#3rd wine stream

[kuro-theoneandonly]

TNTDUO WINE STREAM (when Wilbur gave quackity a head pat)

-DONT MIND THE UGLY AH HANDS-

[bibleofficial]

drunk again :3

[casinocarpediem]

▪︎■☆Puppy☆■▪︎

☆ 🔞!!NOT SAFE FOR WORK!!🔞

☆ Amab!bot!Ben Reilly / male!dom!reader

☆ 1k words

☆ late and short (mental dilemmas 😔)

☆ contains overstimulation, dubcon, slight masosado implied, puppy play, drinking of seminal fluids, just being mean to my little Benny baby in general :3

°○☆🔞nsfw under the cut🔞☆○°

"Fuck.." You whispered underneath your breath when his weeping cock twitched again. Cum spurting out in salty white blobs dripping from his pathetically overstimulated genitalia. It was cute. Seeing him shiver and squirm and try to act unfazed by his 3rd orgasm. His eyes narrow as he pants, sweat trickling down his face as his mouth shapes itself into a grin.

Oh he's being cocky now is he?

"Is that all you've got?" Ben mutters. Drunken under his pleasure. He wasn't thinking straight. Because he knew damn well what he had said and what it'd bring and the power you had to break this man. No. It wasn't all you've got. In fact, it was simply a taste test. A sample. Nothing more than an appetizer for a full course meal that your lovely little scarlet spider had bit off more he could chew. Into the lions den.

You laugh softly at his response. That was all it took for him to realize the weight of the situation. How badly he had fucked up. Much to his horror, your left hand wrapped around his cock again whilst the other increased the intensity of the vibrator that had hummed nimbly against his prostate into something stronger.

He screams out. Just the way you like it. In a swirled mixture of agony and delight. Uncertainty and certainty.

You could taste off his regret and gratitude in the way he cried. Yes he cried. Tears dripping down his face as he whines to struggle to get out of your touch. No, you weren't going to let him get out of the trap he set himself in. The trap he knew very well he'd be caught it.

"Stop... sto-..stoppp... stop stop stop– stop ittt" He wailed softly. Almost as if he was mourning. You weren't going to end this, not yet. Not with the way your thumb rubbed itself on the slit of his cock, wet from the previous loads that landed itself inside a cup bellow him. It started to harden and he started to cry all over again and it was a pretty sight to see. Like shiny pearls streaming down his eyes.

The soft yet frantic buzzing of the vibrator up his prostate and your hands rutting up and down his sensitive cock has him leaning his head against your shoulder. Gasping. Begging for mercy. Just like last time. And last time. But now, you're confident he'd keep his pretty little mouth shut.

He's crying is he? Yeah and it's just fueling your cruelty. Your desire to break him any further. You grab his tear stained face to look at you better. The nail of your thumb digging into his cheek. He reminds you of a dog. A little puppy. Shrivelring up after getting it's paw hurt from closing the door a little too soon. God and the way he wines. The way his tears stream down your fingers the faster you move your hands.

After a few more seconds and he's close again and he's looking away with a stubborn frown trying to act like he still has any control of this situation but you tighten the grip you have on his face and jerk him off faster. His eyes firmly set on yours while he mewls and cries, the wetness of your hand intensifying as more precum drippied from the hole of his cock and you pressed your thumb their to rub at it.

Apparently that had him cumming all over again, he cries out, literally sobs for your mercy which he knew, efforts were pointless. You weren't going to stop until the wine glass bellow him had filled itself to the brim.

Perhaps an hour minutes passes and he's so tired but you keep on gently whisper in his ear what a good boy he was, what a precious little gem. What a wonderful puppy he was for still cumming so well. His balls still spontaneous after each orgasm he'd offer, the wine glass reaching its fullness.

"Cmon Benny.. you're doing so well, we're almost done... you can do it baby, just one more? Just one more..." You whisper beside him. Laughing when he whines, but it's quiet because his throat is raspy from all of his previous screaming.

He whimpers before cumminf again and spilling over the cup. Which you gently bring up with one hand as you waited for him to ride out the aftermath of his intense overstimulation. He's weak. Frail little thing. So when you put your thumb inside his mouth he doesn't even try to fight back. Not especially when he licks the digit eagerly and looks at you with tired eyes. Pliant and so dizzy.

"Drink up"

You command softly. Bringing the seminl fluid filled wine glass to his lips. At first he sips hesitantly but despite all his efforts his cloudy mind needs something... some sustenance. And the mundanely salty liquid that's slowly pouring in his mouth counts as so. And he drinks it gratefully. Slowly. Of course, he doesn't exactly care to drink it carefully, when he stops sipping for a moment it spills from his mouth down to his chin and onto the floor.

Once he finishes the entire glass his face is a mess. Covered in his own cum, legs trembling, eyes threatening to close and dried tears right on his cheeks.

He trembles. Slightly. When he tries to move but to no avail, the ropes on his body had still stayed. And when he looks up to you one last time with all of his remaining strength you carry his face with one of your hands. And when he falls unconscious, you smile.

Time to give your puppy a cleaning.

Of course, he wasn't an idiot. He had his clever moments and it was more admiring to witness.

[grimbanes]

Apple with Cinnamon. (3rd person pov).

Summary: Kaz Brekker x Healer!GN! reader - Y/N, amidst the chaos of a heist gone wrong, stumbles upon an injured Kaz Brekker, bleeding out rapidly in a dingy alleyway and choking on his words. They waste no time doing everything they can to keep him alive; neither knew why they did because kindness was a luxury nobody could afford in Ketterdam.

WC: 3k

TW: kaz's boundaries being pushed, mentions of his touch aversion, lots of blood and violence, somewhat heavy descriptions of wounds, panic attacks, usual six of crows warnings. sorry kazzy.

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting after thinking about how Y/N is always getting injured in heists. why not have it be reversed? kaz is stubborn. it's not proof read, we die like muzzen. im tempted to make another part but both can be read as stand alone pieces but this one can be read as strangers to friends or love interest, up to the reader.

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Desperation wasn’t in Y/N’s vocabulary. It was not something that crossed their mind. Desperation meant admitting to weakness and weakness cost you in the Barrel. Desperation meant needing someone and that was the last thing you wanted even if you were just roaming the streets of Ketterdam; ironically enough, desperation was the only word to describe the situation the Dregs seemed to have found themselves in. Just how was Y/N going to save Kaz ‘Dirtyhands’ Brekker from bleeding out all over the floor, possible concussion or worse, physical touch. They really didn’t want to lose their fingers for crowding his space.

Just how had they found themselves in an alleyway with the cruellest crime boss to crawl out of the harbour at this hour? Y/N could only stare at the man’s slouched figure against the wall, his infamous crow-headed cane laid across the floor beside his leg that caused his uneven walk. Blood dripped down the side of his face, his lips pulled into a grim downwards turn, that much they could see as they approached the hunched figure - his discomfort didn’t go unnoticed as he grit his teeth, barely conscious, hand pressed to a wound on his side and breathing desperately erratic. His fancy garb stained a delicate hue of rose and it was most definitely a shame. 

“Excuse me,” Y/N’s voice called out softly, almost wishing to blow away with the cool evening breeze when more explosions thundered through the damp streets hailed by shrieking and gunfire echoing down abandoned lanes in the darkness of the evening. “Do you need help?”

The Bastard of the Barrel’s eyes barely flitted over to them, a wince strewn along the tired creases of his shadowed face, sparing a begrudging glance and not long after, there was a revolver pointed directly at Y/N’s chest. They still approached, even as the leader of the Dregs pulled down the hammer on his gun and barely mumbled something to them. It sounded almost like a ‘don’t touch me’. But they could see the way his hand trembled, pale fingers peeking through crimson streams and it was reminiscent of a DeKeppal oil.

“Please, I can help you, Mister Brekker,” They tried again, stepping closer until they stood over him. Y/N lowered their wicker basket, shopping long forgotten with the sudden emergency. They really did not know why they were showing the man kindness… they just had to. Nobody deserved to have that expression tearing them apart at the seams. 

Truthfully, they did not like to use their power. It was too risky, too exposed, especially in Ketterdam. Y/N didn’t want to spend the rest of their life fighting for an army that meant little to them. They didn’t see the reward in healing hostages or fixing generals that treated them poorly or assisting sick royals who ate too much and drank their weight in fine wines. Better to stay hidden - that was until Kaz Brekker had collapsed in the alleyway only a few street turns from their home, stumbling mere steps from an explosion that had knocked him off of already unsteady feet. 

“Go,” He mumbled, sweat beading up his brow and arm dropping, clearly not perceiving Y/N as a threat. For some reason, his gaze glanced to the exit behind them, but they didn’t mind that. Instead they got to their knees and rolled up the sleeves of their work shirt, tucking it around the elbow.

“You’re losing blood, Brekker. I’m not military trained but I’ll do my best,” They sincerely promised and connected their hands, closing their eyes and tapping into that Small Science that caused them grief daily, dulled their skin with lack of use and made them unable to stomach food on many days, even when they walked past food carts selling all manners of treats.

“I don’t want your science, I have business-” Brekker hissed, fingers trembling against the wound in his side and he gasped quietly, schooling his gaze as he panted in laboured breath after wheezing breath, stony eyes staring through sweat-covered strands of ebony. “To finish.”

Y/N didn’t listen as they concentrated as best they could given their surroundings. They tried to ignore the yelling of commands, the subtle gunfire, the many men and women skittering around for a place to hide. Luckily none dared such down that little alley that they had both tucked into. They pulled at skin, searching the bleeding man’s body and frowning as they realised they needed to be closer. They shuffled into his space, dropping one knee to the ground beside the man’s hand, careful not to kneel on his cane and carefully hovered their hands over the wound he was clutching with one hand, the other limp at his side now that he had dropped his gun. 

They searched the wound, pulling the flesh at its very edges and willing it to pull closed, only to flinch upon the discovery of shrapnel lodged in his side and slowly edging deeper, daring to almost knick his lung and wedge itself there. Y/N would not let that happen - certainly not now, it would look as if they had intentionally killed Kaz Brekker and that was a bounty they certainly did not want over their head. 

“Brekker, listen to me, Brekker,” They pleaded, wanting to turn his head to face him when his head lolled to the side, eyelids fluttering and his breathing shallow, the shadows beneath his eyes deepening with every passing second that you didn’t do something. “I need you awake, stay with me. Talk to me about anything. Tell me about your favourite book, your favourite song. What’s your favourite kind of food?” 

Y/N’s voice seemed to do the trick, the unsteady, glossy gaze of the most notorious gang boss watching their hands as they moved to unbutton his waistcoat, trembling fingers pulling it open and his breathing only fastened, his chest heaving, eyes flickering from the hands to their face, jaw tensing and tongue seemingly heavy in his mouth.

“The Pale Library. Kruge being dropped on my desk. Apple pie,” Kaz began to list, a rasping voice that was heavy, grating and flinching away as sweat began to drip and mix with the river of cardinal staining his alabaster skin. 

The Barrel boss’ taste in book had Y/N smiling to themself as they unbuttoned his shirt, pushing it aside and coming face to face with the deep, large gash along the man’s abdomen, just slightly to the side and lucky just beneath a lung. Hopefully it stayed that way, despite his hunched posture most definitely pushing the metal closer and closer. They didn’t know if they had the skill to save him if it punctured his lung. He’d either drown in his own blood or bleed out. Either way, they were determined to help him. 

“So you like fairy tales? Is that apple with cinnamon?” They asked as they cringed for a moment, trying to keep him distracted as they dug their finger and thumb into the open wound that continued to seep and pour all over them, red staining every bit of their skin. They were not sure if it would even wash off. If this night would ever wash off. They continued to feel inside the wound, trying to feel for the metal shard, using their ability as best as they could but they could not soothe like a heartrender could. 

Kaz trembled beneath them, deadly silent and shaking, shivering so much that he might as well have fallen into the harbour and caught a chill. He gasped, hands limp at his side and head dropping back down, unable to keep himself afloat. Y/N pulled the shrapnel messily from the wound and dropped it between them, immediately setting to work on sealing the worst of it. It would take time. It might take too long. No. It was fine. He was healing faster than they anticipated. 

Y/N dared to steal a glance away from the closing wound to check up on the man’s face only to realise he had passed out, cheeks deathly pale and reminiscent of a ghost. 

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They couldn’t believe that they had just dragged Dirtyhands through the Barrel, arms distressed where they had been hooked beneath his shoulders, his legs and heels dragging across the slick cobble in the dead of night as the fight began to cease, Stadwatch barking orders and hunting down anyone they could find in the streets. They were both lucky that they’d been able to drag him out of that alley just before it had been stormed. Y/N kept Brekker’s revolver clutched in their hand as they dragged him, cane tucked awkwardly in their wicker basket that was dangling awkwardly from their elbow. If he knew of it, he was sure he’d have their head for putting such a stain on his reputation.

He’d remained unconscious even as the healer dragged his still body three blocks, dozens of turns, only stirring when they had begged him to tell Y/N where to go. The mumbling of ‘the Slat’ was all they got before his eyelids twitched and his head dropped forward again, hair in his stupid face and arms as limp and useless as the rest of him. 

“Stupid Bastard of the Barrel. I don’t even know you, I don’t even like you. You’re a criminal, a thief, a murderer, a con artist. You’re one cruel son of a bitch and I still couldn’t just mind my damn business,” Y/N mumbled more to themselves than to the unfortunate man in their clutches, they were sure it wasn’t going to do his leg any good, now that they knew it was broken bone beneath the scarred flesh. So he wasn’t born this way, they had thought silently. 

It felt like hours when in reality it was only maybe 25 minutes before Y/N was dragging Kaz Brekker up the little steps of the Slat, back to the door and shoving it open with all their might. They could feel the sting in their shoulder blade as they stumbled backwards, landing on their tailbone and still clutching onto the unconscious man they were trying so damn hard to save for no apparent reason. All the frustration seemed to be finally catching up, tears unwillingly streaming down their face, soaked in someone else’s blood and so utterly stressed as they sniffled and hooked their hands back under Brekker’s form, dragging him completely into the building. Y/N’s body gave up, leaving them both sat at the floor, one sat up and clutching the Bastard of the Barrel unceremoniously to their chest, no strength left to keep moving his dead weight.

“Brekker, you’ve gotta wake up. I can’t do this on my own, they might kill me. I don’t know what to do.”

“What in the Saints?” 

Y/N turned their head to the side, meeting eyes with a tall Zemeni man, hands on his revolvers and tweed jacket covered in dust, soot, debris of many kinds. He had cuts all over his beautiful face but seemed otherwise unscathed. Nothing life threatening. It didn’t take him long to rush forward, linking one of Brekker’s arms over his shoulder lifting the weight off of Y/N; they went with the moment anyway, staggering to their feet and helping drag the man to a table and throwing him onto it, back against the cold wood. Once he was placed, albeit unceremoniously, they stumbled into a seat, elbows propped on the table and head in their palms. 

Saints, Y/N was exhausted. 

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“Why are you staring at me, Jesper?” Kaz heard his own voice spit, hoarse and dry. It was the first words he’d spoken in who knew how long, his usual scowl hanging on his tired features the moment he opened his eyes. He scanned the room around him, a low frown on his bitten lips and brows taut with tension that easily mirrored the waves wracking through every fiber of his body. 

“Oh, thank the Saints,” Jesper sighed from beside him, hands clutched in a prayer as he looked to the ceiling and then back down, hands resting on his revolvers and grand smile on his wonky mouth. 

“Saints don’t stick their fingers into open wounds,” Kaz shot back, pushing himself up with one arm and pressing a hand to his head, the blistering headache unaided by the dim light. He vaguely registered that he was in the Slat, the events of all that transpired clawing at every crevice of his mind. He couldn’t be thankful about that. He didn’t want to be. He didn’t want to drown again. He didn’t want to think of it. All the same, he was breathing. He was alive. Kaz Brekker had made it through the night.

His eyes then fell upon a hunched over figure, head laid upon crossed arms that were gripped by bloodstained fingers, the entire surface of skin a rich shade of red that seeped into their clothes, sat in messy hair and splattered across gentle cheeks. The healer. His brows furrowed tighter, hand dropping to absentmindedly massage his aching leg and he stared. And stared. And stared. That was his blood.

“Been here all night, boss. Wouldn’t leave your side until you were stable and stitched. Cost ‘em a good deal of energy though, passed out as soon as you were sorted and hasn’t moved since. Still breathing though, poor little love,” Jesper recited, giving them a nudge with his hand but Kaz shook his head, unfamiliar feelings stirring inside his chest. Just let them rest, Jes.

“What happened?” He mumbled, fingers twitching and gloved. He briefly remembered warm fingers unbuttoning his shirt, smoothing his skin, a voice whispering kindly to him, then searing pain. He didn’t want to think of the rest, didn’t want to feel the water in his lungs and cold hands holding his head just beneath the surface of frozen waters. 

Jesper shifted, arms folding and hands tucking beneath his armpits, lips pursing and he awkwardly shifted his weight from foot to foot, sheepishly shifting his gaze from his feet, to Kaz, then back to his feet, then back to Kaz.

“Razorgulls, maybe. Then Stadwatch, then whoever else. It’s still a mess, honestly. Everyone else is doing as good as can be, I suppose; Inej was here but went back out with Nina to do something. I don’t know. Wylan’s asleep. Someone planted explosives and somebody else accidentally… shot them,” He sheepishly pointed to himself with his thumbs, but the shame was evident. 

“What about them?” Kaz nodded to the stranger still sleeping on his table, inches from where he sat on the table, legs outstretched.

“Y/N Y/L/N. Works in one of the printing shops, didn’t find anything about them being grisha though, so must have kept that hidden well or their boss is the only one who knows. The rest is a mystery other than the piss poor amount of kruge they get for the work they do.”

“That’s it?” Kaz’s tone sounded harsh, short, even to his own ears.

“That’s it.”

Kindness was not a thing that existed in the Barrel. In Ketterdam. In Kerch. In him. Kaz had a hard time truly trying to decipher this stranger’s motives. They had recognized him, calling him by name numerous times. There had never been any real malice, no fear either. Concern for his well-being, but not their own life. It was foolish. They could have gotten themselves killed all for what? To save the Dirtyhands and hope to reap the reward they must expect to come from it? He had half the mind to put a bullet in their head and dump them in the harbor before they even had a chance to see the benefits of all of their hard work. Kindness did not exist in Ketterdam and Kaz Brekker was a daily reminder of that fact.

But as the stranger known as Y/N Y/L/N stirred from their restless slumber, their eyes opening and meeting Kaz’s, he was reminded of the gentleness of their tone of voice, talking to him about books, about pie. Keeping him grounded even as he sank down and down and down and couldn’t breathe, feeling those hands shove him down faster and faster and the tide rushing over head, his brother staring up at him with lifeless eyes and the soft, slimy and cold feeling beneath his fingertips - warmth.

Kaz’s eyes snapped to the hand lightly hovering over his broken leg, just enough to stitch the gashes around his feet and ankles, only now noticing the shredded ends of his tailored trousers. The healer was at work again, a small yet tired smile on their face, tiredness present in fine lines across their face, beneath their eyes and soon they were staring back at him, cheeks flushed and hair a desperate mess, soaked with Brekker’s blood.

“You look better, much better. I’m so glad, Mister Brekker,” Y/N laughed breathlessly, and Kaz didn’t know how they were able to. He didn’t understand it and all he could do was sit there, noting that this stranger didn’t offer to fix the break in his bone, just the damage that must have been caused in the explosion and when they had apparently dragged him all the way back to the Slat.

“With cinnamon.” That was all he could muster his blank mind to say.

The pair exchanged a glance, one that lingered, one that had both of their lips pulling upwards slightly and tips of ears maybe turning a shade of pink.

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[dumbslxtclub]

you're on your own, kid | e.m - part twelve

eddie munson x singlemom!reader

summary: set after the events of season four, Steve has disappeared and is presumed dead in the upside down. broken and now left to deal with your pregnancy alone, Eddie takes it upon himself to support you to the best of his abilities in Steve’s absence.

chapter summary: as your relationship with eddie blossoms, the weight of truth reaches it's breaking point.

content warnings: fem!reader, adult language, adult themes, unplanned pregnancy, angst, hurt/comfort, some canon divergence/au, mentions of death, reader is 20, anxiety, heavy angst, fluff, no use of y/n, slow burn, brief mention of vomiting

word count: 10.8k+

a/n: some of this was inspired was inspired by the poem ‘i wish i were two dogs then i could play with me’ by anne carson. I apologise for the long absence, life has been crazy but I’m very proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy! sorry in advance for the angst it’s about to get real. as always, shoutout to @dickfics69 for helping me xx

taglist: @lezzy-bennet @harrypotteranna23-blog  @reidstea @sashaphantomhive  @bexreadstoomuch @audhd-dragonaut @littlepotatobeansworld @ches-86  @tlclick73 @fckyeahlames @gnocchey @astrolockley @sidthedollface2 @micheledawn1975  @3rd-conchord @eddiesbabe95 @taintedcigs @harry-bowie-mercury @micheledawn1975​

↳  one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight  / nine / ten / eleven

Part Twelve: Lovely To Sit Between Comfort and Chaos

Who knew scanning video tape barcodes could be so fun? An inherently arduous task made tolerable thanks to the warming weather, every monotonous motion laced with sun-soaked dopamine. The stale interior of Family Video is washed in a stream of sunlight, the clear sky leaving no interruption for the desired warmth.

The chill of winter has all but dissolved, the new season budding in blossoms dancing in lush trees and children without jackets in the park. But, beneath the surface, something more has begun mingling in your blood. Your veins are laced with the giddy joy of a new beginning, something fresh and exciting. Like the first pages of a good book, popping open a fresh bottle of wine. As with all beginnings, they have their own tonality, an addictive vibrancy that makes them so elusively special. Ebbing with firsts, ‘what ifs’ and unadulterated hope. Leaving you behind the store counter with a schoolgirl grin, completing the most mundane of tasks with enthusiasm. With every video returned into the system, another mountain forms as Robin returns to the front desk. She picks up the two latest additions from the pile, examining them with scrutiny.

“Woof. 9 ½ Weeks AND Body Heat? Someone had a big weekend.” She places them onto the steel rolling shelves, beginning to categorize the sections. Monotonous doesn’t even begin to describe the store’s activities, Robin falling especially victim to their dullness today. “Speaking of, did you get up to anything interesting?”

“Well, Audrey’s learnt how to chuck her bottles across the room. So I guess you could say things were pretty wild around my neck of the woods.”

“Guess I’ll cancel her pee-wee baseball lessons then.” She quips back, busying herself with the tapes. 

It’s a funny thing, dishonesty. How it sits on the roof of your stomach, digging its heels into your gut whenever it sees fit. You’ve elected not to tell Robin about your date with Eddie, nor your second kiss, for a myriad of reasons. As your closest friend, you understand that she is just looking out for you, protecting your vulnerable heartspace. With your connection to Eddie growing, complication is bound to follow. And in such a budding stage, it just doesn’t make sense to make a mountain out of a molehill. 

When you’d first approached her about your potential date with Andy, she’d responded in a similar manner, driven by protectiveness. But you knew, she could see an innate craving for something more than she could provide. It was only natural. Your new identity was tied to being a mother, full stop. It had been a long time since you felt wanted, attractive, desired. A longing to be wined and dined, treated like so much more than milk-providing breasts on legs. And she wanted you to get back out there, into the real world and away from your comfortable nest of motherhood. You are strong, Robin is well aware of this, fighting the urge to protect you and Audrey from the big bad world. Of course, hindsight is a funny thing, and she should have ripped Andy a new one before he had the chance to do anything stupid. To assume he was capable of being a decent human being for an evening was clearly expecting too much.

But with Eddie, it’s so different. Comfortable in ways you couldn’t articulate, you felt a sense of consistent safety you hadn’t experienced in a long time. Life has just become easier with him around, day to day tasks much more enjoyable in his company. And so, you’ve resolved to just dip your toes into the idea of it evolving into something more. It’s not so much lying as it is withholding the truth. 

With the final tape scanned in, you toss it onto the shelf, nearly bowling over Robin’s efforts in the process. She shoots you a warning glare before sighing, glancing melancholically at the clock.

“Ah, all that stands between me and a turkey sandwich is…” She picks up a video at random and glances down at it. “... Xanadu?! Oh my god-”

She drives the cart around the corner, cussing out the poor customer's choice in film. Smiling at her antics, you busy yourself tidying the cluttered desk. Taped to the monitor is a curated collection of film pictures Robin had Jonathan develop. The ultrasound photo still sits in prime position, with a copy of the hospital image below it. Another picture is tacked to the corner of the screen showing you and Robin cuddled up in bed with Audrey sandwiched between you, all in accidentally coordinating shades of blue. You remember that night, Eddie had dropped by after work and lost it laughing at the three of you perched in bed like the grandparents in Willy Wonka, quickly racing to the kitchen to retrieve Jonathan’s camera. Moments immortalized in stillness, energetic happiness radiating out of them.

So lost in the memory, you barely register the sound of the bell above the front door ringing.

“Late return charges got you grinning like that, sweetheart?” Averting your gaze, you watch as your babysitter of choice enters the store. Eddie shoots you a warm smile, one hand gently supporting the black carrier strapped to his chest. Audrey, pacifier in mouth, faces outwards with limbs dangling aimlessly in the confines of the holder. It’s hard to miss the small purple bow clipped to the crown of her head, something that was not part of her ensemble when you dressed her this morning. Like maneuvering his own personal puppet, Eddie picks up her limp wrist to wave it in your direction. The docile baby glances up at the metalhead with curiosity, seeking out the phantom manipulating her arm.

“I can’t rent you R-rated films with a minor present, I’m afraid.” You quip with a smile, pressing your palms into the counter.

“Shit.” Eddie points to the door, backtracking a step and glancing down at Audrey. “Let me just go and tie her up out front real quick, alright?”

“Please don’t tie my daughter up on the street like a dog.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about her.” Eddie grins. “But maybe we should lock in that date before we break out the ropes and collars, hm?”

His comment immediately causes your cheeks to flush, suddenly feeling stifled in your sickly green vest. Images of compromising positions flood your mind, notably featuring the handcuffs strung up in Eddie’s bedroom. An awkward chuckle escapes your throat, Eddie’s smile faltering at the sight.

“I- I mean… fuck, oh-” His hands quickly fly to Audrey’s ears, protecting her from his cursing. “- just, pretend I never said that, okay?”

“Not a chance. You’re never living that one down, Munson.” Your melodious laughter sets Eddie free. “Where’ve you two been today?”

“Y’know, just all of her favorite places. Had to head into the shop to pick up my paycheck, the guys couldn’t get enough of her. ‘Specially Bob, or Ed, I forget- he’s been going on about her for weeks so I thought if she visited he might shut up about it.”

“Using my daughter as bait? Classy.”

“You know me all too well, sweetheart.” He’s quick to catch the pacifier as it tumbles out of Audrey’s mouth, her face screwing up in disgust while he tries to feed it back to her. “Oh, and she met a dog today. It was a beast of a thing, a Rottweiler or something. Don’t think I’ve ever seen her so excited, she grabbed its ears and everything. Thought it might bite her head off. It did lick her on the face though, but I suppose that’s good for her immune system.”

“Sounds like you two have been on quite an adventure.” With Audrey now within arms reach, you lean over the counter to give her a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes light up at the sight of you, giving Eddie enough time to quickly shove the pacifier back into her mouth.

“Speaking of which… what are the chances of you getting work off this Friday afternoon?” His voice is hushed, and laced with an edge of the cheekiness you’ve come to adore. With a quick survey around the shop, you inspect to make sure Robin is out of earshot.

“I think I could pull some strings.”

“Good, good. I might have something fun planned for us.” Eddie smiles sheepishly, readjusting the weight of the carrier. “And, as much as I hate to admit it, I think Henderson might finally be ready to go solo with Squid.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, I mean- I didn’t see anyone chewing on the electrical cords so that’s an A in my books.”

“Glad to see you’ve got high standards.” You tease, the grin on Eddie’s face only growing..

“I sure do.” 

-

Quick question, what the hell does one wear on a date? For your outing with Andy, Robin took charge of your wardrobe and crafted an outfit with complete ease. The stakes were lower, you suppose, not overly concerned with your appearance. But for today’s mystery date with Eddie, you’re finding yourself digging into the deepest crevices of your wardrobe for something that screams I’m trying, but not too hard. And, as fate would have it, nothing is jumping out at you. That shirt? Too old. These pants? Don’t fit anymore. Those socks? They’re Audrey’s, not sure how they got in here…

Huffing, you plant yourself on the floor in a nest of unacceptable garments. Your daughter sits peacefully in her bouncing recliner, gaze contently following your every move while she gums at her caterpillars antennae. Grabbing two half decent short-sleeve tops, you hold them up in the baby’s direction.

“What do you think, little miss?” Audrey continues her chomping assault, not at all interested in your predicament. You sigh, tossing the shirts into the pile of mediocrity. “God, it’s easy for you. You look cute in everything.”

Articulating your last word with a tickle, you drink in the way her mouth spreads into a toothless smile. She’s really beginning to grow into her own looks, her features forming beyond the universal blob baby look. Her hair is getting a slight wave to it, still comedically thick on her head. Pouty lips combined with her chubby cheeks give her maximum squishability factor. And as you look down at the mess of clothes covering the floor, you can’t help but cast your mind 16 years into the future. Rummaging through your daughter’s wardrobe in search of the perfect first date outfit, taking her to the mall just outside of town hunting down the dreamiest of prom dresses. It’s all racing by before your eyes. A spiral begins to form if you think about it for too long, so you quickly dedicate yourself to the task at hand.

In the end, you decide to keep it simple. A boxy button-up paired with some acid-wash mom jeans and a leather belt. Your hair is on its last legs before wash-day, so you elect to tame it with a bandana wrapped at the nape of your neck to hide the greasy mess. And Converse to complete the ensemble, because, you know, you don’t have all day. Your babysitter will be here any minute.

Dustin is smilier than usual, if that’s even possible. Grinning from ear to ear, watching you dart across the room with his hands on his hips. Making no effort to help you find your keys, but rather engaged watching your one-man Monty Python sketch.

“All ready for your big date?” The teenager articulates the last word with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows. It stops you in your tracks, shooting daggers his way and doing little to wipe his smile away. 

“For the last time, it’s not a date!” You lie through your teeth back to him. “I told you, we’re just going to hang out as friends. Adult friends. You know, without the presence of a baby.”

“Sure, sure. So, you got all glammed up for nothing?”

“Oh my god, I am not glammed up!” Glancing down at your outfit, you subtly worry that you may come off as trying too hard.

“I’m just saying…” Dustin throws his hands up defensively, the traces of a smile still playing on the corner of his mouth. “... you do look really nice, though.”

A humble grin makes itself known, abandoning your fruitless search to cross over to the younger boy. With figures like Steve and Eddie in his life, it’s easy to see where Dustin gets his chivalrous manners from. 

“Aw, thanks, Dusty.” Flinging your arms around his shoulders, you pull him in for a tight squeeze with the explicit purpose of embarrassing him. The teenager relents quickly, giving your back a firm pat as you hold him to you in a vice grip. Giggling at the way he squirms in your arms, you take a few wobbly steps to keep him locked into place.

Burrowing your face into his mess of curls, you allow yourself to indulge in the comfort of his embrace. He’s always been a cuddly kid, and perhaps you weren’t aware of how much you needed this until now. The pair of you stand there for a beat, allowing the moment to morph from playful teasing into genuine support. Two kids, sharing a history of pain, guilt and loss. Finding solace in one another, the older enveloping the younger and soothing whatever lingering ache burns beneath their collective sorrow. He misses Steve. God, how he misses him. 

It seeps through the pores of his fingertips, gently caressing your spine in small circles. As if, if you were to listen closely, beyond the dull hum of the refrigerator and the scattered bird calls outside, you could hear it. The tiniest voice, buried beneath unkempt curls, asking will it ever go away? And you both know the answer. It won’t, but you’ll learn to live with it. Together.

Biting back the swell of tears wetting your tongue, threatening to make themselves known, you refuse to crumble before him. Not today. Not on a day as happy as this. 

If it’s true that Eddie has little experience with dating, he sure as hell masks it well. With a handful of daisies clutched in his fist, he’s the epitome of confidence as he raps on your door three times. Claiming the flowers were for Audrey (and definitely not for you), he quickly shuts down Dustin’s insinuations before shuttling you out the front door to his chariot. He always opens the door for you, but the small gesture makes you giddy with girlish excitement. And as soon as he joins you in the dingy interior, positive the pair of you are out of Dustin’s prying eyeline, he leans over the center console to press a chaste kiss to your cheek. The brief contact causes your heart to skip, chapped lips meeting soft skin so casually it’s disarming. A calloused thumb brushing your chin, edging your face in the direction of him, drinking in every imperfection dancing across your skin in the fading afternoon light. Noses lingering inches from one another, wrinkles forming at the edges of his eyes preceding a Cheshire-cat grin.

“Ready for our next adventure?”

With a nod, clicking the gears into drive, the van rolls out of the sun-bathed trailer park and onto the winding roads out of town. It’s easy, the silence that exists between you while you tune out to the sound of whatever metal cassette is shoved into the car’s stereo. Pulling further and further out of the small town, away from the noise. The bustle of life, the judgemental whispers. To some unknown destination, where the two of you will be free to just be.

It comes into view around half an hour into the drive, sticking out like a sore thumb against the lush forest surrounding you. A kitschy, neglected sign with what appears to be a beaver toothily smiling down at you, waving its unoiled, mechanical arm at passers-by. Silly Putter Mini Golf. Pulling into the tiny parking lot, you study the loud canary yellow clubhouse building while Eddie clambours out of the driver’s side. It’s totally cheesy, down to the pathetically flickering lightbulb on the welcome sign. And you couldn’t love it more.

Swinging the passenger side door open, your date extends his ringed hand outward.

“Ready to get your putt on?”

With utmost ease, Eddie sinks the ball on his second shot. You could be mad at his seemingly god-given talent, but it’s hard to stay upset watching his hips sway like that in those dark jeans. Even at a children’s putt-putt course, he’s shown no interest in dressing more family friendly. Under your breath, you mutter praise to the inventor of muscle tank tops, now privy to the way his sinewy muscles flex with each stroke of the golf club. Occasionally, the handle of the club would clink against his wallet chain draped out of his pocket, drawing your attention back to his narrow hips. As far as you were concerned, you were a winner tonight, regardless of the scores.

“Yes! Gotta catch up, sweetheart. I’m beating you by…” He pulls the small scorecard out of his back pocket and grins. “... five points.”

Shooting a distrusting look in his direction, you pace to meet him on the prickly astroturf. 

“What?! I thought you said it was three?” 

Snatching the page away, Eddie holds it tauntingly above your head. He swings it around like a kite, mocking your stature while the only other family here passes by you with milkshakes in hand.

“That was before you hit the windmill twice on the last hole. Bit embarrassing, if you ask me.” He pokes, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. “Tell you what. You make this in less than two shots, I’ll call it even. Even throw in some fries afterwards, as a sign of good showmanship.”

A competitive energy charges through your body, a daring smirk playing on your face. Through your lashes, you challenge the metalhead’s smug demeanor, flirting with the notion of friendly competition.

“Deal.”

With a newly confident stride, you make your way to the fluorescent pink tee you’d picked out for yourself, placing the equally obnoxious green ball atop it. It’s a fairly easy set up, two small hills creating a valley that would lead you straight to the hole. A mechanical crocodile snaps out of the wall sporadically, directly in line to your goal, hinges chomping at nothing. You assume the stance, needing to bend over slightly to accommodate the child-sized putter you were gripping. The crocodile seems to be popping out every five seconds, and so you brace yourself until it begins its certain retreat. Drawing your putter back, you hear it click against the ball, knowing immediately you overshot it. The ball rolls over one of the bumps in the turf, into a direct line with the crocodiles elongated snout, sending it back in your direction with a pathetic tumble. 

“Shit.” You groan, attempting to tune out the smug laughter behind you. A tattooed arm comes into view over your left shoulder, pointing to the red flag sticking out of the ground.

“The holes over there, sweetheart.” Eddie quips matter-of-factly.

“Gee, thanks. What would I do without you?” Shooting daggers at your entirely too-smug date, you elbow him in the ribs before setting off in the direction of the ball. It seems your jab did little to quell Eddie’s laughter, who quickly catches up to you.

“Think you need to work on your form.”

“There’s a form needed for mini-golf?”

“Mhm, form I possess by the bucketful.” God, he’s a smug little shit sometimes.

Incredulous, you welcome his challenge with wide-open arms. “Alright then, genius. Enlighten me. Show me how it's done.”

Eyebrows disappearing into his messy bangs, Eddie’s doe eyes twinkle with boyish mischief, a prominent dimple playing deep into his cheek.

“Here.” Placing his hands on your shoulders, he maneuvers you in the direction of your goal, now partially obstructed by the protruding crocodile snout. “Line ‘er up.”

He angles himself around you, back pressed to abdomen, warmth emanating from the thin cotton of his shirt against yours. His feet shuffle to either side of yours, boxing you into his cradling hold. Snaking his bare arms along yours, starting at your elbow, each finger wrapping gently around the girth of your forearm. He lingers a moment too long, you don’t complain. Slowly working his way down to your wrists, locking his digits around the boney flesh. Breath on the nape of your neck, adrenaline pumping too fast for you to look anywhere but the lime-green golf ball at your feet. 

“That’s it…” His chest rumbles against your ribcage, coaxing vibrations of praise causing your fingertips to go numb. “Nice and gentle, okay?”

One slow nod is all you manage, feeling his gaze burning into your profile. You watch as the rusting reptile makes itself known against the fake grass, gaping jaws ready to foil your next putt. As it begins its retreat, you take a deep inhale, feeling your ribs expand against the comfort of Eddie’s sternum.

“Go.” Barely a whisper is required, his lips so close to your ear you can practically feel their plush sanctuary. In tandem, Eddie gently pulls your wrists sideways before encouraging you forward with perfect momentum. Metal meets plastic with a firm thud, propelling the ball forward. It rolls, and a collective breath is held. As if the future of the world hinges on this single stroke. Picking up sand and debris along the way, the bright sphere travels across the turf towards its goal. It hits the lip of the hole before tumbling in with a clatter, sending your arms skyward in celebration as you discard the putter.

“Yes!” Gleaming with joy, you spin on your heels to press a firm finger into Eddie’s chest. “In your smug, stupid face, Muns-”

Victory is swiftly cut short as an arm wraps around your hip, grip settling in the groove of your waist. You slot perfectly into the crook of his lean body, softness meeting strength entirely channeled into closing the gap between you. The sheer momentum of it knocks a sigh loose from your chest, clinging to the anchor of his chest with bunched fists entangled in his shirt. His free hand nestles beneath your chin, a firm thumb pressing and guiding your eyeline up to his. Eddie shines with pride. Smiling from ear to ear, shaking his head at your antics with pure amusement, feeling the contagion of your joy. 

Angling your chin slightly higher, Eddie presses his lips down onto yours with fervor. A blend of your two previous encounters, it’s passionate yet careful, a marriage of wanton desire and delicate care. You lean into it, drawing him closer by the cloth adorning his torso, chasing the taste of his kiss. As if to commit it to memory, to learn how it sits in your mouth and if the needy aftertaste ever dissipates. Muscles not just for decoration, but with the greater use of keeping you pressed intimately to his body. His thumb brushes against the groove of your jawline, dancing across the expanse of skin he is yet to be acquainted with. But there will be time for that later. Eddie is the one to pull away, a proud grin still plastered on his face.

“Good job, sweetheart. Ready for your prize?”

Food always tastes better when someone else is paying for it. The fries have the perfect crunch to them, the outer a golden brown against the fluffy white potato now filling your mouth rapidly. Eddie claims that they only came in a package deal with two cans of soda, but you have an inkling he may be lying about that. Your date watches as you shove the greasy food into your mouth, taking a long sip of his Coke.

“Looks like you’re enjoying your winnings over there.”

“Mmm-“ You mumble through a mouthful of starch. “Feels like there’s a birthday party in my mouth.”

Eddie’s brows furrow with amusement at your choice of words, shaking his mane of curls.

“Shit, actually, there’s something I don’t know about you. When is your birthday?”

Swallowing the thick mass of carbs, you slyly redirect your gaze to the quickly-emptying plastic basket before you, picking at a few deep-fried crumbs.

“Next week…” You pray to the heavens your admission was mumbled low enough for Eddie to catch it as some ambiguous month in the distant future. But it seems the years of heavy metal assaulting his ear drums has done little to subdue his sense of hearing.

“Next week?!” Theatrically, Eddie slams his soda down on the picnic table, likely taking off some of the tragic peeling paint in the process. He looks positively incredulous, brows raised to maximum height behind his bangs. “And you’ve been keeping this a secret, why?”

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t think it was that big of a deal-“

“Not that big of a-“ Fingers splayed on the periwinkle blue wood, he braces himself forward with a deep inhale. “Sweetheart, now I’m gonna have to plan a big bash in less than a week. How could you do this to me?”

As if it’s the biggest inconvenience he’s ever encountered. Chuckling nervously, you wave your hands in a flurry before his deadpan expression.

“Oh no, absolutely not. Uh-uh, not happening.”

“But-”

“Eddie.” Your tone is firm, gaze boring into his. “I’m turning twenty, it’s not even an exciting number. Plus, I have a baby, in case you forgot. Not sure how many nightclubs would let the pair of us in. If it means that much to you, I’ll have you and some of the kids over for a movie. That’s my limit, though.”

Eddie huffs, resolving himself to defeat. “Fine. No strippers, then.”

“Oh, now that you mention strippers…” A grin takes over your face as you waggle a fry in his face, likely sending salt fragments onto Eddie’s shirt. Before you can bring it to your awaiting mouth, he swats the perfectly good fast food out of your hand, sending it catapulting to the ground for some poor, underpaid teenager to clean up later.

“Party in your mouth, huh?” He quips, stealing the larger of the two potato sticks stuck to the paper lining the basket. He pops it into his mouth with a grin, shooting you a suggestive look.

“You’re the worst.”

“I know.”

The energy between the two of you is so, so easy. You sip your cool soda, indulging in the sugary carbonation clinging to your teeth. Eddie does the same, studying a terribly constructed pyramid situated on one of the holes. No pressure to speak, or not speak, just basking in the glow of one another’s company. The air is cool under the downlights, a mild spring evening setting the scene for what a true date night should look like.

“I’ve gotta ask-” You begin through a mouthful of food, somewhat unceremoniously. “- how’d you get so good at mini golf? I just wouldn’t expect you to be the kind of guy to spend his free time at a place like this.”

“Ooft, judging a book by its cover, are we?” Eddie places his drink back on the picnic table, grinning beneath the fluorescent snack bar sign. 

“Oh, never. Heavy metal and putt-putt go hand in hand, as far as I’m concerned.”

Eddie shakes his head, grinning while he peers down at the condensation accumulating on the metal can.

“I, uh- I used to bring Dustin out here.”

“Dustin? Really?”

“Yep.” There’s a loaded silence between the pair of you, something that isn’t uncommon as you exchange stories of your past. “After, um- y’know, everything happened. He kind of… shut down. A bit like you did, for a while. Didn’t want to play DnD, or see anybody, really. So this one day, I just drove over to his place and dragged him out of bed saying ‘C’mon, butthead. I’m taking you outta town’. He kicked up a bit of a fuss, but I just sort of army-marched him out the front door. We drove around for a while, not really talking and stumbled on this place. He shot me that stupid grin of his for the first time in forever, so we came in. It sort of became a weekly thing after that, and I hate to admit that I actually enjoyed it after a while.”

Swirling a fry around in too much ketchup, your meal is all but forgotten as you find yourself enthralled by Eddie’s recollection. That all too familiar pang of sadness returns, regret manifesting quickly in your body. You wish you were there for Dustin. You should have been. You wish you were stronger earlier, able to provide him with the care he so desperately needed. In the past few months, you’ve watched the teenager really step up, busying himself with baby books in order to be the best ‘uncle’ he could be. He’s a close second behind Eddie when it comes to making Audrey smile, lapping up every second he gets with her. God, Steve would be so proud of him.

“He’s a good kid, even if he’s an annoying little shit sometimes. And Steve…” His thought trails off, running his finger around the edge of the soda can. “... Steve was good for him. Gave him someone to look up to, a role model sort-of. Almost like a big brother, I guess. So I didn’t mind running around a shitty mini-golf course with a creepy beaver sign if it made him happy.”

Abandoning your meal, you reach across the table to take Eddie’s hand in yours. The tips of his fingers are cold from the refrigerated beverage, and you wrap your palm around the icy skin with warm reassurance. 

“You’re a good man, Eddie.”

Eddie’s lips curve into the most imperceptible smile, humble and felt almost entirely inward. For a fleeting second, he wonders if that could be true. 

Eddie was meant to drive you straight home. The roads were quiet at this time of night, no traffic bar the occasional truck making its way in the opposite direction of the small town he unfortunately called home. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this full. Not literally, of course, given you guzzled down the majority of hot food before he had a chance to get to it. But it didn’t matter, not the slightest. 

He felt proud. 

Proud while he watched you dig through the bucket of tees, looking for the perfect Barbie pink one that wasn’t chipped or dirty. Proud of his excellent golfing form, thankful for all the practice he’d gotten through restless evenings with Henderson. Proud of the way you jumped up and down, hands raised to the heavens as you sank your shot in half the time it had taken you on every other hole. Proud of how he scooped you into his arms, like every cheesy rom-com he’d had the displeasure of watching. Proud of the part he had to play in your happiness. Proud to be seen with you.

He was meant to drive you straight home.

He had every intention of doing so. 

Satiated with pride, he could resolve to spend the remainder of his evening grinning stupidly to himself in the isolation of his room. The humble home across the trailer park suddenly feels closer, anyway. Until, your hand snaked its way across the center console onto his thigh, your touch feather light but the weight heavy. For a brief moment, he wonders if you reached for something but overshot, a simple mistake. And then, you linger. Fingernails scratching the course denim clinging to his legs, shockwaves sent down his skin with every delicate stroke. Absent-minded. Loaded.

He knew the stakes had just been raised.

The two of you had been close like this dozens of times before, particularly in your pregnancy. Eddie never saw the need for one of those pregnancy pillows advertised on late-night infomercials, when you apparently saw him as the perfect substitute. Back then, those exchanges meant almost nothing. A tiny back scratch here and there, drawing small circles on your forearm while you dozed off with your entire body weight pressed to his shoulder. Thoughtless interactions, designed purely to comfort and set you at ease. The familiarity that has perhaps always existed between the pair of you, now morphing into something new.

Thumb smoothing the faded-black material, tiny rotations etched over and over.

Hypnotic.

The bravery that overtook him was phantom, ghostly desire edging his knee ever so slightly further in your direction. As if to say please, don’t stop. I’m right here. His eyes remain firmly locked onto the dark road, using only the occasional streetlight to guide his path. Besides, he doesn’t need to look at you to feel your gaze on his cheek. Not that he could bring himself to, if he tried. He wonders if he blacked out earlier. Got hit in the head with a rogue club and passed out, ascending to a heaven in which he would be fortunate enough to experience such a sensation. Heart pounding in his chest, he lets out an unsteady exhale as your fingers snake deeper into the groove, caressing at more sensitive flesh. Inward, where the skin is far more sensitive. 

Eddie isn’t a greedy man.

Until he is.

“Baby…” The foreign pet name slips out as a moan, barely perceivable beneath the soft hum of the cassette’s tune filling the car at a low volume. Somehow, in those two syllables alone, he crosses a line. Bares his soul to the wolves, knowing well the potential ramifications, the bloodshed that follows vulnerability.

The digging of your fingernails into the meaty flesh at his utterance is his breaking point. The green light he sought out. With cautious fervourency, he pulls off the road quickly, wheels clattering along the asphalt excuse for a truck stop. The car is quickly clicked into park before the metalhead can cognise it, tearing the constricting seatbelt off his body. Your hand never leaves its spot.

Turning to you, wide-eyed with want, he pauses. Gives himself whiplash from the flurry of activity leading to the sudden stillness. It’s intrinsic, no need for words anymore. Redundant wastes of breath.

His lungs hitch, adrenaline pulsing in the tips of his fingers. 

Can we?

Lips parted ever so slightly, a rise of your chest and dazed fluttering of eyelids answers.

Yes.

It’s not clear who lunges first. What is clear is how your bodies instinctively shape around one another, quick to absolve the space between you. Lips collide with lips, desperately seeking respite. Wanton moans are pulled effortlessly, fistfuls of hair tangled in clammy fingers drawing the two of you impossibly close. Imperfect fumblings as shirts are clutched desperately, fueling the fire burning in the pits of Eddie’s stomach. The pace is entirely unsteady, soft brushes bleeding into firm tugs of teeth piercing tender flesh with just the right amount of force. Embarrassing, unadulterated need at the forefront of every motion, and neither of you cared. God, it’s almost perverse. How Eddie corrupts something so soft, so sweet, with every fevered kiss. Like he’s tainting you with his taste, as if he could lap enough of you up and absolve his unworthiness. The likelihood of that working is slim, but god damn Eddie is willing to try. 

It’s still not enough. 

The plastic console separating you is driving him mad. He needs to be able to grab, clutch, caress every square inch of you with no obstructions. You make him bold. 

Bold enough to slip his wandering hand beneath your far thigh, the smallest hithering motion enough to feel the weight shift above his palm. Unceremoniously, you clamber over the glove box after unclipping your seatbelt, haphazardly swinging your foot into the horn. The beep echoes through the isolated rest stop, a mumbled apology being quickly swallowed by Eddie’s lips. Blindly guided, he directs your knees to either side of his hips, showing no qualms with the limited driver’s side legroom. His hands find your hips, tentatively hovering above his lap, shaky thighs taking the brunt of your weight. With small, caressing circles of your hip bone, he soothes you as he always has. Encourages you to share the pressure, begging to be the bearer of it. No wrong answer, only whatever you’re comfortable with. Perfect the way you are. 

Ringed fingers press gently into the small of your waist, drawing you closer still to his body. This seems to encourage you to relent to your tiring muscles, finding solace on Eddie’s tense thighs. A safe distance, but so close to danger. To unbridled want. Neither of you care.

Eddie’s eyes flutter shut as you speckle kisses along his cheek, dancing down his jawline and finding sanctuary on his neck. Nipping slightly at his pulse point, he can’t help but squeeze a bit tighter. Relishing in your exploration, mentally mumbling Hail Mary’s for his good deeds from past lives that lead him to this euphoria. A gasp escapes his throat as you latch onto a particularly sensitive spot, causing his hands to seek refuge on the meat of your hips. He squeezes, eliciting a similar wanton moan that vibrates against his stubbled skin.

“Is- is this good?” A sentence loaded with various meanings tumbles out, his grip loosening slightly. 

“Mmm.” You murmur, tracing the familiar trail back along his jaw and to his aching lips. “So good. So good to me, always.”

A knot forms in the pit of Eddie’s stomach. So good. So good. For you. That’s all he’s ever wanted to be. It fucking underscores every day, trying to do right by you. Constantly trying. He lives for it. For the smiles, the exhales of safety, the reassurance, the comfort…

It’s gotten him more hooked than a drug ever could.

So why. 

Why can’t he accept it?

The praise, the love, everything you dish out effortlessly. But to want and to deserve are very different things, the latter being something that Eddie factually knows he is not entitled to. 

It returns, a tidal wave of despair crashing over his heart, encasing it in a riptide of emotional debris and darkness. The taunting ticking of the second hand that haunts him constantly, the grip on his happiness slipping…

“Hey.” He gasps out, ringed fingers grazing your cheek as he pulls away. So close still he can see the flushed-red outline of your lips, the blissed out expression in your eyes quickly morphing to concern.

“Shit, you okay?” You pull back, brushing a loose curl out of the frame of his face.

“Yeah, ‘m fine.” A stabilizing breath does little to quell the erratic beating of his heart. “Just- maybe we should, like, take things a bit slower? I- I just don’t want all this to be too much, too fast.”

Brows furrowing slightly, it’s hard to miss the minute disappointment reflected across your face.

“Oh. No, yeah, of course.” Letting out an awkward chuckle, your unoccupied hands take to fidgeting with your now-loose blouse. “Sorry, didn’t mean to get carried away…”

“No, no-” Eddie reassures, a smile growing on his sore lips despite the gnawing ache in his chest. “Fuck, you were- it was perfect.”

A bashful grin cuts through the nerves etched into your skin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” God, you make him too bold. Cradling your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he dips forward to steal another miss from you. “Just want to do things right. Be a gentleman and all that.”

“You? A gentleman? Since when?” You poke.

“Since always.” The tone returns to easy as always, if not charged with a certain afterglow of electricity.

“So, what’s the next step in the courting ritual then?”

“Dunno. Guess I’ll have to pull off a grand gesture of some kind.”

Thursday afternoon, counting down the minutes until the clock strikes 5pm and frees you from this grind. Happy fucking birthday to you. 

Robin has been fussing over you non-stop for the past 24 hours. Apparently, a little birdie told her about your upcoming birthday (something you’d diligently kept private), sending her into a frenzy. She insisted on at least taking you out for dinner to celebrate your birthday at Benny’s, and practically stuffed her version of appropriate birthday attire into a duffle bag this morning for you to change into post-shift. In all her festive glory, she returned from her lunch break with a pink-frosting covered cupcake and tried to involve no less than three customers in a group rendition of Happy Birthday that was less than successful. And despite the unwarranted theatrics, you can’t deny your gratitude. Seeing how she dotes on you, dedicating her every movement that day to your happiness. And frankly, it’s not dissimilar to every other day. The love, the care that the two of you feel for eachother simply heightened for your first day of your twenties. Luck has never been a word you’d use to describe your life, but today, it feels fitting.

Keith has been goaded into closing the shop up solo tonight, Robin sparing no detail of the utmost importance to this diner dinner. She’d also arranged for Eddie to bring Audrey along, clocking in around 12 total hours of unpaid babysitting and a bushel of brownie points. Then, once the grown-ups have hung out, some of the younger kids will bike to the trailer park for a late-night movie. Spending the remaining hours of your birthday with everyone you love.

The small bathroom cubicle adjoining the workroom is cluttered with makeup and clothes, the two of you primping yourself in privacy. Tonight’s outfit of choice appears to be a band tee, tied at the waist with a flowing maxi-skirt, clashing in your mind but makes sense to Robin, apparently. To level the playing field, she dug out some of your nicer boots for the occasion. Internally, you worry for Audrey, and how it’ll be once Robin realizes she has two life-sized Barbie dolls to dress up. But secretly, you like it. It feels very you, whatever that means now. Comfort meets expression, an identity crafted beyond Mom.

Smiling at yourself through the rusty bathroom mirror, Robin swipes on her mascara.

“How do you feel? Older and wiser yet?” Robin asks, eyes bugged out in concentration.

“More of the former, I’d say.” You chuckle.

“What about the outfit? I felt pretty proud of it, very rocker-chic meets fairy princess.”

“It’s great, Rob. All of it.” Lips pursing together in an emotional smile, you drink in the image before you. You look your age. No dark circles or fine lines present, concealed under just the right amount of makeup. Hair just the way you like it, not confined to a three-day-old ponytail. You recognise her, from another life. The girl you used to be. And she’s so happy to see you.

Robin shoves the mascara tube into her tote bag, throwing it over her shoulder. “Ready to hit the road?”

With a nod, you hold the door open for her, the imposing fluorescents of the video store coming back into view. 

“Oh, nearly forgot. We’ve gotta make a pit stop along the way, if that’s alright with you?” Following her trail, the two of you burst out the front doors and into the brisk evening towards your Pinto.

“Sure.” You reply. “Just lead the way.”

“Robin, where the hell are we?” Glancing around one of the seedier streets of Hawkins, you shrug your handbag a little closer under your armpit and remind yourself that you did, in fact, lock your car. It’s fairly innocuous, an assortment of goods shops and a vintage record store, but you’ve never ventured this far into the heartland. Robin is a few paces before you, studying the signs of various closed businesses along the road. Her face lights up as you approach one particular building. 

“Bada-boom.” She announces with a proud grin, stopping in front of a large, black building. The paint is sun-faded, lined with scratched-off band posters graffitied with lewd scribbles. Against the dark sky, your only indication of the name etched into the doorway awning comes in the form of a passing car blaring its lights.

“The Hideout?” It rang a bell, yet you could not work out for the life of you what the two of you were doing here. “Dude, is this a nightclub? It’s a Thursday!”

“Not exactly…” Her brazen smile makes you slightly nervous. “More of a live music venue. I’ve just gotta pick something up from here, then we’ll be off to dinner. ‘Kay?”

“Alright, maybe I’ll just wait outside-” “No!” Robin quickly clears her throat. “I mean- I’m not leaving you out here on these mean street all alone without me to protect you.”

Shooting you a bright smile, you have to take at face value that she’s being entirely serious right now. Locking her arm through yours, she urges your unwilling feet further to the entrance.

“Is it even-” Answering your half-finished question, Robin pushes open the door to the venue, the interior pitch-black. “Are we even allowed to be here?”

“Yes, dingus! Just c’mon…” Once again, you’re placing literal blind faith into your closest friend. She might as well have tied Eddie’s bandana over your eyes as she did at Christmas, nothing but the slightly sticky floor beneath you to guide you forwards into oblivion. Her arm is your liferaft, swimming through pitch-black waters towards god knows what. In the distance, you hear a strange scuffling of feet, not belonging to either you or your co-worker. It sends chills down your spine, suddenly feeling very out of your depth. It’s disorienting, and totally alien.

“Seriously, Robin. Can we-” Your hushed tone is directed to the girl beside you, who stops in her tracks. You plant yourself beside her, the strangest feeling of being able to make a figure out through the void before you. A fleeting moment of movement, another shuffle of shoes on tacky wood ground. 

And in the flash of an eye, brightness burns your retinas, momentarily blinding you. It forces you to squint, a desperate attempt to identify these unfamiliar surroundings. A spotlight of sorts bears down on you before Robin quickly releases you from her vice grip and jumps to the side. But as one sense is returned, another is quickly abused, a raucous sound brutalizing your eardrums.

“Surprise!” Numerous voices call out at the top of their voices, unable to be individually dissected amongst the barrage of confetti poppers bursting into the sky. As your eyes grow accustomed to the warm spotlights around the venue, you make out familiar shapes. A mess of scruffy curls buried beneath a baseball cap. Two young boys with arms slung around one another jumping up and down, perfectly manicured bangs flinging haphazardly. The flash of a camera you’d borrowed months ago. There’s only a few of them, but their energy fills the space tenfold. 

And, at the center, you see a lean figure with a Kirk Hamlett haircut raise a squirming lump high above his head, not unlike a certain Disney movie that wouldn’t come out for another good eight or so years. Eddie, in what can only be described as his best cut-off band tee, proudly holds Audrey high above the group, her chunky legs bunched up to her body as she looks around entirely confused. As the last syllable of their celebration dies off, as if on cue, Audrey’s face screws up in a dramatic pout, a loud cry echoing through the venue at a volume the others only could hope to have achieved. Eddie’s face quickly transforms to worry, eyes squinting with embarrassment.

“Oh, fu-” Eddie quickly lowers her, cradling her head towards his collarbone. “Shit, didn’t mean to scare you, Squid.” 

Shushing her and pacing a step towards you, he bounces your baby from side to side. Her cries begin to lull, her fist tucked tightly at his clavicle for emotional support. Likely giving his neck a few scratches from her razor-sharp fingernails, she clings to the neckline of his shirt like a spider monkey, pulling it down with a subdued whimper and revealing one of his tattoos.

“Eddie? What-” You’re stunned. Shell-shocked from the sudden onslaught of sensation and attention, closing the space between you and the metalhead.

“How’s this for a grand gesture?” Spinning on his heel, Dustin rushes over to present a frosting-covered monstrosity on the bar. The icing is baby pink, with large globs that could be letters on top, with a handful of mismatched candles shoved into the floury concoction.

“Ta-da!” The younger boy grins, fixing one of the especially lop-sided candles. “Sorry it’s nothing special, I didn’t have much time to work on it…”

“You- you threw me a birthday party?” You ask, wide-eyed to Eddie.

“Ah-” He raises a finger, readjusting the subdued baby in his arms. “A surprise birthday party. In case you missed the keyword over the little hellraiser's scene-stealing cry.”

That familiar feeling returns. Overwhelmed by love and eyes solely on you. A small pile of presents sits on one of the bar tables, along with a few cards. Far more modest than the endowment you received from the group months earlier. Smiling faces, slightly tentative as they attempt to interpret your expression. But that thumping in your chest is not from anxiety this time. It’s from an overflowing sense of gratitude. 

A teary smile takes over your face, rushing to embrace Eddie and Audrey in a tight bear hug. The baby nestled between you burbles and squirms, and you raise your lips to the shell of Eddie’s ear to whisper a heartfelt “thank-you”.

The party is in full swing. Of the faces huddled in groups around the intimate venue, you initially only recognise half of them. Mike, Lucas and Will order root beer from the bar under Eddie’s strict supervision, not wanting any wasted minors on his track record. Dustin and Erica are engaged in a heated conversation with a few older boys, each of them wearing shirts printed with the name Corroded Coffin. You’d only crossed paths with them a handful of times at campaign nights, but they shared Eddie’s welcoming nature, trying to involve you in their conversation about elves or something. Nancy and Robin were trying to liven up the dance floor, which mostly involved Nancy swaying to the beat and Robin putting on a full-scale musical number around her. With Audrey not in the arms of any of her allocated babysitter’s arms, there was only one place left to search. Jonathan was taking a picture of the group in the adjacent booth, El and Max grinning either side of an unfamiliar face. His long, dark hair proved most entertaining for the infant on his lap, a glazed-over expression dancing in his red-rimmed eyes. 

“Woah, woah! That’s not for playing with, little dudette. Try this instead, I know it keeps me entertained.” From his Hawaiian shirt pocket, he pulls out a small set of keys, passing them to Audrey’s greedy fingers. She squeals, flinging the keys up and down in delight.

“God, she’s so cute.” El gushes, smoothing her pint-sized overalls over her legs.

“I know, right. She looks so much like Steve, it’s insane.” Max affirms. “Alright, Argyle. Quit hogging her.”

The redhead scoops her hands around Audrey’s waist, bringing her up to eye level with a cooing expression. 

“You know they’re born without kneecaps? How gnarly is that?” Argyle states, turning to El with complete sincerity.

“No way that’s true.” Max shoots the older boy a signature dead-pan look, readjusting Audrey in her arms, who is now getting a good amount of drool on the keychain.

“Swear on my life! I read it somewhere, they’re born without propellers.”

“You mean patellas?” El corrects.

“Yeah, that’s the one! Or maybe it’s dogs I’m thinking of…”

It’s beautiful, watching over your own party as a voyeur. An event that has brought together all of the closest people in your life, the common thread being you. It makes you sick with love.

“How’re you enjoying the event, sweetheart?” Eddie’s voice reaches you before he does, a glass of tan-colored liquid in hand.

“It’s perfect, really.” You reply with a grin. “All that’s missing are the Jell-o shots.”

“Gonna treat us to another Flashdance number?” Cheeks flushing over his statement, you stammer a response.

“How- how did you…”

“Don’t think I’d forget a spectacle like that.” He winks, a devilish grin spread across his lips. “Livened up that night’s dealings, that’s for sure.”

It’s strange, remembering a time before this. A time when Eddie was just a face in the crowd, Steve the undisputed King of Hawkins, and you with no clue what the coming years held in store. It feels like a lifetime ago, and simultaneously feels like an eternity you’ve spent with this eclectic family by your side.

“Getting on the beers tonight, Munson?” You tap a nail against the edge of his glass teasingly.

“Nah, confiscated Henderson’s root beer for my own selfish purposes.”

“You’re not gonna have a celebratory drink with me tonight?” Eddie shakes his head.

“Don’t think so, sweetheart. Sounds a bit cliche, but I feel weird drinking around Squid. Just don’t want to be the kind of guy who does that around a baby, makes me feel like my dad or something.”

You swear your heart swells to three times its normal size. He might be the most considerate man you’ve ever met.

“Besides…” Eddie continues, pointing to the Hellfire boys. “... don’t want to be a mess on stage for the grand finale of the night.”

You gasp, mock excitement written all over your expression. “Strippers?!”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Maybe later, if you ask nicely.”

He did it.

Eddie pulled it off. From the house-shaking rendition of Happy Birthday, to the (in his humble opinion) absolutely killer set courtesy of Corroded Coffin, to shuttling the younger kids home before the bar opened to the public. He fucking did it. He did good.

The dingy bar is now filled with the usual patrons, the bouncers not bothering to check the ID’s of the occupants inside who could pass for being over 21. Last he saw you, you were dancing arm in arm with Robin and Nancy, screaming Everybody Wants to Rule The World at the top of your lungs. He’d never seen you so free, so vibrant. Moving like no one was watching, twirling and laughing and holding your friends. Just as you deserved to be. A twenty-year-old for one night, before another 364 days devoted to being a mom.

The cool breeze is welcoming, soothing his warm skin under the clear night sky. Stars swimming in the endless expanse of night, delicate kisses of light kissing the pitch-black veil. He can breathe. It used to be suffocating, looking up at the infinite nothing. It would clog Eddie’s throat, choking him in bleak nothingness. Wrap him in a coat of terror, a black mirror designed to play back every fateful mistake of his miserable life. Now, it welcomes him. And he isn’t afraid to embrace it. Baby steps, learning to love the dark parts of his being.

In his arms, he rocks Squid back and forth gently. She’s long since dozed off, the burden of being the life of the party clearly hung too heavy on her tiny shoulders. On her ears sit the smallest fluffy earmuffs, an investment courtesy of Dustin just for tonight. She was the best little groupie he could have asked for. At one point, Robin brought her onstage and placed her feet on the ground, bopping her up and down to the music. The crowd roared, and she giggled and squealed like she was the headliner act. Might have shown the band up, honestly. Eddie didn’t mind.

He’s getting better at stealing moments with her. Giving into his need to dote on her unabashedly. He could stare at her for a lifetime, and that wouldn’t be enough. He needs to imprint in his mind the way her eyelids flutter when she sleeps, commit to memory the O-shape of her mouth when she lets out a sleepy yawn. He wants to record her laugh, keep it forever. He wants every waking second to be dedicated to her.

“Have a good night, Squid?” He mumbles, lightly stroking the bridge of her nose. “Not bad for your first party, eh? Just you wait until your birthday. All of this will look like child’s play.”

Squid wriggles restlessly, burrowing into Eddie’s chest. Against his sternum, he can feel the rhythmic rise and fall of her breath, the tiny grunts of sleep deep in her lungs. It makes him grin like a mad-man.

“Y’know, I’m gonna let you in on a secret.” He readjusts her carefully in his arms, hushing his tone slightly. “I think- I think you and your mom are the best things that have ever happened to me.”

His words hang heavy in the still air, the empty alleyway the only recipient to his confession.

“Can you believe I was scared of you? Of these tiny hands-” He tickles her palm with his pointer finger, the baby clasping around it instinctually with unbridled strength. “- and these little feet. God, I’m pretty stupid, aren’t I? You can tell me, I won’t be offended. But, I’ll tell you something, just between you and me. There are much scarier things out there. And I’m not talking about monsters or alternate dimensions, although I do promise to protect you from that, cross my heart.” He raises his free hand to his heart, as if the sleeping infant would know any different.

“In this big, bad world, I think the scariest thing is to be alone. And I’m gonna make sure you never feel that way, if I can help it.”

Eddie is rambling, word vomit spilling past his lips faster than he can contain it. No scapegoat of weed or alcohol to blame his honesty on. He gently rocks Squid back and forth, the motion soothing both of them. 

“Y’know, I know you’re not mine. But-” Teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, fingers pulling down her overalls. “- I dunno, it kinda feels like you’re mine in my heart.”

With a deep exhale, Eddie allows his honesty to wash over him in all its brutal glory. Knee-buckingly raw, and he leans into it, for once. Allows the love to pump through his veins with every beat of his cynical heart, waking up parts of him he thought were gone for good. But the moment of solitude doesn’t last long before Robin comes barreling out of the back door, almost crashing into the nearby trash cans.

“Shit, sorry. Did I wake her?” She apologizes, sloshing her half-finished gin and tonic onto the pavement.

“Nah, you’re in luck. Squid’s out like a light.” He pulls out another milk crate, beckoning the tipsy liability over. “Having fun in there?”

“Yeah, yeah- I am.” It’s a half thought, words dancing on the tip of her tongue not ready to be spoken yet. “The kids get home alright?”

“Eventually, had to drag most of them out by the end. Henderson wanted to hide in the bathroom and then ‘blend in with the older crowd’.”

“Wonder where he learnt that one from.” Robin smiles, nudging the metalhead.

“Hey, don’t look at me. Wasn’t my doing, for once…”

“Mmm…” She replies, taking a swig of her mixed spirit. Staring down at the lime slice, she swishes the glass around as if deep in thought. Glazed eyes laced with melancholy, radiating off her being.

“Something on your mind?” Eddie asks, angling his body more in her direction.

Robin’s mouth screws up as if she’s tasted something bitter, unable to bring her gaze to meet the man before her. But he doesn’t need to look her in the eyes to see the tears swelling on her waterline, quivering with her next sentence. 

“We have to tell her…” Her voice is barely louder than a whisper, suppressed anxiety trickling in with every syllable. 

Eddie feels his blood run cold, the familiar pang of dread hanging low in his stomach. He shakes his head defiantly.

“Not tonight, Rob. Please…” The plea is firm, fraying at the edges. Not ready to face the inevitable.

“No, no. Not tonight, but it needs to be soon.”

“Can we please not do this right now?” Eddie doesn’t mean to be so forceful with his words, but fear is a powerful thing. It poisons his blood, pushed further through his system with every erratic beat of his heart.

Robin’s eyes continue to well up with stinging tears, her grip on the glass tightening. “The guilt is eating me alive, Eddie. I just… I don’t know how to do it.”

Eddie sighs, desperate to keep what little control he possesses. 

“We need to do it the right way, got it? You, me, Henderson and her. We can all sit down and…” Robin runs her hand through her hair with exasperation at Eddie’s suggestion. Even the gentlest of options sounds like a monumental task. “Just give it a bit more time…”

“There is no more time!” She retorts, her volume loud enough for her to quickly glance down at the sleeping baby to make sure she didn’t wake her.

Eddie stands up, readjusting Squid in his arms. He’s doing his best to stay calm, and not let the inevitable spiral begin, a fruitless battle. “I’m not doing this right now, okay?”

The liquid courage is working wonders on Robin right now, standing up to face the metalhead eye-to-eye. “Don’t act like you don’t feel the same way, Eddie. You know as well as I do that she has a right to know.”

Eddie’s mouth is open and ready to voice another stern reply, when it’s interrupted by a meek voice behind him. The soft tone does little to soothe the ache growing in his abdomen, not daring to look over his shoulder at the source. 

“I have a right to know what?”

Haze. 

Disorder. 

Stumbling your way through the overbearing smog flooding your consciousness. Gripping to the worn sofa in your living room like it’s a buoy, the only thing grounding you in painful reality.

It’s fragmented, the onslaught of new information cluttering your mind, unable to be sifted through logically.

Owens.

Lowering yourself to the ground, you’ve lost all faith in your legs to keep you upright. Sea legs giving out beneath you, collapsing under the weight of a burdened mind. You quickly put Audrey in her bassinet the second you arrived home, stepping back from her small body like she was made of fire. Delicate, precious, amidst the crumbling ruins of life.

Found.

No. 

No, you need someone to cling onto. Polyester beneath your fingernails can never compare to flesh and blood, pumping with life and hope and comfort. Oh god. Craving arms, muscle and sinew engulfing your body, soothing and shushing like you’ve done with your baby countless times. Desperate for the luxury of kindness.

No one to dote. 

No one to care. 

No one to witness the mortifying pain of existence. 

No one to observe the torment they cursed you with in the first place.

Steve.

Crawling up your throat like bile, burning your esophagus as hot lava. You’d welcome the respite of vomit, the substance of it, the satisfaction of exorcism. But no, the painful tar claws its way through your tract, bringing biting tears to your eyes. Hell manifesting in your being. Truth collapsing with a heavy hearted I’m so sorry, bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway while you retreated. Words spilling out helplessly from your loose tongue, rage of betrayal driving every consonant and syllable. To never see you again, let alone speak to you. 

The loss of everyone, everyone. Robin, Dustin, Nancy, fuck- Eddie. They all knew. They coaxed you through the loss, never allowing for hope to breed. Lies built on mountains of lies, a shamble foundation of friendship. Arms that held your daughter with gentleness and altruism, seemingly all fabricated. Tainting her with every touch, every smile, tongues bleeding as they bit back the truth. Too numb to cry, to even indulge in the agony of feeling.

Beginnings are special, because most of them are fake. Artificial and man-made, entirely composed of brain chemistry and justifications. The person you become after your first glass of wine was already there, fretting below the surface of your facade, chipping away at the mask you present to the world. They never left.

You are at the end of beginning.

[kyuraizu]

FINALLY THE 3RD ANNUAL WINE STREAM

i miss them alreadyyy :(

[ink-n-shadow]

ian and mickey - morning after their anniversary night? something sweet with ian being happy mickey organized something for him

Morning After | Gallavich

pairing: Ian Gallagher x Mickey Milkovich

genre: mainly fluff (brief mentions of sex?)

warnings: slight mention of sexual themes but nothing explicit (unless you count some sappy love scene as a warning, then you've been warned)

word count: 456 (not proofread) 

note: i finally got to this </3 so sorry it too forever－but pls send more >:)

"Thought you forgot－you know, 'bout yesterday?"

'Course Ian did. Mickey knew that. Why else was he so bitchy during their entire work shift yesterday? Mickey was just waiting for him to admit it.

The two of them were coiled together on the brand new memory foam mattress that Ian had bought, a mattress which was haphazardly strewn onto the floor with creme-colored silk sheets stretched over the corners. By the streams of orange lighting pooling across their bare skin, it had to be the morning of March 22nd－the morning after their 3rd wedding anniversary.

It had been Mickey's plan to go all out on the wedding anniversary this time－the first wedding anniversary being spent at the Alibi and the second spent working overnight together on a security gig until 3 in the morning. This time－after they got off of their shift, of course－their anniversary involved some fancy restaurant that Ian had been eyeing ever since the couple moved into their new apartment, a bottle of (cheap) red wine, and breaking in the memory foam mattress with however many rounds of sex they had went through－Mickey had lost count.

Mickey hummed, using the arm that wasn't currently tucked under own his head to weave through Ian's hair. Ivory skin parted through red waves, the letters of Mickey's tattoos peeking out amongst fiery strands of hair. "Have I ever fucking forgot about our anniversary, Mr. Milkovich?"

When Ian failed to respond－instead just continuing to lazily trace patterns into Mickey's hipbone－Mickey huffed out a soft chuckle and a barely audible 'that's what I thought.'

It was quiet for a while after that, filled with stolen kisses and hands wandering across expanses of naked skin. Ian tore his lips from Mickey's long enough to nuzzle his forehead into his lover's cheek, eyes fluttering close. "You didn't have to do all that, y'know? That dinner date alone had to be－what, a hundred bucks?"

Mickey's scoff echoed throughout the still barren bedroom, his hand disappearing beneath Ian's chin to force him to lock eyes. "Shut up, alright?" His fingertips mapped their way back up Ian's cheekbones, ghosting down the slope of his nose before finding their way back to his chin. "I worked some overtime so I could afford it for you. 'Was just an extra weekend shift I took while you watched Franny for Deb."

It was Ian's turn to hum softly in response, eyes fluttering closed once again as Mickey's fingertips tickled along his skin. "M’lucky to have you, Mr. Gallagher. Y’know that?"

A smile stretched across Mickey's lips as Ian nuzzled further into his open palm. He couldn't help but cup the red head's face in the palms of his hands. "Uh huh, whatever. C'mere and kiss me some more, Red."

[2000sfm]

𝙔𝙊𝙐'𝙑𝙀  𝘽𝙀𝙀𝙉  𝙄𝙉𝙑𝙄𝙏𝙀𝘿  !!

have  you  heard  the  latest  ?  palm  springs  is  absolutely  gorgeous  this  time  of  year,  the  beautiful  flowers,  soft  wind  to  cool  you  off  after  a  nice  dip  in  the  pool,  the  perfect  golden  hour  for  selfies  on  your  instagram  feed.  the  only  thing  that  would  make  it  even  more  elegant  ?  the  colour  white. that’s  right,  super  rich  kids,  it’s  the  annual  white  party,  hosted  by  the  reboot  executives  from  all  streaming  services.  call  it  a  bonding  session;  every  person  associated  with  a  reboot  has  been  provided  a  glamorous  looking  invitation,  summoning  them  to  palm  springs  for  a  beautiful  white  party  full  of  food,  drinks  and  dancing  to  bring  the  streaming  services  together  and  make  sure  everyone  is  beginning  to  get  comfortable  with  one  another. however,  don’t  get  too  comfortable,  emily  and  aria  are  hiding  around  the  corner,  watching  the  every  moves  of  these  new  starlets,  wanting  to  get  every  dirty  deed  under  their  own  belt  for  future  purposes.  besides,  it’s  not  a  white  party  if  someone  isn’t  leaving  with  a  red  wine  stain  on  their  dress  or  tux  –  who  do  you  reckon  will  be  the  culprit  and  victim  this  year  ? the  rules  are  quite  straight  forward  —  only  wear  white.  and  before  you  even  ask,  no,  silver  is  not  white.  those  who  are  incapable  of  following  the  rules  will  be  turned  down  at  the  door  and  refused  entry;  making  a  scene  will  not  change  the  minds  of  these  security  guards  (if  you  ask  emily,  they  are  built  beautifully).  additionally,  individuals  are  encouraged  to  make  a  beautiful  donation  to  the  charity  of  their  choice,  where  their  streaming  service  ceo’s  will  match  the  donation  for  each  individual  who  does  so. so  get  your  outfits  planned,  your  flights  books  and  bags  packed.  it’s  time  to  put  all  your  troubles  away  and  head  to  palm  springs  !

ooc information : 

our  first  event  !  and  taking  inspiration  from  the  iconic  gossip  girl  themselves.  this  event  will  be  taking  place  within  palm  springs  and  everyone  received  this  invitation  months  prior  to  make  sure  they  were  able  to  rsvp.

in  play,  characters  will  be  in  attending  the white  party  on  feb.  3rd.  out  of  play,  the  event  will  last  two  weeks,  beginning  on  jan.  28th  &  ending  on  feb.  11th.  this  will  allow  everyone  to  have  a  chance  to  have  some  threads  and  stir  up  some  drama.

it’s  not  mandatory,  but  encouraged  for  outfit  edits.  if  you  do  decide  to  do  outfits,  please  utilize  the  #2000s.edit  tag  and  make  sure  to  @2000sfmextras  for  reblogs  !

an  announcement  will  be  posted  once  the  event  begins  and  when  the  event  is  ending.  there’s  no  need  to  stop  pre-event  threads,  just  please  make  sure  to  tag  your  event  threads  with  some  kind  of  event  tags  so  that  people  are  able  to  differentiate  between  them.

ic  drama  is  heavily  encouraged  !  and  we  also  encourage  you  to  utilize  the  gossip  blog  at  this  time,  whether  with  real  or  fake  rumours;  both  admins  will  also  be  watching  the  dash  and  making  their  own  little  antics  to  keep  things  going.

if  you  have  any  questions,  please  feel  free  to  reach  out  via  discord  in  our  questions  channel  or  via  ims  /  inbox  on  the  main  !

[vinyl-head]

I’m out of the loop of K-pop now.. can you give me some updates on big bang?

Hello!

I'm not sure how long you've been out of the loop but here's a few updates just off the top of my head for the overall group as well as individual activities.

It's nothing juicy, scandalous, or groundbreaking, just the facts I'm aware of with no thoughts behind them. If I'm missing anything, feel free to add on or correct me.

BigBang

The group’s latest release is ‘Still Life’ (2022)

Bang Bang Bang’ becomes their first song to surpass 200 million streams on spotify as of March 2023

T.O.P

Departed from YG Entertainment in February 2022

Attended a Versace show in LA on March 9th

Joined the Dear Moon Project (a tourism mission and art project launched by a Japanese billionaire that will take a single lunar free return that’ll last over 6 days with 9 crew members including T.O.P and Steve Aoki)

Has developed his own wine brand (T’SPOT)

Although previously stating he would give up on idol life and music overall, he’s planning to release not only his solo debut album but a feature film as well (no confirmed date)

Taeyang

Married February 2018 and became a father December 2021

Confirmed to have signed with THEBLACKLABEL January 3rd after parting ways with YG Entertainment in December 2022

Released a collab with BTS’ Jimin called ‘Vibe’ on January 13th (has one win)

GD

Currently the only BigBang Member under YG Entertainment

Has attended a few Chanel shows as it’s ambassador

7 months after it’s release, his cover of Elvis Presley’s ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’ has been added to the deluxe version of the  ‘ELVIS’ soundtrack

Rumored to be making a comeback album and potentially hold a concert

Daesung

Left YG Entertainment December 2022

Was a guest on ‘Roommates, not Marriage’, his first appearance on a variety show since 2017

Seungri

Willingly parted ways with both YG Entertainment and Big Bang in 2019 following the Burning Sun scandal

Released from prison February 9th, 2 days earlier than scheduled, and has kept a low profile for now

[socaprince]

SOCA THERAPY - MARCH 3, 2024

Soca Therapy Playlist

Sunday March 3rd 2024

Making You Wine From 6-9pm On FLOW 98.7fm

Tremble It (Dr. Jay Plate) - Destra

Get On - Fay Ann Lyons

Expose (Precision Road Mix) - El-A-Kru feat Tizzy

Saucy Baby - Denise "Saucy Wow" Belfon

Togetherness - Square One

Anxiety - Patrice Roberts

Best Self (Intro Edit) - Nailah Blackman & Lyrikal

Toot Toot - Temptress

Let It Rain (Riddim Master Edit) - Empress x Soca Villain x Psycho

The FOG - Machel Montano

Hall Of Fame - Mical Teja

How Ah Livin - Farmer Nappy

Behavior Nothin - Skinny Fabulous

Umbrella - Bunji Garlin

The Spirit - Machel Montano

Mental Day - Kes

Dear Promoter - Voice & Kes

Do Wah Yuh Want (Riddim Master Intro Edit) - Tian Winter

The A List - Pumpa

Lost And Found - Preedy

Kedek Kedek - Mighty

Bad In Bum Bum - Mighty & Subance

Slip Away - Zan

Birthday - Mical Teja

Real Woman - Patrice Roberts

Outside - Viking Ding Dong

No Tomorrow - Kerwin Du Bois & Adana Roberts

TOP 7 @ 7 (Powered By The Soca Source)

Top Songs By V'GHN Streamed On Spotify

7. Welcome to Carnival - V'ghn

6. Soca Nice - V'ghn

5. Sweet Melanin - V'ghn

4. Finally - V'ghn

3. Closer - V'ghn x Patrice Roberts

2. Brick By Brick - V'ghn x DJ Puffy

1. Trouble In The Morning - V'ghn

Gyal Owner (DJ Kevin Festival Edit) - Blaxx 

Wrong Again - Skinny Banton

Gyal Farm - Kerwin Du Bois x Shal Marshall

I Shall Return - Kes

I Got U (Quixx Edit) - Ricardo Drue

Ah Love It Here (Muv Short Edit) - Ricardo Drue

The Menu - Teddyson John 

Impossible - Problem Child & Patrice Roberts

Fete Woman and Alcohol (F.W.A) - Terron

No Rules - Lyrikal

Spend No Money - Dev 

Bend - Imani Ray

Niceness - Kenny Montana

I'm Yuh Lover - Nadia Batson

In The Center - GBM Nutron x Farmer Nappy

Inventor (Izaman) (Razorshop Roadmix)-Olatunji

DNA - Mical Teja

PAN MOMENTS DNA - BP Renegades 

TANTY TUNE (1982) Soca Tempo

Whole Day - Rae x Dj Private Ryan

Live Yuh Life - College Boy Jesse x Dj Private Ryan

Keep Talking - Turner x Dj Private Ryan

Keep Jammin On - Kes x Dj Private Ryan

Calypso - Jadel

Jamming - Anika Berry

Slow Wine - Rae

In Meh Eyes - Viking Ding Dong & Karene Asche

Aye Aye Aye - Square One feat Alison Hinds

Pump Me Up - Krosfyah

Fast Wine - Machel Montano

Runaway - Mical Teja

Energy Killers - Kerwin Du Bois

Smooth Ride - Farmer Nappy

Brain Freeze (DJ Kevin Cups Up Edit) - Leadpipe & Jus Jay

Penthouse (Dr. Jay Plate) - Voice

Fete Cyah Over - Lyrikal

Calypso - V'ghn

NORTHERN PRESCRIPTION Hornman - Farm P

Blind - Hey Choppi

Dancing Partner - GBM Nutron x DJ Private Ryan x Imani Ray

Follow Dr. Jay @socaprince​ and @socatherapy

“Like” Dr. Jay on http://facebook.com/DrJayOnline

[moomoorare]

Watching the 3rd annual wine stream

[inaris-mage-of-storms]

Hello beloved readers! Scrolling through my writing tag whenever I want to reference something is, uh...no longer feasible unless it's really recent. Solution? Masterpost! :D (MCYT fics only though, because my YYH stuff is from 5+ years ago and I don't expect I'll be free of this blockman brainrot anytime soon.)

In Progress

The Canary In The Gold Mine - series masterpost }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Fwhimmy }{ When Scott is arrested for theft and left languishing in a Gobland prison cage, he finds a beam of hope in a little yellow bird. Over time, he finds even more in the arms of his canary and their goblin king. }{

Complete

Strawberry Wine - series masterpost }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ There was something about summer on the savanna that Jimmy found nostalgic... Once, a young farmboy fell in love with a vibrant traveler. Years later, a proud sheriff fell in love with a colorful king. Or he would have, if he had ever fallen out of love with him in the first place. }{

Untitled Scarian - Tumblr }{ Hermitcraft S9 }{ Scarian }{ Scar’s elf ears twitched whenever the corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement, Grian noticed. And he was certainly amused at the moment, perched on Grian’s lap as much as his long limbs would allow, knees pressed into the cushion and hands on Grian’s shoulders, watching a blush bloom across his target’s face. }{

Wildflowers and Roses - Tumblr | AO3 }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ There were so many things Scott loved. He loved silk sheets and pretty clothes and delicious food. He loved his kingdom and his people and his flowers and his llamas. He loved adventure and wit and new experiences. He loved sitting in the warm sun to weave flower crowns on a lazy day. But there was one thing he loved above all else, one thing sweeter and warmer than any other experience he'd ever had. One thing existed that he treasured more greatly than any shiny or rare trinket in his extensive collection. }{

Party Games - Tumblr | AO3 }{ Empires S2 }{ Flower Husbands }{ Jimmy goes to the princess party hoping to make an impression on Scott. He succeeds, just maybe not in the way he hoped. }{

Muscle Memory - Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ }{ Plate Up }{ Tango, Jimmy, & Skizz }{ Jimmy has some bad habits developed after years of repetition. Tango and Skizz are determined to break them. }{ *Continuation depends on future PlateUp streams }{

Dream Of The Devil And He Shall Appear - AO3 | Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ four }{ five }{ six }{ }{ Pirates SMP }{ Majorwood }{ When Scott dreams, he dreams of a sea he's never seen and a man who feels like home. }{ *will possibly be resumed or reworked at a future date }{

Untitled Flower Husbands - Tumblr }{ Empires S1 }{ Flower Husbands }{ Jimmy dreams about a tree. }{

Who Are You? Are You Nobody, Too? - Tumblr }{ 3rd Life SMP }{ Flower Husbands }{ Thrown into a strange game with no memories of their lives before, Jimmy and Scott find comfort in a quiet valley and in each other. }{

On Hiatus

We Can Be Just As Close (If I Am Far Away) - series masterpost }{ Hermitcraft S9 and Life Series }{ Scarian }{ By the time Grian fell from the clifftop at the end of 3rd Life, he'd already fallen for Scar. But when it becomes clear that the death games are going to keep happening, he can't stand the thought of being the cause of Scar's death again. And if keeping Scar safe means keeping his distance, he'll do it, no matter how much it hurts both of them. }{

Bare-Faced In Front Of You - AO3 | Tumblr: }{ one }{ two }{ three }{ }{ Hermitcraft }{ Convex }{ There were a thousand Scars, and Cub loved every single one of them. A collection of ConVex snippets written for CubScar Week. }{

A Fool's Errand - AO3 }{ Hermitcraft }{ Convex }{ All his life, Cub has felt like there is something he should be seeking out, and he hopes to find it in a little town on the edge of a dark oak forest. The moment he arrives, he's warned against falling for Scar's scams and sales pitches - and warned that if he wants to court the charismatic elf, he'll have to catch a certain cat and retrieve the key around its neck. }{

Untitled Flower Husbands - Tumblr }{ Life Series }{ Flower Husbands }{ Scott loved the way Jimmy loved. Fiery, passionate, red-hot love. It was beautiful, intoxicating, magical - And magic can always be broken. }{

[jiksvokrat]

the 3rd annual wine stream wilbur vs a fake plant be like

[tntduo-sex]

april-may, april-may, can we get a hint?

aside from pure delusion, look at alexis' setup on may 13th (even though this also might be 🐝 part of the delusion -_-) . also my thought process is that he'd give up on no contact easily because of how close they were like on the 3rd wine stream he called him his best friend theres no way there was more than a 5 month period where they didnt talk

[tripaveller]

Experience Goa's Vibrant Festivals - From Carnivals to Traditions

While most people associate Goa with beaches, liquor, and modernity, this coastal paradise is rich in culture, heritage, and traditions. Throughout the year, numerous festivals are celebrated across Goa, drawing both tourists and locals with their vibrant festivities. Staying in the best resorts in Goa or choosing charming homestays in Goa can enhance the experience, providing comfort and a local touch to your visit. 14 Enchanting Festivals in Goa

Goa Carnival

Origin: The most famous Goan festival, the Carnival, epitomizes celebration in Goa. Held over three days and nights in February, it precedes the month of Lent. Introduced by Portuguese colonists in the 18th century, it features King Momo, who presides over the festivities.

Celebrations: The Carnival is a feast of food, drinks, music, dance, and fun, preceding the 40-day Lent fasting period. Colorful parades begin in Panaji and travel throughout the state, while evenings are filled with gala balls and street parties. Staying in nearby resorts in Goa ensures easy access to all the festivities.

Goa Carnival

Christmas

Goa is an excellent place to celebrate Christmas in India, thanks to its Portuguese heritage and Catholic population. Churches and homes are beautifully decorated, friends gather for feasts, children sing carols, and midnight masses are well-attended. Homestays in Goa offer an intimate way to experience the local Christmas traditions.

Christmas

New Year's Eve

Goa's lavish New Year’s celebrations are legendary. As midnight approaches, the whole state counts down together, with fireworks, champagne, and music marking the occasion in grand style. Resorts in Goa often host special New Year's Eve parties, adding to the excitement.

New year Eve

Feast of Saint Francis Xavier

This festival honors Saint Francis Xavier, known locally as 'Goencho Saib' (Lord of Goa). Celebrated from December 3rd to 4th, it draws devotees worldwide to the Basilica of Bom Jesus, where the saint's relics are housed. The festival includes early morning church services and community activities. Opt for homestays in Goa near the basilica for a deeply immersive experience.

Feast of Saint Francis Xavier

Three Kings Feast

Celebrated in Verem, Cansaulim, and Chandor, this feast honors the Virgin Mary. Over nine days, festivities include decorating the chapel, reciting the Rosary, and the crowning event where three boys representing the Three Kings ride on horseback to offer gifts to baby Jesus. Staying in local homestays in Goa can provide a closer look at the traditions.

Grape Escapade

Held annually in Panjim, this is India's biggest wine festival. It attracts wine enthusiasts and features cultural performances, culinary delights, traditional grape stomping, wine tastings, and the crowning of The Grape Escapade Queen. Choose resorts in Goa that offer easy access to Panjim for a convenient stay.

Goa Food & Culture Festival

This five-day festival in Panjim showcases Goa's rich culinary and cultural heritage. Chefs and musicians from across the country present their talents to an international audience, celebrating with food, music, and entertainment. Resorts in Goa with culinary themes can enhance this gastronomic journey.

Goa Cashew & Coconut Festival

Celebrated in May in Panjim, this festival highlights the importance of cashew and coconut in Goan culture. Activities include cashew stomping, coconut breaking, and tasting exotic Fenny cocktails. Staying in nearby homestays in Goa can offer a unique perspective on local agricultural practices.

Sao Joao Festival

Celebrated on June 24th, this festival honors Saint John the Baptist. Young men jump into wells and streams, sing "Viva San Joao," and collect fruits and liquor door-to-door. The festival also features parades on floating platforms called Sanggod. Resorts in Goa with pools or access to water bodies can add to the festive spirit.

Shigmo

Shigmo, celebrated in March, is a Hindu festival marking the arrival of spring. It features parades with folk dances, street plays, and floats depicting scenes from mythology. The festival lasts a fortnight, with each day dedicated to different areas. Staying in homestays in Goa during Shigmo provides a local perspective on the celebrations.

Vasco Saptah

Held in the holy month of Shravan, this century-old festival in Vasco honors Lord Damodar. It began in 1896 when an epidemic led locals to turn to Lord Damodar for help. The festival includes prayers, cultural performances, and community gatherings. Resorts in Goa near Vasco offer a comfortable stay close to the festivities.

Bonderam Festival

Celebrated on the fourth Saturday of August on Divar Island, this festival commemorates villagers' resistance to Portuguese rule. Celebrations include colorful tableaux, parades, mock fights with bamboo and berries, and community feasting. Homestays in Goa on Divar Island provide an authentic festival experience.

Goa Mango Festival

Held in May, this festival, organized by Goa’s agriculture directorate, showcases locally grown mangoes. It aims to promote mango production, tourism, and local varieties through competitions and tastings. Staying in resorts in Goa can offer luxurious comfort while you explore the festival.

Religious Festivals

Goa also celebrates various religious festivals like Diwali, Eid-ul-Fitr, Ganesh Chaturthi, and more, each adding to the state's diverse cultural tapestry. Both resorts and homestays in Goa provide excellent accommodation options to experience these festivals firsthand.

Visiting Goa during these festivals offers a remarkable experience, blending vibrant celebrations with deep-rooted traditions. Staying in the best resorts in Goa or opting for charming homestays in Goa ensures you are close to the heart of the festivities, making your trip even more memorable.

[thewineauctionroom]

New Post has been published on https://wineauctionroom.com/report-on-summer-online-auction-announcing-next-live-auction/

Report on Summer Online Auction & Announcing Next Live Auction

While broader economic indicators presented a mixed bag, wine market in March showed optimism for price stability, overall our auction results of first quarter 2024 showed some improvement compared to the previous quarter.

Our Summer Online Auction concluded on 3rd of March offered some top quality lots that generated new records.

For the first time, the highest hammer win went for two Scotches: both 1995 The Dalmore Castle Leod Home of Clan Mackenzie Single Malt Scotch Whisky and Glenfiddich 21 Year Old Single Malt Scotch Whisky in Wedgwood Decanter sold for $1175.*

Burgundy delivered yet another solid performance, 1988 Domaine Jean Grivot Richebourg Grand Cru scored $987, and 2012 Domaine Anne Gros Le Grand Maupertui Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru sold for $470, 2013 Domaine Alain Hudelot-Noellat Clos de Vougeot Grand Cru reached $411.25 while 2001 Domaine Jean Grivot Vosne-Romanee Aux Brulees 1er Cru sold for $329.

Another category often sees stable ROI regardless of the broader economic performance is undoubtably Bordeaux and Bordeaux blends from high quality regions around the world. In this past auction, 1983 Chateau Palmer 3eme Cru Classe sold for $940 and 2013 Destiny Bay Magna Praemia reached $376. We had quite few “big lots” featuring beautiful 6-bottle OWC with 2018 Stonyridge Vineyard Larose selling for $1057.50, followed by 2013 Te Mata Estate Coleraine at $987.

Some other highlights include 1990 Chateau de Beaucastel Hommage a Jacques Perrin Chateauneuf du Pape scored $987, 2008 Jim Barry Armagh Shiraz sold for $329, and 2007 Egon Muller Scharzhofberger Riesling Spatles got snapped up at $293.75, great buys.

All prices include Buyers Premium but exclude GST.

Our next auction will be a Live sale at Caro’s Wines 14 Mackelvie Street, Grey Lynn from 6pm on 2nd of April. The Full catalogue has already been published, be sure to register and place your absentee bids soon to increase your chance of winning! As usual, this auction will be streamed live on auctions.wineauctionroom.com and absentee bids are welcome before and during the auction.