#Elvis & Echo

[hooked-on-elvis]

"ᴇʟᴠɪꜱ ᴏɴ ᴛᴏᴜʀ" (ᴍɢᴍ, 1972) — ᴅɪʀ. ᴘɪᴇʀʀᴇ ᴀᴅɪᴅɢᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴏʙᴇʀᴛ ᴀʙᴇʟ

ELVIS PRESLEY IS THE G.O.A.T. ⚡

[spocks-kaathyra]

lola's done!!! hopefully I get picked for karaoke at the con so I can sing fever hehe

[thislovintime]

Via Historic Films, Peter Tork performing “Seeger’s Theme” at the Speakeasy in Greenwich Village, early 1980s (dated 1982 on the Historic Films website).

“I wanted to record the cut [’Seeger’s Theme‘] because I always thought that the piece had a lot of rhythm, and I hoped to display it. I keep trying.” - Peter Tork, The Birds, The Bees & The Monkees box set

“[When I was about 14] I asked for a banjo, and they went out, my folks went out and bought me a little tiny, dinky five-string banjo. And Pete Seeger’s book, How To Play the Five-String Banjo, I think I bought that myself, and learned how to play from that. Nobody said, ‘Here, take a banjo,’ or, ‘Gee, you’d be good at it,’ or anything like that. I just wanted to play it.” - Peter Tork, Headquarters radio, 1989

“I’m a great admirer of Pete Seeger." - Peter Tork, Disc and Music Echo, January 13, 1968

“‘When I was a kid, before the Monkees, I was not primarily a rock and roller,’ said Tork during a 1998 interview. ‘I was primarily an acoustic folkie. For us, as acoustic folkies, the politics were very clear. We were strongly liberal, in the Pete Seeger mold. We certainly had a strong sense of right and wrong, and we certainly believed a lot that was wrong with society was the fault of the moneyed class. I think all of us to some extent believed ourselves to be socialists.’" - We all want to change the world: Rock and politics from Elvis to Eminem (2003) (x)

[rjmartin11]

Elvis & Echo

Pairing: Elvis and the mythical Nymph Echo

Summary: Elvis meets a beautiful young girl who only speaks by repeating the last three words spoken to her.

Word Count:???

Warnings:

Author's Notes: Hey people! So, this tale has been on heavy on my mind. I love Greek mythology tales of love, power, sorrow, tradition, and morals.

One story that broke me when I first read it is the story of Echo and Narcissius. If you aren't familiar with it. The legend goes Narcissius was one of the most handsome man of his time. Blessed by the gods. He was so good-looking that if he saw his reflection, he'd fall in love with himself. Nymphs never really go for men unless they are next to beautiful, but Narcissius was adored for his beauty.

One nymph in particular fell in love with him, Echo. Echo was cursed by the goddess, Hera, for her affair with Zeus. Echo's curse is that she can only echo the last three words that are spoken to her. Narcissius was on a hunt in the woods that Echo lived in. She fell in love with him at first sight, but it was unrequited love. She tried hugging him, and she tried kissing him, but he told her he'd die before she'd enjoy his body. Heartbroken, Echo runs away. The story gets weird around this part because different historians say different things about Echo's ending. One story says she ran to a cave and concealed herself in leaves. She withered away until nothing was left but her voice. Another story goes, even though she was heartbroken, she'd watch Narcissius from a far until he died discovering his own reflection.

Echo deserved better love, and I believe Elvis would be a better and more understanding love. As we all know, Elvis has beautiful, ethereal features that are compared to that of the Greek gods. I believe if Echo saw Elvis, the experience would be better. She'd swoon just like we do.

Please enjoy this tale. I think I'm only going to do this one unless y'all want more??? 😉😏 Let me know.

・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・

Elvis came home from his tour, and he needed a break from people. He just wanted alone time for once. He starts walking in the fields behind Graceland and starts humming to himself.

He walks beyond the fields into the woods of Graceland. At this point, his singing out loud. Elvis loses himself in I'll Fly Away. Elvis finds joy and solace away from the cocaphony on the stage. Just praising his Lord and savior is enough for him. The Lord, being his audience of one, is enough at this moment. Or so he believes he's alone...

Elvis doesn't realize there's an audience of two. This particular girl has been listening from behind the trees since he began singing. His voice stuck her with cupid's arrow. This nan before was blessed three times by Apollo and Aphrodite. His beauty was more than that of Adonis or ever Narcissius. The man who broke her heart. That love made her hesitate to try again, but there's something different about this man that makes her want to love him. Something makes her want to hold him, and please him, if he only let her.

She wishes she could speak to him normally. She wishes she could ask his name, but since her curse, all she is able to do is repeat words spoken to her. It makes it difficult to make friends in this strange new world called the 50s.

She has a mind of her own, but her voice is gone. Maybe if he keeps singing, she could sing with him to catch his attention.

"I'll Fly Away. Glory, glory. I'll fly away!" Elvis sings

"I'll fly away!" She sings.

Elvis stops singing and looks around. He thought he was alone, but it seems a fan may have found him. He doesn't mind any fans. He wouldn't dare turn one away. If it wasn't for his fans, he'd still be driving a truck.

Elvis continues to look around at the trees. He knows he heard someone.

"Hello?" Elvis calls out.

"Hello?" She calls back. This is it.

She thinks to herself. This is it.

"Someone there?" He asks, hear the young woman's voice.

"Someone there?" She repeats.

Elvis, confused at the game being played, continues to see if the girl would come forth.

"I won't hurt you. Come here." He says.

"Come here!" She shouts with glee, running from behind the brush.

She runs straight to Elvis, faster than he anticipated. She embraces him and he her.

"Wow," he he says.

"Wow," she repeats, lacing her fingers through his hair.

She finally gets a better look at Elvis. This is the first time she sees his hue of his eyes. They turn her soul lusty, and her heart swoons at the sight of him. She can't help herself and kisses him. Elvis doesn't pull away, but he indulges her. Who was he to turn away a beauty as fair as she? He dips his tongue into her mouth, and she repeats the action. Never before has she done this. It's quite enjoyable.

After a moment, he slowly pulls away from her. Elvis looks into her warm brown eyes, and his heart melts.

"Who are you?" Elvis asks, touching her face.

"Who are you?" She asked, repeating the gesture.

Elvis kind of laughs it off but answers her question.

"I'm Elvis."

"Elvis." She answers.

What a beautiful name that fits such an extraordinary man. She thinks.

Elvis examines her closer. Her clothing is different. Her wardrobe reminds him of the toga that he would see in old Greek books or films.

"Baby, are you lost?" He asks.

"Lost?" She repeats, kissing his hand.

No, I'm found by you. I'm in love with you, Elvis. She thinks but can not express it.

"No, who are you? Where are you from? Are you hurt? Do you need help?" Elvis asks.

"Need help." She says.

"I'll help you," Elvis says, escorting her back to the house.

He wraps his arm around her as they walk up the back way to the house. She wraps her arm around his waist.

"Who are you, baby?" Elvis asks her.

I'm Echo. My name is Echo, Elvis. And I'm so in love with you.

She thinks. Oh, how she wished to speak to him. To tell him everything on her heart, but all she can manage is,

"Baby."

Once inside the house, Elvis starts to make phone calls to the police department.

"Elvis," Gladys asked. "Who's this?"

"I found her in the woods, Mama. She needs help."

Gladys does her own inspection of Echo. Examining her from head to toe. She realizes she doesn't have a bra on and quickly covers her with a sweater. It was one of the warmest covers Echo had ever had, and she gently grabs Gladys hand. Thanking her. Gladys accepts her gesture.

"What's your name, dear?" Gladys asks.

"Dear." Echo replies.

"Mama," Elvis says. "I don't believe she has words of her own. She just repeats what's told to her."

"Tol to her," Echo replies.

An hour later, Elvis takes Echo to the police station where a doctor examines her. She hates being away from Elvis, but her eyes never leave him. They are both mesmerized by one another.

The doctor's conclusion was that the young lady had been through a traumatic experience that caused her to go speechless. The doctor also concluded that her voice was just delayed, which is why she copies the words spoken to her. Yet she understood a lot and was not a fool. It's just hard her her to express herself the way she'd like to. She also didn't have any family or friends, which is why she attached herself to the first person who paid attention to her.

"We could put her in a hospital if you'd like Mr. Presley," the doctor suggests.

"Hospital?" Echo replies.

"No, I'll... I'll take her home with me," Elvis says. "My family won't mind."

Echo smiled at him for that. He takes her by the hand, and they head back to Graceland. Upon arrival, Elvis explains to his folks about Echo just staying for a few days until she can get on her feet.

"Son, did you find out her name," Vernon asked.

"Her name... it's Belle," Elvis says, giving her a name. "She abandoned, and she attached herself to the first person who paid attention to her. That's me. She's not here because of my fame. She's here because of my kindness. I wanna help her."

"Belle," Elvis calls to her, and she takes his hand.

Elvis recalled what the doctor said back at the police station. She repeats words given to her, so whispers in her ear what to say to Gladys and Vernon.

"Mr. and Mrs. Presley," Echo starts. "I'm so grateful to you both for letting me stay. I know I'm a stranger to you, but I mean no harm."

"See," Elvis says.

This makes Echo's heart sing. Elvis helped her speak, but she wished she could do more.

Gladys and Vernon look at one another. Caving to Elvis' pleas, they allow Belle (Echo) to stay. Gladys and Alberta make dinner with a little help from Echo. This Southern style dinner was different from everything Echo ever had. She enjoyed every minute of it. She loved watching Elvis and his family at the dinner table. It was a heartwarming sight. There was so much love in this house and among them all. When Elvis laughed, she laughed. It was quite contagious.

Gladys set Echo in a room upstairs not too far from Elvis' room. She made up the bed just right for Echo, not knowing just how special this was for her.

"I hope this is just right," Gladys said.

"Just right," Echo said.

"Well, good night, Belle. Rest well," Gladys said.

"Rest well," Echo replies.

Echo sat in the bed and relaxed her body. The bed was soft but firm. It's better than the ground or the trees she rested in. She rested her head upon her pillow and fell asleep for a while.

・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・・ʚ♡ɞ・

Even though she slept well, she wanted to be with Elvis. She quietly climbed out of her bed and headed toward Elvis' room. She quietly enters into his cool room. She sees him silently resting in his large bed. She crawls into bed with Elvis, sliding under the covers with him.

For a moment, Echo watches Elvis in admiration. She captivated his beautiful features, dark black hair, his pouty lips, and his deep voice. She watches his hairy chest rise and fall. Echo can't wait any longer and lightly places her fingertips on his chest.

Oh, my beloved Elvis. You are more than I ever dreamed of. Kind, loving, handsome, strong, talented. Where were you so long ago? Echo thinks to herself.

She leans in and kisses his lips, startling him awake. Echo smiles at the sight of his eyes. Elvis is absolutely breathtaking.

"Belle?" Elvis says.

"Belle," Echo says.

Elvis knows what he needs to do to hear what he wants from her.

"Elvis," he says. "Kiss me, Elvis."

Echo smiles, "Kiss me, Elvis."

He does as she asks and kisses her gently. Their tongues massage one another. Elvis goes down her neck to her shoulder as Echo massages his back with her fingers. Then Elvis whispers in her ear, "Make love to me."

"Make love to me," Echo whispers with glee.

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @eptodaytommorowforever @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @dreamingofep @aliypop @littlehoneyposts @msamarican

[the-birth-of-art]

Photographs by Brian Griffin (1948-2024)

[waugh-bao]

Link for the song demo on YouTube here

[hooked-on-elvis]

"For those of you who can't see it, this is an owl." — Elvis Presley, in the middle of finishing the performance of "Funny How Time Slips Away", as shown on the Elvis On Tour documentary (1972).

April 14, 1972. Elvis performs for a crowd of 16300 at the Greensboro Coliseum, Greensboro, North Carolina (8:30 pm). He's wearing the Royal Blue Fireworks suit with the Owl belt.

The way he walks with his finger trapped in the belt... Ugh! Sexy daddy.

I love him singing, "Gotta go now. Guess I'll see you... na na na..." and at 2:30 he fakes a giggle off the mic right after singing the words "Ain't it funny...", joking with the Sweet Inspiration girls onstage. 😂 Priceless performance. I'm glad we have that footage.

Let's not forget the outtakes from that evening show.

😋😋😋😋

[discjockeyetc]

Life is short. Buy the concert tickets.

[won4kiss]

﹙ 🎬 ﹚ ────THE BEST GIFTS AREN’T UNDER THE TREE.

୨୧ SYPNOSiS. you and park sunghoon don’t exactly get along. you’re coworkers who seem to have nothing in common— polar opposties. he’s the polished guy from a wealthy family, while you’re just trying to make ends meet and keep your personal life private. but when an awkward run-in at the pharmacy reveals more about your struggles than you ever wanted anyone to know—maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought—maybe the person who drives you the craziest might just be the one who gets you best.

୨୧ PAiRING. enemy! park sunghoon x fem! reader, rich!sunghoon x not very rich! reader, type 1 diabetic! reader.

୨୧ GENRE. office romance, enemies to lovers, fluff & christmas romcom hallmark movie themed, minimal angst.

୨୧ WARNiNGS. profanities, kissing, yn is a little mean.. type 1 diabetes mentioned, struggles with money, ignorant hoon, not proofread.

୨୧ WORD COUNT. 8,106 / 8.1K

𝓟𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗟i𝗦𝗧 ﹕ last christmas, wham. it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas, michael bublé. you’re so vain, carly simon. unwritten, natasha bedingfield. suburban house, holly macve, ldr. just the way you are, bruno mars. can’t help falling in love, elvis presley.

NOTE. i know it’s a bit early.. but i literally couldn’t help myself i love love love christmas!! 🤓☝️thank u guys for the support on the teaser <3 i strongly recommend reading it before u begin this!! enjoy hehe ^-^

LiBRARY | © WON4KISS all rights reserved

THE OFFICE FELT ALIVE WITH THE PULSE OF CHRISTMAS.

fairy lights draped the edges of cubicle walls, casting warm hues across the room, and garlands hung over doorways, filling the space with a faint hint of pine scent.

the air had an almost electric feel—holiday music blasted softly from someone’s desk speaker, and laughter echoed from the kitchen, where the holiday potluck was in full swing. ── 𝖱𝖤𝖲𝖳 𝖡𝖤𝖫𝖮𝖶!

you took it all in with a quiet sense of satisfaction, enjoying the warmth of the season.

for a few minutes, at least, the festive atmosphere helped you push aside the stress and exhaustion that had weighed on you lately.

financial strain and the challenges of managing your type 1 diabetes were constant pressures, but they were your private burdens, things you carried alone.

here, in the office, you could leave them behind, escape reality—or at least pretend to.

with a sigh, you pulled your scarf off and hung it by your desk, feeling the familiar vibration of your blood glucose monitor.

you checked the reading—steady, for now.

relief was brief, though, as you were quickly reminded of the pharmacy bill due at the end of the month, a larger sum that had grown even more unreachable since your insurance provider had started making cuts.

“hey! finally decided to show up?” a smooth voice cut through your thoughts, laced with the perfect blend of mischief and a hint of mockery.

you turned to see park sunghoon, leaning against the divider between your desks with his signature smirk.

he was dressed in a no doubt expensive, tailored coat, his dark hair disheveled in that way that looked both casual and wealthy.

sunghoon’s presence was an unmistakable reminder that you were, as always, worlds apart.

“yes, i thought i’d take pity and show my face,” you shot back, crossing your arms with an eye-roll. “wouldn’t want you to get too comfortable doing all the work without me.”

“oh, please. like i’d ever let you have all the credit,” he said, grinning as he pushed himself off the desk.

sunghoon’s wealth was an open secret around the office, though he rarely discussed it openly.

still, the designer clothing, the luxury watches, and the effortless way he carried himself spoke volumes.

he was someone who had grown up with privilege in a way you could barely fathom, and sometimes, it felt almost as if he enjoyed reminding you of it.

it was always little jabs, little comments—things he likely didn’t realize cut deeper than intended.

you let out a sigh, unwilling to let him get under your skin today, especially when the holidays usually put you in a good mood.

ignoring his stare, you logged into your computer and prepared for the day’s tasks, hoping he’d get the hint and leave.

but sunghoon didn’t move. instead, he watched you, brows slightly raised, as if daring you to keep ignoring him.

finally, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.

“so, what’d you bring for the potluck? or is this going to be another year of pretending you’re too busy to participate?” he teased, a glint in his eye.

you bristled, annoyance prickling at your skin.

sunghoon didn’t know, of course, that you’d barely managed to scrape together enough for groceries this week, let alone something special for the potluck—but his words hit a sore spot nonetheless.

“not that it’s any of your business,” you replied with gritted teeth, meeting his gaze, “but i’ve been a little… preoccupied with other things.”

“oh? too busy for christmas spirit, mrs. grinch?” his smirk softened just a little, but the teasing tone remained. “how tragic. i can’t imagine a holiday without going all out.”

“yeah, well, maybe some of us have other priorities.”

he tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his expression—you could tell he was on the brink of pushing further, maybe digging into what those priorities might be, but before he could, a group of coworkers filed into the room, breaking the tension between you.

after a few hours of emails and spreadsheets, you slipped away for a quick break, heading to the break room.

as you made your way down the hall, you thought about the other expenses coming up—the overdue pharmacy bill, the rent check, and the dozens of smaller costs that added up so fast it felt impossible to keep up.

you’d learned to carry these worries quietly.

no one in the office had ever seen you let your guard down, and you’d grown so used to putting on a brave face that sometimes you believed it yourself.

in the break room, you reached into your bag, pulling out a small protein bar that would have to suffice as lunch.

you barely had time to take a bite before the door swung open, and sunghoon strolled in, his presence instantly filling the small room.

“skipping lunch again?” he asked, nodding at the protein bar in your hand.

you raised an eyebrow. “i could say the same. didn’t peg you for the protein-bar type.”

“oh, please.” he scoffed, moving to grab a coffee pod.

“i just had a massive breakfast. unlike some people, i actually know how to treat myself during the holidays.”

“congrats on the life of luxury,” you muttered, feeling your patience fray.

he chuckled, missing the edge in your voice—or, worse, choosing to ignore it. “well, it’s not for everyone.”

there was something almost infuriating in how casually he threw these little remarks around, as if it were a game.

you often wondered if he had any idea how privileged he sounded or if he was simply so wrapped up in his world that he couldn’t see beyond it.

you hated to admit it, but sometimes his comments stung. deeply.

“you know,” he continued, oblivious, “they’re setting up for the secret santa exchange in the main lobby. you could still join in if you want to spread some christmas cheer.”

you felt the words bubbling up before you could stop them. “not all of us can afford to ‘spread christmas cheer’ the way you do, sunghoon.”

a flicker of confusion crossed his face, and his casual demeanor faltered for a second.

you’d been careful not to reveal much about your personal life, but his relentless teasing had chipped away at your patience.

you could see him trying to piece together what you meant, his smirk fading as he observed you, perhaps noticing the hint of frustration in your expression.

but before he could press further, you gathered your things and left the break room, feeling his eyes on your back as you made your way down the hall.

the week had dragged on, filled with deadlines and holiday preparations you barely had the energy for.

by thursday evening, you’d almost forgotten about the refill you needed at the pharmacy.

but when the notification popped up on your phone—prescription ready for pickup—your stomach twisted.

the monthly pharmacy trip was always a grim reminder of the costs that piled up faster than you could manage.

you entered the pharmacy, still in your work clothes, feeling a familiar combination of dread and fatigue.

the fluorescent lights felt harsh after a long day, casting everything in an unflattering glare.

you waited in line, trying to keep your anxiety at bay, telling yourself that it would be okay.

when you reached the counter, the pharmacist handed over the medication with a sympathetic look.

“i’m sorry, y/n..” she said quietly, glancing down at her screen. “your insurance isn’t covering this anymore. the total comes to… $600.”

the number hit you like a punch. “six hundred?” you echoed, barely able to keep the shock from your voice.

“yes, unfortunately,” she said, her expression softening. “would you like to speak to someone in billing about options?”

you swallowed hard, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

behind you, a couple of people had joined the line, their eyes on you, and you could sense their impatience.

the pressure made it hard to think, and you fumbled for words, barely able to keep from breaking down. “i… i didn’t realize it would be that high.”

your hands trembled as you reached for your wallet, counting bills that would barely make a dent.

you felt the weight of judgment pressing down, and the frustration of the week boiled over into a feeling of helplessness.

in that moment, the walls you’d built so carefully began to crack—suddenly, a familiar voice broke through your thoughts.

“here, i’ve got it.”

you whipped around to see sunghoon, standing just behind you, his expression unreadable.

he held out his card to the cashier, his hand steady, his tone calm. the same calmness you often found infuriating—but now it felt like salt in a wound.

“no!” you blurted, voice louder than you intended. “sunghoon, i don’t need—”

he didn’t look at you, simply held his card out closer to the cashier, who accepted it with a nod.

the transaction beeped through, a small, simple sound that shattered any hope you had of holding onto your pride.

you took a shaky breath, trying to process what had just happened.

the thought of owing sunghoon money—let alone having him swoop in like some hero—made you feel nauseous.

sunghoon handed you the medication bag without a word, his expression unreadable, almost neutral.

but his silence only fueled the resentment bubbling inside you.

“thanks,” you muttered, barely meeting his gaze, gripping the bag tightly in your hands.

as soon as you stepped outside the pharmacy, the freezing winter air hit your face, jolting you back to reality.

sunghoon followed, catching up to you in a few strides.

his voice was calm but edged with something sharper, something you couldn’t quite place.

“you’re welcome, by the way,” he said, a hint of sarcasm coloring his tone.

you stopped abruptly, turning to face him, anger flaring up despite the chill that seeped into your bones.

“i didn’t ask you to help me, sunghoon. i really don’t need your charity.”

he scoffed, crossing his arms. “it’s not charity. i was just helping. or is that too difficult for you to accept?”

the words stung—you looked down, heart racing as you struggled to find the right response.

“you don’t get it. you don’t understand what it’s like to need help,” you said quietly, but there was a weight to your words that hung in the air between you.

sunghoon blinked, surprised by the intensity in your tone.

for a brief second, he seemed taken aback, as if realizing for the first time that there were layers to your life he’d never even thought to consider.

but just as quickly, he recovered, his expression hardening.

“maybe i don’t understand,” he said, voice low. “but i was only trying to be a good friend—you clearly needed my help.”

the word “friend” felt heavy, like it didn’t belong.

you’d spent so much time bickering with him, pushing each other’s buttons, that the idea of friendship felt foreign.

“we were never friends, sunghoon,” you replied, voice barely above a whisper. “not really.”

his face fell, just a fraction, but it was enough for you to see the disappointment in his eyes before he quickly masked it.

he didn’t respond, didn’t argue back. he just stood there, the silence between you filled with unspoken words and simmering emotions.

with a sigh, you turned and walked away, leaving him standing alone under the dim streetlights.

the next morning, you arrived at the office feeling drained, the argument replaying in your mind like a loop you couldn’t escape.

you’d spent the entire night wrestling with guilt, shame, and confusion.

as much as you hated to admit it, sunghoon had only been trying to help.

maybe his actions felt patronizing, but it wasn’t entirely his fault—you hadn’t exactly been forthcoming about your struggles, either.

you spotted him near the coffee station, and your heart thudded in your chest.

he looked up as you approached, his expression carefully blank, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“hey,” you began, feeling uncharacteristically nervous. “about last night… i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

he looked at you for a moment, studying your face, and you felt the tension ease slightly as a hint of a smile softened his expression.

“apology accepted,” he replied, a glimmer of his usual playfulness returning. “besides, if i can’t handle a little yelling, i shouldn’t be hanging around you, should i?”

you laughed, surprised by how much lighter you felt. “guess not.”

for the rest of the morning, there was a shift in the air between you and sunghoon.

it was subtle, but the tension had softened into something different, something… more understanding.

sunghoon seemed to go out of his way to avoid his usual teasing, and you found yourself appreciating the small moments of consideration—like when he quietly handed you a cup of coffee during a long meeting, or when he offered to take on part of a six page report without asking.

a few days later, the two of you were assigned to a client project that required an off-site visit to the city’s holiday market.

the market was bustling with vendors selling everything from handmade ornaments to spiced apple cider, and festive christmas music filled the air as fairy lights wrapped around pine trees twinkled in every direction.

you walked side by side through the crowds, the cold biting at your cheeks, but the festive atmosphere was infectious.

for once, sunghoon’s competitive edge had softened, replaced by a mutual sense of respect that felt unexpectedly natural.

he paused by a stall selling candied nuts, grinning as he handed you a small bag. “try these—they’re amazing.”

the warmth from the roasted nuts seeped into your hands, and you couldn’t help but smile as you tasted one. “not bad,” you admitted, savoring the sweetness.

he watched you with a soft, almost unreadable expression, his eyes warm in the glow of the holiday lights. “see? i knew i could get you into the christmas spirit.”

you rolled your eyes but felt your cheeks heat up, and for once, you couldn’t blame the cold.

“maybe christmas isn’t so bad,” you conceded, though your tone was playful.

you spent the afternoon walking through the market, sharing laughs and stories, with sunghoon’s usual arrogance replaced by a gentle charm that you weren’t familiar with.

there was something tender in the way he looked at you, as if he were seeing you for the first time, and you found yourself stealing glances when he wasn’t looking, wondering if maybe—maybe there was more to him than you’d realized.

the following weeks felt different—lighter, and even with the temperatures dropping even more—it felt unusually warmer.

where there had been tension, there was now an unspoken truce between you and sunghoon.

you’d catch his eye across the room and find a small, almost conspiratorial smile tugging at the corner of his lips, as if he, too, felt this strange new dynamic between you.

sunghoon’s teasing didn’t completely vanish, but it softened, became something that almost felt like an inside joke between the two of you.

and you found yourself… laughing. a lot. his wit was sharp, his timing impeccable, and his presence that you once found insufferable was now strangely comforting.

one snowy december morning, you arrived at your desk to find a small, neatly wrapped box sitting on top of your keyboard.

you looked around, half-expecting to see sunghoon lurking nearby, but he was nowhere in sight.

the gift wasn’t anything fancy—just a small pack of flavored coffee pods with a tiny note attached in his precise handwriting:

“for when the cafeteria coffee just isn’t enough. -s”

a smile spread across your face, and you felt an unexpected warmth bloom in your chest.

you didn’t know what surprised you more—that he’d noticed your disdain for the cafeteria’s bitter coffee, or that he’d gone out of his way to do something about it.

the gesture was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a piece of kindness slipped through his carefully maintained armor.

later that day, when you saw him passing by, you couldn’t help but hold up the box and call out, “you know, bribery is illegal in this office.”

he raised an eyebrow, his lips spreading into a smirk.

“consider it a professional courtesy. can’t have you grumbling about the coffee all day and distracting everyone with your complaints.”

“oh, please,” you shot back, rolling your eyes—but you couldn’t help but laugh, feeling that warmth settle even deeper.

sunghoon was watching you, something soft and thoughtful in his gaze, and for a moment, the whole world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

the holiday season meant long hours at the office, with tight deadlines and clients demanding year-end reports.

you and sunghoon found yourselves frequently the last ones to leave, working side by side in the glow of your computer screens as the office grew quiet around you.

one evening, you’d both stayed late, trying to wrap up a particularly demanding project.

your head was pounding, and you absentmindedly massaged your temples, eyes closed, when you heard the quiet thud of something being set down on your desk.

opening your eyes, you found sunghoon standing there, holding out a cup of tea.

“it’s not coffee,” he said, with a small, awkward smile. “but it’s supposed to help with headaches.”

surprised, you took the cup, feeling your fingers brush his briefly. “thank you,” you murmured, the warmth of the tea seeping through your fingers and into your skin.

you weren’t sure what to make of this new, considerate sunghoon—the same man who once enjoyed riling you up now seemed to be going out of his way to make you feel… cared for.

he didn’t leave, just watched you as you took a sip, his gaze holding a softness that made your heart flutter.

for a moment, you forgot the rivalry, forgot the teasing and the jabs.

all you saw was sunghoon, standing there with a quiet, almost hesitant expression, as if he, too, was trying to understand what was happening between you.

when he finally looked away, clearing his throat awkwardly, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

the silence hung heavy with words left unsaid, and as he walked back to his desk, you felt a strange longing settle in your chest—a longing that surprised and confused you in equal measure.

a week before christmas, the company sent you and sunghoon out to oversee a local holiday event as part of a charity initiative.

the city was sparkling with lights, carols, and people bundled in scarves and coats, laughing and chattering as they browsed the decorated stalls.

snow had started to fall, dusting the sidewalks in soft white powder.

“stick with me,” sunghoon said, giving you a wink as he led the way through the crowd. “we wouldn’t want you to get lost in the holiday rush.”

“oh, please,” you retorted, rolling your eyes—but you fell into step beside him, the easy banter warming you against the chilly air.

you wandered through the market together, occasionally stopping to admire handcrafted ornaments or taste samples of hot peppermint chocolate.

sunghoon even bought you a gingerbread cookie shaped like a snowman, holding it out with a shy grin.

“it’s not much,” he said, as if embarrassed by the simplicity of it.

“it’s perfect,” you replied, surprised by how genuine your own smile felt.

you took a bite, savoring the sweetness, while sunghoon watched you with an expression that made your heart flutter.

as you made your way through the crowd, you felt his hand brush against yours, a barely-there touch that sent a thrill down your spine.

you glanced up at him, half-expecting a smirk, but his expression was serious, his gaze focused on you in a way that made your heart race.

for a few beats, neither of you spoke, the sounds of the bustling market fading into the background.

sunghoon’s gaze held yours, intense and unwavering, and you felt a strange, almost magnetic pull between you.

you didn’t realize how close you were standing until someone bumped into you from behind, breaking the moment.

sunghoon quickly reached out to steady you, his hand firm and reassuring on your arm.

“are you okay?” he asked, his voice a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

you nodded, suddenly hyper-aware of his hand on your arm. “yeah, i’m fine. thanks.”

he didn’t let go right away, and you found yourself leaning into his touch, just for a second, savoring the warmth and closeness.

when he finally released you, his fingers lingered just a moment too long, leaving a tingling warmth in their wake.

as the evening wound down, you found yourselves standing at the edge of the market, watching the snow fall softly around you.

the streetlights casted a dim, yellow warm glow over the scene, and you could see your breath mingling with his in the chilly air.

sunghoon shifted beside you, his expression unreadable. “you know, i never thought we’d actually get along,” he admitted, his tone quiet, almost hesitant.

“me neither,” you replied, feeling a strange, bittersweet ache in your chest. “guess it took the holidays to bring out the best in us.”

he chuckled softly, but there was something melancholy in his smile. “maybe. or maybe it just took us actually… seeing each other.”

the words hung heavy in the air, their meaning lingering between you.

for the first time, you realized that he hadn’t just been teasing you all those months—maybe he’d been reaching out, trying to connect in the only way he knew how.

and maybe… maybe you’d been doing the same.

the snow continued to fall, soft and silent, as you stood together in a moment that felt suspended in time.

the following monday, you walked into the office to find an unusual hyper buzz in the air.

coworkers were whispering, exchanging knowing looks, and as you made your way to your desk, you could feel their curious glances following you.

“what’s going on?” you finally asked one of your coworkers, trying to ignore the strange, uneasy feeling building in your stomach.

your coworker glanced at you, clearly excited to spill the news. “oh, didn’t you hear? sunghoon’s engaged! his family announced it over the weekend. isn’t that amazing?”

the words hit you like a slap—for a moment, you could only stare, the world tilting around you as the reality sank in.

engaged. park sunghoon was… engaged?

somehow, you managed to keep your composure, nodding along and murmuring something that sounded like congratulations.

but inside, you felt like your heart had been stepped on and crushed into a thousand pieces.

you hadn’t even realized how much he’d come to mean to you until that moment, until the possibility of him slipping out of your life loomed in front of you.

the warmth, the stolen glances, the lingering touches—they all felt like illusions now, shattered by the cold reality of his engagement.

and as the days passed, you found yourself pulling away, avoiding him, unable to face the ache that had settled in your chest.

you convinced yourself it was for the best, that distancing yourself would make it easier.

but each time you caught a glimpse of him—sitting at his desk, laughing with a coworker, or glancing your way with a confused expression—the pain flared, sharp and unyielding.

the annual company christmas party was an elaborate affair held at a high-end hotel ballroom, decked out with garlands, chandeliers wrapped in fairy lights, and a massive christmas tree in the center of the room.

you arrived alone, shivering as the chilly air picked at your bare arms—nerves prickling as you took in the festive crowd of coworkers mingling, laughing, and toasting to the holiday season.

you’d done your best to dress up, but an unmistakable heaviness clung to you—the weight of sunghoon’s engagement lingered, even after avoiding him—you couldn’t escape the haunting of park sunghoon.

you hadn’t spoken to him in days, going out of your way to avoid his attempts to talk.

he’d noticed, of course. the confused glances, the way his brow furrowed when he caught sight of you hurrying out of a room—those small, unspoken moments were like daggers, deepening the ache in your chest.

it hurt more than you’d thought possible, this distance, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to face him.

tonight, the ballroom was filled with the sounds of holiday classics, the gentle clinking of glasses, and the murmur of cheerful conversations.

you pushed your way through the crowd, greeting coworkers and accepting the occasional compliment, but your mind kept wandering, searching for him against your better judgment.

when you finally saw him, standing near the christmas tree in a tailored dark suit, your heart twisted painfully.

he looked… incredible, polished and confident as always, but there was something else in his eyes—a tension, a restlessness that you couldn’t place.

he was surrounded by a small group of colleagues, but he seemed distracted, his gaze scanning the room as if looking for someone.

you turned quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed you, and tried to lose yourself in the crowd.

but even as you made small talk with your coworkers, your attention kept drifting back to him, your heart stubbornly refusing to let go.

at some point in the evening, the lights dimmed, and the band began playing a slow, romantic melody.

a coworker you barely knew approached you, a friendly smile on his face as he offered his hand. “care for a dance?”

the last thing you wanted was to be dragged onto the dance floor, but the thought of standing alone, surrounded by the sight of happy couples, felt worse.

you accepted, letting him guide you to the center of the room.

the music was soft and gentle, filling the room like a quiet whisper—your dance partner was polite, talking amiably as you swayed to the music, but you barely heard a word he said.

your gaze drifted, unbidden, toward sunghoon. he was watching you, his expression hidden in shadow, but you could see the pain in his eyes—a pain that mirrored your own.

for a moment, everything else faded away.

the ballroom, the music, the dozens of people around you—all of it blurred into the background as you met his gaze.

it was a single, suspended moment, one that hung heavy with all the things left unsaid, all the secrets you’d kept bottled up.

sunghoon’s expression was raw, his eyes shining with an intensity that left you breathless.

he looked… devastated, as if the sight of you dancing with someone else was tearing him apart.

a flicker of hope sparked in your heart, but you quickly quashed it, reminding yourself that he was engaged.

and yet… the look in his eyes felt so real, so heartbreakingly genuine, that you almost believed he cared as deeply as you did.

when the song ended, you quickly excused yourself from your dance partner, feeling suddenly overwhelmed.

you retreated to the side of the room, fighting to steady your breath as you chugged a glass of champagne, all while trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you.

moments later, the ceo stepped up to the front of the room, tapping the microphone and quieting the crowd.

he began his speech, thanking everyone for their hard work and loyalty over the past year, his words filled with the usual corporate platitudes.

you listened half-heartedly, your mind elsewhere, still reeling from the intensity of sunghoon’s gaze.

as the ceo’s speech drew to a close, he turned to sunghoon with a broad smile.

“and of course, we can’t end this night without congratulating our very own park sunghoon on his recent engagement!”

a round of applause erupted, and all eyes turned to sunghoon—he stood there, looking cornered, his face a mix of frustration and anguish as he glanced out at the crowd, clearly uncomfortable with the attention.

his gaze flicked to you for just a moment, but it was enough for you to see the raw emotion in his eyes—the pain, the longing, and something deeper, something desperate.

the applause began to fade, and an uncomfortable silence settled over the room as everyone waited for him to respond.

you held your breath, watching as he took a deep, steadying breath and then lifted his head, his gaze sweeping over the crowd before finally resting on you.

“i… i have something to say,” he began, his voice trembling just slightly, though he tried to mask it with a steady, confident tone. “my parents may have announced an engagement, but i… i can’t go through with it.”

a collective gasp rippled through the crowd, murmurs breaking out as people exchanged shocked glances.

sunghoon held his ground, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt your heart pounding wildly, your entire body frozen as his words sank in.

“i can’t go through with it,” he continued, his voice stronger now, filled with a conviction that made your chest ache. “because… because i’m in love with someone else.”

his words echoed in the silence, hanging in the air like a confession to the whole world—the room was utterly still, every eye fixed on him, but he seemed oblivious to them all, focused solely on you.

your breath caught, and you felt a wave of shock and disbelief wash over you, mingled with a wild, desperate hope.

sunghoon took a step closer towards you, his eyes filled with an intensity that left you breathless.

“i’m in love with you, y/n. i’ve been so in love with you—for longer than i want to admit.”

the entire room was staring now, but all you could see was him.

your heart raced, your mind whirling as you struggled to process what he’d just said—part of you wanted to run, to escape the weight of all those eyes on you, but another part, a larger part, wanted nothing more than to close the distance between you and let yourself fall into his arms.

but it was all too much—the crowd, the confession, the overwhelming emotions crashing over you like a tidal wave.

without another word, you turned and fled, pushing your way through the stunned crowd, your heart pounding as you made your way outside.

the cold air hit you like a slap, shocking your senses and grounding you just enough to keep you from collapsing under the weight of it all.

you were barely halfway down the steps when you heard footsteps behind you.

“y/n! wait!”

you turned to see sunghoon jogging after you, his face pale, eyes wide with worry.

he reached for you, but you took a step back, shaking your head, barely able to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over.

“why did you do that, sunghoon?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “why did you have to say all that in front of everyone?”

he looked at you, desperation etched into every line of his face. “because i couldn’t keep it inside anymore,” he said, his voice raw, broken. “i couldn’t pretend. not when… not when all i want is you.”

you shook your head, struggling to keep your composure. “you don’t understand. you can’t just… say things like that, sunghoon. you’re engaged—your family…”

“i don’t care about any of that!” he interrupted, his voice rising. “i don’t care about the engagement, the expectations, any of it. none of it matters if i can’t be with you.”

his words hung heavy in the air, and you felt your defenses crumbling, piece by piece.

but the fear, the uncertainty, was still there, clawing at you, refusing to let you give in.

“i don’t need your pity,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. “i don’t want you to feel sorry for me.”

he looked at you, hurt flashing in his eyes. “this isn’t pity, y/n. i’m not trying to save you. i just… i just want to be with you.”

for a moment, you stood there, the silence between you filled with all the things left unsaid.

and then, before he could say anything more, you turned and walked away, the tears finally spilling over as you slipped into the cab and closed the door, leaving him standing there alone in the falling snow.

the next morning, you woke with a heavy heart, the memory of last night replaying in your mind.

you felt raw, vulnerable, and yet, there was a faint glimmer of hope buried beneath the ache—a hope that maybe, this was real.

your thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at your door.

you rose, heart pounding, and opened it to find sunghoon standing there, holding a bouquet of flowers, his eyes red-rimmed as if he hadn’t slept.

you’d expected sunghoon to be at the door, waiting with an apology or a question—but you hadn’t expected him to look so vulnerable.

his usual confidence was gone, replaced by a rawness that mirrored everything you’d felt since the night before.

the bouquet he held was a mix of wildflowers and holiday greenery—red berries and sprigs of pine woven among soft white flowers that stood out against the darkness of the early morning.

when you finally took the bouquet from his hands, your fingers brushed his, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

the simple touch said everything words hadn’t—the apology, the relief, and maybe most of all, the overwhelming sense of rightness that you couldn’t ignore any longer.

the silence stretched, each of you looking at the other, feeling the weight of all that had come before and the fragile hope for what might come next.

he looked at you, eyes searching your face with a hesitance that felt new, uncertain.

“y/n…” he began, his voice soft, each syllable filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard before.

“i know last night was… overwhelming. and i’m sorry if i put you on the spot, but i meant every single word.”

you felt your heart flutter, the sincerity in his gaze unshakable—he looked at you as if you were something precious, something he’d been waiting his whole life to hold close.

and that look, filled with quiet awe and devotion, undid every defense you’d carefully built over the years.

“i was afraid to believe it,” you whispered, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “i was so afraid that this would all be some fleeting thing for you. that i’d just be another distraction.”

his brows knit together in disbelief, and he reached up, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek.

“a distraction?” he murmured, a trace of pain in his voice. “y/n, you’re the only person i’ve ever been able to be… real with. you see me—beyond my name, beyond the expectations. i didn’t know how much i needed that until i met you.”

for a moment, you just looked at him, feeling the weight of his words settle over you like a warm blanket.

every snide comment, every misunderstanding, every late night spent working together—each memory replayed in your mind, and suddenly, it all made sense.

what you’d shared wasn’t just rivalry or convenience; it had been the start of something deeper, something real.

“i’ve wanted to hear that for so long,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “i just… i couldn’t admit it, not even to myself.”

a slow, relieved smile spread across his face, and he took a step closer, pulling you into a gentle hug. his arms wrapped around you, holding you close in a way that felt so natural, as if you’d been made to fit there.

he smelled faintly of cedar and pine, a comforting, earthy scent that made you feel warm and safe.

you could feel his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, grounding you as everything else melted away.

“then stay with me,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “stay with me, y/n. i’ll prove to you that this is real. that i’m all in.”

you pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty.

but all you saw was unwavering devotion, a promise he seemed ready to carry for as long as you needed.

“i love you, sunghoon,” you said, feeling the words roll off your tongue, soft and unrestrained, like a sigh of relief after holding your breath for too long.

“i think… i’ve loved you for a long time. even when i couldn’t admit it, even when you drove me crazy.”

a soft laugh escaped him, and he looked at you with an expression filled with wonder, as if he, too, had been waiting his whole life to hear those words.

“i never thought i’d hear you say that,” he whispered, his voice thick with admiration and softness.

“neither did i,” you admitted, your smile mirroring his.

he leaned down, cupping your face with gentle hands as he closed the small distance between you.

his lips met yours in a kiss that was soft, warm, and filled with the quiet certainty that this was where you were meant to be.

the world around you faded, leaving only the warmth of his embrace and the lingering taste of his kiss.

the weeks that followed felt like a dream.

for the first time, you let yourself enjoy the simplicity of being with him, unburdened by the anxieties that had once kept you apart.

sunghoon’s presence became a comfort, a steady warmth that you found yourself relying on more and more.

with christmas only a few days away, he insisted on taking you to a secluded cabin his family owned, nestled in a quiet of a forest just outside the city.

when you arrived, snow covered the ground in a perfect blanket, undisturbed and glistening under the faint light of a winter sunset.

the cabin was charmingly rustic, decorated with fairy lights and pine wreaths, and a cozy fire crackled in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a comforting warmth.

sunghoon stood behind you as you both took in the view, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

“welcome to our first tradition,” he murmured, his voice soft and filled with warmth.

“our first tradition?” you echoed, a smile playing on your lips.

he nodded, pulling you closer. “i want to spend every christmas with you. just like this—peaceful, just us. no crowds, no expectations. just you, me, and… maybe a cup of hot chocolate.”

you laughed, turning in his arms to face him. “i could get used to that.”

he smiled, reaching up to brush a snowflake from your hair—the gesture was so tender, so filled with quiet adoration, that your heart swelled with love for him all over again.

“let’s go inside,” he said, taking your hand. “there’s something i want to show you.”

you followed him into the cabin, where he led you to a small table by the window.

on it was a simple, carefully wrapped box with a red ribbon tied around it—he handed it to you, his eyes warm and expectant.

you opened the box to find a small, delicate charm bracelet with a single charm—a tiny snowflake, etched in silver.

it sparkled under the dim light, catching the glow from the fire.

“it’s beautiful, hoon..” you whispered, touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift.

he reached out, clasping it around your wrist with a soft smile. “i wanted something that would remind you of this moment. of us.”

your throat tightened, and you looked up at him, feeling an overwhelming wave of gratitude and love.

he’d given you so much more than a gift—he’d given you a promise, a quiet assurance that he was in this for the long haul.

“thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “merry christmas, y/n.”

as you stood there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the snow began to fall outside, blanketing the world in a peaceful, serene quiet.

the warmth of the cabin, the gentle crackling of the fire, and the soft glow of fairy lights filled the space, making it feel like you were in your own little world.

and in that moment, you realized that everything you’d gone through—every argument, every misunderstanding, every long, quiet night spent wondering what could have been—had all been worth it.

because it had led you here, to this moment, to him.

the rest of the night was spent in quiet conversation, sharing dreams and hopes for the future as you watched the snow fall outside.

you talked about everything and nothing, feeling the joy of being together without any walls between you.

the future was a blank canvas, filled with endless possibilities, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to picture it—each memory, each holiday, painted with sunghoon by your side.

as the night drew to a close, you found yourself drifting off to sleep in his arms, the fire casting soft shadows across the room, wrapping you both in warmth.

sunghoon’s heartbeat was a steady lullaby, soothing and constant, and you let yourself sink into the comfort of it, knowing that this was only the beginning.

and as you closed your eyes, a single thought lingered, filling you with a quiet, profound happiness—

you were finally home.

© WON4KISS 2024 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

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[hooked-on-elvis]

🥹 This song will always be my happy place. 🩵🤍🩷

[aconflagrationofmyown]

So…so would you? Even in the Oval Office? Should I write about it in the oval office?

i’ve never wanted anyone more 🥵

[loveinhawkins]

It’s Dustin who saves Eddie.

He doesn’t try and carry him back to the trailer, nothing like that—if he could manage that on determination alone, then he would, but his throbbing leg has other ideas.

So he stays by Eddie’s side. Throws off his hoodie and starts to rip any piece of his clothing that he can, because he’s come a long way from when he once stuck bandaids on Steve’s beaten up face.

“What… what are you doing?” Eddie says in between gasping breaths.

Dustin would laugh if he wasn’t so scared. “Buying more time,” he echoes. Then he looks Eddie right in the eye and adds, voice wavering, “I’m really fucking sorry in advance.”

He takes a deep breath and presses the material to Eddie’s chest with force.

Eddie screams.

Dustin grits his teeth. Keeps going.

He creates makeshift tourniquets for Eddie’s arms, keeps tearing at his shirt, then takes it off entirely to use as a larger bandage, ignoring the shock of cold against his skin; the only thought in his head is that he has to stop the bleeding.

Eddie’s hand finds his bare shoulder. Squeezes weakly. “Tha’s enough,” he slurs. “D-Dustin, stop.”

And Dustin only does what he says because it doesn’t look like any more blood is soaking through the material. He keeps pressure on the worst of the wounds, tries to keep his elbows locked, as if that will stop his relentless shivering.

And when he looks up, he sees a tear fall from Eddie’s eye, down his temple, into his hair—and Dustin somehow knows that it’s not from pain alone, that Eddie’s crying just because he can see how cold he is.

“M’sorry,” Eddie whispers. “Never meant for… for you to—”

“Shut up,” Dustin says, then hastily amends, “Actually, don’t shut up, just—just stay awake. They’ll be back soon, okay, Steve and Robin and Nancy, and they’ll—”

“Steve,” Eddie agrees. His voice goes up and down, like a little song: “Steve, Steve, Steve.”

“Yeah, he’ll—hey, Eddie, eyes open.”

“Mm-hmm,” Eddie says faintly. “Eyes… oh, forgot to… you were right, H-Henderson, he’s… a badass. S’got pretty eyes, too, like wow. Pretty, pretty…”

And…

Well. That’s a development.

“You can tell me all about Steve’s pretty eyes if you keep yours open.”

And Eddie’s eyes do jolt open at that, like he’s received an electric shock. He groans in mortification.

“Jesus Christ. Didn’t mean to—fuck, feel like I’m drunk, man, I can’t… just kill me.”

Dustin thinks he probably would have found that request funny if Eddie wasn’t saying it through teeth flecked with blood.

Still, he does let out a strangled, hysterical giggle when he says, “I know how to keep you awake now.”

Eddie groans again. “Spare me the—”

“He sings in the shower, like, full blown Elvis impression, all that jazz. And he denies having lucky socks, but he wears the same pair whenever Lucas has a basketball game.”

“Huh?” Eddie says eloquently.

“Pay attention, dude, you need to know what you’re getting into! Oh, he said when he went to see The Fox and the Hound, he cried.”

Eddie chuckles. “That’s… oh, that’s sweet.” He smiles, eyes bright, and Dustin suddenly knows that they’re gonna be okay. “Keep going?”

Dustin does. He talks about how Steve always says, “Two for joy,” even when he sees a singular magpie, because he reasons that the second one is always just hiding. How he eats ice-cream too fast, does a comical hop in place when he inevitably gets brain freeze. That whenever he happens to pick up Dustin from school, he almost always has a Simon and Garfunkel tape playing, sings along to At the Zoo as he turns out of the parking lot.

Dustin doesn’t mention the Farrah Fawcett spray; a promise is a promise.

Eddie seems pretty damn well entertained with what he’s been given, anyway. He keeps smiling, lets out breathy chuckles that give Dustin hope: that he still has enough energy to laugh.

“Okay, okay, I’m awake,” he says, “I’m so awake, jus’… you just relax.”

And it’s only when Dustin stops talking that he realises his teeth have been chattering the whole time.

Eddie gives an unhappy sounding hum, and his hand comes up to clumsily rub at Dustin’s forearm.

“Your lips are blue.”

“I’m f-fine.”

A sudden desperate yell splits through the air; Dustin didn’t know that Steve could sound quite like that.

“Here!” Dustin shouts as much as he can.

He hears three people running; Steve gets there first.

Eddie’s eyes go wide. “Steve,” he says, and Dustin’s seen enough movies to think that this could be it, the big moment, or at the very least that Eddie’s about to give another wandering speech on Steve’s eyes.

But instead—

“Steve, Steve,” Eddie repeats, “Dustin’s cold.”

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says; he’s already taking off his jacket, shoving Dustin into it with this frantic mixture of urgency and care.

Dustin’s shivers get even more pronounced as the jacket’s zipped up, as the warmth from Steve’s body heat hits him.

“Think E-Eddie’s—b-bleeding stopped,” he says, accidentally biting on his tongue thanks to his chattering teeth.

Steve looks over Dustin’s handiwork, eyes shining. “Yeah, you did good,” he says, choked, rubs his hands down Dustin’s forearms more effectually than Eddie had. “You did so good.”

“You must’ve been wearing your socks tonight, Harrington,” Eddie says.

Steve stares at him. It’s only when he starts to laugh that Dustin realises he’s crying at the same time. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Shh, s’okay,” Eddie says. “I cried at th’movie, too, don’ tell anyone. S’not fair what… s’posed to be a happy endin’…”

Steve catches Dustin’s eye, says, deadpan, even with a tear-streaked face, “Doc, I think we’re losing him.”

Dustin whacks him on the arm, because it’s so stupid, it’s so Steve, and, God, they're really gonna be okay.

“Dustin’s th’best doctor,” Eddie chants, “best, best, best…”

“Yeah, he’s a goddamn superhero,” Steve says sincerely.

There’s a look Steve has on his face while he lifts Eddie up, a fleeting softness right before he goes back into planning mode, scanning the trailer park in case of any more threats; where Eddie’s fingers curl around Steve’s neck, and Steve smiles down at him, and…

Dustin would put a bet on Steve thinking Eddie has pretty eyes, too.

At least, he would if he could stand up.

When Steve clocks his leg, his jaw works a couple of times before he speaks. “Hey, Robin, Nance?” He raises his voice, looking to some point in the distance. “Could you—help Dustin up, I’ve—uh, kinda got my hands full.”

His tone is light, but his chin trembles just a bit, like he might break down at the thought that he can’t carry Dustin out of here, too.

“Okay, c’mon superhero,” Robin says, suddenly by Dustin’s side; she counts down, and then Dustin’s being carefully lifted up, an arm flung around Nancy, too.

“I’m okay,” Dustin feels the need to say. Robin and Nancy are out of breath, and he can’t help noticing the vivid red marks around their necks.

“Yeah, you will be,” Robin corrects.

“Is—is Eddie—?”

“Look, he’s right in front,” Nancy says. “Steve’s got him.” She lowers her voice and when she says, “You were really brave, you know,” Dustin has to swallow a lump in his throat: for a moment feels thirteen years old, her hand in his at the Snow Ball.

And she’s right; Eddie is right in front. Dustin can see him trailing a hand up and down Steve’s arm, slow and soothing, and he’s talking, just too far away to be heard.

For a few steps, Dustin thinks that Eddie must be spilling more of what he’s learned, regurgitating the anecdotes.

But then Robin and Nancy pull him a little closer. And he can read Eddie’s lips.

He’s okay, Eddie is saying, looking away from Steve’s face to find where Dustin is. He’s right behind us, sweetheart. He’s okay.

[bradshawssugarbaby]

Can’t Help Falling In Love - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: -> When your newborn daughter can't sleep one night, Bradley knows just what to do.

A/N: Here’s a little blurb I did for @ohtobeleah’s Galentine’s Day challenge 🩷 This song is one that I sang/sing to my own baby, so I felt really inspired to just write some wholesome fluff with Bradley as a new dad singing it to his baby, and his wife 🩷

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x fem! reader

warnings/content: sickly sweet fluff with Bradley as a new dad and being romantic.

word count: 1k

“Shall I stay, would it be a sin, if I can’t help falling in love with you?”

You padded down the hallway to where the sound of your husband’s soft, melodic voice was echoing from. You entered your infant daughter’s room and smiled softly as you saw Bradley cradling baby Sawyer in his arms, humming softly to her as he kissed her head. You stood in the doorway, leaning against the wooden frame as you looked on, Bradley none the wiser as you watched him comfort your baby.

“Take my hand, take my whole life too, for I can’t help falling in love with you.”

Bradley shut his eyes delicately as he held Sawyer’s tiny body close to his chest, continuing to hum the notes of his favorite Elvis song in a soft, hushed tone as he rocked back and forth in an effort to lull his sweet girl to sleep. Bradley turned towards the door and opened his eyes to see you. His expression softened, melting into a sweet, content smile, his amber coloured eyes gazing at you from behind his thick, dark eyelashes that you’d always been envious of.

“Hi honey, sorry, Sawyer didn’t wanna go down, was just tryin’ to sing her to sleep. My mom used to sing this to me when I was a kid, she always swore it worked. Guess my dad used to sing it too,” Bradley huffed a soft, melancholic sigh as he thought back to his own father and how he had so little to remember him by, having passed just a month after Bradley turned two.

“It was sweet, I love hearing you sing,” you murmured quietly as you cozied up to Bradley’s side, smiling softly while you pressed your lips against his cheek in a tender, loving kiss.

“I think Sawyer likes hearing me too, she settled right down while I was singing to her.”

“That’s because you’re soothing her. She loves you and loves the sound of your voice, feeling you hold her close, it makes her feel safe.”

“It does?”

“Mhmm, you bet it does.”

Bradley smiled proudly as he glanced over at you, still hugging Sawyer close to his bare chest. Stroking her back gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead once again, gently kissing her as she snored softly. His pajama pants hung low on his waist, his toned, tan skin dotted with freckles. He never slept with a t-shirt on to begin with, but the minute he read that letting a newborn sleep on your bare chest was beneficial to the baby, he started to forgo wearing one at home at all. He dove all in, head first, the moment he found out you were pregnant, determined to be the kind of father his dad would be proud of, the kind of father his dad would have been if he’d had a chance to do it for more than two years.

Baby and parenting books had begun appearing throughout your home shortly after you’d told him, multiplying slowly, one by one as they began to collect on the shelf, magazines about raising children suddenly coming in the form of subscriptions to your door on a monthly basis. Bradley had begun coming home from a day of training, spouting off new ideas for names, suggesting whatever he heard or came across that day. He was as involved as anyone could hope for, his determination to be someone who made you proud, made his baby proud, and would have made his parents proud serving as a driving force to motivate him. On one occasion, you came home from spending a day out in the city to find every piece of nursery furniture perfectly assembled, waiting for your direction as to where you wanted it placed. As nervous as Bradley was about making you proud, there was never a single doubt in your mind about it - he was meant to be an excellent father, just like he was meant to be an excellent pilot. It was just who he was.

Bradley gently laid Sawyer down to sleep in her crib, smiling down at her as she stirred for a second, holding his breath as he hoped she stayed sleeping. As she continued to snore softly, he exhaled, relieved she was still sound asleep. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling your body in close to his as you both watched Sawyer in complete awe, almost unable to believe something so small and sweet could have come from either of you.

“Now, Mrs. Bradshaw, we’ve forgotten something important about today,” he whispered softly, stroking your hair as he tucked it behind your ear, his touch delicate and gentle.

“Hmm?”

“Valentine’s Day. We forgot it. I didn’t even remember to bring flowers home for you.”

“We did? Are you sure?”

“Positive. February 14th.”

You stifled a laugh as you shook your head, smiling at Bradley as he showed you today’s date on his phone screen. He kissed your forehead gently, his lips hovering for a moment as he hummed.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“There’s no need. Sawyer’s a pretty great Valentine’s Day gift.”

“She’s two months old, hun, I don’t think you having our baby counts as your gift.”

“Sure she does. You just gave her to me a little early.”

“More like you gave her to me. I didn’t do much.”

You extended your hand out to stroke Bradley’s cheek fondly, beaming as your eyes met his.

“You gave me her. Without you, I wouldn’t have Sawyer. And I wouldn’t have a loving, wonderful husband either. And, I wouldn’t get to hear you sing all the time.”

“Oh, you like the singing?” Bradley smirked, playfully whispering as he led you out of the room, pulling the door closed quietly behind you.

“I do, in fact.”

“Well then, honey—“ Bradley began before taking a breath and beginning to sing once more.

“Wise men say, ‘only fools rush in’, but I can’t help, falling in love with you.”

[lustnhim]

‘ grown. ‘ — elvis x fem! reader

note: requested + elvis is a family friend / warnings: MDNI, p in v sex, loss of virginity, risk of being caught, pervy elvis, oral m-receiving, inconspicuous touching, elvis kinda coerces reader, panty stealing elvis cause its my fav, prob typos. / summary:  your dad and elvis are really close friends so when elvis invited your whole family over to graceland for the 100th time, you didn’t expect much more than another boring evening

“Now I want you to be on your best behavior while we’re here.” Your mother said, looking at you from the rearview mirror. Scoffing, you kept your gaze fixed out the window, watching the passing trees. “I always am. You don’t have to tell me that everytime we go over.” You say, causing your father to chime in too. “Honey, your mother doesn't mean anything by it, we know you’re a good kid.” Shaking your head gently you let out a soft sigh, “And I ain’t a kid anymore.” You said under your breath, knowing that they probably heard you anyway.

As your family pulled into Graceland for what felt like the hundredth time, your eyes wandered the familiar landscape. You couldn't help but feel a tinge of boredom, despite the grandeur of Elvis' estate. His house was huge, much bigger than yours, but you had been in every room a gazillion times– It was nothing exciting anymore. A familiar figure approached your car as you got out; Elvis Presley, your dad's old buddy, was dressed a black shirt with a flowered pattern and black pants, he looked a little bit different since you last seen him- but then again that was a few months ago so he couldn’t have changed that much. Elvis brought your father into a hug and shook his hand before turning to your mother who he kissed promptly on her cheek. Your mother fussed over Elvis, babbling about how great it was to see him again. He flashed his million-dollar smile, a sign he was glad to see her too.The three talked a bit as they walked to the front door before he turned around, his piercing gaze seemed to linger on you for a moment longer than usual, making you feel a bit uneasy. “I’m sorry Darlin’ I ain’t even talked to you yet.” He said, walking over to you a strange smile on his face. “My, my…how you’ve grown.” He said, causing you to cringe a bit internally. “It’s only been a few months since we last came over-” You replied, laughing nervously. Pulling you into a hug which lasted a few moments too long he pulled away before walking back inside. 

You noticed a few other men who were all sitting in the living room which you recognized as his “Memphis Mafia”, you followed behind your parents and Elvis as he led them to the backyard. The aroma of BBQ filled the air, and laughter echoed as children played around. You meandered to find a spot to relax while your family talked to Elvis. You watched as the men from the Living Room slowly pooled outside. You noticed a few of them taking short glances at you making you feel a little nervous.Your father motioned you over and reluctantly you got up and walked over to the group of men he was speaking to. “My daughter here graduated high school not too long ago, top of her class too!” Your father bragged, pulling you close to him in an awkward side hug. You listened as the men all said their own praises to you, words of ‘congratulations’ and ‘good jobs’ but you noticed Elvis was staying oddly silent. Once your father started talking about other things you silently excused yourself back to your chair away from everyone else. 

You stayed away from the crowd as much as you could, hiding behind your sunglasses you couldn’t help but feel eyes on you most of the time. “Honey! Food’s ready!” You heard your mother call out, setting food on a table under a canopy as the other women scrambled to get their kids to sit down. Walking to the table you took a seat towards the end, your mother placing a plate of a burger and some chips in front of you. You looked around and saw everyone else getting their food, and you nibbled on some chips silently before you heard a gentle sigh and some scuffling beside of you. It was Elvis, sitting his plate down and smiling at you gently. “Well hello there stranger.” He teased, as your mother and father sat across from the two of you. “Been awfully distant today,” he said, taking a bite of one of his burgers. “Ah, yeah- Just tired.” You responded a bit dryly. “Pay her no mind, Elvis…she’s moody.” Your mother said, shooting you a look. 

As you ate in silence, your parents, Elvis and a few of the men all engaged in conversation, talking about music, family, politics and everything in between. You dissociated a bit, not really paying attention till you felt something against your thigh. A quick, fleeting touch, but one that made you jump. Looking down at your legs you noticed Elvis’ hand laid awfully close to your leg. You looked up at Elvis who was smiling, staring at you parents who talked his ear off about any old thing. Excusing it as just an accident you continued eating, but more tuned in this time. It wasn't long before you felt it again, this time it wasn’t just a graze of his fingers, his hand was resting on your thigh. You tried not to move too much, acting like you didn’t notice, but you felt his thumb drawing circles on your skin. Your face flushed as you tried to grab your drink, almost spilling it in the process. “Watch out!” Your father warmed, catching the drink before it spilled. “Sorry!” You replied, cursing yourself. You heard Elvis chuckle, his hand squeezing your thigh under the table.You winced internally, trying to play it cool as your heart raced. For a moment, all you could hear was the beat of your heart. You focused on the conversation at the table, hoping Elvis would give up and stop. You took a deep breath as your father started to joke about something, the entire table laughing, including Elvis. When the laughter died down, you felt his hand slide up your thigh, under the table, creeping closer to your core. Your eyes widened, and you froze, unsure of what to do. 

Just as his middle finger brushed against your panties causing your chair to scrape against the grass. "Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom," you said, feeling the heat in your cheeks. Your parents looked at you curiously, but Elvis merely smiled, raising an eyebrow suggestively. You didn't look back as you walked away, your heart pounding harder with every step. You couldn’t believe what was happening, you rushed into the house and went to the bathroom. Looking at your face in the mirror, god. You were blushing like crazy…your body shook a bit as you turned on the sink, splashing a bit of water on your face to try and fight the warmth that ran through your body. Wiping your face off you heard a knock at the door causing you to jump. “Yeah?” You called out, your heart rate quickening. “It’s me…” The voice said, and you felt your legs grow weak. “Elvis?” You asked and you heard a small laugh from the other side. “Yes, Darlin’...I think you and I need to talk…just the two of us.” You hesitated, not knowing what to do or even say, what would he want to talk about anyways? You took a deep breath before opening the bathroom door, seeing Elvis face to face. “Okay.” You said plainly, making him smile. “M’kay honey.” He said, moving away from the doorframe, allowing you to walk out. He placed his hand on your lower back as he led you through the house to the empty living room. The sounds of laughter and the chatter of the party faded away, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. 

Elvis led you to a plush sofa, arranging you to sit on the edge while he positioned himself beside you. His hands rested gently on his knees, smiling at you he let out a soft groan. "I wanted to say sorry...." He started, his tongue flicking across his lips nervously. “I- I watched you grow up n’ Lord knows how guilt I feel for….thinkin’ about you.” Elvis confessed and you shifted nervously on the couch, something about his tone, his voice wasn’t genuine. “You’ve grown into a beautiful woman…and I- I don’t think I can help myself around you.” You tried to respond, tried to say anything but you couldn't find the words. You didn’t know how you felt. You didn’t know what you wanted. God knows you thought he was handsome, but something felt…wrong. “E-Elvis I don’t know what to say…” You finally managed to say, fiddling with the hem of your dress nervously.” Elvis leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "You don't need to say anything, darlin'. Just let me show you how much I want you." As he spoke, Elvis reached out and cupped your cheek, pulling you closer to him. His lips met yours in a passionate kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth as his other hand slipped under your dress, finding its way to your core. You gasped into the kiss, your hand pushing at his chest gently– unsure of what to do. You felt yourself involuntarily melt into the kiss, your hand sliding down his chest to his lap. Easing yourself into the kiss you felt his hands snake up the back of your dress, rubbing your back before snapping the back of your bra off with ease. Pulling away he smiled, “Atta girl.” He said, sliding your bra off from under your dress. Guiding your hand to his crotch, his erection pressing against your palm, you cupped it gently. “Get down on the floor honey…on your knees.” He said, leading you gently down between his legs. "Look so good…" he whispered huskily.

You looked into his eyes and began to unbutton his pants. Elvis helped you out, freeing his length from his boxers. He was larger than what you expected, making you hesitate. "Don't worry, baby," he said, stroking your hair. "Just put it in your mouth.. We gotta hurry, don’t wantcha daddy to see his only daughter down on her knees" His words sent a jolt down your spine. You hesitated for a moment longer before wrapping your lips around the head of his cock, looking up at him he urged you to go deeper. Taking his cock into your mouth you struggled to fit most of it- feeling his hand grip your hair he moaned as you began to bob your head, your hand gripping his base. Elvis's thrusts became more urgent, his hand tightening in your hair, urging you to take in more of his length. The sound of his desperate moans filling the room. "That's it, baby... take it all," he encouraged you. You found yourself glancing at the doorway, hoping and praying no one would catch the two of you. Elvis groaned, his grip on your hair tightening. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum…" he warned you, his voice hoarse. In a moment, his release flooded your mouth, the warm sensation spreading throughout as he filled you. The orgasm sent waves of pleasure through him, and he pulled out of your mouth, letting you catch your breath. Small bits of cum dribbled out of your mouth, wiping it gently you looked up at him, his still semi-hard cock twitching gently. “Take off your pannies’ honey.” Elvis ordered, licking his lips and stroking himself lightly. 

You struggled to stand, your legs wobbly but you managed to get to your feet. Lifting your dress a bit and sliding off your underwear, you felt the wetness between your legs almost immediately begin to pool onto your inner thighs. Embarrassed, you stood there, your dress raised and your cunt exposed. Letting out a shaky whimper Elvis smirked, moving over to make room for you on the couch. “Come lay down, sweetheart.”  You did as you were told, laying back on the couch as Elvis positioned himself between your legs,your dress pulled up to your chin. "Legs up, darlin', spread 'em wide for me." He demanded, and you obliged, hooking your ankles together, giving him full access to your wet, aching pussy. You looked away in embarrassment as he ran his fingers gently across your swollen clit. “You a virgin?” He asked, and you nodded. You watch as his smile grows wider. "Fuck, you're so ready for me." He said, rubbing the head of his cock over your swollen lips, teasing you. Without warning, he thrust himself inside, filling you in one smooth motion. You gasped, the sensation unlike anything you'd ever experienced before. The pain flooded your body in an instant, slamming your eyes shut you let out a pained moan. “Shhh now..” Elvis whispered, rubbing your clit gently. Elvis began to pump his cock into you, his thrusts slow, but deliberate. Each one sent shivers down your spine as waves of pain turned to pleasure. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a desperate, claiming kiss, as his pace quickened. You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as his thrusts grew more aggressive. The sound of wet slaps filled the empty room, both of your breathing ragged in unison. "Fuck, you're tight... so damn tight." Elvis said through gritted teeth, his hips slamming into you. You moaned into the crook of his neck, desperate to make as little noise as possible. 

You felt yourself nearing the edge, the pressure building within you. "Elvis..." you whimpered, unable to form a coherent sentence. He nodded, understanding, and began to thrust into you with renewed vigor, his cock hitting your sweet spot, sending you spiraling over the edge. You cried out as your orgasm washed over you, your pussy clenching around him. "Fuck, such a good girl..." Elvis groaned, his thrusts growing even more erratic. Elvis slammed into you one final time, groaning loudly as his release filled you without warning. His hot seed spilled into your quivering cunt, triggering another wave of pleasure that left you breathless. He pulled out of you and collapsed onto you, his breath ragged. You lay there, your body humming, as the reality of what you just experienced sunk in. Elvis crawled off of you, tucking himself back in his pants as you adjusted your dress back down and stood up, almost falling. Elvis chuckled and grabbed your hand.  "Where are my panties..?" You asked, looking around the floor for them.

“Souvenir.”

i might be slow posting fanfics for a bit, i really haven’t been feeling well lately BUT THAT OKAY. okay love u guys <3

taglist: @hooked-on-elvis @atleastpleasetelephone @lola-1013 @18lkpeters @indiatuck @eptodaytommorowforever @suspiciousmindsxo @tupelomiss @mysteriouslymagicalwolf @myradiaz @i-r-i-n-a-a @elvispresley1956 @sisssygirl @your-nanas-house @callieselvisobsessed @eapep @auntbee22 @elvisalltheway101 @ladelinee @jhoneybees @elviswhore69 @sissylittlefeather @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @louisejoy86 (if you wanna be added or removed lmk!)

[bongopowder]

getting lucky! (higuruma)

⁺ . ✦ .　⁺ 　 . ✦ jujutsu kaisen (higuruma x reader) ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . ⁺

content (18+): nsfw, female reader, gambling, casinos, drinking, smoking

word count: 5.0k

a tune for you: a little less conversation (elvis presley)

The blaring lights, flickering at every machine, send a colorful wave of illumination shooting across the stained and patterned carpets. The sweet smell of smoke and crisp bills mingle in the air, filling your nostrils with something seemingly toxic, but also intoxicating. And the sounds, sounds which flood every inch of the space, echoing off the wallpaper plastered on every surface of the room. It was a concoction, a collaboration between the loud, drunken chatter of patrons, the occasional clattering of a machine, and the constant ringing of a buzzer, now simply a hum in your brain. Ding! Ding! Ding!

Some might call it sensational. But to you, the feeling was none other than that of suffocation. Overstimulation. Drowning.

You take another sip of your martini, the intensity of the gin doing nothing to repress the anarchy of the casino atmosphere.

“You seem… distracted?”

Blinking a few times to regain your consciousness, you turn to your friend, who sits beside you at the bar, watching you with an inquisitive gaze.

“Something on your mind?” She probes, her stare wandering out to the casino, to find whatever had captivated my attention. “Or maybe… someone?” Her lips tug up into a sheepish smirk, an almost teasing look.

“What… no,” you shake your head quickly, extinguishing any assumptions she might be making. “I was just, spacing out is all.”

She hums quietly in response, scanning the casino floor as if looking for something specific, her eyes narrowing predatorially. Once she spots whatever target she was searching for, she peers back to you, giving you a knowing look.

“What is it?” You roll your eyes, though not seriously annoyed by her antics.

“Him. You were totally staring at him, weren’t you? He’s perfectly your type,” she grins, flicking her head to gesture out to the casino.

You raise an eyebrow inquisitively, immediately forcing yourself to stare into the maze of machines and tables to find the prey of her little game.

“The one by the slot machines,” she clarifies. “You’ll know which one when you see him.”

Oh.

You hate it when she’s right.

He’s just there, peeking out from the end of the row of machines, sitting casually in a padded chair, eyes glued to the screen. The colors of the lights illuminate his face in a range of purples, and pinks, and whites; his hooked nose casts a small shadow as he turns his head, studying the game before him with tired eyes, just as you study him.

His suit – with the top few buttons haphazardly open and his tie undone – is consistent with his somewhat disheveled and fatigued expression. His black hair is gelled slightly back, slick and reflective, with a few loose strands falling in front of his forehead. Bringing his whiskey glass up, he places it on his temple, eyes dejected as the light on his face turns red. A loss.

“See? I was totally right!” Your friend exclaims smugly, watching as you ogle the man across the floor. You simply shake your head.

“I’m nowhere near drunk enough for that.”

“For what?”

“To approach him.”

“Oh, come onnnn…” her voice eggs you on. “I’ll be here for moral support. Finish your drink and go, before he leaves! He’s soooo your type, you can’t let him walk off!”

You groan, shaking your head again. Internally, you’re conflicted; you can’t help but know she’s right, and you’d be insane to avoid a man who looks like he’s been peeled straight from the front page of some “sexy business” magazine, but to approach him is… something else.

Your friend cheers as you down your martini in two large gulps, the burning sensation matching that of your mental turmoil.

“You’re gonna do it?” She exclaims in excitement. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be here when you get back… or when you don’t come back.”

You roll your eyes at her wink, but you can’t repress your smile. Without wasting another second, you saunter over to the slot machines, taking a deep breath, hoping that by some miracle, those last few gulps of gin give you something good to say.

“So, any luck today?”

Fuck. That’s really all I could think of?

You mentally curse yourself, but your outward façade is unwavering, no thanks to your ever-lacking flirtation abilities. Leaning slightly against the side of the machine, you smile down at him warmly.

His eyes look slowly up to meet yours, his brows furrowing slightly in confusion at your presence. The screen flashes red again, a bright color which draws his attention back to the machine, his elbows never leaving the control panel. Burrowing his face in his hands, he grumbles softly.

“Does it look like it?”

Sitting back, he grabs his drink again, taking a swig with a sigh. His back presses against the chair, and he adjusts his hips, lifting them softly before he resettles with his legs pushed further apart.

You bite your lip, trying to remain composed as you watch him, thinking of something, anything, to keep the conversation going.

“Maybe I can change that.”

That was a good one…

You push off the machine, moving to sit on the armrest of his chair, careful to avoid the side with any potentially essential buttons. Your bare arm brushes slightly against his shirt, and you adjust your cocktail dress, pulling it comfortably over part of your legs.

“You’re too young,” the man replies, somewhat bluntly, but with no hint of annoyance, as he takes another sip of whiskey, his eyes glued to the machine.

“You don’t even know how old I am,” you quip quickly in return, hosting a somewhat sly smile. He can’t be that much older than me… right?

“I know you’re not old enough.”

“But don’t you want to win? I’ve been told I can be quite the lucky charm,” you lie, hoping it might give you a chance. Leaning forwards, you feed the machine a play with some cash.

He sighs, finally looking up at you through his eyelashes, the bags under his eyes becoming more prominent due to your proximity.

“Fine. It’s your money,” he cedes casually, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He lights one, simultaneously pressing a button on the machine to spin the wheels. He takes a long drag, now completely captivated by the on-screen stimulation, the lights continuing to accentuate his sharp features as he exhales a cloud of gray smoke.

The first column slowly comes to a halt, landing on a lemon.

Okay…

And the second column... another lemon.

Your eyes widen in surprise, flickering over to his face to see how he’s reacting. Nothing.

The third wheel feels as though it takes ages to stop, continuing to spin even as you think it’s finishing.

And…

A lemon. It’s a lemon.

Your chest tightens, partly out of nervousness and somewhat in surprise. Turning to see the man again, you watch as his expression shifts and he leans forward in his chair.

Quickly, the machine spits out the winnings: ¥6000.

“Well… I guess you are lucky…” The man grumbles admittedly, sitting back again and taking another drag of the cigarette, seemly deep in thought. He gestures to the money on the control panel.

“It’s yours,” you reply, gesturing back. “Remember?”

“I don’t need it,” he sighs, rubbing his head.

“Then buy me a drink with it.”

He lets out a noise, somewhere between a scoff and a light chuckle, finally reaching forward to grab the money. Scanning it, he counts it quickly to make sure the amount is correct, simultaneously grabbing his whiskey again with the same hand that holds his cigarette between his index and middle fingers. He nods at the money, downing the last bit of whiskey before beginning to stand.

“Alright. I’ll buy you a drink with your own money, if you insist,” he replies casually, trying to appear indifferent. As he stands, however, you see him finally beginning to drink in your appearance, his eyes moving slowly over your body in an almost calculated manner.

The two of you approach the bar, a different one from where your friend stands. She shoots you a wink from across the room: your last source of good luck.

“Another one, please,” the man says as he sets his empty glass on the wood, leaning over the bar with his elbow planted. He glances at me, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, and a martini… dry, please.”

The bartender nods, turning around to pour the drinks.

“I never did get your name?” His voice draws your attention back to those eyes, piercing yours with their dark gaze. You oblige, telling him your name.

“And yours?”

“Hiromi,” he says, taking another drag of the cigarette before extinguishing it on a nearby ashtray.

You hum and nod as he replies, watching as the bartender pours the vermouth into your martini glass. A moment of silence pervades the atmosphere, broken only by the rattling of cocktail shakers and murmuring of nearby patrons. Hiromi’s eyes remain fixed on another bartender and his whiskey, the spherical ice shifting in the glass as the alcohol is poured over top, the liquid almost twinkling under the lights.

He's not very talkative…

“So, what do you do for work?” You ask, leaning against the bar.

“Law,” he replies, his tired eyes not leaving his drink as it’s placed in front of him.

“Oh, that’s nice…” You smile, trying to save the dying conversation as your martini arrives. “So… are you here long or are you visiting from somewhere else?”

“Visiting, for business.” His eyes flicker to yours, for a moment, before shifting back to his drink.

Is he just not into me or something?

“You know,” you start, now deciding to duck out of the conversation, starting to back away from him slightly. “I think my friend is-”

“It’s a conference of sorts,” he interrupts, sipping his whiskey before turning towards you completely. “Quite boring, really. I’d rather hear about why you’re here.”

“Ah- me?” you perk up again at his interest, “I’m just on a trip with my friend, we’re in the city for a few nights, just to travel.” Man, this guy is bipolar…

“Are you staying here?”

“At the casino?” you ask, shaking your head. “No, just a hotel down the road. This place was a bit out of the budget I think.” Chuckling, you allow the alcohol to soothe your nerves slightly.

“Mmm…” he hums, finishing his whiskey in one swig and setting the glass down gently. “I have a room upstairs, got it for the chip discount,” he explains while tapping his casino card on the wood of the bar.

“Also,” he adds, “the liquor here is… mediocre, at best. I keep nicer whiskey up there, so I can go back for an occasional drink.”

You peer curiously into your martini glass, finding the gin pretty decent.

“So you agree?”

“I agree?”

“That the liquor isn’t great,” he concludes, with a nod.

“Oh, right… Yeah, it’s not the best…” You simply nod, convincingly agreeing with the sentiment, but he appears distracted again, already moving to light a new cigarette. He holds the box out to you, pushing one up with his thumb: a silent offering.

You nod, thanking him briefly before taking the cigarette.

Leaning closer, he places the cigarette in his mouth and removes a lighter from his pocket, placing the flame between you. You move closer to him, allowing your cigarette to touch the fire just as his does; the warmth and light from the dancing flames reflect in his eyes as he looks down at you. He pulls back slowly, eyes unwavering from yours as he blows smoke slowly from his mouth with an unreadable gaze.

“Why me?” His words are direct, but inquisitive, spoken as he takes another drag of the cigarette.

“Why you?”

“Why approach me?” he emphasizes the last word, raising his eyebrows as he looks down at you. Your face heats up at the bluntness of his inquiry, and you smile slightly.

“Not every question needs to be answered,” you reply coyly, gesturing to the drinks. “And clearly the universe is rewarding us for my choice.”

“Mmm… maybe so,” Hiromi nods, cracking the slightest of smiles. His gaze flickers around your face, as if studying your features, slowly and tantalizingly.

After the fleeting moment, his free hand reaches for his whiskey glass. The realization of its emptiness causes his face to twist into a soft frown, his eyes shifting down to the glass as he swirls the ice within it.

“Come on,” he sighs, pushing off the bar as he runs a hand through his gelled hair. “It’s time for another drink.”

You watch as he nods his head towards the elevators casually, a neutral expression still plastered on his features. He wants me to come to his room?

“I’m just gonna finish-”

“Leave it. I have nicer gin,” he interjects without turning back around, waving his hand dismissively before putting his cigarette to his lips.

Before you can reply, he’s already striding away, a slight eagerness to his pace. Shrugging, you take one last sip of the martini before quickly catching up to him, leaving the crystal glass on the bar top, alongside your half-finished cigarette.

The atmosphere of the elevator ride is indescribable; monotonous jazz plays roughly through the poor-quality speakers, the sound mixed only with the rattling of metal from the machine. Hiromi is silent, leaning back against the outdating wooden paneling, seemingly lost in thought as he continues to smoke.

Your heartrate picks up nervously, your mind haphazardly running through the scenarios to come. The man is an enigma.

Ding!

The elevator comes to a swift halt, pausing on the 22nd floor. Just as before, Hiromi wastes no time, stepping out and quickly treading down the long hallway towards his room.

Without a word, he swipes his card to unlock the door, holding it open for you and beckoning you inside the dark room. He places a hand delicately on the small of your back, guiding you through the doorway, sending a shiver down your spine.

The door shuts quietly behind you, leaving the two of you alone in the darkness. Your eyes fail to adjust quickly to the change in light, barely able to make out the silhouette of a large bed and small couch, lit only by the distant city lights outside the large, open windows. The sound of fabric sliding draws your attention behind you as Hiromi takes off his blazer, the cigarette between his lips. You somewhat clumsily fumble for a light switch somewhere on the wall, leaning forward and running a hand over the textured wallpaper.

You feel his large hand wrap around your wrist, pulling your hand away from the wall. Within a second, he reaches to your waist, immediately pushing you back against the wall, pinning you there with his body. He releases your wrist almost tenderly, seductively running his fingers up your arm before tucking one under your chin, tilting your head up.

“You didn’t really come in here just to drink, now did you?” His voice is low and rough against your ear as he leans in, his hand unwavering from your hip as he presses you further against the wall.

For the first time tonight, you feel nervous. It’s as if you can feel your heart pumping blood through your entire body, echoing in your brain. You open your mouth to speak, but the words seem to catch in your throat.

“Mmm… What ever happened to that boldness on the casino floor? Not so confident now?” Hiromi teases, his free hand moving up to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of your face. His touch is almost gentle, a contrast to what you see when you look into his eyes.

“Well… I just...” You pause, trying to find my voice, though it cracks in my dry throat. You look up at him again, your eyes trying to focus on his own rather than his lips, which quirk into the slightest of smirks. “I- I didn’t… expect…”

“Spit it out.”

The words are demanding, but his tone is playful. He studies your face more, eyes wandering across your features like he did to the slot machine, perhaps more methodically now.

“I just didn’t think… it would be so… quick into it…” You manage to whisper, trying to contain your emotions.

“Quick?” He lets out a sultry chuckle, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. “Oh, trust me, nothing about tonight will be quick,” he mumbles, flicking the bud of his cigarette off into the darkness.

And with those last words, he pulls your face forwards, his lips crashing against yours in a needy, hungry kiss. You return the vigor, passionately tasting the lingering whiskey and smoke on his lips, your hands wandering up his chest, feeling over the buttons of his shirt.

You can feel him smirk against your mouth, his hands now roaming down your body in desperation, as if searching for the best place to settle. He tugs at your dress, bunching the fabric up your thighs until it collects around your hips.

The kiss continues in its hot, rough wake, your teeth occasionally crashing together in urgency, neither of you willing to pull back. Without another warning, he wedges one of his thighs between your legs, grinding against you and pushing you further into the wall.

The sudden friction isn’t lost on you, and you let out a soft noise, the sound swallowed by his mouth. This, however, only seems to fuel his enthusiasm, and he continues to push his thigh back and forth, slowly and tantalizingly grinding against you.

Your hips instinctively buckle into his motions, only driving him to move faster. His hands land on your sides, moving you into the movement himself as he separates from the kiss.

“You’re so desperate for me already…” Hiromi whispers, beginning to line kisses along your jawline. “But I want to hear you a little bit more.” His hand reaches up, gripping your hair in his hand and tugging your head back, giving him easier access to your neck.

Instantly, bites down softly on your skin, the sensation in time with the movement of his thigh. You stifle a moan, biting your lip and pushing your head further against the wall.

You feel his breath on your neck, cold on the area where his spit remains.

“That’s more like it, my dear. Keep those coming…” he breathes softly as he continues to suck at your neck, traveling down to your collarbone.

“You’re… gonna have to work… for it,” you reply, somewhat breathlessly, trying to control yourself as you tease.

He growls softly against your neck, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

“That sounds awfully like a challenge,” he smirks, pulling his thigh away from you. You feel the vacancy as your dress falls back down, an odd chill running through your spine.

“It’s just like gambling… try something and see if you get lucky,” you taunt, a smirk tugging at your lips.

“Lucky, you say?” He grins, leaning down towards your face again, his finger caressing your cheek with small, circular motions. “I think I’ve gotten pretty lucky already tonight…”

His lips just barely graze yours as he speaks, tempting you to move forward to close the distance.

“And I think you’re going to get even luckier.”

He chuckles, shaking his head in mock disapproval before grabbing your thighs from behind, hoisting you up into his arms so you’re straddling his hips. Responding instantly, you wrap your legs around him, his arousal becoming even more obvious between your legs as your hips press against his.

Noticing your eyes widen, he smirks softly, continuing to walk you towards the bed.

“You can handle it.”

The words leave his mouth quickly, and he gives you almost no time to process before he tosses you back onto the bed, his body immediately climbing on top of yours.

“You’re so beautiful, all spread out for me like this,” he whispers, a hint of need in his voice as he settles between your legs. “But I can think of a few ways you’d be even better…”

His hand trails up your slide, lightly grazing over your breasts and coming up to the back of your neck, settling on the zipper of your dress, laying delicately on your spine. Without waiting for confirmation, he tugs on the metal, and the sensation of the zipper teeth opening begins to spread down your back.

Even in the dim light, you can see his eyes widen as your dress gets tossed to the side. He stifles a noise arising from his throat, biting the inside of his cheek as his eyes flicker down.

“My eyes are up here…” You tease, cheeks heating up slightly.

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze still unsettled as he takes in your curves and exposed skin.

“But I think you’d much rather have me down here,” Hiromi eventually replies, his index finger trailing down your sternum, eventually stopping at your navel. The cold sensation of his finger causes your body to squirm, much to your distress.

He grins in satisfaction, finally moving his finger further down your body, hooking it around your underwear.

“Or how about here?” He tauntingly runs his finger along the edge of the lace.

His finger slips further into your underwear as he presses his body down onto yours, his mouth lingering near your ear.

“Remember… I want to hear you,” his whisper echoes in your head as his finger slides down between your folds. You press your head back into the pillow, the touch eliciting a soft, but loud breath to escape your parted lips.

“Fuck…” Hiromi chuckles gruffly into your ear. “You’re so wet for me already…” he whispers needily, letting out his own deep breath.

He eagerly slips his finger further down, sliding it deep inside of you. Your hands instinctively grip his back, pulling at his shirt as he moves in and out of you, continuing to plaster kisses to your neck.

Continuing to work his fingers, two now slipping inside, his thumb rubs circles along your clit in time with his kisses, working feverishly, almost in desperation as he pumps his fingers inside of you. His lips trail down your neck, moving across your clavicle and down to your breasts.

Your hands move to his hair, tangling into the strands and breaking through the hold of the gel. He smiles against your skin, his teeth lightly grazing you before he plants more kisses along your breast, kneading the other with his free hand. You arch into his touch, your body writhing against him as he continues his onslaught of pleasure.

After only a moment, he slowly pulls his hand back and sits up; you feel the emptiness, whimpering slightly and shivering, desperate for more. He grins, listening to your sounds of need as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean.

“You’ll get it soon…” he hums as if he can read your thoughts, beginning to unbutton the rest of his shirt, the fabric slowly slipping down his broad shoulders as you remove your own underwear. He swiftly throws the garment to the floor, leaving his chest bare, the dim city lights trickling in from the window and highlighting his softly toned body.

He keeps his black tie, shifting his legs further up your body and grabbing your arms aggressively, but still with a gentle touch.

“I don’t believe you’ll be needing these anymore,” he says, his voice husky as he begins wrapping the tie around your wrists, extending your hands above your head and tying them around the metal bar of the headboard with the fabric.

You watch, still twitching slightly from the earlier stimulation, your eyes moving from your hands and back to his eyes. His gaze darkens, moving away from the headboard and immediately moving his hands back down to your legs.

His fingers travel along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, teasingly getting closer to your core, but stopping just before reaching your underwear. You groan in frustration, your eyes silently begging him to continue.

“I’m gonna need to hear a little more than that,” he says, a smirk tugging at his lips as he uses one hand to begin unbuckling his belt.

You purse your lips, gaze wandering down to his slacks as he quickly slips his leather belt from the loops.

“Please…” you murmur, your cheeks growing red in a slight embarrassment.

“Please what?” he teases softly, fingers now beginning to unzip his pants.

Your breath catches in your throat as he tugs his slacks from his hips, the fabric falling to his knees and bunching on the bed. He shifts out of them, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxers, his bulge now even clearer, hidden behind only a thin layer of fabric.

“I… I need you…” you choke out, eyes trying to tear away from his hips.

He smirks, climbing further onto you and placing a hand beside your head, using the other to tug at his boxers. He slips them off his hips, now leaving nothing to the imagination.

“Wanna be a bit more specific than that?” he whispers, leaning in close to your ear as he positions himself between your legs, which instinctively spread and wrap around his hips. He groans softly against your neck, using a hand to pull your hips flush to his as he pushes you down into the mattress.

“I- I need you inside of me… now… please,” you finally stutter, your lips only centimeters from his, your deep breathing synchronized in the silence of the room.

He exhales sharply, your words clearly having an affect on him as he pushes closer into you, his cock slowly trailing up and down your folds, now slick with your juices. Grinding softly into you, moaning in your ear, he lifts your legs further and positions himself over you.

“Tell me you’re ready for me,” he whispers, voice laced with need as he presses his forehead against yours.

“Please,” you nod desperately. “Please…”

He growls softly before crashing his mouth into yours, his lips working against yours passionately as he slides himself into you, keeping your hips pressed into the bed.

You swallow each other’s moans, the kiss growing deeper as he drives his hips faster and faster against yours. Stars dance across the sides of your vision as you take every inch of him, his thrusts pushing himself further inside of you, hitting all the right places.

Your hands tug at your restraints, pulling the fabric as every inch of your body tenses, filled with pure pleasure as the back of your head pushes deeper into the pillow.

“God, you’re… y-you’re so tight…” Hiromi stammers, using one hand to grab the headboard as he continues his onslaught, his hips moving rhythmically against yours.

A soft light flickers into the room from outside, the illumination heightening the shine of his skin, a think layer of sweat beginning to form as he continues to grunt and move against you. His hair falls in front of his face, the gel notwithstanding your activities.

His hand travels down to your legs, hoisting one over his shoulder effortlessly before continuing his pursuit, your body crunching together as your foot almost touches the headboard. The changed angle has him hitting new places, your body beginning to quiver from his measured strokes, beginning to speed up with urgency.

Your labored breathing is again disrupted by another kiss, one which is difficult for either of you to maintain, the sounds of pleasure continuing to fill the room.

His grip on your hip tightens, and it grows clear that he’s trying to hold back, his body taught with both pleasure and pressure. He’s teetering on the edge of release, his arms beside you shaking with the effort of holding back. He slowly shifts onto one hand, moving his other down your body, quickly finding your throbbing clit and massaging it with his thumb.

The newfound sensation sends you closer to the edge, your moans only growing louder as the frequency of slapping skin grows quicker.

“H-Hiromi.. I- I’m gonna-”

“I know…” he grunts, not stopping his rhythm. “Come for me, l-let go…”

His words bring you to your climax, the orgasm rippling though your body, caressing every limb as you gasp and shake against him, tightening around his cock.

The sounds alone are enough to push him over the edge too; his body tenses on top of yours, and he releases a low, guttural moan as he buries his face into your shoulder, his hips moving slower and slower to ride out the wave of pleasure.

Your breathing continues deeply, as if you’re desperate for air, starved for it even. His sweaty body continues to press against yours, and you feel the rise and fall of his chest on top of you as he processes his comedown.

“Y-you… you’re…” he chuckles softly as he struggles to get the words out, slowly bringing his head up to look at you with those familiar, tired eyes.

He scoffs again with a smile, shaking his head and moving to remove the tie from your wrists, gently undoing the tight knots keeping you in place. With your wrists released, you bring them to your chest, gently caressing the tender skin, worn down from the pulling and tugging.

“Mmm… I hope it didn’t hurt too bad,” Hiromi says as he settles beside you, relaxing and putting an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into his chest as you lay next to him.

“It’s alright…” you whisper breathlessly, placing one hand on his chest, feeling the slick sweat still clinging to his skin.

“You know what might help…?” he says, looking down with a slight grin.

“What?"

“A drink.”

Thanks for reading! <3

[shares-a-vest]

@steddielovemonth Day 10: Love is... Missing each other (Prompt by @lihhelsing)

wc: 723 | Rated: T for suggestive language & flirtacious banter | cw: None

Tags: Phone Calls, Rockstar!Eddie, Homesick, Eddie Misses Steve

Stevie, what are you wearing?

Eddie flips onto his stomach once he finally hears a dial tone. He didn’t think it would take this long, calling the concierge to transfer him to an international call, confirming his credit card and then waiting eons for a connection.

But fuck it, he misses his not-legally-binding husband.

It’s only been a week and the band has been killing it so far but…

Call him selfish, but Eddie misses the hell out of Steve, he is desperately resiting the urge to flee back to the airport and fly home. And he feels like a pathetic sap about it.

Maybe next time he should force the boys, their management and basically everyone around Corroded Coffin to set their touring to fit in with Steve’s school schedule. Yes, that could work – certainly much better than admitting how much he wants to be snuggled up in his comfy bed with Steve, drifting off to sleep together, hopefully without their cats bothering them too much.

The ringing continues and he worries that it is going to run out entirely. He bites at his thumb nail in anticipation – it’s not like he pre-organised this phone call and god knows what time it is in Hawkins.

“Hello?” Steve grumbles on the other end.

He sounds groggy with sleep, his voice a little far away as he likely fumbles for his glasses. Eddie grins and crosses his ankles, giddy like a goddamn schoolgirl calling her crush.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he beams, earning a whine at his equitable lack of volume control.

“S’early,” Steve mumbles, “Miss you.”

“I miss you more,” Eddie coos down the line. 

Steve huffs a laugh and echoes, “Miss you so much…”

There’s a rustling sound that follows and Steve hums.

“What are you doing?” Eddie wonders aloud.

“Getting comfy again,” Steve replies, “Closin’ my eyes and pretending you are next to me.”

“That so?”

Steve hums in the affirmative.

“Stevie…” Eddie purrs as he flips onto his back, “What are you wearing?”

“Sweatpants,” Steve replies, a smile evident in his voice.

“Nothing else...” he wonders.

“Nope!” Steve sounds a little more awake now.

“The barest chest,” Eddie continues, squirming around, feeling a teasing tingle at the thought – 

– Until the phone cord almost cuts off his air supply.

He palms around (though if anyone were to see him, it would probably be better described as a full-bodied flail) and tugs at the cord enough that something topples off the nightstand.

Whatever. As long as he can still hear Steve’s quiet and even breathing on the other end.

“What about you, Elvis?” Steve soon teases.

Eddie grimaces but responds nonetheless.

“I’m in my jeans,” he supplies, trying to remain at least a little coy, “And a t-shirt.”

“So, you aren’t ready for bed?” Steve teases, giggling out a little tee-hee that makes Eddie’s heart flutter – god he loves this silly man.

“Not until after I speak to you, precious,” he deadpans.

There’s another sound – like Steve is moving around amongst the bedsheets again. Eddie wiggles his brows and hastily hooks a finger under his waistband. But he soon scrunches his nose. He probably should have removed his belt and unzipped his fly during the never-ending dial tone.

“Shit,” Steve curses before groaning in a very unfun manner, “Oh no, buddy, c’mon!”

“What is it?” Eddie asks, propping himself up on his elbow.

“Go on, scram!” Steve commands, ignoring the question before whining again – one that sounds like whatever he is doing is an exercise in futility, “The cat won’t get off the bed.”

Eddie sinks back down.

Goddamn it.

“Which menace is bothering you, my darling?” he sighs, scrubbing his free hand over his face.

“Freddy.”

Eddie stifles a whimper as his heart swells. Of course, it’s the most adorable, scruffiest, wide-eyed and mischievous cat that’s annoying the heck out of Steve. A cat Steve himself only barely tolerates. Eddie can only imagine what Freddy must get up to when he touring.

“Fredrick?” he can’t help but beam, “Put him on the phone!”

“Eddie!”

“Please?” he begs, “I want to talk to him.”

“But what about…” Steve says, “Well, y’know?”

Eddie waves Steve’s worry away (even if he can’t see him).

“Keep it in your pants, Big Boy. We’ll get to that. Now put my son on the phone this instant!”