#everyone knows and writes fanfiction
Text
talking could, if we'd just dare (you know that i'll forgive you), pt. 1
@steddie-week day 6: misunderstandings / "You Lookin' at Me Lookin' at You" by Ozzy Osbourne | ~5.5k words | G or T
inspired by this post from @inklessletter!
If Eddie was being honest, he’d never actually paid that much attention to Steve Harrington. Sure, it was impossible not to know of him. But for most of his life it had simply been…unimportant, to know about the various goings on of the Class of ‘85’s royal court. Harrington was rich, a bit of a bitch, and kept company with other rich bitches, and so Eddie neatly categorized him with all the other pretty, rich jocks, and went about his day. Life was easier when there was an order to such things. Keep the smalltown, upper-middle class heroes to one side, and the freaks and degenerates to the other, and everyone could live in an uneasy sort of harmony until they walked the stage and left this rathole behind.
Of course, repeating senior year thrice had put a wrench in that plan.
Meanwhile, Dustin Henderson had thrown the whole damn toolbox into the whole not-paying-attention-to-one-Steven-MiddleName-Harrington plan.
And whatever the fuck was going on now had just blown everything out of the water.
(Or into the water, as the case may be—except the freaky parallel hellscape they’d all dove into seemed to be utterly devoid of the substance, so maybe the original metaphor worked just fine.)
So now he had to contend with the fact that Steve Harrington was a) a pretty nice dude to recent victims of smalltown witch-hunts who had just been thrust into what was apparently a years-long government conspiracy involving monsters and mind-controlling wizards, b) a bit of a dork, c) friends with a whole bunch of dorks, most of whom were four or five years younger than him, d) admirably—though perhaps self-destructively—protective of said dorks, e) just as much of a badass as Henderson claimed, and, most distressingly: f) extremely hot while doing so.
The being a protective badass part, not all the other ones.
(The other parts Eddie was retroactively filing under “adorable,” and “cute.”)
The expression Steve got on his face when Eddie lobbed his battle vest at him was also priceless, so at that point Eddie figured, fuck it. What did he have to lose from some harmless flirting? The chances of him making it out the other side of this both alive and un-incarcerated were dwindling by the second, and it’s not like he ran any risk of things going anywhere. (Harrington might be a good dude, and alternate dimensions and monsters and superpowers apparently existed, but Steve Harrington being anything other than a straight man with Traditional American Values™ strained credulity—and the Munson Doctrine—far past any acceptable limit.)
After all, if there was one thing that Eddie had actually learned from D&D, it was that a little bit of flirting and fun could take the sting out of any TPK.
🦇🦇🦇
If Steve was being honest with himself—which he’d been making a concerted effort to try to do since fall of ‘84—he could admit that his…jealousy…of Munson predated Dustin joining Hellfire. His whole climbing-on-cafeteria-tables schtick was kind of obnoxious, sure. But up until he’d wound up flunking his first try at senior year, Eddie'd had this sort of dorky-but-cool aura that Steve wished he was apathetic enough about other people’s opinions to achieve.
For a man who seemed to genuinely believe he was a coward, Eddie Munson was so…loudly and unapologetically himself. In Hawkins, Indiana—a place that quite literally wanted to kill him for how much of a freak he was. And, sure, some of that came down to the whole wanted-for-murder thing. But the man had also spent the better part of the past twelve hours flirting with a former jock—whom Eddie himself admitted to thinking was a douche up until a couple days ago!—so Steve had the sneaking suspicion that there was probably a corner of the town that already had it out for Munson long before Chrissy Cunningham’s body was found in his trailer.
And it wasn’t that Steve wanted to get into metal, or that Dragons game, or start wearing hand-printed t-shirts and attaching his wallet to a chain. He just wished that even after all the years of monsters, and government threats, and Russian torture, he didn’t still feel the need to hold himself to standards set by other people.
If anyone was a coward, it was Steve.
And there was something kind of…nice—reassuring, even—about the fact that Eddie seemed to feel the same way—but in reverse—about him. Like together maybe they could take the bravest parts of the other and make them their own.
And underneath it all, Steve could admit, was the fact that Eddie was…pretty.
So. Steve was having a bit of a crisis
“Robin, I’m having a crisis.”
“We’re all having a crisis, dingus,” she shot back, slapping at his shoulder with the back of her hand.
“No— no, not that.” Steve started emptying one of the bottles of vodka they’d procured into the half-dead grass. “I’m talking about the whole—” Steve waved a hand over towards where Eddie and Dustin were horsing around. “The Eddie thing.”
“Oh, you mean the fact that he’s been blatantly flirting with you since you got eaten by bats?”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Yes, Robin, I’m talking about the blatant flirting.”
“And…why is that causing a crisis?”
Steve fish-mouthed at her. “B-because…” He leaned forward with a finger held aloft, ready to waggle it in her face. He paused. Frowned. “Well, because…” Steve threw up his hands. “I don’t know! A few days ago the man thought I was a douche. Literally just yesterday he was, like, hot-and-cold trying to throw me at Nancy, while also ogling my chest hair, and now he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and trying to get into my personal space? It doesn’t make sense, Robin!”
“Welcome to the club, buddy.” She raised her brows at him pointedly. And, yeah, that was fair, he guessed.
“And,” He started again, “And– I’ve also got Henderson insisting that I win Nancy back—he does seem to have finally dropped the whole are-you-secretly-dating-Robin thing, though, which—”
“Oh, thank god.”
“Yeah. But, on top of that Nancy has also been making eyes at me, but she’s still with Jonathan so I don’t know what to do about that. And it’s all just a mess, Robs! I’m a mess.”
“Yeah, well, that’s been true for ages, Stevie.”
“Thanks, Robin. That’s very helpful.”
“What? I’m just saying, if you’re going to tell me that I’ve got to ‘be myself,’ and put myself out on a limb with Vickie, while you’re out gallivanting with Helen or Jackie or whoever—”
“Heidi—”
“Whatever.” Robin waved her hand dismissively. “My point is: you keep throwing yourself at all of these girls who only know the old you—even if you’re trying to give them the new-and-improved model—and you haven’t even tried to go after a guy, and I think we both know why. And now you’ve hit the jackpot of what every tragic gay teenager in smalltown America can only dream of: you’ve got someone blatantly, and undeniably into you, who you also like back, and you’re telling me that you’re having a crisis? Need I remind you of the tableau we were treated to back at The War Zone?”
Steve sighed. “I know, Robs. You’re right.” Steve jammed a funnel into the neck of the bottle he was working on, and the two of them kept building molotov cocktails in the dying evening light, as Steve tried to reassure Robin that she still had a chance with Vickie—which she did, and Robin took his mind off his own impending disaster. But, if Steve had even a shadow of a chance of getting to hook up with a guy, Robin deserved to have a romance of her own. As much as Robin was afraid to see it, Steve was pretty sure he recognized that conflicted look Vickie’d had in her eyes when she’d spotted Robin in the store. There was something there, he was sure of it.
But maybe Vickie was like him. Maybe she’d only just learned this new thing about herself. Robin—and presumably Eddie—had had at least a couple of years to sit with this knowledge about themselves and come to terms with it. But for Steve (and Vickie?) it was still so scarily and terribly new. With girls, Steve knew how to play the field. He knew what was expected of him—what role he had to fill. But with Eddie a guy, all the rules went out the window; all of his scripts: useless. He’d have to start from scratch, and build something completely different from anything he’d been taught to want or expect before.
Maybe he was getting ahead of himself, though. Because Robin was right: they had more important things—end-of-the-world shaped things—to worry about. His love life could wait. Eddie could wait.
They all just needed to make it out of there alive.
🎸🎸🎸
Eddie survived.
They won.
Eddie survived, and so did everyone else, and they won.
Eddie kept repeating it to himself, because he couldn’t quite believe it.
He couldn’t make heads or tails of the fact that in the end running away was exactly what he needed to do to make sure they all made it out in one piece—more or less.
He’d walked right out of hell with nothing more to show for it than a few scratches up his sides, and a ring of bruises ‘round his neck. In the end, Steve was the only person other than Red who needed a hospital stay of any kind, because what would have been manageable wounds on day one, had become life-threatening after days of infection and improper care.
A future in a state penitentiary also seemed to be out of the cards. There was probably nothing any of them could say or do to convince the general Hawkins populace of his innocence, but Dr. Owens and his ilk had crafted a cover story believable enough to win over Powell and Callahan, at least. More to the point, though: all charges had officially been dropped, and the case was closed.
Now there was just the mortifying process of figuring out how to move on. Or at least forward.
That was the part you didn’t see in movies. No one showed the recovery. Because what was so interesting about watching someone pull their life and body back together? As though healing wasn’t just as much a part of the story as the falling apart.
Eddie wasn't ashamed to admit that it was driving him a bit mad. Because these kids all seemed to be seasoned veterans at it. They hadn't just snapped back to their relatively-easy-going-but-bitchy baselines by any means—Lucas and Dustin especially seemed incredibly subdued in response to the extent of Max's and Steve's injuries, respectively—but they moved around one another with a care and familiarity that spoke to years of experience.
“How did you do this?” Eddie scrubbed a hand through his hair, yanking at the roots. He and Robin were posted by Steve's bedside—he still spent most of his days semi- to unconscious. And while Eddie didn’t necessarily think it made a whole lot of sense for him to be spending more time at Steve’s bedside than the kids did, Robin was only ever dragged away from him kicking and screaming, and as the newest member of the apocalypse posse above the age of twelve, he was in desperate need of her guidance.
“How’d I do what?” Her typically-raspy voice sounded paper thin, and there were deep, dark circles under both eyes.
“I don’t know—!” Eddie flapped a frantic hand around, like he could manifest words and meaning into being. Something about it made the corners of Robin’s mouth twitch up. “Any of it? You–you dealt with a flesh monster, apparently, and you’re just...walking around on two feet, probably ready to graduate—which is more than I could guarantee for myself—”
“Hey, you will—”
“Not the point, Buckley! The point is, up until this new bout of freaky shit popped into existence, you seemed like you were walking around Hawkins without a care in the world. So how’d you do it? What’s your secret?”
Robin scoffed. “If you think I was walking around without being terrified every day, you either weren’t paying attention, or you’re a lot less smart than I gave you credit for, Munson.”
Eddie grimaced. “Sorry, sorry. That’s not what I meant, I just…you seem like you managed to pull yourself back together—whereas I feel seconds away from total collapse.”
“Yeah, that’s not just a you thing.” Robin twisted one of her rings around her finger. “But you wanna know what kept me upright? It was Steve. I don’t think I would have made it through the last eight months without him. And I know he’s gonna be alright, but I am still terrified that something will happen and he’ll get ripped away from me.”
Eddie frowned. He didn’t think he’d been picking up on those kinds of vibes between Harrington and Buckley, but the way she spoke about him… “Are the two of you, like, a thing?”
Robin barked out a laugh. “No! Not at all. I mean, he is the most important person in my life, and I would both kill and die for him. But, like, in a normal, platonic way.”
“...I’ll take you at your word for the ‘platonic’ part, but there is absolutely nothing normal about what you just said. You two are freaky for each other.”
Robin giggle-snorted, and it scrunched her nose up in a way that filled Eddie with warmth. Despite everything about his…everything, he’d never been short on friends—but it always felt nice to find another one. “Yeah, yeah I guess we are.”
“Mmm…Bobbie? ‘Zat you?” The beeping of Steve’s heart monitor picked up a little speed, and the man in question’s eyelids fluttered open. Robin immediately unraveled from the folded-up position she’d adopted in the hospital chair, and reached out to take his hand into her own.
“Yeah, Stevie, it’s me.”
Steve squeezed her hand, before his eyes started scanning the room—going wide when they landed on Eddie. “Oh. Eddie.” A light pink flush broke over his face, and he averted his gaze almost as quickly as he met Eddie’s. That kept happening whenever Steve woke up, and Eddie didn’t know what to make of it, but it always left him off-kilter in a way he didn’t want or know how to put a name to. He always took it as his cue to leave.
“Well,” he started, with forced cheer, and a shit-eating grin. He pushed himself up from the chair and dusted off his knees. “I’m gonna leave you two lovebirds to catch up,”
“Not lovebirds—” Steve slurred, at the same time Robin exclaimed, “Ew, Munson!”
Eddie just cackled and sauntered off with a jaunty salute.
🦇🦇🦇
Steve felt like he was losing his mind.
He'd been out of the hospital for a few weeks now, but he almost wished he was back there, because every waking second was just a never ending parade of pain and confusion.
Fuck, why did almost dying always hurt so much?
The upside of being awake and ambulatory, was that Eddie had finally stopped running out of the room whenever Steve was awake for longer than two seconds. The down side—which was unfortunately directly connected to the aforementioned upside—was that Eddie was being weird.
And, okay, Steve had an admittedly shallow pool of evidence from which to draw his comparisons from. But the fact remained that Eddie’s behavior towards him pre- and post-Vecna-slaying were worlds’ apart. And he didn’t know how to fix it. He’d tried everything: playing coy, bringing him small gifts, finding excuses to talk to him one-on-one when the rest of the group was gathered together. But none of it seemed to work.
What Steve wanted was to just be able to rock up to the trailer with a bouquet of flowers and ask him out to a night at Enzo’s. But even without the whole recently-wanted-for-murder thing, the two of them going out on what was obviously a date in Hawkins was not only a bad idea, but actively dangerous. And without his typical romance rituals to fall back on, Steve was at a loss as to how to proceed, when the object of his affection was acting so damnably fickle.
“I just don’t get it, Rob. One minute he’s calling me ‘big boy’ and getting all up close and personal, and the next he’s looking like I killed his cat!”
“You have got to stop using other people’s trauma as analogies for your love life, babe.”
Steve waved a hand. “Mrs. Henderson’s not here.”
Robin threw up her hands. “And that makes it okay?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Fine, whatever.” Robin ruffled her hair in frustration. “Maybe he’s just nervous!”
“Nervous! Why would he be nervous?”
“I don’t know, Steve. Why are you nervous?”
“Because I like him, and I don’t want to get hurt again!” Steve shouted, startling himself by the force with which the words came tumbling out.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” Steve sighed. “I mean, it’s not just that, though, it’s…” Steve waved a hand into the open air between them. “I don’t know how to do this, you know? If this was a girl, I’d be thinking ‘oh, she’s playing hard to get—’”
“I can’t believe that’s a real thing people do,” Robin deadpanned.
“I mean, sometimes it really is just that they don’t like you—except that then they don’t keep trying to, like, hang out and joke with you—which Eddie does, he’s just hopelessly awkward about it.”
“Steve. Eddie is a hopelessly awkward person. It’s like a defining character trait.”
“Well he wasn’t with me.” Steve wiped a hand over his face and groaned. “I’m just nervous I misread the whole thing, you know? And if I did, and I ask him the wrong thing in the wrong way…what if he doesn’t want to see me again? Like, at all?”
Robin reached out and took his hand. “I hate that you have to know what that feels like,” she said, soft and careful. “But even in the wild event that Eddie is either a: entirely straight, or b: just not into you, I don’t think there’s any version of him that wouldn’t want to talk to you at all. So you should ask him out.”
“Okay, Rob,” Steve sighed. “Only on one condition, though.”
“Oh, no. Ohhhh, no you don’t—”
“You’ve gotta ask out Vickie,” Steve finished, holding out his hand with a smirk.
“Uggggh, fine. Deal.”
🎸🎸🎸
Steve was acting weird.
He’d been acting weird since getting discharged from the hospital—acting all shy and blushy one second, and then turning around and bringing him a new set of dice the next—but it’d really been cranked up to eleven for the past week.
And, look, Eddie knew he was new to the monsters-are-real crew. He knew that in order to make space for him they had to alter whatever their established dynamics were to fit him into them. But that didn’t account for the fact that all of a sudden Steve seemed to be completely unable to string two sentences together in front of him.
Maybe the two of them weren’t quite friends yet, but he missed the ease with which they’d been able to talk and be honest with each other only a couple of weeks ago. Hell, they’d had more chemistry together down in the Upside Down.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
Maybe that had been the problem all along. Maybe Steve had finally clocked his doomsday-flirting for what it was, and was trying to establish boundaries. Eddie thought he’d pulled back since they'd all crawled out of hell—broken, but alive. As soon as the danger was clear there was no reason to play the bit anymore, right? It’s not like his flirtation attempts had ever been more than a way to liven up what had been an unmitigated shitstain of an experience. Sure, Harrington was pretty, and nice—and there was clearly more to him than met the eye. Eddie had really enjoyed getting to know him over the course of the past few weeks. He wouldn’t mind getting to know him better, if he was being honest. But it looked like the door was closing on that chance if he didn’t straighten things out.
“Hey, Harrington?”
“I thought I told you to call me Steve, Munson.”
Eddie smiled his ‘malicious compliance’ smile and clasped his hands behind his back, rocking onto his heels as he said. “Alright: Steeeve.”
Steve rolled his eyes, but there was a little smile on his face that belied the general bitchiness of the rest of his demeanor. “What do you want, Eddie?”
Eddie spread his hands out in front of him like he was unfurling a map into the air between them. “Just figured I ought to clear the air.”
Steve frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“You know—the whole reason you’ve been all weird around me lately? I figured it’d be best if I put all of my cards on the table.”
The frown dropped off of Steve’s face—replaced by an expression that Eddie couldn’t decipher. It wasn’t…bad? There was no apprehension to be found there. Steve looked almost expectant. Hopeful, maybe. Which didn’t make a whole lot of sense—but Harrington didn’t make a whole lot of sense, so maybe Eddie was just misreading whatever he was seeing there.
“You know it was all just in good fun, right? That it didn’t mean anything?”
The frown returned. “What are you talking about?”
“Back in the Upside Down. You know I was just messing with you, right, man? Just a bit of good ol’ fashioned I’m-about-to-die flirting, you know? Nothing to get all worked up about.” Eddie kept a wide smile fixed in place, tried to really lean into the whole ‘non-threatening gay guy’ vibe—an uphill battle for him, specifically on one of his best days. He’d do jazz hands if it’d help sell the performance any better. But each word out of his mouth felt more like a lie than the one before.
A thin fissure appeared on Steve’s face—a crack that Eddie could almost see through, but not enough to be able to make any sense of what was on the other side. “Oh,” Steve said. His voice was shaking and Eddie couldn’t figure out why. It set off alarms in the part of his brain that was always primed to run at the first sign of danger. “So you’re…not gay?”
Eddie frowned in confusion. Of all the ways he thought Steve might react, that was not one of them. So Eddie forced a laugh, trying to disarm the question. “Oh no, I am a flaming homosexual. I just want to make sure you know that doesn’t mean I’m interested in you.”
The frown slid off of Steve’s face, and the fissure smoothed itself away like it’d never been there. The Steve standing before him was blank-faced as a statue, and it made Eddie want to puke. In all his worrying about Steve being uncomfortable with the idea that Eddie was hitting on him, specifically, he’d entirely forgotten to be worried about Steve being straight up homophobic. At least he wasn’t throwing punches. That was something, right? But Steve was looking at him with such a totalizing coldness behind his eyes that Eddie felt like he’d been left out to sea.
Steve gave a stiff nod. “Right, of course not,” he said, but the words came out wooden. He threw a thumb over one shoulder and twisted on his heel, back toward the beemer. “I’ll just…I gotta go.”
And then Harrington turned his back to him, and walked away.
Eddie didn’t have a crush on Steve.
So why did it hurt so much to watch him leave?
⛵⛵⛵
Robin sped down the stairs when she heard the banging at the door. There weren’t many people who would bother turning up on her doorstep unannounced. Even fewer who would make such a concerted effort to try to knock it down with the force of their pounding fists.
She swung the door open to find a tear-stained Steve standing before her.
“What happened?” She gasped out. Was it back? It couldn’t be back. El and Will had both sworn on pain of death that it was over. Maybe there was a new horror in town? Maybe Nancy had gone missing? Or Dustin? One of the other kids? Maybe Eddie?
Steve cut off the racing of her thoughts with a sobbing gasp. “Nothing, Robs.” Somehow, he looked worse than he had after the Russians. His head was hung low, and Robin could swear there was a shadow of phantom-bruising around his eyes. Like he’d been emotionally decked in the face. He took a step forward to come inside at the same moment that she took him by the wrist and yanked him across the threshold.
“What do you need?”
“Bathroom,” was all he said. And then Steve swapped his-wrist-in-hers for her-wrist-in-his and he pulled her further into her own house, toward the second-floor bathroom. When they reached it, Robin plopped down on the floor with her back against the tub while Steve took up his position with his back pressed up against the toilet bowl.
“What happened?” She whispered.
Steve was silent for a long stretch of time. He turned his head to the side, as though he was trying to look out of the small frosted window high up on the wall beside him. “He doesn’t want me.”
“Who? What? What are you talking about, Steve?”
Steve turned back to face her. “Eddie. He doesn’t want me.” Steve no longer sounded sad—he sounded vacant.
Robin’s nose scrunched up like she’d smelled something wrong, because that didn’t make sense. Robin might not be good at clocking other gay people—she wasn’t that good at reading people, period—but it’s not like Eddie’s flirting with Steve had been subtle. And even beyond that, he was always looking at Steve while he was asleep in the hospital bed, in a way that Robin thought meant something… There was just no way that Eddie didn’t have at least a little bit of a crush on Steve, right? So what had he said to make Steve so certain about that he didn’t? “How d’you know that?”
Steve laughed, half-hysterical, as he tipped his head back onto the lid of the toilet. “He said it didn’t mean anything—the flirting.” Steve wiped a hand clear across the length of his face—chin to forehead—before digging his fingers into his hair. He laughed again. Or—it was more a puff of air, than anything else. And there was definitely no humor behind it. Just a bitter kind of resignation. “And then—he said—he told me he was gay, but that he just wanted me to know that it doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.” Steve covered his face with both hands and let out a broken sob. “God, he and Nance should compare notes.”
Robin could feel the lines carving an angry space between her eyebrows, and a fire in her heart. How dare he? Maybe Robin had misread Eddie's whole vibe toward Steve—but how dare he just trample all over and discard his heart like that? It didn’t make sense—but it was happening, and she had to fix it, because no one was allowed to break her other half.
“Hey Stevie?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light.
“Yeah?”
“Where do you keep your little nail bat nowadays?”
🎸🎸🎸
Let it not be said that Eddie Munson didn’t know how to pull off a top-tier wallow. Ozzy’s pleading vocals were pouring out the speakers, while Eddie was laid star-fished out on the mattress, staring at the ceiling like it might give him answers, and torturing himself with the memory of Steve Harrington biting into the tail of a hell-bat.
Is it me or is it you?
Things are so much different now
But nothing lasts forever
He really should have known that whatever kind of rapport he and Harrington had going was too good to be true. Once a rich dickhead jock, always a rich dickhead jock, right? He almost felt bad thinking that. But what else was he supposed to think? The second Steve Harrinton had found out he was gay he’d turned his back on him. That was pretty cut and dry.
A loud banging at the trailer door cut through his thoughts and over the sound of Ozzy singing looks and glances can't repair, talking could if we'd just dare.
Eddie had half a mind to just ignore it, but there were even odds that it was one of the UD Crew as it was a member of Hawkins’ resident angry mob. So Eddie peeled himself off the bed, leaving Ozzy blaring behind him, and yanked open the door. “What—?” He started, but came up short when he registered an absolutely livid Robin Buckley staring back at him.
Eddie hadn’t thought to take into consideration the idea that the person at the door might be a UD Crew member taking up the role of angry mob members. But Robin Buckley was standing on his stoop looking half-ready to commit a murder. The second the door was open, she shoved past him and into the trailer.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Munson?”
“Wh-what are you talking about, Buckley?” Covering his face with a piece of hair wasn’t enough—he wanted to melt into the floor. Had Steve really sent Robin to beat him up for being gay? That was some next level gymnastics in avoiding making physical contact with another man so that you don't seem gay.
Robin yanked at her hair and started pacing around the common area, glaring daggers into the floor (but thankfully not at him). “What am I talking about, he asks! You really are a medical grade idiot, aren’t you?”
“I—”
“No, shut up, I don’t want to hear it.” Robin abruptly swung around on her heel to rush at him and jab a finger into his chest. “You broke Steve’s heart. And I don’t care if you were never into him—because I know that you can’t help who you like, or love—but you had no right to be so fucking cruel about it!”
A penny dropped.
“Robin. What are you talking about?”
Steve was heartbroken? That didn’t make any sense. He should have been relieved, he should have—
Robin laughed, hysterical, and threw her hands into the air. “I am talking about the fact that you told my best friend who has been pining over you for fucking weeks that all of the very obvious flirting you’ve been doing ‘didn’t mean anything,’ and that you just had to let him know that you weren’t interested in him specifically.” Robin paused to take a deep breath and kept barreling on. “And I get not wanting to lead someone on, Eddie—but even I know that was the least tactful way you could have gone about letting him down.”
Eddie shook his head, backing up toward the nearest wall like a cornered animal, because what Robin was saying didn’t make any sense. “I— I don’t—I mean, I do like him. I thought he didn’t like me! I thought he was straight!”
That brought Robin up short. Her shoulders remained set into a tense line, and her brow was still furrowed in distrust, but some of the unrelenting ire slipped away. “You didn’t—? Did he not—? What the fuck, Stevie!” The last part Robin muttered under her breath.
“Did he not, what, Buckley?”
“He didn’t ask you out?”
“No. What? Was he planning to?”
“Yes, numb nuts! Steve’s been trying to ask you out for weeks! I mean I guess mostly this past week—but that’s because before then he’d just been trying to beam the knowledge directly into your head through your thick skull.”
“Oh, shit.” Eddie’s heart dropped into his stomach as the full ramifications of what he’d said caught up to him.
“Yeah, ‘oh, shit,’ Munson.”
“Buckley—” Eddie rushed over to clap both of his hands onto Robin’s shoulders. “Robin. I’ve gotta fix this.”
Robin rolled her eyes. They were still creased at the corners, but the rest of her seemed to have softened a bit. “Yeah, you do,” she said—all low and serious. “You’re gonna have to fucking grovel.”
Eddie nodded. “Can you help me?”
Robin narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But let me make one thing fucking clear, Munson: I am doing this for Steve, not you, capiche? You put one toe out of line and I’ll go to the Wheeler house and grab one of Nancy’s guns.”
Eddie held up his hands in placating surrender. “Message received, loud and clear.”
Robin nodded, satisfied.
Eddie grinned back. “Let’s go get my man.”
there is now a part two!
#stranger things#stranger things fanfiction#steddie#steddie week#steddieweek2023#steve harrington#eddie munson#(albeit a couple hours past mignight my time but that's just been my pattern thus far)#I don't want to put a steddie fic in the robin or st/bin tags but please know that robin is central to all things in steve's life#including this fic#for everyone who wanted a part two: it now exists#read writes
626 notes
·
View notes
Text
Sooo I wrote a Part 2 for the Everyone Knows AU part of angstfest. (Anything to avoid editing my IB fic right now, apparently)
Part One of this fic is here if you missed it!
Danny sits in the passenger seat of Jazz’s car, leaning his head against the window as his Mom drives them in silence, her hands tightly gripping the steering wheel. His Dad and sister are back at FentonWorks, since his parents insisted it would be best if Danny and his Mom went alone, and it’s been hours since he’s seen any real signs of civilization. The further they travel from home the worse he feels, some nagging sense of discomfort and uneasiness that won’t relent, even as he knows this is to help him.
For over a year and a half, he’s been experiencing fainting spells and blackouts every time there’s a ghost attack. He’s lucky his friends have managed to keep it hidden from his peers at school, since he knows Dash’s bullying would only increase if he knew Danny was so terrified of the ghosts that he fainted every time one appeared. They tried to keep it from his parents, too, with his sister Jazz’s help, even as Danny couldn’t understand why. But every time he thought about telling them in the past, his jaw would lock up and the words would die before he could utter even a single syllable.
Yet now they know. He remembers waking up in the lab, not sure how he made it there, his parents sobbing as Jazz hovered in the corner, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the three of them warily. They said something to him, explained something even as they lectured Jazz, too, about keeping this a secret, but the words slipped from his fingers within minutes, and whatever confession they made was lost to him. But he can remember the fear in their eyes, the way they trembled and shook, and the odd sense that they were afraid of him rather than for him. He can remember asking if he should go to a doctor and the way they paled, adamantly refusing to bring him to anyone for weeks. It’s only now that they’ve finally agreed to bring him to see some specialist way out in Wisconsin.
It used to be that whenever this happened, something would push back in his own subconscious eventually, reassuring him that it was fine, that he was fine, that there was nothing to worry about. It would smother him like a comforter in the middle of a snowstorm, warm and inviting and soft even as it felt entirely too heavy and like he really ought to be outside helping to dig out from the blizzard instead of hiding inside beneath his covers, but he still let it, the embrace too kind and safe for him to push back against. But this time he could not forget, not when his parents flinched every time he entered a room, not when they seemed so afraid even after so many weeks. Danny wishes he knew what he did wrong, what they fear about him, why they seem to almost hate him at times. It hurts, the ache so intense that there are moments when he swears something within him is fracturing and slowly crumbling to pieces, and he hopes this specialist can help repair whatever’s been broken.
When they finally arrive, though, it’s not at a doctor’s office but a massive mansion. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“I’m sure,” she insists as she unbuckles her seatbelt while Danny steps out of the car. Despite the bright colors and decor, something in him uncurls in his gut like a snake, rearing back and ready to strike, and Danny shivers as he fights back against the odd sensation.
The man who greets them is tall with silver hair pulled back into an elegant ponytail tied with a red silk ribbon that probably costs more than Danny’s entire wardrobe. He’s wearing a dark black suit and red tie, and the way he smiles reminds Danny of a crocodile or a shark. It’s as if he’s slime given form and Danny shudders.
“Hello, Vlad,” says Mom.
“My dearest Maddie,” he says, kissing his mother on both cheeks. “How lovely to see you after so long. And what a pleasure to meet you, young Daniel. I’ve heard quite a bit about you.” He offers him his hand and Danny shakes it, barely resisting the urge to pull away immediately since the man’s grip is too hot, like fire burns beneath his fingertips. A small, absurd part of him wonders if he’s the devil, if his parents are planning to make some terrible deal (or admit to having done so long ago given his issues), but he pushes his fears down.
“Thanks, I guess, but I don’t know anything about you,” replies Danny, and the man flinches briefly before recovering. “My Mom said you could help me with my fainting spells and blackouts, though.”
“Ah, yes. Your ‘fainting spells,’” he says bemusedly, as if in quotes, and that defensive, roiling in his gut returns, more pronounced than before.
“Vlad,” says Mom sternly. “Please. Can you help him?”
“That depends entirely on what you mean by help, but I’ll see what I can do,” he says with a small smirk, and Danny bristles even as his Mom seems satisfied with the response. “Follow me.”
The two of them walk through the massive mansion. It’s decked out in Packers paraphernalia, which seems completely at odds with the perfectly poised man in front of him. “You’re a cheesehead?” says Danny.
“Indeed. I’ve tried to buy the Packers several times, too, but to no avail,” he says, teeth gritted, and Danny suspects the man isn’t told ‘no’ very often. He worries what that means for him and his potential treatment.
“What kind of specialist are you?” he asks.
“I am technically a business owner, but I’ve done extensive research into unique types of ecto entities,” he says, watching Danny out of the corner of his eye. “Entities like yourself.”
“I’m not–I’m human,” he objects, and he can feel that buzzing, that comfortable embrace pulling on him, and he tries to resist it but finds himself unwilling to do so for long, and by the time he’s aware once more he’s standing on the stairs to a basement lab, unable to remember what Vlad’s specialty is, what else they talked about or how they even made it here.
“What did you say you specialized in?” he asks, and Vlad pauses on the stairs in front of them, turning to him with a frown.
“See?” says Mom. “I told you already, Vlad, he can’t remember for more than a minute or two.”
“Remember what?” asks Danny irritably.
“That I’m a specialist who can help you with your blackouts and medical issues,” says Vlad, and Danny frowns. That’s frustratingly non-specific, even as it’s almost certainly, technically true.
“So like a neurologist?” he presses.
“Something like that,” he says, and Danny scowls as he follows him the rest of the way into the lab, not sure why they won’t tell him the truth, not sure why he can’t remember if they already did.
The lab itself is incredibly high-tech. There’s no repurposed household items like there are in his parents’ lab, and everything is carefully organized, labeled, and tucked away. In one corner sits a massive portal, and Danny’s eyes widen as he takes in the green swirling within it, recognizing it for what it is. “You’re an ecto scientist?” he says, turning to the man as he puts on a lab coat.
“Indeed, though I specialize in many other areas, too,” he says. “Maddie, dear, why don’t you have a seat over there while I examine young Daniel?”
His Mom pauses, eyeing Vlad warily for a moment before finally relenting and taking a seat at one of the empty lab benches. “And you, child, come here,” he insists, beckoning to him like Danny’s an obedient puppy, and Danny glares as he takes a seat on the bed, crossing his arms over his chest. “I need to do a quick scan. Please lay back.”
“What kind of scan?” He won’t simply do what this man asks, not without knowing more first. Not when even his Mom looks nervous.
“Think of it like an MRI or x-ray. I promise, it’s harmless,” he says, flashing his teeth in a way that’s meant to be reassuring but is far too predatory, and Danny shivers as he looks at his Mom. She gives a small smile that’s not half as reassuring as he hoped even as she nods for him to do as Vlad says, and Danny sighs as he lays down on the bed, letting his hands rest on his stomach, his fingers twisting around in his shirt as he ignores the pounding of his heart and the sweat on his palms.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he thinks stubbornly to himself, and he feels that odd sense of warmth, of a hug from something within his chest and relaxes as Vlad wheels over some strange scanner. It moves slowly over him, hovering for a long time near where his heart and lungs are before progressing, and then Vlad sits down at a computer for a few minutes as he reviews the results, humming thoughtfully as Danny’s Mom walks over and peers over his shoulder.
“Is that . . .?” she asks, pointing to something on the screen.
“Yes. But see this? There’s disconnection here,” he says, pointing to it and moving his finger, and Danny angles his head to try and see what they’re looking at but he can’t, the screen angled away from him too much. He starts to sit up when his Mom looks at him and shakes her head, and with a sigh he lays back down, drumming his fingers on his stomach impatiently. Clearly they’ve found something, and he feels like he has a right to know what. “The pathways didn’t form properly, and if they aren’t repaired, he’s not going to survive for much longer. You can already see the damage to his internal organs.”
Danny swallows, his blood running cold. He’s going to die? He didn’t–he can’t be–
“Can you fix it?” she asks, interrupting his thoughts.
“I think so, but it may be a bit traumatic,” Vlad says, “and with the disconnection having lasted so long, I’m not certain how cooperative he’ll be when it comes to the required treatment. Still, the memory issues are more severe than they ought to be even in this case. I have my suspicions about the cause, but I’ll need to provoke him to confirm it.”
“What?” Danny’s heart is beating rapidly and he’s sitting up now, staring at them with wide eyes, unable to hold back his terror even as he can begin to feel that tug at him, that warmth, but he won’t give into it this time. He can’t. He needs to know.
“I would explain it, child, but you won’t remember,” sighs Vlad as he stands up. “Do you trust your mother?”
“I–what?” he sputters. Aside from it sounding like he’s probably dying, Danny’s still not sure what’s happening here, even as Vlad and his mom do seem to understand, and he desperately wants them to explain it to him, to tell him the truth, for someone to be honest with him just once.
“I would prefer your consent, of course, but you literally cannot give it due to your condition,” he explains, which makes absolutely no sense to Danny. “I’m asking if you trust your mother so she can at least grant it on your behalf.”
His mouth opens automatically to say that of course he trusts her, but then he pauses, the words dying on his tongue. Does he trust her? She’s brought him here with little to no explanation, and like with his sister and his friends, Danny knows nothing about why or what’s happening to him besides the blackouts. They all claim they’ve told him about it before–even this Vlad guy seems to suggest as much–but he hates that he can’t remember, hates that he has nothing to fall back on to confirm that they all have his best interest at heart beyond his own gut feeling. And his instincts right now are diametrically opposed, screaming at each other to reassure Vlad that he trusts her even as another part insists that he can’t, that he shouldn’t, that she’ll hurt him and he needs to be kept safe and he can feel that part forcibly pushing down on his ability to say yes, to let them know they can do the treatment, that they need to move forward and–
Danny blinks, struggling to remember what he was thinking about, what question he was supposed to answer. “I–sorry–can you . . . what did you say?” he whispers, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, and Vlad tilts his head to the side.
“Interesting,” he hums. “But it does provide more proof for what I suspect is occurring. Maddie, dear, do I have your permission?”
“But he–”
“I’m not sure he can,” interrupts Vlad as Danny stares at them cluelessly, not sure what they’re talking about again. He’s lost some more time, he’s sure, but he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t think he fainted or fully blacked out, yet the last thing he can remember is laying down on the table before Vlad prepared to start the scan, and he shivers, rubbing his arms.
She turns to look at him, and then walks over, putting a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be okay, hon,” she says and then she gives him a hug, squeezing him tightly, but he can feel her trembling even as she tries to reassure him. “I promise, okay?”
“I–okay,” he manages, the word choking its way past, and then she walks back to Vlad.
“Maddie, my dear, you’ll need to stay here, please,” he insists, and Mom nods as Vlad comes over with something Danny recognizes. It’s a portable ghost shield, although the design is different from the one his parents use, and Vlad presses a finger against a sensor, activating around them as Danny’s heart beats faster now and the thing in his gut rears back, ready to strike as Vlad’s eyes flash impossibly red and a set of black rings appear around his waist, and–
Danny’s body drops to the table as Phantom emerges, hissing and shrieking at the intruder and ghost before him, tackling him with his claws as his brain screams at him to protect, protect, protect! The ghost puts up a shield, eyeing him lazily as he speaks, his words full of fire and ash even as they sound human, too, smothered beneath the surface of the water. “Enough, child,” he insists, using human words, but he can see the ripples in his aura, the subtle shifts that indicate his intentions, and he pauses with his claws outstretched, ectoblast building between the black tips. “So you are sentient enough, at least, to understand. Can you speak?”
He hisses, echoes and static and chirps as his aura flares in response, letting him know that he sees the threat but that he’s unafraid, that he will protect Danny and his mother from the ghost in front of him. There are no real words, not in the way there is with human speech simply because there doesn’t need to be, his intentions and meaning clear enough for any ghost to understand.
“Ah. I thought not, based on what we saw in the scans,” he muses. Black rings appear around his waist and he shifts, the dark haired ghost with bluish skin and fire in his hands and eyes vanishing beneath a human facade. “I promise I intend no harm.”
The words mean less to Phantom now than they would’ve if Vlad spoke them before transforming. Vlad’s aura is muted this way, his intentions less clear even as Phantom can taste the ash on his tongue as the man speaks, the echo of Vlad’s otherness apparent to him, and Phantom floats forward, tilting his head around as he puts a clawed hand on Vlad’s chest to better feel the pulsing of his core beneath his flesh.
“Vlad, are you–” begins Mom, her words sounding distant and submerged beneath waves. It’s always so hard for him to hear and understand the humans that speak to him, even as he tries since he doesn’t want to hurt them. He needs to protect them. He needs to keep them safe.
“I’m quite fine,” he insists, even as Phantom hisses a warning at him. “Are you done posturing? I’m here to help you, Daniel. Or do you prefer Phantom?” Phantom’s aura flares, spiking and sending a mixture of signals. “You are not helping him.” His claws extend, pushing intangibly through his skin, grasping his core, but Vlad remains calm despite the clear threat. “This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. You are disconnected from yourself this way. You leave behind your body each time, and eventually, no matter how much your friends and family intervene, you will not be able to return to it.”
He turns his head more, floating upside down, his tail spiraling behind him as he considers the words. Vlad’s core is too tightly grasped between his fingers for him to hide his intentions, and there’s truth there, at least as far as Vlad sees it, and Phantom sends a questioning chirp. “You are meant to be a single entity,” he says. “But your core is not fully connected to your biological systems. It’s created a barrier between you and Daniel, an artificial wall that should not exist, and it’s harming both of you.”
Phantom hisses reflexively, showing his sharp teeth as he lets one of his claws dig into Vlad’s core, and the man winces but otherwise hides his distress at the intrusion. “You can’t keep denying it and hiding the truth from your human half. I know you’re trying to protect him. I know you’re trying to help. But it’s hurting him. He’s confused and upset and scared. You’re leaving his body behind whenever you respond to the intruders in your haunt, as you’ve done here. You risk him being discovered, being captured by the GIW or other ghost hunters who, unlike your parents, would not be willing to try to help you. They would experiment on him, dissect him, and ultimately destroy both of you.”
“And it’s hurting him physically, too,” says Vlad. “My scans are showing damage to his internal organs and structures. If this continues for much longer, your human half will not survive. It cannot.”
He relaxes his hand, the words coming out in a whisper of echoes and static, of uneasiness and fear.
Vlad responds quietly in kind, sending an oddly comforting response from a man whose core burns with impossible anger and resentment at the world. “I know you’re worried about how he’ll manage knowing the truth of who he is. But you cannot hide it from him forever, not without destroying him and yourself. Please, child. Allow me to help you be whole again,” he says.
He withdraws his hand, sending out a questioning burst of noise, of inquiry. Because he doesn’t want Danny to die. He doesn’t want to die.
“The integration was prevented due to the interference of your family and friends,” he explains, and his Mom flinches. “Our transformation is not meant to have artificial triggers. The use of the AED to resuscitate you, to fill your core with electricity so it can artificially force the ectoplasm within your body to bring you back, has prevented it from fully bonding to your own systems and sending the spark from within itself to revive your human half upon your transformation. You must re-enter Daniel and trigger the change yourself. You must use the energy from your own core, your own essence.”
A soft, pleading whine.
“You can,” insists Vlad. “More than that, you must.”
He moves from the man, floating over to himself, to his other half, to the part that he misses and aches for every time he leaves to take care of the ghostly threats that intrude on his haunt. Reaching out, Phantom places his hand on Danny’s chest, feeling the absence of breath, the missing life that should be there, and the gentle hum of a fragment of his own core pulsing within, that keeps him whole and alive despite the loss of his spirit even if humans can’t sense it.
And with a terrified shiver, he pushes himself inside, letting him flow into the body, to not merely overshadow and reattach but become one again as he tries to seek the spark from within his core, tries to connect his spirit and body in full. He’s not sure he can, not without the external boost, and he can feel himself holding back, his worry over how Danny will handle the truth about knowing what he is, knowing that his parents almost certainly hate him and fear him, that his friends will never accept him–
“--focus,” says Vlad, and then he feels someone gripping Danny’s hand and he opens Danny’s eyes, expecting the half-ghost, but it’s not Vlad.
It’s his Mom.
“Please, son,” she whispers, tears burning in her eyes. “Please.”
And he mumbles something in response, his aura flickering as he speaks in a language she can’t understand, and he feels her grip Danny’s hand–their hand, his hand–more tightly, trying to reassure him, to let him know he’s okay, he’s safe, that they love him and care about him as he–
–Danny blinks, gasping as he sits up, clutching at his chest. It hurts, like ice and lightning and fire pouring through his veins and he wants to scream even as it feels right, as a bright light passes over him and he shifts, feeling oddly weightless and absent for a moment before they pass over him again and he shifts once more, back to being heavy and human and present. It’s painful and terrifying yet oh so right, and somehow, that makes it worse.
And he sits for a moment, hand still clutching his chest even as his mother hasn’t let go of his other hand, as his world crashes around him, as he remembers who they are, who he is, what he is. As his memories he’s kept from himself in an effort to protect his human half crash back, slamming into him impossibly hard, moments spent in ghost fights and then burrowing himself inside his own helpless corpse as his friends were forced to endure the burden of caring for him and protecting him, and Danny lets out a keening wail that’s neither human nor ghostly in its sound but some odd blend of the two.
“I’m a monster,” he whispers, sobbing as his shoulders shake, and his Mom shifts, moving to hold him tightly to herself.
“Oh, hon,” she says, but no words follow, no gentle affirmations that she loves him, no denials about him being the horrifying creature he knows they’ve seen him as, that they’ve hunted and shot at and threatened to experiment on and–
“It’ll be okay,” she says, interrupting his spiraling thoughts as she strokes his hair. “We’ll figure it out, Danny. I promise.”
Maybe someday he’ll believe her.
#angstfest2023#danny phantom#dp fanfiction#my writing#everyone knows au#electric core au#if you squint#corpse au even if you don't#I want to edit this and post it to AO3 at some point but that will require coming up with a fic title#Sooooooooo#we'll see
189 notes
·
View notes
Text
Stop Asking Neil Gaiman About Fanfiction Challenge 2022
#some of yall just can’t fathom an author who has no wish (nor the ability) to interact with fanfiction of his own works#he’s said multiple times that he’s not allowed to read it nor does he want to#it’s literally none of his business#he supports you writing fics but he literally cannot do anything beyond that#he can’t read it; he can’t interact with it; he can’t reblog it; he can’t do ANYTHING#stop asking#stop askingg#stop askinggg#dear god y’all#i love the fandoms that Neil’s works have created but sometimes y’all drive me CRAZY#Neil Gaiman#please know this isn’t out of hatred or disrespect to anyone in fandom#but it’s disrespectful to Neil to constantly ask him about stuff he’s stated multiple times that he’s not allowed to see#just stick to your own little bubble in the fandom and go hog wild with your fics#and be glad he doesn’t read your stuff#him staying separated from that side of the fandom is as good for you as it is for him#it’s in everyone’s best interest if he keeps that layer of separation#enjoy fics! enjoy writing fics! enjoy reading and sharing fics! but leave Neil out of it#please for the love of god
808 notes
·
View notes
Text
24 hours of Christmas <3
Different haikyuu characters x reader
Warnings: None
Words: ~ 2,8 k
A/n: 24 different haikyuu characters and each will get a ~100 words drabble about how they spend Christmas with you! All soft and gender neutral I think (tell me if I missed something though), no warnings here! <3
5:00 am - Ushijima
"Toshi?"
You sleepily reach for him and grab his shirt. He pauses and turns to you, just a dark silhouette in the dimly lit room.
"Go back to sleep, y/n. I'll be back when you wake up." He talks lowly, but his deep voice still fills the room in a comforting way. Reassuringly, he grabs your hand, and his thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand. "I thought you'd stay with me. It's Christmas." He hesitates and thinks about this for a second. Then, you feel the bed dip under his weight, and he pulls your body against his. "You're right. I should take a rest day. And it's Christmas." He maneuvers your body until your back presses against his chest, his warmth making you feel comforted instantly. His body entangled with yours, that's how you fall asleep again with a content smile on your face.
6:00 am - Yamaguchi
Craftsmen start their days early.
And craftsmen also work on holidays.
Two things that you had to get used to after dating Yamaguchi Tadashi for years now. Your boyfriend has to work the early Christmas shift today, which is not surprising to you.
What you didn't expect, though, was to find a fully decorated table with breakfast and a sweet note when you wake up too. "Merry Christmas! I'll miss you today, my love! Enjoy your present and breakfast and wait for me until I'm home - I want to spend the day with you <3"
7:00 am - Tendou
"Babe," he grins while he presses a kiss against your lips. You can taste the chocolate on his lips; he probably stole a bit or two while preparing all the Christmas cakes at work. "Satori, why do you still have so much energy? You probably worked 8 hours non-stop." You sleepily smile back and grab his shirt weakly to pull him in for another kiss. "The thought of coming back to you filled me with energy. Wanna spend the day with you and watch cheesy Christmas movies. I have a list of the most trashy romances. Wanna get started now?"
You groan and rub your eyes. "Maybe just a short nap? And then we can get started?"
"Okay, babe. But I might eat your special Christmas cake while you sleep." He grins mischievously, and you gasp while you hastily push back the blanket and chase him to the kitchen.
"Don't you dare!"
8:00 am - Hinata
"Shoyo," you giggle while he buries his face in the crook of your neck, feeling his soft hair tickling your cheek. "I don't wanna get up, y/n. Let's stay in bed a bit longer."
"You told me that there is a Christmas volleyball match. You told me it's a great idea to go there." You softly laugh when he whines while he keeps you from getting up. "I know. But maybe it's a bad idea. Maybe we should just stay here." You know that he's not serious, so you decide to play into his game. "Yes, Tobio can tell us about it later, huh?" Hinata raises his head instantly. "No way! Y/n, we need to go. Come!" He gently grabs your hands and directs you to the bathroom, and you let him lead you with a smile.
9:00 am - Nishinoya
"Look at this!" He excitedly points towards a dolphin, and you quickly snap a picture with your camera. "I got it, Yuu!"
If somebody had told you that you would spend Christmas in the middle of nowhere in the ocean, you would have laughed. But here you are, with only Nishinoya Yuu and more fish than you could ever count around you- and you actually couldn't be happier. "Do you want to go diving later? I have all the equipment for us." You grin and nod enthusiastically.
"That sounds great!"
10 am - Tsukishima
"Did you see my glasses, y/n?"
"I didn't- wait, I got them." You fish for them on the table, and he stands perfectly still while you place them on his nose. You smile and press a quick peck to his lips, ignoring his playful snicker after the action. "I should probably get a new pair anyway. My eyes got worse lately." He sighs, and you grin mischievously.
"Maybe you'll get a new pair from Santa tonight? Do you think you've been a good boy?"
He rolls his eyes, and you whine when he squinches your cheeks. "Careful, or else you will not get anything from Santa this year too."
You freeze at his words, thinking about the beautifully wrapped gift that you have spotted under the tree.
"I'm sorry, Kei! Please forgive me! Hey, don't walk away. KEI!"
11:00 am - Sugawara
"Did you-"
"Yes, I put the salad in the car already. We're ready, y/n, don't worry." He looks fondly at you, and you embarrassedly rub the back of your neck. "I just want it all to be perfect."
"I know." He caresses your cheek and looks into your eyes. "And it will be perfect. As long as we're together, it will always be." You nod and place your hand over his, feeling his warmth against your cheek. "Let's go then?"
His hand moves to your hand and grabs it gently.
"Let's go."
12:00 pm - Oikawa
"How does it feel?"
"How does what feel?"
"Knowing that you'll get the perfect present tonight?" Oikawa smiles, and you pretend to think hard for a second.
"I don't know. You tell me?" His eyes widen, surprised, and then he laughs happily. "I can't even fight with that. You always have the best presents for me."
You playfully puff your chest, and he laughs even louder.
"That's why I love you, y/n."
"I love you too, Tooru."
1:00 pm - Kageyama
"Tobio, can you help me with the dress?"
"Yes." You hear him yell, and after a few moments, you find your handsome boyfriend in a suit right behind you. He is quick to move behind you and to close the zipper of your dress, his hands warm and skillful as he makes sure not to twist the zipper in the process.
He looks at you when he finishes, and his gaze softens.
"You look amazing, y/n."
"You too." You smile, and he leans down to peck your lips quickly.
"Let's go then?"
2:00 pm - Bokuto
His hand grabs yours firmly, and you thankfully scoot closer to him. He wraps an arm around you, and you feel warmer instantly. "You okay, baby?" You nod and smile at him, and he grins almost blindingly at you. "You look so cute, baby. With your cap and your scarf." He pecks your lips, and you grab his hand a bit tighter, already getting flustered.
"We have to hurry, though. Or else we'll be late at my sister's." He pouts cutely, and you quickly peck his lips to cheer him up - successfully. "Don't worry. We'll be on time for the Christmas dinner."
He nods at your reassurance and wraps his arm around you, and you cuddle against him while you both enjoy each other's near.
3:00 pm - Akaashi
"Keiji?" "Hmm?" he hums and raises his gaze. "You're reading a Christmas story, right?" He nods, his eyes following you curiously when you simply lay down on the couch and rest your head on his lap.
"Do you want to read it to me?"
He smiles and caresses your cheeks lovingly. "It's a funny Christmas story, actually. It needs a bit of proofreading, that's for sure, but it has potential."
You smile at him, leaning your face into his palm.
"Sounds good. Read to me then?"
"Yes, my love."
4:00 pm - Osamu
His arms wrap around you, and you smile when you feel his chest pressing against your back.
"What's my lovely wife doing here? Smells delicious." He buries his nose in your hair, and you smile while you pat his hand on your stomach.
"Just some Christmas cookies. Do you want to help me with the frosting?"
"Hmm." He nods but makes no attempt to move but continues to hold you. "Samu?"
"Just a little bit longer. Missed ya all day." He tilts your cheek and presses a slow, loving kiss against your lips, and you happily return it.
5:00 pm - Aran
"Have you seen the-"
He stops mid-sentence when he sees you with his Christmas-themed tie. You shake your head with a smile while you come closer to help him with it. "I can't believe you're actually wearing it. It's a fashion crime."
He sighs, his eyes closing for a short second while he probably regrets ever having met the Miya twins. "I'm sorry, love. It's just one night. I'll never wear it again. We can burn it after that."
You softly laugh and rest your hands on his broad chest after you finished fixing the tie. "It's okay. I will not leave you because of a piece of cloth. No matter how ugly it is." You scrunch your nose when you look at the atrocity adorning your handsome boyfriend's chest, and he laughs softly at your words.
"That's why I love you."
6:00 pm - Suna
"You're just like the Grinch." You scrunch your nose and look at your husband. He just rolls his eyes and darts towards the Christmas tree. "If I'm the Grinch, then why are there multiple presents for you under this tree?" You cross your arms in front of your chest and pout.
"Why don't you want to watch the Grinch then?"
"Not wanting to watch the Grinch makes me a Grinch?"
You quickly realize the holes in your argumentation and make an attempt to leave the room in silent shame, but Suna is quick enough to catch you and to wrap his arms around you.
"Nah-uh, no escaping from the Grinch. Come on. Let's watch it then."
7:00 pm - Matsukawa
A lazy grin is on his lips when he bites into the last cookie, his eyes rolling back at the exquisite taste.
"Don't you dare to finish this one alone! I swear to god, I'll leave you! I'll hand in a divorce, Matsukawa Issei! No more Mrs. Matsukawa, just imagine how lonely and cold your bed will be without me!" You playfully throw your hands and give him the most intimidating glare you can manage, and he is quick to surrender.
"I give up. Come here, Mrs. Matsukawa. I saved a whole cookie for you." He grins even wider when he shows you another cookie that he hid in his other hand, and you smile and sit down next to him.
"I actually love you, hubby, you know that, right?"
“Are you only saying that because you want the cookie?“
“…is it working?“
8:00 pm - Asahi
"Come here." He opens his arms, and you quickly join him on the couch and allow him to wrap his arms around you. You rest your face against his chest, and he presses a kiss to your head.
"That was a great first Christmas together." You nod and turn your face to him, only to see him watching you with soft eyes. "I think it was great too." You glance down towards the Christmas sweaters that both of you are wearing, the ones that he actually designed himself and feel your heart swell with affection and love for this man.
A great Christmas indeed.
9:00 pm - Hoshiumi
"I can't believe you beat me at golf." He sighs and falls dramatically back to the couch, and you move around the humongous Christmas tree to follow him. "It was literally Wii Sports. I don't even think the console is properly working." You lay down next to him, and he wraps his arms around you energetically. "No, babe. I just have the best partner ever. Someone who is able to beat a professional athlete at Wii Sports? That's either a Christmas miracle or pure talent."
You giggle and allow him to press a kiss to your lips.
"Maybe both."
10:00 pm - Sakusa
You place the last plate in the dishwasher and finally turn on the machine. "I'm done with the kitchen, Kiyoomi!" You yell and grab a bottle of mulled wine and two mugs.
"I finished the living room too." You hear Sakusa answer, and he suddenly appears behind you in the kitchen while you set a pot on the stove and empty the bottle into it.
He raises an eyebrow and looks at you. "Do you want to drink a glass with me?" you ask, and he nods. "I definitely need it after today." He groans, and you softly laugh. "I'm just glad that I got to spend the day with you. No matter how stressful it was." He smiles and pulls you against his body, and you happily wrap your arms around him.
"I love you too."
11 pm - Atsumu
"Not to be that person, but there's a mistletoe above us."
"And?" You put your hands on your hips and look at your blonde boyfriend with a pout. "And that means we have to kiss." He taps his lips with his finger, and you softly laugh at his cute pouty face.
"No, I meant, and why aren't we kissing already?"
You giggle when he eagerly places his hands on your hips and leans down to connect your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around his neck while you kiss him back.
"Merry Christmas."
12:00 am - Kita
"We should go to bed." You yawn and look at the fireplace in front of you, already dreading to leave the warm spot. "We could also sleep here? I can get the blankets and we'll just stay here?" You look at him with stars in your eyes at his words, and he can't suppress a fond smile at your reaction. "Sounds good!"
It doesn't take Kita long to come back with enough blankets and pillows to make you feel like you're in your actual bed. "I think that's enough, Shin. Just come here, please?"
He nods and quickly joins you under the blankets.
And that's how you fall asleep - wrapped in each other's arms while the room is softly illuminated by the fire.
1:00 am - Kuroo
You frown upon noticing that the light in the living room is still on. Slowly getting to your feet, you move towards the living room, where you spot your husband on the couch, softly snoring despite the brightly lit room. He was probably quite tired after the Christmas party at work that, unfortunately, you could not attend. Quickly dimming the light, you go back to the living room to grab a few blankets before approaching him. You set the blankets down and gently work on his tie- and he suddenly blinks tiredly at you.
"Y/n?"
"Shh, it's me—just let me remove your tie, then we can go back to bed." He hums softly, and when you caress his cheek, he turns his face towards you and kisses your palm.
It doesn't take long for you to get under the sheets with him comfortably, and he instinctively wraps his arms around you, pulling you close.
"Good night, Tetsu."
"G'night, love."
2 am - Kenma
"Merry Christmas, everyone. I'm gonna go now."
He skims through some comments, and his eyes linger on one.
"Where is y/n? Y/n will come tomorrow. If y/n's up for it, we might stream together."
He smiles at the prospect of seeing you tomorrow—finally. It's been way too long. "Y/n and I will just stay at my place tomorrow. Nothing special planned. We haven't seen each other in a while, so we just want to relax and catch up."
His eyes suddenly spot one comment from a user that is well-known to him, and he feels a blush creeping up his cheeks.
"Miss you, my kitty. See you tomorrow! <3"
3 am - Makki
"I can't believe that we played Monopoly till 3 am."
You try to hide your yawn, but he definitely notices. "It was a great gift from me then, right? We should get some rest, though; you can barely keep your eyes open."
"You're right." You yawn again, and he gently grabs your hand, helping you get up. "Come on, y/n. Enough Christmas Monopoly for today. Let's go to bed."
You nod, and he says, "I don't know if you have enough money to pay for a night with me. My cuddles are expensive." He looks at the non-existent amount of money on your side, and you playfully smack his arm.
"Hey! Careful, or you can sleep on the couch!"
"Please, no!"
4 am - Daichi
"Sawamura?" You yawn when the bed dips with his weight, and a rather cool body presses against yours. "Sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you." You blindly press a kiss where you suspect his lips are but only find his cheek, and he softly chuckles. "Let us catch some sleep, and then we'll have our fancy Christmas dinner, okay?"
You nod and press yourself closer against him, happy that he is finally here with you in bed.
"Sounds good."
#haikyuu#haikyuu christmas special#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#haikyuu fluff#I will not tag 24 different characters under this lol#this would take waaaay too much time lol#merry christmas everyone! <3#I opened a bottle of wine and thought#why not?#ENJOY! <3#I hope you like it! <3#it's almost 3 am thooo#I'm really tired#can't even read this properly again#hope it's fine! <3#LOVE YA! <3#I hope you had a great day <3#let me know which one is your favorite! I want to write a full fic tomorrow! <3
73 notes
·
View notes
Text
Part 3 of Flustered Castiel Accidentally Explodes Lightbulbs And Causes Power Outages Especially When Dean's Fingers Are In His Hair
Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4.
Thanks to everyone for their enthusiasm for more parts of this silly lil thing I wrote, I really appreciate it sooo much and you all keep me writing!
This accidentally gained a part 4 I'm sorry ! So the next chapter will actually be the final
Tags for: @dreampencil (thanks again for the initial idea I can't believe how this keeps growing aaa), @mymisfitsbabe , @fivefeetfangirl , @kerryweaverlesbian , @give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back , @mooshroomister as always let me know if you want a tag for the final part!
-----Read on AO3-----
---------
It had happened twice already, and Dean felt confident he knew why: both times Cas had jumped in surprise. He looked like a weird little guy in a trench coat, who frowned too much and hadn’t slept properly in a week, but he had all that powerful Angel mojo stuffed inside, so it made sense that startling him could set it off.
Sometimes if you shook a bottle too hard the cork would fly out, that’s all.
Of course, now Dean absolutely had to shake the bottle on purpose to see what happened.
------
The piles of papers scattered across the long table looked random, but Dean knew from experience that they were organised by a system that only Cas understood. Books were opened onto pages with complicated diagrams and words in languages Dean didn’t know, while more books and papers were piled high in boxes by his feet.
Sam sat on the opposite side of the table with a similar setup – both reading in silence except for the rustle of pages.
Dean placed a bowl of steaming, freshly popped popcorn onto the table between them with a flourish and sat on the edge of the table. “You know what goes great with research?” He grabbed a handful and threw them into his mouth. “Snacks,” he said, slightly garbled from all the popcorn, as he grinned at them both.
“Do you know what goes even better with research?” Cas asked drily, without even looking up from his papers. “An extra pair of hands.”
Dean nearly choked with the force of his laughter, and in response Cas finally looked up at him from over the top of the paper he was currently reading. The corners of his lips curled up into a fond smile.
“Cas,” Dean managed, as he got his laughter under control and swallowed forcefully. “You wound me. Here I am, providing sustenance for you both-”
“I don’t eat.”
“-and you’re giving me the cold shoulder?”
Cas opened his mouth to say something, but Dean jabbed a finger towards him before he could speak. “Do not tell me your shoulder is ‘perfectly room temperature’ or whatever. I can see it in your eyes.”
Cas’s smile grew a fraction wider before he hid it behind a pile of papers in his hands. “Okay,” he said, “I won’t tell you.”
Dean rolled his eyes affectionately and reached over for another helping of popcorn. He paused when he noticed Sam looking between them both with his eyebrows hiked up to his hairline.
“What?”
“Nothing,” Sam said with a soft smile, returning to his book.
So, Sam knew that he was flirting. So what. It wasn’t his best flirting, even he’d admit, but it’s not like it mattered when Cas didn’t even see it like that anyway. Did that make it worse? It’s not like he meant to flirt with him (badly) so much anyway, it always just kinda happened.
Dean ran a frustrated hand through his hair as his gaze flicked back to Cas before he could stop himself.
Cas had his eyes narrowed at the stack of papers in his hands, as if he could absorb the information through intensity alone, and Dean felt a wave of warmth in his chest. Okay, maybe the flirting was happening more than ever recently, and maybe he did mean to do it.
He turned away and picked at a loose thread on his jeans, trying to hide his small secret smile.
When they first met, he’d been on the receiving end of those kinds of stares, like Cas was trying to look inside of him, and see right to his core. Back then he probably could.
Thinking about Cas’s Angel powers reminded Dean of what he’d brought the popcorn in for in the first place. He shook himself out of his thoughts and cleared his throat quietly, making sure his back was to Cas.
Sam immediately looked back up.
Dean pointed over at Cas and then the lights. Sam frowned and shook his head. Dean wiggled his eyebrows and nodded. Sam's frown intensified.
The brothers’ silent argument continued while Cas researched obliviously, until Dean rolled his eyes, and in one fluid motion picked out some popcorn, turned around, and flicked it.
Cas jumped so hard that the current collection of papers in his hands slipped out of his grip and his elbow knocked over a whole stack beside him.
Even through the sound of the pages scattering across the table and the floor, Dean could hear Sam’s disappointed sigh as he made his way over to Cas to help, and plucked some popcorn out from where it had got caught on his spiky hair.
Cas apologised for the mess and thanked him, while Dean waited expectantly and with a growing sense of disappointment.
The lights stayed perfectly normal. Not even a flicker.
But that didn’t make any sense…
Cas had definitely been surprised – he’d jumped like he’d been hit with a taser – so Dean couldn’t think of what had gone wrong. The whole place should have been flashing like a nightclub.
Dean eventually jumped off the table and stooped down to pick up some pages that had slid across the floor, but when he placed them back on the table next to Cas, he turned to see two sets of glares directed at him. He pushed his tongue between his teeth and grinned. “I slipped,” he said with a shrug.
“You slipped?” Cas repeated, his eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, and then the popcorn just flew clear out my hands.” Dean’s grin widened. His experiment had failed, but at least he’d been able to see the Squint Of Disapproval. “Speaking of – Sam missed a bit.” Dean reached over to flick out a rogue piece, but Cas immediately ducked away out of his reach.
It was so unexpected that Dean froze mid-action.
“I’ve got it.” Cas’s voice had a strange, strained quality to it as he fluffed both hands through his hair, far away from Dean.
Something painful twisted in Dean’s chest at how quickly Cas had moved away from him. His hand was still suspended stupidly in the air, so he lowered it down to his side and tried to ignore the hurt – Cas could be weird about stuff, and he had just thrown popcorn at the guy. He shouldn’t read too much into it.
Dean forced out a little laugh at the bits of yellow popcorn still trapped in Cas’s hair. “It’s still there, just let me-” He took a step closer.
Cas flinched back. “No, I’m fine, I’ll use a mirror. Excuse me.”
He left the room so quickly it reminded Dean of when he used to be able to fly away and disappear.
“Maybe we should all take a break from research anyway?” Sam suggested, looking at Dean with a deep, concerned crease between his eyebrows.
Dean stared after Cas, a mixture of hurt and confusion and guilt swirling in his gut.
Sam sighed. “I told you messing around with his powers on purpose was a bad idea.”
“Yeah, well. Give me stick and I’m gonna poke the hornets’ nest. ‘Cause apparently that’s just what I do.”
------
And then it kept happening.
For weeks.
They were never in a room alone together anymore because Cas would leave if Sam wasn’t there. He would stand up if Dean sat too close to him, muttering something about somewhere he needed to be, or that he suddenly had something to do that he’d forgotten about. He wouldn’t even take anything directly out of Dean’s hands if he handed something over, making some kind of excuse for Dean to put it down first before he took it. It got so bad that if Cas spotted him walking down the corridor in the bunker, he would turn around and walk the opposite way.
It was getting ridiculous. And it was driving Dean insane.
He’d only wanted to know what triggered Cas’s powers to go all screwy with the electrics like an Angel sneeze or something. It was supposed to be funny.
He wasn’t supposed to lose his best friend over it.
After the disaster of the first experiment, Sam told him that he wouldn’t help him with anything else, so Dean was on his own, and rapidly figuring out that maybe Sam was right, and it had all been a bad idea.
A couple of times Dean had even considered talking to Cas about it… but then he’d have to admit to trying to mess with his powers on purpose and acknowledge how badly their lack of interaction affected him. He also wasn’t sure how he could talk about how much he wanted them to go back to how they were, without also admitting that he’d kinda like them to be more than how they were.
So, he stewed in silence and hated the rift growing between them. Dean had never really been touchy-feely – the few times they’d hugged could probably fit on one hand – but God it was like… he missed Cas. And he was right there.
He had to get him back.
#I am having sooo much fun writing this even though I'm always nervous everyone is going to stop enjoying it after every update lmaooo#hope you enjoy the lead up to the final chapter!! sorry I had to split them but it was getting Large#please as always let me know what you think!!#destiel#destiel ficlet#destiel fanfiction#deancas#castiel's angel powers#castiel headcanon#pie's projects#my fanfiction#flustered!castiel
157 notes
·
View notes
Text
you still make sense to me
“But why wouldn’t I be?” Eddie asks. It’s not something he has to think about for long – he’s never desired Marisol that way, even though he knows he should. “She’s beautiful, I really like her, why don’t I want to sleep with her?”
“Well, I’m afraid sexual attraction isn’t logical. No one is attracted to everyone, Eddie. But,” he gives a little nod, and Eddie braces for whatever is about to hit him, “since it sounds like you weren’t particularly sexually attracted to your previous girlfriend either, it might be worth looking into some other possibilities.”
“Like what?” Eddie asks nervously.
“Well, it could be that they’re both women, and you’re not actually sexually attracted to women.”
Eddie swallows. “But– I have a kid. I can’t be– I can’t be gay.”
“One doesn’t negate the other,” Frank says patiently. “I’m not saying you are gay. I just think it could be enlightening to examine whether or not you have felt sexual attraction towards men. And if you haven’t – there’s also the possibility of asexuality.”
~
eddie is ready for a new relationship – but why does it never feel right? buck has a lot to work through, and doing that comes with a few realizations.
chapter 1 of 3, 14k
[read on ao3]
#buddie#911fic#buddie fic#911 fic#buddie fanfiction#pia writes#ahhh i'm nervous about this one#please read the tags! i know it's not everyone's cup of tea#lost patience and decided to post part 1 before finishing the epilogue
138 notes
·
View notes
Text
me pretending to not know what tumblr is when my cousin recommended it as a "good writing and blogging platform" (i don’t have the heart to tell her that i have a tumblr and do nothing but talk about anime men)
#she also said it was a Dated app and assumed i didn’t know what it was#in fact everyone in the room was like “ohh yeah that site was around a while ago”#like. HAHASHAHA UMMMMM.#i appreciate the recommendation i just choked for a second .#because yeah i have uploaded writing here but i can’t say i wrote gay fanfiction oh my gof#so i was like Oh Yeah? I’ve Heard Of It Haha!
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hello!
If you view or follow this blog, you know that I LOVE to write, (writings are all here) so I was wondering...
(AO3 is here 🍫)
Also, I appreciate any and all votes! <3
#(trying to fight burnout + i like to know what everyone thinks!)#write#writer#writers#writing#fanfic#fanfics#fanfiction#fanfictions#author#authors#fandom#fandoms#archive of our own#ao3#ao3 writer#fanfic writing#writing community#writblr#writing requests#creative writing#poll#polls
49 notes
·
View notes
Text
im still only on aa2 but by god i am so entrenched in the apollo justice essays on tumblr. i am so excited to play aa4 i can't wait to pick apart this man's character and his relationships with the rest of yall. ive never called a fave a 'blorbo' but He is my new blorbo
#apollo justice#ace attorney#phoenix wright ace attorney#apollo justice ace attorney#im a very predictable creature to everyone but myself bc i fully expected to be super into edgeworth#only to get slapped across the face by a small brunette twink that ive only read about thru internet posts and fanfiction#i feel like im setting myself up for disappointment bc like. the aa games as i know them are Not perfect and i dont expect aa4 to be either#fan interpretations are generally so much further in depth than canon ever goes into#but i was also the same person who was writing kaworu nagisa character essays at 13 and for anyone whos watched nge knows that well. Well#q
23 notes
·
View notes
Text
Whenever I find myself crying about how much I WISH I had the necessary language knowledge to actually write (like, fanfiction and shit) in English I vividly remember that one scene of Georgia from Modern Family and FEEL it because God y'all really will never know just how fucking smart i am in Spanish .fuckers
#couldn't spanish be that one lenguage everyone just fucking knows FUCKHG#like yeah not everyones main language is english but its the one almost all of us understand /and/ can at least kinda communicate with#i would love writing fanfiction but WHO THE FUCKS READS FANFICTION IN SPANISHHHJJJJK#i can NOT write in english HOWEVER IVE ALWAYS BEEN TOLD I DO PRETTY DECENT IN SPANISH !! ITD BE ENOUGH FOR DECENT FANFICS !!!!!!!!! FUCK#born to write those nevermore ao3 stories no one weites forced to NOT BE NATIVE IN ENGLISH#/bangs head#fanfiction#ao3#i hate english#fuck english#writer#fanfic#nevermore webtoon#hazbin hotel#camp camp#jujutsu kaisen#i would love to write about so many things UGHH VAYANSE A LA MIERDA
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
So, there might be a Fractured part two in development, featuring Cortana and AWOL blue team. I’ve written down some ideas but we’ll see where it takes us. Also, Naomi-010, haven’t met her, been consuming my thoughts lately. I’ve seen snippets of her and her books and like lowkey, I’m a little obsessed with her. Who is this women and why has she taken over my thoughts?
Also I’ve got a short story for Jerome-092 in the planning stages after reading something has happened. This man would be soft on his partner, and no one is gonna tell me otherwise, I will take no feedback on this, thank you.
And, thank you everyone on the support for my fanfics lately, i’m glad everyone is enjoying them and it’s nice to see that I’m not the only one in love with these damn Spartans. They seriously consume my thoughts every waking moment, you can ask my coworkers, I talk about blue team a lot, especially John, it’s a problem but they are also aware Linda has me kicking my feet for her.
#halo#halo series#my writing#writing#fanfiction#Kadia chatter#master chief#john 117#linda 058#jerome 092#naomi 010#not me outing myself#for being a Simp#they know a lot about the master chief because of me#life update#or#writing update#i’m sorry to everyone waiting on the immortal she update#I’ve had a setback
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
at this rate, by the time caiti comes back to do her stream, ppl gonna be asking her to check her friends' notes to be sure she has the up to date lore for herself before she gets lost in the retcons
I genuinely did not think this story could get any more confusing. and yet.
#does ghosties even know what planet we're on i mean everything she said directly contradicted everyone else's recounting#is she writing a fanfiction what is going on
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
The One-Way Waltz of the Moth and the Wild Flame (and the Incident of the Authorial Intrusion) - A Good Omens Fic
Written by pokimoko
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: ~25K
Fandom: Good Omens (TV)
Rating: Teen and Up Audiences
Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Nina (Good Omens), Crowley (Good Omens) & Original Character(s)
Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens), Muriel (Good Omens), Original Characters, (who is technically not an original character but I've got to keep some secrets ;) ), Nina (Good Omens), Background & Cameo Characters
Summary: A story in which Crowley does not prevent forest fires, a radio sends out thoughts and prayers, an angel misuses the emergency contact, the local duck population invents socialism, trees are threatened to varying degrees of success, a waltz is indeed played, and an author considers the nature of tragedies.
Tags: Ineffable Divorce | Aziraphale and Crowley Break Up (Good Omens), Post-Break Up, POV Crowley (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt, He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), They/Them Pronouns for Muriel (Good Omens), Crowley & Muriel Friendship (Good Omens), Angst and Humor, Crowley-centric (Good Omens), Canon Continuation, Post-Season/Series 02, Post-Episode: s02e06 Every Day (Good Omens), Pre-Season/Series 03, No Aziraphale Slander Here but it is also Crowley's POV so expect at least some Thoughts, Angry Crowley (Good Omens), Running Away, Both in the Emotional and Literal Sense, Because You Don't Have to Deal with Your Romantic and Personal Issues in Washington State. Obviously, (incorrect: you very much do), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), (even if he won't admit it), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), (another thing he won't admit), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), They're just being stupid, Not A Fix-It, References to God(s), Romantic Angst, America, United States, Fire Lookout, Remember Only You Can Prevent Forest Fires (Unless You Are Anthony J. Crowley), hey is it healthy to repeatedly relive a past trauma to deal with a breakup? asking for a friend, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Fire, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Isolation, When You're Trying to Cope Badly in the American Wilderness but People Keep Talking to You, Radio, Inspired by Firewatch (Video Game), Character Study, Crowley and the Woes of Being In a Narrative That Won't Let You Go, (Fleabag voice) This is a Tragedy, But oh? What's this?, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ambiguous/Open Ending
#good omens#crowley#crowley good omens#aziraphale#ineffable husbands#aziracrow#aziraphale x crowley#fanfic#my fanfic#my fic#ao3 fanfic#my writing#good omens fic#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#gomens#gomens fic#hey good omens fandom. long time listener. first time caller. i thought i'd dip my toes in writing one of my fav characters#going from a 14th doctor fic straight to this was very funny because like. it's the same actor. similar mannerisms. almost the same voice#but they couldn't be any more different. move over 'weeelll' we've got 'ngk' and 'ngh' now#this story was an absolute joy to write. it was so fun getting to write in a style somewhat similar to the good omens book#like the fic is still perfectly angsty trust me but boy was it fun to be a little bit funny with it#also apologies for the long arse title. my brain decided that a good omens fic needed a really long and ridiculous name#to everyone who already knows me: yep. i'm writing a story with radios again. it's either ghosts or radios or both guys i'm sorry#different fandom. same old ideas#i am also furthering my brand that is writing long as heck oneshot fics. chapters? haven't heard of 'em#fyi crowley is literally the only character who shows up in this fic in person. everyone else is pure audio baby#'tis the isolated life of a fire lookout. even if that's the only part of the job that crowley's doing correctly#(the demon is...going through it folks. don't try this at home)
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Professional Horse Trainer, Joel Miller
Ok hear me out...
Modern times, and Joel Miller is a pro horse trainer, you’re his assistant trainer. You, along with his nephew and his friend work under Joel, running the stables while Joel takes clients, and help train long term stayers.
You worked mostly alone at the start, only occasionally working one on one with Joel. But as the years went by Joel saw your value and skill surpass even his nephew’s along with your clearly surpassing common sense development, Joel started having you accompany him on his trips to different states to do conferences or see private clients willing to pay to have him come to them.
It’s been a while now that you’re now his always go-to for trips. Sometimes you wonder if his nephew is jealous. But you kinda don't really care.
Because honestly, long car trips across the flat open plains, sometimes venturing into the mountains just the two of you, getting every meal with each other, sleeping in the rooms next to each other, seeing the other sleepy eyed in the morning while you eat shitty motel breakfast across from each other at the much too small table; being in such close quarters with Joel for days, sometimes even weeks, is the most painful blessing.
Yeah, your little crush on him you had when you first started has only kindled into a full on forest fire.
The first thing that kept your gaze lingered on him for a moment too long was his way with the horses. The way he is with them is gentle, firm but never mean, never cruel. When there’s even a small minor improvement he speaks to them with real pride in his praise as he coos at them, low and soft. You find yourself sometimes shifting your feet when you listen to him praise the mares. You feel a little guilty about the reaction you can’t help but feel when he gives caressing praises like,
Good girl.
Atta girl, there ya go.
The occasional Good job, pretty girl.
His whispered praises haunt you in the dark of night while you stare up at the ceiling trying to sleep. Trying to ignore the pulse in between your legs. Pretend you don’t want to widen your knees, reach your hand down the length of your body, and touch where you so desperately want your boss to touch. But you can’t admit that to yourself. You’ve often rely on just pretending there’s nothing wrong, and it’s seen you thru many situations.
So here you are, lying in bed in the Green Lounge Motel in north Arizona, trying not to think about Joel on the other side of the wall above your head as you lie there. You wonder what he’s wearing to bed. He seems like a underwear sleeper. Your traitorous brain supplies the image of Joel first lying in bed in his underwear (which you have seen him in real life, traveling together for so long means its bound to happen, you're just glad there hasn't been an awkward moment where he catches you in that state...yet.) Then your mind provides the image of Joel lying in bed in his underwear..."releasing steam."
You wonder what he looks like as he takes himself in hand, head against the wall, eyes closed as he groans, fist pumping up and down. You wonder what he thinks about, or if he watches porn on his phone or something. You can't help but to hope wonder if he ever thinks about you.
You have limited info you gained when you were 15 talking to 15 year old boys, that said its more likely a guy you know has jerked off to you even if he’s not really interested in you, than not. But you don’t like that scenario. Joel’s nothing like those 15 year old boys. Joel’s a man.
You used to not get it, the difference of boys and men. Joel’s nephew for example, you could describe him as both a man and a boy. But Joel’s no boy. He’s quite a bit older than you, shown through the crow’s feet by his eyes, and the gray hair on his chin and by his temple. Year by year the silver strands creep further and further. It also shows through his hands, often dry and cracked, callouses on his palm and finger tips both from work and from guitar.
You think about his hands now, squeezing your eyes shut harder, legs clenched tight as if you can block out the ache.
You think about how thick his fingers are compared to yours. About how his fingers would feel sinking inside the wet pull of your pussy. He’d need to start with one, and work his way up to two. The rough pad of his thumb rubbing the pearl of your clit, his fingers inside rubbing at that spot that gives you shudders. He laps at your neck, giving the soft skin under your jaw wet kisses, breathing praise into your skin.
Good girl, taking my fingers so well.
You soaking my hand, pretty girl, does this feel good?
You nod and whimper your approval. Back arching when Joel dips his head to take your nipple into his mouth. His tongue dances over the nub of sensitive nerves and sends a buzz to your toes. Your hand goes to his hair to try and ground yourself at the sensations he's sending through your body.
You’re so wet now that you can hear him fingering you. Fuck, just the thought, Joel Miller fingering you, makes you clench down on him.
“You want me to keep fucking you with my fingers or do you want my cock sweetheart.” Joel asks you, watching you as you reply.
“I want your cock, please Joel.” You’ve been aching for it for so long.
“Ok, but I gotta stretch you a little more, sweetheart.” He husks, pulling his fingers out to replace with his tongue, making you gasp as his takes your pussy in his mouth. He tongue fucks you for a bit before replacing with his fingers, this time sinking a third finger in.
You suck in a sharp inhale as you half sit up, the stretch smarting too sharply.
“I’m sorry darling.” Joel coos, retracting his fingers carefully. Instead he rubs the sting away at the opening in your slit. Circling the muscle and tissue there, as he slowly adds more pressure. Then, ever so slowly, sinks all three fingertips inside your cunt. He knows he's taken his time properly when the walls of of your cunt almost suck him deeper. It makes him smile, your body's eagerness to accept him and take him inside. Joel takes his time until finally he's three fingers, knuckle deep. He picks up his pace, fucking you open. Getting you ready.
Your older cousin once told you, that you have a good guess what a man’s dick is like based on his hands. And Joel has broad, thick and long fingers.
You feel your stomach muscles clench down as your back arches from the beams of pleasure you feel rushing through you. You've grown so wet you can hear the fingers as they stroke around and inside you. Your jaw drops open as you get closer and closer, eyes squeezed shut, practically an inch from release.
Your hear nearly stops when a loud bang from the room next to yours. You freeze in place, heart racing from being so close, you listen for any other sounds. Ears strained you can hear Joel's footsteps walk back and forth. You're guessing something fell, something kinda big from the sound of it. But after that you hear no more.
You look over at the motel's alarm clock besides you. It's 2:11 in the morning, when you thought the lateness would gain you added privacy. Apparently not and now you're desperately trying to remember how loud you were being. You hadn't been focusing as much on staying absolutely quiet when your imagination was running around like that.
You'd come back to yourself with your mouth partially open, to which you close it, feeling dread that you might have slipped up.
Oh god, what if you had said Joel's name out loud or something, you couldn't imagine a worse, worse case scenario than your boss finding out about your little crush by overhearing you frigging yourself.
Your knees clap together as you roll over your side, face in your hands as embarrassment flows over you.
What were you doing? Touching yourself imaging your boss fucking you, a thing that most people would agree isn't exactly grade A morals. You let your orgasm fade out and feel the last unsure thumps in your pelvic floor ebb away, wishing it was getting caved in by a certain someone.
See? It's thoughts exactly like that cross the line.
You slap your sweaty palm to your forehead, trying to knock some sense back into you. You settle on your side, curled in the fetal position, knees pressed tightly together. Eyes shut, you will yourself to sleep. You have to be up early to get on the road to start your journey back to Wyoming. You really hope the next 10 hours of being stuck in a car with Joel won't involve you being extra squirmy, being pent up. You can feel how mad your pussy is, being that close to what had been an impeding incredible finish.
After a much too long of a time, you do fall asleep. Your last thoughts after an overwhelming race of them, was of course the one you spent the whole time trying not to think about.
What had Joel been doing up so late.
#i'm thinking bout sexy older cowboy joel#that shows special attention to you#he's someone you look up to#and he's also a mentor in horsemanship and riding#he'll be helping you out with something#and then theres something...a look#or a nickname that you don't know if you'd like any boss call you#but from joel everyone fills you with delight#joel miller smut#my writing#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel x reader#joel miller fanfiction
56 notes
·
View notes
Note
bestie… what’s the 600k incomplete merlin fic please drop the title
SO glad you asked and also I misspoke. It is actually 871k. THE HANDS OF A HUNDRED WINTERS by FOURLEGGEDFISH. It is in four parts and you both can and should read it despite being incomplete, I have only read 3/4 parts because I am loathe to part with the reading experience of writing this good. This is both my favourite Merlin fic I've ever read and potentially my favourite longfic I've ever read (though hard to assess when it's incomplete and I haven't read it all as yet). It's AMAZING to me that the author has managed to sustain and even increase my interest over this many words, a feat managed by no other fanfiction I've read longer than 400k words ever (and I read a lot of those!). Don't get me wrong it's not perfect, and I do have minor scruples with some things*! I also don't think it's for everyone, my dear friend didn't like it and found it too dark for her personal tastes. But for ME? SPECIFICALLY FOR ME? To quote something I said to my friends 'wells for boys, lads, wells for fucking boys.' I also think it's so immaculately beautifully written that even if it's not your personal cup of tea you should read it anyway. ALSO the sheer dazzling breadth of research that went into this fic is REMARKABLE. I am not joking when I say this author has achieved everything I want to achieve as a writer in this fic. In many ways this is Ur Merlin Fic. The Once and Future Fic. To Me!
*I have minor scruples with almost every fic I've ever read and frankly remarkable how few scruples occur with a fic on this size. There are also scruples I had with things like tone, characterisation or even sex scenes that were then resolved with plot explanations that made sense a mere half a million words later in a quite satisfying way. This fic is a masterpiece in how it threads things like that through and pays them off very handsomely. I know how much blood sweat and tears goes into creating fanfic and I am overwhelmed by the skill, love and zillions of hours that must have gone into crafting this. Nothing but respect for such an incredible piece of art.
#this is what fanfiction should aspire to be. this is the star by which we should all navigate.#merlin#fic rec#arthur x merlin#ask#anonymous#kira for ts#I cannot say enough about this fic you should see my group chat history about it.#again I do have a few scruples or Things I Would Have Done Slightly Differently but like#what is that in the face of being constantly dazzled by the writing. arrogance I'd say. I only mention it bc as I said#I know it's not for everyone and I will state that upfront#but this is literally like to me. everything I've ever ever ever wanted in a merlin fic#and more!#looking back through my chat log on this fic and to quote me#funny that some people will just come out of covid and write a 800000 word cross-era merlin epic#well we all went through things during the pandemic wish mine was half as productive
24 notes
·
View notes
Text
AND IT'S COMPLETED! Last chapter finally posted!
The Torchwood team manages to get themselves dumped into the middle of the Korean War and have to struggle their way through injuries, medical staff, time anomalies, demon hunters, and more general confusion than even they're used to dealing with on the regular in order to find a way home.
Meanwhile the MASH crew get a bunch of British spooks who just may win for being the weirdest patients they've ever had, and that's saying a lot.
#torchwood#mash#mash 4077#fanfiction#normally i only post when i start a new fic but by god i've been working on this one long enough that i want to celebrate finishing it#i am very satisfied with how it turned out and it was beyond fun to write - i really needed something this kooky when i started writing it#and going through afterwards to edit and get all the pieces lined up was an excellent way to unwind#and against all expectations there are actual people reading it? which stuns me? i thought this was going to be a For Me Myself And I sort#of crossover#so to everyone who has ALSO been reading and commenting: thank you - you sustain me you're magical people i am giving you all little kisses#also the number of people who only know one of the franchises or the other... wow i'm so flattered you'd try reading a whole crossover for#series you don't even know#hopefully it was easy enough to follow even without knowing hte other show bc both of them have such bigger cumbersome casts...#for anyone interested who is a MASH Exclusive sort of person - they finally show up in chpt3#it takes a minute for them to get there but i promise you that they do and they get to cause all sorts of problems on purpose
20 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
motherlarkspur
Mother Larkspur
afoolandathief
Something wicked this way comes
miniaturecheesecakecreation-blog
Untitled
susieprobably
Suzie!
steam-beasts
You know what? Fuck you *Gives your engines legs*