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judasofsuburbia · 10 months

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“what? hello?” steve mumbled sleepily into the phone.

“i’m going insane,” eddie nearly shouts.

steve sits up in his bed and scrubs his hand over his face. “woah woah, eds, what’s goin on?”

a high pitched wail is heard in the background and eddie is immediately cooing and shushing. steve presses the phone tighter to his ear.

“eds. eds, can you hear me?”

“i’m going insane i’m going insane i’m going insane,” eddie breathes. “she won’t stop crying steve she’s been crying for two hours—fuck, three hours. i don’t know what to do. i don’t know what to do steve.”

“who’s crying?” steve asks.

“my cousin. or my niece, maybe? i don’t know how it works. my cousin’s baby is here and she won’t stop crying.”

more crying and wailing is heard. steve has to hold the phone away from his ear when eddie gets closer to her. he can hear eddie pleading with her, trying to comfort her, to no avail.

“i need help,” eddie says. “i need help, please.”

“uh, okay. okay,” steve replies as he rolls out of bed and stumbles around his room in the dark to find some pants and shoes. “i can be there in ten.”

“make it five,” eddie nearly whines, anxiety pouring through the receiver.

“got it.”

steve’s tires screech into eddie’s driveway. his trailer is the only one with the lights still on and he could hear the baby crying from outside. he’s surprised no one has called to complain to the police station. though he’s sure callahan or hopper would simply hang up.

steve barrels up the steps and opens the door to utter chaos. toys and books scatter the ground, there are blankets and bottles strewn over surfaces (some definitely knocked over and spilling onto the floor), and baby clothes and diapers in the leftover spaces. and of course, a screaming infant.

eddie pops out of his room with said infant trashing in his arms. eddie has tears streaming down his fact too and steve’s heart just cracks.

“help me,” eddie mouths.

“uh, okay, okay,” steve is wracking his brain for any tips he learned in home economics about taking care of a baby. “what have you tried? i presume she’s in a clean diaper and…” god it was hard to think with the noise screeching in his ears. “fed her?” steve asks louder.

“yes fuck, i keep changing her and trying to feed her. i read her stories and rocked her and tried to put her in her crib. she’s so upset i don’t know why,” eddie’s voice cracks on the last word and suddenly, steve’s across the room. ready to comfort him.

“give her here,” steve says.

eddie’s eyes are panicky and wide but eventually, he hands steve the child. she continues to cry and thrash in steve’s arms so it takes a second for him to hold her properly.

“what’s her name?” steve asks.

“cheyenne” eddie responds, arms wrapped around himself like a hug. his whole body is bouncing and steve feels the urge to reach out and bring him in too but the more pressing matter is currently occupying those arms.

“hi cheyenne,” steve says gently. “seems like you’re mighty upset.”

she yanks at steve’s shirt with her little baby fists, definitely grabbing some chest hair underneath and ripping it. steve winces but recovers quickly.

“would your neighbors kill me if i take her outside?”

“probably,” eddie mutters.

“i’m going to anyway.”

steve heads for the front door and eddie goes to follow him but steve holds out a patient hand. “stay here, take a breath,” steve instructs.

eddie’s eyes well up with more tears. “but what if something—“

“then we’ll do something. right now, being around her isn’t good for you. let me take a crack at this, alright?”

eddie nods solemnly and backs away so steve can open the door.

cheyenne’s cries echo out into the night sky as steve starts to pace around the porch. steve starts to feel a little scared being alone with her but he’s more scared of what the stress has done to eddie.

so he decides to do it scared.

the baby starts to have this hiccuping breaths that pull steve out of his thought spiral. steve shushes her and props her up so her head is on his shoulder. he rubs her back with his hand, which takes up her entire back, and tries to stay calm when her cries are right next to his ear.

“you like music? 'course you do, everyone does.i don’t know how many lullabies eddie knows. his taste is a little more intense,” steve says conversationally as he continues to pace. “i don’t even think i know any lullabies. um…”

cheyenne cries with new fervor right into his neck and steve just panic sings the first song that comes to mind, “shake it up is all we know. using bodies up as we go. i’m waking up a fantasy. the shades are all the colors we used to see.”

cheyenne’s cries go down a peg, still loud but less wailing and more whimpering. steve’s heart is racing as he slowly continues the song.

“broken ice still melts in the sun. and ties that are broken can be one again. we’re soul alone and soul really matters to me.”

cheyenne keeps crying but it's getting softer by the second. steve rearranges her so she's cradled in his arms. he's blown away by how small she is. how helpless. everything must be so scary for her.

“i'm out of touch,” steve sings softly. “you're out of time. but i'm out of my head when you're not around. oh, oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh.“

cheyenne's eyes open up and they're this big beautiful brown, just like eddie's. his breath is taken away as he keeps singing weakly. he doesn't even realize that she stops crying entirely and is just blinking at him, dazed.

it takes eddie slowly opening the front door for him to recognize the silence. he sits on the couch and bounces her gently in his arms, still humming and singing the occasional "oh's". eddie very slowly and quietly sits beside him.

steve looks up at eddie who is staring at him in awe. the same beautiful brown eyes are puffy and swollen, just like cheyenne's.

“c'mon eds, sing it with me,” steve jokes quietly.

eddie shakes his head. “i can't believe she's a hall and oates fan.”

“everyone is,” steve says simply and sings, “i'm out of touch.” he gestures to eddie to continue.

“i'm out of time,” eddie sings, looking incredibly pained to do so.

“but i'm out of my head,” steve leans his ear to the side.

“when you're not around,” eddie says flat, voice raspy from his exhaustion. it makes steve's stomach flip so he returns his attention to the near asleep girl in his arms.

they keep humming until she's fully asleep. steve leans back into the couch with a long exhale, his shoulders rubbing up against eddie's.

“you're magical,” eddie whispers.

“please,” steve scoffs.

“i'm serious,” eddie replies. steve turns his head to face him and nearly chokes from how close their faces are.

”i don't know how you do it,“ eddie mumbles.

”do what?“

”make everyone around you so calm. i feel like all i can do is make everyone stressed out,” eddie laughs weakly.

steve shakes his head. ”not true. just ask buckley, i stress her out on a daily basis.“

eddie chuckles and sniffles. steve sees his lips stretch over his teeth in a smile.

”thank you for coming over. i didn't know who else to call.“

”how did you end up with your baby cousin anyway?“ steve asks.

eddie sighs, tilting his head back into the cushion. if he leaned his head closer, he'd be on steve's shoulder. steve wishes he would.

”her mom is taking a much needed vacation and i promised wayne that he didn't need to take time off work to take care of her. that was a huge mistake.“

”you did your best,“ steve argues quietly.

”maybe but it wasn't enough.“

”hey, c'mon. don't beat yourself up. you did what you could and found help when you couldn't. it's not your fault this is her only form of communication.“

eddie smiles again and yawns. ”you wouldn't happen to have this album on cassette would you?“

steve beams at him. ”in my car, actually.“

”i'm getting it.“

they put cheyenne to bed with the big bam boom album playing softly on eddie's stereo. they stare at her peaceful form snoozing away and seem to forget how she looked not even a half hour ago.

”you should get some sleep,” steve whispers, nudging eddie with his shoulder.

“you're right, you're right,” eddie sighs. he gestures that he's gonna walk steve to the door. steve grabs his keys and turns before opening the door.

“thank you again,” eddie whispers.

“anytime. hall and oates always heals,” steve smiles.

eddie rolls his eyes fondly and shoves steve's shoulder. only, his hand doesn't move away. it splays out over steve's beating heart which is rapidly picking up speed. eddie's eyes slowly drift up to catch steve's.

“i was listening to that song yesterday,” steve whispers. “over and over and over again.”

“you must really like it,“ eddie says, a little confused.

”no. i mean, i do but…“ steve whispers. ”i was listening to it because... i start to go a little insane when i'm not around you.“

eddie's brows furrow. ”w-what do you mean?“

”can't keep you out of here,“ steve explains, tapping his temple. ”i don't know what to do. this is where i need help, eds.”

eddie's lips part in a silent gasp. he takes a step closer and rubs his thumb over steve's shirt. steve's hand comes up and covers his.

“i can help,” eddie whispers, tilting his head up so their noses brush.

that's how steve and eddie share their first kiss in eddie's living room, sleep deprived and unhurried. just four lips gently sliding over one another.

when they pull away with tired smiles, eddie murmurs, “in case she wakes up, you should probably sleep over.”

(inspired by @gothbat99 's wonderful steve harrington playlist)

#emily writes #idk why i hc steve being great with babies but i just DO #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fics #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things ficlet

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

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Anger III

Vicky Losada x Putellas!Reader

Summary: It was meant to be a quiet night

You rolled over in bed with a groan and shoved your face into the pillow.

Over the monitor, you heard wailing.

You reached your hand out blindly and slapped at Vicky.

"Vicky," You hissed, still sleep addled and groggy," Vicky...Vicky!"

She woke with a start. "Huh? What is it?" She seemed to realise the screaming coming from the baby monitor. She yawned. "I'll get her."

"I should hope so," You said," It's your turn."

You'd only just brought your baby home. Little Sofia Losada had been blessed with a healthy set of lungs at birth that kept you up at every hour of the night.

You could hear on the baby monitor the moment that Vicky opened the door to Sofia's room and slipped inside. There was a brief rustle of sheets and then you could hear your wife over the screeching of your baby.

"Alright, you," Vicky said," Let's see what's wrong."

You sighed in relief and buried your face back in your sheets as the cries quietened. You were relaxed and happy in the warmth of your bed and the sweet silence as Sofia got comfort. You began to drift off happily until you heard your phone ringing.

You thought about ignoring it but, when the call dropped, it picked up almost immediately again.

You groaned and reached for it, refusing to open your eyes. "Hello?"

"Heeey." The voice was slurred and thick.

You squeezed your eyes as tight as possible, hoping that this was all just a horrible dream. "Alba, I thought you were with Alexia."

"I am! Ale! Ale! Say hi!"

"Hiiii." Alexia's voice was slurred too and you finally opened your eyes.

You pulled on a jumper and some socks, slipping into your favourite pair of slippers. "Where are you?"

Alba rattled off the name of the bar they had gotten drunk at and you swore at them under your breath as you headed to the door.

You met Vicky out in the hallway. Sofia was in her arms, eyes almost completely closed as the lack of sleep caught up with her. "Hey, you didn't have to get up," Your wife said," We're okay here. Go back to bed."

"I can't," You said apologetically," My stupid sisters are stranded and drunk. I'm going to go pick them up." You pressed a kiss to her lips and then another one to Sofia's head, brushing down her little baby curls. "I'll be home soon."

It was a quick drive to your sisters and a much longer task trying to get them into your car. You wrangled Alexia in first, firmly telling off your oldest sister when she tried to unbuckle herself from the passenger seat.

It was much harder to get Alba in. She wanted to go back to the bar and have another shot but you manhandled her into your car where she promptly burst into tears when she noticed Sofia's car seat was empty.

"The baby!" She cried," The baby!"

"Where's our baby?" Alexia asked, rolling her head to look at you like her neck suddenly couldn't hold it up.

"You mean my baby? At home, where you're both going to drink a litre of water each and share the bed in the spare room."

Alba stubbornly kicked the back of your seat. "We're adults! We don't need to share with each other!"

"Then one of you will sleep on the floor," You told her, reaching around your seat to slap her back.

You managed to get both of your drunk sisters up the driveway and through the front door.

"Be quiet," You hissed as Alexia tripped over the side table," My baby and my wife are trying to sleep!"

"Baby Sofia!" Alba cried as a light turned on and Vicky appeared in the hallway, watching on in amusement with little Sofia in her arms.

"Shut it! She's sleeping!"

You held both of your sisters back by their shirts when they tried to rush for your baby. "No!" You said sternly," Bedtime for you two."

"Sofia's not in bed!" Alba whined as Alexia pouted, reaching for Sofia like her life depended on it.

"I'm just putting her back into bed now," Vicky said," Would it make you two happier if you watched me?"

Both of your sisters nodded and all four of you trooped into the nursery to lay your sleepy girl to bed. She yawned in her sleep, scrunching up her little fists in a way that had both of your sisters cooing.

Vicky placed her down gently in her crib and switched on the monitor again as you guided your now settled sisters to the spare room. It seemed that seeing Sofia had calmed them both significantly because neither of them fought you when you tucked them both into the same bed.

"Three kids in bed," Vicky noted," And it's not even two in the morning."

"We did good, huh?" You joked as you slid into her warm embrace and pillowed your head on her chest.

"I'm surprised you let them sleep on the new sheets while drunk. What if they throw up?"

"Alexia won't."

"And Alba?"

"There's a bucket on the floor next to her," You said dismissively," If she throws up on the sheets then she's paying for them to be cleaned."

Vicky laughed. "I love it when you make plans to extort your sisters out of money. It's sexy." Her hand crept down to your bum.

"If I wasn't exhausted," You said," I would so take you up on that but-" You checked your bedside clock," We've got a one-week-old who will wake up for a feed in a few hours and my drunk sisters in the other room. No chance, Mrs Losada."

Vicky laughed again and you rocked at the movement of her chest. "Maybe tomorrow," She said," When Alba's out washing our sheets and we manipulate Alexia into babysitting."

You closed your eyes. "It's your turn to manipulate Alexia."

#woso x reader #vicky losada x reader #vicky losada #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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rainylana · 1 year

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“Yes, big!”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: uncle wayne catches eddie and reader in the act.

warnings: language, brief smut, wayne interrupts said smut, reader hits her head, this is very fast paced but it’s funny af so enjoy<3 happy new year!

a/n: my requests are open now! this was requested by @random183893

“Just what exactly are you doing?” Eddie gave you a pointed look from the couch, legs sprawled and hair let down freely.

“Princess Diana said this is what she had to do when she was a kid,” You held out your arms to balance yourself, two books atop of your head to keep your posture as you walked around the coffee table.

“Last time I checked you weren’t princess Diana.” He stared at you like you were an alien from outer space, just waiting for one of the books to fall. “What’s that even supposed to do?”

“I’m not entirely sure.” You admitted with a creased brow, keeping your chin pointed. “I think maybe it has something to do with posture? Don’t you think I look sophisticated, though?” You smiled goofily, barely sending him a glance so you wouldn’t mess up.

“Sophisticated isn’t what’s coming to mind, babe, but you’re definitely a sight.” He scoffed behind a ringed hand.

You pursed your lips, reaching up to grab the books as you stopped your pacing. “Why must you tease me for everything I do?”

“Because I’m such a good boyfriend that’s why.” He pouted with you, grabbing your hands and yanking you onto his lap.

You giggled and smacked his chest playfully, letting his hands shamefully grip your backside as you kissed him. “Bad boy.” You bit his lip, your hair falling over his face.

“Bad boy, huh?” He smirked up at you, squeezing the flesh of your skin. “If I’m so bad why are you so damn crazy about me?”

You relaxed your body against his thighs, your cunt displayed through your thin shorts as you softly rolled your hips. “Because I’m crazy, too.”

You both made out like animals in heat, rolling hips and arching your back into him until he laid you flush on your back against the couch cushions. You smiled seductively up at him, only in your t shirt, panties and shorts gone. You put your foot on his chest and playfully pushed him, and he smacked your ankle away as he undid his belt, tossing his shirt off to the floor.

You throbbed watching him roll a condom onto his length in hand, practically foaming at the mouth when he came down to kiss you.

“Oh, god.” You groveled your voice deeply when he pushed his cock into your cunt, grabbing onto his shoulder as he groaned with sensation.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close as he could be, lips attached hotly and wet, hips interlocked and bodies moving back and forth like a boat out at sea. The brush of his hips sent spiky sensations to your clit and you cried out, his nose above you flaring heavy breaths of lust.

“I’m gonna cum.” He panted, shaking through his words as you nodded quickly.

“Me too.” You tilted your head up. “Me too, me too, me too-”

“What the fuck!”

Both your eyes shot open and bulged, and your face had turned to the brightest shade of red when Wayne stood at the door, face shade matching your own. You screamed, rolling out from under Eddie as he hurriedly tried to tuck himself back into his jeans.

“Shit!” Eddie screeched, falling to the couch when you rolled away onto the floor, smacking the back of your head against the coffee table.

Wayne was traumatized, covering his eyes as he quickly ran out the door, dropping his hat to the floor.

“Fuck, babe, you good?” Eddie heaved, struggling to get up.

“Oh, my god.” You practically wailed, trying to reach your clothes that seemed a mile away. Your head was spinning now, but you hadn’t even realized you’d cracked it.

“Jesus, y/n, here get up,” He tried helping you, gulping as he looked toward the door. Fuck. “You hit your head, honey, are you okay?”

Your eyes almost welled up with tears in embarrassment, crawling over to your clothes as you stood on wobbly legs. “Oh, my, god, Eddie! Oh, my-”

“Calm down, calm down.” Eddie winced at the shrillness of your voice, watching to make sure you didn’t fall again. “It’s nothing the old man hasn’t seen before.”

Your eyes split into daggers. “What the hell does that mean?”

His jaw dropped. “I mean- he changed my diapers! He’s seen my ass once or twice. No big.”

“Yes, big!” You threw your hands up in the air, starting to wildly pace. “Big, big, big!”

Eddie bit his lip and went to the window, smirking at the absence of his uncle’s truck. “He left, babe, we’re good.”

He turned and was met with silence, and no sight of his girlfriend. “Y/n?” He huffed, stepping over his uncles hat as he followed you to the bedroom. He stopped in the door way, furrowing a brow at the sight of you rummaging through clothes. “Y/n, what are you doing?”

“Packing my bags!” You marched around the room gathering your things at a mad mans pace. “I’m moving to another country!”

He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Now, why do you want to do that?”

“Because I’m humiliated!” You shrieked, blowing a curl away from your face as you shoved clothes in a suitcase. “Why aren’t you?” You stared at him perplexed. “Your uncle just caught us having sex!”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, it’s not like he didn’t know we were doing it, y/n!” He pushed himself off the wall. “Wayne gave me the talk way back during middle school. It’s not a big deal, kiddo. Sex isn’t a sin, you know?” Eddie had hoped he’d gotten to you, but your face contorted and you burst into tears, his face dropped in concern.

“Oh, hey, come on,” He quickly gathered you close. “It’s okay, y/n, I promise.”

“I’m so embarrassed!” You cried. “How will I ever face him again?”

It took him a lot to not laugh, but his lips were etched into a big smile. He was so damn in love with you. “Was probably our own damn fault for going at it on the couch. He’ll definitely not sit there ever again.” He smirked, making you cry into his chest.

“Shh, hey- I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” He chuckled, kissing your head. “I sure hope you don’t have a concussion, you big cry baby.”

“I wish it had killed me!”

“You are so damn dramatic.”

#eddie blurb #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things season four #joseph quinn #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson headcanons #eddie thoughts #eddie stranger things

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pedroschka · 11 months

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Baby got a temper

Joseph Quinn x reader (but basically just pure dad!joe)

Summary: a day in life of Joe and his toddler

it's been a while I'm sorryyy, I hope writer's block is unblocked now and I can finally finish all my Wip's, I feel much better right now

Surrounded by various pieces of paper and crayons Joe lies sprawled out on the living room floor with his little mini me beside him, both more or less concentrating as they busy themselves with drawing

You've been gone to a birthday party for your friend and that leaves him with a hopefully unadventurous father-and-son day, enjoying the quietness of his kid beside him while it lasts.

Unbothered as his son keeps walking around, looking for another colour, waddling over his paper before plopping down onto Joe's back and watching for a few seconds what his father's drawing before getting bored and sitting down in front of his own paper again, mimicking his dad by poking his tongue out while trying very hard to draw a perfectly round circle.

"Tadaa" Joe holds up his finished drawing, a scrawly drawn teddy bear with a green head and red bow tie, and shows it to his son, getting an unimpressed "humph" before holding his own paper up, a big mess of color and forms

" Oh this looks fun, what is it ?"

Wrong question.

His little face turns into a frown and he throws the crayon in his hand down in frustration, right on the paper in front of him leaving a bright red stroke over his painting, making the situation even worse and tears flooding his eyes

"A teddy!" the wailing begins and his small face starts to turn red, and Joe quickly tries to deescalate the situation again

"Of course! Silly me, Daddy forgot his glasses again. It's a very beautiful teddy! And so colorful!"

grabbing the eraser he demonstrates to his son that the stroke is now gone and everything is fine again, promising to show his art right when mommy comes back home and pinning it on the fridge so everybody can see

Cuddling his mini-me into his chest and drying his tears he reckons that now is the perfect time for lunch, carrying the little highchair to the kitchen island so his son can help prepare his food.

Talking him through the steps as he helps him hold the butter knife while cutting the banana into slices, both of them keep snacking and leaving the plate a little less full-looking.

As his attention span seems to be at his peak again Joe let him go off to play again, keeping an eye on him as he continued preparing lunch for the two of them

Joe still makes the mistake of opening the wrong drawers and cabinets, always forgetting that you two had to stack up everything in the highest drawers after the flour fiasco a few weeks ago when his baby was very set on helping you bake and accidentally spilled the flour all over him, leaving you and Joe a frantic mess trying to calm him down again which required a full bath and a cuddle session after to stop his hysterical crying that started to hurt your ears and your heart.

After lunch it's potty time, a routine you both try to stick with to potty train him, sitting him down and having to stay with him in the bathroom, Joe often gets told how intense his eye contact can be but his son is a whole new level, looking up with his deep brown eyes, probably pooping while staring into your soul.

Joe as always loses the staring contest when his son informs him to be finished with a small "done", praising him like he just won an Oscar he grabs a new toilet roll, ripping off a few sheets before hanging it back onto the wall not expecting the screech that followed his action and looking startled at his son

his son looks at him with a comical shocking expression before starting a whole tantrum, screaming, and shaking his arms around while Joe watches helplessly and completely lost of what just happened that could cause this complete mood change

" hey hey what's the matter little man, did you hurt yourself?"

Shaking his head and hiccuping, emotions flowing over and making it hard to articulate properly, leaving Joe to play the guessing game

After a few more questions and checking on him to really make sure that nothing was hurt his little one nearly stabs him in the eye with an accusing finger at the toilet roll and screeched "It's the wrong way!!" Before stomping his tiny feet into the floor in frustration

Like a light bulb going off in Joe's head he puts two and two together, wanting to facepalm himself, having had the discussion of the " wrong side facing toilet roll" with you already on your first date but a whole tantrum about it was new to him, but he was sure he learned his lesson now

joe quickly fixes his mistake "I'm sorry I didn't know, here now it hangs the right way"

but his son just folded his little arms in front of him and pouted back at his dad, shaking his head again

"No, it's dirty now!"

"It's not, look? It hasn't touched the wall yet, all clean for your little butt "

Joe showed the few toilet paper sheets to him to inspect, wanting to roll his eyes when his son even looks under the paper before reluctantly letting Joe finally clean him up

But no matter how challenging life with a toddler could get there are also always these moments he wanted to treasure, laying in bed at night with you snuggled to his side, getting woken up by clumsy tiny feet trying to navigate through the dark until his son is crawling over him and starfishing himself right in between you two and falls asleep with a content sigh and Joe swears he's the happiest man on earth.

(reblogs and comments are very appreciated additional to your likes)

#joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #dad!joseph quinn #fanfic #joe quinn #fanfiction #joseph quinn fanfiction #joe quinn fluff

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isalisewrites · 3 months

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Fem!Tomarry

I blame ya both. @monsieurclavier and @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger You're responsible for this. Seducing me with lesbian Tomarry and sexy ladies. *shaking my head*

----

The rhythmic drips were a requiem of damned.

Scales glittered in the dull light of the expansive chamber; a guardian to her queen, the great basilisk coiled around a runic diagram, where a steaming cauldron simmered in the center with bubbling black liquid. Tom took a step back away from it and rolled down her dress shirt sleeves, revealing unmarred pale skin in the dim light. She opened the waistcoat of her uniform and unbuttoned her shirt, opening it enough to reveal the upper part of her breasts.

Next… she needed a bit of blood.

Well, a lot of it.

Her eyes were drawn to the sniveling, sobbing girl that lay a few feet away. The girl stared up at her from behind pitifully ugly glasses, wrists bound behind her back with conjured rope, and a gag shoved in her mouth. She thrashed on the ground, her screams muffled, and then sagged, her chest fluttering with her gasps.

“It’s a shame,” whispered Tom, her voice light and lyrical as she took a step forward. The bound girl hiccuped and sobbed in terror. She could almost taste it in the air. “You really shouldn’t snoop into other people’s business. Bad things might happen when you do.”

The girl wailed behind her gag.

“But it’s all right,” said Tom; her gentle tone was a dark constant to the gleaming knife she held in her hand. She stepped closer and knelt in front of her. The girl screamed some more, her glasses askew. “This will hurt, quite a bit. And when I’m done, I’m going to kill you.”

Tom smiled at the renewed sobs. She put a hand onto the girl’s shoulder and shoved her face down. The girl screamed again, legs kicking, body thrashing wildly, but Tom straddled the back of her thighs and grabbed her tied wrists. A lock of her short hair hung a few inches from her face as she hunched over the girl’s prone form. With a light caress, the knife brushed against the girl’s forearm.

It sliced through flesh with ridiculous ease, red blood blooming to life at the seam.

High pitched screams echoed through the Chamber of Secrets.

“There, there,” murmured Tom, but she couldn’t be heard over the cries. She dipped her fingers into the cut, coating them in blood. “Your blood is important to me. I shan’t waste a drop of it.” Tom painted runes, one by one, her right forearm. Though her runes weren’t drawn as steady, she did the same for her left forearm. Tom pried the cut open a little more, briefly jostled by the girl kicking in furious sobs of terror, and dipped her fingers with more warm blood. She drew another set of runes over her breasts and her heart. As she painted the final runes on her cheeks and forehead, she whispered, “Almost done now.”

Tom forced the girl onto her back. The girl continued to weep, but the life had been drained from her. Tom stood up and looked at herself, doubling checking the runes.

“I’m ready,” said Tom softly in parseltongue, a well of excitement bubbling up inside her. Scales slithered against the ground as the basilisk moved towards the lone girl on the ground. Tom lifted the diadem of Ravenclaw and gazed down at the girl. “Myrtle, you’ve been so good for me.” The girl let out a wretched sniffle. “Really, you’ve been a delight. But, sadly, this is where we part ways.”

Tom’s smile cut through the darkness.

“Kill her.”

“As you wish, Mistress.”

This was it. The moment she’d spent countless hours studying for, meticulously planning for - this was the moment she created her first horcrux, the first anchor to the mortal plane.

Except…

Multiple things happened at once. A flash of golden red light burst high above in the chamber, flames flickering on the stone ceiling. A bird cried, high and warlike, and more light illuminated the chamber. There was a girlish screech, a low curse, and a loud crash.

The cauldron toppled over, spreading out all over the stone floor and smearing the runic circle away. The basilisk shrieked in pain when it splattered her scales and reared back away from the spilled potion.

“Ew, ew, what is this?!” cried a new voice, a woman’s; though, it was a touch lower than the average girl. “Ouch, I think it’s burning me—shit, it’s definitely burning me—”

A rush of magic - wild, intoxicating, elysian - flooded through the entire chamber. There was another screeching, birdlike cry, mournful and powerful. The spilled, sizzling potion that had been meant to consume Myrtle’s blood and merge with the diadem vanished.

Months of work and preparation.

Gone.

Tom trembled with apocalyptic rage. The intruder—she’d have to die. Perhaps all wasn’t lost. She had two victims from which she could forge horcruxes from now. How long before someone noticed Myrtle’s absence? Tom could probably brew another potion in a shorter amount of time. She had the ingredients. Myrtle didn’t lose that much blood and she was still breathing.

Tom double checked.

Ah, yes. Myrtle was alive.

The intruder stood up, spluttering in such an undignified manner that Tom couldn’t keep the sneer from off her face. It was young woman, a girl who couldn’t be much older than Tom. Her strangely casual clothes were disheveled, messy, covered in dried mud, and she had a wild mane of black hair that looked as if it hadn’t been brushed a day in its life. A phoenix with feathers of a sunset landed on the young woman’s shoulder. It folded its wings and cuddled up against her hair, nipping through tangled strands.

But it was those eyes that captivated Tom the moment she saw them.

Hidden behind ugly circular frames, those emerald green eyes held an ethereal light to them, so unnatural that Tom had to wonder if they belonged to something supernatural.

Tom’s heart stuttered when those eyes locked onto her.

“Fancy meeting you here in the Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle.”

Coated in fresh blood, from her fingertips to her forearms, to the parted dress shirt and vest which revealed bloodied cleavage, Tom smiled up at the young woman in her most perfect, charming smile.

“And who might you be?”

“I’m Harry.” The phoenix trilled lightly, burrowing its beak into her hair. The young woman’s eyes never faltered. “Harry Potter.”

#harry potter #tom riddle #tomarry #fanfiction #fanfic #isa's writing #fem!harry potter #fem!tom riddle #f/f #well I guess this happened #I'm actually pleased with it #not bad at all #mywriting #lesbians #if you don't meet your future wife covered in blood are you even married

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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

Text

Baby Blues

Pairing: Frankie Morales x female reader.

Summary: Frankie comes home late to find you struggling and wants to make it up to you.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: postpartum depression. completely self indulgent.

It felt irrational, the resentment you felt for Frankie, his freedom to be able to just leave the house whenever he wanted, catch up with his friends and have a night away from the never ending duties you were overwhelmed with.

Realistically 3 hours wasn’t a long time, especially for Frankie, when he met up with the guys he was normally gone a lot longer, you would’ve felt grateful if you weren’t so tired and withdrawn. Unfortunately for Frankie you weren’t in the mood for anything to do with him when he got home. Everything he did annoyed you; the way he closed the door, kicked his boots off and stumbled in the darkness into the table that made a horrible screeching noise across the wooden floor. Your baby had been crying on and off for a few hours, constantly wanting to be held, nursed and rocked, long story short you were fucking exhausted. You needed help, you had rang Frankie a few times and left a voice message which he never replied to, typically.

When he walked behind you to try and slide his arms around your waist you snapped, angry tears falling down your cheeks, rage consuming you faster than a forest fire, your fussy baby wailing at your sudden movement. You groaned in frustration and gave Frankie a stern look through your tears, his face and the room illuminated a light yellow hue from your babies nightlight. You didn’t miss the frown that wrinkles his face as you pull away from him, confused by the tears and rejection.

“Let me take him baby.” In your unreasonable state, you scoff, rolling your eyes as you away gently to rock the baby back to sleep. “Don’t bother Frankie, I got it, like always. I don’t need your help.” You couldn’t ignore the way your heartstrings were stretched out at the way Frankie’s face dropped, a sadness that etched onto his face made you feel a pang of guilt in your chest.

“Is this because I went out? Baby I asked, I made sure before I left that it was okay.” You set your baby down in his bassinet, patting his bum a few times before tuning on his nighttime music, the sweet lullaby caused your own eyelids to droop as you exit the room, shutting the door. “It’s not that you left, frankie! You didn’t pick up the phone, I rang and left messages. I needed you and you just, weren’t there.”

Frankie took two steps forward and stretched his arms around your neck, pulling you into him and his warmth, his fleece flannel was soft on your skin, hot tears wetting the material. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby.” His hands are running up and down your back, tracing mindless shapes in hopes to calm you down from your overwhelmed state. “Go to bed baby, I’ll take it from here.” You bit your lip and shake your head no, feeling guilty for snapping at him. “I’m sorry for getting so mad I just-“ frankie presses a soft kiss to your lips, one that lasts barely seconds but lingers afterwards. “Don’t finish that sentence, you don’t deserve to carry this weight alone, go to bed baby.”

“Okay, I love you.” You mumble tiredly, voice croaking from the breakdown you just endured. You tread to bed and the softness of the mattress swallows you, your limbs ache ceasing once your head hits the pillow, pulling the covers over you as the fan gently whirrs in the background, the cool air on your face lulls you to sleep within the minute.

When you wake up, it’s by your own accord, not from a baby screaming, frankie showering or your alarm blaring, you wake up naturally feeling refreshed and body free from pain, your mind clear and spirit refreshed. You stretch for a few seconds, groaning at how good it feels before walking into your sons room, his bassinet was empty, but it was well made and folded semi-neatly. His pacifier and teddy sitting nicely in the corner.

Down the hall, the living room was spotless, it had been mopped, vacuumed and the appliances had been wiped down, there were two baskets on the lounge, one folded neatly of a mix of your own and Frankie’s clothes, the other being of your sons, smelling like fresh lavender.

The kitchen made you gasp, the dishes were washed and packed away, bottles had been washed, sanitised and prepped. Frankie had even made breakfast, well-brunch, considering the time you read on the microwave reads 11:28am.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?” You question, voice clear but soft towards him. He smiles as he makes you a plate of your favourite breakfast foods, he’s wearing your baby carrier and your son is propped up with his face against Frankie’s chest. “You deserved it baby, after all you do for us. It was hard..” you sit down across from him at the dining table, waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t realise how hard it was, how much it takes out of you to do all these things. You do them everyday too, you know. I’m sorry I’ve been taking you for granted.” Your son coos in his sleep, the gentle vibration of Frankie’s chest as he speaks comforts the baby.

Your hand reaches over the food to place it on top of Frankie’s, “we have to do this together baby otherwise we won’t make it, it’s too hard for either of us to do alone, can I count on you?” Frankie’s thumb is caressing your hand, dark circles mark his under eyes and his wrinkles more prominent as each minute passes that he’s awake, his hair prodding in every direction from running his hair through it. “I promise you can baby, we’re in this together.” You sigh in relief at Frankie’s confession, glad to see some real progress in him wanting to be more involved in the harder parts of being a parent.

“I love you Frankie. Go get some rest hun, I’ll take him.” Frankie looks at you as he struggles to keep his eyelids from closing, “are you sure?” You huff and roll your eyes playfully, “go before you fall asleep at the table and crush out baby,” you assure, unclipping the carrier from the back and at his waist, cradling your son in your arms, he groans quietly as he readjusts in your arms. Frankie kisses your forehead and heads straight for the lounge, knowing he won’t make it to the bedroom without passing out from exhaustion. You have to give it to him; for his first all nighter he did amazing; it impressed you.

You hoped it would be the first of many. Seeing Frankie be so good at being a dad almost made you want another baby, almost.

#frankie #frankie morales #Francesco morales #frankie morales x reader #dad Frankie morales #post partum depression #triple frontier #pedropascal #pedro pascal

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ghoulsanderson · 6 months

Text

Scene from a scrapped fic before I delete the doc

“That’s me.” He grinned and moved to duck behind a few boxes, but Vecna already had a hand outstretched and lifted Mike off the floor without touching him, “Hey!!” Mike yelled, but he didn’t have the chance to say anything more as he was thrown like a ragdoll into the hard wooden walls.

He hit the wall hard.

Mike hit the wall so hard he couldn’t even yelp. He fell to the floor limp, warmth seeping around the back of his head, soaking into his hair, and by some grace of god, conscious. But his vision was blurred as if he were wearing the wrong pair of glasses, and he couldn’t move.

As his mind cleared from the impact, Mike tried desperately to regain control, but he could barely twitch his fingers. All he could do was lay and listen to his own beating heart filling his ears like he was underwater and taste the coppery blood trickling down his throat like saliva.

Fuck fuck get up! He thought desperately as the ground started to rumble with approaching footsteps. For fuck sake, please let me move!

Mike blinked rapidly to clear his vision, choking slightly as his breathing sped up with every nearing thud. He whimpered when his vision cleared to a familiar, grey figure hovering over him, “You always are the wrench in my plans.” Vecna growled.

Mike coughed, sending blood erupting from his throat and splattering across his face. It’s my talent. He thought, and judging by the clenched fists, Vecna heard him.

But he finally rolled onto his side, letting the blood dribble down his chin, “I should have killed you.”

Mike groaned as feeling resorted to his body, but with feeling came agony, and a tortured wail burst out of his throat as he extended his working arm and pushed his legs, trying to get away. But it did little good. His limbs still refused to listen to him, and the more he slithered, the harder it became.

Mike glanced down and cursed weakly as blood joined the smears of dirt in his Hellfire shirt, spilling across the previously white fabric. Had one of his ribs broken and pieced his skin? That had to be it. Now he thought about it, he could feel the bone sticking out.

He stopped thinking about it and pushed harder to crawl toward the door.

“You are nothing but a waste of air. An embodiment of all I hate about humanity.” Vecna hissed, stalking him slowly like a predator, cocky and lazy. They both knew Mike couldn’t escape, even if he could sprint. Even if he could fly.

“Fuck you.” Mike gasped out as he crawled away on his stomach, leaving behind a trail of blood.

Vecna cackled like a witch, taking a sudden and quick step forward that had Mike flinching away with a whimper, half expecting to be chucked across the room again, “But you won’t be able to help your friends again.”

Mike sobbed weakly, pushing himself a little harder even if it ignited fiery pain coursing through every inch of him, “What are you g-going to do?” He scoffed, tears cascading down his cheeks as he reached a bloodied hand for the door, “Kill me?”

Vecna grinned, waiting until Mike’s hand was through the gap between the door and the doorframe, “No.” He waved his hand, slamming the door shut on Mike’s hand and holding it shut as a series of sickening breaks rang out, and Mike screamed his throat hoarse, trying and failing to tug his hand free, “But I’ll make you pay.”

“Stop!” Mike screamed, rattling his own eardrums with his shrill screeches, “Fuck! Stop it stop it- shit- let me go! Let me fucking go!”

He couldn’t even feel the flaring pain in his dislocated shoulder as he smacked the ground with his free hand, writhing as the door crushed his bones, “Fuck!” He shrieked. The pain was making him crazy, pulling apart his brain like a knot.

Vecna finally let the door go, and for a moment, it was like a breath of fresh air until he yanked the broken hand to his chest and looked down to see blotches of black and twilight purple like the shades of a midnight sky, “Shit shit shit…” He sobbed, head to the floor, he curled into a ball.

It felt like he’d dipped his hand in acid. It throbbed and twinged and shook so hard it was like it was vibrating, “Y-You broke my f-fucking hand!” Mike spat, his ribs creaking as he hyperventilated, choking on his tears, “W-Why don’t you just kill me, you psycho?!”

“I should have,” Vecna scoffed down at the boy writhing on the floor, “But kill you, kill the illusion, and I’d like to keep William distracted for a little while longer.”

Mike glared through a wall of tears, “Don’t you fucking touch him!” He wailed, breaking into sobs as he tried to push himself up.

Vecna shook his head and leaned down, running his fingers through Mike’s hair with a coo who sunk down again, whimpering as he failed to recoil from the touch, “Don’t you worry. You won’t be around to see it.”

His claw tightened, wrenching a scream out of Mike as he lifted him by his hair, dragging him out of the door and down the attic steps, “Let me go!” Mike yelled, kicking his legs to no avail, “You slimy fuck!”

Vecna scowled, reeling his arm back to toss Mike down the remaining steps.

Mike shrieked as he tumbled and landed at the feet of the steps, his agony growing tenfold, “Shit…” He sniffled, holding his broken hand to his chest. He could no longer feel his dislocated arm.

“You never shut up, do you?” Vecna sighed, prowling down the stairs as Mike’s body shook with his cries, his legs kicking to try and escape, “No wonder William and Eleven prefer your clone.”

Mike screamed in the back of his throat, jaw clenched as he turned onto his stomach again, dragging himself along with his elbow and his legs, “That’s not fucking true!” He sobbed, but the fact they were yet to notice the difference made his voice crack and thin.

Vecna laughed, “You don’t sound so sure, Michael.” He taunted, following Mike along, stepping in the smears of blood he left behind, “Are you afraid that a fake will take your place?”

Mike growled and hooked his arm around a pillar, careful of the blotches of purple spread across his hand and tried to pull himself up, only to be kicked down again by a foot to his back.

Pain rippled across his ribs, and he gasped, clutching them as he trembled, “Have you g-got nothing better to do?!” Mike shouted, sobbing as Vecna flipped him over and leaned down, hovering over him like a lion inspecting a meal.

“I did.” The monster huffed, and Mike shrank at his vile breath, whimpers slipping from his throat as their faces grew closer until there was barely an inch between them, “But you foiled my plan.”

Mike whined, kicking his legs at Vecna’s chest, “Get the fuck away from me, you creep!” He cried, thrashing.

Vecna briefly cocked his head, a nauseating snap bouncing off the walls of the house. For a moment, Mike didn’t realise what he’d done, but soon, pure agony flared in his leg, and he screamed, frightening the demo bats and dogs and gorgons for miles.

Vecna stood, leering over him, just watching as Mike looked down at his crooked leg, broken at the knee and spewed a series of curses.

But he was pliant, and Vecna dragged him by his hair through the house until they reached the basement, where vines sprouted, covering every inch like the roots of a tree, “Have fun dying here.” He smirked, throwing him down the steps again.

Mike’s only reply was tears.

#byler fics #fanfics #mike wheeler #mike wheeler angst #byler #byler ao3 #byler week #will byers #byler is real #bylerfics #stranger things #stranger things season five

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beels-burger-babe · 2 years

Text

Nothing Left to Pay

*** Here we are! The third and final installment in the Dark Mage Solomon series! Thank you guys for the crazy amount of love you've been giving this. I absolutely adored writing it and it has been so so touching to have you guys by my side for this! Without further ado, let's do this! -B***

Summary: MC has been returned, brought back to safety, and Solomon has been left behind. The world moves on, but MC and everyone else is learning just how hard "moving on" can really be.

Part 1, Part 2

CW: Panic Attack

Throbbing

Ceaseless, agonizing, throbbing.

Solomon groaned as he slowly blinked open his eyes and rolled onto his back. He tried to lift his head, but groaned as the ringing in his ears only grew louder.

"Fuck," he cursed as his head thudded against his hard wood floors. "What happened?" He mumbled to himself — His arm draped over his forehead as he turned his head to look in one of the many mirrors that were scattered around his house.

Silver eyes locked onto one another,

and the bubble keeping him blissfully ignorant burst.

Solomon gasped as he shot up. "MC! Oh no. No, no, no. Shit!" he tripped on his long, spindly legs as he scrambled to his feed, running desperately towards your room. He barely recognized the stairs or the direction he was fleeing as his mind drowned from the memories of the past two months flooding his brain.

He skidded to a stop as he slammed open your bedroom door and found not a soul in sight. His chest heaved, up and down, as his heart ran circles within his ribs.

You were gone.

They had taken you. The angels had taken you from him.

He shook his head as he blindly began to tear apart the room, searching desperately for any sign of you or of where you could've been taken. He ripped a drawer from your dresser. He swore under his breath as nothing but clothes and splinters of wood scattered across the floor.

Why? Why would they do this?

You were safe! You were with him, after all, and he was the strongest mage there had ever been and ever will be. He could make a hundred demons bow before him with a snap of his fingers. He-

He froze as his eyes fell to an empty glass you had left on your bedside table.

He had nearly killed you.

A hand clasped around his mouth as he weakly stumbled back. Somewhere, in all his overwhelming desire, his obsession, to protect you and keep you safe, he had done what he swore to never do, and he hurt you.

His hands trembled as his breath caught in his throat. Images of you, your face scrunched up in fear and disgust flashed behind his eyes. The sounds of your screams wailed in his ears.

He did this. He caused all of this.

He needed to find you and apologize.

Solomon quickly tried to shake off his panic and raised a hand to summon a portal.

The room sat still.

The wizard frowned and tried again, squinting his eyes this time. Once more, nothing happened. Solomon growled in frustration and rolled up his sleeves. "WORK! You stupid spell! Of all times why choose now to ... to ..." he trailed off as his eyes dragged over the skin on his arms — the clean, barren skin.

He swallowed thickly as tears welled in his eyes. "No," he breathed. "Please, fuck, no. This ... This is a nightmare. I'm dreaming this isn't," he pinched his arm. "Wake up." He pinched harder. "Wake up!" He slapped himself across the face. "WAKE UP DAMMIT!"

There was nothing left.

His magic. You. His pacts. It was all gone.

Solomon curled on himself, his body shaking fiercely as a hundred different emotions took over him.

A screech, with all the power and grief of the even the most tragic of Banshees, spilled out from the manors windows and painted the skies with the wizard's pain.

***

"When I went to stand up, I noticed I was feeling week, a-and that's when I realized he had done something to my drink. I passed out not too long after that," you whispered as you felt Asmodeus's arms tighten around you.

It had taken hours to get everyone to calm down, and even longer to explain everything that had happened.

You were now in the living room, seated in Asmo's lap as the demon nestled as closely to you as possible — his tears silently soaking the back of your shirt. The other brothers were surrounding you at every angle, giving you just enough room to look at contemplative Diavolo and Barbatos.

Diavolo frowned deeply as you told your story, his hands clenching and unclenching as you reached certain climaxes. His shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh as you finished explaining your side of things. "I am so sorry you had go through that, MC. I never would've thought ..."

"None of us did," Luke mumbled from where he and Simeon stood behind the prince. The young angel was clinging tightly onto his superior, showing his true youth more than ever before. "He ... He was supposed to be our friend."

A heavy, mournful silence filled the room at the admission. It was true. Solomon or at least the Solomon they had all once known as a friend. He'd help them whenever they found themselves stuck in some kind of magical mischief. He'd offered to make dinner for them countless times. He tutored Mammon during exams and would bring back anime merch for Levi from the human world. He was one of the few people that Asmodeus would allow himself to relax with, and who never once judged the brothers on their sins. Sure, they had always been skeptical of his intentions, but never once did any of them imagine he was capable of this.

Asmodeus scoffed as he lifted his face from your shoulder. "He's a monster. I don't care what that man says or tries, he will never ever be considered anything close to friend again," you gently squeezed his hand as the demon's voice grew tight.

Barbatos nodded sympathetically. "And we don't expect you to," his face grew solemn once more as he turned back to the angels. "I believe that the two of you can fill in the gap in MC's story?"

Luke's face paled at the suggestion — his ears still ringing from the sounds of Solomon's screams that he had caused. He opened and closed his mouth several times before Simeon placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped forward. "Solomon sent out a prayer."

Belphegor's nose scrunched in disgust as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He doesn't look like the praying type."

A sad smile climbed onto Simeon's expression as he locked eyes with the demon. "Any person desperate enough will cry out just to be heard. Solomon, for all his power and immortality, is still a person," his eyes slid back over to Barbatos. "When we arrived, he was ..." He hesitated as he glanced back over at you, and pursed his lips. "Is it, perhaps, not the best idea to recount this with MC still present?"

Everyone paused as they looked back at you. You continued to stare straight at Simeon, your eyes void of any emotion, lips a thin straight line, as you nodded. "Say it. I want to know."

Hesitance still clouded Simeon's judgment as he turned to Lucifer with a questioning gaze. The eldest huffed, "I'd rather they not leave our sight at the moment anyways. If they say they can handle it, let them stay."

The angel pursed his lips once more before continuing. "He was hunched over their unconscious body, mumbling to himself and trembling as he sobbed. I'd never seen him look so distraught before,"

You hated how easily you could picture that. As much as part of you hated Solomon for everything that he did, you still couldn't escape the flicker of sympathy and fondness that still yearned for the friend you once had in him. Part of you knew that everything that Solomon did, he did out of some demented, twisted version of love. You remembered how in the early weeks of your captivity he had gently walked you through the numerous panic attacks that you'd frequently endure, all while maintaining a comfortable distance. You remembered how he'd sit down across from you during every meal and give you his undivided attention as he softly told you about his day and described any of the beautiful sights or discoveries that he had stumbled upon.

It hurt to admit. It hurt to remember.

And regardless of the bitter resentment that darkened your view of him, it hurt to imagine that tender, love-sick man broken — crumbling to pieces at the consequences of his actions.

"I tried to demand answers from him, but only made him defensive, which in turn made Luke angry. He tried to attack Luke. As much as I hate that it happened, it gave me the chance to finally swoop in and take MC from him."

You inhaled sharply as your eyes snapped over to Luke, taking in his unblemished form.

Another person had almost gotten hurt — Another friend. Your hands fisted in your lap.

"He finally explained what the charm he applied to them was supposed to do," Simeon clenched his jaw as his eyes hardened. "As I said earlier. It's a potion that puts MC into a state where they can feel safe," his face scrunched up in distaste, as though just saying the words left a horrible taste on his tongue. "When I explained to him that it was exactly that, and the fact that MC couldn't feel safe around him that put them into their comatose state, he began to spiral even more," Luke tensed beside Simeon knowing what came next and clenched his eyes shut as he held his head down in guilt. " We knew action needed to be taken. Luke stripped Solomon of his pacts and magical abilities, promptly knocking him unconscious, while I tended to MC."

Your breath caught in your throat as the words acted like Medusa's gaze on your heart. "Y-You," you breathed as tears collected in the corners of your eyes. "Y-You got rid of his pacts? He ca-can't cast spells anymore?"

Luke nodded as he finally opened his eyes once more. "H-He won't be able to hurt you anymore," there was a certain confidence in his tone even as his voice trembled alongside his hands. "I made sure of it."

Mammon growled from your right, "He deserves a hell of a lot worse for what he put you and Asmo through,"

Diavolo tilted his head at the statement, "Yes. He did break a number of the agreements listed in the exchange contract," you flinched as Diavolo's golden eyes — all too similar to the golden eyes that had stalked your every movement — lit up like an inferno. "A personal offence such as this deserves a much more personal punishment."

Simeon's eyes narrowed at the statement. "As upset as I'm sure we all are about what has transpired, Solomon has already received his just awards," he stood taller as Luke cowered behind him with large, panicking eyes. "To let Solomon live the immortal life he's already subjected himself to, free of any and all of his powers, is more than punishment enough!"

Lucifer snarled as he rose to his feet, "And as I said earlier, you are not the one who gets to be the judge of that! It was our pacts that were lost because of him! It was our brother who was manipulated and taken advantage of! It was us who experienced every ounce of pain that he subject MC to in just the first day!" His lips curled back to bare his pointed teeth as he stood nose to nose with the angel. "Do not tell me what is and is not good enough for that worthless swine."

Barbatos, ever the all-knowing-peacekeeper was between the two of them in an instant. "Stand down, Lucfier. Your fight isn't with the angels."

You blinked as you tried to process the words Lucifer had shouted. Your mind slowly began to drift from your body as your breathing came out in shaky pants. Your distant eyes fixed on Beelzebub's concerned ones. "L-Lost?" you whimpered, causing the room to fall silent. "What does he mean lost? W-We can just make new ones, right? This ... There's no way that they're ..."

Asmodeus's grip around you tightened as Beel looked at you, both lost for an explanation and too afraid of the truth in the words that needed to be said.

You jumped as Satan placed a hand on your shoulder and carefully met your eyes. "We ... Demons can only make a pact with the same human once," you couldn't recognize yourself shaking your head at the words as denial filled your mind. "It's i-impossible for us to make another pact with you ... not after what he did." he rumbled as his expression slipped into momentary wrath.

"We should've fought harder against him," Leviathan whimpered as he clung onto your arm. "W-We could feel our connections slowly tightening, a-a-and we were just helpless! I've never felt so useless in my life. We didn't know where you were, and in that moment, i-it felt like we never would again."

Their words did nothing to comfort you. If anything, it only added to the building, all-consuming panic that was beginning to pulse through your veins.

"This is exactly what I was talking about," Lucifer spat, his eyes not moving from Simeon. "I'm not asking for your permission, or any of yours. I am telling you that Solomon will not be allow to breathe another breath in peace once I find him."

Your pacts were gone. Even if you had the brothers beside you ... Even if you were here in the Devildom ... You had no power anymore. You were just as weak as Solomon wanted you.

"Why is it always the same with you demons?! You always jump to mauling or death as punishment! Not everything has to end in violence! He's already going to be miserable enough!" Simeon finally snapped, his celestial origin shining brighter than ever before.

What if someone else came after you? You knew it was inevitable. How many brushes with death had you encountered in the last year alone? It was only by the grace of your pacts and your connection with the demons, and Solomon, that you survived. What would happen now?

Was Solomon right? Were you never safe here?

"Why are you taking this so lightly?!" Belphie piped in as he joined Lucifer's side. "You talk about us demons as though it wasn't you angels who started a war against us for something as innocent as loving a human! And now you dare to defend one for their crimes?"

The voices grew louder and louder around you as your heart pounded wildly within your ribs and stole the breath from your lungs.

You wanted to go back. You wanted things to be the way they were before. You couldn't stay like this. You can't.

"Fuck," Asmodeus swore behind you as he finally caught on to your panicked state. "MC?" he questioned as he lightly turned you to face him. He frowned at the sight of your unregistering eyes and wheezing breaths. "MC, can you hear me?" He cupped your face as your wide eyes continued to stare right past him. He cursed under his breath and pulled you close to cover your ears as he looked at the others. " HEY! We have more important matters to deal with at the moment than all you digging up the past if you could shut the fuck up and clue in, we have a situation!" In an instant, all eyes were on you as Asmo pulled you back to look at you once more.

Your lips were moving but no sound left them as your eyes darted around the room. "MC, please," Asmo begged as he squeezed your hands. "Focus on me. It's Asmo. You're okay. You're safe."

"No," everyone's hearts clenched at the fractured word. "Never. Not. C-Can't," your chest heaved as tears began to drip down your cheeks. "I c-can't. Can't."

Asmo flinched back at your words, hurt filling his expression as Mammon quickly moved to take his place. "None of that human," he gently cooed as he cradled your face, you winced at his word choice. "It's alright. We're here. We ain't going anywhere. We've got you. We're gonna protect ya, alright?"

You whimpered as you shook your head frantically and struggled out of Mammon's hold. "You can't! It doesn't work. Never worked. Not safe. Not safe!" You squeezed your eyes shut as you hands made their way to your hair.

Satan cursed from beside you and shoved Mammon back. "Give them space. They're spiraling. We need to get them to breathe and ground them."

Mammon slapped the hand away and glared at his brother. "So we just let them continue freaking themself out?!" He shouted as he gestured angrily over to you.

"I believe now is not the time for family bickering," Barbatos snapped sharply as he approached the group. "It was fighting that triggered this in the first place. They-"

You couldn't make out anything else as the sound of your blood thrumming through your skull pulsed behind your ears. You wheezed as you tugged at you hair and calmped your arms down tightly over your ears.

It was too much. You needed this stop. Go back.

Please just go back.

Suddenly your breath hitched as your body stilled. Everyone took an anxious step toward you as a faint shimmer washed over your body and you suddenly became relaxed.

You blinked slowly at Asmodeus as the concerned demon frantically looked you over in confusion. "Um ... Asmo? Is everything okay?"

It was Asmodeus's turn to blink at you in shock as his perfectly-plucked eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Is everything- MC are you serious?"

A cold feeling settled into all of their stomachs as they saw nothing but pure genuine bewilderment on your expression and realized that you were, in fact, serious.

"MC," Satan began softly as he moved to sit beside you and the others. "We were all discussing what happened with Solomon and you ... Well things got out of hand and you had an panic attack."

To everyone's surprise your disoriented frown only grew deeper. "Who's Solomon?"

No one moved.

"What?" Luke whispered in disbelief.

"Who's Solomon? Why are you guys looking at me like that?" You repeated as you squirmed under the heavy tension of everyone's stare.

No one breathed.

Leviathan turned to Lucifer with all the desperation of a child seeking their parent. "Wha- What's happening? Is this some kind of sick joke?"

Diavolo pushed his way forward, his face more serious than you had ever seen it, as he looked at you. "What does the name Solomon mean to you?"

You frowned at the concern that was practically dripping from his strangely firm voice. "I think there was something about him in the Bible? I don't know."

No one even blinked

Diavolo nodded in slow consideration. "Alright. And what about pacts? Do you remember anything at all about what we just told you about your pacts? Or what you went through throughout the past two months?"

You looked at the others like they were crazy. "What do you mean? What's wrong with my pacts?"

The prince opened his mouth to speak once more but was interrupted as Lucifer stumbled over to you and quickly took your face into his hands. You yelped as he tilted your chin up, obsidian eyes scanning your face desperately. "Ah- Luci? Y-You're a little close."

The demon just ignored as he brushed your hair away from your forehead. His breath hitched, eyes growing in pure disbelief as he suddenly and desperately began to pull up your shirt sleeves, yank down the collar of your shirt, and glance down your back.

You squeaked as you harshly shoved Lucifer away and glared at him. "Oi! Peeping tom! Keep your hands to yourself and tell me what is going on!"

"They're back," Lucifer uttered, no longer addressing you, but the others. "A-All of their pacts. I don't know how, b-but."

Leviathan tsked as he shook his head, pointedly not looking at you — refusing to allow himself to get his hopes up. "That's impossible. Once the pact is gone, it doesn't come back."

Barbatos let out a hum of contemplation as he peered over at you, and the colorful pact marks, once more in their rightful place, that Lucifer had revealed. "A charm that puts them in a state where they feel safe." Everyone's heads whipped over to the butler. "MC didn't feel safe without their pacts so ..."

"It brought them back," Simeon finished in shock.

Just like that, you suddenly found yourself tackled by the twins, and a bawling Asmodeus.

As confused as you were, it didn't take a genuis to see that whatever was happening had taken a huge toll on your boys. You slowly wrapped your arms around them and looked desperately at Diavolo as they clung to the spot where their mark resided and soaked in the comforting thrum of their magic in your veins.

You had no idea what was going on. One minute you were panicking about something, though you couldn't for the life of you remember what, the next you were as you are now: relaxed and lost in the emotional chaos happening around you. It was strange. You felt like you should be more worried, or worked up, or anything to match the high levels of concern, grief and now relief pouring off the supernatural entities in the room, but you couldn't. Your thoughts remained stubbornly at ease with everything happening around you.

"Obviously I'm missing something," you stated plainly as Asmo sniffled against your neck. "Can someone please explain?"

"Not now," Beel whispered against you as he held you tightly. "Just ... We'll explain everything in a bit."

Belphie hummed in agreement as he nuzzled against his mark. "Let us be selfish and just hold you for a minute."

Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan and Satan watched the group from a distance with the others. Their brows furrowed as you reluctantly let the topic drop — the, what would've been, adorably bewildered expression not once leaving your face.

"I don't like this," Mammon mumbled to them, hands gripping tightly onto his own arms from where they crossed over his chest. "I mean, yeah, it's amazin' that the pacts are back and I'm thankful as fuck, but ..."

Satan nodded, "The implications of that and what just happened aren't nearly as nice. If that charm could put them into a coma, erase the memory of an extremely traumatic event and person, and do the impossible by bringing back their pacts, there's no saying what else it could do if MC was ever put in a life-threatening situation again."

Luke frowned and glanced over at you as he fidgeted with his hands. "D-Do you ... Do you think it could kill them?"

Barbatos gently placed a hand on the younger angel's shoulder. As he looked down at Luke, his gaze wasn't soft or comforting as it perhaps should've been, but rather serious and remorseful. Luke's breath caught in his throat at just the sight. "We don't know enough about it yet to say. Assumably, as the charm is meant to keep them safe, it shouldn't but ..."

"It's already been proven that this 'safety' is by MC's definition." Lucifer huffed. "We'll have to keep a close eye on them until we can break it."

Simeon cocked an eyebrow at the statement, peering over at the demon. "And do you think that's possible? Breaking the charm, I mean. Solomon is a powerful wizard on his own, but with those pacts," he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head. "He was unlike any creature I've ever seen."

Diavolo took in the angel's words. He stood strong and stern, his mouth fixed in a strange frown as his soft eyes carefully kept watch over you and the younger brothers. "Solomon may have been powerful, but he would've had all the pacts in the world and still be alone with the way that he chose to live his life. MC has something he will never have," The prince smiled as looked over to Lucifer. "They have a family."

His smile grew slightly more solemn as he turned to Simeon. "I trust you, Simeon. You may not always be the perfect angel, but you are a good person," The angel's eyes widened as his lips parted for inaudible words. " I trust you. If you say that Solomon is taken care of, I trust that he is no longer a threat to MC or anyone else."

"But-" Levi tried to cut in, only to get stopped by Diavolo raising a hand.

"However," he continued, his voice dropping dangerously as his golden eyes hardened. "If I hear a single word about him causing any kind of trouble or interacting with my people again-"

"Then I'll bring him here myself," Simeon finished, his voice equally as cold. "And you and the others will be free to do whatever you please."

Diavolo hummed, his smile returning, revealing his deadly canines. "Then we have an agreement. As for the charm, we have nine of the most powerful demons in the Devildom and two extremely talented angels on our side. I imagine there isn't much we aren't able to do when we work together, wouldn't you agree Lucifer?"

Without taking his eyes away from your sheepishly smiling self, his mark practically sparkling in its proper place as you were smothered in the arms of his family, Lucifer couldn't help but smile. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

It was hard to say what the future held. The charm held a number of threats and worries that none of them could ever predict. Solomon was still out there somewhere and though he may not have power now, it was only a matter of time before he found an alternate solution. The brothers' were all healing from an event that you had no memory whatsoever about. Things were a mess.

But,

You were home. At least for now, you were safe. And most importantly, you were all together again.

And the brothers' supposed that for now that would be enough.

***Thank you all so so much for coming on this crazy journey! I do hope you all enjoyed it! This was both frustrating, sad, and so beautiful to write, but I hope you all love it as much as I do. Thank you all for the love and support that you constantly amaze me with. Remember to keep loving and supporting each other! -B***

TAGLIST:

@thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @justtiarra @mammoneybb @poly-bi-mf @burrixino @rul-of-demise @pumpkins-mainside-blog @acousticpen @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff @itskrispy @10paradox10 @vallison-rea @ivoryclive @newfangled-artistry @pumpkinpatchkid @chirikoheina @sailboat21 @avatar-mikazuki @reshi-galaxy @tootiredtodoanything @silentw-lker @firecatvariant @rsmrymnt-tea @wartombs @candymeowz @luvsbugs @lorkai @splashporpoise @lucidreamsxx @hobin-gnoblin @mutiachan @mymelodynumber1fan @infinnityverse @todoroses @big-bundle-of-little-mistakes @bunna-does-stuff @simpinginthecorner

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delopsia · 1 year

Text

Thinking about Rhett looking after you during storms...

Wabang. A tiny excuse for a town that grows closer and closer to being downgraded to a village every year. Forgotten by many, tucked away into the southwest corner of the Teton range, you’ll miss it even on the most detailed of maps. First driving into town, it’s hard to understand why the town has been practically abandoned; with vast pastures, a scattering of crystal clear lakes, and a breathtaking view of the mountains, Wabang is the very definition of picture perfect.

Rhett’s always referred to Wabang as a siren. She’s beautiful until you get too close. You’ve never understood what he meant by that, but to be fair, you never thought to ask him to elaborate. Even as you made the life-altering decision to pack up and settle into a comfy rental home on the edge of town. Even as Rhett quietly asked if you were absolutely sure that you want to go through with it, meekly volunteered to leave Wabang to come to you instead.

Spring arrives a week after you settle in, bringing with it all of its infamous trademarks; chirping birds, flowers re-emerging from the ground, bearing colorful buds that haven’t quite bloomed yet. The atmosphere is as cozy as a cheesy Hallmark movie; you find yourself waking up late in the morning to sunshine peeking through the curtains, bathing your skin in its warmth. Somewhere past noon, your new neighbor stops by to gift you a freshly baked pie and some of her homemade jam. She says she made too much and has no way to get rid of it, but you get the sneaking suspicion she's gone out of her way to do something nice for you.

When you see her out the door, you don't think too hard about the dark clouds rolling in from the west. Spring showers. No big deal, you've dealt with them before, and you shall deal with them again. But then thunder booms, ear-splittingly loud as your home shakes so hard that a newly hung shelf comes clean off the wall. The shining sun is gone within an instant, replaced by low-hanging, almost black clouds that carry squealing winds and an ocean's worth of rain. Distant sirens wail to life, screaming wordlessly about a potential tornado, but you can barely hear it over the screeching of wind beating around the corners of your house.

You hardly know what to do; this house is laid out strangely; every room has a window, and you haven't the slightest clue where the safest point in your house is. The electricity has long since been knocked out, leaving you to your own devices in a house you're unfamiliar with. You don't even have a kitchen table to hide beneath because it's currently on backorder for the next week. You've just resigned yourself to accepting your fate from the comfort of your couch when the front door bursts open.

Your first instinct is to think that a tornado is on the ground and it's right on your doorstep, but then a familiar form comes stumbling in, chasing down the door handle that escaped his grip.

"Rhett?" Lifting your head from the stiff, decorative pillow, "Rhett, what the hell—"

"'s bad out there, ain't it?" Discarding his dripping jacket in the middle of the floor because there's nowhere else to put it. Water drips from the messy curls that poke out from beneath his ears, leaving tiny spots in his gray t-shirt as he crosses the room.

"Don't tell me you drove all the way here while those sirens were going off," but you already know the answer to your own question.

"'course I did," pride leaking from his tone as he settles into the gap of space next to you, arms open wide, welcoming you into his warm, safe chest. "Can't let some mean ol' twister get my baby, now can I?"

Even as the sirens begin to wail once more, hail beating against your windows as the wind shrieks, threatening to break in at any moment, it's hard to feel scared at all. So carefully secured in Rhett's arms that it feels as if nothing can get to you here.

"You don't seem frightened in the slightest," you find yourself whispering, the slow thump of his heart loud in your ear.

"'Ts normal 'round here," those are words you certainly do not want to hear, but he says it so calmly that it hardly gets a rise out of your nerves. "You'll get used to it after a while."

When the storm clears, the most damage you find is a dent in Rhett's truck bed from the hail and a few downed branches. Branches that wind up getting hauled down to the ranch, fodder for a fire, exclusively because you both are having cravings for S'mores as of late.

There's plenty of space for you to sit, there are fold-out chairs in the barn, and Rhett's just got done building a third wooden bench, but you're snuggled up in the same damn Adirondack chair. Sharing the same S'more because your eyes were bigger than your stomachs, and now you've got too many.

"'Nother storms a'comin'," he observes aloud, in between pressing a chocolatey kiss to your temple.

But you don't see a single dark cloud in the sky. "How do you know?"

Your question goes unanswered for some time; Rhett's too busy licking the pad of his thumb and trying to wipe off the mess he's left on your skin. Eventually, he bites the bullet and just licks it off you with his tongue. "Y'remember that time I fell off that bull and broke my collarbone?" Pitifully pawing at the wet spot on your head, you nod. "It starts hurtin' every time one rolls in."

Mother Nature allows you a solid five minutes of giggled bickering before she douses you in a downpour. Zero to a hundred in a split second, effectively ending your fire and sending you scurrying toward the Abbott house like a pair of roaches. It's not a good idea for you to go upstairs, but you go anyway because testing your luck with potential tornadoes is better than Cecelia fussing at you for being too touchy.

Thunder booms just as you stumble into the tiny little room, sends you jumping so high that you're surprised your head doesn't hit the ceiling. Rhett settles himself into a small rocking chair in the far corner of the room, beckoning you closer, "Pick a blanket 'n get over 'ere."

Later, you'll have to ask him why he has so many blankets. For now, you're content to steal a brown-striped one from the foot of his bed and curl into his lap once more.

"Why are Wabang storms so violent?" You mutter, mostly to yourself, as you settle into his broad frame.

"This place's cursed."

And he's not kidding. On top of the storms, a freak swarm of locusts takes over the town for the entire last week of April, only thwarted by snowfall. Two and a half feet of it in one damn night. It's gone before the first week of May is over.

The storms only grow worse as summer rolls in, never doing a lot of damage but so violent that you catch yourself thinking that this is it. This is the storm that has a bite as strong as its bark. They show up at the crack of dawn, during high noon, sunset, and in the middle of the night, without warning or indication beforehand.

But, somehow, Rhett always finds a way to you.

A storm catches you by surprise while you're out on a nature trail with a friend; rain comes down in sheets so thick that you can hardly see where you're going. A dark mass appears a few feet in front of you, and what do you know, it's your soaked cowboy hunting you down. All because he saw the clouds and knew there wasn't enough time for you to get back in time.

He turns around on his morning drive to the ranch just to sit next to you while the storm rages on because he fears something bad happening to you while he's gone. Once, he's home playing a game that he's been dying to start, but he puts it on pause the moment lightning flashes. "It can wait," he tells you as he snuggles up behind you, chin resting on your shoulder as he watches what you're doing.

You get used to it, just like he'd said you would, but those visits never cease. It doesn't matter where the two of you are or what's going on; he's there. A quiet, sturdy presence that grounds you just by being there. During his rodeos, he herds you toward the chutes, uncaring of rules because he'll be damned if you stand in the storm alone. During his brief rides, his buddies, even the least observant of them, are careful to keep you close. "Just in case the wind snatches you up," he always says.

Once, he calls you while you're visiting family, "You know, I just caught myself drivin' home because I saw lightnin'."

And as you lay here in bed, listening to rain beat against the roof and wind scream around the corners of this old rental home, you can't help but smile when you hear the door creak open.

"I thought you were supposed to be in a hotel two hours away," yawning as you peer over your shoulder, marveling as he lifts his t-shirt from his gently toned body.

"I'm s'posed to be," the bed dips as he settles in, legs tangling with yours, lips peppering kisses to your neck while he settles in. "Had a feelin' my baby might need some protectin'."

Because he might not be the strongest man in the world, but he's forever ready to take on anything that could hurt you. Even if that's just a silly old downpour.

#thought of this while i was standing in the rain earlier #rhett abbott x y/n #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott #rhett abbott outer range #outer range fic #outer range #outer range amazon #rhett abbott imagine #rhett abbott x you #reader self insert #self insert #x reader #reader insert #delgato's thinking #delgato's warmups

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zzhhbloom · 2 years

Text

now when did that happen?

≡ᶻᶻ༄ synopsis: boy next door yang jungwon has always been your best friend, your partner-in-crime, your day one forever homie. but as the years pass, you don’t realize how growing up would change those things you thought would stay the same forever. but maybe they’ll change for the better?

≡ᶻᶻ༄ genre: jungwon x gn! reader || boy next door!au || best friend to lovers!au || fluff and crack sort of

≡ᶻᶻ༄ warnings: brief mention of blood, chin wound, and scar || oc is clumsy asf || this story probably does not make sense ≡ᶻᶻ༄ word count: 3.5k

≡ᶻᶻ༄ a/n: i have no idea what this is...i originally wrote this with jungwon in mind but i wrote it with neutral characters then decided...you know what fuck it. here you go internet, it will probably be gone tomorrow~~

≡ᶻᶻ༄ disclaimer: this does not in any way shape or form resemble the real people whose names are mentioned, this is just a deranged kpoppie trying something new :)

“Give it back!” he yelled at you. You stuck your tongue out over your shoulder, waving Yang Jungwon’s LEGO car in the air.

“Play with me instead!” you retorted.

“Give it back!” he repeated, pelting after you through the halls of your house. “You’re clumsy and you’re gonna break it!”

“No I won’t—”

Spoke too soon. In your cocky carelessness, you tripped over your own toes and landed flat on your face. His LEGO car shattered into a hundred pieces, and you both exploded into tears. Him, because his beloved creation he spent hours working on was reduced to ruins, and you, because you had split your chin open and saw blood splattered on your hands.

“Clumsy!” Jungwon screeched and speared a finger at you.

Your mothers shook their heads at your pathetic heap of tears, blood, and LEGO pieces on the parquet floor. So much for a first playdate.

“Can I copy your homework?” you begged for the millionth time.

“You can do it on your own,” Jungwon laughed at the sight of you kneeling and rubbing your tiny dirt-stained hands together in front of him. “You answer all the questions the teacher asks in school.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like writing the answers,” you groaned in exasperation, collapsing backward on the carpet of his bedroom floor.

“What if you tell me your answers and I’ll write them for you?” he suggested eagerly. “You just make sure I’m writing everything correctly, okay?”

Thrilled, you picked yourself up from the floor and sat at attention, your faced creased in an exaggerated expression of focus. In between giggles he read out to you the addition problems and you answered in a robotic voice.

“I. Sad. Fif. Teen. Not. Fif. Ty.” You smacked him, mechanically twisting your arm to smack his shoulder, eliciting a stream of giggles out of his mouth as he wriggled out of your reach.

After finishing, you clapped each other’s backs, claiming you’d be the ones to get the gold stars for perfect homework the next day. And you did get perfect homework. Except that Ms. Sunny noticed the handwriting on your sheet was the same on Jungwon’s, and she wouldn’t listen to either of your attempts at an explanation. So that’s how both of you ended up standing in the corner with your hands in the air for the entire recess.

Stifling tears, you hissed, “This is all your fault!”

“You should’ve just done your own homework!” he sniffled in return. “Why is it my fault?”

“I-I know it’s my fault,” you couldn’t keep your voice from cracking as the tears came rolling down again. “I’m-I’m so sorry!”

“No, don’t cry!” Jungwon snapped with tears streaming down his face, too. “It really is your fault!”

“I know, I know!” you hiccupped in between rolling sobs.

You took one look at each other’s red faces and broke into twin wails, wrapping arms around each other in a tearful hug, screaming at the top of your lungs.

“Alright, that’s it!” Ms. Sunny yelped, hands practically cupped over her ears. “Time’s up, get out!”

As if somebody had flipped a switch, you disconnected your arms from each other, tears and hiccups dissipating like fog retreating from the sun.

“Bye, Ms.,” he waved, tears dried.

“See you later!” You chirruped and skipped cheerfully out of the classroom behind Jungwon. He exchanged a look with you once you left the door’s threshold, and you both erupted into giggles at the stunt you just managed to pull.

“Works every time,” you gave him a high five then skipped along to enjoy the rest of your recess with the other kids.

“It’s so unfair,” Jungwon kicked his feet up to the ceiling of the blanket fort you built together. “Why can’t we keep having sleepovers like this?”

“My mom said it’s because we’re getting older.” You answered quietly, flicking the heavy-duty flashlight in your hands on and off. It created large shadows that came and went against the blanket that served as your ceiling. You’d built forts like this as long as you can remember for an eight-year-old, and they always felt like the strongest stone barricades in the world. But now they felt like strips of cloth too useless to even keep the shadows out.

“I don’t get what that has to do with sleepovers,” you continued. “Do they want us to stop playing around and act more grown-up?”

“That doesn’t make sense! My sister is old, but she still gets to go on sleepovers with her friends all the time!” he cried out.

“So why can’t we keep having sleepovers?” you yelled in agreement, lips turning down in a pout.

“Quiet down, you two!” your mother burst into your room in her pajamas, hair in disarray. “You’ll end up waking the entire street up.”

“Again,” you added with a proud smirk.

“Not again,” your mother corrected, shooting daggers at you with her eyes. Then she turned to Jungwon with a soft smile. “If you want a snack just let me know, okay, kiddo?”

“I told you, clumsy,” he chided smugly as your mother left. “They won’t let us have any more sleepovers because I am this close—” he held up his pointer figure and thumb to emphasize his point, then pressed them together leaving no gap in between the digits— “to replacing you in your own family.”

You barked out a laugh and shoved him backwards so hard that he tumbled through the soft walls of your blanket fort. The whole thing collapsed in a magnificent avalanche of comforters, pillows, and plushies. You two sat under it all holding your stomachs in breathless laughter so your mother wouldn’t come back in a merciless rage.

The first real big fight you two had was in the fifth grade. You got carried away playing with some of your friends after school that you completely forgot you were supposed to be at Jungwon’s taekwondo showcase at the gym that afternoon.

You knew how excited and proud he as about it, and so you promised him that you’d be there even when his family couldn’t make it. Even if he didn’t make it obvious, you saw how happy that made him.

It was just so on-brand for you that you lost track of time and completely missed it.

You got to the gym gasping for breath, hands on your knees. “I’m here! Did I make it?” you looked up and saw an empty gym. Empty except for one other person.

Jungwon stood looking down at you, sipping on a juice box. He didn’t say anything as He walked past you like you weren’t even there. Then, just as he was about to leave, he paused to say, “I leveled up, by the way.” Swinging gym doors punctuated his departure, leaving you alone in the giant space that was now twice as empty as it was before.

Jungwon didn’t talk to you for a week after that. Well, it wasn’t just him that was avoiding any sort of interaction. To be fair, you both were avoiding each other. You were too scared to face him again only to have his eyes pass right through you. Kids started wondering why you weren’t talking during breaks like you used to. Your parents started asking how Jungwon was doing because he hadn’t visited the house in days—undoubtedly aware of the tension but figuring out how to bring it up subtly.

A week turned into two.

And on the third day of the third week, you decided you had enough. You were done avoiding and being scared of being avoided. You were going to apologize and make up for things today, no matter what happened. Even if he walked right past you, you could at least say that you tried.

During lunch, you gathered up all your spare pocket money and bought a box of the mango juice you knew was his favorite.

“Is there any strawberry milk left?” you asked hopefully, peering at the chiller for your favorite drink.

“Sorry, sweet, we just sold the last one.”

You handed the canteen lady your money for the mango juice and rushed out of the crowded room, holding the tetra pack in your hands. You scanned the throngs of students, looking for that head of hair you knew like the back of your eyelids. Several times you thought you saw him, only for the figure to be swallowed up in the crowd in the blink of an eye.

In your haste, you didn’t realize your shoelaces had gone and united themselves. You always had a knack for tripping over your own feet at the most unfortunate times. Naturally, you slipped and fell flat on your face. The old scar you had from the time you ran away with his LEGO car would have a twin one of these days if you weren’t going to be more careful.

The students around you moved away like like poles of a magnet. Still determined to find your best friend, you struggled up on your own, picking up the juice box that thankfully hadn’t burst. You didn’t have to keep searching for much longer.

You saw Jungwon in the partition of the students, like a break in the trees. He sat at one of the benches out in front of the field, shaded by an old tree. He cradled something in his lap, but you were too far away to make out what it was. It didn’t matter if he were holding a kitten or a rock to pummel you with, you ran over and prayed he would still be there by the time you came.

You skidded to a stop before him, words flowing in an intangible heap before you could catch your breath. He didn’t say anything immediately. He just let you form shapes and sounds with your mouth that could not have made any sense to anyone, even to you. Yet it seemed like he took in every word.

“I’m so so so so so sorry.” You finally finished, looking down at the juice box you gripped in your sweaty hands. He still didn’t say anything. He only took the juice box from your fingers, poked the straw into the hole and took a long sip. You stared at the tips of your toes, feeling humiliated.

Nobody could say you didn’t try. You bit on your lip to keep from crying, and were about to walk away when his hand floated into your vision, holding out a box of your favorite strawberry milk with the condensation still dripping off the cardboard packaging.

You looked up at his face in surprise and he was already smiling, the plastic straw of his juice box flattened between his teeth.

You were there when Jungwon got dumped for the first time.

Well, you ran there until you couldn’t feel your legs, so you technically were there. You were there for him, at least.

You had been sitting in your room, trying to figure out how to draw hands anatomically correctly when he called you. He didn’t need to say much for you to know what was going on, and what he needed you to do.

“Where are you?” you asked.

“At the park.”

The little playground near your houses that had always been your unofficial meeting place once the sleepovers were banned. You ran out, not even bothering to change out of your house slippers. You got there holding the left one in your hand because it had flown off in your scramble and you were too unbothered to replace it.

Jungwon sat on one of the swings, not even swinging. He just sat there.

You were both in tenth grade already, but up till now, you had never seen Yang Jungwon pass up the opportunity to launch into the air on a perfectly functioning swing set.

“That bad, huh?” you greeted, occupying the swing next to him.

He just shrugged and tried to smile. You felt your own breath quiver. It was hard to believe that the sweet, polite, bubbly friend you’d known for years was the same person sitting next to you now.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked tentatively.

He shook his head with a small smile, letting out a shaky sigh.

You sighed, too. Getting off your own swing, you positioned yourself behind him. “Alright you sad lump, hold on.”

“What are you—?”

With a heave you gave his back a hefty push. But instead of swinging up in the air in happiness and unchecked joy like you intended, he fell forward onto the ground in an undignified heap.

“What was that for?”

“I told you to hold on!” you clapped your hands over your mouth which served the dual purpose of expressing polite shock and hiding the less-excusable reaction of giggling at your friend’s misfortune.

“Can’t believe I got dumped twice in a day.” he muttered, dusting himself off on the ground.

Now you burst out into unapologetic laughter.

He raised an eyebrow at you. “Do you find my pain entertaining, clumsy?”

“Immensely,” you affirmed, wiping away a fake tear.

You came around to help him up from the wet pour rubber. He grasped your outstretched hand with what you mistake for forgiveness.

Oh, how naïve.

With more force than what was strictly necessary, he tugged you down to the ground with him. Unfortunately, of course, he hadn’t aimed the motion properly and so you ended up with your faces inches away from each other.

On any other day, this wouldn’t have bothered you in the slightest. You saw each other’s nappies on day one, so close proximity between you both was nothing out of the ordinary. Sure, you hadn’t been this close in the last five months, two weeks, and five days since he started dating the person who just dumped him, but it still shouldn’t have felt any different now.

And yet…

You jumped up before he could read any of those treacherous thoughts inside your head like you knew he could. You shook yourself, and the feeling disappeared.

“Dumped two times today, huh?” you said as he picked himself up from the ground.

“And dumped on once, so that makes a grand total of three dumpings.” he added.

“You brought that last one on yourself,” you pointed out. He conceded with a smirk that was more like his usual self.

“So…” you fell into step behind him as you both wordlessly agreed it was time for dinner. “Not because I’m competitive or anything—"

“Oh, no, you? Competitive? Never.”

“—But whose dumping hurt more?”

“Yours,” he answered with almost no hesitation. “Yours hurt significantly more.”

You pumped your fists in the air in triumph and skipped ahead in your floppy sliders, dancing around in the middle of the street like a fool. The yellow streetlights caught the lines in his face as he lifted his head up and laughed, the sound clear and unbridled.

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm. You bowed at the waist, hands swinging downward towards the concrete. “All part of my elaborate plan, your honor.”

“They’re so cute I will literally stuff them in my cheeks for free.”

“Maybe don’t say that in front of their mother?”

The mother cat looked up from her grooming session and gave you a warning glare. You didn’t care. Not with three chunks of her offspring treating your body like a jungle gym. Nothing could beat the sight of these munchkins still wobbly on their tiny paws snuggling on your lap.

You looked up.

Okay. So what if one thing could beat adorable kittens?

Jungwon sat across from you, cradling the runt of the litter in gentle palms. His hands made the weeks-old kitten look even smaller. He tickled its chin until it lifted its head up in pleasure. It mewled at him, and his eyes twinkled.

Over the years, you tried to ignore this feeling in your chest, but it was happening so often it was impossible to ignore now. You cleared your throat and he looked up at you. You nodded over to the fifth kitten that perched itself against his leg and midriff, purring like a motor.

Well doesn’t that look comfortable.

“Thanks again for signing up to foster them,” one of the shelter workers came over from grooming the mama cat and crouched next to you. “We’re always welcoming extra hands around here.”

“Not a problem,” Jungwon said and nodded at you. “We’ve always wanted to help out.”

“That’s so great. How long have you two been together?”

You jerked your head up and prepared to correct her (which you’ve always found yourself doing even when you were in middle school), but for the first time, he beat you to the response. “We’ve known each other since we were pretty much babies,” he held up the little kitten to eye-level. “Not when we were much older than you, huh, little one?”

You’d have to ask Jungwon to repeat to you the instructions the worker gave, because your brain was spinning a thousand miles an hour and you couldn’t even register where your feet were taking you. Did he know what the worker meant when she asked how long you were together? He had to know…right? He wasn’t a naïve little kid anymore.

Now that particular realization hit you like a vacuum. It sucked all the air out of your lungs and left you gasping. The impact was so sudden that you had to stop in your tracks. Jungwon paused in unlocking his car, about to put the cats in the back seat.

He wasn’t a little kid anymore.

And neither were you.

When did that happen? Was it just moments ago when you were both sitting on the ground playing with kittens? Or was that years ago on that evening on the swings? When did the person standing before you now stop being the little kid you once asked to do your homework for you?

“Hello?”

You looked up.

“I’ve been calling your name like 50 times. Let’s go, we have so much to—”

“Why did you answer her like that back there?” you asked.

And of course he knew exactly what you were talking about. He’d always known. “You know, honestly, I didn’t even realize what she meant until after I’d started talking,” he shut the back door gently on the blanket-covered cat cage. “But it still felt normal, so I didn’t say anything after. You know?” He opened the passenger door open for you, and you found it in yourself to move your jelly legs forward.

He closed it, then let himself in the driver’s seat on the other side.

“You know what she was implying, asking that, right?”

“I’m not stupid, clumsy, of course I know,” there was that nickname again that had become more tender to you than you realized. “She was obviously asking how long we’d been neighbors—”

You shoved him with a bark of laughter, and his head thudded slightly against the window.

“Ow! Why are you always so violent? Fine, yes. I didn’t correct her because I maybe sorta kinda liked the idea—”

You were laughing so hard at that point, not because of what he was saying, but because for the first time in a long time you felt like you didn’t have to keep holding back and denying yourself anymore. Maybe you weren’t little kids anymore, but you still could have forever to grow up together.

“Let’s get out of here,” you said in between gasps of laughter. “Our children are tired of living in a cage.”

He gasped exaggeratedly as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Our children? Well aren’t you presumptuous. I don’t want shared custody of your kids just because I said I liked the idea of being together.”

“They are staying in your house because my mom is allergic to cats—”

“—They are staying in my house because your mom is allergic to cats, but that does not mean—”

“I know you love them,” you sang triumphantly, waving at him. “So you can’t say no.” You couldn’t stop smiling for a million different reasons, and you were no longer afraid that your ever-observant best friend (now something more?) would notice and give you a reason to stop.

“I know, I can’t, I love them, they’re adorable,” he conceded in a childish whine. He glanced at you at the corner of his eye. He reached out, his thumb brushing the little scar that still sat on your chin years after your first encounter. “And I love you, too, clumsy.”

You’ve said those words to each other countless times over the years. Just once, you said it to him in a different way when you thought he couldn’t hear. But just like how he could always read your mind no matter how hard you tried to keep your thoughts in order, you could read his just as easily. And you knew now that your sentiment was no longer left unanswered.

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munsster · 2 years

Text

metalhead grievance

A/N: hi!!! i wanna start off by saying how grateful i am for all the requests and i plan on getting to them all this week, but they are all for robin, and i don’t want to burn out on writing her because i love her a lot, so i’ll be posting some steve and eddie in between too (+ feel free to request other characters u wanna see me write!!!)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x GN!Reader

Summary: You air your grievances in the face of Hawkins’ favorite outcast. 1.1k words.

Warnings: cursing, allusions to sex, smug eddie, not technically fluff because its sooo smarmy but yeah it’s basically fluffy, mutual pining, mention of reader’s father, pet names (sweets, sweetheart, bug)

They’ve been growling away on their instruments next door for not half an hour when a metallic wail pierces the air, and your neighbor’s hard rock garage band gives you a fussy headache. With fingertips massaging your temples, you whip the front door open and march into his driveway, steaming and furious crossing the threshold into his open garage. He spots you and goes a little pink.

“Shit—take five?” Gareth huffs, flicking his sweat-slicked hair out of his face and looking up at you from his seat. “Hey, what’s up—”

“Gareth, are you fucking serious? I told you shitheads not to—Eddie Munson?”

Eddie smiles sweeter than he has before under the guise of his name in your mouth after a year or so. After last summer’s screaming match and the way you slammed his door and drove home angry, you ignored his calls and haven’t thought about him since. Well, at least the first part is true.

“The one and only.”

You sigh, head lulling to Gareth twirling a drumstick between his fingers.

“Just keep it down. Please?”

“Nah, don’t think we will. Thanks for the offer, though,” Eddie says, winking at you, “take care, sweets.”

Gareth perks up, brows furrowed watching his lead guitar and his old babysitter interact.

“Wait, how do you know (Y/n)?”

“We used to fuck—”

“Don’t be vulgar,” you huff, “Gareth, please keep your little goons quiet, or I’ll—”

“Or you’ll what?” Eddie says, shifting his ring-clad and roughed up fingers through a couple chords along the neck of his warlock, grinning when you glance down at them.

Gareth rolls his eyes, slumping back on the stool of his drum set. “Man, just—”

“No, I wanna know what snobby over here has to say.”

“Quit screwing around, Munson, I’m serious,” you huff, arms crossed over your chest when he saunters closer, smelling like sweat and cigarettes and something vanilla under all that.

“Oh, ‘cause your bootlicker daddy’s just a phone call away. Isn’t that right, dear?”

“You don’t scare me.”

“I know,” his tongue swipes at his lower lip. “You’re pretty cute when you’re determined.”

You squint at him, but when he pivots and shreds something metal and hard on his strings, you scoff. And his mistake was looking away. Not that it was easy, he’s definitely missed your face, just not your newly entitled college whining and the attitude all those frat boys earned you. Your fingers coil into the plug of his amp, yanking it from the wall with a screech like nails on a chalkboard. He flinches.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I told you to keep it down,” you say, “clearly, your listening skills haven’t improved much. All that heavy metal probably isn’t helping—”

“Sonuva—why don’t you just run along home? We’re not bothering you.”

“As a matter of fact, you are!”

“And what are you gonna do about it?”

He leans his guitar on its stand, clearing his throat and cracking his knuckles, but it does nothing to deter you from your spot toeing the carpet laid out on Gareth’s garage floor. And backlit like this, Eddie would’ve called you beautiful way back when, haloed in soft sunlight and running your mouth. Way back when, he would’ve shut you up in ways that would make you flustered at the mere thought now. You click your tongue, and he snaps out of it with a frown.

“You know, our HOA takes noise complaints very seriously”—Gareth scratches his head and pales when Eddie glares back at him—“they’ll have your KISS-wannabe asses on surveillance for months. But you can always take rehearsal to the trailer park… isn’t that right, dear?”

Eddie grumbles, “What do you want?”

“Tickets.”

And you’re dead serious. Hip cocked, sinister grin, fist tight around the shaft of the amp’s cord. Eddie knows you’re not playing, and you’re even hotter for it.

“Tickets?”

“Yeah. Pit tickets. For life.”

He barks out a laugh, his heavy boots thumping closer, chains clinking against his heel when he stops and tilts his head at you.

“That all?”

“No,” you huff, “I need a favor.”

“I’m listening.”

He can tell you’re holding your breath, eyeing the tattoo just below the hem of his sleeve and how it billows at the cock of his wrist. It’s new. Wasn’t there the last time you saw him. Or you missed the small trail of bats while tracing your fingertips over his soft skin, though you doubt it.

“My dad’s cousin is getting hitched in Decatur, and I have to go. Only I know everyone’s gonna pester me about my love life, and it’ll be a big deal if I show up alone.”

Eddie chuckles.

“Lemme get this straight: you want me to play boyfriend… for your family’s sake?”

“Yeah,” you mumble, “you up for it?”

He shrugs. “Depends.”

“On?”

“I’m driving us there.”

“In my car.”

“Deal,” he says, “I pick the music. And I’m not wearing a tie.”

“Fine. And you don’t have to.”

“Alright.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah, one last thing” he huffs with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, “I get to take you home afterwards—”

“Eddie…”

“Just listen, sweetheart,” he whispers, “I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman. Won’t even make you scream—”

“Eddie—”

“Kidding, kidding… You’ll definitely be screaming—ouch!”

You flick his shoulder, and he rubs the sore spot with a smiley laugh.

“Fine, I won’t touch you. But I want you to stay the night.” What he doesn’t say is how horrible he feels for running you out. Because he has gotten better. You gave him a year, and it softened him, let him mold into the shape you left. Made him sleep on the right side of the bed and leave coffee out for Uncle Wayne and get his hair trimmed to keep it soft. Because it’s what you always told him to do, but he never got it until you went back to school that fall.

“Okay,” you coo, nodding and spinning on your heel. But you can’t make it out of the garage once his warm fingers hold your wrist like a bracelet, and his brown eyes dance with flares and static like always.

“Ah, ah, before you leave”—he turns his head with a grin and taps his cheek. For old time’s sake, you bite back a smile at the smoky renaissance of each time he’d beg for a kiss before hopping out of your window in the dead of night. He wears the same cologne, hugged by the same leather, but his hair is longer. It frames his face in loose and frizzy waves, and he’s just as charming as he was his first senior year when you were still friends with a pinch of something closer.

You lean in, pushing his hair behind his ear and pecking the soft dimple of his cheek before quickly pulling away when he glances at you.

“I’ve missed you, bug.”

masterlist

#eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #x reader #x gn!reader #fluff #stranger things #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #*

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acasualcrossfade · 1 month

Text

Flayed

Stranger Things | Steddie | Rating: T | Words: 1789 | Ao3

CW: (handcuffs as) restraints, being restrained, mentions of physical violence, sedation

Written for @whumpril day 1: Limp | Divider art: @saradika-graphics

Steve helps Hopper restrain a violent and Flayed Eddie.

Steve barely breathed as he backed himself against the wall of the living room, watching Hopper pull in a squirming Eddie from outside. Steve’s nose wrinkled at the sharp smell of chemicals from Eddie and his heart froze.

Eddie whined and grunted in Hopper’s hold as he kicked and struggled to get back outside to the garden shed.

“Get my cuffs, my cuffs,” Hopper grunted as he struggled with Eddie through the doorway of the house. Steve blinked and jumped into action, grabbing Hopper’s cuffs from where he left them on the dining room table.

“I have to go back, I have to go back,” Eddie whined, pulling against Hopper’s hold and reaching to get free. Eddie’s head swung and Hopper launched back to avoid getting hit.

Eddie’s mouth was stained with soil and flecks of green fertilizer. His eyes were wide and empty, yet desperate as he fought against Hopper.

“I have to go back!!” Eddie wailed, his arms reaching towards the door as he tried to get away.

Steve’s heart thudded in his chest. Eddie was just fine seconds ago. They were just sitting on the couch. They were just talking. He watched in vain as Eddie arched backwards as his mouth opened wide. Eddie’s eyes rolled back to white and he trembled hard before he let out a blood-curdling screech.

The shrill, dissonant sound sent chills up Steve’s spine and he dropped the cuffs to clamp his hands over his ears. It was as if the sound came from every single pore of Eddie’s body. The sound split through his head and Steve groaned as he felt the start of a migraine.

Hopper managed to get a better hold on Eddie, but couldn’t get his rigid form to move more than a few steps at a time.

The sound broke off suddenly and Eddie twisted in Hopper’s hold as he tried to pry out of Hopper’s hold.

Steve’s heart raced in his chest, but he forced himself to move, to help, to do anything. He grabbed the cuffs from the floor and pushed himself back to standing.

Hopper grunted as he struggled to keep Eddie from getting past him. But step by slow step, he was pushing Eddie back to the bedroom.

“The bed, we’ll cuff him to the bed,” Hopper grunted, managing to fight Eddie back through the doorway of the bedroom.

Eddie’s hand found the doorframe and he grabbed it, flat out refusing to go any farther. Hopper strained and Steve tried to pry Eddie’s fingers away from the wood. Eddie’s grip was inhumanly strong, but Steve managed to peel one finger away, then another, enough for Hopper to shove Eddie the rest of the way in and onto the bed. Hopper kept his forearm pressed over Eddie’s chest to keep him down.

Eddie flailed as he screamed, this time the sound a garbled cry as he reared off the bed. Hopper pressed his forearm against Eddie’s chest, reaching for Steve with a shaking hand.

“The cuffs, hurry, the cuffs.”

Steve handed them over and watched as Hopper held Eddie down and managed to click the cuffs around his right wrist. Hopper pulled the other pair from his belt, still trying to get Eddie to stop fighting.

Steve felt frozen where he stood as Eddie flailed on the bed, his legs and limbs a blurred flurry of movement. His kicks thumped against the mattress and shook the whole frame. Eddie groaned as he fought, sweaty with exertion, but still putting up enough fight for Hopper to have to work to keep him down.

Steve rushed to the bedside to help, hating that Eddie still squirmed as he yanked at the frame with his restrained wrist.

“Get his arm,” Hopper nodded, firmly pressing Eddie to the bed to keep him in place. Eddie struggled under Hopper, his arm beating against Hopper’s sides and arms, but Steve managed to catch Eddie’s wrist and force it up towards the bed frame. It took more effort than he was ready for, and Steve was forced to pull Eddie’s arm up towards the frame. The man whine and pulled away, but Steve held strong.

Hopper moved quickly and got the cuff around Eddie’s left wrist to click the cuff in place. Now cuffed to the bed, Eddie couldn’t move his arms, but his body still arched and thumped against the bed as he tried to escape.

The room filled with Eddie’s frustrated grunts and growls of annoyance between the rattling of the cuffs against the metal bed frame. Steve backed away from Eddie feeling shaky and sick as he watched the man strain against the cuffs. The bedframe rattled behind him as Eddie yanked at it; Steve was suddenly nervous that Eddie would bend the metal with his efforts.

“Wh-what happened?” Steve demanded. “He was just fine three seconds ago and now he’s rabid and screaming like a banshee?”

Steve had to give himself credit for knowing what a banshee was, and made a mental note to thank Dustin. Still, the sight of Eddie’s body jerking around on the bed made his chest constrict. There wasn’t much in the room besides the bed and the dresser-turned-medicine cabinet. It was lined with papers and pill bottles and Steve leaned against it for support as he caught his breath.

“I have no idea,” he admitted between heavy breaths. He shook his head, just as confused.

Eddie reared back again, throwing his head against the mattress hard enough to make Steve wince.

Eddie thrashed and cried out, his fingers stretched and reaching for something, his black eyes staring blankly past the two of them. His Hellfire shirt was torn in places and stained in others, and his jeans were streaked with mud. Hopper had clamped the cuffs tightly around Eddie’s wrists and the skin was already turning an angry, irritated red.

Eddie moaned and suddenly went rigid as he trembled again, black veins suddenly starting to criss-cross over his dirt-stained hands and snake up his arms.

“We have to put him out,” Hopper grunted, already moving toward the dresser where Steve stood. He jumped away to give Hopper access to it, watching as the police chief pulled open the top drawer, and then the second.

“I have to go back, I have to go back, I have to go back,” Eddie gasped. His voice was clear and sounded like his own again, but his eyes were still blank as his head thrashed from side to side.

Steve watched Hopper dig around the second drawer before pulling out a needle and a small bottle of clear liquid.

Hopper turned the small bottle upside down and drew from it to fill the syringe.

Steve’s knees weakened at the sight of the needle and his ears rang. The world went blurry, but Hopper’s voice forced him to stay conscious.

“Hey, hey, I need you on two feet,” Hopper called, eying him. “I need you to hold him down again.”

Eddie’s arms jerked as he pulled at the cuffs, but Steve grabbed his right one and did his best to hold it still. Eddie made no eye contact with either of them, eyes still darting around for a way out.

Steve didn’t think about how it’d been mere minutes since Eddie was with them on the couch, didn't think about his knee pressed against Steve’s as they created a plan...

“Hold him still,” Hopper urged and Steve had no choice but to use both hands on Eddie’s bicep and forearm to hold his arm still. The black veins webbed under Eddie’s skin and Steve felt something sick stir in him as he watched the needle stab into Eddie, the sedative pushing into his veins.

Eddie’s desperate pleas to go back broke off as he collapsed against the bed. His body shuddered and he let out a heavy exhale before going limp. Eddie’s eyes fluttered in resistance, but they gave in and slid shut.

Eddie lay still.

Steve carefully let his grip loosen and fall away from Eddie’s arm. The immediate silence of the room made Steve’s knees wobble and he gripped the dresser for support. His ears buzzed with the echoing sounds of Eddie’s screams and whines, but as the room stood in silence for the first time in minutes, Steve felt relief flood through his jarred nerves.

With the relief came the overwhelming nausea crawling up his throat. The smell of soil and chemicals, the shrill scream, and the jab of the needle into black veins made him gag. He pressed the back of his hand and forced himself to swallow as he staggered to the door of the room. He stopped, not wanting to leave Eddie, and instead collapsed against the doorframe to suck in deep breaths. He wasn’t going to lose it, he wasn’t going to lose it.

Hopper’s strong hand gripped his shoulder in support. “Hey, you’re okay. You did great. It’s okay.”

Steve’s mind was still tumbling with thoughts. “What the hell just happened? Wasn’t he just fine earlier? Minutes ago?”

Their plan to use Eddie as a spy had slipped from genius to useless in a matter of minutes. Steve glanced to where they’d all been sitting not five minutes ago. Eddie’s glass of water stood untouched, and the notes he scribbled had fallen to the floor in his sudden flee out the door. Steve’s skin crawled as his mind struggled to make sense of it all.

He looked back at Eddie’s limp body on the bed. Eddie’s eyes slid slowly back and forth under his lids, but his body was deathly still. Another chill worked itself up Steve’s spine.

Bruises were already starting to bloom over Eddie’s wrists.

“He can’t last like this,” Hopper said, running a worried hand over his mustache. “Even flayed, his body won’t survive through this.” His eyes glanced over Eddie, checking to make sure he was truly sedated. “I’m calling Owens. Stay with him.”

Hopper disappeared from the bedroom before Steve could respond.

Steve looked over at Eddie in the bed. His sweaty curls were fanned out across the pillow, and despite the soil and fertilizer that stained his mouth and hands, he almost looked normal. Like Eddie. Still, exhaustion was etched over Eddie’s eyes and his skin was pale and waxy in the light of the bedroom.

Eddie’s body looked as worn out as Steve felt.

Steve took a careful seat at the end of Eddie’s bed, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He pressed a hand over Eddie’s ankle and squeezed it.

There was nothing he could do but wait.

And hope that Eddie, his Eddie, would survive this.

#whumpril #whumpril2024 #whumpril day 1: limp #steddie #steddie whump #eddie munson whump #flayed eddie munson #hurt eddie munson #steve harrington #jim hopper #steddie fic #acasualcrossfade writes #thunderously_halo writes #whump

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vannahfanfics · 2 years

Text

The Adventure of Us

Word Count: 2,840

Fluff, Romance, Domestic, Married Life, Family, Post-Canon

Summary: Even after becoming King of the Pirates, there are still plenty of adventures to be had for Luffy. For example? Tearing across Amazon Lily with his boisterous twins!

It was a calm morning in the rainforest of Amazon Lily. The birds had finished their dawn chorus and, now that the sun was shining brightly in the cerulean sky, were now on to the next item on their agendas: acquiring breakfast. Perched on the long, twisting branch of a mango tree, a ruby-red macaw stood still, its head cocked slightly so its bright black eye could survey for predators. Though the air was alive with screeching monkeys, chirping insects, and cacophonous birdsong, the mango tree was shrouded in an aura of stillness. Its keen eyes could detect no subtle flickers of color or breaks in the spears of light that would indicate a predator silently stalking through the thick, lush greenery. So, the macaw determined it safe to proceed and carefully picked its way down the branch.

Its claws made small clicks against the tree’s bark. With ungainly, shuffling movements, it inched down the branch towards the end—where dozens of plump, juicy mangoes hung just begging to be plucked. As the branch began to thin, the bird’s weight began to affect it, making it bob and sway. The golden-brown mangoes jostled and the leaves quivered, but the macaw continued undaunted towards its quarry. Within a minute, it was within pecking distance of an absolutely sumptuous-looking specimen.

Slowly, carefully, the bird stretched out its neck and opened its beak to take a bite of the fruit—

“Raaaaaaaaaaaah!” Luffy roared as he exploded from the undergrowth, running on all fours like a beast. As he did so, the rainforest burst around him. A coatimundi sprang nearly a foot in the air and landed in a sprint, fleeing into the bushes; a collection of butterflies delicately sipping the moisture from a mossy tree launched into the air, swirling around his head in a dazzling array of blues and greens; and a macaw screeched in fright as it burst from a mango tree, sending several of the fruits raining down around him. They split open when they struck the forest floor, spilling sticky juice and sweet yellow flesh everywhere. Though Luffy would normally stop and partake in such an easy and convenient snack, he did not cease his thunderous charge across the leaf-strewn ground. He had eyes only for the hunt, for the prey tantalizingly close before him.

Luffy tucked his arms close to his body and planted his feet into the ground; then, with a jump that pushed fissures into the soft, loamy soil beneath the soles of his flip-flops, he leaped at the bobbing and weaving shadows desperately trying to disappear into the gap between two bushes.

“Gotcha!” he howled triumphantly as he stretched out both his arms, winding them several times around the bodies of his wiggling prey. The two wailed in dismay, their screams rising in pitch as Luffy’s momentum carried him through the bush and over the slope of a steep ravine. Luffy rolled up like a pillbug and went careening down the slope like a runaway wagon wheel.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!” With each jarring judder of his body, surprised squawks of alarm were torn from his lungs. He held the small bodies of his quarry tight to either side of him; they screeched maniacally, tearing the previously quiet forest air to shreds. The ground gradually leveled out, but Luffy kept rolling for several feet, right out of the rainforest and onto the grassy lawn of a secluded cottage.

With a groan, Luffy uncurled himself and sprawled out onto his back. He had not the strength to hang onto his catch; as his body de-stretched, slithering across the grass like snakes, the two forms wiggled away from him. Then, one after the other, they plopped down onto Luffy’s chest. The air was driven from his lungs, coming out as a breezy “oof!” He lifted his head, his straw hat flopping away from his messy black curls of hair, and was greeted with the radiant beams of his twin five-year-old daughters.

“Daddy, Daddy, again!” squealed the one sitting on her hands and knees on the right side of his chest, air whistling through the gap of her recently lost front baby tooth.

“Let’s play again! One more game of tag, please!” pleaded his other, even as a bedraggled beetle kicked its spindly legs in a desperate effort to escape the loops of her black hair that had knotted around it.

“Lana, Lani—Daddy’s tired,” Luffy wheezed. The two girls chorused in shrill whines of protest, and Luffy ignored them, letting his head flop back down and closing his eyes. Not satisfied with their father’s answer, the two girls began to pull at his cheeks, stretching them until drool leaked out and then letting them snap back into place. This soon became more entertaining than running around the forest like creatures possessed; their delighted giggles rose into the air like bubbles, occasionally joined by the sharp thwack! of Luffy’s rubbery skin snapping. He made no move to stop them. It wasn’t like it hurt, and this way, at least they could be entertained in a way that didn’t exhaust him.

He’d only had his eyes closed for half a minute or so before he heard the creak of the cottage door opening, followed by the clunking of his wife’s heels against the wooden porch. He cracked his eyes open and tipped his head back to see an upside-down figure striding towards them, her long skirt swishing around her legs and black hair cascading around her body.

“Oh, dear. It’s not even nine o’clock, and they’ve already worn you out?” Hancock tutted sympathetically as she crouched down at his head and reached down to gently run her fingers through his sweat-slicked hair. “This is why I tell you not to let them have sugar first thing in the morning…”

“But Auntie Nami’s tangerine syrup is the best!” Lani cried.

“How can you say that? Most of it ends up on your face,” Lana cackled.

Lani gasped in affront and whipped her head around to look incredulously at her sister. Lana just blew a teasing raspberry at her. There was a moment of terse silence; then, the two girls sprang at one another with angry screeches. They collided in the air like a thunderclap, clawing and punching and kicking, and went rolling off into the grass. Luffy breathed in deep, relieved to finally have their weight off their chest.

“Darling, shouldn’t we stop them?” Hancock sighed like she always did when their daughters got into a row. Luffy had his eyes closed again, and he didn’t open them as he shook his head.

“Nah. Give it a minute. They’ll roll into the creek.”

Sure enough, as soon as he said it, there was a pair of surprised squeals followed by a splash. Luffy opened one eye to peek out of his peripheral vision, and he found his daughters sitting in the bed of the creek that moseyed along the right side of their property. They blinked at one another, then howled with laughter and began splashing water into one another’s faces.

“See? Their fights never last long. They can’t stay mad at each other,” Luffy boasted.

Now that he had laid there for several seconds and caught his breath, Luffy began to feel reinvigorated. It was even more so with the sun shining down on him, warming his skin pleasurably. With a happy hum, he reached over his head to loosely wind his arms around his wife’s slim waist. Ah, with these kinds of conditions, he could easily slip into a nap…

“Look at you. King of the Pirates, and you’re as docent as a lap dog,” Hancock teased. “What would your crew say if they saw you?”

“Nuthin’, ‘cuz I did this on the boat, too. Shishishishi!” he cackled. He then opened his eyes halfway to gaze up at Hancock with warm eyes, soft and full of affection. “Besides, they could make fun of me all they wanted. I don’t care, ‘cuz I’m happy here with you, Hancock.”

His wife released a little gasp. She always did when he went and said things like that. It was cute, how even after all these years, she was still so charmed by things like that. With a purr-like hum rumbling in his chest, Luffy reached up to trace his fingertips over her cheek, mirroring the path of the blush spreading through her soft skin.

“To be honest, I still can’t believe it,” Hancock admitted quietly. He cocked a brow at her utterance, and she averted her gaze, blush deepening as her lips tightened into a frown.

Luffy noticed she was staring at their children, and he turned his head. They were now sitting on the bank of the creek, apparently making mudpies. He turned back to Hancock with a questioning look.

“I just… Everyone always told me that your place was out there.” She gestured loosely into the distance, where the sea was just barely visible as a shimmering blue stripe against the backdrop of rolling hills leading down to the beach. “They said… that you would never truly settle down. That the sea would call you back, and I’d be left alone. That…” Her bottom lip quivered, and to Luffy’s dismay, her eyes flooded with tears. “That I could never be your one true love,” she whispered hoarsely.

It was Luffy’s turn to frown. As he considered her words, he caught the tears that leaked from her eyes with his thumb. He’d noticed that she’d been growing antsier as the twins got more active and demanded to play outside. He thought that was just her being concerned about the dangers of the rainforest—not that she was beginning to fear that the call of adventure would whisk him away.

Luffy drew in a breath, and then let it out.

“‘When one adventure ends, another begins,’” he murmured.

“What’s that?” she asked, tipping her head to the side.

“Somethin’ Shanks once told me,” he answered with a smirk. “When he went back to live with Makino and the baby. I asked him why he was giving up sailing when there was so much adventure to be had out there.”

“And that’s what he told you?”

“Yup. To be honest, I didn’t get it back then,” he said. He suddenly grinned and reached up to grab Hancock’s head, pulling it down over his until the tips of their noses were touching.

Hancock gasped, her hands flying to the grass on either side of them to brace herself, and her eyes glistened as she gaped down at him.

“I do now, though.”

Hancock opened her mouth and then clamped it shut tight. Her eyes flooded with tears again, so much so that they immediately started dripping down onto Luffy’s face. One hand slipped forward to hold her cheek, while the other began to weave through her waves of black hair.

“It’s true. I do love the sea,” he admitted. “And I always will. After all, it brought me to you.”

Hancock flushed at that, and she was unable to keep the giddy smile from tugging at her lips despite the seriousness of the moment. Luffy didn’t mind. It was just one of the many things he loved about her—the way her emotions showed so clearly on her face. Chuckling, he began to idly stroke her cheek with his thumb.

“I miss it, I do. I’ll go down to the beach sometimes and look, wonder what the horizon holds… But I know that now’s not the time to go looking for it.”

“Now?” she questioned, with a hint of worry poisoning her tone. Luffy frowned, trying to find the right words to say. He’d never been the best at this kind of thing.

“What I mean is—I would never leave you behind. If I wanted to go back, I would take you with me. The girls too.”

“And… If I didn’t want to go…?” Hancock asked tremulously.

Luffy just shrugged.

“Then I wouldn’t go. My love of the sea and adventure isn’t as great as the love I feel for you,” he responded honestly. And it wasn’t. It had taken him a long time, probably longer than anyone else he knew—but he had learned what Shanks had been talking about. He’d learned what it meant to love someone, and how with that love, he could find a whole new kind of adventure just in the everyday moments of life. Why did he need to go out there, when he had everything he could ever want or need right here?

“Oh, Luffy!” she gasped, flopping down to hug him. It was awkward positioning, and his face was squeezed in her chest, and he kind of couldn’t breathe. But he bore it because Hancock was happy, and she’d get back up soon enough. Indeed, before his head had even begun to swim from lack of air, she had pushed herself up with her hands again to begin dropping kisses and tears all over his face.

“I love you—I love you—I love you so much!” she gasped. She then reared back to look down at him, red-faced and teary-eyed and breathless. “Oh—you don’t know how much I needed to hear you say that.”

Luffy just grinned up at her. Hancock’s face began to descend again, slowly this time, and her eyes grew lidded with passion. Just as her lips were poised to brush against Luffy’s in a slow, sensual kiss, Luffy heard something whistle through the air.

A glob of mud exploded against the side of Hancock’s face with a resounding wet slap. Luffy’s hands flew to his mouth in shock. Hancock just sat there, the mud slowly sliding down the side of her head and clumping in her hair. With eyes as wide as moons, Luffy turned to look at the culprits: their daughters.

“P.D.A.!” Lani cackled hysterically, while Lana stood beside her with another mudpie poised to throw. “Kissing is gross! Mommy and Daddy should know better!”

“My kids are about to die,” Luffy whispered to himself, then slowly peeked out of the sides of his eyes at Hancock. She slowly stood up, looming over his prostrate form like a dark goddess brought forth from the earth—and wiped the mud from the side of her face. She looked at the thick, brown globs coating her hand, and then slowly turned to look at the two girls on the creekside.

Luffy followed her gaze. The smiles had vanished from the two girls’ faces; they had realized they were in mortal danger. The blood drained from their faces. The mudpie slipped from Lana’s hand and landed on the ground with a wet slop.

That was the signal, bringing the strange sense of stopped time to a screeching halt.

“Girrrrrls,” Hancock trilled in an eerie sing-song voice, and the smile she plastered on her face didn’t reach her eyes. “I just remembered you didn’t have a bath this morning. I should give you one… A mud bath, that is!”

With a roar, Hancock dashed toward the girls. With delighted screams, they sprang apart and went running off in opposite directions. Hancock cleared the yard in three strides, splashing into the creek to grab Lani around the middle and heave her up. Lani laughed as she wriggled and kicked in her mother’s grasp, while Hancock turned, triumphantly marching toward the bank. With a happy howl, Hancock dropped Lani lightly down into the mud and held her down while slathering mud all over her.

“How do you like that, huh?” Hancock cried as Lani wiggled around in the mud like a slug, cackling maniacally with delight.

Hancock’s head suddenly whipped up, her dark eyes fixing on Luffy.

“What are you just standing there for?” she snapped and pointed a finger at Lana, who was hiding behind a palm tree nearby. “She’s not getting away without punishment, either!”

Luffy sat up with a sigh and plunked his straw hat back on his head. He looked to his other daughter, who peered hopefully around the tree. Would her father spare her?

“Sorry,” Luffy grinned as he slapped his hands to his knees and pushed himself up. He rolled his shoulders, then stretched his legs. When he clapped his hands together, the sound pierced the air like a thunderclap, and he set his blazing gaze upon Lana. “You heard the lady. It’s mud bath time!”

As Lana tore off across the yard with a shrill scream, Luffy took off after her. Just like her sister, she wasn’t hard to subdue, and Luffy carried her kicking and laughing to the creek to douse her in mud. Then the little buggers teamed up to drag their parents in, and they all ended up one big, muddy, giddy mess.

One adventure ends, and another begins. Luffy didn’t need the big adventures out there on the sea anymore. He had all the adventures he needed, the little ones he had with his family each and every day.

Did you enjoy this oneshot? Consider requesting from me by visiting my rules, then either commenting on this story, submitting an ask, or contacting me via DM!

#luhan #luffy x hancock #hancock x luffy #boa hancock #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #one piece

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stormyoceans · 8 months

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I was thinking about Talay's birthday constantly since yesterday and i feel like they progressed to the point where Puen would wake up extra early (because Talay is always the one who wakes up first) and make Talay breakfast in bed and coffee. And when he brings it to their bedroom, Talay looks at him like he hung the moon and the stars for him, carefully place the tray on the nightstand and pulls Puen by the hand into bed and kiss him all over his face and this progress into them spending all morning having sex (Puen didn't thought just this will be enough to get Talay in the mood, but Talay feels extra needy for some reason when Puen pampers him...) he let Puen eat him out, just laying here, grabbing the sheets with his hands, legs on Puen's shoulders and pants, moans, screams. After he comes twice like this he pulls Puen closer to himself, hugs him with both his hands and legs and begs Puen to fuck him slowly. They end up with Talay laying on top, leaving kisses all over Puen's face again, them both still panting after their morning routine. Puen suddenly remembers that Talay didn't eat his breakfast and feels sad. He tried so hard while he was cooking! But Talay reassures him that he's going to eat everything Puen made for him, so they get up, Puen goes to reheat the food and Talay goes to fill the tub with water so they can soak in it. He briefly looks at his phone and decides not to touch it today. They plunge into a warm bath, feed each other with their hands and watch a movie on a tablet. They are distracted from the movie completely because they remembered how they made movies too, so they submerge into memories, retelling anecdotes from another universe and occasionally making out. Talay feels so comfortable on Puen's lap, he clings to him, hugs him around his neck. It's Talay's birthday but Puen feels like he got big present too. They spend all day like this, Tup and Tou finds them on their in the same way glued to each other on a sofa in the garden, this time really paying attention to the movie on the big screen, Puen's head on Talay's shoulder and Talay's cheek pressed to Puen's forehead. They flop down on puentalay's sofa and watch the movie to the end together. Then there will be congratulations, eating cake, gifts, hugs, laughter, calling with Jigsaw via video. This day will end with them falling asleep somewhere not in bed, tangled together under thin blanket.

SCREAMING HOWLING WAILING WEEPING RUNNING UP AND DOWN THE STREET YODELING AT THE TOP OF MY LUNGS ROLLING AROUND IN THIS LIKE A CAT DISCOVERING SUN WARMED PAVEMENT FOR THE FIRST TIME SHOUTING SCREECHING HAVING HEART PALPITATIONS SHOOTING LOVE OUT OF EVERY PORE IN MY BODY IT SOUNDS DISGUSTING BUT IT'S MAGICAL

LITERALLY THE MOST ACCURATE DESCRIPTION OF HOW TALAY'S BIRTHDAY WOULD GO I HAVE NO NOTES EVERYTHING IS SO EXCRUCIATINGLY PERFECT: THE BREAKFAST IN BED, THE SEX (GLAD WE BOTH AGREE PUEN WOULD EAT TALAY OUT), THE BATHING TOGETHER, THE REMINISCING, THE MOVIES, THE SMALL CELEBRATION WITH THEIR FRIENDS. AND I DIDN'T KNOW I NEEDED THE VIDEO CALL WITH JIGSAW BUT OF COURSE. OF COURSE IT WOULD HAPPEN BECAUSE JIGSAW WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF THEM AND NOW IM ON THE FLOOR MUFFLING MY SHRIEKS INTO A PILLOW

i just love how after what happened in our skyy you KNOW they would make sure to clear their schedules for their respective birthdays and try to make that day as special as possible for each other, which doesn't necessarily mean doing anything major or going all out with some big romantic gesture, not when they can be in each other's arms whispering 'i love you's in between kisses until they fall asleep under the starry sky, the moon watching over them: being together is more than enough

#THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ANON MY HEART IS SO FULL RN #actually if i may add one thing #puen is pouting about talay not eating his breakfast but then talay says something about liking puen more than food #which makes puen blush but also feel incredibly smug #ANYWAY THANK YOU SO MUCH AGAIN FOR SHARING THIS WITH ME I LOVE IT I LOVE YOU #hope you're having the most wonderful day!!!!!#💜💜💜#vice versa #puentalay #m: ask

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riley1cannon · 1 year

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In hopes that a bit of streamlining might help to jumpstart at least one fic (in progress for roughly two years, although never posted), I have made the decision to snip out a scene. It was to have been the start of a lengthy flashback sequence that would have really been a story unto itself. Not necessarily a bad thing, but after two years it’s pretty clear it doesn’t want to happen. Does this mean the now-streamlined version will roll out with no bumps in the road? Yeah, I wish. If there’s a chance this shakes it loose, though, it’s worth a shot.

Anyway, because I do kind of kind of like this scene, even though it won’t go where it was supposed to, I’m choosing to preserve it here...

Bruce halted his rush down the stairs of the hotel lobby, gripping the elegant railing as a burst of gunfire rang out from the ballroom. He glanced at Clark, beside him and aiming an intense look in that direction. “What? Is it her?”

Grim-faced, Clark nodded. “Looks like she tried to take out Miss Metropolis.”

Ready to jump over the railing, Bruce found himself held in place by Clark. “Damn it, Clark--” Squirm and strain as he might, he couldn’t get loose of that grip on his shoulder

“Hold your horses. She’s okay--Miss Metropolis is okay. Mrs. Quinn missed. Looks like she might’ve nicked the emcee, though. Mrs. Quinn’s headed this way,” Clark added, even as he released his hold on Bruce. “Go get her.”

Bruce had time to shoot one grumpy look Clark’s way before he charged on down the stairs, timing it just right so that he immediately plowed into a matronly woman, fashionably dressed for murder. She stumbled, caught herself, and began wailing on him with her Dolce and Gabbana purse.

“Get out of my way, you buffoon!”

“Ma’am--” smack smack smack “if you’d just calm down--” smack smack smack

“Calm down? Calm down?!” She smacked him again, got a closer look at him, and growled, “You! You two again!” She’d caught sight of Clark on his way down the stairs, and taking his sweet time about it. Wheels were turning in her mind, dots were connecting as she looked from one to other, suspicions coming together in her eyes. “This is all your fault!” she screamed, bag ready to smack Bruce again.

Clark shot out an arm to catch hold of the purse. “Ma’am, you really need to stop that.”

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” She tugged on the bag, trying to get it back. “Let go, you big oaf!”

He did, and the purse went flying through the lobby, smacking into a decorative column and scattering its contents all over the marble floor. She screeched, pushed her way past Clark and Bruce and rushed to her purse, scrambling to gather up all the spilled items.

Bruce kicked a stoppered, brown glass vial Clark’s way, pleased to see he picked it up with a handkerchief. Tugging out his own pocket square, he snagged a Glock G42--in Tiffany blue, for god’s sake--and was holding it out of her reach as Metropolis P.D. detectives Maggie Sawyer and Dan Turpin came barreling out from the ballroom, their own guns drawn and Turpin yelling, “Everybody freeze!”

“Oh, thank God.” Mrs. Norah Quinn moaned, feigning a swoon as she sank down on a plush sofa, the back of one hand pressed to her forehead, and venom in her eyes as she looked at Bruce and Clark. “Detectives, I want you to arrest these two men. They’ve been stalking and harassing me--”

Gun holstered, Maggie Sawyer let go a deep sigh, favoring Bruce and Clark with a look that could have halted a herd of rampaging elephants in its tracks. “We know exactly what Mr. Kent and Mr. Wayne have been up to, ma’am.” She jerked her head at Turpin. “You want to do the honors?”

“With pleasure.” Turpin stepped forward, cuffs ready, as his partner collected the gun and glass vial. “On your feet, Mrs. Quinn.”

“What?” Playing the flustered and confused card, she looked around the lobby, the crowd spilling out from the ballroom, the reporters and paparazzi, the uniformed officers crowding in. “I don’t understand. Arrest them!” She pointed a manicured finger at Clark and Bruce.

“Don’t you worry,” Turpin said as he helped to her feet. “We’ll be having a word with Starsky and Hutch here. Now, Ms. Quinn,” he snapped handcuffs on her as cameras flashed, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Mercedes Beckett, Paul Lamont, Danielle Jackson…” He was still rattling off names and charges as he escorted her through the lobby and outside. She’d had a busy week.

Sawyer raised a finger before Bruce and Clark could make a move to follow. “You two, hold it right there.” She held up an evidence bag with the vial, half-filled with a viscous fluid that, if ingested, would immediately induce symptoms ranging from vomiting and bloody diarrhea, to respiratory failure. Left untreated, a person would be dead in roughly half an hour. Norah Quinn had added just a few drops to her victim’s tea during late night visits to harangue them for disqualifying her daughter from the Miss Metropolis pageant. “This is it, huh?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Clark pushed at his glasses. “She’s been collecting sap from yellow oleander flowers--”

“Toxicity level six,” Bruce chimed in. “I looked it up.”

She gave him a hard stare. “Do tell.”

The way she said it, he had a feeling she really didn’t want him to tell.

“How about I make a deduction?” she went on. “You two decided to make like the Hardy Boys and go snooping around Ms. Quinn’s house and garden and do our jobs for us, even after you were told to keep out of it. Even when you were made aware we were investigating. As for you,” she gave Bruce a look that warned she ate dilettante rich boys for breakfast, “Jim Gordon’s told me all about you--”

“Oh, I doubt that,” he drawled.

“--and if I ever find you over here again,” she plowed right over him, “making out like you’re some Lord Peter Wimsey wannabe, I will throw you in a hole so dark and deep that all the white-shoe law firms in the tri-state area won’t be able to get you out.”

Bruce could have pointed out that the only reason Metropolis P.D. had put Norah Quinn on their radar was because Clark’s suspicions had been raised while doing research into the pageant’s history, and he had accordingly called in Bruce to give him a hand. He could have pointed that out, but a quelling look from Clark kept him quiet.

Instead, with as much grace as possible, he nodded, and shrugged an apology.

If she wasn’t entirely satisfied with that, there was at least a shade less heat in her eyes as she swung back to Clark. “Have to say I’m a little disappointed in you, Mr. Kent. Never pictured you for these kinds of shenanigans.”

“No, ma’am,” Clark said, all aw shucks. “I’d blame it on a bad influence,” he looked at Bruce, the implication clear on the source of that bad influence, “but…” He trailed off with a sheepish shrug. Bruce wanted to slug him.

“I get you want to see justice served, and land yourself a big scoop in the process, but you playing amateur sleuth like this just makes my job harder. Bad enough we have to put up with all these costumed vigilante goons these days.”

Expression solemn as a Puritan’s gravestone, Clark nodded. “Yes, ma’am. I do understand.”

Bruce could only roll his eyes.

“I hope you do,” Sawyer said, “because I meant what I said. If I ever catch you and your boyfriend getting underfoot again--”

No, on second thought Bruce didn’t want to slug Clark. The look of flabbergasted dismay on Clark’s face made up for everything.

“Ma’am, no, he’s not my--”

“Darling,” Bruce threw an arm around Clark’s broad shoulders, “I think we should just thank the detective for her generosity and take that as our cue to go.”

Sawyer eyed Bruce with suspicion, but only said, “Sounds like a plan.”

“Come on,” Bruce leaned in to whisper, “let’s make our getaway before she changes her mind.”

Still speechless, Clark let himself be tugged away.

#superbat #deleted scene

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