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pappydaddy · 1 year

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i'm yours (j.m.)

tv show/movie: outer banks | pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader *cis!female anatomical parts mentioned

requested by another lovely anon as part of my 800 follower celebration

synopsis: not having labels muddles things up. luckily, they don't need labels to know they are mad about each other. though, labels might not hurt - might even save some noses.

warnings: spicy, spicy, spicy. dry humping. dirty. reader is horny. blood. broken nose. punching. fluff (if you squint) 18+ please and thank you. characters are aged up as per usual!

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- not my gif -

It was as if the stars aligned just the right way, because there she stood, the girl that had been consuming JJ’s mind twenty-four-seven lately. The moonlight rained down on her like a glowing spotlight, pointing her out to him as if he needed any help finding her in a crowd. And then, the stars must have shifted because as the dancing crowd moved just right, it revealed someone unpleasant standing beside her - talking her ear off, Topper. With his stupid shorts and polo top matched with his stupid boat shoes.

Bitterness swirled in JJ’s stomach as his face twisted into a scowl, his heart lurched, almost as if it wanted to jump out of his chest and strangle Topper. He knew what her opinion on Topper and other Kooks were - she hated him, but she doesn’t like making scenes so she suffers through conversations. She was too nice (or shy, he wasn’t too sure which yet) to tell him to piss off, but JJ wasn’t. However, something did hold him back. They weren’t official yet. And that was completely on him. He was the one dragging his feet on this one, but now he realized his mistake.

He’s taken it slow with her. She was too perfect and too innocent for him, so he was scared of either ruining her and her life or scaring her off with all of his baggage. Her friend’s opinions of him didn’t help his self-doubt. He knew they hated him. He knew they were telling her to move on, to forget him. But she didn’t listen. Even if there wasn’t a label, it was clear to both of them that this thing was more than just fooling around. They had feelings for each other. It was obvious when he kissed her and her first reaction is always to blush or do that cute little panicked hand flap as if she was surprised he would kiss her before her body melted into him.

“Screw it.” JJ’s eyes zeroed in on Topper as he inched closer to Y/N, obviously flirting despite Y/N clearly wanting out of the situation. He was a large guy, standing at six feet and having a decent amount of muscle, so it didn’t surprise him when he reached the pair quickly, but it did surprise him that he reached them in what felt like five seconds - he stumbled a bit, feeling like he was transported there instead of walking.

Y/N spotted him first, those beautiful eyes JJ loved looking into so much, catching his and widening as if asking him for help, which was exactly what he planned to do. “What do you want, Pogue?” Topper’s snarl made JJ look over at him, blue eyes cold and hard, as if he was aiming to kill him.

“I was coming over here to ask what the hell you’re doing flirting with someone who is clearly not yours to flirt with.” JJ squared his shoulders, stepping up to Topper, showing the slight but noticeable height difference between them when JJ pulls to his full height. Y/N’s mouth fell open, eyes watching JJ as he puffed his chest out slightly. ‘Hot damn!’ She thought, eyes flicking all over his body before looking back at the tense stare off.

“Last I checked, she was single.” Topper gestured toward Y/N, shooting her a wink, but JJ shifted to hide her from him, scoffing at this.

“Oh, news to me, because I don’t think what we’ve been doing screams ‘just friends’,” JJ put air quotes around the phrase, looking back at her with his jaw set in a way that made her want to drop to her knees right there. “What do you think, Sweets?” He asked her, his voice deep and dark, almost as if it was strained. The nickname. The voice. The look. The protectiveness. It all went right between her legs.

“Definitely not.” She confirmed, bottom lip being sucked between her teeth as she crossed her legs as discreetly as she could while standing, squeezing. She had to admit, she was already hot and bothered from watching from across the party all night, and now it was like someone opened the floodgates. She could jump him right then and there, but Topper just won’t let go.

“Still single, man,” Topper shook his head with his stupid smirk, making JJ whirl his head back around at such a rate it startled both Y/N and Topper. For a moment, Y/N was concerned that he had hurt his neck, but didn’t realize since he was hyped up on a mix of one beer, testosterone, and adrenaline. “She’s fair game for the rest of us-”

Topper didn’t get to finish his sentence before JJ’s fist met his nose, a sickening crack sounding as a loudly hissed ‘Fuck!’ left Topper’s mouth, his hands flying up to his nose which must have been broken from the amount of pain, blood, and the sound. “Hey, you saw he was disrespecting her, right?” JJ looked over to the group of people who were standing around, trying not to look like they were listening from the jump.

They all nodded furiously. “One of you put your information in my phone.” Y/N pulled her phone out, unlocking it and opening contacts, handing it to the group. After graduating, JJ learned his lesson - always have a witness or two to confirm his story (true or not). Y/N usually was the one who got a witness' contact information to keep in case they needed it. With Topper, they would definitely need it, he’s pressed charges before.

Glancing over at Topper, she saw a mass of people around him, someone holding their discarded shirt to his nose to stem the bleeding. Over the balled up fabric, he was glaring at the two of them, saying something but they couldn’t hear through the shirt and over the loud nose. Eyes flicking over to JJ, she looked up at him, his back still turned towards her, heaving. His fists were still clenched, almost as if he was ready for someone to come try to avenge Topper or Topper to come flying at them.

“Here you go, we put her number in.” A shaky voice pulled her eyes away from JJ. A boy held her phone out to her, his hand and whole body shaking slightly, eyes pleading with her to take the phone before JJ turned around. He was scared of JJ. He was intimidating, probably, she assumed since all she saw was a guy with such a large heart and an urge to protect anything he cares about with all his might.

“Thank you,” She took the phone, locking and pocketing it. “JJ, we should leave.” She shuffled the rest of the way over to JJ, her toes getting buried in the sand despite her sandals. For the first time since the punch, JJ looked over at her as she gripped his arm. As soon as his eyes met hers, they softened, but seemed to get darker. His chest rested, no longer heaving, and his fists relaxed, one arm snaking around her waist to pull her against him.

____

When she suggested they leave, she was more concerned about the possibility of cops showing up to bust the party since there was a strong possibility of someone snitching after that punch was thrown. She didn’t even think this could happen. She didn’t think he would want to. Part of her even thought he would be mad that she let Topper flirt with her, but as he muttered into her neck not long ago, he knew she didn’t want him. Didn’t want him the way she wanted JJ. Didn’t want him talking to her. Didn’t want him anywhere near her. He knew that.

Really, they barely even left the party since they managed to make it to the Twinkie and that was as far as they went. In all fairness, JJ was the one who brought it since everyone else had drives already. So the van was all theirs according to him. Imagine her shock when JJ’s lips landed on hers, lips moving against hers with such passion she kind of thought it was a dream. She had expected a fight. Maybe that was her own messed up trauma coming forth, but she least expected to have his tongue in her mouth and his hands roaming around her body.

She hummed into his mouth as he gently started to guide her down on her back. ‘God bless the Twinkie’s lack of seats.’ She thought once her back met the floor of the van, JJ’s weight shifting as he settled between her legs, his body pressing against her in just the right way. She could feel everything. From the heat radiating off of him to every single dip and ridge of his muscled abdomen.

Her eyes opened when JJ pulled his mouth away, catching a glimpse of the dark interior. JJ had parked in a rather secluded spot. With trees hanging over the van, all planted in a row behind the van, they were perfectly hidden. A bit of moonlight slipped through the leaves, illuminated the inside so softly. Her eyes shifted, looking at JJ’s body pressed against her. The way the soft lighting surrounded him, it made him look pure and soft - just like she always pictured him. “You got quiet,” JJ muttered against her skin as he kissed along her neck and shoulders. “What’s going on in there?” He asked, pulling away to look at her for a moment.

A ray of moonlight hit his eyes, making them sparkle like two ocean blue gems. “Just thinking about how beautiful you are.” She uttered, her hands sliding up from where they rested on his sides to cup his face. Pulling his lips back to hers, he let her lead the kiss. Soft. Loving. Tender. JJ felt like they were in one of those romance movies she loves to watch. She took a deep breath in, lips pulling back only enough to do so as if she was trying to breath him in.

Eyes fluttering open again, her eyes stared up at him - big and darkened with want and need. Looking into those eyes was all it took for JJ to snap. Instantly, his lips were on hers again, but only for a moment until they trailed down to the spot he knew so well - sucking. Harshly.

Y/N’s eyes nearly rolled back into her head, mouth opening and head falling back as she moaned. She always responded like that and JJ knew it. She also knew he knew by the feeling of his smirk against her now widely exposed neck. “JJ, careful-“ She panted, back arching off the floor as he slid his hands under her, dragging against the smooth skin of her back. “What if-“ As his hands hit the thin strap resting on her back that was holding her bikini closed, it was like she couldn’t speak in full sentences. “Someone sees the mark.”

She warned, but she knew it was futile since his attack seemed to have shifted from that spot and was now inching down to her collarbones as he pulled on the string of her bathing suit. “So what,” He muttered against her skin, the vibrations tickling her slightly but she was too turned on to pay anything but the need for friction any mind. “That way everyone will know you’re mine and I’m yours.”

His words went right to two places. Her heart, but mostly her vagina. Maybe like one percent to the heart. More will go later, after he rails her in the back of his best friend's van. “I’m yours, JJ. In every way.”

Too overcome with the need for some sort of relief, her hips rolled against JJ’s. A synchronous moan filled the air. She didn’t stop the movement, making JJ still his merciless teasing. She wanted to open her eyes to look at him, to see why he was frozen as she continued to rub herself against his still body. Thankfully, he was a strong guy with good endurance so even with her trapped under him, she could rub against him and get herself off. She was well on her merry way to doing just that.

Moans spilling out from both of them, her movements quickened and became sloppier. She was squirming now, face screwed up. Before she met JJ, she was sure this was an orgasm. She couldn’t understand how it could get any better than this, but then JJ showed her just what she was missing and she was proven wrong.

That’s why she sobbed when one of JJ’s hands freed themselves from where they had a death grip on her bathing suit and gripped her hip, stopping her movements. “JJ!” She cried desperately, panting as she tried to roll her hips again.

“Gorgeous, if you keep doing that, this is gonna be over way too quick, and neither of us want that.” He practically growled and she gasped. Partially from the shock that ran through her, feeding her beating heart and also feeding her pooling wetness. Also from the fact that with a yank of his hand her top was untied and with another, her top was off and thrown elsewhere. “Now, let me savor everything my girlfriend has to offer.” His voice was deep, in a dark and an arousing way.

But what really got her was how his blue eyes remained locked with hers as he dragged his lips down her body. A trail of goosebumps and tingles were left, marking the path he took. From the base of her throat, down the valley of her breasts (where there was a brief pit stop to nip and suck - knowing she loved it), down her stomach, and stopping at the top of her jean shorts. Their eye contact was unbreakable and somehow he managed to make it a form of sexual teasing. He didn’t even look as he unbuttoned her shorts, pulling them and her bathing suit bottoms down together. Those too were thrown carelessly. He only broke their eye contact for a second, if you could even count it as a full second, to look down at her bare core. “My girlfriend is all sprawled out here looking like a whole-ass buffet. All you can eat, I hope.” He winked before dipping down, hands pushing her legs apart. The last thing she saw was that damn smirk before his lips disappeared and she gasped out a sudden moan. Eyes closing, legs widening before trying to snap shut around his head (his hands already placed to stop her), and her back arching off the floor with her head flying back.

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forest-hashira · 3 months

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Noble Blood - Chapter Five

...hey everyone! i know i said i was taking a break from this fic, and it really felt like i did! i know it's only been about a week since the last update, but it feels like longer than that to me, haha. i didn't touch the fic itself at all for a few days and focused on working out a few worldbuilding things instead (tysm for your help leigh!!!). and then i sat down and wrote this whole thing in like two sittings. also, in case anyone was wondering, this is what i had initially hoped to get to in chapter three. whoops. anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

fic masterlist here | read on ao3 here | wc: ~3.2k | cw: gn reader, new characters afoot, minor injuries (sort of a concussion, ig?), brief instance of vomiting

It wasn’t long after Satoru had told your group of friends about Kenji that other people in the settlement started finding out. Not that it was difficult, since now the little dragon had taken to riding on top of Satoru’s head and messing up his hair – which Satoru lamented about constantly, and insisted was intentional – when they were out and about in the settlement. After word had spread to virtually everyone who lived in the settlement, Satoru was allowed a bit more freedom to come and go from the Gojo estate, though his lessons with his tutors and his training sessions with Yaga still took up much of his time.

Despite all of your friends’ best efforts to make nice with Kenji, he seemed totally uninterested in anyone that wasn’t you or Satoru, and, on occasion, Kokoro, because she was prone to sneaking him cookies from the bakery. The seeming indifference from the dragon didn’t seem to particularly upset anyone in the group, but Satoru saw it as something to brag about, even if somewhat jokingly, saying things like, “You’re just not cool enough for him I guess,” and “He’d pay more attention to you if you were more fun,” always with a giant, mischievous grin on his face.

It had absolutely devastated him one day when Kento had replied with “Maybe he knows you need a taste of your own medicine.” Satoru had refused to speak to Kento for a full three days until he apologized.

This new normal – stepping back into the old dynamic of the group, but now with a playful dragon in the mix – settled in quickly, and for that you were grateful. The seven of you spending time together playing games and causing trouble in between lessons and training became a daily routine again. Before you knew it, days turned to weeks, and weeks into months, until almost a year had come and gone, the passage of time only marked by birthdays and the changing of the seasons. One by one, you each turned a year older; by the time the New Year’s festival was coming up again, Satoru was nine, you, Shoko, and Utahime, were eight, Kento was seven, and Kokoro was five.

The festival went as the last few had: fireworks, cookies in the shapes of the moon phases and stars, and you, Shoko, Utahime, and Satoru spending an almost absurd amount of time with the ring toss game. This year, the prize you all had your eye on was an expertly crafted stuffed animal that resembled a bear – at least, you all assumed it was supposed to be a bear – to give to Kokoro.

“Yaga-sensei makes stuffed animals like that in his spare time,” Satoru explained, when Utahime asked where the toy had come from.

“Are you sure he actually knows what a bear looks like?” Shoko asked, tossing one of her rings and sighing when it bounced off the peg she had aimed for. “Because even I know that they’re not generally…purple.”

You laughed at that, not even caring that it caused you to miss your mark, too; Satoru had the money to pay for all four of you to play all night, if that’s what it took for you to win the prize.

“Well I think purple is a fun color,” you replied, trying and failing to bite back a grin at the exasperated look you got from Shoko, though she said nothing else as she got another set of rings to throw.

By the time you’d won the stuffed animal – Utahime had outscored all of you, which had earned her praise from you and Shoko, and also meant she’d won her bet against Satoru, so he had to buy her any snack she wanted from the whole festival – the fireworks show was about to start, which meant you all had to race to the booth the Nanami family had been selling desserts out of so you could collect your other two friends, and present Kokoro with the prize that had been won for her.

Just like Satoru’s eighth birthday, all of you snuck off to the peach orchard and climbed up to the observation deck to watch the show. Utahime and Shoko sat huddled together, sharing the taiyaki pastries Utahime had made Satoru buy her; Kento and Kokoro stood closer to the railing, the little girl clutching the “bear” in a death grip; you and Satoru laid on your backs near the center of the platform, looking up at the fireworks without having to strain your necks, a mostly empty bag of konpeito lying forgotten between you. As always, the display included the moon in various phases, snowflakes being overtaken by flowers, all interspersed with bright flashes of red, gold, and white.

Kenji, now too big to be satisfied with staying bundled into his rider’s clothes, laid curled up with his head on your shoulder, apparently content to sleep through the whole show, despite how loud it was.

All in all, you felt good. You were happy, and everything had finally stabilized again, after Satoru unexpectedly bonded with Kenji over a year before. Besides that, you knew it wouldn’t be that much longer before you and the rest of your friend group all had dragons of your own, and the idea excited you.

It had barely been a week since the new year’s festival when you felt something change in the air of the settlement. You weren’t entirely sure what it was at first, but you quickly learned that there was apparently another boy that had bonded with a single color dragon before the age of ten, much like Satoru had a year before. There was talk around the settlement for days, rumors spoken in hushed tones when the adults thought the children couldn’t hear, but it was impossible to miss all the murmurings.

“He’s from a little village hours from here.”

“He’s not even part of a clan.”

“I heard the Gojos bought him and are bringing him here to hold him captive.”

“They can’t take the risk of him growing strong enough to challenge the heir, they have to keep him on a tight leash.”

“You don’t think they’d bring him here just to kill him, do you?”

“It depends how much of a threat he poses, I guess.”

With such dark statements being thrown around so casually – even if only in hushed whispers – you couldn’t help but grow curious about the reality of the situation.

“Do you really think they bought him?” you asked your friends one day. You were dying to ask Satoru himself, since he would know for sure if his clan had bought the boy who’d bonded with a solid color dragon, but you hadn’t seen much of him lately.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Shoko sighed, rolling her eyes at you. “Why would they buy him? They have enough power just to take him if they really want to.”

Her words made your eyes widen with horror.

“Shoko,” Kento scolded her, a frown pinching his features together harshly. “Don’t say things like that, you’re scaring them!”

“But it’s true!” she insisted, only backing down and grumbling to herself about not wanting to lie when Utahime nudged her with her elbow.

Your curiosity only grew after that.

It was just a couple of days later when there was a flurry of excitement near the docks, and you rushed to see what all the fuss was about. You had to shove and weave your way between people’s legs in order to get a good look, but eventually you found yourself standing practically at the front of the crowd. You reached the spot just in time to see a boy about your age stumble off of a boat – obviously one of the finer sailing ships, owned by the Gojo clan – looking a bit green in the face; he’d probably been seasick on the journey. At first, you didn’t notice his dragon draped around his shoulders like a pelt because it so closely matched the color of his hair. When it lifted its head from his shoulder, though, you almost gasped, eyes wide as you stared. It looked so much like Satoru’s dragon it was almost uncanny, though this one was as dark as Satoru’s was light.

The boy glanced around as he was urged forward, clearly unsettled by the number of people gathered to gawk at him, as if he were some sort of novelty. His eyes paused for a moment as they met yours, and even with as fascinated as you were by his arrival, you managed to smile at him and give him a small wave. The gesture seemed to fluster him, and he lifted his hand slightly to return the wave before he was hurried off, one of the men escorting him scolding all the onlookers and telling them to go home.

You scampered off before you could get caught and further chastised, but your curiosity was far from sated. He had only just arrived, and already you wanted to see this boy again, and to learn as much about him as you could. That wasn’t so bad, was it?

Apparently it was bad.

“I just don’t understand why we can’t see him!” you complained to Shoko, after being turned away from the Gojo estate once again. “He’s our age, just like Satoru is. I just wanna say hi.”

“Maybe it’s because we don’t have our dragons yet,” she suggested.

You wrinkled your nose. “Why would that matter?”

“Because it means we’re not grown up enough, or something. I don’t know.” She kicked a pebble a foot or so down the path as you walked together.

“Just because he has his dragon now doesn’t mean Satoru’s grown up,” you grumbled, kicking the pebble a little further down the path after you reached it.

The brunette hummed in agreement with your comment, but neither of you said anything else; even if Shoko wouldn’t say the words out loud, you knew she missed Satoru just like you did.

The two of you continued walking together in silence, taking turns kicking the little pebble as you went, only separating when you were called home by your respective parents. You waved goodbye to Shoko as she walked over to her mother, and as you turned and made your way back to your own parents, you felt less frustrated than you had when you’d first been turned away from the Gojo estate, because you had already made up your mind; you were going to get in to see those boys whether the Gojo clan wanted you to or not.

You crept through your house as quietly as you could, taking great care to avoid the floorboards you knew would creak if you stepped on them as you made your way to the front door. Thankfully your father, as usual, had failed to lock it before turning in for the night, and you held your breath as you pulled it open, praying the hinges wouldn’t squeak and alert your parents to your escape.

Miraculously, they made no sound as you opened it just enough to slip through, closing it behind you just as silently. A smile crossed your face then, realizing that the first part of your plan had gone off without a hitch. You managed to stifle a shout of excitement, knowing that would only result in you getting caught, and instead turned away from the door, racing up the road and towards the Gojo estate.

As you drew closer to the estate, you slowed your movements, not wanting to give yourself away because you tripped over your own feet or a loose stone in the path. You tucked yourself a little further into the shadows, eyes locked on the guard by the front gates as you moved around to the side. Once you were sure you were out of his line of sight, you darted to walk against the wall itself, steps slow and careful; if you miscalculated your spot along the outside of the estate, you’d be in a world of trouble.

Just as you began to question your memory, you heard a familiar voice just up ahead, on the other side of the wall, and it brought a smile to your face.

“Kenji, your feet are cold, stop putting them on my neck!” Satoru’s whining eased the hurt of not being able to see him much anymore, and it also confirmed that you were exactly where you’d planned to end up.

Taking a step away from the wall, you turned to look at it, trying to find the best possible hand- and footholds on its regal yet weathered surface. It only took a moment to find them, and you immediately began to scale your way up, reaching the top in a lot less time than you had expected, and before you knew it your head was peeking over the top of the wall.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything before Satoru noticed you, as wretchedly observant as he was, and you thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head. He called your name incredulously, stepping off of his engawa and approaching the wall as if to confirm what he was seeing. “Is that really you?”

“Hi, Toru!” you replied, somehow managing to keep from shouting, a grin plastered across your face as you pulled yourself further up.

“How the hell did you get up there?” the white haired boy asked, though he was smiling now, too; he could tell you were up to some sort of mischief, and he was more than willing to be a part of it.

“I climbed,” you said bluntly, more focused on swinging one of your legs over the top of the wall so you could begin your descent. It was then that you noticed another figure, still seated on the engawa off to Satoru’s left, dark hair pulled back while an equally dark dragon curled around his shoulders, its yellow eyes glowing like fireflies in the dark. It occurred to you then that this was the boy you’d seen at the docks; the one that had been brought to the settlement to train alongside Satoru.

Excitement outweighed your rational thoughts then, and a beaming grin broke out across your face once again. “Hi!” you called to the boy, releasing the wall with one hand to wave at him excitedly. “I’m—”

Your introduction was cut short when you lost your balance, and you barely had time to register what was happening before you were hitting the ground, a rather undignified squawking sound escaping you just before you made impact with the dirt; you were vaguely aware of your head hitting the ground a little harder than the rest of your body, but not aware enough to realize it could be bad.

“Oh my god!” an unfamiliar voice shouted, obviously worried. The owner of the voice hurried over, and when you opened your eyes you saw two faces hovering above your own. “Are you okay? That looked like it hurt.” You realized the once-unfamiliar voice belonged to the boy from the docks, and it brought a small smile to your lips.

“It did hurt,” you answered after a moment, planting your hands on the ground beside you and pushing yourself to sit up. The sudden movement sent your vision spinning, and you felt yourself beginning to slump over before Satoru caught you.

“I can’t believe you fell like an idiot,” he said, though you thought you detected a hint of worry in his voice, as well, as he let you lean into him while he held you upright.

“Satoru-san!” the dark haired boy said, sounding scandalized that he would speak to you that way.

“What?” Satoru demanded, scowling at the other boy. “And I already told you not to be so formal when you talk to me, Suguru. It’s weird.”

Suguru. You turned the name over in your mind a few times, and you decided you liked it.

Suguru scowled back at Satoru for a moment, though his attention quickly drifted down to you again, worry furrowing his brow. “Should we take them to see someone?” he asked after a moment. “They hit the ground pretty hard, what if they’re hurt?”

You intended to tell the boys that you were fine, that it was no big deal and there was no need to worry, but as soon as you pulled yourself away from Satoru and tried to stand on your own, you doubled over again and promptly threw up your dinner, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision began to swim.

Satoru swore from somewhere off to your left, and he quickly but gently pulled you away from the mess you’d made on the ground, making sure you wouldn’t collapse into it.

“Yeah, we need to get someone,” he said, finally agreeing with Suguru. “Can you move?” he asked, looking down at you with a worried expression.

You stared up at him for a few long moments, trying to decide if he would believe you if you lied, but the harder you thought about it, the more your head started to throb. “...I don’t know,” you eventually said, words coming out a bit wobbly. “Definitely can’t walk.”

“I can carry you,” Suguru offered, and you whipped your head around to look at him so fast you thought you might be sick again.

The white haired boy seemed hesitant at first, but he also didn’t seem to want to waste time arguing about it. “Are you sure?”

Suguru nodded. “I don’t know my way around the house, it will be easier for me to carry them and follow you.”

Your friend looked down at you again, his features pinched together in a way you couldn’t recall ever seeing before, and it made you frown back up at him slightly.

“Okay,” Satoru agreed after a moment. “Okay, yeah, you’re right.”

As carefully as two nine year old boys could manage, Satoru helped Suguru gather you in his arms and lift you from the ground. Though you knew they were trying their best, you couldn’t help the small sounds that would escape you when you would get jostled a bit too hard, your head spinning so bad it made you feel nauseous.

Once Suguru had you secure in his arms and was on his feet, Satoru led the way into the house, navigating the halls with ease as he sought out the healer that spent most nights at the estate.

The movement was too much for you, your vision swimming with every step, your stomach doing flips with every turn, and you had to shut your eyes.

“I really think you should stay awake,” Suguru told you quietly, worry clear in his voice.

“Not falling asleep,” you insisted. “My eyes hurt an’ I feel dizzy, that’s all.”

You received no further argument or pushback, which you appreciated. Despite your promise that you weren’t falling asleep, though, it wasn’t long before the sounds of the boys searching for someone to look you over faded from your awareness and you slipped from the waking world.

didn't wanna say this before the chapter, but i figured there was no better time to post suguru's entrance than on his birthday! so happy birthday to our boy 💜

@ghost-1-y @kentohours @whatthefucksatan @why-the-fuck-am-i-so-tired @mitsuristoleme @lu-dao-writes @peachdues @lik0 @deepestartisanhumanoidshark @here-for-the-tea-baby @staryukis @roselleviennesstuff if your url is crossed out, it's because tumblr won't let me tag you for whatever reason. i apologize!

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exquisitetomarrymortcorpse · 2 months

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Event Breakdown

Now that all participants have submitted their forms, we will move on to the next course of action. The event will continue as follows:

All participants who are comfortable going first will be added to a randomiser. Once a starting person has been selected, those comfortable going last will be randomised. I will reach out to the selected first and last people and confirm if their estimated date range works for them - if the date range doesn't work for one or both, I will restart the process until both parties confirm. When all is settled, the remaining participants will be randomised, assigned a date range, and reached out to. After each participant has agreed with their dates, the Timeline will be posted. To keep things simple, the event will officially start on April 1st! After the first person has completed their contribution of the corpse, the second person will be contacted at the beginning of their date range and given the last five lines of the fic or a cropped portion of the fanart. This chain will continue until the corpse inevitably finishes (decays).

Outreach Timeframe

Below are the deadlines for outreach and date range confirmation:

March 6th - The first and last randomised participants will be contacted. They will have until March 8th to confirm their date range. March 8th - If one or both participants cannot do their date range, alternate people will be selected. They will have until March 10th to confirm their date range. March 13th - All other randomised participants will be contacted. Because this group will be much larger and may need more changes, they will have until March 27th to confirm their date ranges. March 29th - The official Timeline will be posted. April 1st - The event begins! The first person shall start the exquisite tomarrymort corpse and have two weeks to finish and submit their contribution. This pattern will continue and repeat until the corpse finishes (decays).

Submission Requirements

Free Rein is still in play - however, to maintain consistency, here are a few things requested of each participant:

- All writing participants must submit their contributions of the corpse via Google Docs. Doing so will help keep everything consistent, easily mergeable, and manageable when transitioning to AO3. - All fanart participants must submit their contributions of the corpse with a Link to their art. Doing so will help with image embedding when transitioning to AO3. - All writing and fanart participants should edit their fics/panels for proper spelling, punctuation, and grammar to the best of their ability. If you can't, please contact a beta reader for editing. - All writing and fanart participants should exclude any explicit material in the contributed portion that is passed on to the next participant! For example, no explicit material should be present in the last five lines of the fic or within the cropped portion of the fanart sent.

Optional Guidelines

Quick shoutout to Flaky over in our newly minted discord server, they helped put this into words quite nicely--

If complete creative freedom is overwhelming with us now officially transitioning into "Free Rein", here are some guidelines you can follow but don't necessarily have to: - Aim for 500 to 2k words; or 1 fanart scene with a small amount of dialogue to 3 scenes with no dialogue (no pressure). - Here are some randomised words to help inspire you: hands, ragged, speak, gullible, ick -- can't even make this up. - If all else fails, pick a classic Tomarrymort trope: Time Travel, Dark Harry, Soulmates, Harry and Tom Grow Up Together, Forced Proximity, Voldemort Wins, etc. - Don't focus on making a cohesive story; that's the last thing we want. Review the portion sent to you, and just create until you feel things have suitably gotten out of hand or until you think you've confused the person after you well enough. - Keep in mind that the ultimate goal is to have fun. (And submit what will likely be the most extraordinary Tomarrymort AO3 story that ever was, of course.) If you aren't having fun, please reach out; I'll do everything in my power to help you have fun.

Final Notes

From my rough calculations - the event will finish sometime on or before January 20th. Now, this is a long timeframe. If anything arises in the meantime that changes your availability, please let me know as soon as you can. With enough notice, we may be able to make a quick and painless swap with someone further down the list. This way, everyone still gets to participate. Thank you for sticking this out with us and showing so much enthusiasm! If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to message or send an ask here on Tumblr or reach out on our Discord server.

#exquisite tomarrymort corpse #tomarry #harrymort #tomarrymort #event

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frozenjokes · 1 month

Text

CuteGuy Would Prefer Greatly If HotGuy Never Ever Had Any Nice Things, But Especially Not His Good Friend And Roommate Cubfan135 (2/3)

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Grian, as CuteGuy, landed softly on the other side of the parking lot, tucking his wings non-threateningly at his back. Calm. Cool. Relaxed. He hadn’t been home when Cub left to meet HotGuy, but Grian knew well enough Cub would be timely, and with any luck, a little early. With no one in the empty parking lot, Grian wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, but he didn’t have to wait long before he spotted Cub down the street, absorbed in his music as always. Sure enough, Cub didn’t even notice CuteGuy as he entered the parking lot, only spotting him after sitting down on the curb and looking up, presumably for HotGuy.

It didn’t feel tense when their eyes met. Cub didn’t look afraid. Part of Grian was deeply relieved; he cared very little about how the world viewed him, preferring they feared him if they felt anything at all, but.. Not Cub. He didn’t want Cub to be afraid. The other part of him was worried; did Cub not fear him because he recognized him? Not CuteGuy the villain, but Grian, who he thought was staying out of trouble and getting help- and it wasn’t that Grian wasn’t trying to get help. He was getting better, really! He hadn’t gotten into any fights as ‘Grian’ in weeks- hadn’t gotten arrested in over two months! But no amount of therapy could keep him calm in tense encounters or high stress moments; thinking about how he’d make it right, how he’d get them back later. That did it. Those sentiments brought the air back into his lungs.

“Should I leave?” Cub asked, a healthy caution behind his voice.

“I’d rather you stayed. I don’t want to hurt you,” Grian forced his voice lower as he spoke, hoping Cub couldn’t tell, and cursed himself for not thinking to practice. He sounded stupid. And given the small quirk of Cub’s eyebrow, Grian didn’t sound sincere, either.

“I don’t want to hurt you, either. But I do have pepper spray. Just so you’re aware. And it hurts. I know this from personal experience.” Cub paused briefly in a silent debate with himself, “I was curious. Mistake.”

Grian chuckled, but he couldn’t laugh too hard, not when he was there, and not when he had also pepper sprayed himself in some sort of horrible solidarity. Bad day. Horrible judgment from all sides, mostly because they had no one else to look out for them, literally as well as metaphorically. Top five dumbest things Grian had ever done, for sure. Even thinking about that day was enough to make his skin itch and burn. But there was a fondness there too, the type of fondness you can only achieve by doing something incredibly, irrefutably idiotic with your best friend.

“I’ve been there. Not eager to go back, either, so I’ll keep my distance if that’s what keeps you comfortable. I’d like to sit though, if that’s alright.”

Cub shrugged. “Whatever you want.”

“You can say no.”

“I don’t know if I can.” Cub eyed him evenly, not unfriendly as was often assumed about him, but cautious, appraising. It was a little bit funny. Cub looking at CuteGuy, a fairly well known supervillain, the way he’d look at any stranger; gauging intention. Cub didn’t navigate the world under the assumption that everyone was out to get him, but he was also the kind of person that liked knowing, and a Cub in the dark was not a Cub at ease. Grian hoped he’d be able to get Cub to relax with him before HotGuy arrived, but that would be no easy feat, not as CuteGuy. Cub was smart; he probably suspected CuteGuy knew HotGuy was coming. This was not a chance meeting. CuteGuy wanted something. And Cub wasn’t wrong, not really.

“You can,” Grian tried, hoping again he sounded genuine, but in these forced lower tones, it was hard to accurately get the emotions he was aiming for across. Grian wondered if Cub noticed the oddness in his voice, and was immediately sure of the answer. But Cub wouldn’t say a word, not to the avian known for being quick to anger.

“Well in that case, I don’t mind,” Cub said, almost dismissive as he looked back at his phone. Grian couldn’t quite tell if Cub actually did mind or not, but he sat on the curb regardless, not too close, but not far either. Grian winced at the thought of being pepper sprayed. He wouldn’t see it coming, that he was sure of; Cub was very good at concealing his tells. “Just so you know,” Cub continued after a moment, almost thoughtful, “HotGuy will be here soon. I’ve heard you two don’t get along, and, well..” he trailed off, gesturing vaguely, but Grian got the message.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, the line vindictively practiced, and Grian couldn’t keep the smirk off his face, “Heroes are fickle things. I have a feeling HotGuy will be late, if he even shows up at all.”

Cub nodded, though Grian wasn’t exactly sure what that meant. “What’s he up to then, if you know?” His tone was mild, almost monotone, but there was a mutual understanding as to what was going on here. Grian knew better than anyone that Cub knew how to play his cards, and that he wouldn’t sit idly in the dark if he thought he could get away with it. Grian couldn’t remember a time when Cub had judged a confrontation incorrectly, or pushed his luck too far.

“Poultry Man made a bit of a mess on the other side of town. Left a message specifically for HotGuy, and if you didn’t know, HotGuy’s been dying to chat with him. As if Poultry Man would speak to anyone.” Grian laid back across the curb, spreading his wings in the grass. “No need to ask. I was involved, of course. We look out for each other, Poultry Man and I, but I just wanted to make sure you knew exactly where HotGuy’s priorities lie. Believe me when I tell you that you’re far from the only man he’s chasing. In every sense of the word.”

“What did he do?”

“What?”

“Poultry Man? What did he do?” It was a perfectly amicable, almost innocently curious question. Grian knew better than to take Cub at face value, but his facade was rock hard, and Grian had no idea what he was actually feeling.

“Told me he was saving these nails and things, sharp, sturdy stuff, and that he was going to dump a whole bunch of them in various parking lots of government buildings. They’re painted, of course. Like chickens. I don’t know how he was planning on leaving a message for HotGuy, but I’m sure he managed.”

Cub chuckled, which Grian didn’t expect, expecting even less for Cub to look genuinely amused. “I like that guy.”

“You-“ Grian felt his heart stop, or maybe beat faster, “You like Poultry Man?”

“Yeah. I kinda do.” Cub didn’t elaborate. Grian didn’t really expect him too, but he desperately wished Cub would. Well. He’d have to push for answers if he wanted any at all.

“I don’t understand how you can like Poultry Man and HotGuy. They’re like- complete opposites. Egg themed rebellion versus pathetic attention-hungry bootlicking, it’s not anywhere near compatible.”

“I wouldn’t go as far to say that I like bootlickers. I don’t.”

I know you don’t. Words Grian almost said, but couldn’t, so he settled on, “Well, given that’s basically HotGuy’s entire job, you may want to reconsider.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? HotGuy is like the government’s top lap dog! He isn’t even that good at what he does- he’s just got a tragic backstory and a chiseled body, so the whole damn world can’t help but fall for him. He’s going to use you until he gets bored, then dump you, because he’s HotGuy and he can do whatever the hell he wants without paying the price.”

“I just mean that I don’t know. It’s as simple as that. I don’t know him. But I’d like to. We’ll see.”

“You’re going to get hurt.”

Cub threw him a critical side eye, the type of look a winner might wear, the type of look that let Grian know he had made a mistake. Almost agonizingly, Cub did not gloat or hold this victory of gleaned information over Grian’s head; he just sat there, silent, contemplative. He gave Grian nothing. No hints of his thoughts or feelings. Cub knew he didn’t have to. He knew just as well as Grian did that Grian would keep talking, keep losing ground, keep revealing too much. But still, Grian couldn’t stop. It was fine, fine that Cub knew he was emotionally invested in some way, but clearly this wasn’t working, so it was time for a pivot. Throw him off.

“I think you can do better. I think you deserve better. My hands are plenty dirty, but not any more than his.”

Cub blinked, looking up. There were a mix of emotions there that not even Grian could decipher, but the fact that he even bothered to look at all showed interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Grian had Cub’s attention now, and he wasn’t about to let go, “You can play with heroes and see where it gets you, or cut the shit and have a little fun. Do you want to play games, or is it easier to believe HotGuy’s any different than me?”

“I don’t think HotGuy hurts people on purpose.”

“How many accidents need to happen before the people he hurts are a product of careless negligence. That’s what he is, Cub, careless. And no matter what he does, no matter how many people die under his watch, he will never be punished.”

“Good point.”

“How does it feel to put your heart in the hands of someone who’s above the law?”

“I think you’re making quite a few assumptions, CuteGuy.”

“I can see where this is going.”

“And you think I’d be better off with you? I don’t believe we’ve met, stranger. If I didn’t know any better, I might think you’re only here to spite HotGuy.”

“The things I’m telling you are true.”

“They are. And I’ll keep them in mind. But I’m not looking to trade out one interest for another, so you don’t have to pretend like you care.” Cub turned back to his phone. Grian gritted his teeth behind closed lips.

“I think you’re cute.” Distantly, Grian heard footsteps, the fast, heavy footfalls of someone running very quickly. Cub heard them too, but he didn’t look up, so Grian didn’t either.

“I’m sure you do,” Cub said.

“I do.”

“Well thanks. I think I’m cute, too.”

“He’ll treat you carelessly.” The footsteps were louder now, quite close.

“I’ll make that judgment for myself.”

“Hey!” HotGuy yelled from the other side of the parking lot, but apparently that was all he had in him, hunching over with his hands on his knees and panting. He jogged the rest of the way, chest still heaving, and spoke as he neared the curb, “Is,” HotGuy had to stop, not having enough air to form the words, “this guy,” another pause, shorter this time, “bothering you?” The last words fell with what looked like a massive effort, HotGuy, hunching again to breathe.

“Not really,” Cub said, not put off in the slightest. Grian didn’t bother to get up, only snorting as HotGuy caught his breath. Though that seemed to set him off, the hero jolting upright to fix Grian with a fiery glare.

“You know, I am fed up with you!”

Grian choked on his own laugh, “Fed up? You’re fed up with me?”

“I am!” if HotGuy understood Grian was laughing about his choice of words, he didn’t show it, “I can not believe you sent me on a wild goose chase tonight, when I told you I had plans! And why- why are you talking like that? You’re going to mess up your throat; I had to take tons of voice lessons to-“

“You know, I think we should go.” Cub stood up, definitive in his tone, but HotGuy didn’t move.

“Where are we going?” Grian asked, and HotGuy seethed; honestly, Grian was having trouble telling if he was legitimately pissed off or not. Cub fixed him with a glare of his own, which Grian was not expecting, and couldn’t stop himself from shrinking under the look.

“We aren’t going anywhere,” HotGuy hissed through gritted teeth, drawing his bow, and at this point, Grian was pretty sure he was actually angry. Cub had backed off considerably at this point, but behind HotGuy, Grian saw him stiffen, a far more real look of terror crossing his face.

“You can show me whatever it is you wanted to later,” Cub insisted, and Grian recognized fear in the way his voice lost all of its edge, but HotGuy clearly didn’t, not even turning around as he nocked an arrow. “No-“

Grian wasn’t about to wait around to find out if HotGuy was actually angry enough to shoot him, launching himself forward off the curb and under the line of fire as the arrow whistled by. He aimed to grapple HotGuy’s legs, but the hero had just enough time to retaliate with a weak kick, sending both of them stumbling in opposite directions.

Grian didn’t have time to look for Cub before HotGuy was closing the distance, and Grian had to roll out of the way to avoid another much stronger kick. He felt the boot graze his feathers, but HotGuy was vulnerable in the follow through, and slow; adrenaline didn’t change the fact he had run quite some distance, and in this state, it wouldn’t be long before he got tired. Grian rebalanced with a few beats of his wings, shooting forward before HotGuy could recover and sinking his claws into the hero’s shoulder pads, hooking his legs around his chest, and battering HotGuy’s head with his wings.

HotGuy yelped, spinning uselessly, but there wasn’t much he could do besides shield his face- at least, that’s what Grian had thought, but then he was falling- they were both falling, and Grian couldn’t even scream when HotGuy crushed him under his weight, knocking the wind cleanly from his chest. Blackness curled over his vision, but a glint of something sharp brought his sight back, just soon enough to see the wickedly barbed arrow in HotGuy’s fist, raised above his head.

“I promised not to shoot you.”

Grian was hardly aware of his own body as he moved, kicking up and connecting with something- he heard the crack of contact, but he didn’t stop moving, flipping back onto his hands and toes, with distance the only thought on his mind.

“FuacKing-“ Grian saw HotGuy out of the corner of his eye, stumbling with his hands over his nose, “Avians. Flexible.” Blood fell from his fingertips; dark blood, always too dark. Grian never loved to see people bleed- it didn’t satisfy him, not like fear, not like bruises, but he especially disliked HotGuy’s blood. It wasn’t right. It looked sick.

HotGuy was breathing hard already, his arms holding a slight shake. Pretty bad, even for a human. Just how far had he run before to tire out so quickly now? But before Grian could make his next move, he was distracted, his eye caught by the lack of a presence, the lack of-

A fist connected with his cheek, and Grian was violently reminded of just how fast HotGuy was, even this exhausted. If not for his wings to balance him, he would have been thrown off his feet, but HotGuy was relentless, throwing punch after punch before Grian could even hope to recover from the first. He ducked sloppily under the second, then the third, but the fourth grazed his mask, and the fifth landed squarely at the side of his head. The sixth was only dodged because Grian stumbled, and Grian didn’t even feel the seventh under his chin before he was nothing.

…

Being something again was more than unpleasant, especially being crumpled in all the wrong ways on the cement ground. Grian struggled to his hands and knees, but when he looked up, HotGuy wasn’t anywhere near him, brows hitched as he stared at his phone and paced.

HotGuy looked up at the movement, looking far more distressed than angry. “Did you tell him- tell him what this was before I got here? Why- why did you tell Poultry Man to- you made me late!”

Grian blinked, first slowly, then faster. His face hurt. Shit, if he had a black eye he was screwed. And then he remembered. Cub was gone.

He was too disoriented to lie. “Didn’t say anything. Just tried to keep him off you.”

A moment of anger flashed across Scar’s face, but it didn’t last, melting back into distress when he looked back down at his phone. “You must have said something. Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you must have- you- Why did I let you ruin this for me!”

Grian grunted, his sense returning just enough to be indignant, “It was your idea, asshole. What, did he figure out this was a set up?”

“He wouldn’t have if you didn’t come early!”

“Whatever.” Grian stumbled to his feet on wobbly legs, trying to keep some amount of his dignity intact, “You’re an idiot and he’s whip-smart. Doesn’t matter what I did, he probably would’ve found you out regardless.”

“What?” HotGuy snarked, “Did you figure all that out in the twenty minutes before I got here?”

Grian couldn’t keep the sigh out of his voice. “Yeah, actually. Played me like a damn fiddle, he did. Couldn’t break through no matter what I did. This was stupid, anyway, but I’m glad I came. I hope he’s mad. Hope he hates you forever.”

“You- you’re so immature! You lost. Feel bad about it.”

“Y’know, I think I’m just going to let you dig your own grave here.”

“I- I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t have to deal with this. I’m going home. You suck.” HotGuy dug around in one of his pockets, producing a small envelope, “Take your damn money.”

Grian didn’t think he could get any more surprised. “You’re actually paying me?”

“Take it. And try not to be a pain in the ass next week, so maybe I can pretend like this was worth something.”

Grian stepped forward cautiously, like a mouse to a trap, then snatched the envelope from HotGuy’s hand before the wire could snap down. But HotGuy did not move, eyes glued back on his phone.

Grian reminded himself he did not feel bad before taking off.

Time to check the damage. Not at his apartment of course, no, he had a different location for nights like these. The money couldn’t have come at a better time; he was running out of foundation, and getting low on concealer as well. Given how badly his face ached at every corner, he had a feeling he would be covering up some nasty bruises.

#idiots fuck around and find out #hermitcraft #hermitfic #gtws #goodtimeswithscar #grian #cubfan135 #cubfan #grub #cubscar #hotguy #cuteguy #poultry man #grian is cuteguy and poultryman

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milflewis · 3 months

Note

Brocedes Shot glass of tears

“So,” Jenson starts, shaking an unnecessarily large amount of salt onto his side of roast potatoes. “I learned something new the other day.”

Nico sips at his glass of Viognier — he’s having seafood. “How to spell your name?”

Jenson smiles at him. “You always were funny, Britney. No, did you know that it doesn’t matter if you don’t fuck — that it doesn’t actually kill you if you get that,” he waves a careless hand in the air, salt shaker shaking, “Fuck Or Die drug thing?”

He pauses. Frowns. “Or is it a flower pollen?”

“It’s a drug made from a flower, like heroin,” Nico says, instead of saying, no, he did not know.

Jenson hums consideringly. His faux pensive expression is hideously exaggerated. It isn’t as charming as Nico suspects he thinks it is. He also suspects that Jenson doesn’t much care at the moment.

“Or,” Jenson continues. “At least, it didn’t kill Lewis.”

James isn’t returning his calls. Nico doesn’t even bother trying Valtteri or Bono. He has no desire to be laughed at so Susie and Sebastian are also out.

Toto picks up on the seventh ring.

“This is Wolff” he answers, already sounding tired.

“Is it true?”

“Ah, Nico, hello,” Toto starts. “Is what true?”

Nico makes an annoyed sound in the back of his throat. His gut is doing something weird and cramp-like, and his head feels hot and stuffed even though he only had three glasses of wine with a full dinner.

“Lewis. And the drug. Is it real?”

“Hmm. Is this Friend-Nico talking, or Sky-Nico talking?”

It is a question that Susie likes to regularly ask Nico, though her version of the term ‘Friend-Nico’ is distinctly more mocking.

Nico does not snap at him. He is in control, even when he isn’t. He is.

Nico has never carried a bag of sweets around in his pocket. He is not one for setting himself up for failure. He knows what he is good at and what he isn’t. It is it’s own form of self discipline.

Nico isn’t sure Lewis ever really believed that. Other people definitely didn’t.

“Toto,” Nico says, and Toto sighs heavily.

“It is true. He — he had no one, and nothing happened. He has been medically cleared. No lasting side effects.”

Toto says the words like they’re not the first times he spoken them, and still, there is a note of slight reluctant disbelief. He has e never been one for awe.

Nico hangs up without saying goodbye.

The fan had been aiming for Sebastian.

Apparently they had taken offensive to his excessive flirting with everyone in his five foot radius. Nico understands their pain.

He doesn’t know what happened after Baku. No one does. But, even three years later, whatever it was meant that it wasn’t surprising to find Lewis hanging off of Sebastian’s elbow at races, laughing at his terrible jokes.

It is because of this that Lewis gets a face full of Amyl Nitrite, instead of Sebastian.

The layers of irony here amuse Nico for a nice long moment. It helps that Nico knows from Jenson that Lewis was left to deal with it on his own. No Sebastian in sight.

“His poor dick must be stripped raw,” Nico says over the phone.

Mark makes a high despairing sound. He doesn’t like it when they talk about Lewis’s dick.

Ted makes Lewis laugh seven times in his three minute paddock pen interview on Thursday. Nico is used to seeing Ted make Lewis laugh. They're both pretty shameless in that regard.

There are no circles under his eyes - no visible ones anyway, concealer is a thing - or tightness around his forehead. Nico squints at the screen to see if he has any of those tiny broken blood vessels he gets he presses his knuckles into them, trying to sleep. He can't see any.

His braids are neat and pulled back from his face in a high pony and his shirt is loose around his neck, thick silver chain glimmering. He is wearing his usual amount of jewelry.

"You know what it's like, man," Lewis is smiling, face scrunching up behind his mask. "We always try to start off on a good vibe and see where we go build from there. We've got a good team and a good car, and I like where we're at."

He does not look like he's in any form of discomfort, let alone pain. He does not look like his dick is raw. This means nothing as Nico knows.

Ted says something else and Lewis laughs for an eighth time. Nico turns off his tablet.

It is from Fernando that Nico finds out what happened in the end.

Fernando tells him that Lewis came to stay in his hotel room for the night, to ride out the drug’s effects, like this set of actions were obvious and he couldn’t imagine why Nico was even bothering to ask.

Absence, Nico realises, does not always make the heart fonder. At least where Fernando Alonso is concerned.

“Where else would he go,” Fernando says slowly as if Nico is particularly dim. “I don’t do that sort of thing, and I always have a lot of alcohol on me.”

He is filling another two shot glasses from a bottle of clear vodka he already had at the table when Nico arrived.

“Right,” Nico says. “Of course.”

And then: “Is that how he survived then? By drinking himself limp?”

The thought isn’t as funny as Nico would like it to be.

Fernando rolls his eyes. “I told him he didn’t need it. People are just weak. This drug does not kill. People get scared. They give in. They want. After, they are ashamed, so they make up stories, is all.”

Fernando’s mouth twists into something sour. The lighting in the hotel bar is low and dark, throwing shadows across his jaw.

“Hamilton is not weak,” Fernando tells him and Nico does not snap back that he knows.

Instead, he informs him calmly that his opinion on drugs and people’s susceptibility to them and their effects is outdated and uneducated and privileged. He leaves Fernando to pick up their tab. This seems to piss him off more than the lecture.

+1.

Lewis flips the pancake high in the air, grinning to himself as it lands perfectly back into the pan. He’s shirtless, shorts low on his hips, and barefoot. The curve of his belly is softer than it was back when they were racing.

“Morning,” Nico murmurs, pressing his mouth against the knob at the top of Lewis’s spine. His skin is still shower warm and only slightly damp.

“Hey,” Lewis says, reaching a hand back to squeeze Nico’s hip. “You hungry?”

Nico checks in with himself as he takes down two glasses from the cupboard. He opens the fridge to grab their jug of water — already Britta filtered and with several slices of lemon bobbing on the surface.

“Nah, not really, I’ll only have one or two.”

“Mhmm, okay.”

Nico pours them both out two glasses and grabs a pair of forks. He sits up on one of the island stools and sips at his drink.

He should really have his shot of apple cider vinegar and greens but his stomach is feeling kind of weird this morning and he wants to eat first.

Lewis’s cross tattoo is fading. He’ll need to get it touched up soon.

“Bon appétit,” Lewis declares sweepingly, setting Nico’s plate down in front of him with a flourish. He’s in a good mood this morning which means he deliberately butchers the pronunciation, saying it like “Bon apple teeth”, to annoy Nico.

Happiness on Lewis has always looked childlike.

It is strange — the times Nico thinks about it, after all these years.

You were going to kill yourself before letting anyone fuck you again, Nico does not say to Lewis. He cuts into the top pancake, smothered in syrup, and chews slowly.

Lewis turns back to the stove, already sure it will be liked. It’s a well used recipe.

Did you know that it was an old wives tale, or did you just not want to pick up the phone that badly?

Nico’s therapist has been pushing him to ask Lewis for years. Nico told her he will when he is no longer afraid of the answer. He is trying to be more honest, if not with Lewis than with himself and his therapist. She had looked remarkably unimpressed.

“This is enough for me,” Nico tells him. “Thank you.”

Lewis hums, throwing a grin over his shoulder. He is shimming slightly to the music coming from the speaker perched on-top the fridge.

Roscoe is snoring on the couch in the sitting room area of their open floor plan.

“I’m thinking of going swimming later.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“How much later?”

Nico thinks for a second. It’s a Saturday and he has no meetings. Neither does Lewis.

“I told my Dad I’d give him a call at around eleven, so,” he checks his phone. It’s a little before ten now. “Maybe have an early lunch after that and then go at around two or so?”

“Okay.” Lewis turns off the stove, plating up the last of his banana pancakes, and comes around to sit next to Nico. He turns a little so he’s facing him, knees nudging his thigh. “Sounds good.”

At this angle, one of Lewis’s nipple piercings keeps catching off the light when he moves to eat his food and winking at Nico. It’s vaguely distracting in a distant this is your favourite meal but you’ve just eaten kind of way.

“We’re having dinner on the yacht tonight,” Nico decides.

Lewis glances at him, that half amused look he only ever gets around Nico on his face, like he doesn’t even have to thinking about being that way, it just happens naturally.

“Okay,” he says again. “Sure.”

“I want to suck you off under the stars after,” Nico tells him and rinses off his plate before putting it in the dishwasher, and leaving the room to call his dad.

“And they say romance is dead,” Lewis calls after him, grinning, eyes hot. It would be embarrassing for him, the way Nico knows Lewis’s dick twitched when Nico said that, if Nico wasn’t just as easy for him.

#i don’t gen write brocedes but akira is tired rn and i love her and i can’t give her a hug but i can give her this #hope u enjoy anon!#sex pollen trope #brocedes #little fics #anon tag #niamh.asks

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randombush3 · 1 year

Text

Without You

florence pugh x reader

summary: alcohol makes exes easier to talk to, but not in this case

words: 2173

warnings: drinking, vomiting

notes: this was requested by anonymous. i loved it, i think i did change it slightly, but i like this. it’s short and… sad

Your retreat into your bedroom for the last two weeks has now become worrying. Not to say that the olive-eating, stinky, emotional monster crawling to the fridge and then back to bed wasn’t concerning seven days ago — it was, your friends are unanimous. However, two weeks is the amount of time your friend group give all members to mope about a breakup before an albeit over dramatic intervention.

They don’t give you an opportunity to tell them to fuck off, storming into the room armed with high heels and a large makeup bag. “No,” you groan, pulling your duvet over your head. “No, no, no. Too soon.”

“Time’s up!” She shouldn’t have been the one you chose to be your best friend, because Freya is loud. Really-super-fucking loud. “Oh no! Hot, sexy actress and boring, vaguely attractive Y/n break up. What a shame!” She pouts and you’re forced to look at it when your other two friends pull the covers off you. “You can’t be this sorry for yourself. She dumped you, get over it.”

You’re being ganged up on.

“That’s slightly harsh,” your friend cuts in, defending you against her annoyingly true statements.

Your best friend shrugs. “You had to be humbled eventually.” Before Flo, no one has ever broken up with you. You’re not used to feeling so… empty. “We’re going clubbing tonight, my dears, and Y/n is going to have sex with a pretty girl and forget about the hot, sexy actress who broke her heart.” Freya smiles mischievously, as if there is more to her plan than what she has declared.

“We’ll pre in a couple of hours?” You check the clock, surprised to find that it’s five o’clock in the afternoon. “Tani and I are going for coffee with some coworkers.” Tani, the friend who pulled your duvet off you more aggressively than Kara who is speaking, frowns and rolls her eyes.

“You’re a despicable woman,” Freya giggles at her friends, knowing how much Tani hates her job as an assistant in a publishing warehouse. She and Kara first met there, and you’ve known Kara since university. All four of you share a house in Golders Green; you’ve been doing this for at least three years. There’s a bedroom for each of you, plus a study in which a rota is in place for who gets to make important calls in a moderately fancy (definitely snazzy) room.

Except, you hadn’t thought you’d be living in this house any longer.

A wave of sadness washes over you, and you grimace. Freya has already begun a chant of ‘let’s get Y/n drunk’. You throw your pillow at them as they conga their way out.

- - -

Somehow, you completely forget your limit. It was well discovered during your teenage years — there’s no way you don’t know it. But, for the life of you, there seems to be nothing stopping your agreement to do another round of shots.

And another.

“This is fun!” Freya shouts, aiming to be audible over the blaring music of the third bar you go to.

“Yeah.”

“I missed you.” You nod solemnly, realising you may have been a bit of a bore. Inside, you vow to never get your heartbroken again. “I missed this.”

She saunters off to find someone to pay for her drinks instead, leaving you smiling softly, enjoying feeling wanted. It’s nice to be missed.

A girl sidles up to you five minutes later. Before your head turns, you catch blonde hair in your peripheral vision. Something inside you jumps, jolting into motion, sparking and starting an engine you didn’t know needed to be on. Your lips curl up, and you’re about to greet her, but your eyes lock properly onto her face. That’s not Flo. It won’t ever be Flo again.

You end up ignoring the woman by your side until she sighs and leaves you behind with a generously paid-for whiskey on the rocks.

Freya comes back, frowning. “You’re not looking so happy.”

“I thought I saw her.”

“Sleeping with someone who looks like her will not help.” She may be speaking from experience. “Kara’s left with someone, so Tani wants to go to the next place. Something about bad luck in this bar.”

You raise your glass to that. “I wholeheartedly agree.” She chuckles, but the disappointment is not lost on her expression. The bartender, instructed by your friends to give you a shot every time you look miserable, raises his hands in surrender, pouring tequila quickly. Begrudgingly, you swallow it. “I’m not sure I can stand.”

Freya grabs your arm as you stumble to your feet. Heels were a bad idea. Looking down, your dress has ridden up too high for it to be dignified, and surely the constant blinking to fight off tears must have smeared your mascara. She beckons Tani over to assess you. They seem to have a silent conversation.

“Okay, let’s get a cab.”

Shivering on the side of the road, your saviour is a black car which is warm enough for you to close your eyes and not listen to the address your friends give. It’ll be somewhere in Shoreditch, knowing what they’re like this time of night. Now is when being the drunkest becomes a competition.

Apparently you fall asleep, because the next thing you feel is Tani hauling you out of the door and onto a familiar doorstep. They knock on the door. Its click reminds you of someone else’s doorway. The light shining from the hall is the exact same shade as someone else’s lamp. This party is suspiciously quiet.

A bleary eyed woman exchanges a few words with Freya, whose face has turned stern and defensive. You get a kiss on the cheek before being lightly pushed inside. Your lips can hardly form a farewell before you tumble into a very fucking familiar woman.

They haven’t. No, that’s ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

They wouldn’t—

“Let’s get you some water.” Oh, they did. And her voice is sickeningly genuine and caring. Soft and warm and comforting and… How on earth did you ever believe you deserved her? “Y/n?”

Leaning against the wall, you shake your head. “No, I remember where your glasses are. I can… I can get it myself.” Florence pauses, hesitating, but backs down. How could you forget anything about this woman? “Jus’ go back to whatever you were…” Something about the warm air of the house and the feelings in your head makes your stomach begin to churn, nausea swirling right under your sternum. “Toilet still in the same place?”

She has no chance to nod before you bolt towards the door closest to you, knees thudding against the purple tiles as the sound of retching begins to ruin the silence and tranquility of her evening. You vaguely realise she is holding your hair behind your head over the toilet, rubbing the exposed skin of your upper back soothingly, until the next wave of things you ate earlier rises up. Your cheeks burn, but you assume it’s because of the vomiting. No other reason.

In a courteous, two minute break between lunch and dinner being thrown up, she slips away to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water. You sip it cautiously, not trusting your body at all. Fingers rake through your hair as you slump against the toilet. You gasp quietly, not expecting it.

“Sorry,” she murmurs, “I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too knotty before I tied it up.”

You cling onto the toilet a little tighter. Not because that��s made you feel a little better and you need to hold onto reality. Not at all.

And finally, when you have nothing left to give the evil toilet bowl, she helps you up. You find yourself being half-carried up the stairs. “I can walk,” you lie, prompting her to drop her hand from your waist and shake off your arm from her shoulders. She thinks for a moment, maybe you can, but when she lets go slightly to test her theory, you lurch forward and only remain upright because she catches you.

You swear you didn’t have that much to drink.

“Just hold on,” she says firmly, ignoring your slight struggle against her grip. You give in by the time you’ve reached the top of the staircase, and she is standing on the landing like a lost hiker at the crossroads. Where does she put you?

A little too enticing is her bedroom — recently just hers, previously shared — and she supposes… Well, the spare room is the furthest away from where you are standing. (If you can even call your position that.)

You say nothing as she opens her door, bracing yourself for the overwhelming smell of Florence Pugh; something you have longed to have again, but now want nothing more than to run away from. It’s ever so embarrassing, really. Look at you: pathetic, drunk, far from independent. Isn’t this just proving her point? Isn’t this just letting her win, showing her that you are completely and utterly out of your depth in a life without her?

She feels you tense. Maybe this was the wrong decision.

You stare at the wall — avoiding a framed photo of you and her that she is yet to take down — and attempt, very ungracefully, to shimmy out of the tight ‘dress’ you squeezed into. When you run your hands up your legs to search for the fabric, you’re alarmed to find that it barely covers your bum, meaning everything has been on show (lacy knickers and all) while you’ve been vomiting for half an hour. Glittery, surprisingly not-stretchy material gets caught on your necklace and your earrings, and she reaches out to help, but you can’t see her, so you don’t let her.

When it’s time to get more naked, you realise that she has stood beside you, offering a hand. “Sit down,” is all she says as she places her hands on your shoulders and walks you back towards the bed. The springs groan quietly at your weight, and you fight your instincts to flop. Your body is becoming a little too pliable under her touch.

She reaches out, fingers ghosting your collarbones, trailing down your back. Her touch is tentative and curious, as if she’s checking whether you feel any different to the last time she touched you like this. You shiver, obviously because of the cold, and she pulls back quickly, snapped out of her trance.

The bra clasp that she had tried to find proves to outwit your intoxicated mind, clever as you are.

“Are you going to let me help you?” She has been waiting for you to try for yourself, you realise. “Here.” You take the t-shirt from her hand, managing to pull it over your head. Engulfed by the faded red fabric, you recognise it as your own, left months ago. “Can I take your bra off?”

You gulp.

She notices.

“‘M not that kind of girl,” is your panicked response, to which she chuckles quietly because you are and of course you’d say that.

“Y/n, let me help you.”

You shuffle a centimetre away from her, her hands now out like she had been trying to catch smoke. It would be comical if not for how you ache to make this situation anything other than what it is. “Why d’you want to?” Her subtle smile falters, upturned lips curving downwards slightly. “You’re the one that said I was too… How did you put it? ‘Caught up in my own meaningless shit’? Meaningless?” She doesn’t like how clear the memory becomes, how easily her mind reverts back to the sound of a plate smashing and the door slamming and your car engine igniting. She doesn’t like how sober you seem to become. She doesn’t like how you’re looking at her, watching your words sink in.

“I was angry.”

You giggle. “Couldn’t tell,” you reply sarcastically.

“You’re not even going to remember this in the morning,” she scoffs, getting defensive.

“I will,” you promise. A challenge to her statement, definitely, but a promise to yourself as well. You want to remember her face when she realised how what she says matters.

What she said mattered.

There’s a brief pause in activity. Neither of you seem to breathe, nor make an effort to add fuel to the fire.

She ends it by kneeling on the bed, towering over you in your hunched, half-horizontal state, and quickly undoing the clasp to your bra. She leaves it up to you whether you throw it at her, strangle her with it, or take it off. You hold her green eyes while dropping it beside the bed.

“You’re not going to remember any of this,” she repeats, almost more to herself than you. “Why would you?”

Your helpless look says more than words can: I’m miserable without you.

The fight is over. You’ve lost.

She concedes and backs away, her footsteps thudding down the stairs muted by the closed door.

tags: @pewpughpew @ridleypugh @jeyramarie @flosbelova @kassies-take @delfiore @yelenabelovasbxtch @xsophiesx @slut4milfs69 @sunshadesnrainbowz @wandasbb @karsonromanoff

#florence pugh fanfiction #florence pugh x reader #florence pugh #florence pugh x y/n #florence pugh one shot #florence pugh fluff #florence pugh angst #florence pugh x you

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gumnut-logic · 1 year

Photo

Carly had been through a lot in her short time at Tracy Industries, but this took the cake.

“I assure you, Tracy, if you give yourself up, everything will go much, much better for your employees.” The man’s voice was gravelly as he projected across the office space. She couldn’t see him from where she was crouched in a random cubicle, but she didn’t need to.

The man was a villain straight out of a movie – dark-haired, more muscle than brains, he even sported a moustache out of the eighteenth century. Carly had seen one like that on one of her great times whatever grandfathers.

Mom was really into genealogy.

But none of that was important.

What was important was her boss. Scott Tracy, a man she admired beyond belief, was curled up in the cubicle with her, his head in her lap.

Of course, this was a position she may have daydreamed about at some point, but those dreams usually involved summer days and lazing in a field under a tree with a picnic rug and a bottle of bubbly.

It should also be noted that they were daydreams that were likely shared by ninety percent of the female staff in the building and in no way ever considered an actual possibility.

And never involved a gun man or his six equally armed cronies.

Mr Tracy had simply been walking towards his office. He made a point of making his way through the cubicle forest and saying good morning to any he encountered. Those who had been here long enough claimed that it was a tradition sprouted by Mr Tracy Senior before his tragic death.

Every one knew how good the Tracys were.

She had never worked in an environment where so many people so admired their employer. Even if he wasn’t in the building very often, he still put in effort. There were teleconferences, his hologram was a familiar sight as were the interruptions followed by some dramatic news story where X amount of people were saved by the same man and his brothers.

They were led by a hero.

And their work reflected that aim. Tracy Industries was a massive engine churning out so much good into the world. It still worked as a business. It had to, to stay solvent and stable in a world much less kind than the Tracys themselves. But it was the small things. The disability aids, the charity work, the environmental projects, the doing simply because there was a need. The profit margin kept so much going that was so needed in the world.

And in the middle of her office stood a man who wanted to take that all away.

“C..arly.” Fogged blue eyes searched for her as his head bled on the print of her dress.

She touched a finger to his lips without thinking. A motion she would have done for her boyfriend and never for her boss, but the massive presence of Scott Tracy had been reduced to an injured man who had almost died as the bullet clipped his temple.

There had been so much screaming as her workmates dove for cover. Whether the gunman wanted Mr Tracy dead or for some other nefarious purpose, she didn’t know. She would say she didn’t care or that it was irrelevant, but it did matter as she had seen enough movies to know that that would affect what the asshole was willing to do to get to her boss.

His hand reached up and took her finger away. “Help me up.” And he was straining to climb to his feet.

“No.” It took very little to hold him down which only proved that he should stay down.

“He’s going to hurt pe’ple.”

Carly pressed her lips together as she caught the eye of Barb in the cubicle across from hers. “You let us worry about that.”

His eyes widened and he shook his head, only to have to close his eyes at the movement.

She brushed a hair off his forehead.

“Scott Tracy! Is this one your secretary?” A woman’s cry echoed across the room. “She is very beautiful. You picked a nice one. A dead one if you don’t show yourself by the count of five.”

Scott tried to get up again, this time opening his mouth to yell something.

She clamped her hand down and muffled whatever he was trying to say just as the gunman squawked in pain. “You bitch! You bit me!” There was the sound of a scuffle and the gun went off.

Silence followed.

Mr Tracy’s eyes widened in horror and glistened in the overhead lighting. Again, he tried to rise, but couldn’t.

Carly shook her head and mouthed a silent ‘I’m sorry’. She had to blink away her own tears.

“You’re not going to find him.”

Carly blinked. That was Marcus, the guy who fixed her computer. Ever the nerd, he wore a Trek tie to work almost every day and the days he didn’t, it was a Doctor Who tie.

She bit the inside of her cheek.

The click of the gun. “And who is going to stop me?”

Barb scuttled out of her cubicle, her headset on her head whispering ever so quietly. Her eyes pinned Carly and clearly told her to keep their boss safe.

Carly swallowed hard.

The shift of an office chair. “I will stop you.” The voice shook but held strong, this time a woman she didn’t recognise.

“Me, too.” A wavery male voice.

“And me.”

Then there were many voices filling the audio space of the room.

“Then we will kill you all.” The gunman yelled over the ruckus, only to scream out in pain. Anger and screams overtook and Carly clutched her boss to her, tears running down her cheeks.

A roar suddenly drowned out everything. A roar that every employee knew well.

The roar of a Thunderbird.

The sound of breaking glass.

More yelling.

But no more gunfire.

Mr Tracy’s blue eyes were wet and struggling to focus on her.

Until they closed and didn’t open again.

Shit.

Her fingers scrambled for a pulse as her own staggered until she found it.

“Please, Mr Tracy.” She brushed that same stray hair off his forehead and it stubbornly flicked back.

Barb suddenly appeared, a woman in IR blue-grey beside her. Security.

“John, I’ve got him. We need Virgil in here.”

“FAB.”

Carly barely registered the exchange, only that there were suddenly hands attempting to take her boss away.

Her unconscious and possibly dying boss, Mr Tracy.

She struggled a moment, but the woman’s grip was like iron and Barb grabbed Carly, soothing words spilling all over her.

A man in green and blue appeared with a stretcher. Curt words, an examination and Mr Tracy was whisked away.

Carly found her hands empty.

“Are you okay?” A young man, blonde, blue eyes, IR uniform slashed in red. His hand gently urged her to stand. When she did, she rose into a world that was no longer a cubicle forest and more like a war zone.

Office furniture lay scattered everywhere. Several cubicle walls had been pushed over. Everyone was milling about, some angry, some crying. IR security was everywhere, intermixed with Tracy Industries security.

“Ma’am, please sit down.” A chair was found and she was deposited in it. Alan Tracy, because that is who he was - Carly knew that, as much as she knew she was likely in shock, she was shaking so much. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Mr Tracy was shot.”

“We know. Virgil’s on it.” As if on command, Thunderbird Two, which had been hovering outside the windows, spun midair and tore off into the distance.

The absence of its engine roar left a gap that had many of the people in the room muttering.

“What happened to the bad guys?” She blinked.

“They didn’t stand a chance.” The youngest Tracy was checking her pulse and frowning at her.

“Who got shot?”

Barb answered. “Julie from social networking was shot in the shoulder. Ms Kyrano says she should be okay. Took a chunk out of the bastard’s arm with her teeth though.” Barb was actually smiling.

Alan was staring at Barb, frowning.

The office coordinator caught his stare and threw it back at him. “We take care of our own, Mr Tracy. No asshole is going to mess with our family on my shift.” She squeezed Carly’s arm before turning back to the chaos and began issuing orders.

Alan turned back to Carly.

“Wow, she’s a little scary.”

Carly straightened, finally finding her spine. “We’re all the same, Mr Tracy. You don’t mess with Tracy Industries.”

Her lip trembled as his blue eyes widened.

She swallowed suddenly aware of exactly what she had been willing to offer. “We protect our own.”

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #outsider POV #nuttyfic reblog #a little favourite of mine

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aerodaltonimperial · 1 year

Note

Bonus scene for 5+1 times people hit on Hook please 😊

(Also tagging @rugletthewren who wanted this, too)

"Hey."

Now that's something of a surprise. Ricky hasn't seen MJF show up at a company event since...actually, he's never seen that. MJF avoids the peons like the plague. Yet here he is, standing with one elbow up on the bar and leaning in, as though he doesn't have a care in the world. Or a brain cell. Jury's out on that one. Ricky wants to punch him, but the greeting wasn't aimed at him.

It was aimed at Hook, who is now staring at MJF dubiously. Is MJF here to create more problems?

Before Ricky can follow that thought through, MJF does a jerky sort of head nod. Cocky. Sure of himself. It's a weird sort of head nod, like...oh.

Oh.

Oh fuck, Ricky is so glad he came to this mixer.

"Want a drink?" MJF asks Hook. He's ignoring Ricky completely, but whatever. Free entertainment. Ricky’s been hard up recently.

Hook frowns at the glasses the bartender just set down in front of him. The two glasses.

"Maybe I could buy you something more expensive," MJF continues. He huffs out a laugh. "Do you like Cristal?"

"No," Hook replies, deadpan.

"Cool, I'll order you some." Holy shit, he isn't even listening. What a delight. Ricky takes another swig of his wine. MJF snaps at the bartender like that's something you do. And then, with what Ricky can only assume is a ridiculous amount if confidence, MJF slings his arm across Hook’s shoulders.

Hook’s face goes slack, because he's finally figured out what is going on.

MJF leans in, very close to Hook’s ear, and Ricky can't pick up what he says but oh, it must be filthy, because Hook’s expression turns to stone as his entire body clenches up. Ricky thinks MJF might be in for a round of redrum, only Hook never gets the chance.

"Hey!" comes the annoyed voice behind Ricky’s shoulder. Ricky turns. Danhausen, minus the face paint, the face so few people in the company recognize that he's been slipping through the crowd virtually undetected all evening. Now, though, he is staring at MJF with a look of pure rage. "What is Maxwellhausen doing?"

"Excuse me?" MJF says, eyebrows hiked.

"Why are you touching Hook?" Danhausen continues. His eyes narrow. Man, he is really unknown with people without that paint. He ought to monetize that, get the good gossip. Ricky should talk with him about the possibilities here. "Danhausen was nice to you on Twitter!"

"What...?" MJF is thoroughly confused. He looks to Hook, and then back, and somewhere in there, comprehension dawns.

But Danhausen is quicker. Also, he's pissed. He's got jealous boyfriend written all over him. He throws his hands up in a curse.

MJF lunges forward. Maybe he’s trying to grab at Danhausen; doesn't matter, since he never gets there. One of his shoelaces has come untied, and he stumbles. Pitches to the side into one of the sticky bar tables. The entire thing jerks down under his weight, launching all five drinks atop it at MJF's head. Ricky isn't sure which one probably stings more when it hits his eyes: the vodka soda or the Jameson.

MJF clutches his face, howling and stumbling, running groin-first into a chair.

Hook looks unbearably smug.

"Nice work," Ricky tells Danhausen. He finishes his wine.

Danhausen is still glaring at the line of people MJF is staggering through. No one has bothered to try and assist. "Danhausen is never going to be nice to him on Twitter again. He can forget about all those human monies!"

"You tell him," Ricky says, and flags down the bartender for another drink.

#WHAT A DELIGHT TO WRITE

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esta-elavaris · 8 months

Text

Fallen Through Time

Part Eight [4,011 words]

An AU of my completed, 400k+ word fanfic Catch the Wind [AO3], in which Elizabeth, not James, is the one to discover Theodora Byrne after she crash-lands into the world of Pirates of the Caribbean.

Historical research notes at the end, for fun 💜

Also now on AO3 and FF.net.

Masterpost - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - *Part Eight* [you're here!]

Tag list [let me know if you want to be added!]: @missfronkensteen @dancerinthestorm @teawithshakespeare

Preparing for a dinner party under the watchful gaze of Elizabeth Swann was the closest thing to having a ‘dance mum’ Theo suspected she’d ever experience. But her excitement helped her forget her own nerves, and her enthusiastic instruction was worlds better than being stuck under the tutelage of someone who had little wish to help her, so all in all Theo considered herself pretty lucky.

In the morning, they rattled through the list of courses and the corresponding cutlery one final time. Theo excelled at that part solely because she sang the list, in order, to the tune of an AC/DC song in her head. Although she doubted that sort of shit was the audience they were aiming for when they wrote Back in Black.

From there, they practised her entrance down the staircase (which, given the drastically upped hair and skirt mass that formal evening dress held in store, would be trickier than it sounded apparently), the correct way of wielding a fan, and went over what was and was not acceptable dinner table conversation. Dirty limericks, sadly, were out.

Theo wasn’t without opportunity to introduce Elizabeth to some modern ways of preparing for get-togethers, either, though. Namely with the concept of pre-drinks – in their case, a generous glass of wine each rather than anything wild like vodka shots – and showing her the wonders of a homemade oat face mask. Neither the servants, nor Governor Swann, had any idea of what to make of that.

Luckily, the results weren’t so astounding as to be considered witchcraft. That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it? To get this far and then get scuppered by something she’d learned from a shitty YouTube tutorial.

The arrival of the evening was something she greeted with far more dread than the morning. Alice, the maid who’d been tasked with helping her get ready, seemed to sense her nerves – for after ten minutes of dead silence as she began twisting and curling her hair into an elaborate updo, the brunette began chatting merrily about this and that with little expectation placed on Theo to respond. Not that she didn’t try to respond, she just wasn’t particularly successful.

“It’s lovely,” she gave a strained smile when Alice stepped back, “thank you.”

It was nice – even if she always felt like she had a tower on top of her head around here, regardless of how the styles Elizabeth (and therefore Theo herself) opted for weren’t exactly the skyscrapers that others here favoured.

“It’s not done yet, miss,” Alice said. “There’s still the accessories to go. Although it’s such a lovely colour, this hair of yours…it’d be a shame to distract from it. Pearls would be a bit much, I think. Especially for a dinner party…and lace wouldn’t match the dress…”

Some maids seemed irked by the fact that Theo lacked a certain amount of decisiveness when it came to decisions such as these (mostly because everything was a damn code here, and she didn’t want to arse it up), but Alice apparently enjoyed the freedom of input. Which was likely why she’d been assigned to her. Still, as she rattled off an endless array of household items that could possibly be lodged into her hair to give it that extra bit of flair, Theo couldn’t help but wonder if the next option would be to stick a little plastic angel on top of it so everybody could sing Christmas hymns around her in a circle.

In the end, they settled on a decorative hair comb, comprised of a cluster of pewter flowers, and Theo considered herself lucky all in all.

Next came the dress. And Elizabeth had really outdone herself on that score. A deep, cool-toned purple silk, it was saved from being over-the-top by the fact that whoever had made it mostly allowed the fabric to speak for itself rather than decking it with non-stop bows and gems and gumdrop buttons.

It was adorned, sparingly, at the pleated elbow-length cuffs and the bodice with lace a handful of shades lighter than the purple of the rest of the dress, and with an amethyst inlaid in silver right in the centre of the neckline. With a length of matching silk about her neck, balancing precariously in her skirts atop the matching slippers she’d been given, she looked like she belonged in this time. To her own eye. Whether she’d ever feel that way was another matter entirely – but that didn’t matter much. She was still clinging to the hope that she wouldn’t be here long enough for that to become a real issue.

Despite the sneers of the people who were resolved to be unwelcoming, there were plenty here who’d been kind. Elizabeth, Governor Swann, the servants here, Groves, Will, and now even Norrington. She was grateful for that, of course she was. And she’d never discount what a difference that made, because when she thought of how different her day-to-day life would look without the kindness of the Swanns in particular, she ran a real risk of bursting into tears. But…it was still difficult. Of course it was difficult. Watching the clear adoration between Elizabeth and her father had her missing her own dad all the more sorely than she already did, it was a constant reminder. Where did he think she was? How could she get back?

Thankfully, it was time for her to move downstairs before she could follow that thought into a spiral.

****

They would begin in the sitting room, and then once everybody was good and ready they’d adjourn to the dining room, Elizabeth had explained to her. The guests arrived, and Theo was glad she’d never suffered from an excess of self-consciousness (well, other than when she was a teenager, but that was a given) because if she had, all of the eyes constantly on her would’ve sent her off into the ocean to find Jack herself before he even rocked up of his own accord.

While the good Captain Sparrow was not fated to attend on this night, plenty of others did. Amelia and her cronies, for one, but also a fair few families who Theo hadn’t met – all of whom seemed nice enough – as well as, of course, Captain Norrington and Lieutenant Groves.

The former greeted her with a nod when he entered, but veered off to speak to Governor Swann rather quickly, while the latter smiled and approached when he arrived barely five full minutes later. He came to stand by her at the side of the room, where she’d been pretending to admire a painting. Not that it wasn’t a lovely painting, but she knew sod all about art and cherubs weren’t really her thing. If they were anybody’s thing.

“You look well, Miss Byrne,” he greeted warmly. “Are you ready to be unleashed upon society?”

Theo was aware of how many eyes flitted towards them more or less the moment they began speaking – but she suspected it was a given around here whenever any man spoke to any woman. Maybe there was a secret betting pool going on beneath the surface on who would be wifed off and when. Precious little else was going on here. For now, anyway.

“Unleashed?” she laughed. “You make me sound like a plague.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. Although, come to think of it, I’m not sure I’ve ever heard of a good thing being unleashed.”

“Dogs, I suppose.”

“That was hardly the comparison I was trying to make, either,” he chuckled.

“War?” she suggested. “I think you can unleash war.”

“You must stop making these suggestions, Miss Byrne, or I’ll think you’re determined to dig me in deeper,” he teased with a snort, accepting a glass of champagne from a passing footman – after which his eyes lit up. “Power. There. You can unleash that. That was my very clever metaphor all along.”

“Oh, I like that one. Nicely saved,” she smiled, clinking her glass against his.

“Now I can rest easy, knowing I’m spared your wrath,” Groves sipped from his glass.

“That sounds ominous,” came Norrington’s greeting as he joined them, nodding at her. “Miss Byrne. Lieutenant.”

One thing she noted was that, in person, it was much easier to tell that he was handsome beneath the wig than it was on the screen. Very handsome, actually. Well, either that or she noticed him a lot more when speaking directly to him than she did when there were endless pirates and all sorts vying for attention alongside him. Sure, there was always the second one, but with that one she was usually much too traumatised by Jack's demise to notice much else.

But now? Here? She could definitely see why he was considered the catch of the settlement.

“Hello, Captain Norrington,” she greeted. “Your lieutenant and I just made war and peace in a minute flat.”

“A new record,” Norrington mused. “The peace treaty must note that, I think.”

Theo smiled, and decided she rather liked him when he was funny.

“Were you successful in your endeavour from the other day?” he asked.

“I was! Very,” she nodded – pleasantly surprised that he was even following up on it. “I’m just waiting for word from town.”

“Speaking of things that sound ominous,” Groves commented.

“Oh, it’s nothing – well, it’s a surprise, really. I can’t discuss it just yet. But it’s a good thing.”

“My comment about your being unleashed stands,” Groves smirked.

Norrington was too disinterested to ask what Groves meant by that – or, it appeared, too preoccupied by reaching into his fancy embroidered uniform coat to produce something. A fairly small leatherbound book, worn but finely embossed. He handed it to Theo, who managed to accept it after a moment of blinking in surprised. It was very warm, from where it had been nestled against him.

“I brought you a welcome gift, Miss Byrne. After our conversation the other day, I thought it might interest you.”

She was too busy reading the cover and getting over her shock to notice that his tone was just a bit too overly pleasant.

“You’re in danger of outshining the rest of us, sir,” Groves joked, but appeared just as confused as she was.

“Viking Maritime Architecture and Engineering,” she read aloud.

It sounded like a real nail-biter. But from the likes of Norrington, it was truly a peace offering, so she smiled all the wider and looked back up at him…only to find his watching her with a surprisingly smug expression.

“You really can read.”

Theo faltered. And then the smile slipped from her face, replaced by hurt – fuelled by embarrassment, too. Over the time and the setting he’d chosen to do this, and the fact that he’d done it after she’d just been so relieved at their improved standing. Over their stupid little bonding moment. Over how much she’d bought all of it. Y’know. Like a prat.

Not so much a gift, as a test, then. It was clear he hadn’t meant to say it. Or maybe he just regretted saying it when he saw how her eyes flashed – as she recognised why Norrington’s prowess was on the battlefield (battle-sea?) and not in political arenas. The fact that he’d done it here, in front of everyone, with Groves standing right here as part of their conversation, was just salt in the wound.

“It was good of you, Captain,” she breathed a flat laugh, “to choose one with such long words, in order to really test your hypothesis. There, actually – hypothesis. Add that to the list of words I know with more than two syllables. You’ll have a whole scroll of ‘em before long.”

It probably wasn’t very polite of her to say what she did. But mostly, Theo was congratulating herself on not saying what she’d really wanted to; that he could shove the book, along with his stupid wig, right up into a certain orifice…if not for the stick that was already lodged therein. But the Swanns wouldn’t have appreciated that – even if she herself might’ve been proud of herself for putting together an insult that contained the word therein, because it looked like this century was really rubbing off on her already.

Groves suddenly appeared to find his glass of champagne utterly fascinating,

“Excuse me,” she said, setting the book down on the nearest side table, and taking her leave.

“That went well, I think,” she heard Groves comment mildly behind her.

Norrington did not respond.

Of course, as she took her leave she realised that she didn’t actually have anywhere to walk away to. She knew no other here, with the exception of Elizabeth and her father, and she point blank refused to be the sort of pathetic wet wipe who scurried off to hide behind the Swanns whenever the going got tough.

God, she’d sent him a sandwich. What sort of idiot was she? She wished he’d damn well choked on it. He’d probably binned it, actually, or tested it for poison – or force fed it to one of the prisoners in Fort Charles to test his little theories.

She was saved, mercifully, from pretending to stare at any more of the room’s decorations when dinner was announced in the next moment. And then she was saved yet again when she found that Norrington was seated at the Governor’s side down at the leftmost end of the table, while she was placed firmly by Elizabeth right at the opposite end, with Groves at her left and a man she hadn’t yet spoken to opposite her. Theo also suspected that Elizabeth did indeed know damn well which women had been a problem in town, because they were all seated down at the other end, too. No doubt they’d be pleased at being so close to not only the Governor, but their favourite eligible asshole too, so everybody was happy.

Dinner went off without a hitch. She followed Elizabeth’s lead with the cutlery, she made decent enough conversation with those around her, and – best of all – Groves resolutely pretended he hadn’t witnessed what had just happened in the drawing room. The meal itself was a long, drawn-out affair, but she didn’t mind that. The food was good, and she wasn’t in any rush for the whole party to mingle once again for a final round of drinks in the drawing room.

When that time finally did come, she decided that she at least deserved a moment to collect herself before getting through the final burst of the evening. If she left after they entered, it would only be all the more noticeable, so she reached for Elizabeth’s hand while everybody was distracted by leaving the table.

“I’m sorry – I’m not used to this heat just yet. Do you mind if I…?”

“Of course – go. The patio is often cool at this time in the evening, so long as it’s a cloudless night,” Elizabeth squeezed her hand and dismissed her with a wave. “I’ll make your excuses.”

****

The night was indeed cool and cloudless, and after the humidity of the dining room and the pervading smell of meat and alcohol, the fresh air was a miracle worker. Leaning against the wall so that she wouldn’t be visible from the drawing room windows to any but the most stubborn observer, she stared blankly into the distance and let her mind wander.

Before long, Theo had no idea how long she’d been out there. She felt lighter out of the gaze of those gathered – taller, too. It wasn’t even that she put stock in their opinions of her; save Elizabeth, none of them could ever know her story, and therefore they could never truly know her. Their opinions, their disapproval, their judgement was all for the façade she was putting on. Well, if they knew the real her, they’d deem her common as muck anyway, so none of it really mattered. But there was not caring about what they thought, and then being stuck in a room with them all while they tittered and whispered behind their fans. And while the one who was supposed to be all good and noble and proper made it worse by openly humiliating her.

Had the movies really gotten him so wrong – shined such a rosy light on him – or did she come across that badly to everybody here? It was…demoralising. It was lonely. She just wanted to go somewhere where people knew her. The real her. Jack’s arrival was something she’d been nervous about. A lot was riding on it, it was her only hope, and it was far from a solid hope, at that. But the more things felt wrong here, the more she looked forward to it. She took a deep breath in, refusing to cry over this. That would be pathetic. She was just ready for the night to end.

So lost was she in her brooding that she didn’t notice the footsteps approaching behind her – something for which her folk back home would’ve been sorely disappointed in her. When the hand landed on her shoulder, though, they would’ve been very pleased by her response. After all of the sparring they’d drummed into her, it was muscle memory more than it was a conscious reaction. What her instincts told her to do was spin away from the grip, grab the person’s wrist and hold it at an angle.

It should’ve been easy. But while she could manage it in stilettos if she really tried, doing it in stupid eighteenth century slippers with nothing at her heel was another matter entirely. Her foot slid from the shoe as she spun, sending her off-balance as she unexpectedly stepped down a few inches. Stumbling, the hand that would’ve grabbed the arm ended up aborting that mission and flailing before her face instead, and she ultimately looked like an absolute tit. All before a very horrified Groves.

Not only Groves, it turned out, but also the guests who were near the massive windows…and Elizabeth, walking but a few feet behind the Lieutenant.

“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t know you were…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Groves said quickly, offering a hand once she straightened so she could step back into her shoe. “I…I called to you, but you didn’t hear.”

“No, no, not at all, I was- I was world’s away,” she caught her breath, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. “It was my fault. I didn’t smack you, did I?”

It was a miracle – a sodding miracle – that she’d stumbled and arsed up the move. Being startled, she could explain. Putting Norrington’s right-hand man in a headlock? Not so much.

When she recovered fully from her shock, she noticed Elizabeth watching the exchange like a hawk, with an expression that was completely unreadable.

****

It was late in the night when the guests finally took their leave, and Elizabeth was more than ready to change into her nightgown and slip into bed. After a thorough debriefing session with Theodora, no doubt. But there was one thing to see to first.

She asked Captain Norrington for a word while a large group of the others were busy saying long goodbyes with her father, and Theodora was preoccupied with Mrs Spencer, and he complied easily enough. They retreated to the side of the drawing room, and Elizabeth took a moment to make sure that none were listening before she got right to the point.

“That was unkind. What you did tonight – and at a gathering meant to welcome her to our home, no less.”

Huffing a laugh, he shook his head and crossed his arms.

“I suspect Miss Byrne wasted no time in rushing to you and relaying our entire conversation.”

“Theo hasn’t breathed a word of it, I suspect she’d much too embarrassed to do so. I overheard everything myself – I was standing not five feet away, speaking with Mrs Spencer.”

Captain Norrington scoffed, shaking his head, but that was the extent of the argument he could offer. Well, until he had a moment to think, and then he spoke again with an eye roll.

“I gave her a book. One that I thought might interest her. How she chose to take that gesture is entirely her own affair.”

“You caught her out under the guise of good will for all to see! Do you know what she’s spoken of to me, openly, this week? Frequently, too, for that matter?”

“I dread to think.”

“Your gentlemanly nature. Your kindness.”

He faltered for but a moment, during which it looked like he might almost be vaguely tempted to feel guilty…before straightening and schooling his features back into a look of polite boredom.

“A ploy, no doubt.”

“Captain, do you think me a simpleton?” Elizabeth asked frankly.

That got rid of the bored look. Norrington gaped at her. When one dark eyebrow rose at him as she waited for a response, showing she really did expect a response, he recovered – but not particularly quickly.

“Of course not!” he denied. “I never would. None could.”

“So, in that case, might I ask why you think certain details regarding Theodora have escaped my notice? That I am blind to her oddities?”

“I…I only thought…you seem so taken with her…” he said, before frowning at her. “Surely you do not mean to say that your approval of her has been a façade this entire time?”

“Of course it hasn’t, I like her very much.”

“But you believe her to be a charlatan?”

“Oh, really, Captain Norrington,” Elizabeth sighed impatiently, folding her arms. “There are many reasons why a woman of good birth and education might flee her home and disguise her identity, and few of them are rooted in that woman being a brigand.”

The captain, to his credit, seemed to visibly take stock of her words and truly consider them, his face veiled in thought, his gaze downcast. Elizabeth felt then that it was safe to continue.

“And none of them,” she pressed in a gentler tone, “may be discovered without kindness.”

Looking suitably chagrined then, Captain Norrington was silent, and so Elizabeth felt it safe to continue.

“I do not think she hides nothing. Few can profess that. But whatever it is that she hides, I think it harms none, save herself.”

His brow furrowed, and it was then that Elizabeth went in for the kill.

“I don’t suppose you saw how she reacted when Groves gave her that fright?”

That was all it took. A simple question, asked softly, with the right tone. Elizabeth left him with that, excusing herself to rejoin the rest of her guests.

****

Notes: SO because some folk like the historical rabbit holes these stories take me down -- while I was writing this chapter I was a bit worried because I remembered that, at some point in history, it wasn’t legal for non-royals to wear purple, and I was oddly committed to the mental image of Theo in her lilac gown, so I went digging. Elizabeth I made it illegal during her reign in the mid 16th century (unless you were closely related to the royal family), and it was not legalised until after sumptuary Laws in England were repealed in 1604. Even after that, though, it still wasn’t affordable for ordinary people until 1856, when they found a cheaper way of making the dye. But the Swanns aren’t ordinary people, and so Theo gets her lovely purple gown.

Plus, I think it would be a nice message on Elizabeth’s part as to Theo's worth, how she expects Theo to be treated by the others like she’s one of the gang, and it’s a message that Theo wouldn’t be aware of because she uhhhh doesn’t spend her time researching historical tailoring laws so she can write fanfic about fictional dead men x

#catch the wind #ctw #james/theodora #james and theodora #fallen through time esta-elavaris #ftt #james norrington/oc #james norrington x oc #pirates of the caribbean fanfic #pirates of the caribbean fanfiction #james norrington fanfic #james norrington fanfiction

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augment-techs · 6 months

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Write for 15 minutes without deleting anything

This part is short because I kind of...extended it. Sorry to @ajgrey9647 for using graft cut; but I can't mix these on here very well ^^;

Aside from the black eye, fractured cheekbone, bruises from his back hitting a decrepit telephone pole that had somehow survived twenty years in desolation, and a thumbnail lost when he went through a boarded up storefront window, Skull was reasonably pleased that he had managed to get Jason back to the palace without much fuss. And also that he'd gotten back to the Grove only just before a massive thunderstorm, with horrendous amounts of rain that they all knew-knew-knew was going to cause flooding after it being dry and barren for so long. They'd still gotten wet and Skull had only just remembered to stay away from metal standing buildings and rubble, but carrying Jason unconscious in a princess carry meant the unconscious fellow probably wasn't going to catch a cold.

Would have been better if he hadn't needed to use acupuncture points in Jason's legs to temporarily paralyze him, but trying to talk him through his onset of PTSD after being told Drakkon was back and requesting help didn't seem to be working. Like, even a little bit. It was scary how Jason could go from zero to a hundred at even the first hint of being told he'd have to see the man again. Painful too; the man had certainly been getting into shape more since he'd left. Kim, at least, look marginally more apologetic about Skull's condition than Jason's when they arrived back; what with the former Red Ranger having passed out from hyperventilating so he looked almost peaceful (thankfully he'd shaved that atrocious beard since he'd last been in Angel Grove) and Skull having to treat his own injuries since there was no fucking way that he was going to see Finster-5. Would have been nice to have a moment of peace before Drakkon meandered into the room to coo at the occupants and their states of being--especially Jason, the look in his eyes when he saw the man getting wiped down while unconscious was ghastly--but Skull was pleased to note that Kim still had excellent aim; even if it was with a teacup and she couldn't feel that good about it hitting his face due to Drakkon basically having fallen back to something more like a human from yet another Power anomaly and the girl he brought with him, Kiya, practically smiting him with every bit of lightning she could after he got her out of her prison sentence. "Can you not be a Creeper for more than five minutes, asshole?" "History proves that I probably can't Kimmy, no," Drakkon smiled through the spatter of tea running down the unpleasant looking scars along the side of his face. He even added to his being gross by wiping at the tea with his hand and then licking it off, "Hm. Second-hand kisses."

#boom! comics power rangers #world of the coinless #Lord Drakkon #World of the Coinless Jason Scott #Coinless Eugene Skull Skullovitch #Ranger Slayer Kimberly Hart #Kiya #ask fill #prompt fill #short version here; long version coming to AO3

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conchshell · 2 years

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I’ve heard mixed reviews about TUA season 3 now that it’s actually out, so I’m a bit on the fence about watching it. Would love to hear your thoughts/review on it after you finish the season :)

So it's taken a while for me to answer this because I've been watching an episode a day, so I don't know if you've started the show or not. But I'll try and give my thoughts about S3 without spoiling anything major plot wise in case you haven't started watching it.

Things I disliked;

The CGI in some of the scenes is rough and very noticeable in places, however this seems to be an issue with the earlier episodes and there is an improvement in the later ones.

The pacing is a little off in places, I felt that the first half of the show was too slow and the second half was too fast - I would have loved to have seen some of the action spread across more episodes.

Some of the loose ends in the previous seasons weren't addressed or answered in this season, and some of the scenes felt like they were just there for the sake of trying to answer past questions without actually giving it much thought (such as Five and his Commission storyline).

Related the previous two points, I felt like the plot was a little weaker than in S1 and 2, I wish that they'd really made the "foundations" of the season more solid. The best way I can describe it is that it felt more like a first draft.

The Sparrows were criminally underused and felt one-dimensional at times, which is a shame because they were interesting characters with equally interesting powers, and I thought they would have more of a presence given the amount of promo content. And maybe this was just me, but I felt like Alphonso's character was merely there to make fat jokes about.

Again, maybe it's just me but it felt like some of the Umbrellas hardly used their powers. I think it's most noticeable with Five whom in the previous seasons would blink everywhere, whereas he hardly did that this season. I don't know if this was due to the constraints of the special effects budget?

The ending was interesting, I've very torn on it because on one hand I like how everything comes together yet leaves it open for another season, but on the other hand it felt slightly like a rushed afterthought

Things I liked;

The footloose scene, enough said 💃

Having said what I did about the CGI, there are some downright beautiful scenes with wonderful cinematography in the later episodes. I feel like they really tried to do some some atmospheric shots and backdrops and it paid off.

I really enjoyed the relationships between some of the characters in this season. Luther and Viktor have some really great heartfelt scenes, and Lila and Diego make a great duo. Five and Klaus have some nice scenes too which was great because I was hoping for some. But of all of them I really liked the progress of Lila and Five's relationship from S2 to 3, you can really see that they're starting to warm up to each other.

I've seen some criticism about the music choices but I actually really liked it. The songs were softer and more subdued than past seasons which were more upbeat, which I felt really worked with the tone of the season.

Luther's character really shines this season, he's given much more screen-time and I'm glad that they decided to do so, because all of his scenes are very enjoyable to watch. I know a lot of people who were unsure of Luther have changed their minds following S3.

Viktor's and Klaus' character arc was also really good, it's great to see them more confident with both themselves and their powers.

Overall, I got the feeling that S3 was aiming to recreate the vibe that S1 had, but didn't quite manage to get there, there were so many great opportunities for certain scenes to progress and then they fell short. But on the other hand, I do think there were some really enjoyable scenes between the siblings, and it's nice for the show to delve more into the characters and the bonds between them. I also felt like it did answer a lot of questions about Reginald and his motives for the academy, so it's worth watching it to get more understanding regarding that.

TLDR: There are some pacing issues and the plot is rather shaky in places, but it's enjoyable to watch merely for the bonding scenes between the siblings. I think the main thing is to go into S3 without any expectations - I think the fandom has come up with some great ideas so S3 in reality felt a little lacklustre. But despite its shortcomings and the odd scene here and there, I really did enjoy watching it and I will probably rewatch it again. 6.5/10

#Obviously these are just my thoughts and other people will have different ones #I'm so sorry this ended up so long lmao #but I hope this helps you come to a decision!#thanks for the ask #The Umbrella Academy #idk if I should tag this as a spoiler because I've tried not to spoil anything???#tua #tua S3 #intergalactic-bean #asks

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ofbluesandyellows · 1 year

Text

Ten: Jitterbug Love - Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings: alcohol, guns and swearing

Word count: 6,645

a/n: this is a special chapter... here’s Eddie’s POV hope you enjoy it :)

Previous chapter

Eddie was pacing around his room, the floor could dent at any second of how much he had been walking on the same five meter long room, all in a straight line back and forth. It had been two days, and no one had given him any information about where the hell were you.

He tried calling at your aunt’s place just for your uncle to tell him he couldn’t give any information to someone he didn’t know, to which Eddie had to pinch the bridge of his nose extra hard to not smash the phone on the floor.

He tried Dustin, but the kid took promises pretty seriously and he was still clearly upset about Eddie dating Chrissy.

“I didn’t plan things to go that way!” Eddie repeated for the fourth time as they were picking up their stuff from the last summer campaign session.

“Why are you telling me this? I’m not the one you should be whining and telling this to. Seriously, grow a pair Eddie.” Dustin grunted and left the room. Jeff snorted, but got quickly smacked on the head by Gareth.

Since you left Eddie’s jacket, Eddie had been in the worst of moods, always complaining and finding zero time to play with the band. To be honest he had been moody way before that but he was not ready to admit it.

His friends were worried about him, he spent time either alone or with Chrissy and they didn’t like her much, because she always wanted to be alone with him, as if he was some secret to keep, yet neither dared to say or ask about it. Instead they just tried to distract him.

It didn’t work.

Eddie was beyond desperate, he picked on the skin of his fingers a little too much, he had to put a band-aid around his thumb after he almost peeled the skin out of it. He tried to call just one more time at your place, no one picked the phone, later he went to see Robin and Steve but they weren’t there either. Keith almost called the police when Eddie thought he had heard your voice in his office, pushing Keith a little too harshly to pass through. His mind was playing tricks on him and that was bad enough.

But not as bad as when he decided to show up at your aunt’s house, he had probably a little too many beers in a very short amount of time. His van parked right where he always parked it whenever he visited you, the stereo was so loud it made the windows rattle with the threat of breaking. He didn’t care. These days he cared about very little anyway.

Love Hurts was making it all more dramatic than needed, however Eddie felt like maybe this was the most romantic shit he’s ever done for anyone, ever.

It started slow, with little twigs and small pebbles hitting the window of your room until maybe he threw one with too much force—it took him more tries to aim now that he was tipsy and wobbling around the front yard—the smash off glass was clear and loud.

He froze in place, but nothing happened.

“What the fuck!” he whined, he felt tears burning in his eyes, “Y/n come on! I am so sorry, please talk to me!”

Stillness.

“Y/N!!!!” This time Eddie was not going to ask nicely, he was shouting to the shattered window where he had seen you before in PJs as ABBA played, “I WANNA TALK TO YOU, PLEASE JUST GIVE ME A MINUTE OF YOUR PRECIOUS TIME YOU PRECIOUS LITTLE LADY! I PROMISE IF YOU DO I’LL FUCK OFF RIGHT AFTER, JUST PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME HERE, LOOK I EVEN CAME TO SERENADE YOU!”

Had to Fall in Love played now, he kicked the grass as he waited for a reply, one that didn’t come. The song playing made him feel more miserable, the fact that he somehow had that song in his mixtape should’ve been enough for you to come down running to his arms, because Eddie would never listen to that willingly, too mushy, too sad. He kind of liked it now, he got it.

“I LOVE YOU OKAY! I KNOW YOU PROBABLY DON’T WANT TO SEE ME RIGHT NOW BUT I PROMISE YOU I—I DIDN’T MEANT TO HURT YOU… SHIT SHIIIIIIITTTT!!”

The light of the house turned on, Eddie’s heart accelerated and he felt the tears falling hot on his face, he whipped them fast with his dirt covered hands. The door opened into what felt like a slow motion scene, he was almost running to see you at the doorway, instead there he was, your uncle.

With a shotgun?

“Hey kid, you better get the fuck away from my property! She is not here and stop fucking yelling we are trying to sleep, we have neighbors.”

“Oh, shit sorry sir, yeah I’m gonna—“ Eddie tried to walk backwards, he felt a shiver run down his spine when he saw the man pointing the shotgun at him. Eddie fell on his bum, and crawled away. “Fuck, please don’t shoot, I— didn’t know…”

“Just get the fuck out, the cops are no the way.”

Eddie nodded eagerly, feeling his stomach twist. Oh he was about to be sick but it’d be a mistake to do it in front of your uncle’s house.

“Sorry, Mr. Johnson, won’t happen again.” He ran to his van, the keys clinking around, falling on his lap, he couldn’t even find where the ignition was.

“Stop embarrassing yourself, kid. Get a damn job!”

The ignition started and Eddie drove away from your crazy uncle. Eddie never drove so fast in his life, he almost crashed into some trash cans right after he looked over his shoulder to see if there were really cops coming or if your uncle was insane enough to follow him down the road, neither happened. A sigh escaped him, he was having heart palpitations and felt like he could just turn into a ball and cry until he felt like he needed to rehydrate himself to cry once again.

His trailer was empty, his own uncle probably out with his drunken friends or working. Eddie didn’t care, he felt like trash. He sat on his bed, the heels of his hands on his eyes making pressure to stop the tears from coming, he had done nothing but embarrass his ass, he felt so pathetic and hopeless. What was he going to do now? You didn’t want to see him, you had sent your uncle with a damn shotgun to scare the shit out of him. This was not how things were supposed to happen for him, for you.

But in the first place he didn’t expect any of it to happen, yet you came and decided to charm him with your laugh and the way you always paid attention to what he said and didn’t feel intimidated by him or the way he looked, the music he liked, it felt good. With Chrissy it went from buying him weed to finally remembering they had interacted in the past and still things felt like they were going nowhere between the two.

Eddie was torn between the two girls, even when deep down he knew the answer.

The next day, as he tried to manage the monstrous hangover and the pounding headache, Eddie decided to grow a pair as Dustin had said, he sighed and slammed the door of his van extra hard, it took him a second to acknowledge he was fixing his hair, as if someone cared about his appearance. Grimacing and all he walked straight to Family Video where a very bored Robin met him. She was painting her nails on the main desk, she almost dropped the tinny bottle over the surface.

“Easy there, it’s just me.” He said, giving her a lipped smile, that was the best he could do. “Where’s Harrington?”

“Lunch.” She simply pointed to the back door of the establishment.

“Ok, good. I need to have a word with you, Buckley, and I want the truth in exchange for my own version of the events of last weekend.”

He clasped his hands together, the rings clinking as they collided with each other. Robin squinted, Eddie felt that if he didn’t get the girl to talk he was doomed to live drowning in the uncertainty of how things had gone from good into a swoop of wrongness with you.

“Okay.” She took her time to close the bottle of nail polish, take a sip of her drink and finally looked him directly in the eye. “You know this already, but you, my friend, fucked up big time.”

Oh he knew, “It went out of my hands. Like, imagine this… you have two beautiful girls paying attention to you, one you’ve had a crush on for years and the other just happened to… magically arrive! It was unexpected and I already had this thing with Chrissy, like it wasn’t going anywhere but Y/n gave me the push and I was like ‘yeah I should try this with Chrissy because there’s no way y/n feels anything for me’ like come on! I have zero chances. I know when to be realistic, Buckley!” Eddie scoffed, “yet…here we are…who would’ve thought! I’m the luckiest bastard in the fucking planet, and then I got to spend more time with y/n and she was—she is the coolest girl ever—ok listen, yeah I did her wrong but I want to fix it… but I need to talk to her and I know you know where she is, because it’s been a fucking week Robin! And I haven’t got any information and it’s driving me insane, as in I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about her. Can’t even play guitar, it’s killing me slowly.” he was begging, he never begged for anything in his life before.

“Jesus, Eddie you need to chill man. She is not here.” This could’ve been probably enough but, it was the way Robin was nibbling at her lip and the way she was fidgeting with her vest, it gave him a bad impression, “She's gone.”

“Uh, what do you mean, gone?” he kind of chuckled, he was feeling like his soul was being sucked out of his body.

“She went back to New York, that’s why she gave you back your jacket, to close the cycle.”

Eddie felt his stomach drop, how was that he became the unluckiest dude in the world, he must have guessed the curse was still on him right after that one summer when he was fighting bats and almost died in battle.

Both of his hands went flying to his head, he grunted and then his palms slammed the counter, “So you are telling me that I won’t be able to apologize to her, because she simply left.”

Robin’s eyes were wide, she was shocked at his reaction.

“Fuck me!” Eddie yelled.

Nothing could stop him from storming out of the store, he drove away with the music as loud as his old stereo allowed him, which was loud enough to make people turn their heads. He honked in exasperation to pedestrians, turned the curves a little too harshly making the van lean a little on each steering-wheel manhandle.

After a quick stop to get his stash of weed of the week, he went straight to his trailer, his room was pitch black the only light coming from under the door and the joint when he sucked from it forming a little halo of orange as it consumed. The music was one of the tapes he had taken from Dustin. It reminded him of your music taste, indie and kinda lacking power but he didn’t mind much, he was trying to come up with something to make things better, he had come to terms that this was to bring peace with his mind not so you could forgive him.

Of course he wanted you to forgive him and to kiss him again and play with his hair because, hell! He was certain no other girl made his whole body buzz the way it did when you two were high on the carpet, and your hands were brushing his hair in such a light way and he felt like he could implode there.

So now he needed redemption, it was his hero complex probably, he needed to be on the right side of history because he was not going to give up on your friendship just because he had fucked everything up for being a stupid boy.

Girls on Film started and his mind went flowing with the rhythm, this was something Steve would listen to. Dustin was practically the reflection of all his friends, he liked a bit of everything and he could get away with it, not Eddie, though. In that very moment his mind was lighter so he let it all pass through him, and then when his brain was less stressed and his hands stopped picking at the skin of his lips he had the idea, the brightest of them all.

He called for an S.O.S meeting. They had all agreed to just demand these kinds of emergency calls when they were in an emergency of course. Which Eddie found totally appropriate.

Not surprising when Steve Harrington didn’t see the situation as critical as Eddie did, Steve kept on complaining.

“I said these calls were only meant for life or death situations, not romantic struggles. Come on guys, keep up, we can’t continue with this.” Steve clapped, exasperated.

“Y/n first, now you. Yeah, totally deserve each other.” Robin plopped on the grass outside Eddie’s trailer.

“Wait, she called for an emergency meeting too? Was it about me?” He couldn’t help his heart to accelerate at the thought of it.

“Whatever, Munson. What’s the problem? We have work.” Steve said already tired.

The teens arrived just in time, letting their bikes fall on the grass with a thud. And that’s when Eddie spoke about giving you a mixtape, he said he could play a few songs… ones he had written with your face in mind, with your voice replaying nonstop in his brain as he came up with the right words and the correct chords.

Mike and Dustin cringed at the idea while Robin was grinning and nodding because she knew you better than anyone there so she would know what you would enjoy more. But no, it was Max the one who pointed out that it was too cheesy and that you only needed an apology, not a full concert.

It took Eddie a full month to find the perfect songs for the mix, he wasted around seven cassettes not because he couldn’t re-record them but because he got frustrated and would throw the tapes across the room in a fit of stress. When the songs were picked, he took an extra week to arrange the songs in the perfect order, the curation of it served him almost as therapy, that, and a couple of joints to ease the anxiousness. His mind got cleared, almost like an epiphany, he needed to talk to Chrissy.

He had avoided Chrissy for a few weeks now, which was another dick move from his part.

Chrissy was popular he had this in the back of his mind whenever they saw each other, but Eddie deep down thought she didn’t care much for that, not after all the Vecna stuff that had happened, he kind of got blinded by the idea of being with her that he didn’t noticed much besides being with her, but that night when he went to talk to her, at a party at a friends house, Eddie was not invited, Chrissy never said anything to him about it either, he didn’t ask questions this was the least of his problems, his mind had been working on other things.

It hurt him to be looked at as the freak, he had worked on it for so long he seemed to be unaffected, however the whispering and the glances made his hands twitch, and his jaw clench.

Eddie found Chrissy surrounded by people, he waved a hand at her, she looked a bit taken aback by his presence there, so she told her friends something, some of them grimaced and others rolled their eyes. She made a hand gesture for him to follow her somewhere. They found themselves in the garage of the house of who knows who.

He gulped feeling the uneasiness in his back, he needed to do this. And he did.

“I’m so sorry, I know I haven’t been what you expected me to be.” Chrissy looked hurt when he explained how he felt about her, about you.

“I should’ve known, some people told me this was not smart, but… I guess it felt right, in the moment.” She sighed. “Either way I guess we were not destined for more than a summer fling, I’m moving away for college,” Chrissy half shrugged, embarrased.

“You are? Why didn't you tell me? When? Where?” Eddie felt a little betrayed for keeping him in the dark about such important matters, even when he had no right to it.

Chrissy scoffed, “you never asked and we haven’t been talking much, haven’t we?”

“Right, sorry. You’re correct, I’ve been an idiot lately.”

“It’s fine, I was not doing much either.”

“I’m really sorry for wasting your time, Chrissy.”

She gave him a lipped smile, “me too, but it was fun. Just keep on being you, okay? Don’t let anyone take that from you” She kissed him on the cheek, “And good luck!”

She patted him on the chest, Eddie felt his cheeks warm up, a light chuckle came out of his lips, “good luck in college.”

Chrissy grinned and walked away. He sighed, hands on his hips, something released from his chest as he watched her join her friends, one last look got shared between the two. He left the party with the sensation of freedom. Things were finding their place now.

☼

Soon as Halloween arrived, his band got booked for a few gigs Eddie had to put on hold the whole recording tape thing—it was in one of these concerts where Corroded Coffin met the manager of a band, which happened to just have signed a record deal with said Californian band and was about to start their tour in February, things were moving fast in that area of his life. Eddie spent the night celebrating with the band when they got offered a deal for a tour in the north of the country.

Eddie was too happy, for once he felt happy, still all he wanted to do was call you and tell you all about it, a sad smile appeared over his lips as he sipped from the bottle of his beer, Jeff was passed out on the couch of the small room they rented to spend the night in Illinois. His biggest dream was coming true, not to mention all the attention they were getting from girls, who had been approaching the boys the minute they got off stage, but once again Eddie couldn’t find the will to flirt.

He had things to arrange and his heart belonged to someone else. Eddie could pretend, but it was like betraying his heart, he was longing for something more and that something was you.

The making of the studio was the longest process ever, it wasn’t even just for the band’s single, Eddie had other plans for it, yes it would’ve been easier to get a damn recorder for it but Dustin wanted to put his skills at task, and who was Eddie to stop the boy.

Mid-November hit when Dustin was finishing arranging the studio for the tape recording with the help of his friends and then there he was, Eddie speaking to the wall on Jeff’s garage, he wasn’t sure if he was saying the proper things or if he even apologized he just let himself be and the words left him, not thinking much of the outcome, he wanted you to know he cared for you more than anything, that you were special that you meant a lot, that you had come to his life to change him, even when neither of you were aware of it.

When he gave the cassette to Robin, Eddie felt that some part of his heart had been given away, he felt vulnerable and nothing would guarantee him that you would listen to it the same day it arrived or a day later or never, he just hoped the cassette would find you in a moment where you could listen to it and not judge him for what he did but for the person he was when he had recorded those words.

It was one thing to act tough around idiots at school. They were afraid of different , that, became Eddie’s strength. He was different and he was okay with it, but with you, he found that what could show you how strong he was, was speaking of how he really felt and why he had done what he did. Honesty and vulnerability.

It was hard to believe that he could pull off dating someone like Chrissy at least for a few weeks but it was beyond him how by being himself you fell for him just as hard as he had fallen for you.

Eddie’s body felt like it could finally rest, as if someone had taken some heavy weight off of his shoulders.

☼

Christmas day was usually a day just like any other, with cold air coming in thought from under the doors, the tiny cracks and crevices inside Eddie’s tiny trailer, but that day, his definition of Christmas changed drastically.

When he went out to try and get the amplifier he had left in his van two days ago, he noticed the bright blue paper package shining on the side of his doorstep. It was very late, he wasn't sure when or how that appeared there, with half a shrug he took it. The package wasn’t too heavy but heavy enough to know it was not some coupons Robin or Steve would give him for Christmas, and it definitely wasn’t a present from his uncle.

Eddie put the amplifier in the living room, his uncle was sound asleep there. Eddie went to his room and shut the door carefully. He had to shake the pretty shiny package just to check if it wasn’t just a joke, the package rattled, which was even more odd. He furrowed his eyebrows, starting to rip it open. A small box showed first, it was plastic but it was pretty, probably one of the prettiest things he owned.

He took the lid off, and his jaw practically hit the floor. A small note was under the chain.

Merry Christmas Eddie.

P.S: It’s the most Eddie Munson thing in the world, please do us all a favor and wear it.

With love,

Y/n

His hands started to tremble, a lump in his throat forming, he didn’t know why he felt like fucking crying over a chain made of small cute skulls.

“Fucking hell!” He mumbled, the grin and watery eyes was a special scene to witness, definitely one for the books. If only you were there to see how Eddie jumped off the bed and attached the chain to his jeans, it hung from the belt hops on his left hip.

He sniffed, and laughed lightly. How was that you managed to make him beam and cry all at once? This was definitely the most beautiful and precious thing he owned and oh he loved his guitar a little too much but this new addition had reached god tier level of beauty. They would have to bury him with that chain. He knew that much.

For New Year’s, they were at Steve’s house, a small gathering that started to turn into a big party. Corroded Coffin played and Steve let him crash with the teens and Robin in his room. Eddie kept silent when they were all reunited in Steve’s room to play Lucas’ tape.

The Promise by When In Rome started to play right at eleven with fifty-seven minutes and thirty-seconds. Everyone was laughing and smiling as the music blasted from Steve’s stereo set, it was all about friendship, after everything, Lucas’ song choice was spot on; they were all there for each other, no matter what.

You were on the phone on speaker mode as the song kept on going and everyone was speaking over each other, even when Eddie knew that you knew he was there, he didn’t attempt to say something, not even when the clock streaked twelve and everyone hugged, he saw Robin sneak out of the room, probably to look for Vickie.

Personally, Eddie wished for a year where he could see you at least one more time. A year where his band was successful enough to allow him to fix his van, a year without uncertainties, a happy year, an easy one, a year where you could bring that magazine into a reality. Because yes Nancy had talked about it a little too much and Eddie always smirked when he heard any new detail about it.

Corroded Coffin went into their first tour, it started slow but slowly they started to perform in bigger venues, crowded places, and even people started to sing back to their songs, ones that were dedicated to someone special. And between their new dates and their upcoming shows they took a few days off, Hawkins waiting, never changing.

Eddie must have done something right in those days, because the phone rang loudly, interrupting his writing session. The trailer’s ceiling had a thick layer of smoke floating but Eddie knew his way around that place with closed eyes.

“Hello?” Smoke came out of his lips as he said the word.

A moment of silence later, he was ready to hang up, he was tired of those jokes.

“Hi Eddie,”

Smoke or saliva got stuck midway his throat, Eddie was practically choking, this had to be a dream, he thought as he clenched his black shirt right over his chest trying to gain some control over the cough and the shock and what the fuck .

“You okay?” he couldn’t believe it was your voice, the one he was hearing through the line.

“Y/n? Is it really you?” Eddie said between coughs. The joint in his fingers got smashed under his shoes. “fuck me!” he squealed.

You lightly chuckled, it caused his whole body to come to life, dammit he had missed your laugh, “yes it’s me… um…. hi.”

“Hi, hi, hello. Wow I was not expecting this at all, wow. Uh how are you?”

“I’m good… working hard, sleeping very little but I’m okay… what about you? How are things?”

He was not sure how you sounded so damn chill, he was shitting his pants, hands sweating too much, his cheeks were hurting from smiling. “Great, really good. Now I’m even better because you called. Hell, I think this is the best day of my life.” He sighed, grabbing the side of his face, he was truly in disbelief.

“It took me a while to put on my big girl pants, but… anyway… I’m happy to hear you are doing well.”

Eddie’s heart was racing against his rib cage, hands over it feeling it jump wildly. His mind in a haze, he just wanted to hear you talk for the rest of his life, “I am, and I hear you are doing pretty good with that magazine of yours.” He giggled, literally like a little girl’s giggle, his cheeks felt hot, “Can't wait to read it.” He tried to put his voice in a deeper tone.

He heard you snort, “Ow, yeah, the girls over there are working extra hard, I’m just doing the editing aspect of it, nothing much.”

“Please, y/n, not with the self deprecating again, we’ve gone through this already.” You laughed, Eddie grinned bigger—if possible.

“Right, no, that’s true, well, I was actually calling for that.”

“For the self deprecating thing?”

You laughed again. Eddie got just the reaction he wanted from his comment, “no, for the magazine, dumbass.”

“Oh,” he tugged at his lower lip, “okay, I’m listening missy.”

“Remember that conversation we had?”

“I remember all of our conversations.”

Silence.

“Okay then, the one where… you promised me a Corroded Coffin interview.”

“Um no, I don’t remember that one.” He smirked, waiting for your reaction.

“Munson, be serious right now.”

He laughed lightly, the back of his head hit the wall he was leaning on, he hated when you called him Munson and not Eddie, but he let it pass because he was in no position to ask for kindness.

“I’m joking, of course I do,”

“So that’s still on?”

His belly fluttered, “for you, anything.”

Silence.

Eddie could imagine you sitting on your bed, anywhere really, you biting the inside of your cheek, with shiny eyes and rosy cheeks, looking at him. He being unable to keep his eyes away from your face—

“Uh, sorry what was that?” he shook his head, he had lost himself in daydreams. Very typical lately.

“I said that we should arrange a phone call for the interview, I have a few questions but I still need to prepare for it… or I can ask Nance to interview you, that’d be more convenient—“

“No, no I’m free, whenever you want I’m ready, just say when.”

Eddie wasn’t smooth when it came to girls, he never was but with you he felt like the most stupid boy in the world, trying to do anything to impress you to keep your attention in him. Like now, he was willing to stop the tour just so you could have a twenty minute conversation with him.

“What if we do it after spring break? So I can have enough time to prepare everything, and I can ask Jonathan to take a few photos of you and the band… is that good for you?”

“Yeah, absolutely.”

His stomach dropped, this was a mere business call. Eddie wanted to say a lot but the chances of making everything worse were higher than the ones where he made things better. He closed his eyes, listening to your breathing, he didn’t want the call to end.

“Did you—did you get the cassette?” He winced at his own voice.

“I did… thank you, It was nice to hear that you polished your music taste a little.”

Your soft chuckle didn’t miss Eddie’s ears, “I got your chain too… very bold choice, but a correct one. I’ve been wearing it since I got it, so thank you .”

“I have listened to your mixtape almost everyday since I first got it so… I guess we are even.”

Eddie clutched his chest, eyes still closed, the way his whole body felt, like it could burst into tiny sparkly specks, just by how intense he felt the sentiment of love towards you.

“As I said, I’d do anything for you, even listening to ABBA’s whole discography.”

“Please we both know you love them, don’t try to blame me.”

He laughed, “I guess we do crazy shit for love don’t we?”

“I guess so…”

“Y/n… I’m really sorry about—you know… everything.” Eddie said so softly he was afraid you hadn’t heard him, “what I said on the tape was all true—“

“I know, Munson… I just, can we talk about this another time? I have to go, now. I’ll call you a day or two before the interview, okay?”

“Y/n, please let’s—“

“I’m sorry… bye.”

The line died, and so did Eddie’s will to write, to breathe, to live.

He scared you, he risked everything for nothing.

His back rested on the wall for a moment then he slid down plopping on the floor, his head hit his knees, he grabbed his hair in his hands, fists tugging at it out of frustration.

“FUCK!” he screamed loud enough to hurt his throat.

☼

There were rumors, ones coming from Dustin and Mike. Something about a trip to New York. It didn’t matter much to Eddie until he heard your name being thrown in the conversation involving that trip. That’s when he decided he had to convince them to spill all the beans about this New York secret plan. The trip was a long one but they had no option, there was no way they were denying this to Eddie. It was the last chance he had.

That’s how he found himself driving his van with Dustin, Lucas, Mike and Will on his refurbished car back seats. Steve, Robin, Max and El were in the fine Mercedes a few meters ahead of him. It was beyond crazy how they had forced him to wake up at four in the morning to hit the road, yes he was excited however the idea of having a few more hours of sleep didn’t sound bad at all, specially when he hadn’t had much time to do so thinking about seeing your pretty face again.

Almost twelve hours of driving later, they crashed into a motel, three rooms got paid by Steve and the kids little money–they didn’t accept a no for answer– while Eddie and Robin put more gas into the tanks and gathered some food for the gang.

He was not going to complain about the little hours of sleep he got, having Dustin and Mike chatting in his room non-stop along with how he was starting to feel that fluttery sensation bubbling up to his chest was enough to keep the sleepiness at bay. As the morning crept through the sky painting it green and pastel blue all over it with a thin line of yellow showing the path of the rising sun. Eddie took a quick shower, and darted outside to get his first cigarette of the day, Eddie knew it was a bad habit but he was nervous as fuck and who could blame him.

Eddie was taking a drag of his smoke, his mind lost in what if’s.

“Hey, you are up early.”

Eddie lightly choked, “Harrington you fucking scared me,” he said between coughs.

“Shit, sorry.” He put his hands in the air, then lightly brushed his hair to the side, a classic Harrington move. “Couldn’t sleep or what?”

It was the way Steve looked at Eddie with that wry smile, and the nudge he gave Eddie that made him finally laugh, “am I that obvious?”

Steve shrugged, “I’d be if I were about to see the girl I like… things are going to be fine, she likes you and if things end up going sideways, you still have us.”

“How comforting, really you shouldn’t have.” Eddie scoffed.

Steve shot him a glare, “Come on man, we are a great team, even if I acted… kinda bad towards you the last couple of months, I think you are all right… I guess.”

“We’ve done this before Harrington, no need to apologize, we are good.” Eddie patted Steve on the back once, then offered him his cigarette.

“Nah I’m good… but can you um, promise me one thing.” Steve crossed his arms over his chest, leaning on one foot to the other.

“Yeah.”

“I know you are very in love with y/n.” Eddie winced, “yeah I said in love because that’s what you are, you are a complete clown man. Just be good to her okay? She was fighting hard to not let her feelings go over the board but I guess you did some things right but others wrong so… fix it and treat her right, she deserves it.”

Eddie flipped the cigarette bud to the parking lot, he cleared his throat hiding his hands in his jeans. He knew very well how stupid he’s been but coming from Steve was like a jab to the ribs. Not because it was Steve saying it but because he knew Steve would always tell him the truth no matter how hard it could be to hear, he was always going to act the right way, which made Eddie a little jealous, he would love to be a little bit more like him. Taking in mind Dustin worshiped Steve, and even when Eddie was also aware that Dustin liked him too, Steve had the highest spot in the kid’s hero list, so yeah, it was hard to hear but he was grateful that after all they had gone through at least he could still count on Steve.

“Shit man…” Eddie felt his throat tightening, “you know it’s twice as hard for me to get a chick to like me than what it is to you. So yeah I did many things the bad way but I like her more than I’ve ever liked or wanted anything in my life… my sweet baby guitar? You can have it as long as I can get to see Y/n again, you know what I mean? This, what I feel inside here,” Eddie’s palm landed on his chest, too harshly it almost made him grunt, “I’ve never felt it, and I won’t let anything get in the way, even if she doesn’t want me back, who the fuck cares, I’d be her friend for the eternity, I just want her to be happy. Even if that means to stay away… I’ll do anything.”

Steve gave him a lopsided grin, but his eyes were a little sad, “You're really a great dude. And it’s been rough for me too, Munson, so don’t try and make a competition out of it because I’ve been doing bad with the ladies.” Steve looked at the floor, trying to kick a small rock on the pavement as he paced around, “it’s as if I’ve lost my charm but dude I’m so popular with the kids now… what a plot twist,”

Eddie squatted down, a smirk on his face, it was weird to see Steve so vulnerable and disappointed in himself, he was King Steve after all, he shouldn’t be sulking, not over girls.

“I think it’s the hair Harrington, ladies dig the long locks. I’m telling ya man, this is the new hot. ”

Steve snorted, “please shut up now before we get into a real argument as to why you are wrong… just for the record ladies love this mop of hair, all right?” The boy pointed to his fluffy hair, he was half joking half offended.

“Whatever you say man.” Eddie chuckled, and Steve shook his head in disbelief. “but thanks for the pep talk, it’s always reassuring to see that King Steve also has insecurities.”

“Ow zip it Munson. I was just trying to help, Once we are there you are on your own man.”

“Fine by me, thought you said: you will always have us. Some empty words there, huh.”

Eddie laughed lightly watching Steve smile, “I didn’t say always but those words came in all honesty, now if you excuse me I’m going to see if the ladies are ready to go, we’re already late.”

Eddie played with a leaf on the floor thinking that this was it, last few hours to go to finally see you. A grin tugged at the end of his lips as the chain on his jeans clinked when he moved.

Things were going to be fine, or he tried to convince himself of it, his hands getting shakier by the minute.

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