#but nah he had to screw someone over one last time

[devildomditzy]

Pacts - Mammon x MC

Part 3

Haven’t Read The Beginning? : Part One - Part Two

Tag list + Author’s Note at the end

Tags: Angst w/ eventual comfort, Mentions of Death/The Fall, Mentions of anxiety/anxiety attacks

——————————————————————————

Okay… Deep breaths. Just like Lilith taught ya.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In

In

IN!!!!

“Mammon, what’s wrong! Hey, Mammon, come on, come back to me.”

If only the simple snapping of your fingers in his face and the feeling of you grabbing his shoulders could bring him down from the panic he was now feeling.

This should be easy. He can remember another time, a simpler time, a time long gone by. One where his sister still lived and smiled and breathed. One where she taught him things like expressing your feelings and sharing your emotions with others. One where she showed just how important family and friends and lovers could be…

He was never good at it. Of course, that was his own personal opinion. But whenever he did Lilith would smile that blinding smile and glow and tell how much of a natural he was at it.

He’s flirted, sure, he’s put on the charm and picked up various angels and demons and humans and who even knows what to fulfill his more primal desires. He’s taken lovers and partners and been a part of a couple, or thruple…or even quadruple, some of which lasting for years or even decades.

But ever since the fall, ever since he lost his home, his friends, his sister, his life; and was left to pick up the pieces with the other six who swore themselves to damnation for the rest of existence? He can’t say that he’s been interested in another being. At least not like this.

You. You. The human. The stupid exchange student he was unceremoniously shackled to. The one he had no choice but to watch over. The one that seemingly didn’t care that they were thrust into hell. The one that defied his all powerful brothers, whether out of bravery or innocence or down right stupidity. The one that calls him silly for wearing sunglasses inside and hums to themselves when they’re really focused and explores the Devildom with curiosity rather than fear and is too friendly for their own good and looks at him with big, bright, beautiful eyes that nobody has ever looked at him with before and tells him they really like hanging out with him and and and…

Everything stops. Everything goes blank. The only thing Mammon can feel is a weight, one that’s made it’s way around his body. It’s comforting and warm and all consuming and it’s…

He opens his eyes he didn’t realize he had screwed shut, only to find you clinging onto his form, arms wrapped around him. Your face tilts upwards from where it was buried in his chest, your expression painted one of concern.

“Oh god- I mean, oh gosh? I think. Are you okay?”, you question, tone laced with worry. “I have anxiety attacks too sometimes, I know it sucks. Do you need space? Or maybe water? I don’t know how it works for demons but that usually helps me.”

Mammon feels the blush beginning to spread across his face, knowing the position you’re both in looks compromising. He can’t remember the last time he has someone make such a fuss over him, and of course it’d be you, while he’s trying to sort out his feelings no less! You make it extremely hard to think, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy every second you made contact with his skin.

“N-Nah, ‘m good. I guess it’s…just a lot to explain ‘n all,” he mutters, playing with a loose thread he found on your shirt collar.

“Well, then let’s start from the beginning. The pact, right? We formed it like normal, well… as normal as forming a pact with a demon can be, right?

“Right.”

“And the placement of ours… that doesn’t normally happen right- or at least, it hasn’t happened to you?”

“Right. Hasn’t happened to me before, or any of ‘m brothers. I dun’ even think Solomon’s got one there, and he’s covered in ‘em. It’s….rare.”

“Rare? How’s it rare?”

“Well…cause it means somethin’. Somethin’…. important.”

He continues pulling at the loose thread, looking anywhere but you, his face a brilliant shade of red.

“All pacts represent a bond right?”

“Yea.”

“A shared bond? Between the former and formee.”

“Yea.”

“And so a bond formed over my heart means something…else?”

“GAH! DO I HAV’TA SPELL IT OUT FOR YA DUMMY!”

Mammon jumps up from his seat and out of your arms before shoving his hands in his pockets, turning his back towards you. He brings a shaky hand up to wipe his face.

“Tch. Can’t believe ‘m sayin this out loud”, he mutters under his breath, before turning around.

“Human, I…I like ya! Okay! There, I said it, ya happy dammit?!”

It was now your turn to blush furiously, watching as he brings his shoulders up and winces, almost like he’s waiting for something bad to happen, almost like he’s bracing for the worst.

“You…like me?”, you ask, shocked at the bluntness of his confession.

“Don’t make me repeat myself!”

You sit dumbfounded, letting the feeling of his feelings wash over you. He watched the gears turn in your head and thinks that if you think any harder, your brain is going to explode. Ya know, fragile human stuff ‘n all.

“But…Mammon, you said you didn’t like me being around you. You said that it was an inconvenience to be near me. You even said the pact mark was a blemish.”

Mammon freezes. Fuck. For once, the outspoken second born doesn’t have a response. He stares at you, eyes wide and wild, a deer caught in the headlights.

“So, you throw insults at me, tell me to leave you alone, and now you tell me you like me?”

“I-”

“Mammon, what am I supposed to do with that? You constantly treat me like an annoyance, you threatened me my first week here, hell, you just decided it was fine if I was seen with you outside of R.A.D., and now all of a sudden you like me?”

“MC-”

“I…I don’t know what to say, Mammon. Honestly, I don’t know…what you want from me here.”

His fists ball in his pockets as he starts to tremble a little. He bites his lip and turn his head, not wanting to face you for this next part. Even if you denied it due to the hurt he caused, he knew the undeniable truth; It sat right across your chest.

“Ya don’t gotta say anythin’. I already know how ya feel about me.”

“Mammon-”

“No, I do. Ya don’t have to say it. An’ I’m sorry for bein’ a jerk, alright. I just…I can’t…I’ve been…I mean…It’s cuz’…tch!”

He turns again to compose himself. You almost expect him to leave, to run towards the door and walk out, sulking by himself. You can’t say you’d blame him, you’d probably find yourself doing the same if someone responded to you the way you had just to him. Sure, you liked the second born, but he made it so hard with the way he flip flopped his feelings towards you. You don’t have long to mourn the budding friendship you were having with the avatar of greed before he makes his next move.

He shakes his head and turns back to you, his trademark cocky smirk reappearing across his face. There’s an expression in his eyes you can’t quite place, and he steps forward, crouching down to your eye level. There’s a new determination to his swagger, one that makes your heart beat speed up and your body run hot.

“MC, I know how ya feel about me, ‘cuz pact marks only form there if ya both feel the same way.”

Before you could process the thought, his lips are on yours.

You don’t have time to react, he’s doing that for you. One hand comes up behind the back of your head to fist your hair as he brings you closer to him, deepening the kiss, though he still leaves space for you to push him away, enough where if you truly didn’t want this, you could escape his grasp.

It’s tender, you think, the way he holds you. The way his lips move across yours is a softness you’ve never felt before, and it takes your brain a second to catch up and begin kissing him back. As soon as you do, you feel his lips stretch into a smile. This, a stark contrast from the sides of himself he’s been showing you thus far.

After a minute or so, he pulls away from you. “Ya have no idea how long I’ve been wantin’ to do that.”

“Based on what you’ve told me”, you muse with smile, “It looks like it’s been…hmm…I dunno…about as long as I’ve been here?”

“Shuddup.”

You can’t help but laugh at his childish reaction. No matter if he was insulting you like a kid on the playground or kissing you like you were his only way to breathe, he was still Mammon.

“So what does the pact mark on the heart mean in scientific terms?”

“Scien-what?”, He gawks, clearly stumped at your question. You stifle another giggle.

“I mean, if I asked what it meant to a teacher or, say, Solomon, what would he say it meant?”

Mammon sighs at the question. You really were gonna make him repeat himself, huh. “It means that I like ya and ya like me, okay?”

You seem kind of bummed at this answer. “Aww, is that it?”, you question.

“Whadda mean is that if? Whadda ya want, it to mean we’re soulmates or somethin’?”

“Does it?”

“…”

“Mammon?”

“…”

“WAIT! MAMMON! DOES IT?”, you wildly smile, eyes bright in shock.

“S-Some old folktales may say-”

“I’M ASKING SOLOMON!”, you declare, jumping out of his arms and speeding towards the door

“Oi! No ya don’t ya little nightmare!”, he screams running after you.

He’d let you win this race, of course he would. And the one after that. And the one after that.

Besides,

He had the rest of your life to catch ya whenever he wanted.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @someoneunkownforyou @fandomhell97 @crocrafts @dragonageoregons @furblrwurblr @youaskedfurret @simpinginthecorner @astarotha @glitterandgoldfinds @liminalimmortal @bestblob @crow-charlie @hauntedcatnerd @aprilwallflower @ungodlywoes @h2ojuice @nani-nani-nani @cant-sleep-because-anime @zarakem @rawharr @nicksworld0715 @fxllen-sxldier @someoneunkownforyou @lexiekim @darlingsama630 @xiaosalmoundtofu @abadonkori @harujkookie @whatamidoing89 @all-mights-wife @oliemolliever @kamukayakmonyet @zp1cy-tr4n5m4n @toobsessedsstuff @enwriq @emsieeee @just-an-indian-pre-med-student @chaoticjojo @todosteakettle @thepaleghost777 @milkysoobi @hopeannalea @pandaplan18 @cutiepattutiestarlight @mentally-unstable-simp @satanawakenedmyoceans

Author’s Note: Holy shit. Guys. GUYS. LOOK AT THAT MF TAGLIST. IM SO HAPPY SO MANY OF YOU ENJOY MY WRITING THAT MUCH 😭😭😭.

Thank you all so much for your support on this series! I’d love to try to do all the brothers next, or keep expanding on this one via MC’s and Mammon’s relationship as MC continues making pacts with the others. Not sure which I’ll go with! Any suggestions? Would we rather it continue being MC x Mammom as MC bonds with the other brothers, or every brother having their own romance line? Anyway, let me know what you think. Love ya lovelies <3

#obey me #mammon #obey me mammon #obey me shall we date #om #omswd #obey me headcannons #obey me mc #mammon headcannons #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mammon x y/n #mammon drabble #om mammon #omswd mammon #obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me x y/n #obey me fic #mammon angst #mammon fluff #the great mammon

[matthewloverr]

sweet nothing

chris x sloane stirling (fem reader)

summary: for the past two years you’ve been in a heavily toxic relationship with chris, one second you’re the only girl he sees and next you’re fifth on the roster.

warnings: kissing, angst, swearing

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

sloanes pov

i sit on my couch bouncing my leg up and down and tapping my fingers on my knees, my eyes were fixated at the tv trying to focus on anything else other than my blank phone.

that was the problem, no text, no call just nothing. i had texted chris an hour ago to see if he still wanted to come over and watch a movie and nothing.

i was so close to getting up off the couch and driving to his house when i got a text from him.

chris♥️: busy

is this kid fucking kidding me right now, i literally made no plans so that we could do this but now hes busy ??

sloane: don’t bother coming over then.

chris♥️: k

anger pumped through my veins, fuck this im going out.

with that i checked the time, 7 pm, perfect just enough time to get myself ready for the bar.

i texted all my friends letting them know that our plans were back on and we are getting loaded.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

i finished getting ready and checked my phone to see if my friends were here, that’s when i heard music pumping slowly getting louder as a car pulled into my driveway.

i checked the mirror to see my outfit, i had on a black tank top which was mesh at the bottom and a tiny black skirt.

apparently one of my friends boyfriends was gonna be the driver for the night, before i walked out i checked my phone one last time for a sign of chris, nothing.

i got into the car and immediately switched my mood so they didn’t notice anything wrong.

“i thought you were with chris tonight?” rena spoke as she turned around, it was her boyfriend that was driving.

“nah fuck him” i replied as i buckled my seat belt with a big grin on my face.

all my friends started cheering and whooping, they hated chris mainly because all of them have seen him with a different girl on different occasions. they knew he would treat me right and then turn around and screw me over.

“i just need to get so criminally wasted i don’t even want to remember getting in this car” my friend allie said

“well lets go” i replied, honestly i was excited to go out with my girls. if there was anyone who could take my mind off him it was them.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

we arrived at the bar and walked up the steps, you could hear and feel the music getting louder as we got closer to the entrance.

we all immediately went to get drinks, there was a tall brunette boy standing there talking to someone girl. fuck my life it was chris.

i quickly looked away to avoid eye contact, but my friends soon caught on. they all just kept buying me drink after drink and before i knew it i was on the dance floor.

i was with allie as we moved our hips together, hands in the air and moving to the music. i was having fun until i felt someone’s eyes staring into me.

i whipped my head around a bit and noticed a pair of blue eyes watching me from the bar. i quickly resumed what i was doing.

we danced more and more and then i felt a pair of hands come around my waist, assuming it was some random i pushed him away. i turned to see the man and was met with none other than chris.

i pushed his chest as i rolled my eyes and he stumbled back a bit, i resumed what i was doing with allie before i felt a hand grab my wrist and drag me off the dance floor.

i knew it was chris, i just kept my eyes forward trying to focus on not throwing up or falling over.

he pulled me into a small hallway that had the bathrooms, i pressed my body against the wall. honestly chris never scared me i couldn’t care less but right now there was fire in his eyes that made me freeze in the moment.

“so you think that you can come here and act like a slut?” he shot at me his brows furrowed with anger

i scoffed in his face “you’re unbelievable, you blew me off just so you could come here, you’re the slut”

he pulled his lips between his teeth and looked out at the crowd of people before he let out a small chuckle.

“how about you just go fuck another girl, you’re too pathetic that you’ll just end up back in bed with me” i spat at him, the words coming out faster than i could even comprehend.

he just stared at me, i knew he was angry but i didn’t care anymore. he wanted to have a good time so will i.

“you have no fucking idea what you’re even talking about, you’re just a fuck to me. and you’ll give in. every. single. time.” he replied.

his words took me back, he was right. no matter what chris did i always allowed him to come back.

tears started brimming in my eyes before i sharply inhaled pushing myself off the wall.

“go fuck yourself” i said in a low tone i wasn’t sure he even heard me with the loud music on.

he just stared at me, he would look into my eyes then back at my lips. i didn’t want to give in, i knew i would regret it. god i looked like such an idiot but i had to.

eventually i just grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him in, our lips smashing together and it was messy.

he scooped me up with his hands under my thighs and my legs wrapped around him, he pressed me up against the wall. our kiss was like we were starving for eachother, our tongues fighting for dominance, our hands wrapped in eachothers hair trying to pull us together impossibly closer.

that’s when we heard a small gasp from next to us, it was that girl, the same girl who chris was talking to at the bar.

“are you kidding me right now, you just invited to go back to your place and i leave for two seconds to grab my shit and you’re kissing another girl??” the blonde girl screamed at chris, occasionally looking at me.

i slowly walked up to her before i whispered in her ear “he tested positive with hiv”

with that her face twisted with disgust and she walked away. i turned back to look at chris who had confusion written on his face, he slowly walked over to me wrapping his hands around my hips.

“now that blondies gone how about i take you back instead” he said with a malicious smirk on his face.

i laughed right then and there, “in your dreams bitch” and with that i walked back to my friends.

he didn’t come up to me the rest of the night which was good because i would’ve gone with him. rena’s boyfriend drove me home and i couldn’t be happier than to just lay in my bed.

i was taking my makeup off and my phone started ringing, obviously it was chris on the other line and i reluctantly picked it up.

“what” i said in a very annoyed tone.

“i love you” chris spoke, he wasn’t even slurring as if he was drunk. he almost had me fooled.

“k bye” and with that i hung up the phone. i knew chris well enough now that i knew he was just horny because i pushed away that girl, i didn’t care he can suffer.

i went to bed and my heart felt a little heavy, maybe he did mean it and that’s why he always comes back to me, it couldn’t be cause he wouldn’t be fucking around with other girls.

it was probably just nothing.

a/n: ok so what are our thoughts, i thought id give something to the chris girlies but i am obsessed with toxic chris i fear. anyways hope you enjoyed love you !

#christopher owen sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #chris smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew bernard sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #matt x reader #matt fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nick x reader #nicolas antonio sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt smut #colby x reader #colby brock #colby smut #sam goldbach smut

[90ekz]

✣ HEAD OVER BOOTS! ੈ✩‧₊˚ SASUKE UCHIHA

wc. 1.5k

tags. farm au, fluff, stableboy!sasuke x black fem!reader, wingman naruto bc that concept is funny as FUCK, “suggestive” thoughts on sasuke’s end.

stableboy!sasuke who’s eyebrows raise as you step foot onto the ranch he works at, claiming to be a replacement for the last dairy farmer who had recently been fired. at first impression, he’s just irritated that he has to make conversation with another nameless coworker. the last new hire that he spoke to reported him to the head farmer about his “attitude problem”, and he’d gotten a very verbal warning.

and so, he tries.

slight nods toward people when they speak to him, eye contact, the whole nine. does he love doing it? absolutely not, but he can’t afford anymore complaints, this job is too important to him.

he doesn’t plan on treating you any differently, until he sees the way your brown skin sparkles in the sun, or the way your slacks cling to your thighs, and now he’s contradicting his previous beliefs. before you, his breath didn’t usually hitch when he saw people and his heart definitely didn’t hammer against his ribcage for no reason, especially since he hasn’t even spoken to you in the two days you’ve been here.

he keeps his distance, because frankly, he doesn’t trust himself to not do something stupid in your presence.

sasuke shakes his head to get himself out of his own thoughts as he’s brushing the mane of his favorite mare, luna. the action makes her tilt her head at him, and he scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“don’t ask.”

it isn’t until your fifth day of employment that he’s forced to interact with you.

sasuke’s already in a bad mood, after being forced to finish grooming the last half of naruto’s sheep since he’d passed out from the heat, and even now as he dislodged the horseshoe from luna’s foot, his mood was still sour.

“there you are! ‘been looking for you for like 30 minutes!” naruto calls from behind him. he looks over his shoulder to see the blonde carrying a huge knitted sack on his back. it was a surprise that it hadn’t busted with the weight of whatever was inside of it, and sasuke felt another vein in his forehead swell with blood.

“look who decided to get over his heatstroke.”

“screw you. i’m here to do you a solid,” naruto drops the sack on the hay-covered floor with a soft thud, and a few green clusters roll out onto the ground. since when did they do personalized grass bundles? sasuke’s eyebrow twitches, and he hopes this isn’t what he thinks it is.

“you get to take these to the new girl! kakashi said they were for the cattle.”

fuck.

sasuke audibly chokes, eliciting a snort from his blonde counterpart, but this isn’t funny in the least to him. he wants to do literally anything but this, and yet his greatest fear just came true right before his eyes. why did he apply for this job again? “no. absolutely not—just… no.” sasuke turns back to his current task, and attempts to finish tending to luna, but naruto is trudging over to him and crouching down to his level with a calm smile. for a while, just watches in silence, and sasuke briefly considers stabbing himself in the eye with the pair shoe-pull offs he was holding.

“y’know ‘suke, you can’t be afraid of pussy for your whole life.”

“can you genuinely fuck off?” sasuke gripes, his grip on luna’s hooves tightening a notch until he realizes what he’s doing. he breathes in once, and out another—just like kakashi had taught him that one time after him and naruto had gotten into it on the front lawn and fell in the fish pond.

“nah. anyway, i know how you are about people, but you obviously feel something for her, right? at least you’re subtle enough, but i pay a lot of attention these days. she’s so nice, just go talk to her!”

and maybe he’s right—maybe he just needs to man up, and go talk to you, but what would you even say to someone like you? you’re everything he’s not, and the last thing he wants is to make a bad first impression. sasuke hates to admit it, but you absolutely allure him in every way possible. once he finishes the other horseshoe removal, he’s shooting to his feet and slinging the back of grass over his shoulders. sure, it almost sends him tumbling to the ground, but for some reason—a new wave of determination is washing over his skin.

“just talk to her…yeah, i can talk.”

“exactly! now stop thinking so much and take the goddamn grass.” naruto ruffles sasuke’s hair and shoves him into his first steps out of the barn, and he’s on his way to you.

he mostly just strolls around the farm to stall, but if anyone asks, he’s thinking of what to say. he just needs to deliver the bundles, introduce himself, and leave. it’s gonna be fine, right? you’re not gonna think he’s a total weirdo—but what if you do think he’s weird? oh god, that’ll kill him. he has to see you everyday, and if you think he’s weird, then you’ll probably tell everyone, and then he’s gonna get fired—shit, he should go back to his room—NO, he’s delivering the fucking grass bundles, it’s just cow food, for gods sake.

grass, introduce, leave. grass, introduce, leave. grass introduce, leave—

“oh, are those for me?” you gasp happily from your spot on a comfortable piece of hay, and you’re running over to him. how the hell did he happen to stumble directly into your barn? curse his ridiculously good sense of direction. your scent floods his senses as you step closer to him with that smile, and it’s just then that sasuke remembers what he’s there for.

“yeah, naruto made me deliver them, the lazy bastard. they’re for your cattle.” sasuke says coolly, yet internally cringing at his dialogue options. obviously, they’re for the fucking cattle, god.

all his worries melt away as small giggles flow from your lips, and you take his wrist in your hand and lead him into the barn. you introduce him to each one of your cattle—literally every single one—and he doesn’t think he’s ever enjoyed anything more than he is right now. everything is fine, but now the adrenaline is wearing off and he’s painfully aware of how gorgeous he’d always thought you were once more.

from your voice, to the way your clothes cling to your body, to your scent—sasuke’s being lassoed in by your beauty, and he doesn’t think he wants to escape. frankly if you tied him up, that would be pretty hot. you have rope on your belt right now, you could literally just—no, what is his problem?

by the time he’s done fantasizing, you’re unbundling each pack of grass and feeding your cattle. he inhales, and goes to squat next to you.

“i’m sasuke, by the way.”

“hah, of course i know that, silly! you’re the heartthrob around here,” you chuckle at your own remark, and sasuke even feels himself smirking a little before catching it. why was he so entertained by you?

“that’s one of the first things i found out when i got here. i didn’t even know who people were talking about, but then i actually saw you, and well—let’s just say i understand a little better now.” you finish unbundling the last pack of grass, and watch the cattle fall into their peaceful little cliques. you lean back onto your occupied hay bed, and begin unbuttoning your flannel. sasuke doesn’t freak out, thinking you’re just gonna gonna stop at two or three buttons, but then your passing your third, then fourth, then fifth—eventually leaving your shirt completely open, and the only thing underneath being your sports bra.

he isn’t blushing, nor is he looking. sasuke is not a creep. he keeps his gaze directly on the floor as he stands up, and offers you a hand up without looking at you. you giggle once more and take it, and he feels your nails graze over his palms, which does something funny to his stomach. he still can’t look at you all the way, but he can feel your gaze on him.

“thanks for the delivery. i was hoping i’d get someone as fine as you, guess my wish was granted.” your eyelashes flutter as you talk, and he’s definitely blushing now, but his composure is still there as he gives you a very curt nod.

it’s not until you reach into your pocket and pull out a little roll of cash and stick it into his breast-pocket that his mind is short circuiting. your fingers linger on his chest for longer than they should, but he never wants you to move them.

“see ya’ around, cowboy.” you drag you finger down his chest as you take your exit, missing the stuttered breath that tears itself out of sasuke’s chest. he stands deathly still until you’re out of sight, and then he’s promptly crumpling to his knees.

“fuck.”

#guess whos sasuke phase is back for vengeance 😵‍💫 #uchiha sasuke #sasuke smut #sasuke x reader #sasuke x black reader #sasuke x you #sasuke x y/n #sasuke uchiha x you #sasuke uchiha x reader #naruto smut #naruto x reader #naruto x black reader #sasuke uchiha #sasuke #syno’s picks 💌

[stevesbipanic]

Maroon

Happy birthday @henderdads in honour of you, the number one supporter of my Midnights collection, my go-to swiftie in my phone and because our Taylor has left my country singing this song on her last show here, enjoy.

When the morning came we were cleaning incense off your vinyl shelf

'Cause we lost track of time again

Laughing with my feet in your lap

Like you were my closest friend

"How'd we end up on the floor anyway?" You say

"Your roommate's cheap-ass screw-top rosé, that's how"

I see you every day now

“Steveeeee, your little candle died!” Eddie giggled from the other room. They’d spent the day unpacking Steve’s new apartment downtown. Well, Steve had unpacked, and Robin and Eddie had spent most of the day snooping through boxes. Robin had gone home, her parents still wary of her staying out after dark, Starcourt only a few months ago.

“Little candle? Oh, the incense,” Steve said coming into the room to see Eddie on the floor. He wiped off the little pile of ash and plopped down next to Eddie, stretching his legs over him. “Share that you gremlin, Robin bought that for my housewarming!” Steve reached over Eddie to grab the bottle of wine Robin’s mum sent with her.

“It’s too bad Robbie can’t live here with you, I don’t want you being all lonely,” Eddie pouted looking over at him.

Steve took a big gulp of the tangy wine, “You could always move in?”

“You wouldn’t get sick of me?”

“Nah, sounds nice seeing you every day.”

“Ok, Stevie, I’ll tell Wayne tomorrow, now gimme that bottle, roomies gotta share!”

And I chose you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was

Living with Eddie was easy, it was nice having someone to come home to. The kids liked him too, winning them over with Hellfire and nerdy movie nights. Sitting on a bathroom floor with Robin figuring out why he got butterflies every time Eddie smiled wasn’t as easy but it felt healing.

“We should go out!” Eddie had said when Steve came out to him, blushing hard before Eddie continued. “Robbie looks too young to join me when I go to this gay bar in Indy but I bet they’ll look the other way for you, sweetheart.”

That’s how Steve found himself twirling around a brightly lit dancefloor that Friday, boys with boys and girls with girls around him and he felt light and free. Eddie never left his side, his scary dog energy scaring off any guys that might’ve asked Steve to dance but Steve didn’t mind, maybe it meant Eddie would keep dancing with him.

They stumbled down the road together, planning to sleep the night off in the van and drive home in the morning. Steve giggled looking up, the morning sun had begun peaking over the horizon, it’s colours dancing through him matching the warmth he felt in his heart.

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was

The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was maroon

After that night the boys felt closer than ever. It was no surprise when they ended up on the living room floor again, a bottle of cheap red wine between them. Laughter filled their home in a way it never did in Steve’s house growing up. Eddie threw his hands around as he spoke, inevitably spilling the wine on them, narrowly missing the carpet.

“Oh shit, sorry Steve!” Eddie said following Steve to the bathroom. For a brief moment, Steve thought of another stain in another bathroom, but as he turned towards Eddie all thoughts of that night left him. Eddie gently tried to get out the stain from the ruined shirt. Steve couldn’t help it, blame it on the wine, blame it on the location, but he reached out grabbing Eddie’s shirt and tugging him forward.

Their lips meeting, Steve tasted the wine and cigarettes they shared. He pulled back slowly, hoping he hadn’t ruined everything. He didn’t have to worry long as Eddie quickly pulled him back, meeting his lips again.

When the silence came, we were shaking blind and hazy

How the hell did we lose sight of us again?

Sobbin' with your head in your hands

Ain't that the way shit always ends?

It’s not always easy living with the person you care about most. November brought more nightmares, dreams he couldn’t explain to Eddie, wanting to keep him far away from the hell beneath them. He had to blame his screams for Robin on a fire and not the longest night of his life.

“Why won’t you talk to me, Stevie!”

“Because I can’t!”

“Why not!”

“I’m trying to protect you!”

Steve felt the slam of the door cut through him. For the first time in a long time, they sleep in separate beds.

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway

Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

I feel you no matter what

Steve came home a few days later to Eddie waiting at their door. Pink carnations held tightly in his hand, his teary eyes and flushed cheeks made Steve’s heart ache. Eddie looked up as he heard Steve approach, his voice cracking as he said his name.

The rubies that I gave up

“I’m sorry, Stevie. I shouldn’t have left, I was just worried about you.”

Steve gently took the flowers and Eddie’s hand, “I want to tell you, I just can’t and I need you to trust me, Eds.”

Eddie nodded and Steve unlocked their door leading them both inside. “You know, I love carnations,” Steve said giving Eddie a soft smile going to the kitchen to get them water.

Eddie laughed softly, “I thought they were roses, they just looked pretty and reminded me of you.”

Steve smiled, he thought about how his dad would always try and win his mother’s forgiveness with money and jewels, he liked this better.

And I lost you

The one I was dancin' with

In New York, no shoes

Looked up at the sky and it was maroon

No matter how hard Steve tried to protect the people he loved, they always seemed to get dragged into it. Steve never wanted to see Eddie as terrified as he did in that boathouse. He wishes he’d gone with Eddie that night after the game, but he’d promised Lucas that he’d drive him to the after-party. He didn’t even know Eddie was still dealing.

“Don’t be a hero,” he’d said, but now Eddie was bleeding in his arms. Dark red blood seeping into their shirts like the wine did all those months ago. Eddie’s eyes slipped closed on the drive to the hospital.

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet, it was (maroon)

The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet, it was (maroon)

Everywhere Steve looked he saw red. He refused to leave the hospital until Eddie was out of surgery. Robin had dragged him to the bathroom, forcing him to wash the blood that coated his arms down the drain. She’d left to get him a change of clothes, leaving him to sit on the hard chairs in the waiting room.

The cushions a bright red, the blood a muddy maroon under his nails, his shirt stained a deep scarlet, the smell of rust and iron coming off of him, a crimson sky behind his eyes.

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy, legacy (it was maroon)

And I wake with your memory over me

That's a real fucking legacy to leave

Steve doesn’t remember when he sat down beside Eddie’s bedside. He just remembers a teary phone call to Wayne and seeing Eddie still breathing. Wayne had to go to work, Steve didn’t have anywhere to be since Family Video sunk into the earth with half the town. Pink carnations in a vase at his bedside.

“I told you not to be a hero, Eds.”

The brief bouts of sleep he got leant over Eddie or curled up in his chair were plagued with losing Eddie over and over. Til one night he dreams of them back in their apartment, lying on their floor, Eddie’s fingers brushing through his hair. He wakes, still feeling the edges of his dream, fingers still in his hair. He glances up and meets warm brown eyes.

“Eds, you’re awake!”

“Sorry I tried being a hero, Stevie, I should’ve trusted you.”

The burgundy on my T-shirt when you splashed your wine into me

And how the blood rushed into my cheeks, so scarlet (it was maroon)

The mark you saw on my collarbone, the rust that grew between telephones

The lips I used to call home, so scarlet (it was maroon)

The day Eddie comes home, a town rebuilt, Steve swears the sky is the same pink it was that night in Indianapolis. He helps Eddie up the stairs, opening the door, the apartment just how they left it. The warm burgundy blanket on their ruby couch. A bottle of red wine on the counter, cherry wood cabinets and chestnut floors. A soft blush on both their faces as they lay down on the scarlet sheets of their bed. Merlot on their lips as their sucked soft wine-coloured bruises, taking back their love from months so close yet so far apart.

It was maroon

It was maroon

Steve would wake later, lips bit rough and maroon and thank the world that life didn’t end under a blood-red sky.

Ao3

#happy bday cass #taylor swift #midnights collection #maroon #steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #ao3 fics

[magic-hcs]

*digs in pocket and takes out random pieces of candy and a quarter dropping it in your hand*

I'll take the scenario

Syrup confessing to crush during movie night coming right up! I really like how this has turned out!

Warnings: Syrup wishing the ground would swallow him but the ground doesn’t oblige, second hand embarrassment maybe?

Syrup: US Papyrus

Time to cast some magic and see what we’ll get!✨

✨✨

Syrup: Ever had the feeling of impending doom just waiting around the corner to strike you down right there where you once stood? Yeah…ain’t that just a mood, heheheh...heh.

Oh man, Syrup is so screwed.

Why, just why. Why? Why him? Why now? Why star forsaken now? Couldn’t it have happened like next week? Or next month? Or better yet, some time into the future when he got his schedule semi free. Or even better, how about never that would be great! But nope! It had to be today - or more accurately yesterday night at 23:57, but hey, who’s counting?

Syrup that’s who.

He drags his hands down his orange flushed face, groaning out loud into his hands. Just his luck, ammi right? How is he going to be able to face you now? Maybe he could call in sick- nah he couldn't risk it, what if you decided to take care of him since Sky is on a little trip.

Say the cat died or something- that will never work, he doesn’t even have a cat.

What if he said he couldn’t make it- how so can’t he make it, the movie is at his house!

Not to forget, who in their right mind cancels movie day just a few hours before said movie day?

Syrup throws the blanket over his head and tugs it down his face as he groans again. He stares at the fabric of his blanket in utter defeat.

Welp. Better get it over with and accept his unavoidable fate while he’s at it. ‘He who fights against fate to avoid it will end up making it a reality’, or however the saying goes. Syrup peeks his head out from underneath his blanket, taking a glance at the clock. 1:00 AM it reads. Eight hours left to get a semi good wink of sleep and to get his emotions in check.

…

Oh, Syrup is so screwed.

***

The moment the doorbell rings Syrup can practically feel his life’s clock start to tick his last living hours. He robotically walks to the door, almost tripping over his own shoes as he wrings his hands. Syrup swallows, feeling his soul jump with nerves as he opens the door. And there you stood.

“Hi Syrup, ready for our movie date?”

And of course Syrup’s reaction is the epitome of chill by gracefully choking on the air he sucked in at the mention of a ‘date’. Having completely forgotten that is what you have always called the movie hangouts the two of you share. Very smooth indeed. “oh, oh! oh yeah, the watching of movies! born ready, yeah.”

Someone, dust him now, please.

By some sort of miracle, you haven’t just turned around and left the disaster that was Syrup to his internal screaming. (Yes, he’s overreacting.)

The rest of the day went okay-ish? Syrup definitely embarrassed himself a few times but it wasn’t anything ‘ground, please suck me up and never spit me out again’ kind of embarrassing, so that’s a win. What wasn’t a win was that Syrup was hyper-aware of your presence near him. Every touch sent electricity through him, every look or smile left him stuttering over his own words. Where was his star’s forsaken poker-face when he needed it for once? In the end, Syrup was at least glad that he couldn’t smell. To put it simply, movie date was going alright.

Until it wasn’t.

He hadn’t meant to, it just crawled out his non-existent throat and tumbled right past his teeth before he could grab it and beat it to silence. You were laughing at how Remi tried to guide Linguine to cook. There were pieces of popcorn in your mouth as that melodious sound leaves past your lips. Syrup had always found laughter a beautiful sound. So full of life, of joy, of subtle stories of one’s life and soul being told in little pieces of tones and volumes.

And yours, oh, yours was Syrup’s absolute favorite to listen to and to see the open-mouthed smile, not caring about being too loud or looking particularly graceful. It’s so natural, so you. And he loves it. Syrup had said it without ever meaning to let it slip past his teeth. You had looked at him, the aftermath of your giggles, smiling. He had meant to tell you that he loves your smile.

“i love you.”

Your eyes had widened. Realization hits him a second too late. His entire face gets enveloped in a deep orange, his freckles disappear among the flushed hue. The movie is still playing in the background, long forgotten as the two of you stare at each other.

and oh, how Syrup wishes to be swallowed by the ground never to be seen again.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

#magical prompts #undertale #undertale x reader #undertale hc #papyrus #papyrus x reader #underswap #underswap x reader #underswap papyrus x reader #underswap papyrus #us papyrus #us papyrus x reader #syrup #scenario #Undertale scenario

[bidoofenergy]

na dekhi koi aisi girl

(english: never seen a girl like that) “Zomato,” he blurts. “Actually, I’m Gayatri,” she says, smiling at him like he’s funny on purpose and not because he just remembered that he knows her from a freaking billboard. or: Pavitr and Gayatri's first meeting also on AO3

Today is another great day of being Mumbhattan’s one and only Spider-man. It’s also another decent day of being Mumbhattan’s millionth tenth standard student. Even though he’s Spider-man and he could just swing his way to school, Pavitr still meets his friends outside the train station every day. They hang out by the doors, squished together, and ride for a few stops. These are all kids he’s known for years, ever since he moved to Mumbhattan to live with his Maya Auntie. His friend Nikhil, who lives in the same building just one floor down, drapes himself over Pavitr’s back to show them all a cool cricket catch—she catches! And then trips over the boundary but saves it! And then catches it again! They all whoop and applaud appropriately, much to the chagrin of other passengers.

Luckily for the other passengers, they tumble out at the next stop. Pavitr’s school is a short walk from the station and as soon as they leave the station, they’re surrounded by other students. They start splitting up: Nikhil’s a year younger and he finds his classmates, Meera peels off to join some other friends and pretend she’s never talked to a boy in her life, and Pavitr shouts “see you later!” when he spots his classmate Hari.

Hari, who’s instincts rival Pavitr’s spidey sense—or maybe it’s the years of being friends, dodges to the side right as Pavitr tries to throw his arms around him. He laughs as Pavitr stumbles, barely managing to not fall flat on his face in the middle of the road. “Where’s your tie?” he asks when Pavitr recovers.

Pavitr slaps his chest which is where is tie should be—and isn’t. Then his hand goes to his hair because sometimes he ends up using his tie as a hairband—which is a bad habit he really should get out of—and it’s not there either. “Oh shit,” he swears softly and Hari starts to laugh again. Pavitr swings his bag to the front to frantically rifle through it, hoping his tie was just in his bag and not at home or in an alleyway somewhere. “Do we have assembly today?” he asks as he looks.

“Nah, but I can see Mohan sir at the gate.” Hari replies, a little too casual with his delivery of the news of Pavitr’s future demise.

“Damn, damn, damn,” Pavitr chants frantically, searching through his bag with even more fervor. Mohan sir is the worst, their physics teacher, and he loves to check everyone’s uniforms as they walk in. At the absolute best, Pavitr will have to run two laps around the building and then go to class sweaty to get yelled at by his class teacher (and his bench-mate). But if Mohan sir remembers he’s forgotten his tie three times in the last few weeks, he’s truly screwed.

“Just keep your bag in front,” Hari tells him calmly. He looks incredibly calm, hands in his pockets and posture loose. Pavitr knows he’s hoping Mohan sir won’t get annoyed at both of them and check their bags for phones. “And fix your hair.” Hari adds, which is just rude.

“Arre yaar,” Pavitr complains, but he obeys, abandoning his search for his tie to flatten his hair. He’s been pushing his luck for months now because he wants longer hair and Maya Auntie doesn’t care. But Mohan sir cares and thinks he looks like a rowdy and wants him to run laps every day until he cuts his hair, so Pavitr smooths his hair down and hopes someone else will distract sir.

They enter the school grounds, Pavitr rambling about forgetting his Marathi notebook—despite it being two years since he’s had to take Marathi—while Hari nods like he’s speaking sensibly. They’re past the gates, just a few steps away from the entrance to the building, when a tingle passes down his spine. Out the corner of his eye, Pavitr sees Mohan sir turn to focus on him, hawk-like. “Shit,” he whispers and Hari stuffs his fist into his mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

“Pavitr!” Mohan sir exclaims and Pavitr speeds up, leaving Hari behind to collapse with laughter. He speed-walks away, trying to get far away enough that Mohan sir will give up.

“Pavitr, get back here!” Mohan sir yells after him and Pavitr decides to risk it and starts a light jog, weaving through the crowd to get into the building. The receptionist gives him an odd look and, when Mohan sir shouts his name again, starts to stand up.

Well, that won’t do. Pavitr pushes through the crowd and ducks down the kindergarten wing instead of heading up the stairs to his class. A little down the hall is an alcove that has a sink for all the dishes and messes the little kids produce and there’s a shelf that he can hide behind if he can just get in there without anyone seeing…

Behind him, Hari is saying, “Oh, ma’am, my father wanted me to ask—” with a very dramatic emphasis on father, as if anyone needs to be reminded of who Hari’s dad is. Pavitr is adding another favor to his mental tally (Favors You Owe vs Favors He Owes; Pavitr probably owes Hari his first-born at this point) as he ducks into the alcove and comes face to face with someone else.

Not just someone else. It’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen in his life. Her eyes are big and dark brown and beautiful and she’s wearing kajal. Her hair is dark and shiny and short, right above her shoulders, half up. She has a nose piercing! And a row of hoops along the edge of an ear! She’s so pretty, even in their uniform, her own shirt untucked and tie loose around her neck in an effortlessly, casually cool way. Pavitr is suddenly incredibly conscious of how sloppy he must look, rushed and hair messy and, oh god his pants leg is stuck in his left sock!

“You hiding too?” she asks, peeking over his shoulder to see if anyone is following. She looks so familiar but she’s not in his class—he would remember—and she must not take Hindi—he would remember—so where does he know her from?

“Zomato,” he blurts instead of answering her question, like a fool. She laughs, and god she’s so pretty.

“Actually, I’m Gayatri,” she says, smiling at him like he’s funny on purpose and not because he just remembered that he knows her from a freaking billboard.

“Pavitr,” he manages. “And yeah, I forgot my tie and Mohan sir already has a case against me.” Gayatri giggles and the single conscious thought Pavitr can manage is that he’s going to do everything possible to hear that again.

And then she’s leaning forward and her hand is on his chest and oh she’s pulling something out of his shirt pocket? He manages to tear his gaze away to look at what she’s pulled out and—oh. It’s his tie. He actually had his tie the whole time. Silently, he takes it from her and pulls it over his head, feeling a little like his cheeks are burning so hot he’s going to catch on fire. Gayatri is still laughing at him, but it’s gentle and she’s so pretty he can’t feel bad.

“He also hates my hair.” He adds, trying to fix his hair without a mirror.

“Mohan sir thinks my earrings are dangerous.” Gayatri tells him, rolling her eyes. Even as she rolls her eyes, she looks cool and classy! Pavitr opens his mouth to respond but. before he can speak, a hand claps down on his shoulder. Slowly, Pavitr spins around to face… their PT teacher.

“Ah, Shubman sir!” Pavitr exclaims nervously. Normally, Shubman sir is nice and doesn’t give Pavitr a hard time for hair but also normally Pavitr isn’t in alcoves with a girl.

“What are you doing over here?” Shubman sir asks, face unreadable.

“Looking for my tie,” Pavitr replies before really thinking through how stupid that sounds. Behind him, Gayatri snorts and then coughs to cover it. Shubman sir’s stern expression cracks a little and Pavitr knows he’s safe.

“Get to class,” he tells Pavitr and Pavitr scampers away, towards the staircase. He can feel Gayatri try to follow after him, but Shubman sir stops her. “I have a form for your dad, come get it.” He tells her. Pavitr feels himself deflate a little. He doesn’t even know what class she’s in!

“Okay sir,” Gayatri says, smiling sweetly. When Shubman sir turns to head to the staff room, she turns to wave at Pavitr. “See you,” she mouths at him, grinning. There’s an explosion of warmth in Pavitr’s chest.

#pavitr prabhakar #gayatri singh #spiderman india #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #pavitr x gayatri #astv spoilers #techniclaly #my fic #pavitr new favorite boy i love him so much #i lvoe getting to write about what i know (going to school in india) #if you see words you dont get go to the ao3 link there's stuff in the authors notes there

[dickgraysonwayne]

Underneath

Ao3

Summary: Agent 37 seems familiar, but nah…he couldn’t be.

@dickgraysonweek 2024, Day 5: Dick (Helen) of Troy | Batfam Meets Agent 37 | Polyamory

Jason fucking hates Tuesdays.

Fuckin’ Tuesdays, he stews, kicking a can at his feet. Fuckin’ Batman. Fuckin’ drug dealers. Fuckin’…

“Hey,” Tim says, adjusting his baseball cap over his forehead. “Are you blaming Tuesdays again?”

“No,” Jason grunts. He doesn’t make eye contact. “Aren’t you annoyed, though? That we had to come all the way here…”

Tim shrugs, all smarmy-like. “Hey,” He says. “I get to miss school this way, so. I’m not too bothered.”

“But,” And Jason gestures around the alley they’re in. The mist hands low over his face, leaving him with a permanent vaguely damp feeling. “We’re not even in Gotham.”

“So?” Tim says. “I like travel. Anyway, it’s not even that different from Gotham…”

“We’re not even in the country anymore!” Jason hefts his backpack on his shoulder, irritation growing.

“Dude,” Tim says, summarily unimpressed. “What’s with you? So we do a little trip to the UK to investigate some drug operation Scarecrow’s running. What’s wrong with that?”

“I just…” Jason’s face screws up, pushing back at the memories in his head: the heat, the exhaustion, the pain. “I…I don’t like travel. That’s all.”

Tim sighs. “Well,” He says. “You better pull yourself together. Unless you wanna tell Babs you’d rather come back home and not do the mission she asked you to do? Or Bruce?”

“No need to go that far,” Jason mutters

“And,” Tim says. “Do you want to take shit from Damian about not being able to handle a ‘simple fact finding mission’ that even a ‘fool’ could complete?”

“That one,” Jason says, shrugging. “I don’t particularly care about.”

“Well, I do,” Tim says. He looks through the alleyway grimly before pushing forward. “So let’s go. The sooner we’re done, the sooner we come back anyway. So. We headed in the right direction?”

Japan glances back down at the phone in his hand. “Yeah,” He says. “Building should be showing up soon. It’s a bakery, top floor.”

Tim nods. “Okay then,” He says. “Plan confirmed?”

“Reconnaissance,” Jason drones out. “Get a sense of the operation and get out. Yeah. I know.”

“No tipping them off,” Tim says sternly. Jason hears a tinge of Bruce-inspired gravitas in his tone. It’s not quite as effective in a just-hit-puberty vocal range. “I mean, we can probably develop something to counteract the drug now, but still…don’t risk it.”

Jason grins. “Aye aye, Captain.”

He can practically feel Tim’s glowering frown. “Hey,” He says. “Why do you always—” He pauses. “Oh. Hear that?”

“Oh, yes,” Jason says, the feeling of being watched prickling over his back. “Think they’ll attack?”

“Well,” Tim says. “They’re still following, so.”

Jason nods. “Yeah,” He says. “Get ready..”

He barely has time to pull out a weapon before all hell breaks loose.

-

“I. Fucking. Hate. Tuesdays!”

Jason rolls, dodging a sword (a sword?) that clangs heavily against the cobblestones of the alleyway.

He looks up. A veritable gang of people seem to have rolled up on them in the last couple minutes, all outfitted in the same dark outfit and face covering.

They’d been ready for them. This is an ambush.

“Stop it with the Tuesday thing already,” Tim says, whacking a man around the head with his staff. “It’s obnoxious at this point.”

“You’re obnoxious at this point,” Jason kicks another man in the chest, then zaps someone else with an escrima stick. “You know what else is obnoxious? Not having a fucking gun.”

“I guess you—oomph—missed the point of a covert operation,” Tim says, staggering back at an attack, but recovering quickly.

Jason, about to go help him, is stopped by three attacking him at once. “This look covert to you?” He asks, zapping at someone else. “And anyway…shit!”

There’s too many people. It’s taking all his concentration to stay alive, stay uninjured, and he senses more than sees someone start to make his way around them, to the vulnerability of his back.

Jason grits his teeth, doing a final large sweep before turning back. “No you don’t—”

But he turns to see a nozzle pointed directly at his face, and stumbles back automatically. “Shit..”

He flips through days worth of research in his head substance distribution memory issues side effects no treatment yet magic involved and holds his breath, swearing internally…

A crossbow bolt suddenly embeds itself in the man’s chest, who gives a kind of choked gasp, shudders, then collapses onto the damp cobblestones, twitching a couple times before going still.

Jason doesn’t have time to react. He whirls back around, lifting a stick to protect himself from a blow to his head. Tim is standing nearby, still fighting, still upright.

He sees another man aim a knife at Tim from behind, then draws in a breath to warn him, before…

A gunshot rings through the air, and the man screams, clutching at his bloody hand and dropping to his knees.

Guns? Jason thinks frantically. He dodges a blow to the head, feeling weirdly vindicated. He draws an arm back, ready to zap another person, before—

A large figure runs in from the side, tackling the person in front of him and taking him both to the ground. They collapse into the shadows, tussling in a smaller alleyway to the side.

“What—”

Jason whirls around back to Tim, and sees someone else jump into the fray next to him. It’s a woman this time: face uncovered, clothing casual, and punches lethal.

Who the hell…

He feels something sting at his shin. His leg buckles, and he swears as he stumbles to his knees, trying to find his bearings.

The sticks drop from his hands and roll, and he dives frantically to try to grab them back. He looks up to see another nozzle aimed at his face, and…

Time slows down. Jason sees the finger on the nozzle tighten, then push, and he knows that there’s no stopping it, that he won’t have time to move backwards or to the side…

Suddenly, he’s looking at a gray t shirt covering a broad back, and it’s so unexpected that he thinks there’s something wrong with his sight at first. Instead, he hears the nozzle being deployed and then a cough, and he knows that it isn’t coming from him, so…

A woman’s voice cries out “You idiot!”

The back in front of him bends, then falls, revealing the startled eyes of the masked man that Jason had been staring at earlier, still holding the spray bottle. This snaps Jason back into movement, and he picks the sticks back up and delivers a hard thwack to the man’s head.

He hears the thrmmm sound of another crossbow bolt, then keeps fighting, mind whirling. He notices almost instantly that the crowd seems to have thinned out, but he doesn’t know if that means that they won or that they lost.

It feels like minutes, but the alleyway empties out, save for a few of the men that they had taken down. The woman with the crossbow stows it away then runs, falling to her knees in front of Jason, pulling at the downed man in front of him.

Tim follows close behind, looking tired, but cautious. Jason nods at him, then waits for Tim’s answering nod.

“So,” Jason says eyeing the duo in front of them. “You think they bulk ordered all those ninja outfits or did they have them laying around?”

Tim gives a tired laugh. “Maybe they got them from the Minion Coat Factory,” He suggests,

“Not your best work,” Jason comments, before the woman gives a loud sigh.

“You idiot,” The woman hisses again to the downed man. She pulls at the man on the ground, who slowly goes upright, head bowed. “What are you doing?”

The man looks up. Jason literally feels the color drain from his face.

“Dick?”

Tim stops in his tracks at the word, drawing a quick, choked breath.

Dick looks him in the eye (it’s him oh my god it’s him it’s him it’s him), and then, with a slight air of confusion, says:

“Who?”

-

Jason’s blood freezes in his veins. “That’s…” His kind is whirring in all sorts of different directions, not knowing where to stop, and how. “That’s…that’s you. That’s you, right? It’s you?”

Dick’s (maybe?) eyebrows furrow. “I…” He says. “No. I’m…” He looks up at the woman with him, who gives him a curious stare. “Who are these people? Do we know them?”

“No,” The woman says, giving him a furtive look. “What’s wrong with you?”

It’s at this point that something in Jason snaps.

He surges forward, grabbing Dick by the shoulders and pulling him close. He stares intently into his face. “It’s you, isn’t it? It’s you. It looks like you. What happened? How is it you?”

Dick’s startled eyes darken quickly. A hand quickly latched onto his wrists and bodily throw him off. “Get off me,” Dick says, voice dangerous. “Don’t do that again.”

“Stop being a dick,” Jason yells, trying to get closer. “What was it? Lazarus Pit? Did it make you forget or something? Did it—”

A hand yank at his shoulder, pulls him back. He startles, looks down and Tim, white-faced and tight lipped, holding onto him for dear life.

“Stop,” Tim says, and it comes out quiet. “This is…look, we don’t know what’s going on, okay? But we need to find out. Obviously.”

Here, the woman with Dick steps in. “We all need to calm down,” She says. “Look. I’ll introduce myself, okay? My colleague,” and here she points at Dick (it’s him!) “And I represent a global organization that specializes in, hm, covert operations, let’s say. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this at all, but,” And here she gives him a searching look. “I have a feeling you would have found out about us either way.”

“I don’t really give a shit,” Jason begins, but Tim squeezes his shoulder tighter.

“Let her continue,” He says quietly. His eyes are fixed on Dick, and his hand is trembling.

“There’s not much more than that, really,” The woman says. “You can refer to me as Matron, and this,” She gestures at Dick. “Introduce yourself.”

Dick nods. “I’m Agent 37,” He says. “I would say pleased to meet you, but…”

“Yes, okay, fine,” Jason says, impatient. “Let me guess. You woke up somewhere and were told that you were this agent guy at this organization and that you’ve always been there, and you rolled with that, right?”

“Hey,” The woman protests, but Dick waves her down.

“No,” Dick says. “That’s incorrect, actually. I’m pretty sure I’ve only ever been Agent 37. That’s just who I am.”

Jason’s eyebrows raise. “Oh yeah?” He says. “Can you tell me anything about your childhood?”

“I…” Dick’s voice trails off. “Why would I tell you that? I don’t know you.”

“Come on,” Jason says. “You very clearly don’t remember a childhood. So what does that tell you? Either you popped into existence as an adult or you’ve been brainwashed in some way. And, since you were fucking dead, my guess would be on a Lazarus Pit.”

“Dead?” Dick asks.

“What the hell is a Lazarus Pit?” Matron says at the same time.

“Fuck it,” Jason says. He grabs at Dick’s arm again. “Come on. Let’s take you home, and we can try to get your memory back. And then when you remember us we can talk for real instead of going in circles like this.”

Dick yanks his arm back again. “I don’t know you!”

“Oh yeah?” Jason says, voice rising. “Then why did you—”

“Let’s talk for a sec,” Tim interrupts, pulling him off to the side. “Stay there, please.”

“What are you doing?” Jason hisses as he’s dragged off. “That’s Dick. You know? Your brother? The one that’s dead? That brother? How are you not…how are you not reacting to this?”

“We don’t know that it’s him,” Tim says, and his voice cracks on the word. “We can’t…we can’t be sure until we can confirm it. And I…I don’t want to say that until…”

Oh. Jason feels kind of bad for snapping. “Hey,” He says. “I get it. But, come on. That’s Dick. It’s very clearly him. And he’s alive and he needs a kick in the ass to remember who he is. And we’re the only ones who can help him.”

Tim sniffs. “Yeah,” He says. “I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right,” Jason says. “Look. This is good news. He’s alive! We just need to get all of him back is all. And this isn’t our first go around with resurrection, right?”

Tim nods.

“Excellent,” Jason turns back to the two agents. “Now. As I was saying. If you didn’t know us, why did you jump in and save us from those guys? There’s no reason to do that for completely random strangers. Especially not for jumping in front of someone who was about to—”

He cuts himself off. “Oh. Hold on. You got hit by…oh my god. Oh we’re so stupid.”

“Oh,” The Matron says, snapping her fingers. “You’re right! The spray. Or whatever that was. That’s probably what’s going on here.”

“What spray?” Tim asks, eyes narrowed.

“I don’t feel any different,” Dick says, but Jason ignores him.

“Dick got sprayed by something during the fight,” He explains to Tim. “And…hey, remember what we came here for? Scarcrow’s whole operation?”

Tim stares at him for a second before understanding fills his gaze. It’s a second longer than it would normally take. “Oh!” He says. And then, quietly, again, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Jason says grimly. He turns to the other two. “We came here to investigate a drug operation, with some sort of magic involved—it’s a long story. The drugs have a…memory issues side effect. And since Dick here lost his memories after getting hit, then—”

“He must’ve ingested the drug,” Matron continues. Her eyes tighten. “Amateur hour, 37. How do you let yourself get hit like that?”

“I didn’t!” Dick protest. “I…” His eyes glaze over. “I…”

Tim interrupts him. “The memory loss seems targeted,” He says thoughtfully. “His whole sense of self is gone, but he still seems to be able to function like he normally does. He has a persona left, but only his primary identity is gone. This is new, we should look into this more.”

“And get you back,” Jason says, staring Dick down.

“And get him back,” Tim agrees. He gestures towards them. “We probably have a formula that’ll be helpful here, to counteract the drug. And that thing Constantine gave us…Anyway, if you’ll all come with me, we can take you back home and—”

Dick shakes his head, speaking before Tim’s even done. “I can’t leave,” He says. “I have work to do here. I can’t leave.”

“You have to,” Jason cuts in. “You need to get your memory back, don’t you? And then, maybe…” His voice trails off. “We can find out what happened to you.”

“He’s not leaving,” Matron cuts in. “We have resources here you can use. A lab, everything. We’ll take you to HQ: we need the real 37 back, so consider yourselves hired. On a temporary basis.”

“No,” Tim says, voice firm. “All our research…we have everything set up at our base. We can take it from here.”

Dick shakes his head. “I’m not going,” He repeats and man does that stubborn expression look familiar. Jason had thought he was never going to see it again. “I don’t know you.”

Tim looks at Jason helplessly.

Jason sighs. Fucking Tuesdays. “Fine,” she says shortly, then tilts his head to Tim. “You got the folder with all the info? And all the solutions and stuff?”

Tim grits his teeth. “Yeah,” He says. “I do. But—”

“We kinda don’t have a choice, here,” Jason says. He glances at the two agents again. “Fine. Lead the way. We’ll go to your HQ.”

“Right,” Matron grabs Dick’s hand, helping to pull him to his feet. “Follow us. 37, you remember the way?”

Dick nods. “Yeah,” He says, then sets off without another word.

Jason swears under his breath, then rushes to follow, Tim right next to him.

-

It doesn’t take long before Tim breaks.

Jason had known it was coming, had seen it in the twitching of his fingers and the telltale furrow of his brow, so he just waits.

He doesn’t want long before he feels him elbow his arm. “Jason,” Tim hisses, clearly trying to remain out of earshot. “We have a problem.”

“You think?” Jason says, eyebrows raised. “What could’ve clued you into that idea? What, with the drug ninjas and resurrected amnesiac brother?”

“Shut up,” Tim mutters. “Anyway. We probably blew the mission. I’d guess the drug operation’s packing up and leaving as we speak.”

Jason sighs. “Get ready for that earful from Damian.”

“You said you didn’t care about that!”

Jason shrugs. “I lied. He’s a tiny little shrimp and his royal shrimpiness gets soooo smug when he’s right.”

“Yeah,” Tim says, but his heart is clearly not into it. “I guess so.”

Jason waits a little more.

“It’s just that,” Tim begins, voice hesitant. “Dick…he got hit by the memory spray thing right? And he got hit because he was saving us, right?”

Jason nods. “He stepped in front of me,” He says. His throat tightens. “He took the hit.”

“So,” Tim says. “He knew to do that. He knew who we were, before he got sprayed. So…he was alive this whole time. Here. And…and we thought he was dead.”

Jason sits with that for a while. A spike of anger and confusion pools up in his head.

“We thought he was dead,” Jason repeats. “And he’s alive. And…and we don’t know why…”

“But he still…” Tim swallows. “He must’ve known. What that would do. And…and he still did it. Why?”

Jason grits his teeth. He stares at the back of Dick’s head. “We’ll find out soon enough,” He says.

A sign in the distance catches his eye. He squints. “Does that say girls’ school?”

-

“Welcome,” Matron says, sweeping an arm out at the entrance. “To HQ.”

Jason eyes the building, skeptical. “Girls’ school?” He repeats.

Matron shrugs, smiling. “The children are our future, and all that,” She says.

Jason waits for Dick to chime in, make a lame joke, continue the song lyrics…

But he just stands there, face blank, waiting.

Matron gives him a look. “Wow,” She says. “You’re really not yourself, huh?”

“Yeah, like we’ve been saying,” Jason says, a little irritated by her overfamiliarty. “So can we speed this up already?”

“Jason,” Tim hisses, sounding embarrassed.

Matron shrugs. “I’ve had worse,” She says. She leads them through hallways, the sounds of laughing women echoing in the distance. “I just need to take you around—ah. Here we go.”

She stops outside a door with ROOM 84 emblazoned on a large sign stuck to it. She creaks it open then peers in furtively before ushering them in “Come on,” She says.

Dick goes in robotically, without comment. Jason follows, seeing a pretty impressive and fully equipped lab on the inside.

“Huh,” Jason says, looking around. “Nice setup you have here.”

Dick, finally, speaks up. “Are you sure about this?” He asks Matron, with only a hint of doubt in his voice.

“Yes,” Matron says. “We gotta get you back to how you were. And, you know,” She gives him a significant look. “I’m going to need you fully with me for what’s coming.”

Dick’s face clears up. “Ah. Right.”

“You don’t have much time,” She says, backing up towards the door. “Try to get it done quick. I’ll keep watch. Good luck.” She nods, then snaps the door shut.

Tim instantly leaps into work, pulling out his file and starting to decipher it. “I’ll need a while,” Is all he says, before his focus narrows and he zones in on the problem in front of him.

Jason sinks into a straight backed chair. “All we can do is wait,” He feels compelled to tell Dick. “I’m gonna nap, I think.”

Dick’s face is blank. Disturbingly so. He nods.

It disturbs Japan so much that he wants to try to wipe it off. “What do I call you?” He asks him. “Agent? 37? Full name? What?”

A bit of emotion leaks back into Dick’s face. “Agent 37 is fine,” He says. He falls silent again.

“So,” Jason says, trying to goad out the emotion again. “What do you like to do? You have any hobbies, anything like that?”

Dick stays carefully blank. “Not particularly,” He says. “I’m too busy for that.”

“Doing what?”

“Top secret,” Dick replies. “Can’t tell you.”

“Then why were we okay to be let in here?” Jason asks. “You sure didn’t put up much of a fight to take us right into the heart of your operation.”

Dick shrugs. “Matron made that call,” He says. “I followed her lead.”

“Yeah,” Jason says. “But that wasn’t very international man of mystery of you, was it? What do you think that means?”

Dick frowns a little. “Can’t say it means anything,” He says.

Well. He’s just as frustrating without his memories as he is with them. “Then why are you still talking to me?” Jason demands. “What do you gain? Is that what you’re drawn to do? Have you thought about why that is?”

“You’re very angry,” Dick says, looking a little curious now. “Why?”

“Don’t try that on me,” Jason says. “I know you. That won’t work. And anyway, I’m not angry. I just want answers.”

“And I can’t give them to you,” Dick pins him with a searching gaze. “Look. I know it sounds…illogical, but I think you may be right. Maybe I am the guy you say I am, and the gaps in my memory hold the person you’re looking for. But I’m not that guy right now. And I can’t tell you what you want to hear.”

Jason laughs disbelievingly. “You sure about that?” He asks. “You sure sound like him right now.”

“Maybe,” Dick says. “But I’m not him. I’m Agent 37. You’re going to have to wait for this other guy to come back.”

“Hey,”

They both turn. Tun stands there, a glass bottle in his hand. “It’s done. It was mostly done anyway, because of the magic involved, I just added the—never mind. It’s done. You can take it.”

Dick stands up, slowly taking the bottle from Tim’s hand. Tim doesn’t make eye contact, and steps over to Jason’s side as soon as the bottle leaves his possession.

That…that definitely seems like a problem.

“So?” Jason asks. “You ready for the other guy to come back?”

“I…” Dick says. He pushes, drawing in a deep breath.

Jason waits, heart pounding.

Dick breathes out slowly, then says “Okay.”

“What,” Jason says, disbelieving. “Just like that?”

“I guess I trust you,” Dick says. Before Jason can reply, he downs the liquid in one swallow.

-

Jason waits.

Time ticks by, and Dick just sits there, eyes screwed shut.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jason whispers to Tim, eyeing Dick critically.

Tim is so tense he’s about to snap in half. “It probably tastes gross,” He says. “Give it a second. It’ll work. I’m sure it’ll work. Give it a second.”

Jason waits a second. And then another. And then another.

When Dick opens his eyes again, alive, teary, scared, Jason knows. He knows.

He stands up.

“Dick?” Tim asks, voice a tad wobbly. “You back?”

Dick takes a shuddering breath. “Hi guys,” he croaks out. “Long time no see.”

Tim lets out a soft oh noise, then runs toward Dick is one quick motion. He slams into his torso, almost knocking him backward. He wraps Dick in a tight hug, face mashed into the gray t shirt. “You’re alive,” Tim says, voice teary. “You’re…you’re here.”

Dick wraps his arms around Tim, squeezing just as tight. “Yeah,” He says, choked. “I guess I am.”

There’s a part of Jason that wants to join them, to give in to the need to give a hug, to allow a few tears to fall, to let go of that weight on his shoulders.

There’s a bigger part, though, that’s too full of rage to do much of anything else.

Jason crosses his arms. “So,” He says, voice deceptively calm. “Can you explain how you’re alive? When we all saw you die? And why, if you were alive this whole time, you’re here instead?”

Tim freezes, then slowly lets go of Dick, backing up next to Jason.

Dick’s face falls into a devastated expression. He stays silent.

“Dick?” Tim says. His voice is quiet, confused. “Can you answer his question?”

Dick audibly swallows. “I…” He says. “Look. I’m still a little out of it because I just got all my memories back, so—”

“Excuse,” Jason says shortly. “You have your memories back? That means you have your reasons back too. So. Explain.”

Dick sighs. “Look,” He says. “I didn’t want to. I promise you, I didn’t want to. And…and I wanted you to know I was okay. But…I couldn’t. I’m sorry.”

Jason gives a disbelieving laugh. “That’s barely an explanation,” He says. “Total bullshit, to be honest. Did you even die? Or was that a lie too?”

Dick’s voice softens. “No. That was real. It’s just…I didn’t stay that way. Obviously.”

“Obviously?” Jason says, eyebrows raising. “That’s what you have to say right now? Unbelievable.”

Dick raises his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean it that way,” He says. “I promise. I…I really am sorry, it’s just…”

“How could you?”

And there’s the Tim explosion.

“You knew. You knew how upset we’d be! You knew. And you still let it happen. We mourned you! We…we had to deal with that all by ourselves! Us, and Babs, and Alfred, and Damian—” and here Tim’s mouth clicks shut, a look of horror on his face. “Oh my god. Damian. Do you know?”

Dick actually smiles. “Yeah,” He says, a heavy sort of relief in his voice. “I…I saw him. On the news. I about passed out when I did.”

Shitty way to find out. Jason thinks. But really is there even a good way? Or just a bunch of really bad ways?

“Then you know! How could you?” Tim’s voice is hoarse by now, his volume increasing with every word. “Not to mention what it’s doing to Bruce!”

Dick’s expression flickers, just barely, at Bruce’s name. Jason knows the signs, and knows exactly what that must mean.

“Tim,” Dick says, voice heavy, but Jason doesn’t let him get that far.

“Bruce,” Jason repeats. “He knew, didn’t he.”

Dick makes eye contact with him, and Jason knows that he’s right. “He’s…he’s the one who sent me here.” He says. There’s an air of resignation in his tone, a total surrender to his situation. It’s disquieting, seeing him like this.

“Of fucking course,” Jason mutters. “Let me guess. He saw an opportunity to use your whole situation and he took it. Motherfu—”

“But you went along with it!” Tim bursts out. He’s still angry (so angry) but not as explosive now. “If you didn’t want to, you should’ve just refused! If you really thought it was wrong, you should’ve just said no!”

Dick chuckles darkly. “You’re right,” He says. “I should’ve. That one…that one’s on me. I’m sorry, I really mean it. And if you can’t forgive me, I understand.”

Something’s still off. Jason frowns at him. “You’re telling me you woke up from near death, Bruce asked you to do this, and then you said yes? Just like that?”

Dick hesitates. “Well…”

Jason swears under his breath. “What did he do?” He asks. “To make you go. What did he do?”

Dick shakes his head, disbelieving. “What makes you think he did anything?”

“Because I know you,” Jason says. “And I know him. And that story doesn’t track, for either of you. Unless you went fully dark side and decided to embrace being his perfect little soldier? You’re telling me that you would ever do that, in a million years?”

Tim’s eyes are on him, a slow understanding dawning in his eyes. “Of course,” He says, voice still a little hoarse. “There’s gotta be something more to this. What happened?”

“Look,” Dick begins, voice heavy. “I’ve worked with Bruce a long time. Ever since I was a little kid. There’s certain things with him that I understand, and if he asks this of me, then, well…”

“Bullshit,” Jason repeats. “And what’s with this little kid shit? You were sixteen when you became Robin. Don’t lie more.”

Dick frowns. “No, I was…” He trails off. “I was…was it eight, or ten? I can’t remember.”

Jason frowns. “Huh? What’re you saying?”

“What’s wrong?” Tim demands. “Are you feeling off again? Your memory?”

Dick shakes his head. “Nah,” He says. “Sorry. Anyway. You know how it is. When it’s something really important, it’s important. Like, world-ending important.”

“Was this world-ending important?” Jason asks. He sees the answer clearly on Dick’s face. “Or was this daddy issues important? Or Bruce being a piece of shit important?”

“You lost the metaphor there,” Tim mutters.

“Shut the fuck up,” Jason responds. That’s back to normal, at least. “So. If this wasn’t world-ending important. Then why? Because the Dick I know wouldn’t have let Bruce force him to do anything just because.”

Dick just shakes his head again. He laughs, but it’s hollow. “I didn’t even say anything,” He asks, almost wonderingly. “How do you know this?”

“Because I know you,” Jason says. “Idiot. How many times have I said that already? So? Stop stalling. What happened?”

“You don’t want to know,” Dick says. His face is stuck between a small smile and a grimace. “Trust me.”

“Oh, we really do,” Jason says. Tim nods his assent.

Dick just sighs. “Okay,” He says. “I’ll tell you. I promise. But for now,” He looks around. “We have to get you guys back, okay?”

“You’re coming too,” Tim says instantly.

“What, already?” Jason asks. “You trying to get rid of us?”

“No,” Dick insists. At Tim’s protest, he raises a hand. “I want to go with you, but I can’t. Listen. There’s things going on here right now…I need to see them through. A lot of lives are at stake. But the first chance I get, I’ll come. Promise. I promise. And trust me: you guys knowing I’m alive already lifts a huge weight off my shoulders. Bruce’ll have little to no issue with letting me come back if he knows that you guys know.”

“Letting you?” Jason asks, eyes narrowed. “Also. What makes you think we’ll be okay with doing that? Just up and leaving you here?”

Dick’s face softens. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But, look. We need to make sure to get you guys out of here as soon as possible. It’s…well. I want to make sure the people here don’t get you in their radar.”

“Will you be okay then?” Tim asks, concerned about this development. “Staying here? It doesn’t look like you trust them.”

“I don’t,” Dick says. “And I wouldn’t stay unless I felt like I had to. And…I’ll keep in touch, okay? You won’t be leaving me entirely like that. Bruce has a way to contact me, you can bully him into using his. Tell the rest of the family, okay? I want them to know.”

This, more than anything, convinces Jason that Dick means every word of his promise. “Fine,” he says, over Tim’s protest. “We need to clean up here first, anyway. Which would be faster if I had my gun.” He eyes Dick’s belt. “Hey, can I—”

“No,” Dick says instantly.

“Come on,” Jason whines. “How come you get one and I don’t?”

“If I had the choice,” Dick says. “I’d switch with you. But alas.”

Jason raises an eyebrow. “Hey,” He says. “Does Bruce know about that? The gun?”

Dick laughs, strangely bitter. “He had to deal with it,” He says. “If he sends me here, he has to live with those consequences.”

Jason knows Dick isn’t the biggest fan of guns either, so this is probably hitting on a sore spot. Kind of his expertise, to be honest.

“I’m still mad at you,” Tim interrupts, staring Dick down. “Really mad.”

Dick’s mood changes again. “I know,” He says softly. “I’m sorry. Really.”

Tim surges forward suddenly, hugging Dick tightly again. “Really really mad,” He mutters into Dick’s tshirt.

Dick hugs back, pats him on the head. “I know,” He says. “Missed you.”

Tim makes a small, wounded sound. “Me too.”

Dick looks up, making eye contact with Jason. “You too, kiddo.” He says.

“Kiddo?” Jason says. He swallows around the lump in his throat. “Yeah. Me too, I guess,” He clears his throat. “I’m waiting for that full explanation. The minute you get back. We’ll decide what to do with Bruce from there.”

“You don’t have to—” Dick says, and Tim lets go of him again. “Look…”

Tim walks to the back of the room, quickly starting to gather up everything they brought with them.

“Shut up,” Jason says. “We’ll handle it then. We’ll head back now, contact you later. Deal?”

Tim pops back up, shoving things into Jason’s backpack. “Done,” He says.

“Deal,” Dick answers him. He gestures at them both. “I’ll lead you back, okay? Follow me.”

He walks them to the door, then pushes ahead, directing them to follow. “Matron,” He says quietly. “We’re good to go.”

She pops back around the corner. “You back now?” She says, giving him a searching look.

He grins. “Like a bad penny,” He says.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It’s you all right,” She gestures at the rest of them. “Right. Let’s go.”

They walk down the hallways, quietly striding through the creaking building, before Tim whispers. “We’ll need to regroup on this mission. How bad do you think we’ll get it from Damian for failing it?”

“We’re bringing Dick back,” Jason says, eyeing him. “I’m sure he’ll forget all about that.”

“I doubt it,” Tim mutters, but he grins just the same.

They head out the door, following Dick through the hallways. He walks different here, not like a Dick, not really. Like Agent 37.

Jason shakes the unease out of his head.

“Hey,” Tim says. “You still hate Tuesdays now?”

Jason snorts. “You kidding?” He says. “They’re still the worst. Although…” He glances up to see Dick ahead of them. “Gotta say. It’s about…20% less bad than it was.”

“Only 20%, huh?” Tim asks, amused.

“Yeah,” He says, then “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t have to,” He keeps his eyes forward. “I know you.”

“You do,” Tim says. He smiles again. “You really, really do.”

#dickgraysonweek #agent 37 #dick Grayson #spyral #Jason Todd #red hood #Tim drake #Red Robin #speaks

[les-pompiers118]

Last call for sin

900 words | rated Teen | Buck angst

A 1x01 coda ficlet for @911hiatus's week one prompt, "hunger." Title from All These Things That I've Done by The Killers, which is a perfect song for pilot Buck (in my humble opinion).

He managed the drive home okay—hands tight around the steering wheel, radio on too loud to keep his thoughts at bay, but he made it. He just put his mind on autopilot and drove. But now that he’s safely on his own front porch, fiddling with the keys in his jacket pocket, Buck feels like he can’t breathe. As if there’s a snake wrapped around his ribcage, squeezing.

He inhales sharply through his nose, then exhales more slowly from his mouth, talking himself through it like he’s his own patient. In… and out. There you go. You’re okay. On the far end of the porch, someone left an empty beer can in the potted geranium that’s languishing between two folding chairs. Buck keeps his eyes fixed on it, both to ground himself while he breathes and to have something—anything—to think about besides what happened yesterday.

He almost lost everything.

In… Out… In… Out…

The front door opens, startling Buck into taking a step back.

“Hey, I thought I heard you pull in,” Kyle says through the screen door. He’s wearing flannel pajama bottoms printed with puffy, cartoon Christmas trees and no shirt. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah, fine. Just didn’t get much sleep.” Buck walks over to the geranium, plucks out the beer can, and hands it to Kyle. “You guys, uh, have someone over last night?”

“Not me. Stayed up late watching a couple movies. I don’t have to work until noon.”

Buck follows Kyle inside, careful not to let the screen door slam. “Sorry if I woke you up.”

“You didn’t. Fucking car alarm next door again. I’m gonna let the air out of their tires next time, I swear to fucking God.”

“I did not hear you say that,” Buck grins, then gestures at Kyle’s pajamas. “Look at a calendar, dude. It’s January.”

“Yeah, so? My mom gave me these. They’re comfortable. Yo, I was about to make some eggs. You want some?”

“Nah, I’m good, thanks. Not hungry yet.”

Kyle gives him a thumbs-up and returns to the kitchen, and Buck goes upstairs to his room. The house is quiet at this time of day, at least on weekdays. Weekends are a different matter. Buck usually comes home to find a few friends-of-friends still hanging around for breakfast. Buck doesn’t care, as long as the mess gets cleaned up and no one has crashed in his bed.

God, he’s so damn tired. It’s not that they had a lot of calls last night; he just couldn’t seem to get his brain to switch off. Four straight hours in his bunk without the bell going off, and he wasted them listening to Chimney snore. Buck drops his gym bag on the floor and kicks off his shoes without looking to see where they land. Clothes are peeled off, replaced with sweats. Curtains get pulled closed. Autopilot. On the way to the bed, he catches his reflection in the mirror hanging over the dresser.

And then he can’t breathe again.

This is not a family.

The next time you screw up, it’ll be your last.

You’re done, kid.

In the dim light, Buck sees all the previous versions of himself staring back at him from the mirror, all with the same birthmark and blue eyes, the same nose that’s just a little too long. Twenty-six goddamn years’ worth of them—and it seems he’s no closer to figuring out how not to screw up his own life.

“I fucked up,” Buck whispers. “I fucked up again, Maddie.”

His reflection pleads with him in the mirror, begging for sympathy, but the voice in his head is brisk, sensible. Maddie’s voice.

Okay? What are you going to do about it, Evan?

He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s painful to think of her, still patching up idiots like him in the ER and then going home to her dickhead husband. At least she has one less thing to worry about with her little brother out of her hair. Buck hopes she’s okay. Maybe even happy.

It’s hard to imagine her happy.

It’s been five years since he left Hershey, hungry for something he couldn’t even name. So hungry it hurt. But now he understands what he was seeking as he was crisscrossing the country in her old Jeep: Purpose. Something he could hold up with pride. And people who gave a shit about him. He knows this because yesterday he almost threw all those things away for a couple of meaningless fucks. Jesus.

So. What is he going to do about it? The first step is obvious. Buck sits down on the edge of his bed and begins deleting every dating app off his phone. He’s done. He has to be done.

He makes the mistake of opening the last app. Four messages. Buck scans the profile pictures, his breathing picking up. God, it was an actual nightmare of a shift. That little girl dragged out of her house, bullets—actual fucking bullets—pinging off the fire engine. In two days, Buck’s going to be right back there, facing all kinds of awful shit again, having people’s lives in his hands. And then there’ll be the consequences of his screw-up to face. Bobby’s probably gonna have him scrubbing floors for a month.

Buck lets his thumb hover unsteadily over GirlOnFire94’s picture. The name feels like fate. He clicks.

One last time. He needs this.

His hands don’t stop shaking for a long time.

#911 #911hiatus2023 #evan buckley #911 fic #my writing

[xiaolin-show-hoe]

Here is Prompt 3: Cracked Glass

--

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Jack Spicer was indeed a sight to behold. A 25 year old male, lean and weak, was now smashing a car window with a bat with a force to be reckoned with. The sound of smashing glass scattered across a parking garage yet was somewhat soundless if no one was there to hear it.

A breathtaking swing like a pro golfer had Jack Spicer puting the side mirrors under some cars farther down the slope towards darkness. The only thing bright in this dark place was the smile lighting up the man's face as he took another stroke sending the second mirror in the opposite direction.

It was a true work of joy to see.

The young man had a sucker in his mouth, chomping at it aggravated as he raised the bat from before to damage the windshield. The sickening crack was similar to dropping ones phone. Gut wrenching and the sound alone could split a heart in two. 

Jack Spicer hoped Jared Pulinsky could feel this pain.

His newly ex boyfriend Jared who just put out pictures of Jack that he found rather fucking rude to exploit after their relationship crashed and burned.

Fucking Jareds. 

I feel Jack on this one, Jareds can secretly be some real b-holes. 

So after Jack broke up with him over some weird money issues involving money getting taken from his wallet without asking, that buck tooth, dimwitted brunette of a trucker decided to send out some of their naughty pictures. Which is why every single hit to the truck that Jared treasured made Jack more horny than he had ever been.

After he had smashed the glass, Jack pulled out his special key he made specifically to screw this truck over. A long strong key that would be impossible to fix after he scratched through. This time he took some liberties and doodled some things through that paint job that Jack gifted to Jared. 

Cars occasionally drove through the garage and asked him what he was doing. He always answered honestly because there was nothing more satisfying then someone agreeing with him and giving their blessing to fuck up his exe's car.

Ah sweet validation.

Oh but he wasn't quite done. Oh no no, he also paid for the inside to get reupholstered. 

Jared couldn't have anything that nice on his own paycheck, surely it would be awkward to drive around in the car your ex got work done for.

Jack Spicer would be EVER SO kind and make sure it wasn't recognizable after he was done with the Golden Tiger Claw ripping into the seams of the seats. ANYTHING to make JARED more comfortable in his BRAND NEW truck.

Lastly, to put the finishing touches took out a knife and slashed the tires with all the force his thin body could do. It was tough work but hearing that sweet hiss of air and knowing his ex wouldn't be able to drive to work was just plain exciting.

And finally, the piece de resistance, stealing the catalytic converter from the underbelly of the truck. That way if he wanted to sell this new piece of shit, he would get barely a dime without the most expensive piece. After all, this piece of shit was paid for by Jack, he at least deserved the best spare part to sell for himself. 

Hmmm…maybe he could take the engine too….

Nah, Jack did more than enough to get out the message not to fuck with him, literally or figuratively.

Jack Spicer had gone soft while with Jared. He felt more love and attention from Jared than his parents ever gave him. Hell, the only person who ever lived with him longer than a month at a time was his grandma.

So this betrayal, despite dating for only 4 months, was a deep wound for him. Jack had been used and he was sick of always being the victim of these manipulative games.

They were never games to him.

It was time for Jack to start anew and it would start with this fucking truck. 

--

This last prompt for Cracked Glass is about Jack finally trying to stand up for himself once his boyfriend hurt him. However, Jack had disappeared from the monks and Heylin's lives for years at this point. So when a wu turns up one year later, they don't expect Jack nor the strange robot he sends. He leaves a message behind, "I'm done playing games."

Please feel free to check the other two prompts and answer the poll on my page♡☆

#chack #fanfiction #i love xiaolin showdown to an unhealthy degree #xiaolin showdown #xs jack spicer #xs chase young #jack spicer #chase young

[fitrahgolden]

WEARY MEMORY: 3 - ONE MEMORY I CAN EASILY CONJURE

“How’s it going, mate?”

Anthony felt a slap on his shoulder and turned on his barstool. Tom had texted him the night before, asking if he fancied meeting for drinks the next evening. Anthony didn’t have the kids, or plans with Siena or his family, so drinks with a friend he didn’t see very often sounded great.

“It’s alright. You good?”

“Yeah, pretty great, actually.” Tom’s grin was as warm and inviting as ever as he settled onto the stool next to Anthony and flagged down the bartender.

It’d been a few months since they last hung out, so they spent some time checking in with each other on the usual, work, family, dating, etc. Tom seemed oddly keen to know whether or not Anthony was still seeing someone, and almost relieved to find out he was.

“Speaking of,” Anthony said as he nodded towards the bartender. “It’s cliche as hell, but there might be something there, eh? She’s checking on us a hell of a lot. Well, you. I don’t think she remembers I’m here,” he chuckled.

Tom looked over at the woman in question, who did shoot a teasing look back at him as she poured some shots. He subtly shook his head as he turned back to Anthony.

“No?” Anthony raised his eyebrows.

“Nah,” Tom waved his hand, surprising Anthony with his more serious tone when he spoke again. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something. Well, give you a heads up.”

“Everything OK?”

“Oh, yeah, yeah. Sorry. It’s nothing like that. It just felt like the right thing to do to let you know I’m going to ask Kate out.”

Anthony froze, his drink hovering in front of his lips. He blinked a few times before he set it down carefully.

“What?”

Tom blew out a breath. “Yeah. Of course, I’m not asking permission or anything weird like that. It didn’t feel right not mentioning it, though.”

Anthony scratched at his glass. He could feel his jaw clenching. “‘It’ being you and Kate going on a date.”

Tom answered with a shrug, irritatingly casual. “If she says yes.”

Anthony let go of his glass, genuinely concerned he may break it, his grip was so tight. What the fuck? Kate and Tom? Since fucking when?

“Have you always been interested in her?” The accusatory question came out before Anthony even realised he’d formed it in his head.

“Jesus, Anthony.” Tom tried to laugh the question off.

Anthony didn’t help him.

“Well?”

“Why does that matter? You can’t possibly be asking if something happened between us–”

“Of course I’m not bloody asking that!”

“Look, mate. I truly just wanted you to hear it from me in case she takes me up on it.”

Anthony knocked the rest of his drink back and stood. “Well, thanks for the ‘heads up’ that you’re asking my ex-wife out.”

He threw some notes down and started walking away when Tom said, “I’m sorry, but you have a girlfriend, if my hearing didn’t fail me.”

Anthony slowly turned and made his way back to Tom, stopping once he was standing just a bit too close.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean what the hell are you doing? Is this because it’s me and we’re friends, or because it’s anyone at all? You think she hasn’t dated in three years?”

“Don’t fucking–” Anthony screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he found Tom staring back at him with concern, maybe pity. Well, this is fucking embarrassing.

Anthony shook his head, turned back around, and left the bar.

—

The following Saturday, it was time to pick the kids up from Kate's. Anthony had spent the rest of the week trying to forget about his conversation with Tom–and his intense reaction to it. Because, truly, what the fuck was that?

But everything came screaming back to him as soon as Kate opened the door and Anthony saw her face–and the rest of her. 

“You look… nice.” The banal adjective meandered out of his mouth.

Anthony tried not to let his gaze linger. Honestly, he didn't need to. He knew this outfit, this hair, this perfume. He was intimately familiar with all of it. It used to be for them. For him.

“Thanks.”

Kate's smile was easygoing as she opened the door wider for Anthony to step in. It took no time at all for Kaveri to pounce on him.

“Amma's going to a party! I'm not invited. I have to go with you.”

Anthony laughed as he kissed his daughter's hair. “Aw, well. I'm sure we can find something even more fun to do.”

“Like Oxygen Acton? We have to hurry. They close in two hours.”

“Do they?” Anthony narrowed his eyes at Kate, who was laughing.

“I swear I didn't set you up. I had no idea she had a scheme going. Cheeky.” She poked their daughter in the side and the six year old squealed.

“Uh-uh. Sure,” Anthony teased before turning back to Kaveri. “I guess we're going to Oxygen Acton, then, eh?”

“Aaah! He said yes, guys!”

Cheers could be hard from further inside Kate's house. Kate raised an eyebrow at Anthony.

“Told you it wasn't me.”

“I'm gonna go finish my snack now,” Kaveri announced before blowing a raspberry into Anthony’s cheek and climbing down so she could run back into the kitchen.

“Quickly!” Kate called to the girl's retreating back before looking apologetically at Anthony. “I promise they're ready. You know how it is.”

He shrugged, his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, it's fine. I'm not in a rush.” He rocked back on his heels. “So, a party, huh?” This could be a coincidence. She probably turned Tom down. 

“Well, it's actually a club, but when I explained to Kav what a club was, she decided I was going to a party.”

“I see. Makes sense.”

The question was right there, but he didn't want to ask it. He was inexplicably and irritatingly terrified of the answer being yes. He didn't want her to be offended that he even asked in the first place.

“Um… Tom told me he mentioned it to you, that, uh, he was going to ask me out.”

Fuck. 

“Oh.”

Did he also tell you I fully regressed into a caveman?

“Yeah. I know it's a bit odd–”

Anthony scoffed, and he saw the instant change in Kate's eyes, in her entire demeanour.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

She could read him too fucking well. Fine.

“Tom, Kate? Really? We’re all friends.”

“We were. We hardly see him anymore.”

“And how long have you been wanting to change that?”

It was Kate's turn to scoff. “Excuse me? What gives you the right to try to make me feel bad about this?”

Anthony took a few steps towards Kate, his feet moving unbidden. “What gives me the right? You're my–”

“I’m your what, exactly?”

She'd gotten in his face, her eyes alight with challenge, the kind of look that used to mean she was likely to soon throw herself at him. Not anymore. Anthony shook his head as he backed up.

“I'm sorry. I'm being an arsehole.”

“Yeah,” Kate almost whispered, looking mortified.

“That was out of order. I'm just… Sorry.”

“Alright.” She cleared her throat and turned away from him. “I'm going to get the kids. They've been keeping you waiting long enough.”

—

“Amma!”

Kate sat up in her bed. The thunder that followed the sharp clap she'd heard in her dream was rolling, the sound playing on top of the heavy rain hitting her windows. Her throat hurt, so she must have screamed for her mother out loud when she did so in her dream. 

Fucking thunderstorms. Go to fucking hell.

She looked over to the other side of the bed. Apparently, Tom was a heavy ass sleeper.

Good to know. I guess. She was aware it ultimately would never matter. She didn’t need to file little details like that about Tom away in her head. She didn't particularly want to.

The date went well, well enough for her to invite him home. But Kate knew before they'd even gotten to the club that night that this thing with Tom wasn't going to go anywhere substantive, was unlikely to go anywhere after tonight, even. Still, she tried.

It was the look on Anthony's face while he was unfairly questioning her about going on a date with a mutual friend of theirs. Of course, intellectually, she knew she wasn't doing anything wrong, or even dubious, really. She'd been single for three years. Tom was barely in their lives anymore.

But the look on Anthony's face… It called her out on something she'd been trying her best to ignore since she decided to try dating, since she said yes to Tom because he was a good, kind man, and he felt like he could be a safe place for her.

The look on Anthony's face said, “How could you do this to me, to us?”

It made no fucking sense. Pure ludicrousness. Anthony had a fucking girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. Kate wasn't doing anything to anyone, besides being entirely too hard on herself. 

Kate's attention turned to her phone when it started buzzing on her bedside table. Anthony, as if she summoned him with her thoughts. But she knew why he was calling, and it made her smile.

She slipped out of bed and went into her bathroom, fidgeting with her necklace, the one that held her wedding rings, the one that she was thankful Tom hadn’t commented on, despite how often his eyes fell on the rings hanging off of the chain. 

“Hey.”

“Hey, Kit.”

Kit.

“You didn't have to call.” Kate leaned over her sink, cupping her hand to drink from the tap. Truly, both of the sinks in this bathroom were hers, had been for a while, but she only ever used this one. The other one was for…guests, maybe? She never thought about it for very long. “You never have to call. You know that, right?”

“I know. How are you feeling?”

“The usual.”

“Did you dream this time?”

“Yeah.”

“Shit. I'm sorry, Kit.”

Kit.

“Thanks.” Kate grabbed a pillow and blanket from the linen closet and settled into her tub.

“Do you want to talk?” Anthony offered.

On cue, thunder boomed through the house.

“Yes.”

She heard Anthony sigh heavily. “Listen, I'm so fucking sorry about earlier. I don't know what possessed me to be such a dick.”

Kate imagined it was probably the same thing that made her sure she could never give Tom a real chance at a relationship.

“Thanks. Let's forget about it. Please.”

“OK. It's forgotten.”

“Good. How was the trampoline park?”

“They fucking loved it, of course. And Kav… She's amazing. All three of them are so fucking amazing.”

“Yeah, I know. Because of or in spite of us, I'm not sure.”

“Eh. Bit of column A, bit of column B.”

The silence after their laughs died down lingered for a while.

“Oh,” Kate said, “I'm getting a dog.”

“Oh, really? The kids haven't mentioned it.”

“Well, I haven't told them yet. He's not for them, he's for me.”

“Good for you. Though, good luck keeping Maan from thinking he's his.”

“I know. He's the one I'm gonna have to keep an eye on.”

“Tell me about the dog.”

“Well, it'll be a couple of days. I have to get the house ready. But Alice called me today asking if I wanted one of her corgi's puppies and–”

“Oh, no, a corgi?”

“Yes, what of it?”

“They're just…useless.”

Kate laughed. “So? Why do I need a ‘useful’ dog? He's going to be a pet.”

“Still.”

“Anyway, I'm gonna name him Newton.”

There were a few beats of silence before Anthony said, “OK, now I know you're joking.”

“Ugh, fuck you. No puppy cuddles for you.”

“I'm one hundred percent OK with that.”

“I don't know. I think you'll regret it.”

“Oh, hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Looks like the cell has broken up. You should be good to try to go back to sleep.”

Kate looked up at the ceiling and smiled at the thought of Anthony looking at the radar for her during their call.

“Kit?”

Kit. 

“Huh?”

“You're OK, right?”

“Yeah. I'm going back to bed, I think. Thank you, Anthony.”

“You're welcome. I know you don't need–”

“No, no. Don't do that. Just… Thank you.”

Kate heard a slow, deep breath.

“You're welcome, Kit.”

Kit.

#bridgerton #kanthony #anthony x kate #kate and anthony #kate x anthony #kate bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony and kate #anthony bridgerton #kanthony fic #kanthony fanfiction #kanthony fanfic #kathony #kathony fic #kathony fanfiction #kathony fanfic #the viscount who loved me #divorce au #co parenting au #bridgerton au #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton fic #weary memory au #weary memory

[xiaoluclair]

hiii x, 16 or 23 + chalex 🥹

helloo, my love! righto, righto--

16. lazily + 23. in relief // cl16.aa23 // G

Charles had not meant to set the sink on fire. Truthfully, he was not even sure how it had happened. He was just there, an innocent bystander watching the Snapchat notifications light up his phone on the countertop, and then.

Well.

"This is what you get," Max was preaching over the blare of the fire alarm, "when you fraternize with the British."

Fraternize, thought Charles. Sure. Like sharing Snapchat handles was fraternizing. He slipped on a step and cursed many things. Someone caught him by the forearm and George said, "Careful there, mate." And if George was here then.

Charles glanced around as they hit the ground floor. Out on the grass, it was too dark to see much. Tall people blocked out other tall people blocked out shorter people. It was sort of tragic, really. It was also freezing.

"Danny," someone yelled from a window in Klamidia, "what's going on?"

"No idea," Daniel called back. He turned to Max. "What is going on?"

"No idea," Max parroted. Charles should probably be grateful for that one. Max sent him a look that suggested it, heavily.

The fire department rolled up around a minute later, to a filled field of grass and a slightly orange glow coming from the fourth floor of Gonuria. "Ah shit," said Pierre. "I left my laptop unlocked."

"Why is that a problem?" asked Liam.

"Did all your flatmates get out?" Charles suddenly asked, before Pierre had to try and fumble his way out of legally illegal things.

Liam nodded. "Yeah. You can see them over there, see. Alex was out though, so he'll get back to a lovely surprise."

Charles had not known that. It was hard to tell where Alex was through his Snaps. Usually they included some part of his face screwed up in an odd expression, and an unassuming backdrop. The ceiling or the sky, usually. Sometimes his red comforter.

Oscar appeared next to them. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah," said Liam. "Lando's fine."

Oscar colored a little, like he didn't cross from his own, perfectly intact building at 3 in the morning, to see if his crush was okay. "That's not what I."

"Sure." Liam grinned. Charles did too, but he was also tired. That, and he'd been realizing for the past two minutes that he had left his phone in the kitchen currently on fire. "He's over there, by the way. Want me to call him over?"

"Nah, just leave him-"

"Lando!"

"Oh my God, Liam-"

Charles gathered himself to the stone partition at the edge of the grass, and found a space not taken up by other students to huddle against. Pierre followed, shoeing at the mud with his heel. Last time they'd had a fire, it had been two hours before they'd been allowed back inside. Charles was not letting his feet take that chance, even if it meant soggy ass. He'd take it.

At some point, he must've fallen asleep. Or, been teasing the edge of it for at least a good half hour, because everything was murmur when he came to. And he came to, because-

"Sorry," said Alex, blurry between the crack of Charles's eyelids. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Charles felt his lips move like two swollen, sleepy bumblebees. "Wasn't asleep."

Alex laughed, and it sounded a little like his usual laugh, but not like it at all. Something in Charles lit up regardless. "Sure, mate."

Charles could feel himself frown slightly. He rubbed his eyes. Failed to stifle a yawn. "You okay?"

Maybe Alex swallowed. "Yeah," he said, and his arm brushed Charles's through layers of zip-up hoodies. "Just, uh. Is your phone dead?"

"Hm? Oh, I left it in the apartment, I think." Tried to think, anyway. It felt like trying to win a tug of war against a battalion of roided elephants. "Yeah, on the counter." Alex was quite close, he thought. His hair looked ten shades in the shadows, and Charles could imagine the uneven washout of red and blond and middleground-pink. "Why?"

"George texted me about the fire," said Alex. "You never opened my snap, and I guess my mind." He broke. "Got away from me a little."

Charles felt himself smile, and Alex's disappeared behind a blink that lasted maybe three to five business years. He was not sleeping. He was saying, "I'm okay."

Listening to Alex reply, "Yeah." He sounded more like himself. Relieved too, maybe. "You are. You should also sleep, you're practically unconscious on my arm here."

"Not," Charles might have said.

"Jesus, you're cute," Alex might have replied.

And then. It got a little hazy here. Someone nearby said something about plumbing. Charles might have said something about plumbing. Alex, he was pretty sure, laughed. The inside of Charles's chest, whatever that was between his ribs, turned an unethical viscosity. Then he turned, a little, and his mouth may have touched, just lightly, the underside of Alex's face.

Or, it would have done. Hypothetically. If Alex had not turned at the same time and. Boom. boom, even - lowercase. Nothing much happened. Other than, "Next time," said Alex, very quietly, "you decide to set something on fire, try and keep your phone on you." Then he nudged against Charles's sleepy mouth again, the cold tips of their noses together. Charles wondered - suddenly, worryingly warm - if firemen could hose down the inside of a body. He'd ask. Later.

#fic: cl16.aa23 #f1 rpf #x: writes #chalex #hm. #im not? sure? but ta da! #<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 #lourdes my beloved

[danses-with-dogmeat]

Day 5 -- Eulogy Jones

The (nsfw) details for Kinktober, Day 5 are just below the cut!

Minors, please don’t interact.

Collaring with Eulogy Jones x Clover

OKAY, so big disclaimer on this one, um... Yeah, Eulogy is a fucking awful person and I support literally nothing that he does or says in this game and in this writing here. Alright, now that that's established, this was actually super interesting to write, given that it's between him and Clover, rather than him and the reader/Lone/protagonist. It was also fun to write a little bit from both their perspectives and sort of explore the... pretty darn screwed up relationship they hint to having in-game.

But yeah, absolutely check out the TWs, cuz y'know... Eulogy is canonically a slaveowner/slaver and is awful and that's just his whole ass character. 🤷‍♀️

SPOILERS for the writing: there is a good-ish ending though, so it's not all awful, I promise.

Here is the link to the Kinktober 2023 Event List so you can stay up-to-date, or re-visit these works as you please.

Included and TWs: Collaring, very dubious consent (Clover wants it, but she's also a slave, so...), slavery, sexual slavery, manipulation, toxic relationships, Eulogy being the worst, oral sex/blow jobs, deepthroating/face fuck, a wee bit of two-sided violence/a physical struggle.

Words: 4.1k

--

“Aw, don’t pout like that, babygirl, come on.” 

Eulogy could feel the way Clover’s breaths shook beneath the hand he had resting on her shoulder. 

“Let’s make this last night memorable, hm? Before you get to go off and belong to some lucky new guy.” 

His fingers dragged down one strap of her sheer little dress, the one they’d shown her off in when they introduced her to her potential buyer, per the man’s request. The stranger seemed nice enough– well, rich enough, and he’d been polite through the process, which was more than Eulogy could say for the many slave buyers he’s come across in his time at Paradise Falls. 

Clover could stand to devote herself to the new owner, of that he was certain, she would just need a bit of… convincing. Maybe a gentle reminder, of sorts. 

“Don’t need someone new!” She whipped around to face him, and Eulogy’s hand slipped from her skin. “Why're you giving me up, huh? Don’t you… don’t you like me?” 

Eulogy tutted at her sympathetically, bringing his hand back up to caress her wet cheek. 

“Of course, Clove, what’s not to love about you?” 

Already, she perked up at that, especially when he followed his words with that rare smile he had her convinced he'd reserved specifically for her. 

“Nah, baby, it’s just… He’ll be good for ya. Wild and free girl like yourself shouldn’t be cooped up here. He can give you adventure. He can be everything you need, that, I’m sure of. So long as you’re good to him too." Eulogy's hand gave her face a little attention-getting pat. "You will be good to your new owner, won’t you?”

Her lower lips still looked pouty, her eyes still a bit distant, like she wasn’t letting his words soak in. 

“Won’t you?” Eulogy prompted her, as his hand tightened its grip, a bit more painfully this time. 

“I guess," Clover relented, "B-but I don’t see, master, sir, why you won’t–”

“Shhh.” Both his hands reached out to pull her in close, forcing her head beneath his chin, his arms around her shoulders, while one hand stroked over her hair. 

“You remember your rule, Clover?” Eulogy whispered now. Not a soft, affectionate thing, not a way to soothe her or soften the blow of his rejection of her. It was cold, like the metal around her neck, like the air when the sun went down, like the frigid floor tiles she would rest upon on a night where she’d made a mistake. 

She only sniffled in his grasp, surely trying to quickly pull her emotions in, to steady herself, before Eulogy would have to do it for her. 

“When I ask you a question, babygirl, you…” 

If his voice was cold a moment ago, now it was dangerous. Pointed and glinting like a poised knife about to dig deep into someone’s skin. 

“I know, sir, I know. I answer.” 

His embrace grew constricting then, squeezing her shoulders like cruel iron clamps, until Clover’s arms might’ve popped out of their own sockets. 

“And I do! I remember the rule. I know I should say ‘yes,’ that I should be 'good for him.' I should listen to you. Always, I know… It’s just hard.” 

Eulogy’s pressure on her let up for a moment, as her arms wrapped about him with a similar intensity, keeping his body anchored to hers-- and with more affection than he could ever muster, she was sure.

“Just hard thinkin’ that I won’t be with you anymore.”

“Mm, I know. You’ve grown real attached to me, and baby… it’s been fun, don’t think I’m giving you away for free now. You’re my prize girl, after all.”

“R-really?”

Another sniffle left her, and Eulogy's hand gave a firm, definitive stroke over the top of her head, like he was rewarding a beast of burden rather than comforting a person he might care for.

“Oh yeah, baby. No one can compare.” 

“I knew it.” She whispered out, and felt Eulogy chuckle against her. It was a good sound, one she would try and hold onto, to commit to memory so she’d always have it, even when she was with her new… owner.

Who could own me but Eulogy, though? No one’s come close to being able to handle me like he has. None have appreciated me the way he has.

She felt close to tearing up again, as Eulogy ran his hands over her back in long, soothing circles, sensual in nature, but no less comforting in her eyes, in her blindly loyal heart. 

He coulda had anyone here. Any slave he wanted, just say the word, and they’re his. He chose me to be around him all the time, though. 

That's gotta be special, right?

“And what do you say, huh?" His voice was just that tinge deeper now, hinting to what she already knew he was thinking, from the moment he sat down beside her on the bed. "What about one last night between us.” 

It wasn’t a question. It never was. 

With her though, with his prize girl, Eulogy didn’t have to ask in order for her to do anything he pleased. 

Before Clover could voice a word, his stroking hands were tugging the straps of her dress down, until the loose fabric fell from her shoulders and chest completely and into a silken pile of fabric in her lap. 

“One last night.” Clover said quietly, like a breath. Like one she savored as though flavored with Nuka Cherry and the sweetest liqueur. 

“Atta girl.” 

With that, Eulogy adhered to their usual tradition, he released her from his grasp, opting to lay back on the giant, plush mattress with his head back on a soft pillow, propped up to watch Clover as she put her passion into motion.

Starting off with a strip tease of sorts, she stood at the foot of the bed, her hands loosely gripping the folded fabric of her dress, letting it drape over hips, but go no lower. She shimmied her chest a bit for him, in a way that noticeably sent warmth flowing straight to the base of Eulogy’s cock. Her hips swayed as if to a slow, undulating rhythm as she lidded her eyes at him, smiling with those vibrant lips, fixing him with that dark, sultry gaze. 

Like practiced clockwork, he felt himself grow hard for her almost instantaneously.

“Permission?” Clover asked, batting those long eyelashes and sweetening her voice until it sounded like a soothing music note. 

“How could I deny you?” Eulogy threw another grin at her, one he knew would melt her heart. 

He would miss playing her this way, like playing chess with a wild dog. His strategy versus her usual… unpredictability, and yet… somehow, he always seemed to win out. Even wild dogs, if shown a structured life, a meaningful life with an owner that was firm, that inspired undying loyalty and respect, that rewarded them and disciplined them in equal parts, with the proper severity that the situations called for, then they could become docile. Trainable, and predictable enough that he could even-- on special occasions-- trust them.

That was his Clover. The wildcard no one wanted to be dealt, and he took her into his hand and made a full fucking house. Won the lot with her.

That was why he was running the damn place. 

A smug look stayed etched in his expression as Clover released the dress from her hands, and let it billow to the floor. Once bare, and with his permission granted, she climbed up onto the mattress and right between his partially-spread legs. 

Her dark gaze stayed on him, as Clover ran her hands over his silk button-up, undoing the fastenings with well-practiced fingers as he looked on, committing to memory the way her body moved with her actions, savoring her lithe form, her toned arms and stomach, her small, but oh-so-sweet little breasts. 

He wasn’t lying when he said he’d miss her. Clover’s body would be in his mind and dreams for years to come, he was sure. Her personality though… That would stay firmly in his nightmares. 

It really was cruel, to put such an unruly mind, an unstable and dangerous personality in a physical form this desirable. Though, in a way, he supposed that was the girl’s saving grace. It’s what interested him in the first place, the gorgeous little spitfire that he wanted to make his, and now… Now that’s how her new owner came about. 

A man with too much money, taking one look at this fine piece of ass in a near-nude dress that was hardly short enough to cover the pretty curls between her legs, and thinking… 'I want her to be mine.' Maybe it would be the death of him, what with Clover’s clear affinity for mayhem, and for Eulogy and not this stranger, but who knows? With time, she could obsess over someone new, she could grow to love her new owner the way she did him, or, it would end differently…

No matter how it went though, it’s not really his problem anymore, is it?

That shit was a good feeling. 

Almost as good too, was the way her hands were running over his bare chest, pushing the opened shirt from his shoulders and tossing it off the bed before her lips competed for most covered ground. She kissed over his pecs, letting her warm, wet lips draw lines of fire across his sensitive nipples, down the center of his chest until she reached his naval, and then to the hem of his dress pants. 

Eulogy sat pretty as she worked, gleefully absorbing her worship of him, the way her mouth sang praises to his body through its touch, the way her hands grazed over that quickly-forming bulge in his pants before eagerly working to undo them. 

“Definitely gonna miss you, Clove.” Eulogy groaned as she released the pressure from his aching erection, pulling down his dress pants and underwear all at once with her long, fervent fingers. 

She paused though, at the sound of his words, her eyes fixing blankly to his stomach while her hands hovered over the fabric of his pants, where they remained hardly halfway down his thighs. 

“Don’t stop now, baby. We’re just getting to the good part.” Eulogy said quickly. 

He knew that look, that dissociative stare, that thin frown that meant she was about to do something… well, unpredictable. It was that look that ruled her when jealousy took its firm hold, that look just before she’d kill the one in front of her, that look before she’d throw all caution to the wind and destroy anything in her vicinity. 

He’d only managed to talk her down from that look a few times, and given their closeness just now… Yeah, he hoped this would be one of those times. 

“Won’t you love on me, Clove? For tonight, it's just us, okay? Just you and me.” His hand brushed her hair away, sweeping the strands from where they hung over her face, just before lightly grasping the swell of one cheek, cradling her face in his hold. 

“We can pretend it’ll always be this way…”

With that, his hand tightened its hold, and Eulogy pulled her up to face him. Her fogged-over eyes met his, finally, and Eulogy almost sighed as familiarly and fondness shone through her gaze. 

“We can.” Clover echoed, her voice quiet, soft, and then she took the bait and leaned in the last little bit. 

Eulogy poured every ounce of feeling that he could into her, kissing her lips like he was trying to devour them whole, pulling her into that reality where she could stay with him forever, where they could do this every night, where nothing existed but them. 

No new owner, no other slaves for him to give his attention to, no distractions from his work, no jealousy from Clover, no reason for it. 

It was a nice thought for him, sure, but to keep a leash on Clover… It was a necessary picture to paint. 

Once she began to reciprocate with a familiar kind of fervor, that’s when Eulogy pulled away. 

Keep her wanting. Thinking how much she wants me, and those violent, accusatory musings of hers perhaps can be safely kept at bay. 

“What do you say, my sweet clover flower? Will you love me, like the day you pledged yourself to me?” 

Her eyes glistened as she looked to him, a distinct certainty to her action as she nodded, and Eulogy very nearly let his smugness show through. 

If there’s one thing I know about my Clover, it’s that I’m her weakness. 

His gaze remained on her as she slunk down the mattress, her movements smooth and lithe after so much practice, and settled herself between his legs. She drew them open wider, lovingly running her slightly calloused, manicured hands over the insides of his thighs until he complied. Doing just as she knew Eulogy liked, Clover kept her hands to her sides and her gaze firmly locked to his as she took the head of his straining cock into her warm, inviting mouth. 

Eulogy’s half-smile stayed plastered to his face, even as his dark brows creased together in his pleasure, as Clover began the sensual movements of her expert lips and tongue over his erection. His slave looked so divine with her plush lips wrapped around him, her cheeks hollowed, eyes hazy with her own burning need for him, for his approval and affection. 

It only made her more desirable. 

Crazy? Yes, but still, to Eulogy, no one could ever match Clover’s utter devotion to him, her worship of him like he was her creator because really, after so many years of belonging to him, of learning from his guidance, she really was his own, the product of his practices, his training, his wants, his life. 

Eulogy would miss her, maybe that bit was true, but it was her rash devotion to him, her ardent praise and complete focus on his pleasure, his attention over every other priority that exists in life– that, he knew he’d never find again. 

Alas, it made his job too difficult to devote himself only to one slave. Hell, if he wanted to be chained to any man or woman, he’d want that shit to– You know what? No. He wouldn’t want that. It wasn’t the way Eulogy Jones was meant to live his lavish lifestyle. 

Besides, who would train the finest slaves for the job, if not himself? 

The delicate process deserved attention no other slaver was willing to give, it requires precision, unshakeable discipline and more patience than he’s seen in any of his slavers. 

No, with Eulogy, there was a possibility they’d come out this nice. Sure, Clover’s background had helped a bit, and she still had her... quirks, but he did loads of work on her, and without him? She’d never be this glorious specimen of a girl.

Her devotion, he body, her mastery of the art of the tongue, of attraction, of pleasure incarnate... It wouldn't exist without him. She'd be nothing without him. Nothing but the nerves, the jealousy, the grimy, willful, half-starved girl she'd come to him as.

Now though, now Clover's well-practiced tongue stroked like an artist’s brush over the length of him, caressing his every vein, pressing masterfully into those sensitive points that she’d memorized in her thousand or so times she’d fallen to her knees before him. Her focus was on him completely, her will broken to obey his whim, no matter what it cost her.

She was a proper slave, and a part of him felt pride that another might know his mastery over her, that another could now appreciate the work he's put in, once she devoted herself to the new man.

Eulogy couldn’t hold back his groan, couldn’t keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head as Clover bobbed up and down, forward and back, sucking and licking and drooling until his cock became her whole entire world. 

His taste, that familiar mustiness that made her mouth water, his smell, of faint cologne and cigarette smoke– plus that distinct manliness that she’d once thought bitter and distasteful, that now she savored with every deep, vulgar swipe of her tongue; the sight of him though, the sounds he made in response to her loving efforts, Eulogy knew that’s what Clover craved most of all. 

Her pleading eyes told him, as hungry for his expression as her lips were for his cock. The way she shuddered too, at his every breath, every groan or sigh. No matter the sounds he uttered, goosebumps always rose upon her skin just after they left his lips. 

She was easy to read, easy to manipulate, easy to toy with and to punish when he pleased. 

But easy is becoming… tiresome. 

Eulogy knew this would be the change he needed, and Clover, well… It didn’t really matter what happened to her now. She was a completed task, a checked box that was sitting at the top of the page, just waiting for him to turn to a new one. 

It was time. 

One of Eulogy’s idle hands rose to the back of Clover’s head, grasping at the short strands of hair and tugging her downwards gruffly, until the head of his cock was stopped by the pressure of the tight collar cradling her neck. Clover grunted, her eyes watering as he jammed himself as far into her throat as could be managed, but she made no move at all to stop him. No, more than that, she encouraged his roughness with another swipe of her tongue, reaching close to the very base of his length as her throat struggled to force him down further, further than the steel around her neck would ever feasibly allow. 

It made him hum with satisfaction, the way her face grew red with a lack of oxygen and an abundance of frustration, how she always tried so hard for him. 

And looked damn fine doing it. 

He felt near to exploding down her throat, with the way the walls of her esophagus squeezed him, the way tears now streamed down her cheeks; the hot, wet feeling of being far enough inside to halt her breathing. 

The bliss was washing over him in waves, causing his hips to buck, his cock to swell further, his balls to suck up tighter to his body in preparation, and–

Then Clover stopped. 

Oh, he could discipline the ever-loving hell out of her for pulling away from him as suddenly and desperately as she did. 

“Master, please–” She choked out, her vocal chords scraping against each other like nails on sandpaper after the recent abuse to her throat. 

“Better have a good fucking reason for stopping.” Eulogy growled in that cold-as-steel voice that made her insides churn with fear and self-loathing. 

“I'm sorry, master, so sorry I pulled away, I didn't want to!" Her shining bottom lip quivered as her eyes flew to anywhere but him, shame written all across her expression as if with a dark-inked pen. "B-but, I wanted to ask a favor of you."

Now!? She’s doing this now… Fuck, maybe I won’t miss the bitch. 

He didn’t bother giving her any more of a go-ahead than his impatient look. His cock twitched visibly with want, seeming to agree with his mind’s frustration. 

“What if… just for now, just for our last wonderful night together, you… took the collar off?” 

Instantly, Eulogy’s expression soured further, and Clover raced to try and remedy his obvious displeasure.

Her hands stroked soothingly over his thighs, her cute little lip pouted and her wet eyes shone with earnest desire. 

“Please, master! J-just so I can take you how you deserve! That’s all I want, my love, my Eulogy, my world.” She was on the verge of sobbing now, and Eulogy felt his eyes beginning to roll with annoyance. 

“Clove, babe, that’s not how I roll. How any of this rolls, you know this. I really have to remind you on your last day not to speak out of turn? Come on.” His head shook, and he felt the panic radiating off of her, felt the way her hands trembled where they clung to his skin. 

“Please, master, I’m begging you, I want–” She sniffed as a tear fell down her face, “I want all of you, my love, my life, I want as much of you as I can take tonight, and I want it everywhere. To remember you-- how you feel in me, always. I need it, or I’ll– I might just–”

“Okay, fucking hell, alright. I’ll take the damn thing off, but Clover," A hand grasped tightly to that tender place between her neck and shoulder, "You try anything, and we’ll stop this night in its tracks.” 

Clover perked up instantly as he gave way, nodding enthusiastically to every word he uttered.

“You listening, slave? Anything at all and I’ll tie you to that column over there and fuck every other slave in Paradise Falls with your eyes held open with pins, you hear me? You wanna see that?” 

“No, no, master, love, I’d never disobey you. Not now, not tonight. I couldn’t.” 

Eulogy hummed in approval. He actually believed her, strange as it was. Clover wouldn’t sour their last night together. Not when he was her everything, as she often put it.

With that, both his hands reached upwards, easily finding the little keypad hidden in the– seemingly immovable– metal creases of her deadly collar, and expertly, he entered in his code. He’d never used it before now, and knew, he'd never use it again. 

It was only good once, and then it had to be changed. He designed them that way himself so that, if the codes were ever entered wrong-- perhaps by another slave who'd managed to see the number entered in-- the collars would do what they did best, and blow it’s wearer to bits... Or shock them to unconsciousness, depending on the value of the slave. 

It was an ingenious system, and yet… He was risking its failure for– for what? For Clover to keep sucking his cock? For her to deepthroat him barely an inch further? 

He could’ve maybe just loosened the damn thing, but… 

Fuck, it was too late for even that. 

As soon as the telltale click of the collar sounded in her ears, Clover was moving. Her haste was damn-near inhuman as she wrenched away from Eulogy's firm grasp, one hand automatically reaching downwards, clawing at the over-sensitive skin of his erect cock, whilst the other swiftly pinned him down into the mattress by his throat. 

Not even a scream could leave him, as Eulogy’s windpipe was all but crushed beneath the forceful weight of the collar holding him down. His vision blurred, his body writhed, and immense, spine-numbing pain erupted from his most vulnerable place as Clover attacked with a ferocity that rivaled her recently uninhibited devotion. 

“I couldn’t.” She growled, her voice like the shriek of a feral ghoul, “I couldn’t let you leave me, couldn’t be owned again, goddammit. Not by you? Not by anyone.” 

Their bodies writhed on the mattress, its springs creaking and protesting below as they wrestled for dominance. Limbs were flying, fingernails clawing, his hands were reaching for anything he could grasp at– her throat, her eyes, her nipples, anything that could cause enough pain to let him win the upper hand, but Clover’s hate was greater. Her savage, desperate violence turned her inhuman, infused her expression with a deathclaw's natural animosity, as she snarled and hissed and cursed Eulogy to hell and back, until finally, her fingers managed to clasp the metal of the collar firmly around his neck. 

And they both heard it click into place.

Eulogy froze then, knowing she’d just as soon blow them both to a hell worse than this one, at any more sign of struggle. 

What the fuck have I done?

He hardly had time to think. Sweat was pouring from his body in rivers, his veins were bulging out of his skin, his breath heaving laboriously as she stayed straddled overtop him, a wild, reckless gleam to her eyes that screamed hatred that he never imagined could be directed at him. 

“C-Clove, babe--” 

“Shut your goddamn mouth, slave." She snarled the words from between her teeth like a savage beast, "Shut it and fucking listen to me. For once in your awful, horrendous, fucking despicable life, you’re going to listen to what someone else has to say, you hear me?” 

Eulogy’s eyes screamed malice and disbelief, but as the collar’s foreboding beep told him the combination had changed, as he felt it automatically fit to the thickness of his neck, as he felt the cold, cruel, imprisoning discomfort of the heavy thing settle into his very being, he shut his mouth, and did as Clover said.

#fallout #fallout 3 #fallout npc #fallout 3 npcs #fallout 3 companions #eulogy jones #eulogy jones fo3 #fallout eulogy #tw slavery. #clover fo3 #fallout clover #fallout companions #dwd.nsfw #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[maybe-your-left]

Could you write a piece on Frat boy Kylo/ Fuck boy Kylo. Like y/n is in a sorority but she’s a quite girl so Kylo see’s here as a conquest. But falls for her

wrote this while listening to this song on repeat, I hope you enjoy it.

also, no taglist because no one interacts anyway!

I made a little sign for it because I felt like it needed some cover art :)

ALSO ALSO, we are sorority girls (sisters) and sororities have paired fraternities (brothers) so the First Order is our brother frat. AND, Xi is pronounced ‘Z’ in the Greek alphabet and is the nickname of our sorority we are in. which is called the Xi Wings (like x-wings but not).

The house is a mess.

Walk through the front door, that's held on by barely three screws and smearing in maybe... eggs? Greeted by a dark brown leather couch that has someone slumped in it, maybe sleeping off a hangover? A blue bucket by their head in case of emergency, god knows you wouldn't use the bathroom here.

Leftover gym equipment is scattered around a faded green pong table, with leftover cups that were filled with beer maybe 12 hours ago. Pong balls litter the floor, crunching under your shoes as you walk on the equally crunchy flooring.

A hallway comes next, narrow and without a light. Was punched out a few weeks ago during a fight that resulted in the faded bulb shattering someone's fist. Fluorescent lights blind your vision while you enter the next rooms, the kitchen, and the back living area. Where someone has dragged the backseat of a minivan’s chairs into the middle of the floor, faded and green with stains and other items that make you want to gag. 

The stove is cracked in the front. 

The counters are sticky and smell like someone spilled Malibu rum all over the glasses, and a stray glass of orange juice sits precariously by the edge of the sink. And also a jack o’ lantern, that someone took a bite out of? 

You huffed a sigh and stepped over the glass on the linoleum before peering over the crowded kitchen island. Spying more bodies scattered on the floor of the back living area. String lights strobing over the darkened windows, covered in the fraternities flags, to keep people from peering in on them, apparently. 

One-two-three… 

“Hey,” you cleared your throat, holding tight to the strap of your shoulder bag, “Hey, guys?” 

A chorus of groans responded to you, along with two of the three lumps moving under blankets or jackets. The beanbag occupant rolled so you could see their face, green eyes. Not who you were looking for.

“What,” a burp, you could smell it from where you stood, “What the fuck, Xi”

You purse your lips, looking around the rest of the kitchen instead of answering. You were just doing your job-checking on the brothers to see if they were breathing… and didn’t do too much damage to the house. It was essential recruitment 101, you were the newest so you had to do the dirty work for monitoring the brother fraternity. 

“I-I was just checking on you guys, Bazine t-told me I had to follow up with the president?” 

Another groan, green eyes rubbing his face with a suspiciously dirty-looking hand. You stepped back into the crunchy kitchen, “Sorry-I just let myself in…I can come check later?” 

“Nah,” he shot off the bean bag, launching his hands to his knees before taking a disgusting-wet breath. Your nose scrunched, preparing to watch this man throw up all over himself… how hard did these guys party last night? 

“Sorry,” green eyes stood up, running a hand through his short, curly hair, “I’m not mad, just seems early for one of the checks. Are you new?” 

You popped your lips, arms crossed over your chest. Wounded, only a little, maybe, he didn’t recognize you? After rush and pledge week, you’d been around him dozens of times, and introduced yourself to him, albeit that was when he was drunk… You smiled, raising your hand to move on and try and make a better impression, “Yes,” regretting putting your hand out when he took it with his gross one. 

“Kuruk,” he pointed to his chest. 

You feigned a smile, of course, Kuruk.

“So, you’re looking for our fearless leader?” Kuruk chuckled, stepping past you barefoot on the broken glass. He didn’t even flinch! You spun around and walked around the mess, determined to get this over with and let the president know your message. “He’s probably upstairs in his room, sleeping off a wicked hangover. That guy went too hard,” he laughed again while you followed him throughout the various dirty rooms. 

Grabbing items along the way, you cringed as he lit up a glass-blown pipe, smelly weed crumbled in an end. He didn’t hesitate to smoke some right in front of you, thank goodness for him blowing it away from you… 

And then walking through it. 

You stepped over various obstacles, from a full-grown man to a pile of women’s high heels that must’ve been left here throughout their parties. Softly saying sorry every time your boot hit the edge of someone's shoulders, or squashed that one girl's pinkie… 

It felt like you’d been walking forever until you came to the top of the stairs. You were faced with a long hallway littered with trash, and a mirror on the floor for some reason. You followed him right up to the sharpied black front door at the end. 

Kuruk turned to you, pausing his raised fist to knock, “Be careful, he has a lizard and it bites.” 

“Wha?” you started before Kuruk knocked as loud as he could, yelling at full volume…

“BAZ SENT ONE OF THE XI’S HERE TO CHEW YOU OUT!” 

You blanched, what?

The door literally flew off its hinges into the hallway past your face. Hitting the back of Kuruks knees, you slid to the sidewall. Breathing sharp small breaths while an animal came out of the darkness inside. 

You took in the sight before you, staring at a very tattooed shoulder of a naked man. The same man you knew to be the president of the fraternity you were bound to. The same man you knew to be the school's biggest playboy. And also the same man who ‘broke up with’ your sororities president last night. 

And here he stood, completely naked you might add, pointing a finger down the dark hallway at Kuruk who was laughing at the tops of the stairs. Ankles most definitely bleeding, the man began screaming, “You fuck! I was fucking sleeping! I don’t need any of those fucking sluts from Xi’ over here! Get the fuck-Oh.” 

You stayed completely still. 

Eyes wide as you stared into his face, stuck between pure anger and instant remorse as he stared right back. 

Dropping his hands immediately to hover over your trembling shoulders, you jolted as he grew closer. You stared between his large eyes filled with worry, hazel eyes. Those eyes you’d stared at unblinking for weeks in a row. At chapter meetings, club pledging, rush week, Sunday dinners, and around campus, you couldn’t stop. His face filled your chest with warm butterflies that fluttered all over until you had to cough one up just to stop. 

Kylo Ren's eyes. 

He looked you over, licking his lips before speaking to you in a much softer voice, “I’m sorry, I don’t think you’re a slut… I was just saying that because your president is a slut.”

You were taken aback, his worried form instantly relaxing to laugh at your face. Completely confused and a little disgusted how he leaned away from you after such rude words about Bazine. She was nice and caring towards you, not the best friend you’d ever had, but she made you feel good, and sent you on easy chores across campus for her! 

“That's my president you’re bad mouthing,” you rolled your eyes, focusing now on the ceiling, “I’m just here to check on you guys and give you a message.” 

“Oh yeah?” he mocked, “And what’s so important that Baz sent a little Mouseketeer to deliver it?” 

“You know you’re very rude.” 

His eyebrows shot up, “Am I?” 

You tensed at his tone, squished between him and his lair, and the staircase to his goons. He planted his left forearm over your head and leaned in very close. Invading your bubble with his naked torso, angling his hips to face you… 

“Please,” you scrunch your eyes closed, “Put some clothes on…” 

“You must be new,” he took a long breath, exhaling over your face while you shivered, “Yeah, I don’t recognize your perfume. What's wrong, baby? Open your eyes and look at me.” 

You shook your head, no. 

“Come on, I don’t bite,” you jumped as he wrapped his thumb and finger around your chin. Jutting out with his grip, “Unless you like that, huh? Come on-look at me.” 

You opened one eye carefully, met with a dramatic smile that made your stomach lurch. Fighting the instinct to look down and see if his personality was compensating for something else… 

“Hi-you’re definitely a new girl, none of the others bother to tell me Baz’s ridiculous message. They usually stay for other things,” he flashed a grin, eying the doorway into his room. Your eyes followed him towards a lump in his mattress, a barefoot peeking out from the black sheets. Lips smacked by your ear, “There's the last girl who came.” 

A groan came from the bed, “Why are you talking so loud?” 

“Shut up, Kaydel,” he barked over you towards the pile. Your heart sank at the name, that was the vice president of your sorority. What-what was she doing there? You floundered in his hold, wanting to tell him he was a liar, but you also recognized the voice. There was no way it wasn’t her…

“So, do you really wanna read me that message, or do you wanna strip down to your bra and I’m guessing? Thong? And hop in the bathroom with me?” 

Your head snapped toward him, completely taken aback by his suggestion. That you would willingly jump into bed with this man, who still wouldn’t cover up his private bits!? 

“You know,” he stepped back, straightening to his full height, “I bet Kaydel would be down for a threeway if you aren’t a prude…” 

“KAY! Can we fuck one of your sisters together?” 

“You know what,” you backed away slowly, making your way down the crunchy hallway, “I have to go…” 

He raised a brow, walking a few slow steps forward, “Oh-do you? Come on,” he reached a palm out for you to take, “Baby, you’re too cute to walk away from me. I’ll chase you,” his other brow raised, “Do you want me to chase you?” 

Suddenly, you felt the animal instinct to bolt, like prey from a predator. He brushed his hair from his face with both hands, moving them down from his scalp to his neck. Cracking it a few times dramatically before having a long sigh. 

“Okay, I’ll count, 1-2-3-Go!” 

You spun quickly, dashing down the staircase faster than your feet could allow ever again. Rounding the corner into a sea of half-lucid people. Zombies waking up from an eternity slumber, grabbing at anything you could to ground yourself as footsteps boomed behind you. 

He wouldn’t actually… 

“Gotcha!” He laughed in your ear, “First catch of the day,” he wrapped both arms around you, bringing you to the dark cul de sac where the stairs started. Pinning you to the wall with his entire torso and urging hips. Your legs settled instinctively around his waist, regretting looking down at his very excited member… 

“We doing this or what, newbie?” 

“No,” you pushed on his shoulders, thankfully releasing you to the floor. He stepped away from you, as respectfully as he could still nude. “Thank you,” you huffed. 

He shrugged, covering a hand between his legs, like that would help. “It’s all good, just wanted to offer. Can you tell me the shitty things she has to say so I can go back upstairs?” 

You nodded, grabbing your phone to pull up the text. Now that you were reading it again, it wasn’t really a message you should be delivering, instead may be screamed at through a megaphone. You bit your lip, “Uh-it’s all good. She just wanted you to know that the meeting tomorrow is still on for the chapters… and to have a good day?” 

He snorted, “Sure-that's what she said. Just give me the phone.” 

You handed it over, staring at the ceiling while he scrolled through much more than your text conversation with Baz. You didn’t say anything, already uncomfortable enough with the encounter to make him angry. He'd already chased you down a hallway, what could be worse?

He locked the phone, dropping it back in your hands. His returning to cover himself in a much better fashion, you were grateful, turning to leave the house. Maybe go shower off the entire morning, and vow to never come back. 

“What's your name, little Xi?” 

You paused, whispering your name before turning once again to leave. His hand caught your shoulder before you could step any further. Bringing you in front of him for the third time, “You’re just gonna leave? Not without giving me a goodbye hug and kiss?” 

“I’m not hugging you like that,” you scoffed, eyes flashing down again and blushing profusely. “I’ll just see you at the meeting.” 

“And then you can give me a hug? right?” His nose scrunched with his words, moving closer to you, “Come on, just a little kiss? I won’t tell.” 

You bit your tongue, yes. Just a small one couldn’t hurt, he was so handsome and truthfully you’d want to jump him but… You let out a long breath, “Alright-fine. Just one kiss,” you held up a finger. 

Kylo mirrored you, “Just one.” 

“And then I leave,” you added, “This place is disgusting…” 

“Whatever,” he leaned down to your height, plumping his lips out for you. “One kiss.” 

You quickly launched forward, perking his pout with your own as fast as you could. Overcome with the smell of liquor and nicotine, you pulled away. 

Only you couldn’t, Kylo had wrapped his palm around the base of your skull. Keeping you trapped again to his lips. Licking for entry in your mouth, you tried to stop it, you really did. But then he let out a soft moan, and you melted… 

Kissing back with no remorse for your club president's claim on him, you brought your hands to cup his cheeks. Tugging him into your body as they crashed to get teeth-gnashing and gnawing on his lips. 

Kylos tongue plunged into your mouth, caressing yours into dancing together in a wet suction of spit. You barely made it through with your life, pushing away from him. 

The head rush left nothing but a bad taste in your mouth, while he stood and stared at you. Chest heaving deep breaths before he wiped his sticky lips with the back of his palm. 

“Oh-yeah. I’ll be seeing you around little Xi. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can do this again.” 

———— 

:) part 2

#adam driver #kylo ren #adamdriver #modern kylo ren #my writing #ben solo #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x female reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren fanfiction #frat boy kylo ren #frat boy energy #read the description please

[dragonmuse]

Ok but can we get some reactions of people other than Stede finding out about Whina and Dave? 😀🖤

(you say 'other people' I hear 'Pete'...and Lucius. )

The phone call came as Pete was contemplating outfits for the evening. He was doing a solo juggling number so that Ethel could oversee the pyrotechnics for Roach’s new number. A stipulation set by Stede that everyone had smile and nodded about, then laughed over later. Ethel as safety would never not be funny. 

So Pete was pouring over options and was warming to the idea of maybe being a little revealing for once and busting out a miniskirt when his dad called. Mood killer. 

“Hey, Dad,” he answered. Lucius perked up from the couch, waving enthusiastically. 

“Hi, son,” his father’s voice rumbled over the line. He tended to speak a little louder on the cell as if he wasn’t entirely confident it would carry his voice. 

“Lucius says hi too,” Pete laughed as Lucius continued to wave until acknowledged. 

“Oh good, you’re both there. Can you put me on speaker?” 

“Sure,” Pete went over to the couch and sat down beside Lucius, adjusting the output, “Okay, you got us both.” 

“Great,” his father coughed a little. “Now look, I want to tell you something and I’d like you to just sit with it for a second. All right?” 

“Okay,” Pete glanced at Lucius, who looked back at him bewildered. “Is everything okay?” 

“Yes, yes, it’s good news. I think, anyway.” 

“We’re listening,” Lucius said quickly. “What’s up?” 

“So you know how I didn’t find much house-wise when I was there last week?” 

“It’s early days,” Pete assured him. “Maybe if we widen the search-” 

“No, no, it’s just I did find something. Or figured something out.” 

“That’s great!” Lucius pat Pete on the leg reassuring, “See? I told you it’d work out.” 

“Can you send us a link?” Pete released a breath. A house. Dad would be in easy driving distance. Hell, maybe this would be the thing that would make Pete buy a car at last. 

“That’s just it,” Dave said slowly. “I’m not buying anything. I’m..well, I’m moving in with Whina.” 

“Oh my god!” Lucius’ face screwed up into excitement. “Oh wait wait, is this a roommate situation or....” 

“We’ve been seeing each other,” Dave admired. “Don’t get mad about me not telling you, we just both wanted to work it out between us first. We know all of you are big ball of twine and didn’t want to get anyone in a knot over it.” 

“Dad!” Pete blurted at last, a torrent of mixed emotion coming out. “You could’ve...no one would’ve gotten upset or anything.” 

“Everyone’s entitled to a little privacy,” Dave tutted. “And in any case, I’m telling you now.” 

“Oh.oh..does Eddy know?” Lucius asked. 

“Whina told them last night, warned me this morning. I would’ve called earlier, but I wanted to make sure you were both awake.”

“Congratulations,” Lucius said warmly. “This is so...sweet! I love it. Moving in together is a big step, you must be serious about each other.” 

“Not a lot of time to dick around, our time of life.” 

“I mean-” Lucius’ next words were muffled, Pete’s hand suddenly over his mouth. 

“No thanks, babe,” he said gently. “Thanks for telling me, Dad. And...wow. Uh, does that mean you’re moving sooner?” 

“Nah, still got to get this place settled, you don’t have to change tickets or anything. Come out on the fifth to help me box up and all. I was thinking...I don’t want to impose.” 

“You know we’ll help anyway we can,” Lucius said, tugging Pete’s hand out of the way, but not before pressing a kiss to his palm. 

“Yeah,” Pete followed Lucius’ tone, trying to sound upbeat. “Whatever you need.” 

“In this case, more what Whina might need. I think she might’ve gotten in her head that she needs to make some room and it sounds like she’s doing an almighty amount of tidying. Maybe someone could check in that she doesn’t accidentally box up something she has a need for?” 

“I’ll get Iz on it,” Lucius assured him. “I’ll even go down with him. He likes having an excuse to visit her, especially if he can be useful.” 

Pete realized as Lucius went on planning, that he was being gently spared. Given an out to say ‘yeah we’ll make sure it happens’ without actually having to look it all in the eye. It was kind and would’ve been easy to accept. 

“Isn’t Alma in town this weekend?” Pete glanced at Lucius. “Stede always worries over her driving. Menace behind the wheel and I know she’ll want to visit. I could take her down in John’s car. Make a day of it.” 

“I know Whina would love to see Alma,” Dad’s relief was palpable and whatever misgivings Pete had about the whole thing dissolved.  “Thank you.” 

And that’s what happened after a little wrangling. Pete picked Alma up at the Revenge. She had dressed for a day of cleaning, jeans, faded t-shirt, and her hair in a practical braid, but her makeup was still ruthlessly on point. 

“Thanks for the lift!” She slid into the passenger seat. “I heard we’re on a mission.” 

“Yeah, apparently your grandmother might try to throw away her fridge to make room for my father if we don’t help out.” 

“Aw, grandma,” Alma smiled. “Must be love.” 

“That’s the rumor.” 

Alma then changed the subject by plugging her phone into the aux and attempting to convince Pete to listen to literally anything that she deemed ‘important music’. Mostly it sounded like a bunch of cats in heat to him, but he let her have her way with only a small showing of a fight. 

When they got to Whina’s house, Pete realized that maybe his father had had some legitimate concerns judging by the amount out on the curb. 

“Uh oh,” Alma said, mostly under her breath. 

“Yeah...” 

Whina came out the front door, her hair a little fly away. 

“Grandma!” Alma got out of the car. “Why is half your furniture on the lawn?” 

“That’s all things from the basement,” Whina huffed. “What kind of hello is that?” 

“Hi,” Alma said contritely and gave her a hug. 

Pete trailed behind her, “I didn’t know you had a basement.” 

“It’s more of a crawl space, but I stuffed all sorts of things in there when I moved and wound up replacing a lot of it,” Whina explained, still holding Alma’s hand. “Come in, come in, there’s soup for lunch, but it needs a little longer on the stove.” 

The house actually did look much the same on the inside. It was always a very tidy place, everything in its place and not much in the way of decorative items aside from a few pictures on the walls. Pete had only been here a handful of times, but he liked it well enough. He even had a favorite amid the photos on the walls. It was Eddy, somewhere in her twenties, sitting at a table with a lacy white table cloth. Izzy was sitting beside her and they were both holding teacups in their leather-clad hands, looking at something out of frame.  

“I have to show you this,” Alma was swaying as she swiped through her phone, “one of my friends at college makes her own hats and they are so cool.” 

Pete didn’t weigh into the conversation. He found a box by the door that was marked donations. 

“Want me to take this to your car?” He offered and when Whina gave him a grateful nod, he swept it away. 

He found ways to be useful for a while until Alma, significantly dustier, had to take a phone call from her mother and disappeared upstairs. 

Whina and Pete regarded each other over the kitchen table where the remains of lunch had already been cleared away. 

“I know it must be odd for you,” Whina said, her hands knotting together then dropping into her lap. 

“A little,” he sighed. “But I like you and you make my dad happy. You know he never really dated anyone he was serious about after my mother left. I didn’t think he ever would.” 

“I’m sure no one was betting on me doing it either,” Whina nodded. “I suppose the right time can be any time, can’t it?” 

“I’d given up on me before I met Lucius,” he rubbed his thumb over his ring. 

“He’s a smart one. I’ve seen how you are with him, you’re really good for each other. And not many men would be comfortable with how he is with Izzy. Even if I’d never met your father, I’d be very happy to know you just for that.” 

“Oh. I mean Luc does what he wants. It’s not hard to love him just like he is.” 

“That’s what I like about your father too,” Whina shook her head. “The two of you think that’s totally normal.” 

“It should be,” Pete said firmly. “And I like Izzy.” 

“So do I. Not many do.” 

“Yeah well. Their loss, I guess.” 

They regarded each other across the table, Whina’s hands restless in her lap. 

“...I’m not going to call you mom,” Pete told her. “Sorry.” 

“Oh please don’t!” Her hands flew up to her mouth, covering a laugh. “Can you just imagine?” 

“Okay, wait,” he smiled, pleased that he’d gotten a reaction, .”Maybe just once? In front of Eddy? It could be Lucius’ birthday gift.” 

“He would really like that, wouldn’t he?” She went on giggling. “Oh no, my poor girl....but maybe just once.” 

Pete figured if they could share a joke, they’d be all right. Even if it was at Eddy’s expense. Lucius really would be thrilled.

#leda house and the kraken verse #ficlet #she said love don't come easy #pete black #dave black #lucius black #whina teach

[eddieslittlefreak]

teenage dirtbag - steddie ff.

summary: steve does a favour to dustin which happens to involve eddie munson, and let’s be honest; steve isn’t the biggest fan of him. but what happens when steve starts to get fond of him? and when they come across a really interesting topic which turns into actions?

note: a really long fic, hope you like it :D

“Okay, let’s get this clear.” Steve said into the phone. “You want me to go and pick up Eddie The Freak Munson and take him to Skull Rock because appaerently you guys want to play D&D there?” 

“Pretty much wrapped it up.” Dustin agreed.

“Did you know that’s a making out spot?” Steve wondered.

“Doesn’t matter! It has all the vibes we need.” Dustin scoffed. “Will you do it or not?” 

“Why would I do it? You can show him where’s the place instead of me.” 

“I need to prepare stuff!” Dustin answered. “Don’t be such a baby! You go there with him and after that you can leave and act like you have things to do other than babysitting us.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“Fine, fine! Jesus Christ, Henderson! Puberty really turned you into a grumpy old man.” he complained, still not believing that he said yes.

“He will be there when you’re shift ends, be nice!” aaaaand he ended the call.

“Bye to you too.” Steve shook his head as the tired mother he is.

Will he really do this? He didn’t even see Eddie since he graduated. The last thing he remembers that the kid had buzzed hair, his guitar was glued to his hand and he had such an attitude yet he was polite and nice with everyone. Still. Who knows that changed since then? Maybe Steve was jealous because Dustin spent so much time with him lately? Nah, totally impossible.. is it though? 

The end of his shift soon arrived, making Steve want to peal the skin off his face. Since Skull Rock wasn’t near any road where he could drive his car, he needed to walk with Eddie Munson by his side. What is Steve doing with his life?

He stepped out of the store and immediately started looking for the kid he remembered. But he didn’t see him anywhere. There was only one guy standing there, kicking rocks with his dirty Converse so Steve approached him.

“Uhm, sorry? Haven’t you seen here someone with uhm.. short hair, brown eyes, troubled kid look? Kind of?” Steve couldn’t even explain who was he looking for.

“Steve?” the person grinned. “It’s me, I’m Eddie.” he almost laughed as he said that and saw Steve’s face.

That got him right in the guts.

He’s Eddie? This guy? Eddie Munson? That Eddie Munson who Steve remembered? 

Okay now this guy had long, curly hair, ripped jeans and a lather jacket. Steve tried to say something, anything, but he was shamelessly staring at Eddie’s rings, then face, then lips, then eyes and hair. He was so close to start touching every part of him to make sure he isn’t made this up. Because Steve was pretty sure he is straight, but holy shit.

This guy was hot.

“Shit!” Steve cursed. “I’m sorry man, but the last time I saw you was ages ago and.. you changed.” surprisingly Steve didn’t say this in an offensive tone, rather complimenting. Actually, he didn’t even know what was going on.

“Well, yeah.” Eddie nodded as he looked over Steve as well. “You stayed just as hot as the last time I saw you.” he poked his tounge out a bit, as he carefully touched Steve’s hair. “And the hair. Of course.” Steve was in lost of words. He was mentally prepared for meeting Eddie, but oh he definitely wasn’t prepared for someone who is attractive. And he won’t lie, he was attracted to him. A bit. Just a little bit. Okay, screw it, Steve thought Eddie was gorgeous.

“Shall we go?” Steve asked. Shall we? Steve usually never says this but well, he usually isn’t attracted to guys either. I mean there’s nothing gay about admitting if a guy is handsome, but the words he would have described Eddie with was a bit over the straight line.

“Yeah, let’s go.” Eddie nodded, but Steve just stood there. “Stevie, you should be showing which way to go.” Eddie commented with a soft chuckle.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sorry. Bit distracted.” he answered. “C’mon, this way.”

This is definitely gonna be interesting. 

Eddie was.. how should Steve say this? Really, really one of a kind. He walked like a kid, hands in his pocket, sometimes totally getting lost at staring at something. Except one time this something became Steve. Eddie just traced over him a few times then hummed. And one more thing; he wasn’t that bad as Steve thought. They could keep up pretty good conversations and Steve actually enjoyed talking with him about.. everything. It became pretty clear, that with Eddie you can talk about anything you would like to, he won’t judge. Maybe he even relates to your weirdest stuff.

“So that’s why I think Dustin needs to get his ego checked. Sometimes he’s getting on my nerves.” Steve complained, earning a nod from Eddie.

“It’s his tone, right?” Eddie asked and Steve agreed. “Imagine how surprised he would be if he’d knew we’re here, talking about him like we would be his dads.” Steve laughed at this, jokingly rolling his eyes.

“You know Eddie..” he started, careful, not to look at Eddie for too long. “In school I didn’t know you that much, but ever since then I always thought you’re just a teenage dirtbag.” he confessed. Eddie’s lips formed a grin, looking at Steve only from the corner of his eyes.

“If it makes you feel better, I thought the same of you.” Eddie said. “The cool Steve Harrington, huh? Can’t really do anything with the fact that you’re maybe a nice guy.” he said as they walked into the woods and suddenly everything seemed different, because there were only the two of them. 

“Just maybe?” Steve teased, so Eddie pushed him a bit with his shoulder.

“Do I need to flatter you even more? And you say Dustin needs that ego check.” Steve laughed out loud again and this was really out of his usual behaviour. It was just that with Eddie everything seemed much more genuine and easy. He felt like all of the pressure because of the work, his parents and the weight of the past was suddenly all gone. 

“You maybe a nice guy too, Eddie.” Steve said as he looked up at the high trees, watching them reaching until the sky. Eddie’s eyes were still resting on Steve’s face, enjoying the moments when Steve Harrington completely forgot to be.. Steve Harrington. He looked like an ordinary guy, who was staring at the trees in those moments and didn’t act like he usually did in front of everyone. He didn’t care about that some of the curls from his perfectly styled hair were falling onto his forehead, or that the lace of his shoes were losened up. He just stuffed them into his shoes and kept on walking. Eddie would have lied if he said that he didn’t like this Steve. If he didn’t like Steve on basic. The only difference was that he wanted to see Steve being himself and more careless then usually. When he was like this, Steve was happier and somehow it made Eddie happy, too. 

Steve must admit it, he started to like Eddie, even if it hasn’t been that long since he got to know him a bit better. It was just something about Eddie that screamed “you will be head over heels for me at some point”. Steve guessed it was Eddie’s eyes, those big brown puppy eyes which wondered on Steve a bit longer than necessary. Steve didn’t mind it since he kind of did the same. He couldn’t really explain this all, it was just Eddie’s magnetic force that pulled him in.

It wasn’t long until they finally arrived to the rock, just to find nobody there.

“Weird. Dustin said he will be here sooner than us.”  Steve looked around, but it was obvious that Dustin wasn’t there. Eddie was so chill, just looking around the place, getting closer to the rock.

“Who comes here?” he asked Steve who was panicking a bit now, because he was alone with Eddie. On the way here he didn’t think about this because he knew Dustin will be here, but well.. he was nowhere near there.

“People who want to make out without getting interrupted.”  Steve sat down onto a small rock, trying to figure out something, but when Eddie sat down next to him, - so close, their thighs and knees were touching - Steve’s brain stopped functioning.

“Steve?” Eddie spoke softly. “Can I tell you a secret?” he slightly tilted his head, quietly studying Steve’s face. 

“Yeah, sure.” Steve answered, a feeling of excitement ran up on his spine. 

“I never kissed anyone before.” Eddie said with a pout on his face, while Steve parted his lips.

“Are you serious? No judging or anything, just wow..” Steve didn’t want to sound like an asshole, yet somehow he still managed to do it. 

“Not everyone can be so cool like you.” Steve brushed this off.

“I’m not cool. I had my first kiss at a birthday party behind a fast food restaurant, right next to the trash bins.” Eddie chuckled at this. 

“Sounds cool to me.” he said then looked around with a sigh. “Must be nice to have your first kiss here. I don’t even know how to kiss.” Steve was now intensively staring at Eddie, he basically forgot to blink. A lot of things ran through his mind in those moments, and the fact of Eddie being so pretty gave the final push to Steve. 

“Hey, man?” Eddie looked at Steve in wonder. “Want me to..” yup, there goes Steve’s courage.

“What, Stevie? I don’t get what you’re talking about.” Eddie blinked at him with those big, big mesmerizing hazel eyes of his, leaning a bit closer and curiously studying his face. 

“Want me to teach you how to kiss?” Steve finally spit out the words. Eddie hummed.

“Would you do that for me, Stevie?”  Eddie asked, his knee brushing against Steve’s as he sat a bit closer. 

“I mean.. friends do favors for each other all the time, right?” Steve softly bit his bottom lip. He had romantic thoughts of the same gender before, but oh gosh, now he was completely sure he is into men as well.

“Right.” Eddie nodded with a smile forming on his face. “Alright, teach me how to kiss, Harrington.” 

Steve’s heart was beating in his throat like crazy. Gosh, Eddie was so close to him, and from here he will only get closer. He didn’t even has any idea how to start is without being extremely awkward, yet he was still the one who offered this on the first place. There was just something about how Eddie looked in the dim light that got through between the trees. 

Suddenly Steve got an idea, so he grabbed the guitar pick on Eddie’s necklace and pulled him closer by that. Their lips met and this was only the beginning of the symphony. Steve cupped Eddie’s face with his palms, because this was just his habit that he did when he kissed someone. Eddie’s tongue found the rhythm with Steve’s, melting into the touch. Eddie got filled with lust and the smell of Steve, that sweet, intoxicating scent, so he couldn’t help but lead his fingers into Steve’s hair. He tugged on it a bit, making Steve bite down on his lip. Now this was something new for the both of them. They both just figured it out that Steve might be into this hair pulling, and it was a huge shock for Steve himself. Eddie’s other palm was resting on Steve’s thigh, brushing over it with soft, slow movements. Gosh, this whole thing was something that Steve never experienced before. And apparently Eddie either.. right? 

Now Steve had some concerns.

Because when he leaned back a bit, Eddie looked up at him, grinning like the devil, his hand still on Steve’s thigh. 

“Jesus, you should see your face right now.” Eddie teased him, and oh yeah, Steve was confused, and very very turned on. Not a good combo. Those beautiful eyes were blinking at him innocently, but the devilish smirk was still resting on Eddie’s shiny, puffed lips. 

“You are pretty good for a first time kisser.” Steve commented, not even sure what to say. Eddie started laughing, and Steve now was just sitting there with an even more confused look on his face. “What?”

“You’re so sweet, Stevie.” Eddie pinched Steve’s cheek. “Did you honestly believe that I didn’t kiss anyone before?” Steve was just blinking, his smile frozed on his face, making Eddie laugh even more.

“Munson, I will murder you, I swear.” he said and at this point Eddie was trying to brush the laugh caused tears away from his face. “I bet Dustin knew about this! That little shit!”

“C’mon, big boy. Don’t be so pissed off.” Eddie said when he finally stopped laughing. “You said yourself. I’m just a teenage dirtbag.” Steve just hummed and turned away from Eddie. “Hey, don’t do this!” Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s torso and rested his chin on his shoulder. Steve’s cheeks heated up, but couldn’t complain, he liked Eddie’s touch on him.

“I wasn’t even your first kiss.” Steve said quietly, making Eddie smile. He pressed a kiss on Steve’s neck.

“Maybe you wasn’t.” he said, voice low and silky “But you are my best kiss, Harrington.” 

#steddie #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steve stranger things #stranger things #eddie and steve #steve and eddie

[flightfoot]

(1/10) I feel like the reason why Félix traded the Miraculous with Gabriel comes down to Félix not giving a single damn about the war in Paris, nor does he have any personal stakes on who wins it. To me, Félix has been shown to be someone who will do whatever it takes to get what he wants, morality be damned. In his debut episode, just to screw over Adrien, he makes fools out of the Miracuclass which leads to them going after Félix, and then he tries to assault Ladybug which gets him

(2/10) a punch in the face, with Chat Noir pointing out how his attitude has only made him enemies. So, when the villains appear, Félix decides to do some good and jump on the villai- sike, he just wants Hawk Moth’s attention: “Wanna team up so we both get the jewellery we want? Cool. Helping the heroes? Nah, not really vibing with them.” He went low here, and that was just Félix being petty. But with the Peacock Miraculous? If Félix truly is a Senti then that’s not just a cool accessory, (3/10) that’s his life, his autonomy, his freedom. And he sure as hell ain’t telling the heroes Shadow Moth’s identity because that’s just asking for them to swipe the Peacock for themselves.

So, when he confirms that his uncle desperately wants the Miraculouses, and immediately after the opportunity presents itself to snatch all of them, he knows what to do. Now one alternative is that he kept some for himself, but from what I’ve seen, Félix doesn’t give a flying fuck about the Miraculous (4/10) or Absolute Power. He wants the Peacock, and that’s that. The powers to multiply, or to turn into the elements, or to go back in time don’t interest him in the slightest, he doesn’t give a shit about any of them except for the Peacock and only because he has some connection to it in some way, otherwise he also wouldn’t care about it.

The other alternative would be to only give a few, and let the heroes keep some, but he wasn’t keen on the heroes on his debut, and (5/10) he sure as hell doesn’t love them after the death of Strikeback, not to mention that he was planning on stealing the yoyo even before he knew that was the plan, so he was ready to screw them over even before he had any “understandable” reason to do so.

At last, for a weird metaphor, imagine that you’re walking around and you find a DVD movie. It’s clean and plays well, and as it turns out it’s actually considered by everyone in the world to be the best movie ever made, (6/10) and there was only one copy of it that had gone missing. A movie so good, so inspiring, so outstanding, that everyone who’d found it would want watch it on repeat and keep it hidden… except you. You don’t care about the movie in the slightest, didn’t care before, neither do you now. You have no interest in watching it, maybe you just don’t like movies, I don’t know, and you’re not really feeling like finding out the owner of the DVD… but (7/10) what if you sell it to the highest bidder and make some good money off of it.

Weird I know, but what I am trying to say here is that, I think this was Félix’s logic. He doesn’t care about any of the Miraculous, nor does he feel like handing some to the heroes, and while he can try to switch a few and there’s maybe a 60% chance that Gabriel will take it, he can also just give them all and raise the chances to 99%. Add in the ring to sweeten the deal, and Gabriel will take it for sure, (8/10) there’s absolutely no way he doesn’t. Gabriel giving up the Peacock is the equivalent of giving someone the power to snap his son out of existence, he’s not gonna settle for anything less than what was offered.

But Félix hates his uncle right, doesn’t he want to see him lose? Maybe, but if it comes at the expense of the Peacock he’s not gonna let that happen. This trade absolutely gets him the Peacock no doubt whatsoever, while any other path he could take (9/10) would only open a chance at getting the Peacock, not a certainty, so the only thing he’d get from taking any of those paths would be a lesser drop on his morality rate, but morality isn’t important to him, so why settle for less!

But won’t Gabriel be too powerful and become extremely dangerous? Yeah… but Félix doesn’t care. The war of Paris has nothing to do with him. He has the thing he wanted, time to clean his hands off this mess. (10/10) The lives of others are not what’s important, his safety is what is (assuming he’s a senti). Félix would, of free conscience, condemn the entire city of Paris and its inhabitants if it’s what gets him to his goal, and that’s not me exaggerating, that is literally what happens canonically. Félix is more similar to Gabriel than either of them would like to admit.

Anyway, this is way too long, I’m sorry.

---------

So I agree on Felix not seeming to care a ton about morality here, and certainly not about Gabriel terrorizing Paris - he did enable that without a second thought - but not on the idea that he shouldn't care about the other Miraculous compared to the Peacock, or that there was much of a risk of Gabriel not agreeing to a lesser deal.

I don't think Gabriel's especially afraid that Felix would snap Adrien out of existence. He may be a dick, but fratricide seems like a bit of a stretch for Felix. I think that Felix COULD probably have driven a bargain with just the ring he stole and the threat of exposing Gabriel, either to Adrien, or the world at large. Though you're right that Gabriel might've resisted that deal somewhat.

But I think if Felix had taken some Miraculous out before meeting up with Gabriel and bartered with some of those, that would've sweetened the deal enough for it to be a no brainer.

I don't think that Felix not being interested in the other Miraculous at all makes much sense. That's probably what aligns best with canon, but just... WHY? Even if he can't exactly use them all at once, I'd imagine he'd want the Rabbit, Snake, and Fox at least - those are all Miraculous that require a lot of intelligence to use well, something that Felix has in spades. Then again, maybe he didn't do sufficient research on the Miraculous, and after Strike Back he does so and starts kicking himself for giving up such valuable powers when it wasn't really necessary.

#ask #felix fathom #miraculous ladybug #ml analysis #sentiadrien #sentifelix