#yeah uh yeah yeah uh (spills cereal)

[saviorclaimed]

I just want to say. Optimus as a romantic partner is a very touchy kinda guy. He likes to hold his partner. We talking cuddles, gentle holds, hand on shoulder. Something. Affectionate fellow.

that's all.

[p0orbaby]

Stress Reliever

summary: important matches call for unorthodox methods

warnings: SMUT 18+, fingering, sex in a random room in a stadium? i have no clue, don’t judge

a/n: i really enjoyed writing this one, so kudos to whoever requested it !

word count: 2.7k

-

You’re in the stands, sipping a warm Coke that tastes like pennies, watching as eager fans filter into the stadium. It’s an hour until kickoff, and you’re trying not to panic because you have the seat of death. The one directly behind the pole. And not just any pole—oh no, you get the thick, structural support beam that’s been placed there by some sadist with a vendetta against sports fans. You can already feel the crick forming in your neck as you angle to see the pitch, bobbing and weaving like you’re on the world’s worst first date.

“Are you—?” A voice interrupts your internal monologue, startling you so much you nearly throw your Coke onto the unlucky person next to you. You look up, expecting to see a security guard, someone here to accuse you of something you definitely did do (sneak in a flask) but absolutely won’t admit to.

Instead, it’s a woman with a headset, wearing an expression of mild impatience—like she’s had to ask someone the same question three times. Which, judging by the size of this place, she probably has.

“Yeah?” you ask, because that’s the only word your brain can offer in the moment. Well, that and hotdog but you keep that one to yourself.

“Are you—” she checks her clipboard, which you find oddly official, like you’re about to be quizzed on the periodic table or something, “—the girlfriend?”

There’s a beat where you consider denying it because the word girlfriend still sounds weird in your ears. Like you’re not old enough for it or something. Like someone’s going to come along and snatch the title away from you because you got it out of a vending machine or a cereal box.

But then the woman’s staring at you, one eyebrow slightly arched, and you realise you haven’t answered, which is definitely making this more awkward.

“Uh…yes?”

“Great.” She doesn’t even wait for you to elaborate (which is good, because you definitely wouldn’t have). “Alexia needs you”

She says it like Alexia needs you is a normal sentence. Like you’re supposed to understand what that entails, as if you’ve been through this before.

“Oh.” You blink. “Now?”

“Yeah.” Another short answer. She’s probably fun at parties.

Your brain’s processing speed is at dial-up levels right now, but you eventually nod, clambering over knees and feet, mumbling apologies as you spill half your Coke in your lap. It’s warm, wet, and uncomfortable. The perfect metaphor for your life at this moment.

The woman with the headset leads you through a labyrinth of corridors, down staircases that don’t look like they’ve been used since the stadium was built, past signs that say things like “AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY” and “NO ENTRY,” which really do wonders for your anxiety. It’s as if you’re being led to the dungeons, or possibly to a secret basement where you’ll be quietly murdered before kickoff.

“Is everything…okay?” you ask, partly because you’re nervous, partly because you’re still in shock that Alexia asked for you. The Alexia Putellas, captain of Barcelona, Spanish football’s golden child. The one who should be doing pre-game rituals or eating her eighth banana by now, not…whatever this is.

“Yup,” says Headset Lady, who clearly graduated from the one-syllable academy of small talk.

You’re about to ask a follow-up question (something like are you a hostage negotiator on the side?) when she stops abruptly in front of a nondescript door that looks like it’s seen better days. There’s a small sign taped to it that reads “MEETING ROOM.” Creative.

“She’s in there,” Headset Lady says, handing you the clipboard like it’s a ticket to a secret club. You take it because refusing might lead to her finally using the taser you’re convinced she’s got hidden somewhere.

“Uh, thanks,” you say, because manners.

She gives you a curt nod, spins on her heels, and walks away without a backward glance, leaving you alone with the door, the clipboard, and a creeping sense of dread.

You’re about to knock when the door swings open and you’re pulled inside by a very strong hand. You barely manage to keep your balance, though your dignity is less fortunate.

“Jesus Christ, Alexia, a little warning?” you gasp, clutching your chest like someone’s ancient grandmother.

But Alexia isn’t listening. She’s pacing, her boots tapping out a nervous rhythm on the floor, her expression a fusion of frustration and something you can’t quite place—like she’s trying to solve a really tough maths problem but someone keeps changing all the numbers.

“Babe?” you try again, this time a little softer, hoping to break through whatever spell she’s under.

She finally stops, turning to face you, and that’s when you notice it. The way her eyes are slightly glazed, her hands twitching at her sides. She looks like she’s about to combust from the inside out, like she’s been plugged into the world’s worst electrical socket.

You know that look. You’ve seen it before, but not like this. Not with this intensity, this…desperation.

“What’s going on?” you ask, though you think you already know. You’re just not sure you’re ready for the answer.

“I’m fucking freaking out,” she says, her voice low and tight, like it’s taking everything in her to hold it together. “I can’t—I can’t focus, I can’t think—I just—fuck!” She runs a hand through her hair, tugging at the ends like it’s their fault.

You step closer, cautious, like you’re approaching a wild animal. “Is there anything I can do?”

And that’s when she looks at you. Really looks at you. Her eyes narrow slightly, and you can practically see the lightbulb go off above her head. It’s not the comforting moment you were hoping for. It’s more like the moment in a horror movie when the killer realises the protagonist is hiding in the wardrobe.

“Actually…yeah.” Her voice drops an octave, and you swear the room temperature does too. “There is”

Oh no. You know where this is going. You’ve been here before. This isn’t the first time Alexia has decided that the best way to deal with her pre-game jitters is to channel them into something else. Something physical. Something that, once upon a time, you thought was a great idea.

You were wrong.

But it’s too late to back out now. You’re trapped, like a mouse caught in a particularly horny mousetrap.

“Here?” you squeak, glancing around the dimly lit meeting room, which is as unsexy as a room can get. The walls are beige, the carpet is a hideous shade of grey, and there’s a whiteboard in the corner with some sad-looking, lidless pens. It’s as if the universe decided to create the least erotic environment possible.

“Here,” she confirms, and you can’t help but notice the way her voice drips with something dark and dangerous. Something that makes your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.

“But what if—”

“No one’s coming in,” she interrupts, and there’s a note of finality in her voice that tells you this is happening whether you like it or not. “It’s locked”

“How did you even get a key?”

“Does it matter?”

It doesn’t, but you feel like you’re owed an explanation anyway. Because what if someone does come in? What if they see you—two responsible, adult women—going at it in a meeting room like hormonal teenagers? You can already see the headlines: “Football Star and Girlfriend Caught in Bizarre Pre-Game Ritual”

“Alexia, I—”

She’s on you before you can finish the sentence, her hands gripping your waist, pulling you against her. Her lips crash into yours, and suddenly the room isn’t so cold anymore. It’s like being hit by a freight train made of pure sexual frustration, and for a moment, all you can do is hang on for dear life.

But then the reality of the situation hits you. You’re about to have sex in a room that smells faintly of wet dog and failed business deals. This is not how you pictured today to go. You imagined something more…romantic. A win celebrated in a plush hotel room, or at the very least a place with a bed.

But Alexia doesn’t seem to care. She’s already pawing at your clothes with a speed that’s both impressive and alarming, like she’s done this a thousand times before. Which, now that you think about it, she probably has. Just…not here. Or so you hope.

“Wait, wait,” you pant, pulling back slightly. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Nope,” she says, but she doesn’t stop, and neither do you, because you’re weak and she’s hot, and who are you kidding? You’re definitely going to do this.

It’s not graceful. It’s not even sexy, really. It’s more like a frantic scramble to get clothes off while trying not to knock over a stack of chairs. You’re pretty sure you elbow her in the ribs at one point, and she steps on your foot twice, but neither of you cares because there’s a bigger issue at hand.

You think about saying something witty, something to break the tension, but then she’s on you again, and words are suddenly the last thing on your mind. All you can do is hold on and hope the table doesn’t collapse under the weight of your combined bad decisions.

She pushes you back onto the table, her hands firm on your shoulders, and suddenly the wood beneath you feels a lot harder than it looked a second ago. It’s all happening too fast, but not fast enough, and when her mouth finds yours again, it’s all teeth and urgency. The kind of kiss that doesn’t ask permission because it knows it’ll get what it wants anyway.

Her hands are everywhere, pulling at your shirt, fumbling with the buttons like they’re some kind of cruel joke. You help her out, batting her hands away, only to struggle just as much. It’s like your fingers have forgotten how to work, each movement clumsy and desperate. When you finally manage to yank your shirt over your head, you feel a brief, victorious rush, like you’ve conquered a small but significant mountain.

She barely gives you time to breathe before she’s back on you, her mouth hot and demanding against your neck, her hands sliding up your sides. You gasp as her fingers slip under your bra, her thumbs brushing over your nipples with just enough pressure to make you arch against her.

“Fuck,” you whisper, because it’s the only word that makes sense right now.

She grins against your skin, clearly pleased with herself, and you know you’re in trouble. Alexia knows exactly what she’s doing, and she’s doing it well. Too well, actually. The kind of well that makes you forget where you are, why you’re here, and who you are as a person.

Her hand trails down your stomach, dipping beneath the waistband of your jeans, and you suck in a breath, half expecting her to stop, to clock on how ridiculous this all is. But she doesn’t. She just keeps going, popping the button on your jeans with a quick flick of her fingers, pulling the zipper down in one smooth motion. You lift your hips to help her slide them down, and suddenly the cold air hits your bare legs, making you shiver. But it’s not the temperature that’s getting to you—it’s the anticipation.

She’s back on you in an instant, her fingers finding their way inside your underwear, brushing against you in a way that makes your breath catch. Her touch is light at first, almost teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. She’s not in the mood for games, and neither are you.

“Please,” you murmur, not entirely sure what you’re asking for, but knowing you need it.

She doesn’t make you wait. Her fingers slide inside you with a confidence that comes from knowing exactly what you like, how you like it, and how quickly she can drive you insane. And she’s doing it now, the slow, steady rhythm making you forget all about the uncomfortable table beneath you, the smell of stale coffee in the room, the fact that someone could walk in at any moment. None of it matters. All that matters is her, and the way she’s making you feel like you might come undone right there in that drab, fluorescent-lit room.

You cling to her like she’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, your hands digging into her back, your nails leaving marks that you know take back to the changing room with pride. The table creaks beneath you, protesting with every thrust of her hand, but you don’t care. You can barely think, let alone worry about the state of some cheap office furniture.

When she curls her fingers inside you, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, you have to bite your lip to keep from crying out. The last thing you need is for someone to hear you, but fuck, it’s hard. Especially when she starts moving faster, her thumb brushing over your clit with just the right amount of pressure to push you closer and closer to the edge.

You’re so close now, teetering on the brink, and she knows it. You can see it in the way she’s watching you, her eyes dark and intense, like she’s savoring every moment, every gasp and moan she pulls from your lips. It’s almost too much, the way she’s looking at you, like she’s claiming you, owning you in a way that goes beyond this moment, this room.

And then you’re falling, your body tensing as the wave crashes over you, pulling you under. You bite down on her shoulder, muffling the sound of your release, and she groans at the feeling of your teeth sinking into her skin. It’s raw and primal, and at this point in time, you don’t care about anything else but the way she’s making you feel.

She doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, working you through your orgasm until you’re trembling beneath her, your breath coming in ragged gasps. When she does finally pull her hand away, you feel the loss of her touch like a physical ache, but you’re too spent to do anything about it.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room your heavy breathing and the distant roar of the crowd outside. The game is about to start, but for once, it’s the last thing on your mind.

When she finally pulls back, you expect her to say something, but she just looks at you, her expression softening in a way that makes your chest warm. There’s something unspoken in her eyes, something you’re not sure you’re ready to acknowledge, but it’s there all the same.

“Better?” you ask, your voice shaky, but there’s a smile tugging at your lips.

She smirks, that familiar, cocky grin returning as she reaches down to adjust her shorts. “Much”

You laugh, weak and breathless, but it’s genuine. Because despite the absurdity of it all—the meeting room, the table, the fact that you’re still half-naked in the most unromantic setting imaginable—it was exactly what you both needed.

You sit up, wincing as your muscles protest, and begin the awkward process of getting dressed again. Alexia helps, her hands lingering a little longer than necessary, and you swat at her playfully, even though you’re secretly glad she’s not ready to let go just yet.

“We can’t make this a thing,” you say, though you know it’s a lie the second it leaves your mouth.

“Sure we can,” Alexia replies, already pulling on her shorts like nothing happened. Like you didn’t just defile a piece of office furniture.

“You owe me,” you grumble, trying to smooth down your hair, which now looks like you stuck your finger in an electrical socket.

“Add it to the list,” she says with a wink.

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Because yeah, it was reckless and stupid and definitely not sanitary, but damn if it wasn’t one hell of a way to start a match.

“Good luck,” you say, and you mean it.

She gives you a look that says I don’t need luck, and you believe her. Because if she can handle you, she can handle anything.

As you walk out of the meeting room, legs still a little shaky, you can’t help but wonder if this will become a regular thing. You hope not.

Then again…maybe you don’t.

[sturniololuvz]

Can u do a sturniolo little sister fic where like one of them says something rude and their 12 yr old sister was already on edge all day and she crashes out

Yess! i had a similar request !

“Y/N’s Breaking Point”

Sturniolos x sister reader

warnings : yelling . crying.

From the moment Y/N rolled out of bed that morning, everything felt wrong.

She had slept through her alarm, which meant she had to rush to get ready for school. She couldn’t find her favorite hoodie, the one that made her feel comfortable, and the socks she grabbed didn’t match. Her cereal was soggy by the time she got to it, and to make things worse, she had a math test she knew she bombed.

By the time she got home, she was on edge, her mood swinging between irritated and completely defeated. She just wanted to be left alone. But, of course, her three older brothers—Nick, Matt, and Chris—had other plans.

Chris was the first to notice as she walked in and dropped her backpack onto the floor with a loud thud. “Uh-oh. Someone’s stomping.”

Nick smirked from the couch. “Did a bird steal your lunch or something?”

Matt chuckled, stretching his arms. “No, she probably just got yelled at by a teacher again.”

Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She could have ignored them, walked straight to her room, and buried herself under her blankets. But she was already irritated, and their teasing was only making it worse.

“Just shut up,” she muttered, kicking off her shoes aggressively.

“Ooooh, someone’s in a mood,” Chris teased, raising an eyebrow.

Nick snickered. “Yeah, for real. Did your crush ignore you at lunch?”

That was the last straw. Y/N turned sharply, glaring at them. “I said shut up!”

Matt put his hands up in fake surrender, still grinning. “Whoa, okay, okay, calm down, little demon.”

Chris shook his head, laughing. “Seriously, Y/N, what’s your problem today? You’re acting like a total brat.”

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Her jaw clenched, her hands shaking as a lump formed in her throat. It wasn’t just about today—everything had been building up. The stress of school, feeling like no one took her seriously, the frustration of constantly being the youngest and getting teased—it was too much.

And she snapped.

“MY PROBLEM?! MY PROBLEM IS THAT YOU GUYS NEVER KNOW WHEN TO STOP! YOU THINK IT’S SO FUNNY TO MAKE FUN OF ME ALL THE TIME, BUT IT’S NOT! I’VE HAD THE WORST DAY, AND INSTEAD OF JUST LEAVING ME ALONE, YOU KEEP POKING AT ME LIKE I’M SOME STUPID LITTLE KID! I CAN’T STAND IT ANYMORE!”

Her voice cracked, hot, frustrated tears spilling down her cheeks. She didn’t even care.

Chris, Nick, and Matt all went silent, their eyes wide in shock. Y/N never yelled like this.

But she wasn’t done.

“I’M TIRED OF BEING THE ONE YOU GUYS ALWAYS TEASE! I’M TIRED OF FEELING LIKE NO ONE TAKES ME SERIOUSLY! DO YOU EVEN KNOW WHAT IT FEELS LIKE TO HAVE EVERYONE BRUSH YOU OFF LIKE YOU’RE NOTHING?! YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT HOW I FEEL, YOU JUST CARE ABOUT HAVING SOMEONE TO MESS WITH!”

She was full-on sobbing now, breathing heavily between her words.

“I FAILED MY STUPID MATH TEST TODAY, I COULDN’T EVEN FIND MY FAVORITE HOODIE, AND ALL I WANTED WAS TO COME HOME AND RELAX, BUT NO, YOU GUYS HAVE TO MAKE ME FEEL EVEN WORSE!”

She wiped angrily at her face, shaking her head. “You guys don’t even care. You never do.”

The room was dead silent.

Chris shifted uncomfortably, guilt settling in his stomach. “Y/N…”

But she shook her head. “Forget it.”

She turned on her heel, storming down the hallway and slamming her bedroom door shut behind her.

The triplets just sat there, stunned.

“…Damn,” Nick muttered after a moment. “We really messed up.”

Matt let out a deep breath, running a hand down his face. “Yeah. That was… bad.”

Chris sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We should’ve realized she wasn’t joking around this time.”

For a long time, none of them moved.

Then, finally, Chris stood up. “I’m gonna go talk to her.”

Nick and Matt nodded, letting him go as they sat there, processing everything.

Chris walked to Y/N’s door and knocked softly. “Peanut?”

No response.

He sighed, leaning against the door. “Listen… I know we were being annoying. And I know we went too far. I’m really, really sorry.”

Still nothing.

Chris sighed again. “I get that you’re mad. You have every right to be mad. But can I please come in?”

After a long pause, the door clicked open.

Y/N was curled up on her bed, her face red and puffy from crying. She didn’t say anything, just sniffled, looking away.

Chris’s heart ached.

He sat down next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “I mean it, Y/N. We didn’t realize how bad your day was. We were just messing around, but we should’ve listened instead of pushing you.”

Y/N sniffled again, resting her head against his shoulder. “…You guys were really mean.”

Chris sighed. “Yeah. We were. And I’m sorry.”

A few seconds later, Nick and Matt peeked into the room, looking guilty.

Matt sat on the other side of her, nudging her gently. “We’re idiots. You know this.”

Nick sat at the edge of the bed. “But we love you. And we’ll be better at listening.”

Y/N wiped her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. “Promise?”

Chris hugged her tighter. “Promise.”

Nick and Matt both nodded, and for the first time that day, Y/N felt like maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 58

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,000ish

Summary: Wade begins to take matters into his own hands.

Warning(s): My poor attempt at Deadpool jokes.

Notes: I know I said Jan. 19th. But I can't sleep. Please share reactions! 

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

When Laura came home in the morning, she found Logan asleep against the apartment door. Curious, she kicked his foot, making Logan jump awake. He looked up to see her staring down at him. Logan scrambled to his feet.

“What are you doing out here?” Laura wondered, skeptical.

“I, uh… your mom… well,” he stammered, struggling to know where to start. Laura raised an eyebrow at Logan, who sighed. “Your mom came home and her hands were burnt.”

“What?”

“She wouldn’t let me help her. She kicked me out, but not before her powers flared up. I’ve been out here all night.”

“You should have called me.” Laura pushed Logan aside to get to the door.

“Your mom would have been even angrier at me.”

“Don’t care. She’s my mom and she’s—“ Laura’s shoulders fell. What were you? Sick? Dying? Both? “Next time I need you to call me.”

“Okay… I’m sorry, Laura. I don’t mean to make things worse.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you need to step away for a few days. Let me handle it.”

“You don’t have to handle things alone. Neither of you.”

“I’ll let you know if we need anything.” Then Laura slipped inside before Logan could say anything more.

Laura’s eyes scanned the dark apartment. You weren’t anywhere to be found in the living areas. She kicked off her shoes and headed further into the apartment. She peeked in the bathroom and her room before finding you curled up on the bed in your room. You were still in your clothes from the day before, back facing the open door. Laura quietly set her backpack down before going over and crawling behind you on the bed.

“Laura?” You rasped, turning around.

“Hey, mom,” she whispered. Her eyes scanned your burned face from the tears before falling to your wrapped hands. “Are you okay? I heard something happened.”

“Did Logan call you?”

“No, but I wish he did. I found him sleeping outside the door… What happened?”

“It was nothing… It was stupid… and I shouldn’t have yelled at Logan the way I did… It’s just… There’s been moments were I forget that he’s not my Logan… my James… and then when it comes rushing back… it hurts.”

Laura nodded. “I know. It’s hard for me too… But, mom, what happened with your hands?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.”

“But you’re not.”

“I have to be… I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden, you’re my mom.”

“Yes, but about about Wade and Logan? They don’t need to be burdened by me.”

Laura scoffed. “Wade just feels blessed to be in your presence. You are his favorite superhero. And Logan… I think he’s just trying to do better than he was before… Letting them—us—help you is not being a burden. It’s showing strength in a different way… Just think about it.”

You smiled at Laura. “How did I get so lucky to have a daughter like you?” You leaned over and kissed her head. “Is Logan still out there?”

“I don’t know, but probably.”

“I know I should apologize, but I’m not ready… We both owe each other explanations.”

“I’m on your side, no matter what.”

“Thanks, kiddo.”

~~~

Logan was clearly tense as he entered his shared apartment. Wade was at their table, messily eating a bowl of cereal.

“Well, hello, Peanut!” Wade greeted, mouth full of food. “Have a fun night?”

Logan grunted, heading straight for the fridge and pulling out a bottle of beer.

“It’s a bit early for beer, isn't it?” Wade questioned. Logan didn’t respond, lifting the drink up to his lips and drinking it all in one go. “Woah there, Peanut. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Logan grumbled. “Just screwing up everything like usual.”

“Oh, drama! Spill the tea.”

“The fuck?”

“It means tell me all the juicy gossip! Wow, that was either your age showing or your universe was very different in it’s lingo than this one.”

“Fuck you.” Then Logan headed to his room and slammed the door.

“You two better not be having sex out there!” Althea shouted. “I don’t want to here any of it!”

~~~

You avoided Logan for the next few days. It wasn’t like Logan didn’t try to get to you, but you actively ignored him and Laura acted like your own personal bodyguard. Logan eventually started pulling away, but not completely. He lingered out of the corner of your eye in the shadows, always concerned, always there.

Wade immediately noticed that something was wrong between his best friends and he wasn’t having it. 

“Good morning, Peanut!” Wade sauntered out into his apartment kitchen, where Logan was sitting at the table, an unlit cigar between his lips. “Need help lighting that? I know a beautiful firestarter next door that—“

“No,” Logan interrupted, voice firm and final.

“I’m sure she wouldn’t—“

“You know that she can’t use her powers. Don’t offer them up like their yours.”

Wade put his hands up in surrender. “I’m just trying to help you out there, Peanut. You’ve been moping around here for days when you’re not off fixing cars. I’m just trying to be your bestest friend.” He plopped down in the chair across from Logan. “So talk to me, Peanut. I’m all ears.”

Logan scoffed, pulling the cigar from his mouth and rolling it between his fingers. A lot was weighing on Logan’s mind. He understood that Wade was trying, which was a lot for the loud mouth, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it all. Before Wade could say anything to push Logan further, Logan heard the sound of your apartment door shutting. He got off the chair and took large strides over to the door, using the peep hole to look out in the hallway. 

You and Laura were in the hallway, looking like you may be heading to run errands. His eyes looked for your hands. He sighed when he noticed the compression gloves. 

“”m goin’ to work,” Logan mumbled, before opening the door and stepping out in the hall.

You and Laura immediately looked over at Logan. The three of you standing there, frozen. Wade peeked his head out, taking in the sight. He whistled.

“Well, the tension out here is thick,” Wade commented. “Maybe my Peanut Buttercup should just go and fuck it out—“

“Wade!” Logan snarled.

“Do you guys need anything at the store?” Laura asked.

“Oh, yes!” Wade responded. “Some more Lucky Charms and condoms and—“

You couldn’t help but laugh at Wade. “Just text us your list Wade,” you told him. “We’ll be happy to pick it up.”

“Do you two, uh, do you need any help?” Logan asked.

“We’re good,” Laura stated. “Thanks.” She looped her arm through yours and began pulling you away. “Let’s go, mom.”

Logan watched as Laura pulled you away. Wade watched, eyes flickering  from Logan to you and Laura before going back to Logan.

“Maybe you should chase after her, Prince Charming,” Wade whispered, nudging Logan with his elbow.

“Fuck off,” Logan retorted. “I’m goin’ to work. Don’t wait up for me.”

~~~

Wade found himself at your bar near closing time.

“Hey, Buttercup!” He greeted, slipping into one of the bar stools. 

“Wade,” you replied with a smile as you wiped down the bar. “We close in five minutes.”

“I know. Came to walk you home.”

“Really?”

“And maybe figure out why you and Little Wolf are shutting out Wolvie.”

You sighed. “Wade… Now is not the time.”

“Oh, I know. Which is why I’m walking you home. And don’t you think you can get rid of me. Ain’t that easy, baby.”

~~~

Closing up the bar was quicker tonight, much to your dismay. Wade stuck around like he had told you and even tried his hand at helping, though he wasn’t very helpful. Before you knew it, the two of you were walking home. Wade immediately noticed how tense you were, like you were trying to make yourself smaller. Something was wrong and before he could get to the bottom of it, a man stumbled into view from the alley. The strong stench of alcohol wafted off of him.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” the man slurred. “Been a few days… You owe me a new jacket. You burned the last one.” He reached for you. 

Wade quickly grabbed the man’s wrist. “I wouldn’t touch her if I were you, asshole,” his voice was threatening. 

“She owes me a new jacket or a really good blowjob. I was just trying to be nice to the pretty lady.”

“Okay,” Wade whipped out a small knife and held it to the man’s throat.”

“Wade, don’t!” You said.

“Oh, Baby Knife and I will if this man ever tries to get his grubby hands on you again.” He shoved the man back towards the alley. “Now go wet your whistle in one of the drain pipes back there and never get near my Buttercup again.”

The man stumbled back into the darkness. Wade spun around to face you.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you muttered, continuing the path back to the apartments. 

“No biggie,” Wade waved off. “Big Brother Deadpool is always up for some protecting.”

“I could have handled it.”

“Didn’t need to.”

“But I could have.”

Your insistence caught Wade’s attention. “It’s an honor to protect my favorite hear.” Wade notice you tense at his words. “Okay, Buttercup, time to start talking.”

“Nothing to say.”

Wade scoffed. “Bullshit. Clearly that man had tried something before and you took care of it. And then there’s you and Logan and your built up trauma from like ninety years of events and—“

“Please drop it, Wade!” You stopped and faced Wade, hands trembling as your powers threatened to surface. “Just stop! I can’t— There’s so much— I’m not—“

Wade’s hands cupped your face as your breaths became panicky. He didn’t care that your skin was growing hotter. “Look at me, Buttercup. Focus on me.”

“I’m sorry,” you cried. “I’m sorry that I’m letting you down… that I’m letting everyone down…”

“Never.” He shook his head. “You’re not letting anyone down, Buttercup. Don’t you ever say in front of me again.”

“Everything hurts, Wade… Everything.”

“Good thing I’m here then.” You didn’t bother to stop him as he swept you off your feet and held you close. “I’ve got you, Buttercup. Don’t you fret.”

~~~

Logan was pacing his apartment as he tried to think of a way to fix things with you. There was also the fact that his own issues had been spiraling with each passing second. He couldn’t dump that all on you, you deserved better. Though, it seemed very hypocritical since he would take on any of your issues in a heartbeat. He stopped pacing when he could hear a set of footsteps out in the hallway. Logan quickly opened the door to see Wade carrying you down the hall.

“What happened?” Logan asked. “Is she hurt?”

“Hold your claws, Peanut,” Wade replied. “Our Little Flame isn’t injured.”

“I’m fine, Logan,” you whispered. 

“Come on, let’s go see Little Wolf.”

Logan was quick to reach your apartment door first, opening it for you and Wade. Laura was working on homework on the couch but rushed over as soon as she saw you in Wade’s arms.

“Mom! Are you alright?” She fretted, scanning you for any signs of injury.

“I’m fine,” you repeated. “Wade’s just overreacting.”

Wade scoffed. “Sure, whatever you say.” He sat you down all the couch. “Okay, I’ll be back. Nobody move!” Then suddenly he was out the door and running down the hall.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Laura asked, coming over to sit beside you.

You nodded. “I’m fine, kiddo.”

Wade rushing came back into the apartment in full Deadpool gear and weapons. He slammed the door shut before locking it and leaning against it, twirling one of his golden guns.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Logan asked.

“No one is leaving this apartment until we all spill our issues,” Wade replied. “I’m calling this therapy, Deadpool style.”

next chapter >

[touchtheinvisiblestars]

Close To Home Part Three

Read part 2 here!

***

You tried to stay in the moment—really, you did.

The afternoon sun warmed the patio as you sat across from your sister at the café table, but your mind kept drifting. She was talking, catching you up on something her youngest had done earlier in the week, but you weren’t really there. Not fully.

“Okay,” she said suddenly, cutting off her own story with a knowing squint, she sat forward eyeing you suspiciously. “You’re doing that thing.”

You blinked, feeling caught out. “What thing?”

“That thing where you nod like you’re listening, but you are somewhere else entirely. You’ve barely touched your sandwich.”

You looked down at your plate, cheeks flushing slightly. You hadn’t realized how lost you were in your thoughts. Joel’s voice, the way his hands held you, the way he’d said your name like it had weight—it kept replaying in your head, looping like a quiet hum beneath everything else.

You let out a small laugh and shrugged. “Sorry. Just… long week.”

“Mm-hmm.” She leaned forward with that sharp, playful grin she always used when she was about to dig something out of you. “Or is this about a guy?”

Your silence was answer enough.

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh my god—it is. Okay, spill. Who is he? When did this happen? Why haven’t I been told?”

You glanced over to where her kids were playing just beyond the patio rail, racing through the grass of the park nearby with their dad, blissfully unaware of anything beyond their own giggles. “Can we walk? I feel weird talking about this sat here.”

“Absolutely,” she said, already standing, practically vibrating with curiosity.

You strolled along the sidewalk, uneaten food long forgotten, heading toward the path that wrapped around the park. Birds chirped overhead and spring leaves rustled in the breeze, but the moment felt oddly out of sync with the storm of feelings twisting in your stomach.

“So,” she prompted gently, “what’s his name?”

“Joel,” you said quietly. “Met him a few nights ago. At a bar. We talked for hours. Then… well… we spent the night together.”

Your sister’s eyes widened. “Whoa. Okay! Wow. I don't recognise his name... He got a last name?”

You laughed, though it sounded more self-conscious than amused. “Probably, yeah. But I didn’t get his last name or his number. He got a message the next morning- had to leave. And now I’ve got no way of reaching him. It’s just—”

“You’re hoping he shows up again,” she finished for you, softer now.

You nodded, your throat tightening a little. “It didn’t feel like a one-night thing. It just… felt different. He was different.”

She nudged your shoulder with hers. “Hey. If it was meant to be something more, you’ll see him again.”

You smiled faintly, though doubt still sat heavily in your chest. It left a sour taste in your mouth that you couldn't easily ignore.

***

The next few days passed in a blur of routine—school, grading, early mornings, and quiet evenings. Every time your phone buzzed, you hoped maybe, somehow, he’d found your number. But of course he hadn’t. You never gave him your number. Part of you thanked yourself for not asking. At least you didn't have the worry of him ghosting you properly.

By Thursday, you’d convinced yourself to let it go. Maybe it really was just one of those passing moments—beautiful, but fleeting.

You stopped by the grocery store after work, the mundane comfort of your shopping list grounding you in the now. You were halfway down the cereal aisle, reaching for a box, when a familiar voice cut through the quiet buzz of the store.

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

You froze for half a second before slowly turning.

There he was.

Joel stood a few feet away, a bottle of milk in one hand, his other tucked into the pocket of his jacket. He looked… the same. Worn flannel, jeans, hair a little messy—but his eyes were locked on you like you were the only thing in the aisle that mattered.

Your breath caught. “Joel.”

He gave a sheepish smile. “I, uh… didn’t get your number. Wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”

Your heart flipped, your fingers tightening slightly around the box in your hand. “Yeah. Same here.”

The silence that followed was thick but charged. He took a tentative step closer.

“You’ve been alright?” Joel asked, his voice low.

You nodded, offering a soft smile. “Yeah, I’ve been good. Work’s been keeping me busy.” Your voice was quiet, maybe a little too quiet, but you didn’t trust yourself not to let something more spill out if you weren’t careful. “How about you?”

“Same,” he said with a faint huff of a laugh. “Work’s been nonstop. Barely had time to think lately.”

You looked at him then, something warm tugging at your chest. “It’s really good to see you, Joel.”

His eyes softened, the corners of his mouth twitching like there was something he wanted to say but hadn’t figured out how to yet. The silence stretched between you—not uncomfortable, just filled with the weight of all that hadn’t been said.

Then he shifted slightly, like he’d made up his mind. “Wanna grab a coffee or somethin’? Catch up properly?”

Your heart kicked up at the simplicity of it. No pressure. No games. Just a chance.

You nodded, eyes meeting his. “Yeah. I’d really like that.”

He gave you a smile, one of those quiet ones that settled in slowly, warm and genuine. “You busy now? Or should we just leave it to fate again?”

You grinned, a small laugh escaping as you glanced down at your half-filled shopping basket. “The only plan I had this evening was groceries and meal prep. And honestly?” You looked up at him. “Getting coffee with you sounds a whole lot better.”

Joel chuckled, reaching for the basket in your hand without asking. “Then let’s call it fate and good timing.”

[thornsnvultures]

anywhere || eddie munson x plus size!reader

cw: angst, talking about drug usage, eddie's in the hospital post-vecna, your mom kinda fuckin sucks, best friend!eddie who likes you more than you realize

a/n: that one line in the muppet babies theme song fucks me up every time. literally every time I hear it I tear up. so thanks for that jim henson.

-----

"When your world looks kinda weird and you wish you weren't there," Eddie's terrible Kermit impression makes you laugh so hard you almost spill the bowl of cereal you're pouring. You hit him back with your equally terrible baby Miss Piggy voice.

"Just close your eyes and make believe that you could be anywhere!"

Eddie snorts at the way your voice cracks trying to hit notes your voice was not made to hit.

"Shut up, that was flawless and you know it," you hand Eddie his bowl with a grin and plop down on the couch next to him. Were you watching cartoons made for children? Yes, but who didn't love Kermit the Frog and his adorable little muppet friends?

You missed this, being here with Eddie. A lot had changed since you started going to college last year while Eddie stayed behind to be a senior for a third time, but not this. Your friendship never changed. It was something you treasured coming home to, when you could. School was starting to pile up and these visits were becoming few and far between, but Eddie would always be your Eddie. You were sure of it.

"So you're leading up Hellfire now, huh?," you asked Eddie as you finished your cereal. He took your bowl and put it on the coffee table with his, not meeting your eyes. Maybe you shouldn't have brought it up. The two of you didn't talk about it much, him still being in school. Like you didn't want to break the spell that everything was normal. The two of you hanging out like normal, like you did since you were kids. It was comfortable, you didn't want to ruin that.

"Yeah the, uh...yeah. It's up to me now I guess. The guys know they can't compete with my campaigns."

He's smiling, all cocky because it's true, they're always amazing. But his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.

Weren't your just saying nothing had changed? Maybe you a lot had changed and you just weren't paying attention.

"I miss adventuring with you," you sigh, snuggling into Eddie's side until he puts his arm over your shoulder. "And the guys."

"Yeah, they miss you too," Eddie's voice sounds strained. You try to move thinking you're laying on him in a weird way, but he just pulls you closer, tighter.

You spend the rest of the morning watching cartoons. Eventually you forget the weird tension, putting it aside to enjoy your day with your best friend before you have to leave again.

-----

It's a year before you see Eddie again.

School was tough, taking up so much of your free time you barely saw anyone besides the librarian and the two people you shared a dorm room with. You had tried to join a DnD club at school but your schedule didn't line up well with the rest of the group. And it wasn't the same. You missed Eddie's energy, his frantic dramatics. The guys were cool but sticklers for rules and, to put it nicely, boring.

You couldn't take being away from home any longer, you missed your friend.

So when your mom called one Friday afternoon and told you, in her own bizarre and nonchalant way, that Eddie had been in some trouble recently and, "I'm sure you saw the news about the earthquakes," you came straight home.

"You know, I always thought he was a nice boy. Did you know he was selling... grass," your mom whispered the last word like police officers would be knocking down her door if she spoke too loud.

"I didn't." You did. You also partook, but your mother didn't need to know that.

"Anyway, everyone got all upset when that little cheerleader died, but when they found him, like that, I guess they thought he was a victim too. Can't maul yourself like that, that's for sure."

"Oh my god, mom," you stand up, your chair harshly scraping against the linoleum. You can't sit here and listen to this any more.

"Where are you going? I have a pie in the oven."

Your mom follows you to the door, huffing like you're the one being ridiculous. She never liked Eddie much but the ease with which she talks about your childhood best friend being... mauled...

"I'll be back later."

You don't wait for her to respond, slamming the door as you go. You hop in the hand-me-down car your dad gave you before you left for school, peeling down the drive and heading straight for the hospital like you should've done when you got back. Tears cloud the edges of your vision until they spill over, you don't bother wiping them away.

-----

"Hey, you're Eddie's girl."

"Excuse me?"

A short, curly haired boy in a baseball cap appears next to you when you ask the receptionist where Eddie's room is located.

"It's okay, Brenda. She's with me." You snort out a laugh when the boy tips his hat to the woman behind the desk. Her smile and the wave of her hand tells you she is in fact used to this.

"I'm Dustin," the kid explains as you follow him through the maze of hallways and elevators. "Eddie's told me a lot about you. Recognized you from the picture he thinks I don't know about in his glove box. Not my fault he just shoves stuff in there. If he didn't want everything to spill out he should organize. Not that I'm great at organizing either-"

"I'm sorry," you stop Dustin's rambling, your head spinning from all that information, narrowing in on the one that stuck. "He keeps my picture in his van?"

"Yeah a few in his room too. He's just down here. You just missed the guys, Jeff had to go to work and he was their ride so they left. Wayne will be in later. He usually stops by after work."

Dustin kept talking and you tried to keep up but the closer you got to Eddie's room the more your ears rang and your chest felt tight. You knew it was bad, he'd been in for a few days and was still heavily sedated after a number of surgeries. Wayne told you the day before you came back on the phone that he might not be awake when you got here. The old man might've been trying to spare you the trip, but you were coming to see him no matter what. You should've come back a long time ago.

Standing outside his room now, the year you were away felt like an eternity now. How had your Eddie changed? Was he your Eddie anymore? Was he ever yours?

"Hey, you comin' in? He's still sleeping."

Steeling yourself with one deep breath, you enter Eddie's room. With one look at Eddie and you're asking Dustin for a minute alone, pulling up a chair by his side.

"Sorry I'm late, Eddie. Traffic coming out of the city is crazy." You laugh at your stupid joke because you'll cry if you do anything else. You don't think about the air tube in his nose or the beeping heart monitor, the bandages on his arms or how hollow, how fragile he looks.

"My mom said you've been selling 'grass'," you chuckle as you twist one of his curls around your finger. "Should I tell her how many times I snuck out to smoke with you? She's already mad at me for taking time off from school to be here."

Eddie lays there as you talk, sleeping softly as you compliment the cards and flowers on the window sill. You tell him how the past two semesters of school have been, how miserable you've been without him, how guilty you've felt for "missing" his calls, not reading his letters because you've been too exhausted to do anything that wasn't surviving and work.

You're holding his weirdly ring-less fingers, contemplating leaving instead of holding out hope that he'll wake up while you're here, when you hear a familiar theme song on the television.

"When your world looks kind of weird,"

Your gaze falls from the TV to your friend in his hospital bed.

"And you wish you weren't there,"

Your eyes close wishing you were back in Eddie's house, stoned out of your mind doing muppet impressions.

A tear falls down your cheek as you close your eyes and sing along with Miss Piggy, not caring how ridiculous you sound.

"Just close your eyes and make believe and you can be anywhere."

You choke on a sob, suddenly angry at this stupid kids show for making you lose it when you were holding yourself together so well.

"Still sounds awful."

You open your eyes, wiping your tears away with your hand not in Eddie's at the groggy sound of his voice. He's holding the other one tight, almost too tight, like you'll run if he lets go.

"That was a perfect impression," the words stutter on a heaving breath but you're smiling through it.

"I'm on so many drugs."

"I'll go get the nurse," you laugh, trying to pull yourself together.

"No," Eddie just barely tugs on your hand, not yet strong enough to pull you close. "Don't leave."

"I'm not, I won't. I'm here, Eddie. I'm sorry."

Eddie's eyes flutter shut, too tired yet for a full conversation, but he won't let your hand go. You find the call button next to the bed to call the nurse and wait.

"I'm not going anywhere."

---

--

-

🖤

[nicnak20]

Overcompensate:

*Nicholas overcompensates for Mother's Day for his little girl, Lola.*

The morning sunshine spilled into Nicholas’s modest kitchen, pooling in golden puddles on the linoleum floor. The air smelled faintly of vanilla from the candle he’d lit an hour ago, its soft flicker illuminating the list spread out on the table before him.

Nicholas tapped his pen against the paper, furrowing his brow as he reviewed his plans yet again. "Breakfast in bed, even if it’s not in bed—check. Homemade card with glitter—check. Big bouquet of sunflowers—that’s next."

The eight-year-old girl beside him, Lola, sat swinging her legs under the table. Her brown hair was a perfect echo of his, and when she looked at him with her wide, hopeful eyes, his heart clenched. He wanted to wrap up the world for her, to shield her from the emptiness looming in the shadow of Mother’s Day. He wanted to give her everything.

Lola’s mother, Diana, had passed away when she was just four. Each year since, Nicholas had tried harder and harder to fill the void, to make sure Lola never felt left out because she didn’t have a mother to celebrate. This year was no different.

The sound of a knock on the door jarred Nicholas from his thoughts. He stood abruptly, scribbling "Call bakery for cupcakes" at the bottom of the list as he went.

It was Yn.

She stood there holding a small paper bag in one hand and her reusable water bottle in the other. Her warm smile—and the red cardigan she wore even on a sunny spring day—immediately softened Nicholas's frantic energy.

“Morning,” Yn said cheerfully, stepping inside before he fully registered her arrival.

“Morning,” Nicholas replied, scratching the back of his neck. “What brings you by? I’ve, uh—well, it’s a busy day.”

Yn raised an eyebrow and glanced at the list on the table. She had known Nicholas for years, long enough to know when he was overthinking something. Her eyes flicked subtly to Lola, who waved at her from the kitchen before returning to her cereal.

“I figured you’d be busy,” she replied, setting her bag on his counter. The faint aroma of baked goods drifted through the paper. “I thought I’d stop by with muffins and help out, if you wanted.”

Nicholas offered a worn yet grateful smile. “Thanks, Yn. But it's Mother’s Day. I’m just—well, you know. Trying to make it a nice day for Lola,” he said, and Yn didn’t miss the tightness in his voice.

“You always do,” she said. She folded her hands in front of her and leaned against the counter, watching him as he rummaged around the kitchen, pulling out plates and glasses like a man on a mission.

“Yeah, but it’s not enough,” he admitted quietly. His back was to her, but the tension in his shoulders spoke volumes. "It’s never enough.”

Yn paused, unsure whether to press, but the way he exhaled—as though the weight of the world were resting solely on him—nudged her forward.

She crossed the floor, her footsteps soft. “Nicholas,” she said gently, placing a hand on his arm. When he finally turned to face her, the vulnerability in his eyes caught her off guard.

“She deserves more. She deserves a day that feels perfect, like every other kid’s,” he said, his voice breaking just a little. “And I don’t want her to feel... to feel like she’s missing anything.”

Yn’s heart ached as she looked up at him. Of course he would think this way. It was so like Nicholas to pour himself into everyone else, to carry more than he should out of love. It was one of the things she admired most about him—how deeply he cared. But she could see that, in this moment, his well-meaning intentions were spiraling into self-doubt.

“Nicholas,” she began softly, but firmly, “what you’re doing is already enough. You don’t need the glitter or the sunflowers or a perfect list of plans to make today special.”

He shook his head, his features clouded with doubt. “But—”

“You listen to her. You show her every single day how much you love her. And that’s more than enough,” Yn interrupted. “She doesn’t need grand gestures. What she needs is you.”

Nicholas opened his mouth to retort, but the sincerity in Yn’s expression gave him pause. He glanced over at Lola, whose head tilted curiously as she watched them. She gave him a small, cereal-covered smile before turning her focus back to a sticker book.

Finding his voice again, Nicholas said, “But what about today? Today’s hard for her—harder than most days. I just… I don’t want her to feel forgotten.”

Yn stepped closer, pulling a chair out from the table and sitting down. She didn’t rush. Instead, she waited until he followed suit, his unspoken willingness to listen telling her as much as words could.

“When I was little,” Yn began, her voice warm, “Father’s Day was hard for me because I didn’t have my dad around. But you know what I remember? I don’t remember the gifts I got or any grand events. What I do remember—the days I felt most loved—were the ones where someone just spent time with me. Real time. They made me feel seen, like I wasn’t alone.” She smiled faintly. “I think what Lola needs most today is the same thing: you.”

Nicholas looked down, his hand wrapped around a coffee mug he hadn’t realized he’d grabbed. “You think so?”

“I know so.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Yn let her words linger, trusting that Nicholas would absorb them in his own time. He always had a way of soaking in advice, letting it settle before responding.

Finally, he sighed and looked up, the faintest hint of a smile gracing his lips. “How do you always know what to say?”

Yn shrugged in mock humility, earning her a chuckle from him. “It’s a talent,” she teased.

They both turned to watch Lola, who had now crouched by her sticker book on the living room floor, her face glowing with the unburdened joy of childhood.

“She’s got your sweetness, you know,” Yn said after a moment.

Nicholas’s gaze softened. “I just wish I could protect her from everything.”

“You’re doing that,” Yn said earnestly. “Every day. Just by being you.”

The two exchanged a quiet smile before Yn clapped her hands together, breaking the moment. “Now,” she announced, “how about we ditch the bakery idea, grab some ingredients, and bake cupcakes together instead? I’m great at making a mess, and I bet Lola would love to decorate them.”

Nicholas chuckled, shaking his head. “You really like to hijack my planning, don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” Yn said with a grin. “It’s one of my many hidden talents.”

Nicholas stood, the anxiety that had wrapped around him earlier finally beginning to unravel. He crossed the room and knelt beside Lola, who peered up at him with curious eyes.

“Hey, how about we make our own cupcakes today? Just us—and Yn too, if she wants?”

Lola’s face lit up. “Can we put sprinkles on them?”

“As many sprinkles as you want,” he promised.

Lola nodded enthusiastically before grabbing Nicholas’s hand and dragging him toward the cupboard where he stashed the baking supplies. Yn followed closely behind, her heart warmed by the quiet joy dancing in Lola’s giggles—and in Nicholas’s softer, more relaxed smile.

The rest of the day passed without a hitch. Flour dusted everyone’s clothes as Lola and Yn turned the kitchen into organized chaos, and Nicholas finally let go of the rigid plan he’d been holding onto so tightly. The cupcakes weren’t perfect, but they were decorated with love—and that meant more than any store-bought treat ever could.

And as they sat on the porch that evening, watching the sun dip below the horizon, Lola leaned against Nicholas’s side, her small hand clutching his arm.

“This was the best Mother’s Day ever,” she said softly. The words caught Nicholas off guard, but when he looked down at her, he saw nothing but pure, unfiltered contentment in her expression.

Nicholas glanced at Yn, who offered an “I told you so” look before smiling genuinely at the pair.

“Yeah,” Nicholas murmured, placing a kiss on Lola’s forehead. “It really was.”

Even without glitter and perfectly planned moments, love had filled the day—and for Nicholas, that was finally enough.

[metalinjector95]

The Boot Knife Incident

The portal to Heaven shimmered like liquid sunlight, humming with celestial resonance. Charlie stood at its edge, hands clasped nervously. Vaggie stood just behind her, bouncing slightly on her heels.

“You ready?” Charlie asked, voice soft but steady.

Vaggie looked her in the eye. “Yeah. Just gotta, uh… make a small adjustment.”

Charlie tilted her head. “What kind of—”

Without warning, Vaggie lifted one leg, gripped the ankle of her boot, and shook.

CLANK.

A knife hit the ground.

Then another.

And another.

CLANG. CLINK. CLACKCLACKCLACK.

A literal arsenal of blades spilled out in a pile at her feet, echoing loudly through the heavenly silence. The portal flickered slightly, as if confused.

Charlie stared. “Vaggie…”

Vaggie, now holding her boot upside-down like a busted cereal box, shrugged. “What? It’s called being prepared.”

Charlie blinked. “That’s eighteen knives.”

“Not my record.”

Charlie pinched the bridge of her nose, but she was fighting a smile. “The angels said no weapons, remember?”

Vaggie huffed. “Yeah, and I remember how trusting strangers has gone literally every other time. I’m channeling my inner Sasha Waybright, babe. Boot knives save lives.”

“You’re not even wearing pants with pockets. How did you fit this many knives in one boot?”

Vaggie paused, dead serious. “Latina rage. It’s spatially unbound.”

Charlie burst out laughing, leaning against her for support. “Okay, fine. But you’re leaving the armory here. We’re trying to prove we’re peaceful.”

Vaggie gave the pile of knives one last longing look, then sighed. “If we die, I’m haunting Heaven just to say ‘I told you so.’”

Charlie kissed her cheek. “Deal.”

And with that, they stepped into the light—leaving behind the sharpest breakup pile Heaven had ever seen.

[calinaannehart]

The Parts We Play - Chapter 9

“And then Miss Greene said she liked my story so much that she wants to put it in the school paper!” Chris practically yells, gesticulating with so much excitement that his cereal bowl goes flying. Buck scrambles to catch the bowl, attempting to limit the amount of milk that gets spilled, and just manages to snag it before it drops over the lip of the table. “Oops, sorry.” Chris winces.

“It’s okay, buddy, you were just excited,” Eddie tells him, grabbing some paper towels and mopping up the puddle of milk and spilled cereal.

“Yeah, no need to cry over spilled milk,” Buck laughs at his own joke, his big dopey grin faltering when Chris just blinks at him, not getting the punchline. “Oh, come on, that was funny.”

“Was it?” Christopher deadpans. Buck lays a hand over his heart and puts on an overacted sad face.

“You wound me, Chris.”

Eddie leaves them to their banter while he cleans up the rest of the mess, the devoted attention Buck is giving his son making his heart sing. He always listens to whatever Christopher tells him with rapt attention, hanging off every word even when the kid trips over them and tells his stories out of sequence. Buck never gets frustrated or looks like he’s had enough of Chris’ attention, always happy to build ‘just one more’ Lego sculpture or play ‘one last round’ of Mario Kart.

They’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, he and Buck as well as the three of them together, and it’s clear that Christopher is enamored with the man and not just because Buck played his favorite superhero. Buck has time for him.

Buck’s schedule has been pretty full on, runs of sixteen-hour filming days, with sessions with his personal trainer and various press appearances sandwiched between. It’s left Eddie wondering when Buck finds time to eat or sleep, he either has limitless energy or survives on an unhealthy amount of caffeine.

“Are you excited for next week?” Buck asks as Eddie clears the last of the cereal, pushing Christopher’s bowl back toward him as a prompt to finish his breakfast.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” He shrugs, leaning down to steal a bite of Buck’s toast as he lifts it to his mouth. Christopher hadn’t questioned why Buck was already at his house when he woke up that morning, it’s not the first time he’s joined them for breakfast. In the three weeks since the gala, he’s stayed over as often as he can as long as he’s not on a night shoot and Eddie isn’t working.

It's been nice. Really nice, in fact, snuggling under the covers with someone again. Eddie’s never been a touchy-feely type of person, not even with Shannon. He enjoyed it when they did touch, whether it was with or without clothes, but he’s never really needed that physical contact as much as some people do. As much as Buck seems to. But he hadn’t quite realized just how much he missed the feeling of skin on skin, the opportunity to explore another body with his fingers, his lips, or his tongue.

Read on AO3

If you like please support my work and reblog!

[seducemefanficsandheadcanons]

Ending Unplanned

Also posted on Ao3

Chapter Four- Ballad of a homeschooled girl

And I hate all my clothes, feels like my skin doesn't fit right over my bones

So I guess I should go, the party's done, and I'm no fun, I know, I know,

I know, I know

I broke a glass, I tripped and fell, I told secrets I shouldn't tell

I stumbled over all my words, I made it weird, I made it worse

Each time I step outside, it's social suicide

Social suicide, wanna curl up and die, it's social suicide

ballad of a homeschooled girl- Olivia Rodrigo

At around midnight, Aron found herself laying awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. She can hear Melody, who is sleeping beside her, sleep talking, earning a soft giggle from her. 

Her right arm has gone back to normal, though a bit sore from being so tense. Her left one remains curled in, locked in place, as it has been for about a week. Her head is aching, and her body feels like it’s buzzing, reminding her of her episode earlier.

She has seizures daily, however they weren’t always the stereotypical ones that caused large convulsions. She had a variety of types, and the larger ones always had the longest effects, and were the kind she had the rarest.

She slowly sat up and climbed off of the bed, careful not to wake her sleeping friend. She never got to eat the snack she was attempting to make before the episode, so her stomach ached with hunger.

Aron opened the door and walked out, rubbing her eyes as she did, when suddenly she walked straight into a firm surface- which was actually a firm chest. Sam’s firm chest, to be exact. “What the-”

She gasped in shock, immediately backing up against the wall as she looked up at the confused demon. They stayed like that for a few seconds; her looking up at him with big, shocked eyes, and him looking down at her with a look of shock that morphed into one she couldn’t quite decipher. She couldn’t tell if he was concerned or annoyed.

“You alright?” he asked slowly, his brows furrowed.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good. I’m sorry! Are you okay?” she asked, shaking her head slightly as he broke her from her thoughts. Damn, his eyes are green as hell. 

His expression didn’t change for a few seconds as his eyes searched her face, before it went back to his usual look of boredom and annoyance. “I’m fine,” he told her, shrugging.

“Cool, good…” she said, smiling softly at him.

The hallway fell into awkward silence, the two standing like that wordlessly. “So, uh…” Aron furrowed her brows, annoyed with her inability to form a sentence. “What are you doing outside my door?” she asked, trying to make the moment less uncomfortable.

“Oh! Uh,” his face turned a bit pink suddenly, making her furrow her brows in confusion. “Well, I was gonna check to see if you were alright after earlier,” he admitted.

“Oh, well um…thanks for checking but I’m good,” she told him. “And thank you for not letting me collapse onto the kitchen floor. That would have uh…sucked, so yeah, thanks,” she added, mentally cursing the awkwardness dripping from each word.

Sam kept his- obviously forced, at the moment- nonchalant stance, a small smile gracing his lips. “No problem. Besides, I would have had to clean up the cereal if you spilled it.”

She huffed out a soft laugh. “Right.”

He reached over and ruffled her hair slightly, causing her face to heat up even more.

Once again, they fell into uncomfortable silence. Aron pursed her lips a bit and looked around the area, unsure of what she was supposed to say. “So…”

“Hey!” Matthew’s voice called through the hallway.

Aron perked up and turned to him, a bit of relief rushing through her as he broke the tension in the air. “Matthew! Hi! Can you make some mac n’ cheese? I’d make it myself but uh- hand doesn’t work, obviously. And I hate cooking so yeah. Please? I’ll pay you. Wait- okay maybe not because I don’t have cash, but yeah! Please? Unless you’re trying to sleep and-” she paused, realizing she’d been rambling.

“Yeah I’ll make you some! No worries, I wasn’t going to bed, and you don’t need to pay me back,” Matthew reassured her with a goofy grin. “Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make it?”

She nodded. “Sure!”

Matthew started to walk down the stairs, Aron paused to look at Sam. “Oh, yeah, thanks again. Goodnight,” she told him softly.

“G’night,” he said back before walking back to his room with a slight blush on his face.

Aron went down to the kitchen and propped herself up on the kitchen counter, playing on her phone as Matthew began gathering the ingredients. “So, what were you and Sam talking about in there? It seemed pretty awkward. Are you guys arguing again?”

She sighed. “Yeah, I don’t think it’s that. Like, I thanked him for helping me during my seizure. Well, that was after I ran into him. But still. Other than that, we weren’t talking about anything much. I don’t think, anyways.”

Matthew hummed. “Weird. You and Sam have a pretty weird relationship though,” he said as he turned on the stove.

“Right? Like, so, so weird,” Aron agreed with him. “Like, on a surface level, it’s simple. He doesn’t like me for whatever reason, which is fine. But that- whatever that was, the thing in the hall, weird!”

Matthew grinned teasingly at her. “Oh yeah? Maybe you have a crush on each other.”

“Oh my god,” Aron groaned into her hands, feeling her face warm up at the accusation. “Are you kidding me? Matthew, no.”

He snickered to himself. “Right, okay. We’ll see about that.”

She gave him an unserious glare, before they both dissolved into giggles. 

The two ate the food together and she attempted to help him with cleaning the kitchen, though it ended up just being her wiping down counters with her free hand. Once they finished, Aron went back to bed, unable to block the memory from her mind as she laid in bed.

[darthbloodorange]

Baby Plans

Rating: Teens Universe: Avengers Assemble Pairings: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Clint Barton Warnings: Swearing Major Tags: Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Humour, Established Relationship, Pets, Clint Barton is a Little Shit, POV Steve Rogers Word Count: 400 - Quadruple Drabble

Summery: Tony brings up his plans for their future with Steve.

For the: ✦ CapIM Holiday Exchange 2024 Community Gift Prompt: Steve and Tony discuss their future together.

Read below or on AO3 >HERE<

Steve yawns as he turns on the kettle. He reaches up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Tony enters the kitchen, looking shifty. And surprisingly alert for him so early in the morning.

Not wanting to provoke chaos so early in the morning, Steve gives Tony a small smile and continues waiting for the kettle to boil. He'll find out what Tony is up to later when he is more awake to handle it.

Behind him, barely awake himself, Clint gasps, "Oh my god..."

Tony makes a sharp noise, shutting Clint up.

Steve takes a deep breath. It's too early for this. He hasn't even gone for his morning run yet.

The kettle clicks softly. Steve reaches for it, pouring the water into his cup.

"I want a baby!" Tony exclaims suddenly.

Steve jumps. Spinning on his heel to face Tony, and spilling the hot water everywhere. "Shit!"

He quickly sets the kettle on the counter and reaches for a tea towel.

Tony, looking panicked, steps forward, a lead in his hand. "I mean, I got a dog!" he rushes to explain.

Tony steps aside and gives the lead a soft tug. A small puppy, tail wagging furiously, comes around the corner of the counter, sniffing at the kitchen cabinets.

Bending down, Tony picks up the puppy and holds it to his chest. "For practice," Tony says, "You know. I figured I could practice having a baby with the dog."

Steve's mind blanks. He stares at Tony, trying to put the situation together in his mind. Grasping for something to say and coming up short.

"FUCK!!!!" Tony says, taking a step back, "I…. I… Uh, gotta go." The man turns and quickly heads for an exit.

"Tony! Wait!" Steve rushes into action. Catching up to Tony in a few long strides, grabbing hold of his elbow. "You… What’s going on?" he asks, letting go of Tony as the man turns around.

Slowly meeting Steve's eyes, Tony lets out a long sigh. "I want to have a kid with you? Maybe?" Tony says.

Clint, with a mouth half full of cereal, calls out, "I thought he wanted to have babies with the dog."

"CLINT!" Steve and Tony cry out in unison. The puppy lets out a short bark.

Steve scratches behind the puppy's ears. "You’re serious? You want to adopt a kid with me?"

"Yeah…" Tony says, "In the future."

"Alright."

THE END

[princess-draws]

This is actually based off a video where he made a big bowl of cereal until it gone to waste and I cannot stop laughing at this bit XD

Jayden: *pours Hacker Crunch Cereal in the big bowl*

Cedric: Are you sure you want to do this?

Jayden: *pours milk* Yeah why not? I’m gonna finish the whole thing!

Cedric: I doubt it….

Jayden: *grabs the spoon and eats his cereal until he accidentally tips the bowl and spills everywhere especially on the table* FROOT! Oh nonono….

Cedric: *laughs* OH DADDY!

Jayden: Nonononono don’t you dare tell on me!

Cedric: Like I just did! *bursts in laughter* DAD MOM COME HERE!

Hacker: Now what is going on?!

Jayden: Uh oh…. *hides*

Hacker: *goes into the kitchen* What the?!

Jazz: Who made this mess?!

Hacker: JAYDEN! GET OVER HERE NOW!

Jayden: *runs away*

Hacker: GET BACK HERE NOW! *chases after Jayden*

Jazz: Cedric, It’s not funny! Help me clean up the mess!

[seesawsatan]

paper hearts and answer sheets

The low hum of chatter, the occasional clink of soda bottles, and the warm smell of takeout filled the shared apartment Jungkook called home. It wasn’t fancy, mismatched cushions, half-assembled IKEA furniture, a BTS poster half peeling off the wall — but it was home. And right now, it was also buzzing with energy, thanks to the full lineup of BTS members hanging around.

Jungkook’s knee bounced nervously as he glanced at the door.

“She’s late,” he muttered, earning a smirk from Jimin who was sprawled on the floor, lazily tossing popcorn into his mouth.

“She’s probably just nervous. You did say this is your first proper date night with her,” Namjoon offered, leaning back into the couch with a book still open in his hands.

“It’s not a date,” Jungkook said quickly. “It’s just... she’s meeting you guys. It’s casual.”

“Casual with all of us? That’s terrifying,” Yoongi deadpanned.

Then the buzzer rang.

Jungkook jumped to his feet. “She’s here.”

He rushed to open the door, revealing a petite girl with a nervous smile and wide eyes — Jiwon. Her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her oversized sweater, and her lips parted like she was about to say something, but then lost the words.

“Hey,” Jungkook said softly, smiling. “You look cute.”

She visibly relaxed. “Hi... thanks.”

He brought her in, and all at once, the noise turned into chaos. Introductions flew, hugs were offered, jokes cracked. Jiwon was trying her best not to melt into the floor. Then she noticed something odd — sneakers by the door, neatly lined up. Women’s sneakers.

Before she could ask, a door creaked open from down the hallway. A woman emerged — tall, black sweatpants, messy bun, oversized hoodie that probably belonged to Jungkook at some point. She had a red pen tucked behind her ear and a sleepy look in her eyes.

“Hey,” she said to the room. “Who left the cereal open again? I swear if the ants come back—”

“Not me!” Jungkook raised both hands.

“Wasn’t even here,” Jin chimed in.

Then she turned to Jungkook, eyes briefly landing on Jiwon. “Guest?”

“Oh— yeah. This is Jiwon. My—uh, girlfriend.”

Soyeon gave a short nod. “Cool. I’m Soyeon. Don’t mind the mess in the hallway, I was grading and spilled coffee on a whole stack of essays. Fun times.”

Then she disappeared back into her room, door shutting with a click.

Jiwon blinked. Girlfriend?

Who is that woman?

Why does she live here?

Why is she in sweatpants?

Why does she have coffee-stained homework?

The questions piled up in her head like traffic at rush hour. But she didn’t know how to ask without sounding jealous or weird. So she stayed quiet.

“Hyung, do we still have that frozen dumpling pack?” Jungkook yelled from the kitchen.

“I think Yoongi hid it behind the beer,” Hoseok called back.

While chaos ensued over food prep, Taehyung drifted quietly toward the hallway. No one noticed. Except Jiwon.

She watched him knock gently on the door. It opened, and Soyeon appeared again, red pen still in hand. No words passed between them that she could hear, but he slid inside, and the door closed behind him.

“Does... does Taehyung know her?” Jiwon asked, eyes darting to Jungkook.

“Huh? Yeah. They’ve hung out before,” Jungkook said absentmindedly as he searched for soy sauce.

Jiwon stared at the closed door. Her curiosity now morphed into something that buzzed under her skin.

After a while, when dinner plans were finally sorted (a chaotic fusion of dumplings, ramen, and “whatever we find in the fridge”), Jungkook knocked on Soyeon’s door.

“Hey, we’re starting food prep. You want dumplings or kimchi stew?”

Soyeon looked up from her grading. Taehyung was lounging on her bed, flipping through a notebook filled with sarcastic teacher doodles.

She got up, stretching. “Surprise me.”

“Okay— wait, come meet Jiwon properly.”

“Right,” she smirked. “Let’s interrogate the child.”

Jiwon, still nervously holding a plate of cut veggies, jumped a little when she saw Soyeon emerge from the hallway with Jungkook.

“Hey again,” Soyeon said, plopping down beside her. “You’re Jiwon?”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean— not ma’am. Just yes. I’m Jiwon.”

Soyeon raised an eyebrow, amused. “You’re cute. Nervous. But cute.”

Jiwon chuckled, unsure whether to feel comforted or more on edge.

“So,” Soyeon started, picking up a cucumber slice and examining it like it held secrets, “how long have you been seeing my idiot cousin?”

“Uh… about a month.”

“A month and you’re already at the inner sanctum of BTS chaos?”

Jiwon smiled shyly. “He insisted.”

“I’m surprised you survived the first ten minutes. Jungkook brings home girls like it’s a talent show sometimes. You must be special.”

Jiwon blinked. “W-what?”

“Relax. I’m kidding. Mostly.” Soyeon popped the cucumber into her mouth.

Jungkook groaned. “Noona...”

“I’m just testing her composure,” she replied. “And she’s passing.”

Jiwon finally laughed. “I think I like you.”

“Dangerous words. You haven’t seen me when I’m on my grading warpath.”

Right on cue, she left and returned with a terrifying stack of answer sheets, some already crumpled, many bleeding red ink.

“Alright, let’s play a game,” Soyeon said, dropping the papers on the table like it was poker night. “Guess what this kid meant by ‘The French Revolution was caused by France wanting to become Italy.’”

Everyone burst into laughter.

“Oh my god— what?” Namjoon asked, practically choking.

“I have so many of these,” she said, flipping pages like a magician.

“‘A triangle is just a confused circle’... What the hell does that even mean?” Jimin read, horrified and impressed.

“I swear, grading is the best comedy show I didn’t ask to attend,” Soyeon sighed dramatically.

Jiwon leaned in, peeking at the mess of notes and doodles. “Wait, did this kid draw an anime duck fighting Napoleon?”

“Yes. And somehow it earned a B-minus because the historical context was accidentally correct.”

Everyone laughed again, and the evening softened. Jiwon’s nerves ebbed away under the warmth of jokes, teasing, and the occasional sarcastic roast from Soyeon.

Later, as they ate dumplings in the cramped kitchen, Jiwon nudged Jungkook.

“She’s awesome.”

He smiled, watching Soyeon mock Taehyung over his terrible chopstick skills.

“Yeah,” he said fondly. “She really is.”

[photogrivy]

With each passing moment, the throbbing in Ivy’s head began to worsen. She’d tossed her pride aside the second she’d nuzzled against Louis Denver’s chest, practically begging the man to get her home, and she would be lying if she said she wasn’t grateful that he’d risen to the occasion practically on command. With unmistakably shaking hands, and a quiver in his tone that he tried to mask, Louis had jumped into action immediately. Ivy had relented to his touch almost instantly, allowing him to rifle through her jacket pocket – years of putting her guard up, cutting words and a firm right hook a shield to protect her body from prying eyes, or her measly possessions from wandering hands long forgotten as Louis rummaged around for her keys.  

Tentative as she might be under any other circumstances, Ivy allowed herself to be pulled in; Louis’ arm snaking around her waist in a way that felt safe and secure, a comfort that she surprised herself by having missed. Years may have passed, cruel jibes relayed back and forth, but her gut instinct still told her that Louis was somebody that she could trust. Perhaps not with her best friend’s heart or wellbeing, but almost certainly with her own. She stayed silent as Louis took the lead, guiding her to the safety of his car. His voice filled the silence between them, Ivy’s mind disoriented as she tried to keep up, to give him something in return, but she fell short each time, simply grunting or scoffing where she saw fit. She caught the tail end of sentences, thoughts jumbled as she absently pondered over who the fuck Lola was. 

The transition from street-to-car was arguably the worst part of Ivy’s night, the motion of lowering herself into the seat, her head dipping as Louis shielded her from any further harm causing her stomach to turn, her balance wavering once again. Feeling like she might throw up, she forced herself to focus on Louis instead, his hands making rapid work of her seatbelt. With a weak grip, Ivy closed her hand over his, giving his fingers a feeble squeeze, suddenly all too aware of just how much the blood-loss was impacting her circulation. She caught sight of herself in the front view mirror and winced, her face pale, dried blood caking her features. She hadn’t seen herself in such a state in years. 

“Oh fuck,” she grumbled, pulling her gaze away from the mirror, eyes meeting Louis’ as he pulled her attention back to him. He was blurry, currently sporting four eyes and an array of white spots dotted around his features as he swam in and out of focus, but he was definitely there. “Guess you were right; I do look like shit.” 

Her hand came up to grip his wrist, anchoring her as she tried to make sense of his question. The words rattled around in her mind, clumsily spilling out of her, Ivy in no fit state to comprehend anything past the ache in her skull. She felt out of sorts and scatterbrained, and if she had even half the talent that Louis and Wardo had for words, she might have been able to prattle off some pretentious spiel about how she was no more than a battered, broken box of cereal, words rattling out of her and crashing into the hungry mind of Louis Denver – a writer, a poet, cultivating the mindless ramblings of the people around him and crafting them into art.  

Instead, she was simply a battered, broken young woman, aimlessly trying to keep herself upright in the passenger seat of an old friend’s car. 

“Um. Home, yeah... It’s, uh...” she mumbled, thoughts jumbled, her words slurring to the point of incoherence.  

Nausea washed over her once more, vision swimming as she felt, rather than saw, Louis beside her. It was a simple question with a simple answer – or at least, it should be. She had an apartment, two cats, and a shitty landlord, and yet the words wouldn’t come to her. 

“You know me, Lou. I don’t have a home,” she shrugged, settling for the easiest answer she could muster. Bile rose at the back of her throat as she groaned, pushing the heel of her free hand against her temple, silently trying to will the pain away. Her voice was barely a whisper, hissed through the agony that continued to sear through her brain. “Little Orphan Ivy. That’s me.” 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Telling Louis not to call Wardo had felt like the right thing to do, but the worse she felt, the more uncertain she became. She couldn’t afford to go to a hospital, but she was beginning to think that keeping her best friend out of the loop was the wrong decision after all. 

“Did you... Uh, did you say something about me needing... stitches?” Ivy asked, her voice small as she tried to recall, quietly searching through the lapses in her memory from moments that had barely passed. 

She pouted at him, lips curling downwards into a pitiful frown. 

“I can’t afford stitches, Lou. I bet Max can afford stitches,” she grumbled, still finding it in her to be petty even in the face of a potential life-altering head injury. 

At the assertion she looked great, Louis barked out a laugh. Trust Ivy to use humour at a time like this, looking like something out of Stephen King’s Carrie, blood marring every surface she put her hands on. Louis was vaguely aware of the fact his hands were shaking, and he wasn’t sure whether it was down to sheer adrenaline, or fear, or God forbid, blood loss. Louis flattened his palms against Ivy’s jean-clad knees so she would be none the wiser, under the guise of holding her own shaky self to the barstool.

Ivy reached out with a clumsy, unpracticed hand, her knuckles brushing against the stubble on his chin. He let out a soft hiss at the press of her fingers, jaw already sore and surely awaiting some bruising. He could hardly remember where he’d taken a blow, the man had seemed to be all over him, on top of him. Louis screwed his eyes tight shut as he worked to banish that visual, grateful for once when Ivy dropped her forehead against his own. He could hear her shallow, uneven breaths and worked to match them, him holding tight to her leg now. Ivy was here, and he was safe. They were both safe.

“Not true.” he tried to joke, his voice coming out soft and feeble. “I’ve always been prettier.”

Relief flooded through him at Ivy’s firm resolve not to call Wardo. Not only was he in no position to be seeing his ex right now, bloodied and on his way to bruised, Louis wasn’t sure where that would leave him. He wouldn’t feel right about simply handing Ivy over to her best friend, injured and possibly concussed as she was. But the idea of hanging around the two of them, making awkward small talk and trying to penetrate their impenetrable Wardo-and-Ivy bubble seemed even worse. At one point, he knew where he sat comfortably in their lives. It had been less Wardo-and-Ivy and Louis-and-Wardo, the three of them had just simply fit. Louis figured he didn’t fit anymore.

“What if you need stitches? Shit, Ives, I really think you might need stitches.” he breathed, voice on the edge of panicking. Truth was, Louis couldn’t really afford a hospital visit right now either. Turns out, moving to New York was expensive, and he wouldn’t really be seeing too much money from his book unless he managed to earn out. Fingers crossed that would happen, if Ivy and hospital visits were gonna become a new, semi-regular thing in his life.

“Hey, hey. Careful.” Louis warned, holding a hand out tentatively as Ivy moved to stand. The barstool wobbled dangerously beneath her, and Louis found her hand fisted in the front of his shirt, a bloodied handprint sure to be left behind. His hand moved to tenderly curl around her elbow, sliding eventually around her waist as she slumped against him.

His heart clenched in his chest at the feel of Ivy, face buried against his shoulder, trusting Louis to hold her upright. He kept his hold on her firm, breathing in the scent of her shampoo underneath all the glass, and matted blood. Unmistakably Ivy, the same Ivy. It hit him now how much he’d missed her. At a time, Ivy had been sister he’d needed when his own big sister was a few states away, and often a damn sight kinder. She’d not been afraid to rib him, to steal his clothes without asking and playfully punch him in the arm. Louis was forced to once again acknowledge that in leaving his boyfriend, his love, he’d also left behind a family. He’d left Ivy.

“Yeah, yeah. ‘Course I can.” he murmured, gently rubbing her back. “Have you got keys?”

With a familiarity he hadn’t shown Ivy in at least ten years time, he pushed his hand inside the worn leather of her jacket, feeling around for the pocket that might have a key to the place in it. His hand curled around the cold metal easily, pulling it free. Fuck knows if there were any sort of precedent where he might have to set an alarm, but Louis would just have to lock the door behind him and hope for the best.

Half steering, half dragging Ivy from the bar, he kept her propped up against his side as he put the key inside the lock and drove it home. Sending out a silent apology to Ivy’s boss, he pulled her towards his old, beat up car, gently propping her against it’s frame.

“Sorry, darlin’. Just a sec while I find my keys. Be gentle with Lola, alright?” Louis murmured, as if the paintwork on his car was anything to be particularly gentle with. Praying the lock wouldn’t stick this time, Louis made quick work of opening the door for Ivy, pushing aside various road maps and fast food wrappers that littered the passenger seat. He hadn’t exactly been expecting company.

“Alright, watch your head.” he instructed, his hand hovering just above her head as she ducked to get into the car. “Don’t want you takin’ anymore blows tonight.”

Louis leaned over to fasten her seatbelt, vaguely aware she would not take kindly to being treated like an invalid. Fuck it. Ivy had to let someone take care of her sometime. Hesitating when pulling back, Louis leaned over her briefly. Unthinkingly, his hand moved to cup her chin, tipping it up so that she was forced to look at him. She was bleary eyed, but still with him.

“You good?” he asked, his bloodied thumb tracing the line of her jaw. “Ivy, where am I taking you? Where’s home?”

[raineandsky]

#13

tw: kidnapping

(Inspired by this tweet!)

(Part 1) (Part 2)

Back when they were kids they’d made a promise – if neither of them were married by twenty-five, they’d marry each other. It was a stupid number to choose, looking back on it, but kids wouldn’t know any better, would they?

The villain’s twenty-fifth birthday is approaching, not that it matters. Seventeen years changes a lot, and the two of them have more than gone their separate ways. The hero was promptly taken in by the agency, but the villain hadn’t been so blind to the company’s innocent facade, instead turning to their own prowess to make their way in life. The promise the two had so idly made on the playground that day couldn’t be further from reality anymore.

Besides, the villain won’t need it anyway. They’d met the civilian under… less than perfect circumstances, but she’d been more than accepting of their somewhat criminal identity. It seems it was something she was looking for, if her eagerness to get involved with their schemes is anything to go by. They hope they can find a ring as bright as her as soon as they get round to robbing that bank next week.

They’ve mentioned her to the hero offhandedly, sure, but they always assumed that their little lair in the basement of the abandoned hospital was enough to keep her away from the agency’s poor imitation of ‘good’. They know they’re wrong immediately when their favourite henchman meets them at the door, their expression somehow getting more downtrodden as they catch the villain’s gaze.

“Uh,” they say when the villain starts to breeze past them, and they pause to look back at them. “S-something happened whilst you were gone, I’m so sorry, we–”

“Spit it out,” the villain says flatly, and the henchman flinches slightly at their tone.

“You girlfriend.” The words that struggled so hard to be heard just a moment ago spill out like the henchman can’t control them. “It’s [Hero]. I’m so sorry, we tried to stop him but–”

They continue into the lair, leaving the henchman in an anxious mess by the door. They have all the information they need. They’re going to deal with it.

-

The hero has lived in the same shitty little house since the day they went their separate ways. A window cracked to let the breeze in, the light blinds drifting against the draft, gives the villain the perfect entrance as they clamber through and into the hero’s space.

They’re in the kitchen. The hero is sitting across from the window, bent over a bowl of cereal in the gloom of the lowered lights. There’s no way he doesn’t notice the villain standing in front of him, but his eyes don’t raise from the newspaper in front of him. 

He finally graces them with his attention when their dagger buries into the paper and half the table beneath it next to his hand. The action doesn’t even make him flinch, and he meets their gaze with lazy expectancy. 

“Where is she?” The words come out as a rough hiss, and the hero’s brows raise slightly at the question.

“Where’s who?” he asks innocently, and the villain has to take a deep breath to rein in their rage at his insolence. 

“You know who.” They tear the blade from the wood to jab it in his face, though he looks like he couldn’t care less. “My men told me exactly what you did.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” The hero gets to his feet with a groan, stretching slightly as he does. The villain’s impatience is wearing dangerously thin, but he doesn’t seem to care as he slowly ambles out of the kitchen and down the corridor outside.

He pauses outside a door, fishing a key from out of his pocket. “You’re not the only one with a basement,” is all he says before he swings the door open and descends into the darkness beyond. The villain follows him aimlessly, thankful when he flicks a light on at the bottom of the steps.

The doubt they had about why the hero is trying to lure them into his basement of all places dissipates when they lay their eyes on their civilian, tightly bound to an uncomfortable looking chair, dry tear tracks streaking her face. She heaves a deep breath when she sees them, but she doesn’t say anything. The villain doesn’t feel the same.

“Holy shit, [Civilian], thank god,” they say as they start towards her, but they pause in their tracks when the glint of metal behind her catches their attention. They were never one to find guns particularly graceful, but they’ve never wanted one more as the hero levels the barrel with her head.

“Break up with her,” he demands simply.

“What?” The single word is laced with confusion and worry.

The hero shrugs. “Break up with her.”

“Who the hell do you think I am?” The villain takes another step towards her, but the hero’s stare hardening into a warning stops them in their tracks. “I thought you were a hero. The agency can’t allow you to do this.”

“They don’t control my life outside of work. I do my job. That’s all they need to know.” He unlatches the safety with a metallic click, and she lets out a whimper at the sound. “You know what I want. Break up with her before I do it for you.”

“If this is your way of getting back at me for setting fire to that empty building the other day you’re really fucked in the head,” they snap coldly. Their hand brushes against the dagger tucked back inside their coat, but they know they can’t do much with it from here.

“Are you stupid? This isn’t about work,” he spits. “It’s not even about her. It’s about us.”

The villain didn’t think their confusion could get any deeper. “We haven’t been friends for a long time, [Hero].”

“I– I know. I don’t want to be friends.” His hand lowers, glancing at the gun in his grip for a moment. “We made a promise a long time ago. Do you remember?”

Of course they do. It was the peak of their friendship – they’d laughed and hooked pinky fingers, presenting each other with makeshift bouquets of daisies and dandelions before the bell rang for class. I want nothing more than to be as carefree as that again, they think distantly. “Yeah,” is what comes out instead.

“I want to make good on that promise,” the hero states bluntly, a newfound confidence in him as he levelly meets their gaze, the gun raised to the civilian again. “I haven’t seen anyone for a while now, especially for this. For you.”

“I have a girlfriend that you’re currently pointing a gun at,” the villain points out irritably.

“Not if you break up with her, you don’t.”

The villain drops their gaze to the girl in front of him. The skin on her wrists is raw from ropes tied too tight with inexperience, her usual perfectly done makeup running tracks down her face. Leaving her would mean marrying the hero.

They take a deep breath, meeting their girlfriend’s eye with a look they know she’ll recognise. “I’m sorry, [Civilian]. I have to break up with you.” Their voice is flat, and she dips her gaze with a short nod.

“Tell her you can’t see her again.”

The villain stares at the hero incredulously, only met with that same expectancy. “Are you serious?”

The hero bumps the barrel against the civilian for emphasis. “We’re going to get married, [Villain]. I don’t want you seeing your exes.”

They sigh deeply, trying to weave a way out of this as the hero adds more stitches. “I can’t see you again.”

The hero nods approvingly, finally dropping the gun back into his belt. “Good.”

-

A taxi rumbles up outside, and the villain carefully helps the civilian inside whilst the hero watches from the gate. He steps up behind them the moment the door shuts, putting a hand on their shoulder. They tense at the contact, fearing the worst.

“We should probably be comfortable living together if we’re going to get married,” he says lightly. His grip on them tightening threateningly as they stare longingly at the taxi. “I don’t think the glass on a taxi is bulletproof,” he adds when he feels their reluctance. He makes sure to shift his position so that the gun on his belt catches the light.

“Okay, fine, jesus.” They lean down to the taxi driver’s window to give him the civilian’s address.

“Aren’t you… coming home?” she asks uncertainly, and the villain averts their gaze to avoid having to see how worried she is.

“I’m sorry,” is all they can find to say, and they lean back from the car, letting it pull away from the curb and down the road. The civilian watches them from the back window, giving them an unsure wave before disappearing around the corner. 

“I’m so excited,” the hero continues, uncaring to the villain’s turmoil as they stare at the empty street. “We should start planning, hm?”

The hero guides them back into his house, and the villain is already devising a plan against him. If they can play up to his expectations they can catch him offguard. If their blade gets them out of the hero’s house and back to the civilian, they’ll use it. They’re going to leave this god forsaken place if it means the hero has to die for it.

(Part 2)

[once-upon-an-imagine]

There Are Worse Things I Could Do (Chapter Two) - Eddie Munson

A/N: aaahhh I have no idea how this happened but I’m happy it did and how it turned out! thank you to everyone who showed some love to this story, I hope you keep enjoying it :) 

Warnings: bullying and reader being treated badly by ex (Jason) and former friends, reader falls off her bike and gets hurt (Jason’s fault) and I think that’s it but please let me know if I miss anything

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things :D gif isn’t mine :)

Your name: submit What is this?

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

There Are Worse Things I Could Do

Even though the neighborhood Thinks I’m trashy and no good I suppose it could be true But there are worse things I could do

“Hello?” Steve asked. “Hey, monkey, are you even listening to me?” he asked, standing in front of you, making you spill some of your cereal. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you today, kid?”

“What? Uh, n-nothing” you insisted.

“Really? What did I just say?”

“I don’t know, something about having sex with Linda-”

“Brenda-”

“Brenda! That’s what I said” you insisted. “Look, I’m sorry if I lost track of the girls that you have been dating, Steve, I just have a couple of things on my mind” you told him.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing” I had a dream about Eddie Munson last night. “I just… Nancy asked if I could help with the yearbook this year” you said. It wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Well, that sounds really cool” Steve smiled.

“Yeah, it is” you smiled nervously. “A-and I was thinking maybe I could… use mom’s camera?”

“No!” Steve instantly said, standing up and bringing his empty plate to the sink.

“Why not? It’s just sitting there, Steve-”

“It is one of the few things that we have left of mom and you are one of the clumsiest people that I know! Why can’t you just use one at the school?”

“But I would be really careful with it” you insisted, getting up yourself. “How come you get to decide-?”

“Because I’m the oldest and dad’s not here-”

“Dad’s never here” you rolled your eyes.

“Well, if he were, he wouldn’t let you take it either, so” he sighed. “Just go get ready okay, I’ll drop you off-”

“No, I’ll ride my bike” you said, upset.

“Oh, come on-”

“What? You don’t think my clumsy self is capable of riding my bike to school?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just let me drive you-”

“I’m good! Have fun with Linda tonight” you said, walking to the door.

“Brenda!”

“THAT’S WHAT I SAID!” you yelled, slamming the door behind you.

You sighed frustrated and went over to get your bike. Maybe it would help to clear your head.

Things at school kept getting worse every single day. You wanted to tell Steve, but you felt embarrassed about it. He always loved to brag about how great it was when he was there and you just didn’t want to let him down somehow. Also, the fact that you kept thinking about Eddie Munson, so much that you even dreamt about him last night, wasn’t helping. You hadn’t really talked to him since the day he found you in the bathroom, but for some reason, you longed for him to talk to you every single time you saw him. You tried to tell yourself that it was because he was the only nice person to you in the school, who’s not doing it because of Steve, but sometimes you wondered if it meant something more. You were so distracted that you didn’t notice a car coming behind you and rear-ending you, making you fall on the sidewalk when you were almost at the school parking lot.

“Sorry, Harrington” you heard Jason’s voice. “Didn’t see you there” he laughed.

“Jason!” you heard Chrissy’s voice inside before she got out of the car. “Are you alright?”

“I’m f-fine, Chrissy” you said, smiling weakly at her.

“Chrissy, come on, babe, get back here” you heard Jason yell from his car.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, Chris” you nodded.

“Okay” she said, unconvincingly. “See you at school?”

“Sure” you smiled weakly at her.

You quickly grabbed your bag and opened it, making sure that nothing happened to the camera. The camera Steve had just told you not to take because you were extremely clumsy. The camera that belonged to your mom and was in fact one of the few things that you had left from her. But, thankfully, it was okay.

“(Y/N)?” you lifted your head to see Lucas standing there on his bike. “Are you alright?”

“Lucas” you smiled, getting up. “Hi” you said, cleaning yourself up. “Yes, I’m fine, I was just distracted and I fell-”

“I saw it” Lucas told you.

“What?” you asked, pretending to be confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I saw Jason hitting you with his car” he said.

“It was… an accident… I think” you smiled unconvincingly as the two of you started walking with your bikes towards the parking lot.

“Look, I understand that you and Jason broke up, but why is he being such an asshole to you?”

“He’s an asshole to everyone” you chuckled.

“Not like this” he said, pointing at your leg, which was now bleeding. “And the things he’s saying-”

“What things?” you asked, already knowing the answer.

But you dreaded the fact that these kids would hear them. The kids that you took care of. The innocent kids that you tried to protect from the horrible world because they were all so pure and innocent.

“J-just” Lucas sighed. “Stupid things that are obviously not true” he assured you. “Have you told Steve about this?”

“No! And you’re not going to either, okay? I can handle Jason just… I know you’re on the basketball team now, and I’m really happy for you, Lucas” you smiled up at him. “Just please promise me you won’t change the amazing person that you are and you won’t become one of them” you smiled nervously.

“I promise” Lucas said, sticking out his finger and making you laugh a little.

You loved these kids. Whenever they were little and you let them have more ice cream than you should have or you let them stay past their curfew, you taught them the value of a pinky swear and why they should never break it. To this day, whenever one of them made a promise to you, they would pinky swear.

“Thank you, Lucas” you said, linking your pinky with him before hugging him. “Now go. Don’t be late for class” you said, pulling away.

As he walked away you heard loud music approaching and you saw Eddie’s van coming into the parking lot at full speed. You saw him getting down and you decided that you were being stupid. Eddie was a nice guy, you had no reason to avoid him, really, so today you would talk to him. You really just wanted to talk to someone who would be nice enough to talk back to you.

“Princess” he said, nodding his head towards you as he walked to school.

“Hi, Eddie” you replied, locking your bike. When he walked past you, he returned.

“What happened to you?”

“Excuse me?” you asked, confused.

“You’re bleeding” he said, looking at your knees.

“Oh, r-right” you said, feeling your cheeks burning a little. “I um… fell off my bike” you told him. It wasn’t a lie exactly.

“How were you a cheerleader, jumping around the air and everything, but yet, you can fall down walking on a flat surface?” he mocked you.

“Hey! That’s not true” you laughed.

“Want me to walk you to the nurses’ office?” he asked when you heard the bell ring.

“No, you can’t be late for class” you smiled at him.

“I can be a little-”

“No! You’re graduating this year, Munson! With me, so go to class” you instructed him before you started walking to the nurses’ office.

“Whatever you say, princess” he smirked, walking in the other direction.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Miss Harrington” Mr. Mundy said, as you entered the class. “So nice of you to finally join us” he said sarcastically.

“Um… sorry, I had an accident before school” you said quietly, handing him the note. “I had to go to the nurses' office” you said, hearing someone snort loudly and trying to laugh quietly.

You turned to see Jason and his friends on one side of the class. Eddie quickly picked up where you were looking and he felt his fist clenching at the sight of those shitheads.

“Fine… go take your seat” Mr. Mundy said, unimpressed. You walked over to the other side of the class where there was one empty seat. In front of Eddie. You smiled quickly at him before taking your seat. “So, as I was saying, you will be working in partners for this next project. You can choose your partner now and start working on it for the rest of the class since it’s going to take you a couple of weeks to finish it” he instructed and you heard most of the class groan in annoyance.

This was it, you thought. This was your chance to talk to Eddie and maybe even spend more time with him. Besides, he was the only one in this class who would talk to you, so he was pretty much the only choice you had. You turned around to face him with a small smile.

“Hey-” Eddie started.

“Hi-” you said at the same time. Both of you laughed a little. “Uh… you go first” you told him. Eddie just spaced out, lost in you smiling at him. “Um… Eddie?”

“Yeah” he snapped out. “Oh, well, Harrington I was thinking… since you're like the only tolerable person in this class and, you don't have any friends anymore” he said, and you glared at him a little. “Would you uh… like to be… my partner?”

“Are you always this charming, Munson?” you smirked.

“Only for you, princess” he winked at you and you hoped he didn’t notice your cheeks burning.

“Well, I was uh… actually going to ask you the same thing” you admitted.

“Really?” Eddie asked, feeling excited.

“Well yeah, I mean, I don’t have friends anymore and you seem to be the only person to talk to me, so… I guess that makes you the only other tolerable person in the class” you smiled.

“Well, it looks like we have no choice” he said, making you laugh.

You then felt a small ball of paper hitting your head. You rolled your eyes, knowing exactly where it came from and seeing that Eddie was tossed a similar one. You opened the paper and saw the word ‘FREACK!’ written on it. You then looked at Eddie’s and saw it had the word ‘HORE!’

“Um, I believe that one’s mine” you said, grabbing the piece of paper from his hand, but he pulled it away.

“How do you know? Maybe these pants I’m wearing are too revealing. I am showing all kinds of knee” he said, putting his knee up, displaying his ripped jeans, and making you laugh a little. “And… you are actually a freak, I mean you eat ice cream when it’s like 10° outside, what is up with that?”

“How do you even know that?” you chuckled.

“You don’t remember? That stupid rally or whatever we had to do for the stupid basketball team and we had to sell food? You were the only one eating ice cream because it was like 10° outside” he laughed.

You had no idea how Eddie could do this. If you would have gotten this by yourself, it would probably just made you feel horrible about yourself. Even if the word was misspelled. But Eddie just made it seem like… it didn’t matter.

You grabbed the paper from his hands and wrote the ‘W’ in front of the word. You then grabbed yours and crossed out the ‘C’ on it. You then made them little paper balls again and tossed yours to Jason and Eddie’s to Andy. They both stopped laughing when you did.

“There’s no ‘c’ in freak” you said, looking at Andy. “And whore has a ‘w’ in it” you smirked. “Learn to spell” you said, annoyed, before your attention went back to Eddie.

Jason and Andy quickly stood up, forgetting they were in class for a second.

“Mr. Carver, do you and your partner have any questions?” Mr. Mundy asked, making the boys stop glaring at you and Eddie and look back at their teacher.

“No, sir” he said, trying to remain calm. “I was just going to ask miss Harrington if she needed any help since I know she’s terrible at Math” he smirked, making some of the people around you laugh and you felt your cheeks burning a little.

“She doesn’t” you heard Eddie’s voice. “She’s got me as a partner, so, she should be fine” he said, glaring at Jason.

“You?” Jason chuckled. “The freak that has been stuck as a senior for over two years-?”

“Yes” Eddie smirked. “It shouldn’t surprise you, really since it’s what my little satanic game is all about, you think we could make sacrifices without Math?”

“Mr. Munson, Mr. Carver, that’s enough” Mr. Munday said. “Get back to work, I don’t want to hear another word out of you two” he said, turning back to the board. Jason threw one last glare your way before going back to seat with Andy.

“Thank you, Eddie” you said, quietly when he sat back down.

“Don’t mention it, princess” he smiled at you. “And I promise I really am good at Math” he assured you. “I mean this isn’t the class why I haven’t graduated” he told you.

“Well, I would assume so, with you being the Dungeon Master and all” you smiled at him, making him blush a little.

“How do you know I am Dungeon Master?” he asked, liking a little too much how it sounded coming from you.

“I have my ways” you smiled back at him.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Hey, (Y/N)!” you heard behind you and you found Dustin and Mike walking towards you.

“Hi guys” you smiled. “How are you?”

“Awesome! Eddie is planning this new campaign for D&D that is supposed to be the best one yet” Mike said, excitedly.

“Cool” you smiled. “Hey, do you guys think I could get some pictures of the Hellfire Club for the yearbook? I know usually Eddie doesn’t like it but, I mean you are a club and-”

“I didn’t know you were in the yearbook” Dustin told you.

“Yes! Nancy just asked if I could help with some pictures” you said excitedly, taking out your camera. “I’ve taken a couple of good pictures so far, I think I can-”

You were interrupted when you felt a ball hitting you on the back, making you trip and drop your camera to the floor, breaking it in two, followed by something cold running down your back.

“Shit!” you heard Mike's voice.

“Shit! Are you okay?” Dustin asked, kneeling to help you up while Mike picked up the camera.

You got up with his and Mike’s help as you heard the laughter behind you. You turned around and saw the ball next to you and the now empty glass of soda that had drenched your shirt. You then turned your attention to the guys not far from you. You saw Jason, Andy, and Chance laughing at you.

“Sorry Harrington, didn’t see you there” Andy laughed. “Could you pass me the ball?”

You felt like your hands shaking, seeing the ball and your now ruined camera in Mike’s hands. You slowly grabbed the ball and glared back at them.

“Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart” Jason mocked you.

You threw the basketball with all your force. And then, you heard it. The guys’ smiles dropped off their faces when you heard a loud crash and you noticed the ball had crashed against the windshield of Jason’s car. Right in the middle, making the cracks go everywhere. In all honesty, you were aiming at Jason’s head, but your aim had always been horrible.

“Holy shit!” Mike said, smirking.

“WHAT THE FUCK, HARRINGTON?!”

“Did you just-?” Dustin with the same smirk as Mike. Jason and his friends turned to look at you and you knew that you were done for.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you muttered, grabbing both Dustin and Mike and starting to run away when you saw the basketball team running your way. “Oh my God!”

“YOU FUCKING BITCH! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!”

You had no idea where to run and then, out of nowhere, you saw Eddie’s van stop right in front of the three of you and the back door opening.

“Get in!” he yelled and Dustin quickly did so with Mike behind him. You looked at him and back at Jason, who was running to you with Andy and Chance behind him.

“DO NOT GET ON THAT FUCKING CAR, HARRINGTON!”

“Harrington, get in!” Eddie shouted at you. This time, you quickly did and Mike helped you inside before Eddie sped up and drove out of the parking lot so fast, it made you fall back with Dustin and Mike.

“Holy shit! That was fucking awesome!” Dustin said, laughing.

“No, it wasn’t!” you said, getting up.

“Actually, yes, it was, princess, it was fucking badass!” Eddie said, looking back at you three.

"I broke his windshield!" you panicked a little.

"Yeah, but he deserved it" Mike said. "He threw the ball at you and broke your camera!"

"And what the fuck else did they throw at you? Why are you purple?" Eddie asked.

"Ugh, is grape soda, it's Andy's favorite" you said, rolling your eyes.

"There's uh… a shirt there in the back if you want it" he said, clearing his throat. "It's a Hellfire shirt but... better than to be purple and sticky" he offered.

"Um, sure, thanks" you said, grabbing the shirt not far from you.

"Why do you have an extra Hellfire shirt? Do we have a new member?" Mike asked, confused.

"Nope" Eddie sighed. "Sinclair never came to pick up his" he told them.

"What?!" Dustin asked, upset.

"Um, could you guys… uh… turn around?" you asked and Mike and Dustin quickly looked to the front giving you some privacy.

You turned your back to them and took off your sticky shirt as quickly as you could, grabbing the Hellfire shirt.

"Ehem" Dustin cleared his throat when he noticed Eddie glancing at you through the rearview mirror and he quickly looked away.

"Looks like it fits" you said, turning around. "Thanks" you told Eddie.

"Looks good on you" Eddie winked at you through the mirror.

It wasn’t long before Eddie parked his van in front of Dustin’s house.

“Thanks, Eddie, see you tomorrow” Dustin said, getting down with Mike.

“Hey, guys wait” you called them. “Can you uh… not say anything about this to Steve?” you asked. “About Jason’s car or… the uh… camera?” you asked, sadly, placing it back in your bag.

“Uh, yeah, sure” Mike smiled.

“Pinky swear?” you said, striking out your pinky. Mike and Dustin looked at each other and linked their pinkies with yours without hesitation.

“Of course, pinky swear” Dustin assured you.

“Pinky swear” Mike repeated.

“Thanks, guys” you smiled. “See you tomorrow” you told them.

“Really? You made them pinky swear?” Eddie chuckled as you moved to the front seat and he drove off Dustin’s house.

“Well, in case you weren’t aware, Munson, I’ve known these kids since they were little and I taught them the value of a pinky swear” you smirked and he just laughed a little.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You mean after the fact that I broke a car’s window?”

“Is not like Carver didn’t deserve it” he told you. “If I had been there I probably would have thrown it to his face and break his nose” he laughed and noticed you look away. “You were aiming for his face, weren’t you?”

“It’s not my fault that I don’t have the best aim” you chuckled.

“You’re pretty badass, Harrington, I’m not gonna lie” he smiled.

“Thanks” you smiled back.

“So, where do I drop you off?” he asked, nicely.

“Oh, r-right” you said, feeling stupid. “You probably have better things to do” you chuckled.

“No, I didn’t mean it like that” Eddie said, cursing himself silently. “I mean, I just wasn’t sure if you had something to do or-”

“I don’t” you said, quickly. “And… to be honest I don’t really want to go home” you muttered.

“Well then, I don’t know about you, but I am starving” he told you. “Would you like to try the best cheeseburger in the world?”

“Wait, the best one?” you asked, mocking him a little and he nodded. “Well, I cannot say no to that” you said. “Just one question… do they have milkshakes?”

“Of course they do, princess” he smirked.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Soon enough, you were somewhere in the middle of the woods, sitting on the roof of Eddie’s van, with a milkshake, french fries and, you had to admit, the best cheeseburger you had ever tried.

“Oh my God” you said, with your mouth full and a big smile, making Eddie laugh.

He had never seen you so… carefree. You always seemed so perfect, not even a hair out of place. And now, here you were, wearing a Hellfire shirt, with your hair trying to not be as messy as it looked after being hit with a grape soda, and your mouth painted with ketchup, mustard and mayonnaise all over you. If he was being honest, you had never seen more beautiful than right now.

“It’s good, huh?” he said, taking a bite of his cheeseburger himself.

“Good? This is the best cheeseburger I’ve had in my entire life!” you said, taking another bite.

“I’m glad you liked it, princess” he said, as you cleaned yourself up with a napkin.

You had no idea what it was about Eddie that made you feel so relaxed. Like you could be yourself around him and you were sure he wouldn’t judge you.

“Hey, um… I don’t think I thanked you for helping me today” you said, turning serious.

“You don’t have to thank me-”

“Yes, I do” you interrupted him. “You stood up for me in Math and then you basically helped me escape a crime scene” you chuckled. “And I just… thank you” you told him.

“You’re welcome, princess” he smiled.

“You know, you're not what I thought you'd be like” you told him.

“What? Mean and scary?”

“Yeah” you admitted. “I mean... more like intimidating” you explained.

“Yeah, well, I actually thought you'd be kinda mean and scary too” he told you.

“Me?”

“Yeah, terrifying” he mocked you.

“Shut up, Munson” you laughed. “I like hanging out with you” you said, all of the sudden, making Eddie blush a little.

“Y-you do?”

“Yeah” you told him. “I’m sorry we didn’t hung out sooner” you admitted.

“What are you talking about? This isn't the first time that we've, um… hung out” he said.

“No?” you asked confused.

“You don't remember?”

“I'm sorry. I-”

“That's okay. I wouldn't remember me either, princess” he said before he punched himself in the chest and fell backwards.

“Eddie!” you laughed.

“Honestly, you don't remember me?” he asked, sitting back up.

“I'm sorry” you said, guiltily.

“Middle school, talent show. You were doing this cheer thing You know, the… the thing you do” he said, waving his hands as if he had pom-poms. “It was pretty cool, actually. And I… I was with my band-”

“Oh my God! Corroded Coffin!”

“Corro- you do remember?” he asked, impressed.

“Oh my God! Yes, of course. With a name like that, how could I forget?”

“I don’t know. You must just have really bad taste in music” he laughed.

“No, you just… you looked so… different?”

“Yeah. Well, uh, my hair was buzzed, and I didn't have these sweet old tatties yet” he said, showing you the one on his chest.

“You played guitar, right?”

"Uh-huh. Still do. Still do. You should come see us. Uh, we play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It's pretty cool. We… We actually get a crowd of about five… drunks” he said, making you laugh. “It's not exactly the Garden, but you gotta start somewhere, right? So… You know…”

“Can I really come?” you asked, surprising him.

“Y-yeah, I mean, if you want to” he said.

“I’d love to” you said, grabbing one of your french fries and dipping it in your milkshake.

“Whoa, what the hell are you doing, Harrington?”

“What?” you asked, confused.

“Why are you dipping your fry on your chocolate milkshake?”

“You’ve never tried that?”

“No! I’m not a freak like you” he mocked you, eating some of his fries.

“Hey! Try before you deny!” you challenged him.

“No way!”

“Really? Wow, you’re not as badass as I thought you were” you mocked him, dipping more of your fries in your milkshake.

“You take that back!” he said, pretending to be offended.

“Make me” you dared him, grabbing one of his fries and dipping it in his vanilla milkshake. “Come on, Munson” you said, arching an eyebrow at him.

Eddie looked at you and then back at your hand.

“Fine” he said, grabbing it and eating it quickly. You tried not to laugh at his disgusted face before it turned into a surprised one. “Holy shit!”

“Told you” you said, proudly, eating more of our fries.

“You’re also kind of full of surprises” he told you as he dipped more fries in his milkshake.

“Steve and I used to do this all the time when we were kids” you said, with a sad smile.

“Can I ask what’s going on between you and your brother?” he asked all of the sudden.

“What do you mean?”

“It just seems like you’re avoiding him” he shrugged.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you didn’t want to go home and you asked Henderson and Wheeler to not tell him anything” he said.

“I got into a fight with him this morning” you admitted. Eddie noticed your tone becoming sad and he was afraid he might have screwed up, making you upset. “I wanted to use this camera and he said I was too clumsy-”

“Which you are” he added and you glared at him. You grabbed your bag and took out the broken camera.

“It was fine until Jason and Andy threw their things at me” you said, sadly and you sighed. “Steve is gonna hate me” you mumbled sadly.

“Hey, no” Eddie said, softly. “Look, I know a guy who fixes stuff. Maybe he can take a look at it” he said, making you look up at him.

“Really?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah” he nodded. “I can take it and I’ll let you know what he says, okay?”

“Y-you would do that for me?” you asked, smiling.

“Of course” Eddie said, a little confused. “What are friends for, princess?” he smiled.

“We’re friends” you smiled, excitedly.

“Yeah” he said, feeling nervous for a moment. “I mean, you’re already wearing the uniform” he laughed. “Which, don’t tell the other ones but… you’re the one that it looks best on” he winked and you laughed, feeling your cheeks burning a little. “Hey… um… would you- uh-” he asked, feeling nervous, suddenly. “Would you like to- uh… maybe join?”

You smiled, thinking how adorable Eddie looked when he was nervous. Something you had never seen before. “Hellfire?” you smiled.

“Y-yeah. I mean, Sinclair is supposed to but he rarely comes to the meetings, so we actually need a new member and… I don’t know” he chuckled. “We actually kind of have this rule of no-girls allowed, but I could make an exception for you" he smirked.

"Is it a rule, or just… something that keeps happening?" you smirked back.

"Damn, Harrington, you're breaking my heart!" he said, placing his hand over his chest and you laughed.

“Uh, I just have one question” you said, eating more fries.

“What?”

“Don’t you have to know how to play Dungeons and Dragons to join?”

“I mean… yes, technically that is the main rule but… I can teach you” he offered.

“You wanna teach me to play Dungeons and Dragons?” you asked. “Eddie, I babysat Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and Will for years and heard them play D&D like every night. And I still have no idea how to play” you chuckled.

“Fine” he shrugged. “I guess, you’re not as badass as I thought you were” he said, making you gasp, offended.

“Hey! Take that back!”

“Make me” he smirked, eating another fry dipped in milkshake. “Let me teach you and you can come to our next meeting, if you don’t like it, I won’t ask you again” he said.

You thought about it for a moment. You honestly had nothing to lose and it meant spending more time with Eddie which you had come to enjoy quite a lot.

“Pinky swear?” you asked, sticking out your pinky and Eddie rolled his eyes, smiling.

“Pinky swear, princess” he said, linking his pinky with yours.

To Be Continued

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[Ch.1][Ch.3]

A/N: soooo what do you guys think? part 3? :) also, I of course I added parts of the Chrissy-Eddie scene because IT WAS TOO CUTE NOT TO! and let me know if you want to be in the taglist :D 

tag list: @lady-loves-a-lot , @rand0m--fangirl​ , @avitute , @lelenikki , @th0rswh0res