her ashen face.

“Mama!” He ran up to her, falling to his knees beside her still body. He shook her, trying to get her eyes to open, but all it rewarded him was a pained grunt. His eyes welled with tears again, this time for his Mama, but nothing he was doing was working.

A shadow fell over the floor and he looked up to find his father blocking the light from the gold-colored light fixture above the kitchen table. His face was stern and dirty looking, his stubble well past the point of a five o’clock shadow and leaning more towards a sleazy strip club owner. There was a smear of blood on his face from his hand, which he noticed was bruised around the knuckles. However, the sight of what was in his other hand made him freeze, entire body going stock still.

In his father’s left hand were the remnants of the broken plate on the floor, the jagged edges cutting into his skin where he gripped it tightly. Matching blood littered the edge, and a splatter of the dark liquid traveled up his hairy arm and disappeared into his rolled up flannel sleeve.

He looked up at the figure before him, and the tears spilled over against his will.

“What happened to Mama?” He asked. “Why won’t she wake up?”

“‘Cause she’s sorry, son,” his dad answered, throwing down the ceramic and causing it to shatter against the floor. Eddie flinched, and his father caught the motion. He hadn’t been able to quell it, hadn’t learned how to hide his fear yet. The man scowled at him, lip curling as he grabbed Eddie’s arm and hauled him off the floor in one solid motion.

“She’s weak, Edward,” he began. This close, Eddie could see the redness of his eyes, and the deep purple bags that hang underneath. “Just like all women. Do you wanna be weak, boy?”

Eddie shook his head, and his father gripped his arm tighter. “Answer me!”

“N-No sir,” Eddie muttered, voice small and weak in the face of his father.

“Then stop that fucking crying, don’t be a sissy. I ain’t raising a fucking faggot, Edward.”

With that, his dad dropped his arm and stumbled into his bedroom down the hall. As soon as his figure was gone, Eddie turned back to his mom, crouching next to her. Sometime when his dad was talking, her eyes had opened and her breathing grew stronger. Eddie felt like it was nothing short of a small miracle.

“Mama, are you okay?”

“‘M okay, baby,” she replied, pushing herself off the floor with a grunt. She sat up with Eddie’s help, and frowned when she saw the reddened mark on his arm. “I shouldn’t have let him do that to you.”

“You were hurt, Mama. ‘S not your fault,” Eddie reasoned, pulling his arm out of her grasp to wipe at some of the blood on her face. “You’re bleeding, too.”

“Oh,” she began, reaching up to touch the wound as if she hadn’t realized it was there. “It’s nothing, Eddie, just a little scratch. Mama will be okay, promise.”

She didn’t look okay, this close, with her sunken-in face and slowly forming black eye Eddie hadn’t been able to see before. But his Mama was always right. Always.

“Pinky promise?” Eddie asked, holding out his little pinky. His Mama smiled, and raised a shaky hand to lace her pinky with his.

“Pinky promise.”

A year later, he was riding in the car with his Mama, backpack at his feet. She was dressed nicer than he ever remembered her being; a baby blue, short-sleeved dress hugged her slender frame, paired with white heels, white bug-eyed sunglasses, and a sheer white scarf she had tied around her hair. Her suitcase was in the trunk, but his father was nowhere to be found.

“Mama?”

“Yes, baby?”

“Where’s Dad?” He asked. His Mama cleared her throat before she answered, voice shaky.

“He’s not coming with us, Eddie,” she said. “We’re going somewhere far away from him. Somewhere new.”

“Where?”

“Have a look for yourself, honey,” she said, pointing to the window. Eddie crawled up on his knees to look out, seeing a sign welcoming them to a place called Hawkins. He sat back down in his seat, looking back at his mother.

“What’s here?” He asked. His mother smiled.

“Your Uncle Wayne. He’s my brother,” she supplied. “We’re just going to pay him a little visit, okay?”

A few short minutes later, they were parked in front of a small trailer, a gruff looking man waiting for them on the newly-built porch. They got out of the car and Eddie grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders before his Mama led him up the steps.

“Eddie, this is Uncle Wayne,” his Mama informed. He looked up at her and she nudged his arm, urging him to say something.

“H-Hello, sir,” Eddie greeted, sticking out his small hand for the man to shake. Wayne huffed a laugh and crouched down, causing Eddie to take a step back on instinct, before he took his hand and shook it.

“Nice to meet ya, Eddie,” Wayne began. He let go of his hand but stayed crouched. “You can call me Wayne, or Uncle Wayne, or Uncle, or—hell, Todd for all I care. Just none of that ‘sir’ business, you got me?”

Eddie smiled and nodded. “Sorry, si—uh, Uncle Wayne.”

“That’s better, boy,” Wayne said, smiling as he clapped his shoulder softly. Wayne had kind eyes, blue and soft around the edges. They weren’t mean like his fathers. Instead, they looked exactly like his Mama’s—save for a few extra wrinkles around the edges. “Why don’t you go on inside while your Mama and I talk?”

Eddie did as he was told, walking in the trailer and taking in his surroundings. It was small, smaller than his house, but cozy. A couple mugs were hung up on the wall, paired with three trucker hats and a framed picture he was too far away to see. An old, floral patterned couch sat on the long wall of the living room, a coffee table in front littered with an opened can of Coke and a half-eaten bag of chips. The windows were open to let light in, making the space feel much bigger than it actually was.

He stepped into the kitchen, just a pace away from the living room, and took in the red-toned wooden cabinets and cream countertops stained with coffee rings yet to be wiped away. There was a hallway to his left where he found a single bedroom and a bathroom. The bathroom was small, just big enough for a stand-up shower, toilet, and sink. A single toothbrush sat in the cup on the side of the sink along with a bar of soap and an almost empty tube of toothpaste. On the other side of the sink though, Eddie noticed an unopened toothbrush. It was blue and had sparkles throughout its plastic. At the bottom, there was a small dog sticker and it made him smile a little.

His attention soon wandered to the bedroom, where he found a little twin-sized bed and tons of boxes. The bed was bare, save for a folded up quilt near the bottom with a pillow on top. The boxes were filled with various things; clothes, books, a cassette player, shoes, and tons of other small trinkets. He sat on the ground, pulling a box closer to look through it. There were thin books near the top labeled ‘Hawkins High’, and he flipped through it to find pictures upon pictures of people. He read the names, sounding them out to see if he could get them right. Some of them were weird, though, and he quickly put the book down to look at something else.

There was a box of cassette tapes to his left and Eddie scooted over to look through it. There were tons of names he didn’t recognize as he rifled through the plastic cases, though one stood out to him.

He picked up the Fleetwood Mac tape along with the cassette player from a box near the closet, plugging it into the wall and putting the tape in. He eyed the front door, seeing it still firmly closed. Just then, the tape clicked, causing him to jump, and he pressed play.

The familiar voice filled his ears, and he smiled. He and his Mama used to listen to Fleetwood Mac back home in the kitchen while they made supper, singing along with the tape or the radio to fill the house with music. The sound of it brought a smile to his face, and he closed his eyes as he listened to the words.

Engrossed in the music, he barely registered that the front door had both opened and closed until a soft hand was laid on his shoulder.

“Eddie, baby, I have to go,” his Mama said, and he jumped to his feet. He kinda felt bad about going through Uncle Wayne’s things without him being there, but if they were leaving then he didn’t think he would get too mad.

“Where are we going now, Mama?” Eddie wondered. His mother’s face turned pinched, and she lifted her glasses to look at him directly. She wore make-up, much more than she usually did, and as she crouched down Eddie could see it was barely disguising a bruise along the top of her right cheekbone.

“Eddie, only I’m leaving,” his Mama corrected. “You’re staying here with Wayne.”

At that, his whole world fell apart.

His mother, his Mama, was leaving him. It didn’t seem fair that he couldn’t go with her, that he couldn’t stay with his Mama like he wanted to. Wayne seemed nice from their brief interaction, but he didn’t know him. Not like he knew his Mama.

His stomach sank to his feet, and it felt as if someone poured ice-cold water over him. His eyes grew wide as tears welled, spilling over his cheeks.

“Why, Mama?” Eddie sobbed, wiping at his face because he wasn’t supposed to cry. “Why can’t I go with you?”

“You just can’t, Eddie, I’m sorry,” she stated. It felt hollow, her explanation. Like she was hiding something.

“But why?”

“Because you just can’t, Eddie!” She snapped, and Eddie’s breath caught. She sounded mad, but Eddie had never heard her get mad, not at him at least. He didn’t know what he did, only that she wouldn’t let him go with her.

She took a breath and cupped his cheek. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“But- But you can’t leave me!” Eddie wailed. “Mama, please!”

She opened her arms and he fell into them, clinging hard enough to deem separating impossible. She hugged him back just as tight, and Eddie saw evidence of tear tracks streaking through her caked-on foundation.

“I know, baby, I don’t want to leave you either,” his Mama soothed. “But Wayne is going to take care of you, okay?”

Eddie looked over her shoulder to see Wayne leaning against one of the kitchen countertops, smiling sadly at him. Eddie screwed his eyes shut and buried his face in his mothers neck.

“You’re gonna come back, right?” Eddie mumbled before he moved to look at her. “Pinky promise you’re gonna come back for me.”

His Mama cried and wiped at her cheeks, smearing the make-up and making the bruises appear fresh on her pale skin. She held out a pinky, and Eddie laced his with hers.

“I promise, Eddie,” she said, leaning forward to kiss his forehead before getting to her feet. Her and Wayne shared a hug on her way out, and Eddie caught Wayne wiping his eyes too. He and his uncle stood on the porch as his mom drove away, waving until her taillights disappeared around the curve of the road.

That was the last time he saw his mother.

Unfortunately, it was not the last he saw his father.

He stayed with Wayne for two months until his father found him. They had grown accustomed to each other in that time, Eddie having warmed up to another parental figure and Wayne having gotten the basics down for caring for another being. Wayne insisted he start school in the fall, and he was two weeks in when all hell broke loose.

His father rolled up to the trailer in a fancy-looking sports car Eddie knew his dad didn’t have the money for. He stumbled out on the gravel, banging on the door until Wayne pulled it open.

“The hell are you doin’ here?” Wayne asked, standing firm in the doorway.

“I’m here to get my son,” his father demanded. He pushed past him and stormed the place until he found Eddie in the only bedroom—Wayne having set up a cot in the living room.

Eddie hadn’t expected to see his father again, mostly because he didn’t think the man really cared for him. That was prominent when he snatched Eddie off the bed and hauled him out of his room.

“Dad?” Eddie questioned. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m taking you away from here,” his father responded, glaring at Wayne who stood blocking the doorway.

“You’re not takin’ him anywhere, Al,” Wayne countered. He crossed his arms, looking far more intimidating than Eddie ever imagined. “He’s happy here.”

“He’ll be even more happy with me,” his dad insisted. “With his real family.”

“Son of a bitch, Al, I am his real family!” Wayne yelled. “You ain’t got the means for takin’ care of that boy, and you know it.”

His father stood toe to toe with his uncle, glaring at him. He whispered something Eddie was too far away to hear, but it made Wayne deflate completely.

Eddie didn’t want to leave. He found that these past two months with Wayne were filled with more happy memories than he ever remembered having back home. Wayne was nice, a little rough around the edges but he was a big softy inside. He cared about people, that much was evident in the way he was constantly helping people out around the park. He was a good person, so leaving him felt like his Mama all over again.

“Come on, son,” his father demanded, grabbing his arm and dragging him out of the trailer. Eddie looked back at Wayne, eyes stinging. He waved, and Wayne waved back. He watched the trailer from the backseat until he couldn’t tell which one was theirs, only facing the front when his dad snapped at him.

They rode for hours, far past the Indiana state line, until they ended up in a strange city filled with tall buildings and blinding lights that made Eddie’s eyes sting. They went through the city, stopping on the outskirts in a run-down neighborhood even more decrepit than his old house in Kentucky.

He spent two years with his dad in a city he came to know at St. Louis, but it never felt like home. Not like the trailer with Wayne, or anywhere his mother was. He learned how to hotwire cars and how to drive like a bat out of hell whenever his dad told him to. He learned that he was too much to take care of; his father constantly complained about feeding him, keeping him clothed, taking care of him like a father should. He learned that showing emotions would only get you hurt, that he had to hide them to survive. He learned what all the different white powders did to someone, how they would affect your mind and your body. How they made his father violent, or remorseful, or depressed, but never happy.

His father was on a bad trip when a rush of red and blue lights invaded their windows, sirens blaring and making Eddie’s ears ring. Their front door was kicked open, the old wood splintering easily under the force of a steel-toed boot. Police flooded the house, and Eddie was grabbed and dragged out before he had time to comprehend everything that was happening.

He was sitting in the back of a cop car with the door open, body completely still as police went in and out of their house. He couldn’t let them know he was scared out of his mind, that he was afraid of what they would do to him. He knew the best way to get through it was to show nothing at all. To be indifferent. Emotionless. It was the only thing his father taught him that he deemed useful.

His father was dragged out of the house by two policemen, kicking and screaming at them but Eddie couldn’t hear what he was saying, ears having gone deaf to anything other than the ringing in his head. Next thing he knew, his father had broken free and punched one of the officers, causing several to tackle him to the ground and handcuff him before practically throwing him into a car and hauling him away. All Eddie could do was watch, knowing there was nothing he could do to help him.

“You got somewhere to go, kid?” One of the cops that took him out of the house asked, leaning against the open door and blocking the flashing lights. Eddie nodded, and the cop took him back to the station where he called Wayne.

“Eddie, son, where are you? Are you okay? If that bastard hurt you, I swear to god—“

“Wayne,” Eddie began, his voice rough from not using it. “Can you come get me?”

A pause. “Sure, kid, where are you?”

“St. Louis,” Eddie supplied. There was cursing on the other end, muffled so Eddie couldn’t tell what was said but he knew Wayne well enough. Even after only two months, the man had become more like a father to him than his own dad ever was.

“I’m coming right now to get ya, just hold on tight, okay? I’ll be there ‘fore the morning.”

True to his word, Wayne showed up right before dawn in his beat up truck. He stormed the station like a madman, looking for him. He was rumpled, like he threw on just enough clothes to be decent before booking it all the way here. If he knew Wayne, that’s probably exactly what he did.

“Eddie? Eds, where are ya?”

“Sir,” the lady at the front desk interrupted. “I’m going to have to ask you to lower your voice—“

“Wayne!” Eddie perked up from the desk chair he was sitting at in the station, running around desks before jumping straight in his uncle's arms. Wayne held onto him just as tight, and he could’ve sworn he heard a sniffle or two come from the man.

“I was so worried, Eds,” Wayne whispered. “I tried lookin’ for ya, I swear I did, just—If I’d known he’d taken ya to another state I wouldn’t’ve stopped ‘til I searched the whole damn country.”

“I know, Wayne,” Eddie muttered. “I missed you too.”

As much as Eddie tried, he couldn’t put up that mask of indifference around his uncle. He could try, sure, but it never worked longer than five seconds before he saw right through it and it crumbled at Eddie’s feet.

“Let’s get you home, son,” Wayne insisted and before he knew it, Eddie was asleep in the passenger seat of the truck as they took the highway home.

Since then, Eddie and Wayne had become inseparable. There were no secrets between them, no masks. They weren’t needed, not when Wayne was more than good to him. They weren’t wanted, either, since Wayne made sure to remind him that showing emotions wasn’t a bad thing. That it was good, healthy.

It wasn’t until much later in middle school when he learned that having a mask was necessary sometimes. Especially when people started calling him a freak and a weirdo because he wasn’t identical to everyone else. Because he lived in a trailer with someone that wasn’t his biological parent and wore hand-me-down clothes that were baggy on him since his growth spurt hadn’t hit yet. He donned the air of indifference he had left behind long ago, letting the names and rumors bounce off his skin like water off an umbrella.

That need intensified when high school hit and the rumor mill grew exponentially. Suddenly, he was bombarded with accusations of Satanism, prison time, drug dealing—though that one was true—pet raccoons, and, at one point, an army of undead babies he sucked the life out of that he could command at will. Really, the shit people came up with was astounding, and Eddie learned to shove it all away. None of it was true—save for a couple things he would never, in a million years, tell another soul at Hawkins High—so he made sure to act like it was true. Let people believe what they want to believe. In the meantime, Eddie used it to his advantage to prevent anyone from getting too close. From looking past the barrier he put up between himself and everyone else.

So yeah, Eddie knows a little bit about where Mike’s coming from.

“Actually…” Robin starts. “Steve’s not doing so great—“

“What?!” Dustin squawks out, cutting Robin off and all but jumping up from his seated position. “Why the hell did you not start this whole damn thing with that?!”

“We were getting there, Henderson!” Eddie clarifies. “Now sit your ass down.”

Dustin—for once—does as he’s told. Eddie looks to Robin and gives her a nod, letting her have the floor.

“Steve’s got it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to sacrifice himself for us, that he’s only needed or wanted when he can put himself in the line of fire. So, like the caring dumbass he is, he’s been wandering around Hawkins at night because he’s worried that something will happen.”

“But I closed all of the gates,” El starts, head cocked and eyebrows scrunched like a confused puppy. “We are in no more danger.”

“I think part of him knows that, Supergirl,” Eddie explains. “But he needs to know for certain, to make sure you guys are absolutely safe.”

She nods, and sadness finds its way to her eyes. Eddie feels a pang of sympathy for her, knowing that learning how to live all over again is never easy.

“He’s not been sleeping much,” Robin continues. “It’s like he’s barely there anymore. Like he’s just… a shell.

“He thinks you all hate him. He thinks he deserves this for all the shit he did in the past, even though we all know he’s more than made up for it by becoming a decent fucking human being,” she spits out. There’s anger in her eyes now as she glares at a stain on the carpet, unwilling to look at the kids but needing to get her point across. “He broke down in my arms because this is the fifth fucking time the people he’s loved has left him and I think… I think this time broke him.”

She raises her head and looks over the kids, tears balanced on her lower eyelashes and threatening to spill over.

“You’re his family, the family he got to choose, and you still… you left. Just like everyone else has.”

The room fills with silence as the words sink in.

“How… How do we fix it?” Will asks, his quiet voice now loud. Eddie sighs and rakes a hand through his hair—a motion that keeps reminding him of Steve—before shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I know part of it is my fault, I admit that. I shouldn’t have just stopped talking to him all of the sudden, I should’ve… well, there’s a lot of things I should have done but I didn’t, so I plan on fixing that,” Eddie admits. He looks around the room, makes as much eye contact as he can to drive his point home. “You should too. A simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t going to cut it, not this time. Not for this.”

The kids all nod, and Eddie gestures to the door to dismiss them. They all look like kicked puppies with slouching posture and ducked heads, walking out of the trailer with their tails between their legs. Dustin and Mike are the first to hop on their bikes, ready to either apologize and get it over with or get as far away from his and Robin’s disappointed glares as possible. Before they can push off, Eddie calls out to them.

“Hey! Give it a couple days,” Eddie orders. “Steve… He’s going to need some time. Go to him when he’s ready, okay?”

He’s met with various nods and ‘will do’s as some of them take off, their knobbly knees hitting the handlebars of their too-small bikes. Then, he notices a particular brunette has yet to leave, her bike with little white training wheels still standing in the grass. Her big brown eyes lock with his and, even though there's a porch between them, he can feel the seriousness in her gaze.

“I miss him. He was always very nice to me,” El confesses. “He always gave me piggyback rides.”

Her face falls a little. “I did not know we were being mean to him.”

Eddie finds himself softening a little at her words.

“I know, Supergirl,” he winks at her. “That’s why you’re my favorite.” 

She giggles in response and hops on her bike, meeting up with Max who stopped to wait for her a few yards away. 

Eddie closes the door, falling against it with a thud. He groans, the sound bouncing off the thin door and out in the empty trailer. He turns to go to his room, preferably to wallow, before nearly jumping clean out of his skin. 

Well, he thought the trailer was empty, except there now stands one Robin Buckley who has resumed her unimpressed, hands-on-her-hips, "you're a fucking dumbass" position from earlier. 

"Jesus H. Christ!" He exclaims. A hand comes up to grab at his heart which is actively trying to beat out of his chest as his lungs grapple for air. "Birdie, I forgot you were there."

"Yeah," she deadpans. "Clearly." 

Eddie straightens up, and quirks an eyebrow at her rather over dramatically. Robin rolls her eyes.

"Well?"

"It's a deep subject," Eddie sarcastically responds. Robin, unfortunately, doesn't find that funny. "'Well' what?"

"Go apologize!" She yells. 

“Okay, okay, geez!”

Eddie pats himself down, looking for the keys to his van before Robin clears her throat. He looks over at her to see an unamused quirk of her eyebrow before she points to the hook by the door where his keys hang. 

“Thanks, Buck!” he exclaims, pressing his hands together in prayer to the saint she is. Grabbing them, he throws the door open and clears the steps in one jump, stumbling a bit on the landing but really, he’s quite proud of this rare athletic appearance. 

Jumping in his van, he slams a random tape in the deck, grinning a little at the song that plays first. Despite his obvious avoidance of the second track, the Master of Puppets album still holds a very special place in his heart. So it's really not a surprise that the song that just so happens to play first reminds him of the very man he’s going to see, sacrificial tendencies and all. 

He slams on the gas, tires squealing as he peels out of Forest Hills trailer park faster than he ever has before. 

He’s not running away this time; not running from a small cheerleader’s body trapped on his ceiling, not running from angry town hicks with their fiery pitchforks, and not running from a creepy interdimensional demon who enjoys sucking the life out of depressed teenagers. 

No, this time, he’s running to something. Running to Steve. 

He just hopes Steve will let him.

———

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[badbatchsprincess]

Heated ~ pt.15

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake. 

Warnings: SHORT CHAPTER. FILLER CHAPTER IF YOU WILL... Mentions of omega trafficking, Tarkin's up to some sus shit, imperials everywhere.

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The warm sun on your face made you sigh in content. Looking up, Ord Mantel’s yellow star shone down on you like a warm summer day. You ran your fingers over the soft blanket below you, cushioned by the softest grass you’d ever touched. 

Growing up on Coruscant, seeing this much greenery was still such a novelty to you. It was amazing in every way, and you always wished you had grown up on a planet like Naboo instead. 

“Adi’ka.” A distant voice called out to you. 

You continued to pear up at the cerulean sky when a shadow eclipsed you. You looked up adjusting your vision to peer up at your alpha…

You traced a finger over the tattoo covering his eye, before affectionately running your fingers through his lengthening silver hair. 

You happily sighed, “Cross.” 

He smiled down at you admiring your form before running the back of his fingers over your hair, cheek, then neck. He smiled making your heart flutter. 

He mumbled something while dancing his fingers over your collar bone making you quirk your head, “what alpha?” 

“I said,” His soft expression suddenly turned wicked and depraved. His hand shot out locking around your throat in a vice grip. Suddenly the sun was gone and replaced with pouring rain and what was once warm and welcoming was now a lightening filled storm, “I’m coming for you…adi’ka.” 

You shot up in bed grabbing at your neck gasping for air looking around like a feral hound.

“What?” Tech shot up looking at you before looking around forcing himself to be alert. 

Wrecker and Hunter came bursting through the door not even a minute later while you were still sitting there trying to catch your breath. Tech rubbed soothing circles into your shoulder blades comforting you. 

“Bad dream.” Tech said trying to explain to the others. 

Hunter sighed letting the tension fall from his shoulders. You knew he must have heard you from his room and thought you were in danger. 

You finally got a deep breath down before turning to look at the concerned soldiers, “It was about Cross.” You rubbed your neck tugging at the collar of tech’s shirt, “I’m alright. It just frightened me.” 

Wrecker looked worried. You smiled at him before lying back down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter asked, “I-we haven’t really talked about what happened.” 

Tech leaned back on the mattress pulling you into his chest. 

“It’s okay.” You shook your head, “I think it’s better if I don’t think about it.” Even though you couldn’t feel the pain of the bond, the empty feeling still hasn’t repaired itself and you were starting to think it might never. 

“Okay well if you need anything.” Hunter said turning to leave you and Tech alone. 

“Wait.” You perked your head up, “Can you both stay? I just…” 

“Of course mega.” Wrecker was thrilled and crawled into the bed on the other side of you. You snuggled into his warmth while Hunter crawled nearly on top of you to lay his head on your hip. His added weight really helped calm the anxieties while you were now surrounded in warmth and safety. It was reminding you of Mimban when everyone was piled into your nest all cramped up and on top of one another. 

You sighed feeling alright to sleep again. 

“Thank you.” You whispered before closing your eyes and forcing yourself to drift off into sleep comforted by your alphas. 

~~~

“So I need you to help me bring in 15 cases of Nabboolian wine out back.” Cid was looking at the check list while you and the droids she owned helped start to drag in the crates. You just followed her directions and got to work. 

Your new muscles from all your training was really coming in handy. The shipping crates weren’t even phasing you while you pulled the bottles and started placing them on the shelves. 

You got through those boxes quickly and made quick work of restocking the snack packs and filling the little bowls to set out on all the tables. The spicy treat was a favorite of the locals you noticed, you kept track of all of the incoming shipments making sure to send Cid the updated roster. 

“Hey Cid?” You stacked as many bowls as possible onto of one another walking out towards the bar, “I have the updated roster, so you want me to send it to you or just leave it on the data-”

Cid suddenly barreled into you shoving you back into the supply closet, “Go. Go! Shh!” 

You scrunched your brows but followed her lead and stepped back into the back room. 

“What?” You whispered still clutching onto the bowls. 

“There’s imps out there.” She whispered poking her head back out from the door to get another view. 

“Imperials?” Your blood ran cold. There has never been imperial’s on Ord Mantel before.

“Thats what I said sweet cheeks.” She snapped. 

“Why are they here?” You asked putting down the bowls making sure you did infect have your blaster on you. 

“I don’t know.” She shook her head, “I think they’re just passing through.” 

You poked your head out just barely catching a glimpse of their white plastoid armor. The new storm troopers you saw on the holonet. It was a pathetic attempt of copying the clone’s armor. According to all of the news streams there was a new mandatory civilian conscription going on. These were no clones, none of your friends, just strangers under the imperial dictatorship. 

“All the way out here?” You whispered watching them sit down in the corner booth your boys claimed as their own. 

“I don’t like this.” Cid turned back to look at you, “Your boys will be real upset with me if something happened to you sweet cheeks, you better go up stairs and wait till they're gone. I’m taking you off the clock.” She fapped her claws at you and you nodded without a word untying your apron and scurrying out the back to the fire escape where you climbed the stairs to get to the apartments above. 

You were feeling your anxiety start to creep back in as you fumbled to unlock the padlock. Once the door slid open you stepped inside forcing a deep breath into your lungs. Flashes of the horrible dream you had last night came flooding back and the feeling of Crosshair’s calloused hands snaking around your throat. 

You flung yourself down into the nest by the window trying to calm yourself down. 

~~~

“Cid sent us a message.” Tech Hunter said walking into the bar while opening the ping. 

Behind him, Tech was yapping about the flora spawning this time of year after the rains while Wrecker chowed down on some kind of massive roasted bird leg. 

“What does it say?” Echo asked when they stepped inside. 

Hunter stopped dead in his tracks noticing all of the white amongst the usually colorful crowd. His gaze immediately went to the bar looking for you, but instead he found Cid. He noticed the way she casually signaled a claw up at the ceiling letting him know you were hidden and safe. 

“Imperials.” Tech pushed up his glasses looking around at the cantina. 

“What are they doing out here?” Wrecker wondered allowed finishing off his bird leg. 

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Hunter walked forwards trying to remain casual. The three clones stepped down inside the building getting settled in like they were also just passing through. They sat down at the bar ordering a drink each and reaching into the snack bowls. 

Tech started another conversation with Wrecker while Hunter was carefully listing in on the storm troopers.

From what he could tell, they just stumbled into this place. It didn’t seem like they were looking for anything in particular. 

Hunter could pick up on your footsteps upstairs as you walked around presumably pacing, probably wondering where the hell they all were. 

Then he zeroed in on the group in the booth they usually sit in way in the back. 

“I just got back from going to the new fortress on Naboo.” One of the troopers said running a hand through his golden hair. 

“What was it like?” 

“Why is it on Naboo?” 

“They prefer the conditions there.” He said again leaning forwards onto the table, “But, you wouldn’t believe what I saw.” 

They all leaned in closer listening to this one trooper. 

“It’s a new breeding program.” He said in disbelief, “They’re making it into a place for conscripted omegas.” He looked around suspiciously hoping no-one but his friends were listening, “and, I overheard they’re creating more clones.” 

“If they have clones, why bother with omegas?” One of them chirped. 

The golden haired one shrugged, “No clue. That place is guarded to the teeth. I was ordered here when the first cargo freight arrived. It was full of omegas.” 

“Human omegas?” 

“Yeah.” He nodded, “You wouldn’t believe it.” 

“Are the omegas and the clones… ya know…” This trooper made a lewd gesture alluding to fucking. 

The gold one shook his head and shrugged, “Thats what I thought too, but who knows. Those scientists weren’t letting anyone near the internal part of the building. Only the coruscant guard were allowed entry.” 

“Well the clones are an army of alphas.” A smaller man spoke up, “It’s the only thing that would make sense if they’re trying to breed more lupin-humans.” 

Hunter looked to his brothers with a concerned glance. They caught on and continued to have their casual conversation making sure to pay a bit closer attention to their surroundings. Echo leaned in closer to Hunter, “What’s going on?” 

“They’re trafficking omegas to Naboo. I heard the one with gold hair say he saw them arrive in cargo containers. Apparently theres a massive compound there, and they’re making more clones. Presumably, for this program.” 

“Program?” Echo repeated out of habit. 

“He said it was a breeding program.” Hunter lowered his voice. 

They both waved at Cid for another drink. 

“You don’t think thats why they had Crosshair reprogrammed and ordered to retrieve Y/N do you?” Echo’s protectiveness was starting to ebb into his chest, but that would make total sense why Tarkin wanted to keep her under his thumb. 

“Can’t say for certain.” Hunter shook his head, “But, I don’t think it’s going to be safe for Y/N for a while. We can’t let her out of our site until we understand what is going on.” 

“If thats true, that’s beyond fucked.” Echo shook his head, “sick bastards.” 

Hunter grunted in agreement pouring the rest of his drink down. 

“Let’s get upstairs before-”

Hunter was cut off when a drunk trooper shouted, “Hey! You look familar!” 

Hunter and Echo swiveled around to face the stumbling trooper. Beta, from the smell of him.

“Sorry, you got the wrong guy.” Hunter said calmly. Hunter used his elbow to turn his helmet away from the man knowing the shape might be a little recognizable. 

The beta just hummed and stared for a bit before flopping back down in his chair fisting the snacks on the table mumbling something incoherent. 

Hunter got up leaving with Echo while Tech and Wrecker left shortly after. They walked out the front but disappeared around back making it to the entrance to the courtyard undetected. When they climbed the fire escape and entered the apartment, they found you panic cleaning the whole place. 

“Woah.” Echo put his arm up trying to get you to slow down, “You okay Tiny?” 

“Where have you been!” You squeaked throwing the broom off to the side, “Did you see the imperials down there!” 

“Yeah we saw’em.” Echo stepped inside walking towards the living room couch. 

“Pip, I don’t think we can leave you here anymore.” Hunter shook his head, “I think you need to start coming on jobs with us.” 

“Why?” You asked a little nervous. Republic missions were one thing, but their mercenary jobs were a whole other ball park. You had no experience in this whatsoever. 

“If they’re casually stopping in here from time to time, it’s just a matter of time before someone recognizes you or us.” He explained, “I know you’ve kind of made a home here, but it’s just getting too dangerous with them coming here now.” 

“We can move your nest to the marauder like last time!” Wrecker offered rubbing his forehead. 

“Did you tell Cid?” You sat down next to Echo letting him put an arm around your shoulders. 

“She sent us a message warning us and to get out of dodge.” Tech replied showing you the memo. 

You read it and sighed, “Okay.” You agreed. 

“Okay?” Tech clarified. 

You nodded. 

“No fighting? Just like that?” Hunter narrowed his eyes.

You shrugged. 

“What’s wrong, I thought you liked it here?” Echo looked at you. 

“I do, I just… after last night… I don’t know. I just have this feeling like Crosshair’s right around the corner and he’s going to come walking in here with those troopers one day. I think Hunter’s right. I think it’s getting too hot here.” 

They stood there in contemplative silence. Obviously you were getting anxious, but they had reasoned that your fear of Crosshair finding you was just paranoia. Now, they understood that with so many imperials running around, your worries might actually have a chance of coming to fruition. 

“It’s settled then.” Hunter said, “Let’ get packed up and back to the ship.” 

You nodded, back to the marauder we go…

Super short little chapter! The next one is coming soon, posting both back to back!

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[rogersideup]

Nice to be Kneaded

Chapter 5:

Absdoughlutely

Series masterlist

Previous part: Captain-what’s-his-butt Next Part: Sunflower

Word Count: 5,675

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

Three knocks on a door got you nothing but silence.

Four more knocks got you more silence.

But a ring on the doorbell and about twenty more knocks got you the sound of locks clicking and a door swooshing open with urgency.

On the other side was a disgruntled Georgia, out of breath because she ran to the door. "Child, if this isn't an emergency-"

"Why haven't you spoken to me in a week?" You questioned with a vocal drawl and a feigned playful yet sullen expression.

She stared blankly at you as the hot summer breeze mingled with the cold air from the AC in her house. "You've been busy with that boy."

"You know his name" You raised an eyebrow. "Just because I'm friends with him doesn't mean I'm not friends with you. Are we back in middle school, Peach?"

"You aren't just friends with him." She shook her head and leaned against the doorframe. "The two of you are getting really cozy."

"Even if we were, would that be such a bad thing?" You asked feeling confused. "Weren't you the one saying I should be dating?"

"Of course i'd love to see you happy, but not with him." She wagged her finger back and forth.

Your playful energy deflated, this was no longer a ploy to spend time with the friend you missed, it became personal.

"Why?" You crossed your arms. The sun directly over head stung your skin as you furrowed your brows.

"I don't like him." She said in a tone you've never heard her use before, completely taking you back. "He's the kind've boy that's going to take your heart and stomp all over it. You've said it yourself, there's something about him that's a little odd."

"And you're the one who said that he just needs time to warm up." You threw her words right back at her. "I gave him the time, he's nice and warm now. You've given him nothing but judgement and momentary uncomfortable interactions, of course you'd think he's a little cold."

"I also said he could be a murderer or a stalker, didn't I?" She crossed her arms too, both of you feeling defensive over yourselves. "And why do you feel such a strong need to defend him, baby doll?"

"Because you're being rude to a very sweet man who's done nothing but try to be nice to everyone in Greenwood." You scoffed. "He's expressed to me that he really wanted to be your friend but backed away because you were being cold and short."

"Well then he's very good at reading body language, now isn't he?" Georgia offered a fake smile, batting her eyelashes.

"This is ridiculous." You scoffed at her behavior, completely taken aback. "You really aren't going to speak to me because you don't like Steven?"

"No. I just want to stress that I don't like him, and I can see your heartbreak coming from three miles away." She explained. "I care about you and your precious little heart, I can't stick around to watch someone play with it before stomping all over it."

You audibly chuckled at the hypocrisy of her words. "If you really cared about someone messing with my heart, you wouldn't be dangling it over the edge of a cliff by being a shitty friend over your opinion of a man that's been nothing but kind to me"

"Watch your language, young lady." Georgia scolded.

"No. I'm not a child. I'm not your child either." You refused to let her walk all over you like that.

"Even Michael agrees, you need to stay away from that boy." Georgia let slip.

"Is that what this is about?" You questioned. "Your husband forms an opinion so you have to go along with it for the sake of keeping the peace?"

"This has nothing to do with him."

"Well I think it does" You insisted. "Because the Georgia I know is a loving, kindhearted lady that would take anyone under her wing if they needed it. You used to love everyone, but ever since the sokovia accords you've been letting Michael get in your head, and now you're both turning into judgmental know-it-all's"

"It also has nothing to do with the civil war" Her voice was dripping with warning.

You sighed and shook your head. "I'm over this, if you want to keep trying to work it out you know where I live." as you started to unfold your arms and walk away, one last thought came to mind. "And by the way, Steven has been way more careful with my heart recently than you have."

As you walked down her porch steps and out into the street, the only response to that statement was the sound of a door slamming.

You hadn't seen Steve since you told him you knew he was Captain America. It had been a few days, but they were days you usually wouldn't see him anyways. But ever since you pieced the puzzle together, you couldn't help but to start feeling anxious for him.

Through just a tiny window of his eyes, you could understand why trying to settle down for a little while was risky. Anyone could find out who he is at any given moment, and people like Georgia were a constant threat to his well-being.

Although you were upset that she was being so harsh and critical towards Steve at the moment, a tiny part of you felt relief that she didn't already know what you knew. She still felt far from the truth, and in the long run, limiting the interactions between Steve and Georgia will be better for the both of them.

It gave her less of a chance to stare into his big blue eyes and charming toothy smile to recognize him the same way you did. Because if Georgia or Michael found out Steve's true identity, both you and him would be toast.

You could barely come to terms with how fast and often he had been running around in your mind. All you wanted to do was go check in on him, wanting to wrap him up in a big squishy hug, confess that you genuinely starting missing him in your short few day breaks apart during the week.

What you didn't know was that in those few days, Steve felt the same way. He'd stopped himself a few times from going over to your place and knocking on the door just to see your smile and thank you once more for everything you've done for him. But he didn't want to overwhelm you, and he also knew it wasn't your responsibility to carry the weight of being his constant safe space.

However, he did feel like he owed you a grander gesture of gratitude beyond what he could ever say with words. So in his time away from you, he painted you a picture of the grassy field in the pretty park the two of you had gone to together the first time you'd ever really hung out.

After finishing off some very important details, he popped it in a frame he thought would match your house. Since he knew he would be seeing you tomorrow, he ventured outside of his house to find you the prettiest flowers he could from anyone who would sell a bouquet to him.

When he settled on the perfect ones, he brought them home to cut down the stems and put them in a vase. It almost made him a little sad. In any other situation, he would be courting you. As he arranged them perfectly in the vase, he had a silent moral debate in his head.

These flowers are to say thank you and that was it. You wouldn't take them as a romantic gesture, because they weren't. All friends get each other flowers for all different occasions, and this was totally normal. They would do nothing to hurt you in the long run.

Considering he was devoted to keeping to himself, he unfortunately had a whole day to overthink his choices.

Maybe it was too much, he should just jump ship and keep the painting and flowers to himself. It would spare him a lot of embarrassment if you took it the wrong way, and maybe you were only nice to him because you felt bad. Maybe you didn't want them in the first place.

He eventually snapped out of it, because the version of him he once knew was more confident than this. Old him would never second guess the thought of giving a gift, so maybe this version of him shouldn't either.

Besides, if it went terribly wrong, he already had a lot of reasons to leave Greenwood. There was always an exit plan.

His decision to go through with his original plans were set in stone when he got a text from you at around noon.

'Hey, I know you usually come hang out on Tuesday's but I stayed home today. Just really needed a break, but i'd still love to spend time with you today. Want to come over?'

He let you know that he'd be there soon before quickly taking a shower and getting dressed. It was only after he had tied his shoes and grabbed his keys that you texted him a very strict dress code of only the coziest clothes he owned.

So just for you, he changed his outfit, and fixed his hair one more time before heading over to your door with flowers and the painting in his hands. He settled on some cozy running shorts and a t shirt hoping it would meet your standards for the comfort you had in mind.

As he made the very short walk over to your front door, he could feel Georgia's eyes on him from her living room window. Then as he knocked, she found it a very convenient time to walk outside to get the mail from her mailbox. He gave his best attempt at a wave, but he was met with a glare.

Yikes.

When the door swung open, your eyes immediately landed on Georgia sticking her nose into your business, then right to Steve who was standing there obviously uncomfortable with flowers in his hands.

Annoyed at Georgia and keen on protecting your sweet Steve from her wrath, you quite literally pulled him in your house by his arm before closing the door in an absolute whirlwind.

"Woah!" He stumbled on his feet, quick to balance himself.

"Sorry!" You let go of his arm and smoothed the sleeve of his shirt down. "Georgia was staring, I don't want her anywhere near any of your business"

It took him a second to process all that had happened in such a short amount of time, then he realized he was just awkwardly standing there. "Oh! Uh, these are for you. I just- you've done a lot for me since I've been here and I wanted to say thank you."

"Stop it, you are so sweet!" A puppy dog expression smeared across your face, pouting at the thoughtful man in front of you. "You didn't have to do that."

He set the painting down on the table next to him, and before he even got a chance to put the flowers next to it, you had jumped up on your tippy toes to wrap your arms around his neck.

You could hear his giggle in your ear before one arm wrapped around you and held you close, the other held the bouquet behind your back.

"But I wanted to." He insisted. "I really appreciate you, I'm lucky to have you in my life."

"I think I'm the lucky one here, honey." You gave him a good squeeze before letting him go. "Did you paint this?!"

"... depends on what you think of it." Steve's lopsided smile poked through.

"It's so beautiful! I love it so much" You picked it up to inspect it further. Immediately recognizing the setting, you were highly impressed with the detail.

"Okay, then yes I painted it" He claimed his work.

"You're so talented, this is going to be worth like... a billion dollars."

"Keep dreaming, sweetheart." Steve laughed

"Well it's worth a billion dollars to me! I'll cherish it forever. "And the flowers are so pretty!"

"I grew those myself" Steve joked.

"Oh did you?" You laughed. "You must have a really impressive garden in your backyard."

"Yep, I've been working on it for years."

"You're stupid!" You laughed. "It's a good thing you're so pretty."

"You think I'm pretty?!" Steve enthused.

"Honey, you're just about the prettiest thing Greenwood has to offer."

"Second to you" He playfully winked.

You smiled and shook your head at him as he mentally beat himself up. He shouldn't be pulling you along like this. Playing around with you like a toy until he had to leave you high and dry, it was wrong.

"You are just too much" You grinned with a blush stippling over your cheeks.

He knew you were playing around, but you were right. He was being too much.

"Thank you, Steve." You said sincerely, completely shutting off all his brain noise.

"You're welcome." His heart skipped a beat as you called him Steve for the first time. But then he saw it, the tiniest deflate in your mood, and a tiny twinge of sadness in your eye.

He started following you through your house to the living room, then he watched you plop down in the couch with a subtle sigh.

"What's wrong?" He questioned sadly.

"Oh... it's nothing," You shrugged it off as he slowly sat next to you. But as he examined your body language with his big concerned eyes, you knew there was no use in pretending. "It's just- Georgia."

"Is that what the whole door thing was all about?" He questioned softly.

"Yeah" You tucked your hair behind your ear as you nodded, trying to find a way to tell him the situation without making him feel bad. "I think we need to find better ways to hang out without her knowing."

"Is she onto me?" He asked nervously.

"No, I don't think so. But she's smart, Honey. She doesn't like that we're hanging out and for some reason she wants you far, far away from me." You explained. "I think the more she sees, the more curious she will get and the more digging she will do. That's not good for either of us, is it?"

"No, it's not." He shook his head with a sigh. "I can't be around you if it's going to put your safe-"

"Shut it" You cut him off, and smiled when he pouted once more. "Nothing on this earth can convince me you're bad to be around. All I'm saying is we need to get more creative than the front door."

"But what if-"

"I don't care."

"I'll hop the fence?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Can you do that?" You giggled.

"I free dived off a plane with no parachute" Steve shrugged. "How difficult could one fence be?"

"You know what? We can figure out the logistics later." You nodded. "My point is, just be careful around her. That's all."

"Okay, and my point is that I really care about you. If this starts putting you in danger, I'll never be able to forgive myself."

"I care about you too, which is why we're going to find a way to keep us both safe and happy? Okay?"

He sunk into himself at the thought of everything you're putting on the line. "...okay."

"Cool, now that we got that out of the way, I was thinking we could order some food and watch a movie?"

"Sounds fun to me!" Steve enthused. "I'm starving"

"You're always hungry" You giggled. "Probably because you run a marathon a day."

"It's not my fault" He pouted, slumping onto the couch. "Stupid serum. My metabolism is really fast. And if I don't move, I start to get restless and anxious."

"Don't worry, pretty baby, I'll feed you." You laughed at his grumbly explanation, ignoring the way his cheeks turned pink. "What do you want?"

"...Can't even get drunk" he mumbled again.

"Okay, so we're not drinking vodka for dinner..." You spoke to yourself, scrolling through all the options on your phone.

The two of you eventually settled on an ungodly amount of Chinese food that you'd eat on the couch. The boxes littered the coffee table well after both of you had finished eating, and you sprawled out on the couch, hand resting on your happily bloated stomach. You found yourself in a blissful food coma after trying to out eat Steve. He warned you it was a bad idea, but you took on the challenge anyway. He beat you by two crab Rangoons, but you claimed it didn't count because you definitely ate more fried rice than him.

His evidence that he won was that he felt perfectly fine, while you were one wrong move away from tasting your dinner all over again.

That comment resulted in you flipping him off, and tossing the TV remote at him. "Put something on, I can't even think." You complained.

He laughed at you and caught it effortlessly. "What do you want to watch? Action? Romcom? Oh! I know! A musical"

"If you put it on a musical, I might actually throw up. I'm already too nauseous for that." You joked.

"Okay, how about a Disney movie? Ratatouille? Tarzan?" He questioned, scrolling through all the options.

"Ratatouille is Pixar." You poked.

All he did was glare at you with narrowed eyes in response to that statement.

"Monsters Inc." He continued.

"Also Pixar" You smile. "I want to watch a Captain America movie"

"Okay that's it" He shook his head. "I'm putting on Cars, and you have no choice but to watch it"

"Another Pixar movie" You laughed.

"I miss the bakery" He sighed.

"Wow. You only like me for my cookies." You feigned an upset expression.

"Your sourdough is phenomenal as well." He nodded.

"Jerk..." You smiled.

"Feeling squisher..."

You gasped and clutched your chest, then the fake tears started to fall.

"Noooooooo!" Steve sprang up and made his way over to you, leaning over and wrapping his arms around your upper body to reverse the damage. "Don't cry don't cry don't cry" His face shoved into the crook of your neck made you giggle with every word as his soft beard tickled your skin. "Soooooorrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyy I won't call you that ever again. I love it here, I love spending time with you, don't cry! Please don't cry!"

"If you squeeze me any harder I'm going to throw up all over you" You laughed as he quickly let you go and took a big step back.

"I can handle blood, gore, violence even, but if you throw up I promise I'll be throwing up too." He defensively put his hands up as if you were pointing a weapon at him.

"Somehow, that makes you even more human, Stevie." You giggled as he grabbed a blanked off the couch and wrapped it around himself and the top of his head so just his face was poking through. It was as if he was now trying to hide from the threat.

As he got cozy on the couch once more in his blanket cocoon and your legs thrown across his lap as he payed attention to the beginning of Cars playing on the TV, the warnings from every news broadcast played in your head. It took everything in you to not physically laugh out loud at the words 'if you see any of these individuals, do not approach. They are dangerous.'

You fell into more than comfortable silence as the movie played. It was hard not to let your mind wander around, thinking about how nice it was to take a step back from work for even just the day, and how nice it was to have someone like Steve to enjoy it with.

The silence was broken every once and a while when the two of you would laugh at a joke that not even an 8 year old would find funny, and sometimes he had a question and you had some pretty general commentary on the movie. He also kept letting out quiet little yawns.

You'd catch him out of the corner of your eye, his eyes would fall heavy then he'd blink them open super fast and shake his head to try and keep himself awake. Eventually the blanket slipped off the top of his head, and he'd kick his legs over the arm of the couch and scoot backwards to get a little more comfortable.

Taking into consideration all the information he provided you about his lack of sleep, it warmed your heart to see he felt comfortable enough around you to even feel this sleepy in the first place. You knew most nights he could barely even get himself to try closing his eyes before the sun rose. Now here he was, struggling to stay awake at 9pm on your couch.

He made it another fifteen minutes before his arm relaxed to his side and his head slouched to rest on the couch back, completely knocked out. You couldn't help the smile on your face every time he subconsciously made himself more comfortable. It didn't take long before he was sprawled out across the couch, his head landing on a pillow you placed right next to your lap as you already knew that's where he would inevitably wind up.

You kicked your feet up on the coffee table as you admired the way his hair had flopped over onto his face when he curled up on his side. Your mind and all its racing thoughts were far gone from the animated film on the screen in front of you as you wondered if he would have ever grown out his hair this long had it not been for the circumstances he was under.

You wanted to pull it back off of his face just to feel the soft strands running through your fingers and to admire his facial features a little better, but that was not a step you were willing to take while he was asleep. Besides, if you accidentally woke him up you'd never forgive yourself.

Regardless of the golden strands of hair obstructing your view, you did get to notice all the different colors that lived in his beard. Mostly brown with a twinge of blonde, a bit of red along the side of his cheek and a just a few grays that decided to make a guest appearance. Just as you noticed how long and beautiful his eyelashes were, he sucked in a big breath as if he was waking up.

Suddenly, a movie about silly little cars became the most interesting attention grabber in the whole world. But that big breath was accompanied by a stretch of his arm that so happened to land right on your lap.

Just as you looked down at it, he had stirred into some sort of half conscious state. He looked around and blinked a few times.

"Oh shit" he mumbled, barely being able to form words. "I should go home."

Yet he didn't move his arm away, nor did you think he even had the capacity to make it to his own bed at this point. If he did go home, you knew he wouldn't sleep.

"It's okay" You told him quietly, with a reassuring grin. "You're safe here."

His hand in your lap caught your eye again, but this time it was because it was moving, navigating the area trying to find yours. Your heart skipped a beat once it did, and you interlocked your fingers with his.

There was a small smile on his face as his eyes closed again. "Didn't mean to fall asleep."

"You're okay." You reminded him once more, gently squeezing his hand. "I'll keep you safe"

He used it free hand to remove the pillow from underneath his head, and in one swift movement he rested his head in your lap. Your stomach filled with butterflies and your heart was now beaming with golden rays.

You took that as permission to pull the blanket up over his shoulders to assure he'd stay warm in the air conditioning, but after that you still weren't sure what to do with your free hand.

"Honey?" You whispered just in case he was already back in dreamland. He responded with a little grumble you could tell was his attempt at acknowledging your call for him. "Can I play with your hair?"

A smile immediately stretched across his lips as he lazily nodded. You're pretty sure he fell asleep again after just a few swipe throughs of your fingers in the growing length.

Somewhere between the warm weight of the soldier in your lap and the comfort of a Pixar film on the television, you had fallen asleep too. That wasn't something you even realized until you had woken up to the sound of your phone ringing.

You peeled your eyes open to see the sun had risen to its full potential, and somehow, some way, you were now laying down and pinned between the couch cushions and Steve's body.

His face was shoved into the crook of your neck and one of his strong arms was holding onto you nice and tight as if you would run away if he loosened his grip.

Unfortunately you had no time to bask in the glory of being cuddled by a big strong man before you had both been woken up by the sound of your obnoxiously loud ringing phone. The second he popped his head up and squinted his beautiful blue eyes to adjust to the sunlight, you were internally cursing whoever was trying to contact you with a eternal damnation. Surly if they knew just how long it had been since you felt a man's touch, nobody would've contacted you ever again.

Steve reached over behind him to grab you your phone as he mentally cursed himself for putting you in this position after he told himself to not act on his romantic feelings for you. He was walking you both down a dark and dangerous path of pain and heartbreak but he just couldn't get himself to stop.

You thanked him as you grabbed it from his hand, and immediately picked up as it was one of your bakers.

Steve sat up and sung his legs over the side of the couch by your hips. He slumped over and his face fell into his hands while he listened to half a conversation about how to troubleshoot the rack oven and what to do with all 13 trays of destroyed snickerdoodles for that one really important order.

He had to take big deep breaths to calm himself down as the sound of waking up to a phone ringing caused him an astronomical amount of anxiety. For just a few moments he was positive he was getting a call that would get him back in the suit to shut down an alien wormhole or delay the end of the world.

Somehow your supportive and calming words to your employees calmed him down too.

"Hey, don't worry about it. Things happen, I understand." You cooed over the phone. "I don't want you to stress about it. I can stay all night to bake whatever is left for that order, okay? It'll get done, I promise. There's nothing that we can't fix."

He could hear your employee stress-babbling something on the other end of the phone call, but none of that mattered. Not when you sat up and got right next to him when you noticed his body language.

You made sure there was no empty space between the sides of your bodies. Leg to leg, side to side, and your arm traveled up the plane of his back and gently squeezed the nape of his neck to try and comfort him while you sorted out whatever was happening at Nice To Be Kneaded.

Steve appreciated your efforts, but he also couldn't help but to feel like his lack of self control around you was also a source of his pounding heart and racing thoughts. Knowing he should probably provide an explanation for the cuddle fest last night led him to believe it might be time to set some boundaries with you.

His little slice of heaven would have to be put at arm's length away, on the highest shelf he couldn't reach even if he was on his tippy toes. If he had you out on the counter, he knew he would come back for a little more of you every time he passed by because just one more bite wouldn't hurt. But one kept turning to two, two to four, and before he knows it the both of you will be on complete opposite sides of the world as you harbored pure resentment for him.

Right now he might've looked like a bucket of sugar to you, but sugar and salt looked exactly the same the only difference being sugar doesn't sting when it's rubbed into wounds.

His mind ran away fast, the only rope he grabbed onto to pull him back into reality was your calming voice.

"Hey, Sweet Stevie." You squeezed his shoulder, trying to catch his attention.

He finally snapped out of his trance and his big eyes met yours. "Huh?"

"Are you okay?" You questioned although you already knew the answer.

"Yeah, sorry. I'm fine." He faked a smile.

"Really? I said your name three times before you responded." You raised an eyebrow.

This time Steve's lips pressed together in a straight line before a real grin spread across them. "I keep a burner phone in my pocket with some of the Avengers being the only ones with the number to it in case they need me." He explained. "Every day feels like a waiting game for the phone to ring- it's like sitting in a room with a bomb that's about to explode but you don't know when it'll be detonated."

"Ah-" You understood, your hand continued to rub circles on his back. "You thought there was an explosion?"

He nodded in confirmation as he thought about what to say next- how to let you down gently.

"False alarm" You stated, earning a hum in response.

All he wanted to do was let his head fall back onto your shoulder, pull you down onto his body and cover the both of you up so that you could get a few more hours of sleep. He wanted to avoid this gaping hole he always felt in his heart, he wanted to enjoy your company without guilt.

"Are you okay?" Steve reciprocated the questioned.

"Yeah" You giggled. "Sometimes the oven at the bakery likes to shoot up in temperature for no reason and bake cookies at 600 degrees Fahrenheit. That led to a snickerdoodle disaster and now we're about 320 cookies and six hours of work down from a huge order that's picking up tomorrow."

"How are you not stressed?" Steve questioned.

You shrugged your shoulders. "I'll get it done. I might be there until the sun rises but I'll get it done. I'd go in earlier but we only have so much space for so many people to be working at the same time, it would be more useful to just get there later and work in an empty kitchen."

"You're going to need more butter" Steve thought out-loud. "And eggs."

"And flour. And sugar. And cinnamon. But hey, at least I slept well last night!" You giggled and nudged his shoulder with yours.

It earned you a pretty smile and a shy blush on his cheeks. "If I had any intention of falling asleep I would've warned you that I'm a chronic cuddler." Steve defended himself. "All of the Avengers learned that the hard way, they all knew to avoid the general area I was sleeping in."

"Awwww. I'd like to imagine a time in which you and Bucky Barnes were spooning to keep nice and warm on a cold, cold night." You smiled as you teased.

"Oh, no, Bucky would not hesitate to push me onto the floor." Steve laughed.

"That's so mean! I could never!" You screeched. "Did you at least sleep well?"

"Scary good" The blush on his cheeks burned brighter. "Sorry for holding you hostage all night."

"More than fine by me." You smiled, still enjoying the lack of space between his body and yours. "I'm sorry you had to wake up like that. What a shitty way for you to have to start the day."

This time you let your head fall onto his shoulder, and your arm squeezed him into a delightful side hug. He reciprocated by wrapping his arm around you too and letting his head rest on yours.

Okay, just one more bite.

"I think this is the best way for me to start my day." Steve said. Now you were the one blushing, and that extra bite was worth all the sugary sweetness that made the endorphins bounce around in his brain. But could you blame him? You were just so damn scrumptious, maybe even addictive.

You so wished you could stay and enjoy the temptation snuggling you on the couch, but then a really depressing thought was at the forefront of your brain. "I have to source ingredients and make hundreds of snickerdoodles" You sighed.

"And teach your apprentice how to master the art of a snickerdoodle" He offered his help.

"Really?" You questioned, almost in disbelief. Not a day went by without you being so very appreciative of his ability to walk alongside you exactly when you needed him.

"Abs-dough-lutely" Steve joked.

"Oh you're a loser" You held back your smile.

Next part: Sunflower

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[popodoki]

Come get your overload of sappiness with a soft fluff Catwin ficlet x

Featuring Mabel, my own little kitty, one of my muses

The day had dissolved into a glorious summer evening. Thin layers of clouds marched out from the horizon, all of Port Townsend bathed in a dusky, warm glow from the fading sun. A blessedly cool wind chased through the air now and again, slipping through the high grated windows,  ruffling the corners of the papers Edwin was trying to sort through. 

The Cat King sat on a veritable nest of soft cushioning material, on the floor, a little way away, directly in the bright beams of sunlight streaking through the windows. In his lap, five small kittens, still in the early stages of life. Under the watchful gaze of their mother, he was brushing warm, calloused fingers over the litter, both pairs of slitted eyes brimming with affection. The cat, named Mabel, purred softly at the gentle touches being lavished upon her babies. It'd been a long and trying day, for Edwin, full of slogging through a long case, continuously feeling one step behind, moving through one clue to find two more, contradicting the first, around the next corner. The rest of the agency had descended into an evening of much needed distraction, Edwin had quietly exited the room, eager to sequester himself in his own version of sanctuary. 

Reconsidering his priorities, Edwin quietly shuffled the last of the papers into a neat pile, set them aside. Reaching instead for a comic book, a sort of hazy warmth settled over the two of them as Edwin found himself switching glances between his comic and the Cat King, humming under his breath along to the music filtering through the air, from the old record player propped on a crate near the wall. 

Really, quite distracting. The Cat King had long been in the habit of spending his free time shirtless. The golden sunlight shimmered on his tanned skin. As his lover twisted slightly, leaning over to comb his fingers delicately through Mabel's fur, the muscles in his back rippled and moved. Edwin knew intimately, the sensation of running his own fingers over the miles of skin on display, the hardness beneath. 

The softness, that had taken Edwin more time to get used to. It snuck up on both of them. The Cat King showed his affections with little smiles and half cast looks, an idle need to always touch him, fill his nose with Edwin’s scent, however fleetingly. Edwin returned the favor with his hand always reaching out to hold his lover’s first, reading his favourite comics aloud, allowing the Cat King entrance into his most private of spaces, thoughts.  

Mabel began to purr a little louder, moving from her position next to the Cat King’s lap to drape herself over his leg, nearer to her litter, nearer to those warm hands. As though fearing she would fall, his lover’s hands instantly went up to support her. With half-hearted murmurs of protest, Mabel tried to worm closer still, shoving herself head-first into the Cat King’s lap, who, with a laugh, rose to his feet instead. Kittens secured in the warm cradle of his arms, Mabel chose to brave the climb to her king’s shoulders. The sudden change in elevation at the end of her venture made her pause, ears swivelling as she had a better idea of where the music was coming from. As though soothing a child, the Cat King slowly began to rock to and fro on his feet, moving to the sound of the music. Like a lullaby, he began to sing from somewhere deep in his chest, to the kittens, to the feline draped over his shoulders like a shrug. 

"If happiness was a tangible thing, it would be you..."  

Edwin's attention had by now entirely slipped from the comic he held loosely in his hands. The wind tickled at the back of his neck, ruffled the papers on the desk, attention never straying from the Cat King, unfairly graceful in combining a slow dance, soft singing and a warm safe hold on a litter of kittens, drape of a hitch-hiking cat, all at the same time. 

Offering a small peek into his lover’s own little version of sanctuary. 

"If you’d have told me the feeling you’d bring, I’d think it untrue..." 

The light of the sunset did beautiful things to the Cat King's lithe muscles, swaying, singing softly. Gradually, Mabel shifted, his lover bent at the silent command, letting her jump down to the floor, trot back to the middle of the nest, where she commenced washing herself as though nothing had happened. Her kittens were gently placed beside her, and encouraged to feed by warm fingers guiding them to where they needed to go. 

The Cat King continued to hum lyrics under his breath, stopping midway through standing up, when he finally noticed Edwin's eyes on him. He turned with a sheepish smile on his face, winking to nervously cover for himself, running a hand through his hair. 

"Sorry bout the noise, ghostie." 

Edwin blinked, slowly. "There's no need to apologise," he replied, adding with a smile, "in fact, you may continue, louder, maybe?" 

He fully expected the flirtatious energy that settled over the Cat King's frame, the spark that came into those slitted golden eyes. His lover resumed swaying gently to the music, persuading the sunbeams to curve and drape over his bare chest. A hand held out in invitation, that he did not expect. A blush brewing unseen underneath his cheeks, Edwin haltingly took that warm hand, let it lift him from his seat. 

“If you’re ever feeling like you’re lost, I’ll come find you...” 

The Cat King's hands, calloused and capable, guided Edwin, gently, to place one hand on his bare hip and the other on his shoulder. Edwin could feel the sun warming his back through his shirt. His lover radiated warmth at his front all the more. He felt like a sunbeam, looked twice as nice. Somehow, their feet moved without clashing, Edwin basking in the focus of the Cat King's golden gaze, letting himself be led without thought. The warmth in his cheeks doubled, the Cat King's only reply a raised eyebrow, gentle smile. 

Papers fluttered delicately to the floor as Edwin found himself being led in slow, endless circles. Their shadows danced and played upon the pale floorboards. With playful nimbleness, Mabel batted and played with their silhouettes cast on the floor whenever they edged close to her nest. For forever and a moment more, the world was perfect; made up only of one room, one endless summer, one sanctuary, for the both of them. 

“Keep you safe, here in my arms... At all cost.”