#i honestly didn’t think they’d win again
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I woke up to another Team Bolas win?!?! Let’s go!!! That’s my team!!!
#qsmp#look at them go!!!#those are my boys and girls and foolish!!!!#i honestly didn’t think they’d win again
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Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? He opted to hold her hand during the celebration of the Merc's double podium because there were too many people. "Move through the crowd while holding hands so as to not lose one another – and not letting go afterwards". Just something fluff and comfort. Add something if it's not right. Tag me later!! Thanks :)))
sorry it's so short! but I loved writing this fluff, and honestly churned it out in like 1 hour.
also if you have older requests i am working on them, I am just also working on school work.
luckily, all my assessments are nearly done, and holidays are next week so yay! more updates :)
Please keep requesting - y'all have awesome ideas we agree on a lot of stuff :) - my guidelines are here, and if you want some prompts, they are here.
also feel free to come in and start chatting to me in my asks, would love to get to know y'all better
and if you want to be added to my taglist lmk :)
toto wolff x wife!reader
“AND THAT IS A MERCEDES 1-2 TO THROW THIS CHAMPIONSHIP WIDE OPEN AT THE SAUDI ARABIAN GRAND PRIX AND 3 YEARS AFTER WINNING HIS LAST GRAND PRIX HERE, LEWIS HAMILTON HAS WON HIS 104TH CAREER VICTORY AND WHAT A WAY TO DO IT IN HIS LAST SEASON WITH MERCEDES.”
The rest of Crofty’s speech was drowned out by the cheers of the garage around Y/N as the team who had gone so long without winning, especially Lewis’ side of the garage cheered and yelled and as the pit mechanics came back from where they’d been on the fence yelling and contributed to more noise.
Y/N felt a little overwhelmed. She hadn’t really been in the garage since 2021, due to her husband’s tensions during the year and her wish to continue to just focus on her own career. She tried to insist she was the team’s bad luck charm after Abu Dhabi, until people had pointed out that she’d also been there during the dominant 2020 season. And as she had spent 2022 and 2023, which also were not great years for Mercedes, she’d agreed to do a lot more of her work remotely and come to the grand prixs. She insisted that she was bad luck at the first grand prix, and Toto had basically dragged her along to Saudi.
Maybe she was their good luck charm, she thought, as the garage exploded when Max and Sergio had crashed into each other, making both the red bulls retire. The Ferrari’s had been having problems all weekend but no one truly hoped even when they were sitting in a 1-2.
At least until they’d crossed the line. And then they’d had hope. And then the celebrations had begun. Someone had already found champagne and begun spraying it around, no one thinking about the podium, until all of a sudden everyone was and they were all rushing around and Y/N was all caught up in the rush and being pushed around by everyone, trying to find Toto until she felt a hand slip into hers.
She jumped back, not wanting some strange man holding her hand until she looked up and realised that it was in fact her husband who was trying to hold her hand.
“Sorry…didn’t realise it was you.”
“That’s okay Liebe. I’ve got you. Now lets go watch Lewis on the podium, okay?”
The second she nodded in agreement, Toto slipped his hand back into Y/N’s as he tried to push through the crowd again. Being tall and the team principal helped, and as they weren't coming for the pre podium celebrations, which is where everyone else was rushing towards. As the drivers were hugged and yelled at again by the mechanics (honestly how were they going to have voices tomorrow, and how were the red bull mechanics’ voices not very raspy after doing this practically every week for the past few years). Y/N thought she was going to have to cancel her meetings for the next few weeks as she would just be unable to talk.
Toto pushed through the throng of mechanics, pushing through the Mercedes and Williams colours everywhere, trying to get a good position at the front, and then the announcers began, and Toto and Y/N were wedged against the barrier and they decided to stop and watch the podium.
Y/N watched as Albon mounted the podium, grinning to the feral screams of the Williams mechanics to her left. She’d ended up wedged between James and Toto, smiling at James’ excitement on Alex being on the podium. She smiled at him as the noise from the Williams side of the podium celebration. He smiled back, almost bouncing up and down by the excitement of what Williams was achieving. And as Lewis, George and Bono bounded onto the podium, bringing up a round of screaming and even Y/N raised her hands. And as she raised her right hand, she could feel Toto’s hand, still intertwined with hers. She smiled, locking eyes with Toto.
His eyes twinkled as he smiled down, before his attention was brought back to the podium and yelling at the drivers.
The German and British anthems blared out, and while Y/N knew most of the words of the British anthem (it was mostly just the same words on repeat ‘god save our king’). And while Toto was able to sing the German anthem while Y/N butchered it here and there. She loved listening to her husband singing or talking in his natural language. It was very hot, if Y/N had to admit it.
As they left the podium to go back to the garage, Toto had still not let go of her hand as they continued winding between what felt like millions of people crowding the pit lane.
When they finally returned to the Mercedes garage, and walked up to Toto’s office, Toto finally let go of Y/N’s hand and started to gather up his work and laptop to get ready to return to the hotel.
“Hey, toto?”
“Yes liebe?”
“Why were you holding my hand?”
“Well, I didn’t want to get lost, and I didn’t want you to get lost, liebe.”
“Yeah, but why didn’t you let go of my hand when we got to the podium”
“Do I need an excuse to hold your hand, darling?”
“No but…”
“Then I kept holding your hand because I wanted to keep holding your hand. Is that a good enough excuse?”
“Okay Liebe.”
Toto put all his files and laptop in his left hand after shrugging on his overcoat, and then offered his right hand to Y/N.
“Can I keep holding your hand liebe?”
“Of course you can darling.”
---
taglist: @leosxrealm, @pear-1206, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3
#f1 x reader#miloformula123fan#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#toto wolff x reader#toto wolff fic#toto wolff#toto wolff x female reader#toto wolff x you#toto wolff x y/n
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“Oh, sorry. I didn–Oh. Hi.”
Remus hasn’t even bothered to look up before he heard the voice, and for a moment, he isn’t even sure if he really hears it. It’s like a shot from the past, someone he never thought he’d see again. Someone he isn’t sure he wanted to see again.
“Oh. Hi Sirius.”
“Remus, wow. It’s been so long. You look– You look really great.”
“Thanks,” Remus says. “You do too.”
He looks beautiful, of course. He couldn't even have the decency to get ugly in the years that have passed. Not that Remus ever thought that he could win that particular break up battle. Sirius was never going to be anything but beautiful. You’re so beautiful it hurts to know you, Remus had said one night when they’d laid on the top of Gryffindor Tower. He meant it. It’s still true. It still hurts.
Sirius glanced over his shoulder, then smiled back at Remus. “Could you stay? We could grab a table and catch up?”
Remus looks down. He doesn’t really have anywhere to be, but he’s certain he doesn’t want to stay. “I don’t know. I’ve got to–”
“Please, Remus?” Sirius asks, and Remus knows he’s going to say yes. He’s never been able to deny Sirius when he asks like that. “Come on. Just five minutes.”
Remus sighs, fidgeting with the scar across his knuckles as he considers. It’s new. One that Sirius won’t know, not like before when he’d memorized every part of Remus’s skin. “Alright. Five minutes.”
---
They grab the only open table at the back of the shop, a small little two seater that feels far too intimate for the years that have placed distance between them. Remus holds his coffee mug between his hands, letting the warm liquid warm them. It’s close to the full moon, and his joints are already aching. Sirius once memorized every full moon for the next decade. Remus wonders if he still remembers them.
Silence drags before them, carried by the metaphorical elephant in the room. This was Sirius’s idea, so Remus fully intends to let him start the conversation or let his five minutes run out without speaking. It seems like it would be easier that way. It’s killing him not to fill the silence. Remus sips his drink instead.
“Merlin,” Sirius says, a strained chuckle choked out of his throat. “I don’t know what to say now. Sorry.”
Remus shrugs. He could make this easier on Sirius; he won’t make this easier. Why should he make this easier for Sirius? So, how have you been? Where have the years put you? I’ve thought about you every moment since I left. I miss you. I hate you. I still love you. I think I love you more than I hate you.
“What’s it been, ten years?” Sirius asks. “Where’ve you been?”
“Twelve,” Remus says, clearing his throat. “It’s been Twelve years.” Twelve years, nine months, three weeks, six days. Not that he’s counting. “I’ve been around, I guess.”
“I heard you left the country,” Sirius says.
“I did,” Remus says. “I–” he clears his throat. “I decided there wasn’t any reason to stay in England anymore.”
Sirius looks down–shame or regret, maybe both, coloring his cheeks pink. “Where’d you go?”
Remus sits back with a sigh. “Everywhere. No, that’s not me trying to be difficult. It’s just true. I started on the Continent–honestly, it would be easier to name the countries I didn’t send time in. Went down and stayed in Egypt for a stint, then East. India, Vietnam, China. A few dozen countries between.” He shrugs. “Everywhere.”
“Why didn’t you ever come back here?”
Remus huffs derisively. “Come on, Sirius. You know why.”
“I really don’t,” Sirius says.
“There wasn’t really anything to come back to, was there?” Remus snaps. “Not when all of my friends decided I was the spy and iced me out of everything.”
Sirius looks away, picking at the sticker on the outside of his coffee cup. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
Remus isn’t sure it’s worth anything. Or maybe it’s worth everything. Maybe it’s been so long it doesn’t even matter anymore. “Yeah, well.”
The silence returns, throwing its weight about in a space that once would have been filled with laughter. It’s a terrible reminder of what they once were, of what they no longer are. Remus considers whether there’s some way he can get up and leave now, or whether standing and walking away without a further word would be rude.
“What brought you back now?” Sirius asks quietly.
“Dumbledore,” Remus says. “Apparently traveling the globe as a freelance beast and creature control specialist makes you particularly well suited to teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he’s in need of someone.”
“You’re going to teach Defense?” Sirius asks, clearly surprised. That burns Remus. What right does he have to be surprised? Why would he doubt that Remus is capable of doing this?
Remus huffs. “Of course, that’s what would surprise you. I’m capable, thank you so very much, and despite your beliefs a decade ago, I didn’t study the Dark Arts any more than you did.”
“Remus, that’s not what I meant–”
“No, you know what, I think my five minutes are up here,” Remus says, standing swiftly. “I have to be off. Got lots to get done before the semester starts. Goodbye, Sirius.”
Remus walks out, despite Sirius’s protests, and apparates as soon as he gets to the alley behind the coffee shop and away from muggle eyes.
#Wolfstar#snitchwrites#do I know what this is?#no#Will there be more of it?#who knows.#things that demand to be written#professors marauders
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heard you can't stop writing phantom... may I offer a little idea then?
I think he's an absolute sex crier, like, he doesn't even know why and he can't control it, he's just always crying
its not just his eyes watering, it's fucking waterfalls and body shaking sobs. he scared every ghoul during their first time together, thinking they did something very wrong
that's why someone (swiss, please, swiss) just... carries on when phantom starts crying one time they're having sex. he doesn't realise, at least at first, that this is an actual crying, like there's a problem crying...
and then idk what happens, do with that what you will (/nf ofc) hehehe
This was meant to be a couple of bulletpoint Headcanons but it turned into this…
i feel like there should be some kind of warming here but I’m not sure what? Withdrawing consent? Freezing during sex? Nothing bad happens but if you’re sensitive to that kind of thing then be careful.
Phantom was emotional. Everyone discovered that pretty quickly. It didn’t take much to make tears ruin down his cheeks, puppies, kitten, whenever Dew falls asleep curled up, that one tiny spoon in the kitchen he insists is ‘cute’. Any type of film, doesn’t matter if the ending is sad or happy, it’ll have him sobbing for at least an hour. He cries. And he’s not ashamed of it.
During sex it’s the worst. He’d managed to give a few of the ghouls warning before hand that he’ll most definitely cry, but he’d forgotten with some which led to some awkward moments but they all soon got use to it. In fact, They’d all made it into a competition to see who could get him to cry the most. Mountain was winning, followed by Cumulus, which everyone pretends to shocked at.
So when Swiss see tears flowing down Phantom’s cheeks he doesn’t think anything of it. He had the little ghoul on his back, his legs around his shoulders, feet lock behind his head as Swiss pounded deep into him. Phantom had his tail curled tightly around Swiss’ thigh. The tears had stared about thirty second after Swiss had pushed into him and honestly Swiss was impressed he’d lasted that long. Normally the waterworks started about ten seconds into someone kissing him.
But this time was different, Phantom had changed suddenly. He wasn’t hard anymore but that wasn’t always unusual but the tail curled around Swiss’ thigh was too tight, his body was too stiff, he wasn’t arching into Swiss like he normally was. He was gripping the sheets below him but it was different to usual, his face was scrunched up in a pained expression and each roll of Swiss’ had a flash of a grimace on his face. The normal sweet sounds were replaced with…nothing, no gasps, or moans, he was just silent as far tears rolled down his cheeks.
Swiss slowed his thrusts, running a gentle hand down Phantom thigh that’s resting against his belly. “Hey, you doing okay, bug?”
He gets no response from Phantom except more tears leaking from his eyes.
More alarm bells ring in the back of Swiss mind as he stops completely, squeezing at Phantom's hip bone probably a little harder then necessary.
“Hey, hey Phantom? Can you look at me? I need to know you’re okay.”
Phantom’s eyes flick to Swiss’ as he makes eye contact with him Swiss can feel his heart shattering in his chest at the pained, almost panicked expression on Phantom's face.
He rubs at his hip again, a little more gently this time.
“Phantom, do you want to stop?”
Phantom’s whole face crumbles as he nods.
Swiss pulls out immediately but carefully not wanting to possibly hurt Phantom more then already might be. He wasn’t sure what make Phantom want to stop but if he was hurt he wasn’t about to make it even worse.
Phantom’s whole body deflates onto the mattress when Swiss pulls out, letting out a harsh gasped sob as he curls in on himself.
Swiss immediately shuffled up to the end of the bed, to where Phantom’s head is and strokes a gentle finger down the back of his hand so the ghoul knows he’s there.
“Can I touch you? Can I hold you? Is that okay?” He keeps his voice to a soft whisper, not wanting to possibly scare him any more.
Phantom doesn’t reply verbally but he practically throws himself at Swiss. Luckily for him Swiss catches him and cradles him into his lap. Swiss moves to sit against the headboard of the bed, pulling Phantom into his neck as he wracks a sob, a stream of tears flowing dow his cheeks.
“I’ve got you, I’ve got you. You’re safe, baby bug.” Swiss rocked them gently from side to side, whispering little praises into his ear and running a hand through his hair, scratching around the base of his horns.
“It’s okay. Let’s it all out, baby bug. You did so well, I’m so proud of you.”
Eventually, with the help of Swiss’ kind praise and soft touches, Phantom’s sobbing subsides to little gasp like hiccups. He snuffles into Swiss neck, nosing at his scent glad letting the comforting smell of Swiss wash over him with a small hum.
Swiss kisses at his forehead, wiping away form of the stray tears on his cheeks.
“You back with me? You okay?”
Phantom nods, feeling a little more like himself now.
Swiss is still rocking them gently as he rubs at Phantom’s back. “Can you tell be what happened there?”
Phantom shrugs a little, clearing his throat. “I-don’t know? I just- didn’t want it anymore?”
Swiss gives him a squeeze around his waist.“Then why didn’t you say anything?” He lets out a sign. “You can say no, you can say stop, to me-to anyone, and it’s okay.”
Phantom feels his bottom lip wobble as more tears well in his eyes. “I wanted too! But- I just- I froze! It was like I couldn’t move or speak, but I wanted to tell you to stop.”
Swiss squeezes him even harder.
“Oh, darling. I’m not mad at you, I promise. I just want to keep you safe.”
Phantom nods into his neck but it’s too late, fresh tears are already running down his face. Swiss coos at him, picking up his rocking from before. “How about, I check in with you more? And I can tell the other to as well, so we don’t have you freezing up like that again? Would that be easier? Maybe we can have a code, like you pinch someone’s thigh three times if you want to stop?”
Phantom sniffs and nods. “That would be good, I think. We can try that?”
“We can try whatever you want, baby bug.” Swiss kisses at his forehead again. “Hey, I think there might be some of Dew’s fancy expensive chocolate ice cream hidden at the back of the freezer, I’m sure we can steal it without him noticing. And if he does notice we can blame Mountain.”
Phantom let’s out a giggle, nodding onto Swiss neck. “That sounds nice, but can we just cuddle for a little bit longer, don’t want to let you go yet?”
Swiss hooks a finger under Phantom's chin, tilting his head back so he can look at him and presses his lips to Phantom’s in an overly sweet kiss. “Anything you want, baby bug. Anything you want.”
#thanks for the ask!#ficlet#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#ghost headcanons#swiss ghoul#phantom ghoul#my writing
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After Party // sfk
Summary: A night of celebration for the band.
Word Count: 1.2k
Warnings: fluff, a smidge of pda
A/N: just a short feel-good piece to get back into the swing of things. i loved writing this, so i hope you all enjoy.
You hated not being there for him.
Of course, you would have showed up if you could have, but this event was fairly strict about who they had in attendance. They only allowed nominees to bring their spouses, and refused to make an exception for you.
Just like you had refused to agree to Sam’s suggestion of eloping, just to appease the event’s organizers.
But seeing him now, you almost wished you would have given in to his request, if only to be beside him.
Up to this point, it seemed as if he had always been the album’s number-one advocate. Upon its release, there was a constant flow of press requests. Articles that needed to be written, phone calls to be had, and interviews to be conducted. No matter the format, Sam was usually the one to accept, and he always had the best things to say about Starcatcher.
He was obviously very proud of the album. There were undertones of confidence in each answer he gave on the band’s behalf, every single time. He knew that he and his brothers had created something monumental.
It was like all of that confidence was snuffed by a sense of uncertainty, now.
As the camera panned to him, sitting beside his brothers, you noticed his leg was bouncing. Hands flat on his knees, but his fingers fidgeting with the seam of his pants. He was nervous, and so was everyone he was close to.
The family and friends of the band had arranged an “after party” of sorts, something small and private to celebrate the boys and their achievements through the years. Even if they didn’t win this Grammy, everyone wanted them to feel proud of how far they’ve come.
So you all crowded in a restaurant a few blocks from the event’s venue, waiting patiently for them to arrive after the fact. For now, you all watched the fuzzy TV screens placed around the restaurant, and waited for the results of the night.
They had some tough competition. Metallica, Foo Fighters,... all big names in the world of rock music. But as the presenters began to open the envelope in their hands, you had a feeling… something deep inside you telling you that they had a chance.
You just wished you could share an inkling of that feeling with your golden boy on the screen.
Before the announcers could finish pronouncing the band’s name, the mothers of the boys were the first to exclaim their celebrations. They immediately embraced each other in a tight hug, and you could only chuckle watching them share the moment of joy. Everyone cheered loudly with one another, and for a moment, you hoped that those four guys could hear the sound over everything else.
–
The establishment was bustling with energy and excitement. So much so, that you were satisfied to stick to the back of the restaurant, watching everyone from afar while snacking on the appetizers ordered for the party. You gave everyone their space, knowing that once the boys arrived, their immediate families were to be the first to greet them. They’d find you eventually.
And so they did.
Danny was the first to be able to break away from everyone else, rushing over to you as soon as he was able to. The hug was immediate, and you honestly didn’t remember standing up to do so.
“I’m so proud of you guys, Dan,” you were able to wheeze as his arms locked around you tightly.
You could feel his smile widen, as if he were still a bit speechless. His embrace tightened slightly for a moment, and while it felt good to be close to him again, you wished it was someone else hugging you this tightly.
The huff of a laugh that he let out could be felt against your neck before he spoke. “He’s been looking for you.”
Pulling away slightly, you raised an eyebrow at Danny, not understanding what he meant. “What?”
“Sam,” he answered with a smile. “I think he fully believed that you’d find some way to sneak into that venue. He took at least seven ‘bathroom breaks’ to wander around and try to find you.”
At first, you scoffed. But you couldn’t help but giggle slightly at the image of him walking through the empty halls and checking every exit to see if you had come. “He knew that that’s impossible-”
“I know, I know.” Danny nodded, smiling down at you. His voice was soft, his expression unreadable. “He just really wished you could’ve been there.”
“Me too…” you agreed, right before the drummer decided to hug you again, thanking you for all of your support. Over his shoulder, you could see your boyfriend still talking with his family, his joy obvious. As much as you wanted to go over to him, you also enjoyed watching him from across the room. You let yourself admire him for a moment, finding contentment with seeing him so happy.
You engaged in conversation with Danny once he pulled away, receiving the “behind-the-scenes” version of the night. You heard all about the nerves, the jokes cracked, predictions made. You even heard about how each of them voted for Jake to give the acceptance speech, despite him being the most soft-spoken of the group. The exchange was only interrupted by a few people wanting to greet and shake hands with Danny. Until you heard a more familiar voice come up from behind him.
He almost seemed nervous as he spoke over the chatter in the restaurant. “Hey, Daniel. Have you seen-?”
He stopped mid-sentence when Danny had turned around to face Sammy, now seeing you looking right back at him. It was like every muscle in his face softened at the sight of you, tension rolling away from him the moment he knew you were there. And as his form of greeting you, he pushed past his best friend and hugged you tightly.
“You did it, Sam,” you murmured against him, breathing in his scent. “I’m proud of you.”
He only pulled away enough to pepper your face with kisses, knowing it would lead to a fit of giggles from you. Also knowing he had been longing to hear your laughter again for far too long.
One last kiss to your cheek before he paused to look at you with wonder, eyes scanning your face as if it were the first time he had ever seen you. “I missed you.”
“I know… I missed you, too,” you responded, a warm blush spreading across your cheeks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”
“This is exactly why we should’ve eloped,” he teased. Although it had started as a joke, you knew that he wouldn’t have minded the idea at all, if that’s what you wanted. Still, you rolled your eyes at the suggestion before he continued. “It’s not like we don’t still have time. Or… we could start planning an actual wedding.”
A shrug and smirk are all you can manage before closing the space between you again, sighing against his lips. “We’ll see.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @weightofdreamz @gretavancreep @joshkiszkas @streamsofstardust @gretavanflipflop @stardustingold @tripthelight-fanfic @gmolszewski @the-chaotic-cow @hippievanfleet @doodle417 @gretavanfleas @myownparadise96 @jakeyboiiiiiii @jakeydoesit @fan-girl-97 @welightthefire @maedesculpaeusoubi @josiee-gvf @brokenbellz @sammysvanfeet @streamingcolors-gvf @groggyvanfleet @sammyslappers @agirlwithmanytastes @teddiie @gretavansteph @sammiejane22 @gvfvanfleet @gretavanbitches @alexxavicry @spark-my-nature @gardensgatedaisy @andromeda-raine-gvf @joshkiszkatoothgap @gretasimp @wingedgardener2000 @sc203
#gvf#greta van fleet#gretavanfleet#josh gvf#josh kiszka#sam gvf#sam kiszka#sammy kiszka#sammy gvf#jake gvf#jake kiszka#gvf fic#danny wagner#daniel wagner#danny gvf#daniel gvf#gvf fluff#sam kiszka fluff#sammy kiszka fluff#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet fluff#greta van fluff#ageofnations
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A Desperate Fool pt 2
written for @steddiemicrofic
Prompt: 'top' | wc: 510 | rated: T | cw: hurt/no comfort (comfort is coming I promise!), mentions of child abandonment, breakup fic, AU-Modern Rockstar!Eddie
This is a direct follow-up to my April submission A Desperate Fool
~~~
“Hey, Teddy Bear!”
Eddie quickly scans for the voice piercing the buzzing swarm of paparazzi outside his home. It’s a cold winter night, yet after his public outburst with Robin a week ago and the ensuing onslaught of viral videos, they never seem to leave. Attention that used to have him feeling on top of the world now only leaves him feeling like the scum of the earth.
The overtly personal nickname rings through his memories, filling him with hope and dread in equal measure.
If I’m your baby, Eds, then you’re my Teddy Bear.
A swath of red hair and a high fade catch his gaze against the light snowfall. The boy’s usual charming smile’s been replaced with a cold stare, while she’s actively scowling. Eddie rushes through the crowd, excited to see them after so long despite the circumstances. He pulls them into the safety of his home, slamming the door behind them.
“Did you honestly think Steve was the only person you abandoned?” Max asks, before Eddie can even say hello.
Abandoned. A low blow, throwing Eddie’s childhood in his face, at least before he was adopted in all but name by the Wheeler’s. But coming from Max, he thinks maybe it’s fair play. She’s always been more Harrington than Mayfield, Lucas too. Out of the bunch, they’ve always been Steve’s kids.
“Mike had to go back to therapy! Nancy actually cried,” she spits, pacing the foyer while Lucas stands stoic by the door.
“I didn’t think they’d-” Eddie starts before he’s interrupted.
“What? That your family wouldn’t be upset, feel as betrayed as Steve?” Lucas finally speaks up. “So when you bragged about outgrowing your roots, that wasn’t supposed to mean us too?”
Eddie shrinks in on himself. He’s being admonished in his own home, and he knows he deserves it. He knows, truly. He just can’t handle the overwhelming aches of guilt and regret, which pang louder with each disappointed loved one. Another reminder he’d surrounded himself with people who only care about Metal Munson.
He’s foolishly desperate to win back his family, people who loved him for himself. He wants to be Eddie again. His baby’s Teddy Bear.
“What-” he tries again, forcing words around the growing knot in his throat and watery eyes. He’s cried so much lately. “Why are you here?”
Max eyes him skeptically, glancing at Lucas and sharing a look Eddie can’t decipher. They make a silent decision, and she moves to stand by her husband at the door.
“Steve’s getting married this summer,” she states, like it’s nothing. Like it’s not the end of Eddie’s world.
The tears fall, then. He loses control of a sob before he gets his voice back. “To who?” he pitifully asks, pretending he actually wants to know.
“You don’t know her,” Lucas replies.
Her. Her. Herherherher.
“Oh,” Eddie says softly. He can’t stop shaking, or is the earth quaking beneath him.
Max sighs, sympathetic, and rips his world open further still.
“Steve wants to talk, but you’ll have to get through Nancy first.”
~~~
I SWEAR it's gonna get better!!! Some solid Eddie and Nancy comfort coming up next. Think I might keep adding on to this fic via prompts only but we'll see.
#eddie is officially a wheeler sibling in this fic#hurt/no comfort (but the comfort IS IN FACT on it's way)#rockstar eddie munson#modern au#steddie breakup#eddie munson whump#steddie microfic#steddie ficlet#steddie prompt#eddie munson#hurt/no comfort#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#lumax#steve and max#steve and max is still my favorite thing#QueenieWritesStories
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Snakes on a Thunderbird
For @godsliltippy for TAG MiniBang 2023 (@tagminibang)
Inspired by this adorable piece of Fishtank art here. (@tippystreasurebox)
Trigger warning for snakes. Also brief mention of animal neglect, plus some minor whump and peril.
As Virgil went through his post-flight checks, Gordon twisted and revelled in the several satisfying pops his back made.
“Oh god, that is so much better! Want me to crack yours for ya, Virg?”
There was a grumble of disapproval from his right.
“I’ll pass thanks. Hearing yours was an experience in itself. In fact…”
His brother reached over and snagged the small metal box Gordon had been carrying on his lap.
“...perhaps I’d better take that before you do yourself any more damage.”
Gordon rolled his eyes and snatched the box back with perhaps just a little too much snap.
“Right Virgil(!) ‘Cos hauling passengers and crates off of a sinking ship was fine, but this last hundred yards to the rescue centre is where things gets really tricky(!)”
The rescue hadn’t really been all that bad physically. The crates in question had been lighter than expected, though that was because apparently properly feeding the various animals inside had clearly not been much of a priority for the smugglers on board; about as high as safety and ship maintenance had been. And although Gordon’s back was definitely starting to twinge a bit now, he’d have been a lot happier to be a lot achier if it meant those poor creatures had been treated right.
Well, whatever. He’d stayed professional. …Mostly. That Johnny hadn’t mentioned his little brother's prolonged blue streak ricocheting over the comms was likely a sign that he’d felt the same way.
The fact the GDF were already briefed and waiting with an arrest warrant the second they’d touched down was probably another one.
A yellow light broke through his thoughts and dragged him back to the present. He batted the medi-scan away with a grunt.
“Would you quit it, Virg? I’m fine.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
Gordon opened his mouth, ready to deliver a witty yet devastating retort, but then thought wiser of it. Better to just let the big guy get it all out of his system. He'd only worry otherwise, and a worried Virgil was a pain in the backside, especially with the flight home and debrief to get through. He closed his mouth and submitted to the inevitable with a huff.
Virgil for his part stayed quiet too as he completed the scan; once it was done, he continued to look Gordon over with the practised eye of both a medic and a big brother.
“Well, Doctor Virgil? Are you done? Can we go now?”
Another moment of scrutiny. Then:
“You know today was a good day, right?”
Dammit. The big green angst-detector strikes again.
Gordon really didn’t want to talk about it now.
“Whatever you say, bro.”
“I mean it,” Virgil insisted. “You’ve said it yourself - this shelter is the best. They've got the facilities and the expertise; they’ll take good care of all these guys, big and small. And the GDF will make sure the people that did this get what's coming to them."
“Uh-huh.”
"Gordy, the good guys won. Take the win.”
Honestly it didn’t feel like a win. Not even a tiny one. The memory of all those sad little eyes was too raw. It was going to take a lot for it to fade into the background, and he just didn't have the energy right now. All he wanted was to get everything unloaded, go home, swim ‘til he couldn't think anymore and then crawl into bed and sleep for 12 hours.
"Virg, could we please do the pep talk another time? The shelter staff are waiting for us."
A little frown appeared on his brother's brow, but he sighed and nodded.
"Are they all okay in there?” Virgil asked instead, nodding at the box balancing on Gordon’s dashboard.
It was an obvious change of subject, but a welcome one. Gordon gave the portable incubator a protective little pat.
“Should be. I candled them earlier and they look good. Not pipped yet, but I think it should be soon.”
He blinked as a sudden thought occurred.
“Actually," he said as he opened the incubator lid and retrieved the covered tray inside, "I’m just gonna check they’ve not been turned mid-flight. I’ve been holding them steady the whole way over, but you never know.”
“I thought you were supposed to turn eggs?” said Virgil with a hint of confusion. He leaned across to watch what Gordon was doing. "Grandpa said it stopped the embryo getting stuck."
“That’s for birds. Snakes are different. All the little veins and stuff are fragile; you flip the egg, the umbilical cord tears away and they die.”
Gordon gingerly lifted the lid and peered inside.
"Of course, these guys are almost ready to hatch so I don’t know how much of that appli-”
But the rest of his thought died on his tongue as he lifted the lid and took a look inside.
A beat.
“What?”
“Erm, not sure. Hang on a sec…” Gordon gently slid the eggs to one side of the tray and running his gloved hands very carefully in the sandy substrate below.
"Where are you?" he muttered softly.
"Where's what?" Virgil quickly jumped to his feet, unease radiating from every pore.
"One of the eggs must have hatched in transit," explained Gordon, still rifling through the soft gravel, looking for any flash of movement. "Once the shell breaks they usually take a few hours to come out, but I guess with all the jiggling…"
"Okay, so presumably there should be a snake in there then. Where’s the snake, Gordon?!"
Gordon kept digging, slightly more urgently.
"Some snakes bury themselves down into the substrate after hatching - it’s a kinda protection thing. They wait there for their first shed, then they come out looking for food."
Virgil reached out gingerly over Gordon's shoulder and picked up the soft and clearly empty egg shell, complete with a neat split down the middle. He held it softly in his hands, turning it over and over as if he might find the wayward snake still clinging to it somewhere.
"Exactly what sort of snakes are these, Gordy?" he asked slowly, deliberately.
"Umm…”
“Gordon!”
“I don’t know! I’m not a snake expert, and you can only tell so much from just the eggshell anyway.”
He set the tray onto the dashboard and started checking inside the incubator itself, just in case. He could feel heat starting to rise across his cheeks.
“Gords, could it be… poisonous?”
Gordon swallowed back the sour taste in his mouth.
“I don’t know.”
There was a moment of horrible silence as those words sunk in. Of course, the chances of the snake being venomous were slim - only about 10-15% of known species were after all - and in any event their uniforms were designed to withstand pretty much anything, but there was still that tiny sliver of doubt in his mind. Was Brains far-sighted enough to have considered snake fangs as a variable during the testing phase?
Virgil took a step back, eyes darting everywhere, and tapped his wrist controller.
“I’m not picking anything up. John? Any chance you could run a sweep of the cockpit for… uh… unusual heat signatures?”
“Unusual?”
John’s projected image leapt out of the dashboard holo’ right in front of Gordon’s face, causing him to almost fall off his chair.
“What sort of unusual?”
Virgil cleared his throat in a far-too-obviously guilty way.
“We’ve kind of… misplaced something.”
“O-kaaay… What sort of something?”
Gordon opened his mouth to say… Actually he wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but in any case Virgil got there first.
“Can you just do it please, John?” he asked, brow furrowed. "Now?"
The look John shot them both could have stripped paint, but he turned away and started swiping.
“No unusual readings found,” he said after a few seconds. "Perhaps if I knew what I was looking for…”
Gordon caught Virgil’s eye. Despite his obvious concern about the situation, the big chonk was clearly still trying to cover for him.
He really was the softest marshmallow.
But as touched as he was, right now the most important thing wasn't avoiding blame; it was finding the snake before anyone got hurt, including the creature itself. There would be time to wriggle out of Scott and John’s inevitable lecture later.
“The signal’s likely very subtle,” he said, drawing John's attention. “He’s cold-blooded, so his core temperature’s gonna be mirroring the immediate environment. Look at components a little below body temperature and check for tiny, unexplained fluctuations.”
“Cold-bl… You lost a reptile?!”
“A snake,” clarified Virgil.
There was a moment while John processed this new information, then he closed his eyes and pinched the top of his nose.
“Of course it's a snake(!)” He sighed. “EOS? Did you catch all that?”
EOS’s voice rang through clear over the comms. “Yes, John. Checking now…”
“In the meantime,” said John, “I suggest you put your helmets back on, just to be safe. The less exposed skin you two have the better.”
The brothers nodded.
Gordon set the incubator down and grabbed his helmet from the dash in front of him, just as EOS brought up a schematic of the cockpit onto the screen in front of him.
“There’s a slight irregularity in temperature around the co-pilot’s control panel, but it’s too indistinct to pin down to a specific component.”
Gordon’s eyes darted all over the dashboard in front of him.
Where?
Scrabbling to push his chair back and get his helmet on, he vaguely heard Virgil say something about lifting the main cover off the console before he was suddenly distracted by a sharp, stabbing pain in his right cheek, just above the jaw.
“Yeow!”
Virgil was by his side immediately, mediscanner in hand. “What?! What is it?”
Gordon remained in his chair, sitting stock still.
"Don’ scan.”
"What?"
"Don' scan. Th' noise'll scare 'im."
Virgil's eyes went wide.
"Where is it?" he whispered, looking him up and down.
“I’z on m’ face."
“What?!?”
“On. M’. Face. W’z inside th’ helmet.”
Virgil and John exchanged a panicked look.
…Yep.
By rights, Gordon should have been scared. After all, there was a chance he could die here; the little danger-noodle might be pumping deadly venom into him by the second. But surprisingly he wasn’t overly worried about that possibility just now. In fact he felt strangely calm and clear-headed. What was done was done after all, and the priority now was to a) not do anything to make the snake strike again (him or Virgil); and b) get it secured.
“Ah’m gonna slowly r’move th’ helmet," he mumbled, trying not to move his mouth too much. "When y’ see ‘im, grab ‘im c’refully b’hind th’ head an’ unhook ‘im.”
Keeping his head stock still, he looked sidelong at his big brother to check he’d understood. Poor Virg looked pale, but he nodded and shifted into position in front of him, mouth set in a grim line. Behind him, John's face was a picture of worry.
“R'dy?” Gordon asked.
Virgil nodded, hands poised.
He gave a little blink in lieu of a smile. “Okay."
Deep breath.
"One. Two. ‘Hree.”
And slowly he took off his helmet.
Virgil reached forwards and closed his hand next to his face. Gordon's skin pulled painfully for a moment, then released, leaving a sharp echo across his cheek.
He exhaled in a big whoosh that seemed to come from his very soul, and raised his eyes to finally look on the thing that had bitten him.
“Scanning for a species match now,” said John urgently as Virgil stepped back, holding the offending creature out at arm’s length. “Cross-matching size, markings and-”
“It’s a Children’s Python!”
“A what?” Virgil asked roughly.
John took a massive breath in. “Oh thank god! Are you sure?”
“Certain,” replied Gordon, finding his feet and bouncing over to look a bit closer, all concern for his safety gone. “We had one as a class pet in 5th grade. Native to Northern Australia. Fantastic pets.”
“I can confirm the identification, John” said EOS. “The species is non-venomous.”
All the remaining colour drained from Virgil's face. He lowered himself down shakily into his chair, arm still outstretched. “Well in that case would someone please come and take this thing out of my hand before I have a heart attack?”
“Oops! Yep, give me one second…”
Gordon grabbed the tray of eggs and fished out a roll of electrical tape from one of his console drawers.
“This should keep the lid secure until we can get him into the shelter, at least.”
Gordon reached out and gently took hold of the little snake, who had stopped thrashing around and instead seemed content to curl its body gently around his hand. He took a second to admire its beautiful mottled markings in light and dark brown, and the gentle undulation of muscles pulsing as it moved.
"Hey, little guy."
The tiny snake flicked its tongue at him, tasting the air.
Slowly, gently, Gordon encouraged the snake back in the tray, extracted his hand, and then put the lid on and taped it down.
As soon as the tray was closed, John seemed to deflate like he was the one who’d been punctured.
“Please, for the love of god, don’t ever scare me like that again, okay guys? My cortisol levels can't take it."
"Take it easy John," soothed Virgil as he stumbled over to examine Gordon's cheek. "You sit back and have a float and we'll finish up here."
He took Gordon by the chin and turned his face to the side.
"...C'mon Blofeld, let's get you cleaned up."
…
Fifteen minutes later and sporting a natty Baby Shark band-aid on his cheek, Gordon skipped across the animal shelter car park towards the front desk. Alongside him, Virgil carried the now-definitely-sealed incubator. (Gordon had argued it was his privilege as 'the walking wounded’ not to have to carry stuff. Virgil had just rolled his eyes and agreed, muttering something about checking for himself to ensure no more 'jailbreaks'.)
Behind them, a dozen or so vets and other volunteers were unloading the various other crates of animals from Two's hold, checking them over and directing them to their respective enclosures.
Gordon grinned.
"Feeling better now?" asked Virgil, quirking a smile in reply.
He was, in more ways than one. Somehow, staring into the face of that tiny serpent had made him feel a lot more positive about everything. Nature really was amazing. If a baby creature, just out of its egg, could survive and protect itself in a hostile environment like that little one had today, then with a little bit of care he was sure the other animals they'd rescued would as well.
Life was good. He had his health, he had his family, and they’d done good today.
Suddenly overcome with happiness, he couldn’t help doing a little jumping air punch, earning a low chuckle from his left.
"You were right, Virg. Today really was a win.”
Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. "Not sure I'd quite describe it that way, but if you say so. You did still set a snake loose in my ‘bird, though.”
“Hey, don't blame me! I'm as much a victim as you are. Little Hissy Houdini's a force all of his own.”
A pause. “You named him?”
“Yep! Kinda fitting, don’t you think?”
Virgil’s eyes narrowed.
"You’re not keeping him.”
Gordon gasped dramatically.
“Virgil Tracy, I am shocked! I would never-”
“Sully the Gully, Puppy Longstocking, Razorbill Bob, the Swift Family Robinson…”
“...again. Never again.”
“Well that’s just as well then, because I don’t think Scott would appreciate finding this little escapologist in his sock drawer, do you?"
As Gordon contemplated all of the delicious trickster-y possibilities that that image brought up, he stretched and gave his back another series of cracks.
Virgil regarded him coolly. "You sound like a goddamn popcorn maker," he grumbled. "Speaking of, I wonder if the others'd be up for a movie night tonight? I feel like we've earned a bit of down time."
"Sounds good to me," said Gordon, flinging an arm around the big man's shoulders. "And I have the perfect one in mind… You like Samuel L Jackson films, right?"
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Cruel Summer - Part 10
First - Previous - Next
pairings: Eddie Munson x fem!reader
summary: After breaking up, you and Eddie do your best to soldier on with your lives, but you slowly begin to discover that there is a stronger line of connection keeping you together than just history…
word count: 10k
warnings: Angst, some fluff, descriptions of violence, mentions of throwing up, so sorry if I forgot anything!
A.N.: Part ten!! A little later than I had hoped to get it out (you know... life) honestly I think we can all just agree that Jason Carver is a douchebag — if you see typos, no you don’t I posted this while I’m at work lmao
It’s all weirdly fucked in the worst way and Eddie is not sure it’s entirely his fault, despite how you’re certainly endeavoring to make him feel that way, and how his psyche is pulling out all the stops to help.
It had been such a bizarre fight, one he was only semi-conscious of as just as it had last summer, Eddie’s brain clicked off the moment you started in on each other, rendering him useless to defend you from whatever hurtful things his psyche drummed up.
He shouldn’t have said what he said, he knows that… but goddammit if you didn’t break his heart a little saying what you said.
Maybe he was a fool to think you could pick things up where you left off, that things going forward would be okay again… maybe he’d allowed himself to get lost in a flight of fancy that you’d come looking for him out of anything beyond the promise you’d made to Wayne.
Maybe he was just feeling sorry for himself.
At the time, Eddie didn’t know if he was glad you followed him to the back of the boathouse, on account of the black cloud of violent hatred his hurt feelings were endeavoring to stir up in him to muddy his mind. That part of him, the rational part, was only glad that everyone else had taken the hint and left the room because they’d already seen enough, and if you two were going to fight he much preferred not to have an audience.
Only you aren’t that couple, you never fight.
The way Eddie sees it, most things aren’t worth fighting about, but the problem with when you did is that neither of you is willing to back down and let the other win.
You’re both just too damn stubborn.
“So, what, you’re hanging out with Steve now?” Eddie had asked sullenly, cutting off the apology you were trying to make and gesturing to the house.
You recoiled in response, eyebrows jumping up to your hairline, blinking rapidly as you shook your head like it was the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard.
For some inexplicable reason, it only made Eddie furious – maybe because the rational part of him knew it was ridiculous but it was an easy irrationality to jump to, a quick way to get angry, and he was angry with you, just not for that reason
“Steve?” You choked, “What are you — Eddie, that’s bullshit. We aren’t even friends,”
“Coulda fooled me,” he sniffed, “‘Cause you two? Oof, gettin’ real heated — lotta tension there … And jumping in to save him like that? From me, no less—”
“Stop that,” you spat, “Don’t be mean over nothing,”
The word struck him like a slap to the face and Eddie had to fight very hard to stay calm.
“Nothing.” He echoed, taking the time to breathe before really reacting because you’d just thrown him away like garbage in front of everyone and now you were calling it nothing?
Talk about bullshit.
The fight went on from there, needless and stupid until you finally threw up your hands and made a harsh, aggravated sound.
“Why are you being such a jerk? I mean why are we even fighting?”
Eddie bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted blood in a futile attempt to keep his mouth shut, but just like with everything else in his life, he just couldn’t help himself.
“Well, Princess, it’s like you said, I’m not your fucking boyfriend.” He sniffed, feeling a bit too much like he’d just opened his mouth and breathed in a lung full of water to drown himself, considering the way he knew how much you hated that pet name — Princess.
Your jaw flexed as you clenched your teeth and fought the rush of tears suddenly shining in your eyes and, like coming back to his senses, Eddie could feel himself breaking the surface too late, just like last time.
“… and you don’t love me anymore — silly me, how could I forget,” you spat, and the venom in your tone burned him down to the bone.
Oh, that’s not fair… it’s just not fair…
Despite the deep and penetrating ache swelling behind his lungs and all his hurt feelings, hearing you say it made Eddie’s guts seize and his vision go briefly spotty.
The blame swung around and hit him with enough force to leave him winded, one final blow before the ringing of the bell, and just like that it was over. As suddenly as it had descended, the black cloud of his anger lifted, leaving Eddie alone in that room with you and the ringing echo of what he had just said.
He’d done it again.
It’s not fucking fair.
You turned on your heel and stalked off into the house before he could even try to think of what his next move was — should he defend himself? Apologize?
He didn’t do either, instead, he followed you and called your name only to have it drowned out when you slammed the door and left him standing there, feeling like an asshole with everyone staring at him.
You didn’t speak to each other the rest of the night following the departure of Dustin and the others. Eddie didn’t even see you again until the following day, as you stayed in the room you’d closed yourself in, and he took the couch because you needed your space and he was too ashamed of himself to try and go face what he’d done.
In the morning Eddie was a little braver, and when you finally reemerged, eyes red and swollen – from sleep or crying, he couldn’t rightly tell, he wasn’t quite brave enough to ask – he’d tried a whole host of jokes, and comments to test the waters. He complained about his sore back, gently teased you about sleeping in Rick’s bed, wondered idly if this is what Wayne imagined you’d be doing when he sent you to find him, anything he thought might get a reaction out of you.
None of it garnered any sort of response, save for you gently asking him to leave you alone.
Eddie could hardly believe he’d heard you correctly.
“Are you serious?”
You wouldn’t look at him as you twisted the sleeves of your jacket down over your hands, just like Chrissy had in the hallway only a few days ago – Christ, that felt like years ago now…
His whole life came rushing back to him in a second, and Eddie remembered with a start the conversation he’d had with Ms. Kim – he’s graduating … he needs to tell you that he’s finally graduating … but you won’t look at him.
“I just need some space, okay?" You'd sighed, "You stay on your side of the room and I’ll stay on mine and we’ll leave it at that until we’re both ready to talk about it.”
He was ready to talk now, but much as it hurt to do so, as much as it felt like you were hurtling down the road toward breaking up all over again, Eddie took the hint and left you alone.
It's a miserable day, sitting together in the deafeningly quiet house, weighed down by the miasma of everything you’d said to each other the night before.
By the time the sun sets again, Eddie is crawling out of his skin.
He needs to apologize, beg your forgiveness, but he doesn’t want to make things worse by trying to talk to you before you are ready. So far he’s been smart enough not to push it, but it’s dark now and you haven’t so much as looked at him all day – he can’t stand another minute of this bullshit tension.
He doesn’t care about what you said, he doesn’t care that you hurt his feelings, he just needs to fix what he’s broken so that you can move past it already and try to get back to the good part.
From his spot on the couch, he can see you sitting at the kitchen table, shuffling a deck of cards you’d pulled out of a drawer a few hours earlier – he’d seen you do it and asked if you wanted to play Hearts, but you’d pretended you hadn’t heard him and slunk silently into the other room.
He wishes you would look at him, that he could crack a stupid joke and be certain that you’d level him with that same dour look and pretend you don’t think it’s funny like you always do.
It’s now or never, he supposes.
Eddie swallows hard and fights to bring the words up around the knot in his throat.
“Hey,” He calls.
He feels tender and bruised under the harshness of his voice, ringing strangely against his ears after not speaking all day.
Slowly, you glance over at him. You hold his gaze for a brief moment before looking away again, and Eddie tells himself it’s a good sign. At least you aren’t ignoring him anymore.
He takes it as permission to approach and leaps up from the couch to cross to the kitchen with an odd desperation, practically tip-toeing as he goes like he’s afraid to make too much sound.
When he reaches the table, he lingers at your side, standing idly for a very long moment and anxiously wiping his palms across his jeans as he waits for you to say something.
Silence.
Eddie gestures awkwardly to the chair.
“Can I sit?”
You shrug.
It’s not a no – Not-a-No is a win in Eddie’s books – so he whips back the chair beside you and plants himself in it, realizing too late that maybe the one across from you would have been the safer option, but he’s too committed now to get up and move.
You don’t acknowledge him as he settles, you just keep shuffling those damn cards.
It’s another long moment of watching your hands move before Eddie musters the courage to address the nasty little elephant in the room.
He clears his throat and your hands stutter over the cards.
“... So… about last night,” He starts, “About what I said–”
“I don’t care.” You bite, and Eddie feels his heart seize.
Oh… shit.
Thankfully, before he can drive himself crazy beginning to try and decipher what that could possibly mean, you heave a sigh that carries the weight of the world and finally — finally set the cards down.
“I mean I don’t want to talk about it,” You clarify, folding your hands neatly in front of you and twisting the cheap silver ring you have sitting on your middle finger.
Eddie hadn’t noticed it before, he can’t help but stare at it with a strange and misplaced vehemence before glancing reflexively at the ring with the dark stone sitting on his own hand.
He resists the urge to take your hand and slide the delicate silver band off of your finger to replace it with his own as you continue.
“I’m over it.” You say, shaking your head.
“...Even so–” He insists – he's been quietly practicing his apology all day and he'll be damned if he doesn't get to say it.
You don’t let him finish.
“Look, we both said things we shouldn’t have, but there’s no taking them back and now we’re just going to have to live with it.”
Eddie doesn’t know what that means – just live with what?
All he wants is to bask in the euphoria of you finally talking to him again, but he doesn’t like the jagged edge of what you're saying. It sounds too final, like you’re going to suggest that once this is all over, you should go your separate ways and never speak to each other again.
He doesn’t know if he could handle something like that, even if it would be fair, he thinks it might break him.
“...All I want to say is that I’m sorry.” Eddie says in a rush, tentatively reaching out to trace his index finger along the ridge of your knuckles, “And that I do love you…”
You breathe out hard through your nose and furrow your brow.
“You’ve got a funny way of showing it.” You bite, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, but you don’t flinch out from under his touch, so he uses it as permission to take your hand, in spite of his better judgment.
He turns it over in his, lacings his fingers with yours, and searches for comfort in the familiarity of how his hand dwarfs yours in size.
“I’m sorry…” he says again, and then because he’s been silently rehearsing this speech all day, he can’t help but finish the line, “I love you…”
If things weren’t so heavy, he might have tried to lighten the mood by prompting you to return the feeling.
Now you say it back, he would say, but he doesn’t dare, despite how desperate he is to hear it.
It’s the fourth time he’s told you he loves you in less than twenty-four hours – not that he’s been counting – and he hasn’t been able to keep himself from getting stuck on the fact that you haven’t said it back…
“…I know,” You mumble, hanging your head and picking at a piece of laminate, flaking up from a deep groove in the tabletop.
It hurts more than he’s willing to admit. Part of him wants to brush it off, chalk it up to nothing more than a Star Wars reference – Empire Strikes Back no less, which under normal circumstances would be very fucking cool of you – but another part, smaller if not decidedly louder, is insisting that you’re refusing to tell him you love him because you simply don’t anymore – it makes Eddie feel like his throat is closing up.
That part of him wants to grab you and shake you out of this weird, sad version of the person he inadvertently manufactured – it wants to tell you he loves you until he’s blue in the face and you have to say it back so that he doesn’t keel over and die from the apparent lack of your love…
Eddie doesn't get the opportunity to address it, however, as suddenly there is the sound of an approaching vehicle, drawing your collective attention and cutting the moment short – tires crunching on gravel, the dull roar of an engine pulling closer before cutting out, and the whine and thump of car doors opening and slamming shut.
“Finally,” You sigh, “I was wondering where those guys had gotten to.”
Eddie watches as you push up from the table and breathes out harshly as he tries to swallow the emotion rising in his chest.
It’s not fair that after a full day of radio silence, they would show up now when he’s trying — and failing — to bear his soul to you.
He wants to ask where you stand, if you’ve got any chance at a future after all this, but he’d gone and wasted the whole day trying to muster the courage to say his piece, and now he’s just going to have to wait.
Still, he tells himself that it’s probably better this way. With Dustin and the others here, it will give him something to distract from the gaping question mark that is your relationship and whether you’ll ever want to see him again after this.
Only suddenly Eddie can’t help but wonder why they would pull the car right up to the house after all that talk about laying low, not drawing attention to his whereabouts – that seems… wrong.
You cross the room to the front window just as a cold and creeping foreboding begins to ooze into Eddie’s veins, like the jelly from inside an ice pack – something is not right, and the feeling is only amplified by the little voice quietly but persistently warning Eddie to proceed with caution.
When the first of the flashlight beams cross the window, Eddie feels his heart drop into his stomach and ricochet right back up into his throat. He chokes on it.
Danger! Danger, Will Robinson!
“What the hell are they doing?” You ask no one in particular, inching toward the window to steal a peek through the shuttered blinds.
“Sweetheart, don’t—” Eddie starts, jumping up from the table to reach out and try and grab you, but then your body goes rigid and you rocket backward, colliding bodily with him.
There’s that trilling alarm once again, screaming run! Only this time you’re there to back it up, which is highly disturbing.
“It’s not them.” You gasp, curling your fingers into his jacket sleeve as you twist around to face him.
Of course, that’s exactly what he was worried about, but being right doesn’t do anything to alleviate the way Eddie’s body is attempting to send him into cardiac arrest.
“Shit —”
You take him by the hand and pull him through to the living room as the shining of the flashlights intensifies through the kitchen window. You move as quickly and quietly as you can, slipping through the inner door and back out into the boathouse which has suddenly become that much worse by darkness and imperceivable danger.
Eddie had foolishly hoped he wouldn’t have to go back out here, what with the spiders and the lingering atmosphere of your fight, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and any creepy crawly creature is suddenly much more palatable to whoever it was you’d seen out the window.
You shut the door behind you with a loud thump, and he holds his breath as he can only imagine the sound must have rung out through the house like a gunshot.
He didn’t see you grab the walkie-talkie, but suddenly you’re holding the big clunky device out to him and imploring Eddie to take it.
He doesn’t need to be told what to do with it as he switches over to channel two and presses the button on the side.
“Dustin, come in Dustin— are you there?” No response, just loud, screaming static. “Hello?”
Of course, it is absolutely fucking typical of his luck that no one would be on the other line. What else did he expect?
You’ve got your ear pressed to the inner door, listening for any apparent signs of movement inside the house, which is extremely unnerving.
“Who is it?” Eddie asks, not daring to raise his voice above a whisper
You don’t answer, electing instead to put a finger to your lips.
“Sweetheart —” you shush him harshly, and he turns his frustration with it back on the radio “Dustin, do you copy? It’s me, Eddie — remember me? Pick up, pick up, somebody pick the fuck up!”
Nothing but static.
Eddie can feel himself breaking into a cold sweat as he watches you move from the door to one of the tiny windows, peering carefully out into the darkness. He strains to listen for any sort of movement – in the house, outside of the house – thinking back to the blinding terror he’d experienced in the moments before he’d discovered you skulking around outside the day before.
For a long moment, there is nothing but the whirring white noise of the walkie-talkie and a very tiny part of Eddie starts to wonder if maybe they’d gone, whoever they were. That part of him, foolish as it is, hopes that maybe you jumped the gun on panicking and it’s just Wayne out there, coming to meet up with you.
Somehow Eddie can’t imagine he’ll get so lucky twice.
“Sweetheart—” He starts, hoping to circle back to the looming question of just who the fuck it was you saw out there, but you drop from the window and steal a glance back toward him before he can get the words out.
“It’s Jason Carver.” You say flatly.
Eddie feels his blood run cold.
“Shit —”
Surely this has got to be some kind of sick joke the Universe is playing on him, some kind of karmic justice for all that thinking about corrupting Chrissy just to spite Jason.
“Hey, Dustin, it would be really great if you would pick up because we’re in serious need of help here!” He hisses into the radio.
Static.
He is so fucking stupid, and he is so, so fucked… and now he’s pulled you into this, and no one is coming to help.
“Dustin? Fuck— anyone! Please!”
Nothing.
In a fit of desperate frustration, before he realizes what he’s doing, Eddie swears harshly and whips the walkie-talkie to the side. He regrets it immediately as it collides with a heavy tackle box and sends it and its contents scattering to the floor with a thunderous crash.
Eddie exchanges a wide-eyed look with you and for a moment it is all either of you can do but hold your breath.
There are muffled voices then, sending you skipping across the creaky floor back toward him.
“Please tell me you’ve got a plan,” Eddie says in a quiet rush, feeling ever so slightly dizzy from the blood pounding in his ears as you come together in a huddle, “Because we’ve gotta get the fuck out of here right now.”
He watches you think, biting your lip then like you’re frantically wracking your brain for solutions. Then your brow smooths and your eyes go wide as something like a lightbulb going on flashes across your face.
“...Not both of us,” you say slowly, “...just you.”
He thinks he must not have heard you correctly because that sounds an awful lot like you’re suggesting he leave you behind.
“What?” He stammers.
You jerk your head toward the space behind Eddie, and he turns to see the boat launch, the moon shining on the black water behind him. He feels a cold lump forming in the pit of his stomach.
Surely, you must be joking.
“Get in the boat.” You say, “Make a run for it. I’ll try to buy you some time.”
Yeah… that’s what he thought you meant.
“…What are you nuts?” Eddie practically shouts, whipping back around to gawp at you – he drops his tone when you put a frantic finger to your lips, imploring him once again to shut the fuck up.
When he fails to act, you push past him to begin untethering the dinghy. Eddie follows, doing absolutely nothing to help and everything to try and make you see reason.
“You’re just gonna go out there and… and what? Talk to those guys? Just act totally casual and pretend like you haven’t seen me?”
“Yes.” You insist, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world as you unwind the last bit of rope anchoring the boat to the post.
It drops to the water below with a thunderous splash and makes Eddie feel sick.
“No —” He says, fervently shaking his head, “No, no way, this is crazy – Babe, they’re crazy. They’ll tear you apart!”
“We don’t have a lot of options here, Eddie.” You argue, taking him by the shoulders to twist him around so that he is facing the boat.
This is so crazy, he hates every part of this stupid plan.
“We have at least one other option –” he insists, “We both get in this boat and get the hell out of here!”
Eddie takes an involuntary step forward when you give him a gentle shove and suddenly he’s standing with one foot in the hull and one foot on the deck.
“Look – see the motor?” You say, pointing, “It’s pull to start, just like a lawnmower.”
He turns to look, dutifully, but barely gives himself the chance to register what he’s supposed to be looking at – the motor? Fuck the motor – before he turns back and says your name, begging you to reconsider.
“Please tell me this is a big stupid joke and you’re about to tell me the real plan.”
You aren’t listening to him anymore, your attention is fixed on the outer door where the sounds of voices are growing steadily louder.
You are very quickly running out of time here.
“Go,” You say, dismissing him with a wave that feels entirely too flippant for the gravity of what you’re suggesting – what, just leave? Without you?
Fuck that.
Before he’s realized he even moved, Eddie is grabbing at you, pulling at the sleeve of your jacket to try to coax you down into the boat with him.
“Come on,” He says, “We can go. Let’s just go.”
You tug against him, but he refuses to release you.
“We won’t make it if we both try to go.” You say, and he hates how rational you sound, “I’ll be right behind you, I promise – just go.”
As you turn to leave, Eddie snatches your hand up and holds you firmly to the spot – he’s so sorry he ever picked a fight with you because this has got to be some bizarre way of punishing him for saying all those things, trying to push you away a second time.
He can’t imagine what else it could be considering you’re not that stupid to go risking your life for him like this – he’s suddenly so afraid that if he lets you go out there, he’ll never see you again.
He’s losing you again, watching you slip away with you standing there right in front of him.
“Baby, please — please, just come with me —”
You jerk your hand out of his grasp and whirl around.
“Will you get the fuck out of here already?” You hiss, raising your voice as much as you dare.
Eddie’s heart is in his throat, throbbing, and swelling and threatening to choke him, and he’s halfway to panicking that if he leaves you behind something terrible is going to happen, and it’s going to be his fault.
He can’t let you go out there and face Jason and the Argonauts on your own, but you won’t listen, no matter how he pleads with you.
You’re really going to do this. Oh, Jesus fuck, you’re going to get yourself killed. For what? For him? No, no no no please no.
“You said you wouldn’t leave me.” Eddie chokes, getting caught on the jagged edge of his breathing and fisting his hand in the front of his shirt as the pervasive skittering of panic begins to wash over him – it always hits him in the worst moments…
“Eddie, I’m not leaving you.” You insist, staring back at him with wide-eyed desperation, “I’m trying to save your goddamn life.”
Of course, some part of him knows that, but it’s still shocking to hear you say it, like the clanging of a bell.
He’d been so caught up in the rush of having you back and the concept of losing you again so soon that he’d completely forgotten that this isn’t about your relationship — Eddie remembers too late that he is in danger. Real danger. He’s still that animal caught in a trap, and suddenly he’s lingered too long. The hunters are closing in and there is a very good chance that they will kill him if they catch him.
The crunch of gravel beneath approaching footsteps reaches you and Eddie stands paralyzed, helpless to stop you as you rush to the door.
You latch the flimsy lock – some good that will do if those fuckers decide to kick the door in.
This is wrong, this is all so wrong. He’s not safe, and you’re here which means you’re not safe and he can’t let you go but if he stays he’s going to die. He doesn’t know what to do, and it has him frozen to the spot.
Eddie doesn’t know when he took that second step back, but suddenly he’s standing in the boat and you’re kneeling on the deck above him and you’ve never felt so far from him as you do now.
Your hands come down to bracket Eddie’s face and you force him to look at you – you have to say his name twice before it makes it through the haze of his panic.
“Eddie – you have to go, now.” You plead, and he can’t help but shake his head, like a petulant child – he’s got to run, but he won’t leave you, and you’re very clearly hell-bent on staying — somehow he knows there is nothing he can do to change your mind, and it makes him feel like he’s about to come apart at the seams.
“Please go,”
“Not without you,” he argues, hands coming up to grip your wrists.
“Eddie–”
“No, Man – I’m not gonna leave you here!”
You stare at him, brows pinched tight over your eyes as you search his face for the answer to an unknowable question.
The faintest hint of something he can’t make out flashes across your features and you make a harsh sound of aggravation before pushing forward to slant your lips over his in a hard, frantic kiss. It’s startling, in a brightly euphoric sort of way, but it is a rushed thing that is over before it’s even really begun.
Still, it does the job of breathing a little rationality back into Eddie’s shaking form.
There is no time for sentiment, but when you pull away it is only to press your forehead tightly against his.
“Why do you have to be so goddamn chivalrous all the time?” you grind out, and in spite of everything it pulls a short burst of airy, relieved laughter out from Eddie’s lungs. His head is swimming from the kiss, from the sudden and inappropriate levity of the moment, and how desperately he loves you — only he realizes too late you weren’t being funny.
You breathe out harshly in a way that is more of a sob than a sigh and the sound is disturbing enough to startle Eddie into a strange clarity.
“Eddie… please just go.” you whimper, fighting a losing battle against the tears collecting on your lashes, “I can’t – I can’t lose you again.”
Hearing you say it causes his heart to thump solidly in his chest, and suddenly there’s no arguing with you. You’re not calm, you’re scared, scared enough that you’re willing to risk life and limb to make sure he gets away because you don’t want to lose him — it’s the closest thing to I Love You he’s heard since August, and he decides in an instant it’s enough.
Now he has to go.
Eddie can hear Jason’s voice barking orders right outside the door, and he feels you bristle under him.
It’s now or never. Move or die, Man.
“You’ll be right behind me, right?” He prompts, failing to suppress the anxiety spiking in his midsection when you nod against him
It’s not enough, he needs to see your eyes when you say it — he puts a hand on your neck at the base of your skull and pulls you back to make you look at him, really look at him.
“Yes? You promise?”
“I promise.” You breathe, red-faced and sniffling.
“Okay… okay… get out of here.”
You push up in a flash and bolt to the inner door shared by the boat house and the house proper, and Eddie stands in the boat, turning in useless circles and fumbling with anything else he thinks he needs to do to escape. Any kind of proper nautical procedure flies right over his head – he doesn’t know boats, he barely knows cars except for how to hotwire them, and he’d gained that knowledge against his will.
You don’t know anything about cars or boats, but he wishes you were coming with him.
He can’t shake the feeling that this is about to go horribly, terribly wrong, because as much as he hates to admit it, you have never made the best plans.
You’ll be right behind him, you promised, but suddenly, there is an old familiar voice screaming at Eddie to call out to you, the same one that had implored him to call out to his mother the last time he saw her.
Just in case, it tells him, and the suggestion of it seizes his heart in a cold panic.
“Hey!” He bites, perhaps a little too loud, whipping around to look at you where you’ve paused at the door, hovering just over the threshold, “I swear to God, if I don’t see you in two minutes I’m coming right back for you, you hear?”
You nod breathlessly, then disappear back into the house. Eddie stands listening, stretching what borrowed time he still has to the nanosecond until he can hear the faintest sound of your voice calling out to the interlopers. It is met by their own shouting, and the sound of receding footsteps as your challenge is met with a chase.
Another wave of paralyzing fear threatens to wash over Eddie, but he shakes it off with a harsh exhale and twists around to become acquainted with the motor.
Pull to start, you’d said, just like a lawnmower … Eddie’s never mowed a lawn in his goddamn life. He thinks he hears a desperate shout, but he brushes it off.
He tells himself that you’re fast and you’re smart, smarter than any of those meathead jocks, you know what you’re doing, even if he doesn’t know if he really believes it himself.
You’re fine, you’re going to be fine.
He does his best to steady the rock of the boat as he takes one, two, three steadying breaths, then rips back on the rope with everything he’s got.
The engine roars to life.
+++
It was a bad plan from the start, you’re big enough to admit that, but you never in your wildest imagination thought it would take the turn it did.
The fingers of your right hand are broken – bent and twisted up out of shape like Patrick McKinney’s body, lying at the bottom of Lover’s Lake, and the pain is bad.
Worse than anything you have ever experienced, worse even than the time you’d foolishly let Dustin get behind the wheel of your Toyota and he proceeded to back the car over your foot.
That idea had been just as stupid as the thought that you could just lead Jason and the others away from Eddie with no trouble.
Worse than the pain is the image burned into the back of your eyelids. You can’t stop seeing it every time you close your eyes, can’t stop hearing the way Patrick’s bones snapped, the wet smack of his body hitting the water as he dropped.
It makes you feel like you’re going to be sick.
The memory combined with the throbbing pain in your hand is too much, and before you have time to realize what’s about to happen, you double over to empty your stomach contents into the underbrush creeping up around your ankles.
You’re so glad you didn’t eat those Spaghetti-o’s.
You cough and spit, and then miserably kick at a pile of leaves to cover the mess before twisting away from it. You’re exhausted, you’re cold, and you’re starting to think you’ll never feel anything but pain and fear ever again.
You’d walked all night through the woods, and Eddie spent half as much time walking as he did turning around to make sure you were still there, like Orpheus leading Eurydice out of the underworld.
Only you didn’t fade away under his gaze, you were there every time he turned back to look at you, dutifully trudging along after him, cradling your hand against your body and offering only the briefest hints that you heard him when he asked for the hundredth time if you were alright.
You’re really not, but you couldn’t seem to answer him, no matter how many times he asked.
Your jaw had wired itself shut and your brain had deflated in your skull to the point that you were really only even vaguely aware of everything around you. The pain in your hand shooting up the length of your arm, the dull throbbing of the bruise you were sure was forming over your eye, the crunch crunch crunch of Eddie’s footsteps as he led you on through the woods.
Sometime after the sun had risen, you reached the clearing, and Eddie set you down on the big flat rock that you’re currently perched on, promising he’d be right back before disappearing through the trees beyond.
You don’t know how long ago that was, you don’t even know where you are in relation to the lake, to town, to anything, you only know that you should have just gotten in the boat with Eddie and made a run for it, but you didn’t, and you paid dearly for that spectacularly bad decision.
You don’t know why you thought you could outrun Jason and the others, except that you’d fooled yourself into believing it for Eddie’s sake.
You needed him to run, but he wasn’t about to leave you behind, the big dumb chivalrous idiot that he is, so you made a promise you weren’t optimistic about keeping – you told him you’d be right behind him.
You suppose you were, though not in the capacity you’d imagined.
You went out to face the tigers, and you ran when Jason and Patrick chased you – that was the extent of your plan.
Get them to chase you, find a way to give them the slip, and then go find Eddie on the other side of the lake.
Lots of moving parts, lots of variables, and lots of ways it could go wrong, and you’d very conveniently forgotten how your plans always seem to go wrong.
Maybe you thought you could reason with the basketball team. You’d been the herald of their celebrations not even forty-eight hours earlier, after all, maybe they trusted you enough that you could simply send them on their way with a false lead and a phony promise of honesty.
Then again, you’re good enough friends with Lucas that you had no doubt in your mind he would have vouched for you, had he been with them. He wasn’t, of course, because that’s just typical of your rotten luck.
You ran when they chased you, and they caught you because you foolishly hadn’t accounted for the fact that they would split up in their search for Eddie. It was Jason and Patrick lurking outside of the boathouse, and it was Andy, the fucking skeezeball, who’d caught you coming out of the house and held you by your hair until Jason could catch up.
“Where’s your freak boyfriend?” He taunted you as you thrashed under the grip of his sneering toady.
You didn’t have time to answer, as the roar of the dinghy’s engine cut the air and answered for you — well what do you know… he’s right there.
Jesus Christ, you really didn’t think this one through.
You did, however, take the opportunity of their distraction to escape, bracing one foot in the gravel and kicking out hard with the other. Your foot collided with Jason’s stomach and forced you backward into Andy, who toppled over backward with a surprised grunt and pulled you down with him.
Escaping his clutches was as easy as slipping out of your jacket, and once you were free, you scrambled to your feet and made a break for the shore.
You knew well enough that you hadn’t bought Eddie enough time to put any kind of distance between himself and the shore, but then again he’d only given you two minutes to throw these guys off the scent, so really, bad plan all around.
Still, you thought maybe if you could reach the water you could swim for it, get out to the boat and to safety — no such luck.
You’ve always been fast, but you’ve never been a star basketball player running purely on rage, adrenaline, and the blind determination to catch the girlfriend of the guy who apparently killed your girlfriend.
Vengeance is one hell of a motivator.
Jason was on you in an instant, tackling you and wrestling you to the ground – you managed to slip from his grasp if only briefly, but you cried out in strangled protest when he seized you by your ankle and wrenched you right back.
The sound echoed across the lake like a skipping stone, alerting you to the fact that it was suddenly much too quiet over the water — you could no longer hear the boat’s motor running, but you could hear the faint trilling of Eddie trying to reason with the piece of shit. Your heart seized with the realization that he was now stranded out on the water, and you twisted and thrashed in an attempt to claw your way to freedom.
That’s when Jason’s foot came down on your hand. There was nothing you could do to stifle the scream that tore itself out of you when you felt the bones in your fingers snap, giving way and folding beneath the force of all his weight pressed into his stupid sneaker.
He was saying something to you, monologuing about Chrissy you’re sure, or maybe about what he was going to do to Eddie when he caught him, but you could hardly hear him over your own pitiful sobbing.
How had this gone so, so terribly wrong so goddamn fast?
Then that same stupid fucking sneaker came down to collide with your midsection, driving the breath from your lungs with a harsh gasp and a fit of coughing.
You rolled onto your back, trying simultaneously to shield your abdomen and cradle your ruined hand as Jason straddled you in the sand and held you pinned. You thrashed beneath him, kicking and screaming and fighting for an escape until your good hand came free, then you thrust the heel of your palm up into his face and dug your nails in, scratching deeply where you could find purchase across his skin.
He seized you roughly by the front of your shirt – Eddie’s shirt – and jerked you forward. And then he hit you, a hard crack to your brow that sent stars skittering across your vision as your head snapped back into the dirt.
Your mouth filled with the tang of blood as your teeth snapped closed on the tip of your tongue and you made a harsh, pitiful sound. Somewhere in the distance, you thought you could hear Eddie shouting your name, kicking up a wild, desperate fuss, but your ears were ringing too loud to hear any of it.
You could hardly believe any of that had just happened. You could almost dismiss the whole breaking your fingers thing, but he’d punched you in the face.
Jason Carver punched you in your goddamn fucking face and you’re pretty sure you’ll never get over that.
You don’t even think Billy Hargrove, the equal opportunity motherfucker that he was, would have sunk so low as to sock a girl in the face like that, but apparently, Jason Carver would – some upstanding fella he turned out to be, truly one of Hawkin’s finest.
Strange to think that getting punched in the face and having your fingers stomped into oblivion wasn’t even the worst thing that happened in the time it took to flee Rick’s place and find you sitting on this rock in the middle of the woods.
Your clothes have not dried yet, and you sit shivering where Eddie left you, feeling the chill and the horror of what you’d witnessed seep into your bones.
Much of what happened after is a blur, you don’t know how you finally managed to get away from Jason, you only know the shock of the cold water when you finally hit the lake was enough to stop your head from spinning enough to force some clarity to the front of your mind.
You remember swimming, you remember Eddie pulling you up into the boat, and you remember him grabbing you and trying to shield you from what was happening.
“Jesus Christ – don’t look–!”
You remember thinking his voice sounded strange, high, and panicked like that, and when you looked Patrick McKinney was fifteen feet up in the air, rigid and trembling – you’re gonna think I’m crazy, she started fucking floating…
You choked on a strangled scream when the first of his bones snapped up out of place, and you staggered back a step, instantly forgetting that you were not standing on solid ground. You weren’t even really aware of your body moving, jerking backward in alarm, but then you collided with Eddie, the boat listed, and you were in the water again.
The dream was bad enough, but dreams are dreams. Dreams are bullshit, what happened to Patrick was all too real, and somehow you know you’re never going to stop hearing the sound of his bones breaking.
A ruckus draws your attention to the copse of trees standing ahead of you on the other side of the clearing. Your head snaps up in alarm, and you hold your breath, bracing yourself for the gold and greens of the Hawkins Tigers catching up to you, but it’s only Eddie who comes crashing back into the little hollow that has become your temporary haven.
You force a harsh sigh of relief out through your chattering teeth and watch him lope across the clearing toward you.
He has a new walkie-talkie strung around his body and a white plastic case swinging in his hand – you realize with a start that you don’t know how long he’s been gone. It could have been fifteen minutes, it could have been two hours.
You don’t care, you’re only so desperately glad he’s back.
Eddie skids to a halt and drops to his knees in front of you.
“Hey,” He says breathlessly, discarding his new items and reaching out to grab you and rub his hands up and down the length of your arms, trying to create some kind of friction against the way you’re shivering, “Sorry that took so long, how are we doing? Are you good? …talk to me, Baby.”
You shake your head and squeeze your eyes shut, because how are you supposed to be okay after something like that?
“I threw up,” You say honestly, breathing hard against the way his touch jostles you and makes your arm throb.
Under normal circumstances, you might be ever so slightly embarrassed about admitting that, but the only thing you can manage to think about is how badly your fingers fucking hurt.
“That’s okay,” Eddie hums, “Hey— I’ll tell you a secret. I did too. After Chrissy…?” He trails off under the harshness of your gaze.
It doesn’t make you feel any better, you don’t want to talk about Chrissy anymore.
Almost as if he can read your thoughts, Eddie drops the subject quick and releases you. He turns his attention to the little white case, flipping the lid open then to reveal a host of standard first aid equipment — bandaids, burn cream, gauze.
“Where’d you get that?” You manage to grind out through your clenched, chattering teeth.
Eddie dismisses the question with a quick shake of his head.
“Don’t worry about it,” he says, but you are worried about it.
You know Eddie to be a lot of things, but discreet has never been one of them. You watch him carefully as he sifts through the little case.
“Did you steal it?” you press.
He flinches and hesitates, glancing warily at you like he’s afraid to admit it.
“...Construction site,” he says after a moment, and you feel your stomach bottom out. “Nobody’s gonna miss it.”
But of course, that’s not the point. He’s perhaps the most wanted person in Roane County by now, and he’d gone off on his own for the indiscernible amount of time it took to find the walkie-talkie and the first aid kit. Someone could have seen him.
“Eddie…”
“We need it more than they do.” He mumbles.
You can’t argue with that sentiment, as much as you hate to admit it.
“Okay, let me see,” Eddie says once he finally finishes taking inventory of the first aid kit. He reaches for your ruined hand, and his brows come together over his eyes when you hesitate. “Let me see it, Baby.”
It takes you the better part of half a minute, but you finally relent and peel your arm from where you’ve had it pressed to your body. The movement alone is enough to send a lancing pain surging through your broken digits, but when you feel the pressure of his fingers on the throbbing flesh, as gentle as you’re sure he’s trying to be, you flinch involuntarily away from him and draw a sharp intake of breath – fucking shit that hurts.
He releases you quicker than if he’d put his hand on a burning stove and makes a distraught sound in the back of his throat.
“Christ — okay, it’s okay.” He says immediately, breathing out a shaky sigh to try and steady himself, you can’t be sure if he's saying it for your benefit or for his own.
By the time you went in and out of the water and finally got to the shore on the other end of the lake, Eddie had been a wreck — of course, you hadn’t accounted for that in getting stuck out in the doldrums like he had, he’d been forced to sit helplessly in the boat and watch Jason kick the shit out of you.
You’ve lost track of how many times he’s apologized to you since you crawled out of the water.
It takes all of your willpower to resist the overpowering urge to jerk your hand back, as you know that the movement of doing so is going to hurt just as much as his tender probing does.
You whine out a pathetic noise as he turns your hand over, pressing down on the palm of your hand with his thumb to try and assess the damage.
“Shh, I know,” Eddie assures you gently, “I know it hurts.”
You swallow hard against the sentiment and watch him in an attempt to try and gauge his reaction.
It’s not good. You knew that from the moment it happened, but part of you hopes that maybe it is not as bad as it seems.
Somehow you are having a very hard time trying to convince yourself of that.
Your ring and smallest finger are bent and twisted out of shape where Jason crushed them under the heel of his shoe, the purpling bruise is spread across the length of your hand, stretching up nearly all the way to your wrist.
It throbs unbearably under even the faintest ghost of Eddie’s touch.
It takes him a long time to react, and when he does, he makes a strange lilting sound in the hollow of his throat, an uneven, shaky thing he hums out as he tilts his head.
“Oh, it’s not so bad.” He lies, and based on the way his tone does not match his words, you know it must be for your benefit because it actually is that bad— he clicks his tongue, dark eyes flicking up to regard you with a wry smile that he has trouble holding, “Look at you. Such a baby, making all this fuss over nothing.”
You know he’s joking, trying to lighten the mood, but the only problem there is you don’t think it’s funny in the slightest. There’s not a lot that is funny about what happened over the last few hours, despite the way something deep inside your psyche is imploring you to try and lighten the mood.
You can’t muster the effort, so you just sit there and try to breathe against the pervasive ache that lances up the length of your arm with every throbbing beat of your pulse.
A moment of heady silence bleeds between you as Eddie finishes his assessment of your broken hand.
“Okay.” he finally says, “So d’you want the good news or bad news first?”
You don’t have to think to answer.
“Good news,” you force yourself to say. “Always.”
Eddie breathes out an airy laugh and tries to bite back the smile quirking up his lips as he shakes his head, sending his shaggy curls dancing across his shoulders where they are still damp at the ends.
“Good news, huh?” He hums, then, “Okay, yes ma’am. The good news is it looks like that fucker only really got these two little guys on the end here,”
Eddie reaches for your fingers like he means to tug on them, but stops short as he thinks better of it and shows you his instead, waggling his ring and pinky finger at you.
He holds your gaze when you glance up at him and waits for you to acknowledge him.
You give a curt nod.
“Good girl.” He says, “Now the not-so-fun part – the bad news is … I’ve gotta set ‘em.” He hesitates a moment before continuing, “…it’s gonna hurt, Babe. I’m so sorry”
Your heart leaps up into your throat as suddenly he’s got your twisted fingers pinched delicately between his own.
“No, don’t — please don’t!” you gasp, seizing him by the wrist with your good hand and trying to jerk the wounded one away.
Eddie holds you to the spot and levels you with a deeply apologetic look.
“I can’t fix you up with ‘em bent like that.” He insists, but you shake your head.
“Eddie—”
You don’t know what it was you planned to say, how you planned to reason with him, but he doesn’t give you the chance to say it.
“Don’t worry, Sweetheart, it’ll be over real quick. I promise,” then, strangely, he perks up ever so slightly. “Hey – I’m a child of abuse, remember? I know what I’m doing.”
It’s yet another joke that doesn’t land.
“That’s not funny.” you snap.
Eddie offers you a lopsided shrug.
“It’s a little funny.”
You breathe out hard and feel a hot and burning panic welling up in your chest. It already hurts so badly, you can’t imagine what it’s going to feel like when he tugs them back into place.
You won’t dare ask what his exact qualifications are, how many times he’s done this before – you don’t want that kind of context, but you’re smart enough to know it isn’t going to be like it is in the movies.
A harsh tug followed by a loud click, and a manly grunt, then miraculously you're healed? Not a chance in hell.
“I don’t think I can do this.” You whimper, leaning reflexively into Eddie’s touch when his hand comes up to cup your cheek.
“Sure you can,” he says gently, “Come on, Babygirl, you’re way tougher than me — we'll go on three, okay?”
“Eddie, please…” you whine, “Let’s just wait, let’s just…” you trail off.
Just what? Just find a hospital? Sure, just go waltzing in with Eddie in tow and try to explain what happened to a doctor. There’s no good option here, it’s all so fucked.
“I ever tell you about my pet raccoon?” Eddie says suddenly.
It leaves your ears ringing. You feel your brows come together over your eyes as you gape stupidly at him.
“…What?”
“Yeah … I’ve made some stupid decisions in my day, but that one … well, it’s up there. Gotta be top three at least.”
You don’t answer right away, though only because you don’t expressly know what to say. You can’t say you’re exactly shocked, it’s a very Eddie thing to say, it’s only just that you cannot possibly fathom what has possessed him to break into a story about a childhood pet.
“What has this got to do with anything?”
“Shh, just listen, it’s important,” He says, “So, when I was a kid, all I wanted was a pet – this was before I went to live with Wayne, so it’s not like we didn’t have the room. The old house had a backyard and everything, it wasn’t exactly what you might call nice, but it was a legitimate house, y’know? So every year, all I asked for was a pet. Christmas, birthdays, it’s all I wanted. I was obsessed with it, but my old man didn’t like dogs and my mom was allergic to cats, so no dice in that department. Then one day, I get it in my head that if I can’t have a cat or a dog, I’ll just have to go and get myself some other kind of pet… so I’m like nine or ten, and somehow, I managed to lure this big fat raccoon into the yard and trap him under a milk crate – I know, hey I was a kid, I didn’t know any better–”
“Still don’t,” you can’t stop yourself from saying.
Eddie pulls a face.
“Hush – so I get him in the house, and I’m so proud of myself. I run my ass down to Benny’s where my mom worked, just like, so excited to tell her, show her how clever I was rigging that trap, right? The whole way home I’m hyping it up, I’ve got this big surprise and I won’t tell her what it is because I want her to see first hand. Only problem is that raccoons – they’re smart little fuckers, right? Getting out of traps is like their bread and butter, and this guy… man, this guy was crazy. Like, certifiably. He got out and he just went ape shit. We get home and the place is trashed, curtains are torn down, scratches all over the couch, pillows are ripped to shreds. My mom starts to freak out, so I panic and go looking everywhere for him like I’m gonna find him and fix it, right? I end up cornering him in the kitchen, you know, like an idiot, and what does this fucker do? He bites me–”
Without warning, Eddie jerks your fingers straight and they snap back into place with a loud click that you feel more than hear.
“Oh, fUCKING—SHIT!” You gasp and cry out, slumping forward to press your face against his shoulder.
For half a moment it is all you can do to suppress the urge to be sick as spots and colors explode across your vision.
The agonized sounds you make are muffled by the layers of denim and leather as Eddie rubs wide circles into your back and whispers reassuring, sweet nothings into your hair, punctuated by a litany of soft kisses.
“It’s okay, Sweetheart —I know — you did so good — try to breathe.”
You do, sucking greedily on a deep inhale and shouting out your pain and frustration and alarm and everything else you’re currently feeling.
“What happened to three!?” You wail, rocking back to level Eddie with a tense, incredulous glare.
He pulls a face that is almost halfway apologetic.
“You’re right, that’s on me.”
He reaches for your hand again, and you are reluctant to give it to him, for obvious reasons, until you see the ball of gauze in his hand. You relent, and watch him make quick work of binding your fingers, individually at first and then together.
It takes a long moment for the worst of the pain to fade back to the dull ache, and even longer for the urge to punch Eddie in his stupid, handsome face to go away. You won’t do it, especially considering the outrage you still feel over the fact that Jason punched you.
“So what happened after?” you sniff in an attempt to try and distract yourself – Eddie’s brows furrow in confusion, “What was so important about the raccoon?”
You watch as he goes through a strange journey of several emotions flashing across his face all at once - realization, chagrin, and humor even, and you feel your stomach sink as you can guess what it is he is about to say.
“Nothing,” he says honestly, and shrugs. “I needed to distract you,”
You aren’t sure if it’s the lingering effect of having your fingers pulled back into place or the bell-clanging shock of his response, but your ears are ringing again.
You could kill him.
“You’re the fucking worst—!” You shout, shoving him hard enough to knock him from his knees onto his ass. You regret the decision immediately as you remember your broken fingers and yelp as they light up in white-hot pain.
Eddie is laughing as he tries and fails to catch himself.
“It worked didn’t it?”
You ignore him in favor of stoking the fires of your indignation because as much as you hate to admit it, he’s right. He’d held you enraptured in the palm of his hand with that stupid story, and you hate that you’d let your guard down like that.
Then again, this is Eddie, isn’t that what you’re meant to do with him?
He watches you, groping aimlessly in the dirt, digging up handfuls of leaves and tossing them to the wayside as he waits for some kind of reaction you are unwilling to give him.
“If it makes you feel any better, that story ends with me getting a rabies shot.” He hums.
“It doesn’t.” You snap, but immediately regret it when he gives you a weak smile. You breathe out hard through your nose and chew at your lower lip, “...Was she mad? Your mom?”
Eddie huffs out an uneven breath and shrugs.
“Yeah, she was fucking pissed.” He says, casting his eyes down to his sneakers and smiling to himself in a way that feels secretive, “Only time I was ever in real trouble with her.”
Suddenly, inexplicably, you feel like you’re intruding on the moment. You are not oblivious to what it means, the fact that he shared that memory of his mother with you. You’d have to be living underneath a rock to miss the size of that gesture.
It hits you like a bolt of lightning – Skull Rock, not too far from your old house, and almost guaranteed to be abandoned in the middle of the day like this. It's the perfect place to hide.
“...I know where we should go.” You say suddenly. “Where we might be safe? For a little while at least…”
Eddie glances up at you with those big, dark eyes and nods to himself after a moment. He stands, brushing the detritus from his knees and backside, and offers you his hand.
You give him your left – the good one – and let him pull you to your feet.
“Lead the way, M’lady.” He says, still holding tight to your hand.
You stare down at the point of connection, then look back up at Eddie and feel a sudden and overwhelming rush of affection for him. All that fighting, the stupid way you’d ignored him all day – what did any of it mean in the face of everything happening here? Considering all the time you'd spent without him, missing him, what is the point of fighting about who said what when you’re together?
You surprise yourself by pushing forward then, closing what little distance there is between you with two short steps and wrapping your arms around his neck. You can’t help the sigh of relief you breathe when he pulls you tightly against him without a moment’s hesitation.
“I’m sorry–”
“It’s okay.” Eddie says immediately, stopping you before you can clarify what it is you are in fact sorry for, “It doesn’t matter,”
The sentiment makes your chest hurt.
“It does though…” You insist, stepping back so you can meet his gaze. “It matters to me,”
He purses his lips into a tight, horizontal line like he really has to think about it, then nods.
“Okay …” He hums, “No more splitting up though, okay? I know you’re out here being all brave and shit, trying to save me, but no more hero stuff. Together is better.”
You nod, and he gives you a very pointed look.
“Let me hear you say it,” Eddie prompts, and you nod again.
“Together is better.” You repeat, dutifully.
“Good girl,” He says. He adjusts the strap of the walkie-talkie across his shoulders and nods to you, “Let’s go.”
Taglist: @harrys-titties, @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @thicksexxualtensionaltension, @ganseysgff, @scoopsr0bininn, @pbs-theundeadmaggot, @audhd-dragonautagonaut, @clilxlxx, @alexandriaemily200, @averagestudent03, @but-vanessa, @cosmictime45, @timelordfreya, @forever-war, @munsonzzgf, @chervbs, @irisabrams, @mopeymopeymouse, @violetsandroses8
#cruel summer#cruel summer fic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x you#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson#stranger things fic#stranger things#i think i need to take a bit of a hiatus after this just because life is NOT slowing down and not even in the good fun way you guys#also I need to figure out how to get from here to there lmao
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What if Nesta decided to destroy the Inner Circle part 8
Nesta left Feyre to rest some time later, leaving Gwyn and Emerie on guard duty.
In the heat of Feyre’s labor, Nesta had completely forgotten about the battle still happening, the mask that had still been on her face. She had taken it off some time ago and had stared in shock at the blood and gore coating the hall.
The Inner Circle…was dead. Every member. Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Mor, and Amren. Their dead bodies graced the floor. The two half-wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, grimaced at their mangled bodies.
A few days ago, Nesta would’ve thought it impossible. But she had witnessed the power of herself, of her friends, of Lucien and Eris. Two High Lords’ sons-and the heirs. A Made woman with cauldron-stolen magic. With such power in their midst, it had been possible to win.
The most powerful court in the world (and the most evil) had been destroyed. Nesta thought she would feel at least a little regret, but honestly? All Nesta felt was triumphant.
They deserved it. Every last one of them. She had seen the shambles they called a court. Ruling over their small little island within a sea of darkness, letting all those good people suffer as they lived in their deluded utopia that was Velaris.
The only one she felt bad for was Feyre. She had lost all her friends, mean and toxic as they had been. Besides Lucien. Which made Nesta realize Feyre had basically no friends that were her own. All of her friends had been Rhysand’s friends first. It would’ve been the same for Nesta had she joined this toxic court. Maybe they would’ve cut her off from Gwyn and Emerie.
She went to talk to Feyre after a silent dinner heavy with fatigue. Even Eris failed to make a single snide remark.
She found Feyre staring blankly at a wall, eyes heavy and dull. A plate of food on her nightstand lay untouched. Nesta hesitantly approached her. “Feyre?”
Slowly, Feyre turned to her. The look in her eyes was too familiar.
A few months ago, those eyes had been Nesta’s. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she drank herself into stupors. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she fucked strangers to drown her feelings. Those eyes had been Nesta’s as she had buried herself in music, her only salvation.
So, Nesta said nothing else. Only let Feyre see everything, all Nesta had been, all that she was, and all that she will be. Let her see that she understood that even though Rhysand had been horrible, Nesta didn’t expect her to be ok. She wasn’t going to force her to heal by shoving her in the House of Wind. She needed time and support. So Nesta would give that to her. For however long she needed it.
Feyre had always been the rock of the family. But now she didn’t have to be. Nesta’s cursed heart, the heart that used rage as a defensive mechanism to hide her weakness, that she loved and hated more fiercely than others, than despite all she had said, all she had done, she loved her sisters, Feyre and Elain. And no more distance between them. From this moment onward, everything they did, they’d do it together. They’d get through it together.
They had perhaps the strangest familial experiences ever. They had all made more mistakes than they could count. But it didn’t matter. Blood was thicker than water. At the end of it all, they were still sisters. And Nesta would make sure Feyre would never forget that.
“How is she?” Gwyn asked, Emerie standing beside her. “As well as can be expected, given the circumstances,” Nesta replied. “In other words, she’s physically healthy, but mentally, she’s a wreck.”
Gwyn nodded sympathetically. “When she’s ready, we’ll offer her the opportunity to join us,” Emerie said, drumming her fingers on her thigh. “The Valkyries, I mean. They really helped us; I think they can help her, too. Find her groove again. And people that she actually likes. People she chose. Her own friends.”
Nesta said quietly, “I think that would be amazing for her, if she agrees.”
Emerie nodded. “How are you dealing with all of this?”
Nesta shrugged. “I got off ok. It’s Feyre who suffered the most. Those people did horrible things to her and got her to do horrible things. But ultimately, they were her only friends. I’m sure that was by design.” Even Elain had her own friends outside of the Inner Circle: the two half-wraiths named Nuala and Cerridwen. To Elain’s relief, they had survived the bloody battle. The two of them, along with Elain, had become Parikshit’s primary caretakers while Feyre recovered physically and mentally.
In all of the chaos, Elain had stepped up and become a leader. It was inspiring to see her wrangle up the survivors and try to put everyone together. It made Nesta wonder about a lot of things. Between Lucien’s serious Spring ties and courtier abilities and Elain’s leadership skills and love of nature, they could save the Spring Court. The only problem was getting rid of Tamlin.
That was a thought for another time. Nesta was too exhausted, too drained, to think of anything else besides sleep. So, she went to a guest room in the palace, drank a cup of water, then sank into one of the deepest sleeps of her life.
Elain’s POV
Elain took a deep breath, smoothing the skirts of her lavender dress.
It had been a week since Rhysand had died. A week since Feyre had given birth to Parikshit. A week since Nesta had decided to go after the other two parts of the Dread Trove. A week since Eris had returned to the Autumn Court, Lucien and co to the human lands. A week had passed and yet Feyre still sat in that bed, staring blankly at a wall.
Not so long ago, it had been Elain in that position. Staring blankly ahead, wishing for sunshine. When she had just been made, that accursed iron engagement ring her last remaining connection to the human life she had been forced to leave behind. A painful reminder of what she had once had and would never have again.
His family despised the Fae- and yet, some small, stupid part of Elain had hoped that Graysen’s love for her would be enough to overcome all that. But the way he had spoken of her, the disgust, the way he had insinuated that she was someone else’s property…well let’s just say Elain felt as if she had seriously misjudged him.
“You’re bound to some…Fae male. A High Lord’s son!”
“His name is Lucien.”
Elain had been slightly desperate for Graysen to take her back; there had been a glamour set-in place, but it had not fooled him. He had seen her for the now Fae female that she was, and that was enough for him to turn away in disgust. Any slight hope Elain might have had of convincing him probably evaporated with her statement.
His name is Lucien.
It means nothing, she had declared to him. The mating bond meant nothing when her heart belonged to him. And yet when he had spoken of him so callously, some part of her, some instinct, had roared in her blood to make Graysen speak of him with respect. She had known Nesta had not approved of Graysen- yet had raised little objection, because she had seen how happy Elain was with him. But it was all a lie. All of it was a lie, if pointed ears were enough to make him turn away from her. Elain only wished she had realized it sooner. Only wished she hadn’t given her heart and her maidenhood over to him.
Elain brought herself back to the present. She had moved on from Graysen now. But Feyre was the one who suffered now. Suffered because her husband…her husband was now dead. And she had just become a mother.
Elain had hoped to visit the Spring Court her eldest sister had claimed was so perfect for her. But she was needed here, in the Night Court. Feyre was in no position to be ruling an entire court, Cauldron-chosen or not. So, Elain had been doing damage control. Meeting with the people of Velaris, and though her heart quaked at the thought of it, visited the Illyrians and the Court of Nightmares with the support of some of the Valkyries; no way she was going in there alone. The Illyrians had snarled at the number of women, but realization of who and what Elain was, and the abilities of the Valkyries, made them shut up. They seemed to be making more of an impact on their misogynistic traditions now that there wasn’t a male in the helm. Even though it had just been a week. Elain was also still mostly looking after Parikshit. Feyre had lost the willingness to do pretty much anything. It pained Elain as she knew it pained Nesta. Both of them had gone through a phase like this. But both had survived.
And she would make sure Feyre survived too. Just like Feyre had made sure they had survived in the forest. And Nesta had saved Feyre from the Inner Circle. It was Elain’s turn- to make sure Feyre and her people survived the aftermath. She was no warrior-not like Nesta- but this she could do. Some part of her wondered if she was born for this.
Elain doubled over as a vision hit her. It was only a few seconds, then it was gone. But Elain knew what it was.
Dressed in a pale pink ballgown embroidered with flowers, glowing with health, crown atop her head.
It was her.
I think ACOTAR could've been so much better if instead of pitting the Archerons against each other, there was an inspiring, genuinely feminist message of the sisters coming back together. And I'd like to note I despise the way Feyre was written from ACOMAF-onward, but I know Nesta would never judge Feyre for the terrible stuff she did while with Rhysand, but rather support her, understand her, and help her get better and be a better person. Because Nesta made mistakes too, albeit on a much smaller scale, and she grew from it. And I believe while Nesta would 100% be the sister everyone would follow into battle, Elain would 100% be the sister everyone would follow in the aftermath. We haven't seen much from her, but I know she has potential to be exceptionally powerful in a way that Nesta and Feyre aren't. Thanks for reading!
#pro lucien vanserra#pro eris vanserra#pro feyre archeron#pro nesta archeron#pro elain archeron#pro archeron sisters#anti inner circle#tamlin redemption#sort of#fanfic#vanzaddies#because they're hot ikyk#high lady elain
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thoughts on if suzaki somehow got adopted by oya????
i see him more as a suzuran guy i don’t actually think he’d fit into oya well unless he was having a Real Serious mental breakdown and they were the ones to help him out of it lol. i can see him being friends with at least fujio though and he knows that if anything happens to him at senomon he’ll have a safe place at oya
i have headcanons though 😭
oya!suzaki:
first he and amagai are Done in this scenario. they’ve split, it’s over. suzaki hates the way they went out, but what can he really do? where will he ever be wanted and needed again?
oya heard about it from their silly little intel guy and it’s just not right. no matter how they individually feel about senomon’s guard dog, he doesn’t deserve to be thrown out with the trash, not after everything he did for amagai. it’s this that drives fujio to extending a hand out for him.
did i mention suzaki would look hot as fuck in black? anyways.
a lot of the oya guys are probably pretty mistrustful of him. i mean, as expected, he did play an active role in abducting and almost killing their #2. i like to imagine fujio would trust him and prompt the others to treat him nicely which nobody really takes kindly to. it’s because of this that fujio might be the only person he’s willing to speak to properly. things do improve with time of course
strangely, of all people, tsukasa is quite fond of him. he’ll make conversation with suzaki too but suzaki is soooo awkward with him because of the aforementioned kidnapping thing
we saw in the movie that suzaki is Strong, like a one-man army, 3-on-1 kinda strong. having him definitely elevates oya’s fighting prowess. he’s a lot like the hope hill guys in the sense that from a very young age he’s had to learn to fight for himself and win a place away from the bottom to survive. without having to protect a useless crybaby, his full potential is unlocked and he essentially displaces fujio at the top. i mean did we watch the same movie? he took on todoroki and odajima at the same time and still had the ability to go against fujio and probably would’ve won if the power of friendship was on his side… or if amagai’s irritating ass didn’t wake the dead
he doesn’t replace fujio as the leader. his experiences with senomon and amagai have built immense loyalty within himself and this loyalty has projected onto fujio now. at his core, suzaki is built to serve and protect. he’ll protect fujio with all he has because fujio was kind to him when no one else was. he helps in defending fujio’s place, never steps beyond that
he doesn’t officially join any factions, he has a hard time with people and everyone’s still kinda scared of him. he mostly works alone and corresponds with fujio. still, despite not having anything to defend but himself, he’s always at the beck and call of tsukasa faction
speaking of todoroki he and suzaki do Not get along. their personalities just clash horribly but rather than conflict, the two just ignore each other unless they need to work together. i think they’d probably have some level of respect for each other and honestly they’re probably more alike than they believe themselves.
suzaki would look so good in black
hm… he’s also strangely nice to jamuo. jamuo is terrified of him but i think suzaki would find him quite interesting. he was never much of an intel guy, that was saboten’s job in senomon and he sucked at it, only ever really able to force information out through beating people up. he’ll absolutely defend jamuo from the people who like picking on him
when amagai actually does find out what suzaki’s been up to, he’s furious of course. but he doesn’t have his guard dog anymore and he’s just stuck with the absolutely useless senomon high students. amagai would absolutely feel like oya stole what’s his, even if he was the one to throw suzaki out in the first place. against what is probably smart, amagai goes directly to oya to find suzaki and confront him and take him back because suzaki was supposed to be a stray dog he wasn’t supposed to move on. amagai can’t stand that.
when he reaches oya, i think yasukiyo would be the ones to greet him 🤔 with a punch to the face. tsukasa handles amagai’s intrusion, telling him to get out before they show him what they do to intruders on their home turf. amagai demands to see suzaki but suzaki won't see him, hiding away within earshot. amagai calls him a coward and tells him it’s not over and that he’ll get back at suzaki somehow. i think oya would probably have their big realisation of what suzaki’s been through at that moment, listening to the way amagai speaks to him and threatens him, seeing the genuine sickness and fear on suzaki’s expression. suddenly, the guard dog looks more like an abandoned puppy.
he does come out as amagai leaves, telling him to leave oya alone. the people standing close to him can see the unbreakable suzaki ryo shake, can see how scared he is, but he defends fujio against the person who scarred him anyways
after that he gets along better with oya, they realise that despite their past, despite everything, suzaki’s loyalty rests with them
you know what? i said i didn’t see the vision so idk how i wrote this much and now i’ve low key kinda convinced myself? 😭 anyways i hope this is satisfactory!
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15
A night that was supposed to be romantic is taking a wrong turn....
There had been an ache first in his chest that had told him something was wrong, an almost burning that seemed to grow the longer he stood at the bar. A pull of hurt that grew and twisted, it had no reason for being, and that confused him, briefly distracting him from his anger. Then he looked over towards Yara for a moment just to see how she was doing since he had been gone for longer than he had anticipated or intended to be. Her posture gave it all away, making the ache suddenly make sense to him. It was through their bond and caused by her upset. Whatever had bothered her earlier had gotten worse, and he had a feeling that Argona had not helped it. Turning away from Argona without another word, he strode purposefully towards his wife without another word to the succubus.
“Come, we are leaving.” He gently touched her shoulder, his voice matching the softness of his touch. Astaroth wasn’t upset with her in the slightest, and he didn’t want her to misinterpret that he was. “You are sitting here looking dejected on what I had hoped to be a fun evening out for us, Yara. I am sorry for whatever has upset you. I’ll call the car and we can go back to the cabin and talk.” His expression was soft, as was his voice, but his eyes were studying her meticulously.
“Don’t you need to finish your conversation?” Her voice was a little cold and a lot distant. Yara looked everywhere but at him, uncomfortable,and if he had not been supernatural, her voice would have been too quiet for him to hear. It was all she could do not to cry as she shifted in the chair a little. The last thing she wanted was him feeling sorry for her, pity was worse than anything. “I don’t want to ruin your evening, I’ll be fine. I always am.” She swallowed, fighting her emotions that were having a full fledged war within her.
“It is finished, and I’m not going to leave my wife sitting here looking and feeling dejected in order to talk to anyone.” His brows drew together, not understanding her discomfort and avoidance of him. He hadn’t done anything that he could think of to hurt her, or upset her. Jealousy or insecurity he could understand, but now he was confused. Was this part of that? Was he misunderstanding her reaction? He wanted to support her, but how?
“I'm fine. There is nothing wrong. You do not have to end your conversation with your friend due to me.” She wouldn't look at him, and her voice was anything but convincing. If she met his gaze, he would see the lie plainly in her eyes. At least looking away from him kept it hidden for a few more moments. Actually saying that she knew that he’d prefer to be with anyone in the club but her, would break her. Her father forcing the marriage had been the ultimate punishment on her. Not because Astaroth was cruel, but because he wasn’t. However, he was male. A male that she was quite sure wasn’t oblivious to the fact that many beings in the establishment were lusting over, and most of them would be a better companion for the evening, or for any time, than her.
“Yara, what is wrong?” He waived over a waitress; he needed a drink badly. He took one of her hands gently, still not understanding why she wouldn’t even look in his direction. It felt like they’d gone all the way back to the beginning again, even farther back than the beginning honestly, and he was starting to become frustrated. “You’re lying and I know it. I’m not going to stop asking until you give me a real answer.” For the moment he was able to keep his voice calm, but it was a war that he did not know how long he would be able to win. Her avoiding answering was causing his frustration and anger to rise, and it was not like he’d ever had to contain it before.
“Nothing. I said I'm fine.” Still not looking at him, her chin lifted, and she ordered a blood wine when the waitress came. “You don't have to stay sitting, go finish your conversation. I believe the alluring blonde is still over at the bar.” Now there was an undertone of bitterness that was so palpable in her voice that a deaf being would even have felt it. Yara tried to pull her hand back that he’d taken, but of course he wasn’t going to let that go either, much like the conversation. Once more she swallowed down her emotions and tried to put up walls. Somehow she found that far harder with Astaroth than with anyone in the past. After their previous conversations, the way he had treated her, and the way she had hoped things would be, it now felt like she had been a fool and that stung.
He ordered a demon's brew, neat. After the waitress walked away he leaned in and spoke right next to her ear. “Fine, I will not argue with you here.” His fingertips caressed her upper arm. “I was not having a conversation, I was waiting for the bartender and being annoyed by the bitch of a blonde. If you want to be mad at me for that, I can't stop you. However, you’re not getting rid of me. So, be mad.” He kissed her neck just below her ear then sat upright. His breath had been hot against her neck and ear, fanning out with each word.
Astaroth could have said everything sitting up and she would have heard him. He could have refrained from touching her. The kiss was not needed since at the moment she was doing her best to attempt to pretend he wasn’t there. However, he knew one thing: sometimes you had to gently push someone to pull the truth out of them. It wasn’t something he’d ever done often, but he knew just enough to be able to do it.
She felt a wave of desire flow through her for him when his lips met her skin. There was no doubt that he had known just what he was doing. He wasn’t fighting fair, but then neither was she by not saying anything. She guessed they were even. “I'm not..” Yara looked down, as he took her hand now in both his and laced their fingers. “What are you doing?” Now her head turned to look at him, brows drawn together. What WAS he doing? And WHY?
Smirking, he leaned over until their foreheads were touching as he replied, “not allowing you to push me away because you misread a situation.” When she tried to pull her hand back a second time, he held tighter between his two. “I brought YOU here to have an enjoyable night. If you wish to ruin it, I won't stop you. I, however, will also not argue with you. I’m not leaving your side, and I am still going to show the only woman here who I care to be with, the affection she deserves.” Pulling her hand up, he kissed the back without breaking eye contact. “Together.”
She sat blinking at him without saying anything. What kind of game was he playing? Why did she feel so confused? There were new emotions and feelings flowing through her and she didn’t know how to handle them. Everything was so overwhelming. The words of Lucifer battling the words of Astaroth now in her head. Astaroth’s actions battling her father’s words of foretelling.
While he waited for her to say something he was glad their drinks were delivered. He needed the strong demonic liquid to help him deal with whatever set this round of emotions off. He was perplexed by her behavior and feeling suddenly closed off from her. Why did she suddenly think that he was looking to be with someone else after they’d had this conversation. They’d agreed. This had been covered. Did she not trust him? What had he done to deserve that?
“Asti, I…” suddenly she felt unsure again and her head dropped away from his; so that her eyes were looking at her lap, “I mean you don't have to…” She sighed, and her jaw worked. Why had coming here made her feel so off balance suddenly?
“Have to what? Act like we're married? We are. Act like your husband? I am. Act like I like you? I do. Act like I care?” He reached over and took her chin gently to turn her face to look at him. “Papilio, we may not be madly in love with one another, but I do care about you and want you happy. I’ve told you that before, I don’t know why any of this should come as a surprise. I wasn’t flirting with that female, if that is what you think, and there isn't anyone else here I want to spend time with. I don't know why you're now feeling insecure, but I am yours.” Astaroth leaned over and softly kissed her cheek. He was starting to understand, remembering what she had told him about things Lucifer had said. This was their first time in public. Maybe a place with fewer people would have been better. A wine bar instead of a nightclub.
“Only because you are being forced.” Suddenly her voice was colder, she was fighting tears and she didn't know why. She was trying to put on her millennia old mask of indifference and condescension but it wasn’t working. “We both know I'm not the one in this bar you'd be with if you had a choice.” Her eyes again swept the women lusting after him, then could not meet his afterwards.
His eyes followed hers and he sighed. “I cannot help how others look at me. Just like I can't control the men who are ogling you.” They quick whip of her head, to look at him, told him she hadn't even noticed. She had been so caught up in her own jealousy and insecurity that she had not noticed anyone paying attention to her. He found that intriguing. She had been afraid of losing him. It had never occurred to her that there were others within the bar that would have been glad to take her away from him. It still bothered him slightly that she was taking her insecurity out on him, even if he was beginning to understand. “Why are you getting upset at me for what they are doing?” Astaroth wasn't sure where this patience was coming from, but he was thankful for it.
“I'm not.” Yara protested. “I just know how this goes.” She saw one of his brows raise so she continued with how her thoughts went. “Once you find a way out of…” a finger landed on her lips very softly, but it was the darkening of his eyes that gave her pause more than that. She knew that look. She’d seen it during their wedding. She’d seen it with her father. This was anger. Deep, dark, anger. The fact that what she had started to say evoked that emotion so strong and deep told her one thing: she was very, very wrong.
“I have not, nor do I plan to look for a way out of this. I have tried making plans for the future with you today about the house. We will be visiting someone who can tell us about your mother. Do not finish that sentence if you truly want things to work out between us, even if just as friends in this arrangement. Because if that is what you truly think of me, then there is no future of anything but resentment and discord.” He was angry but trying not to lash at her the way he normally would at someone who insulted him like that. A temper tantrum from her was the last thing he fucking needed.
#writeblr cafe#writeblrcafe#writeblr#authorblr#writerblr#fiction#fantasy#dark fantasy#romance#paranormal fiction#supernatural fiction#fantasy romance#paranormal romance#paranormal#demon#god#pantheons#astaroth#yara#conflict#complicated relationships#complicated feelings#forced marriage#insecurity#modern fantasy#my ocs#my writing#devil in the details#original story#original world
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Luka/Marinette/Adrien/Kagami - No One Can Know That I Know That He Knows That She Knows That One Thing
The response to this prompt is a collaborative effort by @galahadwilder and @deinde-prandium!
---
Luka wasn’t an idiot, but there were times he suspected Kagami thought he was. In fairness to him, however, it wasn’t exactly his fault that he was trying to put some space between them since accidentally discovering that she was Ryuuko. It’s not that the news upset him or anything. It was just…he was now at three secret identities that he’d discovered, all without even trying. And he wasn’t even a Guardian! As good as he was at projecting an air of calm around Marinette and Adrien, somehow knowing about Kagami as well threatened to set him off kilter. Honestly, he didn’t know how Marinette did it, keeping the kinds of secrets she did. But it’s not like he could talk to her about the situation…or Adrien, for that matter. He shuddered to think how awkward the conversation would go if it turned out that his boyfriend, a superhero, didn’t actually realize his boyfriend and girlfriends were also superheroes…
No. He just needed time to process. And to figure out what to do. The important thing was, no one could know that he knew.
—
Kagami wasn’t an idiot, but she certainly felt like Luka was treating her like one. It’s not like she’d treated him any differently when she accidentally discovered he was Viperion— not that she told him that she knew, but still. Then again, it was one thing knowing Viperon’s secret identity, but quite another to learn the secret identities of Ladybug and Chat Noir. That discovery had thrown her for a loop, even though she really should have seen it coming, and now she found herself wishing she had a confidant. Talking to Adrien about it was out of the question, and Marinette— as the Guardian, she had enough on her plate. Luka, on the other hand…he would be an excellent secret keeper, if only it didn’t feel like he was avoiding her. Did he suspect that she knew about him? Hmm.
Whatever Luka’s motives for avoiding her, perhaps he had the right idea. No matter how awkward things got, it was critical that no one knew that she knew.
—
Adrien wasn’t an idiot, but he was starting to wonder if Marinette thought he was. Kagami had blown her identity on her first time out, and Miracle Queen had shown Luka’s directly to Hawkmoth, but only Marinette wasn’t allowed to have a Miraculous back after only he had seen her? Sure, do whatever it takes to protect your identity, but then. Luka—Viperion—had found out his, somehow, and she hadn’t seemed surprised. Which meant she knew and didn’t tell him. That hurt. He wanted to ask her about it, but he wasn’t supposed to know who she was, was he? She’d been adamant that nobody was supposed to know, but apparently it was just nobody but him.
He could get the picture. He wasn’t let in, again. And that was fine. He still cared about her, about all of them, even if they didn’t about him, so it’s not like anyone really needed to know he was hurting. It’s not like anyone needed to know he knew.
—
Marinette wasn’t an idiot. Both of her boyfriends, and her girlfriend, were all avoiding each other. Clearly there’d been some kind of fight, and all of them were… mad? Maybe?
Okay, maybe she was an idiot. Because she had no idea what had happened, why none of them were talking, and none of them were telling her anything. She’d gotten so engrossed in her duties as Ladybug, and the Guardian, that she hadn’t really kept up with her datemates, so she’d clearly missed something, and she had no idea what. And she couldn’t just ask them—they’d flip out and be mad at her and they’d stop being able to protect Paris and then Monarch would win and the city would be overrun by Nazi Zombies! No, she needed a plan. Some way to investigate what had happened.
Maybe she could get the rest of Operation Secret Garden involved in her scheme? It didn’t matter. Whatever it took, she had to know.
---
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#ml writers#writer spotlight#galahadwilder#deinde prandium#ml writers guild#mlb#miraculous ladybug#adrien x marinette x luka x kagami#march 2024 event#the fic i might write
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I’m gonna rank the couples in The Lunar Chronicles and explain why because I’m immensely bored I apologize in advance. And also just because it’s in a lower position doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing like there are only 4 spots-
Also SPOILERS FOR THE SERIES-
4th PLACE
WOLFLET- it’s the whole alpha thing that caused this I’m sorry like they need a lil more screen time and a lot less calling each other alpha. But I did really love them just not in the book Scarlet. I loved them in Cress and Winter when they were separated and it was just immense amounts of pining and I think they’re the most solid/loyal couple in the series like they’d do anything for each other and I love that. Honestly they’re a top tier couple and I wish we got more time with them like SOSN was peak because we got to see them being domestic and like adjusting I loved it. If they were put up against most other couples then they’d win I swear
3RD PLACE
CRESSWELL-these two were almost in 4th actually cuz they’re one of my least favourite tropes where it’s like “experienced suave guy who’s so hot and elite and older” and like “naive girl who’s never left her house and this is in fact the first human she’s spoken too” but somehow they made it enjoyable like I loved how she was like his sight in Cress and how well they work together. He also helps her come out of her shell and know her worth. I also love the fact that he’s a slut in recovery. They’re also the funniest couple and they also had the most slow burn which I enjoyed and I loved their ending. They’re very fun and again in any other circumstance in other list they’d be higher up (I also don’t like that Thorne’s 20+ and she’s 16 like it’s a lil weird-)
2ND PLACE
JACINTER-ok I’m kinda sad I put them in second and not first but yeah they’re my babies. They’re the best amalgamation of tropes I’ve ever seen like they’re childhood best friends to lovers, they’re forbidden love, they’re sun x moon (LISTEN HEAR ME OUT ON THIS), they’re grumpy x sunshine. I also love how much they genuinely adore each other and fight for each other to be safe as much as possible. They also have immense amounts of chemistry and tension in every scene they’re in. I also love that even though Winter is obviously the most vulnerable one in the relationship it doesn’t feel like he’s constantly doting on her like it feels equal like she doesn’t feel like a child being taken care of because of her mental health. I could talk about them hours like the pining the immense pining and the way they talk about and to each other it’s so beautiful like I miss them sm and they’re not popular enough like they’re the cutest I also have a headcanon that when they both move to Earth Jacin eventually retires from being her bodyguard and goes to medical school and they get to grow old somewhere where it always snows.
1ST PLACE
KAIDER- I love them they’re my favourite book couple ever actually like they’re like the first couple I ever genuinely shipped. And they were perfect in EVERY BOOK LIKE I WAS STRAPPED ON THIS TRAIN WITH THEM THEYRE SO ENDEARING AND PERFECT. Like ugh I genuinely had no notes on them for like bad stuff that I didn’t like. Like as I’m typing I’m think of criticism??? They’re so loyal to each other it’s makes me wanna BAWL AND THEYRE SO IN LOVE IT JUST YES. One of the main reasons I love them is because we had the two of them for so long like in Cinder it was only two POVs (if you don’t count Dr. Erland) and we got to see how they felt constantly and they’re such lil idiots and I love them like they’re it. I also love how much they compliment each other and bring out the best parts in the other if that makes sense like Kai learns a lot from her.They did almost lose to Jacinter tho and it came VERY CLOSE
Welp that’s the end. If you read all of ; here’s a heart for the trouble🤍
#the lunar chronicles#tlc cinder#tlc thorne#tlc scarlet#tlc kai#tlc cress#tlc winter#tlc wolf#jacin clay#jacinter#kaider
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gen with a side of stevetony. avengers. christmas cookies/gingerbread houses/baking in general..?
i’d love it if you could add extra ridiculousness between all the avengers 😂😂 i need some silliness and fluffiness today 😅 thanks!!
Everything I write is ridiculous <3
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“You know what?” Natasha said, putting her hands on her hips. She frowned at her gingerbread house severely. “This is my fault.”
Bruce didn’t look up from where his face was buried in his hands. “At least you admit it.”
“I should have known better,” Natasha continued, ignoring him.
Thor reached out to pick a gumdrop out of the bowl on the table. He watched, interested, as Tony wielded a tiny blowtorch to toast the marshmallows dotting the eaves of his roof. “Honestly, this is going a lot better than I expected.”
“I think it would have been okay if you hadn’t made the prize of ‘winner gets a favor from me,’” Clint added, eating one of the walls from his own collapsed gingerbread structure.
Natasha sighed, shaking her head. “I honestly thought I’d win and wouldn’t owe anyone.”
Bruce lifted his face from his hands to give her some very serious side-eye. “So you suggested to an artist and an engineer to make gingerbread houses? That was your brilliant plan?”
Natasha turned to frown at him, irritated. “I already said this was my fault.”
“Steve has literally made a palette for different colored icings so he can paint it onto his house,” Clint said, and helpfully pointed to where Steve was mixing green and blue icing to get a different shade of green to add to his candy wreath on the front door of his structure.
“I said I should have known better,” Natasha hissed, whipping around to glare at him. “Stop rubbing it in.”
Thor ate another gumdrop. “I think,” he said after a long pause. “That this started out as wanting a favor from you, both of them forgetting that they are extremely competitive.” He reached for another gumdrop, then decided to go for the bowl of M&Ms instead. “And now they’ve forgotten that this was for fun, and you would simply do them a favor if they just asked.”
“It would depend on the favor,” Natasha told him seriously. “The prize was going to be a no-questions-asked favor.”
“Well, shit, Natasha, both of them do a lot of stupid shit that they’d use that kind of favor for,” Clint sighed, rolling his eyes.
“I said I should have known better,” Natasha hissed again, gripping her hand into a fist.
Bruce leaned his chin on his hand and frowned, pulling the bowl of mixed nuts closer so he could pick through it. “Who was going to be the impartial judge, anyway?”
Natasha winced, just a little. “I was going to put them on the Avengers blog and see which ones people liked best.”
“Oh my god, no, they’ll vote mine because they’ll think it’s funny the lopsided, half-eaten house won, and then they’ll both sulk,” Clint exclaimed. There was real terror in his voice.
Natasha could admit that was probably true, after every poll where the public was allowed to name something. “I’m just gonna send pictures of theirs to Pepper, Colonel Rhodes, and Maria.”
“That’s two people automatically in Tony’s corner,” Thor pointed out, frowning at her.
“Rhodey has already sent me three texts about how the structural integrity of my gingerbread house is in peril because I didn’t anchor them properly with the royal icing,” Tony said, not looking up from using tweezers to place holly sprinkles onto the eaves of his gingerbread house.
“Pepper thinks I should paint more,” Steve added, now working on painting spots onto the wafers that served as the walkway leading away from his own gingerbread house.
Natasha sighed, loudly, and buried her face in her hands. Her own gingerbread house was elegant, but simple, like the kind you’d see as an example on a box kit. The melting snow on Steve’s had been painted to look realistic. Tony had pulled out both a set square and a fucking triangular scale while he was building his. She really should have known better.
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Redacted Listeners HCs Pt. 2
I’m back with hcs once more. New crew. New thoughts. Must say. Let’s go. Prepare to be even sicker.
Once again these hcs are based of how I have shaped the Redacted listeners as characters!
𓊆 Lovely𓊇
It’s the angst in me, but I like to think that Lovely is related to to first listener from Vincent’s story and went to the “abandoned” amusement park for the sole purpose of placing flowers. Or even speaking to them for comfort.
Lovely is definitely possessive of Vincent. Like would probably rip someone apart if they tried to hurt him. Would they win? I don’t know- but they would probably die trying.
I’m sad to say this, but Lovely is definitely munching on pineapple and pizza.
Freelancer is once of their closest friends and they definitely hangout whenever they can.
Lovely doesn’t have a good relationship with their parents. As in their parents were hardly ever home when they were younger. For the most part, Lovely was watched over by the close relative that had died.
I like to believe that Lovely still has a hard accepting any of this shit. Like every once in a while they’re like “If this is a dream.. it’s a really long one.
I don’t think they’d want to wake up if it was.
Sam and Darling are like older siblings to Lovely- they look up to them more than words could ever put it.
Lovely is a vintage thrifting whore. I’m sorry, I don’t make the rules. Everything they adorn is thrifted.
Appreciates a good forehead kiss.
𓊆 Darlin 𓊇
Is a middle sibling. Enough said.
Tries to act tough, but is a really softie.
Darling’s fashion would be something similar to street fashion which classes with ol country boy Sam.
Darling was just someone who wanted to belong, so when Quinn came in the picture it was the first change they took at having a community outside of the pack. But that didn’t last long.
Darling would love to own a Rottweiler.
Opening up with the pack has been tough, but they’re trying and honestly- there’s time where they wished they had done so sooner.
Not afraid to call out bullshit.
They read during their spare time.
They’re get easily overstimulated- large gatherings are a pain in their ass and they’re willing to use any reason to run home once that social battery dies.
𓊆 Freelancer 𓊇
Hated the idea of being empowered and tried to hide to the best of their abilities until they accidentally harmed someone close to them.
For a while, Freelancer couldn’t stand moments where it rained but with therapy it got better.
Is an astronomy nerd.
Was raised to put people before themselves and to not be “selfish”.
Sometimes mentally fights between wanting to be liked, but also not wanting to be in the spotlight.
Is really good at cooking.
A little gremlin to the people they’re close to.
Would die for the whole DAMN crew.
Inversion made it difficult for them to go to places with large gatherings. They used to love that type of environment but now it puts them on edge.
Already knew Damien and Huxley were going to be a thing. Sniffed it from miiiileees.
Speaking of which, befriending them was the best damn thing to happen in their life.
#redacted audio#redactedverse#redacted headcanons#redacted lovely#redacted freelancer#redacted darlin
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"So, were you just flirting with me back there in order to annoy Noar?" Trying to figure out what Inara had been doing had been driving Arik insane since she sat directly on his lap; and now he finally had her alone in their cabin again, so he wasn’t wasting time in finding out the truth. Until the thought had occurred to him, he had not realized how much it would bother him if she did. After the night they’d had before, he hoped that she was honestly attracted to him and wanted to be with him; and not just to piss off Diyan.
"What?" Inara turned quickly from where she was hanging up the shirts Noar had given her, her eyes narrowing as her brows drew closer together. Why would he ask that? She had thought they had both felt the same attraction and pull the night before. Had it been only her? When she saw the look on Arik’s face, she threw the hanger and shirts on the bed and crossed the room to him. It was clear to her that she had not been the only one to feel things, but that he was as unsure of everything as she was, and at least she could put his mind at ease. That he was unsure helped her to feel better. "No, Arik, it wasn’t just to piss him off! Did you really think that?" There was a slight look of hurt on her face, and it could also be heard in her voice as her eyes searched his face. He always wore a mask to hide his emotions but there were tells that she had started to notice on their journey to the vessel and now that they were on it.
"I needed to know. I didn’t want to assume and be wrong." He swallowed and his eyes wouldn't quite meet hers now. Clearing his throat, he continued, "As amusing as it was to watch you two trying to one up each other, I was hoping you'd win and there would be no dinner. I wanted you bringing me up, to be because you wanted to be with me, and not just because it made him grind his teeth every time you did." He shrugged and finally met her gaze, obviously somewhat uncomfortable.
"Are you jealous?" Inara’s head tilted and her brows drew together. She took a small step closer to him so that their bodies brushed against one another and her hands gently laid on his chest, where she could feel his thundering heartbeat. "Arik, I was trying to avoid it. You ARE the man I’d rather spend the evening with." He was one of the few men who had never treated her like a Princess, but an equal. The night before he hadn’t laughed at her nightmare, but instead made her feel safe without making her feel less. He had promised to keep her safe, and she definitely did feel that way with him.
"I know. And you looked at me more than once to help get you out of it." He leaned his head forward till their foreheads touched, his breathing deepening as he felt the need to be in contact her becoming like an ache in him.. "I wanted to, gods I did. Especially after how you reacted when I first entered the room." One of his hands gently caressed the side of her face, the other lightly resting on the small of her back. "Noar doesn't give up if he wants something. I knew stepping in would make it worse. That doesn't mean I like it, so yeah," he shrugged with an annoyed look that he had to admit it, "I'm jealous. I’d rather you be wearing my shirt and having dinner with me."
"Arik…" Her eyes softened as she looked at him, his emotions that had been impossible to read earlier now plain before her. He was feeling similar towards her as she was him. "As soon as dinner is over, I'll be with you."
"I'll still be jealous of the bastard the whole time." His lips twitched up into a smirk. "It might make it up to me if we had a repeat of last night, just without the nightmare." Why did he feel so nervous with her? She was confirming she wanted to be with him too. He’s held Princesses in his arms before, hell, he’d even taken a few to his bed. None of the women he’d entertained in the past were like Inara though, not in any way. She was special in so many ways, and it scared him a little.
"I think that can totally be arranged." Inara smiled and tipped her head back so their noses softly ran along one another before her lips brushed his. There was a tingle as they did that made her sigh at the feeling. His body was hardened muscle, honed from training and work, but his touch and his lips were soft. It made her want to melt against him. She had to be losing her mind.
"What's happening between us, Inara?" Arik felt like he could drown in her without a desire for returning to the surface for air of his previous life. She was perfect to him, especially that she was not like any female he’d ever met. Whatever it was, he didn't want it to end. He didn’t want to lose her to Diayn.
"I think that the Princess is falling for her valiant knight." She felt his arm around her tighten, but her eyes never left his dark ones that she was becoming ever more fond of gazing into. Inara knew it. She felt it.
"He promises to catch her." Arik's chest felt tight, like he couldn't breathe, and his voice was low and deep. Inara wasn't the only one falling. "As long as she promises to do the same for him."
Inara’s heart was thundering. The man that a little over forty-eight hours ago was helping her escape from a wedding she didn't want was now the man she did. "Always." It felt surreal, but she knew that fate and destiny had a way of doing that. She'd heard the tales from the seers and oracles to the Royal Court since she was a child of those who were chosen by the gods, but always considered them fairy tales.
For his part Arik was trying not to let doubt defeat him. Living your life in Diyan’s shadow wasn't easy. They were on even footing now and to have Inara still wanting him made her even more precious than she had been before. Slowly he pulled her tighter to him, his fingers getting lost in her hair slightly before his lips found hers and he lost himself in their kiss.
#my ocs#my writing#writeblr#fantasy#fiction#original characters#original story#original writing#original fiction#original fantasy#adventure#pirates#modern pirates#fantasy romance#romance#strangers to friends#strangers to lovers#complicated romance#complicated feelings#complicated#complicated relationships#destiny#changing fate#new writing#princess of thieves
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