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nicole-alt-delete · 1 year

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It was a hot summer day in Hawkins and the kids had dragged them into helping with some game once again. Eddie was more than thrilled to help, Robin had managed to escape with Nancy on a "supply run" and Steve was currently taking orders from Max, the only one of them who'd remembered to say please.

Eddie wasn't really sure what the end goal was but it seemed like they were one step away from LARPing- just changed the name so Max and El would still play. He was helping Will by carving this big fuck-all stick into a cane for him when the gravel behind him crunched under someone's feet, and a second later Steve was saying "Hey, I'm borrowing this- Thanks-" Not stopping for the answer before Eddie felt a tug at his back pocket.

He instantly whipped around, spluttering, "Absolutely not-" and before Steve could even take a step he was fiercely gripping his black bandana taut between them like the world's saddest game of tug of war. Steve loosened his grip a little, making a point of not tugging on it or ripping it, just looking confused as he waited for an explanation.

Eddie blushed for a moment, realizing the position he'd put himself in, how protective he got over a little piece of fabric. He stammers for a second, "I- you can't just- I need that man,"

Steve quirks an eyebrow at him, clueless. "What do you mean you need it? It's been in your pocket every day and I've only seen you actually wear it once. C'mon just for today- the girls don't have any hair ties and I need to put my hair up, it's killing me,"

He sighs a little, fully aware there's nothing reasonable he could say to Steve here. He very much cannot tell him that he *needs* it just in case some hot guy walks by and happens to know what it means. That's ridiculous- especially when the guy he most wants to see it is the one tugging it away from him in the first place. Steve has no idea what it means and Eddie doesn't expect him to but it still drives him insane thinking that it could happen.

Alternatively, the idea of Steve putting his hair back with Eddie's bandana drives him a little insane too.

So he blushes, sighs, and lets go of it. Points at Steve firmly, "You better give that back Harrington, or I swear-"

Steve smiles and starts walking backwards with it, already rolling it up into a hairband as he cuts him off, "Yeah, I know Eds, you can hold it against me forever, promise,"

He runs off back to the other kids and Eddie shakes his head at him, flustered and annoyed, and forgetting himself until Will clears his throat behind him.

He doesn't say anything but he's smiling and making this little face as he looks away from Eddie, like he knows something.

"So uh. The stick?"

"Right- yes- stick- cane- it's a cane for a mighty wizard, let's go,"

He didn't think he'd notice it so much, but the empty feeling in his pocket is driving him crazy. He'd been wearing that stupid thing since he learned it was a thing people do- a stolen trip up to the city on a bus he snuck onto, a weekend as a runaway before he sucked it up and went back home.

Someone had called him queer and he turned expecting a fight only to see a group of freaks who stood out more than himself. They had smiled and asking him why he was all alone, and been worried. One wanted to make sure Eddie hadn't been kicked out. Another wrapped her scarf around him, and before he knew it he was in the back of a gay bar with people he'd never met and felt like he could tell anything to.

The idea of proudly wearing something that singled him out- but only to the right people- made his hart light up. It was like a new language, like thieves' cant, something secret and magic.

He'd spent hours asking about colors and being confused and rightfully embarrassed by more than a few of the answers. Some sounded better than others, some made his face flush. At the end of the day he felt better than he had in ages and he had the courage to go back home to Wayne.

Before he got back on a bus he stopped into a second hand shop and grabbed the first black bandana he could find. He debated the whole ride home which side to put it on. When he walked back up to the trailer door ready to apologize, it hung proudly out of his back left.

Eddie had let Steve wear it home and it was killing him, but they had stayed out late and he half forgot anyways, and Steve's hair did look pretty cute pushed back like that. Steve had promised to give it back anyways, and Eddie trusted him fully.

He just also really, really, really wanted it back as soon as possible.

So for once he got up before noon (barely- just after eleven,) and made his way to Family Video and hopped Steve had left it in his car or something so that he could get it back then and there.

What he wasn't expecting was to walk in and see Steve bent over behind the counter with the damn thing hanging out of his right pocket, as if he had any goddamn idea what that meant.

Eddie nearly had a heart attack and was thankful the store was empty like it always was so he could sprint over, jump the counter and yank the thing out of his pocket immediately.

"What do you think you're doing wearing it like that?!"

Steve had barely registered the jingle from the door, let alone Eddie launching himself at him, and was thoroughly surprised to say the least, nearly knocking over a display as he reacted.

"Hey! Jesus man- you can't be- what's the big deal??? That's exactly how you wear it all the time- I was just keeping it safe til I saw you again,"

He stared at Eddie properly confused, a little on guard still from how suddenly he had leapt over and how worked up he seemed.

Eddie took a deep breath and sighed, folding the bandana up in his hands and just holding it for a moment, debating what to tell Steve.

After a second Steve makes this little head movement like 'well? go on?' clearly waiting for an explanation and Eddie rolls his eyes and sighs.

"It's- Look, Stevie, you can't wear it like that, you're not- I mean it's. It's like- a symbol, okay?"

Steve leans on the counter and frowns, confused.

"A symbol?"

"Yes- yeah, like- like those little cross necklaces moms wear or Dustin's star wars shirts. They're symbols....for the same kind of people to pick up on,"

He struggles with the words, trying hard to insinuate just enough without giving it all away, still hesitantly afraid of Steve's reaction.

But Steve just looks thoughtful. Nodding a little, putting a finger to his lip as the gears turn.

"So- okay, what's it symbolize then?"

He'd been hoping Steve wouldn't make it that far.

"It's- uh. It's really not..."

Steve stares, "Man I'm not gonna judge you- just- why's it such a big deal that I can't wear it like that too?"

Eddie can't help but laugh, "If anyone who knows what it means saw YOU with it- you would- no, you'd set yourself on fire I'm sure of it,"

He shakes his head, holding the bandana tighter in his fists.

Steve only frowns though, "Eds, what's it mean? If you don't tell me I'll just get my own and wear it until someone else does,"

Eddie looks mildly terrified by the idea but laughs at it all the same. "No- No, god do not do that Harrington-"

"Then tell me,"

"I can't, it's really-"

"Eddie, I'm gonna steal it back,"

And he does, reaches for the bandana in his hands as Eddie pulls away, the two of them starting to bicker and wrestle for it, each equally stubborn until the point that Steve actually does manage to grab it.

The tension gets to him and Eddie can't help it anymore, he just blurts, "It means I'm gay, Steve!"

It makes Steve pause and Eddie uses the moment to grab it back and quickly shove it in his back pocket again, blushing furiously and hoping Steve doesn't take it too badly.

Steve's mouth opens a little to say something in response, but the door jingles and his head snaps to it, Eddie instantly hitting the floor because he's still behind the counter where he most certainly should not be.

A man comes in and asks where the new releases are and Steve happily helps him, leaving Eddie plenty of time to crawl out from behind the counter and sneak out. He almost gets away with it too, but the door opens again, jingles and Steve twists his head.

"Eddie, wait- We're not done- I'll talk to you about this later!"

Eddie doesn't look back at him as he runs out the door past Robin who had been bringing lunch back for her and Steve. She tries to greet him but he just blurts "Gotta go, Buckley," and darts past.

If he'd looked back he would have noticed how red Steve's face was. Part 2

#Nico's writing #ficlet #steddie #Steve Harrington #Eddie Munson #st4 #Stranger Things #i found this in my wip docs and realized i forgot about it???#so i figured i'd post this much and see if it convinces me to finish part 2 👀#also uh i did not beta read this so #be kind

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dontlookforme00 · 7 months

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Morrotober, Oct 3. Dream / Sleep. "Let me close my eyes."

[TW for insomnia, and a description of a panic attack, and loss.]

Morro was exhausted.

It was no surprise, it was nothing new. Morro could no longer remember a day he hadn't been exhausted, it was simply all he knew.

But such is the nature of exhaustion to be painfully aware of it, to have its ball and chain biting at your ankle, to have it linger just behind your eyes. Constant.

There was nothing to be done. Morro avoided thinking about it, because it wouldn't do him any good. Ghosts couldn't sleep, and that was that. This was the price he paid for being a part of the Pre-eminents plan, and though he knew it was worth it, he still cried inside for a reprieve. He cried out for a chance to relax his unfeeling body.

But it wasn't possible to relax a muscle if it was never really tensed. He couldn't escape it.

On and on the days had led, the months, the years. Moments in the Cursed Realm were never boring, something was always happening. Morro wondered how much longer he could go on. Surely, forever. His body was incapable of collapse, and some part of him hated that.

Though, every time he remembered why he was doing this, every time he heard the voice of the Pre-eminent and every time he felt her presence, he was invigorated. He would grin wildly and freely.

The apprehension and responsibility of his role was nothing short of his lifeblood.

It made him forget the spinning of exhaustion, and instead gave him purpose.

Sometimes, she'd go days without talking to him, without talking to any of the generals. Morro couldn't help but wonder what was so important as he found ways to fill his time. He'd train, he'd fight, he'd give orders and he'd sit and watch from the darkness. None of these ghosts were warriors yet, not like him. They were ordinary scum, who'd done things horrible enough in their lifetimes to end up here.

They were pathetic, and useless.

It was no wonder the Pre-eminent had chosen him. She was the only destiny that mattered now, anyways. Bigger plans than him were in motion.

And yet, she still left him in silence for weeks on end. The exhaustion would creep back up, forcing its way into the cracks of his being, blurring the edges of his vision. Planting aching into his bones. And he'd find himself sitting on the edge of his prison, trying so hard to not think about the way he couldn't feel his breaths, nor the hands he dug into his scalp, nor the way closing his eyes did nothing to dim the light.

He'd find himself remembering times from his life–in flashing memories, like on the reflection of a river– times like when Wu would tuck him into bed and he'd fall asleep slowly and carefully. With the weight of the blanket keeping him safe.

If only he'd cherished those days more, if only he'd known how much harder things would get.

Morro was driving himself insane.

He kept trying to imagine he was that child again, on the bed, so sure and so confident, and so readily falling asleep. But no matter how hard he pretended, the Cursed Realm had tainted his mind.

Closing his eyes did nothing. He could still see the murky green of the floor he sat on, wisps of grey trailing past his feet. He tensed harder, curling in on himself and clenching his jaw. Morro pressed his palms against his eyes to no avail.

It wasn't fair! He wanted nothing more truly than to be able to close his fucking eyes! Why couldn't the Pre-eminent grant him this one wish? Was he so unworthy? When would this hell pay off?

When would he be free-? He shoved the thought away as soon as it spoke, but its message lingered. He reminded himself that as long as he served his Mistress, he was freer than he had ever been with Wu. That, he knew.

Although, he could admit to himself that he would sell his soul a second time just to be able to experience the unchallenged calm of slumber.

Was he shaking? Was that possible?

He couldn't panic. He wouldn't panic. He wouldn't think of the fact that he had no way of knowing how much longer he'd have to live like this. Wouldn't think about the fact that he could be stuck in here for decades more–

He was definitely shaking. He tightened his grip on the roots of his hair, now having curled in on himself completely. Nobody could see his face, and it was a damn good thing. Because he was sure that he looked as insane as he felt.

"Let me close my eyes." The growl came out high-pitched, pained, yet desolate nonetheless. He didn't know why he let it escape. He didn't know who he was begging to. It wasn't like anybody could hear him.

Morro grit his teeth and swore, trying to gather himself back. But he couldn't seem to untangle his arms, couldn't seem to untense his tremoring limbs. He was falling apart. "Please." He whined. "Let me close my eyes. Let me close my eyes. Let me close my eyes, oh my fucking-.." The tearless sobs became more erratic as he truly comprehended that there was noone there to listen. Nor care.

Morro could still hear the endless cacophony of screeching in the cages, and he couldn't help but think that despite all his power, he was just as imprisoned as the ones in chains.

"Morro?" A haunting voice, rasped by screams. It was Bansha.

Morro jumped, falling back. He sprung back and covered his face with his hands before he could even look at her. He tried to muffle his panting.

Their silence was taut in the air.

Fuck. Bansha? Of all people? The only fucking one with enough authority to snitch on him? To really make this all for nothing?

All Morro could do was pray that the jealous bitch had enough self decency to pretend she'd never seen anything. His hands were still trembling, like a child, like a fucking child. And he could still see the ghostly green of Banshas presence reflecting off the ground, even if he wasn't facing her.

He knew he was supposed to say something. He knew he was the loud one, the cocky general, the ecstatic child, the threat. He was the arrogant one. He was supposed to talk.

But his tongue failed him, for once in his life. At the very worst time.

Even though she still stood there, he could feel the panic wash over him yet again, the lack of sleep, the hopelessness, the unsettling sense of being caged. He needed to leave this conversation, before something horrible happened.

Morro shifted so that his line of vision peeked through the fallen strands of his hair, he saw Bansha.

She was, as usual, almost entirely unreadable. The mask, and hood, and all the tattered robes that she'd been Cursed with served her well here. Her spectral eyes glinted as she narrowed them, slowly looking over Morro. Morro prepared to leap up and shove past her, but then she spoke again, in that same, crackling voice. "Are you…"

He tensed as a thousand possible endings to that sentence ran through his head. Are you crying? Are you really so weak? Are you really so pathetic?

"...okay?"

Morro felt himself freeze. He sat there for a good few seconds. Then, he looked up at her, not caring to swipe the hair out of his eyes.

They looked at eachother, and he still couldn't read her. He knew she was probably tricking him, but the initial shock was still affecting him.

Something in the air began to shift, he could've sworn that he could feel as he shrunk in his clothes, became nothing but a weeping little boy on the side of a street. As some impossibly tall, unimaginably wise adult stood over him.

He didn't like it.

Morro shot to his feet, shoving his face up to hers, forcing her to take a few paces back, as he stole them off her. "What did you just say to me?" He challenged, desperate to destroy this power imbalance that he'd imagined himself.

Her eyes didn't change, simply cautiously searched his. "Morro, please."

He was still shaking. He was still tired. Snapping at her didn't take the bite off his creeping, seeping, sickly fatigue.

Bansha must've watched the exhaustion creep back into the depths of his eyes, as he fought to keep up his violent facade. Slowly, he stood down. Her face did not change once.

Morro turned away, not daring to give away any more than he needed to. "Morro.." her wailing voice was low, like the scratching of a cat at a door. There was something familiar about it. Morro didn't know why she wasn't ridiculing him.

"I know we're not friends. I know we never will be. But I can promise you that we'll both make it out of here."

Morro was still.

He didn't understand. He wiped away some imagined itch on his face, eyes darting back and forth between Bansha and the ground.

Was she… speaking badly against the Pre-eminent? More importantly, was she trying to comfort him? Bansha? He was so aware of how his breaths passed through him. He was still shaking. He was still not asleep. But maybe… maybe she was right.

If she believed they could get out of here, maybe it was true. An opinion outside of his warped, delusional perception seemed endlessly more plausible.

Morro watched the mist hiss past him, faint wailings of agony echoed through the walls.

And he nodded. He didn't look, but he knew Bansha saw.

Even if he didn't believe it, maybe he could just cling on. Cling on to the promise that he wouldn't be condemned here forever. Maybe, deep down, he needed that reason to keep going.

Morro looked up at Bansha, feeling strangely thankful that he couldn't cry anymore. He stared up at her, where she looked right back at him. And they both understood that they had to survive a little longer.

------○------

[Timeskip, to a revived morro au.]

Morro jolted awake, calming his breathing within seconds. He'd been dreaming, some sort of nightmare. Nothing he could recall.

He was sat on a sofa, the room in complete darkness apart from the stark, flashing lights of the television in front. Its rays seemed to bounce off every corner of the room, back and forth and back and forth. He could barely make out what was even going on.

Morro groaned, and lifted up a hand to block out the light from his eyes. That was when he realised that Lloyd was asleep, leaning his head on Morro.

Morro managed to suppress his instinct to throw the boy off, and instead made himself relax. He wouldn't be the one to wake Lloyd.

How the hell had anybody fallen asleep with this thing on, anyways? Morro grabbed a remote, carefully, and turned it off after mashing a few buttons. The darkness afterwards was so plain that it was relieving. Silence rang in his ears, but he didn't quite mind.

Morro leaned his head back against the sofa, trying to remember what nightmare had been so bad that it had woken him.

Lloyd's breathing was slow, and low. His warmth unsettled Morro.

That position couldn't be comfortable for Lloyd's neck. Morro found himself worrying– no, that was stupid– Morro found himself wondering. Wondering about whether or not Lloyd would appreciate a blanket.

Ah, fuck it. He grabbed one from the opposite side of the sofa, and draped it over Lloyd. Then stilled again.

…Bansha. She'd been there, in his dream. He was almost certain of it.

Morro didn't like to think of Bansha, for obvious reasons. She reminded him too much of far too many bad things, despite the fact that she might've been the only alright thing in the entire Cursed Realm. Sometimes.

He couldn't help himself. Morro found himself thinking back to any times they'd talked. He'd been forgetting things like that recently, and he wanted to preserve her memory. Because despite all that she did, she was the only one who comforted him— wasn't she? Even though he definitely didn't deserve it at the time, the little shit that he'd been, she was the only one who saw past his exterior and cared.

Morro weeped internally for every day that his younger self had spent in that hell. He wished he could've gotten those days back, he wished he could've spent them growing up instead.

He remembered something she'd said, a long, long time ago. She'd promised that they'd both make it out alright, no matter what.

Morro stared into the dark of the room, his mind slow, and wandering. Reminiscent. Melancholy.

Well, look at him now. Falling asleep watching shows with the chosen one he'd sworn to destroy. In a normal living room, with normal furniture around them, warm air in his lungs.

And he knew he was safe here.

It was a bittersweet thought. After all that, her promise had come half true. He'd never really believed it.

Morro wished he knew what had happened to Bansha. He wished he could help her the way that the ninja has eventually saved him. He wished he could repay the favour. It seemed unfair that he was alright, and she was lost.

Maybe that debt would never be repaid. He'd probably never know. But maybe he owed his life now to her, and she'd never even know. That thought made him smile.

And so, comforted by the mere thought of what had been but a scrap of kindness in the dark, Morro closed his eyes.

He slept for every night that he had spent painfully awake, and for every night that those he left behind would miss.

#whoaaaa HEY I MAY BE 5 MINUTES OVERTIME BUT IDC.#ninjago #lego ninjago #morro ninjago #ninjago morro #morro #my writing #ninjago fanfic #ninjago fanfiction #morrotober #morrotober 2023 #oct 3 #NO I. DID NOT BETA READ THIS WE DIE LIKE MORRO !!!#also did anyone catch the short chonny jash reference cough

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happi-tree · 2 months

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out of my head (when you’re not around)

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Link slurs, voice low and lazy and scratchy from sleep, and he shifts a bit more.

Suddenly, there’s a warm, pliant pressure against Taylor’s chapped lips, followed by a soft pop as Link breaks the kiss. “Ten m’re minness, mkay?”

And with that, Link tucks his head into the side of Taylor’s neck, drapes his arm across Taylor’s stomach, and drops back off into slumber.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims aloud, because his best friend just kissed him like he’s been doing it for months on end and they’re very close, but never like that.

Or: Lincoln dreams about his life in the simulation, and some wires get crossed.

ao3

Better late than never! Here's my fic for Day 5 of Swiftli Week: Queerplatonic / Ride or Die 💗 This one turned out a good bit longer than expected, but I hope I did my fellow qpr Swiftli enjoyers justice with it!

Taylor Swift wakes up to bright orange against the backs of his eyelids and the sensation of being held. Only one of these things annoys him.

“Hey,” he stage-whispers to Lincoln Li-Wilson, one of his partners in world-saving last year and his closest friend. “Gotta get up and close the blinds.”

He nudges an arm gently with his shoulder.

Link’s very prone to cuddling in his sleep, Taylor’s realized. Most of their sleepover nights end with his lanky limbs curled around him or one of their friends, protective even when there’s no need for it.

(Taylor would never tell him this, but he certainly appreciates it - nightmares of Doodler-twisted mayors beneath his bed are fewer these days, but he feels safer having his secure arms around him.)

Plus, Taylor’s always run pretty hot, and Lincoln has a penchant for seeking out anything to warm him as he rests. Often, Taylor ends up with Normal or Scary pressed into his other side, complaining about how Link stole their blankets.

It’s just the two of them this time, though, so the room is peacefully quiet. Now, if only the stupid goddamn sun wasn’t glowing through his eyelids and preventing him from sleeping in…

“Get off me, please,” Taylor mutters, a tiny bit louder now, wriggling in his grasp to see if he can escape -

“Mmn,” Link groans wordlessly, shifting to throw a leg across Taylor’s own, which is decidedly the opposite of what Taylor asked.

Link’s eyes flutter to half-mast for the briefest of moments, leaning further into Taylor if at all possible. It’s kind of adorable, the way his face screws up against the light.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” Link slurs, voice low and lazy and scratchy from sleep, and he shifts a bit more. Suddenly, there’s a warm, pliant pressure against Taylor’s chapped lips, followed by a soft pop as Link breaks the kiss. “Ten m’re minness, mkay?”

And with that, Link tucks his head into the side of Taylor’s neck, drapes his arm across Taylor’s stomach, and drops back off into slumber.

What the fuck.

“What the fuck?” Taylor exclaims aloud, because his best friend just kissed him like he’s been doing it for months on end and they’re very close, but never like that, and what the fuck?

“Link,” Taylor says, prodding him much more urgently than before. “The fuck was that, man?”

Link makes a questioning sort of grumble before propping up his chin on Taylor’s chest (on Taylor’s unbound chest, what the fuck ), muttering nonsense as he blinks blearily, squinting without the help of his glasses.

Then, his eyes widen comically.

“You’re not Chris.”

Link’s voice is still thick with sleep but also heavy with a dawning realization.

“No?” Taylor agrees, though it sounds more like a question.

Link backs away so quickly that he nearly topples out of Taylor’s king-sized bed.

“Dude!” Taylor shouts, diving across the comforter to grab at his wrist.

“You okay, man?” He asks after he’s sure that Link isn’t in danger of falling off his bed and dragging him down with him.

“I’m - I’m sorry,” Link says instead, which is totally not answering the yes-or-no question.

Though, looking at his best friend, it’s easy to tell what the answer is as he hauls himself back onto the mattress.

Link has this… blankness in his eyes. Taylor’s seen it happen a few times before, actually. With the firemen, with Tony, even with Hermie. It’s like he’s not all there, haunted, more of a void in a person’s body than a person. The wrist Taylor’s holding twitches, then twitches again, and again, but it’s only when Taylor looks down that he realizes he’s shaking.

“Hey, man, don’t freak out on me,” Taylor says, tapping on his wrist in an attempt to ground him as he scoots closer.

Link laughs, a pinched, shrill, hysterical thing as he shrinks away, back pressed against the headboard.

“No, no, no, no, you don’t get to say that, you’re the one who should be freaking out,” he responds, and while Taylor’s glad that his friend is at least present enough to hear him, the words come out all strangled and gasping.

Whatever’s got him so choked up holds Taylor’s heart in a vice grip.

“I’m not freaking out,” Taylor says, then reconsiders. “Okay, I’m freaking out a little. I just got kissed out of nowhere, I feel like it’s warranted.”

Link makes a wordless squeak. He draws his knees to his chest and buries his head in them, still shaking.

“But. You’re freaking out more, so that’s more important. And you apologized, and I forgive you - which, fuck, I guess I should’ve led with that, but - but I need you to be okay first”

Taylor doesn’t have the faintest clue what could’ve set Link off - the kiss is the only thing he could think of, but then again, he initiated it. Maybe Taylor has bad morning breath?

Whatever the reason, he needs him to calm down.

“It’s okay, Link,” he soothes, opting not to move closer but speaking loudly and slowly enough so that it can break through the anxious thoughts swirling in his friend’s head. “I’m not mad. Just confused.”

“Really?” Lincoln peeks through the slats of his fingers at him, and the hopefulness in his voice shatters something in Taylor.

“Really,” he confirms. Why the hell did Link think he’d be angry with him? Even though it had been Taylor’s first kiss, it’s not like Link had intended to go through with it, given that he had backed away once he realized -

Oh. Taylor’s starting to put together what this could be about.

“Sorry,” Link says again, face no longer blocked by his hands but eyes still downcast.

Taylor frowns. “You already said that.”

“I know.”

“So…” Taylor prompts after a beat, seeing that most of the tension is gone from Link’s body. “You okay?”

Link slumps a little, but at least he isn’t shaking anymore. “Not really.”

Taylor scooches a tiny bit closer to him, and when Lincoln makes no move to get away, he joins him at the headboard, nudging him with his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it?”

Link groans. “You deserve an explanation,” he says, though it looks like it pains him.

“You don’t uh, have to if you don’t want to.” Taylor attempts to shift beneath the hefty, itchy, too-tight compression of vulnerability, and it comes out through wringing hands that immediately fist themselves in the comforter.

He can totally do feelings, if that’s what Lincoln needs to get off his chest. It’s Link.

He’d do just about anything for him, has done just about anything, has turned around and doubled back to the FBI for him, has gone through the layers of Hell with him, has watched countless episodes of soccer anime just to figure out the game and see the cute little smile he gets when he mentions something about it.

This, he can handle.

He just hopes Lincoln can, too.

And if he can’t, well…

Link exhales loudly, shaking Taylor out of his own thoughts.

“It’s… well,” he starts, voice going soft and nerve-wracked and almost reedy in a way Taylor hasn’t heard in a long, long time. “Do you remember the simulation?”

“It’d be hard to forget, I think,” he says. “I just know my own, of course, but… you had a spouse in yours, right?”

Taylor hasn’t really thought much about the simulation. It was early on in their adventure, and there were much cooler, much more fucked-up things that took precedence in his mind. He hasn’t really given much thought to what the others went through, then.

Maybe he should have.

“Yeah,” Lincoln says. “Yeah, I did.”

Then, “I dream about them, sometimes.”

Oh.

“Oh.”

Link grimaces. “Yeah. And just, they feel so real sometimes. The dreams, I mean. The, uh, marriage, too, I guess, which is kinda stupid since I’m the only one who remembers anything and I’m still a teenager even if I’m technically over a hundred years old -”

“Hey,” Taylor interrupts, voice sharp, reaching out a hand to hover above Link’s own but not touching, unsure if it’ll help ground him enough to stop his spiraling or if it will only make matters worse.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not stupid,” he says with a conviction that surprises even him.

There’s a beat of silence, and Taylor tries to meet his friend’s gaze, wanting so badly to decipher the emotions on Link’s face and offer comfort.

Lincoln silently turns over his hand, palm-up, an invitation. Taylor takes it in his, trying not to be distracted by how cool his skin feels compared to his own.

“Okay?” He asks, giving his hand a little squeeze.

Link sighs, squeezes back, steeling himself. “Okay. I guess… it’s not that I have these dreams super often, it just. Happens. And even if it wasn’t real, my subconscious can’t, like… get over the fact that I wasn’t married for years, and… and when I woke up, it still felt like I was dreaming, and you were cuddled up next to me, and…”

Taylor’s face feels oddly warm for some reason, but he understands now.

“Crossed wires, huh?”

Link simply nods, looking incredibly guilty and sad.

“I’m not mad at you,” Taylor reminds him, “Or like, think you’re weird, or whatever. You know that, right?”

Lincoln hums uncertainly.

“I promise, dude.” Taylor searches for the right words, and he isn’t really sure that there are any. “You’re always gonna be my best friend, man. You didn’t, like, weird me out too much or whatever. This changes nothing.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, visibly relieved. “To be honest, I don’t know if I could handle fucking up another relationship in my life.”

Taylor squeezes Link’s hand again and wonders how he could ever think that their friendship would be ruined over this.

“You haven’t fucked anything up, my guy,” Taylor reassures. Then, because Taylor doesn’t know when to shut up, he asks, “Another relationship? I mean, I know things are kinda rocky with your dads, but -”

Link lets go of Taylor’s hand and, shit, Taylor definitely shouldn’t have asked that, should he?

Lincoln isn’t looking at him, though. Instead, he reaches for the ring he left on Taylor’s bedside table, fidgets with it in his hands for a little, slides it onto his middle finger. The black metal glints in the early morning light.

“Yeah, things with my dads are still a little shitty,” Link says, “But we’re working it out. I think.” Taylor nods.

“But… in the sim… the marriage with Chris didn’t work out too well,” he continues haltingly. “And, like, it wasn’t my fault, but it… kinda felt like it was? Like I fucked it up. It wasn’t the only reason we were considering separating, but… I didn’t know that I was ace until, uh, after.”

“That’s rough,” Taylor says, which is a little lame to say to something like that, but it’s literally all he can think to say.

It kinda recontextualizes a lot of things, like how Link was so quick to call their affectionate names after they got space-married, how he fixated on the concept of being married in the first place… but Taylor pushes those thoughts aside later.

He instead tries to imagine only realizing he was aromantic after dating someone, and it only produces an uncomfortable churning in his gut - especially given the fact that he knows he doesn’t really want to date anyone in the first place.

Link fidgets with the ring on his finger, keeping his gaze purposefully lowered. “I worried that I, like, tricked them into thinking I was a n- a typical person. Like I made them fall in love with someone who didn’t - who couldn’t - like I was attracted to them that way, and I fooled myself, too, and then I realized that no, I don’t work like that, and I -“

“Shit,” Taylor mutters, noticing the tear tracks streaming down his friend’s cheeks and quickly scrambling for the box of tissues next to his bed.

“Sorry, I just,” he continues, sniffling, “I felt so guilty that I couldn’t give them the kind of marriage they wanted, the one they deserved, and I felt selfish and awful and -“

“Woah, woah, woah, man,” Taylor placates, holding out a tissue. Link takes it and stares at it blankly for a moment before swiping it below his eyes.

“Sorry, sorry,” Link apologizes, which is silly because he already apologized for kissing him like 50 times at least and so he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for. “This wasn’t how I wanted you to find out.”

Taylor’s heart sinks a little.

“How did you want me to find out?” He asks as gently as he can manage.

Link laughs mirthlessly, and Taylor hates how hollow it sounds.

“Ideally? Never.”

“Dude.”

“Up until now, I’ve been handling it fine on my own, and I wouldn’t want t-“

“Dude,” Taylor repeats, and Link slumps further in on himself.

After a moment’s hesitation, Taylor scooches closer to him and places a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder blade, rubbing soothing circles into it to hopefully calm him down.

“Hey, we’re ride or die, man, remember?” Taylor asks.

“Yeah,” Lincoln replies, though it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

“And it’s not just me. That goes for Norm and Scary, too,” he adds, and he ducks down a little to meet his friend’s misty eyes.

This guy faced down gunfire for him, healed him, protected him, despite everything. Link means so much to Taylor that it feels like his heart might burst with it, sometimes.

And it kinda kills him, Taylor realizes, that Link might not know that.

“We care about you, Link, and we’ve been through a lot of jacked-up shit. We help each other with our jacked-up shit, and you’re not the exception, got that?”

Lincoln nods, though his lip quivers a little.

“Just talk to us, man,” Taylor says. “We get it - I mean, not exactly in my case!” He clarifies, “But. I understand where you’re coming from, and. We just wanna see you happy. Time fuckery is, like, typical Tuesday shit.”

“It hasn’t been typical Tuesday shit in like, ten months,” Lincoln says, and his voice is a little wavery, but it almost sounds like he’s smiling. Taylor counts that as a win.

“Thank fuck for that!” Taylor agrees, and then Link laughs - really, actually laughs, weak but joyful; Taylor can feel his instinctual grin in response.

“But,” Link says, after the laughter peters out, “there were… parts of it that were good, I guess. With them.”

Again, emotional vulnerability is… not really Taylor’s thing. He prefers to blot out any attempts at deep contemplation with humor.

That’s what his therapist tells him, at least.

He’s trying to get better at it, at the feeling-things-fully-and-sitting-with-it shit.

“Like what?” Taylor prompts.

Link smiles, slight and wistful, and gazes up at the ceiling. It’s an unfamiliar look on him, one that makes him seem older and younger at the same time, somehow.

“Well, the, uh, kissing, for one?” Then, he grimaces a little. “ Some of the kissing,” he amends. “It’s funny. I didn’t think I would miss it at all - I hadn’t really even thought about it until, uh, god, my early twenties? In the sim? But it’s… nice. Can be nice. Uh.”

Taylor makes an affirmative sort of hum to let him know he’s listening, trying to shake the lingering feeling that he shouldn’t be seeing his best friend smile at nothing the way he is.

“I think my favorite thing,” Link continues, “was just… waking up to someone. Like, getting up in the morning with one of your favorite people next to you - it’s,” Link cuts himself off with a considering hum, worrying the ring on his finger as he searches for something. “Comforting,” he settles on eventually. “It’s like, this constant in your life. It feels… secure, I guess, to have another person to face down the start of each day with. To take on the world with them every day.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad gig,” Taylor muses as he attempts to take all that in.

Then, he blurts, “I’d be down to try that out sometime. With you. If you want.”

Unfortunately, Taylor’s brain catches up about two seconds too late.

“I don’t mean in, like, a romantic way, or anything!” He rushes to clarify.

“O-of course not,” Link says, and is it just Taylor, or does his voice sound a little breathier? “I wouldn’t ask that of you, but… you’d really be okay with that?”

Link’s expression is nothing short of wonderment, all wide eyes and raised brows and slightly-parted lips. The weight of his closest friend’s eyes on him feels suddenly like all too much - all that wistfulness and vulnerability and affection directed at him, leaving him with nowhere to hide - but he can’t bring himself to avert his gaze.

“I mean,” Taylor says, feeling at an utter loss for anything profound to say, “Yeah, dude. You’re my best friend. And then some.”

“‘And then some?’” Lincoln echoes, then frowns. “You, uh, don’t have to explain that if you don’t want to, sorry-“

“Quit apologizing, Link,” Taylor interrupts, attempting to swallow down his heart, which currently feels like it’s climbing up his throat. He takes a deep breath, clenches his fists in the fabric of his pajama pants.

“I don’t know how to describe what I feel for you but there’s… a lot of it. Not romantic but not like friendship, per se. I’m not, uh, in love with you, like in the traditional way? But,” he cuts himself off, squeezes his eyes shut to get through the rest. “I love you, Link.”

Taylor feels Link take hold of his hand. It’s the one with the ring, and the metal feels nice against his palm. “It’s okay,” Link says, and Taylor opens his eyes to see his best friend gazing at their interlocked hands adoringly. “I love you, too.” Their eyes meet, and Taylor’s stomach feels all sorts of fluttery. “In that way, I think.”

“Oh,” Taylor says, awestruck. “That’s… wow. Okay.”

“Okay?” Lincoln repeats with a smile in his voice, tracing his thumb along the side of Taylor’s hand.

“Yeah,” Taylor responds, feeling… well, he can’t put a name to it. But it’s a lot.

It wells up in the spaces between his ribs as he glances sidelong at Link, studying the way the rays of golden morning light peek through the blinds to stripe his skin with shades of copper and amber, the way his shirt and his hair are all sleep-softened and rumpled, the way his thumb traces absentmindedly along the side of their joined hands again and again as they lapse into a comfortable silence.

Taylor’s never been one for romance, or for dating, or for particularly wanting either of those things for himself. But when he looks at Lincoln, he thinks he really, really, really wants this. Whatever this is.

Link’s eyebrows furrow, the way they always do when he gets in his head about something. It turns the pale slash of his scar to a lightning-bolt squiggle, and the strange longing-affection threatens to overwhelm him entirely.

Taylor kinda wants to press his thumb against that scar, smooth it over, meet that mark of his friend’s devotion with a gesture of his own.

“Taylor…” Lincoln starts, brows still pinched together and the uncertainty in his tone hangs in the air.

“Mhm?” He runs a thumb across Link’s knuckles, nudges his shoulder, a wordless go on, I’m listening.

“What do you wanna try out, exactly?”

When Taylor looks up at him, he adds, “We don’t have to talk about it right now if you don’t want to! I just - I figured! I don’t know, actually, I’ve never, uh, been in this type of relationship before. If you’re okay with calling it that, haha.”

“Link.” Taylor says, squeezing his hand, and the boy next to him stills almost entirely. “You don’t have to be nervous with me, man. Not like I’ve exactly done this, either.”

Taylor hums a little, shifting on the mattress to rest his head against Link’s shoulder in an attempt to calm his friend’s (partner’s?) nerves. It seems like it works a little.

“I think I really like what we have now,” Taylor answers eventually. “I like cuddling with you. Hugging you, holding your hand, spending time with you. Sleeping in the same bed, waking up next to you, like you said. I don’t think I’d ever stop liking that. I don’t really want to like, date, or anything,” he says, glancing down at the comforter. Link squeezes his hand, wordless reassurance, and Taylor smiles to himself. “But if you want to try something new,” he considers, “I guess I wouldn’t be against that.”

“Like… kissing?” Link asks hesitantly.

“I, uh… I guess I didn’t mind it, earlier,” Taylor mumbles, and god, he can feel himself blushing.

Suddenly, the floor is much more interesting. Taylor accidentally makes direct eye contact with one of his body pillows, and his face heats further as he quickly looks anywhere else.

“Ooh, you liked it, huh?” Link asks, a teasing lilt to his voice as he nudges his shoulder, and of course that’s the conclusion he would come to seeing Taylor all flustered and red-cheeked like this.

“I - I don’t know!” he blurts, a response to a question that probably wasn’t expecting an answer. “I mean,” Taylor fidgets nervously, his free hand twisting in the blankets. “I wasn’t expecting it, and that was my first kiss, and everything happened so fast and I was worried about you and -” his face feels so, so red right now. God, this is embarrassing.

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous with me,” Link echoes. “And, uh, sorry that I stole your first kiss. That was kinda shitty.”

“You already apologized,” Taylor replies, feeling a little calmer. “Plus, it’s not like you meant to.”

“I didn’t,” he agrees. “Not then, at least. I’ve thought about it before, though.”

“You have?” Taylor asks, gaping at Link in surprise.

“Uh, yeah,” Lincoln glances away, bashful, but then he looks down at Taylor, and the earnest gleam in his eyes sets Taylor’s heart pounding in his chest. “I’ve thought about it… kind of a lot. You’re, like, really pretty, dude. And funny, and kind, and smart, and loyal…”

“Thanks,” Taylor says, and he would be more self-conscious of his voice cracking if his brain wasn’t currently working overtime to process this new information.

Link likes me. Link loves me. Link thinks I’m pretty. Link’s thought about kissing me “kind of a lot.” Holy fuck.

“Well, do you… uh.” Link pauses. “Do you wanna find out if you like it? Like kissing someone, I mean. With me?”

Jesus Christ. This boy is going to be the death of him.

“You can say no, by the way. I wouldn’t think of you any differently if you don’t want to,” Lincoln reassures quickly, though he seems a little less anxious now. “So, uh. No pressure. But also if it turns out you don’t like kissing, that’s totally okay, and -”

“Okay,” Taylor interrupts.

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he confirms. “I’d rather figure it out with you than with anyone else. I trust you.”

“Oh,” Link mutters, seemingly more to himself than to Taylor. “You sure?”

There’s something fragile about the expression on his partner’s face, something long-closed-off, something vulnerable. The Taylor from a few months ago would’ve run from it, would’ve jostled him a little too roughly and smiled a little too toothily until Link’s expression matched his and things were much less precarious again.

Taylor as he is now, though, lets go of his hand, shifts around on the bed until he sits facing Lincoln, legs straddling his thighs, a few inches of space left between their chests.

“Figured this might be easier,” he says, looking into Link’s wide, dark eyes. “You good?”

“Um,” Link responds tactfully. “Here, let me just… could you get off for a second?”

Taylor quirks a brow at him but complies, and Lincoln makes a bit more space between himself and the headboard, shifting to sit with his legs crisscrossed. Taylor copies him, scooting close enough that their knees touch.

“Better?” Taylor asks.

“Much,” Link replies, looking visibly relieved. Taylor doesn’t really see much of a difference, but it’s definitely nicer to see him more comfortable.

On the other hand, the fact that his best friend is about to kiss him on purpose has Taylor feeling like he’s about to vibrate out of his skin.

“Where do you want me to kiss you?” Link asks, gazing at Taylor with so much open affection that he thinks he might explode.

“Whuh?” Taylor responds intelligently.

“You look nervous,” Link says, taking his hand again, loosely enough so that Taylor could pull away if he wanted to (he doesn’t). “It’s just me, we don’t have to kiss if you don’t want to.”

But I do want to. Maybe, Taylor thinks.

“Would it be okay if you kissed me on the forehead instead?” Taylor says aloud.

Lincoln smiles, and Taylor thinks that even if he closed his eyes, he would still be able to see the radiance of it through the backs of his eyelids.

“More than okay,” he responds, and leans in closer.

Taylor squeaks as Link’s hand cups the side of his face.

“You alright?” Link asks, pausing.

“Yeah,” Taylor says. Link’s cold fingers make a stark contrast against his heated face, and he closes his eyes, leaning into his palm.

Above him, he can hear the way Link exhales, feel the way he closes the distance between them.

Then, there’s a soft pressure at Taylor’s temple, warm and loving. The pressure remains there for a few short seconds, and then Link backs away with a barely-audible sound.

Taylor opens his eyes and lifts his head, and Link drops his hand to Taylor’s knee. He’s much closer than before, and the proximity combined with the lingering sensation of his lips against his skin floods Taylor with a giddy, dizzying feeling.

“So, what’s the verdict?” Link asks.

“Good,” Taylor says, a little breathless. “I, uh, really liked that.”

“Would you be okay with me doing that more often, then?”

Taylor doesn’t even need to stop and consider it. “Yeah,” he replies, and Lincoln smiles, and he smiles back. “More than okay.”

Link’s smile grows, and Taylor finds himself staring at his lips. He lets himself wonder what it would feel like to kiss him, and something swoops in his stomach, a heady concoction of nerves and curiosity and longing.

The smile fades, and his friend’s mouth is slightly downturned in concern. It’s unfair, Taylor thinks, for Link to look handsome even when he frowns. Even so, he’d much rather have him grinning and happy and next to him, and maybe Taylor wonders what it would be like to turn to him and pull him down by the collar of his shirt and fit his lips to the seam of that smile -

“Taylor?”

“Woah,” Taylor mutters, shaking himself out of his forehead-kiss-induced-madness. Because that’s what that was, that’s all that was, right?

“You good?”

“Uh,” Taylor says, still a little transfixed at the way Link’s lips shape out the words.

Ask him, ask him, ask him.

“Do you want me to kiss you?” Tumbles out of Taylor’s mouth.

Link’s eyes go wide.

“What?” The question isn’t quite a squeak, but it’s almost there.

“Because I think I kinda wanna kiss you.”

“Are… are you sure?” Link brings his hand up to rest it against Taylor’s cheek again, but it hangs in the air, wavering, like he isn’t sure if he’s allowed to want this.

Taylor thinks that’s pretty stupid, so he snatches his hand out of the space between them, presses his friend’s calloused palm to the contour of his jaw.

Link breathes out shakily. Taylor leans a little further into his space, their foreheads practically touching, looking into his deep, dark eyes.

“I’m sure. Like I said, I trust you.”

“Okay,” Link says, just barely loud enough to be heard. His eyes flit downward to Taylor’s lips, and he tilts Taylor’s jaw the slightest amount, and Taylor closes his eyes against the gentleness of his partner’s touch, against the fierceness of the drumming in his chest.

All the manga and anime and romance movies hadn’t really prepared him for this, Taylor thinks. There are no fireworks as Link kisses him, no burning passion beyond the flustered, demonically-assisted heat already scorching his cheeks.

It’s nothing magical, nothing world-endingly special. Definitely not something that should justify a whole plot’s worth of hype, in his opinion.

Even so, kissing his closest friend feels like something sacred and mundane at the same time. He leans his face just the slightest bit further into Link’s hand, to feel the slowly-softening calluses scattered along his palm, and the gesture has Lincoln humming something delicate that’s muffled against his mouth. The vibrations of it reach down to Taylor’s soul as Lincoln’s lips turn up just the slightest fraction - not enough to break the kiss, but enough so that he can feel it.

Link keeps the kiss chaste, which Taylor greatly appreciates, but there’s something slow and achingly gentle about it. His partner’s other hand moves to the nape of his neck, fingers running through the flyaway hairs there tentatively, then less so as a pleased sigh crawls out of Taylor’s throat, unbidden.

Kissing is… less than what it’s made out to be, Taylor thinks, but it’s not necessarily bad. Strange, new, a little vulnerable in a way that might freak him out under certain circumstances. But here and now, held within Link’s arms, he decides he feels… safe. Cared for. Seen, but by someone he’s okay with being seen by.

After a few moments, Link pulls away, and Taylor lets him, still reveling in the feeling of his palm against his cheek and his hand in his hair and the ghost of pressure against his lips.

“So, Tay,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper as Taylor opens his eyes. “What’d ya think?”

Link’s brown eyes search his face for any signs of discomfort before meeting his own again, and the enormity of his gaze - unabashed, unashamed, so visibly loving and concerned - has something building up in his throat.

“Don’t - you can’t just look at me like that,” Taylor says, voice hoarse, and they’d barely even done anything but he’s still overwhelmed, somehow.

“Sorry,” Link responds, rote and hushed, but his voice pitches up at the end, question implicit.

“Sorry,” he echoes back, “I’m just - not used to…” He pulls his hand away from its place on Link’s shoulder (when had that happened), waving it around in the minimal space between them to gesture at - well, whatever they have going on.

Lincoln nods, blessedly understanding, and though he glances elsewhere, Taylor knows the starry-eyed, near-worshipful awe painted across Link’s features won’t fade from his memory anytime soon.

“It’s kinda scary, isn’t it?” He says, eyes flitting to focus on the way their knees bump together atop the comforter.

“God, terrifying,” Taylor replies, slumping forward to rest his forehead on Link’s shoulder.

Link’s arms circle around him wordlessly, automatically, and it feels like relief, like comfort, like home.

“I thought my heart was gonna, like, explode,” he admits into his best friend’s sleep shirt. “Is it always like that?”

“What? Kissing?”

“No, not that,” Taylor replies. “Like… I don’t know. Feelings?”

“I… I don’t know,” Lincoln settles on after a beat of contemplative silence. “I think you’re the first person I’ve ever really liked this way.”

“Same here,” Taylor admits, leaning further into him simply because it feels right to do so. “I mean, I have little crushes every now and then, but you’re the only one that’s stuck.” He pauses a little, considering. “Even if I don’t like kissing as much as you do.”

“That’s okay,” Link says.

“Not a deal breaker for you, Boss?”

Link gives that cute little half-laugh of his. “Far from it, honey.”

Then, “Was that okay?”

Taylor might as well be permanently flushed around Link from here on out.

“Yep!” He chirps, maybe a little too loudly. “More than okay, babe.”

“You know, I thought I would hate that, but it sounds kinda cute when it’s you saying it,” His partner says, and Taylor can’t fight the toothy grin pulling at his lips.

Then, his mouth stretches a little wider into a yawn.

“Tired?” Link asks, hand drawing meaningless patterns on his back as Taylor nods against his shoulder.

Link hums. “What if I got up to close the blinds and we slept in a little later?”

“That sounds like a great idea, partner,” Taylor replies, a little giddiness welling up in him because they’re partners, now.

And Taylor doesn’t really know what all that entails, yet, but as he watches Link get up and make his way across the room, he figures that it’ll be alright. After all, he’s got his ride-or-die at his side through it all in more ways than one.

#listen it might be past midnight for me but it's still out of touch thursday somewhere!!!#and yes. i did title this from out of touch by hall & oates. making silly references in true dndads fashion <3 #this fic has been in the back of my mind for AGES and though i'm still a little shaky on the ending i think it turned out pretty good imo!#but! i'll leave that for y'all to judge lmao #dndads #swiftli #dndads swiftli week 2024 #fic #happi scribbles #also. hugest shoutout ever to cookies for being an absolute angel and beta reading this for me <3 ily cookies

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starman-jpg · 5 months

Text

Dirty Little Secret

WC: 4k | TW: None that I can think of

Hey! Long time since I posted something I actually wrote.

Had this idea after listening to this song actually. It sounded fun.

This is not beta read. I would be curious if anyone would want to beta read anything I make before I post it.

If there are any errors, lets pretend like we didn't seem them. Cool?

And for the first time since I got my account, this will be posted on ao3! So feel free to read it here if you want.

Title from "Dirty Little Secret" by The All-American Rejects

Eddie is in Chicago, which is weird.

He’s been to Chicago before. He’s played shows before and has gone clubbing here. That’s not the weird part. It’s weird that he is here and is not expected to do… well, anything.

He’s on a break from performing for a while. He and the band decided it was about time to relax for the first time in years. They’ve been touring on and off for 5 years and making albums in between so it was time to take a well earned break.

Gareth, Jeff and Grant all decided to go back to Hawkins to see their families. They all were going to go to Hawkins originally but Eddie backed out at the last minute.

He was scared to go back. Not because of monsters or anything. But because he didn’t want to run into him.

He doesn’t know what he would say if he ran into him. Probably some dumb shit that would end up with him heartbroken more or looking like a total idiot. Or both.

So obviously, in order to avoid that situation, he decided to go to Chicago.

Chicago is not bad, he likes Chicago. He originally moved to Chicago from Hawkins for a couple months before they all got discovered and moved to LA.

So Chicago is great. But it's not Hawkins. He misses his Uncle Wayne and the kids, who were most definitely not kids anymore. And especially S- Nope! Can’t think about him now. Not now, he needs to relax.

He walks aimlessly around the city before stopping at a small venue with a line out the door. He asked the people around about who’s playing.

He learned that they are a semi-local band with a good following. The front man is drop-dead gorgeous, if the girl's squealing was anything to go by.

Color Eddie intrigued, he’s going to see this band.

He waited in line, got his last minute ticket and was let into the venue. It was small, but nice. Eddie remembered playing at venues like this. There was a stage already filled with instruments, a huge standing area and balcony area, and a bar that was fully stocked.

Eddie gladly took advantage of the bar, getting a beer and headed towards the front of the stage. He didn’t have to be on the barricade, but he’d like to be close. Be in the crowd and enjoy the whole experience.

After a while of waiting, his beer half gone, the lights on stage come to life as the song starts and the crowd goes wild (it spooks Eddie honestly). Eddie looks at the band and freezes when he sees Robin Buckley behind the drums.

When did she join a band?

Shit. Is he here?

He looks frantically around the venue, trying to find that familiar head of hair.

And as if God himself was enjoying his pain, a familiar voice rings through the venue.

Let me know that I’ve done wrong

When I’ve known this all along

I go around a time or two

Just to waste my time with you

Eddie faces the stage and his breath is instantly stolen from his lungs.

Steve

He- he looks fantastic.

Tight black jeans that hug all of Eddie’s favorite parts of him. A sleeveless shirt that reveals a generous bit of skin and some of his scars- oh shit, is that a tattoo?

He squints, acting like that will help him see. Steve raises his arm, pushing his hair back and sure enough, there is something on Steve’s ribs that he can’t make out this far away.

His eyes snap to his face to see a small stud in Steve’s nose. His gaze moves to Steve’s eyes that were lined with black.

Suddenly those beautiful, hazel eyes that he’s memorized look straight at him.

Steve, for the most part, doesn’t look surprised and looks away back at the crowd, singing the chorus and bouncing around stage, clearly having fun if that smile says anything.

Steve moves across the stage, singing and kneels in front of the stage, letting the screaming girls, and a couple guys, touch his hand and up his arm. Steve quickly moves away before he is bodily dragged into the crowd, laughing as he sings.

The chorus goes again and everyone is jumping around, and those who know the lyrics are singing along. Steve smiles, pulls the mic off the stand, and walks along the edge of the stage singing.

The way he feels inside (inside)

Those thoughts I can’t deny (deny)

These sleeping dogs won’t lie (won’t lie)

And all I’ve tried to hide

It’s eating me apart

Trace this line back

Steve holds out the last note, head bent back showing off the veins that pop out of his very biteable neck, before he smiles and dances around the stage some more. His hair is a mess. A very, very hot mess.

Wait. Did Steve say ‘he’?

He ends up in front of Eddie’s section again, once again looking at him.

Steve signals and the instruments back off a little as Steve brings the mic to him, almost whispering into it, not breaking eye contact.

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret (dirty little secret)

Don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another regret (just another regret)

Steve winks, fucking winks, as he jumps back to the middle of the stage, to finish off the song.

I’ll keep you my dirty little secret

Don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another regret

(Just another regret, hope that you can keep it)

My dirty little secret , dirty little secret

Dirty little secret, who has to know?

Steve whips around to where Eddie is and shrugs,

Who has to know?

The song ends and the crowd erupts in ear shattering cheers.

Steve laughs happily, waving to everyone and thanking them.

Steve talks a little, welcoming everyone and even introducing the band before they start another song.

The energy is high throughout the whole night. Steve owns the stage. Singing and dancing. And when he pulls out his guitar and starts playing… Well, Eddie is trying his best not to lose it.

The show ends and the crowd starts shuffling out, but Eddie can’t seem to move his legs.

When did this all happen? When did Steve become the front man of a band? When did Steve learn the guitar?

He’s pulled out of his thoughts by a rough tap on his shoulder.

“Are you Eddie Munson?” A security guard asks. Eddie slowly nods. “Cool. The band has requested to see you. Follow me.” And the guard walks off, not waiting for Eddie.

Eddie, finally remembering how to walk, rushes to catch up with the guard who snakes around the back and shows Eddie to the green room. The guard knocks on the door and opens it, announcing Eddie’s arrival. After confirmation, he steps back and allows Eddie to shuffle past him into the room.

He walks in and is instantly bombarded by two very familiar faces.

“Henderson! Little Wheeler! Holy shit hey!” They all hug, laughing.

Mike steps back first, patting Eddie on the pack, “Eddie! Holy shit it's great seeing you again.”

Dustin nods, “Yeah, man, it’s been years. How’s everything? How’s your band?”

“Oh! Yeah, it’s great. Everything’s great. The band is just taking a small break to prepare a new album.” He smiles, “I didn’t- I didn’t see you guys out there.”

“I work behind the scenes, y’know. Audio stuff for the band. And Mike was on stage. You didn’t see him?” Dustin asks.

“On- on stage. Holy shit Little Wheeler, coming very far from our first lesson.”

Mike ducks his head, blushing a little, “Yeah well, had a great teacher, didn’t I?” He gently nudges Eddie, “And when you left, Steve helped.”

Steve helped?

“Steve, yeah. Where- where is he? And Buckley! I saw her behind the drums.”

Dustin was about to answer as the door opened behind him. Eddie turns around and sees Robin enter, “My ears are ringing. Are you talking shit Munson?” She asks playfully, a small smile on her lips.

“Never Lady Buckley, c’mere.” He opens his arms and Robin throws herself at him, laughing as he rocks them side-to-side.

They break apart, “When did you learn how to play? You were so good!” He asks, smiling.

“Aw, thanks Munson, high praise from you. Um, probably like 4 years? Almost 5. I don’t know, it was Steve’s idea. But I enjoy it. Gets rid of all the extra energy, y’know?” She backs up to the couch and sits down, Mike sitting next to her, grabbing his guitar and strumming it idly.

“You were great. You both were great. All of you were great. Um, where is the rest of your band?” He asks sheepishly.

“Another part is behind you.” A snippy voice comes from behind him.

“Max?!” Eddie shouts, and when he turns around, sure enough the little red head is behind him, smirking. “You’re in the band too?”

She nods, walking to sit next to Robin on the arm of the couch. “Last time I checked.”

Dustin, who was checking all the equipment, turns around, slightly waving off Eddie, “Don’t mind him Max. He only recognized Robin and Steve. Didn’t even realize Mike was on stage either.”

Robin looks over at Eddie, her eyebrows raised, a knowing little smile spreading across her face.

Eddie blushed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Huh… yeah, sorry. But- but you all did so good! I was really impressed.”

They all thank him and continue catching up. Talking about how Eddie and his band are doing. How he’s doing, specifically. They talk for what feels like hours, but is only really 30 minutes.

The whole time, Steve is nowhere to be seen. Eddie is getting a bit antsy.

“Where-” His voice cracks and he quickly clears his throat, “Where’s Steve?”

The kids (are they considered kids still?) look towards Robin. Robin, who clearly was dreading this question, panics.

“He’s, um, he…” Her eyes flit around the room before landing behind Eddie, “Oh thank god.” She whispers, mostly to herself.

Eddie was about to question her before that same voice from tonight comes from behind him.

“Hey, Munson.”

Eddie turns around and again, the air is gone from his lungs.

Steve.

Did he say that outloud, please tell him he didn’t say that outloud.

Steve is in front of him. Actually in front of him. Within reaching distance of him. He could take two steps and be in his arms.

If they were still together… of course.

“Steve… uh, uh… hi.”

Hi?

Seriously Munson, that’s the best you could come up with after 5 years of not seeing the one man that’s been plaguing your mind since you left.

Steve laughs softly, smiling, “Hi.”

Oh! He’s smiling. That perfect, breathtaking smile.

“Hi.” Eddie cringes at himself, where was all his sauve-ness? This is not being really suave-y.

Steve takes another step into the room, still smiling (good sign), “I think we’ve established that we’ve greeted each other.”

Eddie softly laughs, nodding, “Yeah, of course. Um, you were…”

Great. Fantastic. Beautiful. Breathtaking. Hot. So hot that I can’t keep my thoughts straight (no pun intended).

Steve smirks at him, waiting. What was he waiting for? Right! Finish the goddamn sentence.

“Fantastic.” He shouts, startling Steve, “Sorry. Um, you were fantastic.”

Steve laughs again and nods, “Thanks.” Steve looks up and catches Eddie’s eyes.

They’re just looking at each other and everything just seems to be Steve and him.

Steve and Eddie.

Oh, how he wishes they could be Steve and Eddie again.

Someone clears their voice and breaks the two boys' trance with each other.

Eddie turns and sees Robin and the rest getting off the couch.

“We,” Robin gestures to the rest of the band, “are going to go… pack up! Yeah! We’re gonna pack up, you two stay here. Catch up. And we’ll… pack. Yeah…” She finishes off lamely before the four of them quickly rush out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

There is awkwardness between them before Steve sits on the couch, gesturing for Eddie to join him.

“So!” Eddie starts, trying to break the awkwardness, “You’re in a band. That’s new.”

Steve laughs, music to Eddie’s ears, and nods, “Yeah, um, decided to make one. I wrote down a lot of things, lyrics. I made them into songs in my free time and showed them to Robin. She loved them. Said I should sing them for people.” He laughs again, shaking his head like he’s remembering that day specifically. “She signed me up for an open mic, so I couldn’t back down.” He shrugs, looking at Eddie, “People liked them I guess. Got some requests to come back.

Eddie nods, “Robin said you told her to try the drums?”

“Obviously, if I was going to sing, she was going to be with me and she absolutely kills on drums. I tried to teach her some chords on guitar, but she would mess up then freak out in her little Robin way, y’know?. Drums were easier for her, the repetitiveness of it all. At least, that’s what she tells me.”

“And Mike and Max?”

“Ah, well Mike was, um, sad, when you left. He was going to give up guitar since ‘the best guitar teacher in Hawkins’ left. His words, not mine. I ended up helping him too. And Max always wanted to learn the bass. So I helped her out too. We ended up jamming a lot together and the rest is history I suppose.”

“You-” Eddie stops, struggling to find the words, “I- I never knew you played guitar.”

“Ah, yeah. Well,” Steve shrugs, “I kinda grew up playing a lot. Loved it. About Middle School I had to stop. My dad didn’t like that I spent most of my time playing music then sports. Said music for idiots who didn’t stand a chance in the real world. So he signed me up for baseball, basketball, and swimming. Didn’t have much time to play. And I liked sports enough, so it wasn’t torture.” Steve plays with the edge of his shirt nervously, “When you left, I picked it back up.”

Eddie nods, “You never told me. We could’ve played together.”

Steve sighs, “Yeah, well. You never asked.” Steve shrugs again, trying to smile but it did not come through.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. You didn’t know.”

Eddie nods, looking at his shoes that could use a good clean.

It’s this that Eddie really wanted to avoid. The awkwardness. Acting like they don’t know how each other feels or tastes. It’s torture.

“That song,” Eddie starts, worried, “The one you started with. Is- Was it about… us?”

Smooth Eddie. Real smooth.

Steve looks around the room, anywhere but Eddie and nods, “Yeah. It is.”

“Oh.”

Steve turns to Eddie, causing Eddie to fully look up now, “It-” Steve huffs and starts again, “It helped me. I mean… I couldn’t tell anyone, anything, y’know?. So, I channeled it into something where I could sing it, and no one knew who it was about.”

“No one knows?” Eddie says, unintentionally sounding relieved.

Steve rolls his eyes and turns back towards the door, “Yeah Eddie. No one knows, your secret is still safe. Don’t worry.”

Shit! He’s screwing this up.

“No! No, no, no. Not like that! Just surprised, is all. Thought you would tell Robin at least.” He tries to joke, which instantly falls and dies on the floor.

“Figured if you didn’t want people knowing we were a thing together, probably wouldn’t like me telling everyone we were ever a thing.” Steve states like it's a fact, “Plus, your name started getting out there. Didn’t need a scandal so early on.”

“Oh, cool. Thanks.” Eddie cringes, he’s doing this all wrong. Shit, he needs to be fixing this.

Steve scoffs and shakes his head, “Yeah, no problem.”

“You could’ve, um, told people… told Robin.” He says sheepishly, hoping it was the right thing to say. It wasn’t.

Steve gets up from the couch, clearly angry, and turns to look at him. “So, after we were together, I could’ve told people. Great Munson. Thanks for that.”

Eddie goes to say something but it’s cut off quickly by a still fuming Steve.

“Eddie, you kept me a secret. For months. No one knew about us! I tried. I tried to just meet your friends, said we could just say we were friends but you freaked until I backed down. I tried dropping stuff off at your trailer when you were sick and you freaked out, saying how people could see me there. How the hell is that supposed to make me feel?

“And I understand, we lived in a small town. But I wasn’t asking for you to kiss me in the middle of town. I was asking you to trust me when I said I knew people who would accept us and protect us if anything got out. But you said no.

“And it got me thinking. Maybe it’s not because you’re scared. But maybe because it was me.” A tear rolls down Steve’s face, but before Eddie could even think of wiping it away, Steve did it. “I know I was an asshole in high school. But I tried so damn hard to be a better person. I tried so hard to change. And I did change. But it wasn’t enough. Not for you.”

“Steve…”

“Did you ever tell anyone Eddie?” Steve stares at him, anger behind his eyes, and a little bit of hope.

Hope that maybe Eddie did tell someone. Hope that Eddie did love him, but he was just scared of the consequences of society and not because Steve was the problem.

Eddie froze, and that gave Steve his answer.

“Of course you didn’t. Didn’t even say we were friends.” Steve shakes his head, crossing his arms and moving further away from him.

“I’m sorry. I- I did want people to know, eventually, but…”

“You left.” Steve finishes for him, void of emotion. “You left Eddie. We argued that night before. I was tired of hiding and I just wanted to tell Robin, but you freaked. So we argued and you stormed out of my house. You left my house. You left Hawkins.” Steve sniffles and looks at him, “You left me.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Stop!” Steve shouts, running his hands through his hair, frustrated, “Stop saying you’re sorry. It’s way too late. No one heard from you for 5 years! All we knew is what the news said. We saw you rise to fame and we thought you moved on from us. So we accepted that. I accepted that!” Steve yells, trying his best not to let tears fall.

“I wanted to come back. I swear, I wanted to come back. I thought about coming back so much. I thought about coming back to-”

“But you didn’t!” Steve yells again, “You never came back.”

Steve looks around, trying to discreetly wipe his face, “Leave, Eddie. You need to leave.”

Eddie freezes, “Steve…”

“Leave.” Steve says sternly, not even looking at Eddie.

Eddie nods, he looks up, begging his tears to not fall. He starts for the door in quick strides, wanting to get out of there fast. As he reaches for the door knob he stops.

He can’t leave. He knew this could end badly, but he’s not running off. Not again.

He hears Steve scoff, “Eddie, seriously. You need to leave. Right-”

“2,157!” Eddie shouts fast, turning around to see Steve staring at him.

“What?”

“2,157. I have thought of nothing but you for 2,157 days.”

Steve still looks confused. Eddie steps towards him, itching to grab Steve’s hand, but thinks better of it.

“There has never been a single day where I haven’t thought of you. Your hair. Your eyes. Your smile. Your laugh… I always thought of you, every fucking day.”

A small tear falls down Steve’s face. Eddie hesitantly reaches out and cups Steve’s face, gently wiping away the tear with his thumb.

“I’m sorry.” He continues, making sure Steve is looking at him, “I’m sorry that I wasn’t strong enough for us. I was scared. And I ran away the moment I could. And that was so, so, so shitty of me.” He sniffles, feeling his own tears run down his face, “I understand if you want me to leave and never come back. I will. It would break me, but I will. But I can’t leave without telling you…” He looks at the hopeful look in Steve’s eyes, “I love you, Steve Harrington. I always loved you. From the beginning.

“I shouldn't've made you keep us a secret. I should’ve taken your hand and kissed you senseless in the streets of Hawkins. Who would’ve cared? I would’ve been happy to be seen with you. But, I was too much of a coward too. I should’ve showered you in all the love that I felt for you back then. I should’ve made you feel like no one else would ever love you as much as I did. I should’ve made you happy. And, I’m so, so sorry that I ever made you feel less than that.”

Steve stayed frozen, more tears falling down his face.

“Y-you loved me?” Steve croaks out, still looking at Eddie.

Eddie smiles, nodding his head, “Uh huh, still do.” Eddie gently ghosts his thumbs over Steve’s bottom lip, “Still do.”

Steve smiles, letting out a breathy laugh.

“I love you, Steve Harrington. So, so much that it kills me.”

Steve goes quiet. Eddie feels like he catapulted across the line and tries to step back, taking his hand away from Steve’s face. But a hand shoots up and keeps Eddie right where he is.

Eddie looks up at Steve again

“I love you too.” He whispers, even though they are the only ones in the room, “God Eddie, I love you so much.”

Eddie’s shoulders relax and he smiles big, bringing his other hand to hold Steve’s face. “Yeah?” He asks softly.

“Yeah… I love you.”

Eddie smiles and goes to kiss him before stopping. “I- I can kiss you right? Please say I can kiss you.”

“Please, Eddie kiss-”

Eddie doesn’t wait and immediately surges forward to capture his lips. He was expecting something hot and heavy. But it wasn’t that.

It was better.

It was the slow movement of lips together. Something that was laced with love that they have been keeping in for years. Just the gentle slide of lips that did not seek to go further. It felt like it lasted forever, but it was only a couple minutes before they pulled apart and just stared at each other.

“I’m not running away. Not this time. I want you Steve. I need you. And-and if you’ll have me, I’ll make sure I never hurt you. I will hold your hand and-and kiss you in front of the world. And we can tell everyone about us, because I want everyone in this world to know about us and see how happy we make each other.”

“You’re kind of famous Eddie, the world would quite literally know about us. And we still need to be safe. I don’t want you to jeopardize your career-”

“Screw it! Screw it all! If people don’t like that I’m with another man, that sucks for them. But I’m not hiding us. Not again.”

“Eddie…” Steve softly says, as if he’s trying to make Eddie see this logically (which he will not, thank you very much).

“Nope! You can’t change my mind. If my label drops the band we’ll find a new one- or we’ll create one. I have the money. I just… I can’t lose you again.”

Steve searches his eyes and smiles, “You’re serious? You’d jeopardize your career- your dream- for me?”

“It's not a dream if you’re not there Stevie.”

Steve moves and kisses him again, more passionately this time.

“Okay.” Steve says, breaking apart.

“Okay?” Eddie asks, “You want this? You want me?”

Steve smiles, nodding, “It was always you Eds. No one else.”

Eddie laughs and picks up Steve, spinning around. Steve’s laugh fills the air and Eddie could not be happier than in this moment.

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recurring-polynya · 1 year

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In light of that post I reblogged yesterday where it turns out that 40,000 words is considered a novel?

To be fair, there are so many worse things you could do whilst in the throes of the most well-justified mental break that anyone on any plane of existence has ever had but also--

Girl, what?

#momo hinamori #toshiro hitsugaya #'loaded with outtakes'#real credit for this goes to b3 b/c i never would have noticed this if they hadn't pointed it out in an ao3 comment once #look there is just SO MUCH going on in Color Bleach+ it's like house of fucking leaves #i believe in my heart that this issue never made it to print #both because hitsugaya shut it down as soon he saw the ad for it #--did he even see this??? he was in the living world when this issue came out.#maybe that's WHY they thought they could get away with a Capt Hitsugaya special edition--#in any case i think hisagi had an aneurysm THAT IS TOO MUCH PAPER WE WILL GO BANKRUPT #but at the same time this manuscript EXISTS #WHO has SEEN it i need to know #hisagi obvs but i doubt he read it cover to cover he was having The Struggles at the time #normally i would say renji but he was in the living world as was matsumoto #kira was also Going Thru It but i can def see him grimly beta-reading this thing #you know i hope hitsugaya WASN'T aware of this thing at all #until like 3 years later when byakuya is like 'so as per your biography--'#and toshiro is like 'as per my W H A T?'

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ellascreams · 28 days

Text

I Can’t Handle This

[Ollie managed to leave his job at Zoraxis and find his calling as a handler for the Agency, and it was all thanks to Agent Phoenix. When their usual handler is out of commission and Ollie has to fill in for him, he hopes he can do something to show Phoenix his gratitude and that their trust in him wasn’t in vain.]

Agent Phoenix changed Ollie’s life. He had suspected Zoraxis may not have been such a good company after all, but when he saw how that agent was kinder to him that any of his coworkers, despite him being the “enemy,” it was the final straw. That escape pod was not nearly as safe as it seemed at first glance, but he survived long enough for the Agency to find him. That was no easy feat. The Agency offered him a job on the spot. Finally, a chance to do some real good!

Unfortunately they wanted him in the Enhanced Operatives Devision. Ollie knew that was not his field. It was far too dangerous, and truthfully, he kind of got lucky in the escape pod. Surviving it did take skill, don’t get him wrong, but he was still lucky. He didn’t often have luck like that. He’d have to accept death or turn them down.

But then Agent Phoenix, THE Agent Phoenix, put in a good word for him. They had been the one in the lab. They said that he was a comforting voice in the chaos, that he understood their signals and ideas, that he could handle technology well, and that he even helped them figure out how to deal with that giant squid when their own handler couldn’t. They said that Ollie wouldn’t be a good field agent. He would be a great handler.

And, well, that was that. He became a handler. He loved it. It was stressful of course, but he was good at it, and he was finally helping people. He was making the world a better place and making up for the evil he had done. He really felt like he found his calling. And it was all thanks to the Phoenix. How can you repay something like that? How can you thank someone for changing your life like that?

Ollie didn’t know the answer, but he knew that it started with today. Phoenix’s usual handler, who Ollie knew as Mason although that probably wasn’t his real name, had gotten sick. He wasn’t in terrible condition but the Agency wanted him to get better as soon as possible so they made him rest. His agent, on the other hand, still had to do their job. They had a mission today. They still needed a handler and ideally one they were somewhat familiar with. Ollie was going to be Mason’s stand in. This was it. His chance to start to pay off a fraction of what he owed them.

Sitting in his office, watching the agent break in, Ollie thought back to the debriefing. “Ok! So. The Zoraxis INK model, they were using it to control a giant squid, you remember her right? We still don’t know much about it but I convinced the Agency to look into it as soon as I joined up, and wouldn’t you know, we actually found something! It’s a lab and sort of a warehouse in New Zealand where they’ve been working on the project. There should only be one guard, but we’re still expecting overall security to be tight, so we’re sending you in! You’re our best agent so I’m sure it will probably go great! I think!”

Oh gosh, he was so embarrassed. Why had he sounded so awkward? Why hadn’t he sounded more confident in their success? He was just so nervous about trying to show that Phoenix was right to think he’d be a good handler that he probably showed them they weren’t. Even now he was shaking, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, just hoping the mission would go well. He almost didn’t notice when the agent finished disabling the security system and walked in.

“Great job Phoenix!” He said earnestly. “Now go down this hallway, turn right, go to the end of that hallway, and you can go into Hivemind’s office! It might not have all the information we need, but his office seems like the best place to start. It is his invention after all! If nothing else there should be something to lead us to what we…”

Ollie’s voice trailed off. He watched as the agent examined a vending machine next to the entrance. They were eyeing some Zor Cola, Ollie recognized it from the vending machine back in the underwater lab. It tasted like pure chemicals but it was better than nothing when you were really thirsty. Phoenix began searching around the vending machine, presumably looking for a misplaced coin, a secret code, or some problem with the machinery they could exploit.

“Sorry if you’re thirsty agent, but maybe Hivemind has some sort of drink in his office?” Phoenix continued looking until they found something on the back of the vending machine. “I don’t mean to pressure you, it’s just that the guard is still doing their rounds and we might not have much time before she gets here.” They began pressing buttons on the machines control pad. “Seriously, we don’t have much time.”

The vending machine accepted the maintenance code and its door opened. Ollie sighed. “Ok, just take the Cola with you and drink once you get to the office.” Phoenix nodded as they grabbed the Cola with their TK and headed down the hallway.

When Phoenix closed the door to Hivemind’s office, Ollie couldn’t help but give a sharp inhale as he saw that the agent had just barely missed the guard. Then Ollie took some slow, purposeful breaths. The guard only patrolled the hallways. She wouldn’t go into the office without reason. Close call or not they were safe now.

Agent Phoenix sat at Hivemind’s desk and drank their Zor Cola as the examined it. On top of it there was a lunch prepared for later, (it was a banana with a peanut butter and honey sandwich,) a lighter, ashtray, and cigars, (knowing bees and smoke he probably wasn’t the one who used those,) and Hiveminds’s name plaque. Where Phoenix was sitting they could see the desk had two drawers. One opened up to reveal bee keeping supplies. The other had to be unlocked with a code. A sticky note had the code written on it but it was, somewhat ironically, written in code.

“Alright, do you still have that cipher I gave you?” They nodded as the took the piece of paper out of their blazer pocket and unfolded it. “It probably won’t be the exact same as the one in my lab, but it should be a good place to start!”

The code was in fact different from Ollie’s old one, but the cipher did help. They managed to figure out as much “A___A_S B___AV_” before they had to start looking around the office for more clues. The beekeeping items were labeled in code and with Ollie recognizing the hive tool they were able to get the letters I, L, H, and E. Hivemind’s name plaque had his name in code on the back which gave them the extra letters N and M. That gave them the full code. “ANIMALS BEEHAVE.” Of course it was a bee pun.

Phoenix punched in the code and the drawer opened up. Inside there were a few documents. A couple talked about the actual function and design of the devices. Another seemed to be reporting on experiments. Annoyingly, that one was written in code too, and they definitely didn’t have enough information or time to decipher all of it. What they did get from it was a room number: 28.

“Room 28 is bit far away but I should be able to guide you there. The guards still doing her rounds around here though, so you can take a quick break!”

Phoenix picked up the peanut butter and honey sandwich and examined it for a moment. Then they picked up the lighter. They toasted the bread quite a bit before they ate it. That’s fine, by the time anyone notices the sandwich is gone, the agent will be gone too. Then they set a poster on fire.

“PLEASE, please be careful about that! You might burn yourself or set off the smoke alarm!” Ollie pleaded, but Phoenix set yet another poster on fire before putting both flames out with what was left of the Zor Cola. Were they like this with Mason too? They had to be, because if they weren’t that would mean…

That would mean they don’t respect his abilities as a handler. That they don’t think Ollie has the authority or even the skill give them instructions. It would mean that what they said to the Agency, what they said to him about his potential, wasn’t true. The person who believed in him enough to change his life didn’t actually believe in him.

Ollie did his best to ignore the thought. They were probably just like this. Hopefully. “The guard is out of the way now, so it would be a good time to head out.” Phoenix nodded and walked out of the room. Slowly, carefully, and quietly they walked through the hallways as Ollie told them what turns to make. Phoenix’s curiosity once again almost got them caught but Ollie’s directions were very well coordinated and the agent wasn’t stupid enough to stick around for too long. At the very center of the building, they found it. Room 28.

Phoenix looked at the room though the door’s window. The lights weren’t on but it wasn’t super dark. They didn’t see anything in the room but it was because there was nothing to see. It was a big empty room. There was maybe a table in one of the corners? It was a lot harder to see near the walls.

“I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe you should just take what we have and go.” Phoenix crossed their arms stubbornly. Ollie felt his stomach squirm. A room that large should never be that empty. Still, Phoenix was an incredible agent, and their instinct about what information is needed is probably pretty accurate. Maybe he was worrying too much. “Oh ok, I don’t think there’s any alarms in there but just, be careful.” They nodded and began picking the lock.

Ollie tried to stifle his gasp as the agent closed the door behind them but he mostly failed. He chose not to say anything and Phoenix took his silence as a go ahead. They walked towards the small table they saw earlier hoping it might have some readable notes. They began to hear a faint hissing sound. Then some quiet growls. Then a roar. Then barking. It was only when they got to the center of the room that their eyes had adjusted to the low light enough for them to see where the noise was coming from.

The walls they couldn’t see before were lined with caged animals. Barred doors were all that kept them safe from bears, wild cats, dogs, wolves, snakes, all of them wearing familiar shackles. All of them angry and ready to attack Phoenix. All of them loud enough to alert—

“What’s wrong you stupid animals?” The guard said as she opened the door and turned on the light. She was certainly surprised to see Phoenix there. The shock died quickly though as she looked them in the eyes and smirked. She left the room and Phoenix heard the distinct click of a door being locked. It was only then they noticed what had made Ollie gasp so nervously earlier. The door couldn’t be unlocked from the inside. Then the cages opened.

“There should be a vent in there, can you get to it? It might be a tight fit but it’s the only exist you’ve got.” Phoenix scanned the room while trying to dodge animal attacks and saw the vent near the ceiling. They climbed one of the cage doors and jumped to the vent, hanging off the edge of it. They tried to use their TK and lock picking tools to unscrew the grille while things tried to bite at their feet. They dropped the their tools and caught the grille before it could could hit them in the head, and dropped it below them. Luckily it didn’t seem to hit any animals. Phoenix pulled themself up and began to crawl.

It was a bit of a tight fit as Ollie had predicted but Phoenix had probably been in worse. They stopped after crawling for long enough that the animal sounds were noticeably muffled. Sadly there was also the muffled sound of the guard opening the door and telling the animals to search for them. Once there was a moment of quiet Ollie felt so much adrenaline and guilt. Worrying too much? His job was to worry! He should’ve insisted that they didn’t go in there, or pointed out the suspicious lack of lock, or something! He didn’t know what to do anymore. Well, there was one option. Sometimes the most helpful thing you can do is find someone more helpful than you.

“Well, I was given a way to contact your handler for emergencies, and I think this is an emergency. You’ll just have to hang tight until I get through to him.” Ollie tried to keep his upbeat tone but it was wavering. “Sorry.”

Ollie was too busy typing to see the expression of heartbreak and guilt on Phoenix’s face. Why in the world was he apologizing? He told them not to go in there and they did anyway, anything that had gone wrong in this mission was because of their own actions. Was Ollie blaming himself?

“No.” Agent Phoenix spoke. It was one small whisper but it was enough to make Ollie stop in his tracks. Phoenix was selectively mute. He knew they could speak, but if they were speaking, they had something very important to say. “Mason doesn’t know as much about INK as you or as much about animals. And he isn’t my handler right now. You are. So I need your help. Please.”

Ollie still felt his heart pounding. He was so scared to mess this up. But the agent, his agent right now, really did believe in him. They said they needed him and who was he to tell them they were wrong. “There’s no way you’ll be able to get the shackles off of all those animals, and honestly I’d like you to avoid hurting them.” He said. He looked through his maps again. “Can I see those design papers?” Phoenix struggled to take them out of their pocket in the vent but they managed it. Ollie studied them the best he could and cross referenced them with other maps and notes of the project.

“It seems like all these animals are given the same orders since they’re just test subjects, and to save money they connected them all to one control panel and one power source. If I had to guess, and it seems like I have to, I’d say the controls are in room 17. I can guide you there if you’re ready to start crawling again.” Phoenix put the notes back in their pocket and got into crawling position. Ollie told them where to turn until they got to another room: room 17. They kicked the grille off and hopped down.

The room did in fact have a large control panel. “I doubt they have a simple off button but we should be able to cut off the power. Thing is it uses kinesium, so we have to be really careful about how we turn it off. I’m sure we can figure something out though!” And they did. There were some close calls and it took a while, but with Phoenix’s puzzle solving skills and Ollie’s information on Zoraxis tech they managed to cut the right wires and press the right buttons to turn the power off. They were glad it didn’t take too long, some of the animals were getting really close to finding them. Noises of anger and hostility quickly turned to confusion and fear. Accept for the bear, which continued to sound angry as the guard screamed. Phoenix still left through the vents again. It was better to avoid wild animals when you could.

In the end they didn’t get all the information they wanted but they still got quite a bit. Phoenix’s handler was still going to be out of commission for a few days— no, that wasn’t right. Mason was going to be out of commission for a few days. The handler for the great Agent Phoenix was still going to be doing his job, because right now, their handler was Ollie. If Mason was ever out of commission it would be Ollie again.

Maybe he couldn’t exactly repay Phoenix for all they had done, or prove that their belief in his talent wasn’t misplaced, but he didn’t have to. Phoenix never questioned if their belief was misplaced and never thought Ollie had to repay them. Instead, Ollie proved to himself that their belief hadn’t been misplaced and Phoenix proved to Ollie that he was their friend. That was probably better than what he could’ve hoped for.

#Am I already working on a different ieytd one shot a short comic and maybe some fanart? Yes.#Did my brain come up with this idea while I was trying to nap and immediately decided I needed to write it right now? Also yes.#Well honestly I’ve had the idea of Ollie being a handler before I was even aware this was a fandom but the plot in new #i expect you to die #ieytd 3 #ieytd fanfic #agent phoenix #ieytd Ollie #hurt/comfort #one shot #ieytd #ieytd fandom #tw animal cruelty #tw mind control #I did beta read this but only once and I’m dyslexic so I still expect us to die like men #handler ollie au

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ribbononline · 2 years

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Start: Page 1-10 (You are here!) - End: Page 11-20

#fuck you this is NOT going under a read more . take the picture spam #hardenshipping #magma leader maxie #aqua leader archie #pokemon oras #quality varies per page n its not perfect yadda yadda but im rlly happy w the end result overall #im just happy i actually managed to finish it in the end haha #long time coming! but i did #also thanks to julian and jan for being my beta readers to make sure the text made sense #oh also congrats to tabitha for being the only non maxie or archie to appear here #not as much congrats to him for his appearance just being him getting yelled at rip king #anyways. if y’all were wondering why all my latest sketches have had a very specific pink purple color palette #its cus i still had my comic colors set when i was working on them WWWW #anyways. i could ramble abt a LOT of different stuff here. but i wont! it is what it is now #and i finished it! whoo

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libra-cant-just-dance · 1 month

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Guess who finished writing the last chapter of Tainted City >:]

#it’s me I did #still gotta do some editing and have my partner beta read before I can post the last two chapters but #I did it I wrote way too much just dance fanfiction #what comes next? you’ll see #I do have plans but sometimes plans don’t happen #I hope I can still write the sequel after this but I’m about to graduate college so I have no idea what my life’s gonna look like next month #I also have some cirque du soleil fics I wanna write at the same time #yes cirque du soleil #I’m getting way off topic here #point is look out I’ve got two more chapters in the bank headed your way #and wish me luck

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fiepige · 6 months

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Summary:

“HOLY SH-” Miles and Gwen simultaneously turned to cover Pav’s mouth so as to not alert the creature in the middle of the carnage below them. The creature either didn’t hear him or it was too preoccupied with whatever it was doing. To his regret Miles soon realized what that was, as another wet snapping noise broke the silence once more. The creature was crouched down on all fours over what Miles assumed was the body of an officer, though it was so mutilated that it was hard to tell for sure. Its head was buried into the chest of the body beneath it, another wet snapping noise emerging as it pulled out a couple of ribs between its bloodied jaws... Or The Spider-Gang goes looking for Hobie. They don’t like what they find.

Hey guys, remember how I mentioned that I was working on a Venom!Hobie fic a while ago? Well the draft is done and so is the first chapter!

#this is my first fic so I'm kinda nervous but also happy to finally be able to share it lol #trying to improve my writing cause I still feel pretty insecure about it #but I'm putting myself and my writing out there and seeing what'll happen lol #also this thing was beta read by google translate so please let me know if there's something I need to correct ^^'#I just love the idea of Hobie with a symbiote so I wanted to put more of that content out there #also comming up with a name for the fic was HARD lol #settled with this one cause I did not know what to call it but I didn't want that to be what was holding me back from posting it lol #oh well here goes nothing <3 #hobie brown #spider punk #miles morales #spider man #gwen stacy #spider gwen #pavitr prabhakar #spider man india #Venom!Hobie #the spider gang #across the spider verse #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #my fic #my post

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just-a-slytherpuff · 2 years

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Harry Potter and the Philosophy of Nice and Good

This thought wouldn’t leave me alone so please join me on this journey as I examine the themes of Nice and Good in relation to Snape and Hagrid. I’ll be looking at the text in Philosopher’s Stone specifically but this is not unique to book 1.

TL;DR Hagrid is Nice but not Good, Snape is Good but not Nice

We can all agree that Hagrid is Nice; he is kind, generous, and caring to a fault. In his very first scene, he asks to be allowed to wish Harry goodbye, kisses him on the head, and promptly bursts into tears at the fact that the Potters are dead and Harry is left orphaned. He is a man full of love and affection who never forgot the little boy he had to leave behind, to the point that on their second meeting, on Harry’s birthday, he even brings the boy a cake to celebrate. He’s clearly happy to see Harry again and excited to be the one to properly bring him into the magical world.

From this meeting on, Hagrid represents a major source of kindness to Harry; he defends him from his uncle, introduces him to magic, and happily answers his many questions. He’s also responsible for two of Harry’s most treasured gifts: Hedwig and the photo album of his parents.

Throughout book 1 and the series as a whole, he makes it a point to invite Harry and his friends over for tea, regularly looking in on him and checking on his well being. It’s easy to see that Hagrid could be seen as a sort of father-figure or older brother-figure to Harry who is starved for this sort of positive attention.

However, while his actions show that Hagrid is Nice, he is not in fact Good.

When Harry meets Hagrid properly for the first time, it is because the half-giant has just forcibly broken into the shack that Harry and the Dursleys are currently staying at.

At midnight.

While everyone else was asleep.

He then proceeds to politely invite himself in as though this is normal, makes himself at home, insults his “hosts” and asserts his right to be there despite being demanded to leave because a “ruddy muggle” like Vernon can’t tell him what to do. He uses both his force and his magic to terrify and cow the Dursleys into letting him do as he pleases and, on top of that, hexes Dudley. This leaves him with a permanent pig’s tail which ends up needing to be surgically removed because the magic never fades, even over a month later. Hagrid even admits that he had been trying to turn the boy into a full pig, not just give him the tail, implying that if his magic had succeeded, Dudley could have been stuck in pig form for the rest of his life unless someone had reversed the magic.

And what did 11 year old Dudley do to deserve this terrifying attack from a 63 year old man?

Nothing.

As far as Hagrid’s temper is concerned, Dudley’s disfigurement is the punishment Vernon deserves for insulting Albus Dumbledore. While much of Hagrid’s anger towards the elder Dursleys is certainly justified, it doesn’t change the fact that he attacked a child for something his father did. And despite all this, Hagrid is framed as a hero in this scene; he is the one to bring truth and magic to Harry’s life, he is the one to defend the sacrifice of his parents, he is the one to rescue Harry from his life of abuse.

Until he sends him right back.

Bear with me.

After this assault on their son, the Dursleys flee to the safety of the other room while Harry and Hagrid go to sleep. In the morning, Hagrid does not bother asking for permission and effectively kidnaps Harry as they take the only boat on the island to get to shore, leaving the Dursleys stranded. He brings Harry to Diagon Alley to collect his money and school supplies then almost immediately abandons his responsibility to supervise the boy’s shopping trip because he needs a stiff drink after his roller-coaster ride of a Gringotts trip.

On their reunion, Hagrid goes on to disparage half of the school, calling Hufflepuff “a lot o’ duffers” and claiming that “there’s not a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin”. This is the first Harry has heard of the house system and already he is being fed bias and prejudice that Hufflepuffs are losers and Slytherins are evil. And not by just anyone, no, but by an employee of the school, an act that seems highly unprofessional.

He then proceeds to buy Harry a pet, his beloved Hedwig, without his guardians’ permission. This is a problem because, as previously stated, Hagrid will soon be sending Harry back to his “loving” relatives who likely only accept having a raptor in their house out of fear of further retribution. Hell, they likely only accept having Harry back in their house out of fear of further retribution. It’s honestly a miracle that the fear held long enough for him to be left alone the rest of the summer. Of course, Hagrid doesn’t bother bringing the boy all the way home, he simply leaves him on a train that is heading in the right direction and then disappears. Harry has just turned 11 and is definitely not old enough to be left unaccompanied in this way when it is certain he has never made a trip like this alone before. And all this is assuming that Hagrid had any way of knowing that the Dursleys would even make it home before Harry’s arrival, especially since Hagrid was the one to leave them stranded on that island. Luckily, Hagrid’s many attacks on the Dursleys doesn't lead to them resentfully taking their anger out on Harry and the boy manages to survive the summer.

While at school, Hagrid manages to go most of the year without causing any noticeable harm (other than openly insulting one of his coworkers in front of students) until one day he finds himself in possession of a dragon egg. An undoubtedly black market dragon egg at that, given that owning a dragon is highly illegal. But Hagrid does not care for the laws of the land because he has always wanted a dragon of his own and the looming threat of legal consequence is no match for his enthusiasm. Neither is the fact that his hut is too small to support a dragon longer than a few weeks and also made of wood. Nor the imminent danger a baby dragon poses to his safety and that of the rest of the school should the little dragon manage to get loose and wreak havoc, since it quickly becomes clear that Hagrid is not equipped to raise a baby dragon, though he tries to deny it to the very end.

Harry and his friends are even roped into helping with the dangerous task of assisting Hagrid raise the dragon which leads to Ron being bitten, something Hagrid does nothing to help with and instead chastises him and implies it’s his own fault he was bitten. Hagrid’s behavior towards the dragon’s actions is highly reminiscent of pet owners who refuse to take responsibility for the damages they cause because they are firm in their belief that their precious baby can do no harm. It also brings to mind the sort of exotic pet owner who will insist that their large predator is fine living in a house.

And although it is highly assumed that Malfoy is aware of the dragon and waiting for the right moment to ruin Hagrid’s life, Hagrid still refuses to come clean to any responsible adult and instead, it is up to three first-year students to fix the dangerous mistakes of their 64 year old friend. The solution they come up with is taking the dragon to the tallest tower at midnight to hand it off to some friends of Ron’s brother. This plan gets complicated due to the fact that Ron’s bite leads to him being hospitalized, which inadvertently leads to Malfoy finding out the timeline and trying to sabotage it. But these children are too worried about their 64 year old friend getting into trouble so they show up at his hut at the assigned time (the fact that in the future, Hagrid will chastise them for being out after curfew is the height of hypocrisy), collect the dragon, bring it to the highest tower just in time, and promptly forget the invisibility cloak which causes them to be discovered.

Harry and Hermione, along with Neville who was caught out trying to warn them, get detention and lose 50 points each for Gryffindor, dropping the house into last place and causing 3/4 of the school to ostracize them for “ruining their chance at having someone other than Slytherin win the cup this year”. And still, Hagrid stays silent as these children are bullied for his refusal to be responsible. When their detention comes around, Malfoy is upset and reluctant to enter the Forbidden Forest because it could be dangerous and Hagrid has the nerve to tell him he deserved it for being out of bed, the exact same thing Harry and Hermione were punished for while trying to help him. Because it’s fine for kids to be out of bed to help a grown man old enough to be their grandfather smuggle a highly illegal dragon out of a castle but it’s not okay to try and expose said illegal activity. And of course, because this is a punishment, Hagrid has no problem sending Malfoy off into the woods alone with nothing but another first year and a cowardly dog for company.

Twice.

In the same forest that students are banned from entering because it could be dangerous.

Hagrid is certainly a Nice and lovable character, but he is not actually Good.

Conversely, we can all agree that Snape is not Nice. Before we even meet him properly, Snape has the sort of reputation for being strict and unfair that could potentially be passed off as children thinking the worst of anyone who hands out punishment and expectations with a scowl on their face. He makes no attempt to soften himself for his students and his joy is most often described as being at the expense of others. Snape is clearly not a happy person and has no problems sharing this fact with anyone who comes across him. And while we never see how he interacts with his students in other classes, we know that he has no problem singling out students if he feels it is justified (or perhaps necessary).

During Harry’s first potions lesson, Snape calls attention to Harry’s celebrity status in a mocking way and then shortly after tries to put him on the spot by asking several potions questions that Harry is unable to answer. Snape relishes in his inability to answer, claiming that “fame clearly isn’t everything” and implying that Harry made no effort to read the material before attending class. Unless these quiz answers are all within the first few pages of the textbook, it is highly unfair of Snape to imply anything negative about Harry’s intelligence or diligence, especially as this is the first week of school and the first potions lesson.

His final cruelty of the scene comes when Neville and Dean’s potion explodes, causing Neville to need to go to the infirmary. Snape is quick to turn to Harry and accuse him of trying to make himself look better by letting others fail, hypocritical of course since in the future he will punish students for trying to help each other. And when Harry goes to defend himself and call Snape out on his unfair behavior, Ron immediately holds him back knowing it is futile because Snape is well known for being nasty.

We learn in the future that Snape’s animosity towards Harry largely stems from the fact that he is James Potter’s son. And while we eventually find out that much of this anger towards the elder Potter is justified, it doesn’t change the fact that he was nasty and mean to a child for something his father did.

However, while Snape’s attitude towards others shows that he is certainly not Nice, he does in fact show himself to be Good.

Despite being assumed to be the villain of book 1 for his unfair attitude, Snape is eventually discovered to be trying to save everyone throughout the year. When Quirrel runs in announcing the troll has invaded the school, Snape immediately runs to the third floor corridor, assuming the troll is a distraction to steal the precious Philosopher’s Stone. Unfortunately for Snape, he is met with Fluffy who then tries to take a bite out of his leg and leaves him injured enough to be seen limping several days later. Despite this pain, the sound of a commotion and students being in potential danger is enough motivation for Snape to run back fast enough to arrive at the girl’s loo just after McGonagall does. He even immediately stalks over to the troll to make sure the creature will not be getting up again any time soon.

This is also not the only time that Snape will find himself injured trying to protect others. During the first quidditch match, Harry finds that his broom is moving without his permission. This soon escalates to trying to buck him off entirely, a dangerous act considering how high up he is at the time. When Hermione takes the binoculars from Hagrid, she sees Snape staring directly at Harry while moving his lips and assumes he is the one responsible for the curse. She runs to the rescue by setting the bottom of his robes on fire in the hopes of breaking his concentration. Unfortunately for her, she was entirely wrong in her assumptions and instead ruined the concentration of the person who was actively trying to save Harry from the curse being inflicted on his broom. Lucky for her, she also happened to knock over Quirrel, who was the actual culprit, saving Harry from taking a spectacular dive.

Of course, his near miss at saving Harry’s life means that Snape decides to be more proactive next time, going so far as to be the referee in the next Gryffindor match. The Gryffindor team is so grateful that someone is looking out for their little first year seeker that George hits a bludger directly at Snape.

Once the match is over with Gryffindor victorious, Harry spots Snape going into the forest and, assuming he’s doing something villainous, goes to spy on him. He catches bits and pieces of a conversation with Quirrel and assumes that Snape is threatening the poor, unassuming professor into helping him get the Philosopher’s Stone. However, while it turns out that Snape was indeed trying to intimidate and threaten Quirrell, it was not for Snape’s own gain but instead to protect the Stone. A brave act, considering the presumed culprit going after the Stone is supposedly doing it on Voldemort’s orders and his interference could have hindered his safety as a spy.

Beyond all this, Snape is regularly seen patrolling the halls after dark. And while this may seem like a negative to any who thinks wandering around after dark is great fun, Snape is actually spending a lot of time running around making sure no foolhardy child is dying in an empty corridor because they refused to understand that curfew rules are imposed as a safety measure. For a man who is so clearly unhappy with the world and the people around him, he sure does spend a lot of time and effort making sure everyone is safe. So while Snape is certainly not Nice, he is definitely Good.

#text #other #snape #severus snape #rubeus hagrid #pro snape #pro hagrid #none of this is meant to be taken as bashing #i did indeed reread book one for this to make sure my facts were straight #also do not argue me with movie canon i don't know her #Hagrid is nice but not good #Snape is good but not nice #meta #harry potter #also thank you to danni for beta reading this for me!#my post

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bigcats-birds-and-books · 10 months

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Books of 2023. NETTLE & BONE by T. Kingfisher.

I have been Successfully Peer-Pressured into reading a book I’m sure I will love! I really enjoyed THE HOLLOW PLACES, so I’m looking forward to this one.

#books of 2023 #books #book photography #nettle and bone #nettle & bone #t. kingfisher #liz and ez r u happy yet or....#anyway i am genuinely excited for this one #ESPECIALLY because it's a smidge shorter??#i did really enjoy hollow places but i felt like the middle sagged and lost some of the tension #so i've been very interested to see if her shorter works have that problem or nah #(i'm suspecting nah but: about to find out!)#also this is my reward for finally starting my friend's book for beta reads #AND FOR FINISHING HELL #and for bleeding lmao #c'mon little book you've got a lot riding on youuu

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possum-socks · 1 year

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How the fuck do you write a fanficiton i’m nine pages (or one chapter) into this and it’s so hard

My respect for writers skyrockets by the day I worship you people

(yes it’s a sonadow fic don’t come at me)

#I feel like I need a beta reader but there’s no way in hell I’m asking anyone to do that 💀#it’s just like I write something but then I think we’ll what if I write it that way or this way or would it be better if I did it that way?#I’m constantly questioning myself like ‘would anyone even want to read this’ or ‘is this even good’#I know you’re supposed to try and kill that mindset when you write but it’s hard #I am having fun though this is fun that’s what should matter #also sorry I’m just venting into the void bc I’ve never done this before #if you read this post I’m sorry #sonadow

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milla984 · 1 year

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Like Water For His Fire

Summary: When Ram goes MIA you get nervous... but he's got a very good explanation and you can't really stay mad at him

Pairing: modern AU Ramaraju x fem!reader

Category: smut (NSFW, 18+, MDNI)

TW/CW: brief mention of anxiety, mentions of marking, kissing, unprotected penetrative sex

Word Count: 2k

7:56.

The sunset paints the sky orange red and from the bedroom window you can see its reflection on the surface of the nearby lake, as the evening breeze raises silvery ripples on the water. Adjusting the strap of Ram’s tank top on your shoulder you blow a strand of hair off your face then check your phone for what feels like the hundredth time: no texts. Zero missed calls.

“He’s fine, he’s fine,” you repeat under your breath.

You sit on the coverlet and hug his pillow. There’s usually something soothing about putting on his clothes or smelling his perfume - today, however, neither his old top nor the faint traces of his sandalwood and orange peel aftershave on the pillowcase prove to be very effective at keeping your anxiety under control.

You switch to a full alert state when you hear the entry door opening, followed by heavy footsteps. Seconds later Ram stands in front of you looking exhausted, his sleeves rolled up and the first buttons of his shirt undone, and collapses on his side of the bed.

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask, still a bit nervous.

He nods in silent assent.

“I tried to call you, why did you turn off your phone?” you ask again and he fumbles in his pocket to hold up the answer, shaped like an intricate spider web of cracks across the black screen.

“I’m getting in the car and this idiot does a swan dive into a puddle,” he explains, “fifteen minutes later I’m stuck in traffic in Madeenaguda. Damn road works!”

It takes a little bit longer than usual for your heart to stop pounding in your stomach and ears. He’s been late in the past but an hour of radio silence forced you to consider all sorts of horrible scenarios, and you need to clear your mind of their negative influence.

“In hindsight… not the best route choice,” he adds, noticing you’re being too quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry.”

You shrug: during off-peak hours the NH 65 is the fastest way back, meaning he was trying to come home as soon as he could. And it’s not his fault his phone died on him. “You know me, I worry too much.”

You also care a lot about him, which is why he doesn’t need to hear you live in constant fear of being contacted by the notification officer of his department - a possibility he’s even less likely to discuss than you are.

“Are we good?” he replies, lowering his thick lashes and giving you an innocent doe-eyed stare.

You can see where this is going: the simple thought of it erases all the previous distress and makes you weak at the knees. You throw the pillow at him, practicing your best impression of a seductive pout. “Mister, you’re the Police Guy… why don’t you figure it out?!”

Ram props himself up on one elbow so he can tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. He brushes his thumb across your lower lip, his personal way of telling you he gathered all the evidence that the mere sight of his forearms always lights you up like a neon sign powered by libido. You’re not mad at him - you’re horny for him.

Cheeky bastard.

Needless to say, his shirt has to go; you unfasten the entire row of buttons in a heartbeat and help him take it off. ‘Mouthwatering’ is the word to describe his bare chest, and how on earth does he manage to still look steaming hot after spending a full day at work and a ridiculous amount of time in his car is beyond you.

You nibble on his earlobe before you lick him below the jaw, descending along his Adam’s apple, the muscles of his neck and the dimple between the collarbones.

You could spend the whole evening teasing his nipples, forced to contain the urge to sink your teeth into his skin because he’s so sensitive he would scream in pain if you bit him; his petite buds harden at the lightest touch so you circle the areolas with the tip of your tongue and suck delicately, twirling a few dark hairs on his navel around your fingers.

“I’m happy you’re here,” you whisper.

His palm caresses your nape, then his mouth reaches yours and you both engage in a playful competition for dominance: now that he’s in your arms you only want to hold him tight and tell him everything’s alright, but he’s impetuous and clings to you as if you’re pure spring water, bound to tame the fire raging inside of him.

There’s no doubt he figured out ages ago the main reason why you wear his clothes or hug his pillow if he’s away: you crave his body, his presence, his weight on top of you, and it isn’t just a matter of lust. He’s not used to be open and vocal about his feelings, nevertheless he’s proven multiple times he’s the kind of man who looks out for the important people in his life and you’re willing to do the same for him; you’ve become each other’s fulfillment of a mutual request for affection and the many positive aspects of your physical relationship are a reflection of a deeper bond.

It’s Ram who wins in the end and traps you under him. He doesn’t bother to take the old tank top off and lifts the hem up to reach your soft belly; once he glides past your mound of Venus you squirm in anticipation, almost hitting him in the chin.

He smirks and you’re tempted to slap the living hell out of him: being so fuckable should be declared illegal.

“Don’t make me kick you for real,” you joke, and Ram smiles again.

Without breaking eye contact he puts both his hands on your hips and rolls down your panties while you lift your tailbone to help him; he pinches your left ankle and lifts your foot, placing your leg on his shoulder.

Reality fades in a blurry ensemble of the last rays of sunset behind the clouds, outside the window, and the hypnotic white noise coming from the a/c unit as you let your fingers run through his hair. Having it ruffled when he’s going down on you is a major turn on for him and you’re dying to please him in return, since you’ve never met another man who was this passionate about the idea of eating you out; he’s also into being praised as a reward for his dedication and you’re happy to oblige, cooing. “You’re so good at this, pandu.”

Ram glances at you, mesmerized. The gentle strokes of his lips grow more and more intense, then he starts to flicker his tongue at such a fast pace that your ragged breath turns into whimpers, to which he replies with low, throaty growls.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he hums, his head still buried between your thighs and his luscious beard, sprinkled with a little gray, rubbing so well on your clit.

You grab a big chunk of his hair at the roots and tug to draw his attention, careful not to hurt him. In your private system of non verbal communication it’s a signal to stop, so he rises to his knees and leans forward for a kiss. You love to taste your ‘sweet nectar’ (as it was referred to in many of the romance novels you read as a teenager) on his mouth; your adult consciousness knows it’s salty, tangy and it’s got a hint of musk to it - still, it’s you and he always enjoys it like you’re a delicious treat.

You also know another part of him is hungry for you, so you make him lay on his back to undo his trousers and pull them down, together with his underwear. He’s hard and impatient, aching to have you wrapped around him. Half of you wants to put you both out of your misery, the other half is determined to take full advantage of your position: you steady yourself on the headboard and straddle him, but first you tuck his leaking cock against his stomach.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you mumble as you slowly buck your hips, moving up and down his length.

This is plain torture for Ram and he clasps his hands at the old tank top, squeezing like a schoolboy who’s just discovered the amazing, silky roundness of your breasts. He’s adorable when his self-control begins to falter and soon his deep groans make you so wet it hurts.

“Jaanu…” he whines, desperate for release.

Using the headboard to keep your balance you guide him to the right spot before you lower yourself onto him. It’s your turn to fondle his chest and play with the dark trail of fuzz blossoming on his sternum and plunging to his groin; every time you separate you can’t stand to be apart and it’s not long before you grind on him to feel his coarse hair tickle your sensitive skin.

You look at him, his beautiful eyes closed and his teeth biting on his lips. He’s holding you so tight by the waist you’re sure he’ll leave a couple of marks and they’re all signs he’s trying to hold back. “I-I’m–”

“Do it,” you cut him off while you pick up your speed.

Ram throws his head backwards and it’s a sight to behold: his usual, brooding self disappears and all that’s visible on his face is peace and content, even if it lasts for a few seconds. You don’t stop rocking your hips until a familiar warmth flows inside of you, and moments later he wraps his hand around the back of your neck to pull you close.

He lifts his knees to dig his feet into the mattress and starts thrusting, set on a mission to give you one of the best orgasms of your life; he drinks the pure pleasure you’re pouring into his mouth with your loud moans, which he eagerly accepts as an incentive to pound you harder and faster.

“I want to make you come,” he mutters on your lips.

The power he has over you is unexplainable: his voice is what sends you over the edge in the end, gasping for air when a powerful jolt of ecstasy hits you and the tension leaving your body almost causes you to collapse on top of him. In fact you flop on your side, breathless and drained of the energy required to pass for a living and functioning human being; your brain is still engaged in the aftermath of the Big O and the single detail you’re able to process is one of your legs, resting across his lap.

Ram snaps out of the post-coital stupor first, in time to pick his shirt off the floor and help you clean your inner thighs - saving you both the trouble of dealing with a complete mess later. The pensive frown is back and you wipe away the shiny trickle of sweat running down his temple, but he’s so focused on what he’s doing he doesn’t seem to notice.

Once he’s finished cleaning himself up he fixes his trousers in a hurry throwing the shirt back on the floor to snuggle against you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders to trace the outline of his muscles using your fingertips.

“Excuse me… what?!” you laugh, since he’s got his face pressed on your bosom and the words come out muffled if he speaks.

“I think I love you, bangaaram,” he repeats, tilting his head up.

Your heart skips a beat.

He looks at you with his brooding expression again, so you find yourself lost in his dark, soulful eyes for the longest instant. Then you cup his face in your hands and rub your nose against his, kissing him so lightly that your touch is like April rain on his mouth.

“I love you too, Ram.”

@ramcharantitties, @nyotamalfoy, @taylorklaine, @bheemaxrama, @ladydarkey, @astrafangs, @ronaldofandom

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#rrr ramaraju #rrr ram #ram x reader #ram x fem!reader #ramaraju modern AU #ramaraju x reader #not beta read #smut #smut with a hint of fluff #or viceversa #mdni #minors do not interact #i'm def not a telugu speaker but the thought of him calling me 'bangaaram' makes me squeak #hopefully i'm not the only one #modern AU ram is a police officer like in the movie bc continuity #and also bc... dhruva #yes this is set in hyderabad and it’s probably something i did unconsciously when i wrote the first draft #le smut pourquoi this is who i am now #as in i was born an idiot and now i'm a grownup idiot who writes terrible smut #also i don't like the title but i'm so bad at titling it took me three days to figure it out (and idek if it makes any sense)#originally posted on my sideblog infusedchaos #reposting here bc i deactivated the other one #milla writes n*s*f*w*

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