#alternatively. if you don’t believe that they’ve fucked
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#alternatively. if you don’t believe that they’ve fucked#what do you think they called each other on their deathbeds?#mostly inspired by my absolute astonishment that wilson apparently calls house by his first name in writing (greg made me think of you)#but still called him house at his FUNERAL?#and in the c-word?#they baffle me on so many levels#I hesitated to even include house calling him james in this#because I can’t imagine it#does house even know his name is james. he called him bob that one time.#I miss when he called him jimmy tho. when did that stop#house md#hilson#house/wilson#gregory house#james wilson#greg house#hatecrimes md#tumblr polls
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Beneath Miles of Stone - Part Twenty - John Wick x Plus Size Fem Reader
Summary: John has been in prison for nine months. He’s content to stay if it means appeasing the high table and keeping peace between the owners of each continental. However, he meets someone who erases that willingness. Peace be dammed.
TW: kind of kidnapping if you squint ; mentions of death ; violence ; angst ; nsfw
kudos to @scarlettspectra and @lilspookymeh for being music gurus and basically inspiring my entire writing playlist ❤️
“John, I can’t stay here - I have work, Michael.”
“It’s not up for debate.”
She scowls at the way he talks to her like a petulant child, looks over at Winston for help and finds none.
“You can’t make me stay here,” she grits.
He fixes her with a dark, mean look, clears the distance between them in one stride, and grabs her before she can think about running. “I can make you stay, but I don’t want to have to do that.”
He’s really just springing this on her. Because the death of Maria puts a target on his back and therefore a smaller one on hers, John thinks the best solution is keeping her locked in the safe house that is Winston’s massive hotel. No consulting her, no talking about options. Just cut and dry. Do as I say. She’s offered alternative solutions, even - “I’ll walk around with Victor’s - sorry, Viggo’s - bodyguards at my side!” - because, of course, her having a private little secret service of her own is now unnegotiable, too. Imagine that.
“You don’t have to do anything,” she retorts, voice quiet despite her lionhearted words.
“I’m not speaking in metaphors,” John says, “you’re staying here. Either way. I need you safe.”
She tries to tear her arm from his grip, but it’s like attempting to wrestle with a gorilla. “So what? I’m just supposed to stay locked up in your gilded cage and forget I have a life?”
He loosens his hold a little bit, lets her puffy flesh spring back from bruising, and softens, hard rock eyes turning molten. Still, there is fire involved. “You can hate me if you want. You don’t have to look at me or speak to me, but I’m responsible for your safety, now. I need you unharmed.”
Ah, there it is again, that fucking pang in her heart that leaves her whole being bloodless and aching when he reminds her why she’s ultimately here - pity.
Sure, he’s told her otherwise a thousand times now, and his actions are testament to how much he wants her, but that admittance is all she needs to start thinking she’s a charity case again.
Tears swell her eyes.
She can’t believe they’ve gone from bliss to this in such a short amount of time. And now what? She’s trapped here and humiliated? Pitied?
“No, I didn’t-“
“Yeah you did,” she whispers, looking down at the shiny dark floor, watching little tear droplets accumulate on its surface.
He lets her pull away and gathers every ounce of his willpower to avoid following as she walks out of the room and into the bustling hotel.
“That went well,” Winston comments, flipping through the manila envelope of witness statements.
His knuckles ache to punch something. Marcus isright here, downing scotch like it’s his last day on earth - maybe he thinks it is - one little punch wouldn’t hurt him.
More willpower used up to not hit Marcus. He decides to leave the room instead.
Marcus thinks he did it. Winston might as well think so, too. The eight witnesses that put him at the location say he did.
The only person that knows he didn’t do it - because he was instead with her when he supposedly took a round trip flight to El Paso and fixed a bullet into Maria’s skull - wants nothing to do with him when the only thing he wants is to curl up beside her and lament.
He needs an outlet.
———————————
“You need to call the police,” Michael tells her. His voice fades away for a minute while she hears rummaging in the background.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble Michael. It’s not like I’m being tortured or something.”
“And?”
“It wouldn’t matter.”
“I don’t know, they could probably come get you out of there?”
“I don’t think cops come here, Michael. I don’t think they’re allowed to be here.”
He pauses for dramatic effect, probably. She’s glad she called him. His usual antics calm her. “They’re not allowed to tear gas peaceful protesters either, but….. ”
“No, I think they kill them here.”
“Sneak out,” Michael concludes.
“That’s my next bid.”
“Damn, your pussy must be god tier if this man is kidnapping you, though.”
She rolls her eyes.
“What?! I’m just saying!” She hears the no good grin and it puts a smile on her face.
“I don’t know how I’m gonna pay rent, Michael. I told work, but they’re probably going to fire me - if they even believe me - and then I won’t have income to pay my share-“
“ Are you serious?” Michael sighs. “You’ve just been kidnapped and you’re worried about me ? Babe, stop.”
“We made a deal Michael, and all I’ve done is fuck it up.”
“Worry about getting out of there, and we’ll sort it out once you’re free of crazy boyfriend.”
“He’s not crazy,” she tries, “he’s just… worried.”
“Uh-huh.” Michael takes another pause. “Anyway, what is this place called?”
“You are not coming here, Michael. You’ll get hurt.”
“Why? I’m not a cop.”
“Michael.”
“Right, right. You’re living the mystery novel life. Is it wrong that I’m a little jealous?”
“No, I guess not. He just kind of makes it seem like he has to keep me here. I feel like a burden.”
“ You ? Feeling like a burden ?” The sharp sarcasm in his voice cuts. “Have you tried telling him that?”
“Well, no, but I’m scared.”
Michael sighs. “Jesus, hun, I’m not sure what to tell you here. Sounds like he’s a little bit dysfunctional. Maybe he’s just not ready for a relationship. I mean, he has to know that holding you against your will isn’t okay.”
She sighs back. It’s like their own little angsty language. “It’s not like I’m normal.”
“Ah, so maybe the darkness in you calls to the darkness in him?” Michael sounds like he’s reciting breathy Shakespeare.
She laughs.
——————-
The Continental is massive, shimmering, crystal chandeliers and intricate, antique carpets.
Spotless, open, airy, a few delicate plants dotted about. Every room or hallway or lobby she enters feels too big - like she’s a kid again, tiny in proportion to everything else. Even the elevators gold and glimmer and loom.
Private clubs with massive polished oak doors to guard against entry, workers in perfectly tailored suits everywhere; one around each corner, in the bars and shops, diligent and watching.
If she had any hope before of getting out of here, now she definitely doesn’t. Seems like every exit has an individual posted on it who would put Benny’s hulking mass to shame.
She sees a woman who is taller than John, in a sleeveless tuxedo dress, muscles rippling over her shoulders and neck. She doesn’t think she has ever envied or admired someone so much. Despite the bodybuilder physique, this towering lady moves like flowing water. She just stares at her for a few minutes, entranced by the otherworldly beauty. How can he even think of liking her when women like this live and breathe?
It’s easy to forget the outside world exists, here. But, she stills feels trapped - heralded off to some magical realm where everyone has a gun tucked under their shirt instead of a magic wand.
She gets lost in the place, always expecting John to be waiting for her around corners or down a hallway. He’s not, though, instead leaving her alone like he said he would. That pisses her off and disappoints her a little bit; she wants him to follow her, fight for her, extinguish her flame of independence, which must mean there’s seriously something wrong here. He can’t just lock her up and then leave.
Ignoring the empty John shaped space in her gut, she walks until she finds the library. Wall to wall shelves, rolling ladders carved in intricate, braided designs, a few cozy reading nooks. Librarian fantasy says hello.
She scowls at the thought, goes to the fairytale section, lying to herself about thinking of John in this instance, too.
As chance would have it, someone she recognizes is here. The older woman from the bookstore in the mall, still sans reading glasses, squinting at the cover of a worn yellow hardback.
“Do you need some help with that?”
“Oh, my dear, nice to see you again.” There is an air of poise about this woman even in her shortcomings. She hands the book delicately to her rescuer, smiling softly. “Would you mind?”
“Oh,” she thumbs the cover, feels the carved gold letters on the front. “This is Alice in Wonderland.”
“Lewis Carroll?”
“Yeah, I can tell you about this without even reading it.” She grins, cheeks puffing, pleased to have someone familiar here.
The woman takes the book from her hands and sticks it back. “As interesting as Alice in Wonderland is, I’d much rather talk to you. You don’t belong here, do you? In a place like this?”
She looks down at her feet. “Ah, no.” Really, she could pose the same question, but she finds herself unsurprised that nice stranger books in this hotel. Maybe it was the men in suits at her side. Maybe it’s because she’s used to this by now - fitting in nicely, snug as a bug in a rug. Meant for the underground.
“So why are you here, dear?”
They end up sitting in one of the lounges. She offers to go grab them both tea, paying for it and tipping despite hospitality, and then settles in to talk. This woman reminds of her of Winston, or like one of the kind, witty grandmothers from sparse foster homes. No matter how mean the rest of the family was, usually the elders were double kind to make up for it.
She ends up telling her small things. Not too much, but more than she can Michael. This woman is already involved in the ancient crime world, so she feels like she can divulge more info. Plus, she’s confident that anyone here could just type her name into some imaginary database and bring up every detail about her, anyway.
“Ah, John Wick, Boogeyman.”
“People keep calling him that. I don’t think he’s that scary.”
The woman laughs. “I don’t know, I’ve only heard. Never met.”
“Well, he’s actually nice,” she supplies, sipping her hibiscus tea. “Stubborn, but nice.”
“And he’s keeping you here to protect you, so he can’t be all bad.”
“Yeah… we’ll go with that.”
The woman laughs. “Oh, there is a fire in you. Misplaced, but a fire all the same.”
“Misplaced?”
“You desire hardness, outer armor, to be strong, but you don’t realize that your true power comes from your softness.”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
“I’ve no doubt.” Her contemplative eyes assess the cementing posture.
“Sorry, I’m just. I’m irritated that I have to stay here.” She drops her shoulders, relaxes her jaw.
“You’ve got a free spirit. You remind me of someone I once knew.”
“Was it you?” She smiles again.
“Indeed. Unfortunately, this old bird had her wings clipped long ago.”
“Your wings are massive and amazing, still.”
The elder beams at her. “You know, my children think I’m out of my mind.”
“Huh? But you’re not.”
She shrugs. “They want my empire. I suppose I am getting older - should probably relinquish it sooner rather than later.”
Just like with John, she feels that deep dive questions would be too forthcoming and intrusive here. “So, they’re making up stuff to get it? Sounds like your kids aren’t that great.”
“Ah, but isn’t that my fault if they are not great, then?” She sighs and leans back into cushions that swallow her small frame.
This is a hard question. She’s spent a lifetime blaming foster parents for fucking her up so much.
“See? You can’t argue with that.” Her crinkled smile widens.
“Mistakes are mistakes. The past doesn’t define the future. You do seem lovely now, regardless of what happened when they were kids.”
“What do you do for work, my darling?”
“I’m a nurse.”
——————————-
After talking for a long time with Ella, her mystery bookstore friend, she goes to knock on Winston’s study door, surprised she can even find it again. It takes a while, and she gets completely lost in the process.
“Won’t find him in there. I think he’s downstairs. Do you need something?” She turns to find a tall, tattooed, beautiful woman folding linens onto a silver cart.
“Oh, I just wanted to talk to him. Sorry.”
“You’re John’s girl?” She holds out a hand, gives a soft smile. “I’m a good friend of his.”
Why in the hell can’t she repress the jealousy raging inside her as she takes this absolutely gorgeous woman’s hand in her own? “Uh, yeah.” She resists asking how everyone seems to know what she looks like and who she belongs to. Maybe it’s just that distinguishable? John Wick with a fat girlfriend.
Ouch . Back to hurting her own feelings again.
“Oh, it’s really nice to meet you. A friend of John’s is a friend of mine. I’m a bell hop, trying to work my way up into bartender. They make more money.” She fixes her pile of cloth and then looks up as if forgetting something. “I’m Addie.”
She’s at a loss for words, feels incredibly sheepish around this girl for no reason - exposed and open, ready for final judgement. Harrowing.
She introduces herself back despite trepidation and tries to give a warmer smile than she’s capable of right now. “Oh, that’s cool. You like bartending?”
Addie laughs at some inside joke. “Oh, God no. Not in this city. But in the hotel, it’s great. Not many other bar owners will let you punch their customers for getting too handsy.”
She laughs. “Serves them right.”
“I don’t mean to pry,” Addie smooths over a crisp sheet. “But how did you meet John?”
Oh, the million dollar embarrassing question. “The prison. I was his nurse.”
“Oh, that’s cute as hell.” Addie’s melodic giggle helps lower her raised haunches. “He hasn’t gone steady in a minute. I’m glad he’s happy. I’ve known him since we were kids, I mean, and he hasn’t been this sunshiny in a long time.”
Ah, another one of John Wick’s long time friends. “He’s a pretty good guy.”
Addie nods. “Ah, we’re not passing the bechdel test.”
She chuckles. “You’re right.”
“We will next time, promise. I gotta get back to work.” Addie gives her a wink and then she’s off. She calls back over her shoulder, “I’ll tell Winston you’re looking for him.”
“Thanks, but you don’t-“
“It’s fine.” Addie grins back. “He’s not busy.”
—————————
She gets lost a few more times, maybe just maybe hoping for a tall, dark hero to come swoop her up and apologize. She’s more disappointed than she should be when that doesn’t happen.
But, she does run into Charon again when she finds the front entrance.
He gives her a small smile. “I trust you are finding the provisions here adequate, Miss?”
She leans on his counter, emboldened by the lack of patrons in the lobby. “Could I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“I was in the library, and I saw the book with you in it. Behind the big glass display case, you know? You were in an orchestra in the pictures. Do you play… cello, right?”
“That’s correct. Well, was correct. I haven’t played in several years. Do you play?”
“Ah, no.” She shrugs. “I just saw you in there and you looked amazing. Like really in your element.”
“Do I look.. out of my element now?” His head tilts, smile broadening.
“No, no, not at all.” Her eyebrows furrow. “Sorry, I just meant - you really looked like you loved it.”
“I did. It was exhilarating.”
“Why don’t you do it anymore?”
“I suppose I just got busy with other duties. I enjoy working at the hotel. The light of the stage was wonderful for a while, but I realized I was meant for a quieter fate. One with less excitement.”
“This is less excitement?” She gestures around.
“Continental ground is sacred. We rarely have to take action against our guests for violence.” He pauses. “I know your experience has indicated otherwise.”
She shakes her head. “Sorry, I didn’t-“
“There is nothing to be sorry for.” His pleasant smile still lingers as testament to that. “It’s alright to be curious. Ask me anything you want.”
She does. She asks who can stay here, who is not allowed to stay here, how long it’s been around, who built it. She asks him about the cello, if his hands got scarred, if he would play again at some point so she could come to his concert.
Charon is infinitely interesting, sports the same dark humor that John does, and she chats with him until he gets customers.
—————————
John stays gone. All day, all night. The more time goes by, the more anxious she gets. She should be angry, seething, but instead she just wants him to be okay, to come back to her. She’s grown so miserably attached to this elusive man, and the insanity that goes with that attachment is eating at her like swarms of locusts on fresh fields of grain.
—————————
He’s all bruised knuckles and blood flecked, sinew and tendon and vein. The smell of diesel and sweet liquor and heavy iron. She can’t help but peak at him from under the comforter while he undresses.
“Good morning.”
Of course he knows. He’s got sonic radar. She flushes, and doesn’t answer him.
“I’d ask if you want to join me in the shower, but that would make me a bigger asshole.”
“I don’t remember even saying you could stay in the same room as me anymore,” she grumbles, shifting under the blanket so a few of her toes peak from the end.
He resists tickling her.
“You’re right. Let me take this shower, and I’ll book another one.”
“Are you rich?” She asks.
“I have money.”
“Like, rich money?”
He raises a dark eyebrow and looks far too good standing nude and bruised on the cold hardwood.
“Does it matter?”
“I feel like you’re trying to buy me off.”
He snorts, rubs a flexing hand down his abdomen and yawns. God, he’s fucking delectable. “Would it work?”
“Fuck you, John.” She tries to make her words hurt, but they’re half assed and weak.
He’s got a smile that makes her seethe and clench at once. Infuriating bastard.
“Want me to fix that attitude with my tongue?” He offers, watches her toes curl up as she turns the other way and becomes a smaller mound under the covers.
“I want you to go away.”
He gives her credit for the control in her thickened voice. Saliva, always giving her away.
“You got it.”
When the bathroom door shuts, she flings the blanket off and goes to get breakfast. For herself.
Winston catches her in the dining room. “Do the clothes I sent up fit?” He asks.
“Yeah, they do. Thank you. I appreciate it.” She looks distraught, out of element.
He hums and threads her arm with his, walking with her to the serving bar. “I’m sure he’ll take you to get your clothes and toiletries soon,” Winston promises. “I offered to have Charon escort you, but Johnathan seems to have faith in your ability to weasel away.”
She huffs a laugh. “I’m not promising I wouldn’t try to escape.”
“Are you angry with me?”
“No, I get it, he’s a bully.”
“Ah, can’t say it’s entirely his fault. I’m concerned for your safety, too.” Winston sits with her as she orders cheesy eggs and toast and orange juice.
“If he would have just explained it better, maybe I would have compromised.”
“Unless you know how to kill someone, I’m afraid there’s little compromise for you here.” Winston pauses, rubbing at the slick surface of the bar top.
“I’m still mad at him.” She’s not sure why she feels so comfortable talking to Winston about her relationship problems, but the man is more than happy to chat and advise.
“I can understand that. What can I do to make you feel better?”
“Oh, no, Mr. Scott, you’ve already done so much. I’m sorry for being like this.”
He smiles warmly, amusement cresting the crinkles of his face.
Normally, she’s wary of being touched, but there is nothing except reassurance in Winston’s hand rested over hers. “My dear, you are human. Flesh and bone. Your feelings and emotions are your power, no matter how overwhelming they may become. Never forget that.”
She feels a little like she has stepped from the mortal realm into fae territory. Everything shines and dazzles, wise figures give her hopeful advice, and there is a beautiful, inhuman man terrorizing her with a small grin from across the room.
She quickly looks away from John, and Winston of course notices the pick up in nerves.
“Do you want me to kick him out?” He asks her.
She giggles. “Will he leave?”
“It’s worth a try.”
Avoiding John Wick is kind of like being a moth who hates light.
When he looks at her, she’s looking at him. And vice versa. She tries to eat, but feels too nervous to finish with coal eyes burning the endless fire in her belly, asks for a to go box and gulps the rest of her orange juice down.
He watches her while she walks out, sipping his black coffee, unabashedly staring directly at her beautiful bottom.
“I’ve thought about it,” Winston tells him, taking the seat across the table. “And I believe you.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” John asks.
Winston ignores his sour mood. “Someone is trying to frame you, Johnathan. Someone wants you dead. With eight witnesses, the high table will come for you. Especially concerning the public knowledge that Maria put a bounty on your head. This is a war that ends one way.”
“I know.”
“So, do something.”
————————-
“I’m sorry.”
She turns around to find him leaning into the door jam.
“I told you I wasn’t good at this.” He motions between them. “But that’s no excuse to be an asshole.”
“I’m not good at it either, in case you didn’t notice,” she replies dryly.
“If you get hurt, I’m not sure what I’ll do,” he admits.
“But I can’t live like a clipped bird, John. And you’re just so forceful about it. I can’t get a word in when your mind is set. Michael has been nothing but good to me, and now I’m bailing on him. I like my job. It makes me feel like I have a purpose.”
“It’s not forever, just until I can figure this out.”
“Is it really that dangerous? If it is why did we start this in the first place?” That kind of sounds like she regrets the relationship, so she doubles back. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question. I would gladly meet you again and again, even if it meant more hardship, John, but I can’t just leave my old life.”
He gives a deep, baritone sigh, running hands through his damp hair.
She gets a little waft of the delicious shampoo he used, and itches to go to him.
“Just give me a day. One day. I’m going to fix this, and I need you to trust me.”
She eyes him, makes him feel vulnerable - raw - with the power of her stare.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” It sounds more like a plead than a demand, so she provides.
“Are you just doing this because you feel like you have to? Am I inconveniencing your life even more?”
He looks at her for a very long time.
Then, pads over and tips her chin up with his fingers. “I live in a dangerous world. I’m scared to lose you in its chaos.”
“But is it out of obligation or-“
“It’s because I need you.”
“You need me?”
He presses his forehead against her own. “Yes.” There is frustration in his voice.
She cradles the back of his head, inhaling spice and salt, quiet and still. Some kind of storm will rage and destroy her later, but for now she can keep it at bay while he is folding her up and pressing her into the bed.
“This doesn’t solve anything,” she says, trying not to lose her resolve in the delicious wet of his mouth.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs, lips trailing the sensitive bridge of her ear.
She doesn’t. Lets him gather her hair back and lick behind her lobe, turn her into a quivering little mess of a human clinging to his sweatshirt.
He can’t get enough of her in his mouth at once, uses his hands to make up for the loss, cups her tummy and groans at how soft she is. God, he could just sink right into her and never come out.
“This is all I wanna do,” he says. “Every time I look at you, you just get more tempting. That cute little smile, pretty skin, soft little body. Who sent you here to destroy me?”
“Th-the FBI.” She’s smiling that sunshine smile, animosity an afterthought, pulling at her new fixation which happens to be his velvet hair, rubbing her fingers into his scalp.
His cock gives a little jump against her thigh, and he vibrates for her again. Ah, of course it’s the hair.
“You like it when I play with your hair?” She asks, voice hitched high and tight as he sucks down her neck.
“Yeah,” he admits.
“I uh, yeah, l-like your hair, Johnny.” She sloppily threads a strand around her fingers, tugging just a little.
And to think he was contemplating getting another buzz cut because of this mess always being in his face. Not now. Now he would never cut it again. Now it was his pride and fucking joy.
He snakes his hands under her shirt, rubs at her bare tummy, pulls and feels and groans about how fucking pillowy she is - about how a bullet would probably just bounce right off of her.
“Fuck, I love this,” he says, making her giggle and grab his fingers.
“Tickles,” she tells him.
Immune to bullets, but not to soft fingers digging into her plump. He can’t help the hells grin while he indulges himself and makes her a giggly, frantic mess. “Where you going? Huh?” Chasing her up the bed, pressing her against the pillows, making her scream and curse his name.
Only a little bit of fun, and then he’s kissing her ribs, pulling her bra up to let these beautiful tits flop in his face so he can nuzzle between them. Giggles into moans, the chant of her hips matching the rhythm of mewling sounds.
“You’re so fuckin sweet.”
Her hands make their way back to his hair.
Big cock pressing and grinding into her giving thigh, fingers running circles around her areolas to tease, mouth nipping at the tips of her breasts.
He gets her begging, whining, needs her to ask him for it.
“Pretty girl wants to cum on my tongue again, huh?”
“Yeah.” Little shimmering tears in her lashes, lips all puffy and big just like her nipples.
“Tell me. Tell me, babydoll.”
Flooding with hot embarrassment, biting her lip, trying not to crumble and break, she does her best for him, tries her hardest to make him happy. “John, make me cum. Please.”
It’s not good enough. “Ah, ah,” he scolds. “Make you cum on what?”
“Y-your tongue. Want your tongue. Please, fuck.”
“There you go.” And how could he ever fucking say no?
How could he not spend a decade between these comfy thighs eating her sweet puffy cunt nice and slow.
Fucking her on his fingers, tickling her little clit with his tongue and making her her hips spark up off the bed, giving her rug burn on top of rug burn while she pulls his hair and curses his wicked mouth. Sometimes it hurts, especially like now when she’s too drunk on his mouth to be careful or sweet - and he fucking loves it.
He may never be able to convince her that he’s sorry with words, but he can still use his mouth to accomplish the same goal.
By the sounds of it, she, at least for now, forgives him.
#john wick x reader#john wick x you#john wick fanfic#john wick fanfiction#john wick x plus size reader#x chubby reader#chubby reader#plus size reader#x plus size reader#BMOS
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hiii!! okay forgive me bc i’ve ever actually requested something before but could you write a fluffy fezco vibe where it’s the readers first time smoking (with him, they’ve gotten high before) and they’re being really funny and silly back and forth?
Dating Fez was definitely something… new. You’ve dated nearly all types. The jock, the alternative, the musician, the nerd, and now, the dealer. Surprisingly, he wasn’t your original dealer. You used to buy from sketchy people until your best friend, now estranged, Rue, told you about Fezco O’Niell.
“You wanna hit this, ma?” Fez asked, holding the fresh lit blunt. “Why not?” You shrugged. You weren’t a roller, you didn’t really know how to. Normally, you used a pipe, or a bong. Fez took a hit, then passed to you.
“Thank you.” You said, taking the blunt in between your index and thumb. You took a hit and leaned back against the couch the two of you were sitting on. You blew the smoke out and passed the blunt back to him.
“You ever put food in before a smoke sesh?” You asked him. “Nah. But that’s a good idea. We should’ve done that, huh?” Fez took another hit, passing it back.
“To late now.” You laughed and took another hit. “You ever think about aliens when high?” Fez asked. “Definitely.” You said, before blowing the smoke out.
“You think they fly pass earth and go ‘ew’?” You asked him, passing him the blunt. “I think they purposefully go out of the way to not pass the earth.” You followed up, answering your own question.
“I think all kinds of shit when high, ma.” He took a longer hit. “You know who’d be fun to smoke with?” He asked after blowing the smoke in your face. “Mm? Who?” You asked, looking at him, eyes already half-lidded.
“Adam Sandler. But the character he plays in That’s My Boy.” He answered his question, passing the blunt. “Oh true! I’d smoke with Adam Sandler in general… or like…” you paused before giggling and taking another hit. “I forgot.” You blew out the smoke.
“No no, I got it. My dream smoke circle consists of,” you passed the blunt before holding your hand out. “Seth Rogan, Seth McFarlane, Snoop, Pete Davidson, Adam Sandler, Matthew Lillard, and Tom Kenny.” You listed.
“Tom Kenny? The fool who played SpongeBob?” He asked, hitting the blunt then passing it back to you.
“I feel like he’d keep me laughing.” You shrugged, hitting the blunt, coughing a little.
“Why y’a’int list me?” Fez picked. “I keep you laughin’.” He half smiled. “You do, but I get to smoke with you.” You nudged him, passing it back.
“You ever get to thinking about conspiracy theories?” You asked him, passing him the blunt. “Conspiracy theories? Like Loch Ness and shit?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Exactly like that.” You said.
“You got one?” He took a hit of the nearly finished blunt. “I do. It’s gonna sound dumb.”
“Nah, lay it on me, mama.” He placed his elbow on the armrest, and held his head up with his hand. “Ok, so, what if all those mythical creatures ‘nd shit existed?” You paused, looking at him while you took a hit, and passed it to him.
“Possible.” He acknowledged. “What if they were real, but, they died and shit.” You said, trying to see if he was following your train of though.
“Mhm?” He took the last hit of the blunt and put it in the ashtray. “And what we see now are their ghosts?” You asked.
“See, you got me. But here’s where you lose me,” he adjusted himself so he was sitting in a way that faced you completely, which had you follow suit.
“What about when people see them in groups, like Bigfoot and shit?”
“Right… maybe they fucked and made more?” You laughed, which made him chuckle. “So this is what you think ‘bout when you smoke?” He asked. “Yup.”
“You think mermaids are real too, dontcha?” He leaned against the couch. “A thousand percent. Yes.” You nodded your head. “What you don’t?”
“No proof.” He shrugged.
“Exactly why I believe.” You added. “Over ninety-somethin’ percent of the ocean ain’t been explored. How do we know they don’t exist?” You questioned his reasoning. “Got me there mama.” He nodded.
“Wanna go get some McDonald’s?” He asked, standing up. “Oh God, yes.”
“You’ll say that later.”
#fez#Fezco#fezco oneshot#euphoria fezco x reader#fezco euphoria#euphoria fez#fez x reader#euphoria imagine#des’ writing#euphoria x reader#desi’s oneshot#desi’s writing#fezco x reader#fezco imagine
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I’m seeing a lovely trend of recommending DPxDC fics going around so here I am throwing my hat into the ring lol
+++
Beauty lays behind the hills by Library_of_Chronos
Danny loses everything. He runs fast and he runs far, somehow ending up in a back alley known as Park Row, where a strange man with flowers in his hands changes his life.
While Danny does end up staying with Bruce and a much younger Dick, the story focuses more on giving Danny a good support system both within Wayne Manor and with the Justice League, as they all come together to help Danny fight against Vlad. Status: Incomplete
Law of Retribution by Michaelisunderatted
“The ghosts like you.”
Danny watched as Red Hood reeled. Now that he thought about it, that was probably a creepy thing to say. Danny hadn’t talked to living people in years though, so Jason really should cut him some slack. He was trying his best. It wasn’t his fault living people had such weird hang ups about things.
“Okay,” Jason said, taking a deep breath. “Okay kid, what the fuck.”
...
Jason starts seeing ghosts. Danny comes back to the Living Realm for the first time since the Incident. He has a job offer for Red Hood
I have not caught up with this one myself, but so far I’m really enjoying the darker/more serious tone of the story. Jason sees ghosts, Danny fumbles the “how to human” ball, and Duke takes no shit. It’s great! Status: Incomplete
Sundials by AkelaNakamura
Damian Wayne is nearing sixteen and it's finally feeling like a future is something he might get to choose. He has a Soulmate, somewhere, who is no longer subject to Grandfather's judgement. He wonders though, how he's going to find him when he's unmarked. There's a thousand ways to find a Soulmate, he knows, but Damian has nothing physical to guide him.
Tucker Foley has always worried that Amity Park will be too much for his Soulmate, whoever they are. Soulmates are supposed to match each other, to walk with each other, but there's not many places that are as wild as Amity Park. The only mark he carries though, is the one that links him to Sam and Danny, so he's left to wonder how they might meet.
Damian turns sixteen and everything changes.
A really sweet Tucker/Damian soulmate au with wonderful lore and mechanics and just overall oozing with tender softness. 100% adore this one. Status: Complete
Bruised by DizzlyPuzzled
The Guys in White are preparing for war.
The Justice League doesn't believe in Ghosts and wrote Amity Park off.
And Danny just wants things to chill for a moment so he can enjoy his life.
But now he is the only thing standing between complete reality collapse and peace.
Ghost King au + political drama + taking down the GIW and Vlad? Amazing, stunning, I’ve re-read this at least five times now. Status: Complete
Ouroboros by Rhapsody_in_Pink
In the end, it was Jack and Maddie that caused Phantom.
It was Phantom that caused the downfall of Jack and Maddie.
It was Jack and Maddie that destroyed Danny Fenton.
It was Danny Fenton who accepted Phantom.
And so Ouroboros swallowed himself.
An alternate take on how Danny acquired his powers and interacts with the ghosts around him as well as well as dimensional travel. I genuinely don’t have the words to describe how much I love this one, it’s just so good! Status: Incomplete
Your City Loves You (And Your Home Was Always Here) by bongo_balderdash
After a meeting between the Reigning Monarch of the Infinite Realms and the Justice League, King Phantom asks Superman to stay behind for a moment. Superman is a little hesitant, but they’ve just agreed to a peace treaty between the lands of the living and the dead, and apparently someone on the king’s council has something they’ve been waiting to say.
Not just a message for Superman. A message for Clark Kent.
This one was so sweet and it made me cry. Status: Complete
A Vigilante A Day Keeps the Government Away by DeathlySilent13
Lucius Fox gets a phone call he'd never expected from a source even more unexpected. Now, he's got to figure out what to do with a betrayed child, a traumatized nephew, a protective son, and an adoption-prone Bat.
Very interesting choice in using Lucius as the main POV, and it provides a fresh look at the beginnings of coordinating a take down of the GIW. This is only the first part of the series, and while it is Complete, there is still more to come!
What’s a Spleen Between Friends? by Cielle_Noire
Tim gets Isekai'd a few times, which is really inconvenient. The guy (meta? ghost? half-ghost?) who keeps helping him is cute though, so it's okay. Well, it's not okay, but it could be worse. Probably.
OR
Five Times Tim Fell Through a Portal and One Time He Didn't
A very witty 5+1 Tim/Danny fic. Great lore, great plot, great jokes. 10/10. Status: Incomplete
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not to out of left field dragon age post, but i’m thinking of replaying origins and it made me think about how like. mahariel and tamlen are definitely old enough to be married/bonded by dalish standards, and they’ve been friends for at least a fews years if not their whole lives (and it’s probably their whole lives honestly) so they’ve had time to get bonded.
so the implication is that either a) they haven’t gotten their shit together enough to tell each other how they feel much before like. the week origins begins OR b) the elders wouldn’t allow them to bond, the way they wouldn’t let mahariel’s parents bond, and eventually they relented. and i know a lot of people like the first one and i agree that it is like. nicer to the characters. but the second one makes me go INSANE because it’s like. we think you’re too immature, or maybe just one of you is, you’re too impetuous, you don’t think before you act, and you egg each other on, or one of you is too devoted to hold the other one back. whichever it is, it’s a matter of worrying they won’t be good for each other— they don’t approve of the match.
until someone (probably ashalle or marethari herself) intervenes, and the FIRST thing, the very first thing that happens is they find that cave. no matter how it happened— if tamlen refused to go back to prove that he was worthy, if they egged each other on, if mahariel led tamlen forward— they WERE bad for each other, but not out of malice. out of love. and afterwards, when mahariel is a warden and tamlen is gone from them forever (even if they will, unbeknownst to them, see him again, just in the most horrifying way possible,) i can just imagine them sitting up nights, afraid to sleep because of the horrible dreams, alternatively blaming the elders for not letting them be together sooner and blaming themselves for not going back, for not making him go back.
in the gauntlet, the spirit or demon or whatever it is takes the form of tamlen, taunts them about their failure, about their waking fucking nightmare.
and months later, when there have been so many loses that they’re sort of numb to it all, when they’ve made a new family and maybe fallen in love again, when they’re living every day like it could be their last (because it could be,) they wake up one night in a cold sweat, or they’re in the middle of ~something~ with their new partner, and shrieks ambush their camp. they have to come out and fight, back to back with their new family, with their lover— they finish the fight covered in blood, every inch the warden, every inch the hero of ferelden. and in the aftermath, there he is. the ghost of the one person they never thought they’d lose, their best friend, the soulmate they were /supposed/ to have. and he’s a ghoul, he’s dying, and if they don’t kill him, the blight will force their hand.
and then there’s one fucking line with alistair about it. you can’t follow up on it. …but imagine if you could. imagine if the warden absolutely melts down afterward. imagine if they got to feel, for once, the ENORMITY of what they’ve lost, the enormity of what the blight took from them, which they’ll never get back, even if they have people they love. even if they live through it all, they save the world, now they’re the warden commander and they get to live free of fear—they’ll still never be one half of the happy elder couple who laughs and jokes and says ‘yes’ to every match because they believe in love over all. they’ll never get to see merrill become keeper and tease her about how pompous she was as a kid, they’ll never have children. they’ll never hunt again, never sit with the halla and smile about the beauty of the world.
in a lot of ways i think that the elven wardens lose the least, because they gain power they’d otherwise never have— but they still lose things. there is no easy way to become a warden. the only way that a warden loses nothing by joining is if they had nothing to lose at all.
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Steddie Notes BONUS PART
(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7)
Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He’s a little surprised, honestly, since he had his heart set on first anniversary morning sex. Though, based on the smells wafting through their apartment, Steve’s making breakfast, which is an acceptable alternative (plus, if he has it his way, they aren’t leaving the bed again today).
The digital alarm clock on his bedside table is obscured by a Composition Book he doesn’t remember bringing to bed. He reaches for it before his brain registers the red ink dragon sketched on the cover. His hands tremble as he flips it open, but the first few pages are written in his own scrawl. Steve’s handwriting doesn’t appear until 10 pages in and Eddie’s heart stutters at the sight.
March 28, 1986
God, Eddie, I’m so sorry. So, so fucking sorry. I can’t— I’m sorry. I should have been there, I should’ve protected you, I should’ve kept you safe.
You wouldn’t be part of this if it weren’t for me. Robin and Dustin keep telling me that's not true, that Chrissy was already cursed but. Robin is here because of me. Erica-fucking Sinclair is here because of me. And now you. And you’re dying. And it’s my fault.
I don’t even know what I’m doing right now, but I can’t just sit and wait, I’d lose my mind. Anyway. You left this notebook in my trunk, and I hope you don’t mind that I’m using it.
I don’t think I’ve ever been this terrified in my life, Eds.
Please don’t die on me. I can’t live in this world without you.
March 29, 1986
Hey Eds
You made it through the night. I can’t fucking believe it. I ripped Robin’s shirt when the doctor came in to tell us that you were out of surgery and stable, and then he dropped the bomb that your chance of surviving the night was 40%. Forty-fucking-percent. I guess you beat the odds, babylove.
I’m with Uncle Wayne at your bedside. He threw a fit to make sure I could be here whenever I wanted, and that everyone could visit.
You’ve missed some wild shit, Munson, you’re going to be so mad when you wake up.
Come back to me, sweet boy. I can’t take this.
March 30, 1986
Made it through a second night, babe.
I hope you wake up soon.
Miss you like crazy.
I keep looking at you in this hospital bed, and you look so fucking small. I hate it. You’re the loudest voice in the room. You don’t just take up space, you demand it. It’s killing me that I haven’t heard your voice in days. And my brain, it keeps filling in things you would say, and I wait for you to speak up, but of course you don’t. It’s a kick to the balls every single time.
The thing is.
The thing is that I need you to wake up, Eddie. You can’t leave me. I made up my mind a long time ago, we’re spending our lives together. And it can’t fucking end now. It can’t end because of this.
And I need you to open your goddamn beautiful eyes so I can tell you how much I love you. You don’t get to go before you hear me say it, do you understand?
I love you. You’re it for me. I’ve never wanted a forever as much as I want one with you. So, you have to wake up, yeah? You have to wake up so we can grow up, have a family, have a life together.
Promise you won’t leave me, Eds.
March 31, 1986
You woke up, you motherfucker. The doctors kicked me out to look you over and I cried so hard in the bathroom that Robin made El break down the door with her powers.
Thank you for coming back. I won’t ever let you go again.
April 7, 1987
I’m sure you’re wondering why I’m giving this to you, babylove. It’s been a year. Look how far we’ve come.
✏️✏️✏️✏️
September 18, 2015
It’s way too fucking early for Eddie to even be awake and he has the day off. Steve asked him to take vacation months ago, didn’t say why, and now that fucker has the audacity to not even be in the house. And like, sure, they’ve been together for close to thirty years, and Eddie knows that Steve goes for a run at the ass crack of dawn.
Still pisses him off, though.
Eddie huffs down to the kitchen to get coffee started, doing a double take when he sees a familiar black Composition Book with red dragon on the cover.
He walks towards it slowly because this has been framed on the wall since their first anniversary, way back in ’87, and Steve isn’t home.
Eddie opens it, re-reads the panicked, lovesick notes Steve wrote in the hospital, doesn't bother to fight back the tears. He gets to the last letter and the paper is stiff and wrinkled, like it took water damage. Eddie flips the page, grief already pumping through his veins.
What he sees instead is college-ruled notebook paper, glued in place. It reads:
“I fucking hate this class.”
“Tell me about it.”
“trig. You?”
“Algebra 2 :(”
A sound escapes his mouth, something between a laugh and a sob.
“Hey man, I'm pretty sure I fucked things up with us, and I owe you an apology. I've always known who you were, but you had no idea I was me...”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re kind of beautiful, Munson?”
“Watch. The. Movie. This is the last time we get high first if this is how you behave.”
“What are you gonna win me at the fair, Harrington?”
“If you’re nice to me, probably something cute.”
“Eddie…I think I really like you
You’re my favorite person in the entire world
Some days you’re the only thing I can think about
I want to wake up in bed with you everyday
I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to kiss you
Do you like me? Yes or No”
“What are you doing about Hellfire?”
“Huh?”
“If the game is Friday. Lucas can’t do both.”
“He made his choice.”
“You ever been in love?”
No, but I think I’m falling”
“I love you, Eddie”
All the sketches of the sailor boy and the rockstar are there, even the one Eddie stuck to the poster in his room, though how Steve managed to get that is anyone’s guess.
There are pictures too, Eddie and Max still recuperating in the hospital; Corroded Coffin performing at the Hideout; them holding the keys to the bar, Steve shirtless and hammering something while Eddie looks on, with the increasingly popular bands Eddie booked to play their must-see Friday night slots; Steve on his first day of college and one of him jumping into Eddie’s arms in his graduation gown, mortar board slipping off his head; In the hospital cradling their twin girls with Max giving a weary thumbs-up between them. Shot after shot of their family, their life, their dreams coming true. A scrapbook of their lives together, big moments and small; good and bad.
Eddie’s crying freely as he flips through the rest of the book, still fucking astounded that Steve is the love of his life, that they’re making a forever together.
Eddie flips to the last page. Stops dead.
In Steve’s looped handwriting, unchanged since high school, it says:
“Eddie,
Will you marry me?”
“What the fuck?” He yelps, standing up fast enough that his chair crashes to the floor.
He turns and Steve— his reason for being, the man that brought him back from the dead—Steve Harrington, is down on one knee, something silver glinting in his outstretched hand.
“Eddie,” he says, his voice a wreck. “Marry me?”
Eddie crashes to his knees, shoving at Steve’s shoulder. “You’re such an idiot.”
Steve laughs. “Is that a yes?”
Eddie laughs too, but it quickly morphs into a sob, “Of course it’s a yes, Steve. Of course.”
Hands trembling, Steve slips the ring onto Eddie’s hand. It’s a thin silver band with skeletal hands contorted into an infinity symbol.
They fall into a kiss that rips the breath from Eddie’s lungs, but then that’s nothing new. When they finally pull apart Eddie asks, “why today?”
Steve blushes and grabs at the back of his neck. “Thirty-one years ago, I walked into Mundy’s class and found a note on the window ledge.”
“What the fuck.” Eddie’s mouth drops, his heart stuttering. This man.
“Once I figured out you leaving that note was going to be one of the most important moments of my life? I made sure to never forget.”
“Baby.” Eddie pulls Steve in for another kiss. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
Steve tugs at Eddie’s hand. “C’mon.”
“Where we going?”
“The girls will be here in a couple hours, and I have some things I want to do to you before they’re home.”
“The GIRLS?” Eddie shrieks. “How the hell long have you been planning this? Did they KNOW?”
“Since the end of June,” Steve answers without missing a beat. “And of course they know. Everyone knows. I asked Wayne for his blessing.”
Eddie can’t speak, his heart crashing in his chest as he, once again, thanks whatever entity made it possible for him to have this.
“I’ve been in love with you for over half my life, Eds. I wanted to do this right. You deserve it. We deserve it.”
He pulls Steve into his arms, kissing him hard enough that their teeth clack, but neither of them care.
✏️✏️✏️✏️
When they come home from dinner, as Steve reaches in his pocket for his keys to let the entire family in the house to celebrate their engagement, he finds a gum wrapper tucked in with the metal. He unfolds it, the words within unfurling in his heart, his soul.
"Thank you for giving me forever, sweetheart."
Edited: check out the full version on ao3!
This is officially the end! I hope you enjoyed this little (long) bonus part. Thanks for reading! 💜💜💜
@gaysonthefloor @little-gae-shit @ineffablecolors @mojowitchcraft @hiscrimsonangel @thegingerrapunzel @adelicioustragedy @mackdaddyofheimlichcountyy @im-sam-fucking-winchester @rainydays35 @gobbledy-gluk-gluk @gay-stranger-things @sherilitchi @gezell-igg @leather-and-freckles @bornonthesavage @ramyayaya @awkwardgravity1 @chaoticvictorianspirit @thosemessyvibes @beeing-stuupid @silentiumdelirium @freyaforestafay @thatbitchgayasf @sapphirecobalt-1 @sahh-dude @adorkfromnewyork @ollie-in-gray @extralegobrick @snapshotmaestro
@fandomgenderz @nuttychaosface @thatcottagewitch @idoquitelikebread @shinekocreator @savveth @mackfrfr0 @yourebuckingkiddingme @steddieassheg0es @gamerdano @thebig-smoke @questionablequeeries @zerokrox-blog @thegingervulcann @charlies-candid-corner@perpetual-trashcan @sleepy-rainedrop @marvelous-musicals @hoffmannwrites @fromapayphone @courtjestermunson@juicinmyjams @daydreaming-mood @aceflavouredyougurt @emly03 @pille1983 @darcyshandflex @anteaterballs @adankrivervalleynearyou @didntwant2come @kittsu-makes-glass @alienace
@somewhereatdawn @5pac3g1r7 @thequeervibes @paperbackribs @bitchysunflowerr @knitsforthetrail @wrenisflying @plasticcrotches @demoniccorvid @em9515 @savory-babby @loverliner @aceacebaby42
@trainchomp @anaibis
#steddie#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie notes#THE END#the last part#epilogue#note passing#first anniversary#steve writes to eddie in the hospital#adult steddie#proposal#they're dads#they have twins#max was their surrogate#fluff#domestic fluff#future steddie#steve makes eddie a scrapbook of their relationship#romance#happily ever after#the own the hideout#and steve is a middle school guidance counselor
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Pick a card: reclaiming what was taken from you ⛓
this is a general reading & for entertainment purposes only, take what resonates and leave what doesn't. Interpret & choose based on your inner guidance and gut feeling. 🖤
artwork credit: Alessandro Amoruso
PILE ONE 🕷
Your time was taken from you. Someone expected you to put them and their needs before yours at all times and you got nothing in return. It made you resentful. It made you feel isolated and alone. there was a lot of empty promises. “I’m so sorry” “all I want is you” “please don’t leave me” “I’ll call you back.” It’s like when they were OK you were never in the picture but once their life was going to shit they suddenly needed you desperately. It made you feel like a puppet like you were being manipulated but at the same time you try to give other people the benefit of the doubt. you’re so loyal but to a fault and the way you reclaim your time is by putting yourself into a practical and logical mindset. And only then through that strength and consistency you will see yourself starting to level up. You will see these dreams that you’ve had that you keep to yourself or that you suddenly daydream about before you go to sleep can come true but you have to leave all this deadweight behind. Being on the sidelines is never going to work in your favor. It never has in the past but especially now. You’ve moved past that. Time to consider long-term goals and stability. Maybe getting that praise from people that undervalued you was enough of a self-esteem boost at the time but not anymore. I wouldn’t be surprised that once you talk to focus on yourself you’re gonna start getting a lot of “I miss you” texts. This could be old friends or maybe someone you had a crush on and you never really were sure how they felt. Putting yourself first isn’t selfish. It’s liberating and chaotic and beautiful and nothing like you have ever experienced I promise. You’re strong enough to do it.
ᘛ♰ᘚ tip jar ᘛ♰ᘚ
PILE TWO 🕷
Your sense of identity was taken from you. Whether it be some thing to do with your personality or the way you express yourself to even your religious and spiritual beliefs. There was someone on the other side that told you that you were wrong that what you believed was wrong or maybe that you were just wrong or broken. Getting the sense that you’re into very alternative type of music or forms of dress, you may like tarot or crystals. You may be into astrology or the ocult. you were disappointed and hurt by the rejection. You were already a little bit afraid to share things about yourself in the first place so that really was the nail in the coffin. you’ve tried to seek alternative methods of finding yourself or maybe getting a response. You’ve been waiting for someone with more knowledge or someone that is wiser than you to give you the answers when in reality that’s not going to help you. this pile really is all about helping yourself. It’s calling you to take time to yourself and maybe to be a little bit reclusive for a while to figure out your shit. This is a rebirth. In a way it’s like you’re halfway there. It’s like your split in half. A part of you wants to completely change and do what you want and say what you want and find your own people but another part of you wants to stay around to convince others that what you care about is worth it. Don’t do it. don’t push back against this change and stop ignoring that little voice inside your head telling you FUCK IT!!!! that hair color or that change in behavior or anything else, I promise just do it. You don’t have to explain yourself or give anyone a warning before hand. “Why are you acting like this?” “Oh they’ve changed” “oh they’re acting brand new” “they’re so weird” you’re going to hear all of that but you’re gonna be too busy feeling amazing to even give a fuck. Stand up straight when you walk even if the confidence feels fake it’ll eventually feel normal.
ᘛ♰ᘚ tip jar ᘛ♰ᘚ
PILE THREE 🕷
Your sense of trust was taken from you. Someone betrayed you, maybe a lover or a friend but you never saw it coming. the song “somebody that I use to know” just popped up. The person that betrayed you could’ve been from childhood or someone that you’ve been close with since you were a teenager. if you were feeling nostalgic or you already trusted them, maybe that’s why you were letting your guard down. I know it hurts and this may not offer any comfort but this is telling me two things. The first thing is that the world is a much bigger place in this tiny box you’ve been living in. Believe it or not all that grief and disappointment and frustration can be transformed into something else. I’m not trying to be corny or say that it’s suddenly going to go away but you need to get out of your comfort zone. You’re not trusting your judgment and now I need to get more in tune with your body so that when you have a gut feeling about some thing you don’t end up in a weird ass situation anymore. And the best part about that is that once you trust your gut and you’re in tune with your body not everything is going to feel like a threat. SO THEN when there is an actual threat you’ll be able to save yourself and avoid any bs. Whoever that did you dirty is going to get their karma. i’m not saying they’re gonna break every bone in their body but once you’re gone they’re going to notice that they had some thing special. then it won’t be you stuck thinking about the worst or the “what ifs” anymore. after this you’re going to feel more powerful and beautiful and you might be a little bit colder but it’s just that not everyone is going to have a chance to experience you. They’re going to have to earn that.
ᘛ♰ᘚ tip jar ᘛ♰ᘚ
#pac#pick a deck#pick a photo#pick a picture#pick a pile#astro tarot#astrology#intuitive reading#pick a pile reading#pick an image reading#pick a deck reading#plutonianeris
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— 1D Monthly Fic Roundup —
Hi, and welcome to the 1D Monthly Fic Roundup for January 2024! Below you’ll find 1D fics that were all published this month. We hope you’ll check out these new fics! If you would like to submit your own fic, please check this post on how to submit or visit our blog @1dmonthlyficroundup. You can find all our other posts here.
Happy reading!
＊ Feels Like Snow In September by louisismycat / @liminalkitty369 [E, 75k, Louis/Harry]
A mysterious teenager shows up at Louis' door claiming to be his daughter...with an omega he hasn't seen in 16 years, whom believes their secret love child to be dead.
＊ And I spend my time trying not to feel it (but what would you do if I went to touch you now) by refusethyname / @refusethyname28 [E, 14k, Harry/Louis]
It was now Niall’s turn to spin the bottle and after a swift spin, it landed on Harry. That familiar glimmer Louis had seen in Niall’s eyes before this evening made its appearance once more and Louis knew he was fucked. He wasn’t sure what Niall was planning, but it sure as hell was going to involve him as well as Harry.
“Oh Harry,” Niall grinned, clearly amused, “your challenge tonight is that you have to call your right-hand player ‘daddy’ for the rest of the evening.”
Everyone’s eyes shifted from Harry to Louis and it was then that Louis realised that he was Harry’s right-hand player.
Or the NYE fic that involves a lot of pining, a drinking game and a daddy kink.
– Alternative title: head empty, just vibes (and smut)
＊ tuck a knife with my heart up my sleeve by @louisisworthit/padfootyoudog [G, 2k, Louis/Harry]
“Louis, what are your thoughts?” asks Prince Harry.
It would almost be shocking to be asked a direct question, if the prince did not somehow surprise him daily. Unfortunately, Louis’ mind is blank. He’s been trying not to pay attention, the subject too distasteful and the potential for damage too real for him to ponder for long.
“I have none, my lord,” says Louis. No one dares snicker, for even though Louis is not significant to them, he is significant to the prince, loathe as he is to admit it.
The prince huffs out a laugh. “If only,” he says. Louis suppresses a scowl.
Doncaster loses the war, and Louis is the prize.
＊ catching eyes across the room by @beardyboyzx [NR, 12k, Zayn/Liam]
Zayn is nineteen when he gets his gift.
People say that when you get your gift, you can hear the Magic’s voice whisper what it will be to you the morning of your birthday: Zayn has always wondered what Magic sounded like — but most importantly: what will It say to him?
＊ Wish You to Ashes by LetTheMusicMoveYou / @letthemusicmoveyou28 [E, 6k, Louis/Harry]
There in the middle of the candle triangle on Harry’s dining table, is the source of all Harry’s turmoil. His ex, Louis Tomlinson, in all his glory. Literally.
Louis is sat on his bum looking confused, not a stitch of clothing on him. It takes him a few beats to comprehend what’s going on as well, and when he does he attempts to cover his crotch with his hands.
”Harry?” He glances around the kitchen then. “What the fuck?”
Harry shrugs, a bit helplessly. “I don’t know. I was trying to banish you, not summon you.”
Louis narrows his eyes. “Banish me, really? Very mature Harry.”
(Or the one where witch Harry is heartbroken, and resorts to a risky spell to rid him of his ex. It doesn’t exactly go as planned).
＊ Out of Our Systems: Part 2 by Rearviewdreamer / @all-these-larrythings [E, 6k, Harry/Louis, Harry/Louis/Zayn]
Louis and Harry opening their relationship sounded like such a mistake. Having sex with Zayn turned out to be one of the greatest decisions that they’ve ever made; so great in fact that they’ve been counting down the days until they can all do it again. But first, a proper date night is in order. Part 2 of Out of Our Systems
＊ I'll make this feel like home by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 401 words, Louis/Harry]
Louis returns home to his boys for Christmas.
＊ To Find A Love That Feels This Right by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 1k, Harry/Louis]
When Harry had agreed to attend the Payne's Red Carpet Gala, he had no idea he'd bump into his celebrity crush, or that his celebrity crush was even more attractive in person.
A Christmas Fic filled with laughter, love and light.
＊ A Man's Best Friend by @enchantedlandcoffee [G, 693 words, Louis/Harry]
Clifford pulls the leash out of Louis’ hand and winds up getting caught by a curly haired stranger
＊ and right from the start by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed [T, 13k, Zayn/Liam]
It all started when Zayn ran into Aiden again.
Aiden. Liam hadn’t thought about him in years, if he’s honest. They’d been in highschool together, but that was ages ago, and they’d lost touch, as people do when you go to uni. Last thing Liam heard was that he’d gone off to London to study at ICMP. Liam and Zayn had stayed up North, going to Manchester together.
They’d done everything together, from the moment their mums had introduced them to one another. Liam had been the new neighbour, moving up from Wolverhampton, and Zayn had been all of three years old when he’d declared Liam his best friend. Liam had looked into those hazel eyes, framed by impossibly long eyelashes even then, and felt like he’d come home.
Even now, in their twenties, they still do everything together. They’d finished their degrees at the same time – Zayn the responsible one, making Liam study even when he didn’t feel like it – and had moved down to London together, finding a flat and jobs and building up a social circle that consisted of both Zayn and Liam’s friends.
It’s nice. It’s comfortable. And somehow Liam hadn’t expected it to end.
＊ Shut Your Mouth, Baby by larry_hiatus / @larry-hiatus [E, 3k, Harry/Louis]
While fooling around in a closet at a New Year’s Eve party, Louis can’t seem to keep quiet. All he needs to do is hold off until midnight, when Harry will finally uncover his mouth and let him come at full volume.
＊ Influenced. by zita17 / @louisandtheaquarian , zmmf / @zaynmaliksmiddlefinger [M, 18k+, wip, Louis/Harry]
When Louis Tomlinson goes to bed on New Year's Eve, he is *not* prepared to wake up to a job offer that's layered in more NDAs than he's ever seen courtesy of ZAYN, A-list pop star and Louis’ best friend Liam's celebrity crush. But what is Louis even less prepared for? Zayn's Very! Enthusiastic! Influencer! boyfriend Harry Styles.
When Harry Styles signs on to become Zayn’s fake boyfriend, he's expecting 12 months of good press and a generous paycheck to help launch his hair and skincare line—he wasn't expecting to fall in love at first sight with the man who'll apparently be following Zayn around All. The. Damn. Time. The Entire Year.
A fake dating with a twist, famous/not-famous, enemies to friends to secret lovers au where Larry and Ziam fall in love behind the scenes while Zarry bicker in public.
＊ miles away from seeing you by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove [T, 1k, Louis/Harry]
Harry is in his final year studying marine biology, and is doing an international exchange at the University of Auckland. His boyfriend Louis stays behind in England, but they keep in touch regularly through texts, snapchats, video calls, and more.
This fic is entirely told through images of social media posts and conversations. Image descriptions are available in the second chapter.
- Fic Fests -
＊ 1D Oneliner Fic Fest // @1d-oneliner-fest // Masterpost
You get one line. The rest is up to you.
#28th appreciation#larry fanfiction#hlcreators#hljournal#trackinghappily#trackinghome#1dsource#hlsource#1dficvillage
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I never know what to put for these made-up fanfic titles, but! how's "boy that's never been" sound? (or girl, which is the original line, or child, which has its own flavor)
oh boy that’s never been is perfect. Congratulations/commiserations, you’ve let me unleash probably the most tragic thing I’ve ever thought of.
warning: the first section of this will have a major character death. it’ll then be followed up by an alternative take where the character is initially believed to be dead but survives, so feel free to read both or one or neither. ❤️
-
It starts with laughter, with Dustin and Eddie jumping up and down, clinging to each other, riding the high of the most metal concert in the history of the world.
Eddie drapes the guitar pick around Dustin’s neck, like giving a medal to an Olympian. “Souvenir,” he says, grinning, and Dustin’s about to speak, to probably just reiterate just how fucking cool Eddie’s playing was, but then they hear the bats come through the vents, and the words fly out of his head.
They barricade the door, and Eddie is screaming at him to, “—go! Let’s go!”, and Dustin starts to hurry up the rope. He can hear the distant crackle of his walkie, Lucas’s voice shaking with relief, “It worked, it worked, he’s out of her head.”
Dustin looks back instinctively, because by all rights, Eddie should be right behind him.
But he isn’t. He’s just standing there, watching Dustin climb, and he’s got this look on his face, and Dustin suddenly thinks oh, don’t you fucking dare.
“What the hell are you doing?” Eddie says, just as Dustin’s about to ask the very same thing. “Go!”
“Not without you.”
Eddie shakes his head. And then his eyes widen; he looks up, somewhere beyond, and Dustin doesn’t know what it is that he’s seen, but his face goes white.
“Dustin, hurry!”
The world trembles; Dustin loses his grip on the rope, hears Eddie say, “Shit!” right before he falls, ankle giving way beneath him, and he lands flat on his back, aching and winded—
He opens his eyes. The Gate on the ceiling has knit itself shut.
“Oh, Christ, oh, Christ,” Eddie’s whispering, over and over, and he’s pulling Dustin up, “are you—”
Dustin whacks him on the shoulder. “What the fuck was that? You’re not getting left behind, asshole.”
And while he’s still so angry, Eddie must hear how his voice shakes with fear, teetering into anticipatory grief.
“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
The swarm of bats are still scratching at the door; the wood’s splintering.
“We’ve gotta get out of…” Eddie trails off, eyes darting in thought. He glances down at Dustin’s foot. “Fuck, you can’t run.”
A chorus of demonic screeching, far too close.
“Okay, c’mon, I’ve got you,” Eddie says, and he’s bearing Dustin’s weight, half-carrying him outside. Dustin hears him curse as he slams his shield against the few bats that still remain, scaling the wired fence. He makes short work of them.
He leaves Dustin on the porch, runs for the bike.
As Dustin waits, he feels a new sharp pain in his ankle—looking down, he sees one of the bats that Eddie thought he’d killed, still weakly crawling on the ground, teeth sunk deep into his skin.
He kicks, stomps on it until it lets go. There’s a trail of blood seeping down from the skin around the fibula, and he’s a little light-headed, but he thinks that’s mostly because he’s looking at it, so he simply doesn’t anymore.
Eddie comes into view, pushing the bike with a frenzied energy. He’s muttering under his breath, “Where do we go, where do we go?”
Maybe it’s down to Eddie being so panicked—suddenly Dustin has no trouble at all focusing on a solution.
“I think it worked,” he says calmly. “They’ve killed him. That’s why…”
Eddie nods, face still so pale. “Are you saying we’re stuck down—god, there’s gotta be something we can—”
“Yeah, it’s sealing up,” Dustin says hurriedly, “but I—maybe not all at once. Maybe it’s in the order of the—”
“So. Chrissy,” Eddie says shakily, “then Fred, th-then Patrick.”
“We’ve gotta go to Lover’s Lake.”
Eddie breathes out, “God, you fucking genius.”
He sits forward on the seat of the bike, so Dustin’s got enough room to sit behind him. Dustin grips onto his jacket, presses the side of his face against his back.
“Hold on tight, Henderson,” Eddie yells, and then he’s off, pedalling for their lives.
Dustin can only pray that Nancy, Steve and Robin have come to the same conclusion—his heart leaps when he sees them running across the rocky bed, to the still open Gate.
They all dive through it as quickly as they can. The only pause comes when Dustin insists Eddie go in front of him, and Eddie looks ready to fight him on it; “No time,” Steve interjects, and he gives Eddie that same kind of nod he’d given before he left the trailer park. “I’ve got him.”
“Deep breath,” Steve instructs, voice deliberately even. “Good, that’s it.” He grabs onto Dustin’s hand. “I won’t let go.”
It’s a vow; Dustin knows it.
The two of them make up the rear. Swimming through the depths of the lake is hardly scary at all, not when Dustin can see Robin and Nancy break through the surface, Eddie right behind them.
Steve’s trying to make him go in front; he can tell from the way Steve’s urging him along—but his strong kicks mean he’s always slightly ahead, no matter how hard he tries.
Dustin’s still bleeding. He can feel it. He’s kind of glad that it’s dark, honestly; he doesn’t know what Steve would do if he could see it.
They emerge up above, gasping, and they’re almost at the boat, almost home, when Dustin feels the vine wrap around his ankle.
The first tug doesn’t pull him under. But Steve’s still holding his hand, so when it happens, he feels it, too.
His head turns in alarm, and his expression is scarily similar to Eddie’s as he watched Dustin climb up the rope; and Dustin knows that Steve will never let go, not even if it kills him.
So he does.
He wrenches out of Steve’s grip. He doesn’t have time to say I’m sorry, I love you, before he’s being dragged down, and just as he’s submerged, he hears Eddie scream his name.
He tries. But he keeps sinking no matter how hard he kicks, and then, even though it’s completely illogical, even though he knows it will kill him, he simply has to breathe in.
He swallows water. It burns.
And then the burning goes away, and it doesn’t hurt at all; he just feels so, so sleepy.
The faintest impression of arms around him. And even though it doesn’t make sense, it shouldn’t be possible, he still feels a final comforting warmth at the touch.
It’s Steve, Dustin thinks for the last time. He’s got me.
-
Steve emerges with Dustin in his arms. He barely registers the screams from the boat, just yells, “Someone grab him,” and lifts him onboard.
Robin gets Dustin by the legs, and Nancy gently lowers his head. As Steve climbs aboard too, he knows he cannot even look in Eddie’s direction for fear of the expression he’ll see on his face.
“Nance, count for me,” he says.
He starts chest compressions. She counts.
Two breaths.
Compressions.
Two breaths.
“C’mon, bud,” he says, “you’ve gotta breathe, you’ve gotta cough it all up, you hear me, Dustin? Come on.”
He keeps going. He keeps going even when Nancy finally stops counting.
“Come on,” he says. His voice breaks. “Come on, kid, come on.”
“Steve,” Robin whispers.
“Don’t,” he says, because there’s something in the shattered way she says it that snaps him out of it—that makes him see Dustin, so small and so still, and his hair is so wet, and he’d usually be so pissy about that, but he’s not, he’s not saying anything.
It’s Eddie who stops him. A shaking hand on his forearm.
“Steve,” Eddie says. He’s crying. “You can—you can stop now. He’s gone. He’s gone.”
“No,” Steve says flatly.
“He’s dead,” Eddie says. His fingers dig into Steve’s skin; he chokes on his words. On a sob. “God. He’s dead, sweetheart.”
A grief-stricken keen. Later, Steve realises that it comes from him: his mouth, his throat, his heart. He pulls Dustin close, in a desperate hug that can’t be returned, as if he could somehow shield him from a fate that’s already been given.
…
Or, in a world that’s perhaps a little bit kinder:
Steve is just a fraction quicker, keeps his grip on Dustin’s hand so they’re both yanked down, down…
Steve tries his hardest; he strains and pulls as they reach the Gate, and his last sight of Dustin is his wide, fearful eyes before he slips out of his grasp. He surges forward instantly, reaches for him, but then, like a sudden tidal wave, is pushed back, back—
The Gate’s closed. Gone.
Steve frantically searches the bed of the lake, cuts his hands on perfectly ordinary rocks until his lungs burn, and he has no choice but to kick for the surface.
Eddie’s in the water too; Steve almost hits his head on his dangling feet as he comes up for air.
“Jesus Christ,” Eddie shouts. He treads water erratically, and for barely a second, he goes absolutely still. “Oh my god. Oh my god, where is he?”
“The Gate—” Steve says, and then can’t go on.
Eddie’s lips tremble, move soundlessly. “This can’t be—this isn’t happening,” he whispers. He dives under not a second later.
For a wild moment, Steve almost follows him, even though he still can’t catch his breath. Nancy pulls him onto the boat before he can try.
Eddie resurfaces, barely draws breath before speaking. “So, what’s the plan? How are we gonna—”
“Eddie,” Robin says, reaching for him. “Get out of the water.”
He acts like he can’t hear her.
“Am I not fucking speaking English or s-something? Tell me what we’re—”
“It’s over, Eddie,” Nancy says quietly. ��Vecna’s dead. The Gates are closed. We… we won.”
Eddie’s shaking his head. “No, no, this isn’t—just tell me what to do! I’ll do anything, I’ll—”
“What am I gonna tell his mom?” Steve says helplessly.
He doesn’t mean to say it. But Eddie definitely hears it, because his mouth twists in grief; Robin’s finally able to pull him up onto the boat. He rests his forehead against her arm and shudders.
Nancy waits for a long while before she starts to row them back, like she’s waiting on a miracle. But the water remains eerily still.
When the boat starts to move towards the shore, the awful reality of it all finally seems to sink in for Eddie. He moves out of Robin’s arms and his hand finds Steve’s knee, squeezes tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes. “S-Steve, I’m so fucking sorry, I should’ve—”
“Stop it,” Steve says. “You—you got him through—I was supposed to—”
I trusted you, and I was right; you brought him back to me.
“I let go,” Steve says through a wave of self-hatred. “I—I had him, and I let go.”
“Steve,” Eddie says, but Steve doesn’t deserve to hear the disagreement in his voice; there is nothing Eddie could say to ease this all-consuming guilt.
“I should’ve—he was my—”
Steve’s voice fails him, which is just as well. He doesn’t know how to finish that thought without it destroying him.
“I’m coming with you,” Nancy says, when they’re on dry land.
“What?” Steve says, exhausted.
“His—his mom. You’re not doing it alone.”
-
They might’ve won, but that doesn’t mean the town remained unscathed as each Gate shut. Violent tremors were felt all over; there’s a shortage of beds in the hospital, and there’s yet more people missing.
It helps Claudia accept it, at least. She’s not the only parent waiting in vain for a body to be recovered.
Nancy keeps her word, leading the explanation, but Steve forces himself to speak at the end, underlines that her son cannot come home—because he had seen how hope had destroyed the Hollands.
She nods silently.
You should hate me, Steve thinks. Hate me.
But the only emotion in her eyes is love—love and pain.
“I’m sorry,” Steve says. “I wasn’t quick enough.”
“No,” Eddie says suddenly.
He’s kept quiet up until now, hovering in a corner. Steve had tried to tell him that he didn’t have to come, that it could be dangerous for him to be seen. But even before Nancy started talking, Claudia had never once threatened to call the police.
“It was my fault,” Eddie continues. “I—”
“That’s not true,” Steve says. “Claudia, don’t listen to him, he’s—”
But Claudia is just staring at Eddie.
“You didn’t kill that poor girl,” she says.
“No,” he says, voice hoarse. “No, ma’am.”
“Dustin.” Claudia takes a deep breath. “He was protecting you.”
Eddie’s face crumples. “Yes.”
Claudia smiles sadly. Steve doesn’t know how she’s doing it, how she’s still standing—the strength it must take, for her not to scream.
“You must’ve been worth it,” she tells Eddie.
He has to leave the room, a hand covering his face.
-
There isn’t a funeral.
Claudia insists on putting up missing posters, even though it’s clear from the dullness in her eyes that she understood perfectly well what Nancy meant when she said, we lost him.
“I know it’s—” Claudia breaks off as Steve helps her make more copies. “I just—I just thought. Joyce, she…”
Steve puts up the posters around town. He can’t stand the thought of bystanders pitying the hope of a grieving mother. Not again.
-
Claudia calls, tells him to come over to the house. She says she’s got some of Dustin’s things in a box, not a lot, but just in case—just in case…
“He’d want you to have them,” she says.
Steve has to stand with the phone in his hand long after she’s hung up, breathing heavily. Then he does the round of calls. Nancy, Robin, Eddie.
He needs someone there, he knows it, otherwise he’ll never go back in the house.
He can’t face the kids. Can’t face the fact that he’s failed them.
“I—I can’t, man,” Eddie tells him over the phone, voice brittle. “I can’t go back there. I’m sorry.”
Steve doesn’t blame him.
-
Nancy gets the hint and accompanies Steve as they head into Dustin’s bedroom. Steve tries not to look at the bed, the pillows still rumpled from when Dustin last—
He picks up the small cardboard box left on the floor. He scans the top of it. It’s small things. A book on Morse Code. An almost empty can of Farrah Fawcett spray.
Nancy’s hand’s on his back, not doing anything, just resting there. She reaches into the box and picks up the can.
“You did his hair, right? For the Snow Ball?”
Steve nods. “Yeah.”
She’s smiling. “He looked so—so sweet.” She blinks rapidly, still smiling. Eyes growing wet. “I don’t know if—if he mentioned it, but. I danced with—”
“Are you kidding me?” Steve laughs, and it gets close to dangerous, to the grief spilling out, before he pulls it back at the last second. “Mentioned it? When I picked him up, it’s all he talked about. Nance, you made him feel like the coolest kid in school.”
-
Robin sits in the passenger seat, puts the box in between her knees so the things aren’t rattling about while Steve drives.
And she laughs too, except it fades off into a sob. “I forgot.”
He puts a hand out, and she takes it. “What?”
“He’d taken my library card,” she says. “So he could, um, check—” She clears her throat. “Check out more books.”
Steve’s knuckles turn white as he holds onto her. She never complains.
-
Eddie… drifts.
In some sense, Spring Break feels like a bad dream. The trailer’s back to normal, no gaping hole to another dimension in the ceiling, and the police tape gets removed so quickly that it’s almost laughable. He doesn’t care that the suspicion around him has dropped in the wake of a ‘natural disaster.’
He doesn’t really care about anything.
He keeps in touch just enough to know that Claudia is staying with her sister for a little while, left Steve the keys for watering the houseplants, probably.
And then Steve calls him from the Henderson’s house phone.
“I’m—I’m sorry, no—no-one else was picking up,” he says. “It’s—it’s his cat, I can’t—”
“Missing?” Eddie assumes, because Steve sounds one breath away from a panic attack. “Hurt?”
“No, no, just—please, can you come? Please.”
So Eddie does.
He hates every moment of the drive, but he does it.
He finds Steve in the bedroom, and fuck, it still looks so lived-in, like Dustin’s just stepped out for a moment, the room filled with nerdy teen clutter. Eddie’s sure that if he looked closely, he’d find notes from old campaigns littering the desk, but there’s no way he can remotely handle that, so he doesn’t.
There’s currently a more pressing sight, anyway.
Because Steve’s standing by Dustin’s bed, and he’s not looking at Eddie, because there’s a little Siamese cat blinking up at him.
“He’s gone,” Steve is saying.
The cat mews plaintively.
“He’s gone, okay?” Steve’s words get harsher. “What do you want me to—? He’s gone.”
Eddie steps forward, scoops up the cat—doesn’t flinch when its claws dig into him. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”
He goes to shut the door behind him, but not quick enough.
Steve’s not once cried throughout all of this—not anywhere that Eddie could see, at least.
He’s crying now. Silent, trembling—sinking down to the bed, a fist clenched around the sheets.
Eddie closes the door.
He gently lets the cat go when he’s in the kitchen, finds a can of wet food soon enough, in a cupboard underneath the sink.
That’s where he finds the notepad, too.
And too late, he realises it’s Dustin’s handwriting, that this was a log he’d made of each time he’d fed his cat, making sure to not repeat the same food twice in a row. ‘TUNA’ he’d scrawled in an obvious rush, like he was heading off somewhere, and then Eddie sees the date.
March 22nd.
He doesn’t know that he’s crying until Steve comes up behind him, puts a hand on his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Eddie gasps, “sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…”
Because this isn’t about him. Shouldn’t be about him.
Steve pulls him close.
I’m sorry, Eddie thinks. He was yours. I’m sorry.
“It’s okay,” Steve whispers. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”
It sounds like, You loved him, too. It’s okay.
-
Steve spends the night at the trailer.
It’s late when Eddie wakes up to an empty side of the bed. He gets up, walks slowly, slowly until he can just barely squint into the living room.
Steve doesn’t notice him. He’s standing on a chair, arm outstretched. Fingertips brushing the ceiling.
“Are you there?” he murmurs.
Eddie’s heart sinks like a stone.
Steve waits in the silence. His hand shakes.
“I’m here,” he says. “I’m here.”
-
They both know what it means—the nights together, sleeping so closely, skin to skin.
One of them will find the other lying awake, and a chaste kiss will be pressed against a shoulder, shh, shh. They don’t talk about it, don’t initiate anything more.
Their world is too heavy for it.
Steve wants to tell Dustin anyway. Wants him to give them both so much shit for it, let his goddamn horrendous ego run wild.
Tell me again, Eddie whispers at two in the morning.
Steve breathes in, out. Starts the story with a ridiculous kid tugging red roses out of his hand.
-
“Come over,” Steve says. It’s nine o’clock at night. His voice is jagged. “My place.”
Eddie finds him just standing in the hall.
“Nancy called,” he says, too matter-of-fact. “‘Bout an hour ago, Holly’s Lite-Brite lit up, almost burned her. The power went off.”
Eddie tries to temper his voice, but when he says, “Steve,” he almost cringes at the pity in it.
“Don’t,” Steve says. “I know. I know. But.” He jerks his head upstairs. “I need you. I need you to—to tell me what I’m looking at.”
The bedside lamp is on in Steve’s room. There’s a book on translating Morse Code left open on the floor.
The light is blinking.
Steve searches Eddie’s face desperately. “That’s the—that’s what you did, right? SOS?”
Eddie picks up the book. Sits on the bed, knees weak.
“Yes,” he says.
Steve closes his eyes, exhales in a shudder. “Oh my god, you can see it. Okay, okay.”
He opens his eyes, and it looks like he’s fighting with himself, caught between wanting to say more and destroying the fragile hope he has.
So Eddie says it for him.
“Dustin?”
YES.
After Eddie translates, Steve stares at the lamp. His hand reaches out. Fingers curl around thin air.
“How do we know?” he asks. “How do we know it’s—”
DUMBASS.
Steve starts to laugh. A tear falls down his cheek.
“I can hear him,” he says. “Jesus Christ, I can hear him.”
And then Eddie can, too—so, so faintly. The tiniest giggle.
He sounds exhausted.
WATERGATE. TEAR. NOT STRONG ENOUGH.
“The—the tear?” Eddie says.
ME.
“We’re coming,” Steve says. His fingertips graze the lightbulb. “We’re coming, Dustin.”
HURRY.
-
They don’t tell anyone. Steve puts his phone off the hook before they leave, because Nancy is bound to call repeatedly.
They get into the boat and push off into Lover’s Lake without a word. It’s an unspoken agreement: they’ll get him back or die trying.
They dive together. Search the river bed, stones slipping through their fingers until…
A smooth ridge of plastic. Eddie’s guitar pick.
They pull.
The gap is small, but they make it—and when they emerge into The Upside Down, there’s no particles floating around, but the air is thin.
The landscape is disappearing. Dying.
Just next to the Gate lies Dustin. His hand is outstretched, like he’d fallen while reaching towards home.
“He’s not breathing,” Eddie says, hushed and terrified.
“Tilt his head back,” Steve says, already on his knees. They don’t have time to panic. “Lift his chin.”
“Okay, okay.”
“You’re gonna do the breaths, okay? One second, then—”
“I know, I know what to—”
“You got him?”
“Y-yeah.”
Steve starts compressions. Shouts, “Now!” to Eddie when it’s time.
One second. Pause. One second.
Repeat.
“Come on, Dustin, you’ve gotta breathe,” Eddie pleads through Steve’s counting. “We’re here, we’re here, you’ve gotta—”
Steve slams on his chest. Once.
“—breathe, we love you so fucking much, just—”
Twice.
“—breathe!”
Dustin launches upwards, into Steve’s arms, coughing, coughing.
Breathing.
“That’s it,” Eddie sobs, “oh my God, that’s it.”
-
They leave when Dustin communicates through shaky hand gestures that he can hold his breath. It’s far from ideal—Steve doesn’t like it at all, but there’s no way they can linger; the hole they’d made to break through the Gate is already threatening to close.
Besides, with both him and Eddie pulling Dustin up, it’s the quickest swim of their lives.
The Gate shuts behind them, as if it had never been.
-
Up to the surface. Clinging to Dustin, hearing him gasp, splutter.
“You with me? Hey, hey, you with me?”
Dustin nods; Steve pulls him on board, Eddie right behind in case he falls.
Silence. Breathing. Dustin up against his chest, shaking.
Eddie mutters, “Here, here,” passing over the towels that they’d brought with what had felt like foolish optimism.
“You—you d-didn’t bring a ch-change of clothes?” Dustin says, with biting, wonderful sarcasm. His teeth chatter, and Eddie wraps him in another towel. “D-do I do all the th-thinking around here?”
Steve’s answering laugh turns into weeping—he runs a towel over Dustin’s hair, sobs through a smile when Dustin whines out a petulant complaint.
“I’ve got you,” Steve says. He kisses his forehead. “I’ve got you.”
“I know,” Dustin says. He shuffles closer, cuddles further into Steve’s chest even though they’re all soaking wet. “Knew… knew you’d come.” His hand reaches to the side, fumbling for Eddie. “Sorry. Think I broke your… your pick.”
Eddie just shakes his head, tearful, a hand covering his mouth.
“Yeah,” Steve says, “I really don’t think he cares, bud.”
“My mom’s gonna freak,” Dustin mumbles. His head is nodding tiredly as he says it.
“Yeah,” Steve echoes. He swallows. “She—she will.”
Eddie picks up the oar. Dustin sighs, lax with sleep. Steve can feel him breathing.
And he’ll have changed in some ways—they all have, it’s inevitable. It would be naive to think otherwise.
But the glimmer of him is still there, in his voice.
He’s back.
Steve holds Dustin tight—keeps him as warm as he can as Eddie rows, taking them home, home, home.
#so i might’ve got carried away and wrote a full on fic. oh loved doing the parallels in this#eddie and dustin#steve and dustin#henderfam#dustin henderson fic#steddie#steddie fic#dustin and nancy#dustin and robin#steve and nancy#steve and claudia#eddie and claudia#dustin henderson#steve x eddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#made up fic titles#steve and robin
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here have an angst drabble inspired by an evil post by @sheepstiel that posited ‘you know what would be evil. dean rescues cas from the empty but cas is set back to factory settings.’ #remembers nothing... etc’
@sendhelpnewobsessionincoming asked to be tagged when i eventually got around to writing it
this will probably have a sequel at some point bc... pain and suffering lol
anyway
Umbra
“You need to calm down, Dean.”
“Don’t fucking start with me right now,” Dean mutters flatly, pacing crop circles into the floor; he’d usually muster more vitriol, but he’s exhausted and still half-terrified.
Jack insisted on everyone staying out of the dungeon as he rescued and healed Cas, and so, of course, Dean is directly outside the dungeon door, anxiously waiting to be let in.
For a long time there was just stressful silence, but then, after roughly three hours, he, Sam, and Eileen had heard the bizarre, pulsating sound inter-dimensional rifts make when they materialize, they’d felt the barometric pressure throughout the bunker shift, and Dean very nearly barged in, breaking his contract with Jack.
Sam’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing that reminded him of the terms of this agreement.
A peculiar torture, knowing Cas is right behind that door, and Dean still doesn’t understand why he’s not allowed in yet.
He wanted to be there to receive Cas from the Empty, he wanted to be the first to touch Cas, to speak to him, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he can’t question Jack — not with the stakes so high, and not after it took so long to get Jack to bend.
Dean paces in angry circles for another hour, and then Jack summons Eileen — and only Eileen.
Sam and Dean are flummoxed, but can do nothing about it; the door opens, Dean sees absolutely nothing, Eileen walks through, the door is shut again and Dean goes back to pacing.
When Eileen reemerges, she looks nervously between Sam and Dean, and tells them, while half-signing, “you need to be prepared. This… isn’t going to be easy.”
“What does that mean?” Dean asks.
“The Empty took from him,” Eileen replies, face regretful, “it’s… hard to explain.”
“Am I allowed in there?”
“... be careful, Dean,” she says — and Dean wants to tell her that he’s insulted she thinks he’d be anything other than that with Cas, but it quickly occurs to him that she means with himself.
Knowing he’s allowed in now, he doesn’t bother hemming and hawing in the hall any longer — he lets himself in, Sam right on his heels, and they both stop before they’ve made it ten feet inside.
Cas’ body — vessel — is young again.
He looks malnourished, windswept, weak, but not grotesquely harmed, as Eileen’s ‘prepare yourself,’ tone in the hall might have implied.
Swallowing the guilt that comes with seeing the evidence of Cas’ long imprisonment and torture, Dean ventures forward again, opening his mouth to greet him, but Jack intercepts him, looking at Cas and saying, “Castiel, do you know who that is?”
“This is the Righteous Man and Michael Sword,” Cas answers in monotone, “I recognize him as all Angels can. The color and sound frequencies of his soul indicate that he has divine purpose, and the engravings on the spires of his soul specify what purpose that is.”
Dean’s brought up short again.
No one says anything; Jack looks at Dean, repentant, and trying to communicate nonverbally that this is not a joke.
Dean’s not sure he believes that yet; it’s an awful joke, a bleak, horrendously un-funny joke, but no alternatives are coming to mind.
“Do you understand where I’ve brought you from?”
“You’ve told me I’ve come from the Empty, but I have no memory of this.”
“Oh… oh, no,” Sam utters just audibly.
Dean’s stomach churns, sharp and hard.
“Regret is a corrosive,” Jack explains to Cas, but also to the room at large, “the Empty uses regret, shame, and guilt, and sort of… injects all of one’s memories with it, amplifies it in the ones that already contain it, which reduces the memories to only regrets. Regret strips the memories of all other qualities, until all that’s left is the interject; the regret. Memory becomes feeling only, a reductive feeling, which makes everything smaller and smaller until…”
Jack glances up at Dean and finishes, “... well, until there is nothing left.”
There’s loud static in Dean’s head.
Jack adds, “this is how the Empty feeds. This is what it takes. It is the full power of regret.”
“I’m missing memories?” Cas asks Jack.
“Many years of them, yes,” Jack replies.
“Heal him,” Dean rasps, barely a whisper, white hot terror sparking at the soles of his feet, flickering up into all of his body as it tenses from the hairs on the back of his neck to the nerve endings under his nails.
“I cannot heal what isn’t there,” Jack responds sorrowfully, “there is nothing broken. There is — there’s nothing.”
“Why does he — look like that?” Sam asks, throat sounding thick.
“Castiel used to age his vessel’s appearance purposefully, to feel closer to the two of you,” Jack tells them, “I think, at first, it was so that a unchanging human person who does not visibly age wouldn’t alarm the two of you by how unnatural it seems — the same reason he gave his vessel vital signs and engaged in sensory processing in the third dimension. He didn’t want to upset either of you by being too… alien. Then he came to appreciate looking as though he belonged among you.”
Cas raises his hand to his jugular, and must be setting a pulse into motion, then he studies Sam and Dean for a few moments and his vessel ages rapidly before their eyes, until he looks about their age, until he’s just as he looked nearly a year ago — the way he looked in this very dungeon when the culmination of he and Dean’s shared memories were so fortified with happiness, fealty, and unwavering, unconditional love that it was enough to save the world.
He glances between Sam and Dean blankly, and asks, “is this more acceptable?”
“He —” said he loved me - but he said he loved me. He loved me. It was the most important thing he ever said, the way he said it, what he told me... he said he loved me, he can’t have lost that, I can’t have lost that — Dean can’t say it.
No one else knows.
He and Cas were the keepers of that beautiful, terrible moment in time, but Dean’s just flashing morse code into emptiness now.
Emptiness.
“... Dean?” Sam starts worriedly from somewhere over Dean’s shoulder.
Emptiness in his eyes, empty hands, an empty mouth with no words left for Dean; an umbra.
Shaky legs move backward, Dean’s unsteady where he stands, and while it’s hard to look away from Cas, it’s also too painful to keep staring. All he can do is retreat.
“Dean?” Sam asks again.
Dean can’t get out of the dungeon fast enough; he shoves past Eileen and Sam, even as they shout after him; he can hear Jack’s voice in his head, apologizing so gently, full of a child’s fear that they’ve done wrong by their parent.
He can’t breathe in the bunker, he thinks he might vomit, so he rushes outside for air, and the summer storm raging there mutes his voice as he pants, out of breath from running, and then roars into the night; no particular words, just grief made audible, just another monster languishing, just the sound of suffering.
He’s bombarded — what if I’d convinced Jack sooner? What if I’d been able to figure it out myself? What if I’d grabbed Cas when the Empty first came for him and just gone with him? What if I had gotten to him sooner? Would he have any memories left? Would he have lost even more of himself had he stayed any longer? Is this why he’s so skinny? Did the Empty run out of incorporeal food and so cannibalize him? What more could I have done? I should have gotten to him sooner, I should have saved him faster, then there’d be something left, there’d be anything left —
How many times? Dean wonders as his voice crackles like dying embers, splintering and winding down in a clap of thunder, tears bubbling to his eyes, and in how many ways can he be taken from me? How many more times will I have him ripped from me? How many more times can I survive it?
When Dean lands in a sprawl in the mud, head in his hands, fingers clawing at his scalp, he feels Sam approach, he lets Sam wrap him in a hug, and he thinks to himself — I can’t. I can’t survive it. Not even once more. Not even now, I think.
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DESTIEL TROPE COLLECTION 2023 | DAY 28 | Canon Compliant
from the ashes | @demonmary
Rating: General
Word Count: 1,095
Main Tags/Warnings: Hell Rescue , Grace-Soul Bonding , Pre-Episode: s04e01 Lazarus Rising , POV Castiel, Religious Imagery & Symbolism
Summary: It was his belief prior to that moment that Creation was an act of God, His and His alone; yet here Castiel was. Not God - but one of his angels - breathing careful life into the lungs of a man.
Love Me As An Inanimate Object | @aaronthe8thdemon
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1,195
Main Tags/Warnings: Episode: s07e01 Meet the New Boss, Missing Scene, Canon Compliant, Castiel as God (Supernatural), Angst
Summary: Dean attempts to summon Cas in order to nicely ask if he'll please stop killing people. It... could've gone worse than it does.
Hydrogen Stars And The Design Of The Universe | @aaronthe8thdemon
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 1,788
Main Tags/Warnings: Post-Episode: s04e16 On the Head of a Pin (Supernatural), Pre-Slash, Accidental Bonding, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Castiel Watches Over Dean Winchester, Canon Compliant, Missing Scene
Summary: “So what’s. Uh. The design of the universe or whatever?” is what Dean comes up with as he’s rubbing his face dry on the pillowcase. It seems like something an angel would know a lot about.
“Incomprehensible to humans as a whole.”
Fuck’s sake.
Coming Down | @notastupidbird
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 1,977
Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Season/Series 05, Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Power Bottom Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Light Angst, Sex in/on the Impala (Supernatural), Rain Sex, Anal Sex, Riding, POV Dean Winchester
Summary: It’s only the second time they���ve done this and the first without the threat of “last night on Earth” hanging over them, so Dean still concentrates on studying Cas’ face for those sweet little micro-expressions that Dean’s hips are working out of him. He goes slow, grinding back and forth in a slick, rolling motion like they have all the time in the world.
They don’t.
- + -
While Sam sleeps, Dean and Cas sneak off to the backseat of the Impala.
Yes, Dean | @whichstiel
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 2,788
Main Tags/Warnings: Stuck in the Middle (With You) Episode Coda, Tattoo kink
Summary: Dean stares over at Cas. The angel is perched on one of the double beds examining his blood and black-goo stained clothes. As he watches, Cas presses a careful hand against his side over the healed spear wound. He looks like he's trying to read the dictionary upside down and in the mirror. Dean clears his throat and leans back from where he's standing over Sam's research. “You okay there, man?” he asks. “Yes, Dean.” Cas's reply is terse.
Wait For Me... | @deanabean
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3,389
Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, Post-Episode AU: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, in this house we don't believe in s15ep20, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode Fix-It: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It sorta - Freeform, Inspired by Orpheus and Eurydice (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Inspired by Hadestown, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Hopeful Ending
Summary: "It's an old song! It's an old tale from way back when And we're gonna sing We're gonna sing We're gonna sing it again!" _____ They were here before, he felt it , lived it, had to come form the other side of it... and he's gonna do it again and again and again... This time, they gonna make it through. because this time, they're truly free. this time, he's gonna get Cas back... He heard that melody before, what follows it though this time around?!
que sera sera | @hauntedpearl
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 3,855
Main Tags/Warnings: Canonverse, Mutual Pining, Angst, Hopeful ending, Cuddling/Snuggling, Season 13/14, Cas POV
Summary: Castiel and Dean steal away to snuggle every once in a while and talk about things. Set somewhere after Tombstone and before Byzantium.
no proof, one touch | @watchinghimrakeleaves
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 5,389
Main Tags/Warnings: canon compliant, dean winchester in heaven, castiel in heaven, love confessions
Summary: When Castiel learns that Dean has entered heaven, he's determined to avoid him to save them both the pain of dealing with his confession. Dean is equally as determined to find him, leading him to put up signs for Cas anywhere he thinks the angel might be.
so much smoke in a hall of mirrors | @autisticandroids
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6,235
Main Tags/Warnings: non-consensual voyeurism, top!cas, some general ickiness re: consent even though no one's consent is actually violated, season six, angel civil war, lonely cas, dean/lisa
Summary: Humans kiss each other. Angels kill each other. Castiel distracts himself from the war he's losing.
Idiots in love | @castielific
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6,622
Main Tags/Warnings: Human!cas, accidental love confession, dean has a sexual identity crisis, jealous!Dean, gay panic, oblivious!Dean
Summary: "So, no God, no wings, no imminent apocalypse, what are your plans now?" Dean tries to make the question sound casual by taking a sip of his beer.
"I want to have sex with a man," Cas declares, nibbling at a red vine cherry twist. He barely reacts to Dean spitting his beer all over the table and choking on his sip. (...) Cas tilts his head and adds, "I may need your help with that."
Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx | @readingprofoundbonds
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 9,729
Main Tags/Warnings: John Winchester's Parenting, Spans years
Summary: Dean's love language is told not in words, but in songs. In the notes of his favorite rock band and the rhythm of their melodies. His longest unfinished work is composed of Led Zeppelin songs, chosen for the feelings they evoke. It's Dean's life, reflected into one mix and shared carefully in hopes that he would be heard and understood.
Contrition | @norahastuff
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 10,590
Main Tags/Warnings: Mark of Cain, references to s6 and Godstiel, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Takes place midway through s10, Castiel's Angelic Grace
Summary: "The room seemed to fade around him, his gaze fixed on the window as he negotiated the church’s inconveniently arranged furnishings to approach it. Dean was vaguely aware of the sting of a pew as it knocked off his hip, but he ignored it, attention singularly focused on the familiar image printed on the glass."
Dean stumbles upon a church bearing an image of Castiel, and both Dean and Cas are forced to reflect on a particularly tumultuous period in their relationship. Dean finds that a lot has changed in the intervening years, and maybe it’s finally time to address the things they’ve kept buried for far too long.
Though Dean is still struggling with the Mark of Cain, and Cas with his rapidly deteriorating grace, they allow themselves to have this much-needed moment of respite.
Cleanse the Waters | @li-izumi
Rating: Teen & Up
Word Count: 16,416
Main Tags/Warnings: Coda, Hurt/Comfort, POV Outsider, Castiel-centric (Supernatural), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Panic Attacks, Aquaphobia, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, (because canon), Canon Temporary Character Death, Dean's man pain, Dramatic use of dramatic irony, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Episode: s07e02 Hello Cruel World, Episode: s07e17 The Born-Again Identity, Episode: s09e03 I'm No Angel, Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Episode: s09e10 Road Trip, Episode: s10e21 Dark Dynasty, Episode: s11e18 Hell's Angel, Episode: s13e04 The Big Empty
Summary: Castiel’s multitude of sins haunt him in ways all too human, but water cannot cleanse him when he is drowning in his own guilt. Over the years, he’s tried to ignore his fear--after all, no one needs a broken angel--but he keeps failing and needing to be saved by those he should be saving. If Castiel is ever to be absolved, he must overcome his fear and walk into the water alone.
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Steddie week. Day 3: First kiss. 1.4k words. Ao3 link.
@steddie-week
~
Yeah, they’re absolutely, 100 percent, morons. Like, who even is this stupid? Steve thinks that ever since facing off an evil wizard with interdimensional powers, they do not have a sense of preservation or survival when it comes to actual normal human beings.
They just wanted to have dinner! Honestly Eddie hasn’t had much trouble with people, the story that was put out made him look like a hero (which Steve is glad for, because he is) and the town believed it like they’ve believed everything since 1983.
But these fucking jocks will not leave Eddie alone. Steve is tired of this, he can’t even imagine the exhaustion that Eddie feels.
When they approached them Steve knew that it was going to be a little bit harder to get out of than the other times. There were 5 of them, and just Steve and Eddie. When it’s just one or two, Steve can usually just scare them off with a glare and a name drop.
And Eddie.
He’s an idiot.
An idiot!
Since the whole thing he pulled in the upside down, they’ve had talks. About how he’s not a coward. He’s brave and he doesn’t need to prove anything. Sometimes running is okay. Sometimes running is the only option.
But he still has trouble believing it sometimes.
Steve is patient and understanding. Robin has said many times how people have a process.
He just wishes Eddie didn’t have to live his process right at moments like these!
He loves Eddie (wait, hold on, what?), but he can be somewhat impulsive and unpredictable. Steve was hoping that while he was defusing and excusing themselves, Eddie would follow his lead. Well, wrong.
He doesn’t even know what happened! One moment he was talking and the next they’re running away from some soda splashed jocks. Oh come on, Eddie.
Robin sometimes jokes about him and Eddie being the kids’ co-parents. The kids find it funny, for some reason. Dustin calls them both dad and Mike likes to call Steve mom as if that would bother him.
But right now, Eddie doesn’t feel like a co-parent as much as he feels like another goddamn kid. Always the babysitter.
So now, they’re running from 5 guys who are pissed. And sticky.
“Why the hell did you do that?!” Steve is almost hysterical.
“I panicked! They’re so many!” Eddie is panting, and he doesn’t know how much more he’s gonna be able to keep running.
“So throwing drinks at them was your solution?!” Steve is talking a big game, but in an alternative universe, he’s probably the one who threw the drinks.
“Better than what you were doing!” Eddie argues.
“I was doing just fine!” He was! Steve was gonna get them out of there. Unscathed. He had to. That’s what he’s for.
“Words weren’t gonna stop ‘em.” True, but at least they could’ve walked out or ran, before they were pissed.
“Well I hardly see anything that could stop them now!” They take a turn so they have some time to think of something while the jocks catch up. But like Steve said there’s nothing that can help them here.
There’s some stores. And an alley in the middle of a clothing and a pet store. Eddie grabs his hand and guides them towards the clothing store. “Come on, follow my lead.”
There’s some mannequins in front of the store, Eddie takes a long dark coat off the mannequin. “What are you doing?” Steve asks.
“Shh.” Eddie just shushes him. He shushes him! What is he on?
“Wha- don’t you shush me!” He whisper yells with not a very convincing anger in his voice.
“Stop asking questions and just do what I say!” Eddie requests. Which is kind of a lot to ask considering he’s the one who worsened the situation. “I got us into this and I’ll get us out.” Huh. Steve thinks that’s fair, but he’s still hesitant.
“But I don’t know what we’re doing.” Steve doesn’t like that.
“Me neither. But it’s better than nothing.” Steve thinks Eddie kinda lives by that philosophy. Does he have that one on that doctrine he came up with?
What’s the difference between philosophy and doctrine? Huh. Wait, no sidetracking. Steve, focus! You’re both in danger.
Eddie puts the coat on, it’s so long it covers most of his legs. He also grabs the beanie and jacket that were on the other mannequin and puts it on Steve. “What’s this even gonna do?”
“I told you to stop asking questions!” Eddie’s eyes look wild.
“Sorry.” Steve’s sure Eddie is scared right now, but he does a good job of hiding it.
Eddie takes his hand and they run to the alley. Who has a dead end. Shit. They hear the voices turning the corner. Fuck, they’re gonna come across the alley anytime now.
Eddie turns to him and backs him into a corner. “Kiss me.”
Well. Steve couldn’t have heard that right. He shakes his head. “What?”
Eddie turns his back on the entrance of the alley. It’s kinda dark and they’re all the way to the back. “Now! They’re coming!” Eddie demands.
Eddie doesn’t give him much time to answer or even come up with something to say. Suddenly there are lips pressed to his. Eddie swallows any sound of surprise he might’ve been about to make. Eddie’s hands are on his chest and Steve finds himself putting his hands on Eddie’s waist and pulling him closer, as if he’s acting on instinct. There’s footsteps, voices, they seem to stop in front of the entrance. Steve doesn’t exactly know what they’re doing because he’s closed his eyes. They mutter something, god knows what, and then they go on their way. Looking for them somewhere else.
However, they don’t stop kissing when they’re gone. In fact, Steve hugs Eddie’s waist now, pulling them chest to chest while Eddie’s hands move to his face. They pull apart just to catch a single breath before going back in. Huh, now they’re just making out. Steve can call it what it is. He doesn’t know what Eddie is doing with his tongue, but he’s not complaining at all.
“I- um.” Eddie tries to step back but his embrace is strong. “My long hair.”
“Your…?” Steve’s brain isn’t computing much right now.
“From their point of view, it-“ Eddie inhales deeply. “It probably looked like a girl and a guy kissing.” Oh. Oh, Steve is so stupid. “Plus this coat almost looks like a dress.”
“Yeah, no, that’s- you-“ God, can he not even form sentences anymore? “Good thinking.” If he could, Steve would facepalm right now.
“They’re gone now.” Eddie nods.
“They sure are.” Steve confirms. Doesn’t really know what else to do.
Eddie looks around, and then directly at his eyes. That’s intense. “You can let me go now.”
He can let him go now. Eddie’s hands have moved to his shoulders, probably not knowing where else to put them.
He could let him go, now. They could go back to their respective places. And move on like this was another normal day for them.
He could do that.
Or.
Or he could confront this. Confront this thing that’s been going on between them for, in Steve’s humble opinion, far too long. He was scared before. He still is, but it doesn’t feel like something he can’t conquer, now. So he makes the decision. He’s not running away from this anymore. Even if sometimes that’s all you can do, that’s not the case here. He could be doing so much more. They could be doing so much more.
“No.” Steve says. And it’s said with finality.
Eddie looks confused. “What? What do you mean?”
“I won’t let you go.” He shrugs. They’re still holding on to each other. “I like you too much for that.”
“What are you saying?”
“Exactly what you heard. I like you.” He leans in. He waits for Eddie to back off, show any type of discomfort or rejection on his face. But there’s nothing like that. “Can I kiss you again?”
A gasp comes out. Eddie nods. “Yes.” It’s whispered and if they weren’t so close he might’ve never heard it.
This one is more gentle. Slow and soft. Almost lazy, like they don’t need to rush because they know they’re gonna get to this again. And again.
“I like you too.” Eddie rests his forehead to his.
Steve smiles at him, and when Eddie smiles back he knows. He knows that he’s gonna fall so hard. He kinda already has.
#it’s still the 24th here folks#i am NOT late#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#eddie x steve#steve x eddie#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things 4#mer writes sometimes#ficlet#steddieweek2023#steddieweekprompts
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-Back on the Beat-
Part 4. 02
November 11th, 3:25pm
"...and Nat is really into Sun, but he doesn't notice no matter how obvious she is, he's only got eyes for Mouse. But like I told you before, Mouse is into Mon - I've got a bet going with Ohm for when they're going to start dating. Mon is super pretty though, Mouse has good taste. She reminds me of you a lot, phi..."
Kim is sitting across from Chay, sipping on a winter melon tea with lychee popping pearls. Chay had raised an eyebrow at him when he’d asked for it extra sweet. It’s not half bad.
Chay has spent the half an hour that they’ve been here alternating between asking Kim about the music he's been working on, gossiping about his friends and throwing Kim flirty comments.
That last one he’s less sure about. He hopes he’s reading things right.
If he wasn’t so uncertain about his place in Chay’s regard these days, he would be less hesitant to believe that Chay was deliberately flirting with him.
He takes another sip of his tea, nonetheless quietly basking in Chay’s undivided attention.
Kim likes this a lot.
He had gone to family dinner the other night. He’d skipped the week before, but Khun had only made one comment about it before asking him what he'd been up to. Kinn had even joined in, seemingly genuinely interested. Kim is surprised at how much he’s enjoying the family time, even with his pa there, looming over them. Chay hadn’t asked him to hang out again after, but they’d chatted for a little bit and planned another session in Kim’s studio for tomorrow. So today’s invite had come as a pleasant surprise.
Even if Chay decides that he wants to just be friends after all, Kim thinks he would be happy being just friends with Chay, loving him from a distance and getting to just spend time with him on the regular.
It might hurt a lot, seeing Chay eventually move on but…
Kim frowns.
He likes to think he would be respectful of Chay dating someone else, but if he’s being truthful, he doesn’t know if he could be. He's too selfish, and he’s not sure he can let Chay go again now.
He stares into his tea.
Kim thinks he might be a little toxic...
...
Oh well. There are worse things about Kim than a little toxicity, he thinks. Chay knows that by now.
Kim will just have to take things as they come and if one of those things is Chay dating someone else, he will do his best to be okay with it. It's something he can work on.
“Do you like your tea, p’Kim?” Chay’s voice cuts through Kim’s internal musings. He’s looking at Kim oddly, like maybe Kim isn't been as subtle about his distraction as he thought he was being.
“Mm” Kim replies, “it’s good.”
“I can’t believe this is your first time having boba tea. Though you didn’t get tapioca pearls or milk, so I don’t know if it really counts.”
“I’ll try the pearls next time.” Kim puts out hopefully. Chay grins back at him.
“Boba is always best with the people you like. Join me again soon, phi.” Chay is looking at him intently. Kim bites the inside of his lip.
“Hmm. Yeah” He smiles gently back. Fuck, Kim feels a little bit like he’s drowning. Chay is not good for his heart.
If Chay isn’t deliberately flirting, and this is just what it’s like being Chay’s friend, Kim thinks he might not survive being just friends after all. He isn't sure how Chay's current friends survive.
They finish their drinks quickly, Chay having a few errands he needs to run before he goes back to the compound for some movie night he has planned with Khun.
Just as Kim reaches to grab his phone from the table, the screen lights up with a text notification.
No one texts Kim except for Chay.
Kim realises too late exactly what his background is, and Chay’s quiet squeak of surprise confirms that it’s far too late to swipe his phone off the table before he sees it.
Fuck.
“Oh” Chay squeaks. Kim looks up at him, face hot. Chay’s face is red as he stares down at Kim's phone. He shouldn’t have set thus photo as his wallpaper. Kim is such an idiot. “You saved that picture?” Chay asks.
“Uh…” Kim looks down at his phone, turning the screen off. What should he even say here? “Sorry. I know you didn’t mean to send it to me, but I’d saved it before you deleted the message and I...” what? Set a photo you clearly didn’t mean to send as my phone wallpaper?
He half expects Chay to call him a creep or a weirdo, but when Kim looks back up, Chay is smiling shyly at him, face still a little pink. “I can delete it” he offers.
“Don’t” Chay replies immediately. “It’s nice.”
Oh.
Kim smiles “Okay.”
“We should get going, I have to throw an outfit together for p’Khun’s movie night. I haven’t even begun to think about it, he’s going to have a go at me if I don’t make it elaborate enough”
Kim chuckles fondly. Khun will probably have a go at Chay no matter what he wears. His standards are incredibly high.
He’s still smiling when he gets back to his penthouse an hour later.
He turns on his phone’s screen, staring at Chay’s sunny smile. His chest feels light, like maybe they’re heading somewhere after all and he’s catching a sense of hope.
God he hopes he’s right.
A new message comes through, this time from Chay.
Kim grins, he thinks he's finally beginning to understand Chay a little more.
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#kimchay#kim theerapanyakul#porchay kittisawasd#porchay pachara#kinnporsche#i want you bach au#i want you bach au part 4#kpdoodles#Kim == > accidentally charm Porchay#Porchay ==> call Kim sweet in the most round about way you can#(he is claling Kim sweet bc of the very sweet tea he had on their “date”)#Kim might be starting to get it#this update fought me tooth and nail I'm sorry if its not very good
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I didn’t mean for this to be so long, there’s enough for like a prologue too 😅😂 Can I please request a Regina Mills x Daughter!Reader (who’s 7ish yrs older than Henry, and has magic) set during 4x08 (when Marian is frozen and Robin sleeps with Regina)?
Her mom hadn’t come home that night, and Reader’s worried cause she rarely does that, so in morning she uses her mirror to check the vault to see if Regina is there. She sees the whole scene that morning from Robin getting up to when he starts kissing Regina again (she has the sense to stop watching). She uses the mirror again to check what happened last night and she sees how Regina asked him to stay away so she can start to emotionally heal but he came onto her anyway - knowing she needed space but giving her a taste of something she can’t have instead. Reader’s absolutely furious at Robin for messing with Regina’s head yet again. Her anger is simmering all morning, then Henry comes to her and says he thinks something happened with Robin cause mom’s sad, and she can’t tell him what actually happened, so she just says yeah something did but don’t worry cause she’ll handle it.
Later when Reader, Regina, Henry and Emma are in the library, Robin comes in w Roland. She and Henry see Robin show her mom the alternative page and are absolutely fuming. Henry says unsubtly for Roland to come look at the kids books with him, giving reader a ‘handle this’ look, and she magic’s herself and Robin outside. Emma and Regina run outside in time to see her punch him hard in the face, and are in total shock. They watch as she rips into him about how their ‘mom deserves far better than a man who pretends to have honour when it suits him and then fucks her in an underground crypt with his frozen wife 10ft away’. How they’ve watched for weeks as he says one thing then does another; how her mom asked him to stay away so she could begin to heal and instead he poured salt in the wound for his own selfish gratification; how when you pick and choose a code it’s not a code; how even in a weird situation like this with a frozen-undead-wife, he could choose to not repeatedly mess with her mom’s head but he hasn’t. And finally that they’ll help Marian and they’ll always love Roland, but to stay away from her family or he’ll find out what the daughter of an evil queen is truly capable of.
Robin looks shocked and embarrassed at being called out; Emma looks proud of how protective she is and especially proud of the punch she taught reader; and Regina is mostly confused how she knew and bc she thought her kids liked Hood. Emma gets Henry and Roland, and after Robin/Roland leave, tells Regina and Reader she and Henry will meet them at granny’s after they’ve talked. Henry subtly (but Regina still sees) high-fives reader on the way out when he finds out she punched Hood.
Regina finds out why reader knew about the vault, that Henry worries she’s sad after Hood is around, that both kids are genuinely upset at Robin for saying one thing then doing another (and that thankfully Henry didn’t know the details about what happened this time). She’s worried what her daughter thinks of her after the vault. But reader explains that she isn’t judging her, they’re all adults here and sometimes sex is just sex, but what’s upset her is this time it wasn’t, it was him giving her a small glimpse of what she can’t have. And that Regina deserves to be genuinely happy, not just fighting for scraps of happiness decided by an asshole, and Regina is sorry she didn’t see how this was hurting her kids and reader tells her she’s not allowed to apologise bc it’s not her fault. They agree from then on they’ll always make their own fate and hold each other to the promise to believe they deserve to be happy.
They join Emma and Henry at Granny’s and get take out for a family night, and reader and Regina cuddle up together on the sofa the entire evening.
(And for how her being Regina’s child yet still magic could all work, the reader could have been adopted by Regina 7 years before Henry - she was also pre-written in rumples curse like Henry was, bc rumple set in motion for an orphan baby from the EF to arrive 11 years into the curse (his purpose was to make Regina love being a mom so she’d definitely take Henry and his curse would break). The Pan curse she only had to give up one child and since Henry is Emma’s biologically but Reader’s an orphan and from the EF, they decided between the four of them that Emma and Henry would stay together in Boston and Regina and reader would go back to the EF together, but they (sounding horrifyingly like the charmings) promised they’d find each other again one day, since the siblings were distraught at being separated) ❤️✨
How to Throw a Proper Punch
Regina Mills x Daughter!Reader
A/N: Hi! Don't apologize at all! I love getting as much detail as possible! I don't usually write anything other than a romantic relationship so I was really excited to do this request! I really hope you enjoy it. I think it's the longest oneshot I've written.
Warnings: Very light violence, some major angst, and really bad mommy issues
Word count: 2207
Storybrooke
Time of the Dark Curse
“Henry told me you got in trouble for punching a kid at school today.”
You were sitting in a booth at the diner when Emma sat down in front of you, eyeing the bruises on your knuckles. You sighed, closing your book and looking guilty. “Yeah…what about it? Are you gonna lecture me like my mom did?”
Emma scoffed. “No. I’m gonna teach you how to throw a punch properly. Come on.”
You sat in the passenger seat of her car, watching the town go by quietly. Halfway to Henry’s castle, you heard Emma speak up.
“So, why’d you do it?”
“He grabbed my ass,” you mumbled.
“Huh?”
You huffed. “He grabbed my ass! And that’s not just it. He’s been harassing me since freshman year. Mom lectured me about it…but in the end she said she was proud of me.”
“Well, I think that’s the first time Regina and I have ever agreed on something,” Emma said.
“I broke his nose,” you grinned. “In front of the whole class.”
Emma glanced at you. “That’s badass, kid. Good job.”
__________
“Alright, if you’re gonna have to punch someone again, it’ll probably be a straight punch,” Emma said. “You’ll wanna lift your back heel, but not the ball of your foot, okay? When you do this, at the same time, you’re gonna turn your back foot and knee in the direction of the target.”
You stood beside her and mimicked her actions. “Like this?”
“Yeah, good! After you twist your legs toward them,” she continued, “rotate your torso to face them directly. By now, you should already have a fist made. Remember, keep your thumb over your four fingers. Otherwise, you’ll break it.” She brought her curled fist up. “When you bring the fist up, make sure you punch with your palm facing down. Then–this is the important part–you wanna follow through with the punch. You want your arm to be completely extended after you’ve finished.”
You nodded, paying attention to everything she said. You prayed this wouldn’t come in handy, but still, you’d rather be prepared than helpless.
__________
Storybrooke
Four years later
While throwing a proper punch is a good thing to know, the second you showed signs of magic three years later, just days after your twentieth birthday, you knew that would be your first instinct to defend yourself. Your mother couldn’t have been happier, rushing to her vault with you to get her beginner spell books and every piece of knowledge you could ever need.
She demonstrated the first spells she learned, adding on, “If Gold asks you if you want to train with him, don’t.”
“I figured,” you said.
And that was that. She took you to her vault every evening after work. You progressed quickly with a full fireball in your hand within a week.You had never seen her happier than in that moment, that was, until him, yet at the same time, she had never seen such sorrow.
__________
You opened the door to Henry’s bedroom, finding him reading a Wolverine comic book. “Do you know where Mom is?”
“No clue,” he responded, not looking up from the pages.
This wasn’t like her. She’d be home for dinner at six o’clock sharp every night. Why was tonight any different?
“Oh, um…okay,” you said. “I’m going to Granny’s to pick up some dinner, do you want me to bring anything home for you?”
It was then that he finally looked up. “Oh, I’m going to Grandma and Grandpa’s tonight.”
After Henry left for the night, you continued to sit in the living room, putting on a random show for background noise as you made yourself a cup of tea.
How many enemies does this woman have? Every possible scenario ran through your head. She could be dead–two children left behind in a cruel world, one of them left to help raise her brother.
Nine o’clock turned into ten, and ten turned into eleven before you decided to go to bed. You constantly checked your phone for any messages from your mother, finally falling asleep around one.
You were up at nine, trying to call your mother and making breakfast for yourself when you had an idea. Her mirror. The mirror that she kept in the foyer by the front door. Rushing over, you stand before it and lift your arms, closing your eyes and thinking of what you want to see.
You were in shock. There they were–Robin in his white undershirt and your mother on the steps inside her vault putting her heels back on. But what hurt more was seeing her get a call on her phone, looking at it, and declining it immediately.
The healing. What happened to the healing? The emotional grief she suffered for decades, and was so desperate to heal from.
You watch her pull away, here her distorted voice saying it wasn’t right. Just a shred of hope you had for her came back–until he pursued her again.
“Are you really that much of a pessimist?” he asked.
It continued. Him backing her into a corner before kissing her once again. You were sick to stomach and quickly backed away from the mirror before giving into the impulse of seeing the night before.
She told him to stay away. She told him to leave her alone, to let her heal. He didn’t listen.
You were furious–more than furious. Rage, white hot rage, coursed through your veins, taking over every bit of your sanity. You hated him. You hated him for everything he had done. He messed with her head, messed with her emotions, he messed with her. Everything that she worked for, every bit of herself that she wanted to heal was going down the drain because of him.
__________
You sat with David and Mary Margaret at the table, flipping through a magazine when Elsa came down from the loft. The second you heard from David about Henry, you rushed over, not even stopping for your morning conversation with Archie.
“How is he?” Mary Margaret asked.
“Well,” Elsa said, “I gave him enough ice for the whole week.”
Mary Margaret looked at her seriously now. “No, I mean, how is he?”
“Upset,” Elsa responded. “I just wanted him to understand that Emma’s magic is tied to her emotions like mine. The reason she hurt him is because she was trying so hard not to hurt him. It sounds very convoluted when I try to explain it, bu–”
You looked up from the magazine. “No,” you said, interrupting her. “It makes perfect sense. I was really angry once before I had control of my powers and I ended up breaking a window by accident.”
Before anyone got a chance to respond, the door flew open.
“Where’s Henry? Is he okay?”
Your mood dampened when you saw your mother barge in.
“He’s fine. He’s upstairs,” David said. “We;ve been trying to call you all night.”
“Well I’m sorry if I don’t respond to your every summons!” Regina snapped. “Though I did bring that locator potion you wanted.” She slammed it down on the table. “Maybe next time, try leading with, “thank you”. Now, may I see my son please?”
“You might wanna finish buttoning your shirt first,” you chided as you continued skimming through the magazine and earning yourself a shocked look from your mother.
She opened her mouth before closing it again and buttoning up her blouse.
__________
The library was dead silent as you, Emma, Regina, and Henry walked around, searching for a book that could give you any clues as to how to stop Ingrid. The door opened suddenly, hearing the plastic blinds hitting the glass.
“Robin?”
You heard your mother and left the section you were in, seeing Emma and Henry do the same. Beside Robin, Roland held onto his pant leg.
“Robin, what are you doing here?” Regina asked, glancing around at the three of you.
Robin ignored you, Henry, and Emma, taking a familiar piece of paper out from his back pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Regina.
“What is this?” she gawked
He paused before thinking of the right words to say. “I…borrowed the book. I was looking for anything that could hint to the author, and I found this. It’s an alternative page.”
You, Henry, and Emma saw the page and Henry looked at Roland, saying, “How about we go check out some books in the kids section?” before giving you a look as to say, ‘Handle this’.
The anger you felt in the previous days bubbled up to the surface once again. You could hardly contain yourself before giving into the rage and twisting your hand, teleporting you and Robin to the middle of the Main Street intersection outside the library.
Without a second thought, you remembered all those years ago when Emma taught you how to punch properly. You curled your fist, turned your leg, and socked him right in his nose, putting your entire weight behind the punch.
Emma, Regina, and Henry all made it out just in time to see the entire thing go down.
Robin doubled over, clutching his nose and smearing blood over the lower half of his face. All the while, you were berating him.
“She deserves so much better than you!” you shouted. “You claim to have honor when it suits you, but then you turn around and fuck her in her crypt where your own wife is ten feet away, frozen!” You took a deep breath, trying to keep tears of anger and frustration at bay, but ultimately failing. “I have watched you say one thing and then do the complete opposite! She told you to stay away! She told you to leave her alone so she could heal! But you still pursued her! You rubbed salt into her wounds! You can’t just pick and choose when to have a code of honor!”
You moved closer to him. “Now, we will continue to help Marian, and continue to love Roland, but–” you pulled him in by the collar of his shirt and lowered your voice “–if you don’t leave her alone, you will find out what the daughter of the once Evil Queen is truly capable of.”
Among your heavy breathing, everyone stood quiet. Robin’s face was red with embarrassment as Emma stood behind you, clearly hiding the fact that she was proud of you, whereas Regina looked confused with Henry trying to hold back a smile.
“Right,” Emma finally said amidst the awkward silence. “Um…Henry, get Roland and I’ll drop him and Robin off at the hospital, and then we can head to Granny’s. I think your sister and Regina need to talk.” She turned to the pair of you. “We’ll meet you there.”
As Henry walks past you, you grin, receiving a subtle high five from him before turning to follow your mother–who quite obviously saw the high five happen judging by the shocked look on her face–home.
__________
“What was that?” Regina asked as she shut the front door.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said.
Your mother rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. You’ve been in a terrible mood for the past few days, and now you had this outburst? There’s something clearly wrong!”
“It’s him!” you snap, turning around with your lip trembling. “Robin! He–Ugh! You’re always home at six o’clock sharp! For as long as I can remember, you’ve always been home on time! Until the other night! I asked Henry and he had no clue where you were! I barely slept and your phone kept going to voicemail! I thought you were dead! In the morning I decided to look at the mirror and you were with him. You were with Robin! Even after all the times he’s caused you pain! I get it, we’re adults, we all have that need, and I'm not judging you. But Robin?? Sex can be ‘just sex’, but this wasn’t! He was giving you a small glimpse of what you can’t have. Of what you can’t have until you’ve learned to love yourself despite all of your mistakes! And he’s preventing that from happening.”
You felt relieved to get it off your chest, only slightly guilty, but knowing that your mother needed to hear it.
She sighed. “Does Henry know?”
“That you were with him the other night?” you asked. “No. He was at the Charmings’ the morning I saw. But he’s noticed you’ve been acting differently. Mom, after all that’s happened to you, you deserve genuine happiness and love. But if you don’t heal, and you don’t learn to love yourself, that won’t happen. And because you won’t let that happen, it’s not just hurting you, but also me and Henry.”
“Oh.” She was quiet, almost meek in this moment. “I’m–I am so sorry. I had no idea that this was affecting you both so much.”
You wiped tears from your eyes. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault, Mom.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She reached out, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear before pulling you into an embrace. Kissing you on your head, she said, “Come on, let’s go to Granny’s.”
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power of love, part 16
Alternate ending S4: Steve has a habit of surviving near death experiences then getting sick for no reason. And Eddie and those fatal bat bites? After an impossible feat of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation from Steve, he’s mysteriously fixed. So, Eddie’s back to being banished, this time with Steve and Robin in tow. Eddie’s healing, but Steve isn’t… and life gets even more confusing, when Eddie develops feelings for Steve, which aren’t entirely unrequited...
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 17 Part 18
Steve POV
Two soldiers escort Steve into the former Soviet base. He’s gotten his wrists cuffed behind his back, which makes his shoulder ache miserably. His bare feet are bruised and icy-cold—much worse than in the stupid ditch—and his thoughts race as wildly as his pulse:
The army is using the Soviet base. Okay, I was right about that. I was right and it sucks, because Robin was righter, and I have no clue what I’m supposed to do. I can’t even hear the crazy-ass water thing anymore. Oh my God, oh my God!
The apparently endless corridor reaches a spacious hall with racks of weapons. It reminds Steve of somewhere the evil emperor would hang out in Star Wars. Talking of bad dudes—a guy with a shitload of medal ribbons paces over.
“Colonel O’Sullivan,” says one of Steve’s guards. “This one says he’s Eddie Munson.”
A small tank loaded with an antiaircraft gun rolls by. Steve disguises a sniffle behind a mocking laugh. “I’m flattered. Did I make the FBI most-wanted list?”
“If you mean ‘did Eddie Munson make it?’ then no,” says O’Sullivan, matter-of-factly. “You and I both know he didn’t murder those kids. It is simply convenient for the public to believe so. Whereas you, Steve Harrington?” Steve can’t suppress a flinch, and clings to his only comfort—Eddie got away. “I get why you lied. You’re up to your ears in far worse trouble, so let’s cut to the chase. Where’s the girl, Steve?”
“What girl?”
O’Sullivan raises his arm sharply. Steve’s gotten a sudden urge to shout, I work for Scoops Ahoy. He’s gonna get hit, and it’s not going to go well, and all his worst fears rip through him like a tornado:
I died here before. Unless I dreamed it all, and what happened with the weather was JUST THE GODDAMN WEATHER, and I never drowned, and I don’t have superpowers, and it’s all a mad coincidence, and I’ve literally gone nuts.
O’Sullivan, nevertheless, hasn’t hit him. Instead, he presses a hand to Steve’s back, above his cuffed wrists. He steers Steve around to look across the vast room. “You see this impressive facility?”
Steve slows his shuddering breaths enough to say: “G-got these things called eyes. Can’t exactly m-miss it.”
“It was built by the Soviet invaders,” continues O’Sullivan. “We shouldn’t give them too much credit. These tunnels beneath Hawkins were already here. Some of them were old waterways, and others—Brenner’s pet made those. With the power of her twisted mind.”
That is a total bunch of bull!
O’Sullivan turns to confront Steve, his face carved with stern lines. “Do you not understand? We are being gentle, because of your age and medical history. Nevertheless, those who protect Eleven are traitors to this country. Traitors must be eliminated. SHE must be eliminated.”
O’Sullivan keeps talking. Blah, blah, blah! Steve tunes out, anger simmering way hotter than his fear. He doesn’t even know El that well. She’s still one of the kids. His kids. I’d do anything to protect them. Anything… Anything.
Finally, he feels the water, thrumming in his blood. Even better, he’s starting to get it.
That scream. That fire-and-fucking-fury tide sweeping through the tunnels. These are waterways, carved by nature, ancient and beautiful. At least, they were once. Like Lovers Lake, they’ve been violated by the Vecna and the Upside Down. Then by the Soviets and now by these knuckleheads, who seem little better…
He hears that strange voice again, the caressing whisper that drew him here: You are home, Steve. You know what you must do.
To be fair, he’s not exactly sure. All the same, he jerks his chin up, curls his lip: “I’m not gonna tell you shit.”
“Poor decision, son.” O’Sullivan nods emphatically at some guy hovering behind Steve. “Put him in with the other one. Let’s see what happens.”
“The other one? What the f—? Who!?!” Steve’s bravado dies in an instant. Oh my God, they caught Robin, and I’m gonna have to do something, and I still don’t know how! I can’t let them hurt her. Oh crap! OH CRAP!
His knees sag, and he’s scared his feet will fly from under him. The guards grab his arms and drag him away.
A door swings open, revealing a small box of a room. Steve absorbs the sight of Eddie curled in a corner, bare footed also, spattered with mud. The world stops spinning for several seconds. Then Steve’s uncuffed, shoved inside, and the door slams closed behind.
Eddie scrambles up, more doe-eyed and crumpled than ever. Steve lunges forward, grabbing him by the front of his t-shirt and shaking him hard: “You total braindead moron! What the hell are you doing here?”
…
Eddie POV
Eddie has spent the last ten minutes picking at his dirty nails and going completely out of his head. Then the door flies wide, and Steve is pushed into the poky cell-like room.
He stares at Eddie through a mass of messy hair, with huge eyes that seemed to have swallowed the anger and pain of an entire galaxy. A dozen resentful thoughts riff through Eddie’s head, ending with: Oh, Stevie, Sweetheart. Not you too.
He launches himself out of the corner where he’s wedged himself. He’s about to fling his arms around Steve, when Steve grabs him by the front of his t-shirt and shakes him so hard his teeth rattle: “You total braindead moron! What the hell are you doing here?”
Eddie shoves him off: “What d’ya think I’m doing? Come for the vibes? Oh, and thanks for the note. Real touching, man.”
“Yeah, that was a bust, seeing as HERE YOU ARE, HAWKINS’ MOST DIMWITTED FREAKSHOW!” Steve rubs his wrists, then squares his shoulders with a touch of King Steve swagger, that… Oookay, this does not ring true. “You know what? I’m happy these suckers didn’t get one of my real friends—you do make me wanna hurl. You know that?”
“Why are you spouting this crap?” He scans Steve quickly, seeking any obvious fresh injury. “You’re not being straight with me. What happened? Did they hurt you?”
Steve’s teeth pinch his lower lip, stained red where he’s repeatedly chewed it. Then the barest whisper: “No… no. You?”
“No. Oh Christ, Stevie, I get it, okay? What you wrote.” Eddie moves in for the hug again. Steve jolts away super-quick. Eddie jolts too, half-expecting to be headbutted.
“I had everything handled, and now… now… I HATE YOU!” yells Steve. Then, leaning closer, impossibly soft: “They’re watching us, Eddie, I’m sure. If they think I care, they’ll hurt you to get me to talk and… and Jesus Christ, I haven’t a clue what’s real anymore. All I know is I’m sorry… and I need to kiss you.”
Steve’s mouth barely brushes Eddie’s, yet the tingling, breathy warmth, the goddamn undiluted sweetness—it slams a sledgehammer blow straight into Eddie’s heart. Then Steve moans, sways backward.
Goddamit, he kissed me. Oh shit, and he wasn’t kidding. I MAKE HIM SICK!
Eddie lunges to catch Steve, never makes it. The door swings open again, and Steve collides with that instead.
To Eddie’s relief, Steve’s not totally out of it. He rights himself, shakes his head blearily. A dude with a ton of ribbons and shiny gold bling—the dreaded Colonel O’Sullivan, Eddie guesses—steps in, flagged by a couple of his henchmen.
One of them grabs Steve, wrenching his arms behind him. O’Sullivan regards Eddie like something he’s scraped off the bottom of his boot, then performs a smart about-turn and seizes Steve’s drooping chin.
“Tell us what you know about the girl, Harrington. Or Loverboy’s gonna wish he’s never been born.”
Part 17
...
I promise good things will happen for these two starting next chapter… Sorry for the cliffy, but it’s all in the name of my stupid plot (for what it’s worth!)
tags: @estrellami-1 @kal-ology @finntheehumaneater If anybody else would like to be tagged on this fic or any of my writing, please let me know :)
(also part of my steve whump fic series on AO3)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 17 Part 18
#steddie#steve harrington#steddie fic#steve x eddie#steve harrington whump#steddie fanfic#eddie munson#steve harrington x eddie munson#stranger things fanfic#steddie fanfiction#stobin#steve harrington hc#platonic stobin#steve harrington hurt/comfort#steve harrington fanfic#steve stranger things
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Eddie sat on one of the benches that was near the wall at the skating rink and watched the group have a good time. He felt like such an outcast by not being able to enjoy himself even though they’ve been nothing but nice to him and they never excluded him out of anything. Eddie kept pushing his own self away to avoid getting to comfortable, there was a lot of things that they didn’t know about him. One of those things would probably turn them away and highlight the fact that he’s more of an outcast than he already thought he was, that wasn’t a risk that he was quite ready to take yet. Eddie’s thoughts had consumed him for awhile before he could notice someone walking towards him, a pair of shoes came into his vision making him look up at the person. Luckily for him it was just a familiar face and not someone from school that had a bone to pick with him. Steve stood in front of him with a hand in his pocket then the other combing through his hair as he looked at Eddie with a smile on his face. Eddie just watched in awe like he was watching a movie on the big screen, he’d never imagine a moment where Steve would be so comfortable to be around and even go out of his way to spend time with him. It made him feel things that he couldn’t explain… well he could but he’d rather keep that to himself for obvious reasons.
“Why the long face?” Steve asked as he took a seat beside Eddie on the bench. He didn’t even flinch when his knee touched Eddie’s while Eddie was freaking out on the inside just by a simple knee rub. Steve kept his eyes on Eddie while waiting for some kind of response that he couldn’t conjure up fast enough without sounding stupid.
“Just thinking, I don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I don’t belong in this group and I’m just waiting for the moment for everyone to realize it.” Eddie admitted. He kept his eyes on his lap while he fiddled with the rings on his fingers. Steve took a deep breath as he processed Eddie’s words then he started to laugh lightly. Eddie looked at him with a confused expression because he didn’t know what was funny.
“Believe it or not I actually get what you mean.” Steve laughed even louder when he saw Eddie’s face. The idea of Steve feeling like he didn’t belong made Eddie think he was in an alternate universe or something.
“You? Steve Harrington think that you don’t belong? Yeah, I’ll believe it when I see it. Everyone fucking loves you dude no matter how you want to sugarcoat it. You fit wherever the wind takes you and it’s honestly like a gift when you really think about it. I’m kind of envious if that wasn’t obvious enough.” Eddie said a little too much than what he intended to but he didn’t feel like he was wrong. Steve had the world in his hands everywhere he went and obviously that was something Eddie was jealous of. The way he maneuvered through life so easily just made all the pieces of him being perfect fall right into place, like it always has.
Eddie didn’t realize how heavy the silence was between them until he looked over at Steve and his smile had faded completely. Maybe Eddie was being a little too blunt for his own good, when an apology was on the tip of his tongue Steve spoke up.
“I think you got me all wrong Munson,” Steve said in between a chuckle. “It may look like I fit everywhere I go because at a young I was taught to adapt to any environment but that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle too. Imagine being surrounded by geniuses 24/7 and god forbid you ask a question or you’ll get ridiculed the whole day.”
“You go through that?” Eddie asked softly. Steve nodded his as he looked at the group skate and they were all laughing like a big happy family. Eddie could see a little bit of sadness come over Steve, it was sad that no one knew that he felt this way especially when he had a friend group like this.
“Yeah, sometimes it can be overwhelming at times but I just take it and move on. Is it the healthiest thing to do? Not exactly, I’m still trying to hang in there though.” Steve turned his attention away from the group then looked at Eddie with a smile. God was really trying to kill him with making Steve look this good and being this open with him, whatever feelings he had for the other man definitely wasn’t going away any time soon.
“I guess it was easier for me to paint you as this guy who doesn’t feel things and you’re perfectly fine with it. That was a shitty assumption, guess we really don’t know each other that well.” Eddie joked. Both of them started laughing and it felt like the world lit up around them. Eddie didn’t feel like he was a weight on the group anymore. Steve bit his lip when he turned towards the skating rink then back to Eddie.
“How about we change that?” Steve said before standing up. Eddie looked up at him with furrowed brows.
“What?” Eddie didn’t know what had gotten into Steve but now he was a lot more smiley than before.
“Let’s get to know each other, the first thing we can do is skate together. There’s no harm in that.” Steve suggested. Immediately Eddie started shaking his head.
“No no no. Me and skates don’t go together at all. If i go out there and skate everyone’s day will be ruined.” Eddie tried protesting but he couldn’t do much of it since Steve grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him onto his feet.
“Come on, if anything happens I’ll be right there.” Steve reassured Eddie that everything was going to be okay and surprisingly Eddie genuinely felt like Steve was helping him feel comfortable despite what he said earlier.
Steve and Eddie approached the counter and asked for skates in their size. They walked back over to the bench that they sat on prior to put on their skates. In the process of that the kids were yelling at them and telling them to hurry up, neither of them realized that they spent so much time talking instead of doing the actual activity that was required. After they laughed at the kids they went ahead and put on their skates. Steve slipped into his easily while Eddie struggled to get his foot in, before he could even consider giving up Steve took the skate out of his hand then patted his leg.
“Put your foot up. I know how to make these slid on easier.” Steve said it so casually that Eddie just knew he was fucking with him because he couldn’t be serious about this.
“Have you lost your mind?” Eddie earned a laugh out of Steve but he was actually being serious.
“Munson, I’m just trying to make the process go smoothly that’s all.” Steve shrugged as he waved the skate around playfully. Eddie rolled his eyes thinking that the universe was playing out his fantasies and he didn’t like it in the slightest. At first he was hesitant then he finally lifted his foot and placed it gently on Steve’s thigh. Steve smiled widely as he took Eddie’s foot and slid it on swiftly, he even tied it for him in a cute little bunny style. He asked for the other foot then repeated the same routine. Eddie blushed throughout the entire process and tried to hide it with his hand covering the side of his face but he knows Steve noticed. The skates were snug on Eddie’s feet after Steve put them in and now they were ready to skate.
“Thanks.” Eddie said softly. Steve nodded his head with a smile on his face before standing up, he didn’t lose balance even when he was standing in roller skates.
“You’re welcome. Let’s start skating shall we?” Steve held out his hand for Eddie to take, of course it was innocent but Eddie refused to blush anymore than he already was. He pushed Steve’s hand away and attempted to stand up until his skates started rolling uncontrollably. Eddie was so close to falling on the floor then a strong hand held him upright by his waist. Steve slowly made it to where Eddie could stand on his own, They locked eyes for a second before Eddie looked away.
“I got it.” Eddie breathed, his heart was beating like crazy in his chest and it wasn’t because of the possibility of falling on his ass. Steve raised both of his hands and took a step back so Eddie could make his way to the rink.
The process of getting off the floor to the rink was the slowest thing that any human being could ever witness. The kids helped him into the floor but completely abandoned them when their job was done. Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle helped balance each other as they skated. Eddie huffed at the sight of everyone having someone to lean on while he took his time to actually start moving. The moment he lifted his foot to push himself forward Eddie instantly started stumbling backwards, he braced himself for the impact of the ground but he was met with the feeling of a body and arms wrapping around his waist basically catching him. The chuckle near his ear confirmed who the person was, Steve held him close.
“I got you.” Steve whispered in Eddie’s ear lowly. Eddie felt like his entire world was spiraling out of control. If he died this would be a good way to go in his book, his stomach was filled with butterflies and he couldn’t control the way his body was heating up.
“Fuck.” Eddie mumbled feeling his cheeks getting hot. Maybe he imagined it but he could’ve sworn that Steve smirked in the middle of their whole interaction before they started skating for real this time.
#steddie#steddie ficlet#steddie fic#steddie fanfiction#steddie fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#ficlet#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#idk what else to tag#help lol#please#come on#manifesting#power#so cuuuute#lmaooooooo#that is so funny#wow#hmmmmm#omfg#i know what you are#be for real#duffer brothers i swear#i’m tiiiiiired#steddie headcanon#steddie hcs#headcanon
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