#//benny is free! sort of.

[oneandahalfwolf]

Gluef’nar screeched with indignation and mild pain as the Time Lady dug her nails into one of its tentacles, the sound reverberating around the mirror realm. Instinctively the creature let go of Ben’s right wrist to wrap around Missy’s forearm, squeezing in an attempt to get her to let go. Too late it noticed her other hand at its prey’s left shoulder, only aware of her plan when the psyche it was entrenched in started to flicker with darkness.

“NO!”

The scream of rage came from the darkness and from Ben’s throat; the cry equal parts Gluef’nar’s creaky and low notes, and the wolf-kin’s own hoarse and human tones, with both the howl and roar of a werewolf harmonising beneath. Driven by desperation and hunger, the creature chased its prey’s final biggest fear, dragging Missy in as well.

Ben opened their eyes, frowning at the sight before them. They were back alone in the foggy dark expanse, kneeling on the cold floor. Something felt off. Their hands were wet. They looked down and grey eyes widened. Pale skin was covered in blood. Red and dripping. Their gaze strayed to the floor where there were streaks and drag marks leading away from them. They followed the trail and what they found at the end had a gut-wrenching sob crawling out of their throat.

It was Iley.

Their mate, their best friend, their sister.

Dead.

They crawled forward, tears starting to fall as they cradled the half-elf, bloody hand creating red streaks on her cheek as they brushed limp hair aside. Watery grey eyes stared into lifeless brown ones.

“No. Iley please. Wake up. Please wake up. Don’t leave me. You promised.”

This was their worst fear. Even more so than the Queen returning to torment them in any capacity. That Iley would die. And worse, that she would die by their hand.

As Benkai’l sobbed over the vision of their soulmate deceased in their arms, Gluef’nar tried to feed on the fear it provided. However given one feeding tentacle was wrapped around the Time Lady’s blouse clad arm and another was latched to the non-organic prosthetic, the only other still in contact with its prey’s skin was the one around their neck and that didn’t give the creature enough access to properly siphon its delicious nutrition.

Unable to prevent unconsciousness any  longer or to finish feeding properly, the insectoid decided the best recourse was to retreat for the moment. With one last screech Gluef’nar pulled itself free from the werewolf’s mind. There was the sound of ripping flesh as it detached its tentacles, the ends melting into the darkness so its prey remained restrained, shackled to the black floor. It would do no good for its prospective fear battery to escape.

There wasn’t much chance the wolf-kin could, however. As the creatures skittered back into the darkness Ben was non the wiser their hitchhiker had left. They weren’t even aware of their organic bonds. Their left arm, waist, and neck were wrapped tight and only had an inch of give against the cold ground. The right was the only one somewhat free, their bicep connected to Missy’s forearm thanks to her distraction attempt instead of the floor.

The confinements weren’t the only reason they’d not try and escape. Their body was completely drained, the werewolf unable to lift their head up even if it was free. Their pale skin was grey, cracked lips bluer than usual and stained with blood. Dark circles were shiny and swollen around their eyes, grey orbs blood shot and glazed as they stared into space, vision full of only Iley’s dead face.

In the darkness Gluef’nar chittered lowly, watching carefully as it digested its feast. Normally it would sleep after such a meal. But it needed to keep watch. It needed to come up with a plan to keep its prey and get rid of the other one.  

“I am NOT Her!” Missy hissed, trying and failing to pry Ben’s hands from her clothes. It wasn’t like she could break their grip by force - she didn’t want to hurt Ben; they were going through enough pain at the moment as it was. The vile mirror creature knew this, and was taking advantage. Ugh, caring about people was awful sometimes.

She tried to move their head gently back, away from her, but stiffened when she heard them begin to beg. A chill ran down her spine, and she realized from the sound of their voice that they weren’t just referring to Gluef'nar.

“I can’t,” Missy said, retracting her hands. “I’m sorry.”

Her mind raced, finally coming up with the word she’d been looking for: stun. She could try to stun them! If Ben was unconscious, the leech shouldn’t be able to access their memories, right? It wasn’t a great idea, but it was the only one she had at the moment, and she couldn’t let this continue. She wouldn’t let this continue.

Missy heard the yelp and snapped back to the present at the exact moment Ben knocked them both over, the pair landing with a muffled thud on the floor; (muffled because she’d broken their fall). She saw the flicker this time; she was ready for it, quickly reaching for a tentacle and digging her nails into the horrid slimy thing. She just needed to distract it for a moment….

As her other hand pinched Ben’s left shoulder, hard, hoping she had correctly remembered where that vulnerable nerve cluster was. A little trick she’d picked up on Vulcan, logically.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Together and More

Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader

Summary: Daddy!Benny moments from the birth of his baby to a parenting anxiety episode to a few years down the line with a little toddler.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free* Unofficial Part 3 to Come Back Knockin’ and Come Back Together. I say ‘unofficial’ because it’s more like an epilogue-y time-jump thing and I might go back later and add more fics between the last part and this to bulk up the story (if people are interested. If not I’ll probably just move on to new Benny fics unrelated to this story). Fluffy family cuteness. Girl dad!Benny. Angsty-ish at brief points (if you squint, I suppose). Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Typos.

Words: 3400

Benny Cross Masterlist

When the nurse escorts him into the delivery room, Benny freezes. Wide blue orbs flick between you and the bundle in your arms, and despite the distance, you can see his hard swallow. You can practically feel his heart thumping, reverberating off the walls, and when his lips part, you’re unsure if it’s from awe or anxiety or a mix of the both. 

When it comes to your husband’s emotions over the birth of his child, it has varied by the day. There’s been a steadiness and consistency to his excitement, thankfully, but he has vacillated between trusting in his ability to be a father and questioning what good he can bring to a kid’s life. This last week in particular was the most chaotic for his ups and downs knowing your due date was around the corner.

“Hi Daddy,” you say, hoping your smile will ease any brewing discomfort in his system. Benny doesn’t move, but his gaze has officially decided to glue to the baby. For the moment, you’ll take that as a win. Had you given birth eight months ago, you’re not sure he would have touched his child with a ten-foot pole, let alone looked at them. “Well, are you going to come see her or what?”

Benny snaps out of the shock gripping his body and he blinks. Swallows again. “It’s a girl?” he asks, a mild tremble in his voice.

With your nod, he takes a deep breath, and from the continuation of your encouraging smile, his limbs regain their functioning. It’s a snails-pace twenty steps, but eventually, he makes it to your side. 

There’s a twinge of guilt in your gut from feeling relieved while he’s tightly wound with tension, but you can’t help it. Benny is unpredictable until the last second. As much as he’s been reliable during your final months of pregnancy, nipping at your mind was the possibility of a second disappearance. But he didn’t run. He’s here. He came to you. He came for her. 

Benny’s knuckles whiten around the railing of your bed as you pull your daughter away from your chest and tilt her forward so he can take in her sleeping face. 

“Hold her,” you say, raising your arms toward him. Benny’s eyes widen. He backs up and you sigh, having expected that response. “Benny.”

“I’ll drop her.”

“Yea, because you’re so weak-muscled,” you tease with a playful roll of your eyes. You cradle your baby against your body so you have a free hand to reach out and grab him by the wrist, guiding him back to the edge of the bed. 

“Hold your arm out,” you instruct. A beat passes but he does as you say, allowing you to nestle her into the curl of his strong arm. “Cup her head with your other hand. Like that. Good. See? You’re perfect.”

He’s holding her like she’s some sort of rare, expensive bike part that took a year of his life to track down, but his shoulders slowly untighten as he starts to rock her back and forth like the natural you suspected he would be. When she opens her doe eyes to stare up at him, Benny’s brow pinches and tears start falling down your cheeks because his eyes have turned glassy and you’ve never before witnessed the sight. It’s unlikely anyone has.

“So?” you ask. “What do you think?”

Benny nods. “You did so good, baby,” he says, glancing up at you with a grin. He’s quick to return his gaze to his daughter. “You made us a beauty.”

You sniffle. “You contributed to that as well.”

“Yea, but she looks like you.”

It’s possible as she ages that she’ll develop a feature of yours here and there, but when you look at your daughter now, all you see is him. His nose, his eyes, his lips. She’s him, and you’d tell him so, but you’re not sure your words would break through the trance the baby has him in. 

—

When you wake, he’s not beside you. The sun is long from rising, and yet there’s no warmth, no lingering scent of his cologne, and when you flip over, the comforter remains smoothly spread out on his side. 

You kick the covering off your legs and stand, snatching your silk robe off the closet's doorknob to slip over its matching nightie. You know where he is. It’s where he’s spent many of his nights in the past three weeks. 

In the corner of the nursery, perched in the quilted chair, Benny is hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers woven and clenched as he stares at the crib where your daughter lies fast asleep under the low glow of her nightlight.

“Benny…” you start, making your way to him. His stare doesn’t break from the baby as he leans back against the cushion and spreads his legs so you can take your place on his lap. An arm slides across your lower back, a palm plants on your bare thigh, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You didn’t come to bed,” you say.

Benny hums in acknowledgment.

“You’ve got to be at the shop in four hours.” To that, he doesn’t even utter a sound. 

It’s not until you say, “Are you ready to tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?” that you get a response. 

He exhales heavily, then says, “What if I’m not good enough for her?” 

The question doesn’t surprise you. You assumed it was something along those lines, simply from observing his behaviors since you came home from the hospital. 

Benny’s smile rivals the sun whenever he takes his daughter in his arms, but the longer he looks at her, the more he thinks, and the more he thinks, the further that smile falls. He cradles his baby and his mind runs away with him. He peers too far into the future, digging up every possible problem and road bump ahead. Problems and road bumps—some of which you have no doubt are outlandish—that may never come to fruition. 

Your fingers weave into the blond tips at the nape of his neck and you delicately scrape the base of his skull with your nails. 

“That’s crazy. You’re amazing with her,” you tell him.

“She’s only three weeks old,” Benny argues. “There’s plenty of time to fuck it up.” 

“Ben–”

You’re cut off by the intensity with which his eyes drill into yours. A raw realness of concern swirls in blue irises. “What if she needs things that I can't afford to get her?”

Your brow raises. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he tells you. “What if she resents me for not havin’ better to offer? Her friends’ pops will have better jobs than me—more money in their pockets. We don’t even have a car to take her places; we’ve been borrowin’ Betty’s, for fuck’s sake. And this neighborhood? Baby, this street isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

You sigh. He’s right. You hate to admit it because you hoped he was worried over sillier matters, but every bit of what he said is fair. Your daughter will have friends whose fathers have established careers and the salaries to match. There will be lawyers and doctors and financiers living in areas that, while vastly nicer, still feed into the same schools your child will attend. You will need a car, ideally within the next few months because Benny can’t be riding to daycare with the baby clipped into the side satchel on the seat of his bike. And yes, the neighborhood has undeniably taken a turn in the past year. You should start planning your lives on a budget so you can get a small place outside the city. 

But the difference between you and Benny is that you know all of this is attainable. You know the two of you can do this. You know you’re both good enough and smart enough and resourceful enough to raise your baby. 

Benny removes his palm from your thigh and rubs his fingers across his forehead. You put your hands on his cheeks to turn his face back to yours. 

“Benny Cross, you are not going to fuck up. Our daughter is not going to resent you,” you say with absolute certainty, adding extra force to your tone. “She needs you and she needs me, and that's it. Everything else we will figure out in time.”

—

Three Years Later

You love to watch them. You love to watch how they exist together. You love how Benny tucks her into bed at night; how he wakes her extra early on Saturdays to make pancakes—one of the few meals he managed to master; how she stares up at him with a trembling bottom lip until he reluctantly agrees to play dollies with her; and how eager she is to take interest in anything and everything he has to show her. 

In the beginning, it wiggled your nerves to see her so curious about bikes—what mother wants to imagine her daughter on the back of a motorcycle—but she is her father’s daughter. Trying to shield her from her interests would only make her want to pursue them more, whether you agreed to it or not, so you took a step back and let it happen, knowing Benny would approach it appropriately. 

Now, it’s another one of those moments between them that you love to watch—this time watching without their knowledge as you peek through the sliver of space in the barely open door that connects the kitchen to the garage. 

The garage door is up to permit some natural lighting, and Benny, ratchet in hand, sits on a section of concrete that is shaded from the prying heat of Summer’s sun. He’s messing with the body of his bike as Lucy stands to his side; close, but not so close that she could be harmed should he accidentally lose his grip on a tool. 

“Ok,” he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He offers Lucy the ratchet and says, “Wrench please.”

Lucy carefully takes the tool by the handle—just as Benny taught her—before looking into the open box at her feet. Her head tilts as she examines its contents, and then she leans down, places the ratchet back where it belongs, and wraps her little fingers around the wrench. Pulling it out, she waves it back and forth with great enthusiasm before presenting it to her father. 

Benny smiles and she places the tool in his open palm. “Good job, nugget,” he praises as he softly pinches her round cheek. She giggles. 

Lucy takes in Benny’s every movement, observing like a tiny apprentice would a master. She’s attentive and nods along with everything he says even though she has no idea what a lick of it means. She does so until Benny finishes the job and closes up the toolbox. 

The second both of his hands are free, Lucy vaults herself into her father’s arms with such vigor that she nearly knocks him onto his back.

“Fixed it?” she asks, placing her hands on his shoulders and hoisting herself up so she’s at his eye level. 

“Fixed it,” Benny confirms with a nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When you push the door open, their heads whip in your direction. Benny’s face splits to reveal a row of white teeth, and Lucy’s eyes—the same shade as Benny’s—light up, sparkling so stunningly that you almost don’t want to let the next words out of your mouth. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you say, “but it’s nap time Lady Lu.”

Lucy gasps and looks at Benny to verify that he’s just as shocked. To her great enjoyment, he plays the part. 

“Momma’s got us on a schedule,” he tells her.

Her face scrunches in distaste. “Yucky!”

“Yucky?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead in mock offense. “Sounds like Daddy is teaching you to rebel against authority,” you say, crossing your arms as you give your husband a pointed look, “which I would really prefer he hold off on for a few years.”

Benny’s faux shock fades to a chuckle. “Alright,” he concedes, setting Lucy on her feet so he can stand. “Momma’s right, nugget.”

He winks at you and you grin as you reach toward him, grabbing his face to draw him in for a quick, thankful kiss. Just as he’s about to go in for a second peck, Lucy tugs on his hand to redirect his attention where she wants it: on her distress. 

“But–But you guys don’t have nap time!”

“Oh sure we do,” Benny says as he lifts her into his arms and settles her on his hip. “We nap when you nap.”

She glances at you, and when you nod she mutters an unconfident “Oh.” 

Not wanting to insult her feelings, you suck in your laugh. Your daughter despises the thought of missing out on any fun and has decided that it must be when she naps that her parents go wild. Little does she know that you take any opportunity to rest, and if Benny is home, so does he. 

It’s been a hardworking three years. Exhausting. Taxing to a degree that your bodies still haven’t fully recovered. Benny spent the majority of his waking hours at the shop while Kathy and Betty offered to watch Lucy so you could get a job as an office assistant; painfully dull work, but not an opportunity you took for granted considering you had no training in the area before you were hired. You both worked as often as you could for as many hours as your employers would allow, so much so that Benny would hold you through the tears you shed worrying if it was subconsciously affecting Lucy. You didn’t want her to know her parents for their absence, but at the end of the day, it was all for her, so you pressed on. 

You and Benny found peace and relaxation in the simple things—late-night rides; bonfires with the club; Saturday morning cartoons with Lu—but the rest of the time you were wearing yourselves out, and not always in the pleasurable way. 

But it was worth it. Every headache from lack of sleep, every aching joint from your constant desk sitting and Benny’s physical labor, every emotional outburst that the two of you would coax one another out of—worth it. 

Six months in, you got that car you needed. By a year, Benny had bought into the shop for fifty percent. And at the end of two years, you found a house just outside the city—a modest three-bedroom with a yard and a garage.

“Are you sleepy now?” Lucy asks, her voice already beginning to lose the oomph of its energy.

You softly snicker. Your daughter always hits her marks. Like clockwork, about two minutes post-nap-time announcement, regardless of whether or not she fights you on it, her eyelids struggle to open after each blink and her words leave her mouth at a more sluggish pace. 

“Very,” you nod again. “But we certainly won't nap if you won't. We wouldn’t want to miss out on any fun with you.” The tip of your index finger taps her tiny nose. 

“N-No, I'll do it,” she says, “if you guys are tired too.”

“We are, nugget,” Benny tells her. “So let's get you to bed, sound good?”

She’s fading fast but she uses some of that remaining energy to give a little grin before laying her head on her father’s shoulder and releasing a yawn. “Yea, Daddy.”

—

“Well, that took all of fifteen seconds,” you say as Benny gently closes Lucy’s bedroom door behind him. 

You start heading for your room with your husband trailing after you, but then there’s a tight grip on your waist and you’re spun to face in the opposite direction. Fumbling your steps, your chest bumps against Benny’s before he bends down, wraps a thick arm around your thighs, and tosses you over his shoulder. 

When you yelp, you’re punished with a swat on the ass. “Hush, baby. You wake Lu and we don’t get our nap, and after workin’ on the bike all mornin’, I could really use one.”

He carries you to your bedroom, sets you on the edge of the bed, and throws himself onto his back atop the mattress. Then, arms spread wide, smirk across his face, he says, “C’mere,” and you crawl into your usual space against his body. After a synced sigh, Benny crooks his knuckle under your chin and tips your head back so he can seal his lips to yours. 

You’ll never tire of this. Of him. The feel of him around you. The taste of him. The scent of cologne and motor oil. The way he nips at your bottom lip to pull a muffled squeak from your throat and how he smiles into the kiss at his achievement. It’s too damn good and nothing could match it. 

Knowing how your future would have evolved if Benny hadn’t returned after learning of your pregnancy is impossible. Maybe you would have found happiness if you had moved on and met another man, but you wholeheartedly believe that that man, whoever he might have been, wouldn’t have had the capacity to be what you need. When Benny stepped into your world, he took the mold—your ideal image of the love of your life—and stretched it out to fit him perfectly, and then he immediately broke it so no man could so much as attempt to take his place. And it worked. There was never going to be anyone else for you. At least, not anyone who could give you what you have now. 

As Benny’s fingertips graze over your cheek and bury into your hair, he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back. Lips press harder into yours and then they disappear. Your eyes snap open, a pout rapidly forming that he quickly kisses away. 

“Wanna talk to you about somethin’,” Benny says lowly, whisper-like as his nose nudges yours. You do your best to straighten out your thoughts and pay attention, but it’s made difficult by the comforting weight of his body bleeding into yours and his thumb brushing back and forth along your cheekbone. “You know, Johnny and Betty said they’d watch Lu tonight if we want.”

With narrowing eyes, you reply “Yes,” drawing out the word, wondering where he’s going with this and why it has to interrupt the kissing.

“If you wanna take ‘em up on that, I was thinkin’ we could go for a ride, and then—” he shrugs the shoulder not supporting his weight above you, “I don’t know, maybe we come home and make another kid.”

Your eyes shift from mildly irritated slits to round saucers. “What?”

“Yea,” he says. “Thought it might be nice.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, if you’re willin’ to birth another one, I’d be happy to put one in you.”

A laugh bubbles from your chest. “Would you now?”

Benny nods, planting a kiss on your mouth. That kiss moves to your cheek, then his lips ghost along your jawline before landing on the sensitive spot just under your ear. “You just gotta say yes, baby,” he says, warm breath heating your skin, “and nine months from tonight, we could have our second one.”

Your fingers glide through his hair, fisting the strands as you angle your head to give him better access to your neck. He licks and sucks until you moan, and then you say, “You’re that confident you can get me pregnant on the first shot?”

Benny pulls his head back to look at you. “Course I am. When I did it last time, I wasn’t even tryin’,” he says, cocky grin in place. But then his features soften. “So? What do you think?”

Your lips quirk to the side and you hum. “Alright, Benny Cross,” you say. “Let’s make another baby.”

---

A/N: I keep writing scenes with mothers eavesdropping on father/child bonding moments 🫣

Taglist (if you wanna join)

[laurfilijames]

Easy Access

Pairing: Will 'Ironhead' Miller x female reader

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Rated E, 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Fingering. Unprotected intercourse. Creampie. Semi-public sex.

Summary: Unable to keep your hands off of each other since Will's return home from tour, going to a party at Benny's proves to be no exception, especially when he discovers you're not wearing any panties under your sundress.

A/N: It is so rare that Will is smiling and happy so I've made it my mission to give him every ounce of joy he deserves and packed it all into one delicious fic for you, all while indulging in the slutty "bend me over and fuck me in a sundress" fun which is still very much IN 😤 I am also celebrating my 1 year Charlie-versary of when I posted my first fic for one of his characters, which just so happened to be Will Miller, Breathe.

---

Three days had passed since Will returned home, meaning it had been three days since either of you stepped foot out of the house.

Keeping your hands off of each other since the moment they made contact again was proving impossible, your attempt at making up for lost time a challenge both of you had eagerly accepted.

Even now as you sat in his truck on the way to Benny’s, Will had his hand planted firmly on your bare leg, your short sundress giving some relief from the sweltering summer weather, but his palm felt like it was on fire the longer it lingered there, spreading a heat through your whole body that rivaled the sun beaming in through the open window.

He gave your thigh a squeeze before reaching for your hand, bringing it up to his mouth where he pressed a kiss to your knuckles, letting it linger there so you were able to feel his breath and the soft prickling of his beard.

Pulling up to a stop light, Will glanced over at you, smiling against your hand as he sent you a wink that ignited even more fire through your veins.

“You look good, sweetheart,” he praised, his familiar drawl low and enticing.

“Do we have to go?” you joked, tilting your head as you squirmed in your seat, seeing his smile grow into a chuckle that you had missed more than you ever thought possible.

“Yeah, we do. Unfortunately we can’t stay locked up in the house all week.”

His eyebrows rose on his forehead when he looked at you, and when he tucked his lip between his teeth after he stopped speaking, you wondered how much effort it would take to convince him otherwise.

You nodded, giving his hand a squeeze as he looked forward at the road again when the light turned green.

“I know you’re looking forward to seeing your brother.”

Will nodded in response, using his free hand to turn his truck left onto the next street. “Yeah, I am.”

Benny had deployed nearly two months before Will had, Pope along with him, and with Frankie, Tom and Will all on their own tours, this was one of the longest periods they had all gone without seeing each other.

Frankie had arranged it all, gathering everyone together for a dinner at Benny’s as a reunion, the need to celebrate each of them returning home safe a priority and perfect excuse to smoke a giant slab of meat and toss back some beers.

“We won’t stay too late,” Will assured, stealing a glance over at you again, his eyes traveling up your legs to your chest that bounced along with the movement of his truck over each bump in the road.

“We can stay as long as you want, Will. I can’t keep you all to myself forever.”

A sort of growl mixed in with his laugh as he shook his head and tried his best to focus on driving, and you felt your pulse quicken as you watched his hammer in his thick neck.

“See, sweetheart, that’s where you’ve got it wrong.”

He pulled onto Benny’s street, slowing down as he approached his brother’s house and found a spot not far down from it, parking his truck behind Catfish’s.

Unfastening his seatbelt, he leaned over the console to get closer to you, his expression somewhat serious even though the hint of a smile played on his gorgeous lips.

“All I want is to hide away with you forever,” he admitted, making your heart feel as if it would burst in your chest.

Before you had the opportunity to say anything in response, Will reached over to close the space between you, his left hand cupping the side of your face to keep you in place as his mouth crashed into yours, a surprised gasp that turned into a soft moan tumbling off your tongue as his danced with it.

It was dizzying, the passion in that kiss and every one that had come before it since his return unlike anything you had experienced before, the crave you felt to taste him on your lips again and again an addiction you could never be rehabilitated from.

You heard him chuckle quietly after he had pulled away, his thumb rubbing your cheek while you kept your eyes closed, almost feeling afraid that if you opened them, he wouldn’t be there. Everything you did in the last three days felt otherworldly, too perfect to be real, and even now you let your fingers dig into the tattooed skin on his forearm just as you had so many times already in order to believe he was actually there with you.

A sigh of relief blew past your lips when you finally did open your eyes, finding him staring back at you with a warmth that made his eyes seem to glow in the late afternoon sun, the smile he flashed at you grounding you just as much as it disarmed you.

“I wish we never had to leave that bed,” he purred, moving to pull the handle to open his door to step out.

“Who said we can’t carry on what we do in bed anywhere else?” you replied, cheekily, grinning in reaction to seeing his eyebrows raise high on his forehead in amusement as he walked around the front of his truck and over to the passenger side, giving you a somewhat warning look as he opened your door for you.

“You’re playing with fire, here. Better watch yourself.”

You chewed on the side of your lip as you hopped out of your seat, feeling mischievous in knowing he had yet to discover your dirty little secret, excitement mixing with arousal as you wondered how he would react when he noticed.

Closing your door, you met him at the open door of the back seat, standing to the side as he reached in and grabbed a dish off the floor, leaving another that contained one of the other appetizers you had prepared for you to carry in as he lifted the small cooler full of beers out of the bed of the truck.

You made a point of leaning in as far as you could to reach it, bending at your waist as much as you could even though it wasn’t necessary due to the height of the truck, but knowing this angle would allow for him to see your bare ass.

“Are you not wearing any panties?” he asked, surprise and amusement in his voice, the expression on his face matching when you stood upright and faced him.

You grinned and shrugged, watching his sly smile reach his eyes that were now tinged with a darkness that you knew was lust.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he huffed, slamming the door shut before turning to step onto the sidewalk. “Jesus Christ,” he added under his breath, clearly wondering how he was going to manage now.

With satisfaction giving you a spring in your step, you followed, walking up the driveway beside him, hearing music coming from the backyard along with the familiar laughs of your friends.

Will paused, quickly meeting your lips in a forceful kiss, the deep breath he took when he parted telling you how hard he was working at keeping his composure before reaching the gate that would lead you into the party.

He flicked the latch on the gate, but grabbed the top of it with his large hand before letting it swing open, blocking the entrance so you were stopped beside him. The look he gave you was stern, adding to the flurry of excitement already pulsing wildly through you, and his voice held a tone that made you hold your breath and your skin tingle, feeling the light, humid breeze tickle the sweat on your legs as your less-than-innocent sundress moved with it.

“If you’re gonna play games like this, you’re gonna have to deal with the consequences,” he warned, the corner of his mouth pulling upward ever so slightly as he backed himself against the door to open it, still holding eye contact with you as he let you pass by him.

You didn’t know how long you had been there for, the only thing you knew was that your need for Will was increasing with each passing second and that he seemed to enjoy torturing you, the game you had set up to have him begging for you effectively reversed. It was difficult to keep a steady conversation with anyone - impossible, even - your focus drawn across the yard to wherever Will was standing, seeming to latch eyes with him each time and feeling his locked on you when you forced yourself to look away.

The way he was making you feel almost had you regretting your decision not to wear panties and make it known to him, but as you watched him lick his lips and rub the back of his neck as he half-listened to something his brother and Pope were laughing about, you knew your choices would be rewarded despite him acting like punishment was a more suitable response, and if you were honest, that was exactly what you were hoping for.

You knew you were pressing your luck, sitting down on an old lawn chair, your gaze fixed on Will to make sure he was watching as you blatantly crossed your legs, knowing he could see your naked sex before the overlap of your bare thighs concealed you again.

Despite the somewhat smug grin on your face, your heart was racing uncontrollably, the nerves coursing through you growing at a furious rate as you took in the unreadable expression on Will’s face. You couldn’t decide if he was angry or amused, his arms folded across his chest, his stance sturdy and confident, chewing on a toothpick that he rolled from side to side across his lips with his tongue, and it made you wonder if he couldn’t decide how to feel either.

He shook his head and you noticed his chest rise and fall with a huff before looking away, plucking the toothpick out of his mouth so he could take a sip of his beer that he reached for off the picnic table.

You bit your lower lip, trying to mask your satisfied smirk, and took a deep breath of your own as you attempted to refocus on the conversation happening around you, but you still couldn’t seem to peel your eyes away from Will.

He was clearly trying to do the same, but also failing, and when he stole a look over at you again, you took the opportunity to recross your legs to give him another glimpse of what was his for the taking if he dared.

The crunch of the aluminum can being crushed in his powerful hand seemed to echo in your ears, his eyes steely as he maintained eye contact with you while his other hand subtly adjusted his cock in his shorts that you knew was getting hard.

Will licked his lips before looking back to Benny where he patted his brother firmly on the shoulder, saying something to him as he held up his empty beer can, taking a step in the direction of the garage.

Catching your gaze again, he tilted his head, nodding for you to follow him before he disappeared around the wall of the building.

With your mouth now feeling dry, you downed what was left of your drink and stood, politely excusing yourself from the others who sat near you even though you hadn’t contributed to the conversation in too long a time thanks to your occupied thoughts, your hand instinctively smoothing the back of your dress to make sure you were covered as you walked through the yard.

Looking over your shoulder to ensure no one was following, you rounded the corner only to walk straight into Will who lunged out and grabbed you, laughing as you yelped, your heart stopping from the scare.

“Jesus, Will!”

He continued to chuckle, his smile crooked as he still held the toothpick between his lips, his hands groping at your waist and then lower to your bare ass. You couldn’t help but join his laughter, seeing him smile and be this playful replacing the brief fright with a swell in your heart.

“I don’t think you have any idea how much I missed hearing your laugh,” you admitted, resting your hands on his warm chest as he beamed at you.

“Is that so?”

You nodded your head in confirmation, smiling as he dipped in and kissed you, your arms wrapping around his neck while his secured around your back and pulled you against him, able to feel his cock pressing against your body.

“Come here,” he said through a growl, his voice rough and lusty while his eyes continued to hold a playfulness in them, leading you in through the open door and giving the toothpick a flick that landed somewhere on the oil-stained concrete floor.

Walking far enough in so he was sure no one would see you unless they actually came inside the garage, Will wasted no time in planting you against Benny’s workbench, his kisses coming on so forceful and desperate it was hard to keep up.

Both of you were smiling between kisses, completely elated and lost in the thrill of it all, and as much as you had expected Will to follow through on making you pay for your little stunt, it still caught you off-guard when you felt his fingers trail up between your legs to stroke your wet folds.

“Here? Now?” you asked, half squirming and half leaning into his touch, a breathy moan passing your lips as you let yourself succumb to the feel of his index finger pushing inside you.

He peered down at you, his eyes shifting with amusement as you relaxed into him and started to roll your hips. “It's what you wanted, isn't it?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle your sounds of pleasure that he was already coaxing out of you.

“You're lucky I can't get enough of you,” he growled, adding a second finger and hooking them to massage your g-spot. “If you're gonna dress and act like a slut then you're gonna be treated like one.”

His words sent a shiver up your spine, your nipples hardening against the thin fabric of your sundress, and your eyes closed as he fingered you as perfectly as always. You felt his face draw close to yours, his breath hot on your dewy cheek, his beard grazing your reactive skin as he dipped in beside your ear.

“No one's gonna know…”

You grinned when his lips attached to your neck, the thought of denying this man anything he wanted humourous, knowing that after being apart for as long as you had, nothing could stop you.

It all progressed quickly; your kisses intensifying with each one, the sound of your name coming off his lips as he told you he loved you making you delirious, your hands grasping at each other desperately.

The smell of his shampoo was awoken by your fingertips scratching through his hair, the press of his lips on yours and the way his tongue claimed your mouth while his beard chafed at your chin and cheeks all a reminder that there would never be a day you would be sated of him.

You let your hands slip down his neck and over his broad shoulders, finding a resting place on his thick chest that radiated a warmth that made his cotton t-shirt cling even more to it, and you could feel his heart thrum against your palm before his laugh rumbled through to it.

“The things you make me do, sweetheart,” he chuckled, allowing his hands to leave your body for a moment while he unfastened the button and zipper on his shorts and pulled out his cock.

You returned his smile, yours feeling lazy on your lips from the haziness of lust, and you reached for his cock, smoothing your hand up and down his length until his smile was wiped away and he clutched your jaw with his hand, squeezing it as he kissed you again.

He peppered along down to your neck, his fervor increasing as your reaction to it encouraged him more, the hand that had been gripping your chin falling to your chest where he pawed at you roughly while the other rucked up the skirt of your dress.

“I still don't think you realize how much I missed you, and I’m not even close to being done yet,” he growled, driving his fingers in your soaked cunt again.

You leaned back against the workbench, your hands gripping the edge of it for stability as your head tipped back, allowing Will more access to attack your neck and chest with his mouth, feeling the grittiness of dirt and grime left from Benny’s projects under your fingertips.

“Fuck, Will…” you breathed, riding his hand without shame.

“Turn around, I wanna see that ass,” he demanded, though his tone was light with mischief.

He removed his fingers from you and aided in spinning you around, kicking your feet apart with his as you hinged forward and resecured your hold on the countertop, his hand trailing from the small of your back where he had pressed with intention to down between your cheeks while lifting your dress back up over the round of your ass.

You moaned, arching back into him, feeling him rub his cock across your cheeks as he continued to finger you from behind, his other hand reaching around to grab your breasts and tug at your neckline.

He gave you a playful spank, but it didn’t come without a sting, making you jolt forward slightly which caused the bench to shake against the wall, his voice gruff but light mannered when he spoke.

“I know you think this dress looks all pretty and innocent on you, but only I know what a whore you actually are in it.”

“Fuck,” you gasped, his words and the way he was hitting the spot that would make you fall apart each time he moved in and out of you causing your arms to break their support, knocking over a few empty beer bottles and cans that sat amidst the rusty tools.

“Easy, baby,” he soothed, but not ceasing his pace. “We gotta be quick but not that quick.”

Continuing to prime you to take his size, you heard him chuckle again, his tone completely satisfied and humoured as if he was basking in the fact that he now had the upper hand in the situation.

“How are you gonna manage with no panties after you’re filled up and dripping with my load, huh?”

You sighed out, glancing over your shoulder at him as he proceeded to grin smugly at you, realizing you hadn’t thought this stunt entirely through.

“We’ll call it an oversight.”

Your response only made Will laugh more, the sound of it making your heart sing in seeing him this happy even if it was partially at your expense.

“You could always put it somewhere else?” you suggested, your mouth watering at the thought of swallowing his hot cum while looking up at his pleasured face from your knees that would end up dirty and scuffed.

He shook his head as he lined himself up to your entrance, pushing into your soppy cunt as his voice changed to be slightly gruff. “Not a fucking chance.”

Your nails raked across the gritty, wood surface as Will bottomed out in you, stretching you completely to fit around his fat cock, the first of his hard thrusts making the workbench slam against the wall.

You cursed under your breath, having him pumping in and out of you a reminder of how hard he had already fucked you that morning, the mix of pleasure and pain making your whines grow to soft cries.

“Does it hurt, sweetheart?” Will asked, the concern in his voice genuine even though he didn’t relent on his pace.

You shook your head ‘no’, pressing your hips back to meet him blow for blow, feeling a tingle scurry down your back at the thrill of it all.

“You know I like it,” you replied, your skin erupting in goosebumps despite the heat when you heard him chuckle in a gratified way.

“That’s my girl,” he grunted, continuing to pound you with ardor.

It was getting difficult to keep quiet, but with how loud the bench was hitting the wall you suspected what you and Will were off doing was no longer discreet to the rest of the party, so you allowed yourself to stop worrying and focus on how good it felt.

Although Will’s heavy panting and rough moans were equally as loud as you were, he gave the occasional warning to quiet down, and each time one of your wails out-did any other noises you were making together, his laugh would ring out, clearly finding the prospect of getting caught hilarious.

“Shit!” Will called out, still through a chuckle, releasing the grip of one of his hands from your hips to grab at a mason jar filled with various bolts, screws and washers as it tumbled down from an overhead shelf. It danced off the tips of his fingers and hit the floor with a loud smash, sending its contents scattering around your feet.

“Will!” you half cried, half scolded, and as you moved slightly to try to see the damage done, your arm knocked a couple of cans off the table to add to the mess on the ground.

“Jesus…” Will laughed, picking up his tempo a bit to quicken getting the job done, the risk growing with each passing second.

The rate at which he was fucking you had you a disheveled mess, the straps of your dress having slipped down your shoulders, and without their security, each hammering thrust continued to shake your body enough until your tits easily fell out.

Nearing your climax, you lost control of the volume of your cries, and in your haze of pleasure, you could barely hear Will telling you to pipe down.

Right when you were about to fall into bliss, Will pulled out of you and roughly turned you around to face him, his hand gripping the side of your face somewhat forcefully before he crashed his mouth against yours to quiet you. His other hand grabbed the flesh of your thigh and lifted it up to lock around his waist, driving back inside you with his cock that was warm and wet from you.

You moaned into his mouth, only to have him force his tongue deeper inside while he resumed fucking you with all he had, moving the hand that had been holding your face down to your exposed breasts.

Like he had given up caring if you were heard, he broke your kiss to look at you, his blue eyes soaking you up as he drank in the heavenly sight before him; your bare boobs bouncing to his movements, the sweat glistening on your chest and neck that made your hair stick to it, your swollen, moist lips that parted as you fought for breath between moans, and then his gaze fell lower where he watched your drenched cunt taking his dick.

“Fuck you are so hot!” he said through a grin, his tone hinting that he couldn’t believe you were his to treat like this.

He dipped back down to your lips, kissing you once before letting his open mouth hang against yours, stealing another glance at where your bodies connected and crude, squelching sounds came from.

“I missed this fucking pussy so much,” he muttered, his lips teasing yours as he did, and unable to take it anymore, you reached your hand around his neck and pulled him against you, kissing him fiercely while driving your hips into his to grind on him roughly.

Broken kisses continued their attempt at suffocating your sounds as you found a rolling rhythm that would see you to your end, your hands desperately tearing at Will’s thick, sweaty flesh through his damp t-shirt.

A violent orgasm ripped through you, forcing Will to press his lips harder against yours to drown out your cries, burying himself deeper inside your walls that choked his throbbing cock, your leg wrapping around his plump, half-bare ass to help ensure he didn't leave you as you rode out your high.

Even if he wanted to hold back, he wouldn't have been able to, your climax inducing his own, his thrusts slamming and stuttering as he pumped you full with aggressive spurts of cum.

“Fuck, baby,” he smiled against your lips, his forehead resting on yours as you both panted for breath, drunk on each other and completely spent.

You giggled, the thrill of your naughty behaviour adding to the post-fuck euphoria, feeling the rumble of Will’s laugh resonate through your body as he remained inside you.

He pulled away from you enough to peer down at you, his eyes heavy and lusty but crinkling at the sides as he smiled lazily at you, his cheeks blushed and covered in drops of sweat, his blond hair darkened from his efforts.

He continued to smile at you as he fixed the straps of your dress, his fingers gently and lovingly grazing your shoulders as he did, looking at you so adoringly that you could never deny how much he had missed you while he was away.

“I really like this dress,” he spoke softly, his fingers trailing down to trace the material that hugged the curve of your breasts, bringing his face close to yours as he pinched your nipple and tugged it, making you moan and arch toward him.

He kissed the space between your ear and neck, and growled as if he was already fighting to restrain himself again. “But I’m gonna rip it off of you at some point and ruin you completely.”

Will’s teeth nipped along your jawline, and before he pressed his lips on yours, looked at you with a dark, promising look that had your body set aflame all over again.

You hummed against his lips, feeling him slip out of you while wondering how much longer you would manage to stay at the party, knowing it would only be a matter of time before you were desperate for him again, and judging by the force of his kiss and the way his hands clawed at your sundress, he was feeling the same.

“You go inside and get cleaned up,” he said, nodding to the door that led into Benny’s house. “I’ll sort all this out.”

You glanced at the mess on the ground he was referring to, broken glass and various types of hardware littered all around you, and being the gentleman he always was, he took your hand and assisted you safely over to the door.

Will tucked himself back in his shorts and promptly located a broom and dustpan, beginning to sweep up when he heard the shuffling of his brother’s footsteps walking into the garage.

Benny stopped, causing Will to look over at him, laughing when he saw the annoyed look on his face.

“Really?” was all Benny managed to get out, his arms outstretched while Will just shrugged and continued cleaning up.

“You two are fucking unbelievable, you know that?” Benny hissed, pushing Will hard on the shoulder as he passed to add more empties to the disrupted collection on the workbench.

Will only laughed harder, dumping what he had accumulated in the dustpan into the garbage as Benny grabbed two beers out of the fridge and handed one to him, knocking his bottle against his and then twisting off the cap to take a sip.

“It’s good to see you happy, man,” he said, clapping his hand on Will’s back before heading out of the garage and back to the party.

---

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[matchpointfaist]

yes pleeeeeeease danny x reader!!!! I'm down on my knees begging you cause there's like a shortage of him and for what? he's so fucking hot btw you're so talented I really enjoy the way you describe things!!!

biker danny lyon x nurse! reader

danny made a habit of staying out of the vandal's way, keeping out of fights and drunken arguments, confining himself to a corner with his camera and notebook. he was good and safe that way, keeping himself free of injuries but close enough to the action to get a good view. that is, until the night he earned his leathers.

benny had been into it all night with some trashy guy from a rival gang, shouting comments back and forth across the bar, creeping closer and closer to a full on brawl with each drink. one thing led to another, and in the blink of an eye he was on benny, swinging and cursing and grabbing at him, making up for his lack of coordination with brute force.

danny had a sort of knee jerk reaction, hyper aware of benny's healing injuries, and shot up out of his seat in an instant. he was not, by any means, a fighter, but he was tall and strong enough, he could hold his own. "hey, fucker, get off him!" he shouted, already grabbing for the other guy, catching hold of his vest and landing the hardest hit he could manage on his jaw. his step faltered, and danny had a moment of pride before someone spun him around, a bottle inches from his face. it broke over his head, and the last thing he heard was johnny shouting his name before he fell to the floor.

he came to with a groan a few minutes later, blinking blood from his eyes as he was all but dragged down the sidewalk, johnny on one side and benny on the other. "you awake now?" benny asked, half concern and half laugh, "you took a pretty hard hit," "did i get that guy off 'ya?" he asked, voice slightly hoarse. "yeah, yeah you did," benny shook his head, grinning, "you were a dumbass for that, ya hear? you ain't a fighter,"

danny didn't care. he felt more alive then, half conscious, than he ever had. he might not have been a fighter, but he stood up that night, for the first time in his life. he wasn't just watching from the sidelines, he participated, however stupid it may have been. "where we goin?" he didn't recognize the area, but it looked like a nicer part of town than they usually frequented. "hospital, your dumbass needs stiches," johnny grumbled, nodding his head just up the road, "almost there,"

he knew it was necessary, could still feel the blood trickling out of the cut on his forehead, but he hated hospitals. hated how cold they were, how they reeked of death and rubbing alcohol. he was too lightheaded to protest by that point, letting the boys walk him into the waiting room, plopping him down in a plastic chair and going to sign him in. he dozed off sometime in the process, and came to in an evening brighter room, blinking and struggling to focus his eyes.

when he did, he coulda sworn there was an angel standing over him, and it briefly crossed his mind that maybe he'd died in that waiting room. "there you are," you smiled down at him, your voice like music in his ears, "how you feelin'?" you weren't an angel, he reasoned with himself, you were just the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, all dressed in white. a nurses' uniform, he finally realized as he got his bearings, looking you over. "like hell," he mumbled, reaching up to press a hand to his throbbing head.

"don't touch your stitches," you fussed, gently putting his arm back down, "what d'you need? got you on a pain drip and fluids, but i can up your dosage," "can i just have some water? throat's dry," he asked, smiling faintly as you quickly filled a little paper cup, placing it in his hand carefully. "so you ride?" you asked, busying yourself adjusting his medication. "not really," he shrugged slightly, "why?" "vandal's brought you in here. had to take off, but they left a number in case you needed them,"

"mm," he hummed, "yeah, i'm writin' a book about them," "writers get bashed over the head a lot?" you asked, smiling slightly, like you knew some sort of a secret. "not usually," he laughed as much as he could manage, "rough night, i s'pose," "well you oughta be careful," you tsk'd, "don't wanna have to see you back in here, mkay?"

god, he wanted to see you again, regardless of where it was. "my shift is over, so i'm gonna hand you off to another nurse, alright? you'll be discharged soon, though. you're all rested up," "wait-" he tried to sit up, wincing, "what if i wanted to see you again?"

"are you flirtin' with me, mr. lyon?" there was a glint in your eye, or maybe he really was losing it, and a small, teasing smile on your lips. "yeah," he nodded, "yeah, i am. do i gotta get myself checked back in here just to see ya?" "i bet you talk to all the girls like that," you grinned, jotting something down, "i could get in trouble for this, yknow. but you're sweet," you passed him the paper, ten digits scrawled out in pretty handwriting. "atta girl," he smiled up at you, holding onto the paper like he'd lose it, "i'll see you soon, then. not in the hospital this time,"

a week later, danny was dialing your number on the bars rotary phone, leaned against the counter with a giddy feeling buzzing in his veins. "hello?" you picked up on the third ring, voice sweet even through the phone. "hey, it's danny," he hoped he didn't sound too excited, "you busy tonight?"

an hour later, you were walking through the door of the vandal's bar, looking every bit out of place. "hey, sweetheart!" he called you over, trying not to focus too much on how fucking gorgeous you looked, your hair down and your skirt short. "danny, hey," you smiled up at him, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, "looks like you healed up good,"

"thanks to you," he grinned, "what's your drink?" "mm, shirley temple?" "that's fittin," he teased, leading you back behind the bar as he mixed your drink, watching as you looked around. you were too sweet for this place, he thought distantly, too clean and bright eyed. it was good you had him, the guys would've been all over you if you'd come here alone. "thought you were just a writer," you gestured toward the new leather jacket over his t shirt, "they just give those to anybody?"

"ah, they gave it to me after that fight," he shrugged it off like it hadn't been one of the most important moments in his life this far, "that bother you?" "mm, maybe i like it," your tone was light, teasing, but your eyes were tracing over every detail, the way the leather clung to his arms, his name stitched into the fabric. "you like bad boys, sweetheart?" he grinned, "wouldn't have guessed that,"

you wanted to tell him you didn't care if he was good or bad, you just hadn't been able to get him out of your mind since that night in the hospital. you downed the rest of your drink just to keep yourself busy, and gain some confidence, before wrapping a hand around his arm, pulling him to where some of the other guys were dancing with their girls, "dance with me?"

the two of you stayed out on the dance floor for what felt like hours, from slow dances and sultry glances to upbeat songs and giddy laughter, only pausing to down more drinks. "you know when i first saw you, i thought you were an angel," he mumbled in your ear as you swayed against him, his hands on your waist, "thought i'd done gone to heaven," "must've been brain damage," you rolled your eyes, but your smile was ever present as you turned in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck, "do you talk to all the biker girls like this?" "just you, sweetheart," he leaned closer, his breath fanning over your lips, "prettiest thing i've ever seen,"

"you're drunk," you murmured, and a small laugh left his lips, his hands tightening on your hips, "maybe, but when i'm sober you'll still be fuckin' beautiful," "god, you're good this," you said softly before pulling him down to your height, crashing your lips to his. he encircled you in his arms, picking you up slightly, a giggle muffled between your lips as you clung to him.

sweet kisses turned to breathless desperation, danny biting at your bottom lip just enough to pull the sweetest sounds from you, your control slipping like you were the only two in the room. your hands settled in his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kissed your jaw, facial hair scratching at your skin slightly. "you wanna get outta here?" he asked, voice hoarse with need. "my roommates home," you sighed as he kissed the crook of your neck, "yours?" "i stay with the guys, sleep on the couch," he nearly groaned from frustration, biting the inside of his cheek as you ran your fingernails over his scalp once again.

"d'you trust me, sweet girl?" he hummed, trailing his hand down your back. "mhm," you nodded eagerly, squealing as he picked you up, your legs wrapped tight around his torso. he led you across the bar to the farthest bathroom, kicking the door open and kissing you feverishly as he rested you on the sink, closing the door behind you. you pulled off his jacket, never letting your lips leave his, looping your legs around him to pull him closer. "eager thing," he teased, pulling away to pull off his t shirt, his fingers finding the zipper of your dress.

he let it fall to the floor, kicking it away, fumbling with the buckle of his belt as he kissed you desperately, pushing his jeans to the floor without ever pulling away from you. he felt like he’d die if he stopped, like you’d disappear, like it was all too good to be true. “tell me how you want it, baby,” he pulled away to trace his lips over the shell of your ear, “go on, tell me,”

“just want you to fuck me,” you reached for him, needing him everywhere all at once. “greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” he grinned, pulling you gently off the sink to turn you around, your back arched against him, “wanna watch while i fuck you, pretty girl?” you nodded eagerly, pressing against him, practically writhing for him already. “didn’t even touch you yet,” he teased, ghosting his fingertips down your spine, humming as you arched further into his hands, “bet you’re drippin’ for me, ain’t ya? bet you got the sweetest fuckin cunt,”

he pulled off your lacy underwear in one motion, letting out a low whistle as he looked you over, spreading your thighs apart as much as he could. “goddamn,” he murmured, leaning over you, pressing kisses to your exposed shoulders. he pulled his boxers down, pausing just to admire you for one more moment before trailing the head of his cock through your folds, rubbing it over your clit. you whined beneath him, your eyes rolling back at the feeling. “knew you’d be soaked,” he exhaled shakily, watching as he ran his length down your core again, unable to tear his eyes away, “so fuckin’ pretty, baby, yknow that? fuckin’ perfect,”

he held one of your hips with his free hand as he lined himself up, watching your reaction in the mirror as he slowly fucked into you, your swollen lips parting and big eyes rolled back into your head. “oh, danny,” you gasped as he filled you as deep as he could go, his cock brushing your sweet spot. “i know it, angel,” he murmured, “feel so good around me, so wet f’me,”

he grabbed a handful of your hair, just hard enough to pull you up off the sink as he slowly thrust back into you, your reactions only making him harder. “you want me to fuck you slow, pretty baby?” he asked, sucking at a spot on your neck as he held you there, “or you want me to fuck you hard, hm? talk to me,” “whatever you want,” you managed, clenching around him, thighs shaking, “wanna be good f’you, danny, please,” that sent him over the edge, a groan leaving his lips as he secured one hand in your hair, the other on your hip, fucking into you fast and rough.

you bounced back against him, greedy as ever, a moaning mess. “atta fuckin girl,” he panted, watching as you fucked yourself on his cock, “come on, baby, what a greedy thing,” he watched in the mirror as you looked up at him with watery eyes, blissed out, babbling about how good it felt, repeating his name like a mantra. “i know it, sweet thing,” he hummed, “you gettin close, hm?” you nodded eagerly, and he snaked his arm around your waist, the pad of his fingertips circling your clit as he fucked you. that nearly sent you over the edge, a gasp tearing itself from your throat as you clenched around him tighter, moaning wildly. “come on, baby, come for me,” he grunted, his teeth scraping against your shoulder, “so close,”

you sank your teeth into your lip as you came, shaking against him, his hand soaked between your thighs as he watched in awe. he came soon after, gripping your hair tighter, desperate for release but never wanting the moment to end. “such a good girl,” he moaned into your neck, “tell me you want it, baby,” “fill me up, danny, please,” you practically mewled, legs almost giving out from your orgasm, “please,”

he held you close against his chest as he came, his hands all over you, grabbing anywhere he could as he rode out his high, pumping you full. “good god,” he panted, still inside you, looking at the two of you over your shoulder, “you see how pretty you look stuffed full, angel? so perfect,” he trailed his fingers all over your chest, grinning as you clenched around him when he tweaked your nipple between two fingers, “you still want more, hm? or you all done?”

“done,” you whined, “too much, danny,” “poor baby,” he tsk’d, pulling out of you slowly, “you gonna let me go down on you next time? bet you taste so fuckin good,” “you can do whatever you want,” you smiled hazily, all starry eyed and fucked out as you gazed up at him. “mm, we’ll see,” he laughed softly, pulling you to his chest and pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “i’ll help you get cleaned up,”

[sansaorgana]

benny saving you from abusive bf or dad :(

hello, love! thank you for your request 🥰 I was self-indulgent and chose an abusive dad lol proceed with caution because there is lots of physical violence / domestic abuse in this fic

requests for benny are open 🥺🎀

You were dolling yourself up for the date with Benny in your room upstairs – putting makeup on, brushing your hair, spraying perfume and singing along to the rock and roll songs you played. Perhaps a little bit too loud because you couldn’t hear the rapid footsteps approaching your bedroom. When the door opened, you got startled as you turned around to see your angry father.

“What is it?” You asked, irritated already because he didn’t knock.

He looked you up and down with contempt and pointed at the record player.

“Turn that shit down,” he barked at you. “I’ve just come back from work, I want to fucking rest, I can’t even hear the goddamn TV because of this crap! I’ve told you already that if you want to listen to this sort of music, you’re free to do so when you’re home alone!” He raised his voice and you sighed.

“I didn’t hear you coming back home, gee,” you rolled your eyes and you approached the record player but you didn’t turn the music off, just slightly decreased the volume.

“You would have heard if you weren’t listening to this! And what are you, deaf now? I’ve told you to turn that shit down,” your father grabbed you by your arm and then pushed you away.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Perhaps at this point you should be used to him being like that. But you couldn’t. To some things you just couldn’t get used to, no matter how many times they’d happen. You would never understand why your dad couldn’t treat you like his precious princess. Why was he raising you the way some other men raised their sons – some bastards, of course. Because not every son was treated like this by their father. And you were a girl treated like dirt.

The way he treated you was much more than the constant stress at home – no, that you would survive. It was going deeper. It was about the way you had this feeling deep down inside that no man could ever love and protect you because your own father couldn’t. Yeah, you were dating Benny now but you weren’t sure what his feelings towards you truly were like. Benny was not a man of many words and he wouldn’t open up – especially about his feelings.

“What are you doing, by the way?” Your father asked when you finally turned the record player down and hid the vinyl away. “You’re going out?”

“Yeah! Do I need your permission?” You snapped and he clenched his jaw.

“What’s going on here?” Your mother peeked inside the room with widened eyes, already fearing her husband’s tantrum.

“She’s going out to waste away all the money again,” he pointed at you.

“She’s an adult, it’s just a date,” your mother stood up for you.

“And I spend my own money. I work!” You reminded him angrily and went back to brushing your hair in front of the mirror, pretending everything was fine.

“Why can other young people save their money to be able to move out of their parents’ house and you just want to go out and spend money on parties all the time because apparently being a parasite is not a problem for you?!” Your father yelled and your mother started to shush him.

The accusations were so wrong. You weren’t even partying much. It was just a date with Benny and how much would you spend? Nothing, really. A few pennies for the milkshake maybe but the chances were Benny would pay for it anyway.

“She’s just going out on a date,” your mother explained to your father, trying to calm him down but it had the opposite effect. His eyes widened as his fists clenched.

“With that… That dirty… That dirty punk?!” He asked as his booming tone echoed through the walls. “Haven’t I told you, you stupid girl, I don’t want to see you around him?!”

“Dad, stop!” You hissed at the feeling of his grip on your arm again. This time he didn’t let go, no, he was squeezing and squeezing, trying to twist it.

“Stop it!” Your mother tried to intervene but he pushed her away.

“Dad, you’re hurting me!”

“It’s nothing compared to what that bastard will put you through! My daughter won’t end up like a common whore!” He was yelling and you saw the blind rage in his eyes – he was gone now, completely out of common sense, driven only by his rage and fury.

His yelling, your squealing and your mother’s crying were so loud that you didn’t hear the sound of the motorbike’s engine parking outside. Benny jumped off of his bike and leaned on it, waiting for you. But when he reached for the cigarette, he froze for a moment as he realised that the yelling noises came from the room upstairs inside your house. He glanced up and noticed that the window to your room was half open.

He hid the cigarette away and furrowed his brow.

“Dad, let go of me!” You squealed and Benny saw your silhouette in the grip of your father as he slapped your face.

“I’ve told you to shut the fuck up, both of you!” He yelled. “Congratulations,” he addressed another woman inside your room. “Your daughter is now a whore just like you, hanging out with those bums and punks and dirty fucking bikers…” He looked at you again. “You stink of them! The rotten stench on you, you’re a whore!”

Benny’s blood boiled at the scene he was witnessing. You had mentioned earlier that your father was “an asshole” but he had never expected this sort of asshole. He thought he was just mean and grumpy.

He wasn’t thinking straight anymore. He approached the front door and tried to open them but they were closed. So, with one kick of his boot, he broke inside. He couldn’t care less about the fucking door.

You didn’t even hear that. All you could hear was your father’s yelling and your mother crying. Your arm in his grip, your cheeks wet from tears and stinging from his slaps. It was one of those moments when you didn’t even care whether you would live or die anymore. In fact, you wished he would just kill you and make it all stop.

You saw his hand raising again to hit you once more when the door to your room opened rapidly and you all froze, turning around to see Benny himself.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him but your father’s grip tightened even more. He blinked a few times with his mouth half open and Benny was breathing heavily with his face reddened from anger.

Before your father could act, Benny approached him and punched him in his face so hard that your father let go of you completely.

“What are you doing! Stop!” Your mother squealed and grabbed Benny’s sleeve but he ignored her to deliver one more punch – this time in your father’s guts.

He fell down to the ground and Benny was kicking him without even saying a word. He was like an animal, you thought. And your mother still cried and squealed and begged – pathetically, really. How could she defend your father suddenly? And he… He was only grunting as his face was getting bloody. You saw it all in slow motion.

Benny delivered a final kick and spat on your father before pushing your mother away gently, with a shrug of his arms.

“Touch her again and I’ll fucking kill you,” he drawled through his gritted teeth at your father and finally turned around to face you.

“You okay?” He asked, a hint of worry in his face as he visibly softened. You were standing there, petrified and trembling slightly. But his question finally brought you back to reality.

“Let’s get outta here,” you only whispered and grabbed his rough hand to lead him downstairs as fast as possible.

You noticed the broken door and looked at him as if he was crazy.

“Sorry,” he shrugged his arms and your heart filled with love.

No man had ever protected you like that before. No man had ever made you feel safe either. You would marry him right away if he asked.

“Don’t be,” you only said and went outside to approach his motorbike.

You both jumped on it and drove away as fast as possible. You didn’t even care where he was taking you. If you’d never go back home – you were okay with that.

But Benny took you to the club. He led you inside gently and some of the boys widened their eyes at you.

“What the fuck happened to her?” Johnny asked and squinted his eyes at Benny as if he was accusing him of something.

Benny didn’t answer and just walked you to the bathroom. He closed the door behind you and you saw yourself in the mirror. Oh, now you understood why they were giving you funny looks. You had a bruise on your cheek, your makeup was smudged from crying and your hair was ruffled.

“You okay?” Benny stood behind you to put his hands on your arms. “Hey, doll, look at me,” he asked and you looked up as you turned around.

Now, when it was just the two of you and you finally felt safe, the tension left your body and you sobbed as you clung to him. Benny wrapped his arms around you and pulled you closer as he hid his face in your hair. 

“I’m sorry, kitty, I had no idea he was like that…”

“It’s not your fault,” you mumbled between the sobs.

“I just can’t understand… How can a father treat his daughter like that? A little dollie like you?” Benny was in genuine disbelief. “Hey, listen, let’s fix that, hm?” He moved away slightly and started to brush your hair with his fingers but it was only making it look worse. “Ugh, shit,” he chuckled. “I’ve an idea. I’ll take you to Johnny’s. Betty will know what to do,” Benny proposed and you nodded shyly as you sniffed and wiped your cheeks from the remaining tears. “And, hey,” Benny grabbed your wrists gently to move them away from your face as he leaned in, “I won’t ever let anyone hurt you again, do you hear me?” He was serious about it and you nodded.

He joined your lips together in a sweet and delicate kiss as if you were made of glass. Benny had never kissed you like that before but now he thought you needed that more than anything – the gentleness.

“I can’t offer you much, kitty, but I won’t ever do you no harm,” he promised in a whisper. “I wanna take care of you.”

His words were healing the broken pieces inside you and you felt like sobbing again. You wrapped your arms around him and pressed your chest to his to feel his heartbeat.

“You’re already offering me enough, Benny,” you assured him and he kissed the top of your head, feeling the tears pricking his own eyes now but he sniffed them away.

MASTERLIST || BENNY MASTERLIST

[sinofwriting]

All Relaxed - Jenson Button/Reader/Logan Sargeant

Words: 1,698 Summary: Jenson sees how stressed Logan and his girlfriend are and just wants to get rid of it for them. Note(s): Slightly NSFW, Dom/Sub Relationship/Dynamics. Dom!Jenson, Sub!Logan, Sub!Reader. Don’t be like them and approach a brand new dom/sub relationship like this, I beg of you. Also, no one ask how this ship popped into my head, I can’t be held accountable for my thoughts.

Masterlist | Support Me! 

Jenson watches as both Logan and Y/N practically stumble into where the fan stage would be happening. You’d think they had just woken up, but he can tell that still sleep is invading them. The circles under their eyes have worsened and his worry grows when he notices them both shake their head at food being offered. The same thing they did yesterday as well.

He more than knew how rough Formula 1 could be and that was before they made the calendar twenty-four races long. But he never had been that exhausted. Some of it was without a doubt the treatment of Williams affecting him and Jenson had tried alleviating that, trying to somewhat step into the mentor role, but it was obvious that he wasn’t doing enough.

And poor Y/N had broken down in his arms the last time they saw each other about everything going on with her family and school.

He wants to fix it. To see them without any worries, to see them relaxed. All loose limbs, no tension, eye bags and circles gone. He’d like to see them not look so gaunt as well. He’s sure Elias is fine, but it’s obvious he doesn’t know Logan. Benny would have straightened Logan’s current less than stellar eating habits in a few days and Jenson knows it’s been at least a month of Logan barely eating anything unless it’s one of his premade meals.

It’s the thought of wanting to see them all relaxed that has him begin to plot. It would be far too easy to invite them to his house in California. Undisturbed, no close enough neighbors to really bother them, not that he planned on really having them leave the house. If anyone spotted them it would be the end of a peaceful trip. And he knows that they are both free for the next two weeks. He had heard Logan mention it just the day before.

He starts making a list of groceries that need to be ordered, then he makes an email to a friend who owns a private jet and owes him a favor. He texts his housekeeper, asking if she wouldn’t mind going to his house today if she has time and straightening up the place.

As he starts to order the groceries, his attention is drawn away by the sound of a breathless sort of sigh. His eyebrows quirk up when he notices that it was her and he follows her eyes and fully understands, his throat going a little dry.

Logan had been put into a tight-fitting team shirt, something either tailored to him or knowing Williams and their budget they had just given him a smaller size and it looked good on him. The thin fabric clinging to every muscle and inch of his upper half. Jenson hadn’t realized that Logan had gained that much muscle since last year, even despite not eating it seemed he was keeping it well.

He watches as Logan smiles at him before looking at his girlfriend, sending her a small wink and Jenson can’t help but look at her, see how she reacts, and he shifts in his seat seeing the grin on her face, the way her shoulders have slightly relaxed.

What he wouldn’t give to see them both all relaxed for him, laying flat on their backs in his bed, letting him take care of them. He nearly drops his phone as the thought strikes him. Fuck.

—

Jenson watches amused as they walk around his house. Perhaps it was stupid to still invite them to his house after realizing he wanted them both in his bed. But he couldn’t continue to let them go about running on fumes.

“You guys go get settled, take a nap, rest, and I’ll cook dinner.”

“Let me help, Jenson.”

He shakes his head at her offer, “I’ve got it, sweetheart. I’ll come and get you both when it’s all ready.”

She looks ready to protest again, Logan as well, but he gives them both a stern look, and a simmer of arousal hits him as they both immediately start walking to the guest bedroom with quiet thank you’s. This might end up being a bit harder than he thought.

It does end up being harder than he thought, a lot harder in fact. It seems him realizing he didn’t just find them both attractive but also just plain and simple liked them had opened the floodgates. And their responses to him taking care of them was certainly not helping either.

It was only the third day of them being here but Jenson was sure he was going to cause a bit of an issue with the water with how many cold showers he might end up taking. His satisfaction of them letting him take care of them instantly turned to arousal.

That same day however after dinner as they laze about in the living room while he cleans up the dishes he realizes that they might feel the same way. They can’t stop looking at him. At first, he thought maybe they wanted something but were too shy to say something but when he looked over, they both looked away, clearly flustered at being caught and when he went back to cleaning up, their eyes were on him again, lingering.

It’s confirmation, but he doesn’t plan on doing anything about it, not until hours later as he does his rounds in the house, making sure everything is locked up and he passes their room and he hears them both.

The light sound of skin coming together, small whines and breaths that are more like gasps. His hand palms himself before he can stop it and then he hears it. His name. He freezes, thinking he must have misheard, but then he hears it again, the both of them moaning his name.

He barely makes it to his bedroom, back against the door as he presses his hand into his bottoms and jerks himself off, finishing quickly and making a mess of his sweatpants.

Jenson of course brings it up the next morning. The two are so flustered that even if he hadn’t heard he could guess that something happened.

“Good sleep?” He starts off with, hiding his smirk by taking a drink of coffee.

They both nod, shoulders tensing a little and that has him frowning, setting his mug down. He just started making progress on their tension. “You both sounded lovely.”

Logan’s head snaps up, eyes wide as he looks at him while she gasps, hands coming up to cover her face.

His eyes flicker between the both of them. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you both say my name like that again. Maybe with the visuals as well.”

She makes a squeaky noise at his words and Logan’s cheeks have managed to turn more pink.

“And just to be clear, I wouldn’t want it to be a one time thing, or just sex.”

“But, you want the both of us? I mean more with the both of us?”

Jenson smiles gently at Logan’s nervousness. “Yes, the both of you. I want to take care of you two. And sex doesn’t have to be on the table, I’ll still happily do it without anything sexual, but I figured I’d put it on the table.”

Logan looks a little confused but before Jenson can say anything else, she’s giving a slight tug to Logan’s shirt.

“He’s offering to be our dom.” Her voice is quiet, the words clearly meant for Logan, but her eyes flicker over to him as well.

The American’s eyes widened. “Oh. I, we’ve never,”

“Done this before?”

They both shake their heads.

“I sort of figured. It’s not something I’ve done lots of either to be clear and never on this level. The last time I dommed was years ago and it was just sex. What I would like with us would be more than sex if we even agree to have sex be a part of it at all or to do this.”

“Why do you want to?”

Jenson smiles at her question. “I like you both and want to take care of you. You’re both stressed, spiraling. Barely sleeping or eating. Your shoulders are practically touching your ears with how much tension you both are carrying. I want to ease that, take everything off your shoulders, make it better or rather easier to deal with.”

“And you like taking care of people.”

“Not everyone.” He corrects. “I’m a bit too selfish for that, but certain people,” and his eyes flicker between them. “Absolutely.”

It’s not a very long talk, not as detailed as it should be. But he promises himself that he will sit down with them tomorrow to talk everything out, but they’ve got the basics down. They all are interested in the sexual and in private, like Jenson’s home, are happy to be submissive but don’t want it to bleed into their work/student life as much as they can. He makes sure they know to tell him no. He doesn’t foresee himself pressing too hard about taking breaks and such that it would make their work and student life suffer, but it’s always a possibility and he is far from perfect.

And now not even two hours after waking up he’s got them both in his bed and he can’t help the slight amusement he feels seeing them both wearing Logan’s boxer briefs, he’ll have to see about getting them in his next time. His amusement doesn’t last long however as he takes them in, both laying flat on their backs, upper halves completely bare, both stunning.

“Gorgeous.” He murmurs, sitting at the end of the bed and pressing a kiss to Logan’s calf and then hers. “Both of you look gorgeous for me.”

Her breath audibly stutters, while Logan lets out a keen, fingers twisting in the sheets.

He tuts at the tight grip, running his fingers over the younger man’s until he loosens it. “That’s better. Let’s get you both all relaxed for me, yeah?”

“Yes, Jenson.” They say together and his cock twitches. Fuck is he lucky.

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

Hello! I know that your asks are closed right now, but this idea just popped into my mind and I needed to get it to you before it disappeared. Please feel free to ignore this until your asks reopen or just ignore it in general. I don't want you to feel forced to do anything, especially when I'm breaking your blog rules!

Jack Howl × Gorou M! Reader

I just noticed that you didn't have anything for Jack where he's by himself; so I wanted to give you a bit of inspiration! Have a wonderful day, Mr. Benny.

Jack Howl - With Gorou-Like Male Reader

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Originally I was going to do all of the asks from franchises that I hadn't written for before first, but then I saw this and remembered that Jack didn't have any stand-alone content on my blog yet, so I just had to right this injustice. —Benny🐰

                                                                                                   

🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺

🍐  Jack first met you at the orientation ceremony. He sort of already felt comfortable around you because of your canine traits and the way you carried yourself with such seriousness and determination. The white-haired boy also thought you smelled kind of nice; like the ocean and water-logged wood, but there was also a bit of sweetness in there that he couldn't quite identify. As orientation ended and all the Savanaclaw students made their way to the mirror chamber, Jack's curious eyes stayed glued to your cloaked form.

🍐 Coincidentally, you and Jack ended up sharing a dorm room, how nice for him. He was a bit shocked when you told him right off the bat that if he needed help or just someone to talk to you would readily lend an ear. The fact that he was bunked with such a supportive person was incredibly relieving for the wolf-eared boy. While it would take him a little while to open up to you more, considering you just met, Jack would be sure to act on your offer in the future.

🍐  Jack loves exercising with you! After learning about your previous status as a general before your enrollment in the NRC, he requested to know your exercise routine during that time, to which you happily agreed. You both have a habit of waking up at the crack of dawn and going for a run which made you decide to ask him to accompany you instead of heading out separately. Your skills with a bow and arrow also caught Jack's attention, often watching you practice and occasionally catching glimpses of a certain weird Pomefiore third-year hiding in the bushes.

🍐 During one particularly hot day, you and Jack ended up staying in your shared dorm room after class instead of going outside or to the dorm's indoor gym to exercise; far too hot to will yourselves to move. This is when the wolf beast-man learned of your shared habit of your extra appendages giving away your emotions, your orange-brown, and white ears drooping with exhaustion from the heat. When Jack suggested going to the dorm kitchen and making smoothies, he had to hold back a chuckle at how your ears perked up and how your tail began to sway. Although, when you saw where his gaze was directed you grew embarrassed and covered your butt with a pillow.

🍐 Speaking of sweet things, Jack discovered that his dorm mate had a fondness for sweets, he remembered you mentioning that you didn't get them very often while you were a general. He actually whipped up some pear jam on toast for you once to see what you thought about the taste and was happy that he found a fellow pear enjoyer in you. You did tell him that your favorite fruit was something called lavender melon, a tree fruit that was native to the cluster of islands that you grew up on. The fruit was on his mind for a while after that, Jack may or may not have made plans to eat it with you in the future.

🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺•♡•🐺

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[sm-baby]

FREAKSHOW AU Theory (AU by @hootbon )

Currently, my leading theory is that Freakshow AU is going to end like IHNMAIMS.

Of course, TADC is inspired by IHNMAIMS, would be surprised if Hoot went back to their roots and use it as inspiration.

As we may know, IHNMAIMS is a story centered around a sentient AI who wiped out all of humanity, and kept 5 to torture them.

In the end, the protagonist kills his friends to free them from their torture, which in turn, the sentient AI morphs him into some sort of slow-moving abomination as punishment.

Lets enter supporting evidence,

1. Aingle is important to the story

In IHNMAIMS, the humans bodies were contorted by AM (the sentient AI) in a way where they don't die of natural causes. This leads the characters to stay the same age as they entered, despite being over centuries old. They will feel hungry and thirsty, but will never die from it, leaving them to feel all its symptoms for forever.

Am also has the ability to put them through an immense amount of body contortion and over all torture, yet still keep them alive.

Aingle's role in freakshow au is to keep the characters from abstracting, abstraction in this case being death. Instead, they are "killed", which keeps them from death/abstraction..

2. Abstraction feels like the most peaceful outcome

Easy argument. The humans have continuously tried to kill themselves in IHNMAIMS, but are prevented from doing so by AM... In the end, the moment they found a weapon, they quickly stabbed eachother as acts of kindness.

" abstraction feels like the mose peaceful outcome", death being a genuine relief in IHNMAIMS, Hoot's little smile?? Nuh-uh. My theory brain did not let that slide.

3. Pomni wont stay pretty forever

(i cant find the screenshot grrr!! BUT YOU KNOW WHICH ONE IT IS!!!)

After killing their friends, AM contorts the protagonist and turns him into a slow moving abomination, taking about 10 months to say a singular word.

"Pomni wont stay pretty forever", she is either going to be like Ragatha, or will be horribly disfigured as punishment. Hoot has said before that Caine wouldn't let her fade, he has bubble or the Mannequins clean her and keep her pretty (Unless she stops being favorable in which he will throw her aside BUT STILL)

Bonus: Kinger and Benny

Lil fun coincidence I noticed uwu

Benny in IHNMAIMS was described to be a handsome and brilliant scientist in his past... And in return, AM reversed his evolution, and brought him back to a stereotypical neanderthal with the mind of a 9 yr old.

Kinger in his bio was described to be a king, and possibly a smart man in his past, brought down from his throne and reverted into a magician... Now he plays with chess pieces in his pass time, losing his little mind.

[vkelleyart]

This has been a huge week for my book. I’m beside myself with gratitude for the praise it has received from trade publications and book websites thus far, and SO happy at the incredible response from readers as well! 😭

At times like these when the world is falling apart, it feels like a hollow act to promote my work. But when I want to crawl into a hole, I try to remind myself that my book was conceived during the first 🍊presidency, was researched and written during COVID lockdown, and will be published at a moment in American history when the book’s message of collective liberation can make a difference. It may not change the minds of those whose values align with autocrats seeking to erase diversity, equity, and inclusion, but I didn’t write it for them. I wrote it for us. To remind us what we deserve and that it’s worth fighting tooth-and-nail for.

When the Tides Held the Moon has been receiving the sort of praise I never thought I’d see my name attached to. So while promoting it is something I’m still trying to get comfortable with, I can at least share these reviews and say, “People who know about books really liked mine. And I think you’ll enjoy it, too.” 💙

“Kelley debuts with a captivating and perfectly balanced blend of history, fantasy, and good old-fashioned carnival magic . . . The setting is transporting and the romance is heartrending. It’s a triumph.” — Publishers Weekly (Starred Review)

“Kelley’s debut might draw comparisons to Guillermo del Toro’s The Shape of Water, but this powerfully queer story will stand tall in its own right on any shelf.” — Library Journal (Starred Review)

“Kelley’s debut is a delightful queer romance with fantastical and historical elements — an unputdownable page-turner.” — Booklist

“Told in both prose (Benny’s perspective) and poetry (Río’s), this novel showcases not only Kelley’s gorgeous writing, which seamlessly blends Spanish and English. It also highlights her talent as an artist — her own illustrations pepper the book, capturing poignant scenes of danger, community, and love.” — Den of Geek

If you haven’t preordered the book yet, the campaign is still on! Click here to preorder from any of the four participating indie bookstores which will get you a free 6x9 print of Benny and Río, a “Love Rises” sticker, and either a signed and personalized copy of the book (available at Loyalty Books and The Ripped Bodice) or a signed Menagerie ticket bookplate (available through Meet Cute Bookshop and Blue Willow Bookshop)!

Full reviews are under the cut!

[eternal-sunflowers]

Too Muchson

now on ao3 :) wc: 12.8k relationships/characters: established steve harrington/eddie munson, mentions of the whole party (that includes argyle), wayne munson, jim hopper, joyce byers, benny cw: health/medical talk, mentions of POTS and fibromyalgia and related symptoms, breakdowns, brief mentions/allusions to child abuse, self-hatred on eddie's part, victim blaming (eddie to himself), panic attack, self-deprecation (again, eddie)

summary: three years after the events of the battles with vecna, eddie faces a multitude of growing health issues, namely (currently) POTS and fibromyalgia. the government offers free medical care at the trade off of being able to test treatments on eddie (this is alluded to but not fully discussed). eddie struggles with his health issues, feeling helpess in his own body, which brings up the trauma of growing up as al munson's kid. steve is the best boyfriend and is there to work eddie through his multiple breakdowns after a short grocery shopping trip.

there is lots of angst, but also much comfort. happy endings only in this household. <3 see the end for more notes. enjoy! this is my first fic, pls be nice :)

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eddie feels so much guilt. So much guilt constantly. Over how Steve cares for him, without fail, every second of every day. Steve never complains. Never bats an eye. Never shows any frustration. Any sort of anger towards Eddie. Partly, it drives Eddie insane.

Mostly, it makes Eddie fall more horrendously in love with him.

Eddie’s feeling that guilt today as he slumps into the passenger seat of their car, tossing his head back with a small groan, waiting for Steve to finish returning their cart. His heart pounds against his tightening chest, sending his breathing ragged. He rubs his hands down his face, scrubbing at his bangs stuck with sweat to his forehead, letting out a frustrated growl, before he slowly breathes, in 2 3 4 5, hold, out 2 3 4 5, like his doctors never failed to fucking remind him. One of these days, they'll be able to go to the grocery store without it making Eddie feel like he was going to have a fucking heart attack. Somehow pushing a cart through Melvald’s or Walmart was the most strenuous activity his body could imagine, which is funny considering how he spent most of ‘86. 

He's grumbling to himself about ‘weak’ and ‘can’t even push a cart’ and ‘should’ve left me’ when Steve slides into the driver's seat, his warm hand reaching over to one of Eddie's own, pulling it gently away from his face, rubbing smooth circles against the top of his palm. Eddie merely grunts in response, vaguely registering the sound of the engine turning over, of the AC kicking on and the vents being clicked toward him, of their car slowly reversing before he peeks out from the hand still resting across his eyes to wearily gauge Steve's face. 

Eddie was always scared that he'd open his eyes to find Steve's face finally giving up on him.

To see exhaustion prickling Steve’s eyes and his easy smile contorted awkwardly and angrily in a way Eddie'd only seen it in alternate dimensions or when Steve had a particularly bad migraine. At the very least, Eddie expected the annoyed scrunch of brows and slight frown that was reserved for Dustin when the kid wouldn't shut the hell up. But none of those faces were ever directed at Eddie. Not even when they had their minor arguments. The most Steve's face ever cracked to give him was an eye roll and a disapproving glare when Eddie's hand was elbow deep in a bag of chips while Steve was cooking them dinner. 

Still, Eddie always braced for it. He was used to seeing the faces of those he loved or who were meant to love him just giving up. Downturned lips and squinted eyes and tight jaws and everything but the easy joy with which Steve always looked at him. 

Really, he just expected Steve to give up on him any day now. Everyone else in his life had, save for Wayne, but the old man really didn’t count in that regard. Wayne was somethin’ else. Obligated to love him, sure, but determined as hell to make up for the shitstorm Al had left behind. As a kid, Eddie was convinced Wayne was some kind of superhero, something that still hadn’t lost its luster, even after meeting El. Some things, only his Wayne could do, after all.

Well. And now Steve, too, since Wayne apparently started giving him lessons in how to care for Eddie’s miserable ass. God, what did he do to deserve these fucking angels in his life? Eddie couldn’t even go to the goddamn grocery store without his body replaying its best rendition of a few miles around the Hawkins High track, let alone offer Wayne and Steve anything good in return for the many ways they continued to save his fucking life. 

In the midst of his internal storm, Steve's hand slides down to turn Eddie's wrist up, two fingers pressed to his pulse – a position Steve had taken easily to over the last couple of years. He faintly hears Steve counting out beats under his breath, his other hand tapping on the wheel, eyes scanning the lot as he works toward the exit. After a few seconds, Steve's easy smile droops slightly, a tick down at the corners, his hand slipping down the wheel to hit his turning signal. Eddie's stomach lurches at the change in Steve's expression. 

Here it comes.

Steve is finally giving up on him. 

Just a few more notches downward to the expression Eddie had braced for from everyone since he was 5 years old.

Just a few more ticks of his expression to reflect Eddie's biggest fear. 

His biggest fear used to be dying in this small ass town with nothing to show for it, but after facing the end of the world multiple times, his fears of his own mortality seemed to not be as important as his fears of losing the people he loved -- more specifically, now, losing Steve. He bites his lip, too scared to break the silence, and too weak to fight. 

"I can practically hear you catastrophizing over there, babe. I promise we're fine." Steve soothes, keeping his fingers on Eddie's pulse, gently squeezing and throwing a sidelong smile as he turns out on the road....in the opposite direction of their apartment. 

Yeah.

Fine.

Eddie coughs, leaning against the window, smushing the side of his face into the palm Steve wasn’t branded to to keep his face half-hidden. "We uh....why aren't we....um…” Another cough. “Why are we, um, we…” A sharp intake of breath.

Followed by another, and another, as Eddie’s mind reels.

As he starts replaying the grocery trip to pinpoint every misstep and everything he fucked up.

As he thinks about every joke he made and every look Steve gave him in the store, twisting them to show disgust rather than love.

As he starts thinking of all the ways that Steve is surely, finally, about to break up with him. 

Because surely that’s what’s happening. What other reason would Steve have to not be heading back to their apartment right after getting groceries? The only thing of any import this way is Wayne’s, and Eddie knows what that means.

Eddie knows that means his ass is hitting the dirt walkway up to Wayne’s door while Steve drives out of his life forever.

Eddie spirals, thinking of all the ways that he was finally too much for perfect Steve Harrington. Of how Steve is going to kick his ass out in Wayne’s yard with so little as a “good riddance” because Eddie couldn’t be assed to get his fucking health in order for a 20 minute grocery trip that he swore to Steve he felt okay enough to go on. 

And really, he did. He felt great before they left – well, as great as he could feel now. But still, he promised. He swore he was fine because he was. And then, a half hour later, he’s practically passed out in the passenger seat, trying to will his heart to chill the fuck out and stop being such a dramatic bitch. To tell the rest of his nervous system that they’re fine, that they just went to buy some goddamn eggs and milk, not off to fight Vecna 3.0, so could you please chill the fuck out and drop back to a respectable heart rate and nervous system response?

If he couldn’t be expected to say he was fine and then stay fine, how could Steve expect him to ever be reliable? 

How could Steve expect him to keep any promise ever?

How could Steve expect Eddie to mean it when he says he’ll love him for the rest of their cursed lives?

He knows he’s working himself up. He gets that, logically. But brains are nothing if not illogical, especially when all his blood is decidedly fucked off elsewhere in his body, seemingly leaving his brain to fend for itself with nothing but toppled milk crates and spilled papers and a dozen different Eddie’s in various states of disarray to take the reins. 

“Eddie? What’s wrong, babe?” Steve shoots a concerned look over, his fingers soothing over Eddie’s pulse. “Hurtin’?”

Eddie nods jerkily in response, his chest still heaving with fear, but Steve doesn’t have to know that.

“C’mon, baby, breathe for me, okay? Your breathing exercises. It’ll help.”

Eddie shakes his head. “‘S too hard.” He squeaks out between shaking breaths. “Too…too many steps.”

Steve hits his blinker and pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. He shifts the car into park, leaving his lights flashing, before turning toward Eddie. “Lemme work you through it, sweetheart. I can count ‘em out for you.”

Eddie vigorously shakes his head, quickly shooting out his free hand to grip the door handle, squinting his eyes shut, cursing under his breath as his head starts spinning. 

“Hey hey hey, take it easy, baby. Pull your legs up under you and keep your head still. Movin’ ‘ll only make the spinning worse.” Steve soothes, reaching his hand not wrapped around Eddie’s wrist to rest at the nape of Eddie’s neck, gripping firmly, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the skin there to help ground Eddie’s swimming head. 

“‘M sorry.” Eddie whines, feeling more like the failure he knows he is as he pulls his legs up into his seat, leaning his forehead against his knees, wrapping his free arm tightly around them.

Steve’s brows furrow slightly. “Shh, no sorries needed, but you gotta breathe for me.”

Eddie tenses under Steve’s hand, barely restraining from shaking his head again. He grits his teeth instead, the shaky breaths continuing to rasp too quickly through his lungs. “No – no counts.” He swallows thickly. “‘S too much. Please.”

“Okay, baby.” Steve adjusts with insurmountable ease, a well-decorated soldier in the war on Eddie’s body against itself. “Just follow the taps of my fingers if my voice is too hard to follow. We don’t gotta talk while we do it, just please, lemme count your breaths for you, yeah?” Steve doesn’t wait for a response – just starts tapping and pressing out the counts into Eddie’s wrist, in 2 3 4 5, a long press to hold, then out 2 3 4 5, hold. 

After a few moments, Eddie begrudgingly follows Steve’s count, working to slow his staccato breaths to match the metered pace Steve sets. A few minutes tick by. He turns, watches Steve’s lips silently count out the breaths for him, watches how easily Steve just takes control to let Eddie relinquish the stress of figuring out what to do. He lets himself be grateful for it here in this moment – a rare bout of indulgence. 

Eddie thinks of all the times Steve’s been in a similar position, helping keep Eddie’s head screwed on and his body taped together with an ease that was honestly a bit frightening. It was like Steve was crafted perfectly to cater to every single need and issue and want that Eddie had, and Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s gotten any better at hiding his awe at that, or at even really accepting that, over the last few years. 

Eddie is nothing if not stubborn, after all. 

“There you go, sweetheart. Doing so good.” Steve croons, locks his concerned, but loving eyes with Eddie’s tired, panicked ones. His thumb soothes against Eddie’s neck. He smiles sweetly, bringing Eddie’s wrist to his lips for a gentle kiss to his pulse point. “Feelin’ any better?”

Eddie hums, blinks a few times. Steve stares expectantly, his eyebrows raising slightly. Eddie rolls his eyes, knows Steve’s obsession with vocal confirmations – and understands it, really, after all the shit they’d endured, because Eddie was just as insistent on them when the roles were reversed. He goes to speak, his voice cracking hoarsely in his suddenly too-dry throat, leading him to a few sputtering coughs. He feels the warm pressure on his neck release at that, an action that causes him to lean back toward where it retreated, to whine before he can bite his lips to stop it. Steve chuckles softly, squeezes his wrist, and murmurs a quiet “‘M still here, baby” to soothe him while he leans into the backseat, rustling around in the bags there.

A moment later, a cool bottle is being pressed gently against his knees, an expectant look on Steve’s face when Eddie doesn’t grab it immediately. “Drink up.”

Eddie groans, squeezing his eyes shut, tossing his head back dramatically, the sound of his voice crackling slightly at the dryness of his throat. “Don’wannaaaa.” He manages to croak out in what sounds like nothing more than a blob of unrecognizable noises, but Steve is well-versed in Eddie at this point. 

“I know, but it’ll help.” Steve presses it more firmly into Eddie’s knees.

Eddie keeps his head back, leaning his body back against the seat. “Noooo.” 

Steve scoffs. “Whiny little bastard.” 

Eddie smirks at that, revelling in the easy banter, in the mirth in Steve’s voice. He glances over to find Steve’s eyebrows canted up behind his bangs, a slight smirk to his lips, a little more life and joy to his eyes to replace the concern from before. Eddie feels the edges of a soft smile pull at his lips in response. He’d do anything to keep Steve happy, to keep him from being concerned about anything ever.

“Fine then.” Steve drops Eddie’s wrist to the seat gently, but not before placing a gentle kiss to his pulse point once more, much to Eddie’s delight. Then, Steve brings his hands together to crack open the Lemon Lime Gatorade slowly beading condensation. He brings it up to Eddie's lips, locks their eyes again, his smirk deepening as he lets a deep, commanding “Drink.” slip into the air between them. 

Eddie feels something tight within him relax. He lets his lips fall open, nodding slightly for Steve to slowly tip the drink into his mouth. The cool liquid rushes in, coating his dry throat as he swallows a few tiny gulps. He closes his eyes, a tiny moan escaping his lips from the pure relief the drink gives him – one he wasn’t even aware he needed. 

“That’s my good boy.” Steve praises, just as commanding as before. 

Eddie shivers in response, tilting his chin against the bottle to signal Steve to take it away, which he does immediately, capping the bottle and setting it in the cup holder with a soft thunk. 

The two had developed such an easy, unspoken language between them that might honestly be rivaling the one Steve shared with Robin – much to Robin’s (mostly) fake chagrin. She lamented endlessly that it wasn’t fair, that only she got to share that connection with Steve, always tracing it back to the summer of Scoops and Russian torture. “I’m just saying, we really broke some boundaries there bleeding out together in the bunker.” 

Steve always replying, “Oh my god, Robin, you were never bleeding out, stop lying to Eddie to make him feel bad!” before smacking her with a pillow. 

Eddie laughing, “Yeah, Buckley, if anything that means that I have a stronger claim to the mind meld than you do, lest we forget my stint in the ol’ Upside Down as a bit of roadkill.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” Steve yelling in response before launching a pillow at Eddie’s face. “Can’t you two just agree to share me equally so we don’t have to keep reliving the trauma of our pasts every time one of you gets slightly jealous of the other.”

“Long as I get the dick part of you, sweetheart.” Eddie would grin, eliciting several “ew, ew, ew, ew, ew”s from Robin, before they all dissolved into a pile of laughing, clingy limbs, the hauntings of their pasts forever melting them together as one.

Steve’s hand reaches up and rests against Eddie’s cheek. “Better?” 

“Yeah, much.” Eddie lolls his head to the side, opening his eyes to gaze softly at his boyfriend. “Thanks, Stevie.”

“Anytime, sweetheart.” Steve’s eyes soften as leans forward to press a feather-light kiss to Eddie’s lips. Eddie hums eagerly beneath him, chasing Steve’s lips as he pulls away, eliciting a small chuckle from Steve. “More time for that when you’re not feelin’ like shit. You wanna tell me what’s wrong, now?”

Eddie feels a handful of answers boil up his throat, most of them too honest, so he swallows them down, lands on a, “Jus’ a flare, I think.”

Steve furrows his brows. “A flare…”

“Yeah, jus’, the heat and all got to me I think, but I’m okay.”

Steve chews his lip, brows still furrowed as he takes in Eddie’s words. Eddie holds his breath, tells his brain to chill the fuck out so he doesn’t break down over the same fucking bullshit again, leaving Steve to pick up the pieces. Again.

Steve lets out a soft sigh, his face going lax, all the furrows gone without a trace. “Sweetheart, are you sure?” Steve leans forward, cards his free hand through Eddie’s hair, tangling in the curls. “You know you can talk to me about anything.”

“I know, Stevie. I’m okay. Jus’ wanna get home and spend the night with you and Robin.” Eddie smiles, presses his tongue to the roof of his mouth to try to stop the sob from jumping out of his throat into the space between them.

“God, I bet she picked out another horrendous film one of her campus buddies made, didn’t she?” Steve crinkles his nose at that, his mouth pressed in a thin line.

Eddie chuckles, the sob slipping back down into the cavern in his chest. He slips his tongue out, wets his lips. “Yeah, I’m honestly a bit stoked to figure out why she picked it. I could use a winning week.”

Steve leans back, surreptitiously slipping the half-drunk Gatorade into Eddie’s hands. “Finish this for me.”

Eddie looks down, momentarily perplexed at the shift, before throwing his head back with a groan. “Ugh, do I have to?” He slips his legs back into the footwell, uncapping the drink and holding it against his cheek, the condensation cool against his heated skin.

Steve turns forward in his seat again, shifting the car into drive and adjusting their lights back to normal before merging back onto the road. He reaches over to grasp Eddie’s free hand loosely. “It’ll help. And, we’re almost there, too, so you’ll be feelin’ even better in no time.”

Right. Eddie shoots back into his body, Gatorade half-raised to his still-parched lips, aware again of how they’re not going in the direction of their apartment – how they’re not heading toward the place they call home where Robin is waiting with another trashy film for their regular routine movie night. 

No, they’re driving away from it. 

So, logically, the only other place they could be “almost there” to is Wayne’s. But, they didn’t have any plans, and they have groceries in the back, so, again, logically, the only thing this means is Steve’s hit his limit and Eddie is being kicked into Wayne’s yard. 

Again.

Eddie cringes as the thought hits him full force again, wants to jerk his hand free of Steve's calming grasp, his lungs tightening in response. He pulls the Gatorade away from his lips, grip tight on the bottle as he plunks it in the cup holder, yellow liquid sloshing up the sides vigorously. His stomach sours, replaying the last 10 minutes where Steve doted over him, nothing but love in his eyes, but now he was carting Eddie away just as easily as everyone else ever had. 

If this is it, if this is the end, Eddie doesn't think he could bear any final touches that masqueraded as care. It makes it that much harder when the person pretends to care as they throw Eddie into Wayne's yard with disgust. That had already happened one too many times for Eddie's liking, so he just stopped letting people get close. Much easier that way.  

That was, until spring break of ‘86. Kind of hard to shut everyone out who’s trying to show they care when the whole rest of the town is hunting him with literal pitchforks and torches like they were in some off-brand horror film. 

Though, with the alternate dimension spewing out flesh monsters and viscera, he supposes it was technically a higher budget horror film, the kind that went for the practical effects, but whatever. 

He couldn't really keep everyone out when a gaggle of freshmen showed up to save his ass with Buckley and Harrington and Wheeler in their posse. Buckley, sure, he guesses he could see her helping – nerds and geeks stick together. Wheeler? Maybe, on a good day, but only because Mike was one of his new freshmen sheepies, so he supposes he was in Nancy’s good graces for saving her brother from the hell of high school social networking. But, Harrington? The King himself? Yeah, right. That one he couldn’t rationalize, which is why The King ended up pressed against a wall with a bottle against his throat, blood thrumming in Eddie’s ears, pure panic and hatred and fear plastered on his face, before Dustin of all people talked him down, swearing Steve was here to help, that he was a good guy. Eddie only let him go after meeting Dustin’s eyes, after seeing the pure honesty on the kid’s face, throwing him back to every interaction over the last, like, 7 months with the kid talking his ear off about how “cool” and “great” and “badass” Steve Harrington was now.

None of the group crowding the boathouse made any sense together, none of the whole situation made any fucking sense, but nothing had made sense since that first morning before he left for school, before Chrissy fucking Cunningham seeking him out for help of all people, before his trailer became a certified crime scene. In that moment there later on in Rick’s boathouse, Harrington and his gaggle of misfits coming to his aid was only the second most unbelievable thing he’d experienced in Hawkins, the first only happening some hours prior, so he had supposed he wasn't exactly in a position to choose his saviors at that moment. 

3 years later, and that same gaggle of misfits had fully absorbed him, barreling through his walls and holding him up and fighting for him to be a free man. 

3 years later, and Steve Harrington himself had persistently chiseled even deeper through his defenses, pouring his molten honey love in to fill in the cracks of Eddie’s soul, some of the cracks much much older and deeper than what the Upside Down had left on him.

Some of them still gaping in his chest, prickling his insides like nettle, telling him that Steve Harrington would always be too good for him. 

That Eddie would always be Too Much. 

And that thought finally sends him over the edge, because it always boils back down to here, doesn’t it?

“AreyoudumpingmeoffatWayne’s?” Eddie finally gets out in one big breath. He heaves with it, the feel of it dragging sharply against his vocal chords. His throat feels like it’s on fire, his body aching all over from effort. The panicked breaths start to scratch their way up again, tearing at the calmness Steve had instilled in him only some short minutes prior.

"What?" Steve whips his head round, eyes wide in confusion. "Why would I--?"  Steve’s eyes linger on the crease in Eddie's brow, the shiftiness of his eyes, the way his teeth worry against his perpetually chapped lips. Steve sighs, gripping Eddie's hand tighter, ping ponging his gaze from the road to his sulking boyfriend. His voice slips, a touch of shock and sadness? "I'm never going to just drop you off at Wayne's like that, babe.” He clears his throat, lowers his voice, still strong and sure, but softer, less pitched and full of determination and love. “Not unless you want to, and even then, my ass would be sitting there, talking to Wayne to find a way to help. I’d stay my ass on his porch all day and night trying to help. He wouldn’t be able to get rid of me.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s hand. “But otherwise, you're always coming back home. To our home. With me." He looks over, softness taking his features. “I’m not giving up on you, Eds.”

A few silent beats pass, the only noise the hum of the AC, of the tires on the asphalt, carrying them further and further away from their apartment, from their home. Eddie's knee vibrates with every passing second, his foot kicking at the dust in the footwell, his gaze stoically locked out the window, his thumbnail shredding between his teeth, the memories of every time his ass hit the ground leading up to Wayne’s trailer clouding his brain, flimsily shielding him from Steve’s promises.

"You know that, right, babe? You know I’d never leave you, right?" Steve whispers. “That you’ll always be coming home with me?” He squeezes Eddie's hand softly, rubbing his thumb in slow circles. Eddie's hand twitches in response, betraying his own anxieties, aching to curl tighter around Steve’s. Aching to feel the warmth seep deep into his bones and blanket the fire burning beneath his skin. “Talk to me?”

The tightness in Eddie’s shoulders drops slightly, a slight breath falling from his lips, the shield fracturing. “I’d hardly call our 2nd floor walkup a home, Stevie.” Eddie chuckles mirthlessly. “You kind of have to have the whole picket fence, driveway, multiple bedrooms and bath–”

“Eddie.” 

“--rooms, a yard to corral the inevitable horde of pets, a grill set out to be Mr. All-American every weekend with the kids, perfectly manic–”

“Eddie.”

“--ured lawn, obviously, because god forbid you let the Wheeler’s outperform you in the realm of lawncare. I don’t think Mike’d ever let ya live that one down. Then again, he might not care as much–”

“Eddie.” Firmer this time, with a squeeze of the hand to match, as much of a pointed look as Steve could muster while still driving.

A beat passes, then another, before Eddie sighs, the shield crumbling away, letting Steve’s words crawl into the cavern in his chest, radiating warmth in the void. He quietly breathes out, "Yeah.....yeah, I know." His hand not tangled in the strong, warm fingers of his boyfriend finally drags down his face to settle across his lap. “I know.”

"I promise, sweetheart. You're not getting rid of me." Steve pulls their hands up to his mouth and brushes his lips delicately over the taut skin of Eddie’s knuckles. "Gonna take care of you forever."

Eddie scoffs. “Forever, huh? You sure ‘bout that, Harrington?”

“Most sure I’ve been about anything in my life.” Steve responds immediately, his voice holding that strong, steady baritone Eddie’d come to love.

“Damn, quick to draw there. Don’t be making promises you can’t keep.”

“You know I don’t.”

Silence takes the car after that. Eddie festers in it, keeps his gaze down, his free hand fiddling with the loose threads at the hem of his shirt, his other staunchly locked in Steve’s, sending red hot shockwaves through his body. They’d had this conversation, or some variation of it, countless times. Eddie knows Steve means it. He knows Steve holds to his word. 

He knows Steve loves him. 

Yet still, Eddie continues to retreat to this any time he feels frustrated or defenseless in his own body – the way his health issues and trauma make him feel constantly. Though, he knows that with Steve, he couldn’t ever push it as far as the gaping holes in his chest screamed for. He couldn’t bear to hurt Steve intentionally. He’d rather die.

He’d always found it easier, even before all the Upside Down shit happened, to push against the barriers of his relationships to see where he could form cracks. Everyone always had a weak point that he could leverage, that he could stick a chisel into and start hammering. A way he could build an escape route. 

If Al taught him anything, it was to always go into a place knowing where the exits were, and to never let yourself be somewhere that didn’t have at least two ways out of it. 

That was one of the things that scared him most about loving Steve Harrington. There was only one way out of it – a way that Eddie couldn’t bring himself to fully commit to anymore, a devastating way he hadn’t ever really entertained past the first few weeks of disbelief that this relationship wasn’t some cruel prank. A way he honestly couldn’t even see at this point, so far out of the realm of possibility that it didn’t even ping on his radar. 

But always a way he expected Steve to take against him someday – though Eddie’d never hold it against him – because loving Eddie was harder than fighting all the extra-dimensional terrors they’d faced together, so he always made sure there were plenty of exits for Steve to leave him.

It was easier to try at the start, to try to push Steve away, to show him all the ugly parts of himself. There was plenty in his past to make anyone take one look and deem him Way Too Much to handle – a fact that had gotten him called “Too Muchson” or some variation of it on so many occasions growing up that Eddie damn near forgot it wasn’t his actual name. 

Then, with ‘86 came even more shit to pile on his already “Too Muchson” pile, so he thought it’d be easy enough to scare Steve off. Easy to scare Steve off with all his injuries laying him out for months in bed. With all the doctor’s visits and diagnoses being thrown his way as ‘86 wrapped. Easy to prove to Steve that even a friendship with Eddie wasn’t worth the cost, so why even bother with anything more? 

Steve never bought it for a second – instead, he started driving Eddie to his appointments, no matter how far away they were (and god knows the government made him fucking drive for them, the bastards). 

Started holding his hand on the drives and filling the car with easy conversation and updates about the kids when Eddie was too anxious to talk. 

Started popping by Wayne’s more to help around the house, surprising Eddie when Wayne didn’t grumble about it, but rather handed Steve a key over breakfast one morning after the 5th or 8th visit and told him to come on in whenever, as long as he planned to stay, which Steve promised to do. 

Started bringing Robin over every weekend to have movie night since he knew Eddie struggled leaving the house at that time, enlisting her to start a trend of chaotic movie choices, forcing the boys to guess the reason she picked the movies, with whoever chose correctly by the end of the night winning music and lunch choices for the next week. 

Started pouring every ounce of his love and kindness into Eddie with no expectation of anything in return, apart from Eddie continuing to get up and keep trying day after day, to not give up. 

If Eddie’s being honest, he has no clue where or when or why Steve decided he was worth loving in any capacity. He knows that he was a fucking mess, especially at the beginning, what with all the doctor’s visits, and the way he could barely leave bed for close to a year due to the pain. Still, Steve never made him feel worse for it, never made him feel like a freak for the things wrong with him that he didn’t yet have the diagnoses and definitions for. 

No, Steve showed up during those moments and cared for him so easily that Eddie couldn’t help but fall in love with him. 

Eddie comes back to the present with Steve’s thumb clumsily wiping at Eddie’s cheek through the tangle of their fingers, smearing damp across it. Eddie jumps, letting out a quiet yelp, pawing at his cheeks to find tears streaming down them. "Shit, sorry, I’m fine, I just--"

"Shhh, don't apologize.” Steve grips his hand tighter, shooting a tiny glare out the corner of his eye, pointedly raising their hands higher, flicking his pointer finger out to press against Eddie’s lips when Eddie goes to open his mouth again.

“But–”

 “Stop it. Right now.”

“But Ste–” 

“Nope.”

“Steve, I’m so–” 

“Zip it. No apologies. None. You did nothing wrong." 

Steve pulls into Benny's, swinging into a parking spot right in front of the door, pointedly using his hand not pressed against Eddie’s mouth to awkwardly shift the car into park and unbuckle his own seatbelt before turning in his seat to face Eddie, eyebrows raised expectantly. 

“Can I talk now?” Eddie grumbles out against the pad of Steve’s finger.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “That depends, are you going to try to apologize to me again?”

Eddie shifts his eyes. “...maybe.”

“Then no.” 

Eddie huffs. He’s very aware that he could just…pull their hands away from his mouth himself, but he doesn’t. He knows the point Steve is trying to make, and Steve knows he knows, the annoying little shit. No apologies allowed for feeling your emotions, idiot.

“You just gonna hold my mouth hostage all afternoon in front of Benny?” Eddie nods his head in the direction of the door, though his eyes never leave Steve’s.

“I’m gonna keep my hand right where it is if you intend to keep apologizing to me when you’ve quite literally done nothing wrong – not today, or yesterday, or honestly ever, so.”

Eddie laughs, his lips sliding against Steve’s finger, his tongue aching to slip out and lick, but refraining. “Ever?”

Steve smiles, all lips stretching across his tanned cheeks, little bits of teeth poking out. “Yeah, ever. You’ve not done a single thing wrong in your life, Eddie, ‘s far as I’m concerned.”

“Not even the drug dealing?”

“Nope. Call that,” Steve waves his other hand through the air aimlessly. “Entrepreneurship?” 

“Bah, sure. Hopper’d beg to differ.” Eddie knows that isn’t true, though. Knows Steve knows it isn’t true, too. Thinks of how many times Hopper hauled his ass out of the woods and told him to “go home, Munson. Wayne’ll be worried.” before sending him off with a stern glare. Thinks about how Hopper could’ve easily locked him up for a night any of those times, but how he kept letting Eddie off the hook because he was buds with Wayne, the two of them going fishing and hunting and whatever else old guys hardened by the war do in their pastimes together. 

“I’ll move if you tell me what’s really bothering you.” Steve whispers out, his finger gently brushing against Eddie’s lips. “I know it’s not just a flare.”  

Eddie looks over to find the beautiful smile that was on Steve’s face moments ago replaced by a tenseness, his eyes crinkled at the edges, his lips slightly chapped with worry, stuck tightly together. He swallows down the warring in his chest, swallows down the parts of him aching for Steve – aching for Steve to patch him up and fix all the leaks in his armor like he always does. Squishes down all the fear and anxiety and sadness boiling inside of him. Instead, hums against Steve’s fingers, quirks his lips in his best imitation of a smile, “‘M fine.”

Steve raises his eyebrows slightly. “Crying in the car and thinking I’m going to kick you into Wayne’s yard without so much as a glance back doesn’t exactly scream fine, babe.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head toward his lap, away from Steve’s prying gaze. He knows it’s a losing battle – that Steve will whittle it out of him eventually, probably sooner than he wants. But, fuck, Eddie is so tired of making all of his problems Steve’s problems. He’s tired of not being able to handle his own damn shit. He survived an evil wizard and a town full of angry homophobic jocks hunting him down, so why can’t he just fucking get a handle on the mundane shit like his health and his anxiety and everything else in his fucking brain, spilling out of the milk crates? It really isn’t that hard. Eddie just is too weak or broken, he guesses. But, that isn’t Steve’s problem, so he keeps his lips clamped shut, willing whatever supernatural shit still waving through the universe to just let Steve drop it and let Eddie learn how to bottle it all up better so he doesn’t burden anyone anymore.

They just sit there like that for a couple of minutes, the car idling, silence festering, the AC blasting full force at Eddie finally enough to make him shiver slightly. That’s all it takes for Steve to relent with a sigh, pulling his hand away to lower the AC to a much more manageable level. Eddie licks his lips, the taste of Steve faintly there, feels the loss of Steve’s warmth deep in his bones. 

Steve pulls his hands together, takes in a deep breath, breathes it out slowly, flexes his fingers, fidgets with his nail beds in a way that makes Eddie’s heart ache since he knows it’s a shitty habit that Steve picked up from him. Steve turns his eyes up, locking onto Eddie’s with determination. “Are you okay, Eddie?”

Well, fuck you too, supernatural energy of the universe. Can’t ever cut a guy some slack, can you?

“Why are we at Benny’s?” Eddie turns, looks out the window through the glass of the front doors, making eye contact with Benny behind the counter, the man smiling and waving at him. Eddie manages a small smile and head nod in response.

“You’re deflecting.”

“Benny’s waving at us pretty intensely. Kind of looks like a doofus, honestly.” 

“Eddie.”

Eddie grits his teeth, feels those late nights with Al creeping into his subconscious, the well-practiced venom slipping sharp around his tongue before he can stop it. “I’m fine, okay. Just fucking drop it, will ya? Geez.” 

Steve sighs. Eddie turns at the noise, his face falling as he catches the sadness in his partner’s eyes, feels a pang in his heart knowing he’s the cause of it. He stammers, trying to find a way to fix it, broken “I’m sorry”s falling from his lips. A slight grumble falls out of Steve’s lips as his hand falls to the door handle. “‘S fine. I’m picking us up some dinner.”  

Eddie scrunches his eyes, confusion taking his face as Steve turns, opening his door, stepping out of the car. "Dinner? But we just went shopping! We didn’t buy all those groceries just to waste ‘em." 

Steve huffs, turning around as he stands out the driver’s side. "And you need salt and carbs right now." He leans down, arms on the top of the car, letting his torso and neck stretch as he kicks his foot out behind him, the sadness in his eyes spreading to his smile. "I'm not gonna let you suffer in silence like you're so prone to do. I know you’re hurting. More than just the physical pain from shopping, but I s’pose the food will at least help make it a little bit better right now.” Steve shrugs slightly, a brief trace of uncertainty taking his face. “‘Least I hope so, it usually does."

Eddie huffs, tries to ignore the ache in his chest at Steve knowing exactly what he needs in this moment, and every other moment, honestly, even when Eddie’s a dick to him. He crosses his arms tightly across his torso. "I told you, I'm fine."

Steve chuckles, a glint to his eyes. "Yeah, you are, babe. Fine as hell." Eddie groans, mutters of “stop it” and “oh my god” filtering through, which makes Steve’s sad smile a bit more happy. "But you're not okay right now. So, I'm gonna get you your usual and we're gonna go home and probably watch some god awful movie that Robin picked out and have a quiet night in while I take care of you." 

“But–”

At that, Steve shuts his door, effectively cutting off Eddie’s protests, then smacks the roof of the car twice like some middle aged suburban dad, shooting fingers gun through the windshield, before spinning around and sauntering into Benny's. Eddie watches him, chuckling to himself at Steve's over exaggerated walk, his hips bopping this way and that, before he leans over the counter talking to Benny. 

“He’s such a fucking dork.” Eddie mutters to himself. 

He watches Steve for a moment, watches how his hands gesture and his foot kicks the ground while he talks to Benny, how Benny laughs and nods along like they’re old friends, which Eddie supposes they are after Benny being the one to find El first all those years ago now. Eddie thinks it’s crazy just how many people in this town knew about the goddamn horror dimension for years and still decided to stay here – especially after the ground fucking cracked open like the ice breaking on the lake at the first signs of spring rolling in. Fucking idiots, the lot of them.

Though Eddie himself is still here, only a couple years since it all finally ended, so who’s he to judge, really.  

He knows that once Steve comes out with their food, that they’ll go home and set up on the couch, probably with Robin if she’d made it in yet, to watch some horrid movie she picked up on campus. He knows that he and Steve will have to talk later, that Steve won’t let him fester in his emotions. He knows that Steve will hold him, will let him complain about the pain, both physical and emotional. He knows Steve will offer his shoulder to soak Eddie’s tears. He knows Steve will do it all without any complaint, will offer him love and support and kindness and make all the rough edges from the day smooth out.

Eddie knows Steve will pour all of his love out in their shared bed, shouldering all of the pain if Eddie would let him. 

Eddie will never let him, though. 

Steve’s been through too much – way too much – before Eddie even really knew him. He can’t bring himself to add to that pain more than he already does, to give Steve anything more to be concerned about. Besides, it’s not like Steve can actually fix any of the issues, and Eddie already complains “Way Too Muchson” as it is, so he’ll just bear it on his own. 

Steve deserves a partner who’s simple. Simple to love and simple to care for. Simple means less emotions. 

He can do that. 

He can be less.

Eddie knows he’s far from being simple in any aspect of the word, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try if that means selfishly keeping Steve. 

God, he feels like such a fucking dick. 

Eddie slumps low in his seat, covering his face with both hands again before screaming all the breath from his lungs. His chest still aches, but it’s settling a bit, though his heart is still firing off far faster than it should. "Fuck. Chill the fuck out, Munson. You’re fine. Get your shit together for once and stop spiraling." 

He reaches down and pulls the lever to let his seat recline. His legs find their home curled up beneath him as he leans back. He lays there, working through his breathing exercises, focusing on the low hum of the car’s engine and the faint sound of stray cars passing on the thoroughfare. The words of his doctors tumble through his brain, telling him to “focus on happy thoughts” as if he was on some after school special. Eddie had honestly grown sick of all the platitudes they threw at him. He’s sick of being told that yoga and good vibes will fix the very real and very wrong illnesses he’s started stacking like legos. It’s not like you can “good vibe” your way out of a heart attack – but, at least with that, they know how to treat it. They have no fucking clue what POTS or fibromyalgia even is, really, and Eddie is exhausted from being the government’s personal test dummy for treatments. Hell knows he grew up as a test dummy, or some nights punching bag, for Al’s bullshit. He guesses “test dummy” deserves a slot on his resume now.

Still, the nagging part of his brain that sounds a hell of lot like Wayne tells him that “mopin’ around and stewin’ in those thoughts of yours won’t do ya any damn good,” so he might as well make the hellhole of his brain a little less “toppled milk crate” and a little more “pillow fort” in nature. Eddie sighs, grumbles out a quiet curse at Wayne.

He tries to focus on calming thoughts, happy thoughts – thoughts that had honestly become more common and easier to call on in the last few years. They start playing through his mind like previews. 

Wayne coming home from a late night shift, taking a seat by Eddie on the porch, reaching a hand over for a cigarette. The two sitting in silence, enjoying the early morning air from Wayne’s new porch, comforted by the scent of nicotine swirling around them, close by the Hopper/Byers household. Wayne reaching his arm around Eddie’s shoulder, squeezing them together, his calloused thumb on his free hand coming up to wipe the stray tears streaming from Eddie’s eyes, a gruff “Proud of ya, son.” bobbing out around the cigarette dangling from his chapped lips. 

Steve’s face lazily smiling at him over syrupy pancakes and coffee at their kitchen table every morning, music softly playing on the record player. Never a quiet moment in their home after everything, everyone’s tapes and records stacked up neatly just in case.

Robin walking through Family Video, rattling off whatever films she was determined to force him and Steve through that weekend, while regaling him with whatever drama had trampled through her college the last few days.

Joyce and Hopper pulling him aside one night as Wayne was getting set up in his new place, the gaggle of kids and adults moving boxes around. Joyce squeezing him so hard, whispering fiercely into his ear, “You will always have a home with us, Eddie. You and Wayne both.” Hopper’s hand coming down firm on his shoulder, a nod passing between them like it had so many nights before out in the forests of Hawkins, but this time Hopper’s words coming out, “We love ya, kid. You let me know if anyone, and I mean anyone, in this town gives you any shit. You’re a free man now.” Eddie’s face wet with tears, a relief spreading through his bones, the only response he could manage a small nod and smile, a tiny “Thank you.” before falling into their outstretched arms.

Dustin taking up the Hellfire reins at school and asking him for pointers on each new campaign idea and NPC development, scoffing at Eddie’s suggestions, telling him how they would never work. Eddie still catches him making notes the whole time.

Teaching himself how to skate so he could help Max relearn after it all ended, though she constantly bitched at his form and balance in front of the others, only to hug him and whisper “thank you” once they took off alone.

Teaching Mike how to play guitar, though the kid seriously struggled with rhythm at first, but made up for it in rock solid determination.

Will timidly coming out to him before most of the rest of the group and asking him for advice, Eddie being the first openly gay man the kid had met, which broke Eddie down to tears quicker than the demobats had.

Erica calling him for rides more often than Steve, which she swore was because Steve was “too soft looking” and “ruining her street cred,” though Eddie started suspecting she just really really liked hanging out with him, a statement she once punched him for with a soft glare and sharp turn of her mouth and a “you wish, Munson” before fiddling with the tape deck to “put on some real music.”

Making a pointed effort to show up to all of Lucas’ games throughout the rest of the kid’s high school career, something which Lucas constantly told him he didn’t have to do, that Eddie was forgiven for ever making Lucas choose, even though he always sought out Eddie’s face in the crowd, a massive grin taking over his features every single time they made eye contact.

Lazy afternoons in the grass with El, picking dandelions and daisies, showing her how to braid them through her hair, El’s smile radiating stronger than the sun bearing down on their sweat-slick skin. Giving her a chance to be a fucking normal kid for once, something she always hugged him and thanked him for. 

Days in the library with Nancy, their unofficial book club meetings every few weeks when she made the visit home from college, swapping theories and final thoughts and sharing recommendations, alternating their picks.

Nature walks with Jonathan, helping him frame shots for his portfolio, trading stories about their fucked up dads, Eddie finally feeling an inkling of understanding from another kid in this town.

Hell, even Argyle, who came to visit often enough that, one day, he just never left, shacked up at Jonathan’s, so Eddie took him around town to his favorite spots, talked to him about California life, found comfort in Argyle’s relaxed attitude and warm smiles and casual acceptance of all the shit the world had thrown at them. 

He plays over so many good memories that had left the last few years bursting at the seams, barely contained in Eddie’s fragile body, mingling with all the horror, both spilling through the cracks in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, another nightmare rattling through him, when Steve reached over and grabbed his hands, soothing him quietly, assuring him it was okay, that it was over now, then telling him to share a happy memory, and listening to him talk about whichever of the party he’d recently been with, what they’d gotten up to, watching the tension release from his shoulders, the creases in his brows smoothing out, his voice getting quieter and words getting further apart before he drifted off to sleep.  

Eddie feels the corners of his eyes wet, so many tears unshed, so many good memories, so much pain bottled inside, boiling beneath his skin, constantly threatening to spill over, getting closer and closer to the limit every day. He refuses to break down in front of anyone – in front of Steve or any of their friends. Too tired of being a burden in their lives. Too many times being chastised for it, told he was weak and a disappointment when he let the tiniest bit show.  

He hears Al’s voice creep in, bellowing down the hall of their trailer, the wallpaper yellowing and fraying at the edges. Sees himself scrambling to hide his journals under the mattress, grasping for the closest ball, spinning it in his hands as Al stumbles in. Feels the spittle of Al’s rage hit him just before the rough leather boot lands against his thigh, knocking him over on the floor. Feels the tears prick his eyes, his arms tightening around his middle, as Al–

A soft rapping on the window behind him, followed by a muffled click of the door handle being pulled, brings Eddie out of his head. He sniffles, swallows down the rage and fear that were taking over the happy memories of his real family. 

He feels Steve’s warmth before he sees him. 

Eddie basks in Steve’s gentle heat, inhaling the air he brings with him – soft vanilla, woodsmoke, a bit salty from the sweat of the day, mixed with that of the food, of salty fried potatoes, grilled meat, toasted bread, and… “Strawberry?” Eddie twists to the side, peeking out from under the arm draped across his face. 

Steve chuckles, knees crouched as he places an armful of to-go boxes in the backseat carefully, under the recline of Eddie’s seat. “You and that nose of yours, Munson. I swear you missed a calling as a hunting dog or somethin’.” 

Eddie snorts. “That requires too much runnin’ for my liking. You know I’m too attached to sittin’ on my ass for anything like that.” He pulls his arm down, allowing his full attention to direct towards Steve, the corner of his mouth ticking down slightly. “Besides, I’ve done enough runnin’ for a lifetime. I’d rather not do it ever again.”

Steve meets his eyes, a soft, sad smile on his face. “Yeah, me too.” He reaches his hand out to brush some stray curls back from Eddie’s face, his hand cradling Eddie gently, thumb rubbing against the corner of his eyes, picking up the damp left there. He opens his mouth, closes it briefly, worries his lip between his teeth, before murmuring a tentative, “You okay, sweetheart?” 

Eddie leans into Steve’s touch, nuzzling his cheek deeper into his boyfriend’s hand. He takes a moment to stare, to really take in the man crouched in front of him, this pure adonis of a man with the evening sun dropping behind him, casting him in soft pinks and yellows, softening and blurring the edges of his face. He takes in Steve’s soft smile, the way the plush of his lips spills at the edges, how the space between his brows is soft and relaxed, how his eyes stare back, slightly crinkled at the edges, full of unrepentant adoration and softness and care. Eddie thinks about how no one has ever looked at him like that before Steve, how he isn’t sure he even deserves it, knows he doesn’t deserve it from Steve, but fuck, if he isn’t greedy enough to take every scrap of it he can get it, storing these images away deep in the recesses of his brain, in a folder in a toppled over milk crate labelled “Too Good for Eddie Munson,” just in case the day ever came he had to live without the man before him.  

“Just thinking, ‘s all.” Eddie murmurs. 

Steve reaches his other hand out to wrap around Eddie’s forearm, slowly dragging up and down. “You wanna talk about it right now?”

Eddie knows that Steve, however begrudgingly, would continue to drop the topic for now as he so often does – even though he’d been doing so at what must be a worrying rate for him in the near hour they’d been gone from home – but will bring it up again later, coaxing Eddie to let out his emotions, or at least however much of them Eddie was willing to let slip. Never all of them – just small spills here and there when the pressure got to be too much.

And fuck, if the pressure wasn’t overwhelmingly too much these days.

Eddie lets a small smile slip, the pot of his emotions starting to boil over at the edges, splats of water fizzing violently beneath his skin. “Thinkin’ ‘bout how you’re too damn good for me, Harrington. What’d I ever do to deserve you?”

Steve scoffs. “What’d I ever do to deserve you is a better question?” 

“Ah, well, my running theory is that you’re permanently cursed from years of otherworldly fuckery, so you’ve been sentenced to loving me. Probably one last,” Eddie throws his hands up, wiggling his fingers and smirking, “fuck you from Vecna himself. That’s the only thing that makes any sense to me.” He settles his hands back in his lap. 

Eddie means it as a joke, he thinks, though he knows there was a bit too much truth to his tone – a bit too much of a grimace when he said it. 

Steve stares at him, blinks once, twice. His eyes scrunch together, his lips turning down slightly, and – ah, there it is. It’s not quite the ultimate disappointed expression Eddie was waiting for, but it certainly isn’t a happy one. It’s more like a kicked puppy than anything else. 

Yeah, definitely kicked puppy. 

Eddie feels the cracks in his chest festering at it, the darkest crevices singing out their praises, greedily grasping at the expression to deepen the chasm within him. He feels a sick sort of pleasure from it. This is familiar – the hurt on the face of someone he loves. This he knows how to navigate easier than hope and love, even if the pain of seeing Steve look at him this way screams wrong in his brain.

“Is that–” Steve huffs a shaky breath. “You think loving you is a curse?” Steve whispers. 

Well, fuck.

Faintly, he hears Al’s voice calling out to him, telling him “good job, son.” And isn’t that something? That settles like lead in his stomach, bile roiling in his throat. He clamps his teeth together, sure the grinding of them echoes over the hum of the engine.

Steve soothes his thumb across Eddie's cheek once more.  “Sweetheart, loving you is the easiest and best thing I’ve ever done.” 

Eddie can’t help it. He laughs at that. A quick and wet throaty chuckle that makes Steve jump a little, makes his brows furrow. “Why are you laughing?”

“Stevie, nothing about loving me is easy. Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

And, well, if that doesn’t just shatter Steve’s heart on the spot. You’d think Eddie just threw all the kids into the quarry with the way Steve looks at him. But the thing is, Eddie’s telling the truth. He knows loving him is hard. He’s seen it in Wayne, how the man has grown so much older and more exhausted since Eddie was kicked into his yard years ago. Thinks about how much better Wayne would be without him in his life every single day. Thinks about how Wayne may have even found someone to settle down with if he didn’t have to take care of Al’s biggest mistake. Fuck, it’s all he thinks about – how much space he takes up in the lives of those he loves, especially now with how much worse he’s gotten in health.

Eddie knows loving him is hard because he hasn’t even tried since he was a kid, since the 5th or 8th or 12th time his dad told him to “stop being such a sissy writing about your feelin’s and go throw a fuckin’ football or some shit.” Shit sticks after a while. Fuck knows he couldn’t even pick up a notebook to write anything, not even school notes, until he’d lived with Wayne for at least a year, finally learning one night while reading on the couch, hearing Wayne hang up the phone with a sigh, watched him sit next to him, grunt out “Al’s locked up tight this time, kid, ‘m sorry. You’re stuck ‘ith me for a while.” That let a breath out of Eddie he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, feeling like he could breathe the easiest he had in a decade, a single tear spilling over his young eyes as Wayne gripped his knee tightly.

“Eddie. Oh, baby, come here.” Steve leans forward from the rear door across the reclined seat, wrapping his strong arms across Eddie’s chest awkwardly. Eddie stiffens in his embrace, lets out a small “what?” at Steve’s affection. 

Steve whispers into Eddie’s chest, rubbing his arms up and down in a soothing motion. “I love you so much, sweetheart. So. Much. ‘S the easiest thing I’ve ever done, I promise.” 

Eddie tenses, grumbles against the bunched up shirt on Steve’s chest, arms fidgeting at his sides. He aims for deflection, trying to suppress the raw emotions dangerously clawing their way up out of the chasm in his chest, aching to soak up Steve’s love greedily. “It was a joke, Steve. I’m fi–”

“I swear to fuck, if you say that you’re fine one more goddamn time, I am going to drive down to Wayne’s so we can talk some fucking sense into you.” 

Eddie laughs at that, a deep belly laugh, the air rumbling through his chest, into Steve’s haphazard hold on him. Tears prick the lower lids of his eyes and he tilts his head back into the headrest, willing them to just absorb back into his eyeballs or something, anything to avoid Steve seeing him cry again today. “Y’all teamin’ up on me now?”

Steve squeezes his rumbling chest, voice strong and steady. “If that’s what it takes to get it through your thick skull that you’ve got people who care a whole hell of a lot about you, then yes, obviously.” Steve’s hands soothe against his skin. “I’ll get the kids rounded up for it too. Stage a whole intervention.”

Eddie blinks up at the ceiling of the car, grown rough and scratched after years of carting children around. He follows one of the slight tears in the fabric, thinks about how Steve 4 years ago would’ve lost his shit at it, probably would’ve yelled at who did it and made them pay for it even though he was swimming in the monetary “love” of his parents.  

He thinks about how Steve now is so different – how Steve now didn’t bat an eye at Max when her skateboard nicked the roof as she jumped in. Eddie aches over how scared she’d looked and how she immediately spewed out a series of “I’m sorry”s and “I’ll fix it”s – he knew where that fear came from. But, he thinks over how Steve now shrugged her off, told her it wasn’t a big deal. Eddie thinks about how that was at least a year ago now and the tear was still there with a tiny smiley face and a “-Max” written beside it like she was signing a work of art. 

Eddie bites his lip, sucks in a sharp breath. “Hurtful. My skull isn’t that thick, Harrington.” 

“Could’ve fooled me with the whole ‘loving me is a curse’ bullshit, man.”

“I’m just sayin’, you spent enough time breathing in that fucked up dimension, you were bound to be cursed with somethin’. It’s not out of the realm of possibi–”

Steve starts to pull back at that, a short “Wayne’s it is, then” falling from his lips, the cool air hitting Eddie’s stomach viciously as his shirt rides up. Eddie grasps desperately at Steve’s arms, clinging to them like his life depends on it. It honestly feels like it does in that moment.  

“Wait.” Eddie murmurs, his fingers bruising in their grip on Steve’s arms. “Please. Don’t–” Eddie stumbles, the boiling emotions thick and wet in his throat. “Just…hold me. Please. Don’t–” He swallows thickly, whispers out, “Don’t leave.” He feels Steve’s chest take in a sharp breath, feels him melt a bit.

“Of course, sweetheart.” Steve winds his arms around Eddie’s middle, squeezing their chests together. 

Eddie knows Steve’s back must be aching from this angle, but he can’t bear to let him go. He feels like if he lets Steve go right now, the pot will finally boil over and all his messy emotions will rush out of him with nowhere to land. 

He swallows them down thickly, nuzzling his nose into Steve’s chest, inhaling deeply, basking in the woodsmoke and vanilla that follows him around. They stay like that for a while – Eddie’s face buried in Steve’s chest, Steve’s strong fingers rubbing soothing patterns against the strip of Eddie’s back peeking out from where his shirt rode up. 

Eddie feels a few more drops splatter chaotically out of the pot, searching for a place to land.

Eddie squeezes his eyes as tightly shut as possible, trying to minimize the damp that aches to fall from them. He keeps his face smushed tightly into Steve’s chest, his mouth pressed into the wrinkles of Steve’s t-shirt, hoping it would muffle what he was prepping to say enough. After a few moments, croaks out a quiet, “’M sorry I keep fucking up, and that…that all my health shit is getting worse.” He takes a steadying breath, sniffles lightly into Steve’s crinkled shirt. “And that I’ve got too much shit trauma makin’ it all worse.” A beat passes. “But, thank you. Thank you for…for takin’ care ‘f me so well.” He’s not even sure if Steve hears him, kind of hopes he doesn’t, while a smaller part of him hopes that he does. Because if Steve did hear him, then that means he’d put together what was going on well enough so Eddie wouldn’t have to say so many words in explanation later. 

Hopefully. 

Probably not, but hopefully.

Eddies ventures a bit quieter, “I love you, Stevie.” 

He loves Steve so much it hurts – hurts more than all the demobats ever did, than his father’s hands grasped around his weak body, or all his health issues do now. 

God, he loves Steve so much that it radiates through every fiber of his being, thrumming loudly in his veins.

“I know you do, sweetheart.” Steve responds quietly. Eddie gasps a bit, mild parts shock, mild parts relieved. “I love you too. Fuck, I love you so much.” Steve takes a deep breath, presses a kiss to Eddie’s stomach. “You’re never too much f’ me. God, I can’t get enough of you.” A few more lazy kisses pepper against Eddie’s stomach. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m gonna take care of you forever. All of you.” Steve squeezes Eddie’s chest tight at that, knocking a slight umph out of Eddie, a few tears spilling over from the force of it.

Eddie laughs a bit, hiccups into Steve's chest, the damp taking over his cheeks, clogging up his throat, his mind replaying “You’re never too much f’ me” over and over and over. 

 “You take care ‘f me just as well, too.”  

“‘S easy when you're so pretty to look at, Stevie.” 

Steve groans in response. “I'm trying to be sweet, you dick.”

Eddie smiles, bites his lip. “Well, you are pretty close to my dick now, so you could be sweet ‘n–”

“Oh my god shut up, you heathen.”

Eddie laughs louder at that, feels the edges of the cavern in his chest knit a little further shut as a few more tears stream down his cheeks, feels a little lighter than he did an hour ago, a little more himself. Steve joins in, their laughs together making what might be the most beautiful sound Eddie’s ever heard.

Eddie pulls up one of his arms, quickly wipes his nose off on his sleeve, smearing his tear-stained cheeks with his palm, before he pushes against Steve’s chest, prying his boyfriend off of him. “Now, didn’t I smell strawberry? You holdin’ out on me, Harrington?”

Steve is still laughing slightly as he extricates himself from his awkward stance, quietly pressing a kiss to Eddie’s lips as he retreats to standing again. He stretches back a bit, leaning to the side until a soft pop echoes into the car, followed by a small grunt. “‘M not sweet enough for you, honey?”

“Oh, you are, but you’ve brought my other true love into the mix: strawberry.” Eddie grins, a manic thing, his cheeks tacky with dried and fresh tears that can’t seem to stop popping out from the boiling mess in his chest.

Steve quirks his head to the side, his eyes squinting slightly as he stares at Eddie’s still wet face, as he watches the near-imperceptible sniffles as Eddie tries to regain his composure. “You know we’re not done with this conversation, right? Like, you know I’m not gonna let you say all of this, be so,” Steve sighs, “so cruel to yourself, without fully talking it out to figure out what’s hurtin’ you, help make sure you’re alright? You aren’t getting off that easy, Munson.”

Eddie smirks. “Actually, I’ll have you know, I get off quite–”

“Bup bup bup! Stop. You know what I mean. No jokes, no laughs, no get-out-of-jail free card.” Steve holds his gaze firmly, eyebrows scrunched together, one hand crooked in his hip. “We’re gonna talk more later and I’m gonna make damn sure you know how fucking much I love and adore every goddamn thing about you. You’re stuck with me. Forever. No matter what you tell me about your past or your present or your future. For. Ev. Er.”

Eddie’s smirk falls as Steve carries on in front of him, his emotions suddenly wholly and completely vulnerable on his face as he stares up at the love of his fucking life. He watches Steve rant above love and forever, watches his hand flit through the air, pointing at Eddie, shooting fire under his skin. Eddie’s sure his face is full of love and adoration and fear and pain. And he’s sure that Steve sees it all and isn’t the least bit fucking scared – a fact that scares Eddie even more, hasn’t stopped scaring him over the last few years. 

Eddie feels the ache deep in his chest, the boiling beneath his skin growing louder, near knocking the lid off the pot. He knows it’s inevitable, has known for years now. Knows he can’t keep hiding away sectors of himself from Steve, can’t keep shielding him from the ugliness inside of him, the pure pain and exhaustion from holding up the remnants of his protective barrier, weakened from decades of performances and, more recently, years of fighting his own body to keep moving.

“Later. Promise.” Eddie whisper-nods, feels the tears hot and heavy on his cheeks again, but keeps his hands fidgeting in his lap, lets them exist in front of Steve unbidden. He quirks his lip up, “I really do wanna see what Robs brings back to show us, first. I miss her.” A beat passes, Eddie’s face shifting to a look of horror. “Oh fuck, did you get her dinner too? Shit, I can go grab it if–”

“I got her dinner too, babe, don’t worry. All safe and secure behind your pretty little head.” Steve smiles, a full face one, a sight that knocks the breath from Eddie’s lungs.

“Fuck me, Harrington, you’re gorgeous. Who the hell lets you just walk that smile around like that? Fuckin’ lethal weapon, jesus.” Eddie sputters out, his eyes sparkling with tears and love.

Steve just laughs, reaches up on top of the car, brings a too-pink drink back down with him, condensation beading aggressively down the sides after baking in the late afternoon sun for however long. “Here, take a sip. Courtesy of Benny. Sorry ‘s a bit melty.” He offers it up to Eddie’s lips, straw already poised and ready, crooked to the side because of-fucking-course Steve got bendy straws like the fucking charmer he is.

“Fuckin’ bendy straws.” Eddie mutters before greedily taking a sip.

“Still top ten.” 

Eddie smirks, mind drifting back to one of their first dates-not-dates at Benny’s. Thinks of Steve, exasperated, as he asked, “How can you not love bendy straws, Munson? They’re easily top ten best straws to exist.” Thinks of himself, leaned across the booth opposite, head lolling to look at Steve dead on, barely hiding a smile as he replied, “I’m not even sure there are ten different types of straws, but please, do go on.”

Eddie pulls away, swallowing down the perfect mixture of vanilla and strawberry chunks. He smacks his lips loudly, grinning lazily up at Steve. “Ya know, you never did tell me your whole top ten. I still think I won that debate.”

Steve smiles, his eyes crinkling beautifully at the edges. He licks his lips, biting the bottom gently. “Hmm, well, I landed in bed with you that night, and the next night, and the next, and basically every night since, so I think I’m the real winner after all.”

Fuck, Eddie is such a goner. 

Steve laughs seeing Eddie’s jaw go slack, his eyes mooning wide. “'M gonna get in so we can head home and meet Robs, ‘kay?” Steve leans down, sticks the shake into Eddie’s hands, presses a kiss to his forehead, before retreating, shutting the door, circling the car to slide into the driver’s seat. 

Eddie sits up, fixes his seat and gets buckled back in. He looks up, catches Benny’s eyes through the door again, sees the old man’s brow furrowed. He raises a tiny wave and smile in response. “Ah shit, Benny saw my breakdown. I don’t think I can ever show my face here again.”

“Benny saw a hell of a lot worse in this town. Seeing you cry in the parking lot is nothing.”

“Alright, damn, Harrington. I see we’re back to joviality, are we?”

Before Steve can respond, a tap hits the hood of the car, making both boys turn to look. Benny stands there, a shy smile on his face, a bag of food in his hand. He rounds to Steve’s window, waits for it to roll down, leans his head down a bit. “Hey, uh, thought y’all might ne–want to try out a new recipe f’ me.” He sticks a bag through the window into Steve’s arms, the smells of even more fried food carrying through.

“New recipe? Really, Benny?” Eddie smiles. “You could jus’ say you saw me out here cryin’ like a baby and that you wanted to help through the powers of greasy food.”

“Munson, my food is not greasy. You take that back right now. I don’t care what kind of breakdown you’re having.” Benny’s stern voice carries across the console, his finger pointing over the edge of the window at Eddie. 

Eddie smiles in response, cracks a hefty laugh, wipes the last few tears from his cheeks. 

Steve leans toward the backseat, sets the new bag of food in the footwell behind Eddie’s chair, makes sure it’s secure before righting himself. “Thanks, Benny. You’re fueling us for whatever Robs is about to put us through when we get home.”

“Oh, movie night, is it? You tell that girl to come see me ‘fore she leaves again. Be nice to catch up.” Benny smiles, fond and warm.

“Sure thing. ‘M sure she misses you and your cookin’ jus’ as much.” Eddie offers, a matching smile settling on his face. 

Benny nods. “I worry ‘bout y’all still. You tell Wayne ‘r Hopper to call me so we can set up our next shindig.”

“Sure thing. That sounds nice.” Steve replies, reaching over to grab Eddie’s free hand. “Make sure to put your milkshakes on the menu for this one.”

Eddie scoffs, indignant. Brings the half-drunk shake to his lips, sucks down a dramatic swallow. “Whatsoever could you mean by that, my liege?”

Benny laughs, slaps the window frame before standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind. Y’all be safe now. Take care of yourselves. And stop by anytime you need a pick me up. Y'all know ya got pick of the diner anytime ya want." He steps back. "See y'all soon. Night!” He waves before walking back in the diner.

“Night Benny!” Steve yells before rolling up his window. He looks across at Eddie, squeezes their hands together. “You ready to go home?”

Eddie leans his head against the window, one hand linked in Steve’s, the other holding the half-drunk milkshake in his lap. He watches as the sun dips behind the trees, as Hawkins starts turning to nighttime. He thinks of how Robin is undoubtedly lounging on the couch by now, probably irritated at the two of them for taking so long and cutting into their cherished hangout schedule. 

Eddie knows he isn’t okay, knows things won’t be just because he spends the night smushed between his best friends on their too-soft couch. He knows it won’t all be magically fixed when he tumbles into bed with Steve, when he peels back the edge of the pot to let out the first stream of boiling water, releasing the pressure that’s been keeping the cavern in his chest satisfied for so long. He knows that things won’t magically just get better overnight. 

But still, he smiles, takes a sip of the too-sweet milkshake, squeezes the hand of the love of his goddamn life, and lets himself relax into the comfort of the life they’ve built together, knowing that no matter what, Steve will still be there every time he opens his eyes for the rest of his life.

A thought that scares him, but maybe not in the terrifying I-need-to-arm-and-protect-myself way that Eddie falls to so easily.

No, more in the I-have-someone-who-loves-me-for-everything-I-am-and-always-will way. 

Loves him for all of his “Too Muchson�� self. 

He turns, smiles at his boyfriend. “Yeah, Stevie. ‘M ready.” 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: hi! This is absolutely a self-indulgent fic. I put Eddie through the ringer – meaning, gave him some of my chronic illnesses and piled on some trauma and served him up to Steve to patch up. I feel a lot helpless with all my health issues daily, so this was a way of me trying to cope with that. I also showed some glimpses of past trauma in Eddie. People have their own trauma and bullshit to deal with already – piling chronic illness on top of it makes the lines all muddy and makes it even more difficult. Chronic illness is debilitating and can ruin relationships of any kind. Same for trauma. I gave Eddie the most supportive relationships because he deserves love and care, and because that’s all I fucking want honestly.

So, here are some silly little bits of research I did for this, and for my own health over the months of diagnoses. I tried to get as accurate as possible, but please let me know if any dates are off (and if they are, pretend for continuity they aren’t). There’s honestly not enough research done on fibro and dysautonomia or POTS.

Fibromyalgia was first recognized as an official diagnosis in 1987 by the AMA, though records on versions of it were recorded in the early 1800s. Definitions for fibro wouldn’t come about until 1990, which is a little less than a year after this story takes place. I hc that Eddie is helping in the research for this process. 

There was some research to show the connection between fibro and other health issues around 1984. This is what we think of as comorbidities. 

A form of dysautonomia called familial dysautonomia was first diagnosed in 1949. This is a very severe form of dysautonomia that is often life threatening.

The first autonomic laboratory was established at the Mayo Clinic in 1983 by Dr. Phillip Low. This focused on the study of autonomic nervous system disorders.

Even though POTS wasn’t an official on paper diagnosis until 1993, it was studied for decades prior, being known as a variety of names, like irritable heart syndrome in 1871, soldier’s heart, and postural tachycardia syndrome (without the orthostatic) in 1982.  

I take liberties with calling it POTS here even though it wouldn’t be an on-paper diagnosis until 1993. Eddie exhibits all the symptoms, so the government is using him to work toward POTS as an official diagnosis. Artistic liberties, deal with it. 

Bendy straws were invented in 1937. Yes, I did look this up just for historical accuracy.

this is also my first fic, so please be nice :) considering posting to ao3, but still kind of scared, so not yet (it is in fact totally on ao3 now)

i do not consent to my work being used in any ai training or any ai related projects, or to my work being copied, reposted, or stolen in any capacity. likes and reblogs are lovely and bring joy to my tired heart.

freak out in the notes with me about these beautiful idiots. i hope you love them as much as i do.

tags: @sunshine-daydreams0809 (i finished it)

[benny-the-spaceman]

happy 18th birthday to ME! and kind of benny. kind of. technically charlie day. whatevs. ive got more to say below the cut, but this goes out to the ppl ive gotten to know and the ppl ive learned from and admired in this community, thanks for making tlm so special to me <3

Alright. wow. 18. It feels weird to say that honestly. more importantly, this marks around 2 years of me being in the lego movie fandom, which is even crazier! I actually found this community at one of the worst parts of my life, I'd developed very severe drug related OCD, to the point where I was barely eating and drinking or leaving my room for over a month because i was so terrified of my intrusive thoughts. I went to a treatment center where I started ERP therapy, and during that time I watched a reel about the lego movie and decided that, since i was out of school and had way too much free time, maybe i could occupy some time with that instead. TLDR: best decision of my fucking LIFE. i got hooked pretty quickly, and after a few weeks i started interacting and making friends. I started using my tumblr again and i was drawing every free moment i could. joining this community started as a sort of coping mechanism for me, but as my ocd went into partial remission it became more and more of a passion and less of just something to occupy my brain. overall, awesome. however, it really wasnt until a year or so later that id REALLY start to get to know people, and leading into my senior year, I became friends with some amazing people. Superpeeboy and Mars of course, but also many other people, almost too many to name (yall know who u are tho (:, and if u think it could be u, it probably is). This community has made me so, incredibly happy, in ways even before my ocd i didnt think were possible. I never thought id find myself so enthusiastically looking toward my future, because despite every horrible thing going on in the world I have people around me that I know will be there, and I hope I can be there for them jsut the same. Honestly I just want to thank every person who's made this community special for me. Whether we've become best friends or have never talked even once, thank you for making the lego movie such an amazing place to call home. When I say this has saved me, I mean it. Happy birthday to me, I don't even know what birthday wish I could make, I've already gotten so many things that I'd always wished for.

[voxmortuus]

Hi! Please can you write promt 1 with Benny from Bikeriders?

⇘ PAIRING:⇙ Benny Cross x F!Reader ⇘ UNIVERSE:⇙ The Bikeriders ⇘ WORD COUNT:⇙ 681 ⇘ TRIGGER WARNINGS:⇙ Handjob | Blowjob in the back seat | Swallowing because you're not a quitter. | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this… ⇘ NOTES:⇙ Sorry if this is total ass... but I hope this brings you some joy. Prompt from this list. ⇘ DIVIDER CREDIT:⇙ @nyxvuxoa ⇘ IMAGE CREDIT:⇙ Pennywises ⇘ My Master Masterlist ⇙

It was a warm summer night, and taking the car instead of taking the motorcycle just seemed like a better idea. You and Benny had decided to go for a late-night drive. You wanted to just go for a joy ride, and have no destination in mind. He decided to drive out to the middle of nowhere so you could watch the night sky without any light pollution from the city. It was going to be a good night, it was going to be a quiet night, and it was needed for you both.

When you get to this open field, you decide to climb in the back. Laying on top of him he holds you close. Stroking your hair with his hand that doesn't habitually have a cigarette between his fingers. Comfortable, you two don't need to exchange words, just staring out the back window as you watch the stars.

It seems like everything is going good, going perfectly, you two are mad about each other, happy and utterly in love. You aren't put off by his riding, or the club, in fact, you're a fan favorite among the girls that they bring around. Everyone knows your name, and they know who you belong to. It's like a little home, a large family, and you feel so safe with them.

Tonight though, it was about Benny, at least in your mind it was, it was always about Benny. You lived, ate, breathed, and worshipped this man. Everything you do, you do for him, and it's not this sort of unhealthy relationship sorta thing, no, this man makes you so happy, you'd do anything for him, just as he'd do pretty much anything for you.

An idea pops into your brain and you look over him and smirk, slowly lowering yourself you run your hands over the front of his pants, smirking you slowly unzip them, and glance up at him and he looks down at you and watches you carefully.

"What are you doing?" he asked you, his voice low and husky. He tilted his head and readjusted tossing his smoke outside.

You smirk and lick your lips as you stick your hand down his pants, pulling him from his pants, and freeing the flesh, you begin to work it, slowly, carefully, your grip just right, the perfect tightness. You slowly begin to work the flesh in your hand. Feeling it starting to stiffen you watch him a moment. Your hand is warm, and tight against him as you slowly move your hand a little more. Jerking a slow motion, watching his face as it relaxes and his jaw slightly slacks. But it wasn't until you brought the head of his cock against your lips.

He draws in a breath, letting out a low husky groan. You lower your mouth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock as you slip him further into your mouth, warm, wet, taught-lipped. His groan gets a little louder as you begin to bob your head, your grip at the base of his cock as you continue to bob, swirling your tongue around the head and then it curls around the side as you lower, up and down a perfect bob.

Continuing on, his hips thrusting, his hands tangle in your hair as he uses your head, a perfect give and take as he feels himself grow close to a finish. Though not as long as he wanted this to last, this was a pleasant surprise and a much-needed one after a long day. Your bob faster, encouraging that finish, only after a good five, maybe ten to fifteen minutes max, do you feel these hot ribbons of thick white semen escape him. His cock twitches between your lips, filling your mouth, hitting the back of your throat, but you swallow, because you're his good girl.

Finishing you put him away and smile softly, grabbing the soda cup from the front cup holder, taking a sip washing him down, you look over his face he chuckles looking at you.

"You're perfect." he smiles.

[dailydragon08]

The TF Boys Realizing You're Not Doing Well/Falling into Burnout

Gender neutral reader Warnings: reader struggling with mental health issues/burnout (nothing described). A/N: Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!

*

Frankie would 100% organize an entire staycation for you. You’re both gonna spend the entire week in PJs and/or hoodies and sweatpants—and if you don’t have enough of those to last the week, he already ordered you more made out of the softest, most cloud-like material you’ve ever encountered. He’s got the living room all decked out to watch movies, play games, read, whatever: there are a million pillows and soft blankets everywhere, if cozy candles and string lights are your thing he’s got those up everywhere. He’s determined that you don’t get up for anything and is bringing you all the food, beverages, and items you could possibly need (unless you want to get up, of course). All cell phones and social media notifications are getting turned off so his focus can be entirely on you and you’re going to make your place your own little private, stress-free corner of the world where you can do whatever you need to decompress.

I headcanon Santi as showing his love through food. He gives me loves to cook vibes and is making sure you’re getting all the most delicious, nutritious, home-cooked meals—and you know he’s throwing stuff in there like “my family used to make this for me when I was struggling and it always helped, so now I’ve made it for you.” He’ll even make you a homemade latte and/or the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had in your entire life (seriously, even your favorite coffee shop doesn’t do it this well). If you have a favorite restaurant and are up to go, he’ll take you out with no hesitation or pick up their takeout and deliver it to you himself. He’s very attentive and learned all your favorite recipes forever ago and has them all on standby, joking about how he’s your chef and waiter all in one and you just tell him what you want to eat and he’ll make it for you. Once you put your “order” in, he’ll give you a little salute with a “you got it, sweetheart” before marching off to the kitchen (and if you’re up for helping him and want to, he’s so happy that he has a cooking buddy). He’s very determined that for the next month at least—maybe longer—you won’t have to worry about a single meal and he’s gonna be your personal chef.

I know a lot of people headcanon Benny as neurodivergent and struggling with mental health issues and I do, too, so I think he’d 100% understand any sort of burnout and is already well-equipped to deal with it. He’s buying you all the fidget toys, all the mandala coloring books with the fancy marker sets, the lightest and softest noise-canceling headphones, etc. If you need to blow off some steam instead, he’s taking you ax/knife throwing, playing some sports or heading to the gym with you, taking you to the shooting range, etc. Whether you want something like that or something more relaxing at home, he makes sure you have all the things you need to get in some good decompression time and is more than happy to just hang out in the same space with no expectations to enjoy some parallel play.

Because of Benny and his own experiences with PTSD, I think Will would also be super understanding of your experience and he’s now completely committed to being your doctor/therapist/whatever you need to get through this. Like Benny, he’s happy to buy you all the things you need and is also researching coping mechanisms, breathing techniques, and how your mental health issue/neurodivergence might present so he can best help you. Of course, he’ll ask clarifying questions to make sure your “treatment plan” is perfectly tailored to you while sprinkling in things he learned in therapy himself that he feels would be helpful. He’s a big proponent of exercise and I think he’d be really supportive of helping you learn something like yoga or tai-chi or meditation (but of course would never shame you if those weren’t your thing or if you tried it and it didn’t work for you). I think he’d also suggest a camping trip, just the two of you, to get some time out in nature away from other people to de-stress and reset if that was your thing as well, and he’s taking care of all household chores and making sure you get enough water and nutrients before you can even blink.

[thepossummoldypasta]

Steady Seas and Welcome Water prt.3

Part1, part 2,

Steve should have been up long before now, but he's rarely felt so content and cared for. Absently he trails a hand along the still warm sheets allowing a small purr to rumble free of his chest. That morning he woke to the push-and-pull of Eddie getting up an ready for his duties as captain while Steve tried his best to encourage the man to lie-in for just a few more minutes.

He had not been successful, but the alpha had laid his lips to Steve's temple and whispered permission to laze in bed against soft tan skin. It was so foreign to have the luxury of taking a breath and allowing the tension to bleed from his shoulders. The omega lounged until well after the sun rose but as enjoyable as it is Steve can't stand lazing about for a moment longer.

Steve dresses slowly, draping himself in one of Eddie's shirts like its armor. This time his slowed pace is the result of caution instead of comfort. The omega would never doubt Eddie's judgement but who knows the full extent of the persons aboard the ship. Steve is--to outsiders--A poster for the kind of man any pirate would have a deep vendetta towards, a living depiction of the sort of high society omega who poisoned the past of so many outlaws.

He hovers briefly at the door to the cabin and can manage to leave only after he brushes aside thoughts of what a warped reflection of the previous night he made. But it was a new morning now, and it wouldn't do to linger.

The sun is warm and welcoming on Steve's face when he does exit his peaceful bubble. There's constant, thrumming, commotion across the deck. Great swirls of movement catch his eye as people of all designations bustle and twirl about their daily tasks. A curly haired alpha woman looks up from her conversation with one of her apparent crewmates and meet's Steve's gaze. Feeling quite awkward but cautious of his manners the omega nods towards her in some weak greeting, which she returns before gesturing off to the side.

Steve follows her direction and there Eddie is, standing amongst a small group of men that Steve either cannot recognize or cannot see in clear view. He reminds Steve of a king in the company of his high ranking generals commanding attention, swathed in majesty as the men advise him loyally. He should be left to his grand meeting--although Steve knows he he would be instantly forgiven if he was ever brazen enough to interrupt--but Eddie notices his eavesdropper sooner than Steve can avert his intruding gaze.

"Stevie!" Eddie chirps, bounding over as Steve wounders how he ever thought the alpha would find him intrusive or rude. As soon as Eddie is close enough he snatches Steve up by his waist and uses his momentum to heft the omega aloft in some romantic spin. Eddie doesn't put Steve down once they've finished their turn nor does he when their lovesick laughter quiets into sappy giggles. Instead he holds Steve in the crook of his arm, propped against the bulk of his shoulder--which is no small feat for Steve is no small thing--Eddie carries them both back down to his gathering of men.

Now that he's been brought closer Steve realizes he does recognize at least one of the men.

"Benny?" he gasps as Eddie finally sets him down (although he still leant down to wrap his arms around Steve's chest and hook his chin on his shoulder). "why--how are--you're here?" Steve fumbles for words as the burly omega laughs jovially.

"Sorry pup" Benny chuckles " 'm afraid I had a small part 'n some trickery." Steve balks at the fellow omega in pleasant shock

"Well I'm afraid I must demand at least some explanation!" Steve rebukes with some playfulness. And an explanation he gets; Eddie had been worried by some rumors mummering through different thieves' dens and decided to place a man on the inside, Steve wasn't informed to insure suspicions wouldn't be raised if the omega decided to keep an eye out for the mole.

"And I suppose this means I shan't see that bribe money again if it was placed into the palm of such a deceiver" Steve teases earning him raucous laughter pulled from Frank and Gareth (who's names he has now learned). At the very least Benny has the decency to look a tad sheepish as he laughs along.

"all right boys that's enough, we still have things to discuss." a calm voice gruffs from somewhere off to he side that Steve can't properly see.

Eddie calls back to the man--Wayne, if Steve caught the name correctly--that he doesn't need to worry so much about something so routine. The omega feels suddenly like he's intruded horrifically, but he's stopped from apologizing for causing such a distraction.

"Ah don't you fret, pretty boy." Eddie rumbles soothingly "Were just talkin' about what rout back to the hideout 's best if we need ta lay low." Steve knows exactly what he alpha is doing. Eddie's prone to talking with his smooth, drawling, accent when he thinks Steve is nervous (and he's right to, it's always worked to settle the omega).

"We have more than enough supplies to last us even the slowest rout," Jeff pipes up, apparently content to bring the conversation back on track. "we could bob along the coast for a bit and pass unnoticed."

"It could work to throw the captain off our scent, especially once change ships." Eddie hums in thought "But if were too slow we risk him gaining ground."

" I wouldn't be too concerned about that, Captain," Benny pipes up "Thomas was knee deep in a mutiny when we got your boy outta there." This proclamation set about a shocked muttering from the gathered group. Steve comes to the realization that nobody had really been properly informed of that little tidbit.

"He's right." Steve adds, reaching up to comfortably hang onto Eddie's arms where they wrap around him. "The whole crew was restless and angry, even the ones in his back pocket. He was so nervous he wanted to push the voyage ahead of schedule. " Steve holds back the urge to do something dramatic and fails, rolling his eyes. "As if that wouldn't push them even closer to the edge in half the time."

Eddie chuckles again though Steve can't tell if the alpha is amused by how much easier escape will be or how utterly stupid Steve's ex-husband is.

"A leisurely cruse around the coast it is" Eddie declares.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

the tag list is open so just ask below and I will gladly add you =), in the meantime, @wheneverfeasible @kitkat0928-blog @ellietheasexylibrarian @bxnghy @steddieislife

[swifty-fox]

What did you think of The Bikeriders?

omg Im a lilll drunk so.

SPOILER FREE REVIEW:

I honestly think its the best movie I've seen since Green Knight. The sound design is phenomenal, the soundtrack is deeply immersive. I think (not sure) they used real film so it had that lovely 60's grain and bloom that made me feel like I was watching a documentary more than anything else. I think the plot was clear and concise and enjoyable without being overcomplicated or trying to make any sort of broad statements. It knew what it was and it did it well.

Jodie Comer/Kathy was PHENOMINAL!!! She was funny qitty, she made me Feel like she was a 60's housewife in Chicago. The accent was flawless, her hair and wardrobe reminded me of my grandma (in the best sort of way) and you really feel for her and connect with her the entire time. Her facial expressions had me laughing several times.

Tom Hardy/Johnny was wonderful of course, it's Tom hardy. he nails the accent, honestly everybody did. And like. It's Tom Hardy man. He acts like he wants to fuck whoever he's talking to its his signature. but he plays the sensitive biker so well, he was great in every scene he was in and It felt like watching an aging lion with his pride. This bittersweet melancholy colored with utmost respect. i won't give spoilers but once you watch it you'll understand.

Norman Reedus/Sonny!!!!! he wasnt in it a ton but he CRUSHED every scene he was in I was cracking up every time he opened his mouth you could just tell he was having a blast playing an absolute Bum. He's not hugely important to the plot but he was just a delight to watch.

Austin Butler/Benny was just....beautiful. It won't make sense until you watch it but he doesn't exist. but he does. but he also doesn't. He's a real man but he's symbolic of the biker spirit. We know nothing about him but we come to understand him so well. he's a tomcat who desperately wants you to scratch his head, and then he's a prize thoroughbred who will run until its heart gives out if given the chance and he wouldn't choose to be any other way. he has very few speaking lines but he OWNS every scene he's in. He's got all the sex appeal of Marlon Brando and all the bad boy charisma od James Dean. but jesus christ give this man a shower and some clean clothes. He's. hot. He's vulnerable. he's unkillable because he's a mythological figure more than a man. he takes a role that could have been deeply 2D and makes it something DELICIOUS.

My only complaint is sometimes it was hard to hear lines over the background noise/the motorcycle engines.

[bearloonz]

I can’t fucking. Draw. To save my life lately so instead I’m gonna write down some aac fun facts

-Reinterpreted Mikhail as Grulovian bc I feel like it fits rather than them just being Real World Russian.

-Benny will get any face piercing but will not touch his ears. (Trying to draw attention away from them.)

-Vernon gets true psychic tales tshirts for free as an employee (they’re all from old releases but aren’t cool enough to be considered vintage) and they make up half his wardrobe

-Due to overusing clairvoyance as a kid, Nils had some sort of psychic malfunction that made him incapable of snapping out of clairvoyance vision, so he wears glasses designed with psitanium. Theyre the only thing that will let him see normally.

-Nils is only still in contact with the Psychonauts because his sister is in the intern program and he has custody over her, so he has to come in for any sort of guardian responsibilities.

-Maloof tried smoking cool cigars to go with his mob boss persona and almost died coughing. He’s got a handful of toothpicks and lollipops instead now that absolutely do not convey the same energy.

-Raz wants JT to be his friend soooo bad. All of their work interactions are painfully polite and nonspecific. It drives Raz insane. JT just thinks Raz is a good coworker, Raz feels like they should be forming a psychonauts warriors bond by now. (This desire for a friendship is incredibly superficial on Raz’s end, he has problems.)

-Franke’s day job is working at an arcade :) she does a lot of the upkeep of the machines.